Status Change: Married

isn't it always the case that the girl who thinks she's least likely to get married ends up married? and isn't it always a cliche to think that about oneself? well, check and check, self. so guess what? now you are someone's wife. that means for life. and how do you feel about it? perfectly delighted. ok, good, now let's stop talking about ourselves in the second person and get to that wedding thing.


going to the chapel and we're gonna get ma-a-a-ried.


my eyelashes were fake. that fearful look was real.

leading up to the wedding, i can't say things were perfectly delightful. even though we didn't exactly have a proper wedding, just a courthouse ceremony, there was still plenty of stress involved. i can't imagine how much worse it would have been if we had planned for 150 guests, but even with less than 20, there was still much hand-wringing, phone calls, budgeting, discussions and compromises to be made.

 
ready to live happily ever after.

 
getting married solves all your relationship problems, right?

i suppose like it does for many other brides, all that stress did take the sparkle out of my big day -- until the actual big day when everything magically fell into place. but considering that i was eight months pregnant and also scrambling to prepare for baby and baby shower while still working full-time plus freelance, the ceremony did sometimes feel like just another agenda item to check off my lengthy To Do list. and when i did finally check it off, i can't deny that the perfect delight was mixed with a large dose of relief.


happy to have found a wall to lean against.

 
boobs and roses. i gots them.


hoping the classy pearls deflect from my pregnant belly

it goes without saying that every little girl's dream is having a shotgun wedding at the local courthouse while eight months pregnant, and i am no exception. but if i had to do it all over again, i wouldn't change a thing. scratch that, i would be less visibly pregnant but definitely still pregnant enough to show, as having a baby bump meant i didn't have to endure a liquid diet leading up to the wedding or suck in my gut during any of the photos.


his is new and made of cobalt; hers is a family heirloom provided by his mother.


my prince charming


with his best friends, Danny and Alex

at least i know i got the groom part right. even though i don't think i'm yet qualified to discuss marriage with any authority, given my limited experience as a newlywed of six months, i do know that when i considered marrying Warren, the thought didn't make me panic or plan an escape to Canada, as it had with every previous man i dated. i knew with Warren i felt calm, safe, even lucky.


my secret is out: i'm a big ole crybaby.

so on Friday, February 20, 2015, in front of a handful of family and friends who are like family -- some of whom flew into town just for the weekend -- we went to the Beverly Hills Office of the Registrar-Recorder to join our lives together in perpetuity. the ceremony lasted less than 10 minutes and was performed by a Justice of the Peace we met only minutes before.


i chose wisely.

there was a glass for Warren to smash at the end to make it a proper Jewish-esque wedding, after which everyone yelled "MAZEL TOV!" sadly, there was no Hora chair lifting going on since, you know, eight months pregnant. plus, we had a 15-minute maximum to spend in the chapel before the next couple was ushered in to have their own happiest day of their lives.


sealed with a smooch


with my mom and pops, my marriage role models who have 45+ years of wedded bliss and strife to their credit. crazier yet is that they still like each other.

the ceremony moved quickly and was a bit of a blur. what i do remember is liking what the Justice of the Peace said during his opening speech and especially the vows he asked us to recite to each other. i also remember the Justice asking Warren whether he was from Crimea since he couldn't figure out the country code "CRI" that was on our marriage license. we told him we would have a vacation home in Costa Rica one day, where he could visit at any time.


ours is an LA Story.


too much pressure from his hand and i might wet myself.

all that vow-taking and commitment-making worked up our appetites, so we had the wedding party mozy over to one of my favorite Spanish restaurants in Los Angeles: La Paella, where Warren and i had a reconnaisance date night a month earlier to decide on a menu for our post-wedding lunch. the place, obviously, is known for its authentic paella, which include a black squid ink variety that does not disappoint. i can't say enough great things about this place and the manager, Pasqual, who provided five-star service while not charging us a cake-cutting or corkage fee for the dessert and bottles of vodka we brought in.


freshly made surf and turf paella


the black squid ink paella 


the esteemed guests partaking in hijinks and hilarity.

lunch lasted about two hours and brought together a motley of our families and closest friends. if i could do it over again, i would have invited twice as many people as several of my favorite faces were missing from the crowd that day. on the flipside, having less than 20 people present created an intimacy that a larger wedding could never replicate.


my dad giving a characteristically long-winded toast that could have been summed up with "welcome to the family, warren!"


these two are colluding against me, i just know it. 


with the first and enduring love of my life. daddy's girl forever!

despite my usually obscene appetitie while pregnant, i remember eating very little at lunch and mostly wishing i could drink. after the whirlwind of planning, rushing, parking, pictures, vows and tears, i wanted nothing more than to sit down and have a bottle of expensive wine all by myself, but managed only a few sips of sangria during toasts. yes, i drank while pregnant. alert the authorities.


toasting my beloved. 


with my torrero. orale!

as a bonafide Russian and my father's daughter, i also gave a characteristically long-winded toast. i started by first thanking all the special people in the room, who survived every cut to make a very short list of 20 esteemed guests, for spending their friday with us, work be damned. i also extended a special thanks to my mom for the prep help, which included furnishing the bouquet, cake, vodka, plastic shot glasses and real glass for Warren to step on during the ceremony.

all the love in the room was palpable and bouyant, and i spoke of how it carried us to our wedding day and will see us through the many days that follow, some of them certainly less happy. i thanked everyone for the support offered to us as a couple and to our then unborn child, who was very much wanted and will be lucky to learn from the people who've already given us so much. then i turned my focus to my new husband, also very much wanted, whom i thanked for everything, everything in the most cliche way possible that may have included calling myself "the luckiest girl in the world." i meant every word.


wedded bliss began with paella


cake topper with pregnant bride, courtesy of my mom and a google image search.


for the life of me, i cannot remember what was in this cake. maybe lemon? there were cupcakes also. i ate all the red velvet ones. that part i do remember.

after lunch, we headed to a park in Beverly Hills to take some more glamour shots among the dying daylight. to be honest, this part of the day felt silly to me with all the posing and prolonged kissing to get a shot. plus, the exhaustion from the long day began to set in as my makeup began to bleed, making for a very short photo session of giggling and "are we done yets?"


keep that tongue in your mouth, buddy.


among dead roses and our light bouncer, Alex, i found true love.


are we done yet?

when the day concluded and we arrived home to marvel at the fact that we joined our lives together in perpetuity, the conversation went something like, "that was fun. how about a nap?" we woke up 12 hours later. then, clumsily and carefully, we consummated our marriage via a little game i had perfected during my pregnancy called "if you want it, you're going to have to do all the work."


signed, sealed and delivered

fast forward six months and one baby, and our lives are still joined together in perpetuity, though now mired in poopy diapers, tired eyes and the squeals of one particular infant who loves waking up at 4:30 in the morning. i'm guessing the first six months of our marriage are atypical by conventional standards, and i admit they have been challenging given our new bundle of love and sleep deprivation, but they have also felt very solid.

of course, our union is far from perfect and there is plenty i would eagerly change about him, but those things (thankfully) don't number in the hundreds (close to five). i'll avoid mentioning them here out of respect for his privacy but they may have something to do with his OCD tendencies that have spawned a few lectures about how to load the dish rack "correctly," which, sadly, doesn't resemble the imaginative Jenga art installation that is my specialty.


he gets this look at least five times a day.


also a five-time-a-day occurrence.

more importantly, when i consider having a son with him -- which, hey, we just had! -- and should that son turn out exactly like his father, the thought makes me smile and never once wince. if that alone isn't reason to marry a man, perhaps the fact that Warren is an exceptional lover, a great cook, a kind person, a good communicator, likes being productive, shares my sense of humor, keeps the house tidy, is incredibly reliable and the best kisser point to other good reasons.


are we really going to do this?


yeah, we got this.

that's how i know i married the right person, found after a lengthy search full of many disastrous detours, all of which i can now appreciate for helping me fine-tune my search parameters. and though i do wish i found him a little sooner and that we could have enjoyed more time as a childless married couple, i'll just put those wishes in the same jar that the wish for the dream wedding went into. we have been doing things out of order since we met, so perhaps we'll plan the dream wedding for our sixties when we can enjoy the childless life.


getting married is so much fun.



so now comes the happily ever after part, which i'm sure will resemble every fairy tale with a prince, princess and evildoer trying to secretly unwrangle the happy couple's happiness (children?). so far, our happiness has been overshadowed by the logistics of scheduling, housework, sleep schedules, dog duties and trash collection, especially since i've returned to working full-time. but i think this is what marriage really is: it's the mundane, the humdrum, the trenches.

it's getting through the daily duties together, often dispassionately, and still managing to find joy in the better days and exchange support during the harder ones. it's about lightening the mood, letting go, angering slowly and forgiving quickly. it's about the knowing glances and shy smiles that confirm that we will make time for each other once the baby is asleep. it's about endurance, dedication, a commitment to the commitment, and the satisfaction of tapping into the chemistry we've always had, the one sometimes buried under the routine of building a life together, to know that yes, we would do this all over again.

******

wedding day helpers, all of which i recommend without reservation:

• dress: purchased in the maternity section (on sale for just 50 bucks!) at Asos.com
• photography: www.facebook.com/FarahStop
• makeup: www.jamiesmakeup.com
• hair: www.yelp.com/biz/hadassah-hair-studio-and-spa-los-angeles
• lunch: La Paella (manager: Pasqual)

Two Down, One to Go: Pregnancy After Two Trimesters

less than a year from now, i'll be holding a 9-month-old around a christmas tree. weirdsies!

having finished with the anxiety of the first trimester and pleasant yet draggy steadiness of the second, i've finally landed in the third and final trimester of my pregnancy. if its early days are any indication, this trimester will be characterized by impatience and a general feeling of grossness as my body swells to shamu proportions.

i know this is unavoidable as i can already feel the water pooling under my skin and have heard from countless women that they were ready to perform their own C-sections during their final weeks of pregnancy so i don't expect a different outcome for myself. at this point, my goal is to just accept the grossness as temporary and live through it with a minimum of whining, which i know would make Warren happy as he's been hearing the maximum. 

the grandmas keeping my belly warm over Thanksgiving. my mom's on the right, Warren's on the left. they couldn't be more ecstatic to welcome a new grandchild this year, and i couldn't be more ecstatic to find TWO trusty babysitters. 

a lot of curious things have happened since i last posted about my pregnancy. first among them is the new risk of wetting my pants whenever i sneeze with a full bladder. (these days, a full bladder equates to a thimble of urine.) there's also my overworked heart, pumping double my usual blood supply, that gets revved up with the slightest exertion, like climbing one flight of stairs or putting on my boots.

but perhaps the most curious was a trip to urgent care to get a boil on my shoulder drained. i'm embarrassed to admit the need for this visit, as it was hardly life-threatening, but i couldn't get a regular appointment with a dermatologist quickly and the thing grew rapidly -- from a marble to golf ball size in a week -- so my doc insisted i get it handled quickly. so i handled it, it was gross and continued leaking for week before finally closing up and leaving a scar. thanks, pregnancy hormones!

truly, the hormones and their cruel games have been relentless (and creative) in their efforts to annoy me. my skin is still a mess, with chronic rashes and itchiness that no amount of lotions can cure. and contrary to how great it's supposed to look, the skin on my face isn't any clearer, which makes every person who tells me i'm "glowing" a filthy liar. (seriously, do people realize what a back-handed compliment the whole "glowing" remark is? so the best i'll ever look is during my limited time being pregnant and the rest of the time i'm just a homeless meth addict? COME ON, PEOPLE.)

these belly touchers are my best friend (on the left), Jon-David, and his husband, Cesar. they will be my boy's fairy godfathers.

those same "glowing" remarkers have still been giving me all sorts of unsolicited advice and i'm still dismissing most of it, not because i know better, but because it's so cliche. there is a tendency to talk to pregnant women as though they've lost half their IQ and need shepherding when all we really need is more food and to be left alone with pillows and the remote.

even "expert" advice i heed loosely, figuring that i'll figure it out like the cave-dwelling baby makers did before me with a bit of help from my mom and my gut. i took a breastfeeding class the other week that seemed full of painstaking detail about ounces, feedings, timing, pumping and supply, and the whole time i kept thinking, "i'll just feed my baby when he's hungry."

it's not that i think it will be so easy, thanks to every single outlet reminding me how SUPER DUPER HARD AND THANKLESS every part of motherhood is, it's just that i don't want to get wrapped up in that hysteria. and i do plan to nurse, but if i run into issues, i won't regard formula as toxic sludge that will kill my child's chances of getting into Harvard. i read about a mom who endured numerous bouts of mastitis, thrush and kidney infections that landed her in the hospital with an IV just to continue breastfeeding and concluded that she was insane. i'm not interested in such martyrdom. what's good for mom is good for baby.



ready to nurse my smiling, plastic baby. easy peasy, right?   

among the more squishy, feel-good sensations i've experienced during the second trimester, besides my thicker hair, have involved the actual baby thing happening inside of me. after months of regarding my pregnancy as some abstract concept to be figured out later, i've finally begun embracing the idea of parenthood -- and all the sordid, assorted changes that this will entail.

this surge of maternal feelings (also known as hormones) came as a relief because, quite frankly, i don't love children. i don't hate them either, i'm lukewarm on the matter -- and more likely to stop to pet your dog than coo at your baby. it's not that i doubted i would love my own child, but i did wonder how that love could co-exist with my general dispassion for other people's children. i see now that they are mutually exclusive and co-exist just fine.

i may never be the type of person who wants to teach preschool and i still haven't met many toddlers i like, but i know i'll do the best i can for my son. the personal changes i've already experienced being pregnant have been profound, yet also private, which is why it's hard for me to express them here. and i'm sure they'll only intensify once he's on the outside.

as ready as i am for him to exist on the outside, i almost never want him to because the nature of my love is protective, and i like to keep my loved ones close enough to shield in case of hard times. this is borne of my overblown belief that i'm tough enough to endure their pain for them. (or maybe it's the way i convince myself that i'm needed.) of course, i don't want to be one of those helicopter smothering mothers who cuts food for her son into adulthood, and i don't think i will be, i just want him to know that he can always rely on me.



24-week ultrasound showing the 10 fingers i will soon be munching on.

in my 6th month, i finally began having dreams about my son, some of them nutty, like the one in which he drained my breast during nursing as though he were sucking through a straw, filling up my own mouth with milk in the process. there was another dream when he vomited all over me after nursing and yet another when he ended up being born a girl. my boy gets pretty active at night, so i've convinced myself we're sharing dreams.

my cravings have still been minimal, a true disappointment as i had hoped to experience the unique flavor of dipped pickles in ice cream. the one thing i'm achy for consistently is chocolate, but that's not unusual for me and probably more a result of my needing a caffeine kick to get through the days. this can backfire when i overdo the amount and my boy begins bouncing on my organs like a pogo stick.



at the six-month mark and wondering whether my innie will become an outie (so far, it hasn't)

at this point, i should probably say i'm going to savor every day of the last 10 weeks of my pregnancy, and perhaps i'll try, but the truth is i'll be glad when it's over. i want to meet my son. i want drop this extra weight that is causing my back to ache and heartburn to flare. i'd like to stop waddling when i walk and sleep on my stomach again. and i'd like to be out on maternity leave already so my body can catch up with my brain, which has long since checked out of work (sorry, boss).

i'm sure this time will move quickly and i have much to keep myself distracted, as the pre-baby tasks to be completed loom large and plentiful. beyond finishing the nursery, finding a pediatrician, getting legally married, having a baby shower, installing a car seat, deep cleaning the house and building a fence in the backyard to keep the dogs secure, there are freezer meals to prepare, daycare to figure out, a labor playlist to create and hospital bag to pack.

at least i finished creating the registry, easily the funnest task on my list and the only time i enjoyed window shopping. if you are a long-time or even new reader of this blog and want to get my son an $8 Dr. Seuss book or $330 toddler car seat (or something in between), i would be most grateful: http://www.amazon.com/gp/baby-reg/ref=?ie=UTF8&lid=36QA00YMMVOA5
     


at the seven-month mark and counting down the days until i can drink vodka again

Halfway There: Pregnancy at 20 Weeks

swelling belly selfie at 16 weeks. 

if the next 20 weeks of pregnancy are anything like the last 20 weeks, i’ll be very happy. and now that i’ve put this on the interwebs, i’ll surely wake up with 20 hemorrhoids tomorrow or have a hellish labor or a lousy sleeper or low milk supply or one of the myriad other maternal disasters i’ve been reading about far too much on the internet. (note to self: step away from the internet.)

but really, aside from the recent difficulty i’ve begun experiencing when i try to pop up from a seated position, it’s been lovely being pregnant so far. not that i’d want to remain pregnant for years, but i’m glad i can experience the one thing, aside from menstruation and lower pay for the same work, that is inherent to my gender. it makes me feel incredibly feminine even as it strips me of sex appeal.

but pregnant women can be sexy, you say because you’re supposed to say this. nope, sorry. these things are mutually exclusive. right now, my body is for baby cooking, not flirtation or sexiness. that will return later (hopefully) when i’m not saddled with a gigantic belly that makes the missionary position uncomfortable.



selfie in office bathroom at 17 weeks. 

the best thing about being pregnant is almost the same as the worst thing about being pregnant: the bodily changes. i’ve always had skin issues such as eczema and other allergy-induced rashes before, but pregnancy has kicked them into overdrive, causing intense itchiness that’s only reduced by staying slathered in lotion. there’s also the breast growth, which i know excites most women, but makes my already endowed self and already compromised back ache with discomfort.

the good parts include that whole sustaining life thing, which is pretty damn cool despite it being the most mundane thing on the planet. procreation is a drive in every species experienced by most females so it’s hardly some rare “miracle,” but when it’s happening to you, especially for the first time, it feels like a fucking miracle.



this cream and pants with elastic waistbands are my new best friends. 

easily the most awesome thing about being pregnant, echoed by every formerly pregnant woman i know, is feeling the baby move. i was told it would feel like popcorn popping or a butterfly fluttering inside of me, sensations i never have nor will actually experience so i wasn’t sure what to look for. but when i did feel that telltale pressure from within that felt distinct from gas, it seemed more like a goldfish out of water flopping around furiously while it gasps for air (not that i know what that feels like either).

since that first movement, identified relatively early in the 16th week, he’s been thrashing around steadily, making me suspect i will have a very active baby on my hands in about four months. (please, lord, make him a good sleeper). considering that he was conceived during the world cup, an interest in soccer may be inevitable, which means i’ll be turned into a {shudder} soccer mom.



maternity shopping is a slippery slope toward sweat pants and a minivan. 

reading about motherhood has been confusing, to put it mildly. there are so many different philosophies and products out there, all of which are touted as The Only Way to Go, that it’s shocking anyone born before 2005 survived infancy. the more i read about modern parenting, the more i conclude that the worst thing about becoming a mother will be other mothers. 

of course, i realize they are not all bad, as i know plenty of nice moms, and perhaps i’m reading the wrong stuff, like the comments sections, but there just seems to be a whole lot of hysteria going on. the only piece of advice i plan to take away from the stream of endless advice is to follow my instincts, which are already telling me not to treat parenthood like a religion and my son like a child king who’s capable of making every decision for himself. 



my boy in utero at 18 weeks.

judging by this sonogram, he will have his father’s face, which i predicted in my last post about my pregnancy. it’s a handsome face to have, so i don’t mind looking at two versions of it at home, though i’d like to see a little of myself in him besides just the dark brown eyes and hair his father also has. 



selfie in office bathroom at 18 weeks 

i’m no psychic but i’ve been receiving a trickle of information that seems to grow as he grows. i’m not sure why or how things are coming to me, or even if they are accurate, but i feel a profound awareness of my body that i have never before known. i’ve been trying to hone this into feeding my intuition with messages about who he is and how he will be.

so far, i’m two for two in predicting that he was a boy before the doctor confirmed gender and that he will look more like Warren. even before i felt him move, i sensed he would be an active child, so that’s almost a third. i’m also suspecting a sizable birth weight, past the 8-pound mark, and a birthday around march 23, a week before my official due date. he’ll be a good eater, too, maybe too good, just like his parents. i’m not yet sure about his sleep or his name, but i hope he’ll tell me soon.



Indy, guardian of the bump. 

of the three dogs, only Indy seems to sense my pregnancy, or perhaps he’s the only one reacting to it. nowadays, Juice is indifferent to most things in her old age and puppy Z is too wrapped up in himself and his chew toys to be interested in anything other than food, but Indy has been conducting a daily sniff inspection of my torso for many months now, always concluding it by draping his head over my belly. 

i imagine this dynamic will be the same when my boy is on the outside, with Indy being his greatest fan while the other two aim for avoidance. though i never would have agreed to two puppies entering the household six months ago if i knew there would be a baby on the way, i am committed to making this new pack work — unless one of them bites my child, in which case he will be quickly shipped off to whatever country they are still eating dogs in.



on the beach in Hawaii and feeling like a whale at 20 weeks.    

in the second half of my pregnancy, my main objective will be getting prepared. this will likely involve some mad scrambling as i have done little to prepare for the arrival of my son beyond starting a Pinterest album for him and rolling my eyes at several internet articles that have informed me of how not to parent.

now i need to evaluate cribs and strollers, plan a shower, figure out the nursery, visit hospitals, understand my maternity leave and handle all the other assorted first-world issues that come with modern motherhood. i wish i felt excited to do them, but what interests me most right now is lying in bed marathoning bad reality television while eating pizza. 

this is not a reflection of what kind of mother i’ll be (i hope), but in the interest of enjoying my last few months of freedom and sleep, as everyone has advised me, i’m just not motivated to do all that much right now. and with a holiday season of decadent eating and cold, lazy days approaching, i’m thinking i should just wait until the new year and third trimester to start handling all that official stuff. yep, that’s exactly what i’ll do. thanks for agreeing.  

good talk, internet.