I’ve only been skiing two times and I know that’s not giving the sport a fair chance, but seriously, I’m not sure I can get into spending all day on top a freezing cold mountain with no way to get down except for hurdling rapidly across icy landscapes and no way to stop, because, no, I haven’t masted braking yet, while trying to avoid pummeling into hard, unforgiving trees and other skiers who know exactly what they’re doing and are, therefore, even more infuriating, and trying to somehow get pumped about the idea of this weekend that sent shivers through my bones the minute someone sent me an email, subject line “ski trip??!!,” that went on to describe this “great time” that involves not only the above but spending a bunch of time with people I’m not really sure I like. Um, sounds AWFUL. Have fun and try not to break your legs.

A couple of years ago I decided to let down my guard and write about things I didn’t like, like Asheville, North Carolina and the song “Hotel California.” Because those things? They suck.

I always meant to do that more often - write about the things I hate - because it was fun, but also because I got a pretty good response. Well, it’s winter in New Haven, I’ve got some time on my hands and I thought I’d try it again. Ok. I hate it when people don’t eat. I don’t mean, like, anorexics, come ON, who do you think I am? I mean this scenario:

“What do you want to eat for dinner?”

“You know, I had a pretty big lunch, so I think I’m just going to nibble, but I don’t need dinner.”

First of all, don’t say the word “nibble.” Ever. Unless you’re talking about a mouse, then maybe it’s alright. Secondly, it doesn’t matter if you ate a big anything, normal people get hungry again. I was talking with my friend Jennifer about this recently, in fact. She was telling me that she hated the exact same thing, the “big breakfast”-”big lunch”-”I’m not hungry for a meal” bullshit. “You know what?” she said, as we discussed the matter over a cocktail. “You do digest your food and you become hungry again later on.” Exactly.

I mean, maybe it’s because I love food so much, because I’m such a food-oriented person, I don’t know, but I can’t remember more than a handful of times when I chose to skip a meal. When I had food poisoning, and I puked like 13 times in one night? Sure, I had a few Saltines and called it a day. But that’s it. Besides sickness I may have missed a few meals due to travel. Perhaps - occasionally - I missed out because of shame, like when I didn’t want to seem like a pig. But when I’m with the other food-minded people, this is never an issue. Just like it’s not an issue that when we go out we order a lot of stuff, everyone is adventurous and tries everything and we eat a lot and really enjoy ourselves. Then sometimes we get coffee and dessert or even an after dinner drink. Deal with it.

I have to make a disclaimer that this part isn’t entirely directed at J, but I kind of can’t take it when people “forget to eat” either, although it doesn’t really affect me because I never forget to eat. “Wait, did I eat lunch? I didn’t!” ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I think about lunch from about 9 a.m. on. Sometimes earlier.

I guess I need to point out that I’m mainly addressing lunch and dinner in this post because, honestly, I’ve gone through some stages when breakfast was a cup of coffee - on a good day a cappuccino, although I eat breakfast on a fairly regular basis now. But whatever, most breakfast options aren’t that awesome anyway. Which reminds me…don’t eat cereal for dinner, oh my God. Are you seriously suggesting cereal for dinner? Are we even friends?

She is sitting in her Bumbo seat on the kitchen floor and watching us make coffee.

She is thinking about Very Important Things.

She is stretching (it is serious business).

But it’s also pretty funny.

She is trying to put her thumb in her mouth, but it is kind of difficult.

She is ready to play in the SNOW!

Pretty much all my life, I had a vision of how I’d be as a grown up woman. As a wife, a mother, a professional. And I had some definite preferences, like how I wouldn’t get married until I was at least 30 (so much for that), I wouldn’t have children until I was 35 (that too) and that I’d never be a stay-at-home mom.

Because I didn’t get it, and I definitely knew it wasn’t for me. What did women who stayed home do all day? The laundry? Maybe watch television? Didn’t they get bored?

Needless to stay, staying at home with an infant has set me straight. What do women who stay at home do? MOTHER OF GOD, what DON’T they do? I’ve thought about trying to explain my days at home to J, so that he might appreciate the level of integrity required when taking care of a baby, all by yourself, for hours upon end, but there’s no point. I’m tired at the end of the day. Besides mentioning a few high points (”Nora took a three hour nap today!” “Nora did a huge poop this morning!”), I’m more interested in what we’re having for dinner, and hearing about his coworkers and all the fun things they did. Did they have cake for someone’s birthday? Did they have coffee together? What did they talk about? Because that’s the other thing about staying at home with a child; except for maybe a phone call or a lunch date every now and then, you don’t really talk to any other grown ups, and that can be hard. I really, really like to talk to grown ups.

Taking care of Nora is an always-changing job. At first it was hard for me to stay at home with a baby who slept all the time. Then I loved staying at home with a baby who slept all the time! Then Nora got a little older, and started interacting with us and the world around her, and now being at home with her is an absolute joy, and also takes more energy as she’s awake more often and wants to play. I started working again last week (3 days a week) and since Nora’s daycare wasn’t set up yet, I’ve been working at home with her. Let me tell you, she totally gets it when your concentration is directed towards something besides her, even if you’re dangling a toy in front of her face and singing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” really loudly. She’s no dummy.

Taking care of a child, I think, isn’t necessarily difficult because the child is difficult (unless of course the child is being difficult, in which case, it is) but because you are always, one hundred percent of the time, on. You are ON. You are taking a shower while listening for distant cries. You are eating lunch one-handed. You’ve had to pee for an hour or so but there hasn’t been a really good opportunity to go, so hey, you can hold it. Your coffee is getting cold.

I want to clarify that I don’t think having and taking care of a baby makes life as crazy as some people told me it would, which I’ve mentioned in other blog posts. It’s really fun and even relaxing in a lot of ways. The point I’m trying to make is different. The point is, you know when you’re at work, and you’re having a stressful day and you take a few minutes for yourself? Like maybe you linger in the bathroom taking a few nice, deep breaths and fixing your hair. Or you take a walk around the block. Or you gab with coworkers in the kitchen for a while making a cup of tea. Forget that. Nonexistent.

That’s why it’s hard to explain at the end of the day. It’s not one specific thing or another, it’s just a state. It’s the state of being a mother and it is all-encompassing in challenging and wonderful ways I never dreamed it would be. I find myself now completely enamored of other mothers, whether they stay home or work or something in between. It doesn’t matter, because being a mother happens on the weekdays, the weekends, in the first hours of the morning and in the middle of the night.

I’m not saying that other jobs aren’t incredibly difficult, and I’m definitely not trying to diminish the role of fathers, who deserve major recognition for the amazing things that they do. All I’m saying is that if you know someone who has had a baby, who is going to have a baby, someone who has lost a baby, someone who is longing for a baby, someone who has raised a baby, someone with babies who are all grown up with babies of their own, if you know someone who has adopted or fostered a child, someone who has been a mother in any sense of the word, just stop next time you’re out - it won’t take you long - and buy her some flowers.

I am watching Nora form a strong bond with the light fixture on our ceiling. This, after providing her with two different kinds of baby seats, an activity mat and a toy that lights up and speaks in three different languages. Apparently she prefers to coo and gaze adoringly at the light fixture for, like, an hour or so. I mean, it is a cool feature of our 90-year-old house. She’s got taste, obviously.

You could be his homeboy.

A few days ago I turned 31, thus making the header for this blog, in which I celebrate my 30-year-old-ness, not so relevant anymore. Since the tragic loss of my old computer (I still mourn for it, honestly, I do), I haven’t re-downloaded the program that allows me to modify the appearance of my blog, but once I do, and once I figure out how to use that program again, I promise I’ll correct the information listed above and present you all with a creative new header. That I will have forced my husband to make for me, because, come on, I’m no good at that.

I also wanted to mention a New Year’s resolution that I failed to list in my previous post, and that’s to write on my blog more often. I could go on and on about how, no, for real, I mean it, but the real proof is in the deed. So you have to trust me.

Finally, I thought I’d post this picture of Nora on Christmas morning as a farewell to the holiday season.

1. Get in shape. GET. IN. SHAPE.

2. Learn to speak Italian.

3. Wear comfortable shoes most of the time. Because some of my uncomfortable shoes are really cute.

4. Finish “The Omnivore’s Dilemna.” I mean, it’s been months.

5. Go to yoga regularly (for reals, Eileen).

6. Eat local food more often when possible.

7. Plant a vegetable garden.

Ok. Your turn…comments please.