BYE-BYE BIRDIES

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...

A BARE NECESSITY

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...."

5769

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!

DRESS HELL

It's pretty depressing when the best and most flattering dress in your closet is a MATERNITY one (but just for the record, it is a Dianne Von Furstenberg and it's fucking gorgeous.). I wore it all last summer when we had an event one weekend after the next and I was ten thousand months pregnant. But now, Mommy is not preggers and is in need of some major dress action.... We have a black tie wedding next weekend and a bar mitzvah the weekend after that, and then in October (yes, it's still 3 months away but still), we are going back to Maui for my brother in law's wedding (complete with rehearsal dinners and all). 

So after taking Baby-Ko to his favorite park today, I decided to go to my favorite "park" (a.k.a. Nordstrom) and do a little shopping... But let me just say this: the days of trying on clothes, and standing in front of the mirror and examining every last curve and detail are a thing of the past, my friends. Now, as I try to hoist my TWTs into slinky dresses (that will without a doubt require maximum strength Spanx), I ALSO must keep an eye out for Baby-Ko who feels quite at home on the floor of the dressing room .... acting as a human lint brush as he rolls around, using his fine motor skills  to pick up shmutz. (Honestly though, his pincer grasp technique is quite impressive. He could pick up a piece of dust if he wanted to). ANYWAY, fortunately my Aunt N was with me and to help entertain Baby-Ko and "yay/nay" dresses as I sped through try-ons.  After about 12 dresses, in 12 different sizes ("designer" dresses do run smaller right?SAY "RIGHT," bitches),  I found a nice and affordable BCBG dress in navy with black trim that can work for both the Bar Mitzvah and formal wedding.... And on my way out, spotted (and bought) a darling Anna Sui scarf print chiffon dress perfect for Maui that was marked down ten times and covered all potential areas of back fat. Mommy scored.

Feeling very lucky (and perhaps insane), I then went on to do the dumbest thing: I decided to try on old dresses in my closet AFTER dinner. Obviously, I realize that the 8 pound tire around my waist did not occur within the 10 minutes that I devoured my turkey dog (with grilled onions, pickles and chips) from The Stand. But I didn't think it would stop EVERY single fucking dress with a zipper from working (okay, from FITTING).   Your back is not fatter. It's just different. Being pregnant made you different. From head to toe.

Well, I don't want to feel "different" anymore. So Monday, ladies and gentlemen, mama's gonna start watching it. I have signed up for this 30day/30 minute fitness plan and I do expect to see results. There are, however, some things on my body that may stay "different" forever. But, man, if this chick could make my feet one size smaller again, I'm pretty sure I could find a fabulous pair of shoes for both occasions... Okay, maybe two pairs....

WELCOME HOME

Before we left for our trip, I wanted to write a post that said "I hope this doesn't trip doesn't end with someone saying 'We need to move the island.'" But I thought it would be too morbid. But now that I'm back, I can say it. THANK GOD no one said it and we were able to spend one very fun and blissful week on the gorgeous island of Maui. (That was for all the other "Lost" nerds)

I miss Maui already. Frozen drinks, Baby-Ko in the pool, fresh towels and sheets every day... I could have easily stayed for another week (or two). Honestly, I was worried about what traveling with a baby would be like, and it really wasn't that terrible. Sure there were moments, but the look on Baby-Ko's face as he took in all the new sights and sounds made it totally worth it. AND the nanny that we hired for 4 hours one day so Mommy could fry her ass off, helped too.

Having a baby changes a lot of things, but I think the thing (especially when it comes to travel) that has really changed for me is my attention to GERMS. Yes, Germs. I am usually a germa-phobe. A surgeon in a public bathroom or area: I touch nothing. I'm seriously like a magician. But when you have an 8 month old who will stop at nothing to get his mouth on the airplane seat armrest (vomit), or rub his hands up and down the walls of the lavatory as I change him over the toilet (double, triple & food poisoning vomit), I think you are forced to sort of just (dare I say it?) GET OVER IT.

And so I did. Kind of. Sort of. Well, almost. I mean, I had these organic, natural wipes that I used on Baby-Ko's hands as much as I could, and beyond that I just had to turn a blind eye. That said, I'm not quite ready to adopt the "5 second" rule that T-Ko is happy to enforce. The floor is a whole other story....

P.S. If you haven't already noticed, I have ADS on my website now. I am now affiliated with a great website called MomLogic.com which is owned /operated by Warner Bros. & Telepictures. They have my site listed in "sites we love." I'm really excited about this. Even more excited that Chuck E Cheese was one of the advertisers that popped up in one of the tags this morning.

BON VOYAGE

Tomorrow's the big day. T-Ko, Baby-Ko and I are heading to the beautiful island of Maui for a week. My best friend T and her boyfriend are coming too so I have no doubt it's going to be a blast. It's our first trip with Baby-Ko and while we are so excited, we're both a little nervous about how he'll handle the plane... I'm sure that it'll be smooth sailing once we land, but the shlepping portion of it all sounds a little daunting. I seriously cannot believe the amount of crap that one 18 pound baby needs. So much that I literally got on the scale with the suitcase to see if it exceeds 50 pounds. Good news: it doesn't. Bad news: I now know how much I weigh BEFORE a trip and mommy is not happy. Fuck it. What's one more Mai Tai and Pina Colada anyway....

I just hope T doesn't mind when she shows up to the pool with fun reading material like US Weekly and Harpers Bazaar and all I've got to swap is Pat the Bunny and Moo Ba La La La...

I'M GOLDEN

Look, I know the statistics. I know how bad the SUN is for me and how I can get cancer and age at warp speed. I get it. I know. I use moisturizer and foundation with SPF in it every day and generally try to stay out of the sun as much as possible, blah blah blah...

HOWEVER, I spent the entire summer of 2007 pregnant and out of the sun. THEN, I had a baby and it was winter and suddenly it's now spring. And guess what, Mommy is going to MAUI in exactly ONE WEEK and her skin is so translucent, that no amount of Jergens Natural Glow will ever help. SO, I have given in and decided to fake it... That's right. FAKE IT. Old school style. In a bed. Blue lights. Goggles over my eyes. Towel across my boobs.

T-Ko couldn't believe that I was willing to spend 39 bucks on this, and frankly, neither could I, but drastic times call for drastic measures, my friends. Please, I was tempted to spend an additional $8 on some lotion that you put on beforehand that "like, oh my god, totally guarantees more color," according to the tanning "technician." But I didn't buy it. I took my chances and fortunately, walked out with more color than I had before...

Now if I could just find a bikini to help me fake a flat stomach, I'd be GOLDEN.

******

P.S. Remember that notice I got in the mail from my loan company telling me I was $50.88 away from financial freedom? WELL, I just got ANOTHER notice saying that the account has been paid in full. I guess I don't need to send them that final payment afterall.... Looks like Mommy is takin' that $50 bucks and gettin' herself another coat of tan... Yippee!