IMMA BE... 37

My 35th Birthday

Two years ago from this exact weekend, I decided the best way to celebrate a milestone birthday (my 35th) was to do it with a group of my nearest and dearest girlfriends. Using every last bit of my savings -- or checking-- depending on how you look at it, (I admit, not one of my wisest moves), we spent the weekend at a nearby resort in an oceanside villa, drinking, laughing, eating, sunning, toasting, cheers-ing, walking, talking, drinking and taaaaawlking some more. It was my treat. My joy. My pleasure. My honor to spend a weekend with a group of women (including my mom and aunt) who were privy to all my secrets, all my stories, all my dating ups and my dating downs. To make a birthday wish surrounded by my biggest cheering squad was the best feeling in the world. 

That weekend, a bottle of champagne was sent to our room with a note: 

"Is this what old people drink? Happy Birthday. xo, P"

Drinking said Champagne. #Classy 

My girlfriends and I died. P and I had literally just started dating. Not only was this the sweetest and most thoughtful gesture, but the "old people" part was a very clever reminder about our first exchange and that I am, in fact, older than P. (It's okay, we can laugh about it). 

Two years later, P (who we can now call Peter) will become my husband in March.

It's crazy how life works. It's crazy and lucky. And fast. And not always what we think it's going to be.

In just a few days, I will turn 37. This birthday I've decided the best thing I can give to myself is confidence. Stop the bullshit. Stop the unnecessary brain chatter. And just grow up. Be an adult once and for all. As one of my best friend declared, this birthday beckons an important mission: "Operation Grow a Pair." aka OGAP.

Anyone else familiar with this OGAP? Something tells me that if you are in your 30's, it rings a bell. You want to grow up, feel good, and be better. You want to possess the confidence you hear that you finally get to have when you turn 30. Like this automatic switch that is supposed to go on.... Like the one that went on automatically when I turned 14 and I became a raging boy freak and biaaatch. Or the one that went on when I got to college and became entirely invincible (Example: deciding that smoking Parliaments when I had bronchitis was better than smoking Marlboro Mediums. I have a plethora of examples like these but for sake of time, (Remember? I'm on a mission!) I'll leave it to you to let your imagination picture a young Jenny Brandt careless and free, living in New York, backpacking through Europe, etc, etc.

Yep. I remember her.

And guess what... As you might have experienced yourself, the so-called switch - the OGAP switch- doesn't activate automatically.

Apparently, you can't get samples of confidence like you can with Kiehl's eye cream.

It turns out, not only do you have to earn it, but you have to work at it. You have to dig deep. And you have to get out of your own way. And unfortunately, like any good skin regimen, you're supposed to get started earlier than later.

This past weekend, approximately two years after my "old ass" friends and I drank his champagne, Peter and I spent a night down at that same resort. As we walked along the ocean, I couldn't help but acknowledge how far I've come in just 2 years...  how much light has come into my life in just a short amount of time and how lucky I am to start this next chapter with such a great partner. And it's not just me. There's Jonah too.

2 years later and older... same resort. 

While meeting Peter (who we should note is still younger than me), has been the best thing that has happened for me... for us, I realized this weekend that not everything is random. That good things come to those that wait... and work hard. I had a hand in my luck and my fortune. I made choices, decisions and moves. With full consciousness, I opened myself up to a possibility and worked hard to make it a reality - in love, in life, in work, in everything. It's not all just random. I did this.... I got me/us here. 

Holy crap, I'm feeling confident!

Moments later, that Beyonce "We run the world" and Fergie "Imma be the flyest chick- so fly!" feeling faded. But now I know it's there somewhere, and now I know how to find it. Like skin treatment, I shouldn't have waited this long to figure it out or feel good. They call it preventative treatment for a reason; Wrinkles are not easy to get rid of after you've sat in the sun without sunscreen for years. You gotta take care. Nightly. Daily. All the time.

On that note, if anyone wants to know what to get me for my birthday, kindly direct them to the Bloomingdales, Nordstrom, Nieman's etc etc cosmetic department. Or shoe department. Nothing preventative there, just height and hotness... for all ages. 

PERFECTLY PARTIED

"Annie" themed Birthday Party. Age 6. 

Growing up, almost every birthday party I ever had was at the same park. In fact, to this day, we call that park (a park I take my son to play at frequently), the “birthday party park.” While you might think a birthday party at a park is a standard fête, let me tell you: You don’t know my mom, and you certainly don’t know the kind of parties this woman knows how to throw.

Entertaining always seemed natural for my mom. Every spread (even the simplest) seemed elaborate… Colors were coordinated, food was themed, delicious, and plentiful, décor and tables were precise and exquisite, and all guests had to do was enjoy their time. She was Martha before there was a Martha.

These days, I’d like to think her party throwing skills rubbed off on me—or at least the love of it part, and when I finally had a life, home, and child of my own, I chomped at the bit to take these (genetic) skills out for a whirl.

Some people go to bed and count sheep, others count table settings and flower arrangements. It’s just what I love. Give me a reason to entertain and I’ll take it!

Well luckily, this summer, I’ve got an outlet for all my party throwing fantasies! I’ve teamed up with California Pizza Kitchen to host a series of events and get-togethers. Over the next few months, I’ll be sharing tips, ideas, photos and posts from my "Adventures in Entertaining" with CPK via my blog, Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest...

So consider this your “save the date.” Proper invite and details to come, of course!

Want to see some of the party ideas I love? Head to my Party Board on Pinterest!

At the Birthday Party Park. Age 3. 

"REDSHIRTING" and THE KINDERGARTEN CRAZE

When I first found out I was pregnant and due in September of 2007, I really never considered the implications that giving birth to a child with a late summer birthday would have other than how miserable I thought I'd be at 900 pounds and pregnant during Los Angeles heat waves. As a September baby myself, I pretty much just patted myself on the back for birthing another Virgo and for getting myself (and my unborn child) into the city's most acclaimed mommy and me class for "September babies" at 10 weeks pregnant. That's all I really needed to think about.... Making sure he was in a class (at 3 months old) with other babies (infants, really) who had no more than a 30 day difference age wise than him. Why should my baby already be behind? I'll give him every advantage in the world... always...

But let me tell you, as a new (but lifelong neurotic) mom, when my son wasn't rolling over like every other baby, or spitting up more, or not crawling...etc, etc... I wondered and often blamed his September 20th birthday for the baby with the September 6th birthday. Was the 14 day difference giving that little girl a leg up on my boy? I thought so. After all, I downed folic acid like it was air and flocked to the number one pre-natal yoga guru as if she were god incarnated. I did EVERYTHING right and didn't even look at deli meats or sushi. How could he already be behind? My son is brilliant and developmentally on track isn't he?!?... Oh, those 14 days. They felt like everything....

Eventually things seemed to even out. He walked, talked, and even learned to pee standing up. Those days and weeks that separated my son from the kids that crawled sooner and I assumed were way head of my son developmentally, eventually meant nothing. But 4 years later... I'm back to that place... and now, it's worse than worrying about the fact that he drools more or hasn't given up a bottle.

Now it's about Kindergarten enrollment... AKA: The rest of his life.

Or at least that's how it feels.

Here's the sitch:

Jonah turns 5 in September. He has been in (private) preschool for 2 years. The cutoff for Kindergarten in the state of CA is Nov. 1st. So technically, J can go to kindergarten. However, no one, including his teachers are certain he's ready. Academically, yes. Emotionally, no. SO thankfully, many schools in Los Angeles have what's called a Transitional Kindergarten program.... designed for late summer/ fall born children like little J. Great. The Problem? Thanks to budget cuts, TK might get slashed therefore giving us two options: Send him to kindergarten (like I did when I was 5 years old) OR keep him in preschool one more year (which is really not an option because of financials). So basically, this means, if TK gets slashed, OR if they enroll children starting with December birthdays and work there way back, he won't get it. What does this all mean? I need to wrap my head around the idea of kindergarten at the age of 5... which has become this ooogy boogy, horrific notion amongst parents these days.

Last night, 60 Minutes ran a great segment about this "Redshirting" phenomenon- or holding children back from kindergarten. According to the piece, redshirting has tripled since the 1970's. Now nearly a quarter of all kindergarten classrooms are populated by 6 year olds. Boys are twice as likely to be held bas as girls, and twice more than minorities and of course rich more than poor.

Parents like me are getting scared into thinking that our children aren't not only ready for the curriculum which is now harder and different in Kindergarten as it was when we were children, but that if we allowed our children to be the youngest child, they wouldn't be the leaders.... Socially, they'd be out of place.... weaker... less likely to succeed.

Is it really that serious though? As Morely Safer says in a follow up piece, he doesn't think it makes a bit of difference. (I suppose I would be curious to know how old President Obama was when he started kindergarten.... and also Justin Bieber. Both seem to be doing okay).

In case, you missed it, here's the piece from 60 minutes below. So tell me: What do you think I should do? Kindergarten or bust? TK first, kindergarten second option? Beg, borrow, steal to keep him in preschool one more year? Share your thoughts and experiences here!

Click HERE for the follow up piece.

FOUR.

If you asked me 4 1/2 years ago what I thought my favorite thing would be about having a child, I don't think my answer would have been what it is now. I was pregnant. On the verge. Unaware of what it would really mean to fall deeply in love (on a daily basis) on less than 6 hours of sleep a night. I had no idea, NO clue, that my favorite thing about having a child would be anything other than plain love... After all, the mere ability to love a child... YOUR child... Isn't THAT the best thing? Isn't THAT the gift?

Yes. That's definitely part of it. But over the past 1460 days (okay, maybe 1457 days... as the first three were a complete blur), I've discovered that there might be other gifts. Other delicious and precious nuggets of love, if you will, that melt my heart and fill me with crazy joy....

Though I'm only four years into this gig, I realize I will never be able to pin point the single thing that I enjoy the most about life with Jonah. I can only assume it will have to be our conversations, his kisses and his questions though that I'll cherish always and will define all that it means to adore this child.

This morning, his birthday morning, is a perfect example....

6:39am... Footsteps into my bedroom.

J: Moooommy. (Tap on my shoulder)

Me: Good morning.

J: Moooommy. Am I four today?

Me: Yes! You're four! Happy Birthday!

He climbs into bed and I squeeze him tight.

J: Moooommy? Now that I am four, I am a big boy.

Me: A very big boy.

J: And I can't have a fit...

Me: A fit? (Containing laugh). Nope, no fits.

J: And I can't hit...

Me: Nope, no more hitting.

J: And I can't pinch....

Me: Definitely no pinching.

J: But what can I do?

Me: Oh! Now that you're four, you can do so many wonderful things!

J: I can hug....

Me: Yes, hug...

J: I can kiss... Like this... (He kisses my forehead).

Me: I love kisses.

J: I can share with my friends...

Me: Absolutely.

J: What else?

Me: You can say please and thank you, and be a kind person.

J: And not say "poop" or "pee" a lot...

Me: Yeah, four year olds don't talk like that.

J: Or say fart....

Me: (Nodding) Or say fart.

J: Or touch my "pee-nuz" a lot...

Me: Right. Or that.

J: Are you so happy I'm four?

Me: So happy, my love.

J: Now that I'm four do I get to sit in the front seat?

Me: No. Sorry, baby. You have to sit in the back still. For a few more years.

J: (Thinking). Mommy, tell me about how I got into your tummy and then how I came out of your tummy when I was a baby...

Me: Time to get up!!!!

Happy 4th Birthday, my angel. I love you just as you are right now and always.

Love,

Your Very Proud Mommy.

THREE. FIVE. NINE. ELEVEN.

Do you ever think back about your life and assess where you are based on some of the stories you could tell?

Certainly, my life experiences must be an indication of all that I've accomplished, all that is good, all that keeps me hopeful... Right? You know, all those "times" that are etched in our memories that define who we are, where we've been and what life still has in store...?

Like the time I was 11 and on a national talk show. As a comedian. Telling jokes about Pee Wee Herman.

Or...The time I experienced a 6.0 earthquake by myself also as an 11 year old....

Or... The time I moved to New York when I was 17 and swore I'd never move back to Los Angeles again.

Or... the time I got married. And divorced.

Or... the time I got mono. And was too sick to blow out candles on my sixteenth birthday.

Or... the time I was mugged in broad daylight.

Or... the time I played my first game of "Spin the Bottle," and when the bottle landed on me 3 times in a row, the boy spinning decided he didn't want to play anymore. And made out with my best friend in the alley instead.

Or... the time I broke my wrist in 2nd grade on the jungle gym because, after counting to 100, this bitch of a girl wouldn't get off. So I hit her. And missed.

Or... the time I became a homeowner.

Or... the time I decided dressing up as Monica Lewinsky on Halloween (post Clinton scandal) was a funny idea.

Or... the time I spent 10 days backpacking through Europe by myself after college.

Or... the time I flew from Chicago to Los Angeles to visit my dad by myself. At age 4.

Or... the time I won a goldfish at a carnival. Then killed it as soon as soon as I got home.

Or... The time I competed to become All Junior Varsity Champ in Track for the 2 mile, and won. Because no one else actually competed in my division.

Or... the time I saw a baby's heart beat on an ultrasound and met Jonah....

On Sunday, September 11th, (Yes, the Sept. 11th), I will be celebrating my 35th birthday. Obviously, the past ten years have made it hard to feel happy about such a horrific and tragic day- a day that families were ripped apart. A date that will haunt all of us that watched our world fall apart forever. But the thing is, on the 11th, September 11th, I will have no choice but to celebrate. I have so very much to be grateful for. I have been blessed with such a full life. So much love. And SO much more to look forward to.

Here's to a new chapter. A new beginning. A safe world, full of life. And a life full of rich stories....

MANNERS MONDAY: RSVP ETIQUETTE!

When it comes to invitations of any kind, I do try to take some consideration when it comes to RSVPing. Ironically, I pulled a big RSVP "no no" just yesterday. Weeks ago, I had responded "Yes" to a 1st birthday party. Apparently, I had also responded "Yes" to plans to go to the Zoo with the entire family. DUH. Today, Lisa Gache of Beverly Hills Manners and I discuss RSVP etiquette... clearly, I need to heed my own advice!

Manners Monday: RSVP! from lisagache on Vimeo.

Lisa's RSVP Tips!

Ø Keep Track of Your Invites. Once you receive an invitation, you should RSVP within 24-48 hours of its receipt. This system helps to diminish any problems that may arise if another invitation for the same date and time arrives in the mail days later.

Ø Split Your Time Sensibly. Although technically you are only obligated to attend the first invitation you receive, you may feel inclined (or obliged) to RSVP to more than one engagement at a given time. If that is the case, the trick is to be respectful and split your time sensibly to ensure you are not offending the invitees who probably wish they had you committed for the "whole enchilada".

Ø Pay Extra Careful Attention to Electronic Invites. This becomes an especially delicate matter on sites such as Evite because you are able to see who opened your invitation, but did not respond. Think twice before publishing your invite list for all to see if you are concerned that some may base their decision on who else is coming.

Ø Make Sure You Have a Good Excuse! If you are unable to RSVP positively to an event, that is perfectly fine, as long as you have a decent and thoughtful excuse. How you deliver your excuse and the words you choose to express yourself can make all the difference.

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THE MAGIC KINGDOM

Last weekend, I took Baby-Ko to Disneyland for his very first time. Knowing full well that the idea of Disneyland really would mean nothing to him until he actually set foot on Main Street and experienced the joy and churros that is the magical kingdom, I had been making a concerted effort to point out the iconic and very magical Disney castle at the beginning of various movies. (Who am I kidding. We really only watch one. Mary Poppins). Of course, I had concerns about how he would handle the big D-- the crowds, the line, the (no) nap... But, seriously, the minute we pulled in to the parking lot and got on the tram, (which btw, I could have totally told him that was Disneyland- he loved it so much), I saw the sparkle in his eye that I had hoped he would have and it was GAME ON!

From the Jungle Cruise to Small World, (which honestly folks, as an adult is slightly depressing and looks more like an impressive version of a 6th grade class project than I remember it as a kid- with the ceiling tiles crooked and the felt of the "dragon" outside of "China" a little askew), the boy LOVED D-Land and I loved it more seeing it through his eyes. Some of the highlights and low lights...

We started the day off with the Breakfast with Characters.

Minnie was definitely the star of the show. I was shocked to see how much Baby-Ko loved the characters. He hugged them tightly and once he realized all of his favorites "lived at Disneyland," he was on a mad search for Buzz Lightyear.... Who only made an appearance during the exact moment Baby-Ko napped in his stroller.

**Side note, I should add that ironically, Buzz had what appeared to be a PR lady or "rep" with him dictating where he will be making appearances through the park. While en route to these various places, he would not stop to say hi to children. I guess he's just that friggin' cool on and off screen... Poor Woody. **

During our breakfast, Cinderella's Fairy Godmother spent several minutes at our table.

Look, I realize that the Fairy Godmother is equivalent to a D-List celeb in the character world, but when this broad comes to your table with a wand and wants to grant you a wish (after a year of divorce and a house foreclosing), you let her sprinkle her fairy dust wherever she damn pleases. My favorite part was when my mom (aka Mimi- to Baby-Ko) tried to make chit chat with her.

"So how long have you been 'the fairy godmother'?"

"Oh," she smiled and blushed, "I've been here for 55 yeaaaaaaaaars," she said with a squeal. "I've been here since the very day they opened." Perhaps, I thought. She does look kind of old. Until she added, "I live here." Aaaaand scene.

Of course, the Fairy Godmother wasn't the only one refusing to break the 4th wall. Later during the day, whilst in the Corn Dog Line, I saw Mary Poppins and Burt go rushing by towards the "cast doors."

"Maaaaaaaaaaaary!!! Wait!!!" She wiggled her head.

"Waaaaaaaaaait!" I said running after her. "We want to meet you!"

"Parade," she whispered and winked.

Trying to explain to Baby-Ko that Mary had to "get back to Jane and Michael Banks" all the while knowing that Mary was probably really on her way to smoking a cigarette and doing something naughty with Burt in the locker room, made me sad.

Then Baby-Ko got his "driver's license" and I saw my life pass before my eyes.

He steered. I pushed the pedal. We both got whiplash. Remind me in 13 years to not be the one to teach him how to drive.

My baby became a BOY on Pirate's of the Caribbean.

I was really on the fence about whether Baby-Ko could handle Pirates so I decided we'd wait until the end of the day to go on it just in case it scared him so much that he wanted nothing else to do with Disneyland. At first he was all excited about being on a boat inside a room/ cave that appeared to be "night night time." But as the sounds got scarier and what looked like dirty pirate legs dangled above, the fear set in.

"Cover your eyes, Baby-Ko. It's okay. It's all pretend," I said squeezing him tightly. As I looked down at him, worried that he will now have nightmares for the next year, I saw what both amazed and saddened me: He was covering his eyes.... with his fingers spread apart. He was scared but wanted to look. He was a real little kid.

This to me felt like a huge rite of passage. It's all tumbles and thrills from this point on.... Sniffle sniffle....

Of course, then he licked the pole and I felt better.

Yes, on the merry go round, our very last ride of the day (which we may have accidentally snuck on to twice. Shh.), my beautiful and darling big boy took a big ol' lick of the pole--- The dirty- disgusting-public bathroom touching- turkey leg eating-corn dog licking-diaper changing-foreign disease-ridden pole. BLECH. I almost died.

"BABY-KO!!! Get your mouth off of there!"

"I liiiiiicked it, mommy!"

"I know. Please don't do that again."

He giggled, said okay, and proceeded to rest his cheeks against it anyway.

I wish I could say he had a bath that evening... but alas, it was a long day....

Today my boy turns 3. It's hard to believe it. That just 3 years ago I had no idea what being a mom would be like.... I guess that's the excitement and mystery of motherhood though.... Living in a castle that's still full of surprises no matter how old you are and no matter how familiar you are with the territory.... Happy birthday, Baby-Ko. You truly make my life magical.

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE

Well, if you haven't noticed by now, I've had a face lift.... I know I'm a little young, but it was time. This new look is waaay cuter and frankly, makes my butt look fantastic. Ha. Okay, fine. My butt's still well, butt-y, but I am digging the blog revamp thanks to the Design Girl who did an awesome job.

With a new blog design and my 33 birthday just a few days away, it's only fitting that my driver's license expired and it was time for a renewal (i.e. New Photo baby!) Taking your photo at the DMV can be very stressful. First of all, the people working there hardly tell you to "say cheese" and could give two shits whether you come out looking like you have a fat diseased neck. Second, you step up to the line and because you have no idea when/if they're going to snap the photo (because they're busy talking to their coworkers, and I'm pretty sure not even looking at the colossal size camera they're supposed to be operating), you kind of have to just take your chance and start smiling.... which potentially could result with you looking like Chandler Bing.

Fortunately, thanks to the gods of state identification, my new drivers license happened to turn out pretty good. Though my hair was teetering on the wavy side (i.e. unwashed/unbrushed/unblown), I actually look kind of happy and not like I'm being booked for something I didn't do. While I do agree that driving and eyesight go hand in hand, I must admit, it is a very good thing that no one wants to accurately report or take in to account my actual weight. I mean the weight I claim is probably only a few pounds off from the weight I am, but still... I'm not quite sure why I (we... admit it, you do it too)- why we always lie about our weight when we go for our driver's license. But bottom line, it's nice to know that seven years and 1 baby later, some things, yes, some things can always stay the same.... No matter how you look.... and how you pose...

BEST COSTUME EVER

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

. 

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

xoxo

J-Ko

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

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...). 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

I LOVE YOU,

Mommy

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