Vacation

77 weeks ago was the last real vacation my husband and I went on. It was for our honeymoon. We went to Hawaii for 2 weeks and it was the best vacation either one of us went on. It was filled with taking in breathtaking views, relaxing by the pool, playing in the ocean, getting massages, and drinking mai tais....lots of them.

77 weeks later, here in New York City it is cold, bitterly cold. It's 35 degrees with wind gusts of up to 31 mph. It's raining, pouring rain. Over the past 2 days we have accumulated over 5" of rain, and it's supposed to continue to rain tomorrow. Everything is flooded. It's hard to drive your car anywhere, all the parkways are closed. It's hard to walk down the sidewalk because the driving rain continues to hit you in the face even with your golf-sized umbrella. I just walked half of a block to the deli and suddenly became Mary Freaking Poppins as the wind took my umbrella up into the air and I felt like my feet were dangling 12" above the pavement!

I hate this weather, and I act like I'm not used to it. I am, I grew up in the mid-west where the weather was basically the same as it is in New York. I understand the Springtime is supposed to be rainy, but freezing cold and rainy? How are these April showers going to produce any May flowers when the temperatures don't go above 40? This weather depresses me. I have a 10 block walk from Grand Central Terminal to my office. It takes me 10 minutes. It normally gives me time to think and relax before I start my work day. Not today! I was more stressed out from battling the wind, rain, and random umbrellas poking me in the face than anything else! I was almost in tears. I was thinking when is this shit of a season going to end? Is there any end in sight?

In 43 days my husband and I are leaving for Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and I can not wait. It's not that Fort Lauderdale excites me, it's more about the fact of getting away. Sure we've been away on short little weekends, but I mean really truly get away from NYC. I want to go somewhere warm, a place with a beach where I can rest my feet in the sand. A place where the palm trees provide minimal shade around the pool so I can soak up the warm sun at all hours of the day. A place where I can kick back and order a fruity drink with an umbrella and drink it at my leisure, but not too slowly because it's so warm the ice melts. A place where at night when the sun has gone down, it's still warm, but you need a light sweater to keep the sunburn chill away. A place where I can be me, no worries, no fake fronts, no emails, no cell phones, just me and my husband and the warm warm sun.

A Little Boy

"It's a Boy? It's a Boy?? It's a BOY!" After 16 weeks of waiting. After 16 weeks of calling him an 'It', we finally know that come September we are going to be blessed with a little boy. I have had 2 dreams in the past couple of weeks saying it was going to be a boy. I felt like it was going to be a boy. I guess a mother really does know.

A little boy. I can't believe it. I can't stop smiling. I can't stop imagining what he is going to look like. Will he look like me? Will he look like my husband? Will he be a perfect combination of the two of us? Whose personality will he take on? I have to admit I would love for him to look like me and have the demeanor and personality of his dad. Although if he looks like his dad, that would be just fine too.

A little boy. I've spent the past 24 hours trying out the name we have chosen for him, making sure it sounds perfect. I have bought him his first newborn outfit and bought him a Mets t-shirt for him to wear come next spring. I've researched nursery ideas, something slightly bright to stimulate his senses, but not too bright that it's overwhelming. I want him to grow up in the perfect atmosphere. I've told our closest friends and family we are having a little boy. I've even told not so close friends he's a boy and everyone says the same thing, "Boys are the best!" I told a random client. She told me she had 2 boys now the age of 21 and 23 and they are still the loves of her life. "Boys are the best!"

A little boy. It all of a sudden seems more real than it ever did. Wow! We are having a baby. Not just any baby, but an adorable little bundle of joy, a boy. I talked to him last night. I told him I hope I'm keeping him nice and safe and warm and cozy in there. I told him I can't wait to meet him and I am amazed that he is already the love of my life. I told him I hope to be the best mom I can be.

A little boy. My mom's first child was a boy. She was also morning sick like I was with her first child. Am I taking after her? I can only hope. I can only hope to be half the mom she was to me and my brother. I wish she was here to meet him. He would bring her so much happiness and joy. Instead, I know my little angel boy has his very own special guardian angel up in heaven watching over him. He will indeed be safe.

A Male-Dominated Industry

You've been waiting to speak to your boss all day. You have big news to tell him. He arrives in the showroom right at 5:00 pm. You have a work event that night. You can't decide if you're excited or scared to death to tell him. Probably a little bit of both. 2 other colleagues are there for the event as well. One of them is your best guy friend. You also want to tell him your big news. You haven't told him yet out of respect for your boss. You think he should be the first to know. All of you are setting up for the event. Your boss suggests opening a bottle of wine. He does and goes to pour you a glass. You say, "No thank you." Someone says, "Wow! I think hell just froze over. You turned down a glass of wine!" You laugh and continue to work. You know you can't wait much longer to tell him.

The other 2 colleagues are summoned away on an ice run. You think this is the time. You call your boss into your office and say you have something to tell him. You can see the panic on his face. You blurt out, "I'm pregnant!" Now you can see the uncomfortableness on his face. He has told you before he hates the word pregnant. You have tried for weeks to think of another way to say it, but couldn't come up with anything. He tells you he figured something was up since you turned down a glass of wine. You assure him you will continue to do a great job and how much you love doing what you do. He says he knows. He gives you an awkward hug, says his congratulations and goes about the evening.

Your friend comes back from the ice run and tries to get you to have a glass of wine with him. It's kind of a ritual, the 2 of you always drink together. You feel bad as you can tell he thinks something is wrong. Now that you have told your boss you shouldn't leave him in the dark anymore. You tell him you have news for him. He says, "Good or bad?" You say, "I think it's good, you're going to think it's bad." He says, "You're pregnant." The word pregnant was not said with excitement. You laugh because most people wouldn't consider being pregnant as bad news. You tell him yes you indeed are pregnant and he asks "why you had to go and do that for?" He says he thinks things will change between the 2 of you. He thinks you won't be friends anymore. He says you'll change and always run home after work events to take care of your kid. You laugh and tell him, yes, things will change. That usually happens when you have a baby, but it doesn't mean you won't be friends anymore. He gives you a half-hearted congrats with a pat on the back and walks away.

You're hurt. You just told one of your closest friends you are expecting a baby! A time in your life that should be exciting and he makes you feel guilty about it. Throughout the course of the evening he refers to your situation as a predicament. A predicament? He thinks your pregnancy is a predicament? Well fuck him. That's what you say when you get pissed off and hurt. Fuck him. Yes, you're pregnant, but it doesn't mean you will be turning into a foreign alien that doesn't know how to function or communicate. You're fairly sure you will still be able to be a good friend to someone while you're pregnant and after you have the baby. However, if the only reason your friend wants to be your friend is so you guys can go out and have a few beers together, then maybe you don't want to be his friend after all.

You find the reactions odd. You're pregnant! Everyone should be excited? Is it because they're men and they don't know the appropriate response? Then how come other men you know have given you the same warm and fuzzy response that women give you? Is it because they're selfish. Yes that's it, they are selfish. Change isn't good, change is bad, and you're upsetting their world with your news. They don't care about you, they care about how this is going to effect them.

You hope they will eventually come around and be happy for you. But if they don't? Well, who cares. All you know is you have this amazing life growing inside of you that you love more and more each day. And come 9/5/10, you will get to meet this little life and nothing else will matter.

A Childhood Memory

Isn't it funny how a childhood memory can pop into your head? And then somehow that memory brings you right back to the warm and fuzzy place? Yesterday my friend shared a story of her friend's adorable 3 year old. It involved the 3 year old saying something that made her mother laugh, but after the daughter continued to say it over and over again, the mother didn't find it so funny. She politely told her to stop saying it, so instead of saying it out loud, her daughter decided to mouth it.

This story instantly brought me back to 1984. I was 5. We were in Southern California visiting my Great Aunt & Uncle. My Dad was driving my uncle's car. My mom was in the front seat my brother and I were in the back seat. We had been doing "touristy" things all day and all of us were a little antsy from being in the car. I, who was the definition of a Daddy's girl, decided to ask 182 questions and start each one with, "Daddy".

• Daddy I'm hungry.
• Daddy, where are we?
• Daddy, I love you!
• Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom.
• Daddy, I'm tired.
• Daddy, I'm bored.
• Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.....

Finally, my mother reached her breaking point. She whipped around, looked at me and said, "LA, if you say Daddy one more time, so help you God......" Of course I instantly shut-up and our car became very quiet. After 5 minutes or so I couldn't stand the silence anymore and I very quietly (to test the mom waters) said, "Give me a D! Give me an A! Give me a D, D, Y! What's that spell?" And at that moment my Dad bursts out laughing and shouts, "It spells, Daddy!" I thought my mom was going to freak and my Dad says, "You can't get mad at her, technically she didn't say Daddy." I started to giggle and much to my surprise, so did my mom.

The vacation turned out to be one of my favorites as a child. It seems like yesterday when we were there. Now, expecting a baby of my own, I can only hope my child will be instilled with memories. I want to scold my child for doing something annoying, but in a few short minutes be able to laugh at it. I want to take my children on great vacations that they will remember for the rest of their lives. I want to be as good of a mother to my children as my mother and father were to me.

Tiny Hands & Feet

For the past 4 weeks I have been sick, like an alien has taken over my body. I wake up in the morning and the process of brushing my teeth makes me gag. I have to put down my toothbrush and turn around so I can have my head in the toilet and either dry heave or throw up the water that I just drank. I make my way into the shower, my back against the water flow while I retch so violently that I can't breathe. I have taken to sitting down in the shower. For some reason it makes the retching stop. I slowly get dressed, sipping on glasses of ice cold water. I try to nibble on some Saltines, but that usually ends up with a trip to the toilet. The 30 minute train ride into the city is so unbearable I have driven into work almost every morning. Sitting in an hour to 2 hours of traffic is better than sitting, cold sweating, holding onto a plastic bag for 30 minutes on a train.
Work is awful. Saltines are in my left hand while either a freezing cold Gatorade or ice cold water is in my right hand. I'm always a light shade of green. Putting on makeup seems useless. Why do it when it is going to wash off every time I splash water on my face after having my head in the toilet? Speaking of head in the toilet, do you know how awful it is to throw up in a public restroom? First, since I don't want to tell anyone yet that I'm pregnant, I have to make sure all of the stalls are clear. 2nd, I strategically line the toilet with paper because, well, it's a public restroom and I don't want to touch the toilet. 3rd, god forbid anyone walk in while I'm throwing up! I have to stop mid-vomit, rotate my body so my feet aren't facing the toilet and try my best to hold it in until they leave.
I get home at night, put my pajamas on, curl up on the couch and try to imagine one single thing that sounds appealing to eat. My poor husband, he's probably starving because the thought of making an actual dinner makes me want to gag. Recently, I was craving Mexican food (my favorite food type). We ventured over to our favorite Mexican restaurant. Reluctantly I ordered vegetarian fajitas. They arrive at my plate, sizzling, smelling amazing. I barely fill up the tortilla, a little sour cream, a little spinach, a little red pepper, and a little cheese. And oh the spinach! I stop mid-swallow and gag up the entire bite into my napkin. I decide to nibble on the rice, and a few minutes later, make a bee-line to the restroom. So much for Mexican food.

And, can I please discuss these grotesque things that are growing on my chest most people would call breasts? They are huge, they hurt, they ache, they itch, they tingle, my nipples throb if even a drop of water touches them. I have outgrown my cute little size B bras and have already moved on to a C. My husband says they are hot! Is he kidding me? Taking my bra off at night is such a chore. I have to use one hand to release the clasp and slide the straps off my shoulders while the other hand gently cradles my boobs so I can slowly let them down. The noise I make when they are "free" sounds like I just had the best orgasm ever. It's something to the effect of, "Ooooh oh oh aaah aaaaaah oh! Thank God!" It's absurd and gross and the books tell me they are going to keep on growing. Great.

What is up with the acne? I have pimples on my chin, on my forehead, on my back, and on my chest. And as I said above, I barely even wear makeup so there is nothing to cover up these craters. I can't use any of my acne creams because they aren't pregnancy approved. So I sit and wait for one to disappear while the next one pops up.

But wait, there is one saving grace to all of this...a baby is growing inside of me! Right, I forgot about that little point. And the other day, I had my 2nd ultrasound. The image pops up on the screen and I say, "Holy shit! Is that my baby?" It's tripled in size since the last ultrasound only 2 weeks ago and now it has tiny hands and feet! As the doctor was moving the camera around, I see a little hand move. The doc says, "Look! It's saying 'Hi Mom'!" At that moment my heart melted and all of a sudden, the nausea, the big boobs, the acne, the weight gain, the fatigue, the moodiness all seemed so very worth it.

J-E-T-S! Jets, Jets, Jets!

I remember as a child cheering for the Jets. My Dad's hero was Joe Namath and followed the Jets even after Namath was retired. So it was slightly ironic when I met my now husband and just a few weeks after we started dating he told me he was heading to a Jets game with his father. He was a Jets fan. My Dad would be so proud.

Over the past 5 years every Sunday during Fall and Winter, mid-August through the first Sunday of February, consists of sitting in front of our TV in our living room, sitting in front of a TV at a random bar, or piling into our car to watch a Jets game. Watching football has become one of my all time favorite pass-times with my husband. I love everything about it. I love the competition that goes with it, I love the food that you eat while watching it, and I love the beer and the bloody marys that go so well with every Sunday.

We have gone to our fair share of games together. Each game consists of a massive tailgate spread and lots of beer. And each game I still get the chills everytime Fireman Ed silences the crowd just at kick-off time and then on cue, in unison the entire stadium chants, "J! E! T! S! Jets Jets Jets!" right when the kicker hits the ball. It really is spine tingling.

December 31st, 2006, that's right New Year's Eve, our best friends and us went to a Jets game. New Year's Eve was on a Sunday. We left our apartment at around 10:00 am. It was a gorgeous sunny mild day for late December. We had a couple of coolers filled with food, margaritas and beer. We played football in the parking lot, grilled hamburgers, and drank while waiting for the game to start. The Jets actually won that game, but even if they had lost, we would all still remember it as our best New Year's Eve, ever.

Being a Jets fan, just like being a Mets fan, brings you many ups and downs and a lot of disappointment. We were there when Pennington got injured, again. We were there when we weren't sure if we would have a QB and all of a sudden we have Brett Favre...suddenly we had hope of a good season. We were there when Brett became a disappointment and our season ended with an 9-7 record, again missing the playoffs. Yet, Fall of 2009 we get a glimmer of hope. We recruited Mark Sanchez from USC as our quarterback. Not only is he supposed to be good, but he's cute. A win for both my husband and me! In addition to a new QB, we have a new coach, Rex Ryan, who is supposed to be a demon when it comes to defense. The season starts on an incredible high, 3-0, with a big win over New England! But, in true Jet fashion, they slowly turn a great start into something horrible, losing multiple games in a row. Our dreams of a possible chance at the playoffs were slowly fading away. Then the weekend after Christmas, the Jets were awarded their own Christmas present, they played the Colts who decided to not play their starters the whole game since they already clinched their spot in the playoffs. And what happens? The Jets win! Not only did the Jets win, but other teams lost! With the losses from other teams the Jets had to play the Bengals the final game of the season, at Giants stadium and they had to win.

So, on January 3rd, 2010, the Jets played their hearts out on primetime TV and won, shutting out the Bengals 37-0! They were going to the playoffs! A rookie coach and a rookie QB going to the playoffs! Interestingly enough they had to play the Bengals again, this time at Cincinnati. The talk on the radio the whole week leading up to the game was whether or not the Bengals "laid down" the week prior in NY. Who truly was the better team? History will now show, the better team was the Jets! They won 24-14! The Jets were going to the 2nd game in the playoffs! Sanchez is no longer considered a rookie.

My 31 year old husband jumped up and down like a little girl who just received a pony for her birthday. He high fived all of his friends and picked me up and swung me around. I have never seen him so happy. (Well at least not since the day he married me...) He looked at me and said, "I'm telling you now, if the Jets go to the Super Bowl, I'm going to Miami." And you know what? I'll let him go. I'll stay here by myself with my dog, watching the game on TV, and let him go. He deserves it. He's never seen them in a Super Bowl and most likely never will. And I know I may be getting ahead of myself, but if they go to Miami, so will my husband.

How is it possible that a game that brings us so many aches and pain, can also bring us joy ten times over all with one little win? It's called love, and I love this game.

Christmas

"Lake is frozen over. Trees are white with snow. And all
around reminders of you, are everywhere I go."

'Christmas is going to be a disaster this year. Maybe we should call it off', your brother says. You reassure him over and over again that it's going to be just fine. It's late at night on December 22nd, 2000. Your brother, who has flown in from Florida for Christmas, your Dad and you are discussing your mother's recent behavior. Your mother is asleep in her bedroom while the 3 of you have a few drinks in the kitchen. It's 2 days before Christmas Eve, a holiday your mother spends weeks getting ready for, you host it at your home, and not one thing has been done for the big night. The menu hasn't been finalized, food hasn't been purchased. Shopping still needs to be finished, presents yet to be wrapped. You vow to help her as much as you can to make your favorite night of the year a success.

"It's late and morning's in no hurry, but sleep won't set me free. I lie awake
and try to recall how your body felt beside me."

The next day you finish the grocery shopping. You tell your mother to finish the present shopping while you stay at home and clean. Christmas Eve day is spent wrapping the remaining presents and preparing the food. Your mother seems aloof.

"When silence gets too hard to handle and the night too long."

The rest of your family arrives Christmas Eve night. Everyone is in great spirits and happy it's Christmas. Your mother is in the kitchen preparing the coconut shrimp. She has burned every single one and thinks it's funny. She's singing Feliz Navidad at the top of her lungs, almost like she's drunk, but she has yet to drink a glass of wine. Everyone thinks it's funny. The remainder of the night is a success, despite the shrimp, you and your mom have pulled off another fabulous Christmas Eve. The following morning, Christmas Day, your mother is overly tired. You have breakfast, you open the gifts with your family, and your mother retires to bed in the early afternoon complaining of a backache.

"And this is how I see you, in the snow on Christmas morning. Love and happiness
surround you as you throw your arms up to the sky. I keep this moment by and
by."

The following month your mother is diagnosed with cancer of the lungs, kidneys, liver, and brain. She dies 10 months later. It's now understandable why Christmas was almost a disaster, her brain had been taken over with tumors. You wish you would have known that was going to be your last Christmas with her. You would have sung Feliz Navidad at the top of your lungs too and you would have laughed at how burnt the shrimp were.

"Oh how I miss you now...my Mom. Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry
Christmas, my Mom."

Christmas hasn't been the same since she died. As hard as you have tried, you just can't get the same Christmas spirit back as when she was alive. Yet something has changed slightly. This year is the 2nd year in a row your Dad has come to visit you for Christmas. It's becoming a tradition. Christmas Eve was spent at a family friend's home. It was not quite like the Christmas Eve's of old, but it was nice. For the 2nd year in a row you have made the same Christmas morning breakfast, 'Holiday French Toast', just like your mother used to make. And in the evening you host Christmas dinner. You can't expect the Christmas holidays to be the same as it was 20 years ago or even 10 years ago, especially after a loved one dies, but you are starting your own traditions and it's nice to have your father share in those traditions too.

"Sense of joy fills the air. I daydream and I stare up at the tree and I see
You're a star up there."

You think this might have been one of the best Christmases you have had in the past 8 years. You cry when you drop your Dad off at the airport. You feel sad for him for being alone. You call him a little later and he tells you he bought a few NY t-shirts at the airport to have souvenirs from the weekend. He said he wants something to remind him of how great this weekend was. You smile knowing he enjoyed himself. You pause remembering your mom's laughter while burning those shrimp. Your heart warms knowing she's smiling now at the relationship you have established with your father.

"And this is how I see you in the snow on Christmas morning. Love and happiness
surround you as you throw your arms up to the sky. I keep this moment by and
by."

(*Thank you to Sarah McLachlan for her song, "Wintersong". It gets me through each holiday season.)