Life is good. I had a dream last night about Juno’s Michael Cera. Oh, mamas, its NOT like that. We just enjoy each other’s company. I tell him how funny and talented he is. He tells me how talented and funny I am. It was only coffee.
Plus, 3 year-old Dylan and I have been in a cool groove. Yesterday, I came up with the brilliant idea that I stole from someone else to give each other foot massages. First, we did some yoga poses and during our shavasana, we did lavender lotion foot rubs. DEE-vine.
Later in the day, she turns to me and says, “Do you know Jagger?” Jagger is a boy with adorable shaggy hair and a heartbreaker face from her preschool class.
Me: Yes, honey, I do.
Dylan: How did you meet him?
Me: We were at a cocktail party together and a mutual friend introduced us. He’s a writer too. We may collaborate on a project together.
Me (for real): I met him at preschool honey. Just like you.
Dylan: I like Jagger.
Me: Me too. Seems like a cool little boy.
This preschool just happens to be tucked between a firehouse with handsome, ready to save you in a moment because you think it’s ok to leave mail on the stovetop, firefighters AND a Joe’s coffee house. With a location like that who cares if your kid can recognize shapes and letters? There are more important things people.
So Monday we leave for a week in Florida to visit Rick’s 371 relatives in Boca, all of whom still call him “Ricky.” The Jewish people just really seem to love that Boca. Warm breezes, sunshine, maybe some golf, a little mahjong, a quick snooze and a mid afternoon dinner. Not too shabby sista. But it’s the getting there that does me in.
The packing. I can’t even talk about it. The schlepping to the airport. The argument with Rick on the way to the airport because HE has we’re-going-to-miss-our-flight anxiety. The argument with Rick on the plane because I have this-plane-is-too-big-to-fly and I’m-sure-the-pilot-is-12-years-old-and-drunk-and-doesn’t-even-have-a-pilot’s-license anxiety. I’d actually feel better if I was flying the plane myself. No, I don’t have control issues. Why would you possibly think that?!
But I’m hoping Dylan will watch Elmo, Summer will crawl all over her boyfriend Rick and I will read Elle Magazine. If you don’t hear much from me next week, please know I’m just wrapped up in a super tense match of shuffleboard. Those senior Boca gals can be fierce.
And so far my fave moment of 2008. It will be a hard one to surpass. 13 month-old Summer starting to walk (please ignore all the drool on her shirt).
mama bird notes
So I hear all the hip mummys are shopping at The Little Seed. Never heard of it?! Click on drooling over this.
The results of our latest mama poll are in. So what do you and your spouse do after a fight? 70% of you just apologize, make up and go back to enjoying each other’s company. How civil! 13% simmer and brew in an attempt to build a lifetime of resentment. 9% drop it and pretend it never happened. Another 4% apologize, make up and head to the bedroom for more making up. And I thought make-up sex was rampant! Guess not. Finally, 4% of you claim to never fight. How is that possible? I just don’t know. Check out our latest poll. Just click on your mama says what?
Rachel W. (a self-described schwag-whore) won the mama bird giveaway! Couldn’t have happened to a nicer schwag-whore. Really.
Thank you to Little Green Star, Butterfly Buggas, Francesca Segrè, Kristen Maas + Herbal Serenity Show of Hands Instant Manicure and Sephora. You all rule.
In our next mama bird giveaway, one lucky birdie will win this super cool Mutsy Spider Stroller. Oh my gosh, I love this ride. Beautifully designed, light weight, folds easily and an amazing travel stroller. Best of all, it’s clean and new! No crushed raisins, cracker bits or ice scream stains. Isn’t that dreamy? Details to come après-Boca.