December 31, 2008


Two years ago tonight, I was up in wine country with a bunch of friends, staying at a beautiful house along the Russian River, drinking wine, eating delicious meals, and makin' babies. Well... Turns out I actually only made one baby to be specific, but the point is I literally conceived on New Year's eve (or New Year's day.... it was a lucky 24 hours for my husband and I).  Now, we're  back up in wine country, with the same group of friends and a couple of additions to the group -- the scenery is still stunning, the wine is still delicious, and the food is still making me fat (and for sure committing to a diet on Monday).  The only change: babies. Children. Toddlers. Three momma loving, snack loving, Elmo loving kiddies along for the ride. 

Being here with Baby-Ko and his two pals "Addie" and "Addie" (both different names, and different sex actually) definitely makes the moments of wanting to pull my hair out when Baby-Ko is having a meltdown more tolerable. It's certainly not the same trip we take year after year, after all- babies at winery isn't what I would call "relaxing," but it's definitely fun. And chaotic. And sweet. And I'm sure the best form of birth control our single friends with us could ever ask for....


Tonight as I put Baby-Ko to sleep, I told him about what an amazing year 2007 was because it was the year he was born and I fell in love. I told him that 2008 was even better because I watched him turn from an infant to a little man right before my eyes and then I really fell in love. I told him that we had so many exciting things in store for him 2009... turning two, a new president, a new doggy (not really, but I said it because it's fun to hear him say "dAH-gee").  I said "Happy New Year" over and over and finally, he said "Hay-nee," which I can only assume is his brilliant rendition of Happy New Year. It was a wonderful way to say 'night-'night.... and go join my friends upstairs for an adult beverage...

This has been one hell of a year and I am so looking forward to an even happier, healthier, and sweeter New Year. Best wishes to all.  


December 19, 2008


I wanted to write about my new favorite show "Whatever, Martha" on Fine Living Network- I stumbled upon this gem last week. Alexis Stewart, Martha's daughter sits around with her friend Jennifer and watches old Martha Stewart Living segments and literally talks shit.  I mean, literally. She calls her mom uptight, sexless, makes fun of how boring and ridiculous it is... One segment she made fun of Martha's guest who is a twine collector. Yes, twine. Anyway, the show is hilarious but what I love is that Martha Stewart is actually executive producer which means- she's in on it. She knows her daughter is talking shit and is cashing in on it too... It's brilliant. 

BUT, I'm not going to write about this show. Because I want to write about my new NEW favorite show, and by favorite I mean, my favorite train wreck of a show: Momma's Boys on NBC.  It's not the best produced show I've ever seen, but I don't care. I'm hooked. WHY? Hmm. Good question. I'm not really even sure why myself. I think it's because I can actually already understand the concern these mom's have as their son's go gaga over these cheesy chicks. There's one mom in particular that's making the ratings great because she went on camera and said she doesn't want anyone but a "white girl" (that includes girls with "big butts" apparently) for her precious Jo-Jo. Well, much to her dismay the producers, er, her son, chose the one (black) girl in the house that she cannot stand. Game on!  

To make matters worse, her poor son can't even get any action because his psycho mom barged in while he was making out with one of the girls. She literally made them get out of the pool and told the girl that if she wants to get on her good side, she needs to stop kissing her son. This woman is nuts but I kind of get it.... It's her baby and suddenly, dealing with teething and temper tantrums seems alright in comparison... 

So, Baby-Ko, please stay like this forever. If not, then please don't ever like blonde girls with lots of make up and fake boobies.... Unless you want me joining in hot tub action. And in 20 years from now, I can't promise that'll be pretty... 

December 10, 2008


Facebook is my crack.  I know... I admit it...  I used to talk a lot of shit about friends (and husbands) who seemed overly obsessed with status updating, reconnecting with old friends (and flames) and playing silly games like Scrabbulous or throwing monkeys at each other (or some other ridiculous FB application).  But I get it!  I'm addicted too now.  I've got over 200 friends (Tyler Florence included) and I'm feeling pretty good about myself. I think I'm finally cool. :-)

HOWEVER, one thing NOT so "cool" about me and Facebook: the photos that my so-called friends have decided to upload of me!  Sure, it's fun to take a walk down memory lane every now and again, but must I be reminded of the days of my Aquanet-ed bangs, denim shirts (oh yes), and push down socks?  Before I was cool, I was a dork. Do my new, cool, Facebook friends REALLY need to know that? I have an image to uphold! And what's worse, is that I have zero control over what photos go up. My only control is an option to "remove a tag." BUT thanks to the genius of FB, when you remove a tag, EVEEEEEEEEEEERYONE of your friends sees on their little voyeuristic, sick, twisted status update thingy.... which essentially means, if they're having a slow day at work, they can go to the photos and spend time figuring out which one is you and laugh about how hideous you used to look (not that I've done that to any of YOU, of course).

Here are a couple of photos that I have recently been tagged in....  

This one is from High School circa 1993 or 1994. It's me with all the other Drama nerds, excited about nailing a scene in "Pippin" or something... Who knows....

This second one is from like 1989 or 1990... It's me with all my BFFs. 
I'll give you a hint, my tee shirt was from Esprit....

This one was a cabin photo from summer camp (CHK!) in the mid/late 80's. I'm sure I liked one of the boys in the photo and I'm sure they did not like me... 
(It would be another few years until I had my first kiss, which incidentally occurred months after I got felt up. Go figure...)


December 4, 2008


We recently posted this video on  When I first saw it, I literally could not stop laughing.   He obviously hates puppets as much as I hate birds.

Kid Is Terrified Of Puppets - Watch more Free Videos

Yet another reason why I need to make sure I don't pass on my irrational fears to my own child!

December 3, 2008


It seemed like any other night... I was singing to Baby-Ko as he drank his "baba." Just as I was about to utter "Goodnight Noises Everywhere....," Baby-Ko sat forward. He burped and looked at me and BLAAAAAAAH. VOMIT. All over me. All over the chair. All ovr the floor. 

"Oh no!" I said, "Are you OKA-" 

BLAAAAAAAH. VOMIT, AGAIN. All over me. All over the chair. All over the three cows jumping over the moon.

I was shocked. He was shocked. T-Ko was at the store getting more milk so I had to think fast ON MY OWN... Not wanting to rouse him more (as he was on the verge of "night night"), I quickly stripped off my foul smelling clothes, (which happened to be perfectly spotless work clothes that I had just gotten out of the dry cleaners), and threw them into a pile in the hallway Within a minute and a half, I had calmly and peacefully managed to also get Baby-Ko's dirty PJ's off and a new fresh pair on. (Okay,  I lied. I was just about to do laundry, so the "new" pajamas were actually "old" pajamas, but at least they didn't have throw up on them).  

As I read to Baby-Ko for the second and final time, I couldn't help but feel so proud of myself. Here I was, sitting in my bra and underwear, managing to stay calm despite vomit crusted in my hair and something that resembles split pea soup on a recently washed throw rug. I followed through with our night time routine and within minutes, my baby, completely unaffected by the whole ordeal, was fast asleep.  I felt like a total pro. Crisis averted.

One thing's for sure though, motherhood is NOT for the squeamish... Or for those that expect to have time to take a shower when things start to get a little dirty....

November 30, 2008


Well, Thanksgiving has come and gone. This has been a pretty eventful week and I have so much to be thankful for.... This year, everyone came to our house for dinner. It was our second year hosting and once again, was a great success. (Check out a recent post I wrote for MomLogic about dealing with Four Families during the holidays).  Here's a little recap/ list of highlights from the holiday:

1) T-Ko made a kick ass turkey for the 2nd year in a row. I must confess that I was a little nervous considering he found the recipe from Food Network star Sandra Lee ("Semi Homemade"). Her food is as cheesy and WT as Rachel Ray's. HOWEVER, it turned out GREAT. Thank g-d he didn't ask me to create one of her "table-scapes" though... I draw the line somewhere.

2) I learned that I may have already missed the boat as far as taking care of my skin and "defying age." According to my Auntie C who works for a high end cosmetic company, I need to "get on it, and get on it fast." Apparently, I should have started a regimen (wash, toner, lotion, eye cream etc.) literally a decade ago. Well, I have taken heed and am going to start taking care of my 32 year old skin better. But can I just say: What a pain in the ass.  Waking up with mascara caked to my cheek is so much easier, and frankly makes me feel a lot younger.

3) We determined that there were 8 sticks of butter used for all the recipes (not including dessert) Well,  there were 8 of us at dinner.... That's 1 stick of butter per person! At one point, T-Ko said he could feel his heart beating in his eye.  

4) After Thanksgiving dinner, we bundled up Baby-Ko, plopped him in the stroller, and all 8 of us went for a walk around the neighborhood. It was like Dead (Fat) Man Walking. 

5) After dessert we all sat around and played Guitar Hero.  Nothing funny to say about this except that I wish I was a fly on the wall to hear my Nana telling her peeps down in Leisure World about this one... It's gotta be right up there with the time she told me she couldn't find her Yahoo...

6) Feeling fat and stuffed, I decided to take a Tae Bo class Saturday morning. Not surprising, the class was packed to the max. It usually smells pretty rank in there after any given class. This time though, it smelled like leftover turkey and Brussels sprouts. Needless to say, I am officially over Thanksgiving now. Of course, I can't let all that pumpkin pie go to waste.... right?

November 25, 2008


Call me a sucker, but when I saw the Mac clan doing a country-western Elf dance, I couldn't resist turning Baby-Ko into a dancing Elf too. 

And who says Jewish boys can't line dance???

November 19, 2008


I knew that "the day" would come. The day when I would sound like an old washed up mom, who's seen her share of dirty diapers, colds and viruses, tantrums and toy trucks.... The day when I would sit back and look at some young girl on the brink of mommy-hood and shake my head, as if she has no idea what the hell she's in for... The day when I would feel like I had been doing this forever and can't even remember what it's like to not be a mom.... I just NEVER thought the day would come so soon. 

During a meeting today, somehow we were talking about food and the topic of macaroni and cheese came up... I don't remember exactly what it was that we were talking about but I overheard one of my coworkers, who's not a mom, say, "I'll never let my kid eat macaroni and cheese."  Record scratch. Wait, what? 
"Did you just say you'll never let your kid eat macaroni and cheese?" I said butting in. Clearly IIII must just be thinking about macaroni and cheese and she said I would never let my kid eat anthrax. That would make sense. 
"Yeah," she said, "It's so bad for you. I don't to feed that to my child."
And then I said it. A saying that put me in the frown line and mom jean category just by thinking it: "Just wait until you have kids. That will all change..." 
I sounded like Joey Tribiani's agent.  I might as well have had a cigarette dangling from my mouth and told her that if she "sticks with me, she'd go real far. Real far."

I mean, who am I? I'm only a mom of 14 months. I'm no expert. Hell, I haven't even figured out how to put my son to sleep without rocking him until he's passed out in my arms (Yes, we're working on that... in fact we're "sleep training" this weekend. But I'll save that for a whole 'nother post). And while I'm no shining example of all things Mom, her comment seemed so silly. So ridiculous. Obviously, if you're 32 and dealing with muffin top (hi, me), macaroni and cheese is probably a bad idea. But in my opinion, it's perfectly fine for a growing toddler. 

I can't blame my coworker though, I  used to say and think ridiculous things sometimes out loud) before I had a baby ...  (I won't tiptoe and whisper when he sleeps.... I'll never let him watch TV... I'm not going to let him crawl on the airport floor....)    Well, I learned my lesson. Shit changes and decisions and ideas that I was so self-righteous and sure about went "bye bye" real fast when I had a baby. But I guess part of becoming a mom is learning to never say never... My next step, learning how not to sound like one... 

November 13, 2008


I know kids get sick, but come on!!! For 6 weeks- SIX WEEKS!!!- Baby-Ko's  had a nasty unexplained virus that's come and gone, ebbed and flowed, and disappeared and reappeared. This past Monday, my happy baby who's cough I thought was just "residual", went from point a to point sick within hours. Since Monday, we've had a trip to Urgent Care, a trip to the ER and a trip to the doctor. The diagnosis: a bad virus and a sinus infection. He seems to be getting better, but the frustration and sadness of listening to a 13 month old snore (when they're awake) because they can't blow their nose and the sight of an aspirator makes him bananas (and really does nothing anyway), IS TORTURE.  

I think the hardest part about it is the guilt I feel about not being able to "cure" him with my kisses and sooth him with my voice. And it's even harder to be away from him (at work) knowing that he's uncomfortable in any way. I know that this is just the beginning of many,  many sicknesses and rough times, but I hope that he catches a break soon.  We're all needing one at the 'Ko household= especially little guy.

There is one thing though that continues to impress, amaze and make me light up throughout all of yuck: Baby-Ko's growing vocabulary.  Earlier this week, after eating, he shrugged and lifted his hands and said "ah da" (translation: all done). The next day, he was squirming in my arms and said "dow mama" (translation: Down, mama). And the day after that, as I kissed him good bye to go to work he said, "bye-bye mama." (Translation: unnecessary). :-)
The point is, through all of the sleepless nights and coughing and sneezing there are joys and happy moments. I just wish we were "ah da" with the sick... Definitely ready to say "Bye-bye" to that...

November 6, 2008


Tonight I saw a promo for a local news segment on a product called Betty Color and I literally had to pause it and rewind it like ten times. Granted, it was channel 9 news which is generally garbage, but they were running a segment on an apparent growing trend:  Dying Pubic Hair.  
I KNOW.  I mean, we all know that for most women, the carpet doesn't match the drapes.  But does it matter? No one's ever met a dumb blonde and looked at her black pubes and thought, "hmmm, maybe she is smart after all."  

When so many women, including myself, put themselves through torturous scenarios to try to tidy up and get rid of "split ends" so to speak, what I find hilarious is that this product seems to encourage the idea of a "full head of hair."  Obviously, there are times throughout the month and year when your "do" could use some upkeep and some tendin' to (I'm all for hibernating in the winter). But this product seems to endorse length. In order for their plethora of color dye options to work, you've gotta have something to work with...  Unless, of course you want your crotch to look like Susan Powter's head back in the day....

Ever wanted to dye your hair crazy colors??? Welllll you are in luck!  Use "Fun Betty" and you can shock your lover with a big PINK hoo-ha. Feeling BLUE?  Just try "Malibu Betty." Need a stocking stuffer? Just buy your gal "Holiday Betty!" This festive one comes in GREEN or RED and is sure to make your man say "ho ho ho!" 

AND... For those of you that are feeling  like you need to literally MARK your territory, try Betty's "CHARM-CILS." That's right! For $7.99 you can choose from one of 8 stencils. Feeling groovy? Try a PEACE SIGN. Need some cash?  Pimp a $ sign.  Ever wanted to be a FIRE CROTCH? Just stencil in a LIGHTENING sign!  Yes, my friends, the possibility for a truly unique hoo ha is endless....   

And here I was thinking that Obama's in and Bush is out.... (Ba da dum)...

November 3, 2008


It's finally here. Less than 24 hours away from Election Day. I'm so excited for all the campaigning and shit talking to end, and ready for a new leader. As incredible as it's been to witness  how politics have become mainstream and "funny," I'm ready for things to get serious. Sure, it's been fun to see and a great way for candidates to reach the young voters... from the "Don't Vote" video to Sarah Silverman's "The Great Shlep" to Tina Fey's dead on spoof of Sarah Palin....  but enough is enough. It truly is TIME FOR A CHANGE.  

If I were a McCain supporter I would have been completely turned off by his appearance on SNL this weekend. He looks like a friggin' corpse... Like a wax version of the dude from "Weekend at Bernies." Maybe its me, but I really don't see how self deprecation and joking can work to your advantage, just days before the election, when you and the moose loving dumbshit you're running with are behind in the polls? I get that politicians go on these shows to seem more relatable, more "main street." But enough. We're on to you. You're not comedians and you're appearance doesn't make me think "wow, I'm just like you " or buy that you are "just like" the Joe Six Packs and Hockey Moms of America....

Speaking of Hockey Moms, I am certainly no comedian, but boy, did I have fun playing one (playing one...) on Halloween.

And by the way, I think I'd be a better candidate...

November 1, 2008


October 30, 2008


Tomorrow is Halloween and T-Ko's 33rd Birthday.  

Happy Birthday! I'm so glad you're my douche bag...

October 24, 2008


The other night,  as I was feeding the baby, T-Ko was rifling through the mail and declared, "I'm over Victoria Secret."
"Huh?" I looked up. He holds up a Nordstrom lingerie catalogue. "Victoria Secret. It sucks. This. THIS is hot." T-Ko points to one of the pages, "Dude. Look at this. Isn't this hot?" 
I nod and wait for his next inevitable statement: "You should wear this."
Sure. But if you think that's hot, may I also introduce you to stores called Saks, Neiman's, and Barneys...

Later in the evening, as we were brushing our teeth, T-Ko tells me he saw one of our doctors, who is sort of a Hollywood/shmoozer type, at the mall. 
"... And I see him walking with this hot, young woman, and I'm like, 'uh oh.'"
"Oh no, really?" I say.
"No, it turned out it was his wife. My mom recognized her."
"Oh. Good. That would have sucked."  I rinse my mouth. "What does she look like? I picture like a very fake, over the top woman..."
"No. Not at all," he says: "She's like a more put together version of you."

October 21, 2008


Aloha! We just got back from a beautiful week in Maui for Dirty Uncle P and Auntie J's wedding. It was awesome. The wedding, the weather, the family and friends.... it was a blast. I can't say that I am coming back relaxed, but I definitely am coming back exhausted which is a sign that I had a great time...

So as you know by now, I hate birds. But now that Baby-Ko can actually say the word "Bird" (well, it sounds more like "burr"),  I feel like I have to stifle my desire to scream and run when those nasty little creatures fly by or land near me. When I was in college, I baby sat for a little boy and every afternoon, I would take him to this playground which was constantly bombarded by pigeons. Panicked, I would shoo away the birds and mutter something probably very inappropriate for a 3 year old to hear under my breath. One day, the birds started to hover near his stroller and on cue, Z said "Go 'way birdies. I don't wike you." Uh oh. I said, "No, you can like birds. You like birds. IIIII don't like birds." "No!" He said, "I don't wike birds. Go 'way!" And that was that. I created a monster.

Determined not to make the same mistake with my own child (ha ha), I mustered up a lot of courage (mostly impart to the constant flow of pina coladas and other umbrella laden drinks), and endured the insane amount of bird presence at the hotel. There are birds, there are parrots, there are flamingos, there are swans. There are even penguins. Vomit. BUT, I remained so calm. We even ate breakfast at Swan Court (yes, literally, it's a fucking court for swans. Die.), and  the "burrs" were flying around like it was a Hitchcock film. I wanted to scream and shoo them away with my napkin, but I didn't. Instead, I pointed them out like a good mommy. I even turned a blind eye for a half a second when he threw a piece of food on the floor purposefully so the birds would come and eat it (okay, it wasn't completely blind. I had my foot nearly up the birds beak ready to kick it the fuck away if it got any closer). The point is, the fact that Baby-Ko is using his words and identifying things and even composing sentences like "Bye-Bye Burr", I have no choice but to chill out. 

But it's a damn good  thing he doesn't know how to say "Germs" and "Plane" yet. Because I don't know just how much "chilling" I can do...

October 12, 2008


I normally would not share a story of a  bikini wax from hell with my readers, but I'm watching "The Rachel Zoe Project" and for some unknown reason, something about this show is making me want to dish... 
We're leaving for this week to go to Maui for my brother in law's wedding. (Twice in five months. I'm a lucky girl, I know!)  Of course, leaving for a tropical vacation means beautifying from head to toe...  I found an amazing waxer close to my house who charges a lot, but who's meticulous, CLEAN (key!), fast and painless. BUT, since I'm a working mama now, I kind of need one-stop shopping. SO, at the urging of the woman who owns my nail salon, I decided to try her Waxing Lady. 

When the WL took me back to the private room, I was a little taken aback by the fact that she put on a surgical mask. Perhaps she's sick?  "Are you sick?" I ask, as I start sliding off my jeans. "No. Duck chicken school." Ummm.... okay. She is Vietnamese. Her English isn't great, and under the mask it's much worse. I lay on the table, fully nude from waist down, and she takes a big magnifying light, (the kind that the dentist uses when he's digging for a cavity), and shines it down there.  I take a deep breath.
"What we doing today, honey?" she asks, "Brazillian, Playboy...?"
"Um, both?" As if I really can ever tell the difference.  She reaches into her little caddy.
"Whoah. What is that? What are you doing??!??!" I ask shocked. SHE IS SPRAYING SOMETHING. LIKE A FUCKING ODORIZER OR SOMETHING!
"Don't worry. You don' t want to know." WHAT?! I DON'T WANT TO KNOW? WHAT????? Just for the record, this isn't my first trip down bikini waxing lane. Been doing this for quite some time. NEVER, I repeat, NEVER has someone SPRAYED something near my hoo ha. Never.  HOWEVER, I am now naked waist down. Hot wax is about to become my worst enemy, and an unclear Vietnamese lady is in charge. I take the second of MANY deep breaths, and decide not to respond.
The WL sticks the popsicle stick in the wax and approaches said area, "Hold, " she demands, "HOLD!" she says again putting my hands on my thigh and stomach, making me pull back my skin, fat and organs so as to make the skin taught. "I'm holding," I say frightened. 
"Tighter," TIGHTER?! How much more can I pull?! She YANKS my thigh back. "THERE!" She screams. RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP. 
"You see. Tighter. I get heaven." Huh? Did she say "heaven?" Did she mean it gets "even?" I have no fucking clue. As I start to internally scream at myself for agreeing to let this wacky broad tear at my privates, without missing a beat, the WL has my hands pulling my other thigh and stomach tight again. Literally, she has me pulling, lifting, flattening my body out so much that you'd think I was a morbidly obese person who's lost something in the folds of their fat. I think about asking her what the purpose of me groping myself like this is, because clearly it's not to minimize the pain, but she's already so busy proudly muttering something else about how "other people don't do like I do" that I realize it will be pointless. 
I sit up slightly to see the work that she's done so far. She pushes my head back. "You look later." Okaaaaaaaaaay. I guess she likes her clients to be surprised... 
Next thing I know, she's shoving a popsicle stick in my hand. "HOLD," she says and positions my hand and the popsicle stick in such a way that I wonder if I'm causing physical damage. "HOLD." She says again, pushing firmly. "Ow," I say meekly, praying that this will be over soon. RIIIIIIIIIIIIIP.  
"YES!" She exclaims and shows me the muslin. "You see. Very curly. Chicken. Pad thai bullet proof," is what I can make out. Whatever. Just finish. Please. FINISH.
For the rest of the session she pulls, tightens, pushes and violates my hoo ha and has me in positions that I don't think my husband has even seen.  After a grueling 25 minutes, she finally finishes. I grab my underwear and jeans and pull them up.  Was I just her bitch??
As I walk back out into the nail salon to pay, I can hear whispers in Vietnamese and I can only imagine what she's telling them.  Omg... So embarrassing.
 And to quote Rachel Zoe: "DIE. I DIE...."

October 6, 2008


Well, it's only Monday but I feel like there's already a few things that are post worthy... or not. You be the judge.
Let's see....
1) I got my first "Your Son is Sick" call from Day Care today. Around 4pm my cell phone rang and one of the teachers at Baby-Ko's day care told me that he felt warm and when she took his temperature, it was about 100. I quickly grabbed my stuff, told my coworkers the situation, and ran out the door to save my son. Okay, maybe he didn't need saving, but I felt like I needed to be there as fast as I could for him. It was a textbook case of new/working mom/baby's sick.  I have officially joined "the club." For reals though.

2) Due to Baby-Ko suffering from a cold, or molars coming in, or a reaction to his vaccinations, or all of the above, we're going to keep him home from day care. Of course, this is kind of problematic since we don't have alternative day care lined up. Fortunately, my Nana has offered to come and spend the day with Baby-Ko.  We've decided to dub her as Nana Poppins. The best part of having her here is that we can watch Dancing with the Stars together. She thinks Cloris Leachman looks "marvelous." I think Brooke Burke looks "ridic."  I guess it's all relative...

3) Last night, as I got in to bed, I realized it had been a long time since I had fallen asleep on T-Ko's chest. I used to be able to pass out, drool, and sleep like a log on his chest. Lately, though bed time is all business. But last night, I went for the chest and found the perfect position almost immediately. Just as I started to drift off, T-Ko said, "You know, when you were pregnant, you weren't able to do this."
"Huh, why?" I said.
"Because of the smell..." He had showered before we got into bed. "I used this soap once when you were pregnant and I got out of the shower and you freaked out and told me that it was the worst most, perfumey, soapy scent EVER.  You told me that I smelled like Borat at a night club and you were having an allergic reaction to the smell."
"I probably was. My nose was super sensitive when I was pregnant. Seriously."
"''Throw it away. Immediately,' you told me," he said mimicking me.
"And did you?" I asked.
"Nooo.  I kept the soap."
"You kept the soap???"
"Yeah, i kept the soap. You were pregnant. Hormonal. Nuts. I kept the soap. And tonight, I ran out of soap, and guess what I used--"
Silence. I take a deep breath. Oh, no. The soap. I seriously smell the soap.
"Oh my god, it's horrible. I can't believe you used the soap."
"You would have NEVER noticed if I hadn't said anything," he said.
"Yeah, but now I notice and now I can't even breath. You do smell like Borat. I feel like I'm in a department store with bad perfume. Oh my god, it's the worst smell ever," I say rolling over to the other side.
"You really are crazy," T-Ko said.
"You really smell."
"Good night. Love you."
"Love you too. Please throw out the soap," I say dozing off... and realizing that we really did run out of soap, and now I  too will smell like homeless gypsy. Crap.

October 2, 2008


I had just had a busy day at work, dropped off/picked up baby from day care, put baby to sleep, sent out bills and washed bottles... As I sat down to finally catch my breath and inhale the world's most fattening tostada, I looked over to T-Ko who was digging into his tostada with one hand and controlling the remote with the other.

All of a sudden I felt like such an adult. Not sure what it was but it hit me. Excited by the feeling of being a real adult in a real marriage with someone I really love, I started to make small talk about my day.
"... so then," I said, with guacamole hanging out of my mouth, "they ordered breakfast burritos for everyone. I was so excited but I already brought lunch with me. So I just had a little bit then waited for lunch. But THEN-"
I look up. His eyes are not on me. They're are not even on his plate. They are on the TV. Aha, I should have known. Dodger Game.
"Um, you're not even listening are you?"
"No, babe. I'm not. This is my Oscars. My Emmy's. My red carpet. So, no. I'm not listening to you," he says unapologetically. Hmm. Just like that.

I get it. I do. The Dodgers are in the playoffs. It's huge. It's fun. It's HISTORY.
But I feel like he gets to have "his oscars" once a month... Basketball, Baseball, Football (omg. Don't get me started on football!), Hockey (he doesn't even like hockey)... It's always something. Me, I get the Oscars ONCE a year. The red carpet? Please! As if I have 4 hours at once now to sit down and watch the arrivals. Those days are over!

The point is, I realize my silly story about what I was eating at work certainly wasn't worth him breaking his trance during playoffs (or listening to at all, for that matter), BUT I just wonder if now that I'm fully committed with work and baby and life, if I'll ever get a chance to tune out and have my "Oscar" moment whenever I please...  If so, T-Ko, be prepared to walk the red carpet alone tomorrow at 6am. I'll be busy accepting my award....

September 30, 2008


Today is Rosh Hashanah, the celebration of the Jewish New Year. I have so much to be thankful for ... a healthy and beautiful child, a loving and hysterically funny husband, a generous family, a great new job, and a house (which could use a little organizing from time to time) that I absolutely love to come home to.  

While I'm only a week and a day in on this "working mom" thing, I am starting to "get it." The feelings of pressure, exhaustion, exhilaration as I try to balance a career and a home-life (baby, husband, dishes, etc). Even though I'm feeling swamped, here a couple things that I feel are worth mentioning:

1) We leave to Maui for Dirty Uncle P-Ko and Auntie Jo's wedding in TWO weeks from Thursday!! So excited. But remember that "hot bod" that I was supposed to have by the time I left, and that 30 day/30 min diet that I was doing to actually achieve the "hot bod..." Um, yeah.... Let's just say I'm going to be packing  a couple more poolside tunics than I had anticipated. If only they made spanxs bikinis....

2) I have been nominated for a SMILE AWARD! Thank you, Jackie!
Apparently, the characteristics of wining are:
1. Must display a cheerful attitude. (this of course does not apply at 3am when baby is up crying).
2. Must love one another.
3. Must make mistakes. (Me? Never!)
4. Must learn from others. 
5. Must be a positive contributor to blog world. (Perfectly Disheveled, yo!)
6. Must love life.
7. Must love kids. (Adore. Obsessed. Crazy in love).

3) T-Ko went fishing on Sunday with a couple friends. He said it was the one of the most miserable day of his life... the water was horribly choppy, making the trip not only unpleasant but downright scary at times (especially when the coast guard issued a "small craft warning- return to the harbor immediately" warning). To top it off, the only thing he even caught was a bird!   Thankfully, T-Ko, albeit exhausted and bruised, made it home in one piece late Sunday night. Well, T-Ko, I can't believe I'm saying this, but: From now on, will you PLEASE stay home on Sunday and enjoy that NFL / Football Ticket thingy you have on Direct TV? It's sooo much safer. :-)

4) I recently wrote a post on MomLogic called "Forgive Me God, I have a Kid."  Some of the comments I received were a bit disconcerting.... some even offensive. I know I do not need to say it but I am proud to be a Jew. The beauty of my religion is that I can pray anywhere I want to, in anyway I want to-- That I can reflect and atone, and thank G-d for all that he has blessed me with. I also want to add that sure, I could bring the baby with me to temple, but like I said, he wouldn't sit still so I'd end up being outside in the lobby with him. So really, what's the point? And frankly, it's distracting and unfair to others. When he gets older, of course he will join us in our beautiful tradition.  Check out some of the comments though... People are awfully self-righteous and judgmental.  Jeez! 

With that, I would like to wish you ALL a VERY happy, healthy and sweet new year! 
L' Shana Tova!

September 27, 2008


If it weren't for an obscene amount of television that I need to catch up on, I might be annoyed that my husband is at my brother in law's Bachelor party while I sit at home on a Saturday night. But fortunately, the season premiere of "Grey's Anatomy" was riveting (helllooo, Dr. Hunt!) and the season finale of "Weeds" fantastic, so I didn't have to time to sit around and think about what kind of debauchery he and the boys are getting in to. In fact, I don't even care. 

Seriously. I've learned my lesson and know that it's better (for everyone involved) to give it little heed and not think about what they're doing. Plus,  I pretend that they are at a yoga retreat, or a day at the spa, or at knitting class sipping cosmopolitans. In my mind, there are no nudie bars or boys behaving badly. Instead, I tell myself that they are all sitting around, talking about how much they love their wives instead of roasting/toasting the bachelor and telling him to "get out now," or "your life is about to end" as they proceed to drink themselves into oblivion so as to numb their pain.

Ha. The phone just rang. Looks like T-Ko is actually on his way home. (Kind of early). Hmm. Odd. Perhaps the bachelor got too drunk or T-Ko finished knitting his scarf... 

September 24, 2008


For the first time in 12 months, I know what day it is. It's Wednesday. My third day of work, Baby-Ko's third day of day care, and my third day of some serious constipation. (Wait, that's a whole other issue). Anyway, the point is, it's been quite a week already and my mind is racing with all sorts of things...

I am happy to announce that I'm now a full time writer/ producer at I have been a "network affiliate" with them with my blog but now I'm actually working there. First of all, returning to work has been a hell of a lot easier than I thought, not only because I'm actually doing what I love and am busy all day long, but because I'm working with a group of mostly women who are smart, funny, and fantastically dressed (which, by the way, makes me realize I have no clothes), but that are moms! So the fact that I'm working for, and with, a group of women who completely "get it" makes being away from the baby that much easier to deal with.

What hasn't been easy is the logistics as far as picking up and dropping Baby-Ko off at day-care. Traffic is a nightmare and today, as I sat in bumper to bumper for AN HOUR AND A HALF on the 101, I literally had a melt down. I worried that I was abandoning him and how scary it must feel to have his mommy come so late and how hungry he must be... all of these horrible things. Ironically, I wrote a post today about how Day Cares get a bad rap. As I sat in traffic, cursing the gods for gridlock and for not making me rich enough to hire Mary Poppins as my nanny, it occurred to me that even if he was at home with a nanny, I'd STILL be feeling this anxiety and guilt... Day Care. Nanny. Doesn't matter. Both aren't me. 

Nonetheless, the show must go on and mommy's gotta make some dough. She's also gotta make a poop. But that may take some time... after all, I'm still getting adjusted....

September 21, 2008


Well, tomorrow's the BIG DAY... I start a brand new full time job and Baby-Ko starts day care (full time). It goes without saying that it will be a week of adjusting and transition. I'm going to do my best tomorrow not to cry when I drop off Baby-Ko. In fact, I might take this picture with me to keep me smiling...  

I knew this kitchen was worth it....

September 19, 2008


My Dearest Baby-Ko,

It's hard to believe that tomorrow you turn ONE.... that just 364 days ago I was at the hospital with Daddy and all of your Grandparents, waiting for you to make your entrance. And what an entrance you made....

You are without a doubt, the sunshine of my life. You are sweet, charming, and clever.... You are only 21 pounds and 2'5" to date, but boy, you are already such a big boy. Each and every day I grow more and more proud of you and am amazed by your your curiosity AND your understanding of the world around you.  

This past year, I have learned and changed so much.  Of course, being a good mommy is definitely a work in progress, so I hope you'll continue to be patient with me. Daddy said tonight that before we know it, you'll be 16 years old. Well, inevitably, one day you will be 16... but do you think  you would still let me hug and kiss you and sing "The Nearness of You" every night before you go to sleep? I'll let you think about it... you have 15 years...

Well my sweet sweet boy.... Tomorrow is your big day and I cannot wait to wake up and sing you "happy birthday" and give you lots of kisses (if we could do this anytime AFTER 6:30am, I'd greatly appreciate it though...). 



September 18, 2008


Like most babies, mine is OBSESSED with DOORS. Open. Close. Open. Close. Kid could do it all day long. And, of course, now that he can pull him self to standing, and actually stay there for a while without falling, he now loves DRAWERS too. Open. Close. Open. Close. Well, it goes without saying that a tiled bathroom and kitchen with an old stove that constantly omits heat (and probably gas for that matter), is not exactly a safe play area for a child. SO, when my Nana asked me what Baby-Ko might like these days for his first birthday gift, it was a no brainer: A kitchen. He needs a play kitchen.

He's played with the Step 2 kitchen at various playrooms and friends houses, and he LOVED it. The drawers and cabinets, the refrigerator, the oven, the "microwave"....Open. Close. Open. Close. The kid was in heaven. BUT when I pulled the box out of the garage to assemble the kitchen, T-Ko was less than thrilled. DH was over and the two of them were cracking jokes left and right.

"Uh, babe. Do you see the pictures on the outside of the box?"
"I know. It's big, but I'll put it together."
"No. Not that. This is for GIRLS. There are two GIRLS playing with the kitchen," he said.
"Now I at least know what to get him for his birthday," DH chimed in. "An apron." I laughed.
"Dude, seriously. You're gonna make the kid gay." T-Ko said (knowing that this is actually impossible).
"That's ridiculous and you know it," I said and pulled out the drill gun. (Anyone catching on to the irony here?)

For a second I did second guess myself and wondered if T-Ko and DH were right... That maybe a kitchen was too "girly" and that maybe he should be playing with a dumpster or a truck (which he has and plays with). But that's ridiculous. Bobby Flay, Wolfgang Puck, Gordon Ramsey... Straight Men. Tough Men. Top Chefs. I'm perfectly fine with Baby-Ko in the kitchen. In fact, I'd be thrilled if he were a chef.

And as I sat on the floor, IN A DRESS, with a drill gun in my hand, while my husband actually flipped back and forth from the Food Network to the Chabad Telethon, I realized the whole thing was ridiculous. If playing with a kitchen makes Baby-Ko gay, then I guess that makes me a lesbian....

September 15, 2008


Several months ago, during a Mommy & Me class, Wacky said that it was imperative that we go away with our husbands for at least one night WITHOUT the baby. She said that sending the baby to a Grandparent's house for the night and staying HOME doesn't count.... We have to go OUT OF TOWN or at least to a HOTEL "for the sake of our marriages." And she said that we MUST do this BEFORE the baby turns ONE. 

Well it only took 360 days... but we did it. We went away for the night WITHOUT the baby.... AND IT WAS WONDERFUL. For my birthday, T-Ko planned a mini-getaway to Palm Springs. We stayed at The Parker, which is soooooo up my alley. The interior design was done by Jonathan Adler, so it's very funky yet beautiful.  I was able to slip in to "vaca" mode the second we stepped foot into the hotel. Knowing that it was just T-Ko and I, no baby to tend to, no schedule to keep or house to tidy, I felt relaxed from head to toe!

Despite the fact that it was a 107 degrees, we lounged poolside and caught up on magazines, sleep, and EACH OTHER. We had fun with with each other, just each other, for the first time in a long time and it was so so great. We even ordered room service. Twice. In one night. 

Sure, we missed Baby-Ko and were thrilled to see him when we got home. But getting out of town for a little over 24 hours to reconnect, recharge and regroup WAS really exactly what we needed. Wacky, great advice. Thank you! Now where should T-Ko send the bill...?

September 14, 2008


With a million things on my plate and on my mind, I'm finding it hard to be creative and post something new. I am truly DISTRACTED. Ironically, it's actually "distraction" that made me feel like a genius tonight....

I'm sure I'm not the first parent in the world to HATE cutting their baby's finger nails. It's impossible and kind of exhausting, actually. T-Ko and I usually attempt this horrible feat during a bottle feed, when Baby-Ko's relaxed and zoned out. But it ultimately ends up stressful: one pinch and Baby-Ko's on to us- hands clenched in a fist, not willing to play along. I try my best to sway him with my "you want hot pink" nail salon shtick, but he doesn't go for it. We then put him to bed with chopped up, pointy nails and I spend the rest of the night worried that I will wake up to a baby who looks like he's just been attacked by a cub. 

WELL, tonight, I got wise. You see, like most babies, mine is OBSESSED with lights. He LOVES to turn them off and on.  It's become a routine, after phase 1 (his bath) , to bundle him up and on our way out of the bathroom, stop at the switch and play a few rounds of "On" and "Off." (I figure the rush of that fun game will keep him distracted for at least the beginning part of phase 2: diaper and pajamas, which he usually protests). WELL TONIGHT, it occurred to me that he's so distracted and happy playing with the switch, I could cut his nails!  

It was a joint effort. As I praised Baby-Ko and marveled at the "on!" and "off!" of the light, T-Ko swiftly cut our boy's talons. It was distraction at it's very best. It's nights like these that I actually think I have learned something this past year and will be at least a little less clueless the next time we have a baby.  Although, I may have to start coming up with a different way to distract Baby-Ko; turning lights on and off for no good reason is not a very good example of "taking care of our planet." But, damn. It sure is a way to conserve a lot of energy!

September 11, 2008


32. Flip it around and it's 23. Ha. That was a fun age... It's hard to believe that was 9 YEARS ago. Actually, it's hard to believe that exactly one year ago today, I was 9 DAYS away from giving birth to a beautiful baby boy.  My birthday took a backseat to the state of my pregnancy (the peeing every ten seconds, my bulging varicose veins, the intense heartburn). It was pretty hard to celebrate the idea of turning 31 when there was so much else to look forward to.  

Now, one year later (peeing normally and taking tums only when needed), I am closing one chapter to my life and opening another. While 32 isn't really a "big" birthday, there are so many things going on that feel significant- that make me feel older and changed (not counting the grey hair that I noticed. Crap.)...  

For starters, as mentioned on a previous post, I'm returning to work in a couple weeks. Returning to work is a huge step on so many levels, of course... There are feelings of guilt...Deciding between day care or a nanny... dealing with the notion of 1st time separation from your child... wondering how you will formulate a sentence amongst adults when you can barely get through a round of "Goodnight Moon" without wanting to doze off.... so many things.

On top of all that, I am also having to say goodbye to our weekly Mommy & Me class. Yep, no more Wacky. I'm actually pretty bummed. First of all,  I started taking Wacky's class when Baby-Ko was 12 weeks old. I have made a really nice group of friends from the class and will not only miss our chaotic post-class lunches, BUT will of course miss dishing about Wacky's wackiness.  Second of all, I'm so bummed because Wacky told us that these two daddies would be joining us (they are life partners) with their 1 year old. I could have had Mommy & Me GAYS?! That sucks. 

ANYWAY, the point is... this is a great birthday. In addition to the wonderful gifts I've received and the delicious dinner I'm currently exploding from, I feel incredibly lucky to be in the position that I'm in right now. As scary as it kind of is, it's kind of neat to be at an age where you're making decisions and doing things that you always heard other people talking about or that you always wondered and thought about. Life decisions. Adult decisions. I AM IN IT.  And I'd take this thrill ride over the easiness of 23 any day.... WITHOUT the grey hairs, of course...

September 5, 2008


It's just too apropos... I'm sitting here in my pajamas, sipping cold/old coffee, writing this post, listening to MBMB (that's: My Boyfriend Michael Buble) on The Today Show, on the phone with yet another customer service rep, waiting for the sound of Baby-Ko to come over the monitor, wondering if I will have time to take a shower (and maybe pluck an eyebrow or two) AND do some research on child care..... I'm kind of a mess.

For weeks now, I've toyed with the idea of changing my blog name.... wanting to find a title and name that really summed up the essence of who I am.... All these thoughts swirled around... I used to be off the charts Type A; now it's a minor miracle if I can even REMEMBER where I put the "to do" list or if I even wrote one up for that matter... I used to think out "my look" before I left the house; now I'm lucky if the dress I'm throwing on with a pair of flip flops isn't noticeably covered in Baby-Ko's lunch (from yesterday)... FORTUNATELY, on the outside I think I seem pretty put together (as if the scarf in my hair due to lack of washing was intentional). Yes, me spilling my FIVE DOLLAR Iced Cappucino all over the floor of Anthropologie yesterday as I accidentally pushed Baby-Ko's stroller into a display is ALL PART OF "THE PLAN." wink wink.

SO, with Baby-Ko turning 1 in a few weeks, me turning 32 AND returning to work after a year of staying at home (which I'm totally excited yet utterly anxious about), I think it's time to embrace the new me, the changed me... the PERFECTLY DISHEVELED me.

I will miss "Bodice and Beem-Beem," (an ode to my imaginary friends). But, they are not going anywhere...
I may be disheveled, but my imagination will ALWAYS run wild...

September 2, 2008


Well, my friends, I'm happy to announce, my husband DID GOOD. He actually did better than good. He did great. I was convinced, after I got a few concerned texts and calls from him (baby wasn't napping, baby was pooping all day, Daddy didn't have time to eat lunch, etc.), that I'd be coming home to an exhausted, hysterical and overall pissed husband. But when I walked through the door late Sunday afternoon, T-Ko was smiling, the baby was beaming, and my house was surprisingly in tact. In fact, when I walked in, Baby-Ko was in his high chair, eating dinner and when I instantly went from the "Girls Gone Wild" mode that I had been in all weekend to J-Ko the Mommy and started to clean up, T-Ko said (without any thought or hesitation) "I GOT IT."

WHAT???? Just like that? YOU "GOT IT??"

WHAT? What happened to my husband? This is amazing. Three words that seemed to come so effortlessly and so nicely. Wow. less than 48 hours and my husband is a changed man.

Seriously, since coming home from Palm Springs, I have noticed a change in T-Ko... he's helpful, involved and quite frankly, I think has "seen the light." It seems like he "gets it now." T-Ko, my love, you done good. So good in fact, you're now a pro. Wanna show off your new skills again next weekend? :-)



1) PALIN. This woman freaks me out. She reminds me of a scary, bible thumping version of Tina Fey (who I think would make a better VP by the way). Just wondering how she plans to get America "back on track" if she can't get her daughter back on birth control...

2) Speaking of pregnant, I learned a new phrase from my Brittish girlfriend this weekend: "UP THE DUFF." It means "Knocked Up." (and is apparently very vulgar). I LOVE IT. Let's try it in a sentence, "Daughter to conservative and family value champion, Governor Sarah Palin, is UP THE DUFF." Sounds right to me.

3) 90210. Did anyone else watch it?? Like everyone else, I used to watch 90210 RELIGIOUSLY. I can remember thinking that Brandon and Dylan looked old even back then - that there was no way they were in their "teens." But this new version, is even more ridiculous. Not only are the girls BEYOND skinny, but bitches are OLD. Probably my age. Seriously! That said, IIIIIII was actually the one feeling old last night. Especially when I found myself identifying with the storylines of the parents, principals and having a crush on the hottest English teacher I ever saw! If only the faculty was that hot when I went to high school...

August 28, 2008


This weekend I'm heading to Palm Springs for my sister in law's bachelorette party. While I am so excited, this weekend will be a huge step and test: for the first time in 11 months, my husband will be in charge. Fully in charge. Baby-Ko has only slept away (at grandparent's houses) TWICE and we were pretty much there until he fell asleep and there after he woke up. No biggie. But THIS TIME, mama's leaving bright and early Saturday morning and not coming back until late Sunday afternoon. This means, DADDY will have to navigate through breakfast, lunch and dinner, nap times, bottle times, and diaper times, and of course EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING in between.  So I thought it would be helpful for me to write him up a little manual, entitled "WHILE MOMMY'S AWAY," fully loaded with details of a typical day.  I know T-Ko's going to do a great job ... but feel free to check on him. Or at least offer to bring him coffee. I have a feeling he's going to need it...



5AM- 5:30 AM- WAKE UP #1; Sucks for you. First offer pacifier; if still up , offer him THREE (3) ounces of formula then put him back in crib

5;45- 6:00 AM- WAKE UP #2; Yahtzee. Bye-bye bed.
1) Change Diaper
2) (if
hasn’t had any formula) – offer FOUR (4) ounces of formula

7:30 AM – PREPARE BREAKFAST (see list of food for options)

7:45 AM- BREAKFAST. Use this opportunity while he eats to wash the bottles (and do a line of speed). You’ll need both.

ISH AM- DONE W/ BREAKFAST; clean his hands and face, despite his horrific cries as if you are torturing him. Take him out of high chair; while you clean up kitchen (and take the food off the floor that I promise he WILL find and eat), he plays (and hopefully poops). If he’s really fussy take him into bedroom AND….

8:15 AM- Change his diaper. Change him out of
PJ’s and in to tee shirt and shorts. He will want to play a little bit on floor of bedroom then. He loves the stool with the puzzles. Sit there with him and catch your breath. Don’t look at the clock. You’ll want to cry.

8:30 – 8:45AM NAP TIME. Turn off lights. Make sure you have plenty of pacifiers standing by. He likes to throw them at nap time. Sit in the rocking chair. Give him his
blankie and READ. Moo Ba La La La, Brown Bear Brown Bear, What’s Wrong little Pookie and END with Goodnight Moon. Read all of them softly with very little enthusiasm. He will pick all of them up and chuck them over the side of the chair at one point. Keep reading (even without the book in your hand. Trust me). Once he gets squirmy put him against your chest or just put him in crib. He may or may not fall asleep so you might have to go back in and pick him up. Sit down, rock him and then put him down again. (We’ll get it right with the second kid).

9AM- Once he’s down, prepare a SEVEN (7) ounce bottle (just with water). And leave it on the counter so it’s ready for you when he wakes up (and you don’t have to warm it.). You can use this time to go back to sleep OR, I recommend SHOWERING, getting dressed, eating some breakfast, and having more coffee (you HAVE had coffee by now, NO?) The bed WILL call out to you, but trust me, in 4 hours from now, you’ll be wishing you had showered. ***

9:45- 10:30AM- WAKE UP FROM NAP. (His, not yours). He gets his SECOND BOTTLE FOUR HOURS AFTER THE FIRST. (so, if first bottle was at 6AM, at 10 you can give him second bottle – 7oz; OR upon wake up if after 10am). IF you haven’t showered, put him in the swing WITH his bottle (he can give it to himself). He also can drink this bottle in the car if you leave…

10:30- 12:00AM- PLAY TIME. Or leave. Make sure you are not driving or in car PAST 12. He will fall asleep in car and nap is not until later! (he may want a snack during this time, especially if you’re out. See list of snacks).


12:30- 1:00PM- LUNCH

1:15- 1:30PM- If you are home, clean up lunch, let him play (and once again hopefully poop). Then CHANGE DIAPER.

1:45PM-   SECOND NAP. Same routine as nap #1 (again, you will prepare a 7oz bottle with water so it’s ready for you when he wakes up).

2:30-3:15PM- WAKE UP FROM NAP. Offer him THIRD Bottle. This one he usually only takes about 3-4 oz of. Whatever time you start bottle, just make sure that by 4pm he is not having anymore so as not to interfere with dinner.

ishPM- PLAY TIME. He may want a snack during this time too. (see list of snacks)

5:00PM- PREPARE DINNER (see list of food options).

5:30PM- DINNER. (Smile. The day is
alllllllllllmost over)

6:00PM- FINISH DINNER. PLAY FOR 15-30 min depending on mood and what time he woke up from nap. PREPARE 7oz bottle (just water) so it’s ready for you after bath.

BATHTIME (you’re almost at the end!). After bath, diaper with A&D, PJ’s, brush hair.

PACIS. Turn on nightlight. Grab his blankie and sit down (for the first time all day). I actually love this time. It’s so peaceful. You may or may not have to read to him and do the nap routine…

7:15PM- NIGHT NIGHT!!!! Go pour yourself a stiff drink. And call me to tell me that you can’t believe how exhausting it really is.


***You should also use this time to PACK UP HIS DIAPER BAG and make sure it’s all set for you to go when he wakes up so you don’t have to run around the house AND make sure he’s not eating poison and sticking his fingers in electrical outlets. When leaving the house , You need the following: 3 1/2 scoops of formula in the already sectioned container; one bottle for his afternoon feeding filled with water to 7 oz; and extra EMPTY bottle, because you never know; an EMPTY
sippy cup, pacifiers, 3 diapers, wipes, some small toys, a burp cloth, and anything else you can think of.... that is, if you have enough brain power at this point to even think!

August 26, 2008


Whoever wrote "Chicken Soup for the Soul" hasn't met my MOTHER IN LAW. The 4'11" Hungarian, proud mother to my husband considers "SOUPS" (plural) as a food group. It's as vital to life as water. It can be consumed at any and every meal. It needs to be served and eaten a certain way. And if you don't like her soup or you dare to turn it down, something is wrong with you.....

For months, she has been asking me if I give Baby-Ko soups. She gave her boys soups and they loved it. And now that Baby-Ko is on solids and pretty much eats everything, I should give him soups too. Despite the fact that you generally need a spoon to eat soup and Baby-Ko seems to dislike anything mushy or in fact requiring a spoon, I HAPPILY accepted my MIL's offer to make soup for Baby-Ko after his surgery.

SO, the day after his surgery, she came over with a big container of chicken noodle soup and said she wanted to stay through lunch to WATCH Baby-Ko eat her soups. The soup was fully loaded with chicken, of course... carrots, cauliflower, and noodles (on the side, because apparently that's how they do it in the old country). I really WAS happy to give some to 
Baby-Ko as it seems like the perfect "feel good" food to have right after a surgery (and frankly, she DOES make a delicious soup). But when I started to DECONSTRUCT the soup, I was met with some concern.
"Vat are you doing? Just pour heem eh niiice bowl, not too hot. And he vill love eet," she said standing over me.
"Well, I'm going to put the broth in a separate bowl, and then put the chicken and the veggies on his tray so he can pick them up and eat it."
"Well, I'm concerned if I put it all on a spoon at once, he'll swallow it (at once) and choke. I think it's better this way. For now."
"Vell, I never heard such a thing. But give heem like this and next time do it my way." Okay. Your way. Fine. Sure. Soup. Next time. Probably High Holidays. Let's cross that holy bridge when we get to it, lady.
Luckily, Baby-Ko LOVED her (deconstructed) soup, and all seemed forgotten.... Or so I thought....

SATURDAY NIGHT, we brought Baby-Ko to my In-Law's house to spend the night (yippee!). My MIL said she had leftover soup in the freezer and could give it to Baby-Ko for dinner since he "loves Grandma's soups sooo much because she makes it soooo nice." SURE. No problem. Stuffing my son with "soups" brings you joy and it's less for me to shlep. Great

SO, we get Baby-Ko all set up and decide to stay for a few minutes while he eats (and then we'll take off and hopefully have time for a "Sandy Koufax moment") before we have to leave for our dinner reservations. As I put Baby-Ko's bib on and begin to step away to let my MIL take over, she says, "So, I know you geeving him my soups deefrently, but I think you should geeve him soups like this," and points to a little bowl of soup with mushed up, shredded pieces of chicken and veggies.
"Hmm. I really think I'd like to give him the chicken and veggies SEPARATE."
"But, VY?" she asks, this time agitated and hostile.
"Umm, because, once again, I think he will sip the broth and instead of CHEWING on the food, he'll swallow it all at once. He's not the most advanced eater. He's only 11 months old...."
"Vell, I don't understand. I gave my boys..." She starts in on the "my boys" thing. Now I'm annoyed. I look to T-Ko for back up.
He says unenthusiastically, "Mom, we'll try it once your way, then we'll just do it J-Ko's way." Not what I was hoping for but I'll take it for the time being.
We give Baby-Ko the soup my MIL's way. He GULPS it. Then lunges with his hand and grabs the stuff in the bowl sending it everywhere.
"Uh uh. No. Not comfortable with it, " I say. "He's gonna choke and he wants some on his tray so he can eat it himself."
My MIL shakes her head and says something under her breath in Hungarian. As I take her precious chicken out of the broth and put it on his tray, she gets fired up, "So this eez sometheeng you reading or you just don't vant ven I geeve the baby my soups. My vay."
"No, I didn't read this, but I'm sure experts would agree. It's just a safety thing." 
With every mouthful of dry veggies and chicken, she shakes her head in disbelief, "Vell, I deed this all the time, and T-Ko turned out just fine." Really? I'm not so sure. Apparently your soup has made him a mute.
Trying to contain my anger and not snap at her the way I would my OWN mother, I take a deep breath, "Well, you know what, every mother has a different comfort level. And I am just not comfortable with him eating your SOUP like this. He LIKES the soup and is eating all of it. So I don't think it matters REALLY how he eats it, as long as he eats it." SILENCE. Ooh, did I get through?
Baby-Ko tries to shovel a handful of chicken into his mouth. It lands on his lap. I think she may have a heart attack.

The next morning, it definitely felt a little tense when we picked the baby up. I'm not sure if it was the chicken soup saga or if it was that Baby-Ko decided to wake his grandparents up at 5am and they were exhausted. Either way, the Soup Incident of 2008 made me think... Whether or not I'm being too careful or Baby-Ko can or can't eat the soup her way really isn't the point. The point IS is that she wanted to win. She wanted to know that she is a good mother (which she is) and she still has some control, in some way, over SOME things. When I think about it like that, (and less about her being a soup obsessed foreigner that needs to get with the program), I actually can relate to her....

Even though love, marriage and kids are obviously, a loooooooooooooong ways away for Baby-Ko, ONE DAY, I TOO will be a mother-in-law and probably feel inclined to tell MY daughter-in-law all the great things I did with my son and how great he is because of it.... "I used to let him crawl all over the floor at Nordstrom and HE turned out just fine...."

August 21, 2008


Tonight, as Baby-Ko finally settled down and drifted to sleep in my arms, I took my first (easy) deep breath of the week. Sitting in the dark, with Baby-Ko ‘s head now on my chest, I closed my eyes. What a week. Emotional. Exhausting. Relieving. It occurred to me that I hadn’t written or posted anything new all week. I like to think that I write humorous, light, and certainly candid posts… But, nothing "light" or fluffy came to me this week (with the exception of my new boredom with the Olympics and the fact that all I can think about is how Misty May and Kerry Walsh never get wedgies during their matches).   I’ve got no juice,  I thought.  It’s been zapped…

Driving to the hospital on Tuesday morning was surreal. It was exactly 11 months from the day I went into labor with Baby-Ko. And to think that now, I'm driving to the hospital WITH my beloved baby, who I now KNOW and adore, was very strange. However, from beginning to end, Baby-Ko's spirit was so unbelievable. I don't know if all babies are as excited by hospital lights, beds, and doctors and nurses in blue as Baby-Ko was, but his amazement and joy in his new surroundings made the transition into surgery (for me at least) a lot more bearable.

Once Baby-Ko changed into his hospital gown (yes, they make pint size gowns and while I hope no one ever has to see their child in one, I must say, they are pretty damned cute), and his vitals were taken, it was time for the Pediatric Anesthesiologist to administer what they call "Happy Juice." It's like a fast acting Valium that "chills" the baby out and makes the separation from parents and transition into more anesthesia and surgery easier. We were told that it might make him wobbly and "drunk," and sure enough, after about 10 minutes, our little baby boy, was flying high. Knowing that in just a few minutes, he'd be taken away in the arms of a strange, but sweet nurse, back in to an operating room where I have absolutely no control over what is happening to my child or what of this experience is being stored in his subconscious, I held him in my arms. I kissed him. I smelled him. I told him mommy and daddy will be there as soon as he wakes up. I wanted him to feel comfortable and safe in every way.

As he sat in my arms, I started to read "Sam The Dog" and T-Ko captured this on our digital camera....

The answer to my question was “Sometimes. Every baby is different...."  Needless to say, the surgery went great. Thank god it was a routine, out-patient and minimally invasive procedure; Baby-Ko's recovering like a champ.  However scared I was, when I watch this video, the anxiety, the fear, the concern about Baby-Ko’s surgery completely melts away.  I’m reminded of his health and how perfect it really is when so many children are truly sick. I’m reminded how lucky I am to live in a city (and country) with such tremendous doctors and technology. I’m reminded of how much he looks like his Daddy. I’m reminded that it’s the little things that will always make him giggle. I’m reminded of his resilience and spirit. And THAT is THE happiest “juice” I can think of…

August 17, 2008


It's here. The week that I've been dreading for almost 11 months.... On Tuesday, Baby-Ko will go in in for a minor, but necessary procedure in which he will have to "go under." It is minimally invasive and fortunately out-patient. But obviously, as a new mommy (or any mommy for that matter), the idea of your child undergoing surgery is terrifying. On top of the surgery (and an ear infection we've discovered he has too... poor guy!), I've also been a little stressed as I've come to the realization that staying home full time with the baby is just not that feasible anymore. So trying to wrap my head around the surgery, searching for the right job, AND trying to organize and host upcoming birthday parties, bridal showers, and just day to day "to-do's," has left me feeling a little overwhelmed.

In spite of my general state of stress, I realize that there is so much to be happy and unstressed about. So after reading a recent post on Go Nicole Yourself, I felt inspired to jot down a couple of "silly things" that also make me happy. While I do agree with Nicole that "making a really good doody" IS definitely up there with things that make me happy, I will spare you the details and discussion on just how delighted it makes me, and hopefully try to offer some other random J-KO happy-inducing thoughts....

1)  Listening to the monitor as Baby-Ko calls for me... "mama... mama!"

2) Coffee and Matt Lauer. Mornings are so much more bearable when I combine the two.

3) Wearing a tank top and accessorizing with a scarf.  In the summer. (I love L.A.)

5)  Poop/fart humor. It gets me every time.

6)  They know me at Whole Foods. I've got peeps at every counter. (Wait, that may actually be a bad thing).

7)  Knowing that Lucy is coming home!

8) Finding the perfect position within seconds of climbing in to bed... my arm between the two squishiest pillows, and my fluffy down comforter between my legs.

9)  Saying to Baby-Ko, "Can I have some?" and his sweet (and messy) attempt to feed me.

10)  Sprinkle Cookies.

and one more for shits and giggles, literally....

11) Being pooped on by a bird yesterday and not wanting to slice off my arm, but instead thinking of it as good luck!

August 14, 2008


Well, what do ya know. I'm in to week FIVE of my four week diet. Whatevs. Shit happens. The good news is that I'm highly motivated now and I have actually lost a few pounds. The bad news is with the Olympics on all day and night, I feel like a sloth when I look at all these crazy ripped bodies. I mean, I don't want to be ripped like the freaky little gymnasts with voices like Minnie Mouse, or like the female swimmers (frankly, having shoulders that broad would really fuck up my style). But I WOULD like for one day in my life, just to know what it's like to have a riiiiiiiipped abdomen. One like Michael Phelps. Specifically, that PELVIS "T" that he has. He should win a gold medal just for that T. 

I know he spends like 8 hours every day swimming and training, but still, his daily diet is so off the charts, it's almost unfair.  I read today that his typical daily diet consists of:

Breakfast: Three fried-egg sandwiches loaded with cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, fried onions and mayonnaise. Two cups of coffee. One five-egg omelet. One bowl of grits. Three slices of French toast topped with powdered sugar. Three chocolate-chip pancakes.
Lunch: One pound of enriched pasta. Two large ham and cheese sandwiches with mayo on white bread. Energy drinks packing 1,000 calories.
Dinner: One pound of pasta. An entire pizza. More energy drinks.

Well, I may not have a T, but I have a T-Ko. And in my book, that's as good as a gold... or at least an entire pizza.

August 11, 2008


When I got home from Whole Foods tonight, I found T-Ko and DH doubled over, laughing.  They had the Olympics on when I left and I figured that one of them had just made a crude joke about the synchronized divers.
"What's so funny?" I asked.
"J-Ko..." DH said with tears running down his face, "You've got to see this."
T-Ko rewinds the DVR and shows me a clip from Bob Costa's post breaks. He was covering the U.S. women's beach volleyball game against Japan from Sunday. 
"Watch, watch," T-Ko says. He turns the volume up as Bob tells how when Kerri Walsh went up for a block, her WEDDING RING came FLYING OFF. 

"Why is she wearing her wedding ring during a match?" I ask. The clip goes on and shows how when the match was over, a team of volunteers tediously searched through the 17,000 ton SAND court, trying to find her gold wedding band. 

"Where the hell is she?" I ask, wondering why Walsh, who was apparently more distraught over losing the ring than defending the block, wasn't on her hands and knees looking frantically for her beloved ring.  I would be going CRAZY trying to find it. The match is over! Unless she's competing in another event, doesn't it seem like she should be the one digging through sand?

What seems even crazier is that when volunteer Sung Zhendong did finally FIND the ring, (and he graciously returned it to her the following day), Walsh gave him an AUTOGRAPHED VISOR, some OLYMPIC PINS, and a PAT ON THE ASS.  A. Pat. On. The. Ass. Seriously??? That's it? I mean, I know the dollar isn't worth much these days, but how about a little reward or at least a photo opp? Nothing! I mean, Olympic friggin pins?! If they're anything like the kind that my mom bought me on the corner of Figueroa and Exposition during the 1984 Olympics from some guy hawking cheap chatchkes, I can tell you they're not worth much. 

I don't know. The Olympics are supposed to be made up of super heroes. People that break world records. Role models. GRACIOUSNESS.  I just think she could have shown a little bit more gratitude. "Kvel" over the guy if you know what I mean...

That said, I am now quite interested in Olympic Beach Volleyball. I thought that the swimmers had the best butts in Beijing, but the volleyball players definitely take the gold in this area....  

And with that, Mommy is soooooo dragging her ass to Tae Bo tomorrow. 
Without my ring on of course...