At Least I Didn't Mix Them All Together

I have officially graduated to a crazy city person who mumbles to themselves as they walk around aimlessly looking in trashcans.

Convincing evidence #1: Yesterday, I had to run to the grocery to get a few things and while I was there I happened upon several extra items that I could not pass up. Here they are in order of importance:
Half Sour Pickles
Watermelon
Ranch Dressing
Tuna salad
Tapioca pudding
Tomatoes
Cucumbers

So you know this is going directly downhill, right? I did not realize how heavy my stash was going to be to carry the 8 blocks to my apartment so while crossing over Broadway I spied the parkbench those nice city planners strategically placed directly in my path, and I decided to rest a bit. And while I was resting, I decided it would behoove me to have a little snack to keep up my energy on the long walk home. Two half sour pickles later I took stock of my situation as passerby after passerby stopped to stare at me and I couldn't stop laughing. Well, I was in this far, I might as well go the distance. So I ripped open the watermelon container and had roughly half of it. I would have moved directly onto the tomato and cucumber but I didn't have a knife or salt and pepper so I opted to save those for home.

I gathered up my loot and started the long walk only to stop several blocks later to readjust my grip. There I started hysterically laughing again as my inner brain whispered to itself, "I definitely didn't get enough half sour pickles for this".

Convincing evidence #2: Last week after work I had to run some errands and while doing so I remembered all I had for lunch was a giant plate of fries, and that I better have something a tad more on the nutritious side to even the score a bit. At the smoothie place I studied my choices to get the best possible bang for my beverage and picked the Protein Punch. Back outside I swigged a couple gulps of it and literally almost grabbed the nearest person walking past to force them into the smoothie place to buy a Protein Punch. It was the most spiritual experience I've had since Ocean's 11 came out. I was in awe.

It took every ounce of my energy to not stop the next 4,000 people I passed to do the exact same thing and I barely made it to Duane Reade and Planet Kids before I died.

Is this what self actualization is all about? Because holy hell.

Now I'm No Manolo Blahnik...

Just in case you have reconciled with the idea that I'm having another child, let me show you what you're dealing with. Evidently, I thought it was okay to leave the house like this on Monday to run my errands all over town. Please note: the picture hides the fact that the one on the left has a heel and the one on the right clearly does not.

Wanna know when I realized this had happened? 20 minutes after I left the house.

People. Please.

And You Better Believe I Left My Name, Address, and Phone Number

The other night whilst finally resting after a long day, Grant and I were drifting off to sleep when all of a sudden we heard what sounded like a barage of carbombs going off in our backyard. Needless to say, after we changed into dry pants, we were none to happy for the disturbance. I was convinced they were bombs, of course they were bombs, and if you even tried to suggest otherwise I was going to feed you to the bombs exploding just inches from our apartment. In case I haven't made my point, BOMBS.

Grant was not so convinced after the "bombs" continued for 5 or 10 or 85,000 minutes, so he wanted to go outside to investigate. Investigate the bombs? You are out of you everloving mind my friend. In case you haven't noticed, we have 1 child and another on the way and I'm pretty sure we're not set up with life insurance plans yet so like hell I'm going to let you go outside to investigate the bombs. Bomb investigation is no longer in your future, Dear One, move on.

However, that one tends not to listen to the hysterical rantings I've been prone to lately, so he went out back to see what was going on. He thought maybe it was fireworks, but we couldn't see anything so I was flying through every news channel waiting for the bomb destruction coverage on TV but not one thing was said about it. Finally, we both went all the way outside and could barely see the tops of fireworks over the tree line of central park. Turns out, the NY Philharmonic and the Shanghai Orchestra were having a concert and some ass-brain thought it would be a great idea to set off a thousand fireworks over a city of 9 million people living on top of each other at 10:30 at night, on a Wednesday.

Well. Did you ever see someone dial 311 faster than the speed of sound? Because I sure as hell did and when the friendly customer service representative asked me exactly what my complaint was, he may have heard something like this, "ARE YOU F-ING KIDDING ME WITH THESE FIREWORKS AT 10:30 AT NIGHT AND KID SLEEPING, BABY IN UTERO, WOMAN STRESS LEVELS IN PREGNANCY, NAUSEA, VOMITING, BOMBS, HUSBAND DEAD, NO MONEY, MASS DESTRUCTION, F-ING SYMPHONY IDIOTS, SHANGHAI REDICULOUSNESS, SUE THE MAYOR, DEATHSQUAD TO PARKS DEPARTMENT"!

It's been a few days and I'm still waiting for my complaint to be followed up on.

If I don't hear anything soon, I'm calling Chuck Norris. I swear I will.

Summer Lovin'

Well, here we are again. Sweating our bejesus' off in this city with about a jillion people also sweating their bejesus' off directly adjacent to ourselves. Awesome.

And no, I will not apologize for letting my child run around in his diaper with no clothes on at the park because if it were up to me, I'd be doing the exact same thing. Unfortunately, Park Police do not agree with me. They lack all sense of imagination. Poor people.

But seriously though, Griffin loves him some water works at the parks nowadays. He starts asking for it when he wakes up in the morning and it's the last thing on his mind at night. Kind of like me and Reeses Peanut Butter cups. Now you understand the obsession. Wait till you see the pics.

Now Auditioning for Deadliest Catch, Season 6

I cannot quite explain my excitement for this week and this weekend's events. Grant is graduating! Holy hell in a tuition basket, these last 2 years flew by. And this whole week leading up to Sunday's graduation is full of celebrations and parties that we can actually participate in because we have the most valuable comodity to new parents anywhere - babysitters! S. to the c.o.r.e. my friends, yes. My most favorite of the events being a dinner cruise around Manhattan, which I've wanted to do since we moved here 4 some odd long years ago, but never have. And alas. It is this week.

However.

Friday forecast:

And I was surprised, why?

It'll Keep You Busy, But it Ain't Getting You Anywhere

The things my child says these days absolutely throw me for a loop. Case in point, we met some of our friends for a picnic lunch yesterday at the Turtle Pond. Grant took Griffin over to the water to take a look and there were tons of turtles and ducks milling around. Grif takes one long look at the activity and goes, "TURTLES! Mama turtles and baby turtles and Dada turtles". Shut up, he really truly did.

Not to scare those of you who may not have children yet, but to give you a heads up as to what you may or may not experience as a first time mom, I'd like to wax you some philosophy right now. You may have heard the term, "mommy issues" or seen an episode of Dr. Phil wherein mothers spout off about everything that they think is wrong with their perfect life. And if these people drive you absolutely insane, you are not alone. However, there is some truth to the stress that new parents experience that is usually completely foreign to them, ie me.

When Griffin was first born I felt a lot of anxiety about nothing in particular, but mostly that I was doing it wrong. I come from a big family that has a million people in it, half of which are under the age of 11 with new nieces and nephews popping up here and there, which has blessed me with the knowledge and confidence to lovingly raise children of my own. However, that does not mean I've been spared the feelings that I could be doing it better, which I believe is probably something many parents deal with on a regular basis.

Unexpectedly, the baby is the one who has solved this problem for me. He's not even 2 yet and he has mastered so many things. I mean, he started from nothing and learned how to communicate, learn new skills, have a sense of humor, show patience (sort of), and share affection. Oh the affection. Last week he was playing at the park with a little boy we'd never seen before and when the boy had to leave Griffin stood up, opened both his arms wide and said, "Come here", motioning the boy to bring it in for a big boy hug. I mean, come one, that would melt even Kim Jong Il's cold dead heart.

So to sum it all up, the kid - he's fine. We all need family and friends to help support us and remind us that we're doing a good job. And worry is a rocking chair I don't even want in my house.

Dapper Little Island That He Is

I apologize for the neglectful neglectfulness I have been rightly accused of committing lately. Turns out upending your whole existence to move less than 5 miles away is much more involved than you would think. But alas, we are in Manhattan now, and life is good.

I want to make one quick point here before I go on and that is to apologize for hating Manhattan for so many years of living in New York. I think it was that Brooklyn was my one first love of the boroughs and will always be on my drunkdial speeddial list forever and always, and that my perception of Manhattan was my first experience with it - which was Chinatown from 7pm to 7am 3-4 days a week, sprinkled with a subway strike, and kind of getting fired*... (Which lets be frank, I wouldn't wish on my most gorgeous and successful worst enemy, even on a bad day). Follow that up with our move to the Bronx which was one of the worst decisions we have made in our lives (yep, seriously) though necessary at the time, and constantly wishing and hoping and dreaming of living in Manhattan for the last two years, and you can see why I taped a sketch of Manhattan on my dartboard and you know that's never good.

Enter Manhattan. With it's debonair little bowler hat, pencil thin necktie, complete with perfect vodka martini to completely sweep all 3 of us off of our feet. {Insert huge sigh and deep yoga cleansing breath.} (Only not so much with the baby and the vodka you know, I mean what would the neighbors think?)

Stay tuned for Act II, I haven't even begun to tell you about Magnolia and it's proximity to my front door. Scary.

*(slash) resigning.

Stace - This One's For You

Just a quick question...

Anyone else appreciate the irony in our new Super's name?

Mario.

When I mentioned it to Grant he had never realized it. Why was this the first thing I thought of when they told me his name? Now it's going to be entirely impossible to resist calling him Super Mario. Just one more reason to anticipate this move.

And No, I Will Not Reveal Their Identity, Find Your Own Gay Furniture Hookup

One of the things I dislike most in the world is the responsibility of knowing that Craigslist exists. Stay with me on this one. Any time in the past 6 years that I've needed to make a big purchase, locate an apartment, buy a car, sell a car, or complete any other grueling task, I've had this little devil on my shoulder whispering, "Check Craigslist". "Do you think there's one for sale on Craigslist?" "You would never pay that much on Craiglist". "Craigslist, craigslist, craigslist!" Things have gotten out of control. I'm crippled by the existence of Craig and his damn list. Which wouldn't be so terrible, if not for the fact that 96.8% of the material on the list weren't complete garbage that you have to spend hours sifting through to find one worthwhile deal. I recently compared it to spending 3 days going door to door through 27 discount furniture stores piece by piece to find one $15 lamp that you really don't even like, but for the fact that it's under $20 and you can stop looking at damn lamps if you just buy it on the spot. {Deep Breath.}

So.

Finally, after years of figurative perpetual finger slamming in drawer Craigslist surfing, I have redeemed myself with the mecca of all deal finding, a gay couple cleaning out their warehouse of furniture from Pottery Barn, West Elm, and Crate & Barrel. Quick, pick yourself up off the floor where you just passed out from sheer amazement, it's true! And whilst we dragged our son all over Manhattan yesterday running errands, I successfully transacted 15 times with said gay couple to secure the following: a dining table from Pottery Barn, 6 chairs, and a 6 foot stand up mirror without ever having to see it or move a muscle, because do you know what else? THEY DELIVERED IT TO MY HOUSE. Now I'm just bragging.

My point is, don't give up on Craigslist just yet. There may be a gem out there for you too.