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. 

THROWBACK THURSDAY: FOUND VIDEO

We are in the process of moving and I'm in clean up mode from top to bottom, inside and out... Including all things tech. So, I found this video while cleaning up my computer. It's probably about 3 years old, as Jonah was really only about 2 (though his silliness and sense of humor was quite evident even then). I'm a total dork in the video and I'm not quite sure where exactly I was looking or why I even shot it... but boy, I can't believe how time is flying. Next week is the last week of school... and then it's on to Kindergarten (the real Kindergarten). Videos like these remind me to savor every moment... and to also burn whatever blouse that was that I was wearing.
xo, JB

#throwbackthursday

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. 

MIRRORS MEAN NOTHING ANYMORE

I don't know when it happened but these days, I cannot look into a mirror to see what I look like. It's like I see the reflection, but I don't really see it.... So what do I do? I take a picture. (Before you really start to call me ca-razy, know that I only do this when I'm trying to decide on an outfit for something really important.... As if that makes any sense or is any better). do actually like my body (most days) and feel good about myself (a lot). So I'm not sure this is about some deep seeded disorder or insecurity.... I'm wondering if digital technology is to blame and everything visual is now computerized that maybe real life is blurry now too...? Who knows. Anyway, I wrote a post on Lifetimemoms.com about this.... I think it's something a lot of women can relate to. If not, then you can just enjoy and laugh at some of the examples below which exemplify said issue.

Anyone else do the same thing?

Oh... and do you like these dresses?? ;-)

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....

COLLEGE

Over breakfast…

Me: (Holding up a grapefruit) Have you ever tried a grapefruit?

Jonah: Yes. Ash-a-lee (his old babysitter) shared a grapefruit with me one time.

Me: Did you like it?

J: I did. (Pause). Mommy, how come Ash-a-lee doesn’t pick me up anymore?

Me: Because she moved and is going to college.

J: College????

Me: College. Yes, it’s a school for older kids. You go there to learn about the things you love. You study interesting things in college.

J: Study??

Me: Yes, if you love numbers then you study math... If you love books and reading you study English. Or art… You could study art and about painting and drawing. (Pause). What do you want to study at college?

J: Doctor.

Me: (Beaming) You want to study to be a doctor?!

He nods.

Me: Okay! Great, well, then at college you’ll have to study about health.

J: Health-Y?

Me: Health. Doctors make sure we’re healthy. Doctors study people’s bodies. In college (I start pointing), they study bones, and organs, and skin and-

J: Fingers?

Me: Yep, fingers...

J: (Pointing) And arms and toes and eyes and mouth and hair and place mats?

Me: Um (smiling), not place mats. But they study your nose… and your teeth… and your tummy… and..

J: And poo poo, and pee pee and fro-up?

Me: Yep. Definitely pee pee and poo poo and throw up.

He takes a bite of oatmeal.

Me: You know, I went to college.

J: Where, mommy?

Me: New York University. In New York. And Daddy went to UC Santa Barbara. Where do you want to go?

J: Um, O. K. J. V. U. I . T. C...

Me: Oh, really?

J: Yeah.

Me: I think you should go to a place called Harvard. Or Yale.

He thinks about it.

J: Um, mommy… But... Do mommy’s go to college with their children?

Me: Aw. Well, no. Not usually. Because college is for big kids. You're almost an adult when you go to college. So usually, no. You don’t go with your mommy.

J: (his eyes widen) But mommy, I don’t know how to get to college. I will need the directions.

Me: (Melting) Oh, well I will absolutely make sure you have the directions to college. I will help you get there. Don’t you worry.

J: All done! (he pushes his breakfast away).

I want to scream, "No. Never. Stay at this table like this forever." Instead:

Me: Me too! Let’s go to school!

WHEN IT RAINS....

I've heard stories from the BTDTM (Been There Done That Moms) about how after years of having kids, you start to listen (and like) the music they listen too. You can name all the Jonas Brothers (and even have your own favorite) and you are the first one to go out and buy the High School Musical CD. I used to wonder if that would ever happen to me. I mean, those little Rockabye Lullaby Baby songs are pretty relaxing...

YESTERDAY:
I got in the car. Started the engine. The stereo is on but I can't hear it. 

I'll change the channel in a sec.
I pull out of the driveway, turn the street. Time to settle in for my 40 min commute to work. Traffic on the 101 blows.
I miss Adam Corrola.
What CD is this?
I turn it up.
"Showers always make you gaaaay..."
WHAT?
"Robin in the rain...such a lovely fellow..."
What is this?!
Ahh. Raffi. Of course.
I listen to another few lines. Cute song. NEXT.

**
Back in the car after a long day. Time to settle in for my 45 plus min commute home. Mommy needs wine. Nothing on the radio. CD #4. Sara Bareilles. Ehh. CD #5. My "Birthing CD" (Don't ask). CD #1. "Robin in the rain....."
I turn it up. God. This song IS pretty cute. Reminds me of a Cole Porter song or something. Is it?

I play it again.
Damn. This Raffi is good. But why am I listening to this? I should take advantage of my time alone and listen to some T.I. or J.T.
I look in the rear review mirror just to remind myself that Baby-Ko is in fact not there. I switch to the hip-hop station. It's all crap really. 

Why try to fight it? I mean it IS a good song....

45 minutes, and 3,000 rounds of showers-making-me-gay later, I have arrived. Literally.

http://music.yahoo.com/track/764603

P.S. Out of nowhere, Baby-Ko spit up all over me this morning-- my jeans were covered. I suppose I could have changed, but I opted for a little wet wash clothe action and went on my way. On route to work, I caught a whiff of myself. What have I become?

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