Category Archives: My life

A Bagelful of disappointment

Posted on by
6

It’s a Code Red microwaveable breakfast food emergency in the Bliss family household. My mother’s favorite variety of Bagelfuls (the plain kind with just cream cheese – no fruit!) has been tragically discontinued.

After scouring bagelfuls.com for information and completing a mission to all frozen food vendors within a 20-mile radius of her house to collect every stray box of the now extinct morning pastry, my mom has resigned herself to eating her few remaining cream cheese-only Bagelfuls with a look on her face not unsimilar to this:

And that’s after she plays taps on her bugle, shoots a 3-volley rifle salute, and orchestrates a “missing man” aerial formation.

So much for me sleeping in on my “vacation.”

I’m still alive!

Posted on by
4

In case you were wondering.

I’m on vacation. In Wheaton, IL.

If you asked me when I was growing up in the 90’s if I ever thought I’d go on vacation to my own hometown of Wheaton, I would have said, “As if, dude! Wheaton is wack. Duh. Eat my shorts! I’m going to go get jiggy with it.”

And yet, here I am. I took off work for a whole week and I’m doing touristy things like boat rides on Lake Geneva, tours of Frank Lloyd Wright houses, and eating copious amounts of ice cream. So yes, I’m on vacation.

I’ve managed to stay away from a computer screen until now (my phone is another story), but I just wanted you to know that you miss me.

You probably haven’t given this blog a second thought since my blog post about not having time to write a blog post, but now that I’ve popped up in your Google Reader, you’ve realized how much you’ve missed me this week.

And that is a LOT. Right??? Right.

Oh, stop crying. I’ll be back to normal life and my regular posting schedule (not sure what that is) next week. In the meantime, I may put up a few mini posts to keep you entertained. And maybe you can work on being less demanding.

Just kidding! I love you. No, I lurve you. Have fun at work this week. (suckas…!)

Welcome to Wheaton.

No time! There’s never any time!

Posted on by
2

Thinking about writing a blog post this week makes me feel a little bit like this:

I haven’t turned to caffeine pills (yet) and there’s no crying or frantic, spastic singing occurring (yet), but on the inside I’m having a meltdown a la Jessie Spano.

No time! There’s never any time!

Ok, I don’t think Jessie actually says that in the clip above (although I can’t be sure – I’m doing a quick lunchtime post at work and forgot my headphones), but I feel pretty confident that everyone I know or care to associate with will recognize that those lines come from the same glorious episode of Saved By the Bell (in which having “no time” basically transforms Slater’s “Mama” into a rabid singing dog with a black scrunchie bow in its hair, the massive proportions of which does nothing to conceal the fact that said hair will be in deep trouble should a brush fire occur in the near vicinity).

Long story short, this is my way of admitting that I have approximately zero minutes of free time to blog or do anyting this week and I’m a bit stressed. You may be wondering why someone so short on time would choose to express this in such a long-winded fashion? I don’t know! This is exactly how I get into these predicaments – I do it to myself! I am the problem!

I need a therapist – maybe we can figure out some way to pin these issues on my dad.

If you see another blog post from me this week, it means I actually got my shit together.

If not…pray for me…

Now entering Phase IV of Post-College Life

Posted on by
7

So far, this has been the most relaxing summer I’ve had in a long time. Last weekend I read my book (Commencement by J. Courtney Sullivan – pretty good chick lit summer book), watched some HGTV, tried streaming Netflix through Wii for the first time (and ended up watching a few episodes of the first season of Laguna Beach, as if I needed to prove to myself how pathetic I really am), and actually got to the point where I was a little bit bored.

I was forced to make pina coladas on Sunday night just to spice things up a bit.

It was wonderful.

Then it hit me. The reason why this summer is much less busy than any other summer in recent memory is the staggering lack of weddings and wedding-related events. And that is a result of this:

We have now entered Phase IV of Post-College Life.

Here’s a rundown of the Phases of Post-College Life, in case you’re not familiar with them (which is likely since I pretty much just made them up in my head about 2 seconds ago):

Phase I: You recently graduated from college and have begun the job search. This basically means that you and your friends are all living with your parents, going out every night, and checking out online job postings during the day whenever Mom is around so she won’t feel like you’re taking the free food and laundry service for granted. This phase can last anywhere from a couple of months to a couple of years. (If you remain in this phase longer than two years, you are dropped from the Phases of Life for Normal People and enter the downward spiral to Loserville. Sadly, only a decently-paying job can save you now.)

Phase I

Phase II: You found a job! Or got into grad school! You move out of your parents’ house…eventually. (There is no shame in taking advantage of the free room and board until the 2 years before the downward spiral to Loserville expire.) And now you and your friends are busy working, going to happy hour, and hitting up the singles scene on the weekends.

Phase II

Phase III: Ahh, love. People are coupling off left and right. There are engagements, marriages, and commitments to same-sex partners. And you spend the months of April – October attending weddings, showers, and bachelorette parties like it’s your job. Much of your salary goes toward gifts, bridesmaid dresses and flights. But the open bars and regular opportunities to get all of your friends together are totally worth it. This is the phase I thought I was in…until recently.

Phase III

Phase IV: Here’s where I am. The deluge of weddings/commitments/”we’re moving in together” parties have slowed to a mere trickle. A majority of your friends have adopted the “we-speak” and are officially part of a couple. Then come the pregnancies, baby showers and actual babies. And here’s the cruel reality of life: the one BAD thing from the previous phase follows you into this phase – shower games. Except now instead of making wedding dresses out of toilet paper, you’re sniffing little turds of melted chocolate candy bars in diapers. So yes, it gets worse.

Phase IV

After that point, you enter the Phases of Family Life. This bores me, so I will not be discussing it here.

Here’s proof that I have officially entered Phase IV of Post-College Life:

2006: 7 weddings; 0 friends with babies

2007: 9 weddings (including my own!); 0 friends with babies

2008: 7 weddings; 2 friends with babies

2009: 8 weddings; 3 friends with babies

2010: 4 weddings; 6 friends with babies (and 3 on the way)

The tide is rapidly turning in favor of the babies!

(Coming up with that count is 20 minutes of my life that I will never get back – but it’s kind of interesting, no?)

I’ll definitely miss the parties, free booze and chance to see all of our friends together on a regular basis. But if it means more relaxing and reading my book on the front porch with pina colada in hand…then welcome, Phase IV! I think I’ll be kicking back and enjoying this phase (and other people’s babies) for awhile.

Baby bucket list

Posted on by
8

So I think I’ve made it clear on this blog that sometime in the future, Will and I would like to have kids (no more than two – please, I’m not a machine). I’ve also made it clear that I am currently extremely unprepared for this event.

If things go according to plan (which they probably won’t – I have a feeling that I’m jinxing myself by writing this blog and I will either get an early “surprise” or end up dealing with fertility issues, but hey, that’s just more blog material, right?), I have about two years to prepare myself for mommydom (or mommydoom, depending on how you look at it).

In the grand scheme of things, two years is NOT a long time. There are a ton of things I want to do and accomplish before I start having to deal with morning sickness, a rapidly expanding mid-section, and ultimately a small, helpless person who takes up residence in my house and won’t leave.

The clock is ticking, and my subsequent neuroticism is increasing by the minute. So, to focus myself, I’ve come up with this: The Baby Bucket List.

This is a list of things I want to do before I am with child. Hopefully I’ll be able to cross all of these things off in the next two years, and that would be great because 1) I love crossing things off of lists (yes, I’m one of those people); and 2) I will be more fulfilled and happy as a person in general.

CARLIE’S BABY BUCKET LIST

1. Go on a vacation to Europe. Right now, I’m thinking Italy…

2. Do more freelance writing – enough so that I could possibly make a living from it.

3. Buy a house/condo. This one in Chicago looks perfect. Who wants to chip in?

4. Get six-pack abs. Well, I’ll settle on a four-pack. Or maybe just flat with no “pooch.” I’m not interested in taking steroids or getting all crazy-Madonna-like muscle-y.

5. Find dopplegangers of all of my good friends. Ok, this one isn’t for real – just a shout-out to those of you who watch How I Met Your Mother. What is UP!?

6. Learn to cook. Or at least figure out some really good, healthy ways to use my microwave.

7. Watch the entire series of LOST on Netflix. See previous post.

8. Visit every rooftop bar in both St. Louis and Chicago. I love being outside. I love great views. I love drinking. I love not having a baby/child with me while I do it.

9. Go on a vacation to an all-inclusive resort. We’ve done this before and it was so great, I need to do it again before Disneyland is included in our list of possible vacation destinations.

10. Host a dinner party. This one is for Will. For some reason, he really wants to do this. I said as long as he cooks and makes his homemade sangria, I can get all Martha Stewart-y for a night.

11. Host a real party. Will and I have been married for almost 3 years now and have never had a big party with lots of people that gets somewhat out-of-hand. The window on this one is rapidly closing now that our friends are getting pregnant, so maybe I’ll get to cross this off the list soon.

12. Read at least 15 books. That’s 7.5 per year. As long as our DVR stays broken, I’ll be off to a good start. (Did I tell you our DVR is broken?? We are in full crisis mode.)

13. Go on a loooong road trip. Not one of those 5-hour dealies, like the St. Louis to Chicago trip we do every other weekend.

14. Drink a bottle of really expensive champagne. Like over $100. Maybe I’ll share some with Will.

15. Run a 10k. I know this doesn’t seem like much to all of you marathoners out there, but I hate running. I’ve run a million 5ks without training for them, and I could probably do a 10k, but actually making myself sign up for one is a different story. I just want to do it once and then never again.

16. Start doing yoga. I’m a little intimidated by all those stretchy people in their cute stretchy pants, but maybe I’ll become one…or at least improve upon my plywood-like flexibility.

Ok, that’s it for now, but this list is a work in progress. I’ll probably be adding to it as I think of more things I want to do.

So what do you think? Can you help me accomplish any of this? Anything missing that you think I should add? Why is having a new to-do list that probably won’t go away for a couple of years (if ever) totally stressing me out right now? I need help.

Adventures in Chi-town pt. 2: In which I hold a baby and get sort of drunk. Not at the same time.

Posted on by
6

You guys. I held a baby last weekend. And I returned him to his mother, unscathed (I’m referring to myself, not the baby).

The baby (one mini Mr. Tyler Hoff, son of my high school friend Stacey) also survived in one piece. His head didn’t fall off, and I want to say he lasted a whole five minutes before bursting into tears. I also have to admit that he was sort of cute in a wrinkly, tiny person kind of way.

Is this a sign? Am I coming around? Do I maybe want a little baby Tyler of my own?

No.

At least not yet.

How do I know this? Because later that night Carlie the newborn baby holder met up with a group of her college friends and turned into Carlie the I’m-not-in-college-anymore-but-that-doesn’t-mean-I-can’t-act-like-it sorority girl and did some things (like stay out until 3 a.m.) that are soooo not mom-like.

So that’s the end of that. But overall, last weekend I had a great time back in Chicago (and surrounding suburbs). And here’s another shocker – I hung out with not one, but TWO babies! At the same time! Willingly!

That’s Tyler and Brooklyn, the offspring of my friends Stacey and Kristen, who seem to be handling motherhood swimmingly. I’m hoping to be able to learn a thing or two from them. They hold their babies like nobody’s business, and that’s not easy for Kristen. Brooklyn is a very healthy 6 months old and my forearm nearly snapped in half when she offered to show me how heavy a baby in a car seat can be. Lesson learned. I better start on the protein shakes now.

After a fun lunch with that crew at Stacey’s house, I headed out to Naperville to begin my baby-free part of the day and catch up with two more friends, Anna and Sarah. We went to a Mexican restaurant and did NOT get margaritas because a night of drinking copious amounts of sangria was in our future. So there’s proof that I don’t act exactly like I did in college (and that my fear of hangovers is almost as intense as my fear of sharks. Which is really intense. Have we discussed that yet? I HATE sharks).

Anyway, after a Diet Coke, chips and salsa and a bite of Sarah’s chicken quesadilla, I was fully fortified for a night on the town!

First stop: Café Iberico! Frequenting this place has become somewhat of a tradition for my college friends. The food is awesome but the sangria…oh the sangria…is purely magical.

And perhaps a side effect of the delicious Iberico sangria fruity goodness I speak of is big scary-ass bug eyes.

I don’t know.

Let me introduce you to the girls. Here we have Megan, Kim and Sarah.

And this is Laura, Emily, Jeannine and Sheena.

Now you can put faces with names when I talk about them again. Because I’m sure I’ll be talking about them again. You may recognize them from my original Adventure in Chi-town.

After downing about 6 pitchers of sangria, we thought it would be a good idea to drink some more.

So off to Clark Street Ale House we went! And we spent about 6 hours there. Almost a full work day. The best part was that I didn’t spend a dime thanks to a generous fellow named Stephan (with a soft “ph) who felt compelled to buy drinks for a bunch of people at the bar that he didn’t know. I hope Stephan remembers how grateful we were when he gets his next credit card bill. I’m sure that will make it all worth it.

The next best part was that I was introduced to a completely addictive game called Photo Hunt.

Basically, they show you two pictures that are slightly different and you have to point out the differences. The money we would have spent on drinks if it wasn’t for Stephan was quickly poured into this machine.

Then it was a quick detour to El Famous Burrito and off to bed (aka deflating air mattress on Megan’s floor)!

Ah, Chi-town. Thanks for yet another great weekend!

I have a feeling the spending-time-with-babies to going-out-drinking ratio in my future weekend trips will start tipping in the babies’ favor. But for now, this was a great balance! And that means something since my preferred balance in the past would have been 0% babies and 100% going out.

This is big – I’m making progress!

What’s my Facebook status? Old.

Posted on by
1

Back in the social media stone ages when I first joined Facebook (circa 2006), there was no such thing as a status update. It was basically just a bunch of profiles and walls that you could write messages on. Ah, life was so simple back then.

Now every time I sign on, I’m barraged with links and updates and conversations and photos and stuff people “like” and my brain explodes.

But don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of Facebook. I “like” it, if you will. I think it’s really interesting.

Most of the time, I don’t care about 80% of the information posted by my Facebook friends, but scanning through their updates this morning, I started thinking that who I am friends with and what they are talking about really says a lot about me as a person.

And it seems that my status, according to Facebook, is that I’m getting OLD.

Here are some of the examples of the statuses I encountered in my news feed today:

“Headed to NC to meet our new nephew.”

“Happy anniversary babe!”

“I will not be one of those parents who talk about their kids’ bodily functions. But dude, omg. She’s so tiny!”

“Feeling sort of old because all I want is $$$ for Home Depot so I can get new faucets, sinks & light fixtures.”

“I have a dancing baby in my belly!”

 “Happy 3rd birthday to my hilarious daughter!”

Yes, that’s right – my Facebook friends, most of whom I consider to be my peers, are all yammering away about babies, home improvements, and long-term relationships. Next thing you know, I’ll be seeing status updates about AARP discounts, playing Bingo, and what was for lunch in the retirement community cafeteria.

The days of reading about studying for tests, going to parties, and recovering from the subsequent hangovers have long since passed me by. Most of the people I associate with have become spouses, parents, homeowners, and working professionals.

Now there’s nothing wrong with this. As a 28-year-old woman who has matured at a relatively normal rate, you would hope that my friends and acquaintances would have done the same. But looking at their collective status updates today, I was suddenly struck by the fact that I am no longer in limbo between young professional, having fun, working for the weekend and settled, responsible, bill-paying adult. I am squarely in the settled, responsible phase.

Luckily, I’m ok with that. In fact, the settled, responsible phase is a lot more relaxing, involves a lot less drama, and I think I can hear my liver sighing with relief.

Thanks to my work friends for inspiring this post and telling me about this hilarious website showcasing parents on Facebook whose children will grow up with major privacy issues!

To all my Facebook friends – I hope you have a great weekend full of changing diapers, working overtime, driving mini vans, staying in on Saturday night, and doing all of the things us settled, responsible adults do!

Happy Friday!

5 ways I might screw up my future kids

Posted on by
Reply

I know, I know, I’m jumping the gun a little – you have to actually have kids (or want to have them) before you can screw them up. But I’ve always been the type of person who worries plans in advance. Some might say I need to be more spontaneous, but I just take comfort in the fact that not much ever surprises me. And if it does – I freak out.

By thinking of all of the things I could do that might possibly turn my children into horrible people before they become actual people, I feel like I might be able to avoid them (the things I could do, not the children…although avoiding your children seems like a great way to screw them up…didn’t crack the top 5 though). We’ll see.

1. When Gatsby is sleeping on my lap while I’m watching TV and a catchy song (usually an iPod commercial) comes on, I like to pick him up, stand him on his hind legs and make him dance until he bites me. I’m truly concerned about how difficult it might be to control this same urge with a baby.

2. One time, this thought actually crossed my mind: Even if I have a boy someday, what’s the harm in dressing him in girl clothes when I take him out in public for the first few months of his life? They’re so much cuter than boy clothes. And I think I might like my baby more if I can put bows in its hair. No one will know the difference…

Cute, right? Sure it's a girl...?

3. As an adolescent, I had glasses, braces, bad skin and was a spelling bee champ. Will also had glasses and bad skin and was a geography bee champ . In other words, our nerdiness knew no bounds. Our future kids are already facing uphill battles based on genetics alone!

4. Will and I were both pretty good students, so if our kids don’t do well in school, I’m either going to accuse them of being lazy and not trying hard enough or seriously consider how likely it was that the hospital gave us the wrong baby. These kinds of expectations may be a tad unhealthy to put on a child who I haven’t even met. And yet, here they are.

5. I watch all of the Real Housewives shows on Bravo. I really hope those shows get cancelled (what am I saying!?) before my kids are old enough to watch TV because they really shouldn’t be watching that stuff. And I don’t trust myself not to watch it just because they’re in the room. The excuse, “they don’t understand it anyway” would probably escape my lips and then, before I know it, they’ll be walking around talking about “bubbies” and asking why we don’t have a house in the Hamptons. Also, I really don’t want them thinking that Kelly Bensimon is what normal moms look like. Lets leave the unrealistic expectations to me, ok kids?

Home is in my chest cavity

Posted on by
2

Home is where the heart is.

So…my home is in my chest cavity? Sounds warm and cozy enough! I hope I have cable in there. And WiFi.

Yes, I know I’m being too literal. But I have an issue with that saying. While it is a lovely sentiment, what if you don’t know where your figurative “heart” is?

If you read this blog regularly and don’t space out while you’re reading or carelessly skim the words because you’ve got more important things to do, you know that Will and I spent a few days in Miami this past weekend. The trip was lots of fun. South Beach is a beautiful, sunny place filled with loose women, crack heads, members of the Jersey Shore cast, and American Apparel stores. We had a blast! I’ll tell you more about it in my next post when I have a chance to upload my pictures.

Anyway, as the end of our vacation neared, I found myself thinking about going home. I hate when vacations end, but it’s always nice to get back to good ol’ familiar Illinois – land of Cubs fans, deep dish pizza, and Walter E. Smithe (you dream it, we build it!).

But WAIT! Hold the phone! Insert the sound of a vinyl record screeching to a halt here!

That lovely place I was envisioning myself returning to? I don’t live there! That was Chicago, or more specifically Wheaton (land of 1,000 churches and even more religion-based judgements! (Sorry Wheaton, I love you. Muah!)).

So that was weird. For a split second, I had actually forgotten that I now live in St. Louis. It seems that when I think of going home, going back to what is familiar and what I envision my daily life to be, I still think of my hometown.

So I guess whoever wrote the home is where the heart is saying would conclude that my “heart” and therefore my “home” is in Wheaton. But that’s so far from where I actually live – from my job, my cute apartment, my husband, and – dear God – my dog! It doesn’t seem right that my “home” isn’t where those things are.

Basically, myself and my heart are homeless. My physical self is happily living in St. Louis, but my heart is in Wheaton, probably rubbing it in by going to the Popcorn Shop every day and taking the train downtown to take walks by the lake and go out to nice restaurants. No fair.

Thus, I’m not a fan of the home is where the heart is saying. If it was on Facebook, I would not “like” it. I would be one of those people commenting on why there isn’t a “dislike” button.

I like to think that I just take my “home” with me wherever I go – that way, I’m always there! So for now, I’m going to go with the literal interpretation and say that my home is inside of me…possibly in my chest cavity, but I’d have to have an X-ray to positively determine that.

Reasons # 1,236 and #1,237 that I’m not ready to have babies

Posted on by
1

Sometimes I really like being alone.

This past weekend, Will had a lot going on. A bunch of his high school friends were in town for the Mark Gessford Memorial Scholarship trivia night (which was a HUGE success!), so he was preparing for that and hanging out with everyone pretty much nonstop Friday through Sunday. I was feeling lazy and tired and wasn’t as involved in the trivia night planning, so I just decided to relax and stay home by myself for most of the weekend. And it was AWESOME.

I’m not one of those people who gets bored when I’m by myself. In fact, when I find myself faced with some precious “me” time, my mind reels with all the exciting possibilities of things I can do: Read a book! Give myself a pedicure! Catch up on my DVR! Write! Go for a run! Go shopping! Just sit outside and think! (I’m serious, I’ve done that before.)

The thing is, I really enjoy myself. And by that I mean I love hanging out with just me. I’m a fantastic companion…at least for myself. I love me. I think I’m fascinating and an all-around good time. I could entertain myself for days on end without interacting with another human being and be perfectly happy.

No, I’m not a hermit and I do not hear voices in my head (that I will admit to). I just really like being alone sometimes – probably because it doesn’t happen all that often.

Here’s the thing that hit me this weekend as I was enjoying time with myself, toasting to myself, and exclaiming “Oh, go on!” to myself as I reminisced and recounted witty stories and anecdotes with myself (I promise I’m not crazy – it’s called exaggerating for the sake of entertainment, people):

Once I have kids, I will most likely spend the next few years of my life never being alone. EVER.

In reality, it will probably be a struggle to get any precious alone time until my kids set off for college – and then who knows, I might have a bored, retired husband to contend with.

So I guess that’s just another factor that will increase my risk of post-partum depression.

The good thing is that I’m giving myself a couple of years to let this sink in. Maybe I should try to spend a lot of time alone between now and my first kid so that I get really sick of myself. But trying to hate myself just doesn’t seem beneficial to my mental health. Plus, who am I kidding? I could never hate me! Look at this face!

Precious.

And/or scary.

Oh, and reason #1,237 that I’m not ready to have babies is that I want to be able to book last minute trips to Miami…like we just did for this weekend! I’m pretty sure going on vacation at the drop of a hat is not very baby-conducive.

Hand me a mojito and cue that Will Smith song! Adios St. Louis! Hola, la playa!