I am just sitting here wondering if having a husband might be kind of, sort of like having a child.  I have heard women make this joke and clearly a baby is like 100 times the work of taking care of a spouse (I mean at least hubs can stay at home alone without a sitter), but still, I felt like I had a little glimpse into the part of being a mom that sucks up all your time and reminds you that your schedule is now their schedule.

Scott had to have his wisdom teeth out.  No biggie, this is routine and we figured he needed a ride to and from the doctor’s office followed by a comfy place to drift in and out of consciousness while on some serious painkillers.  I dropped him off and following the instructions to be back in an hour and a half I was left with just enough time to head to the gym and get in a workout then pick him up, get him comfy and I would head to work by Noon.  That part really doesn’t have anything to do with being a mom, that part is simple. 

I arrived at the office on time, 9:30 a.m. on the dot and was told he would be released at 10 a.m.  I guess 9:30 a.m. was a little fib for wives who are not punctual and now I was being punished, but whatever.  By 11 a.m. I asked to be excused to run an errand since clearly we weren’t going anywhere soon, the nurse grilled me about where I was going and how long I would be gone.  No worries lady, I’m not planning to abandon hubs at your office, I will leave collateral if you want.  She didn’t laugh at my joke, but did give me the go ahead, I had 20 minutes.  Close to Noon I had answered every possible email via my blackberry and was trying to find out if I needed to cancel my 2:30 appointment at work.

12:30 p.m. we were finally sent home and I was trying to act calm, but seriously stressing about my life, my schedule, my commitments and suddenly I realized why every working mom feels guilt.  My mind was thinking work while I was making a protein shake, setting out pain meds and creating a cozy spot on the couch.  As soon as I was back at work my mind was at home wondering if my patient needed food or meds.  At the end of the day I felt like I hadn’t accomplished anything, I wasn’t able to give 100% of myself at home or work. 

I called my mom this morning to just say thank you.  And then to ask how she worked all those hours and still had time to raise me and be a good wife.   I don’t think she had an answer, but I could feel her smiling through the phone.  Some wisdom can only be gained through experience.

Let me preface this post by saying it really has nothing to do with being pregnant except to say that I hope we are better parents than we are gardeners…

When we started talking about buying a house last year friends, family and strangers who were lucky enough to sit near me and hear about that current obsession, would all tell us to be sure to check out the neighbors.  I had never given any thought to the neighbors and so I wondered what they meant by check them out.  Perhaps find out their names and Google search them like I used to do before a date.  Drive by incessantly (I was already doing this, but for totally different reasons).  Maybe peak over their fences and in their windows.  The answers varied, but all got to the points above, which all kind of sounded like stalking.  Apparently the point of stalking was to make sure they weren’t too loud or registered pedophiles and that they took care of their house and yard.  Neighbors, apparently, can single handedly bring down the value of the neighborhood.

All very funny.

First, because our potential home was (and now is) 1/6^th the size of every other house on the block.  Yes, you read that right and yes, the Container Store rolls out the red carpet when they see me coming. 

Second, because a couple years ago we rented an awesome back house and the landlord who lived in the main house was a definite make my skin crawl type.  In turn, I was glued to Dateline: How to Catch a Predator.  I was convinced that D (I cannot, in all fairness, use his full name because even I have standards and since he never showed on Dateline I have to go with that whole innocent until proven guilty thing) was maybe possibly for sure a registered creeper.  I tried to borrow a couple of my cousins to run my own undercover operation, but my family stopped answering my calls for awhile and I took that as a hell no. 

The third reason this check out the neighbors advice was humorous was because we were not at all in a situation to be picky.   We wanted to buy in a 5 block by 5 block radius where the ginormous new houses cost more than both our lives combined and the chances were like zero that we would ever have a reason to check out those neighbors.  Then one day, as the economy spiraled downward, Scott found us a house.  While riding his beach cruiser, which has nothing to do with anything except how do you take a 33 year old male on a cruiser seriously when he says “yes, I think we might like to buy this house, just let me ride home real quick to collect all my loose change and see what my wife thinks.”   He pedaled home and asked how much spare change we had and if I thought we should make an offer to which I replied “so this means we could actually live 5 little blocks from the beach?!?!”  So now you might understand that I drove by the teeny tiny beach cottage 12 times every day not to check on the neighbors, but to scare away potential buyers, i.e. competition. 

SERIOUSLY

Fast forward one year and who knew having a yard is more work than getting a college diploma later.  I was absolutely embarrassed to tears when very casually, over yet another burnt dinner, Scott mentioned our neighbor came by today.   Neighbor A (I don’t know his name because we’ve never spoken) stopped by in the middle of a Tuesday to ask if we might like to borrow his lawn mower.  Out of the blue, just like that.  And so oh my God, we are the neighbors bringing down the neighborhood.  They hate us more than they hate the weird house that we, okay I, am sure deals drugs because at least that house conducts their business at night and their lawn, don’t even get me started on how impeccable that lawn looks.  The worst part is we spend hours in the yard, practically live in the garden section at Home Depot and at the end of the day we look at each other and go WTF. 

 Today we have officially resigned from yard duty and in our effort to stimulate the economy hired our new best friend, Jose.  I offered to kiss him if he brings the lawn back to life; Scott is fine with that too.

Let me preface this post by saying this will not be a blog about me or my business, this is simply an introduction.  If you like what I have to say, and I hope you do, I want you to know a little bit about the girl behind the blog.

In 2005 I was young (24), semi-single (great guy, but was I even his girlfriend yet?), living in the OC (Orange County, CA for those who have not turned on the TV in the last 4 years) and bored with my job. I needed a career change, but the ONLY thing I wanted to do was open my own boutique (stress only and note I have a flair for the dramatic).

Enter Jack and Emma, just 6 months pregnant with J & E, the coolest kids around, my best friend unknowingly inspired me. I flew to Dallas (my old stomping grounds) to visit her and her ever-growing waistline (she knows, so it is okay to say this), and we did what we do best; eat ice cream, shop, talk about everything and nothing all at once, shop some more, get pedicures and shop one more time.  My pregnant friend watched as I slid the season’s hottest denim on and off in the Neiman’s dressing room.  Always honest, she gave the obligatory commentary, ”those make you look super skinny, nope those make your butt look flat, those give you muffin top, nope, not a good look for you, and then finally yes, definitely buy those and let me see how far I can pull them up.” What? What was that last statement?  Thinking to self…she cannot be serious!

Sure, we have always been the same size, as long as one of us isn’t carrying 2 small children in our belly, literally. And yes, she looked amazing, but a special kind of 6 months pregnant with twins type of amazing. I knew it was a bad idea, spurred by desperation and a lack of maternity stores.  She got them past her knee (kind of), broke a little sweat, I helped yank them off and knew we needed to get out of there fast (time for more ice cream). I was a couple hundred dollars poorer (bought the pair that made me look skinny, duh) and she felt how so many pregnant girls before had, like she had absolutely nothing fabulous and flattering to wear.

Fast forward a 2 hour flight home and another month at my well paying, totally secure and utterly boring job and it suddenly hit me, the perfect niche for my dream job. I would open OC’s first stylish maternity boutique. Many months later J & E were 8 months old, I had churned out a business plan, invested my savings (and a little of my mom’s), gotten a small business loan (that was a scary day), signed a lease and Xpecting, Inc. arrived on January 2, 2006.

I am giving you the dirt because after just 3 ½ years in business I have the best clients/friends who always want to know how it all started. Today (2009), as I start this blog, I am not as young (28), married for one year to the “kind of” boyfriend from 2006, I live in Huntington Beach, CA and love my job…and yes, to answer the question I hear the most often, I hope to be pregnant one day very soon and I will keep you posted.