Bambino Mom

Editor’s Note: I’ve missed you, internet. Apologies for the delay in posting this.

When you have a baby, you stop expecting things or taking them for granted.

Do you know how much I’ve come to appreciate an uninterrupted shower? A shower at all, really. And brushing my teeth before 2pm. And eating a full meal (interruptions or not). And shopping without a huge stroller. Or running into Dunkin Donuts to quickly grab a coffee without a huge stroller.

These things really just become unimportant, almost overnight, when you have a baby. Everything. Revolves. Around. Baby.

As I have said before, I wouldn’t have it any other way (un-brushed teeth and all), so don’t think I’m complaining. It’s just reality.

And when Aidan is off learning Turkish with Grandma Turkey, the next most important thing to take care of is my marriage. Time alone with the hubs is yet another thing you stop taking for granted.

So between baby and husband, it’s pretty easy to see how quickly time alone, with just yourself and whatever you choose to do, becomes the least of your priorities. Hell, getting a blog in often requires an investment in the form of lost sleep (hence the delay on this one).

So as my birthday approached this year, I didn’t really have any expectations. Life is busy. And it’s a great life.

Silly me.

For the entirety of February 22nd, I was seriously spoiled rotten. Not just more than a mom should be, but more than a non-mom should be, too.

I dropped Aidan off with G-Turkey, went shopping, started decorating O’s man-cave (in manly fashion, and only because he already told me what he wanted), and got a mani-pedi. I felt guilty about the mani-pedi, but O insisted. And he got many, many points for doing so. It was fantastically, mind-numbingly relaxing.

Thennnn, he took me to the melting pot, where we over-indulged, and I had a few delicious adult beverages. It was romantic, I felt special, and we were dressed up. See?

Look what happens after just a couple drinks? Jk. It was dark, the flash was bright. Hah.

After dinner, we picked up our baby, who I missed since he was away all day. It was such a good day. I still can’t believe how much me-time I had, and how relaxing it was. It was totally unexpected. All in all, my first birthday as a mommy rocked.

Once again, Ozgur has set the bar high for next year. And if all my birthdays are relaxing like this one, getting older won’t be depressing at all.

Nothing says Hot Totty like Anderson Cooper.

Not only is this guy good looking (and doesn’t seem to know it)… he’s genuine, smart, witty, loves his mama, and constantly gives free stuff to the audience on his new show.  Stuff like the movie Bridesmaids. And this cool phone that hooks up to your iPhone.

This thing is awesome. Make one for the Droid!

Not to mention, Anderson has a great sense of humor… and an even better laugh. See below. (Skip to the 0:47 second mark to get to the good part.)

Did you know: Anderson Cooper couldn’t land a job in New York as a reporter, so he faked a press pass, traveled to and reported stories from war-torn countries, sold his shit, and eventually got hired?

As far as reporting is concerned, Anderson’s top notch… always asking the right questions to let the story tell itself.

And what I love about him most is how that hasn’t changed. (Nor has his “Silver Fox” hair.) He’s on daytime television with this latest show, and so many daytime shows try to tug at your heart strings and/or help you fix your make-up. I’m not always looking for a good cry or a DIY makeover. But an interesting story… I’m always in the market for that.

I heart Anderson. And I hope one day I’ll be watching the show from his studio – add that to the LIFE list.

For those of you that like to contend the great Saint Valentine’s Day is just another holiday invented by Hallmark, you. are. wrong.

The person you can blame for the tradition of Saint Valentine’s Day is the great Geoffrey Chaucer, as his reference to the holiday is the first in recorded history.

“For this was Saint Valentine’s day, when every bird cometh there to choose his mate.” – Parlement of Foules, 1382

So in honor of this great holiday dating all the way back to the 14th century(!), I’m writing my own [albeit more modern version of a] valentine.

Ozgur,

When we first met, and soon after fell in love, our love probably looked something like this…

Passionate is an understatement. We had so much fun together…

We survived plenty of hardships and came out stronger, learning a lot from each other…

And soon enough, you proposed, and our love looked like this…

When I walked down the aisle, and took your hands, we got married, and it looked like this…

This was the happiest day of my life, and I’d venture to guess you’d say the same. But a one-bedroom apartment that looked like this…

… well it just provided another opportunity for us to learn even more. And after moving to a two bedroom condo, we discovered the news that would change our lives forever.

Soon your love (me) looked like this…

Then, we had our son. And that day became the happiest of my life. It was the first day that our love looked like this…

And now my loves (you and Aidan) look like this…

(And because a Valentine wouldn’t be complete without a rhyme…)

Every day he changes, and every day you and I do too. I never expected the amazing ways our love would grow, but I’m so happy that it’s with you.

Happy Saint Valentine’s day, Ozgur. You’re an amazing friend, lover, husband and father. And I couldn’t be what I am today without you.

Love Always,

Meaghan

I thought Saturday Night Special would be a no-go on the one weekend a month that I work. I was wrong. Ozgur didn’t let me down.

Saturday, O took care of the baby and had time to whip up something good to eat (with a little baby monitoring assistance from the grandparents). Meanwhile, I was defending the country… one public affairs crisis at a time.

Of course, the golden rule of SNS, the recipes came from The Joy of Cooking. Drum roll please…

Mmmm.

The chicken was supposed to be grilled, but O baked it because when he went to start the grill, a storm front came through and literally covered my parents’ deck with snow in less than five minutes. It was wonderful baked, too.

Have you ever had a recipe that calls for shallots or onions – your choice… and you pick onions because that’s what you know? Stop picking those. Go with the shallots. They are delicious, particularly in a dish with chicken and lemon. I can’t wait to use them again in something else.

And sweet potatoes aren’t just for thanksgiving. These bad boys were equally delicious reheated with butter the next day. Yes, they had brown sugar in them. Yum.

Last week, we baked the asparagus. This week, O grilled it – on a panini press, since the snow prohibited the actual grill. (The asparagus on a panini press is a classic fave of ours. Just use a little olive oil, and you get such pretty lines.)

The meal was mis gibi. That’s turkish for delicious tasting and/or delicious smelling. It’s pronounced like mees-gee-bee. Click here to hear it. Put emphasis on the MEES sound. It means you really mean it.

Go, Ozgur, for your wildly successful dinner.

Oh yeah… this was the drink of choice:

As always, two thumbs up for Shock Top.

Tomorrow’s St. Valentine’s Day! Yaaay!

Love,

Hungry BM

The before picture was too much to share with the interwebs. I feel as though by posting it, it would come back to haunt me year after year.

The after picture (which I didn’t take – but I’m referring to the one in the mirror) was lame! Literally, the right half of my head had curls, and the left half did not.

What a waste. I can’t help but think it was me that did something wrong, though. I must admit, I’ll be trying it again soon, next time with meticulous precision. Is there some special sauce I need to put on my hair first?

Leave me some tips and tricks in the comments.

Okay, fine, I’ll show you a thumbnail of the before. But I don’t want to see this used against me later, got it?

Haha. Funny. Laugh it up. Now get back to work!

Love,

One-half-curly-headed BM

I read an article yesterday on CNN about eight women in the midst of the Arab uprisings that are considered “agents of change.” This, coupled with my own aforementioned LIFE list goal to commit to a cause each year, got me thinking about what the heck I’m going to do to start making a difference somewhere.

Sure, my country isn’t in the middle of a revolution in which one of the largest struggles is establishing human rights for women. But there are plenty of things I can do here to make a difference, right? So, when Aidan was a little angel and took two long naps today, I got to brainstorming.

Long Nap = Happy Baby + Happy Mommy

And I’ve come up with a rough sketch of where I’m starting. It’s nothing like fighting for the right to drive in my country. But it’s a start, right?

I’m sharing it with you because it’s like weight loss. If you tell people your plans, you’re way more likely to stick to it.

Aside from my own child, and speaking broadly here, I’m passionate about three things: children, reading and writing. With some inspiration from my husband, this is what I came up with: a scholarship fund awarded to the winner of a writing competition.

A lot of logistics still need to be worked out. Namely, who wants to donate (although I’m hoping the tax deduction will reel some big fish in). And then there’s the setting up of a committee that will be responsible for reviewing the submissions. Who will be submitting (which age groups)? What will the topics be? And how the heck do you set a scholarship fund up anyway?

If you already know anything about all of this, please do share it with me. If you have ideas, please also share those! And if you’re interested in helping with the cause, send me an email. Otherwise, expect to hear updates on my progress as it develops.

In other news, I’m trying this tonight:

It seems to be all over Pinterest, Youtube, Facebook and my favorite blogs. I’ll also let you know how this project goes. You can expect some sweet before-and-afters.

Love, Greater Good BM

Since Julie and Julia came out in 2009, I’ve always wanted to do something as bold as committing to making original recipes every night. Julia (the real one, and Meryl) seemed particularly entertaining…

And Julie’s idea to blog about it was the most intriguing part to me (since I love to write). She’s actually the reason I started blogging in the first place. But I’m a realist. And there’s no way I’ll be cooking every. single. night. So here’s the twist…

I’m going to try a new recipe every Saturday (with the exception of one Saturday a month) from The Joy of Cooking.

After one night, I already feel enlightened. And we did, not one, but three recipes! I say ‘we’ because it’s a family affair. In between mincing parsley and Au Gratin-ing potatoes, I’m cleaning [tons of] spit up and singing songs to Aidan. Since I can’t sit and do it all at once, it becomes an all-afternoon affair.

The outcome:

That there is steak au poivre, au gratin potatoes, and asparagus. Delish. Everything tasted great. The steak recipe called for entirely too much salt, but it was cooked to perfection. And let me tell you… I was pretty apprehensive about cooking the steak on the pan with absolutely nothing like butter or oil in there with it. The asparagus were baked, and I usually grill them. They also turned out great. And the potatoes… they had gruyere on top with panko bread crumbs. You can’t go wrong there…

The compliment:

Ozgur and I are s.l.o.w.l.y taking a liking to wine. As in, the last time we found a wine we both enjoyed, it was St. Valentine’s Day, 2010. And it was a $30 Chardonnay (needless to say, we don’t buy it often). But because we were having a Saturday Night Special, we decided we’d pair the filet with a Cabernet. And for the amateur winos we are, we did a fine job selecting this one. It’s an Australian Mudgee. As far as reds go [at least the reds I've tasted], it was smooth like butta.

The dessert:

Since we were having a “calorie-rich” meal, we decided to go all out and top it off with a fine dessert as well. You can’t go wrong with Ghirardelli brownies – walnuts inside and fudge on top. Hey, I can’t make everything from scratch.

All in all, our first SNS went off without a hitch (save the ridiculous amount of salt in the steak au poivre). And we’ll be doing it again three out of four weekends a month.

Have you tried any new recipes recently? Leave details or a hyperlink in my comments, please.

Readers, I must seriously love you. I spent 20 minutes online trying to search for a picture of my favorite thing, and I couldn’t find it. So at 11:30pm, in my t-shirt and underwear, I snuck (so as not to wake the little person, and the little puppy) downstairs and took a picture of the item. In all its glorious beauty. You can probably see my reflection in the picture (just kidding, perves).

Behold. The best cheese grater known to man.

As you can see, this beautiful, one-of-a-kind grater has some striking qualities right off the bat. Foremost, the grates on the front that do all the work – they open in both directions. So, sure, you’ll get your traditional results from pushing the cheese in a downward motion. But on the way back up, your grater is still working for you.

Twice the cheese, twice as fast.

Please. Hold your applause. She’s not done…

If you didn’t already notice, she’s got a killer grip there on the top, fitting comfortably in your fingers to get maximum leverage (as well all know, shredding can get rigorous from time to time). Furthermore, the grates on the back also have the holes that will grate in both directions.

Let us not forget the single slice panel on the side. So much better than the double or triple slicer. We all know the slice panel is purely for your taste-test enjoyment. I mean let’s be honest, if you needed sliced cheese, you’d pull out a knife or one of those nice wire cheese cutters that I intend on purchasing. Not your grater. Nevertheless, the slice panel performance is a bonus here. Perfect for your snack-while-cooking pleasure.

And the size! I don’t know about you guys, but if you love cheese anywhere near as much as I do, you can shred some serious cheddar in one sitting. And having to empty the shredder every five seconds just does not cut the mustard.

Now, for the perk finale – this one takes the cake. Dish. Washer. Safe. 

Show me you enjoy washing the cheese grater, and I’ll show you bloody knuckles. (From the grater, not from me.) And when I was growing up, the cheese grater was NEVER to be dish-washed. It would rust, duh. Needless to say, I quickly developed a deep and meaningful love-hate relationship with this necessary evil, the grater. It was, after all, the means to a cheesy end.

So when my cousin broke the mold, tossed aside my registry-grade cheese grater, and came to the wedding shower with this win… well, honestly, at the time I had no idea how great it was. But NOW. Now, I thank her. Now I know.

Here’s the catch. Normally I give you links to buy the coolest stuff out there. And normally you go buy it because I say it’s cool (right?). But I cannot find this thing on the internet. Anywhere. If you find it, I’ll give you five dollars. Well, that’s not true, but if you find it, you’ll be super cool and helpful for my multitude of readers who buy everything I say is cool. Just think of all the people you’d be helping.

Now I’m hungry.

XO, BM

Opinions. They’re like… butt holes. Everyone has one.

But no one has to listen to so many butt holes as new parents do, particularly in the realm of feeding your child. I’ve heard it all.

• Breast feeding is gross.
• Pumped milk isn’t as nutritious.
• Breast feeding is best.
• Formula is the way to go.

…  and everything in between.

Gross? Really?

Side note, here’s some food for thought. Tell me if you agree or disagree: I read somewhere once that the only reason some women react as if breast feeding is unnatural in some way or gross is because nipples are only sexual in nature to them, when in reality, nipples were first made to feed. Or maybe they were always supposed to be two-fers. Anyway, I digress.

We elected the breast feeding route, primarily for allergy prevention purposes (let’s hope it works). So when Aidan was pulled from the depths of my belly (C-section story for another post) and he latched like a champ, I thought we were in there. Everything I read, heard, etc., said the latch was the most important part.

But everything I read, and all the opinions I heard didn’t mention jaundice and having to supplement to get the poo moving. They did say to steer clear of bottles, at least for the first few weeks, to prevent nipple confusion. But they didn’t say what to do when you didn’t have a choice.

The poo has to go for the jaundice to go. And the jaundice has to go for the baby to come home. So nipple confusion or not, I supplemented. First with formula. Then my genius husband reminded me we have a $400 pump (that we got as a gift) I should attempt to employ.

Looks like a comfortable contraption, doesn't it?

Nothing gets poo moving like breast milk.Win for the hubs.

Poo passed, jaundice passed, and everything was on the up and up. Except for the tiny hiccup that Aidan now obviously preferred the bottle to the breast. (I’m here to tell you nipple confusion is not a myth.)

Why was this a problem? Because pumping is a pain in my butt hole. I literally dreamed of being able to just sit there while Aidan drank the milky goodness straight from the source. I mean how easy that would have been over prepping bottles, storing pumped milk, etc. How easy that would have been over packing my pump, milk, 10,000 bottles, and a bottle warmer every time we left the house. How easy it would have been to explain to the nosies that are so curious about how you feed your baby and why you do it that way…

But that was not our story. He just didn’t transfer enough milk while breast feeding. He could house a bottle, but after one emergency lactation consultation home visit, two office visits, and three breakdowns later, I realized the breast (despite the perfect latch) just wasn’t his gig.

And here’s where the story should end. I should just be commiserating with whoever reads about the difficulties of parenting, opinions, etc. But it just doesn’t work that way.

Too many nosies asked why I didn’t breast feed. Or why I didn’t formula feed. Or judged me when I said I was pumping. Or judge me now that I’m splitting the bottle 50-50 with my milk and formula. Why should I have to explain myself? Don’t you know I’m the mother? Don’t you trust I’m taking care of my child well?

To the judgers, I say this (and you can tell them I said it):

Keep your butt holes to yourselves. There are only two butt holes I need to be exposed to, and that’s solely for cleaning purposes.

In all of this, it has made me realize one thing. I will continue to hear more opinions than I care to, particularly while my children are young, but I vow to never contribute to the judging. New moms (and dads), old moms (and dads), whatever you choose to do with your children, you’ve got a supporter in me.