Well, since I wrote this, over a year ago, things have only gotten worse.
Shortly after I wrote that post I got a steroid injection in my shoulder which gave me some relief for about 3-4 months. So it flared up again, and I tried to ignore it, until it got so bad that I was in constant pain. A couple of months ago my doctor scheduled me for another shoulder injection. This time I got no relief. Before the injection, they gave me a comprehensive ultrasound, and the results were not good. Fraying tendons, misshaped capsule, substantial inflammation. Not good.
A little less than 5 years ago I had shoulder surgery. The recovery was HORRIBLE. It was months before I could use my arm. How could I go through that with a toddler?

As I said in the post I linked to, the pain makes everything harder. EVERYTHING. I'm exhausted by the end of the day.

So, I finally bit the bullet. We hired a mother's helper. It's only for 8 hours a week, but it is going to be so helpful. We're not looking at it as a luxury, we're looking at it as a necessity. I am so thankful that my husband's new salary is making it so that we can afford some help. We really need help.
My husband also wants me to hire someone to come and clean at least a couple of times a month. He's totally right- we should do that- It's becoming increasingly difficult for me to clean, however, there is a part of me that feels so weird about hiring people to help me.
When I go to parties, you'll often find me chatting with the waiters, or the kitchen staff. I feel awkward having people do things for me. I don't ever want anyone to think that I'm entitled or spoiled.

I trying to learn how to accept help, but It's hard. I think maybe it's because I'm not OK with needing help. I want to be independent. I want to be able to do it all.

I don't want to be trapped in this body that keeps failing me.

But I am.

Posted by torrie at 02:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

Willa is fascinated with parties. We've been lucky to attend several in the past few months.
One day we were driving to a party. Willa was very excited. She asked us a bunch of questions including "Will they have cake at the party?" That lead to a whole conversation about cakes which lead Willa to say "Mama, you make a star cake with me?" I said "Sure, I'd love to make a star cake with you."

I think it's very important that I follow through when I promise things to Willa, so a few days later, we made a star cake together.

The funny thing about this whole situation is that Willa doesn't usually like cake. She doesn't really like sweets, but I did notice that she liked the whipped cream that was on a cake we had at a party, so I decided to ice and fill our star cake with whipped cream.
She loved it.

I made vanilla whipped cream, and then separated some of it and added cocoa powder to make chocolate whipped cream to fill the cake with.

The cake itself was a healthy banana cake made with whole wheat flour, and agave nectar instead of sugar.

It was a hit.

As someone who grew up in the kitchen baking with her mother, and then eventually went to culinary school and became a chef, I can not tell you how awesome it was to bake with my own child.

*As requested, here is the recipe for healthier Banana Cake:

*If you make this recipe please let me know in the comments.

Posted by torrie at 04:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

In December 2005, my father, mother, and husband chipped in and bought me my first "real" camera, the Nikon D70.

It was my father's idea. My father and I had our issues, but he was very supportive of my photography. He was genuinely excited for me.

It was because of the D70 that I got the attention of the advertising firm who was working on Nikon's new ad campaign. In August of 2006, right before I got pregnant with Willa, I was chosen to be one of the lucky few who was featured in the ad campaign and given Nikon's new camera, the D80.

Since then, I have had the luxury of having two great cameras

A few weeks ago someone very close to me called to ask me my advice-
Long story short- His wife is a makeup artist. His line of work has practically dried up since the recession hit. They are struggling to pay their bills. They have one child and another on the way. His wife works with a lot of models, actors, and musicians. He started to shoot some head shots for these people with his dinky point and shoot. He wanted to know if there was a decent camera he could get for cheap, so that he could perhaps actually make some money.

I gave him my camera.

In the weeks between me telling him I would give him the camera, and the time when I would actually see him in person to give him the camera, I started to have some anxiety.

I try very hard not to think about my father all the time. Maybe that's not the healthy thing to do, but it's what helps me deal. It's been two years since he died, and I'm losing pieces of him. If I let myself think about him too much then I lose sleep.

That camera is a piece of him. It is a symbol of his belief in me. And I never really thought about it until I was about to give it away.

As I was packing up the camera and it's supplies to give to its new owner, I felt like someone was sitting on my chest.

The time came for me to hand it over, and the minute I saw the look on his face, I was at peace.

As I watched him play with the camera, and shake his head in awe, I remembered what it felt like when I first held that camera. How unbelievably happy and excited I was. The potential that that camera stands for.

It is a gift to be able to make someone so happy. it is a gift to be able to give someone something they deserve.

My anxiety has completely faded and is now replaced by joy.

I hope my father felt the same joy when he gave me that camera.

Posted by torrie at 07:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (17)

Dear Torrie,

When are you going to learn that watching Grey's Anatomy right before bed is not a good idea?
Especially when one of the characters is battling Melanoma, the same disease you watched your father die from. Especially the night before the anniversary of September 11th. Especially the day after someone close to you had a 12 hour surgery. Especially when you have a million things to accomplish in the next few days. Especially when you've had a really tough week.

Do you enjoy only getting ONE HOUR of sleep because you spend all night tossing and turning because your mind is racing?

When will you learn?

(You idiot.)

Love,

Your Subconscious

Posted by torrie at 09:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I have been on the phone for six hours straight (I can't tell you why yet- hopefully I'll be able to in the future) and it's not even for something fun, like winning concert tickets. I am stressed and in tears.

We are out of toilet paper and most food, but I can't go to the supermarket because I haven't washed my hair since Friday.

I have two zits on my forehead.

I have eleventy billion things to do.

I'm hungry. I would like some warm chocolate chip cookies please.

We won't even talk about my shoulder and back.

Posted by torrie at 03:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

When we moved out of Manhattan about 15 months ago, I tried to convince myself it was for the best.

"Manhattan is so expensive! I can't stand the crowds anymore!"

I have tried really hard to like the suburbs. I really have. We joined a playgroup, we go to programs at the library at least twice a week, we go to the Y, we talk to our neighbors, and yet, this still doesn't feel like home.

I don't feel like I fit in here.

I am a vegetarian, organic,liberal, hippie who wears ironic T-shirts without a bra.

This is the land of steak, and republicans, and "what label are you wearing".

At first I was really mad at myself for not liking the suburbs. I routinely suffer from the grass is always greener syndrome. Then, I had an epiphany-

No place is perfect.

I am never going to live in a magical place where all of my friends and family live within a few blocks, and that has all of my favorite restaurants and stores, and has perfect weather, and exciting night life. It doesn't exist.

This realization was a huge step for me. It was a "grownup" moment.

So, I had to figure out where I (and my husband and kid) would be happiest.

In the little over a year since we have lived in the suburbs I have gained ten pounds and aged several years. I never realized how much I thrived off the excitement of Manhattan. How much those little chats you have with random people you meet when you are walking your dog in the city mean to me. I am a social person. I don't really need alone time. I thrive off of interacting with people.
Here in the suburbs NOTHING HAPPENS. I often take Willa and Dexter on an hour long walk, and we don't pass one person walking down the street.

There are things that the lazy part of me like about the suburbs- Being able to hop in the car and drive places when it's really hot or really cold, opening the back door and letting Dexter out to pee.
I constantly have to fight the lazy. In Manhattan you can't be that lazy. Hence the ten pound weight gain.

I feel old here. I feel like I am becoming boring. I feel like I am not myself.

The suburbs are killing my soul.

I know that sounds dramatic, but it's true.

And I miss my friends. My friends who are so awesome. My friends who I always say "I love you" to when I'm ending a conversation. My friends whom Willa calls her Aunts and Uncles.
They are my family.

When we moved here we thought we would still see our friends all the time. "It's just a short train ride away" we would say to try to convince ourselves that it wouldn't be that bad. But, it's bad. The reality is that depending on where you are going to or coming from in the city, it takes about an hour and a half. Which means about a 3 hour round trip. My friends are busy people. They can't always devote an entire day to dragging their asses out to the suburbs. When we lived in the city, I would meet my friends by their offices to have a quick lunch, or sometimes they would get off work early and we'd meet at the cafe. I miss that.

My husband works a lot. 60 hours a week on average. He commutes at least two hours a day. Two precious hours that he would rather be playing with his kid.

So, we are moving back to Manhattan.

Sure, there are things about Manhattan that I won't/don't like, but if it means seeing my friends and husband more often, and feeling at home, then I'll just have to deal.

We are also going to take a lot more day trips out of the city.

We're not going to move tomorrow. We are probably going to stay here until the late Spring so we can save up our money.

I'm sure those of you who have been reading my blog have a lot of questions right now. I'll write more about this in the future, but right now I want to tackle the most commonly asked question when we tell people we want to live in the city "But it's so expensive!" (Not really a question, more of a statement.)

Well, here's what I have to say about that. Living in Manhattan is certainly expensive, but there's a reason it's expensive- it's awesome. I use the example of fine china. A lot of people have fine china, but they never use it. It just sits in the cabinet collecting dust.

I liked the idea of the suburbs. I'd love to have a big, beautiful house, but what good is having a big, beautiful house if it's always empty?

I want to take more risks (I'll write more about that later too), and live each day to the fullest.

I would rather die poor, having lived a happy and exciting life, then die a miserable, boring millionaire.*

I want to use the fine china EVERY DAY.

*(Disclaimer: I am in no way insinuating that everyone who lives in the suburbs are miserable and boring. I'm just talking about how I feel.)

Posted by torrie at 02:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (29)