Changing People: Recipe for Lexapro

I spend a lot of time thinking of things to blog about. But rarely do those ideas make it all the way here. I've been really lazy lately, posting videos of Davy, leaving one-liners. I'm working quite a bit these days so please forgive my lack of depth or insight!

My newest guilty tv pleasure is a little train wreck called "NYC Prep" on Bravo. I have a love/hate relationship with Bravo's reality shows. I think the network completely takes advantage of certain groups of people who are clamoring for their 15 minutes and makes glittery horse crap out of their lives. "NYC Prep" is the Real Housewives of wealthy high-schoolers living in Manhattan. While I usually cringe during each episode, I also find myself feeling protective and loving towards these too-big-for-their-britches kiddos...after all, who has already forgotten the angst and self-loathing covered with a thin veneer of bravado that is high school?

Below is a favorite clip of mine, mostly because brown-haired friend plays an excellent therapist to Jessi, NYCP's sassiest version of a budding Miranda Priestly:





So true. So, so true.

Someone Needs a Dose of Motrin and a Nap

...and that someone is me.



I don't know if it's teething or just general fussiness but my daughter has been acting like a premenstrual 15 year old. You wanna know how to get back at a fussy toddler? When they start crying, show them the video you took of them crying earlier! Hopefully the concept of time collapsing on itself will throw their little brain into sleep mode...

Things I Didn't Sign Up For

This heat (104+degrees) in Dallas is going to be the death of me. Yesterday I got up at 5am and went to the first workout for this season's White Rock Half Marathon class. It was already 82 by the time we started running at 5:30am. I tried to be peppy & encouraging as I led my group on the run but in my head I was thinking, "KILL ME NOW IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL TO SWEAT THIS MUCH AFTER 3 MINUTES OF EASY RUNNING!"

By end of day, I just wanted a good night's rest as our house labored to stay under 79 degrees indoors with the A/C blaring. I took just one lil' Tylenol PM hoping to sleep all night without any disturbances. Other people in our home didn't get this memo. At 3:30am I could faintly make out Davy crying through the haze of my medication-induced coma. Usually I'm fine with letting her cry it out but I also heard a dull thumping - suddenly my body went into Emergency Momma Mode and I flew out of bed fearing that she had gotten out of her crib.

On the way to my bedroom door, stumbling drunkenly in total darkness mind you, I sensed Fatty anxiously bumping against the door frame. Mystery thumping sound identified. I opened the door and he shot out of the bedroom like a bat outta hell. In my stupor I vaguely thought, "uh oh."

I've been weaning Davy for the past few weeks and it's been hard for us both: hard for me because it signifies the end of a sweet time in life. Hard for Davy because Woe to the one who comes between Davy and her food!! Woe, I say! The weeping and gnashing of teeth coming from the crib broke me so I nursed her in the middle of the night. Something I haven't done in many months.

Once she was down I was able to get my brain to tell my body, "left foot, right foot" back to my bedroom. But a nagging image of Fatty flying down the hall, toenails clickety clacking, was haunting me. I slowly made my way to the kitchen, turned on the light and saw what I had feared: Diarrhea Slaughterhouse 2009 all over the tiled floor.

The funny thing is that I barely flinched. It's like after almost of year of being a mom, liquid piles of poop on the floor don't even phase me. I just cleaned it all up, didn't even bother finding Fatty, who I'm sure had taken refuge in some dark hiding place, and shuffled back to my bed.

What a glamorous life I do lead.

Portrait of a Lil' Lady

My mother in-law has a dear friend who is an artist and she came over a few months ago to take some photos of Davy and I because she wanted to do a portrait for us. Last night she brought it over for the big reveal and I'm so pleased. While nothing can truly capture the loveliness of my daughter quite like looking through my own mommy eyes, this painting is such a neat gift. Feel free to go see Karen's website if you're ever interested in commissioning her!

11 Months: First Steps

Davy takes a few of her first steps for Mimi. At one point she took 10 on her own. Anyday now, peeps, and she'll be cruising around here like a tornado! I need life to slow down! You can see her doing a move we affectionately call the "bump and grind". When she's really tired, she buries her face in her blankie and does this move. Hilarious...I've been trying to catch it on video for months.

This One's For My Mother

Thanks, Facebook.

Don't Stop Till You Cry Enough

I am so sorry, Paris. It's not fair, having to share your only daddy's death with everyone in the world. When everyone else is crying just as hard as you, it steals away some grief.

I've felt cynical and annoyed ever since hearing about Michael Jackson's death. The media frenzy that centers on exploiting every.last.tidbit of information about celebrity makes me feel weary. Even watching part of the tribute today I felt irritated with the god-status that some seemed to bestow on Michael Jackson. But then when Marlon Jackson spoke, I realized how painful it must be to try to mourn the loss of a loved one of whom everyone had a piece.

And now I feel sad. Just listening to his music has brought back a lot of nostalgia and memories. I have so many thoughts but I'll keep quiet and just listen to the music...

And a dash of Jason Schwartzman