What was the sweetest thing your child has ever said?

My 3-year-old son has a sweet tooth. He loves juice, candy and cookies; he even likes his fluoride vitamin drops. But, the sweetest thing are the words that come rolling out of his mouth. Some days they aren't so sweet. Some days they are darn right sour - he is in the terrible 3's. But, just the other day, he said something that brought tears to my eyes. Those words are forever embossed in my brain. He said, while we are on a Budget rent-a-car shuttle bus, "Mom, you are my best friend." In the middle of the shuttle bus, he looked up at me, scooted his tush as close to mine as possible and hugged me around the waist. My little boy's voice, sweet and soft, is music to my ears; and, satisfied my sweet tooth for the day.

Don't Do This At Home

True - All mom's are busy. True - We spend most days cleaning, working, feeding kids, cleaning, again and then it is time for bed. True - We put everyone first. False - There is no pamper time, or "me" time left in the day for mom.

Whatever you do make the time to get your eyebrows waxed, professionally. Do not, under any circumstances, try to do it yourself. If you mess it up, and you will, you will look funny. It could take months for them to regrow. Believe me. I have gone pluck crazy before and the results were devastating. With half an eyebrow people looked at me wondering what was different. I tried to pencil it in, but that made it worse. On another occasion, I tried to trim the length. I brushed my eyebrows up, and with my husband's beard scissors cut away. Despite my best effort, I cut too much and ended up with stubble above my eyes. Again, people looked at me wondering why I looked so weird. Finally, my sister spoke up and said, "Did you give your eyebrows a haircut?"

Nolan's First Day of Preschool

I cannot believe my baby started preschool today. He is 3-years-old and I don't know where the time has gone. Suddenly, with a blink of an eye, he is out of the crib; eating solids; walking and talking; pooping in the potty, well almost; and now, today, is his first day of school. He will never have a first day of school, again. This day, a day to be talked about forever, is now just a baby book memory. I took pictures of him outside his classroom, dressed in his best outfit. I was excited for his big day. The excitement drained after my husband asked me if I was going to cry. "Of course not. He will be fine," I said. I will be fine, too, I thought. Nolan has been attending "Kids in Motion," (an on-site child care program at The Chelsea Wellness Center, kids are allowed to attend 2-hours a day for 7 days a week, while a parent is exercising. Parents' must remain on the premises, though) at my gym since he was 6-months-old.

So we trekked up to school. Nolan held one hand while my daughter occupied my other. We entered the classroom to find Nolan's smiley teacher. I walked Nolan around the room; we found his name tag, which he wore around his neck; located his cubby hole and then his coat hook. Then, we introduced ourselves to some of his classmates; one child was trying so hard not to cry after his mom left. His eyes filled with tears and he was sucking in his wails like a brave little soldier. Finally, it was my turn to leave. I bent down, gave Nolan a kiss and offered my motherly advice to do as his teacher instructs. As I turned to leave Nolan followed me. He quickly removed his name tag and said, "I am coming with you, Mom." I looked down at him and explained that I would be back in a few hours. He said, again, "No, Mom. I am coming with you. I don't want to stay." I redirected him back to the Playdoh station and said I would sit with him for a little while. So, we both sat down in kiddie chairs; my butt poured over the edge of the chair and Nolan scooted his seat as close to mine as possible. With Addison on my lap and Nolan glued to my side, I was trapped in. I was the only parent in preschool, now. Moments later I decided to make my exit, again. I kissed Nolan goodbye and explained that we would be back later. Like a tight-pressured Jack-n-the box he jumped from his seat, ripped the name tag from his neck and said , "I'm coming with you." His eyes burned into mine and tears swelled in his eyes, "Dont go, Mom," he said as he hugged my legs, tight. "No No", his nickname, "Mommy and Addison have to go. This is your class and we will be back soon." I replied. "No, Mom I want to come with you. No, Mom don't leave me." His lips curled under and his pleading face made my chest tighten. Now, I was the little soldier sucking it all in. Again, though, as brave as I was I redirected him back to the water station, a tub filled with bubbles and foam for kids to play in, and when he was preoccupied I scooted out the back door.

I scurried to my car. I placed Addison in her car seat. I put my sunglasses on, and then I wept the entire way home.

Getting Back to the Basics

Have you seen the new Suave shampoo commercial on television? The one with the woman, she looks to be in her early 30s, who has let herself go after having two children.

The commercial starts out when a young, beautiful woman, who is dressed to the nine’s, gets engaged. In 45-seconds you see her transformation - from a single, hip woman to a glamorous bride to a frumpy mom of two-children. In the end, thanks to Suave, she gracefully returns to her sleek, fashionable self, despite her third pregnancy. If only shampoo really worked miracles.

As a stay-at-home mother of two children, I can relate to the frumpiness. My two monkeys swing from each of my arms and climb up and down my torso for hugs, comfort, fun or maybe they just want to drive me crazy. This one time, while at a birthday party, I was holding my, then 11-month-old, son Nolan in one hand and holding a beverage in the other hand while chit-chatting with my husband's best friend, Flounder. His real name is Jeff but inherited the nickname Flounder, or Flo, in college from the movie "Animal House." Anyways, my son kept wanting to get closer to my face, then closer and even closer. He began climbing up my body, using his feet to propel himself upward. As he trekked up, he pushed my pants down. I suddenly found myself with my underpants down at my feet while standing face-to-face with Flo. All Flo could do was panic. Repeatedly, he kept saying, "I don't know where to look." Finally, I threw my beverage at him and pulled my pants up. I don't know what is worse - having a complete stranger witness your most vulnerable moment or a best friend, who despite all your faults, loves you anyways. So the most important point to this tangent is to never wear pants with an elastic waste band, again, and beware of swinging monkeys .

Anyways, what were we talking about? Oh, yeah, about how being a mom somehow turns you into a frump. Actually, that is not true. The Suave woman isn't frumpy. She just doesn't leave enough time to get ready, probably because she spends every spare minute caring for her kids. Chances are, if she does get ready she will be late to wherever she is going.

I can relate to her. In fact, I am her. I spend my time getting my kids dressed in their perfect outfits, and brushing their hair to the perfect style. As soon as they are perfectly manicured we are out the door. Quickly, I throw on the jeans from last night, spray myself down with perfume and tie may hair back in a pony tail. If I don‘t leave at that very moment, I am afraid the cycle of sleep, eat, crap, play would resume. With all that said, I don’t give myself time to get ready.

The funny thing is I went out the other night, to meet up with some girlfriends, so I decided to take a shower and wash my hair. Upon my husband’s arrival home from work, to watch the kids so I could go out, he said, “Why don’t you get dressed up like that for me?” His comment made me think. Maybe I should start using Suave. It is what I used in college, it is all I could afford at only 99-cents a bottle, when I met my husband; years later we were married. Maybe it is time to get back to the basics.

Getting back to the basics is what this blog is all about. Here, you will read about the basics of motherhood: child rearing, toys, recipes, and marriage. There’s nothing fancy about it. It’s all natural, all organic and all from the heart. In the end, you may be surprised to find that the basics in life can be just plain fabulous.

From Via Spiga's to Nike's

I was suddenly transformed. My preoccupation with climbing the corporate ladder was interrupted. Wiping noses and bottoms, playing peek-a-boo and singing “The Itsty Bitsy Spider” has me single-heartedly off-track.

The birth of my, now 3-year-old son, Nolan, changed my life in unexpected ways. At times, while holding him, I’ll catch a glance of myself in a mirror and think, “Wow, that’s me and my son. How did that happen?”

It seems like yesterday I learned that I was pregnant, dreaming about the little person inside me; wondering who he was; who he would become; if he would look like me or laugh like me. I was so eager to meet him that I carried his ultrasound picture everywhere I went, introducing him to the world as if I patented a new product.

I remember eating breakfast one morning, prior to Nolan’s birth, and feeling struck. Struck for the first time in my life with a true purpose. My purpose, the one I sought for so long, finally had been revealed. I suddenly longed for my child. I was ready for my new challenge: My new title; my new career; and, my new fortune.

At 39 weeks into my pregnancy, I began doing everything to initiate labor. Despite my lazy bladder, I increased my exercise regime by walking my pre-pregnancy, three-mile loop around my neighborhood, not even Kegels could prevent the inevitable. Since all I ended up with were wet pants, I tried other alternatives: I cooked.

Well, that didn’t work. The aroma of curry, alone, left me with heartburn and indigestion so I decided to initiate my last option: Sex. My husband, my belly and I, well, you know where I am going with this. Old wives tales are fun to chat about, but my question is: Did anyone else ever think these were true?

Finally, at 41-weeks, he was born. Birth – life’s most miraculous moment. The true meaning of my life hadn’t been revealed until then.

I can’t remember what occupied my days before him. When I was pregnant everyone said, “Your life will never be the same again.” I always knew my life would undergo a massive makeover. I just didn’t know how much my life would change.

Some of life’s changes seemed obvious: Scaling back on the expensive and frequent dinners out; reducing my work load would result in less money; and, loving my child a lot.

Prior to conceiving Nolan, I often wondered why people had three or four children. I wanted one or two, but never imagined having more. More than two children seemed silly, both from a time and financial standpoint.

I enjoyed earning that big bonus check after working long hours at my job. I enjoyed wearing designer clothes to exclusive restaurants, immersing myself in intellectual conversation over fine wines. I enjoyed shopping at Banana Republic and owning several pairs of Via Spiga shoes. It was hard imagining my life free of expense accounts and dinner reservations.

I imagined that expense accounts would become budgets; that dinner reservations would be seldom; and lunch dates with people half my size. I did, however, still see myself strolling through the shopping mall with baby in one arm and my Kate Spade in the other. I imagined a spotless house and a gourmet meal being served upon my husband’s arrival home from work. If we can’t go to P.F. Chang’s, I’ll bring it here.

As soon as my son was born, it was confirmed. I love him. It’s hard not to sit and stare at him counting each finger and each toe twice, talking baby talk all day long. I study his face. He studies mine. Our eyes connect. They fix. Not even the sting on an unblinked eye could end the moment. I never imagined this transformation!

Prior to my son, my job was my hot pursuit. My need for being needed in conference calls or meetings devoured me. Now, being needed by my son has put things into perspective. I finally understand the meaning of my life.

My passions are coming to life in ways I never expected. Never again do I want sleepless nights caused by work pressures, nor do I want my creativity stunted by worldly exhaustions. I want the best of me to be portrayed to my child.

Portraying the best is work and hasn’t come sacrifice-free. Resigning from my full-time job to pursue part-time opportunities, opportunities that are sporadic, isn’t easy. Switching gears, to allow more time at home has been difficult.

You would assume that with more than a decade of career-building experiences, I would easily transition into a productive stay-at-home mom brewing with creative ways to occupy my son, while also reinventing myself to provide my family the dual income we have grown accustomed to.

My new opportunities haven’t brought much fortune or fame, but the sound of my son’s “da da da,” throughout the day, makes all the sacrifices worth it. So I was right to assume that are frequent dinners out would be few. In fact, I can’t remember the last time we dined- out. Oops, I forgot we had dinner at Bob’s Big Boy earlier this month. It’s been over a decade since I dined at that restaurant.

Budgets are now essential, but I am still able to shop at Banana Republic – the outlet, and I do own a Kate Spade – a fake one that I bought at a purse party.

In addition, it was silly to predict a spotless home, one that was dust-bunny free and stamped with the approval of Martha Stewart. Flailing into motherhood has made me realize how cumbersome simple tasks can be when you are distracted by your jovial creation every moment of the day. Housecleaning has become a challenging new sport. The days of scrubbing grout is over; a wet swifter will have to do.

Sorry again, Martha, my husband does not arrive home to a piping hot meal on the dinner table every night, and I do cook. Instead he is greeted by Nolan, who now screams “Daddy’s home, yeah!” and our second child, Addison, who sits on her throne in the kitchen, throwing bits of food to our dog, Cooper. Usually, the Shake-N - Bake pork chops are still cooking in the oven.

And, lastly, I am sad to admit our trips to the shopping mall have been few, usually limited to J.C. Penny’s for quarterly photo shoots, even Kate Spade can’t tag along. I sure miss that girl.

After packing diapers, wipes, bottles, pacifiers, snacks, a change of clothes for the frequent blow-out, the stroller, umbrella, coat, hat and mittens that must accompany us on every excursion, there is simply no room for my old pal.

After months of learning my new trade, I am determined to master my hot, new career. Nolan, and now Addison, provides a salary of less than minimum wage, but a satisfaction rate of 100-percent. Watching them develop and grow is more rewarding than I ever imagined. The excitement I experience at each milestone keeps their baby book filled with freeze-frame moments: From the first smile, not the one mistaken for gas; the first giggle, still the sweetest sound I have ever heard; the first time they crawled or walked; or the first time they blew spit bubbles while eating sweet potatoes, spraying orange mush on my new sweater, with products like Shout wipes moms can raise children in style, at least.

Their firsts” came and went so quickly. I want to stop time and appreciate each moment. In no time at all, my son outgrew his 0-to 3-months-old clothes. I packed away many onesies and sleepers with the tags still attached. Some of the garments I couldn’t resist purchasing, had never been worn. The blue chenille nightie, with the teddy bear feet was my favorite. Why didn’t he wear it? What occasion was I waiting for? I decided right then and there that my second child would dress to the nines – even on lazy days where all we do is lounge on the sofa or grocery shop.

Within what seemed like just days, my son, and now my daughter, outgrew their 3- to 6- months-old clothes. “Slow down,” I screamed, “you’re growing up too fast.”

Maybe we should have a third baby. I want more for us to love. The best gifts my parents gave me were my siblings. “What’s happening to me? This doesn’t sound like me.”

The answer is simple: Motherhood has happened and my life will never be the same. Besides Nike’s are much more comfortable than Via Spigas.