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I was really irked about Bodum’s unresponsiveness to my complaint about the broken milk frother. So I decided to make one more attempt at letting them know about my plight. I sent them an email (which was pretty hard to do because the website automatically connects to Microsoft Outlook and since my laptop wasn’t set up for it I had to use my husband’s.)
And, about a week later, they responded. Bodum apologized for the inconvenience and then explained they required a receipt for all exchanges. Fine, except it was a gift from my sister – I didn’t have a receipt and neither did she, the girl who throws everything away.
So I ignored the email, semi-satisfied that they had at least responded to me.
Two days later I got another email from Bodum – from the same Customer-Service-Representative who-shall-remain-nameless. ‘Did I respond to this email?’ She asked. ‘I need the mailing address where you want your replacement frother sent.’
Huh? Was this a joke?
Just for fun, I sent her my mailing address, fully expecting she would realize that she had previously told me I needed to submit a receipt for an exchange.
But a few days later I got another email with a UPS tracking number, informing me that the frother had been sent.
And a week later the frother arrived in a box addressed to: Nicola Brenner Nicola
I haven’t bothered to see if it works.
I’ve had a longstanding desire to visit the Banff National Park in Alberta, Canada. Even though I’m NOT a camper or a skiier, I get really excited about snow-capped mountains and lush green foliage reflected in clear water, aka ‘outstanding natural beauty’ (I believe it was Kirstie Allsopp from ‘Location, Location, Location’ who constantly used this phrase.)
In fact, when we were planning our tenth anniversary trip two summers ago, I went so far as to buy a Canada Rough Guide, thinking if Italy turned out to be too expensive, we could just head north. [We ended up in Italy, which was just as well since the Euro was still sort of decent at that point.]
So it’s been in the back of my mind, this desire to visit Banff. But I honestly didn’t ever contemplate relocating to the vicinity. And wouldn’t you know it, that’s exactly where we appear to be headed.
Ah, strange and unpredictable life.
I was on a mission to clean up the boys’ room Saturday night, so I let them stay up, playing until about 9.30pm. And since they were being cute and sort of playing together, it really wasn’t a problem. But, inevitably, little brother decides he is not satisfied playing by himself and wanders over to check out big brother’s stuff. Which is never particularly appreciated.
We were all in the closet engaged in our various activities – I was putting away clothes, G was trying to build a castle and H was trying to destroy it. All of a sudden I heard G say ‘I put my hands behind my back and I say stop!’ He said it with the authority of someone trying to exorcise a demon, even if he was just trying to get his brother to back off without physically ‘removing’ him.
While the little guy did not necessarily respond to this tactic, my effusive praise for using words instead of hands resulted in G saying it several more times.
When it was finally time to go to sleep, G decided he wanted to snuggle with his brother in the crib. Now the crib is already being held together by wire and I wasn’t sure it would accommodate the additional 37 pounds, but I complied in an effort to advance brotherly love.
The baby was delighted by the company, bouncing up and down with a big smile on his face. And G embraced his role as older brother. ‘Look’, he pointed out, ‘these are my forest jammies.’ (If forests consist of sailboats and palm trees.) And his little brother looked on with great interest. Apparently not quite as perplexed as his mother about why older brother insists on wearing last summer’s (too short and too tight) pj’s.
Who was it that said the second child is typically more laid-back or easygoing?
It seems the Hen emerged from the womb alternately smiling and crying. We were still in the hospital with him when I said to Jason ‘why is he crying so much…I thought brand-new babies were supposed to be in a coma-like state for the first couple of days?’ (Panic evident in my voice.)
Those first impressions have proven to be correct. He is quick to smile and quick to cry.
As I watch him ‘lunge’ forward, attacking his big brother with hands and mouth, grabbing fistfuls of hair while gnawing him like a bone, I can only think: we’d better get some black and white striped jerseys for the fights ahead.
It was ‘garage clean-up day’ on Saturday. Which means G insisted on spending the bulk of the day outside with his dad.
Sometimes I wonder what the neighbors think of us (is it narcissistic to think they’re paying attention). G can often be seen on the porch during his outdoor playing sessions, removing his pants and underpants because they got wet or dirty. And, if I’m not paying close attention, there will be several minutes of public partial naked-ness.
And when he is wearing clothes, the combinations are sometimes…interesting. Like last weekend’s ensemble for playing outside: too-small-brown-bear-slippers paired with sweatpants and a t-shirt. Or Saturday’s outfit of choice: last year’s zip-up pajamas, new rain-boots and a winter coat (even though it was a decent spring day.)
At some point I looked out the window and saw the men playing ‘baseball tennis’.
Maybe there is a lacrosse or hockey game in his future….
(Taken out of context from the May 2008 issue of Vogue)
Have a driver to take you places so you don’t have to waste precious time getting lost or finding a place to park. (Requires you to have a driver….and a car.)
Order organic farm produce from the internet and shop for clothes on net-a-porter.com. (Assumes you can afford something from net-a-porter.com).
Learn six simple recipes so you can cook dinner with your husband after you’ve put the kids to bed. (Assumes you (1) are still awake after the kids are asleep and (2) do not have any actual work to do.)
Work out only when your children are at school or napping. (Requires you to have a nanny and/or fitness equipment in your home. It also means you can’t have any pesky work obligations during this time.)
If you have multiple homes, keep your closets stocked in each home so you don’t have to move clothes between them. (This requires you to have multiple homes and enough clothes to be able to leave in the closets of said homes.)
Enlist the services of a personal trainer who will work out with you via video chat if you happen to be out of the country. (This requires you to be able to afford a personal trainer – particularly one who can operate at your beck and call. Also, you’d need to take your computer to the gym which might look awkward in Dubai.)
Skip the fashion shows and shop directly from the couturier. (This requires you to have a lot of money and also a name that people recognize. Not sure Olivier Theyskens would take a phone call from me.)
Install a wood-burning oven in your garden so you can make pizzas at home. (This requires you to have a garden and be able to afford a wood-burning oven.)
While it is true I have a bit of an addiction to the Celebrity Babies Blog, I get really annoyed when they feature quotes from celebrity moms waxing poetically on the art of balancing work and family life. I think people who have nannies, cooks, stylists and personal trainers (and, obviously, large chunks of disposable income) should consider staying mum on the subject.
I had to work a few more hours than normal last week and its effect was noticeable. My house was a mess and I didn’t cook a single meal all week. (Come to think of it, when WAS the last time I cooked a meal? Sigh.) As I was berating myself for my incompetence during this particular week, I realized that this ‘week’ was the rule rather than the exception. It seems that when I focus on one particular thing, others fall by the wayside: work a little more and the laundry piles up; spend several hours cleaning one day and dinner and work fade into obscurity; arrange several play dates with friends one week and everything else takes a backseat.
I guess I had failed to notice this little pattern, blaming my lopsided output on the ‘unusual’ circumstances of a particular week. But, if pressed, I’d have to admit that I can’t recall the last time I had a week in which I worked as much as I needed to, prepared food for all the meals in the day, successfully confined toys to the boys’ bedroom, and tended to the finances and the housecleaning while being a social butterfly and amazing mom and wife. Sheesh, it puts me in a bad mood just to write this.
But then inexplicably, as it is not of my personality to find the silver lining, I concluded – or decided to conclude – that I am achieving balance; just not in all areas at all times. On some days I work, others I clean, others I play with the kids and others I cook and bake. Well, mostly bake.
I call it the ‘unbalanced-balanced’ life or the ‘new balanced’ life. And for whatever reason this change in semantics and perspective have enabled me to feel a little better about my inability to achieve a so-called balanced life.
And just as I reached that conclusion, I found this article online.
So, really, I’m light years ahead…err….behind. Apparently Martha Beck wrote this article in 2003.
The good news is it only took me five years to figure it out.
This one’s for J, who thinks delayed flights with gassy passengers, ugly hotel wallpaper and another Sunday night dinner at Chipotle constitute a rough day.
Let’s say, hypothetically, that one of the toilets in my house had been clogged all day. And let’s say, hypothetically, that I didn’t really want to deal with this issue. I’m aware there is this thing called a plunger that many people use in similar situations, but I’ve never in my life used a plunger.
It’s one of the (admittedly minor) reasons I’m married: so that I don’t have to figure out how to unclog a toilet (or wash dishes and cars, or catch the mice the cat drags in to play with, or clean out the paint tray and paint brush after I’m done painting).
But perhaps, hypothetically, it became apparent as the day wore on that my strategy of ignoring the problematic toilet and possibly occasionally trying to flush it was not going to cut it. Much like ’soaking’ a muffin pan doesn’t really clean it (another one of my special strategies).
So a more mature approach was required. A double-flush. Not sure if there is such a hand in poker, or if it’s successful, but I’ve learned, hypothetically, that it doesn’t solve a toilet problem. Unless you consider an overflowing toilet bowl a success. Which I don’t.
Someone (was it Caesar) once said: ‘I came, I saw, I conquered.’ Well, a lesser known anonymous woman was recently heard saying: ‘I’ve plunged, I’ve mopped, I’ve unclogged.’
Hurry back J…I don’t feel the need to become more familiar with the plunger.
It was late last night and I had to make a dessert for a birthday party. Out of ideas or inspiration, I decided to try the infamous millionaire bars again.
I’d have been in trouble if they failed because I had only enough flour in the house for this recipe. And as it was nearly midnight by the time I poured the caramel filling over the shortbread, I was not going to the grocery store….no matter what.
Lucky for me (and the birthday party guests) the recipe worked this time. The bars were tasty and I didn’t have to endure the guilt from eating an entire pound of butter since I only had a few!
‘Juno’ certainly received a lot of hype while it was in the theaters and in the days preceding the Academy Awards show.
So why was I so underwhelmed?
Maybe I just got ’stuck’ on a few things and couldn’t get fully past them to enjoy the movie more.
(1) The clothing of the high school students….specifically the track/cross-country outfits. I couldn’t decide if the movie was supposed to take place in the 70’s or 80’s, or if the small town in Wisconsin (or Minnesota) was just light years behind the rest of the world in fashion?
(2) Jason Bateman wasn’t funny or even charming in this movie. I’ve had a crush on Jason Bateman since his Valerie’s Family/Hogan’s Family days. I guess Juno weaned me from that. Maybe it was time.
(3) Would a high school girl in a small town, no matter how strange her personality, really take a pregnancy test in a drugstore….multiple times?
I will say, and J agrees with me, that Michael Cera (who played Jason Bateman’s son on Arrested Development) is adorable. And the relationship between him and Juno was surprisingly sweet.
