10 + 3

Equals 13 & that’s the week that just passed, friends. Totally keeping up with this blogging thing {gulp}.

Hmm, what to share, what to share?


I always fancied myself to be the breadwinner for my future family. “Girl power” themed songs offer a nice soundtrack as I envision myself, briefcase in hand, walking briskly from meeting to meeting so purposefully. Let us now travel to reality: briefcase is replaced by company-provided messenger bag, business dinners are at my dinner table and the “business” is grading 7007065 homework assignments + essays, & I might blow-dry my hair before work–depends on if I’d rather sleep an extra 20 minutes. With both of us giving relentlessly to the glorious field of education, surviving on a single income would reduce us to one 1/2 notch above living within the poverty bracket—and I would never consider spending more than $40 on any piece of clothing or accessory! This video fairly portrays the outcome of working in the most important, yet most under-appreciated field in the US:

February 28 came way too soon this year. That Monday I made my return to work. The week leading to my return was the winter recess across NY, so I, thankfully, had family time with Lu & Ry. Although we accrued several more hours doing one of our favorite activities–lounging in bed, it made returning more difficult. Hard to reestablish a routine whilst wearing pajamas & using coffee breaks + soiled diapers as the only acceptable excuses to move out of bed.

I was ok with returning to work until Thursday of that week. Starting that Thursday–tears. Lots of them. And the uncomfortable kind that transpires into a ball in the back of your throat and then you cannot speak without sobbing. Plain messy. I’d change Lucy & then cry. I’d cut her nails and cry. I’d see her smile. And cry. And now I know that it wasn’t really the thought of separating from her that made me turn into the “Coffee Talk Lady” {Remember? Mike Myers in drag?} and become vaclemped. It was the idea of resuming a part of my life that leaves me feeling internally conflicted: my job. If anything, I think Lu has enabled me to get that kick in the pants I needed to start an official path toward having the career I want and has moved me to go after opportunities I kinda pushed aside in the past because of having arrived at a strange feeling of “comfort”… even though I wasn’t content. Thanks, Lu.

Career Counselor

Itchy and scratchy

Ugh—this winter has been looooooooooooooooooooong. Baby products, like strollers and baby carriers, leave me craving warmer weather & sunny skies. Now that we have that extra hour of blissful sunlight & somewhat warmer temperatures {The weatherman said a high of 50 today? Where are my shorts?}, I’m developing a routine of an outside activity each day. The stroller {we ended up with the BJ City Mini Elite–super in love} is usually our go-to form of transportation as we roam about the streets in our cozy neighborhood. We attempted the Ergo baby carrier despite not quite meeting the suggested age range & even though I had to lend some support to keep her upright, we shared a happy, casual walk on a Friday afternoon. I bought a MOBY wrap after reading what seemed like 6986464653 reviews proclaiming its beauty. Mmmm…not officially a fan, mostly because the wraps recommended for Lu’s size have her tucked up, facing me & the girl is quite particular about how she likes to be positioned. The times we’ve tried it, Lu burrows her head into my chest & starts sqwaking.

From the mouths of babes

The best thing happened around the middle of week 10: Lucy began to babble. It began as a conversation with her playmat pals, Ollie the Octopus & Peggy Pillar, and has transformed into mini dissertations on everyday topics–her belly button, the Jersey Shore cast, and her family that she has yet to meet. Come back soon for a video of one of her first conversations.

What you want

Are probably photos of the cherub. I shall oblige. We’ll talk soon–I’ve already begun thinking of what to share in another enthralling edition of cheeks-of-rose-and-tiny-toes.

10 wks


10 wks

10 wks

11 wks

12 weeks

12 weeks

Someone cut you-know-who's finger when trimming nails