Laden with Thoughts

Liam, walking into the kitchen where I am cooking, with two crackers in his hands: “I have two crackers!”

Me: “Yes, you do. Good counting.”

Liam studies the crackers. After a moment, looks up and asks: “Honey, do you want a bite?”

Success! Today I earned a wink from a male who was touring our office building.

AND I WASN’T EVEN WEARING A GIRDLE.

Nope, just good ol’ control top panty hose.

Panty hose: 1
Girdle: 0

Well, it’s almost the end of the year. All the faithful bloggers are posting their end-of-year-lists, such as “My Favorite Music of 2007″, and, “My Favorite Books of 2007″. I’m not going to do those things. You know why? Because I really like you, and I don’t want to force you to read all about Elmo sing-a-longs and every single book about counting apples I read this year. I doubt you’d enjoy my play-by-play of Baby Einstein’s “Baby Beethoven” dvd. It’s unlikely you would still be reading once I expounded upon, in great detail, the joys and sorrows experienced by Thomas the Tank Engine and his rascally caboose.

Perhaps you would like to hear Liam sing a song from Dragon Tales. No?

Would you like to witness firsthand the interpretive dance Liam has created to go along with Jingle Bells? Are you sure?

Wait! Come back here. I won’t subject you to any more of this. At least, not in this post.

Where was I? Oh yes. End-of-year-lists. Because I didn’t see any movies or read any exciting new novels this year, and because I didn’t have money to buy new albums or time to listen to them, I give you my End of 2007 List:

Things I Did Not Expect to Happen in 2007.

1. I did not expect my husband to take a picture of my placenta (in all it’s bloody glory) after Maeve was born in May.
1a. No, I will not share the picture with you.
2. I did not expect Seamus to vomit heaping piles of who knows what all over my brand new braided living room rug. The day after it was delivered.
2a. Yes, the vomit looked slightly similar to the picture Josh took of my placenta.
2b. No, as I already told you, I will NOT share the placenta picture with you.
3. I did not expect to buy or wear a girdle at any point during this year. Or any year, for that matter.
4. I did not expect the Boston Red Sox to WIN THE F’ING WORLD SERIES!
4a. No, I will not shut up about it.
4b. What’s that? Come a little closer and say that to me. No, it’s fine. I just want to show you something.
5. I did not expect the New England Patriots to have a 14-0 start to the season.
6. I did not expect the Boston Celtics… yes, fine. You get it.
7. I did not expect I would drink as many margaritas this year as I have. Consider it making up time from the 2 years I was pregnant.
8. I did not expect our bedroom hallway to still be cluttered with boxes from last year’s move. (Same goes for the basement.)
8a. I really, really don’t know why I didn’t expect that. Everyone who ever reads this BLOG expected that.
9. I did not expect Liam to become a rabid Kanye West fan.
10. I did not expect to switch from Starbucks Eggnog Lattes to Peppermint Mocha Lattes.
10a. If you know me, you know this is a big deal. A HUGE deal.
10b. Part of this switch is rooted in my fear of angering my favorite baristas by forcing them to steam eggnog. The poor things.

So there is my 2007 list! In all seriousness, though, I had a terrific year. Maeve was born with no complications, and now she is 6 months old and a beautiful addition to our family. (Liam is even starting to get used to the fact that DA BABEE will be sticking around for a while.) My family (including my poor dear Josh, who has put up with me for yet another year of crazy marriage) has been happy and healthy this year, and I couldn’t ask for more.

Happy end of 2007. Bring on 2008!

Tonight I was feeling motivated to cook (which is rare now that the kids keep me busy) but we don’t have much in the house food-wise. I rummaged in the freezer and found some small chuck steaks, and in the crisper was an unopened package of baby carrots. Victory! The result was actually pretty tasty, and it only took about 20 minutes to prepare and cook.

Broiled Steaks:

4 small chuck steaks
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp worcestershire sauce
1 tbsp kosher salt
1 tsp ground black pepper
1 tbsp italian seasoning

Turn on broiler. Place steaks on an aluminum foil covered broiling pan. Sprinkle salt, pepper, and italian seasoning evenly over steaks. Drizzle on the olive oil and worcestershire sauce. Broil for 5-10 minutes depending on thickness of steaks and desired pinkness.

Honey-Glazed Baby Carrots:

1 bag baby carrots
3 tbsp unsalted butter
3 tbsp honey
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp ground black pepper

In a steamer over boiling water, steam baby carrots for 8-10 minutes (or until tender). In a pan, melt butter and honey together. Add salt and pepper. Once sauce is warm, add steamed carrots and stir until carrots are coated evenly and heated through.

Edited to add: Please note the lack of starch in this meal. I don’t want to be wearing a girdle forever, you know.

This just in:

Girdles don’t protect you when you slip and fall on icy cement steps.

Ice: 1
Girdle: 0

Let me explain. No, there is no time. Let me sum up. I have given birth to two babies in less than two years. Consequently, my body kind of hates me now… and I pretty much hate my body. Although I’m getting used to it. Before pregnancy I was a size zero (it’s silly that that is a size) and now I’m between a size four and six. That is absolutely fine with me, I am perfectly happy to be that size. However, my big problems with my “new” body include: ragged stretch marks all over my torso and butt, saggy empty belly skin, icky love handles, and national geographic-esque breasts.

(Boys, I understand if you need to stop reading at this point. I probably should have warned you earlier.)

Now, it was fairly easy to deal with these body image issues whenI got to stay home in my sweats all day with the kids, but now that I’ve gone back to work and have to wear actual clothes and be seen by actual people, I have a much harder time facing myself in the mirror each morning. My work trousers show all my little bumps and lumps… my tummy rolls over the top of my pants (muffin-top!) and other bad things happen that I don’t care to speak of on this public blog. Suffice it to say, it makes me sad.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY SOCIAL EXPERIMENT:

The power of girdles.

That’s right… I said girdles.

I worked this week on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. On Monday, I wore a cute sweater and a very nice pair of pinstriped trousers with sexy black pointy-toed patent leather stilletos. On Tuesday, I wore brown trousers with a red silk sweater and tweed flats with jewel embellishment.

BUT. On Thursday, I wore gray pin-striped trousers, a tasteful v-neck rose-colored sweater (read: just a hint of cleavage), and my stilletos again. Underneath these clothes, instead of my normal underwear, I wore a GIRDLE which smoothed out my tummy. (It also caused me to not be able to breathe or eat all day long. But you know… technicalities.)

Please allow me to share with you the results of my experiment.

Monday’s attire: NO GIRDLE.
Monday’s male attraction level: Pretty normal, no big hellos or smiles, just a few pleasant greetings and head-nods.

Tuesday’s attire: NO GIRDLE.
Tuesday’s male attraction level: Hardly anything. A few nods.

Thursday’s attire: GIRDLE!
Thursday’s male attraction level: Male barista at Starbucks looks me up and down. Gets nervous and messes up my coffee. When finished with coffee, says, “Here is your DELICIOUS beverage” while giggling nervously. Male customer holds the door for me as I leave. ALSO. Male boss enters my office to tell me some jokes. Tells me I’m doing a wonderful job at work. Goes into my (female) boss’s office to tell her what a good job I’m doing. ALSO. Some high mucky-mucks from our main office come to tour my office building. I walk down the hallway past them, they literally trip over themselves to introduce themselves to me. Please note: I have met these men several times before, and was never given a second glance.

You know, at first I was laughing and thought the change in attitude was funny. But as the day went on (and believe me, I didn’t list all the examples I could have), I was feeling pretty weirded out. Did I really look that different before without a girdle on?

Ah well. I guess I’m not above a little girdling (yes, I’ve decided that’s a perfectly acceptable term) to do well in life. At least I know I get to go home, remove the girdle (read: release the beast), and put my sweats back on at the end of the day. My poor, poor husband.