South Beach Not Working For You? Try London

In cleaning out my "Drafts" folder this week, I found a TON of gems-- quippy one-liners, topic ideas, posts that I started... even ones that I completed, but then completely forgot to post.

Maybe I'm not such lousy blogger after all? Hmm...

Here's one that I wrote (and forgot about) over a month ago. Enjoy!

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For two years, I've struggled with losing the baby weight.

(Can you still call it that when my "baby" sasses like a pouty teenage girl?)

I've made resolutions to workout and eat right. I reacquainted myself with the gym and joined fitness boot camp, and still nothing really changed...

I was miserable and it showed in my half-ass wardrobe. Nothing ever fit right since I was convinced that this was all "only temporary".

Finally, I decided to love my big happy self and just BUY the larger size already-- shirts that buttoned, underpants that covered the expanse of my rear, and jeans that fit... comfortably... zipped and on my waist.

I even did one better. In our mad purging and packing to move to London, I donated seventeen huge lawn bags filled to capacity with old clothes.

The rest... because yes, there WAS more... was given away to a family friend who is about to graduate college and in need of "appropriate work attire". I felt good about myself!

Well, you know that saying about how giving away your baby stuff is a surefire way to get pregnant again?

No, I'm not pregnant again.

What I'm trying to say is that the same goes for your "skinny clothes"...

Who knew that the stress of moving overseas, followed by walking everywhere and carrying a toddler... and his stroller... and all of his stuff... up and down the steps to the Tube is THE BEST WORKOUT ever...

In spite of my addiction to buttery scones and access to delicious fresh baked breads, the inches have melted away effortlessly. Seriously. I have done nothing... Well, except give up my car.

Hmmm, maybe I should have done that years ago?

This is all great except that I'm back to my original predicament...

NOTHING IN MY CLOSET FITS ANYMORE!

I probably should be thrilled about the prospect of going shopping again. However, I should remind you that I live in the second most expensive city in the world. Upping my daily pastry intake would be less of a financial hit.

Oh, and I hate shopping. Wah!

One Step Forward, Ten Steps Back

A few weeks ago, my best friend sent me an update from our 10 year high school reunion...

I was a little surprised she went since she's the one who suggested that we completely blow off the five reunion, but then again... who really cares about the five year reunion?

We were still in school at the time (grad school, but still school), working at so-so jobs, unmarried, and childless. Other than living on our own instead of with our parents, not much had really changed since high school.

Ten years is a little different though. You would hope that a lot has changed. Being closer to 30 than 13, you would especially hope that people would have grown up and gotten over... well, all that high school crap.

I would have been interested to see what became of everyone. (Just not interested enough to remember where I put my invitation...)

I laughed out loud as I read who had married whom, who got really, REALLY fat, who was still a snobby bitch (as if I didn't already know), and about my ex-boyfriend, who apparently is...

Still.

Not.

Over.

Me... GAH!

The next few days, the photos, messages, and friend requests started popping up all over Facebook. As all of these people who I used to know reconnected, I started to feel a teensy ounce of regret and wistfulness over missing the reunion...

I noticed a lot of my classmates are married and/or new parents. Most have careers that are taking off or just finishing grad school. It would have been so interesting to hear all of the "how we got here" stories.

Then, I came across the profile of boy who I had the BIGGEST crush on my sophomore year. He just graduated with an MBA from Harvard and he still has not idea I exist... and even though I'm happily married and living a fabulous life in London, that still makes me wilt.

Then, there was the boy who had the biggest crush on me. I knew it and I chose to ignore it... Well, he's a published author now and I can't even keep up with my blog.

There were the kids I used to make fun of, the kids that used to make fun of me, and so forth...

...and just like that, I was transformed into the self-conscious, nervous girl with the dorky glasses and hairy legs because her mom won't let her shave her legs. (Seriously.)

The one that went to junior prom stag, took dance instead of tennis, and worked crew instead of starred in the play because she never got picked for anything... and was lame enough to get upset by it.

Of course, none of that matter now, but as my best friend put it best in her e-mail:

This entire event undermined everything we had worked for and become over the last 10 years in terms of coming to know ourselves and the new self confidence that brings - it turned even me into the nervous high school girl I once was and [my husband] saw the embarrassing and awful regression as soon as I walked in.

I guess I'm glad I missed it after all.

Culture Clash

I was in the middle of explaining to a store clerk that my family and I just moved to London when he complimented me on how well I spoke English...

"Why, I can understand you perfectly," he added for good measure.

I clarified that's GREAT especially since we just moved here from the UNITED STATES of AMERICA (but thank you, nonetheless).

Even though I'm perfectly aware that I'm SHORTER and BROWNER than most folks, I tend to forget that I'm Filipino sometimes. Having been born and raised in the US, it's not like it really impacted my daily life.

I shopped at Wal-Mart, celebrated Thanksgiving with green bean casserole, and pled the fifth just like everyone else I knew. I grew up with Saturday morning cartoons and sugary cereal. I even know all of the Presidents and state capitols.

When nosy people ask where I'm from, I always say, "the US" and leave it at that, but I know what they are really after...

As one of the locals so quaintly pointed out during our recent trip to Greece, "No, no. You're not an American. Not in the face. Now, where… you… from?"

Okay, so if pressed further, I will begrudgingly clarify by saying that my parents are from the Philippines, but I am from America. This is then usually followed by one of the following:

"No, I can't converse in Tagalog, but I can understand it when spoken."
"Yes, I've been to the Philippines and yes, it is quite lovely."
"No, I will not clean your house/ know your next door neighbors' cousin's wife's who is also Filipino/ make you chicken adobo."

Okay, that last one was just a joke, but you get my point. I am proud of my heritage, but it's just tedious to explain to the casual acquaintance or souvenir vendor.

When it comes to identifying with a people... I'll have the Sonic Buger, onion rings, and a Cherry Limeade. Umm, better make that a Butterfinger Blast. (Mmm, Sonic...)

I knew moving to London was going to be a bit of "culture clash". What I didn't consider was how many cultures would be clashing...

For instance, the closest food market to us is a Middle Eastern/Polish grocery with no less than 25 types of salami and a separate sections for pierogois. The store clerks speak to one another in their native language, but not to anyone else...

The other night, I went there to buy authentic Greek yogurt when I overheard a couple nearby arguing in French. I walked past them quickly and ran into a group of girls dressed in hijab and discussing Mexican food.

If you think I'm joking, here's a photo of the frozen peas I also purchased that night...


The packaging is written in Arabic, even the heating instructions. Fortunately, I already know how to defrost peas. What I don't know if how to operate my British appliances...

What is this Celsius, they speak of?

This Bites

So, I got an e-mail from my other sister-in-law announcing that she and my brother-in-law are expecting baby number three. The e-mail also stated, "yes, it was planned" and "no, she has not been feeling fine"...

While not nearly to the level of obnoxiousness as my hateful little conversation with a "Sister-in-law A", it just adds to the feeling that everyone else's life has it goin' on while ours sinks further in the dumps.

First, there's Hubby's recent job loss, then the matter of the lousy unemployment benefits, the sick toddler, and... oh yes, the horrible pain of my wisdom teeth disrupting my otherwise peachy existence...

On the bright side, my oral surgeon father-in-law has graciously offered to extract my wisdom teeth at the "family and friends" discount of no cost at all. The catch is we have to drive to Oklahoma to his office and stay with them for a bit while I recover, but that won't be too bad.

I do have some reservations about being left alone with my father-in-law while being put under with the gas (or "truth serum", as he calls it). According to him, people tend to let loose and go on and on about stuff you know they would never in their right minds say to another soul.

He says he's used it, but he's never had ME for a patient...

My father-in-law is all right, but I had to warn Hubby that I harbor quite a bit of... um, shall we say, unkind feelings towards some his other family members. (gee, I wonder why.) I just make a conscious effort NOT to act upon it. However, it's still right there... just beneath the surface.... just waiting for an oppertunity to come out.

Oh, and I use the f-word a lot in my head.

Peeved

I've noticed that my friends who don't have kids will completely STOP talking mid-sentence the very second that my gaze turns to my child. I don't mean get up, walk to the other side of the room, and attend to my child... just a quick "hey, where's my kid and what is he doing" glance.

... and I'm talking about that "oh so dramatic" paaaaause, as if they're just soooooo put out by the fact that they can't have my FULL undivided (unmultiplied?) attention. It's the passive aggressive version of "ahem, ahem" and it's twice as obnoxious.

Although, how often do you ever really have anyone's full attention- kids or no kids?

I used to work with a lady who incessantly pecked at her Blackberry during huge presentations, most of which were being given specifically for her. Presentations that often had to be repeated for her later via conference call, where she was no doubt e-mailing and IMing on the other end...

It was annoying, but did anyone ever paaaaaause in the middle until she looked up again. Nope.

Other parents seem to realize that yes, in fact, I CAN look at my son and be listening to them... at the same time no less. Perhaps it is annoying that I keep looking at my son while talking to you, but keeping an eye on him is part of the job.

Besides, what's more annoying-- making sure my son isn't destroying your house or letting my kid destroy you house while I listen oh so attentively to every last detail about that movie that you saw and I didn't...

These are usually the same childless people that constantly boast that "when THEY have kids, they will never (fill in the blank)... and those kids will be on a tight leash..." (Umm, good luck with that. Hopefully, someone else won't give you grief when you have to attend to that "leash"...)

It's a subtle (petty?) thing, but it just happens to be one of my biggest pet peeves post-parenthood.

What are some of your parenting pet peeves, Blog Hoppers? I want to hear your drunken rants!

Just a Mom Milestone

Tomorrow is the first anniversary of the day I "officially" became a SAHM.

A year ago, I swiped my security badge for the very last time and with great trepidation, handed it over to the guard on duty. Even though I had resigned months before and at that point, had only hung on until the next sucker my replacement could be hired and sufficiently trained, I remember thinking, "Oh crap, what have I done?"

What I had done was walk away from a world where I felt smart, ambitious, and IMPORTANT... Like a lot of people, my whole identity was wrapped up in my career. It was, after all, everything I had been working towards up until this point. Without it, what was I?

By the way, it bears mentioning that Piper of Love wrote a clever post about this very thing last week. Her words struck a nerve with me, reminding me of exactly how I felt about this huge life change... and quite timely, no less.

What I dreaded most was losing myself in the stereotype of the suburban housewife. I am, of course, referring to the "me" whose passions, interests, intellect, and clever wit would now be reduced to three words: "just a mom".

Well, it turns out "just a mom" is exactly what I want to be and my son... well, he's only the most fascinating creature in the world!

I love that our days are filled with wonder and discovery and if he wakes up and decides that he most certainly does NOT want to wear pants today... well, he doesn't have to and we just don't leave the house. I love it when he beams at me from across the dinner table after we've just shared an inside joke and that he can't fall sleep until I kiss him goodnight. I love it when he laughs and even when he cries, because it means I can comfort him in my arms.

Sure, I still miss my old job now and again, especially as my son approaches the "terrible twos" with a fury. I've broken down and sobbed in frustration, fantasied about "this being daycare's problem right now", and even updated my resume (you know, just in case)... but overall, being my son's mom is the best job ever. I enjoy it so much that I would even do it if they didn't pay me... Oh, wait...

I thought that I would look upon this anniversary with more melancholy and despair, but actually... I'm really okay with it. I'm really, 100%, no-takesies-backsies OKAY with it. Yeah, I'm shocked, too.

Making the transition from pouring over monthly performance stats to pouring over books called Parenting with Love and Logic and The Happiest Toddler on the Block (just to name a few) hasn't always been smooth, but I'm just so grateful to make it to this milestone with the confidence that I made the right choice all along.

Sadly, there will be no diamond journey pendants or even a chocolate cake to mark the occasion, although I do have a blogiversary coming up. Feel free to send gifts and flowers to... haha!

Just kidding.

Which Muppet are you?

I spotted this on What Works For Us today and it made me smile, so I thought I'd share the love... since it's a slow Sunday and all. It's the Sesame Street Persona test !!!

Which Muppet are you?

It turns out that I'm Big Bird. Shocking! I was certain I'd been Ernie. Even funnier is that Hubby is Snuffleupagus. I thought he'd be Bert, for sure...

Either way, we're destined to be best friends forever.

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Your Score: Big Bird

You scored 79% Organization, 41% abstract, and 76% extroverted!

This test measured 3 variables:

First, this test measured how organized you are. Some muppets like Cookie Monster make big messes, while others like Bert are quite anal about things being clean.

Second, this test measured if you prefer a concrete or an abstract viewpoint. For the purposes of this test, concrete people are considered to gravitate more to mathematical and logical approaches, whereas abstract people are more the dreamers and artistic type.

Third, this test measured if you are more of an introvert or an extrovert. By definition, an introvert concentrates more on herself and an extrovert focuses more on others. In this test an introvert was somebody that either tends to spend more time alone or thinks more about herself.

You are very organized, both concrete and abstract, and more extroverted.


Here is why are you Big Bird:

You are both very organized. You almost always know where your belongings are and you prefer things neat. You may even enjoy cleaning and find it therapeutic. Big Bird is never sloppy and always under control... pretty good for a 6 year old bird living without a family.

You both are sometimes concrete and sometimes abstract thinkers. Big Bird can be quite dreamy at times and has no problem using his imagination. At the same time he is also practical and can be methodical in his search for answers to questions. You have a good balance in your life. You know when to be logical at times, but you also aren't afraid to explore your dreams and desires... within limits of course.

You are both extroverts. Big Bird gets along with everyone. He makes friends easily and always has a positive attitude. You definitely enjoy the company of others, and you don't have problems meeting new people... in fact you probably look forward to it. You are willing to take charge when necessary or work as part of a team.

Link: The Your SESAME STREET Persona Test

All You Need to Know

Me too! Me too! I wanna join in the fun... you know, since everybody is doing it and all. Created by Mocha Momma, this is actually puuur-fect since about 10 seconds of thinking is all I can truly muster today.

If you're participating in the Cool Mom Picks Great BlogHer Photo Scavenger Hunt:

• My (real) first name is Grace. Are you Grace, too? (15 points)
• I wear a size 7 shoe (15 points)
• I am willing to be your blog idol (5 points)

This is a short, but sweet blogme2007 introduction. For information, click here.

Oh, Mr. Sandman...

I don't care to discuss my son's sleeping habits with other parents for fear of being strung up and beaten.

He has slept through the night and in his own crib since he was six weeks old. He goes to bed with little to no fuss after bath, books, and prayers and sleeps up to twelve hours (unless awaken by a nasty storm or our fastidious neighbor who insists on mowing his lawn at 6 am... on Sunday...) Otherwise, he wakes up between 8 and 8:30 in the morning if we rouse him, later if we don't. He takes a two to three hour nap in the afternoon, unless he's declared it a "no nap day." It happens... sometimes.

Okay. Let the tar and feathering commence!

I don't deserve any awards for being a "brilliant parent", nor do I want your praise. I can assure you, he didn't learn his sleeping habits from me. I am a raging insomniac.

If it's 3 am, chances are I'm haunting the house or worse, shopping online. It can't be helped. I've tried yoga and breathing exercises. I've tried just lying still in the dark. I've tried white noise and soft music. I've tried hot baths, reading, and reading in hot baths. We instituted a "no TV or Internet after bedtime" rule. (That was short-lived.)

I've even tried sleeping pills. Those backfired, by the way. I took some at 8:30 one night in the hope of being asleep by 9... Well, I guess they sort of worked. I was only up until 1 AM and woke up late and emotionally imbalanced the next morning. (read: Bitchy, clumsy, and slow)

I also tend to wake up in the middle of the night, and I'm not one to just fall back asleep. Nope. Nope. Nope. If I'm up, I'm up and pretty committed to staying that way. I'm told by my husband that once I do fall asleep (some time around the crack of dawn), I'm pretty committed to that, as well. I am unable to be awakened by anything except my son's cries... and even then, he has to really mean it.

You would think this type of behavior would have been detrimental to my career. As you can imagine, never being able to make it to an 8 am meeting on time has always been a "career limiting" flaw... that is, until my last job. My boss and I just happened to have the same "sleep issues" and neither one of us was ever really at work until around 9:30... okay, fiiiiine, 10. It was wonderful.

Motherhood, on the other hand, is not as forgiving. My husband is very sweet about taking care of our son's morning routine, thereby allowing me a few more minutes of precious, elusive, sumptuous sleep. Then, he leaves for work and hands off our son to me whether I'm up for it or not. I dread the coming school years when the last morning bell rings at 7:45 and my son has to be punished for his MOTHER being tardy every single morning.

I'm not writing this to scare my roomie at BlogHer. For you, I promise to be still and be quiet, even if I am wake and ready to go at 4 am. I also promise not to oversleep and make you miss any of the fun.

I'm writing this because it's 1:34 in the morning, I can't sleep, and there's no one else to talk to...

I hate the phone

Why am I incapable of leaving a coherent voicemail? WHY?

Whenever I hear that BEEEEEP, I get tongue-tied and flustered and my brain turns soggy. The words that fall out of my mouth onto the answering machine are high-pitched and repeatative. Seriously, I think I say "Okay, talk to you then" about four times per message on average. Then, I start talking faster and faster, jumbling my words and apologizing along the way... and I inevitably have to sneeze or cough mid-sentence and into their ears!

You would think that given my gender (female) and previous line of work (marketing), communicating would come second nature to me... and it does, but only in person or in e-mail, but not on voicemail.

I hate leaving messages for people. HATE. So much so that I usually hang up, collect my thoughts, and call again.

CRAZY!

My American Dream

The second most irritating question I get asked pretty regularly...

When are you going back to work?

I still don't get asked that as frequently as "what do you do all day?" and that is why my blog is devoted to my day, not when I'm going back to work...

I choose to stay home to care for my son based on the premise that ALL employees have going into their jobs: "I'll stay here as long as it lasts or something better comes along."

Unlike all the busy little worker bees, I am certain that I will not get laid off or fired. I seriously doubt "something better" will come along and since I don't get paid, I cannot be lured away with lofty pay raises, use of company jets, or 401K matching.

As CEO, CFO, CTO, and COO of my household, I am living the American dream of being my own boss. I leave when I want, nap when I want, and the dress code... extra casual.

My husband is more that happy...nay, feels completely fulfilled earning the paycheck and providing the health care. I am not kidding. The man LOVES his job. I know this because he brings it home with him every night and won't stop talking about it....

In return, I make sure he comes home to a happy baby, clean laundry, tidy house, and home-cooked dinner every night. Since I love my job too, I think it's a fair exchange.

So do I ever miss the job and co-workers I left behind? YES!

Do I ever want to go back to it someday? eh, maybe.

For now, my work fulfills me and that's all that matters.

photo by yerffej9

Top Five Ways Being a Parent Changed Me... or not

Top Five Things that have changed about my life, but not really

5. Still movin' and groovin' to those bass-bumping dance beats, except now it's at 5 am at the gym instead of 1 am with my girls.

4. My husband and I still have regular date nights, except we prefer our nights in over our nights out any day.

3. I can talk to anyone. I always have and still can, but there is just something about having kids that allows you to relate to other people on a whole new level. I can bond with any parent instantly over the most mundane thing my kid just did.

2. I've always had voracious and wide interest in the world, but for the first time, I actually think about something (someone) beyond myself.

1. I find something positive in every day. I still do, except now I find that my greatest joy is in watching my son discover each new day...

Do you think I can stop at just "five"?

Do you remember the movie "High Fidelity"?

Based on the novel of the same name, the movie follows the "quarter-life" crisis of a thirty-something record-store owner who has to face the fact that he's growing up.

It's been a long time since I've seen this movie, but the things I remember most about it are the ongoing discussion about "mix tapes" and the main character's top five lists. As I recall, he had top five lists for everything.

Something reminded of this movie recently and it sparked an idea... I should start coming up with own top five lists and post them here.

Besides, I haven't made a mix tape since junior high, maybe even grade school... I guess the kids have iTunes for that now.

Just like with everything related to this blog, it's purely for my entertainment, but I certainly hope you will enjoy them as well.

Here's one to get you started...

The top five best days of my life:

5. The day I realized that I didn't have to be "pre-med" if I didn't really want to be. I went on to graduate with a psychology degree which I actually enjoyed earning...

4. The first day of Spring semester sophomore year of college. My plane landed in Roma, Italia and I was about to start my studies aboard. With that first whiff of cigarette smoke and diesel fuel, I knew that I would never be the same again.

3. The day I handed my resignation to my ungrateful supervisor at my thankless, first (post-college) ad agency job a mere NINE hours before we lost the account I worked on. Is that timing or what?

2. My wedding day. It was almost worth the fourteen months of hell... er, planning. Seeing my husband grinning at that altar made it perfect... After that, I stopped caring about "who said what" or worrying about "what went wrong".

1. Nothing tops an entire day of LABOR, followed by major surgery. Yup, I'm talking about the day my son was born. Every day since then has just gotten better and better.

Who's ready for seconds?

Today, my friend casually dropped the news that she's expecting her second baby (!!!)

We were pregnant at the same time for our first babies. We even had the same OB/GYN and gave birth at the same hospital nine weeks apart...

Too close for comfort, you say? It was actually quite pleasant to have someone to share the whole pregnancy experience with.

I know, I know... there was my husband, but let's face it... Men don't really get it. Not really...

Anyway, when she told me the news, I was OUT OF MY MIND ECSTATIC for her, but a tiny voice in my head was saying, "hey, I didn't know we're ready for seconds already..."

Of course, she did choose to tell me at the heels of one of my son's temper tantrums, which is hardly conducive to wanting a second baby. My son is wonderful, but I'm certainly not ready to take on two right now...

In fact, my standard response when asked when I'll have another is "...well, I always wanted to be an only child...", which isn't true at all. I just like saying it because it doesn't so much answer the question, as change the subject.

Yes, I realize that just because my friend is having another baby doesn't mean I need to have one too. It's just that, as I was finally getting the last of my maternity clothes in the attic earlier this month, the thought occurred to me that we'd probably be pregnant again at the same time...

I suppose that's rather silly of me since we didn't planned to be the first time or the next time, obviously. In fact, we really don't talk about that kind of stuff in specifics, which is refreshing...

A little known fact that often surprise people about me is that I have a strict "don't ask, don't tell" policy when it comes to discussing S-E-X or anything related to it (included, but not limited to "when are you having another one?") with anyone other than the person I've having it with... as in, my husband.

No, I'm not a prude or dislike "Sex in the City". In fact, I adore "Sex in the City" and if you haven't watch every episode, I highly recommend that you do.

It's just during my pregnancy I was approached by several of our friends that were "tying" and asked to give them some "pointers"... like my growing tummy and widening rear made me some sort of fertility guru. Pointers? Are you kidding me?

There is only one piece of advice that I can think of and I don't like saying that word.

Then, there were my single, not-goin'-be-parents-anytime-soon friends that seemed overly concerned about whether or not I was "gettin' any, now that I'm fat"... and if so, what positions are "still comfortable" these days...

I decided right then and there to set some boundaries... and BIG ones where I also don't have to hear about people's nasties.

I say... we're all grown ups here (and in some cases, PARENTS), and I don't need to hear the details. THAT would be too close for comfort.

...and, by the way, NO, I have not been wearing my maternity clothes until now. In fact, I stopped wearing them as soon as I healed from the c-section. We're just super lazy about getting things in the attic.

photo by mightylikelove

My Favorite Things

1. My son's infectious laugh

2. Lazy weekends

3. The Internet!

4. Brunch, complete with fresh coffee, buttery croissants, and a newspaper

5. Milkshakes at bedtime

6. Puns

7. Starting a new project. I may even finish it...

8. My skinny jeans (moment of silence)

9. A beautifully wrapped gift, for you or me

10. Arriving someplace new

11. Clean sheets

12. WINNING