New York City is the land of commuting. We walk everywhere, take buses, cabs, and subways to get to where we are going. If we have been lucky enough to procreate and have a small human for whom we are exclusively responsible, we have to take that small human with us everywhere. If the small human is younger than, say, five, we have to use a device called a stroller to get them around as their little legs won't do so well walking 20 city blocks or up and down subway stairs (or a combination of both). These stroller devices are usually a little bulky, mostly because they have city terrain to withstand. We're not breaking out the stroller once a month for a fun walk around the mall, it's the child's sole means of transport. Sometimes, we have to go inside places of business with said device because we can't leash our small human to a tree or light post like you lucky pet owners can. We have to stand in lines, pay for things, and even sit down at a deli table on occasion, all with the stroller. So, that being said:

STOP ROLLING YOUR EYES AND SIGHING HEAVILY BECAUSE MY STROLLER IS IN YOUR WAY. I SEE YOU AND I HEAR YOU AND YOU ARE AN ASSHOLE. HOW THE FUCK ELSE DO YOU EXPECT ME TO GET MY 16 MONTH OLD CHILD ANYWHERE? ALSO? HOW THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOUR OWN MOTHER GOT YOU AROUND? DID SHE CARRY YOU ON HER BACK UNTIL YOU WERE SIX JUST SO SHE WOULDN'T HAVE TO DEAL WITH DICKS LIKE YOU ACTING LIKE THEY'D BEEN STABBED IN THE THROAT BECAUSE A STROLLER IS STANDING BETWEEN THEM AND THE CASHIER FOR LITERALLY 13 SECONDS?!

Listen, I get it. I get that it is annoying because there are so many of them in NYC to contend with. This is where I would advise you to go live somewhere else. Go live in a place where you don't have to share essentially every square inch of breathing space with other humans because you do not belong here. And, if you can get mad at this:

then you should go live in hell (okay that was over the top but i had to write it).

My name is Jessica and I have a sugar addiction. I used to have the strongest willpower when it came to resisting a treat, but now if someone sticks a bag of peanut M&Ms in my face I nearly break their fingers snatching it out of their hands. I know that it is basically poison, and that if I stop eating it entirely I will lose weight and feel so much better. But, a life without the occasional treat sounds just awful! Watching the Globes the other night I looked at all of the impossible bodies belonging to starlets and models decked out in the (mostly) beautiful gowns. As I took a bite of chocolate ice cream (I allowed myself 4 spoonfuls: control issues, anyone?) I thought to myself that those women probably do not allow themselves even ONE spoonful of ice cream. I know, I know, they also have private chefs and personal trainers who kick their asses for two and a half hours every day. But, why can't I just say "no"? The only thing I think about more than my daughter is about how much weight I want to lose and how I am going to do it. I sign up for crazy classes and read health articles and try to prepare the healthiest food possible with our budget and time constraints. Why am I not skinny yet? I know why. It's because it's a huge lifestyle overhaul that I am not prepared to actually commit to in a tangible way. Having a baby wrecked havoc on my body, and while I am back to my pre-pregnancy weight, I still have 20 pounds to lose before I am where I really need to be. I have my dresses catorgorized as "Fit Now"; "Will Fit in Two Months, Fingers Crossed"; and "Will Probably Never Fit But Goddamnit I am Keeping It Anyway". I am lucky in that I am well-proportioned so I gain and lose weight all over, most people can't tell that I could stand to lose 20 whole pounds. But, here's the rub: 5 years ago I did weigh 20 pounds less. Know what I wanted to do? Lose 10. OBSESSION. When does it end? And, more importantly, how am I going to avoid passing this insanity down to my daughter? I plan on doing the following things to do as much damage control as possible:

1) Do not talk about my weight, ever. Resist saying things like "Mommy feels fat." or "These pants don't fit because Mommy ate that chocolate cake last night!".

2) Do not reward myself or her with food. That is a major issue that I have which I am very conscious of now.

3) Do not tease her about weight even in jest. I had adults do this to me growing up (I was skinny by every measure) and I can't tell you how much it impacted me.

I am going to try the 17 day diet because I have heard amazing things about it. I will likely break down for a treat by day 12, but at least I will have tried. Right?

Confession: I've been getting jealous of my single friends lately. No, not because I miss the horrendous New York City dating scene, I am more than happy to leave that to them. I have been getting jealous because of the following texts:

"I'm laying down, the Russian baths kicked my ass today."

"Just came back from a 6 hour brunch. Staying in tonight."

"I have been in bed for the majority of the day."

Listen, I know I did all of this. I didn't have a baby until I was 34, so I've seen more than my share of sunrises from Manhattan rooftops after a night out, I can't even count the number of Sundays that I moved from my bed to my couch and back to my bed, I spent hundreds upon hundreds of hours wandering the streets of New York by myself, taking myself out to dinners/lunches/breakfasts/for cupcakes/to movies/all of the above in one day! I have no regrets. But, if I'm being honest, I would say that I do miss those days sometimes. Today I went for a manicure and pedicure (after getting to Trader Joe's by 9AM and doing the week's grocery shopping). It was nice to sit there quietly reading People magazine while I had my nails primped. As my nails were drying, I stared out the window onto the East Village and Thompkins Square Park, watching the neighborhood wake up. I watched as couples ranging from married-looking to I-don't-remember-last-night-but-this-is-the-polite-thing-to-do-looking walked to brunch and in and out of coffee shops. There were lots of families, but I was focused on the people without children. What were they going to do with their day? Those people were going to wait an hour and a half for brunch, have brunch, then go to a movie, I bet. That girl next to me in the nail salon is going to meet her friend to help her pick out an outfit, then they're going to lunch. That girl is going to the gym, the grocery, then home to watch a Housewives marathon. I could see a version of myself in each one of these people. I do sometimes miss that girl. But, amazingly, just as I was thinking that, I started to miss MY girl, my daughter. I realized that we hang out like friends do. Just yesterday we got up, went shopping in Chelsea, had brunch, walked through Union Square, then hung out at home. And I had FUN. The point is, I think I'm being more nostalgic for those days gone more than I am actually longing for them. I wouldn't trade my life now for my life then, no way in hell. However, I think getting texts like the ones above while I'm cleaning the kitchen for the 3rd time in one hour will always inspire a healthy eye roll from me, in the nicest way possible, of course.

Happy New Year! It has been quite some time since I've written and I am ready to get back into it, cause I have a lot to talk about. You see, I think I have the opposite problem from many writers I know: I have a hard time writing when I am not in a great mental or emotional place. I can write when I'm angry because I find humor in my anger, but if I am sad or deeply disturbed by something I can't bring myself to write about it until I've worked through it. Hence, my last post being about the children on the Upper West Side who were murdered by their nanny. I couldn't bear that information. It hit me so close to home and I couldn't stop thinking about that Mother's gruesome discovery, and about how her life would be forever in changed in the worst way possible. I was also sickened by people who were politicizing it, saying that if it had happened in the Bronx then it wouldn't be front page news. Maybe not, but, two children were brutally murdered by their caretaker..who gives a shit if hypothetically it had happened somewhere else it wouldn't have been as big of a deal? That's NOT WHAT HAPPENED and focusing on that as a topic of discussion the same week it occurred was disgusting to me. It still is. I cried for the children, I thought about how scared they must have been. I thought about how the little girl tried to defend herself. I thought about how many times the Mother must wonder if she would still have her family intact had she come home 10 minutes earlier. I thought about how it would drop out of the news and people would forget. I promised myself not to forget those two sweet children and their surviving family. I don't think about them every day, but I do send good thoughts to them every once in awhile. I hope to do so forever.

Then, we had Hurricane Sandy. That was a blast. Story to follow in the next few days.

As we were nearing Christmas, I was thinking I would write a few anecdotes about the holidays when the Sandy Hook shooting happened. That was incomprehensible to me and to the rest of the world. Needless to say, I couldn't find the words to write about it and honestly I still don't have any. Reading the accounts from the parents who lost their children had me in tears one after the other. I hope that all of those families who lost children or a loved one find peace one day.

Both of the above stories made me squeeze my little girl harder and with more frequency, which seemed impossible. President Obama recalled a saying that having children is like walking around with your heart outside of your body, and that couldn't have been more poignant. I love my daughter with a boundless and certain love that I have never known before. Like all forms of love, it is vulnerable, and the stories above are the actualization of BEYOND the worst case scenario for any parent. I used to be the person who clicked my tongue at parents who would say that people without children just couldn't understand certain things. Now I know they were right.

I am happy to have written my thoughts, and will now tuck them away into my heart. Thank you for reading this, and I will write more regularly from now on. Promise.