I live an overloaded life. When I am not holding down a nine-to-five, I am wrestling an active toddler while simultaneously cooking, cleaning and caring for my husband. Its enough to make the strongest of women exhausted.

Yet somehow in the midst of the chaotic (and fulfilling) life I lead, I find time to blog. I really do enjoy it. Its fun to listen to my loyal readers also recount stories about their experiences with motherhood or fatherhood. While I love blogs about parenthood, I also make sure I read about other aspects of daily life too. It just so happens that some of my favorite blogs are also written by some of my oldest (and newest) friends. I can only pick five... so here goes:

Frugalista - I have known The Frugalista, aka Natalie McNeal, for more than 15 years. We met in undergrad. She was the first person I knew personally to turn her blog into a daily must read for folks aspiring to live fabulously, yet frugal. A few years ago, she turned a financial tragedy into success. Like many young professionals she was living above her means. After coming to terms with her economic reality, she was able to set an example for others who are striving for financial freedom.     

Professor Diva Diaries Professor Mac is one sharp instructor. When she isn't giving slacking students the "side-eye," she is chronicling her experiences as a PR professor at a South Carolina college. I met Prof Mac more than a decade ago when we were both energetic, eager, aspiring television news producers in Washington, DC. She also loves globe trotting- check the pic of us in St. Tropez.

Cupid 'n Cleopatra Andrea Michelle is a believer in black love. She is a writer, a poet, a DJ, a former banker and a friend. Andrea artfully writes thought-provoking blog posts about the realities of the African American dating scene.

Funchilde always cracks me up when she blogs about turning "dirty five" years old or she is getting ready for "wine o'clock." Funchilde and I met at work. She actually inspired me to get "on" my butt and to start blogging.

Mommas Gone City This blog makes me smile. I have never met Jessica, but her children are the sweetest and her posts always remind me of what motherhood is really about: love.

During our trip home to Baltimore, I popped by my grandmother's house so she could see Miss M. It was really nice to see my granny and my baby interacting. Miss M was even nice enough to "pinch" grandmom. Amazing how kids nowadays get away with things I could never have dreamed of years ago. 

We enjoyed a sunny day at a neighborhood barbecue. My beautiful baby girl will kill me for posting these pics when she gets older. So until then... enjoy!

So many of you have asked where I've been. The short answer is that I have what I like to call "Mommy Hand." The medical term is De Quervain syndrome -- that is fancy French medical speak for "my hand and forearm hurt like hell from lifting my heavy child repeatedly."

Before motherhood I never had an issue with my hands and arms. Post motherhood is another story. The day after I gave birth to Miss M, my thumbs stopped working. I never realized how badly I needed thumbs in life. Can you imagine me trying to open bottles, wipes containers, pick up a baby, or fold laundry with no use of my thumbs???? Its like wearing stiff oven mitts! (Go ahead and laugh, it is ok)

When Miss M was six-months-old my thumbs started to work again as if nothing ever happened. Miss M is now 15 months old. However, for the past five months I have had issues with my left forearm and hand. Even though I am right-handed, I use the left arm to pick up Miss M. The other morning I couldn't use my left hand. I felt an excruciating pain shoot through my hand.

Normally I would have been terrified and upset. But since it was Tuesday morning a smile came over my face. I rejoiced knowing that with the intense pain in my hand there was no way I could perform downward facing dog or many of the other yoga poses! No Mo Yo Ga! Yippie!!!!

A few years ago a dear friend of mine once told me, "Lylah Holmes is not a quitter." She was right. Hence the torture I endured each week in yoga. I secretly hated that class. My "illness" now gives me a valid medical reason to not finish the class. Victory!

Thank you De Quervain. Namaste!

Whoever said that I would love yoga and that it would help me find calm amongst the chaos in my life lied to me. I mean flat out lied... and with a straight face. The truth is that I hate yoga. I am beginning to develop anxiety about this class.

Each Tuesday as I await my husband to return home from his MBA classes to get Miss M, I reluctantly slip on my yoga gear. I secretly hope there is some sort of scheduling conflict that will prevent me from attending the class. So far we've had five classes, I've missed two because of schedule mishaps. 

In theory this should be the perfect class. The studio is nice. My fellow classmates are approachable and kind. The class is held at 7:15pm at night-- a perfect time. I don't have to drive too far, only 10 minutes. The instructor is great, I even like her NPR voice. So what the heck is my problem? Why can't I get with the program and just "enjoy" the class. 

Where do I begin:

• The class is too slow: There is no loud obnoxious pulsating music, no instructor barking out commands and giving me the side-eye for cheating in the back of the class
  
• My yoga clothes from five years ago STILL  don't fit
• I can't stop thinking about all the things I have to do once I get home
• I'd rather be spinning
• That woman in the first row asks too many questions... too many!
• Sylvia Weinstock's doppelganger is distracting me
• I'm hungry
• I have a cramp in my ass

I thought yoga was supposed to be a calming, relaxing, zen-like cardio vascular experience. I guess for some it is, but not me. As we approach summer, I am on the fence whether I should just hang in there and work through the awkward stage, or just abandon the practice all together.   Decisions... decisions.

My impossibly perfect neighbor (remember... the orange juice lady) invited my husband and me to dinner on Thursday. Earlier in the week she mentioned dinner plans to me as I was exiting the car with Miss M. I told her before I committed I wanted to double check with my husband to make sure his ridiculously packed schedule allowed it.

Fast forward five days later to when her husband approached me exiting the car in the middle of a monsoon on Thursday to ask me if we were coming. As the rain poured from the sky, all I could think to myself in the middle of our conversation was that this had to be the worst time to "make dinner plans." Miss M was still in the car asleep from her emergency doctor's appointment (horrible cold/ slight upper respiratory infection) and I felt like a beat dog from nursing a sick baby around the clock and working from home for two days. I told them our daughter was ill, but they said no to worry. "Dad Overload" was no where to be found (that is frustrated MBA widow speak for "hunkered down in a study room with some ridiculous assignment").  I asked if I could just double check with him and get back to them. I quickly called my husband to tell him that I totally forgot to mention the dinner plans earlier in the week and asked if he could make it. He said yes. Dinner at 8 p.m. was a go.

7:45 p.m. my husband is nowhere to be found. I fire off an email reminding him that he needs to be home soon for dinner at the neighbor's house. He calls me back and says, "I sent you a text. I can't make it. My paper is no where near as polished as it needs to be. Tell them I said I am sorry. I will buy them a bottle of wine." 

At that very moment I wanted to disappear. The truth is that I didn't really want to go to dinner at all. I love the neighbors, truly nice people. But with a sick kid, an AWOL husband and a mountain of work to be finished... dinner was the furthest thing from my mind. I really wanted to cancel myself, but there was no way I was backing out of dinner 15 minutes before we were scheduled to arrive.

I got myself (and my sick kid) together, grabbed a bottle of wine, and marched in the pouring rain to the neighbor's house. As suspected, the wife had prepared a wonderful meal, her kids were asleep and they were as welcoming as ever. I began by profusely apologizing for my husband not being able to make it. I offered the bottle of wine and was escorted into the dining room. There on the table was Manchego cheese, homemade hummus, homemade mushroom risotto, homemade brownies... you get the idea- these people put effort into this meal and we were bad neighbors.

Miss M loudly coughed, sneezed and snorted her way through dinner. Half way through two of the three kids woke up and came down stairs to join us. Miss M and the middle child played and chased each other around the house. I kept a watchful eye over her because she loves to pinch... hard, very hard. The neighbors told me not to worry and that everything would be fine because the boys play rough. It was hard for me to relax, but finally they assured me it would be fine.

I turned to eat the yummy risotto and to enjoy the adult conversation when I heard the mother of all cries coming from the kitchen. I had never heard a kid scream like this before. It was so loud and so shrill that it scared me. I was terrified. I instantly knew this wasn't Miss M. We all ran into the kitchen to find the neighbor's kid clutching his eye. Miss M stood there perplexed. I was frozen and afraid Miss M had gouged the poor kid's eye out. The husband scooped up his son and began asking him where did it hurt. Again they told me not to worry everything was going to be fine, but I just wanted to die.

I really had no business being there. I should have never agreed to dinner or simply postponed it for another day. My husband backed out at the last minute, my kid was sick, and I felt guilty that I had forgotten about the invitation.  


Has this ever happened to you?

First I must say, while I know many people couldn't care less about Kate and Will's wedding, I happen to be one of the two billion people who do! My husband (then boyfriend) and I lived in London for a number of years so its nice to see the places I loved crowded with spectators for this special event. As I sit here at 4a.m. watching the pomp and circumstance surrounding the royal wedding, several thoughts enter my head:

• Who in their right mind plans a wedding for early Friday morning? Who?
  
• KATE'S DRESS!!!!! Very Grace Kelly. (Sorry Diana, we still love you) 
• The princes looked very dapper! But I must admit I liked Harry's suit better than Will's red number.
  
• The Queen looks smashing! Hello Yellow!
• How sweet it is to see Kate and Will in love and happy on their special day.
• Will's got "that look" in his eye! Nine months from now... mark your calendars now folks.
• I never really loved Victoria Beckham's style, her thin figure is just too distracting, but man they hit the nail on the head. The Beckhams looked AH-MAZING.
  
• The trees in the Abby (that's Westminster Abby to you) give the space a minimalist chic appeal.
• I wonder if they will do "The Electric Slide." Line dances always get the party started.
  
• Sarah Furgeson is somewhere kicking herself. 
• I want a "little British hat" with feathers sticking out of it!
  
• I hope Diana is looking down from heaven with pride. 

Children need to be respected as unique individuals. Parenting is not "being the boss of someone," but rather guiding an amazing being through this journey called life. It is up to us as parents to be respectful of our children so that they can learn to be respectful to others. 

Miss M enjoyed a beautiful Easter Sunday in Vermont. Enjoy!

Much to my delight the popularity of Miss M's Book Club is taking off. I have received an overwhelming response from the post about everyone's favorite pig, Pookie. I have received so many suggestions for future books, thank you. Please keep the ideas coming.
This week I was overjoyed when I arrived home to find a box of brand new books for Miss M. Thank you Grandmom! In the box was one of my favorite kiddie books of all time:
Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney.

This truly has to be one of the sweetest books I have ever read to Miss M. She loves this book. Maybe its the subject matter, maybe its the pictures, or maybe its that I use crazy animated voices to narrate the book.

Little Nutbrown Hare and Big Nutbrown Hare explain how much they love each other by using their bodies and objects in nature. "I love you this much," says Little Nutbrown Hare stretching out his arms as wide as they can go. The two rabbits try to outdo each other, but in the end Big Nutbrown Hare wins. I keep this book in heavy rotation. What is your child's favorite book?