Must. Push. Buttons.

Today, within a span of five minutes, Mr. Monk almost fell down a flight of stairs and ate a piece of glass. Fun times!

The gate was left open overnight and my husband forgot to close it this morning when he came downstairs first (and kindly let me take a nice, long shower-the relaxing effects of which were soon to be vanished). I was washing the dishes when I noticed that the gate was swinging open out of the corner of my eye. Just as I thought that I should go over and close it before the baby crawled by, I saw that he was actually on the top of the stairs, leaning over. I screamed and bolted over, scooping him up seconds before he toppled. I have never been so scared of anything in my entire life. I'm pretty sure I aged about 10 years in that moment.

Then.

The babe was crawling all over the kitchen, reveling in his new ability to go under and through the bar stools. At one point, he was lying on the ground playing with a piece of dirt he found in the corner under the island. Only it wasn't a piece of dirt. It was a shard of glass that I missed when cleaning up the millions of tiny pieces that shattered all over the floor when I knocked over a teeny vase last night as I was making chamomile tea (no, the irony is not lost). Again, my supermom reflexes kicked in and I grabbed the glass out of his hand as it was on its way to his mouth. You can imagine how much he loved that.

Why does it seem like my baby has some sort of sonar for the most dangerous thing in the room? He's like a pain-seeking missile. When can I expect him to grow out of this behavior? 30-40 years?

Oh, just you wait, mama!

(School) Supplies

When I was a kid, I used to get so excited about fall. Fall meant a new school year, which meant new outfits for school. I would plan out the first week's wearings in my head and obsess over the slightest changes. Even though I am far (decades, eek!) beyond those days now and don't even have an office to go into anymore, I still crave some new fall classics. Mr. Monk has been pleading with me lately to update my look. Can't be cramping his style, yo.

Living as I do in a city where the temperature hardly ever leaves the 57-67 degree range, having a go to lightweight coat is KEY. Unfortunately, my black not too warm, but just warm enough coat up and died on me last "winter." So, I'm in the market for a new perfect coat that can carry me through the faux seasons that make up life in San Francisco. I *think* I may have just found it. Thanks to a tip off from A Cup of Joe, I discovered the beauty of EmersonMade. I'm in love, y'all!

Check out my new best friend...





Bring on the fog!

No Goop for me

Activities I am fairly certain Gwyneth Paltrow* would not engage in if she were visiting Portland:

1. Driving.
For some reason we thought nothing of driving 600 miles through half of California and Oregon though we would probably never decide at the last-minute to cruise on down to South Carolina from NYC. It was a beautiful drive, even if I did have to climb into the backseat every ten minutes to pick up the baby's toy that he conveniently dropped into the door crevice.

2. Peeing in her friends' backyard.
We were staying at the home of friends who were out of town and just could not get the damn door open. After trying for ten minutes, I decided it would be better to intentionally pee on the grass rather than accidentally on their welcome mat. Hello Portland!

3. Feeding her baby a dirty bagel.
Mr. Monk's new favorite activity is to gnaw on a fat bagel with his two new teefs. Combine this with his old favorite activity of dropping things on the floor to see how many times mommy will go pick it up and you have yourself a party! I mean, how dirty could a city street in Portland after a farmers market really be?

4. Eating every possible free sample at said farmers market and then go back for seconds at one stand only to be told by a farmer that she "must be hungry today."
I don't care, those giant blackberries were a thing of beauty. I didn't know if I'd ever get to experience their kind again.

5. Getting yelled at by some self-righteous hippie.
When we stopped in Ashland, OR for yet another pee/smoothie break, my husband waited with the sleeping baby in the car. Sitting under the hot sun, he quickly realized that he needed the a/c running or the baby would melt. Or worse, wake up. After a few minutes, a woman came up to him and remarked that she was so disturbed by his car burning so much fuel into the air that she couldn't even eat her lunch. Well. My sweet husband kindly told her that he was conditioning the air for our son's benefit not to simply ruin her day. She wilted away and meekly apologized for not realizing he had a baby in the car. Booyah! We are all for a progressive attitude and proactive environmentalism, but this was downright obnoxious.

6. Go hiking in a dress.
Or, maybe she would? I forgot to bring any shorts but at least I had some closed toe faux sneakers. I got some strange looks but the trees in forest park were well worth the chafing!

7. Having to pull her husband's wedding band off his middle finger as he's driving 80 miles an hour.
Why he was playing with it and "just wanted to see if it would fit" as he was driving (speeding) is beyond me. His voice was creeping up in panic till he was practically screaming at me to get it off!

8. Getting her period in the middle of a party.
I felt like I was 14, having to ask around for a tampon. And not finding one. We went to a private concert by two awesome Portland bands, Ages and Ages and Portugal. The Man and I spent half the time worrying that I was about to pull a Carrie.

9. Letting her baby crawl around a pizza joint.
At first I tried to ignore the tantrum and eat my deelish pizza. Mr. Monk was not having it. I finally caved and let him loose. Thankfully, everyone in Portland is peach pie sweetness and nobody seemed to care that there was a rabid baby darting under their table.

10. Refusing to leave.
Have you been to this great city? It's so green and gorgeous. We honestly thought about checking out some open houses but then remembered that we want to move closer to our families on the east coast, not further away. Why is there no Portland equivalent back east?

*Hand-painted wallpaper? A bathtub in the middle of her bedroom? Seriously?

Perspective

I complained entirely too much today. I complained to my husband. To my mom. To my sister. To my friends. To my son. While I am a firm believer in the healing powers of venting, enough is enough. My life is pretty damn good right now. So, from now on, when I find myself with a desire to bitch to or about someone, I'm just going to think of this sign that I saw while walking my dog the other day. No whining!

Instead, here are five things I am grateful for right now:

1. That I did not get a parking ticket despite being parked for an hour downtown in a no-parking passenger loading spot. For some reason, my addled brain saw the M-F, 11 am-12 Midnight sign as reading M-F, 11 pm-12 Midnight. I just thought it was only for passengers who were going out drinking or dancing.

2. Mr. Monk is really into hugs right now. He goes full throttle, with the head, the arms and and the tongue coming at you. It's like a grabbing a shooting star.

3. While my family members and many of my friends live on the other side of the country, I can see their lovely faces on my cell phone thanks to the genius of Steve Jobs! I wish you good luck and good health, Mr. Jobs.

4. The blogging world. I only recently discovered the true joys of public journaling, but I gotta say that I am really digging it. I hope to keep it going for a while.

5. This weekend's road trip to Portland! Granted, Mr. Monk seems to have had a major falling out with his car seat in recent days, but maybe they can come to some sort of amicable accord in their 10+ hours together. We are so excited to check out this amazing farmers market.

In case any of you are in need of a little reality check, have a look-see at this incredible piece that a friend posted on FB. I found it to be amazing and enlightening--as noted in the article, despite the vast differences among the subjects, everyone sleeps.

'Where Children Sleep'

lens.blogs.nytimes.com

James Mollison wanted to portray children's diverse worlds. What better way to do so than to photograph their bedrooms?

Oh sleep, I'm off to find you.

It's a new dawn, it's a new day

This weekend was a weekend of "firsts:"

First birthday as a mommy.
Verdict: both more and less awesome than as a non-mommy. More awesome--realizing that it's not all about me anymore. Less awesome--realizing that it's not all about me anymore.

First time trying formula.
Verdict: eh. He hated the first kind we tried (some eco brand from WF) but would reluctantly take the second kind (a totally conventional brand from Walgreens). He's still living high on the boob, but we just wanted to have a backup for our child-free mini-vacay in London.

First time sleeping through playgroup.
Verdict: playgroup is still fun even without the baby. Mr. Monk took a two and a half hour nap immediately after drinking a few ounces of formula, just as we were heading to our friend's house. Maybe its sedative properties are not overrated.

First joint party with Mr. Schneed.
Verdict: double your pleasure, double your fun. Not sure why we didn't think of this earlier, considering our birthdays are always three days apart. One of us got a wee bit drunker than the other. Guess which one?

First time feeding the baby pizza (first time at this yummy resto).
Verdict: let the sunshine in. He seriously could not have been more excited. Seems like he's ours after all.

First time feeding the baby gelatto (what? who has pizza without gelato?)
Verdict: even better than pizza! We only gave him a tiny bit, but he continued to lick the spoon for a good ten minutes after it was gone.

First time attending the SF Street Food Festival.
Verdict: would have been so much cooler if about 90% of the people there weren't. The lines were no less than 50 people deep. Our tummies made us leave and go here to have these. Our tummies were pleased with the decision.

First time using Pinterest.
Verdict: pinterrific! We are doing a little redecorating and this site is so perfect for stealing ideas from far more creative people.

First time pooping in the tub.
Verdict: hilarious but disgusting. He was very unhappy to leave the bath once he had gone and marked his territory. Definitely made me nervous for the glory days of potty training.

Thou Shall Not Covet

Today when I was getting my hair done (everyone deserves a blowout for her birthday), I read "People" magazine cover to cover. Something about a beauty salon makes me crave celebrity gossip. I just had to know how Sandy Bullock got her life back on track--short version: she loves being a mama (and I think she got extensions).

I happened upon a picture of Jennifer Aniston and her new man, whom I will always think of as the premature ejaculator from Sex & The City, looking quite fetching.

She was carrying this purse:



And, she has it in brown!


I want! In black, preferably.

Too bad it's $4,000. While I am quite a shopper, there's no way I can pull that rabbit out of my hat. I met Jen once years ago when I was in law school and working at an entertainment law firm in LA. She was a client of the firm and seriously could not have been nicer. This was back in the Brad days, so I got to say hi to his hairy self too. I completely forgot about that five minutes of my life until I started writing this. Anyway, do you think maybe if I call her up and explain how much I like the bag she might just give me one? She has two! I'd even take the brown.

Be the Ball

Today I spoke with two of my closest friends in New York who both gave birth at the same hospital, one on Monday and one two weeks ago. After hearing each of their labor stories in great detail, I am really starting to reconsider my issues with only children. Does Mr. Monk really need a sibling to learn how to share? Won't they teach him that in preschool?

Speaking of preschool, I was basically told by three different mommy friends this week that I am woefully behind in the application process. Say what? How difficult could the applications be? My son doesn't do or say anything yet. That's why he needs to go to preschool! Is the fact that he has blond hair when both his parents are brunettes "what makes him special?" Are the school visits code for interviews? I know I should, but I just can't be bothered to care about the preschool competition. When he drops out of high school to run a meth lab, it'll all come back to this moment.

Speaking of bad mommying, I realized yesterday that there is a reason that parents of young children tend to schedule their activities around their kids' naps. I used to think it was so annoying when my friends couldn't ever do anything during nap time, like it was the holiest of holies. I mean, who's in charge here? Ah, that was back in the days when my baby would sleep anywhere, stroller, car seat, wheelbarrow. But, when I met someone yesterday smack in the middle of Mr. Monk's nap time, I found myself in a world of pain. No coffee date was worth having him scream himself to sleep in the stroller only to wake up thirty angry minutes later or the general surliness he exhibited the rest of the day, including two of the longest 15 minute car rides ever. We had carguests and Mr. Monk decided to treat them to his best impression of a drowning cat. My friend I sang "The Wheels On The Bus" and "Old MacDonald" more times than I could count. For some reason, he finds my screetchy voice soothing (I actually think I saw my friend wince). So, from now on, I can no longer plan to leave the house between the hours of 10:30 am and 1:30 pm. The shorter, late afternoon nap be damned, Mama needs to play.

Speaking of playing, today was my husband's birthday and mine is on Sunday. Leos unite! We're having ourselves a partay at a friend's bar on Saturday. Sadly, 10 month olds are not invited.