My First Trimester Love Affair

This post was written in the early Fall but I was too nauseous to sit down and publish it so here we are. Nausea is gone and I can't stop eating but that's for another post....

It's ready, they're calling my name. My only way to sneak in vegetables these days, a cheddar-dripping bagel hiding very small pieces of broccoli. I lied. Sometimes I can eat my one-of-a-kind salad that might make you vomit (and in other circumstance me too) so maybe skip the next line. Mesclun greens, chopped tomatoes, olives, ketchup, cottage cheese and sauerkraut.

Lulu calls it "Funny Salad"
(Confession: Sometimes it's the only dinner I can make us).
Don't try this at home!

I'm walking to the pier. First time I recognize that Fall is here. The breeze is now officially wind but I must sit down now and consume this bagel within 30-45 seconds or so. Wait this is NOT cheddar! In one breath I move from wanting to kill whoever messed up my order to inhaling the whole bagel with gusto. Done. No aversion detected and I should thank my lucky stars since I have aversions to most things these days. Not to bagels though. Or any kind of cheese (though the saltier the better). That's it, pretty much. I can't eat, smell, see or even think about most types of food, especially those that I'm normally obsessed with. That's why I can't type up what I'm talking about but believe me, my normal-days diet consists of the most nutrient-dense super foods...until week 6, when I woke up and couldn't bear the idea of coffee (oops why did I type the word?! Bagel starting to come up. Please go back down). 

Back to ingested bagel. After heightened sensations of pleasure reverberating through my body while consuming it, I am nauseous, again. 

In all its glory, top pleasure of my first trimester

At night my nausea hits the gas pedal and I find myself stuck in those 5 seconds between feeling so nauseous I could throw up and actually throwing up.  You know what I'm talking about. It's like purgatory. No way out. Just embrace the sensation. Trust me I have taken the vomiting route a few times under the delusion that relief is on the way but nope better be stuck in purgatory.  I spend a few hours in those 5 seconds, waiting for relief so I can go to sleep or I end up sucking the life out of another lemon which is a hit or miss. When it's a hit I run to bed before the effect runs out.  

And then....

Week 12 I wake up wanting, no- needing coffee. Skeptically I sleepwalk into the kitchen, fantasies sprinkling my brain about the possibility of no longer sleepwalking half the day thanks my drug-of-choice making a glorious comeback. As the grinder spreads aroma that used to bring me to ecstasy, my stomach only half-turns, which is my signal to proceed. 

I take a deep breath as I sit down and suspiciously dunk my morning biscotti until it's heavily soaked in my coffee. Entry granted. Then a full sip and another bigger sip tell me that we are in the clear! Ban has been lifted! Coffee is BACK!

I mistakenly decide to test other aversions throughout the day. Don't try this at home. Let it come to you. Aversions make a lot of noise as they leave the building. They signal clearly that you are in the clear and by week 14 (any day now!) most of them are replaced with insatiable passion for food. And cravings? I can't wait to find out if my cheddar-grilled- cheese-bagel will continue to be my master. I hope not. My bread-and-cheese filled body needs its superfoods back! 

A Real Fakation

I have the perfect idea for you IF you refuse to leave your baby, but still long to go away for a couples vacation and:
1) There's a hotel walking distance from home.
2) There are family members who are able and willing to babysit overnight.

I give you......

FAKATION 
(Staycation's Resourceful & Happier Cousin)!!!

It's so easy to forget to nurture the original family unit 
once you have babies. Goog and I had promised ourselves and each other that once we started creating people, we would welcome them into our world and proudly introduce them to our core unit rather than completely transform our relationship into one title: Parents. It takes work, especially during the early, dark, sleep-deprived months of parenthood, but it coincides with the way we want to design our life. Phew.
Enter our fakation. Last weekend we went on the most
romantic, relaxing and rejuvenating fakation. Loved it! Will repeat. Aiming for monthly. It worked for us and I know it can work for other couples as long as you fill it with your own desirable version. Shall I add that, granted you fit the 
above description, it's the most affordable and easiest-to-pull-off romantic getaway you can muster?

Saturday afternoon, we packed very light (refreshing for two people who normally take over-packing to grotesque extremes) and put on our flip flops. You gotta have your flip flops on for such an occasion. As we grabbed each other's hands, walking out at 2:00 pm on our way to check into the hotel room, we immediately became tourists in our own town. The transition was effortlessly instant. Our eyes lit up and everything became a novelty for us. We stopped by the organic market to load up on room snacks and it felt like a sweet foreign store in a small vacation town ...Walking the aisles we frequent daily (sometimes twice a day) was like the first time. We even discovered new snacks together (Yes, we like supermarkets). The streets of our own town felt different too, miraculously experienced like never before. 

"It's All Yours!"

The hotel room was quiet, neat, clean and bonus- there were no toys for us to stumble upon on the floor. It was also missing piles of dirty laundry waiting to be served. It said, "Hello, welcome! Come on in! Jump on the bed! Look at the breathtaking view! Breathe! It's all yours!" It was just Goog and me and it felt like we had traveled a thousand miles. When we woke up from the first nap I have taken in months, there was a brand new sense of relaxation in the air. We were so mindful of every moment in this vacation that, even though it was only a total of 27 hours including sleep, naps and 3 Lulu visits, it felt complete and fulfilling as an appropriately deserving couple's getaway should. Also, the way it was designed allowed us to avoid the pain of missing her. It was just right. So yes, knowing that your fakation is so short makes you appreciate every second of it, not to mention that you don't need to deal with the misery of missing your baby, which makes the pleasure even more unobstructedly pure.

Freshly napped

We walked back home for Lulu's bedtime as we finished gulping our beautifully lazy afternoon. After nursing and exchanging our customary million kisses goodnight, I was ready for our night out. I honored my little black dress fetish (the fetish isn't little, I assure you) and put on red lipstick for the first time ever not as part of a costume. Goog put on his sexy version of an LBD and we were off, leaving Lulu for the night with her uber-dedicated Grandma.

Red Lipstick Debut

Our intimate date was followed by a long night's sleep and the highlight: We slept in! I can't remember the last time I slept uninterruptedly till 7:30 and didn't even need to get out of bed. Now, THAT was a novelty (at least in the last year or so)! Our coffee-in-bed tradition made a revival appearance. Pre-parenthood it was a prerequisite. It's the little things...(although coffee in our household is far from a little thing. One of Lulu's first verbal expressions was "a cup of coffee," which sounds like "Ka Ko," but we know what she means.)
At 9:00 we met Lulu and Grandma in the park outside our hotel for some late morning cuddles and mama's milk.

Morning Visit Glory

We then proceeded to more original family unit time, which included a solid fakation breakfast dressed up as a luxurious brunch.
Even though we had to check out at noon, our fakation was not over. We brought our humble luggage back home as Lulu was getting ready for her nap so that we could recharge on some more hugs and kisses. Now, the next fakation activities had been left open to figure out on the spot, and so we ended up with the most romantic Target and Whole Foods visits we have had in a long time. But that's just us. Fakation time can be filled with whatever floats your sexy boat.
Two hours before bedtime was the official ending of our fakation, but since our batteries had been so meticulously recharged, it felt as if it lasted till...the next morning. But I'll tell ya, this fakation was as real as it gets.

My Birthday: A Long Night's Journey Into Day

So I effortlessly survived Lulu’s first birthday. I believe that writing about it and analyzing why I was reluctant to reach that date made it simple, easy and actually joyous for me.

But I almost didn't survive my own birthday this past holiday weekend. Except that I did and I am so grateful that I did, especially since one wrong move could have turned it into quite a depressing occasion. Dramatic statements aside, I will cut to the chase: I didn’t sleep the night before my birthday. At all. Okay, maybe 20 minutes. Apart from my long labor and delivery, I had never been in an up-all-night situation that didn’t derive from partying and resulted in sleeping till the afternoon.

A blast from the past

Ah, parties, dancing. I miss that. Needless to say, those all-nighters were cheery and fun. Three nights ago it was the most vicious insomnia I’ve ever encountered (I guess I can’t escape the dramatic lingo today. Bear with me.), and I’ve had my share of vicious insomnia, especially since becoming a mom. But even the very worst insomnimama nights yielded some amount of sleep- two, two and a half hours….something! And even the worst baby-not-sleeping nights always allowed a courteous minimum. The night before my birthday pooped in my face.

I tried everything. Breathing, lavender drops on my pillow and all over my body (I think I finished the bottle), writing, visualization, even a foot massage from my poor Goog, who was woken up by my deep breathing and generously offered to save me from my sleepless abyss. Did my subconscious decide to attack me? I’m reluctant to admit that it did. I think I had suppressed how much I was dreading this particular birthday. One reason was similar to why I had been dreading Lulu’s first birthday. Accomplishments...A year has flown by and I haven’t taken more than one professional step. My career passions have been replaced by my passions as a new mother, but I’m noticing a shift these days. Even though it’s so hard to leave my Lulu for more than a couple of hours, I can see myself going back to performing within a modified schedule. I’m starting to feel it. It’s been a slow process and my upcoming birthday wasn’t helping. I would be a year older with nothing to show for it other than motherhood. I know, I know, I’m so hard on myself, but I have to be honest here. It’s such a challenge to be constantly mindful of what I really want versus what I should want. I would like to believe that I have successfully maintained my integrity and followed my heart instead of forced myself to do what I wasn’t ready to do. The problem is that even though I’m now feeling ready to make a small shift, it’s so damn difficult to reinvent my career while being deeply invested in my mothering style, which I’m definitely proud of.

You think I’m vain? Wait for the next reason I suspect was keeping me up. I miss my parties! I miss my fun birthday parties. Am I done being a party girl?! I used to have an elaborate celebration every year. Every year! A good friend told me that once you become a parent there’s no longer room for your own birthday party. I refuse to accept that. But there’s no birthday party this year, and I miss ANY adult-type party. And dancing. Dancing. I can’t stress it enough. Going out dancing. Being carefree.

My subconscious was attacking me because of one more thing, hardest for me to admit: My avoidance of thoroughly dealing with my dad’s passing when Lulu was growing inside me. I miss him so much. It was going to be my second birthday without him, without his irreplaceable blessings and love, without our tight bond, without the language that only he and I shared. So much pent up.

As dawn was approaching, I was busy obsessing over how I had completely ruined my birthday because I would be a functionless, moody, ugly, puffy-eyed, puffy-faced zombie. The last drops of nighttime completely evaporated as I was stressing over the worst case scenario, but morning arrived and so did the salvation of my devoted family spreading endless love, a dreamy nursing session and my morning coffee served just the way I like it. Not that the coffee woke me up at all, but after such a dark and scary night, my familiar morning routines became sturdy anchors of comfort.

Morning Salvation for puffy mama

I tried to speak but it was impossible for full words to come out. What a freaky sensation. They tried really hard, yet only half words got out and no one understood what I was trying to say. I surrendered and stopped talking altogether.

I knew the plans for the day would need to be adjusted, but all I really wanted on that early morning moment was to lay flat and not move all day. I thank God, inertia and the very costly last minute cancellation fee for forcing me out of the apartment. Holding hands with my dear mother, we headed to the glorious Great Jones Spa for a birthday treat. I’m sure that somewhere in my deliriously foggy brain, I knew it was the best option. 

As soon as we walked in, I found myself telling the receptionist the story of my life. From my half words earlier, I moved into nonsense talk. I really didn’t make any sense, which makes me so grateful that she ushered us right away into the locker room. The original plan was a quality spa morning with my mom, a facial and a massage. We ended up spending all morning and much of the afternoon in the most soothing and rejuvenating setting, resting, bonding, relaxing, eating delicious organic food and drinking lemon water between Jacuzzi dips.

Post-facial face drinking
 carrot-beet-kale elixir

To my surprise, I didn’t fall asleep during the facial and massage and I still struggled with taking deep breaths, but there was no magic pill for the stress I had been keeping inside. Luckily, there was progression in the breathing department though and by the time we set up shop at the Water Lounge, I was ready to take my deepest breaths of the day thus far. The Jacuzzi was my peak. I closed my eyes and felt effortlessly relaxed. Wow.

A note about FACIALS. I don’t believe in resolutions for many reasons but I hereby declare that I am making an exception when it comes to FACIALS. Who knew what they could do?! ("Most women," you’ll say, but I’m a strange creature.) I couldn't believe it! I should be doing this regularly! I think the rule is every season? I deserve it! Why didn’t I know that? Where have I been?! I have no idea what that lady did, but when I came out of that room I didn't look like someone who hadn’t slept all night. My skin was glowing, vital, smiling with satisfaction. It's not used to being treated with such respect, but I’m putting a stop to it. My birthday present for myself is the decision to get facials. Since I’m a woman of my word, there’s no way back.

  

Deep breathing

As we headed home it was pretty clear that my romantic birthday dinner with Goog wasn't going to happen, as I hardly managed to drag my feet home. We still wanted to have some form of a birthday dinner so Goog had the brilliant idea to go to the new pizzeria across the street. We had the place to ourselves at 5 PM and it was perfect. Far from what was planned but warm, cozy, full of love and simplicity that only a pizza dinner can provide. And it included my mom and Lulu, which was the real treat.

Pizza party!

I can wholeheartedly say that I had the best birthday I could have imagined under the circumstances. Even aside from the circumstances it was an incredibly precious day, and just like the enlightening facial, I know I deserved it. I also deserved the uninterrupted NINE hours of sleep that followed my 8:30 pm bedtime that night.

My Birthday Lessons/Presents for Myself:

1. Get a facial every season (Who am I kidding? Let’s make the goal once a year.)

2.  Say “I deserve it” more often and act accordingly. It would be too ambitious ask myself to always mean it so I will settle for saying it.

3. Embrace change/change in plans and make the best of it (no sleep, messy career perplexities, birthday plans, and the list is long…). Not that I don’t normally try to apply this idea, but my birthday was such an eye-opening reminder.

4. Enhance my gratitude practice.

5. Learn to let things out before they bite me in the ass by keeping me up all night. If my new motherhood taught me that there’s no room for that, it hasn't been a helpful lesson because it clearly doesn't serve me. More importantly, it is opposite of the example I wish to set for Lulu.

Owning it: Happy Birthday to me! 

How to Not Force the Force

Me time. Writing/creating time. But nothing. Nothing. 
I'm sitting at Bwe, drinking half-caff of the best, smoothest, most inspiring coffee ever. Seriously, this place is populated by so many writers/authors/bloggers/creators. It's in the air, and probably in the coffee. Why am I getting nothing today? I'm always full of ideas here. But now, on this Sunday afternoon, equipped with the right amount of carved time, my mind is wandering anywhere but....
What's going on?

Can't think of anything? Shoot some selfies!

My last post was all about being back, and Monday night's NYC premiere of Dovid Meyer confirmed the new sensations. Ready to rock n' roll, yes!! New ideas for the video series, interesting new directions, all around inspiration. Momentum. 

Is it because it's half-caff? Is it the too much sake last night? I keep forgetting that there's no sleeping in anymore (till kids go to college?) and that my low alcohol tolerance is even lower as long as I'm nursing (case in point, I had half a glass...). Or is it the fact that today is cold and gray, again? Even though spring has officially started already, it seems like we're still in the midst of the coldest, longest winter ever. Not the friendliest winter to a new mom...Too many snow storms, too many strolling naps in the hallway, too much cabin fever, not enough light, not enough air, not enough social interaction...
Okay, what's with the party pooping? That's not like me. Positive, positive!

Luxuriating in some party pooping

Maybe it's none of the above. Maybe artificial carved out time isn't the way to go. Maybe I need to let my inspiration allow itself to materialize whenever it pleases. Okay, keep talking. This makes sense! How many times have I felt it so powerfully (thank you, Spin class!) but haven't taken it anywhere? I think I have just figured out the key for me. I guess the old me just needs to make some adjustments to motherhood. Did I really think that the old me was just gonna take over? Okay, slightly deluded, but hey, I'm a work-in-progress, and I'm pleased with my new realization (was it obvious to you?). From now on, notes, notes, notes. That's all I need. So when I finally have a moment to sit down, I will be able to fill it with enchanted creative flow derived from notes, notes, notes. 

Okay, I'm going to enjoy staring out the window and taking deep breaths. Let it go. Take it in. Spring is around the corner.

Out the window. Almost spring.