Really?

So, there are advertisements now on my blog for people who need colonoscopies! See bottom of page.

Discuss.

Dropping Some NYC*

Yes! I made it to NYC for my first girls weekend in a long, long time! I went to visit with Kathryn and meet Anna, Mana's new baby girl. First on the docket, after a 4 hour trip on the Bolt Bus (and a bit of carsickness, good gracious Jen, take a Dramamine) it was red wine and goat cheese time on Kathyrn's roofdeck. Kathryn and I had decided to take a Cupcake Tour of NYC, complete with four bakeries. The fancy legs on the left are from the Cupcake Cafe, but we'll get to that later.

Saturday started off with a metro ride and some sunshine walking to the West Village, where we went to our first stop, Billys Cafe.

I'm not sure if it was because this was our first stop (there is something about your first) but these cupcakes were the real deal. I'm a yellow-cake with vanilla frosting kind of cupcaker, but KT likes her some chocolate cake. This was good eating. I did not, however, enjoy the conversation at the nearby table, with incessant talking of exercise and how to burn more calories. Good Lord, I'm eating a cupcake. I wouldn't notice until the next day (um...we went back for more cupcakes) that the girl behind the counter may have needed an entire box of Midol or perhaps just a wack on the head. You work in a happy place, dingdong. Eat some frosting.

This was the world-famous Magnolia's, made so by a Sex and the City episode. The line was ridiculously long and kind of bodyguarded by an employee who let people in with specific instructions of where to stand and go and pay and get drinks. I forgot all of it promptly because of 1) the silly heat 2) the silly amount of people in the silly-small store 3) the zen-like trance I was put in seeing a display window full of cupcakes to choose from and 4) looking around for SJP or Matthew Broderick (it's their neighborhood!). The frosting for me was a winner, super-thick but not too buttery. Kathryn's was good, but the chocolate frosting got really thin really fast.

Of course there was a Veggie VW van there.

We were then hit by a colossal rain storm and ended up standing on a stoop with Fisher Stevens.

He looked a little rough and he said the F word a lot. Good shoes though. So, thankfully I could check the box next to 'Celebrity Sighting' on my to-do list for my NYC trip. We were soaked. My shoes needed the rest of the trip to dry on Kathryn's windowsill. Kathryn, also know as Sad Eyes Laughing in all photos. Not to be confused with Teeth All Showing.

We then hit the Cupcake Cafe (dancing cupcake legs) which boasted the best chocolate cake overall, but the frosting was a big miss. Think cold butter. Think pretty flowers made out of cold butter.

We then made the trek to the border of Chinatown to How Sweet It Is who had just catered George Clooney's birthday with their delicious layer cake. There was a window couch here, and we took advantage of it. We sipped some French Press coffee, chatted with the overzealous pastry student (okay, okay...your bosses are 'like totally dedicated to their craft!' can you just make sure you get me the cupcake with the MOST frosting?), and um...ordered cupcakes for letter. And a meringue cookie large enough to feed 4. Or just one drunk person. But anyway.

Um. These cupcakes. They were filled with things. I can't even really talk about it.

Kathryn and I got our hair did and went to a lovely French Bistro, Picnic. Big ups to Kathryn for planning out our wonderbar eating excursions, she knows her cuisine. (Word).

ps, of COURSE I'm putting a picture of us looking cutesy. Didn't you see the other ones? Redemption was necessary.

There was calimari with chorizo and cilantro, there was endive salad with blue cheese. There were diver scallops and pollock filets and black rice. I don't even know why it's black or if it's better for you (note: I was on a cupcake tour so....) but it was yummy good. And wine. There was some of that, too. Good red stuff.

Another highlight of the trip came later (after brunch in the West Village at the Paris Commune)
when I saw my forever friend Mana and met her new beautiful baby girl, Anna. Scott and Mana are proud and doting parents, and big brother Alex is already worrying about her when she cries.

Of course this isn't everything, but the trip was amazing in every way. Celebrating new life, old friendships, and a city so electric that it was hard for me to really sleep when I came home. I'll go again. If not New York...Paris maybe?

ps, thank you Jared. This was just what I needed.

*this is a reference to one bad-ass Blues Traveler song. Don't get any funny ideas. The only thing I 'do' is coffee. And cupcakes. And wine. Whatever.

I had a colonoscopy

So, the truth is that many of you know that already. It was a few months ago and I've er...healed from it. I'm actually suggesting a few tips for those of you have not yet gotten the tube up your bum.

Tip 1: if you have the opportunity to pick your gastroenterologist (say that three times fast with a tube up your bum), may I suggest choosing an ugly woman or just a regular looking woman. Shoot, Cindy Crawford would have been alright with me. In my case, I ended up with a rather attractive GI guy. The meeting in his office was great! He was cute and funny and I felt confident that I had chosen a great doctor. Until he mentioned me needing a colonoscopy. That he was going to er...facilitate. With a tube in my bum.

Tip 2: Try not to say this in said office visit, "Um. So who does the colonoscopy? You? Oh." If you do say this, watch the horror and wide-eyed look. They see right through it.

Tip 3: When purchasing items for a prep, don't buy them from the asshole guy at Target who wouldnt' know a good colonoscopy joke if it wacked him in the face.

Tip 4: Also, when preparing for your 'prep', perhaps do NOT suggest to your hubby that he pick that evening for his night out with the boys. Although you may try and be the cool wife (see aforementioned post about vain efforts to be cool and laid back), maybe now's the time to make sure hubby is home to watch the kids as you do suicide sprints to the loo.

Tip 5: Seriously, rub your bum with vaseline. Seriously, just do it.

Tip 6: Enjoy the good natured pokes (I can't help myself with the bum-puns, sorry) from your husband about your bum tubing. You'll get the last laugh when he gets the two finger hiya doin' from his physician and walks funny for two days.

Tip 7: TRY and be cool about your kinda crush on your doctor. For example, when the nurses ask you why you are receiving a colonoscopy say this: "Well, Dr. SoandSo is just starting to treat me, and he wants to rule out anything serious."

Tip 8: TRY when being asked above question to not say, "Well he's been servicing me for two days so he wants to check everything out." Servicing me? Dear Lord.

Tip 9: Make the attempt to be cool when the doctor enters the room and starts to tube your bum.

Tip 10: Jokes are OK. Maybe not this joke: "I really hope you have some better hobbies."

Or this: "How much extra for a clean hose?"

(To his credit, my doc reported that he wasn't sure that my insurance covered clean tubes and that if I really wanted one I had to get there first thing in the morning). Damn! Cute AND funny.

Tip 11: Feel free to watch the flatscreen monitor that is documenting your procedure and marvel at the technology. But. Remember that you will be high as a kite. And therefore more apt to say "Wow...is that the inside of my bum?!" at KIND OF a loud volume.

Spoiled...

Hey...real quick. Maybe it was the sun on her at the playground? Maybe something viral? Did the pineapple not mix well with the eggs for breakfast? Oh! Or perhaps it was....naaah...do you think? The fresh lemonade from Whole Foods (the kind that needs to be refrigerated) that was placed, unopened in the pantry. For three weeks. That she drank.

My Mother of the Year Award will fit nicely on the mantle, no?

Slice?

You know when all signs are pointing you in a direction and you just ignore them? And, when looking back you think, "Oh...perhaps I should have paid attention?"

Yesterday was a day like most others, filled with playtime and lunchtime and some fun romps around the backyard, looking for anthills and fuzzy dandelions. I decided to have my hubby meet us down at the local park at 5pm, so I could get in a walk and the kids could get their swing and slide fix. It was going well and we soon discovered that our 13 month old loves her some climbing and is quite deft at it. She started rubbing her eyes after about 35 minutes so we decided that it was time to go and eat that yummy supper I had made (lentil soup, which IS good, by the way). She was getting tired and snuggled me a little bit (this would be the first sign that I ignored), but I figured it was indeed close to her bedtime, so we packed the girls in the car and headed off.

We decided (forgetting that first sign?) that maybe we would do an impromptu (this is never a good idea, really) trip to the local pizza place for their yummy bogo pizzas and a turkey tip salad. And beer. Because of our oldests' Celiac Disease, we stopped home quickly to gather up yummies for her and the baby. In the driveway, our two year old chucked her sippy cup at Jared's head (this would be the second sign that we, like two jackasses intent on beer and pizza, ignored).

Okay, off we go. Bag of food in hand, we were feeling good...we can do this right? This is an okay idea, right? Sure, sure. We're laid back, we can hang. We can be spontaneous! Cool parents are spontaneous. We're cool. (Note: not really. We're in this case, buffoons). "Oh crap. I totally should have called John and Diane, remember we were going to go down with them? It's 6:15, it's probably too late because this is John's early night home, I bet they've already eaten." I did say this, and felt a bit guilty that we didn't call them, but really, they are lucky we didn't.

We were a bit worried that 6:30 was a bit too late to be venturing out with the kids and on the bogo pizza night, to boot. (3rd sign, dingdongs!) Our waitress (sweet sweet woman!) assured us that table number whatever would be going soon, they had just cashed out. Super, we were in luck, as the place was starting to fill up (think: high school kids looking forward to the end of school, working folks like us, parents with kids, and college kids off for the summer). The cashed-out table was now asking for a pot of coffee! Crap! (sign number 4, ladies and gentleman). We could wait, right? Yeah, we were cool. Spontaneous. Laaaaid back.

Kids needed to walk. Didn't like being held. Oldest was infatuated with golf video game some kids were playing. Youngest was not, she needed to do her drunken 'I'm a new walker!' walk and she did. Getting crabby as time ticked onward (#5). We actually were smart enough (cool and laid back, too!) to order before we even sat down, to expedite the process that was now starting to crumble before our eyes.

My cool, laid back efforts were being a bit thwarted by my desire to tell table whatever to drink their hot F#$%g coffee already. It's 6:45, don't you need to go to sleep? No, no, no....be cool. It's cool. I'm cool. Breathe. Please seat us soon for the love of God or our toddlers will take this establishment down and take all of us with it.

They did. Phew. Carrots and peanut butter for oldest. She is psyched and completely entertained. Bullet dodged. Baby doesn't really want anything, it seems. All set with her bottle of milk (6) and seems to only want plain, simple, Cheerios. (You know when you don't feel well and all you want is plain toast? Yep. It's coming, but I didn't pay it no mind #7). Food arrives! Sweeet! And beer! Niiiiice!

And then.

Pro.

Ject.

Ile.

It was, as some say, on like Donkey Kong. On the table. On her. On me. On the floor. On the napkins. Oh dear lord. I didn't really react, I just waited for the tsunami to end. The 11th grader looked over at our table, horrified, and quickly looked away. (You are welcome, parents of 11th grade boy....you are welcome for the organic birth control....)

Really? It's everywhere. My poor little girl is now starting to say "Mommy mommy mommy" and thankfully my waitress (really, so sweet) is already helping me clean up and has taken off my daughter's completely soaked sweater and placed it in a brown paper bag. She can tell I'm horrified and is telling me a story of her own (her kid barfed on her last week at dinner and it was in her hair...she wins!). She is assuring me that no one has noticied (because I'm of course, secretly worried that I've completely grossed out the entire place and everyone's evening is ruined) and really, no one did (save the not-so-horny-anymore teenaged boy).

My husband, Jared and Samantha, are clearly moved by the incident as they are still eating with wild abandon. Now, I normally would quell my...er...inclination to comment here as it's kind of a sticky (punny!) situation and there is no need to get pissy in the middle of puky. BUT, I couldn't help myself. There is puke all over me. There is a waitress running around taking care of our daughter's sweater and handing me clean towels, and my husband is chomping (chomping!) away at his buffalo chicken pizza, dipped in blue cheese dressing.

So, I commented. He acted. It was, despite the drama, all good.

A warm tubby and fresh pajamas and all was fine. Oh, and the baby took a bath, too.