Oh to be so glam...

The other day an old friend of mine told me that she thinks my life is glamorous.  "What?" I said.  "You think my life is glamorous?!"  I was sitting on the sofa, typing on my computer in sweatpants, ugg boots, and the thermal I had worn the day before.  (And let's be clear...they were ugg-style boots bought at Costco.)  It was almost noon and I still hadn't had a shower.  The baby was sleeping and I was anxiously waiting for a repairman to come and restore the spin cycle to my machine.

Most days I feel like a slow moving train, moving through life on the same tracks I traveled on the day before.  There was once a time when I didn't leave the house without "putting my face on" and these days there's days I feel fortunate to find the time to apply the emergency lip gloss and mascara I keep in my car.  And showers?  You know where I'm going with this.  I don't get a shower every day.  Some days its impossible.  In order to make it happen yesterday, I had to confine the baby to his stroller in our bathroom so I could get a quick four-minute rinse in before picking up my son from kindergarten.  You should have seen the look on my husband's face when he went to get ready for bed last night and found a stroller in the middle of the bathroom.

There are days I come home from pushing the 100+ lb. pound cart around Costco and feel like an ox that's been in its yoke all day.  You know what I'm talking about.  You feel like you've used every ounce of energy your body can muster.  I walk in the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror--fully expecting the Wicked Witch complete with green skin--and realize that maybe I'm not quite as haggard and worn out as I had imagine in my mind's eye.  I realize that I am, in fact, weathering my days of motherhood and my husband's incredibly long hours much better than I give myself credit for.  And on that day maybe I even actually did my hair or found time for mascara, lip gloss, and a little blush or had a successful meeting with a client or got to visit my husband on the set.  My life isn't glamorous, but maybe it's a little more spectacular than I give it credit for.

Desperate Times Call for...Salad

Today I loaded the kids and we drove a whole 3.5 miles to the locally-famous Caioti Pizza Cafe in Studio City.  This small restaurant located across the street from the restaurant Robert Blake made famous, Vitello's, is known for it's labor-inducing salad.  I know it sounds crazy, if you search the restaurant's name or "labor salad" online, the two are found side-by-side throughout the web.  The labor-inducing property is supposed to be the dressing. 

I'm not at my due date yet, but this is the farthest I've gotten in either of my other two pregnancies and I can honestly say that I am beyond miserable.  My back and ribs are killing me and I feel like the baby has a foot just below my arm pit.  I'm tired...really tired and in constant pain.  Already, little baby "C" is bigger than my other boys were when they were born and in my book...he's ready to come out.

I ordered a half order of "the salad" and a cheese pizza for us to split.  The salad was served up with to log books and other literature attesting to its success.  I'm not going to lie, the salad was amazingly delicious...and that's not just the pregnancy appetite talking.  The boys played with their toys while I mowed down "the salad" and filled in my own page of the infamous journal.  While I was eating it, I noticed an older couple in the corner of the restaurant anxiously watching me, as if I was going to go into labor and push out the baby with the aid of the young, way-too-cool wait staff.

The waiter enthusiastically told me that just yesterday he served a woman her salad and after eating it her water broke at the restaurant before she and her husband had finished their meals.  It's been about three hours and I've felt no contractions.  My water has not broken.  In fact, I don't feel any different than before lunch--still miserable.  Now I'm wondering if I should have ordered a whole salad instead of half a salad.  I'm also wondering if it's just the law of averages when it comes to "the salad."  When you have that many women in the final days and weeks of their pregnancies ordering the same thing, you are bound to have some of them go into labor soon thereafter, right? 

Nonetheless, in the days or weeks (oh don't let it be weeks...) of my final pregnancy, I am glad that I have taken part in an L.A. tradition.  And here's to the labor-inducing salad.  Everyone cross your fingers (please!) that it works tonight!