Martha Stewart can kiss my....

I have a long standing love / hate relationship with Martha Stewart. This is by no means a personal contact type of relationship- we haven’t sneered at each other from across a restaurant as our girlfriends back us up with witty and evil repartee, I never tripped her in a hallway or put a laxative in her coffee while smiling brightly saying “what a great idea Martha!”  This is all on me – she has no idea who I am.

From the day I found out who Martha was about 15 years ago I have harbored this deep seeded form of competitive dislike for the woman. She is perky, she has these insanely great ideas that when you watch her, or see them in the glossy page print of one of her countless magazines or books you think, “DANG IT - I COULD HAVE COME UP WITH THAT!” Even though you didn’t…”Martha” did. 

The gist is, the bitch does everything right – perfectly in fact. Her slightly accented and poised voice telling you how (insert a typical Martha-esque lock jaw here) to do things HER way… the ‘look down her nose’ way she tells you, the viewer or reader (this is possible if you are Martha- to look down your nose at someone in print) and pretends to surreptitiously share her secret to making the perfect mid week goat cheese soufflé. Or how to actually tie greens during the holidays so they don’t come apart every third day and die a needley death on your floor in front of astonished and flabbergasted guests…  or how to make scones using the eggs from your own chickens that you get up at 5 am to get in order to have these warm steamy sugary treats on the table before your first family member even stops dreaming of sleeping more – I say this and we HAVE chickens- and it still makes me nuts.  Anyway, you name it- she has always just irked me.

I come from a mother who is uber-crafty. I mean REALLY crafty - crafty to the point where, if she and Martha were to go head to head back in the day it would have been a toss up who would have come out on top- My mom was WAY more realistic though, which may have done her in (that and she never publically tried to be crafty- she just WAS / Is).

So - What i am trying to say is that I have a serious history of do-it-yourself in me : decorating, cooking, creative brainstorming… you name it- which is actually the main reason I became an event planner, darn it -  to single handedly make parties prettier one glitter dipped and preserved Hydrangea Macrophylla at a time. I mean come on Martha- BRING it.

So it is with a heavy heart and head hung low that I write this post. Because, dear friend (to the one reader I may realistically have - which oddly makes admitting this so much easier) I am here to admit the unthinkable. The personal travesty of my creative lifetime - I secretly LOVE Martha.

Okay, in the recent months I have been coming to terms with this on my own. Enough inner personal therapy and little voices that say to me – it’s O.K. to like the woman (Note: and her staff because we all KNOW that they are the ones who actually DO all of the work and sourcing and creative brainstorming and I KNOW she just signs off on these insanely fabulous ideas that her “peeps’ snake from unsuspecting crafters nationwide).

I have reached this decision after moths of tribulation- infighting with my inner demon and angel who say at the super market check out line as I quickly thumb through each issue of Living hoping that no one sees me – “go ahead – BUY it- ooooh – look at THAT – a hand tied garland of paper flowers with ribbon leaves and stems! How great!!!” And the demon who on the other shoulder says “put it back Pippa- enough is enough,  you don’t need her ideas – you have your own… nothing good can come of putting that in your cart!”

99.9999% of the time the angel wins- and curiosity gets the best of me. And until recently- I would bring these magazines or books home…and hide them. Under other magazines, in amongst the throngs of cookbooks I already own… anywhere but out in the open where I would have to admit that she was right, that she rocks, that I read her, and / or pay attention to her… I’ll be damned if I let THAT woman get the best of me.

Well, you’ve won Martha- I am officially, and publicly out of the closet …I dig your stuff.  I have reached this decision through many months of trial and, frustratingly, no error. Attempting countless recipes that all infuriatingly WORK perfectly (including this year’s Christmas cookies, and the damn popovers that I made the other night from this month’s issue that despite being pretty much the same recipe I have used for years rose sky high and more beautifully than ANY I have made before – URGH!) . After realizing that I don’t just ogle your do-it-yourself crafts from the safety of the checkout lane - but have actually been doing them. After I find myself sitting in the Michael’s craft store parking lot going over my list of Martha products to pick up and then standing in the aisle drooling over the snowflake hole punch that no one in their right mind ever should own as at $19.99 a pop it is a frivolous expense– but I do.  You win. I use your recipes, I do your crafts and love the results… and I could cry. Of course on the contrary, if you ever decide to retire and would like someone to take over the business- call me – I’m available.

Inside the Gift horse’s mouth…

So not to be picky, or take the fact that our amnio results came back today and we aced everything (yah!) and are expecting what we know to be a healthy baby… I am feeling very guilty… and I mean VERY. Please pause as I try and recall for you the conversation with the cute genetic testing girl on the other end.

Her: "Your amnio results look great you have blah blah blah for results.. which is GREAT! (insert super chipper sweet voice here).”

Me: 'Fabulous! I am so happy! '

Her: "The last question is- would you like to know the sex of the baby?"

Me: (Giddy and so excited I feel like I might pee my pants - the moment of truth, the one we have been waiting for..) 'YES!'

Her: "It’s a …. BOY! Congratulations! "

Me: 'Oh… darn... I mean - really? Great!(somewhat fake enthusiasm)Thank you so Much!'

Me again - Hang up phone and want to cry… mope for two seconds, call husband to “share the great news”. Get same type of response I gave cute genetic testing girl, granted he WAS in a meeting.

There is a lesson to be learned here, I just don’t want to admit it quite yet… I can say it though- don’t look a gift horse in the mouth because when you do you will see ugly oat chomping teeth and smell hay breath.

I am happy - I AM!! ... I promise… we will hopefully have all stars align and have a healthy baby, and at 35 that is a LOT to ask for… but a BOY? We were convinced we were having a girl…and I really wanted it to be a girl. I am sure we may receive a few therapy bills for this poor child in the future if and when he finds out that we really wanted a girl.

Not to say a boy is BAD. Nothing close to that at ALL. But, honestly, as far as I have ever known (until now of course) boys play with trucks, they eat worms and bring home snakes (the latter of which is my LEAST favorite thing in the world), their pants fall down and they don’t like being fussed with to look nice. Boys don’t wear pretty smocked party dresses with matching bows in their hair, they don’t want to play dress up with mommy’s high heels and play with her lipstick or dolls and fairies and make frilly iced cookies and oogle over shades of pink and read Madeline and Eloise (well most boys anyway)!

So, today I have been getting used to the fact that my husband is excited to teach “the boy” how to fart, how to properly aim a gun, pee outside, bait a hook and all of those “man” things that require one on one ‘dad and lad’ bonding time. Actually, not a bad thing if you think about it.  I might actually get a little ME time out of this first child.. wait- this isn’t sounding so bad at all! Boys and their mothers usually have a very close bond, so not only do I get that rockstar part of things, daddy can take him to the firehouse and mom can maybe do something like get a pedicure, shave her legs, read a few pages of a book!

All in all, this boy thing is getting better by the minute- and who know, with all fingers crossed this wont be our last little one so my chances for party dresses and pink ribbons are not gone for good, just taking a backseat so we can raise her a fabulous older brother who will nurture her and protect her just like big brothers do.

Can you hear me now?

As we wait semi- patiently for the results of our amnio to come back (this is KILLING us by the way), and as we try to do the million and one small tasks that have been sitting on the home repair t- do list before the appraiser comes this week, I have let my mind wander to the more than un-documentable amount of advice I might potentially offer to our soon-to-be born child and any that may potentially follow. I am sure that this is common. At least I keep telling myself that other mothers to be MUST think of this type of thing- or obsess over it such as I feel like I am suddenly doing.

Aside from not running with scissors, sitting too close to the television, not turning the volume up too loud or you’ll go deaf type of motherly advice, I have realized that there are small life lessons that I might be able to osmosis-ly pass on to our baby in advance. I mean if you can fire up a baby speaker and blast baby Einstein type stuff into the old belly than why cant I try to spread a little wisdom? Yes, this seems to fall into the sort of a “if I knew then what I know now” type of approach f parenting.

So if I had to write down these pseudo life- lessons, or speak them, or think them and our baby would listen, what would I actually SAY? Is there a limit? Is this one of those, baby can only absorb so many things at once so try and keep it to less than a handful a day type of situations? Maybe… so for today here are my life lessons:


•    Never schedule meetings before 10 am if you can avoid it.

•    Always call your parents and see them whenever you can regardless of anything that you might try and use as an excuse – trust me on this one.

•    When you spill water on your keyboard do NOT try and use a hairdryer to speed the drying process- it will melt.

•    Girls love flowers- from anyone, and for any reason. I bought myself tulips this weekend and cant stop staring at them.  If you are a boy – buy girls flowers often. If you are a girl- don’t wait for someone to buy you flowers - as nice as that seems and as much as you think that they will regardless of who they are – just get them for yourself and your day will automatically be brightened.

•    Don’t bite the ankles of bikers passing by. They are not trying to take over the world one suburban property at a time- they are just out for a joy ride. We all like to do different things to make us feel happy- don’t chase after or nip someone if they are doing something you don’t know how to do or understand. (This one is direct from Boudreau our black lab who is now on a 10 day quarantine for biting a cyclist over the weekend. He apologizes profusely and admits he never thought he would actually “catch one”.

Love, Mom

Oh yes, and I finally found a little love for cooking again this weekend after what feels like weeks of reheated meals and carbo-loading... homemade tomato soup for dinner last night- yummmmmm, tiramisu (thank you uber-basic Giada DeLaurentis food network recipe for reminding me of the simple process of making such heavenly goodness) - my rainy sunday night was complete.