Celebrating Babeeeeeeeeez!!

This is the most delicious cake I have ever eaten, made by my friend Christina.

This past weekend, two superpowers named Kara and Lori joined forces to throw a Baby Shower for these babes who are going totally bananas in my belly.  I’m guessing that most people have a similar reaction to Baby Showers, Weddings, and Funerals.  They attend them out of a sense of duty, but not necessarily love for the actual event.  Not to say they don’t want to join in the communal celebration/mourning, but it does seem a little forced more often than not.

I just would like to make it clear that MY baby shower had no such people.  Or, if there were folks who were not excited about it, once they stepped foot into Kara’s warm and amazing-smelling home, they became drunk with love of this particular Baby Shower.  See, Lori and Kara created this event in a simple way.   Amazing food and a welcoming environment mixed with a bit of champagne, and me being allowed to invite all these women who are truly the best ladies I’ve ever met.  We sat in sun-drenched rooms, simply talking to each other and waiting for another sampling of food to fit into our bodies from the spread that had been communally created.

I wish this was Scratch'n'Sniff.

Roan popped in and out of the celebration, bouncing from our home across the street over to Kara’s to make sure I wasn’t diving into the prezzies without him.  He was also smitten with the crepes (slathered with nutella and whipped cream) created by Lori.  I’m guessing he ate 245 of them.  Give or take a few.

Roan earned the title of "Present Opening Ninja" on this day

And the gifts – I know it’s tacky to go on and on about “Well, I got this, and I got that, and…..blah blah blah” but you know?  My friends are just really generous and kind, they know my family and they know me.  I’ll just leave it at this – I’m so grateful for these people in my life.  I am surrounded by more love and kindness than I probably deserve, and when I get a group of 25 wonder-women in one room, all of whom are looking out for me – it just knocks my socks off.

My friend Teri sent this pic with the caption, "Does it feel real yet?" Oh boy, does it.

And 24 hours later, I am still full of crepes and cake.  Yum.

Get Your Memories Out!

There is a Drawer of Shame in my home, which contains around 50 video tapes.  They are from various times of my son’s life, from birth up to probably around 4 years old.  There are hours and hours of memories that I have forgotten, friends whose names I probably can’t recall, and way more footage than even the most devoted grandparent would sit (suffer) through. So these tapes are just sitting there and I’m not saying they’re all worth watching but I’m willing to bet that there are some super cute times hiding in there, times that very much deserve a replay.   But as it is, these tapes will remain orphaned relics, victims of a mother that simply got overwhelmed by too many hours of boring tape.

Now if you are nodding your head, thinking “Hey, I have that same problem!” well friends, I’ve got an amazing hook-up for you.  In my cache of talented people I know is a woman named Aubrey.  I want to share her with you.  She owns Willow Street Films, and instead of me telling you what she can do – check this out.  Aubrey spent a few days filming my kickboxing class, and created this for me:

[vimeo]http://vimeo.com/15363539[/vimeo]

Awesome, am I right?  Seriously the real magic here is that I was around 3 months pregnant with twins at the time of filming, and she somehow managed to not show how fat I felt.  Love her.  She also navigated her way around classrooms of wild children who were kicking, punching, screaming, jumping and laughing and managed to not even cramp that vibe one little bit.  In fact, I caught her at one point trying on a glove…

Willow Street Films works in a few different ways.  They can collate footage you already have – remember the drawer of shame?  Take the contents to them.  With no work on your part, they can produce a montage of the best parts – something your friends/family would actually want to watch.  Or you can get them to attend an event and film and edit it for you: weddings, parties, playdates, sports, bar mitzvahs, etc.  See?  Let’s be honest – we all have the ability to film the important things in our lives.  Unfortunately most of us are not equipped with the time or ability to give our recordings style.

Another popular offering from Willow Street Films are creative photo/video montages that people like to show for entertainment at weddings, birthday parties, anniversaries and the like.  May I just say that I’ve sat through way too many of these….done poorly.  It is so very refreshing to see them come to life with panache (and absent the Air Supply soundtrack)  (Nothing against Air Supply).

Contact Willow Street Films here, and thank me later.

[Special deal for my readers – Willow Street Films will offer a 10% discount if you name drop Pistols + Popcorn.]

Bullets + Butter

Today’s post is written by a lady I like to call The Biter.  She is frequently kind and she’s suddenly cruel.  She can do as she pleases, she’s nobody’s fool…oh wait…damn that Billy Joel and his catchy lyrics.  Anyway.  The Biter, also known as Dotty, has a site called My Mommy Bites, which I’ve referenced and urged you to visit more than once here, so go do it.  She’s hyper-talented and funny, and as it turns out – extremely giving and sweet and wants to hook this Pistol up.  I’ll turn this on over to her, with a slight blush and a tip’o’the hat – and a thank you to anyone who feels inclined to follow-up with her big idea to help me out.  From Dotty:

Pistols and Popcorn Needs Bullets and Butter

Oh readers, dear readers of Pistols delight.

I have a proposal that’s way out of sight!

This lady we love to read all the day long

Is with double baby in belly so strong.

But with the twins coming she needs her some loot

Like bumpers and blankets and bottles and boots

So this is the deal, a great one at that

Just send her your baby stuff (but please, not your cat.)

The items I mean are things gently used,

The cute stuff you cooed over and never abused.

This recycled shower will do so much good

From hooking up Pistols to saving some wood.

The planet will love you for passing it on

And landfills will kiss you with their breath stinky strong.

But let’s not forget Roan and Anson,

Her other two boys who are terribly handsome,

hey want Mommy last pregnant days all for themselves,

Not at Babies R Us under racks and on shelves.

“Paying It Forward” was a super bad flick,

But the act itself is totally slick.

So read the directions get packing today,

To help our friend Jodi in this lovely way.

Below is a list of things that are needed.

And know they will all be joyfully greeted!

Thanks for you kindness and love and the like.

Oh, and Baby Number Two just asked for a bike.

The Bookends Are Coming!

So Pistols fans and moms alike, here is Jodi’s wish/desperately needs list for her recycled, super cool, environmentally charged blog shower.  Anything you can dig up from your boxes of baby paraphernalia would be much appreciated.  Please send any and all items you deem perfect for the kiddos to:

Jodi Call (Bloggy Baby Shower)
c/o Area Play
331 Smith Street
Brooklyn, NY 11231
718-522-6455
  • High chair or booster chairs
  • Car seat (s)
  • Baby monitor
  • Diapers [Ed. Note: Obviously, not used.  Please.  I love the Earth, but not that much.]
  • Formula
  • Crib Sheets
  • Blankets
  • Bottles
  • Bath Toys
  • Sleeping bag things that keep babies warm in strollers
  • Baby feeding supplies – utensils, sippy cups, bibs, etc.
  • Wipes
  • Bouncy seats
  • Diaper Genie
  • Halo Sleep Sack
  • Toys
  • Clothes
  • Books
  • Any other thing you can think of

P.S. Roan wants socks for the babies that look like sneakers and Anson wants sleep

P.P.S. You are all very awesome and crazy cool!

Settling Up. Settling In.

First, The Tornado

Thanks to those that checked in with us to make sure we were alright after the Brooklyn Tornado!  We are fine, and the city seems to be rolling along as normally as it was before – which is like a pie made of dysfunctional crust peppered with danger here and there and a creamy filling of coolness and love.  Roan and I actually ended up walking through the tornado, with my brilliant brainiac skills not quite up to speed that this weather isn’t only exciting, it’s dangerous, duh.  I remarked to him while we were on the subway that the last time I saw a green sky was in Utah, when there was a freak tornado.  How weird that the sky looked exactly the same now.  And when we got off at our stop, the rain was falling sideways, there was hail, and wind I’d like to name “We’re not in Kansas anymore” wind.  We waited for a few minutes at the bottom of the stairs of the subway station, then decided to make a run for it – only one block and a half, I reasoned.  No sweat.  So we did it, we got home, totally drenched and wound up and laughing from being out in the freaky weather.  And later that night when I read there were actually two tornadoes that touched down, I had an authentic Homer Simpson “Doh!” moment of clarity at how dumb I can really be.  So, we were totally unscathed by the storm – except for me being demoted a few degrees from being a pretty smart person to being a dumb ditty dumb ditty dumb dumb dumb.

But the real question is this: can I blame my lack of brainpower on pregnancy?  Because being pregnant is really paying off in so many ways these days….for instance….

Next, The Move

Well, this looks like fun!

The move.  It was a beautiful thing.  Who can really say that?  Me, that’s who.  It just turns out that I am surrounded by, and related to, the best people on the planet Earth.  Anson rented a U-Haul truck at 9:00 AM, and by noon, everything had been loaded, moved, and unloaded from apartment A to Apartment Dream Home.  Our brother-in-law, our friend Phil, and Anson were strong like 100 men and got it all loaded up.  One new neighbor had secured us a parking space right in front of our new home, and two other neighbors just showed up to unload.  My lady army arrived on the scene and began unpacking right away, arranging my kitchen for me while I sat in the backyard eating pizza provided by – yup – a neighbor – and watched Roan play with a gang of kids on his own turf, for the first time ever.

Roan and I mostly helped by sitting around and looking good.

I watched as my new home came together, busy and in constant motion with my amazing friends and family doing all the work I should have been doing, and chastising me when I’d try to keep up.  So I truly did about 30 minutes worth of work over the span of the day, and somehow have a beautiful new place to show for it.  There are still a few unopened boxes and such, but this new home feels like home already.  I stood and stared out my kitchen window last night while I was doing dishes.  I was staring at…a tree! I know, it doesn’t seem life-changing but readers – this is my tree! In my back yard.

And one last thing to tell.  My sister told me that she had arranged with some of my friends to meet up at our old apartment to clean it this morning.  We all walked over together and as we entered, it dawned on me that it was exceptionally clean.  And magically, holes were already spackled in the walls.  Even Roan’s final exploding liquid experiment in the freezer was strangely not there.  As it turns out, the magic was done at the hands of my sister and her husband, who spent Sunday cleaning up for us, as a final surprise.  Of course I paid her handsomely for all of her help and support – I bought her a bagel.  Somehow my endless thank-you’s and weak breakfast payments are feeling a little impotent.  And when I try to express gratitude, my sister sends me messages like this:

I’ll do anything to be here now and not where we were last year.  This is celebration not work.  I’m grateful.  I made a deal with God that I’d clean your apartment if things could ever be better.  Just settling up.

I knew I was lucky even when I was in the darkest and hardest part of my life last year – but this year – now, I not only know it, I feel it. Immensely.

Moving on Up….

Can I just echo a sentiment that has been voiced over and over and is echoing in the mind of millions of pregnant ladies all over the universe?  That is – time flies, mama.  So I’m around 30 weeks pregnant now this moment and heaven knows how long these boys are going to stay put.  Unpredictable, these twins.  Doc says don’t count on the regular 40 week timeline.  Twins come out when they will (as most babies do), but typically earlier than those single guys.  So now would be a little too early, but in two weeks?  Could be.  Four weeks?  Likely.  Six weeks?  I’ll be begging for it.  Hmmmmm.

You know what would be a great idea?  It would be a great idea to up and move our home.  Right now.  It would be fun to pack dishes, books, clothes and throw out mad amounts of whatever (whilst the boys are away, of course.)  And what would make it even more fun is to just keep my fingers (and legs) crossed that I don’t have any babies while we’re doing this.  I mean – that would really put a bump in the day if I went into labor while we had a rental U-Haul, you know? Being torn between getting to the hospital and returning a truck on time.   Choices like that are hard.  Delivering twins in the back of a U-Haul would be a little bit awesome and I would wear that story like a big badge of honor, but no.  Just…no.  Don’t want to bear babies in the back of a truck.  That is not my birth plan.

Anson and I have been planning this move since Robey (Monseiur Fabufantastical) found us our new dream home, and it all made sense, in my beautiful hypothetical world.  But when I got the call today from the landlord who told me officially we can do this, starting……NOW, I had a minor yahooooo….oh mercy….yay…..boooo!….awesome….wait what???….moment.  Few moments.  Because as predicted by my doc, by the testimonies of pregnant women all over the world, and by all my friends, I have actually come to a point where I’m not actually as moveable as in the past.  As in, when I bend over I feel like I’m being strangled.  When I sit too long I feel like someone is kicking me in the spine (and I do believe his name is Baby B).  When I walk for too long I get a little dizzy, when I focus too long I just go to sleep.  Without the decoration of beautiful language – I am suck.  I’m like 1/4 the person I used to be and let’s face it that person was like 3/4 the person most people are.  There’s an algebraic equation in there somewhere of the current fraction I equal, and if you solve it I’ll send you a golden star.  If you send me a self-addressed stamped envelope.  (See the above assertion: I am suck.)

Luckily, I have a few safety nets, the same ones I always have.  First, I married a workhorse of a husband who tells me that my job is just to keep these babies in my body, and that he’ll do the rest.  Second, I have a team, nay an army, no no no a legion of goddesses who call themselves my sisters and friends who are the bosses of me and will be helping me put things in boxes for the workhorse to carry and move.  These people are constantly saving my arse and at some point in my life (but not right now apparently) I will hopefully have a chance to get them back for it.  But for now…I’m just saying “yes” to their offers of help and smiling at the thought of a new home…with a back yard!  And space for my giant supersized family.

I just never know what I’m getting myself into.  But damn.  Life is really fun, it is interesting, it is never static, and I am currently one grateful mama.  Now….to find those boxes….or…a place to take a nap….

Lucky Pistols, Lucky Popcorn

I’m having this lucky streak now.  Seriously I don’t know how it’s coming to me but it is, without a doubt here.  Last year was easily one of the worst years ever – for almost everyone in my family.  It was so incredibly stupidly awful.  Death, tragedy, loss, more death, babies lost, jobs lost, kidneys failed.  And now?  This year seems really awesome.  My mom fell in love and just got remarried.  My brother fell in love and got remarried.  A kidney transplant just went down and both my sister and my nephew are recovering nicely.  My little sister, as well as my niece are joining me as preg-natos, which if you didn’t know – my belly is full with not one but two boys wrestling for space, which feels like a punchline to a joke which I cannot figure out.

And there are little things.  Out of the blue, the perfect new apartment fell into my world last week.  It didn’t so much fall as have an assisted glide from the Mayor of the neighborhood, Robey.  This place has space for my family, it has an upstairs and a downstairs, it has a back yard, it is conveniently located next door and across the street from my two part-time nannies super-duper great friends who I will not abuse with requests for help.  No really I won’t.  (Unless I do. In which case I’ll blame the lapse of judgement on postpartum whatever.) And best of all – the place is only $150 more per month than we are paying now.  This was more than we ever even dared to hope for.  And here it is, lease signed, moving date set.  Roan has picked out what color he wants his new (bigger!) room painted.  Black, of course.

Then last week I met up with some amazing women at a BlogHer conference I went to.  Lots of these women were writers whose work I already admired (The Madonna of the Blogging World, Ree from Pioneer Woman enjoyed feeling this giant belly, and couldn’t have been sweeter and oh by the way, mind if I brag, boast, and twitter-drop a teeny bit? Check it out:)

Let’s just hope me posting this little *ahem* name-drop doesn’t ruin our brand new budding friendship.  I want to take the relationship just a bit further so I can help her choose proper shoes to wear while navigating the NYC streets because I hear her toes are suffering from this last trip.

BlogHer also allowed me to hang with my friends from Thursday Night Smackdown, Mamaista, Momtrends, In Jennies Kitchen and then meet and became fast friends with some kindred spirits from Mommy With Tattoos (who is also at The Stir), and The Urban Suburban Mom.  I also fell in love with a stroller from iCandy but it’s too soon for me to actually be lusting after a stroller, isn’t it?  But it is beautiful.  Ok.  (Seriously it’s beautiful.  And built for twins!)

And finally – Roan and Anson arrived home safely, and happy – and that is the luckiest thing yet.  These guys being gone made me realize that no matter how many awesome things are happening, they’re only 1/3 as awesome when I don’t have them around to tell.

I’m happy, readers.  I’ve found out that things do get really bad.  And then they get really good.  And will probably get bad again one day.  But then will probably get really good again!  I cannot control these things, but I can name them, recognize them, and hang on to them.

And since I want to share my luck, I’m posting your lucky lotto numbers.  Try these! (Give me half of the $ you win though please).  4, 26, 35, 42, 43, 59.  Disclaimer:  I’ve never played Lotto so I don’t actually know how many numbers to choose.  But I’m feeling lucky, punk.

Summer Love

Brooklyn Rooftops = Summer Love

I feel good.  I feel happy, and each day I notice something different with this science experiment called my body I have to smile because it tells me that everything is going as it should be.  I’m hungry often, drinking tons (of water and juice thankyouverymuch), I have somehow found the energy I lost in the first part of this pregnancy, and I have somehow lost the pessimism that ruled me in the beginning.  As I receive gifts from friends – bags of clothes, bouncy chairs, and the like I actually have plans for them, and have even started putting my mind to work figuring out where in our close quarters these boys will go.

Roan + His Classmates Celebrating Summer Break

Roan chooses different names every day, and makes new plans for the babies every day.  He plans future outings, has decided who will play which instrument in the band they will start, and has fiercely instructed me to not give them junk food.  Of course that could very well be that he’d like to keep it all to himself.

Sprinkler Play

Summer is here, and with it has arrived genuine smiles from me, peace of mind, and an ease in this life that I have missed.  I feel good.  I don’t even mind people rubbing this magic belly – I feel so lucky and loved – to have so many celebrating this new part of our life.

[And a special Birthday wish to my sister Lori – I love you, so glad you’ve been with me through all the great times and bad times.  I will always try to be like you.  Can’t help it.  Happy Birthday!]

CAUTION: Best Friends Ahead

Best Friends

So the latest thing to threaten out children’s safety?  BFF’s.  Yeh yeh yeh – Best Friends Forever.  There was an article in the New York Times that described the dangers of kids having best friends.  Blah blah blah cliques and such.  And the entire time I’m reading it, my personalities are shifting into high gear arguing with each other.  The first personality, the devil’s advocate, advocates not jumping in to tear the flesh from this article.  The second personality, the pragmatist, had a knife and fork out and was ready to feast on tearing it apart.  (Sidebar:  I think I’m hungry for meat.)   Anyway.  When I read sensational things like this – that seem to be written primarily to get people to react, I try I really try to not bite.  But I’m biting because it cannot be helped.  Let me bullet point the multitude of reasons why having a best friend is actually not a danger to the youth of today:

  • The only way for our children to learn to navigate the highly cuckoo and complex web of social interaction is to actually navigate the highly cuckoo and complex web of social interaction.

Best Friends

Ok, it’s not actually a multitude of reasons, but it gets the job done.  It sucks, I know believe me I know it’s really hard to watch your child be left out of something because they cannot break into a fortress of a friendship that may already be there.  But it’s equally tragic for them to be paralyzed by dependence on their parents to force other kids to play with them.  I’ve found that at some point, every kid gets left behind, at least once.  The nice ones, the mean ones, the friendly ones, the outspoken ones, all of them – yes your kid has felt excluded at some point and so has mine.  Or at least they will.  And it isn’t the fault of the age-old Best Friend tradition.  It’s just because life sucks sometimes, even for the young.  But what better way for a child to learn to keep moving forward, and to find a person who does want to hang out, or even find something they can do on their own?  How awesome is it to be an adult who knows how to not crumble into a pile of tears when our social life doesn’t work out?  We learn from doing.  I’m pretty sure that’s what Mr. Miyagi taught the Karate Kid.  See how nicely that turned out?

Best Friends

I’ve never really been a Best Friend subscriber.  So I’m defending something that I actually don’t even use in my life.  Forever, I have been more likely to have groups of people who are dear to me.  They’re usually from all sorts of backgrounds, and often times don’t know each other.  One friend is the best to go to dinner with.  One is best to hang with at her house.  One is great on the phone.  One is simply the best at slapping me five in passing on the street.  My biggest childhood anxiety attack happened in 7th grade, when a girl by the name of Monica gave me one-half of a golden heart with the letters “Be Fri” engraved on it.  She of course had the matching half, with the letters, “St Ends” on it.  I felt totally locked in, and committed the greatest Best Friend foul when I “lost” the necklace.  It just wasn’t for me.  She moved on, and so did I.

Best Friends

Best Friends

But having a Best Friend works beautifully for some people, and that’s great.  The idea of “friendship coaches” who go around deeming friends “too close” and separating them is just really stupid.  The idea that one model of friendship should be universal is universally stupid.  My take?  Give our kids the room to build the kind of relationships that work for them.  Be ok with the fact that sometimes they’re going to get burned.  Just like you have been, just like I have been.  Protect them from things that are dangerous, obviously – but that doesn’t mean that we solve everything for them.  Back off, have faith in our kids that they will find their people.  And if they have a Best Friend, celebrate it with them.  There are far too many things to say “no” to – enjoy the times you can just kick back and say “yes”.

Best Friends

[Unrelated Note from Jodi: Frugal Mama is giving away passes to NYC museums – information on how to enter is at the bottom of her post today.  It’s easy!  It’s fun!  AND….it’s free!  Check her out for sure!  Go with a best friend!]

Rocked Again

A sort of predictable result of being pregnant again, after such a hard experience on the same ball field less than a year ago is that it’s tricky to enjoy it.  I haven’t really had the heart to research which stroller is going to suit me best.  I’ve not  considered where the crib (s?) should go.  I don’t comb the sites that tell what to expect every other day of the pregnancy.  And it isn’t that I’m not excited, I am.  It’s just that I can still hear the echo of the knock knock knock of bad luck and real life.

This is not the piece I got from Kellene. But it is pertinent to the story. Keep reading.

I remember vividly, when I was pregnant with Roan, the first piece of clothing I received as a gift.  I was around 16 weeks, and a whole gang of friends and family met at some mall in Utah to go find out what kind of baby he was: girl or boy.  Someone shelled out the $60 to get a sonogram and there was no mistake Roan was a boy, and ready to let everyone know all about it.

My sister Kellene ran over to Baby Gap and bought me a little sleeper suit, one with teddy bears.  It became something I looked at often, before he was born, trying to imagine what a baby of mine would look like in it.  That’s all it took, in that super easy and innocent pregnancy – a sleeper suit and I was hooked on my Roan.

So these twins I’m walking around with – I’ve already begun fearing for them.  They’ll be in therapy one day, undergoing regression hypnotic therapy, and will have a revelation that at 17 weeks in-utero, their mother wasn’t convinced that they were real.  And then they will realize they were born with an existential crisis imprinted on their tiny little consciousness and they won’t love anyone including themselves and then they could just possibly do something bad like starting a rampage of hiding everyone’s left shoe.

And that would be my fault.

Or actually it would have been my fault.  But there was an intervention.

A box was delivered to my home yesterday.  Roan opened it and his face lit up like a million bon fires.  “It’s for the babiiiiieeeeeessssss!!!”

Sure enough, we have been gifted doubles of the most adorable little clothing I have ever seen, doubles in multiple sizes.  And not just a few pieces.  We have enough items that I’m pretty sure even with 2 babies, I will never have to do laundry for the first year.  It is a gift that we definately don’t deserve, but one that means more to me than just clothing.

While Roan was pulling out track suits, hats, onesies, sleepers and tank tops I was able to finally see these boys in our family.  It’s funny how getting something tangible – that belongs to them – finally put them in my head and heart as really real.  For real.

Monkey Head. A favorite in our home.

Track Suit Love. Starting Waaaaaay Back.

Roan has chosen which things they will wear coming home from the hospital, and couldn’t be happier that they will be able to carry on the track-suit pride, beginning at 0 – 6 months.  He has called dibs on dressing them each day, and with the bounty of adorable clothing these guys have, Roan will be able to do no wrong.

My friends Lynn and Harald at Appaman know absolutely no bounds in their generosity towards others.  Not only in their gifts, but also in their kindness and  love for their friends.  For the millionth thing they’ve done for my family, I now issue my millionth “Thank You”.  And when you see how well dressed these tots are – well, you’ll know where it comes from.

New York Mama Moguls (and me)

Adina, Elina, Julia, Lara, and Lyss

Women folk have a reputation for not helping each other out.  Let’s face it, Alexis Carrington gave “Dynasty” its biggest ratings when she deliberately startled Krystal Carrington’s horse with a gunshot, resulting in Krystal’s miscarriage.  Yes, I was only ten when I snuck out of bed to watch this episode from around the family room corner while my parent’s indulged in their “alone time”.  But it did give me a heads-up: ladies are on Earth to destroy other ladies.  (Unless they’re sister-wives but I didn’t get that because “Big Love” hadn’t been invented yet.)

That's me trying to soak up some of Hadley's genius

Of course, over the years, my experiences haven’t always backed up this early childhood hard wiring.  I’ve had the good luck to fall in with groups of women who support instead of destroy.  But, like everyone else, I’ve also had experiences with the slightly un-hinged, women whom I know better than to be riding a horse around while pregnant, if you know what I mean.

Adina and Julia *LOVE*

Last week, I was invited to a lunch at Bar Pitti in the Village.  This lunch was put together by Adina who is responsible for super-cool and ultra-cute website with a philanthropic bent, Little Lunalu.  She was visiting New York from London, and wanted to meet up with the moms of New York with whom she had connected with through her site.

Adina and Me - We are hysterical, apparently.

Adina wasn’t kidding with this list of ladies – she invited Casting Director and Planet Awesome Kid maestro Julia, Lyss from Divalysscious Moms, Elina from Mamaista (as well as new Babble launch Family Style Blog), Liz from Cool Mom Picks, Holly and Hadley from Tada Shop, Krista from The Momtographers, Lara from ikidNY, and I do not know how I made the cut – but I got the invite, too.

Lara - also hysterical.

Most of us were meeting for the first time, and I do believe from the outside looking in, you’d believe we were all old friends.  There was no agenda, no task of networking or proving.  It was a table full of ladies just sharing stories, finding out how we were connected, and in my case, being slightly star-struck by getting to hang out with such inspiring women.  And the flurry of emails after the lunch, with everyone involved telling the other one’s “Thank you” and expressing the sentiment that we really need to do this again – it was really jaw-droppingly cool for me to be involved with such a positive collection of women.

[Special big THANK YOU to Krista, who took each and every photo here.  Her site, The Momtographers is awesome, and has great easy-to-follow advice for the budding momtographers in all of us.]