Lyla and Company

It's been a while since I've posted positively and with that, I bring you Lyla. It's also been a while since she's made the blog. Considering it's supposed to be about her and not me, it's very timely she is making an appearance.

This child really amazes me. Lately, she has been so imaginative, and keen to what is going on in her and our world. For example, last night, I started reading the Little Prince to her. It's an amazing pop up version that I got at Anthrolpologie for the bargain basement price of $35. Cough. Anyway, the book is pretty special. The pop-ups are so neat, and they really make the whole book. Unfortnately, those of you that have read TLP know it's not exactly a toddler book. It's very long, with bigger words, and rants about adults needing to be told everything. It's wuite good, but Lyla lost interest in the words about two pages in. I had this fantasy of me reading it to her little by little each night, and us acting it out in a very Shakespearean way, and her begging me to read more each evening at 8:00. Well, that didn't happen, but she absolutely adored the pop-ups, and she's quite good at controlling them. What she did instead was tell me the story. I laid quietly, while she turned the pages and began a 30 minute adventure through the book. With each open panel, she would start...if it was a lamb inside, she would begin with a king or a prince running north (always north with Lyla) through the countryside and what he found in the barn was a lamb. Then, she would open another panel and it would be a sun and moon, and she would start about the constellation and the planets, going to Mars, and being in a space ship. I mean, she always tells stories, but these were elaborate portrayals of the prince's triumphs and downfalls. I was amazed to say the least. After two times forward and one time backwards through the book, we had to cut it off to actually go to bed. We'll see what tonight brings. I'll have to video her telling one of these stories one day before she grows up too much.

Also included a quick video short from last week at Nanny and Pop Pop's theatre room. We all went downstairs to watch Sleeping Beauty (a real snoozer if you ask me), and afterwards one of those tween singers had a video included. The kids, mostly Lyla loved it, and got down. This is a short snippet from the otherwise, five minute video.

Liking Everything

This piece of artwork really struck me, because I think I would be a good recipient of this from someone. Maybe Trent?

When I look back to middle school and high school, I always think how I didn't care how anyone looked or acted, or if they were a nerd, or a cheerleader or not. Surprisingly, my high school was pretty tame in terms of teasing and certain kids hanging out with certain kids. No one was singled out too much, and I never paid any mind who was friends with who. I had my good friends, but I talked and was friendly with everyone. This goes back to my class presidential days, so of course, there are relations you need to keep up with your constituents that are vital to your administration working, but I won't bore you with the details of my office politics from the old days.

The point is, I never really never anyone. I pretty much liked everyone. In fact, one day in band class (yes, I was in band, we got to go to Europe so shut up), the band room was somewhat empty, and Matt Piritano, the best trumpet player the school had ever seen (I'm also pretty sure he was a genius who spent most of his downtime in an isolation tank), was fiddling in the brass section. You know, emptying out his spit valve, warming up his lips, that sort of thing. So, I hopped up there to visit. Anyone who was not a band nerd may not know that the flutes (me), sat in front, and the brass instruments sat way in the back. So, I never really got to visit up there much. That day, I went up, made casual conversation with him, and noted how I never really went back there. Every few days I'd chat with him, because we were always the first ones there, and it was awkward not to say anything after I had already gone up there, even though he was painfully shy, and really hadn't much to say. I had enough words for both of us, so I felt like I was reaching out to this shy intellect, and felt really great about my good deed.

A week or two later, Brett Tuminelli, a boy that was extremely annoying with one of those all-over red faces, started ranting very loudly near my locker that Matt and I were dating. It may have even been one of those, "Jen and Ma-att, dum dum dum da dum." I was puzzled. Huh? First of all, I had a boyfriend. He went to another school (because that's how I rolled), so not everyone would have known, but I made it pretty clear that I was not dating Matt. Where had this come from I wondered? Then, my friends started getting on me about being nice to guys who might take things the wrong way, etc. and I thought, could this guy have taken me coming over to chat as me liking him in that way? I guess so, because I'm pretty sure he told his friends I was in hot pursuit. Well, I was so embarrassed, and unsure what to do that I started to avoid him in class. It was the only way I could set things straight without it being super awkward. This is also how most high school issues were resolved, by ignoring it. Except when my field hockey teammate Vicky Tiase, who I would have called a semi-friend and my boyfriend Rob had a little affair while we were still dating, and I told the entire grade to hate on her and yell things about her large butt in the hallways (this was not me being nice as mentioned above, but I was a woman scorned). Anyway, I didn't want to march up there to Matt's riser and tell him we weren't dating, but I also didn't want him to continue taking me the wrong way. By the way, as a side note, this type of thing has happened to me on several occasions, and I never know why. One such incident caused a whole issue with someone I worked with taking our friendship the wrong way, and turning into a very awful and majorly awkward situation at work for a long time. Worst part is, I didn't/couldn't really tell anyone since my office is so small, so I had to just deal with the horribleness for months until he chilled. As another aside to that, I am the kind of girl that no man notices. I'm not stop-and-notice pretty, I have a terrible figure, my hair is thin and piecey, I have no confidence, and I almost always give a bad first impression to everyone I meet. However, I have had at least ten guy friends who have turned stalker on me after a period of time. I am not a flirt, and I make no physical advances on anyone. Trent says I just make guys feel at ease, and I touch people's arms a lot when I talk to them. This is how I get stalkers?

The thing with Matt passed, and it died down at school pretty fast, but a year and a half later, and I will never forget this, at our graduation, I asked him to sign my yearbook, and he wrote just this, "I've always loved you." Still warms my heart folks, still warms my heart.

Anyway, this whole thing is to prove a point that I no longer like people, especially new ones. As I've gotten older, I have less and less patience or acceptance of people in any capacity. I don't like the way they dress, how they say hi, the way they look at me, nothing. Why is this so? I used to be friends with everyone. I also feel like my attitude toward everything is jaded. I have nothing good to say about anything any more. You don't like my music? Or don't know who I listen to? You're dumb. You don't know what a Birkin is? You're dumb. You have colonial furniture in your house? You are so out of it. Is it intolerance? Insensitivity? My own insecurities? Is it the stalkers? Have they given me a distaste for people in general; things even? I think my dislike for things comes from laziness. Many people talk about not having time to do things, but for me it's not wanting to. I want a garden but I don't want to plant. I want the house clean, but I won't get on my hands and knees to do it. I want Lyla to eat better, but I don't prepare her meals ahead of time to ensure she eats good things. I want to be skinny but I'm eating Rita's and drinking olive oil 24/7.

This is a dilemma I must solve. Maybe I will get hypnotized into opening my heart and mind to new things so I might like them again. I'll tack that onto being hypnotized to stop spending all my money, and losing weight.

What is My Time Worth?

Apparently nothing. Though my co-worker Fil's time in worth $25 an hour. Let me explain.
We do a lot of integration with Facebook and apps for that, and are moving into mobile device application development.Essentially , iPhone and Droid apps. Being an avid Blackberry user for years, I really had no interest in any of the iPhones. I'm a cell phone user, not a smart phone user. By that I mean, I don't care about any of the cool features, and apps, and touch, etc. I like to dial, I like to press enter. However, times are a changin', and even I was getting frustrated with Blackberry's completely antiquated phones. With the strong encouragement of one of the partners, I decided I'd get the newest iPhone 4.

On the pre-order day, me and my assistant tried to pre-order a phone online all day. I didn't have time to go to the actual store to pre-order, so that was out, but the Apple store was so bogged it kept failing, and timing out. My next chance was to make an appointment at the Apple store the day of the release which allows you to walk-up at a specified time and get in. This prevents you from having to wait in line with everyone else. I was ready to wait until midnight the eve before you could schedule a reservation and book a time to get the phone. Well, I woke up super early that day, and when I got home from work, felt really awful. Overtired, sick to my stomach (I think the curry noodles from the ghette Chinese place in Hamden caused this), and generally gross. So, Trent put Lyla to bed, and I went into our room to rest for a bit. I ended up falling asleep all night! The next morning I realized I didn't make the reservation, and at 5:30 a.m., they were all gone. Bah. This meant I would have to wait on line at Apple for the phone. Some would say I deserved it. I say, screw you melon.

I contemplated not doing it, and waiting another month until they were easier to get, but as usual, the rumors that they wouldn't be available were flying, and I already felt pretty disadvantaged at work without intimate iPhone knowledge. We do have an iPod Touch which is essentially an iPhone without the calling part, so I haven't been completely in the dark.

I decided to wait in line.

I got there at 5:45 a.m., thinking they wouldn't let people in before 6. Well, people camped out, and at 4:30 a.m., they started letting people into the mall. By the time I arrived, there were already about 700 people ahead of me.

Now, let me explain the process of how people get the phones. Anyone with a pre-order gets priority over everyone else since they already bought the phone. There were at least 500 people with pre-orders. Then, every hour from 7:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m. people with reservations as described above, wait in a separate line at their designated time, to go in and get their phones. I'd say for every one hour time slot, there were 50 people. They get second priority. Then, the pee-ons like me, are last. The first four hours were nothing but pre-orders. Therefore, none of us even moved during that time. We just watched.

Also, when we first arrived, security was really strict. They would not let anyone sit down on the floor, even though the mall wasn't opening for over four hours. It wasn't easy. I started rocking back and forth while reading my book to keep the blood flow in my legs pumping, and drank lots of water since I felt dehydrated already. The first few hours actually went by pretty fast because I watched the big unveiling and the excitement of the employees and crowd, and cheers of everyone. Plus, there were just so many people, and so many things to watch and wait for. The nice thing was they had Starbuck's outside the store when people first arrived, and a girl giving out waters. At 9:30 a.m. the first Chick-Fil-A sandwiches arrived, and I've never been happier to see a dry chicken sandwich before in my life. Every single person on line took one. No one said no to that little piece of heaven in this hellish place. The pickles tasted like truffles, the chicken melted in my mouth, and the soggy bun tingled my taste buds. Now, when the 15th Chick-Fil-A sandwich cart came by at 6:30 p.m., everyone said no. They also had sweet tea from CFA, and nuts from harry and David, which was also nice. They could have done nothing, let us all starve and stand for hours on end.
Luckily the security guards got lax after a while and let people sit down, but most of the time people stood, including me. I don't think they thought people would be there all day and night, and I doubt they wanted any medical incidents where suing and people waving their finger in a news camera were to take place.

I had a doctor's appt. at 11:00, and at 12:30, I was meeting my sister-in-law Ali to look at linens and stuff for her wedding. I planned this day off to spend with her, and enjoy ourselves. When I wasn't even close to the front at 10:00, I quickly called one of my co-workers and convinced him to hold my place in line. Not only did I wake him up after he had a date that went until 4:30 a.m. (I won't mention why), I dragged him out at 10:00 to wait in a hot, sweaty line. I decided I had to pay him for his time, and he gladly accepted. I didn't even have many cool people in front or behind me to chat it up with. Toward the end though, cooler people emerged, and our line became circles, and we talked a bit more. We banded together, we rooted for each other, we ate together.
Anyway, back to the hiatus. I left Fil at 10:30, and returned with Ali at 1:30 or so. He sent us shopping since there was little movement. About 1.5 hours later, I re-joined the line, and sent Fil home. Ali and I then proceeded to wait 4.5 more hours on line to the finish. Around 5:30 or 6-ish people started getting angry, beligerant, and annoying. Everyone was tired, they were all yelling at the poor manager that was orchestrating everything and sending people in from both lines. What ended up also happening that pissed people off, is the reservation line got bigger. They started letting us in, and the reservation line got longer and more delayed. So, those people started to have to wait an hour or so just to get in the store. So, there was a war between them, thinking they were going to stroll in at 6:00 on the dot, get their phone, and leave; and us, the angry mob whose side of the line sendt one person every 30 minutes into the store. The reservation side started cheering when people were sent in because their perceived wait time was so long. This really ticked off our side, so our side started booing them when they cheered (by the way, I was not partaking in any of the "our side" antics). There was heckling, and teasing of the reservationers, belittling and general discontent with who they even were as people.

To give you an idea of how slow this went, I called my parents at 5:50 to tell them they would have to go to my house to relieve our nanny. At that time, there were six people in front of me, on my line. I didn't walk in the store until 7:00.
As we were peering in the windows, analyzing everything that was transpiring in there, a few people were making fun of a guy that was in front of us that was in there so long. Jokes about just buying the damn phone were made. We were all wondering what could have taken 30 minutes for him to complete this transaction. I did notice that he looked spaced out while the Apple employee was talking to him. Well, she ended up being our sales person, and now I know why it took him so long, and also why he was spaced out. We were hoping for the hobbit-looking employee or the old vet that cheered and clapped his hands every time he walked out to get someone. As an aside, they set things up for the employee to come out, shake your hand, and walk you into the store. This was to prevent people from just walking in. It was like getting a massage. The lost massage therapist blindly asks for you, then you follow them to a dark room, take off all your clothes, and they touch you for an hour. I guess you could compare it to a white-night stand too (not that I've had one).
Instead we got the soft-spoken, personal story-telling, wish we would talk more to her sales person. She kept asking me if I had questions about the phone, and I continued to say no, only wishing I could get the hell out of the there pronto. She was going on about the places she used to work, how great working for Apple is, and that in a past or future life she was or should be a doctor because she just doesn't mind hospitals. Honestly, and pardon my language, WTF? I felt like saying, "I've been here 13 hours, and I just want the phone, and you to stop talking." I don't want a tutorial, or your life story, or to tell you mine. I just want to activate, sync my contacts, and walk away. I Also felt like telling her there were still 200 people waiting, and she might want to expedite the checkout before she gets her ass beaten by my side of the line. 20 long minutes later we were done. God bless.

I could barely walk since my heels had endured the massive weight of my body all day in gladiator sandals. I hobbled home, and we all celebrated with dinner at Pei Wei in Towson, one of Lyla's favorite hot spots. They serve white rice, her favorite, and set fire to the food, so it's doubly good for her. She also has a new obsession with sitting in high chairs after never sitting in one since she was a baby. That kid never ceases to amaze me, and man does she know her way around a chopstick.

We got home so late, and I was so spent. I put Lyla down around 9:45, and by 10:00 I was ready to expire for the night with my well-earned glass gadget.

Of course today at work, Fil sent me this link, with him on the news holding my place on the line. It's no longer the featured vid, so you have to search for iPhone. It's the "Marylanders Line Up for New iPhone" video. Fil is shown at :31 seconds sitting on the floor on his phone with a blue shirt and black jeans (next to the guy with the aqua t-shirt on) in front of Anthropologie. That should have been me man, it should have been me.

Shower Invites

My sister-in-law Ali is getting married in September, and she has been subjected to my absolute obsession with weddings. Even though I am somewhat retired from the paper business, I was of course going to do all of the paper for Ali. I thought I'd share the shower invite with you. I hired an amazing artist named Kelli Murray to do the illustration for me, and I just love the way it came out. I sent her pics and info about Ali and Stephen, and she came up with a sketch a few days later. I then built the rest of the invitation around it. The inside utilizes three fonts, and some characters I had to create myself to have a similar feel to the hand-written Ali + Stephen on the front. The funny thing about these fonts is that when I had the invitation printed, the printer didn't get the fonts embedded in the PDF I sent, so they printed them with the wrong font. When I got them, I freaked since it looked nothing like what I prepared. In a frenzy they re-printed them in the later afternoon, and left them bundled in bubble wrap on the sidewalk outside of their shop in Columbia. Luckily, my friend Missy picked them up for me, or someone else would have been enjoying them. Look forward to our Christmas cards being from one of her illustrations.

Hiding Pregnancy Anectdote #1

So, we had planned a trip to celebrate our friends Leslie and Ryan's 10th wedding anniversary in Boston. Their friends Wyatt and Elizabeth were also going. I was plagued with how I was going to hide being pregnant from them. We happy hour many nights at the Wagner household, and it's rare that I don't partake in imbibing some serious wine over there. Plus, we go out with them all the time, so it would be odd for me not to drink. After the NYC incident, I had already told Leslie I felt like I needed to give up drinking since it wasn't helping my weight loss, and because I felt so rotten afterwards. So, it's good I had already planted that seed. The only problem was that I told Leslie it was because of Atkins--something I absolutely could not continue doing while pregnant. I swear, I've eaten nothing but bread and pasta for three weeks. The more the better. It's like a security pregnancy blanket.
Now Leslie is really good about cooking for you, and really being attentive to your needs when you're in her house or her company. The week before she made special chicken salad wraps without bread just for me. So, I knew that eating carbs around her would be really tough, because she would obviously question my loyalty to a diet I just told her I gave up alcohol for.

The morning we flew out I fought back nausea for hours. The motion of the plane really got me. We upgraded to business class, and they got drinks for us right away, but I said it was too early to drink. First obstacle averted. However, I knew the pending lunch to happy hours would be tough. I felt like a kid in middle school being offered pot and having to say no and justify why. It's not like anyone was trying to force me to drink, it is just obvious when you drink nothing at all.

Before lunch, we stopped at a bar. I didn't order anything at the actual bar, but as I was going to the bathroom, I found a waitress and asked her to make me a bloody mary without the vodka. When I returned from the toilet, it was waiting for me, and I was so proud to fake drink my fake drink. I have to say, I could have drank virgin bloody marys all day. His mix was damn good. This was really the drink that held me through the day, and the weekend. When later asked if I had drank over the weekend, I was like, "Yeah, I had that one bloody mary, and the wine and chapmagne the other night."
I was then able to successfully drink water at lunch without eyebrow raising, since it was perceived that I had just had a drink. I know when this is all over everyone is going to tell me how they knew all along I was pregnant, which is what always happens. Damn you first trimester.

At the Red Sox game that night, it was a little harder. We all went to a bar before, and everyone was drinking. Leslie mentioned how good I was doing not really drinking. So, she did remember I told her I was trying not to drink. Point Jen.
The game was ok too, because the guys were mostly drinking beers, and the girls weren't really pounding. Lunch the next day proved ok as well. Even though I was the only one not drinking, the time of day gave me a pass. I think everyone also knows I can't really hold alcohol very well, so me trying not to get drunk wouldn't be uncommon either.

Before dinner on Saturday, we sat in the "sitting room" of our hotel, which was actually just the hallway of the second floor. We got Ryan and Leslie a bottle of champagne, and they got wine. They poured for everyone, and at at first I thought, I'll just have a sip and then fake it. I did take a little sip for the toast, and luckily my friend Erika called right after. So, I walked away with the drink, and spilled it outside the fire exit. I prayed the alarms wouldn't go off. That would have really sucked. Sorry to anyone reading this who may have paid for the wine I essentially tossed. So, I again put an artificial drink on the board for the weekend. So, seconds, when offered, were politely refused with the reply that I had just downed the champagne.

Dinner was tough. There was lots of wine ordered, lots of partaking, and it had to seem odd that I didn't cheat a little. Especially when I had ordered clam chowder, a lobster roll, bread, and inhaled much of Trent's key lime dessert, which were obviously worse offenders than the wine on Atkins. I told Leslie I had thrown my whole diet out the window that weekend, trying to somehow justify my horrific desire and need for carbohydrates.

If I was just thin to start with, and could control this obsession with bad food during this time, I would be a lot better off. Am I the only person who eats more when pregnant? Even though I feel sick a lot of the day, food displaces the nausea for just a short time. So, I constantly eat. I just don't want any of the good foods I normally eat.
I feel like I have gained 20 pounds, and I am full-on showing a belly. Even my belly button has gotten cavernous. I'm ready to call Chubby Checkers (see Fatso movie footage below).



I have my first doctor's appointment on Thursday, and I'm hoping she tells me I'm six months pregnant so I feel better about being disgusting. Not that being further along is any excuse either. You should only gain about 4-5 pounds your first trimester. I'm headed for double digits if I'm not there already. I didn't have a waist before, but now I look like a man from behind. It is just so thick. I have been wearing the loosest clothes I can, but I think you can still tell. Working out is the worst, because it's way harder to hide. My ass, which blew up to massive proportions with Lyla doesn't fit into a single pair of jeans or skirt I have. I already don't fit into most of my clothes. I tried two dresses on last week that didn't zip. It's all so pleasant. The ass is all by itself right now. Spanx have not helped at all. My body is rejecting them.

This weekend is my sister-in-law Ali's bachelorette party. I'm going to have to come up with some ailment and medication I'm taking that won't allow me to drink alcohol.

The first trimester can't go by fast enough. All of this lying, and fattening is making me slightly stressed. I already bought two cookbooks for losing the weight afterward to give me something to look forward to, since I'm already a lost cause.

Pretty in Pink

As I ponder the impact of my new gray walls, and hope I can pull of this new look I so desperately want to achieve in our dining/living room, I think about the pales of spring that have inspired me the last few weeks. One of my favorite designer Erin Fetherston, banged out the most amazing line on the runway, and I want every piece. I won't comment on the short hemlines and body in them, only that I love every single piece. I put a few of my faves in the pale palette inspiration board below. I have always had an affinity for pink. I boldly chose it for my wedding color (hot pink that is) before pink really came on the scene in a big way seven years ago. It was a risk then, and now it is the new black. I love pink as a neutral, and I swear the next house we own will have a lovely pale pink salon with fancy settees and wainscoting walls with massive glass chandeliers at every turn. I will eat macaroons and have champagne on hand at all times. Lyla will only wear light linen Bonpoint dresses as she flutters by the all wood toys and china tea set (her plastic monstrosity slide is not welcome there). Trent will become a dandy. His white bucks worn without socks of course will compliment his short trousers and bow tie. I will only wear Oscar De La Renta party dresses in white with kitten heels. Doey won't bark.
Dream a little dream.

Here is my neutral spring color scheme...

Fatter is Better?

So, I am writing this post on 6/16, 15 days after I found out I was pregnant. So, if you don't know yet, I'm pregnant. Since this blog originated as a pregnancy blog to follow our first Walter bean's development, we've come full circle, and are back to square one.

Let's go through the early symptoms...
1. Dinner in NYC one month ago, I had a sake cocktail followed by Prosecco, and three glasses of wine. While this would make anyone feel a little queasy, I was literally falling asleep at the table during dinner. I felt my head bobbing to stay awake. I passed out in the bed thinking I had mixed too many things, but I didn't feel that drunk, just really exhausted. The next morning I took a cab to meet my friend Vale, and I started sweating profusely, and shaking. Even the cab driver asked, "Can't you feel the air back there?" I had all the windows down in the back gasping for air like a dog with only his snout out of a 3/4 rolled up window. I jumped out of the car thinking I was hung over, and in need of some serious coconut juice. I bagged Atkins for the moment (after two successful months--bah), and chugged an OJ and a croissant. I felt better immediately, so I thought it was a hangover remedy. Vale also got sick the night before, so I also felt like we maybe had a reaction to the wine or something similar.
2. I was taking a boot camp class at Lynne Brick's and on the Friday before Memorial Day weekend, I thought I was going to pass out during our suicide drills. I always feel like booting during this class, but I really felt out of it that day. When I got home, I laid on the couch and fell fast asleep, something I never do after a morning class. I usually feel completely awake and revived by the exercise, heinous as it may be.
3. That weekend at the beach, I felt completely depleted and worn out. I also started to feel fat. Now, I always feel fat, but mid-May I had lost almost eight pounds, and was feeling thinner. That weekend, I knew I had gained it all back. Why? I was still successfully doing Atkins, and on the road to a new bod. Suddenly I was feeling thick in the middle and thigh heavy--two things that came almost immediately during my first pregnancy. Which brings me to my next symptom related to carbs...
4. Anyone who knows me knows I can't handle pasta, bread, or most white flour products. However, when I was pregnant, I went opposite, and it's all I wanted and could tolerate. It felt like it absorbed the nausea throughout the day. Well, at the beach, I ate all regular high protein stuff (especially in the mornings). Breakfast at Judy Vardy's house has a minimum of three breakfast meats, which I can normally gobble up and burn in my next workout. However, I felt so sick and gross afterward. Then, we went to dinner at a seafood restaurant, and I honestly could not find one thing that I wanted. Normally, I can destroy some oysters, and then a nice broiled salmon filet. The thought of any swimming fish in my belly made my stomach turn on the spot. This is the first time I actually thought I could be pregnant.
5. On the way home from the beach that Tuesday, I fell into a deep sleep in the car. This is the exact thing I did on the way back from the beach 3.5 years ago at Christmas before I took a pregnancy test. Now, I can always fall asleep in the car, but this was like a sleep experiment/Ambien sleep. I also felt overcome with nausea. The moment we got home, I took a test, and the double pinks showed up in an instant. Baby Walter number two was on its way.