The funniest Rosh Hashanah story you'll read today

So every year on Rosh Hashanah I reflect. I reflect back on the year and how far we've come. How our lives have changed. Some things are good. Some are bad. I cast off my bad memories and cherish the good ones. But every year I reflect on the funniest Rosh Hashanah moment I have ever experienced.
Our lives were confusing at the time. Rosh Hashanah had come early that year. So our daughter was just 2 years old. We had been living in San Diego for less than a year, my husband was laid off, things weren't easy. But instead of skipping on the idea of taking Evelyn to Rosh Hashanah services I stepped up and got us all dressed and ready to go. It wasn't easy knowing that I would know nobody at the Chabad of La Costa, but I figured if there was one place that would accept a mother and child it would be the place.
We got there and were greeted to the women's side of the Shul by several older ladies. I parked the stroller outside and walked in with Evelyn. We were given a seat in the middle of the aisle into the tiny Shul. But we were grateful for the ladies welcoming us, and greeting Evelyn and myself.
We did pretty well.... Until the Rabbi opened the arc to reveal the Torah dressed in the finest coverings. Covered in silver and beautiful white cloth. This is when my daughter started singing "YO HO YO HO A PIRATES LIFE FOR ME!" at the top of her lungs pointing to the Torah. I tried to quickly shush her... as the ladies stared at me aghast and confused.  I smiled and tried to whisper to Evelyn that we weren't at Disneyland.... but this just wasn't the best explanation for her.  She kept humming the tune while the rabbi lifted and carried the Torah around.

We packed up and left Shul not long after this.... I never returned to the Chabad of La Costa for fear that I had insulted the patrons.

So L'Shanah Tova friends.... When you see Rosh Hashanah on the calendar may you reflect on the happy memories of your year.... and remember this story to make you smile.

shhh! Don't tell anyone.

dirty little secret time......

So I'm pretty well known for being a great home maker. I bake, I sew, I try to DIY as much as possible. I make my kids birthday cakes. I sew their Halloween costumes. I bake challah every Friday night.

People always talk about how lucky my kids are. How they are spoiled even. But guess what?
I don't do any of it for my kids!

I do it for me. I do it because I like to eat good food. I don't make special dinners for them. I do it for me. I don't sew because my kids begged me or asked me too. I do it because I enjoy finding the time to create. I don't make homemade yogurt because it's better for my kids. I do it because it tastes better. I prep dinner at 9AM so I can nap with the baby at 4PM.

But what pisses me off?
Is when people assume I'm doing it because I'm trying to be the best Mom in the world. Believe me, I'm far from it!

(Let's not even talk about how my kids LOVE when I give them hot dogs for Shabbat dinner with a challah!)

certainly uncertain

I am certain that I want my children to go back to school. What I am certainly UNcertain of is how I am going to survive when they go back to school. The drop offs. The pick ups. The homework. The lunches. The endless need to rush one place or another.
I wonder how I did it last year? The baby was a bit more portable I guess. But having 3 kids has left me with the idea that I am completely incapable of functioning. With the baby being bigger (Heavier) and more on a schedule, all the stuff that the other two do is seriously going to complicate life.

I am thinking I am going to need more than vodka!!!

Down one kid

So one would think in my "spare" time I would be writing up a storm. The problem isn't the spare time, it's the writing. I am finding myself staring at the computer with seriously nothing flowing to my fingertips. It used to be (pre-children) that I'd sit. Write. Be done. But now I find my brain takes a vacation once the children are in bed. I plop down on the sofa and half awake stare at Facebook or watch trashy vampire shows. And then I quickly pass out. 

But tonight for some odd reason I am only half zombie. I am pretty sure I had far less sleep than I normally do. I am fairly certain I spent the same amount of time cooking, cleaning, driving than I normally do. But tonight I am down one kid. 

Our oldest, the only girl, is at her very first sleep away camp. I was certain that there would be more time from when she was born until today. I was certain I'd WANT her to leave after 9 years of raising her. I thought I'd be excited for her to spend a week and a half away. 

But today I realized one thing... I was not ready for my little girl to leave me. She is at a Jewish camp a little less than one hour away. But the strangest feeling came over me when getting in the car driving out of the camp. And that was that I didn't say good bye to her. But I did. I know I did. In fact I hugged her so tight I thought I would hurt her. I kissed her face. All over her face. Her ears. The top of her head. I grabbed her face and told her how PROUD I was of her. I did all of these things to show her I was very much going to miss her. But all I could think as I drove out of the gate was "I didn't say good bye."

I know deep down that my daughter is going to be fine. It will be an adjustment. But that doesn't mean she won't have a fabulous time. She has been talking about going to this camp for over a year. I can imagine once things are settled in for tonight and she has her bed all made and her Kitty all snug up against her that she is probably going to be homesick. Of course I will never hear about this. I know because when she comes home she is going to tell me about all of the wonderful things about camp. She will "forget" about the sad night. Or if she gets hurt. She won't tell me about these moment. She will only tell me about the amazing days at Camp. 

Being down one child is also hard on the middle child. The youngest is way too young to even notice that his big sister isn't here. But my middle one took it rough when we said our goodbyes. I think out of all of us, he was the most upset. (He didn't see my tears behind my big dark sunglasses!!) So we had to do a lot of reassuring, and we pretended that she was in the room next to his, and he yelled good night to her from his bed. I hope she heard. 

I had this plan in my head that when my daughter was at Camp and my middle one was at his day camp I would purge their rooms from all of the junk they have accumulated.... Now I think I am going to just lay on my daughters bed and imagine she is there reading me stories. 

To make myself (and my husband) feel better on our way home from the drop off we stopped to drown our worries into booze. Booze baked into cupcakes of course! We'd always wanted to stop by Sift to try their Cupcake Wars desserts. So this cocktail girl chose a Pink Champagne cupcake. And my husband chose the Car Bomb which is an Lagunitas Imperial Stout with Irish Cream frosting. Yeah, I'd call that happy hour!

faux pas

So I was on the receiving end of that Working Mom versus Stay at Home Mom faux pas. It happened so quickly that I had to stop and think about it, let the moment pass, and then get pissed. It was innocent. Unintentional. And a flat out insult.
The day was starting off normal. Saturday afternoon hair appointment. I decided to take my daughter and the baby with me. Evelyn agreed that she'd be my babysitter, and Marcus agreed to be the baby that sat in the stroller having people constantly cooing at him.
Very quickly after sitting in the chair of the substitute hairstylist that I was seeing that day, she burst at the seams and exclaimed she was 11 weeks pregnant. I was very happy for her. She had a huge wedding in August and I being a new bride at getting pregnant with our daughter almost 10 years ago, I think she felt a connection to me.
We spent most of the time while she applied my hair color, and cut my hair talking about pregnancy and kids. She is an ex-special needs teacher so I highly respect her for that. We discussed her future of standing on her feet, touching chemicals, and the simple fact that she is a curvy mama. While she told me about her discussion with the owner of the salon she explained that she had heard after having a baby it takes 6-8 weeks to heal after giving birth. I explained that it depended on what type of birth obviously, and how you heal. I explained that three weeks after having Marcus I was out at the market with all 3 of the kids purchasing ice cream for my husbands birthday celebration.
Her response: "But you don't work a full time job so it's different."
Oh dear girl.
You didn't?
Did you?
Really???

I was a bit shocked. Mainly because I hadn't ever experienced such naivety. But also because as a stay at home Mom of 3 kids I forget that there people that do not view my life as working. I assume they also think I get to sit and watch crap like The View as I sip coffee in my fuzzy slippers. Reality is I haven't had a hot cup of coffee while watching TV in my fuzzy slippers in years. And yes I fully admit I have fuzzy slippers.

My first thought was to say "No, my job is 24/7." But I hesitated and instead let it slide. Reality is, I've never been an at-work Mom either. But I have been a Mom. Where she has not. And naturally we all have to grow into motherhood. Learning along the way is the only way to really get it. And by "getting it" I mean the person that has someone depending on them 24/7. Sure I am lucky enough to have a very supportive and involved husband. But reality is, my kids depend on me 24/7. Full time to its fullest. And trying to explain that to a Mom to be can only go so far.
It was pretty insulting to hear a 30 year old scoff at my gumption just three weeks after giving birth to my third child. But at the same time, its probably not going to be the last time either.

I guess after being confronted with the end all be all Stay at Home Mom VS. Working Mom comparison I find that it is best to let a person keep their ideas, because there is little I can do to show both sides of the coin.

Breakfast for champions?

There seems to be a lot of buzz these days in the mommy-blog world and in my personal world about mornings, and the rush/chaos that goes a long with a giant cup o'Peet's Coffee. I've been trying to figure out if it's the Spring Break anticipation. Or us all adapting to the time change. But one thing I do know is that with three kids my mornings generally suck.
It often starts with my husband turning off the alarm and going back to sleep. Me waking in a startle usually saying a few cuss words at my husband and jump out of bed. The kids are usually already awake either annoying one another or playing under the blankets in my daughters room. Neither one of them could ever take the initiative to get themselves dressed or God forbid get their own breakfasts!
I generally start with getting breakfasts done and at the table. This also causes a few cuss words and a 'Hurry up!' from me... But most often it just ends in me being annoyed and a half eaten breakfast. I try my hardest to get my kids to eat healthy in the morning. They aren't too fond of eggs, and honestly I've had it easy for the last three and a half years with my son because every day since age one he has requested oatmeal. (Except for weekends when he suckers me into making pancakes.) But the current status of breakfast with my two kids that aren't breastfeeding is: BREAKFAST IS BAD!
I haven't even figured out why this is either. I make fruit smoothies "they're too cold." they whine. I buy frozen waffles "these don't taste as good as the other kind." My son refuses to have a bowl of cold cereal with milk. It's like asking him to eat squid for breakfast. My daughter won't touch oatmeal with a ten foot pole, but likes the cold cereal... of course it can't be a bowl of Cheerios or something, it has to be half Cheerios and half Gorilla Munch or Three Sisters Cinnamon Sweets.
This is usually when my third child wakes up crying... and all the while my husband is still leisurely taking a long hot shower. The coffee of course is no where near done brewing, and lunches are still unmade. But, I continue with the cussing, and the constant shouting of "Hurry up! You'll be late for school!" Thank goodness we do not have a bus to catch or they would never ever leave the house. Sometime around 7AM my husband casually walks into the kitchen and sweetly kisses me on the cheek to say good morning. Forgetting about the cuss word I mumbled at him when I realized he had yet again turned off the alarm. The good thing about my husband is he will always pour my cup of coffee first. He knows his hand will be bitten off if he doesn't. So we are in sync that way.
Somehow in the rush of making lunches I will hear my kids either bitching and moaning about their breakfast or my daughter finishes really quickly and I'm stuck listening to her loudly sing in the bathroom while putting her hair up into the perfect eight year old lopsided pigtails. My son however will sit there for as long as it can possibly be before I finally get so fed up with saying "EAT!!" that I just send him away. Yet again, throwing out a bowl or plate of uneaten food, and him going to school hungry.
I have no problem with him going to school hungry, but what seems to happen is a quick downward spiral for the rest of the day when this happens. Mainly because he is so hungry at snack time that he eats his whole lunch, and then at lunch he has nothing left, and by the time I pick him up, he is a whiny cranky four year old.
And see, it all starts with breakfast, the most important meal of the day. When I read through classic 1950's cookbooks I see that Mothers back then were starting breakfast out with a fruit cup, eggs, toast, and a glass of fresh squeezed juice. Did those kids complain?
When I was a kid breakfast was always a bowl of cereal. You can have Cheerios or Life, take your pick. And on the rare occasion we had Eggo's. I do remember once my Dad getting so frustrated with me for not eating breakfast that he made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  When I remembered this yesterday morning I finally realized what to do about my son. He loves Sunbutter and honey sandwiches. So I popped an English muffin into the toaster and made him his favorite sandwich. There was no yelling, no half eaten breakfast to throw away.... There was smiles all around.

I wonder.... should we just skip breakfast and go straight to lunch?

Sipping Champagne in San Francisco

My husbands company just finished and released their newest game. It's a big deal to go from nothing to something promoted by a huge company and having it on the shelves of game stores across the country. So tonight my husbands company is throwing a party. 

These parties are the best! All sorts of foods, open bar, lots of laughing, and drunken silliness all around. The parties usually take place in San Francisco. I get to wear fun clothes. They are often held at a bar or club. It is just what a grown up couple needs for a night out away from the troubles of the world. And parenting. 

Tonight, we went to California Pizza Kitchen. 

All five of us went to CPK for a fundraiser for our daughters school. We got to watch all the kids run around and almost get knocked over by the annoyed wait staff. We had no cocktails. We saw the caloric intake of a child portion of macaroni and cheese. And I had to scrutinize the menu to verify there was no dairy in any of my food. This was the furthest thing possible from a night in San Francisco at a party with a bunch of adults chatting and indulging in an open bar. 

These are the trade-offs when you become a parent. My husband and I recognize this. However we still forgot when I got pregnant for the third time the "I can't leave my baby" stage. The "There isn't a babysitter that I can afford to come and watch my newborn so I can go to San Francisco and indulge in an open bar" stage. Not to mention there isn't someone that can nurse the baby for me either. 

Parenting is difficult. And tonight I'd much prefer to be in San Francisco sipping champagne for free. But instead I got to watch my kids eat hot fudge sundaes with mini M&Ms at California Pizza Kitchen. Which doesn't suck too much because they are pretty cute. The kids. Not the mini M&Ms. 

Lord of the Nerds

Before I met my husband I liked to surround myself with people who were often the nerds of your school. The ones who were outcast as strange. The people who read books that I'd never heard of. Created art so incredibly wonderful that I often felt down on myself.
When I met Pete I think he was fearful of what I'd think of him if I knew the truth about how nerdy he truly was. Sure I knew he was a computer gamer. This is how I met him, through a mutual friend who worked at the same game company. But I never knew the obsession with Science Fiction and fantasy books. I never knew about the Buffy the Vampire Slayer collection he had at work. That side was all kept away from me.
Inevitably we moved in together and as time progressed you see and find things that are questionable. But I stuck with him. I love him. I love a nerd. (This shall be my true-confessions book title.)
As our two oldest kids have progressed in life, we see little quirky things pop up here and there. I am by far a quirky creature. I admit it,  it just so happens that I have pink hair in my drivers license, but nobody really sees that anymore.  But I am also a mainstream type who reads about current fashion, trends, music, etc. So my quirky side gets masked by being a stay at home mom driving a minivan.
My kids however embrace their quirkiness. Owen, my four year old is by far the most imaginative. He will take a rubber band and strap a chop stick to his wrist and call himself a battle droid. Evelyn, my eight year old, has quirk, but it comes differently. It comes on quietly. She will wear her ballet flats, and skinny jeans, and play with her American Girl doll, and then all of a sudden quote "Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog." Or better yet, she has probably half of the Harry Potter books memorized out of not reading them, but by listening to them non-stop for the past four years on CD and iPod.
Evelyn's current obsession is Lord of the Rings. Not because we have read the books to her. Oh no, Mommy is not quirky enough for that!! But because my husband turned the movie on for her last weekend while she was on the couch suffering with a stomach ache. She didn't see the whole thing at first. But she couldn't stop talking about it. Finally yesterday after school she says "I've finished my homework and I'm too tired to play outside and ride my bike, can I watch a movie today?" Sure. I'm a reasonable Mom! Plus this allows me time to make dinner. So what does the child turn on? Freaking Lord of the Rings.
Shoot me!! I am probably one of the rare people you will meet that has never seen any of these movies. I have also not seen Avatar, Titanic, or Blade Runner in its entirety. I loathe these types of long drawn out EPIC movies. So here I am stuck nursing the baby with an obnoxiously LOUD at one moment and quiet moment the next movie.
I ended up barricading myself and the baby in my bedroom and text messaged my husband about what a truly horrible father and husband he is. How dare he turn MY baby girl into a NERD! And what horrible husband leaves his wife home with three children and expects her to accept things like Lord of the Rings on her television. During the witching hour no less!

He walked in from work just as the credits started rolling and both kids were thrilled at the prospect that there are two more movies that they have yet to see. Evelyn immediately started asking when she can watch the next ones.

I now feel like an outcast. A nerd. A strange freak. In my own home.

But there is hope...
I have another.

Parenting or Control Freaking

So when does parenting become control freaking?

I try to be one of those parents that trusts her kids, and society as a whole. I don't believe that the world is out to get us. I don't believe that someone talking to my child means that they want to molest or steal my children. I believe the good is greater than the bad.

I don't see myself as untrusting at all....

Except when it comes to routines. I have come to be the person that I am by being in control. Control is what got me put on bed rest during the last three weeks of my last pregnancy. But I like to think that I am not the control freak that doesn't allow for flexibility. Sure I hate my husband doing the grocery shopping "No sweetie, the kids can't drink beer and eat ice cream for dinner. That is bad parenting."
But here is my dilemma; Now that we have three kids, I find people offering their help. I don't usually accept help. "Why do I need help?" "People don't need to help me!!" "I'm fine!"My husband has been telling me since I got pregnant "What is the harm in accepting help?" So I've slowly started to break down and accept.

Unfortunately I've had a few mishaps with these favors and it has caused me to back track about ten steps.  If I want something done correctly why on Earth wouldn't I do it myself? Nobody can parent our kids like we can right?

Today I had a cold stricken four year old home from school and a nine week old with nasty wind and rain outside. Around Noon I received a text that another parent could bring my daughter home from school. So I graciously accepted, as who wants to take a sick kid and a newborn out in the rain? Around 4PM I start checking my phone. I start calling the Mom. I start getting nervous. Who knows what crazy crap can happen in the rain right? The only place I didn't call was the school. And mainly because by 4:30PM I got a call from the schools aftercare program telling me that they had my daughter.
I felt so bad. Our daughter Evelyn is eight, but she too is a creature of routine. The apple hasn't fallen too far with this girl and she likes to know for certain what to expect after school. And Mommy messed up.

I called my husband and told him what happened and before he said he would go pick our girl up I asked "Am I allowed to go back to being a control freak now?"

Sweet husband has graciously accepted that things just go smoother when I am control freaking.

And out of the nervousness of not knowing where my daughter was I started craving chocolate which forced me to make a batch of brownies tonight. Who needs cocktails when you can over indulge in chocolate?

The Poor Dear

Now that I am a whopping eight weeks in to being a mother to three children, and not crying hysterically when my husband leaves for work, I see that it isn't as scary as I feared. Is it hard? Yes. Is it insane? Yes. Is it loud? Yes. Is it exhausting? Absolutely. But it isn't THAT scary!
The fear of the unknown I guess is the problem. Because when you get pregnant with your third child you know the pregnancy part is hard.You know giving birth is emotional and exhausting. But you also know that you will recover from all of that. And in my case I recover quickly. Thank goodness!
But the fear of the unknown plays tricks on you. You psyche yourself out of thinking you can't breastfeed and take dinner out of the oven at the same time. You tell yourself you can't wipe the four year olds butt with a crying baby in your arm while your cell phone is ringing and it's the person who told you they'd take your eight year old home from school but now cannot because their daughter has lice. You think you can't take a shower and put on make up ever again.
But I can and have done all of these things!
When I see people who I'm not used to seeing or speaking to on a daily basis I get the same question every time: "How are you DOING?" They put emphasis on the DOING part as if I am terminally ill, or just found out my dog was run over by a semi. They look at me with sad eyes, and wonder what they would do if they were in my shoes.
Now don't get me wrong. We have had some extreme generosity over the last couple of months from the Jewish community. We have some serious good karma to repay because the meals, and the gifts and the kindness has been so wonderful and telling of how people feel about us as a family. But when I hear "How are you DOING?" I want to ask if these people know something that I do not. Did my husband run off with a bar maid? Did I walk outside with underwear on my head? Do I look THAT bad?! I can't remember a time in my life where I have been asked how I am doing more than now.

Let's just say this.

I am doing better than I expected. I am doing well even! Mainly because I am still me! I just happen to have leaking breasts and a big diaper bag to cart around right now.

Of course tomorrow I could take back ALL of what I just typed out and change my mind. I could curl into a ball and cry and say "NO NO TAKE THEM ALL BACK!" But isn't that why Vodka was invented? Or maybe this is why I like Vodka so much?

Either way, I have a back up plan just in case I decide I am NOT doing so well anymore!

Not So New

Let me start by saying that this is whole "blogging" gig is not new to me. I've been "blogging" for ten years now. But of course I've always called it journaling because I was using LiveJournal. Over the past ten years I have chronicled some major highs and lows of my life. Laid things out and have wasted people's time with my constant babble. At the time it was what connected me to friends near and far. It was the Facebook of a decade ago. But where you could have people read your deep dark journaling secrets. Or not.

The times have changed. People have shorter attention spans now. Life has become 'mobile' and we all walk around checking our email/texts/facebook/twitter from our phones. I don't claim I am any different. I am often seen sitting in the car nursing the baby scrolling through whatever has caught my eye for the moment on my phone. The fact that I even have to nurse in the car is testament to how my life has become more mobile. I didn't even have the guts to nurse in the car when our oldest was born.

But I've never been one to dwell on the past.... So as I was saying, for the past ten years I've been writing about life, love, and the pursuit of a perfect cocktail! The fact of the matter is, writing is something I've done as long as I can remember. When I was a kid I got a type writer and wrote stories. Nothing ever worthwhile, and goodness knows they are long since disintegrated (hopefully) in a landfill somewhere. But the writing has been the thing that has gotten me through the day. When I was in college, when I was handed a test I would freak out and do shitty. But if I was assigned a 20 page paper about the importance of the movie Amistad, man I could whip that sucker out in a day! 

My husband has always told me to sit down and write a book. That someday we'd retire off of my writing. As much as I love his believing in me I certainly don't see that in our future! (Not with the likes of the world these days.) I am just a plain old stay at home mom who has to drive her minivan from preschool, to private school to the over priced grocery store. The Mom who has to buy insoles for her Converse Chuck's because although they hurt like a bitch to wear, they are still sort of cool to run around town in, and God knows I can't be uncool! (That is sarcasm by the way. You'll get a lot of that here.)

This blog isn't just a new gig. It isn't a new way for me to make friends. Or find the answers to those unanswered questions my 4 year old often asks. Or to make a few bucks, although it would be nice too... It is a way for me to test the waters of writing again. Writing more with a purpose than just blabbing about my feelings. And most importantly it is for the possibility of me helping other Moms with three kids, or any amount of kids, to not feel that Mom-guilt when she pours herself a drink at the end of the day. And honestly it doesn't even have to be an alcoholic drink! I have one friend with three kids who can't go to bed, or finish her day without eating a super rich piece of good chocolate. (That is what living in Austria does to a person, they give you yummy treats and then send you back to the states!)

Wow. I think I've given myself a serious set up. I sure hope I don't fuck it up. I'd like to entertain, and keep you interested. Great. I just realized I have even more people relying on me!

Cocktail of the day: None. Just a few sips of husbands beer.

The Beginning Continued

I left you with a cliff hanger didn't I? I bet you're on the edge of your seat just dying to know what happened next!! 

Well, obviously by the title of this blog I have three kids. So you know that much! But let's go back to the fine details of the lightbulb waking me out of my klutzy pregnant stupor! That wonderful Cinco de Mayo (and trust me I will never forget Cinco de Mayo from here on out!) I woke up to get the kids ready for school. I made the coffee. I peed on a stick. Waited for the two lines to show up. Walked up stairs, put my hands behind my back and asked my husband to point to the one he wanted. One hand held the coffee. The other held the pregnancy test. Either way husband was getting a big surprise that morning!

The rest of the day went a lot like this through text messaging. (Boy am I glad we have unlimited texting.)

Him: REALLY?

me: uh huh.

Him: REALLY??????

me: yup.

Him: Wait. Another one? REALLY????

me: uh huh. 

This literally went on for days. I'd be at the grocery store and my phone would make that one text honk that everyone who has an iPhone seems to have would go off and I'd see "REALLY?" across the screen. The sad thing was we weren't totally surprised. I mean obviously, we are a healthy couple. We have sex. It's the way things work, and well, babies happen that way. 

But here is the kicker. In October 2009 just seven months prior to me getting pregnant, we had given every last baby thing away to my sister who was pregnant with twins. Sure I had some sentimental items from both of the kids being babies, but we had no crib. No sheets, no blankets, no socks, no hats, no clothes, no baby bath, no toys, nothing. We have a house full of Legos, Star Wars toys, and a pile of art. There was no room, in our minds, for baby rattles and diapers. 

Slowly coming to terms with being pregnant again, we didn't really speak much of what we were going to "do" - the subject was: we are having a baby. We've done this before. We know how to handle it! So on Mother's Day I called my Mom and told her the news. I tried to be all cute and sweet and tell her she needs to make room for another charm on her grandmother bracelet but I couldn't even get that out of my mouth before she blurted "Your pregnant!" She actually laughed at me because deep down she knew that we weren't done having kids. I wish people would tell me these things when they have foresight that I don't. Thanks Mom. 

We slowly told the rest of both sides of the family. My husband waited until after I went to the doctor at eight weeks to email all of his siblings. Oh, did I mention my husband is the youngest of eight children? Yes. I think it's crazy too. But so does he and all of his siblings. And no, we won't be following in his parents footsteps and procreating five more times. 

So to fast forward through the pregnancy rather quickly because honestly how many pregnancy stories can a person read? It is important for one to remember, but that one should usually be the mother. The father will just remember it all wrong any way. Our third child, our second son, was born January 6, 2011 at 9:38PM. All I will say is that it was a hellish day of induction and I never ever EVER want to go through that again!

So that is the beginning. There is so much more obviously, however I feel that to go forward with this blog the foundation should be laid. (Thanks dad for my gift in analogy usage.) Our perfect family of four turned into a wonderful family of five. We are thrilled to have our newest addition to our lives. But after a day like today, and yesterday, and the day before, and ... I am glad there is Vodka. 

Oh! As if you need proof that we are surviving this parenting three children program one cocktail at a time. Husband just went upstairs to rescue crying newborn with a cocktail in one hand, and an iPad in the other. 

Cocktail of the day: Greyhound

The beginning.

So lets get things started shall we? I'm starting this blog, and not really certain where it will be heading. I know a few things already.
1. I am a mom of three children. All four years apart. 8, 4, and 8 weeks today.
2. I love food. I love to cook. I don't ever follow recipes, and I often become obsessed with hunting for new and improved ways to feed myself and my family.
3. I like a good cocktail.

Maybe I should go back to the beginning? So let's start with this, October 2001 I got married. I had a fairytale wedding. And I'm not exaggerating. I got married at one of the Disney Hotels. By November 2001, I was pregnant with our surprise baby.
We were living in Seattle, with no family, and my husband was a temp at Microsoft. I was working for a local restaurant chain in their head office as a Marketing/Front office person. I hated it! But my husband loved his job. And when I got pregnant, his boss created a position for him to be hired on as a permanent employee. We were ecstatic to have this opportunity. To have health benefits, plus all of the extra perks one gets when they work for 'The Evil Empire'. So we stayed in Seattle although it wasn't where I wanted to be. We spent a lot of time being the typical first time parents. Ordering the crib at five months pregnant. Making all of the shopping trips to as many stores as possible to do research on car seats, bedding, strollers,  eating whatever the heck I wanted. We had no idea where life would take us. All we knew was we were about to have a baby girl in August 2002.
By November 2003 my husband got laid off from Microsoft. There we were with no family in town, an apartment, a 15 month old, a brand new car that we had JUST bought a few weeks earlier, and my husband got laid off. We made the decision rather quickly that we were done with Seattle and needed to get back to California. I didn't want to wait around and see what else could happen in Seattle, so within 20 days our lives were packed into boxes, and we were putting our daughter on an airplane to go back to California with my Mom. My husband and I packed up the car with the important things (computers, CDs, my shoes) and we drove our brand new car to our new lives.
We were offered a place to stay with my brother in law in San Diego. As unappealing as it seems to move in with family when you have your own family, this was actually the best thing that ever happened to us. Our daughter was in a home with three loving adults. And we were able to get on our feet and move forward. My husband did contract jobs and before we knew it we spent almost two years in San Diego sharing a house with my brother in law.
Then something happened. November 2005 I got pregnant again. This was also in the midst of my husband interviewing for jobs in the Bay Area. Not really serious planners are we? We tend to fly by the seat of our pants, and see what comes toward us. It has been difficult living that way, but it's how we roll.
This pregnancy was harder. From the moment I took that test I knew I was having a boy. This is also when all of a sudden my husband was offered a job in Marin. And took it. In the midst of a pregnancy we packed up our lives and moved our family North. And before we could get ourselves situated August 2006 brought us our baby boy.
We've made a great life for ourselves here in Marin. We had a perfect little family of four. One girl and one boy. The kids both love their schools. We have really great friends. We finally were able to purchase a second car. We have a great townhouse (rental) that has a nice neighborhood feel. The kids can run around outside and ride their bikes and I know they are happy. Last year I even started working a bit and contemplated going back to school, or perhaps start my own business. By trade I am a make-up artist but that is another story. I really got into the idea of working and creating beauty again.
On May 1, 2010 I was booked for an entire day to do hair and make up at this incredible wedding. I was up at 6AM that day, and was on my feet until midnight. I came home to a sad daughter with a tummy ache and all I could do was look at my husband and say "I can't. I have to go to bed. Now." It took me two days to recover from that amazing day of work. (And believe me it was worth it to do that work because if I do say so myself it was some of my BEST work ever!)
By Cinco de Mayo I had visions of tequila and guacamole dancing in my head. I then woke up and realized something. Something was off. My longing for coffee was absent. My usual morning-person perkiness was gone. My want of having nothing but coffee for hours on end was replaced with the sudden rush of I MUST HAVE A FRUIT SMOOTHIE RIGHT THIS SECOND! And then I dropped it all over the floor. What is up with the klutziness? And the need for fruit so early in the morning? Random. And then, the iPhone told me the date. And a lightbulb literally lit up above my head!

I'm pregnant.

Cocktail of the day: None