From my couch.

Tonight.

Glass of red wine in hand.

“The Hills” premiere.

Will Lauren be missed? Will Kristin bring the drama?

Commence the discussion.

And follow me later.

Yesterday the three of us spent the rainy day indoors, watching movies and playing with birthday toys. Nora was wearing her new overalls and was doing a great job entertaining herself. Stacking blocks, laughing at the dogs, babbling about all the important ideas she’s been mulling over and adventures she’s planning.

When family and friends see Nora, they often remark that she’s gotten bigger, and yes, of course she’s gotten bigger. I think we might worry if she hadn’t, but lately the growth spurts seem so much more noticeable. She’s bigger in size, but also, she’s inching towards kid status. I call her my “baby,” because she will always be my baby, but she is becoming more and more of a little person every day.

The changes are gradual but she often startles me with her growing awareness. The other day I caught her looking at a cut on my knee, touching it gently as though she somehow understood I’d hurt myself. She will now point to the particular item she wants to eat when I’m feeding her, acknowledging that, yes Mom, I can see I have pears here on my tray, but I want that yogurt right there. She knows when we are being funny and, even better, she knows when she is being funny. At brunch this weekend, she repeatedly put a menu over her head and then glanced out slyly, before erupting into giggles, playing peek-a-boo with anyone willing to join the game. She waits with suspense during breaks in tickling attacks. She looks up to make sure we know when we are supposed to be chasing her, or that we see her dance moves.

Her personality is now more complex. She is relentlessly friendly. She sometimes judges new people with long, uninterrupted stares before granting a smile. Other times she is immediately drawn to a someone, presenting them with her sippy cup, grinning in their direction long after they’ve looked away, until she wins and they have resumed interaction. She has gained a stronger sense of affection, clinging to my neck, her head burrowed in my shoulder, as I walk her to bed, and delivering enthusiastic, spastic hugs when she gets excited about the prospect of a new toy, or playing an instrument at our music class.

In addition to an endless stream of baby talk, she can say a few real words and phrases, including “uh-oh,” “dogdog” (for “dog,” of course) and “duck.” I’m pretty sure when she says “wassa” it means “what’s that?” and that a often-repeated sound along the lines of “yook” means “look.” Listening to her is one of my favorite things to do, whether she’s in the carseat, pointing out the window and making nonsensical (to us, anyway) observations about the world, or holding open a book, talking to the characters, to us, to everyone. Books are her best companion at this point and I carry them with us everywhere. She loves to sit with a board book and turn the pages, close the book entirely, then open it again. And so on and so on.

In addition to the literary life, she really, really, REALLY likes Elmo.

I’ve written a lot on my blog in the past year about how being a mother has affected me…how it has been wonderful and, at times, difficult for me and how our life has changed in so many ways. Nora’s changed, too, and so quickly. Having a year’s perspective, I find myself bursting with pride. I remember writing after she was born that Nora was amazing. I can now repeat the sentiment, and mean it a million times more than I ever thought possible.

When I told my friend Elizabeth, who has two girls, that I was pregnant, I remember asking her about being a mother. She told me that she didn’t want to sound sappy, but that being a mother is wonderful because you have this little baby, and you can’t possibly imagine loving them any more than you do, but as they grow up, that’s exactly what happens. You love your baby more and more every single day.

One year later, I know exactly what she means.

Exactly.

1. Block off entry to kitchen with baby gate.
2. Block off stairs with baby gate.
3. Fill Kong toys with delicious human food that will keep dogs from demanding walks with high-pitched whines and sad eyes.
4. Change into sweatpants.
5. Place array of (new! thanks everybody!) TOYS on the floor. Express delight! (”Nora, look at all your toys! You can’t wait to play with them, can you?! ALL AFTERNOON!!!)
6. Place necessary remotes on ottoman at arms’ length.
7. Place phone at arms’ length.
8. Retrieve cozy blanket.
9. Pour large ice water, or drink of choice.
10. Commence with admitted laziness.

In the grand tradition of the McDonoughs and the Rotondaros, Nora is really partying it up for her first birthday. We’re celebrating September birthdays with family today and last weekend, on her actual birthday, we played outside with friends and had some cake.

And when I say had some cake, I mean we seriously had some cake.

This has been one of J’s biggest fears for all his life, I think. The first birthday party, where the baby gets birthday cake - in this case a delicious Elmo birthday cake - all over his or her face. He hates it, just like he hates it when his ice cream gets melty, and he starts to have a panic attack and has to run and wash his hands.

So during this memorable event, this hallmark of a child’s life, as we all stood around and laughed at one-year-old Nora eating her cake like there was no tomorrow, I heard, on my left, a continual refrain oh so quietly muttered as he snapped photos, a grimace on his face: “That’s disgusting. That’s disgusting. That’s disgusting. That’s disgusting.”

…favorite plaid shirts, the pretense of potential knitting projects, the smell, the colors, hot coffee, cocoa and cider, blustery days, getting the sweaters out of storage and on my shelves, Columbus Day, elections, kids walking to the bus stop, wearing my Clarks, rolling the windows down, getting outside while we still can, walks along the water, Thanksgiving plans, Halloween decorations, weekends at home, off-season vacations, school supplies, clear blue skies, anticipating snow, leaf piles, root vegetables, all the birthdays (yeah Megan!), my jacket with the poodle pin, the first time you turn the heat on, festivals and street fairs, long drives, making fires at night, a good book and a warm blanket…

During our trip to Rome this spring, I was reminded of one of the world’s great beauties, and that is the espresso - which is a simple coffee to the Italians. Which you’ll find at any decent American coffee shop, although it is seldom ordered on its own in this country.

I’m not a coffee expert so this post isn’t going to answer any scientific questions, or delve into the deeper meaning of coffee and its relation to the human experience. But I will say this: while I prefer a good old cup of drip coffee in the morning - my hands warming on the ceramic mug, sipping as I watch the news - in all other instances an espresso is preferable. For an afternoon pick-me-up or after a meal. I don’t know why, but a tiny little espresso is all one needs most of the time, and it delivers the goods without the caffeine rush that can sometimes accompany a regular coffee, or the huge coffee drinks we have become so accustomed to.

Anyway, the point is not to ensure you come away thinking I’m some Italian coffee snob. No, no. My point is far more important than that.

I just needed the intro to point out that last night I attended a Moms Night Out at a local bar and because this event required me staying up past 10 p.m. I decided I needed something to get me through. I sometimes turn to a cup of tea when the afternoon is dragging, but a cup of tea is a cozy drink, a let’s-stay-in-on-a-rainy-day-drink. What I needed, friends, was an espresso.

Ideally? Well, ideally I would have made one myself. I used to have a Bialetti coffee maker - the kind you use on the stove top - which makes a very good espresso-type coffee without having to actually use an espresso machine. But my Bialetti has been overused and under-cleaned and I need a new one. So in order to address my occasional espresso fix I’m forced to go to a coffee shop and order one.

I needed an espresso last night and in order to make this happen, I drove to a Starbucks two towns over.

Here’s where I diverge from the subject for a second. I love where I live. When J and I were looking for houses, we didn’t even know this area existed, but I couldn’t be happier we picked it. Just a half-block walk from the Sound, you can often smell the salt water and fresh air of the sea. Morris Cove can be at once adorable and just the tiniest bit questionable. You’re down in the park saying your hellos to an elderly couple dressed in matching Madras when all of a sudden some guy in a wifebeater drives his motorcycle down onto the footpath. It’s charming like that.

The only major complaint I have about our neighborhood is its lack of proximity to anything remotely useful in a commercial sense. We live somewhat near the town of East Haven, but not in it. New Haven’s downtown is extremely close, but the fact that you have to get on 95 and cross a bridge makes it seem far. We’re a little isolated.

Listen up entrepreneurs!

Morris Cove needs a coffee shop. I can think of at least two available spots for such a venture, so don’t even begin to tell me there isn’t a good spot. I’d do it myself, but, I’m not going to lie; I’m just not up for it. I don’t have business sense! I’m willing to embark on some crazy adventures, like maybe managing a rock band (don’t quote me on that), but I don’t have the training, time or common sense to get a coffee shop off the ground.

I know someone out there does, though, so I thought I’d launch this open plea on my blog, which, I’m almost certain, none of my neighbors read. But hey, it’s the Internet. Word travels fast on the Internet, right? My neighborhood coffee shop request could become a revolution.

Pass it on, people. Let’s make my dream a reality though the power of the World Wide Web, by passing my words from one to another until they land two doors down from my very own house, perhaps with the perfect candidate to take up the challenge. Crazy? Yeah it is. But this is the modern age and that’s how we things get done.

Ok. Our coffee shop is coming soon, I have faith. I’ll meet you there. For an espresso.

Here are a few recent emails from my father.

From: Fred Rotondaro
To: Cara McDonough
date Fri, Aug 28, 2009 at 11:54 AM
subject: Have been stopped at road work block for ten minutes

No. Ia’$ catching up eith mopre.

______________________________

From: Fred Rotondaro
To: Cara McDonough
date Sun, Sep 13, 2009 at 9:14 PM
subject: Momyisms

Coming out of the Snug, I reached to help a woman about 40 who was losing her balance.
“That’s o k sir, I’m younger than you,” she said.
“Most everyone is, ” mom replied.

Walking today, Lucy was startled and frightened by a mean, barking dog.
She immediately went to the grass and pooped.
“That’s what I call being scared shitless,”. Says mom.
______________________________

From: Cara McDonough
To: Fred Rotondaro
date Fri, Sep 4, 2009 at 1:23 PM
subject: Just gave nora an olive

The strong, black oil cured kind.
She LOVED.

From: Fred Rotondaro
To: Cara McDonough
date Mon, Sep 7, 2009 at 6:07 PM
subject: Just gave nora an olive

Wuuunnnerful. The kid’s Italian.

______________________________

From: Fred Rotondaro
To: Cara McDonough
date Mon, Aug 31, 2009 at 8:40 PM
subject: Inside. Ea+itresses.

U still get your opwn of u eat outside

I read in “Us Weekly” the other day that Jon Gosselin was at some after party for the Emmys. What? What’s he doing at any after party, Emmys-related or otherwise? Jon Gosselin! I thought you said you hated the press. Don’t you remember? Why are you suddenly big news in the gossip mags? And why do I read it so fervently?

BrickBreaker is awesome. IT IS AWESOME.

I give up. I read mysteries. I love them and I don’t want to read anything else. And you want to know why that’s ok? Because I did my time with the great works of literature. When I was a teenager I stayed up all night reading Thomas Wolfe and John Steinbeck novels like they were crack cocaine for the soul. And when I read “The Sorrows of Young Werther,” I underlined pretty much the whole book, thinking, every five seconds, “That is exactly how I feel, that’s just how I feel!!!”

I also want to read the new Dan Brown novel like you wouldn’t believe. I heard you can buy it in the grocery store.

Speaking of BrickBreaker, Nora practically had a nervous breakdown when I wouldn’t give her my BlackBerry today. It was one of those parenting situations where I tried to do the right thing in not giving it to her, thinking, “This kid has to learn that she can’t have whatever she wants whenever she wants it.” Then her little face crumpled and she let loose one of those cries that consists of a huge sucking in of breath and then “WawawawaWAAAAAAAAAAAH.” But don’t feel sorry for the little one just yet because guess what. She’s a faker. And it worked. I gave her my BlackBerry and the “crying” immediately ceased, replaced by the smug, ultra-serious look she adopts when she is emailing all her business associates or whatever she does with that thing.

Lately, a bunch of people have been asking me about my job search, as in, do I even want to go back to work and, if so, am I looking around? My answer to both questions is a resounding YES, but I have to admit that after spending a year at home with Nora (for the most part) my thoughts on the whole working situation have changed - and in complex ways. I’m more reluctant to have a job that would have me working long hours and barely seeing my child weekdays. On the flip side, I’m nearly desperate from some sort of office life. I don’t want to be at home all the time.

Of course, making these deliberations laughable is that economy thing. The part where it got real bad, remember, and nobody has a job anymore anyway. And there certainly aren’t that many jobs floating around for choosy journalist types who want to work out of the house most of the time but wouldn’t mind a day at home every now and then. And could I bring my baby in sometimes? She is very cute!

In all seriousness, the job situation seems like it has picked up in recent weeks. Job boards have more listings and everyone seems more optimistic. It’s fall, the traditional go-back-to-school, get-off-the-couch, make-something-of-yourself season (at least, in my opinion) and there’s nothing like throwing on a sweater and jeans and visiting your favorite coffee shop for a hot drink and some dedicated career time.

Meanwhile, several people have told me that maybe I should just write a book, which is an awesome idea, and flattering, and makes me happy. And perhaps if I dedicate some of that coffee shop career time into learning how to write a successful book proposal, I could actually get on board.

Because, ok, I might have the details wrong but J.K. Rowling was living in a trash can before she wrote the Harry Potter books, right? I live in a house and sleep in a bed, so I don’t think I have any excuse. I even have some legitimate book ideas, including ones centered on all the things I’ve learned staying at home with a baby. Honestly, I’ve spent some time in book stores looking at titles recently and people seem to be able to get book deals for anything. Any idea they come up with. The history of cotton candy. Pictures of elephants doing funny things. I’m pretty sure Mina could land me a book deal, in fact, with a proposal not much more involved than:

To Whom It May Concern,

I have a dog and she is exceptionally funny. She is half Pomeranian, half Miniature Pinscher.

Book deal???

Very Sincerely Yours,

Cara McDonough

Maybe I’ll give it a go.

The good news is that I’ve been feeling accomplished lately simply doing my best on the search-and-contact front, sending editors my pieces and making connections. I’m not sure what happened in the past couple years to make my professional experience look that much more impressive, but suddenly my emails are generating warm, personal responses, instead of the old silence. Where they’d, you know, ignore me. Moving up in the world, people!

So on this beautiful fall day, when people are getting back into the swing of things at work after the summer’s true end, I thought I’d ask you all how you deal with professional woes and successes. Are you working? Would you rather not be? Are you not working and dying to get back to a job? Writing about your job on the Internet isn’t a bad idea at all (HA!) so you may not want to slam your boss or anything, but I’d love to hear everyone’s opinions on professional life. I’m excited to get some coffee and spend time discussing it with you.