I’ve always had a sensitive heart.

Yes, I cry to Chicago and Air Supply to this day, but I’m not talking that kind of sensitive.

I’ve had palpitations and chest pains since college. Even driving myself the emergency room a few times, convinced I was having a heart attack. I was told again and again that it was a panic attack, given a xanax and sent home.

Now, not that I at all minded the xanax, but I am starting to think there is more to my story than generalized anxiety disorder (which I absolutely have, because, duh.)

Let me explain. While I was pregnant I had a super high heart-rate, along with some chest pains and palpitations. Convinced it was that asshole anxiety giving me shit again, I wasn’t too concerned. But, just to be safe, my OB sent me to a cardiologist.

The cardiologist ran some standard tests, EKG, listened to my heart, made this pregnant girl run in place like a fool, and came to the conclusion that I likely have Mitral Valve Prolapse, like my mom. I was relieved it was something benign and went about my pregnancy like I had been – sweaty and bitching about hemorrhoids.

Regardless, the doctor wanted to follow-up with a cardiac echo and some lab work, which was done two weeks ago today.

Yesterday was my follow-up appointment. I went in for the results expecting to be told I was crazy pants and it was just my anxiety rearing its ugly head again, along with the MVP he suspected.

Instead, the doctor sat down and says, “So, I think you may have a tiny hole in your heart.”

What. The. Fuck.

Apparently, there is a significant chance, based on my cardiac echo, that I’ve had a slightly wonky heart since birth.  And, if this is the case, I cannot believe I made it through my Red Bull and vodka days in college. Phew.

He thinks it could be one of two things. I either have what Brett Micheals has (sweet!), which is a hole in your heart that is supposed to close shortly after birth, in some people it doesn’t. If that’s the case, I would take an aspirin a day, because there is a higher risk of stroke associated with this condition, and call it a day. If its not that, its some sort of congenital heart defect, FUN!, and we base treatment on the size and how symptomatic I am.

Next step, I go in for an internal type of EKG, so he can get a closer look. This will likely happen next week. It’s a super simple procedure, similar to an endoscopy. (YAY for being sorta put under! Twilight sleep FOR THE WIN!)

Other than being kind of freaked out, I am feeling pretty normal. Minor pains here and there, but nothing I haven’t felt since, like, always. I can go weeks without feeling anything at all. I also think I may be feeling more now because I am anxious about it all.

I think this calls for a shit-ton of wine this weekend.

I’ll keep y’all posted!

xo

My child will eat what I make him. Period. End of Story.

I refuse to be a short-order cook.

They won’t starve to death if they go to bed hungry, and next time they will eat what you make them.

And my personal favorite, lifted from my father-in-law,

This isn’t Luby’s. Everyone will get the same thing for dinner.

Ahhh, famous last words of a fool. Or, in this case, of someone who doesn’t have children yet. I used to go on and on about how things would be in my house come meal time. I envisioned myself steaming fresh vegetables nightly, and introducing my kid to cuisines from around the world. I just knew they’d be a pro with the chopsticks, and rolling their own sushi, by the time they were three years old.

Fast forward to present day, I am now the mother of two young boys. The oldest of which just ate an oh-so-ethnic bowl of three minute Kraft Mac and Cheese, after he refused the other three things I put in front of him. I mean, it’s not that I think he’ll go hungry. I still feel the same way I did when he was merely a hypothetical. It’s just that hypotheticals don’t throw themselves on the floor screaming or wake you up in the middle of the night because they want a snack.

With one of my boys still on formula, I spend my days trying to get the other to try new, more diverse, kinds of food. It hasn’t always been a struggle. When he was about a year old, he would eat anything I put in front of him. His big thing was avocados. Oh how he loved avocados! And vegetables? You name it, he loved it.

Then he had to go get a mind of his own. And this mind has decided it hates avocados. Now, it seems, there are only a handful of things he wants to eat, the most exotic being edamame, along with his other favorite, steak. Oh how the prince loves his steak. But, other than that, his meal choices are pretty plain Jane. Don’t get me wrong, I can usually get him to at least try a bite of something new. Reverse psychology works wonders with this age. I find myself saying things like, “Don’t you eat that piece of squash. DON’T YOU DO IT!” And, obviously, because three year olds are programmed to do the exact opposite of what their parents say, he will eat the damn squash. While convenient right now, this method may come back to bite me in the butt when we tell him not to run out into traffic or stick his fingers in an outlet.

My children were made by two people who love to eat and try new things. Truly, it’s difficult for me to think of a food I don’t like, aside from black jelly beans, which, duh. My husband is the same. I thought that, because of this, because my boys are exposed to different foods, that they would also be the same.

I thought wrong.

But, I know some of this is my own fault. With all that’s going on, it’s easy to take the lazy route. More and more, I find myself throwing some mac and cheese in the microwave and slicing up an apple or some grapes. And, while everyone needs the occasional bowl of mac, it’s not the best habit to get in, nutritionally. It’s also not conducive to broadening my kid’s palate and getting him to try new things.

So, in a nutshell, I’m stuck in a rut. I would love to incorporate some easy, interesting, and healthy foods into my children’s lives, but I’m not sure where to begin.

Do your kids eat ethnically diverse meals? Do they have mature palates or are they addicted to the standard PB & J and chicken nuggets? How do you get them to try new things?

Is there any other way to eat them?

You guys, why won’t these people let me sleep? Apparently, I birthed nocturnal beings. And adopted three more from the pound. It’s like I am living with a family of bats or something.

Up all night.

This is what was happening in our house from the hours of 2-5 in the goddamn morning.

* * * * * *

Leo wakes up around two, throws back a couple of swigs of formula, and goes back to sleep.

Nice.

Just as I’m laying my sleepy head back down, thinking how smooth this night is going, BAM!

LUCA: (screaming from the top of his lungs) MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY!

ME: (stomps up the stairs, frantically searching for my patience) Yes, honey?

LUCA: (blank stare)

ME: YES, HONEY?

LUCA: (hysterical, unintelligible, screaming, head spinning around) I’m WET!

ME: (Half-assedly changes sheets. What? Like he really needs BOTH sheets.) OK. Go to sleep now, honey.

LUCA: OK, mommy.

I dive back into my bed.

That wasn’t so bad. And I still have a few more hours of….

LUCA: MOMMY!

ME: (stomps back upstairs) WHAT IS IT, CHILD?

LUCA: What kind of dinosaur is this? (points to a sticker)

ME: GO. TO. SLEEP.

LUCA: I want more stickers now Mommy. Turn the lamp on. Can we go to the zoo tomorrow? Are the bears fwiendly? The fish live in an aquarium.

ME: Baby, this is stuff we talk about during the day. And stickers are also for during the day. GOOD NIGHT.

LUCA: NO! NOOOOO! NOOOOOO! (more screaming)(so. much. screaming.)(won’t. stop. screaming. omg.)

At this point, my tired blood was starting to boil. I couldn’t get him to stop screaming long enough for him to hear anything I was saying.

So, um, I sorta lost it.

And that’s when it happened.

I clapped right in front of his face, really loud.

Then, obviously, more shit hit the fan.

So. Much. Shit.

Big, fat crocodile tears were streaming down his face and he was looking at me like I had just murdered motherfucking Caillou (which I’d totally do, if given the chance.)

Immediately, I felt terrible for not handling the situation better, and for acting like the other three year old in the family.  So, I began apologizing, profusely, for losing it.

Then we hugged and made up and he said he was ready to go to sleep and I went downstairs and he started screaming and I lost it and…lather, rinse, repeat.

(This is par for the course in our house most nights.)

Once we had both finally calmed down, we laid there and held each other. Both of us exhausted.

LUCA: You clapped in my face, mommy.

ME: I know, baby. And I shouldn’t have done that. I was just frustrated and I wanted to get your attention. But, that’s no excuse. Clapping in your face was not cool.

LUCA: You would not like it if I clapped in YOUR face, mommy.

(PUNCH ME IN THE GUT, KID)

ME: You’re absolutely right. I wouldn’t like it. It was disrespectful. And just like you need to respect me, I need to respect you, too. Mommy messed up. I’ll try harder. I’ll do better.

LUCA: OK, Mommy. I love you. Ni ni.

I plugged in four million night-lights, left all the lights on outside his room, promised him a pony and world peace, and crept back to my bedroom.

And, finally, FINALLY, we all fell back asleep in our own beds.

(Ten minutes later….)

MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW.

WOOF.

MOMMMMYYYYYYYY.

Fuuuuuuuck.

Sometimes, when my kid is picking out his clothes for school, I’m tempted to listen to the voice in my head that cares what people think. And then I remember that he is his own person, and that I have to let him express himself the way he wants to express himself.

And right now, it’s wearing Santa Claus socks, in September, with an octopus shirt.

Who knows what it will be one day, but I hope he keeps making decisions based on what he wants and how he feels. Lord knows, I have spent way too much of my 33 years caring about what others think. I don’t want the same for him.

I’m sure there will be many moments when I’m tempted to try and change his mind, or make him conform to this or that. And then I will remind myself that it’s not about me and that I want him to be who he is: strong and independent, confident and bold.

Because, seriously, we should all be ballsy enough to wear Santa Claus socks in September.

* * * * * *

P.S. I am teaching my kid the worst best of the 90′s. I’m such a good mom.

From our homes to our hair, we have all our own unique smell. We buy scented deodorant, soap, lotion, and shampoo. Our taste in personal scent and lotion can be as unique as we are.

I have three favorite perfumes that I rotate day-to-day, depending on my mood. I have worn Quelques Fleurs
(amazing!) and Boucheron for years now and never tire of it.

I added a third to my rotation while in the hospital. My nurse smelled amazing, so after completely weirding her out by telling her that my husband and I thought she smelled delicious, I asked what she had on. She let me in on her special scent, Blue by Ralph Lauren, and I’ve been spritzing it ever since. It’s light, clean, and perfect.

Clear runners up would be Keihls Musk Shower Gel, Dermalogica Body Hydrating Cream, and good old-fashioned Dove.

If you were to walk through the halls of Curvy Girl Inc, aside from cake, your nose would be greeted with a symphony of amazing smelling ladies.

Angie: Perfume gives me headaches, so Pantene and Ivory Soap Chic are my signature scents.

Ali: I really like Vera Wang by Vera Wang. I think it smells lovely.

Meredith: Emporio Armani for Her.

Meghan: Kai. I prefer the oil. It has a lovely, not at all overpowering gardenia scent.

Heather: I like Vera Wang. I also like Stella by Stella McCartney, and just about anything by Marc Jacobs.

Jen: I love Clinique Happy Heart. I actually have it in a pencil/stick form, super easy to apply without going overboard.

Mishelle: Lovely by Sarah Jessica Parker.

Nanette: I also love Clinique Happy Heart. And Juicy’s original fragrance.

Audrey: Estee Lauder Pleasures Delight smells fruity & floral without being too girly or overpowering. And my husband likes when I wear DKNY Delicious Night.

Emily: I use Ralph Lauren HOT and Ralph Lauren Romance.

Daisy: Most perfume bothers my allergies or my husband’s, but I have recently discovered Pure Grace by Philosophy. It smells like soap. Mmmm.

Jenny: Narciso Rodriguez, the black bottle. It is the perfume of the gods. I love it. I also like Marc by Marc Jacobs.

Don’t they smell delicious?

What’s your personal scent?

Chick Magnet…

At least someone around here thinks I’m funny…

Student by morning….

Superhero before bedtime by night….

Luca has fallen in love with make believe.

So, when we came across a couple of Thomas‘ old costumes things got crazy up in here.

Like, I totally got to eat dinner with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.

No big deal.

And Stitch has made an appearance.

OR TWENTY.

Refusing to stay home – that Stitch can throw some fits, yo – he helped me run errands.

As I’ve gotten to know Stitch a bit better, I’ve learned that he needs his beauty sleep, so as not to channel his alter ego who goes by the name I’M THREE AND I DON’T MAKE SENSE.

Meanwhile, back at home….

No respect.

But, so much gratitude.

Maybe it’s because I’m lacking in the patience department these days. I just had a baby, a colicky one at that, and haven’t been getting much sleep. As a result, my tolerance for shenanigans is at an all time low.

Beware, I’m annoyed.

Annoyed by a disheartening trend I’ve come to notice more and more: a loss of courtesy and kindness to those around us.

The more I pay attention, the more I see it: people being flat out rude to someone they’ve never even met before. From the strangers that ring us up, wait on us, or serve us, to the random passerby on the highway. You name it. We are so busy, stressed, and late that it seems we rarely think about anyone other than ourselves.

We strive so hard to teach our children manners, yet we are sorely lacking our own.

Not cool.

So, I’ve compiled a little list on different ways we can keep our inner jerks to a minimum.

It’s a small one. And it’s simple. Just a few things we can do, or not do, throughout our day to make this world a little better than we found it. Or at least not worse.

Feel free to print it out when we are done here, so you can reference it when you’re feeling all apathetic and selfish-like.

• When you hear the cashier tell the woman in front of you that she needs to run a price check, don’t look at them like they just drowned a bucket of kittens. Be gracious. It’s no one but the barcode’s fault. Staring them down like you are about to break one or both their legs won’t speed things along and just ends up making everyone feel awkward.

• After you’re done loading your goodies into the car, please return your shopping cart to it’s proper location. Yes, this will spare quite a few cars from quite a few dents, but it’s about so much more. Someone, who gets paid way too little, has to round up all the lazy shoppers’ carts and return them back to the store. Over and over and over again. In the hot. In the cold. In the rain. And in the snow. Why not make their job just a little bit easier and park your cart with the others? You have just walked the entire grocery store, a few more steps isn’t going to kill you.

• Hold the door open for the woman with the two kids who looks like she hasn’t showered in days. Never mind that it could be me, it’s just the nice thing to do. Or for the older lady, walking slowly enough towards the door that you contemplate letting it close, rather than waiting an extra ten seconds for her to reach you. Well, don’t. Don’t let the door close on grandma. You are gonna be grandma one day. Unless you’re a man. Then you’ll be grandpa. Or maybe grandma, still. I don’t judge. And that’s not important. Just hold the door.

• For the love of all things considerate, please get off your cell phone when you are being waited on. Unless you are instructing the person on the other end how to perform CPR, you should drop that call when someone is ringing you up or waiting on you. And if you’re not willing to do that, at least acknowledge that there is another human being interacting with you. You know, nod your head, tip your hat. You can even smile, look them in the eyes, and ask them how they’re doing…if you’re feeling extra crazy.

• This one is important. Do not, I repeat, do not park in the curbside takeout space if you are dining in. Because some of us, that don’t like to wear pants or shoes, would rather pick up our food and eat it at home. And many of us have kids in the car that are screaming, picking their noses, and wetting their pants. We can’t possibly park the car, unload these tiny baby dictators and bring them inside with us to wait for our food. Besides, we aren’t wearing pants, remember?

• This next one is going to make me sound like a square, but I promise I’m not. I’m just fair. Except for in board games, but whatever. Anyway, do not be a car cutter. One of those people that fly past everyone else stuck in traffic, only to slam the breaks on at the last minute and cut in line so they can make the exit or turn. Unless you are the President, or possibly Al Roker, you are not more special than me and must also play by the rules. I have been waiting in line for ten minutes. I have earned my right to get off that highway or make that turn. And guess what? I am in a hurry, too! So, unless you are about to deliver a baby or a kidney stone, get in line with the rest of us and wait your turn to turn.

• On the flip side, do let someone in that’s trying to turn out into traffic. Even when you are five minutes late, forgot to wear deodorant, and you hate the world. Making their day better can make yours better, too. And if it doesn’t, well it only cost you like an extra minute, tops.

• Pick up your dog’s poop. I am a huge animal lover. Huge. So, this is coming from a happy, pet loving place…I cannot stand it when people don’t pick up after their fur-kids. I have two dogs that I walk as often as I can. Despite the fact that I’m the laziest person alive, I still clean my dogs poop off my neighbor’s lawns. Yes, it’s gross. But what’s more gross is to walk outside in the morning to get the paper, in your bare feet, and step on a fresh one. So, remember this: like a good neighbor poop bags are there.

• Speaking of neighbors, welcome your new ones. If you see someone moving in, take them a small gift or maybe some flowers. Or just write down some helpful information about their new neighborhood to help them better navigate it. You know, doctors, grocery stores, post offices, dry cleaners, adult cinemas (not really, unless your into that sort of thing, of course.).

These are just a few random acts of non-jerkiness. There are plenty more.

Most importantly, though, just be kind to people, and patient with them. And smile at them, even if they look mean.

Now, what are you waiting for?

Get out there and play nice.

(Is there anything people do or don’t do that gets under your skin?)