Friends

This is going to be a really corny and sappy post about how much I love my friends.

I'm just kidding this is going to be about HOW OBSESSED I AM WITH RE-WATCHING FRIENDS FROM THE BEGINNING.

Guys. It's so good. And I don't even know what I mean by "it" ... The actual show, yes. Which I'm kind of surprised about, I kind of thought I might hate it as a 33 vs. 13 (!) year old. I like it more, though. Hi -- maybe because I might actually get the marriage/sex/job jokes? Just a thought. But I also just love the whole nostalgia of it all. The clothes! The clothes. The overalls and the strange sneakers and the crop tops and the leather string necklaces.

There are also giant giant Star Trek phones and waiting to hear back about interviews by MAIL and they drink so much Snapple. Like cases of Snapple. Why were we all so into Snapple? The facts inside the cap? This is a real question.

I am completely infatuated with Jennifer Aniston. I always liked her fine, but now I'm just so into her everything. Marry me, Jen. Also Lisa Kudrow and Matt LeBlanc are way funnier than I gave them credit for before. And Matt Perry is way less. He's like a tiny flailing Muppet who says every line the same way. Was it the painkillers?

Oh also I'm realizing it's probably like New York! I live here now. Yeah yeah. That's probably part of it.

Is this how you write a blog post? Talk about an old TV show with no real transitions or purpose?

I thought so.

Episode 50, The One Where No One's Ready: PLAY.

Timehop

Do you folks have the Timehop app on your phone? It gathers the Instagrams/tweets/Facebook posts you wrote on this exact date 1, 2, 3 years ago (sometimes my Facebook posts go back 8 or 9 years gasp). It's one of my favorite things to check every morning.

Like... a year ago today I was carrying Bea around for every single one of her naps and the irises were blooming in my Connecticut garden. Two years ago I was just finding out Bea was happening, not believing it might stay this time. Three years ago I was doing endless crafts with HJ at our crazy brown house in Westport and trying to train George not to pee on my bed. Four I was obsessively reading medical journals in my Denver bungalow for the latest on aspirin's effects on recurrence. Etc. 

I wish there were a way to send little notes back in time. Give ourselves some future hindsight. Some love. A promise of good days ahead.  Last year at this time was rough. And it was about to get rougher. And then, well, even rougher. Yesterday I saw a picture of myself from May 26, 2014, a chubby face selfie with chubby face Bea. I was still 25 pounds overweight and trying to stay calm about it, but it felt like no one else was. 

I've got a small frame and don't carry extra weight particularly gracefully. It's very noticeable when I lose or gain even 5 pounds, which is frustrating but just my thing. I probably shouldn't even add that detail because it's mostly irrelevant. I guess it's entirely irrelevant. Because absolutely of course I can't stress this enough it was okay to still have weight to lose in May (this May even!). But I could sense people's weirdness around it. I could tell people close to me felt turned off and worried.

I cried a long time about it yesterday, remembering those feelings, remembering how I felt I wasn't good enough or pretty enough anymore. Realizing how much importance were placed on my looks. Feeling like there was little patience for me to get back. Or, rather, no patience if I never got back. Deep down I knew I would, I knew losing the weight was important to me and would happen. But I'd gained 50 pounds -- 5-0! -- and that takes awhile to shed. 

I lost the 50 -- 55 actually -- and that feels nice and I'm proud. But it mostly feels good because it's just for me. Entirely for me. I'm working on working through that anger and closing up that little hole that happened in my heart. I'm working on softening that time for myself, letting those memories and images -- nursing on the dining room floor and catching a look of disgust as my soft belly squished over my yoga pants -- fade away. Instead, I want to remember the way I'd swaddle Bea every night on my soft white quilt, lay her next to me and we'd both drift off to sleep watching the sun set over the pond. Or planting carrot seeds with Harper up by the cabin after a skinny dip in the pool. Or stomping through the fields as I listened to podcasts, absolutely essential emotional balms for me, and felt fleeting moments of okayness. 

I'm grateful for the pictures I took that anchor me to the good things I wanted to capture and savor, that remind me there was and will always be beauty and richness amidst the rocky stuff. I'm grateful for a life that's kept on moving forward and onward, sprinkled with so many happy moments. 

I am not dead

Hi, peoples!

I am not dead.

I am just

I paused there for so long. I want to write "really busy living!" but that sounds ABSURD because we all are! And that does not preclude writing an update or a life tale. And because these are the times I want to record the most. And so I'll just say

I'd been tiptoeing into my new job (feel free to ask me offline about the job if you're interested in details -- I'm not trying to be secretive, but I still blush thinking about my old advertising bosses finding Blue Jean Amy and reading all my inane ramblings about boring meetings) but as of last week I'm in the real swing of things, going into the office and wearing office clothes and taking the train and being a lady with a desk (though it's only 20 hours a week until September) and I can only say that woah, lots of adjustments underway.

My headspace is cluttered and scrambling. I haven't needed a real work wardrobe since 2008 and so that's a thing. Harper's been watching a few too many Shopkins tutorials on the YouTubes lately. Bea fell asleep with yogurt in her hair tonight. I keep eating breakfast sausage for all my meals.

I want to say upfront I'm pretty damn happy to be working again and getting out of the house. I needed it.

I just don't like: leaving the girls with a sitter all day. (I am all about this stellar preschool/daycare for Bea come fall and public kindergarten for HJ. Then I will skip carefree into Manhattan.) A lot of my reasons are helicopter-y, so I won't bore you, but purely logistically speaking? I HATE GETTING THE HOUSE READY FOR A SITTER. Hate it hate it hate it. I've gots to: make sure there's tons of food and snacks and everything and all organized and super tidy and not weird bras or self-help books or emo journals laying around or whatever. I'm a super private person in lots of ways and it makes me squirm to have someone in my space all day. Then the added prep of making sure everything is all set up/not confusing/clean before I head out the door? Do not want, world!

This post is boring me.

I want to write more in this space. Things are good right now. I'm hectic and chaotic and changing and busy and confused and so tired, but I'm happy. I feel like I have so many New York things happening to me that I'm loving. And I'm loving New York more than I thought I would. Like tonight, the girls hung with their dad while I went grocery shopping in my car. I'm always doing little trips or deliveries, but I wanted to do a massive trip and really stock the freezer and cupboards. I drove to this amazing store in Red Hook (a Brooklyn neighborhood) and I felt this crazy manic runaway happiness being there near the water while the sun set -- looking at the choppy waves and this new angle of the Statue and the hipsters eating crab at picnic tables and I had a case of coconut La Croix in the passenger seat and yeah!

See you back here soon.

The calendar says it's Tuesday so sure, let's go with that!

-- My brother and his soon-to-be-wife (am unsure for life whether the guy or girl is fiance or fiancee and cannot be bothered to check) came to stay in our teeny third bedroom for the weekend. It was nice! My mom (who was not here, but acting as a benevolent overlord) treated us all to Mamma Mia on Broadway. Now LISTEN. I'm not the worst theater snob, ain't nobody got time for that, but I can't say this was my first choice.
But.
Shall we fast forward to tonight? When I anxiously get the kids in bed, desperate for some alone time so I can sit on the couch and watch NONSTOP OVER AND OVER REPEAT ABBA VIDEOS? Somebody put a chip in my brain. AN ABBA CHIP. They're following me! It's all over. I'm sorry but I'm not sorry, I love them I love it all I need an ABBA tee shirt kthxbai.

-- After dinner last night I gave Harper her first pack of Shopkins. I don't have the will to go into these right now, but basically they're tiny little rubber collectables that are grocery store items with faces. DUH. She watches a crazy person on YouTube play with them and that's how she became obsessed, but had yet to really ask for them. So because I'm crazy I bought them anyways; I just knew she would flip. Which she did.
She put them all "to bed" on her nightstand and giddily lay her head down. Kiss kiss goodnight, bye. 3:00 a.m. on the nose, I wake up in a sweat because I hear voices in my living room. Aaaaaand those would be the voices of Juicy Orange, Cheesy Churro, and Coffee Drip performed by one Harper June. Sure okay, wake up smack dab middle of the night and play with your toys on the couch what? I was convinced she must be sleepwalking, something she's done once or twice, but she was definitely awake.
"I was just sleeping over there and woke up to play..." She points to the corner of the room behind a chair, all set up with a blanket and pillow. I am beyond confused. And tired. So I nod like any of this makes sense and scoop up my child and her plastic children and send them back to land o' nod. (What on earth?!)

-- Today we waited for the rain to stop and then hustled our bums to Harper's soon-to-be elementary school for official kindergarten reg. They needed approx 800 pieces of info from us to prove she is she and we are we and we really live at this address. (Lots of scamming in the world of NYC public school, no joke.) Had to bring all these things and then fill out 100,000 pieces of paper while Bea yelled AT THE TOP OF HER BABY LUNGS, from joy/boredom/religious freedom/don't know. Harper calmly sat and looked at her Shopkins, answering the principal's cheery "And what brings you here, Harper?" with a very quiet "Well, I'm new"...
I feel so good about this place for her. Of course she's a little weirded out by the real schoolness of it all.. "This sho' is different from Apple Blossom"... but I have no doubt she'll love it. FREE SCHOOL WHO KNEW.

-- Okay I'm tired and need to put flowery sheets on my bed.

Doobiedoo

My current blogging style is like that string of tiny songs on Abbey Road. Yes I'm comparing myself to the Beatles.

-- The greatawesomebignews of the week (year?) is that Harper got into our neighborhood's public kindergarten (and therefore elementary and middle school). I am relieved beyond measure infinity infinity and so on and on. It's a great school, we can walk there, and it's just gonna make my life easier/cheaper/better. And I think Harper is going to love it capital L. There's a big waitlist, something I honestly didn't anticipate (because the consultant we hired told me it wouldn't happen ahem), and I'm feeling giddy I somehow dodged that bullet. (My apologies to those who were waitlisted, but c'monz. I've had a rocky year... I can gloat a bit, non?)

-- I always feel guilty/ashamed when I'm jamming out to music and I replay the same song 20-25 times in a row but why? This is allowed, dearest me. No one there to judge but you and okay. Okay maybe I am a little disappointed I went on a late 90s Will Smith binge that shall never be repeated or mentioned again.

-- The months leading up to Bea's birth I wanted to prep for natural birth, but didn't really vibe with the tips in all those books. (There are just so many ice cubes a person can hold to their wrist.) So I came up with my own method that probably needs a whole book of its own because hey, it helped me birth a 9 lb. 2.5 oz baby in a bathtub. I don't know if I'll have the time to write out all the complicated parts of my method, but I'll try: When it's cold out, don't wear a coat or mittens or hat while you pump your gas, then try and sit with/go into the all-encompassing discomfort of it. Oh, that's it I guess. (This legitimately helped me!) (No luck for you, west coasters.)

-- A cute guy at the deli counter called me 'mama' today and I don't know, I kind of enjoyed it. I think I need to analyze this.

-- I just got a 19 dolla pair of supersoft sweatpants in the mail today and they're really a cherry on top a darn good week.

Onward ho.

Tidbits

--I once told Harper that Skittles used to make me really nuts when I was younger. They were my favorite candy, but something about them (oh, the insane levels of sugar + artificial colors perhaps?) made me go wild and then crash. It was a whole thing. This year I filled some of her Easter eggs with a few Skittles, which delighted her.
Later in the evening, after Bea was asleep and we were recapping our weekend on the couch, she opened a couple last eggs and started sharing some candy with me. She got to one with Skittles and held out a grape one. As I reached, she quickly pulled it away. "Promise you won't go crazy?!" A look of terror in her eyes. Oh, that was good.

--I like to give Bea small "treats" in a cup and then put her on the floor so I can do kitchen things. Today I put puffs of whipped cream and then later a tiny inch of OJ. Is this like how my mom told me Certs were candy?

--After finishing up this bad ass Lego Frozen ice castle Harper says "Oh! I also did that Sleeping Beauty one! Do you think daddy will go upside down for it, too?" .... What?
She looks kind of sheepish, "You know...like you said he was going to go upside down when he saw how cool this castle was..."
Oh! "Yes yes -- I said he was totally going to flip over how awesome it was. So yup. He's gonna flip over Sleeping Beauty's bedroom, too."

--I inherently know that giving up caffeine would help stabilize the ups and downs of my blood sugar and therefore help me lose the few pounds I'd like to lose, but to be quite honest -- this feels like an impossible journey. Oftentimes, Bea has us up at 4:00 in the a.m. Trudging through that without hot tea (followed by a hot coffee a few hours later) sounds like a fool's errand. I'm sure there are a hearty few who will chime in "Do it! You'll love it!" but I think it might be like the time I gave up using shampoo, turning to a vinegar rinse once a week instead. LIFE IS TOO SHORT FOR ALL THAT.

--We were waiting for an Uber to take us to the UES for a playdate today and Harper sighs super heavily. "Ugh. I really hope it's not Mario this time." Because last month when we visited the children's museum together we had a driver named Mario (I never would have remembered this) who took a long time to pick us up. So heads up -- don't mess with Harper, Ubsters! She'll rate you 2 stars in a cold black heartbeat.

Twas a bad day

I don't watch American Idol anymore (after 10 years of intense dedication I just could not with that) and I have no idea if they play "Bad Day" anymore when someone gets booted. No, right? Maybe that was only the first year? I should know this. It's like a terrible Daughtry song I think.

Anyways. It delighted me that this very pop poppy song was accompanying a sad moment in such an earnest but weird way. Imagine that song, with my very favorite key change at the end, accompanying this post.

I had a doozy yesterday. Wait, ne'rmind, I forgot I hate the word doozy. Yesterday was bad. I engaged with something and someone that doesn't need to be in any part of my life and a whole insane spiral resulted. Amy! Stop. But it's so hard sometimes.

What I mostly want to say, though, is how comforting it is that comfort can be so easily regained if I tap into the things I need. Instead of sitting on the kitchen floor and eating yet another Cadbury creme egg, I got quiet and listened to what I was really asking for. And I told myself it was okay that I had a slip up, that I'm human and tired and stressed.

I went for a jog along the promenade at sunset. I listened to super angry old school Kelly Clarkson. I went to bed early. Today I put on soft cozy clothes and drank tea. I did laundry and vacuumed, walked in the sunshine and got Chipotle chicken tacos. I talked out and wrote out what went down the past couple days and forgave myself and others. I stopped thinking about it and started thinking about what I'll do for fun during my sitter time tomorrow.

Self care has been such a strangely hard lesson for me to learn. But really -- it's actually not that hard to achieve. It doesn't take moneys or things or even that much time -- it just takes mindfulness and focus and the vision to make it happen (regardless of a very, very shouty baby). Put that oxygen mask on first, yo.