The Overdone Egg

As I previously mentioned, when I was on maternity leave I did Stroller Strides (fitness class with stroller-bound baby).  When I returned to work, that came to an end, and I joined Winter Warriors, a running club for working moms in Park Slope.  A few weeks ago I joined Body Back, a more challenging fitness program headed up by the same women who organizes the other two programs. A small group of us, meet twice a week at the park and get our butts kicked.  In addition to the fitness portion of the program we are also encouraged to follow an eating program.  Due to lack of interest and willpower, I have not followed the eating portion.  I intended to, but it’s just not happening.  Each week our instructor, AC, gives us a homework assignment; for example, share a picture of what inspires you to get through the program.  This week she asked us to send her a bad-habit breakup letter.

Here’s what I wrote:

Cadbury Creme Egg, you and I are over.  You make me fat and my fingers sticky.  I used to have a hard time finding you, with your milk chocolate shell and gooey center, only to be found a few weeks before Easter.  Oh no, not anymore.  Ridiculously, you flaunt your many shapes and flavors year-round.  What was once a seasonal treat is now, just a constant annoyance. Like a crow, I'm attracted to your shiny foil wrapper, and like a snake, I eat you in a few quick bites.  Then, all spring, I do it again. And again.

But, starting today, that's going to change.

I'm going to reunite with you once a year, every year, on Easter Day. I'll even eat your cousin, Cadbury Mini Eggs, too. Two treats, one day, once a year.  Our time together will be short, but it will make it that much more special.

I'll miss you, but we're better apart.  You'll see.

I'll have the mouse, well done, please!

A few posts ago I mentioned that we had to be out of our apartment April 1^st, which is just around the corner.  Luckily, for us, things have changed.

We asked Rosie, the women from whom we rent the unit, if we could stay through the summer, while the apartment is up for sale.  She agreed and we’re staying put for a little bit longer, given the apartment doesn’t sell and close before August.

The 5-month extension gives us the opportunity to save more money and think about what our small, but growing, family needs in terms of apartment amenities, size, and location.  Originally, I thought that having a baby in the city would be hard and encourage us to relocate to the ‘burbs.  However, to my surprise and Jeff’s relief it’s actually, really enjoyable.  

We feed her veggies....

We briefly considered buying in Brooklyn.  I spoke with a mortgage broker and met with a great real estate agent.   She showed me a few listings online that were within our price range and we talked about the costs associated with buying property.  She also said that we should be willing and able to stay in the property for five or more years.

That’s the deal breaker.  We can afford a small 2-bedroom apartment, such as the one we are currently in, but not one that will work for us five years from now.   Five years from now, Colette will be in kindergarten and I’m sure she’ll have a sibling or two.   At the very least we’ll need 3 bedrooms and at the most, we’ll need an in-ground pool and two-car garage (the latter two don’t exist in Brooklyn, and if they did, we seriously couldn’t afford them).  We’re okay with renting, so long as we continue to put away money so that we can buy a home when the time is right.

but she prefers to eat a stuffed mouse

Speaking of small, but growing, we have begun feeding Colette solid foods.  This morning I mashed up a little avocado and breast milk.  She ate it, kind of.  She pushed it out with her tongue, but then opened her mouth for more.  Every baby-related website, book and parenting magazine encourages making your own baby food.  Eh, I feel bad saying this, but I don’t want to.  I have no problem mashing up bananas or a sweet potato, but I’m not about to turn my kitchen into a scene from Baby Boom.  I’m confident Earth’s Best does a better job at pureeing prunes than I would.

Babysitter's Club

Tonight I went out to dinner with my girlfriends Kacey, Liza and Laura (Sue had to work late, otherwise she would have been there).  Almost always we go to the same restaurant, Penelope, and we always order the same exact thing: The veggie burger with brie and side salad instead of fries.  We've been doing it for several years now.

It's very Connecticut. 

We are all from West Hartford, and have been friends since elementary and middle school.  In high school we used to play this game that we created and called "Older".  We would sit around Laura's kitchen table, eat Entemann's coffee cake or sandwiches stacked with Boar’s Head turkey and cheese talk about what our life would be like when we were older (25-35 years old).   We chatted about whom we would marry and where we would live and what we would do for work, if we decided to work at all.  We joked about who would drive the minivan and who would marry the loser (never me, of course).

So now, we're older and living our game. Sometimes I think so much has changed since we were 15 years old and then other times, as we sit around a table, eat, gossip and make fun of one another, I think we haven't changed one bit.   We were cliquey then and we are cliquey now.  We’re all about 30 years old, and yet if someone tries to order anything other than the veggie burger, they get scoffed at, and talked about when we go to use the restroom (together, obviously).

Some “Older” predictions were spot on and others we never saw coming.

We never talked about raising families in New York City, or even living in the city for that matter.  Both Kacey and Liza are pregnant and have quickly approaching due dates (March 10^th and March 25^th respectively).   We don’t have those minivans we envisioned, but matching strollers, instead. 

Some of us are married with a baby or baby on the way, some of us are just on the verge of marriage, and others are rockin’  the single life.  Yeah, we’re older, but still playing the game. Now, we talk about where we will live in five years and what it might be like to have yard.

Social Calendar Quota Cap

It's 11:30PM and I want to be in bed.  Unfortunately, I still need to send one last work e-mail, pump, write and post this blog.  I don't see myself getting to bed before midnight.

I had grand plans of cleaning our bedroom this weekend, which is littered with clean and dirty laundry, shoes, scarfs, jackets, papers, and all other remnents of a busy weekend.   I hate getting ready for work in the morning when the room is a mess. It stresses me out because I can never find tights in the right shade, matching earings or my keys and easily adds 30 minutes to my morning routine.   There's no wiggle room tomorrow morning since I have a 9AM meeting. Ugh.

Every Sunday night, I'm reminded as to why we need to commit to less.

We had a great time this weekend.  It was fun and fast-paced.  From Friday night to Sunday evening, we had plans.

Friday night we interviewed a new potential babysitter. We liked her a lot.  Saturday morning I ran, with my running group, my first race in over a year.  Later that day, Jeff, Colette and I met up with a bunch of our new parent/baby friends at Hot Bird for Family Bar Day (more on that later).  After that, we dropped the babe at home with a babysitter (more on that later), and we went out to dinner with our friends Kacey and Charlie at The General Greene. Sunday morning, I went to my Stroller Strides class, sans baby, and then afterwards we went over to our friends, Kate and Ira's apartment for lunch/playdate.

Maintaining the Rigby social calendar is my thing and I love filling it to the max. Jeff is game for whatever, as is Colette.

However, this afternoon, exausted, Jeff asked if we can have a few weekend days each month that are free of plans.  I paused to think about it. Yeah, I would love that.  I just have to learn how to not make plans.  We'll have to start this goal in April since March is already booked.

Good night,

Ashley

No Excuses

Starting today, I'm going to write in my blog every day for one week (Dad, you will be so proud).   Ideally, I'd like blog once a week, however, lately I've only been writing about once a month.  I compare it to postponing that call to a long-distance friend.  I always think about calling, but since so much time has passed since we last spoke, it seems daunting to pick up the phone just to say "hi" without recounting the last two months of our lives (I'm thinking of you, Brit).  It's lame, I know.

I have plenty of thoughts and stories to share, but I can never seem to find the time to write.  The day comes to an end, I'm tired, and can't wait to jump into to bed.  Then, the next day, I think of something else to blog about, but never makes it way to the page.  So, this week, it's coming to an end, and by the end of this challenge, I hope that I've prooved to myself that if I want to find the time to blog, I will.

It's the freakin' weekend! Cheers to that.

xo,

Ashley

PS - Brit, I'm calling you soon!

Happy Valentine's Day

From Me to You

From Me to Jeff

From Jeff to Me

Homemade from the Kitzmans to Colette

Daycare-made from Colette to Me & Jeff