My Kid Stole My Cool

Apologies for the Earthquake

Posted on Aug 23, 2011 in Uncategorized

I have a confession: I caused the earthquake. Actually, I think my unborn child did.

In case the earthquake has rattled your brains to the point of memory loss, there is a hurricane heading toward the East Coast. As a Southern Californian, I haven’t gotten all caught up in all the hurricane hoopla. I mean, it’s just rain, right? Apparently not. Damon came home in the middle of the day and moved all our important stuff off the first floor of our condo, so I guess it’s kind of a big deal. Irene is not even supposed to hit till the weekend, and we’re already relocating our furniture and buying non-perishables?

So at about 1:50 today I left my condo to walk to my 2:00 pilates session. As I stepped outside, I started thinking how East Coasters totally take their natural disasters for granted. They have days to plan and prepare; yet they act as if the sky is falling. What’s a little house flooding and electricity loss when you know it’s coming? In California, we have earthquakes. No warning for those babies, thankyouverymuch.

I was berating East Coasters in my head for their inferior natural disasters when I walked into my pilates studio. “DID YOU FEEL THAT?” my instructor shrieked. “WE JUST HAD AN EARTHQUAKE”. While reflecting on hypothetical earthquakes, I completely missed a real one.

“I was literally just thinking about how we have to deal with earthquakes here!” I shrieked back. Now that timing is just weird. My instructor, Mary, glanced down at my stomach. “What are you growing in there?”

Suddenly it dawned on me: I am breeding a demon child with supernatural powers strong enough to cause earthquakes and national panic! There is no other explanation for the freak timing. I’ll make sure to have a discussion with her about this when she’s born.

In the meantime, I apologize on her behalf. It won’t happen again.

No Longer a Newlywed

Posted on Aug 22, 2011 in Uncategorized

As I mentioned in my last post, yesterday was my one-year wedding anniversary. One year down, and we’ve already survived a true test to our marriage: sharing a bathroom. Not just any bathroom. An inconceivably small bathroom with no storage for my products and a door that didn’t shut all the way. I place a lot of value on my privacy, and being forced to use a bathroom with a door that didn’t shut properly was mildly traumatizing. But we have since moved on to bigger and better – and separate – bathrooms, and with separate bathrooms comes marital bliss. So how did we celebrate this momentous occasion? Well, Damon had to work a bit on Sunday, so he determined we weren’t going to just celebrate our anniversary day, but our anniversary weekend. Hey – go big or go home. Therefore on Saturday we spent eight hours in a childbirth and delivery class where the instructor told us that labor is going to hurt a lot, and then showed us incredibly graphic videos of childbirth. It was so romantic. That evening we caught a Norfolk Tides game. Damon loves baseball, and while I typically enjoying catching a game, this past season I have not been so inclined to sit in oppressive heat for hours on end, not drinking beer. I have been much more inclined to sit on my couch in my air-conditioned living room eating ice cream. But I had the feeling Damon had gotten me a better anniversary gift than I him, so I figured I better agree to the game just in case. Sunday morning, our actual anniversary, I woke up to a homemade breakfast in bed! Just kidding. I actually woke up to a text that read something along the lines of, “I got called into work this morning, but will be back in time for brunch”. Because I am such an understanding and loving wife, I didn’t let this irk me. (Plus, I respect my husband’s work for this country and have accepted his schedule won’t always be convenient. At least I accept it...

Have My Cake and Eat It Too

Posted on Aug 21, 2011 in Uncategorized

Today is my one year anniversary. Crazy! I know it sounds cliché, but it really feels like yesterday I was having a nervous breakdown over floral arrangements. But apparently it’s been a year – a crazy, wonderful, life-changing year. Had you asked me on my wedding day if I thought a year from then I’d be almost seven months pregnant and preparing to uproot my life to Japan, I’d have said, “Well, yeah, that is a pretty realistic prediction”. But then it actually happened and it’s completely incomprehensible to me. Anyway, I have a wonderful husband who somehow puts up with me, and you know how I would like to celebrate that fact? By eating cake. Specifically, my wedding cake. Tradition dictates that the bride and groom freeze the top layer of the cake to share on their first anniversary. I LOVED my cake. It was unbelievably delicious – a dark chocolate and french buttercream cake with mocha toffee and tiramisu fillings. None of that white cake with fruit filling crap for me. Bring on the chocolate! It was to die for. I honestly think that the thing I was most looking forward to on my wedding day was the cake (besides the whole marriage thing, I suppose). Besides being sinfully good, it was also beautiful – simple and elegant with a gorgeous sheen. FYI – it is 10 AM, I am waiting for my husband to go to brunch, and I am hungry. Hence the obsessing over cake. While I’m obsessing, here’s a picture: The picture doesn’t even do it justice. All this is to say, I would kill for a piece of that cake today. Except I can’t have any. Why not? Because my mother decided cake doesn’t freeze well and served it to our extended family while Damon and I were on our honeymoon. Thanks, mom! So while today is a joyous day, it is also a day tinged with sadness. Never again will I taste such divine goodness. Unless, perhaps, I order another cake from the baker. Which at this point I am seriously considering....

How to Torture Your Husband: Part I

Posted on Aug 19, 2011 in Uncategorized

Take him baby shopping. Not shopping for babies – that would be creepy and illegal. Rather, shopping for baby gear. No, actually, take him baby gear shopping two hours away from where you live by insisting the superstores like Babies R Us will have a “better selection”. Yeah, I did that. But really, I just wanted to go to Pottery Barn Kids and the closest one is in Richmond. What self-respecting man is going to agree to drive two hours just to ogle at cute baby bedding at PBK if not for another, legitimate reason. Like, “The Babies R Us near us had no good car seats, I swear! If we want our baby to be safe, we need to go to Richmond where I’m positive they will have a much better selection. You want our baby to be safe, don’t you?” Baby stores should produce “oohs” and “ahhs” and “ohmygoshlookhowtinyittis!” from shoppers. Merchandise that tiny is always precious. (Exception: pet stores. The tiny animals sold in pet stores are decidedly not precious). Enter Babies R Us – somehow one of the most depressing stores you can set foot in. I’d rather be repeatedly impaled by a long, sharp object than suffer anymore prolonged exposure to Babies R Us. Oh, and mark my words, your time spent there will prolonged, every moment slowly chipping away at your soul. Why are there 12,758 strollers?! And you have to test Every. Single. One. Wouldn’t want baby to have an inferior stroller without a 17-point harness or wheels intended for an SVU or an attachable play tray! It could be disastrous. And mustn’t forget the attachable cup holder so mom can tote along her “water” bottle. And car seats. Honestly. Is it impossible for a manufacturer to design a safe, highly-rated car seat that doesn’t make your eyes bleed? What’s with all the garish colors and patterns? I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure baby doesn’t care if she’s sitting in a car seat decorated with purple giraffes. Baby doesn’t care, but I do. Let’s get some neutrals, people! My home...

Let Me Introduce Myself

Posted on Aug 18, 2011 in Uncategorized

Hello, Folks! First off, I’d like to say that this blog would totally be titled “Pregnant in Heels” if it weren’t for that silly Bravo show. Stupid copyright laws. If you’re reading this first post, you probably already know me. Thus, you already know that I am a total Type-A, perfectionist freak. If you’ve stumbled upon this by accident and don’t know me, let me introduce myself: I am a total Type-A, perfectionist freak. I’m also 27 weeks pregnant, as of today. Let’s just say pregnancy has enhanced my more neurotic tendencies. I’m the type who goes to yoga religiously because I know it’s good for me, but makes to-do lists in my head during shavasana. (At my first pre-natal yoga class, I had a mild panic attack when the instructor announced we would be having 20 minutes of “relaxation” time. Seriously. 20 Minutes!) I’ve been known to abandon completely full shopping carts after realizing the items I’ve selected don’t coordinate perfectly. (My deepest apologies to the Bed, Bath & Beyond staff.) I spend an unhealthy amount of hours researching things like cribs only to suffer extreme anxiety over my final decision. Jury’s out on whether or not I’ll actually keep the one I just ordered. To be fair, these things aren’t that abnormal. I don’t think. But as some major changes come down the pipeline, I figured a blog might be a good outlet. Even though, let’s be honest, most blogs are a totally narcissistic undertaking. Now – what be those changes, you ask? 1) Baby on Board. Duh. 2) I’m entering the world of Professional Housewives (temporarily). Considering my cooking skills are nil and I abhor most household-related tasks, this does not bode well for my sanity. 3) My hubby and I (and baby-to-be) are moving to Japan next year. Sure, that’s not for another 10 months or so, but knowing that we’re moving across the world in less than a year has already begun affecting our daily lives. On another note, my major life interests include: Fashion, food (a very unfortunate interest, considering my aforementioned lack...