new york. new york.

I got to go to New York City with 5 of my favorite people in the entire world.
For eight days and seven nights.
Two weeks before Christmas.
Let me just say that again.
I got to go to New York City…with 5 of my most favorite people in the entire world.

Five people that I have worked with for the past 9 years.
Five people that know me so well.
I mean they really, really, really know me.
And still love me.
(maybe not after this trip).
Five people that have seen me cry, that make me laugh, that hold me up, and that shove me down.
(when I need it).
Five people that I share some of the most intimate details of my life with…both personally and professionally.
Especially professionally.
Five people that have the same exact sense of humor as me.  As ugly and dark as it can be.
Five people that never judge…but just accept, make fun, and carry on.
Five people that I can spend 13 straight hours with…and then make plans with for dinner and drinks after work…like that's totally normal.
The only five people I would ever ditch my family for.
For an entire week.
(which I have never, ever done).
The only five people I would fly across the country for.
(it took a lot of greyhounds and a lot of sedatives).
The only five people that I could spend eight straight days with, and wish it could be eight more.
(I can barely stand myself for eight days…yet alone most others).
The only five people that I would ever want with me in a foxhole.
(trust me…you want a nurse with you in a foxhole).
These people are amazing.
RIDICULOUSLY AMAZING!
And this trip was amazing.
RIDICULOUSLY AMAZING!

I mean, there are not enough adjectives in the world to describe either.

The group.
And the trip.
There really aren't.
But I will try…
Astonishing.  Stunning.  Stupefying.  Breathtaking.  Awesome.  Remarkable.  Awe-inspiring.  Extraordinary.  Incredible.  Stupendous.  Spectacular.  Mind-blowing.  Unbelievable.  Wondrous.  Jaw-dropping.  Phenomenal.  Marvelous.  Wonderful.  Magnificent.
Superhuman.
And that doesn't even cover the half of it.
But you get my point.
And may need to get a barf bag too.
(sorry, but these people are my Sally Field).

Everyday, in the Big Apple...we ran in Central Park, or slept in, or used 9 hairbrushes to do our hair, or drank tea and wrote in a journal (depending on who you were), we ate, we got coffee, we walked, and walked, and walked, we learned, and learned, and learned, we shopped, and shopped, and shopped, we drank, we ate again, we got more coffee, we watched a Broadway Show or a Ballet or a Concert or the Rockettes, we drank again, and then we went back to our rooms, after spending the entire day together, and talked, and talked, and talked.
Until the wee hours of the morning.

 And woke up.
And did it all over again.

Every.  Single.  Day.

We had our own personal tour guide, Janie (Hadley's namesake…no joke), who hails from Brooklyn and knows more about New York City history than Mayor Giuliani himself.

It was incredible.

The whole damn thing was incredible.

There are really no words.
(even though I just dropped about 25 on you earlier, straight from my own personal Thesaurus).
And it seems so funny to not have any words for a trip that was full of nothing but words.
We never shut up.
Ever.
I love these people.
They are my heart and soul.
And as much as we get burnt out on what we do…we seem to never get burnt out on each other.
And maybe that's what makes it all work.
In our work life and our real life.
Also, the fact that they are funny as hell, more loyal than a labrador retriever, and smarter than Albert Einstein…that doesn't hurt either.
My Onion of the trip:
The flight home.
(I had to stand in the galley of the plane for at least 10 minutes…my legs were shaking like a baby foal, and it was a tad bumpy, and I thought surely as a penance for my selfishness, the plane was going down before I could see my peeps…luckily I was wrong).
My Orchid of the trip:
When Maree fell asleep at Alvin Ailey.
Or when I fell asleep at Wicked.
Or when Fiona fell asleep at the Book of Mormon.
Or when Amy cat walked in the restaurant and told the waiter she was a contestant on America's Next Top Model.
Or when the girls spent over $1,000 in shoes…the very first night.
Or when we walked 89 blocks in the pouring rain…and Amy stayed completely dry.
Or when Jane forgot to change out of her pajamas.
Or when Fi was the medic for a gal that a had a seizure, while I was in line getting us beers, not having a clue that she was busy being a hero.
Or when we tried to steal a potted plant.
Or when Amy acted as tour guide and showed us the beautiful structures and craftsmanship and architecture of every large building.
Or when Fiona showed us her hairbrush collection.
Or when we had our impromptu dance party.
Or when we took an elevator ride with a folding chair.
Or when Christy was dying to take silverware from The Plaza.
Or when we almost froze to death on the Brooklyn Bridge.
Or when Fi and I slept on the wrong side of the beds.
Or when I pushed Maree in a shopping cart down 5th Ave.
Or when I spent 25 minutes trying to get my coat zipped up, while Maree laughed, and Christy filmed.
Or when Jane wore shopping bags on her feet.
Or when…
You see.
This could go on for ever.
Lets just say Friday thru Saturday was my Orchid.
(for the record, I did really miss Ryan and the kids…like an insane amount…like I cried on Wednesday morning during a run sad…but I blamed it on the wind).

         

on Vimeo.

snow.

We finally found some!

playoff magic.

I don't think Ryan took a breath during the entire game.

He also never sat down.

And never ate.

(his nerves weren't too shot to drink though…go figure).

And, I'm pretty sure he thinks Crabtree is a sorry receiver as well.

And I am positive that his adrenaline level was on par with that of Mr. Sherman.

SUPERBOWL BOUND!!!

the boy is trained.

I still can't believe this kid is potty trained.

I thought it was going to be a total nightmare.

I really did.

He seemed to have little, to no interest in the toilet at all.

And I had little to no interest in cleaning up his 'accidents'.

So as long as we were both concerned…he would be in diapers until he was 18.

And then he was on his own.

But Ry felt differently.

He doesn't have the luxury of cleaning up people's excrements for a living like I do.

So he begged me to please, please get Carsie out of diapers

I think the last straw was when Ryan was at a buddies house, with Carson, and Carsie took off his dry diaper, and then proceeded to pee on the floor…and the wall.

I reminded Ry that pee is sterile, so it's no big deal.

Ry reminded me that our kid is not a dog, so it is a big deal.

And embarrassing.

So we got down to business.

(no pun intended).

I texted girlfriends, begging for advice on how to do this potty training business with boys.

I read the 'three day' thing.

And that seemed ridiculous.

(only because both Carson and I have a very short attention span…and that seemed like an eternity).

So I decided…the kid gets one day.

One day of him being naked, and us staying home all day, and the potty seat being in the living room.

One day of our entire house being considered a latrine.

That's it.

And by god…the kid figured it out.

He peed on the floor once.

He pooped on the floor once.

He peed in his pants when I got little cocky on day 2 of training and took him out for a long run…after I gave him two sippy cups of milk to keep him entertained (and more importantly…quiet) and then told him to please wait just 30 more seconds while I did a few more things.

Apparently he didn't have 30 more seconds to wait.

Dumb me.

Oh, and there was an incident at Target, that involved poop and pants…but that blame lies solely on his Zaide.  She let him look at the toys too long…in the very back of the store.  And the bathrooms are in the the very front of the store.  

Dumb Zaide.

Other than that…the kid is a full blown bathroom using boy.

Smart Carson.

Carsie, all the money we are going to save in diapers…we are going to use for light fixtures.

So thank you.

And, also, a big thanks to you pal, for making me look like a hero to your urophobic Dad.

He left for a business trip when you were in diapers on a Monday… and he came home on a Thursday to a boy that wouldn't let a diaper touch his precious body.

And I quote:

"No, no Dada.  I don't want ANY baby dipes on my body.  I just want my peeny out, touching my leg, with my pants over it."

Maybe next week I will teach him what exaggeration means.

Oh, and for the record he was rewarded heavily.

A M&M for pee.

A Hot Wheel for poop.

And a high five after hands were washed.

lets celebrate.

And to celebrate our ten years…

well, we did our most favorite thing in the world.

We spent the day together.

We started with a run, then headed downtown, ate breakfast, drank beers, went shopping, ate lunch, drank more beers, walked around the city, more shopping, talked and talked and talked, drank more beers, walked a bit more, again with beers, and a finale with dinner, dessert, and a night cap.

For us.

It was perfect.

Truly our most favorite way to spend a day.

Since as long as I can remember.

And perhaps on our 30th year, this pic will be from our Condo…overlooking the city.

A gal can dream.

how it all began.

A decade ago (10 YEARS!!!) Ry and I tied the knot.

He asked.  I said yes.  And, over the course of 10 months, my mom planned the wedding.

It seems so hilarious to think about now.

I mean my mom (and family) truly planned the entire thing.

Every detail.  

Every flower arrangement.  Every place setting.  Every part of the ceremony.  Every part of the reception.  Every piece of pie.  Every bead on my dress.
  Everything.

Ry and I just showed up, wrote/read some vows, and enjoyed.

And it was the best gift ever.

There was no stress involved…at all.

(For the two of us at least).

No bridezilla (I think), no cares in the world if the tablecloths matched the napkins, no worries about colors, and flowers, and utensils, and all that crap that really doesn't matter.
(but it does).

And thank goodness we had no part in it…because the stuff we did 'decide' on, we sucked at.

My hair. 
(cornrows).

My skin color.
(orange…if it's hard to tell).
My shoes.
(all of my toes showing…one of my worst features).

The boys tuxes.
(they look like Lego blocks).

The bridesmaids torturous dresses.
(they all got rope burns from the straps).

Our dorky, flash obsessed, first kiss missing, photographer.
(he was a dick).

Clearly Pinterest was not around in our day.

(if you couldn't tell).

But I love the way it all went down.

I loved every minute of it then.

And I love every minute of it, even more, now.

And more than anything in the world, I love how completely, genuinely happy we were.  

Seriously.

We never stopped smiling that entire day.
We couldn't if we tried.

And we went to bed with our faces hurting.
(it's the day I put complete responsibility on for our 'crows feet' now).

And looking back on this one single day, the first day of the 3,651 days that followed for us as Mr. and Mrs. Prentice, it reminds me that happiness is truly what it's all about.

(and a great party planner doesn't hurt either).

Because when you have that, the rest comes so easily and naturally.
(okay, not always easily, but I am trying to keep it light here).

And 10 years later, I can still say that this guy makes me smile just as big as he did 10 years ago.

Maybe even bigger.
(that's what she said).
And he still makes me just as happy.
Maybe even happier.

But, I still cringe at that hair of mine.
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on Vimeo.

a new years resolution.

We were explaining to Hadley and Carson what New Years Resolutions are.

He didn't get it, and told us for New Years he 'wants more cars'.  I said, "How about you pick up your cars after your done playing with them...that's more of a resolution".

"No thanks Mama, I am too little to pick up my cars.  I just want you to buy me more cars.  And I want you to pick them up too."

So I moved on.

Hadley got the gist of it, and decided...

"Mama, for New Years, I am going to read one book a day.  And Carson is going to sit and listen quietly.  And I am going to eat less sugar.  And only suck my thumb on the weekends."

I think we have a better chance of Carson picking up his cars.

Happy New Year.