An Open Letter to my Deceased Mother

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Dear Mom, Our New Year is a time for reflection, which naturally leads me to think of you. But this specific holiday always proves to be doubly difficult; all special occasions are a little less joyous without you, but this … Continue reading

The Art of Saying ‘No’

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I am inherently a people pleaser. I grew up in a home full of tumult and imbalance, so I did what I had to do to survive – I made sure everyone else was happy so my environment could remain … Continue reading

Trash Bags from Heaven

Not a single day goes by that I don’t miss my mom. I wish that my mother had the chance to meet my daughter. But that’s impossible, because she died five and a half years before she was born. Those five and a half years were full of both despair and happiness; it would have been nice to have had her company through all of it.

Some days, a piece of me is still sad. Even though I am overflowing with joy, I often turn to my husband and say that I wish my mother was able to share in her granddaughter’s growth. I feel heartbroken. I can’t help it. I miss having my mother and my best friend present.

Other days, like today, that sad, little piece of me is surprised with a visit. Not by apparitions, but by trash bags. Let me explain: my lovingly neurotic Jewish mother shopped at Costco for everything. Our house was always stocked full of copious amounts of well… anything you could imagine.  And so, the 800-count box of trash bags my mom purchased not long before her death, still persists. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I kept them for these six plus years even though they didn’t fit any of my trash cans. And finally, when we purchased our diaper pail that is compatible with any bag of our choosing, I was thrilled to discover their purpose.

Now, as I change my daughter’s diaper pail bag, I can’t help but smile (despite the awful stench) because my mother’s thoughtfulness and ever preparedness persists, too. In turn, I am reminded that her unending love will also continue through eternity. Thus, I know she is still present, and each day I love her even more.

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L.A. Fashion… Whaaat?

Yesterday I had a rather impromptu visit from one of my best friends. Let me set the stage first: I’ve been home with my daughter the entire week, and I have rarely changed my clothes, let alone brushed my hair. In walks my glamorous best friend who happened to be in the neighborhood because she was visiting a jeweler that is supplying pieces for the show she is styling for L.A. Fashion Week…. Which seems like an utterly foreign concept to me at this very moment.

She struts in with her gorgeous ensemble, flawless hair, makeup perfectly done, and tons of stories to tell. I listen with rapt attention (except for when baby girl calls for us; then we both turn and play with her). My girlfriend is filling me in on her upcoming few days; pulling and planning outfits for a show in Downtown L.A. to start off L.A. Fashion Week. Oh, and did she mention that she could possibly be visiting India within a couple of days? Sigh.

I am beyond happy for her and God knows I am thrilled to listen. And as I give her my attention, I look down at my sweats (that I have been wearing for three straight days, mind you), noticing a splotch of dried food towards the cuff of my pants. Awesome. I wonder what blob of baby food it is (which reminds me of my favorite line from the movie Baby Mama: “is it poop or is it chocolate?” but I digress). I tune back into the excitement that is my beautiful friend’s life and I am not-so-secretly jealous.

The visit is lovely; I fill her in on my life, which consists of Charlotte, Charlotte, and more Charlotte. Which, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love. She claps and grins and hugs and plays and my heart melts. And then I think of whisking myself away to India on a moment’s notice. L.A. Fashion Week sounds more and more distant, even though it’s about ten miles away.

Oh, and then there’s the girl I graduated high school with, who also had a baby the same day Charlotte was born, who’s hosting her own television show about fashion on E! This chick looks skinnier than she did before she had the baby and is as glamorous as I will ever dream to be. I’m positive she’ll be going to L.A. Fashion Week, too. The closest thing to a fashion show that I will be experiencing any time soon is Carter’s big Spring Sale. And I’m OK with that. In fact, if my days are filled with claps and grins and hugs, then I’m beyond OK with that (albeit a little not-so-secretly jealous).

8 Signs You’ve Entered into Parenthood

I’ve caught myself having an “Oh shit, I totally made you,” moment while staring at my little one quite often in the last eight months. But, as if the tiny person that clings to us and requires help 24-7 wasn’t enough, here are eight more signs that we’ve entered the unending, life-changing condition that we call “Parenthood.”

1. We’re somewhat alarmingly infatuated with another person’s bodily functions. Never in our lives has someone else’s constipation or consequent bowel movements had the ability to excite, shock, and worry us all at the same time.

2. We create a theme song for everything. For example, our household’s personal favorite – “The Poop Song,” which goes something like this (ahem): “P-O-O-P, Gotta push it out of the tushie!” Or even “The Food Song:” “Open up your mouth real wide, and let me put the food inside.” It’s ridiculous and almost scary how quickly we can come up with a verse about the most trivial of topics.

3. We catch ourselves checking out other people’s strollers more than their cars.

4. Our clothing is a magnet for stains. Said stains either result from our baby’s bodily functions, or our own inability to get food into our mouths. Either way, we never seem to notice until someone else points it out. Lovely.

5. One of the very best side effects of being a parent is that it becomes incredibly easy to laugh. For example, when my child giggles uncontrollably at the ball she just threw, I can’t help but join in. I used to pride myself on having a rather intellectually advanced sense of humor. Well, not anymore. Nothing is funnier than anything our baby finds funny.

6. Movies take hours to watch. And I’m not talking about the regular 1.5 – 2 hours. I’m talking 5+ hours. There is absolutely no way to control the amount of times the pause button is hit.

7. We have somehow developed what I call “parent-like reflexes.” Once our little one reaches the phase where everything in his or her grasp is fair game, our reaction time whittles itself down to virtually nothing. Out of the corner of our eye we may spot our child tipping a water glass over several feet from us, but somehow we make it there in time to keep the cup full and our baby dry. I still can’t figure out how this happened, but I am uber thankful that it has.

8. Finally, we often consider taking Dramamine on a regular basis because the world NEVER. STOPS. SWAYING. Oh wait… that’s us. Yes, even when our precious baby is not cradled in our arms, our body is still rocking. I’ve even caught myself standing around, moving from side to side when our daughter is home with a babysitter. Hello, motion sickness.

Carrots, Coughs, & Constipation

I woke up this morning with a nasty sore throat and a stuffed up nose. I instantly began complaining. Why me? I have diligently taken my prenatals, probiotics, and Vitamin D and I still caught my daughter’s cold. Ugh.

Then I peered at my LO (little one). She takes one look at her father and she has a smile on her face. Despite the fact that she is in the midst of her first cold, has sneezed a zillion times over the last three days, coughed about half that, and hasn’t pooped for two days, she can still smile. I hug her gingerly and pop her in her stroller. We walk to Starbucks. All the while that I am seething over being sick, she is beaming. We walk in. I greet the other patrons with a sour puss, she smiles at the strangers with her funny, little beanie on. We get home, I place her in her high chair and feed her some carrots. She continues to smile even though I can tell she doesn’t feel very good. She loves the carrots and devours them with a grin on her face (as seen in the photo below). I know her throat is burning, her nose is being tickled, and her tummy is aching, but she’s still smiling.

What has my daughter’s beautiful, burgeoning soul taught me today? That there’s always a silver lining. I must appreciate the small stuff. There will always be nuisances to complain about. But, there will also always be things to be thankful for. Like carrots. And the ability to make my daughter smile.

I've never seen such enthusiasm over carrots.

I’ve never seen such enthusiasm over carrots.