On The Road Again

Last night I said goodbye to my car.

I actually said goodbye too...this isn't some metaphorical tidbit.  Ever since watching Disney's Love Bug when I was a kid, I've always felt that cars had some actual life to them.  Strange, I know. Anyways, my car and I had a brief moment alone, and, after glancing around the dealership parking lot to make sure no one was looking, I said a few brief words....mainly thanking it for being good to me for the past six years.

This was the first car I bought, and it saw a lot during our time together: my pre-wedding preparations and jitters, road trips with the husband, moving three times (all in dirty Jerz!), me as a terrified, single pregnant lady blasting angry girl rock, solo trips to divorce court and obstetrician appointments, and then finally, me as a nervous mom to a beautiful little boy, continually looking in her rearview mirror to check on him (listening to less angry, inspirational girl rock on a lower volume).

Recently, I was thinking about how my life has evolved, how EJ is no longer a baby, and how my car is the last remnant of my former life.  I knew then that I had outgrown it.  So, I did what any parent of one child would do, I got an over-sized SUV for all the crap I need to cart around.

I picked up my new truck last night, and as I mentioned, I had a sweet moment with my old whip.  And, when I closed its door for the last time and walked away, so began a new phase of my life.  Whatever is in store for me during this stint, I'll be facing it a little higher up from the ground, jamming to non-angry music on Pandora with EJ.

Make Me Up

EJ is funny.  He's hilarious when you give him any sort of lotion—he’ll put it on his cheek and say “Niiice, niiice” like he’s a 60-year-old Italian man. So quirky. Whenever he gets his hands on crayons, he’ll try to color on his lips.  Too cute.  And, last week, he got a hold of my brown eyeliner pencil and started to draw on his face.  “EJ, you are so silly,” I laughed…and then gulped.  He learned this from watching me. He knows how to put on makeup. 

I love makeup.  Truth be told, the feminist within does take issue with the fact that women are essentially told by society that they need a certain level of "doctoring up” to look presentable, and men just get to show up looking exactly as they look (must be nice).  But, the silly teenager within finds makeup fun, pretty, and interesting and gets a kick out of changing her look from day to day. 

Makeup is both a hobby and necessity for me, as somewhere between 2000 and 2001, the end of my eyebrows stopped growing in and what was left there fell out. They are now two brown tadpoles above my eyes and I have to fill them in and extend them every morning.  This requires eyebrow pencils, powders, and wax….I’ll spare you the details.

In the scheme of life, my eyebrow situation isn't a big deal.  People have real problems, and this is more of an annoyance.  I mean, the notion of the “five-minute face” doesn't apply to me (brows alone take five minutes!), but it’s fine.   It's also an awkward conversation to have out in the dating world when a sweaty activity is on the horizon (like hiking or jogging...get your mind out of the gutter!).  I never realized how the phrase "We need to talk..." can evoke so much panic in a beau, and learned to start the story of my brows by saying "Funny story to tell..." I also have bad eyebrow days every now and again, and can inadvertently look angry, bored, or puzzled. And, there have been prolonged periods of time where my brows have been too thin, too thick, too low, too arched, too short, and too long and no one’s told me until I’ve seen a horrendous picture and asked for feedback.  Hot days, boot-camp classes, chair massages, and rainstorms also cause me a small degree of panic, but now I roll with back-up brow tools in my purse.  And, on impromptu food shopping trips and early morning coffee runs when I just don’t feel like drawing eyebrows, I have to keep my big sunglasses on like I'm a hungover socialite. Other than that, my life isn’t impacted at all.  Eesh.

Back to EJ.  My lovely, observant son has milk and plays in my room while I get ready for work every morning.  PBS is on too, but he really gets a kick out of watching me do makeup, and being a mother hasn’t really changed my beauty routine.  Despite what other harried moms say about having no time to put on makeup, I can’t and don’t want this to be the case for me.  I like makeup and EJ can’t roll around with an eyebrow-less mom.  As he gets older and sleeps later, my morning makeup routine will not be a part of his life, and other hobbies will thankfully take precedence. But for now, it's fine that we both share a love for a good smoky eye.

Back in Action

Where did April go?  There I was, happily blogging along on a regular basis to the masses [dozens], and then all of the sudden, life got in the way.  Now it's May.

The last two weeks of April were filled with the ups and downs of normal daily living, but somehow they prevented me from writing.  To be honest, the month overall was very lackluster.  Even though I'm not existential or cool enough to get it, I was totally quoting the beginning of T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land on most days...April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain...

Let's see...on a Seasonal Affective Disorder note (that is a thing!), it was chilly and cloudy most days. Winter unofficially lasts in Dirty Jerz for sixth months now, and I am over it.  I don't even know why I optimistically purchased a chartreuse mini skirt from J. Crew in early March...who knows when I will ever wear it, or if it still even fits after my self-declared cupcake palooza month.  It's also probably on clearance now for $70 less than what I paid, so that will only twist the knife in deeper. Other things of note: a fifth ear infection for EJ, EJ's first overnight visit with his father, EJ moved into the 2 year-old class at daycare (big boy!), things were crazy at work, and oh yeah, I have a nice boyfriend.  Well, some of those things definitely were and are good, so April gets a small yay. (yay!)

About the boyfriend...great guy, we have a ton in common, and all things are good. I'm really only bringing him up because we did go away for a night in April, and gulp, I had to have the eyebrow discussion with him...meaning, I had to explain to him that I draw on 70% of my eyebrows in the morning and wash them off at night. I'll fine you in on that ASAP, but for now happy May, and fingers crossed for it finally feel like spring.

I Learned It From Watching You!

For some reason, that 1987 anti-drug PSA sticks out in my mind...as do so many others from my youth (hello, egg in the frying pan as your brain on drugs!)  YouTube them if you forget.  Anyways, the commercial inexplicably entered my mind the other day, and I pictured the teenage boy yelling to his dad, "I learned it from watching you!" when questioned about the marijuana found in his room. This flashback got me thinking about the things that EJ could say he "learned from watching me," and here's what I came up with:

Good things that EJ can learn from watching me:

• I smile a lot.
• I rip really good jokes.
• I like to read...and series written for teenagers, fashion magazines, and J. Crew catalogs count.
• I try to be kind to people (not going to deny my biting inner monologue though!)

Bad, drug commerical-type things that EJ can learn from watching me:

• Driving aggressively and cursing at other cars (I blame New Jersey).  On that note, I do have various honking patterns that are meant to be non-threatening and teach the drivers around me to not drive so badly/stupidly, so maybe that's not all bad?
• I like sugar.  A lot.  Have dessert twice a day...after lunch and dinner.  Once I had a personal trainer who was telling me about the evils of sugar.  I told him I was so proud that I had cut my desserts down to two.  He said, "a week?" and I replied, "a day."  We didn't last after that. Ideological differences.
• I pout if I don't get my way.  Apparently you're never too old for that.
• I'm not the best with a budget.  Chanel eyeshadow quads? Check.  Six months of living expenses saved? Ummmm.

I could go on (especially with the bad..that's what us Type-A people focus on...the things we don't do well), but I'll stop myself there.  

In thinking about my less desirable traits, I'm actually pleased that they're all manageable things I can work on.  Between my spring goals and weekend lists, I can definitely strive to dial down the sugar, rushing around, being a brat, and spending frivolously.  Done, done, done, and done. Disclaimer: Will work on the sugar thing after Easter and the deeply discounted post-Easter bags of candy.

This morning, as EJ shoved pieces of blueberry gluten-free waffle in his mouth, talking and laughing to himself, I thought about what I could learn from watching him.  So many things flew into my mind: being fearless and proud of who you are, not going along with things you don't like, finding joy in the small stuff, not worrying about what's in store for you after you finish your chicken nuggets, etc. etc.  In fact, I should watch EJ more closely more often.  It seems there's a lot I can learn.

The Story of a Lunch

I've had a revelation.  Smuckers corporation (is that a thing?) listen up.  New Uncrustables sandwich idea: pasta noodles mixed with squares of bread, encased in a pretzel roll, shoved into the center of a bagel.  Delish.  If my child is any indicator of what your focus groups will say, this can become a best-seller, money-maker, pb&j kick-asser.

I'm tired of trying to hide the fact that all my son eats is carbohydrates.   Although I know that the nice daycare ladies do not have time to perseverate on what EJ's lunches say about my parenting, I'm still ashamed about his pasta-pasta-pasta-bagel-pasta rotation.  Now, I do mix in organic yogurt, cheese, fruit, and veggie pouches to hide the 'drate (is that a thing?), and I've even gone so far as to mention my intensive 10K training in hopes the ladies will think that carbo-loading is a necessary athletic practice in my home.  However, at the end of the day, no matter which way you slice it (ha!), the center of EJ's every meal is bread.  Now, before you amazing, perfect mothers shake your heads at me (talking to you, Gwyneth!), I've tried sending in some of the things that I can sometimes get EJ to eat at home: chicken nuggets, meatballs, fish sticks, carrots, etc., but nothing works.  And, EJ, likes cheese and bread....but of course, not sandwiches.  That's some sound toddler logic for you.  He will eat peanut butter as well...but of course, daycare is peanut-free.  So, basically I'm left with no options.

A few weeks ago, I had a stroke of genius.  VARY the pasta noodles.  Orecchiette, fusilli, cavatelli, penne, farfalle, gemelli, rotini...now my little gourmand seems very sophisticated and is practically fluent in Italian.  I'm actually thinking about teaching him to say Ciao! and double-kiss just to add to his European street cred.  Overall, I'm hoping this noodle shift will shift the daycare ladies' perception of me, or perhaps my perception of myself.  I'm doing the best I can and EJ likes to eat.  I also have full confidence that one day soon he'll be sipping on the kale smoothies and munching on the sunflower burgers that I love...only to have the elementary school kids make fun of him...and beg me to send him in with bread and cheese for lunch. Oy.

The Fool of April

One of my credit cards was hijacked.  Calm down, I'm fine.  It happened on April 1st, and I caught it less than 48 hours later, so it's all good in the hood.  My biggest issue with this whole thing is that the fools who did it spent my money at Walmart.com.  Now, I love getting a bang for my buck at Walmart, and I can be found there every few months stocking up on paper goods (ear muffs, Whole Foods!), supplies for EJ, and fun toiletries (can I get a woot woot for Jergens BB Body Cream?!).  I just wonder what the thieves were buying from there with my money. Jaclyn Smith dress pants? A canteen for camping? AAA batteries? Maybe they just wanted to make an innocuous first purchase and then go nuts on another site when they thought they were in the clear...I don't pretend to know how the criminal mind works.  I guess they didn't know they were messing with an elementary school teacher who stalks her accounts to see when she can squeeze out extra money for important things like ombre highlights and gel manicures...I mean, swimming lessons and educational toys for EJ.

This whole thing got me thinking about how I use my credit cards.  I'm not going to lie, at the ripe old age of 34, I still use them like when I was 20...pretending that the items I'm getting are free and someone else will pick up the tab a few weeks down the road (ear muffs, Suze Orman!)  I really should know better because I just finally paid off the interest from a pair of Diesel jeans and flared black Express pants I bought in 2001.

I think these Walmart thieves came into my life for a reason (very zen buddha thinking of me!).  In reflecting on the situation, I'm the fool, not them.  I am now someone's mother, and my divorce has left me with a shaky financial foundation that must be rebuilt.  Faux Walmart.com trips, my Starbucks runs, "needing" a $20 Josie Maran lip gloss, etc. only chip away at that foundation.  Now, I'm a firm believer in enjoying life, but debt is not fun, and I think I need to close my purse strings a little tighter...at least for a bit.  Down the road, when I'm chasing EJ down the beach in Turks and Cacos, clutching my Louis Vuitton beach bag (or in reality, on the classy beaches of the Jersey shore), I'll feel a little lighter knowing that I'm evading the quick sand of credit card debt.  And, since I have to make a quick Sephora run tomorrow, I'll definitely start on Monday.

Like Mother, Like Son

I despise onions.  Allegedly, this all started in 1983 (suspiciously the year my sister was born) at a White Castle “restaurant.” According to the only eyewitness, my mom, I threw up in the parking lot after eating a hamburger and begged to know “what the gwoss white thingys on top” were.  The rest is history, and 31 years later, I can't eat onions.  It’s been a struggle, and I am super awkward at Mexican and Italian restaurants, but somehow I’ve been able to make it this far and have had some amazing onion-free meals.

My onion phobia is a little tricky to explain on first dates because it inevitably leads to the revelation that I also don’t eat anything that is transparent with lines—celery, shallots, etc.—and then I seem like a raging weirdo.  Fortunately, I have been making some progress in peeling back my layers of fear (bam…pun intended!), and my number one roommate, also my mom, is now making homemade soups with onions and pureeing them in our Vitamix.  And, baby girl likes her some creamy soup.

The point of all this, you ask? Lately, my son EJ has been flexing his “I’m independent” muscles, which has translated into him making a stank face and throwing pieces of non-preferred food on the floor during meals.  I know this is what toddlers do, but it’s annoying nonetheless.  Since I am incredibly cerebral, self-aware, and enlightened, I’ve just made the connection that EJ’s food-aversive behavior mirrors what I have been doing to my friends and family for the better part of three decades.  “We’ll take an order of nachos with no salsa or guacamole,” “Can we just get a white pizza?” “Can you tell me how your risotto is prepared?” “Can I have shrimp fajitas with just peppers?” “I can’t eat this because the lettuce tastes like it came in contact with a red onion.” Eesh. 

So, I just want to say to my loved ones that I’m sorry and I’m working on it.  I hope EJ can work through his food issues soon too.