Intrigue on the block

Shades of Wysteria Lane*. I’ll take the intrigue where I can get it.

I received a random invitation in our mailbox yesterday for a “Ladies Night Out” from a neighbor way up the street that I have never laid eyes on before. It says it’s a casual get-together for the women on the block over coffee, tea and dessert, and it starts at 7:30.

My thoughts are:
A. She is probably a decade or two older than me simply because I haven’t eaten dinner before 7 pm since I was 7 years old. And, dessert is to be guiltily inhaled at 10pm whilst watching “The Real Housewives of Orange County”
B. She asks for an RSVP to her AOL email account. Need I say more?
C. It’s a ploy to raise money for a charity or to sell her homemade jewelry.
D. There is no alcohol. Need I say more?

My hip mom neighbor called me and asked if I was going. I told her I was only going if she was chained to my side and I had 2 glasses of wine prior to walking down the street. She agreed that it would at least make a great story and that we should leave our wallets at home in case we’re asked to contribute to the Poor Chimpanzees of Antarctica fund or worse yet, purchase Tupperware.

*Disclaimer: I am only able to reference Wysteria Lane because the Desperate Housewives were frequently featured in US Weekly when I was a proud subscriber. I have never seen the show … for more than 2 minutes. Honest.

What better way to celebrate a Barclays buyout?

Hoo-ray for the Brits.

What better way to celebrate a Barclays buyout than to follow Matt to work and have lunch in the city.

Train into Penn Station …

Lolo loves the Beco!

Who doesn’t love to talk commodities before lunch? Although, the Brits really need to address the lighting. The fluorescent bulbs do nothing for Lolo’s complexion.

Lolo is bullish on coal!

There is nothing this girl likes more than eating at a restaurant. She gets so excited when we eat out!

We’d like to send a shout-out to all the peeps in metals and mining! Peace to Dana, B., Kelly and Chris!

This is the only way to liven up Cubicle Land.

And, what is a trip into the big city without a stop by Rockefeller Center?

She owns this city. Do you know how many people stopped to admire all that is Lolo? So many that it impeded my travels to the nearest Starbucks!

I was happy with the way I handled the bambino in the city. It’s been a while, so it was invigorating to know I still had it. Although, this short trip did make me miss the ciy. Yes, you read that correctly. I miss New York!

When in doubt

In times of stress, we go to restaurants and bars.

Here is Lolo’s first sushi lunch! She’s not up for her own California Roll quite yet, so she stuck with her favorite plum, brown rice and banana concoction.

Lunch out with our friends Stella and Anne.

And, then we took Papa to our town’s Irish pub/restaurant. It’s a completely family style place that has as many highchairs as they do regular chairs.

Who doesn't bring their own organic bananas to the pub? And, by the way, I'm not singing in this shot. I was talking when Matt snapped the picture. Honest.

It finally hit.

It finally hit me today. After all these months. The fear, the worry over the economy and how it will directly affect our family. You know what did it? Several friends e-mailed today to inquire about Matt’s job on Wall Street. And, then I checked the top stories on Yahoo! which led me down a path of disastrous headlines, and inside I said, “Oh no.”

If other people are worried for me, then I need to hop to it and add to the worry fire. I haven’t been oblivious by any means, I just haven’t bought into the hysteria. We are certainly cautious with our money, but we haven’t stopped buying Honey Bunches of Oats in favor of the 4 lb. bag of generic cereal quite yet.

Up until now, my deep well of optimism has allowed me to just keep trucking, which is easier for me to do as my day consists of burp cloths and jars of sweet potato mush. I’m not exactly on the pulse of news and business anymore now that I work at home with a baby.

As soon as I started nervously folding laundry at 8:30 at night, I knew that I was finally affected.

Now, I’m bummed. I had this rosy blog post brewing in my head as I took a long walk with Lolo in a park overlooking Manhattan. In the distance I could see the Brooklyn Bridge and I thought to myself, that I have never made such a major move and felt so far from where I used to live, yet still been able to see the old neighborhood from the new one.

Spic and span

I used to clean on weekends and that would be that. It would be clean. In all my years of living on my own, this system has worked. Sure, slowly (or rapidly) over the week, the apartment would go downhill, but there was always Saturday to bring it back together. (Matt will want me to clarify. When I say clean, I mean to wipe down, disinfect or rid of dust bunnies. I don’t necessarily mean to put all of my shoes away. My sneakers, flip flops and socks may be in the living room, but dammit, the floor is gleaming and smells minty fresh.)

Now cleaning is a constant and only puts a bandaid on the flood of crumbs, dog hair, and crap that seems to gush through this house. I’m not sure if it’s because there are now three stories to take care of or if it’s because I have to worry about a little baby crab ingesting something like a torn piece of a Talbots catalog (mailed to the previous owner, I swear).

I can “clean” for 2 hours with every single vacuum attachment, 100 sanitizing wipes, swiffers, brooms, etc, but suddenly in one 15 minute session of Lolo care, it looks like disaster again. There are bowls, mugs and spoons in the sink, 3 abandoned bottles laying on their sides in the living room, crushed “Oatios” on the kitchen floor, and toys, toys, toys everywhere. I won’t even mention the unfolded laundry that seems to be the backdrop of my life.

I’m just not used to the act of cleaning being synonymous with breathing. It’s all the time. I’ve never had to mop the kitchen floor on a Tuesday night before. Suddenly I see why all the commercials for cleaning products are marketed exclusively to women. If a dad/man ever enters the scene, it’s only to point out that they have no idea what they’re doing and really, the mom will take care of it with her superior knowledge of mops and paper towels. What’s odd though is that all the cleaning mascots (Brawny paper towel lumberjack, Mr. Clean, etc.) are men. I don’t necessarily need a fictional male character to help me get the job done, but I wouldn’t mind a little help from a cleaning genie, man or woman.

Sometimes …

Sometimes you just need to get up early when you’re visiting friends because they have a different exersaucer than you. And, what better time to try it out than the crack of dawn?

Multi-purpose post

Let’s get this thing started. If you must know, I’ve actually been adding to the blog in my head but have not had a chance to actually involve the Internet in the technical aspects of publishing. Details.

We just returned from a short trip to see our dear friends the Cara, Bob, Kieran and Kelly B.

It’s always a blast to hang out with them and, in the end, makes me long for friends that actually live in the same city I do. It’s an amazing concept.

I’m in an interesting spot here in Jersey. I’m no longer a new mom, really. Well, I’m kinda new, but I don’t want to be tagged as a new mom. It just conjures images of a desperate woman crying in her maternity jeans with “way too big” mama undies peeking out of her elastic waist band. New moms haven’t brushed their teeth or combed their hair, and I want to note that I am well beyond that stage. So, I’m not that eager to jump into the “new moms” groups out here in the burbs. I’m done talking about my birth experience.

Those first few months really propelled me to reach out and meet people. I was setting up coffee groups, lunch dates, play groups, etc. I was busy and involved and it was exhasuting. I just can’t sustain that level of outgoing-ness. Now, I want to just sit back and enjoy the fruits of my social labor. I want to hang out with the people I already know but I’ve found myself a newbee in a new town having to make connections all over again. It’s tough moving 3 times in 6 years.

Where are the cool mom “match.com” services when you need them? Simply said, I need 3 new best friends within walking distance of my house that also have at least one child under one year of age.

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The other stage I have found myself in is the “what did I do with my body stage.” At six months, I feel I have reached a certain stride with my mothering style. I’m back in my own groove, so to speak, but someone stole my body and replaced it with mush. I will tell you what, there is nothing to inspire some weight-loss more than a full color picture of yourself. Phew, I gotta lose some poundage. It’s time.

KKCs For-evah