Babies in the City

Friday Night is one of my favorite nights of the week. Not only does friend Natalie cook me a home cooked meal, assist me in putting my three under three's to bed, but it's also our designated "Sex And the City"night. The combination is almost as good as...well, I suppose I"ll leave that to your imagination dear blaaag reader.

I didn't start watching the show Sex And the City until the last couple of seasons, but once dialed in I was hooked. I instantly loved going into the world of writer, Carrie Bradshaw in her sexy New York apartment, sexy New York friends, and sexy New York guys. I loved the quick and sometimes completely innapropriate humor of close women friends the best of all.

Last Friday however, I was a tad bit jaded in my love for the City. Natalie and I were on episode 10, season 1 "The Baby Shower." Cuddled up on the couch with my blankie and piece of chocolate pie (does it get any better) I eagerly awaited another episode of Carrie's witty monologue, hysterically disaster ridden sex and relationship tales, and the down right awesomeness of crazy, wonderful girlfriends. I was not let down in any of the aforementioned, yet was supremely dissapointed at the depiction of the women featured in the storyline of the actual baby shower.

All the married women or women with children were depicted as one-time adventageous go-getters, who settled for the mediocrity of life with bratty kids and/or a picket fence in the burbs. One of Carrie's good friends made a comment that she, "Spoke with a woman for an hour with a Master's in Finance about the wonders of the diaper geenie." Another top former executive woman talked about how the only thing she looked forward to in motherhood, was "Escaping to her kid's tree house to smoke a joint and listen to Peter Frampton." Each woman had completely cast aside her career, ambition, and overall "self" for marriage and motherhood.

Whoa! Now don't get me wrong...I am your number one advocate for not taking yourself too seriously, but come on! Just because you get married and have children does not mean you have settled or have to partake in mind altering substances to escape (coffee and chocolate work just as well). True--as mothers, especially those of us who stay at home might feel a struggle or loss of identity along the way, but it doesn't mean we are pathetic creatures. Nor does it mean we trade in ambition for playdates and call it a day.

Here is a concept...we can have both! Take my friend Gina (also a stay at home mom) and I. We have playdates and discuss various writing projects and trends in the industry. I can be a mom, a wife and a writer--and live in the burbs--and not project myself as a joyless putz.

I still love my SATC. I can forgive episode 10 of season 1, based on the fact that two of the primary characters (Miranda and Charlotte) get married and have children later down the road--and one of them continues a successful and satisfying career. I guess it just hit a little nerve of this Mom in a different city. I know I don't write sexy columns, smoking cigarettes in my Guchi get-ups, but I sure as hell get the job done. It might get done with three little people at my feet and I just might still be in my flannel jammies by Noon, but I dare say I can still punch out an article or two...and if I'm lucky, maybe even a blaaag!

Go Forth and Laugh my Fellow Home Seller!

If you've read my previous blaaags, then you have probably picked up on my convictions of the importance of having a sense of humor in parenting. Here and now for the record, I would like to add the equal necessity of having a sense of humor while selling one's house--while parenting-- three children under three--when one's spouse is not present--and it's -0 degrees outside.

I mean really! Husband's in 70 degree weather basking in the Arizona sun while Mom's in subzero Midwest trying to ready and maintain a house to sell and show to the world. Showing your house is like being in one of those dreams where you're completely naked in a room full of non-naked people. Showing a house where three children under three reside, is like one of those dreams where you're completely naked, running from a three headed monster, and jumping off a cliff.

It's hard enough to clean and maintain a house in general staying home with your brood, let alone making it appear as though June Cleaver runs the place. I'm lucky if I can even make it look like Rosanne is head of the household. Seriously, how many "Little People" dolls can a toddler have? Certainly enough to represent all members of Congress or the United Nations in this house. And no sooner do you gather up all Congressmen/women before you're own three powers that be have once again dispersed them from tote to floor in a nanosecond.

You must definitely have a sense of humor about scattered Little People, but more importantly...you must have your sense of humor when discovering the less obvious disasters to be remedied pre-house-showing. I'm talking about the "booger wall." You will unsuspectingly happen upon it while make you're three-year-old's bed. There it is--crusted green boogies, the remnants of nap-time boredom and rebellion smeared on the yellow painted wall of her room.

You must not frett nor pause when Little People break from their tidy Congress sessions to take over your home! You must not cry when you feel like your arms will fall off if you have to clean one more thing--and low and behold you come accross a booger wall. Laugh! Laugh! Laugh! Laugh and go into your showing with pride! After all, you are the ruler--the conquerer of of all Little People and booger walls!