Self-Made Mom

Can you tell my lame-o posts about keeping Passover are just a ruse to keep my blog trucking along through this gorgeous weather we’re having?

Frankly, it’s tough to blog when the weather finally gets nice in the dreary Midwest.  I love you all, but I’d rather sit on a kiddie slide (made for a kiddie tush not an adult tush) than type away at the computer. I miss my blogging mojo, but I actually have freckles on my nose for the first time since well, a long time.  The air smells fresh. Fresher than behind the soot-stained screens in my office.  My son smells sweaty and dirty and his cheeks are flushed, not pasty.

It’s spring finally, and spring in the Midwest makes it tough to blog.

Good thing I heard it’s supposed to rain this weekend.

… to help her put a down payment on a condo…

… and it got me thinking.

Hope you’ll read my thoughts on navigating the nanny-employer relationship on Moms On Issues!

And no, if you care to know, I didn’t give her the dough.  Certain things just aren’t Kosher for Passover.

I’m thinking, eating, breathing matzah this week as I plan to keep Passover for the first time. Ever. So you all are going to keep it with me. I’m already so sick of that unleavened bread and it’s only day two. My stomach feels like a rock. Is Metamucil kosher for Passover?

Anyway, imagine what a cruel joke it was when I spooned out some chicken soup for my son tonight and in the dregs of the pot found these:

G-d love my 85-year-old grandfather who thinks it’s ok to put noodles in Passover matzah ball soup.

Thank goodness for the two-year-old who doesn’t care about Chametz. And thank goodness for loyal Jewish readers who will suffer through the next six (oy!) days with me.

After two days of slaving over a hot stove and oven, I made a nice Passover dinner that even my own Jewish mother was impressed by. (And conceded that my brisket tasted better than hers.)

Ah, my SAHM days are really paying off.  Cooking a meal like this that my family wolfed down in 15 minutes made missing that Disney thing kind of worth it.

If you care, my brisket is on the right.

Happy Passover!

Herein lies my latest dilemma: I finally get a writing assignment from a respectable local publication, I get knee deep into it, and realize that I still don’t like stress and deadlines.

It all sounds good the way the experts tell you to do it. “Stay in the mix!” “Keep your options open!” “Do a little something on the side when your kids nap!” But, the reality is, when my kid naps, I’d rather sit on the couch and watch the latest episode of “The Hills” instead.  My friend laughed when I told her this, but I told her I wasn’t kidding.

I’m torn. Just like that Natalie Imbruglia song but without the shitty boyfriend.

It’s hard to do the SAHM thing full-time when you’re Type A and know that deep down you’re not entirely satisfied making dinners and going to the park and playing with blocks until your hands get tired. It satisfies me 99 percent of the time, but when that one percent kicks in, I take on assignments.  But then I complain about spending my nights nose-dived into the computer.

I like having something to “do,” but I don’t like the act of doing it.  I absolutely don’t want to go back to work right now, but I also don’t want to leave tush imprints permanently indented into my couch.

I’m torn.

First, I hear that a 150 lb. cougar was shot dead no more than 3 blocks from my house. 

Then, I decided to go to the post office.  On tax day. With 4 large boxes, 20 thank you notes and a screaming toddler in a stroller.  And you ask, did anyone offer to hold open the door? Nope.  Chivalry is apparently dead at the post office AND the subway. However, a kind elderly lady behind me did oblige and help me kick my heavy load through 30 minutes of waiting in line. Thanks lady, I owe you a stamp or something.  Worse, though, was the realization after the fact that standing in front of me in line at the post office was one of my favorite authors. I knew it was her by her fabulous pearl necklace and Coach bag.  I almost said hello, but was stopped short by embarassment that my son had spent the last 10 minutes kicking her leg from his stroller. Hi, Jen.

To top it off, in 10 minutes I have to wake my son up from his nap so we can go to the doctor for his two-year-old check up, a.k.a. prick-your-finger-for-iron-test appointment from hell.

Hey, at least it’s sunny and 60 out.

I don’t think I celebrated the one-year anniversary of my blog last fall, so instead, I’m going to give a blog “toast” to another.

Work It! Mom turns one this week, and in celebration is having a week-long birthday bash fit with great giveaways!

This is much, much better than anything I could have provided my small viewing audience.

Congrats, Nataly! I’m so proud to be a part of your lovely team.

Why is it that whenever you return from a vacation (this one being childless to boot) it only takes 48 hours for the vacation euphoria to wear off?

Forty-eight hours post such a vacation and already I’ve been to Target, the grocery store, done umpteen loads of laundry, changed a number of indescribably smelly diapers, cooked dinner, AND got the dry cleaning. (Notice, blogging was not listed in the above. No time to blog when there are real things to be done in the house.)

I’ve gone from somebody’s wife who stayed up late every night drinking wine to somebody’s mother who hasn’t had time to dry her hair since she got back.

   

Bet you can’t tell which one was taken before I went on “vacation.”

It feels like I never left.

A snowstorm in April:

This is not what I call “spring skiing.”

A random product I reviewed a long time ago (so long that I can’t even find it in my archives) staring at me from the bar where I was enjoying a drink called, “The Geisha.”

To my knowledge, Gloves in a Bottle is NOT a key ingredient to the Geisha drink.

Making it onto Alltop Moms. I can’t even believe I’m in the company listed on this site. I’m all the way at the bottom, but who cares, I’m there! (Thanks, Nicole.)

Kim, thanks for the button. That about sums it up for me too!

Seeing many friends of mine in the blogosphere meeting KATIE COURIC in NYC. Beth, next time you offer me a chance like this, remind me that my husband will always be there, while Katie may not be. You guys rock!!

Vacationing alone with hubby is overrated compared to meeting #1 female celebrity. Just kidding, honey.

That’s all until I get back from snowy paradise…

Edited to add: I SO did NOT meet Katie!! I think re-reading the caption it makes me sound like I did, but I didn’t. Just jealous of those that did. Next time I’ll get out of my vacation haze and proof before I write!

It seems like everybody everywhere is packing up right now for that “Baby” event thing in New Jersey, Blogher business, or something else fun that doesn’t involve kids.  There are parties for cool websites and mom friends I hope to meet one day.

I still feel I have lots to say about topics like this, but I’m going to wait until I read all the recaps from all the smart mommy bloggers I’ve met and see if I have any more useful fuel to add to the fire.

I’m sorry to be missing all the action out East, but family and a long-awaited vacation with my husband beckon.  So if you’re like me and still around this week not hob-nobbing with mommy bloggers extraordinaire, you might find time to read my new post up at Work It! Mom or something. If not, I’m sure we’ll all have something to talk about when this week ends no matter what.

To all those traveling enjoy and take good notes for the rest of us!