Jessica Loves...watching people...

You know that part in the movie Amelie where it says that one of her favorite things is to turn away from the screen and watch the faces of people in movie theatres? Well, I love something similar. I love to watch people react to something and then get caught doing it and then react to getting caught. Lost yet? I'll give you an example. 

Today I was at the gym and multiple people on machines where watching the Wimbledon finals. When Nadal won, this woman on the treadmill threw both of her hands up and smiled so big and broad, you thought she might have been in the stands.  She quickly noticed her involuntary reaction and that a few people had seen it; she smiled slyly and kept running. Another girl, just had a huge grin on her face and was mouthing "YES!" and when she saw that I was watching her, she drew her gaze to the floor, slightly embarrassed, but still grinning. 

Crossing 9th avenue, I was almost hit by a woman on rollerblades. She was looking at the ground while riding in traffic in Manhattan, she glanced up before I swerved to avoid her crashing into me and I just smiled and thought - how absurd to almost be hit by someone on rollerskates in New York. I looked up and this man was watching me and smiled. 

These little moments, they seem to be insights into a person, in a city sometimes so impersonal. It's as if they let their guard down for just a minute and no one else got to see it but you. I love that. 

OBSESSED

I've always been an obsessive type. It takes all kinds in my book, so should it also in your book. They made a whole sitcom about it - it was called DIFF'RENT STROKES.

Anyway, my obsessions have never been cool. I have been obsessed with Egyptian cotton sheets, Nutella, Q-tips, gigantic Sharpies - that sort of thing. Never anything like "vintage childrens books" or "reading the classics". Always things that are a little too day-to-day or pedestrian to be considered interesting or cool.

My latest obsession is cloth diapers. Ugh. Who knew I was so lame? But, really. I am obsessed. I just think these new futuristic cloth diapers are the SHIT. I want to own millions of them in all the colors. They are so soft I want to put them all over my bed and roll around in them. They are better for the environment and now I don't have to worry about what that alien gel in disposables is doing to my babies body.

Oh, Fuzzi Bunz, let's get married.

Poop etiquette

Is there such a thing, you ask?

YES. Let's lay this out.

NO. NEVER.
Pooping while on the phone
Pooping while eating
Pooping and talking to a person in the next room

YES. GO AHEAD.
Pooping with the door open if it's just you and your spouse home
Pooping while reading Oprah magazine
Cursing while pooping because it can be so slow and such a waste of time

QUESTIONABLE
Emailing or blogging while pooping?
Playing Facebook games while pooping?
Applying makeup while pooping?

I need to get to the bottom of this (no pun intended. really.). I hate to poop. I feel like poop asks more of me than I am prepared to give. It takes too long. It's messy. There are so many things I would rather be doing. What do I get out of the deal? I need to go ahead and accept that pooping would be more enjoyable to me if I was able to blog or email or instant message on the toilet. But what's the etiquette here?

I think that having a "theme" (that being 'chelsea loves _______') could be one of the reasons I am struggling with this blog. Or maybe that's just an excuse? I don't know. Maybe if I just come here and write about whatever is going on, I will be more inclined to post. Here's hoping.

Thursday night my dear friend, Erik, came to visit from Colombus. It was so good to see him. I particularly love hanging out with friends from different times in my life now that I have Zoe. They are in just as much awe of her as I am and keep saying, "I can't believe you have a baby, " or "It's so weird that this is YOUR baby!" No one in my Kansas City life really gets it in the same way. People like Erik and Martinique and Paul all knew me as a sort of different version of myself. They knew me as the swingin' single Chicago gal that traveled a lot whose dreams were of a family of her own.

It's also fun to just sit and reminisce with an old friend. Old friends remember things that I forget. And I remember things they've forgotten. It's sort of like visiting your elementary school as an adult...as soon as you lay eyes on it, you're flooded with memories. In our case this weekend it was when Erik mentioned a totally weird restaurant in Chicago called Victory's Banner. We used to take Harrison, the little boy for whom I nannied, there for french toast. The waitstaff wore saris and Birkenstocks and one of the waitresses was incredibly short and it seemed quite possible that she was a mini Pema Chodron.

____________________________________________________________________

Next weekend Zoe and I are going on our first airplane together. I was initially a little nervous about flying with her alone, but quickly eased up. We're like the fucking Wonder Twins. We kick so much ass together. I don't know what I was worried about.

We're going to New York City to visit Jess. She's really going through some difficult changes, but it's wonderful knowing that I can bring to her the little person that makes her the happiest. Zoe cheers her right up.

Completed unrelated to anything in this post: I have GOT to stop saying the word "super" when someone calls and tells me that my car is ready to be picked up or to remind me of a hair appointment. "Super" is just unacceptable. I don't know where the hell I picked it up, but it stops now.

Chelsea loves....her CSA

Do you know what a CSA is? I didn't until a few months ago. CSA stands for Community Supported Agriculture. But what it means to me, is this: I paid $25 to join (this gets me in, plus a few tote bags, a shirt and a cookbook), then every week of the summer I go to Hen House on Saturday mornings and pick up a bag of locally grown natural foods for which I pay $25. Best part is, I don't know what I'm going to get.

This week, my pick-up included a loaf of ciabatta, bok choy, bean sprouts, natural breakfast sausage, milk, eggs, sirloin steaks, fresh thyme and red lettuce.

I love this. It's a deal. It gets me incorporating new foods into our diet (we tend to eat A LOT of the same stuff 'round here). I am supporting our local farmers. And the surprise aspect really appeals to me.

Yessssss.

Chelsea loves....HOME.

I love home. After years and years of traveling and moving from city to city, it surprises me that I have turned into such a homebody. Maybe it's having a child. Who knows. But I love to be home.

We were away for a long weekend and it was a drag. Zoe got sick. I won't go into the details but I am just SO glad to be home.

Jessica Loves...Haircuts and eating ice cream sundaes

Well, I've decided that if you need to find a little sunshine, getting your haircut and then eating ice cream sundaes for 3 days straight is the way to go.

On the haircut front, I went for tiny bangs like Betty Page. On the sundae front I went vanilla ice ream with chocolate sauce and chopped peanuts. I would have preferred caramel, but sometimes, chocolate is just as magical.

Jessica Loves...Skydiving

So, yesterday I went skydiving. Let me write that again so you understand, YESTERDAY I WENT SKYDIVING.

It was one of the most intense and insane experiences of my whole life. It is rare, in these lives of ours, that we actually do something that is indescribable, and that's just what it is, indescribable. It makes you feel calm and confident and crazy and wonderful and excited and scared all at the same time. I am trying really hard to just remember each one of the feelings as I felt them. They are all wrapped up in butterflies and adrenaline.

Here are the sequence of events:

Upon arrival (I went to the Ranch) you hand over a contract that basically signs your life away, then you pay, then you wait. You wait and wait and watch as planes go up and parachuters come down, which is actually quite handy (it's useful to see other people landing, since you too will be landing...hopefully). It is completely and utterly insane to watch batches of people floating down through the sky and gently scooting to the ground. You get to a place in your head where you say "I get it. Let's go skydiving already". Once your group is called you suit up in intensely fluorescent jumpsuits with funny soft helmets and goggles and you meet your instructor.

My instructor was very cute, very european, and very into telling jokes like "It's my first time with a tandem jump, but I'm learning...we'll be ok". Then your face turns grey and he goes "hahah just kidding". Great. Jokes. About safety. And my life. Good.



The instructor goes over everything about how to jump out of the plane (at 13,000 feet), how you have to arc upwards, what to do during the free fall (which is one minute) and then once you pull the ripcord, how to steer, how to land, etc. You listen really carefully and then you think: I am not going to remember one word of that. BUT the best part is, you really don't have to and me, knowing me, said "You can go ahead and just do everything, I'll just worry about the jumping out part."

So we, my instructor and I, got on the plane first, there were probably about 22 people in total including my friends and their instructors, but since we got on first, that meant we jump out last. This can be good or bad depending on the type of person you are, for me, this was the best possible scenario. I've always needed one extra minute to acclimate.  The door to the plane rolls closed and you think "what the hell am I doing? I am clearly and totally insane ." 

You find yourself  sitting right in front of your instructor, on these benches that you straddle. They hook your harness to theirs nice and tight, which feels surprisingly good, it's the security factor that you need at that moment..."at least I'm not doing this alone"...and then you have about a 20 minute long plane ride to endure while you go in big slow circles, up and up. Liken this to the uphill part of a roller coaster that lasts for 20 minutes. The butterflies in your stomach turn into bats which turn into some sort of small mammal which rips it's way out through your chest. Your heart is pounding like crazy as you attempt to laugh, make jokes and keep yourself from screaming your brains out that this is against every survival instinct you have ever had in your life.

So then, just like that, 20 minutes is up. The door rolls open and the advanced solo divers jump right out. I started at that point to take HUGE DEEP BREATHS and to say "OH SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT." 

I was so thrilled at that moment to be last; I got to observe everyone jumping out - the looks on their faces, the positions of their body, and that group mentality kicks in..."if they can do it, I can do it." We crouched our way to the edge of hte opening and there it is, a huge expanse of sky and land and NOTHING in between me and it. You rock back, forward, back and then....JUMP!

I hit the air and it was the most surreal feeling. It wasn't like falling, or how I expected falling to feel. Like one of my friends said "now I know all my falling dreams were wrong the whole time!" The instructor taps you on the shoulder, that's the part where you can start participating, I was all thumbs up, "I'm ok, you just do everything". I was too preoccupied from falling through the sky to check the altimeter and know when to pull the ripcord. I was feeling and hearing the wind, looking at the horizon and at the ground below. Then I felt it, the parachute opened and there I was gliding and floating through the air for 5 glorious minutes. My vocabulary in those minutes consisted of "WOW", "whooooooooooooo!", "this is incredible!!!" and then the instructor said "Jessica, welcome to my office!" Awesome. I love your office. 

We glided perfectly in to land and scooted right it on our butts and I had the most intense rush of my life. My face was glued into a smile for at least a half hour and the notion that I can do anything has not left me still. 

Jessica Loves...Twitter.

Ok, Yes, I am in the online realm for my design job and I am pretty up to date on all the latest online trends and I have to say that when Twitter came out I was all..this is the stupidest thing... EVER. Like I want to read little one sentence self-congratulatory blog postings. I have soooo many things  better to do with my time. 

Jump forward to now. I love Twitter. I do not have the stamina to have my own blog, only to make them en masse for my sister. I do not think I could commit to writing frequently enough to warrant it's usefulness or to create a following of any kind. And then, of course, since I am a web designer, it'd have to be all "the best design ever" and programmed to a T and I just don't want to put that much effort into something where I'd be saying things like..."I walked past this guy on the F train platform who was just sitting there making farty noises with his mouth and I laughed to kill myself." Enter Twitter. I CAN JUST SAY THAT. And guess what? I just did, just then, in between typing this. It's fast and it's especially fast because I use the application Twitterrific so I don't even have to go to the site. I also can just text things in from my phone as well, so that I don't even have to be on the computer. 

I love technology. I can publish my random thoughts and I know EVERYONE will care about them and that is because I am a unique snowflake.

Chelsea loves...ignoring her blog

I apparently have something against this blog. And I know what it is - when I created this blog I had the idea that I would post here what I couldn't post on Zoe's blog...all of the things non-Zoe in my life. Well, the thing is...there's not much non-Zoe in my life. And that's the way I like it. So, I'm easing up and posting things here that are about me and my relationship with Zoe and me as a new mother. Still things I probably shouldn't be posting on Zoe's blog as that's really for her fans...not mine.

Travis sent me an article this morning called, "Motherhood: a changed brain, wisdom gained" that he found on CNN.com. I love this article. Before I had Zoe, one of my biggest complaints about my friends with kids was that they were JUST SO ABSORBED by being mothers. I used to think, "I love how my mother was a great mom but she never lost herself..." because it's true, she didn't. But I'd be willing to bet (I guess I should ask her) that she spent her babies' first years in a baby cocoon and the reason I remember her always living HER life is because I was old enough to remember...I wasn't a baby, I was a bigger kid.

Anyway, I'm going to stop fighting the idea that just because my baby is the most fascinating thing in my life right now my brain has turned to mush and I'm no longer my own person. I am totally giving myself over to motherhood - the most consuming and joy-filled role I have ever known in life.

Chelsea loves...TV

God, I hate TV, but I can't stop watching it.

I haven't watched TV much in the past 5 or so years, I'm just not really a huge TV person. I'm an internet person. But since I had Zoe and started sitting around for hours nursing, I decided maybe I could watch some TV while I did it. Pass the time. You know.

Now I freaking can't tear myself away from the Real Housewives of New York City. I hate this show. I hate everything it stands for. I hate the women. I hate it. But I can't stop watching it. Why do I have shit for brains?

Chelsea loves...the ladybug picnic

I remember loving this as a kid and I adore it now. I am going to start singing this song to Zoe.

Chelsea loves....a kick in the pants

Because no one is calling or emailing me to demand I post new pictures, videos and news on this website (like they are for Zoe's) I find myself pretty much ignoring my new personal blog. Hmm. I have had this problem before. Shit.

Here's what's up:

• I think I am addicted to baby gear. I am obsessed with baby carriers (the babywearing kind) - I have 4 (1 ring sling, 1 pouch, 1 baby bjorn, 1 mei tai) and I've got my eye on another one. We just got a new stroller and car seat and I am honestly acting like I just bought 5 new pairs of shoes - that's how excited (and LAME) I am.
• I have BIG EAR PROBLEMS. No, the problem is not that I have big ears. One of my ears is currently swollen shut because of external otitis. There is no noise getting in. It hurts to chew.
  
• I can't stop eating Newman-O's. These are Paul Newman's dairy-free version of Oreos. They aren't as good but they're good enough to eat and eat and eat.
  
• I got my hair colored a dark brown/purpley color. It's cool, but subtle.
  
• My baby is the cutest thing EVAHHHH.
• I'm supposed to be reading Ender's Game for book club...I bought a copy but now I can't find it.
  
• My pre-pregnancy clothes still don't fit. Neither does my wedding ring. Boo.
• Most of the time I walk around at home in just jeans and a bra. The reasons are two-fold...1.) I get really hot when I wear Zoe in the baby carrier and 2.) she spits up all over all my clothes anyway, so why not just let her spit up on my skin? That way, I can just wipe it off. God, I'm smart.

Chelsea loves...the things she ponders while up in the middle of the night breastfeeding

Here is a little sample of some of the things I think about while I'm breastfeeding half-asleep in the middle of the night:

• On Sex and the City, Miranda Hobbes and Steve Brady have a baby and name him Brady Hobbes because they're no longer together. Then, later, they get back together and eventually get married. She probably doesn't change her name and it's no big deal that Brady has her last name and not Steve's. BUT...I wonder, what will they do if they want to have another kid? Will the kid just have a different last name than his/her sibling? One Hobbes and one Brady? Clearly they can't change Brady's last name to Brady. Can they reasonably name a kid Hobbes Brady? I mean, there was that cartoon Calvin and Hobbes, so I guess it could be a first name. Yes, I know Hobbes was a cat. Still. I'm worried. And these aren't real people. And the show is over. But I need to know what they would/will do. I NEED TO KNOW.
• Since I am further restricting my diet (god help me) and am no longer consuming soy, I have to watch to make sure I don't inadvertently eat something cooked in/with soybean oil. Canola oil is a good alternative. But WHAT THE HELL IS CANOLA? Is this a plant? A legume? A root vegetable? A grain? What the fuck?
• What shape does my nipple take in Zoe's mouth? I've seen the thing get stretched WAY too long by the breast pump - does this happen in her mouth, too? She's much friendlier than the breast pump to my nipples, though, so maybe she does something altogether different with them. I will never find out and this maddens me.
  

Chelsea loves...Dr. Drew Pinsky

I have a huge crush on Dr. Drew. Who doesn't, right? I know. I'm a cliche. But the way he was telling the patients on Celebrity Rehab that just because Daniel Baldwin is a total hypocrite and dirty perv doesn't mean he's not still human just charmed me. And I don't even like that mess of a Baldwin.

I already have a doctor thing...I love doctors. During my pregnancy I wished my doctor would just move into my house. I still sort of wish that, what with Zoe having all these weird poops and whatnot. I told Travis that if we ever strike it rich he can buy one of those $5000 massage chairs from Sharper Image and I will hire a doctor to come and live with us. Or maybe just be on call all the time. Just so long as we are her/his only patients. That would kick so much ass.

Today is Friday..the kids came back from their Mom's. I know it will never change, but it drives me NUTS that they seem to forget they can do things for themselves when they come back. Tonight Jack got out of the bathtub and looked at me and said, "underwear". "Excuse me?" I said. "Underwear, PLEASE." Like I'm supposed to go get his underwear and put it on him? Since when? He's been getting out of the tub and getting his own underwear and pajamas on for AGES. He's nearly 6. Jesus.

It's not his fault, really. He lives in two houses with two different sets of rules. He just gets accustomed to one house's way of doing things and he has to switch again. I remember my Dad talking about that exact thing when we were kids...how we'd come back from our Mom's and he'd have to lay into us for a few days about the rules and being polite. It might not bother me so much if I didn't know that the way we do things is THE RIGHT AND ONLY WAY. :)

Chelsea loves...

A new blog!

I am really enjoying writing on Zoe's blog (here) and had urges to write about things that really didn't belong there. How can I make a post about how much I love Celebrity Rehab relate to what's new with my 3 month old? I guess I could admit that I prop her up on her boppy and we watch it together, but that might anger some of her readers (namely my mother), who could argue she's much too young and impressionable to be exposed to Jeff Conaway's fits of rage (he's a train wreck - I can't tear myself away!). But, there's plenty of room out there for me to have a blog of my very own...one on which I can swear and tell off-color jokes and be my judgmental self. So watch out.

ps
Who designed the awesome header? I'll give you one guess.

Duh.