It’s awards time again!  Over the last month I am honored to have been given several awards. As always, my procrastination in passing these on is in no way a reflection of my appreciation. Thank you to all, so, so, much!

The Lemonade Stand Award is from Naomi at Organic Motherhood with Cool Whip, and Shell at Things I Can’t Say.

I love Naomi because of her thoughtful (yet realistic) posts on raising well adjusted and healthy children. Plus, she leaves awesome, extremely positive, thoughtful comments. I have also learned lots of interesting things from her (for example, the fact that some women eat their placentas).

Shell is like my long lost sister who understands the trials and tribulations in making other mummy friends. I also like that she started an anonymous blog so she doesn’t have to worry about family/friends/neighbors/etc reading what she writes (smart). And Shell, I am so intrigued by the shot of the back of your head (profile pic). I heart your hair.

I am passing this award on to Charlene at The Balance Beam. Charlene is realistic – she knows life isn’t perfect. But she always finds a way to look for a more positive balance (hence, the name of her blog). I’m striving to follow Charlene’s example.

I got The Adorable Blog Award from Monique at A Day in the Life of a Surfer-wife. Monique is not only hilarious but is also training for a triathlon. She recently started an inspirational new blog documenting her exercise schedule (grueling, but extremely encouraging for those who are out of shape – such as myself) (http://triathletewife.blogspot.com/).

I am passing this award on to Melissa at My Life and How It’s Going. I have a minor obsession with Melissa’s cute hair cut and have tried to  replicate it (not sure it’s working for me, though). I love Melissa because she posts lots of lovely pictures and funny stories on her blog.

Deb at Menopausal New Mom was generous enough to bestow me with the Gorgeous Blogger Award. I love anyone who thinks I am gorgeous (and pretends not to notice the giant pimple beside my nose. The one I just attempted to squeeze). I find it comforting to visit Deb’s blog. She is honest and humorous. Her comments always put me in a good mood.

I am passing this award on to Kiran at Masala Chica. Because not only is she gorgeous, but her blog is too! Kiran has a lovely writing style and leaves you wanting more. I may have a slight girl crush on her.

The Lovely Blog Award is from Mom of the Perpetually Grounded. Mom of the Perpetually Grounded blogs about raising teenage girls. Which scares me (but intrigues me – I will have one in about fourteen years, after all!). Thank you for the preview of my future life (and, can I say, arggghhh!).

I am passing this award on to Calgary Daddy. Calgary Daddy blogs about the impending arrival of his first baby (actually, given the fact that his wife was being induced last week, the baby has probably already arrived. Congrats!). Calgary Daddy has lots of great stories and leaves really nice, thoughtful comments.

Whew! Happy Sunday, and time for bed.

Next time, please remind me that coloring your own hair does not work. Despite how many positive reviews a product may receive on Sephora.com. Despite the fact that it may or may not be affiliated with an ultra expensive New York salon. Or cost an absurd amount of money (thirty dollars) for what is (essentially) a drugstore item. Please, just do me this favor.

It does not work.

At least not (especially not) when you are trying to go lighter. Unless you prefer orange roots, that is.

And to The Husband, “yes, I do let the condition/color/length/general appearance of my hair dictate my happiness. That’s why I cried when upon realizing it had turned a shade of brass.”

Of course, when the possibility exists that one may (occasionally) f*** up her hair, a good, reliable, (miracle) stylist is essential. My angel is Joy. Luckily, the name suits her perfectly. She makes me joyful.

I walked into Joy’s salon sheepishly. After much cuticle gnawing I had planned my speech. Temporary psychosis gripped me/a small ghost guided my hand/the cosmetics salesperson was extremely persuasive/it was that commercial with the woman flipping her hair (she was the one who forced me).

Lovable, wonderful, beautiful Joy didn’t hassle, nag, or guilt me. In fact, she told me it looked….good (it didn’t. I know that for sure because the voice of reason – my mum – said so).

Joyful Joy.

Then she went ahead and highlighted my hair to perfection.

May this be a lesson to each and every one of you. Put down the Clairol/L’Oreal/Frederic Fekkai (yes, even that expensive s***).

I’m staging an intervention.

Call your stylist.

The husband is out of town. My sister is here for a visit. And, most importantly, we must drink wine.

So, a short post for you today. I promise I’ll be back with more holiday updates on Thursday.

The Husband is mildly (very) obsessed with each of the following: a) basketball b) his alma mater. I think watching basketball makes him feel like a college student. It also validates the liberal consumption of canned beer, gross snacks, and frequent touching/scratching of the nether regions (during a game. Thankfully, not always).

Poor thing. He still hasn’t realized he graduated a few (many) years ago.

Unfortunately, Duke basketball reminds me of being in labor. That’s right, we were watching a game (basically) up until the moment we left for the hospital. The Husband was timing my contractions with one eye, monitoring the score with the other.

I was cursing and threatening divorce unless he TURNED DOWN THE VOLUME. Trust me. There’s nothing more annoying than being in labor and listening to a thousand screaming fans.

In the end, It was meant to be.

Go Duke!

(Um, just in case you can’t see – Miss Peanut is wearing a Duke sleeper. Size “newborn”. Yeah right. About ten times too big last year.)

The holidays. An opportunity for The Husband and I to capitalize on grandparents and various family members (who will watch Miss Peanut with pleasure), while we engage in various exploits.

*Sigh*. It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. We went to a movie. Raise your hand if you have small children and have been to the theater in the last two years (oh, and I should add – have seen a film that did not involve animated characters).

I didn’t think so.

By this time last year, The Husband and I had seen almost all of the Oscar contenders. Doubt, Slumdog Millionaire, The Changeling, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button – I relished each and every one.

I was also pregnant. Movies were the most entertaining non-alcoholic option available.

Fun, right? Maybe. You see, staying awake during a movie has never been my strong suit.  Our most recent “date night” was no exception. Baby + two glasses of red wine + 9:30 showtime + comfortable stadium seating = sleep for Sarah. Actually, it = uninterrupted, luxurious sleep (far away and free from small people who make noise).

Almost twenty dollars later, The Husband wasn’t impressed. Unfortunately, the poor thing had to enjoy yet another film…alone.

The Husband: Are you sleeping? (Glares).

Me: Don’t even say anything. I’m serious. Leave me alone. Let me rest. For once.

The Husband: Seriously? You are so predictable. What’s your problem with staying awake during movies. *Rolls eyes*.

There you have it. My trip to the movies. Same as it ever was.

(P.S., I didn’t love “Up in the Air”, despite its positive reviews.  I think I need someone to fill me in on the almost 30 minutes of intermittent scenes missed during my beauty rest).

This year, the holidays felt different. To begin with, they were utterly exhausting. I felt myself counting down the days until January 2nd. I’m assuming this has to do (well, for the most part, at least) with the small person who joined us in 2009. Over the course of the last two weeks (has it really only been two weeks?) I have literally thrown Miss Peanut’s schedule out the window. I know things are only going to get increasingly more annoying challenging in the coming years. The Husband  is we are not looking forward to staying up through all hours of Christmas Eve in the hopes of assembling a ten thousand piece dollhouse (or something equally obnoxious). Thank heavens Miss Peanut has an adorable smile that negates any sort of marital strife (experienced due to cryptic fisher price instructions and such).

In the coming days I will update you on many holiday happenings, including:

• My time at a movie – a rare occurrence (hint: it’s not like it used to be. Actually, wait, yes it is).

• An unfortunate incident with hair dye (hint: tears were involved).

• The advice we (well, mostly The Husband) received from Connie (the Chinese fortune teller. Hint: think cold and liquids. Not necessarily connected or in any particular order).

If any (or all) of these topics seem to be of interest to you, check back frequently.

In the meantime, I am looking forward to visiting bloggy friends (I have been  neglectful), and passing on several lovely awards (thank you, thank you, thank you!).

Happy New Year’s.

And now, a disclosure. New Year’s Eve is my second least favorite “holiday” (St. Patrick’s Day is my first. You’ll hear more about that later). I’m also using quotation marks around the word holiday for a reason (well, besides the fact that they look neat, and all). Prepare yourself. I’m seriously suspicious of this day’s validity. In fact, I think it’s a complete conspiracy. Among restaurants to charge three times as much as they usually do for some garbage-type prix-fixe menu. Among bars to make you wait in line ten times longer than normal. Among obnoxious people to act like idiots (example: I actually saw “Bill threw up here” written on the side of a snow-covered van today).

If it weren’t for these factors, I’m convinced that there would be no change in date or time. We’d all still be stuck in 1978.

I don’t believe I’m alone here.

Luckily, having a baby makes it much easier to stay in “and enjoy a quiet night” on New Year’s. Once again, Miss Peanut saves the day. As if sleep deprivation and no free time weren’t enough reward, a child gives you legitimate reason to avoid oh so many annoying social events.

Still, I’m feeling 2010. It’s an even year (which I find much preferable to an odd one. And that’s despite the fact that I was married in 2007 and had my first child in 2009. Clearly, a life not well planned. But I wouldn’t return any of it, for the world).
 
May peace be with you and your loved ones on this first day of 2010. And, to all, best wishes in the New Year.

xoxo

I apologize, in advance, for the crappy quality of this photo. I dropped my blackberry last night and think I lost part of my camera. In fact, I know I lost part of my camera. But it was entirely too cold to search the pavement for wayward technology.

Onwards and upwards.

I’ve had this baby for nine and a half months now. And I’m still amazed at HOW obsessed she becomes with ANY new toy.

Here she is with a little book my mum gave her this afternoon.

Shortly after this picture was taken, her tiny index finger came out to scratch the surface of the cardboard. This went on for a solid twenty minutes.

Good fun.

I’m fairly sure I’m missing part of my brain. The part that tells you how to get places. The directions part.

I have absolutely zero spatial intelligence. ZERO. You may think you are bad at directions. Rest assured, you are likely a genius compared to me. Even with GPS capabilities, things are often touch and go (especially in Boston, a city with no logical urban organization. Unfortunately, our Founding Fathers weren’t really thinking in terms of a grid. Damn you early America). It takes at least twenty repeat trips for me to learn a route. I can barely read a map. You get the idea.

I also love malls. LOVE them. Unfortunately, my passion (indoor shopping), and my aptitudes (or lack thereof – I’m talking about orientation issues) often collide with disastrous results (including tears).

Like today.

I spent a half hour pacing the parking lot underneath Nordstrom, looking for my car (in an unheated garage). Oh, and did I mention that neither Miss Peanut nor I were wearing a coat? (Luckily she had a hat and I was able to take off my rather large scarf to cover her. Still, I am clearly a terrible mother and an idiot).

And yes, I should have checked the number of the space I parked in. I did. I thought I remembered.

Turned out I was on the wrong floor.

The holidays are (almost) over. We traveled yesterday. Luckily, I was blessed with two (fairly) uneventful flights.  Miss Peanut decided to celebrate three hours in the air with a long nap and some (relatively) quiet play time. We didn’t even have to mix brandy or scotch (or whatever) in her bottle (kidding, obviously).  And yes, (lovely) lady sitting behind me, I know “you only get one well behaved child.” Thank you for reminding me that #2 will be a seething monster or something like that.

Back to behavior. When I first started flying with The Husband, he was such a relaxed traveler. He loved sitting at the gate, waiting until the last minute to board. He’d be sleeping, in fact (while I shifted nervously in my chair. I’m big on punctuality).

Alas, those days have passed.

Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s the birth of his daughter. I have no clue. I’m only really sure of one thing. I’m now in the permanent company of an agitated, (old) Asian man. Complete with cardigan and slip on shoes.

Yesterday, at the gate:

The Husband (ticking nervously): Uh…are they boarding? I need to pee. We better get up and get in line. Ahh. I need to go get some napkins (note: let’s just call The Husband “Mr. Napkin”. He loves having at least a hundred napkins on him at all times. Especially now that we have Miss Peanut. Ironically, he is notoriously stingy about napkins at home. In fact, he often asks me to rip one in half – “to share”.)

Me: Would you please calm down? You’re making me nervous.

He then scampered off in the direction of a nearby coffee shop (and returned with a handful of…you guessed it…brown paper napkins.)

After reading this, “Mr. Napkin” is going to throw a mini fit. He hates being “fodder for my blog” (in his own words). I’ll need to explain (again) that no one cares (or wants to read) about our “true love”. That my life is sometimes mundane and I need to scrounge for topics. That his neuroses make for interesting subject matter.

Then I’ll pacify him with a plate of brownies.

I’d like to apologize in advance, for my spotty posting and visiting behaviors over the last several days (as well as those to come). I am currently out of town for the holidays and have been finding my normal habits a little more difficult to maintain. Although I’m sure you’re all equally busy…’tis the season!

That being said…

Unfortunately, our most recent trip (to Texas – a holiday visit with the in-laws) has been a sad dose of reality for The Husband.

This is a man who used to fall asleep on planes immediately. I mean, like on the runway. I remember once (about thirty minutes into a flight) being asked (upon his awaking), “have we taken off yet?”

Today’s truth? He will probably never ever sleep on a plane…again. At least not while traveling with Miss Peanut.

Because Miss Peanut doesn’t like sleeping on planes. And if she doesn’t like sleeping…you’re not sleeping.

Oh no, there are a plethora of other *interesting* things she would rather do (while traveling by air), including:

1. Lick the window (disgusting)
2. Bite the “Sky Mall” magazine (perhaps more disgusting)
3. Chew on the table tray (the most digusting of all. I watch Dateline – I know what kind of bacteria exists on those things. And it doesn’t belong in Miss Peanut’s mouth).

It’s not like I wasn’t prepared (note to self: the toys Miss Peanut finds *interesting* at home are no longer desireable 30,000 feet up).

In all honestly, Miss Peanut did do pretty well on her *second* plane ride ever. No tears, fussing, or unruly behavior.

And it’s all worth it.

Because there’s nothing more fun than navigating a seriously dirty diaper in a two by two bathroom.

On this Christmas Eve, I hope you are enjoying your family, and your blessings, as much as I am.