The Tovsky Tribe

Chocolates, Cocktails, Friends, Babies...A Girl Should Never Have Just ONE!!

Monday, May 18, 2009


Just when you think they could be ready there is nothing like a poop on the couch and a pee on the floor to keep Pampers in business.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Over the Shoulder Boulder Holder!

That was one of the many silly names we called bras when I was a kid. We did not make it up, in fact I think we stole it from the movie Beaches (I wonder where they stole it from), but still we used it for a giggle time and again.
It has been a long time since I referred to a bra as that, though I have used a million different names for the boobs these bras support,and in that time the shoulders have rounded enough that the straps have races to my elbows and the said boulders need much more holding as they race (though much slower than the straps, thankfully) to my knees. Yep, that's what two pregnancies have done to my girls. I guess it's lucky I got a two for one deal the first time around.
Anyway, all of my bras suck. Nothing good lasts forever and I suppose a brassiere is no exception. Mine all currently lack support, shape, everything a good bra needs yet they continue to take up space in my drawer.
Today I bought a new bra. Normally I would not write about this for friends and family to read, but I am actually amazed at what's going on between my neck and my belly button.

Tonight I had a wedding. Tonight I had to wear a dress and stockings and heels. I don't normally mind such things but I was a bit concerned with fitting into my dress. I needed Spanx. I needed these Spanx to help my post-partum body fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes by attempting to flatten and conceal the remaining cushion around my mid-section from Turner's incubation. Actually, part of it still remains from Chase and Ryder's 35 week stay inside of me, a side effect of the two for one deal that is much less rewarding. Of course I had waited until the last minute so I had to find the closest, quickest place with what I needed. Had I planned ahead I would have gone to Bloomingdales and probably would have convinced myself to walk through the kids department and just browse. Then I would have seen something too perfect for my sons' wardrobe's and would have had to buy a few things for each boy. Then I would have left the mall possibly forgetting the one thing I had originally gone for.

But that did not happen because I procrastinate.

Instead, I went to the nearest store, which happened to be a bra shop, to buy Spanx.

So, anyway, I went in for Spanx and came out with a breast reduction, or a lift, or some major improvement I did not expect. I have never worn such a comfortable bra and I do not want to take it off. Like a kid who just got new sneakers I wore my OtSBH out of the store and threw the one I walked in wearing away!
Yes, I love my new bra. I am not sure I knew one could love a bra with any deep feeling but it seems you can. Comfortable, supportive, an underwire that is not pricking me in my armpit every other minute, it is everything you would want in a new bra. I have never been so grateful for my kangaroo pouch nor my flaw of procrastination. Without either of them I may still be wearing Bubbe's bra. The best things always come your way when you're not looking.

Thursday, May 14, 2009


In the last 24 hours I have watched the prom episodes of both Gossip Girl and 90210. Now, we can certainly debate the lunacy of a thirtsomething watching these ridiculous teenaged dramas but that is not what this post about. This post is about, well, prom.
I got to thinking about my own proms. I remember them, vaguely. I remember wearing hot pink and knee length to my junior prom, and red, floor length to my senior prom. I still love that red dress and though hot pink remains questionable I am sure it was in style in the early 90's. I remember my hair being wide and high and highlighted blonde. I remember being unwilling to take part in the election of king and queen for principles that I still believe in, sort of, but being willing to take part in the election of the prom song, even though my song did not win. I don't remember thinking it was the biggest day of my life though I am sure I could have had those thoughts. I do remember being anxious about my date even before I had a date. This anxiety did not stem from the fear of not having a date, but from the fear of being in an uncomfortable situation. I needed control, I needed to go to prom with my friends or not at all. Part insecurity, part prudity, when it came to dating I needed to be totally comfortable with the situation, and that often required my friends being nearby. I was naïve as a teenager, I was insecure. I did get a good amount of attention from the boys but I was usually unaware of it.
When I was a sophomore (sophomores did not have prom) I was asked to the Junior prom. Many girls dream of this, to go to the older class prom, but the idea of it made me so nervous I turned him down. I remember his name and what he looked like but I have no idea what I told him, nor did I think about how it would make him feel. All I knew was that I just couldn't go so I rejected the shy, older guy. Years later, when I was less uncomfortable with the other sex, I felt terrible about that moment and even now I would like to apologize to him.
As a junior, I was asked to prom by a guy from my class. I also remember his name and what he looked like. He was a part of the "cool" crowd but him too I turned down. I have no idea what I told him either but my reasoning was the same. Instead, I asked a random, new blonde haired, blue-eyed cutie who did not have a group of friends yet and therefore he would be willing to go with my eclectic crowd. I am not sure if he and I had fun or not, but I know I had fun being there. Senior year the pressure was off because I had a boyfriend and his friends were my friends and vice versa.
I really do feel bad for being that unavailable person. Even 17 years later I still think about it and wonder if these guys ever think about the bitch who rejected them. I am sure that is what they thought I was, rightfully so. They will never know that the reason they were rejected as impressionable young men had nothing to do with them and everything to do with my own insecurities. I doubt they even remember asking me, but if they do I would love to say I am sorry. Perhaps I should find them on facebook? Better yet, perhaps I should stop watching teenaged dramas.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Key West

I love my three boys. I love having three kids. I wish I had it in me to have more, but I don't. Yes, I love my three kids but though one baby is a lot easier than two ever were, three kids is much more hectic than two ever were. Someone always needs something, ALWAYS. Between diaper changes and bottle feedings there is whining and tears. This hecticness is exactly why we needed a vacation. So we headed to the Southermost City, as those who live there like to refer to it, of Key West.
Usually the preparation to leave the kids for several days is so involved that it attempts to spoil the thrill of a vacation. But, this time, the need to get away heavily outweighed any pre-travel stress. Despite having a three month old and feeling as though I would miss out on some monumental milestone in any of their lives I was ready to have four days with my husband.
Key West is a small town loaded with art galleries, restaurants, and bars and, as most resort towns, overloaded with vendors selling over-priced crap to souveneir happy tourists. The vibe is laid back, the dress is casual, and the minds are liberal. This was exactly the place we needed to be at the moment.
We flew into Miami and drove the three hours to Key West in the rented convertible Sebring. At first, I felt convertibles were over-rated. Even though I was still dressed for Philly's dank spring day in the heat of Miami, I was cold and needed to wear my sweatshirt most of the ride. The wind was blowing through my ears and I kept thinking we should put the windows up. Then, after we got off the highway and onto US1 I found comfort and also the thrill of cruising in a convertible. The ride was beautiful, most of it anyway, and completely mind blowing. There we were on a two lane road with nothing, NOTHING, around us but turquoise waters. You looked to the left and there was just a distant horizon. You looked to the right and it was the same thing. Todd, myself, and the vast sea. You feel like you are driving on the water!
The directions to the hotel ended this way: "make a right onto Duval Street. Stay on Duval until you get to the Gulf of Mexico. The hotel will be on your Left". When I read that I found it amusing and wondered how literal it was, only to find out there was nothing more than a pier separating the Gulf from our Key West home. The Ocean Key was wonderful, adorable in its decor, high-end in its quality. We somehow ended up with one of the best rooms though it is not sold that way. Others are larger, suites in fact, and may be a bit more private, but our fourth floor room was perfectly located so that from our balcony we had sunset straight on, view of the pool just a bit to our left and Sunset Pier bar and grill just below us. We never had to leave our room to see the sunset or watch the boats, hear the live music, or stare out at the pool. Even some good people watching was available to us for the same price.
By the pool we befreinded, as you would expect, the bartenders. You'd be left wondering if it was a coincidence that we, by which I mean Todd, were the pretty blondes' favorite customers:)
Our first night there we were like caged animals let loose, well maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration, but we set out on a night of imbibing that this post-partum writer hadn't experienced in some time. After a mind eraser and some pub chat with the bartender at Hogg's Breath (where I jokingly wondered if the taxidermied Pig above our head could spread the dreaded swine flu) we learned there was a Philly bar owned by no other than Pat Croce. We are still not sure why Hans, the bartender, would have had any reason to think we would be interested in, or even know of, Pat Croce but upon this mention we headed right over to the Rum Barrel where we were welcomed by Eagles jersey's and the Phillies game up on the flat screens. Philly proud, we were happy.
The following days were filled with breakfast and coffee on our balcony, pool lounging and sun soaking, massages, wave running, sunsets, dinner, and early bed.
Upon recommendation we learned there were two sushi places on the island. The debate seemed to be out on which one is better so Todd and I decided to vote for ourselves and try them both.
Ambrosia, our Thursday night dinner, was beautiful with fancy presentation and good fish. We found it to be very good but were still curious what Origami had to offer. On Saturday we went to the much more casual, much more neighborhoody "joint" that, though we loved the friendly feel, certainly lacked in luster from its rival. Though the fish was good we both preferred Ambrosia as far as meal quality went.
We also dined, between the sushi outings, at Louie's Backyard Patio. Known for its views moreso than its food, Louie's did not disappoint. Looking out onto the Atlantic, sitting in the open air, hearing tides crash into rocks, we enjoyed a very good meal in a "vacation must" setting.
Key West is a small island. We walked from the Gulf of Mexico to the Atlantic Ocean. We stopped for a picture at the large thimble shaped concrete slab marking the southernmost point of the Continental US and admired the view from the end of the earth as we stood on pier jetting into the ocean.
Key West is a boaters town. There is a Margaritaville rhythm and the pace is slow. We are not boaters, though some of the yachts we saw were crazy to look at, but its hard to deny the vibe and the sun and the goodtime this southernmost city has to offer.

For the rest of the photos from this trip, click here

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

A Letter to my Son on his 4 Month Birthday!

Dear Turner Luke,

Today you are four months old! No longer a newborn you show all of the signs of becoming a baby: you smile (often), you giggle, you roll, you sleep through the night, and you are getting so big. You've grown out of your first round of clothing and moved up to size 2 diapers. You are, indeed, no longer a newborn!
Your 4 month weigh in had you tipping the scales at 14.9 pounds, exactly three pounds more than you were just two months ago. You measured 25 inches (a two inch growth) and both your height and weight land you in the fiftieth percentile. Your head, which grew an inch and a half, is 16.5 inches and in the 45th percentile.

You are such a happy baby. Every morning you greet us with a smile which you carry with you all day long. You love it when you get just a bit of attention and tend to ham it up with a giggle and a grin. You are very ticklish, and tickling you allows us to hear your laugh, a joyous sound. You laugh so hard it becomes a cough!

You are such a little sweetie and pleasant and mellow most of the time. However, when you cry it can be ear-piercing, should we dare to hold off your feeding when you're ready!
You have begun rolling over, inconsistently. You have gone from belly to back and have been trying very hard to go back to belly. You lift your legs, and then your arms, but you have not been able to put it all together yet.
You are very strong and have great head control, but usually only enjoy tummy time for a short while.
Your hands have found your mouth and you can't get enough. You have also learned to zerbert your lips and have found delight in the vibration. You coo and hum and talk a lot! I love talking back to you with a huge grin on my face.

You are a my pleasure, my love! The time is passing quickly and sometimes I feel as though I am missing things. I continue to feel as though you've always been a part of us and deep down I know that is because it's true. You, and your brothers, are my pride and joy. Each moment, each day I love you you so!


Friday, May 1, 2009

Running Waves

Todd and I rented a wave runner today! We have done this many times before, but it has been quite some time since our last rental. Back when we did it on every vacation I insisted on riding my own. This time I insisted on riding passenger while Todd throttled the PWC (personal water craft). This is the first indicator that, despite having no qualms with getting older, I am indeed getting old.
Out on the teal waters I felt like the tiny speck I am on this great big Earth. Serenity and beauty surrounded us, infinity only interrupted by the fishing boats and yachts that freckled the Gulf.
When I was younger I would day dream about living in a place where you hopped a wave runner to get to, say, a friends house. I loved riding them so much that that seemed like the life.
Riding one today I held onto to Todd's waist for dear life roller coastering between exhiliarated and scared, flip-flopping between wanting it to end soon and never wanting it to end at all.
The adrenaline I felt was a rushing high as my knuckles whitened in my life saving grip.
Crossing wake would give us air, a salty splash drenching our sun soaked faces, and as my ass bounced off the seat and back down I would laugh at how much fun it was and delight that I was still alive. When Todd slowed down I wanted him to go faster, when he sped up I wanted him to slow down. At the height of my fear I would think how unfair it would be to orphan my kids on such a joy ride, yet at the height of my fun I would think how unfair it would be to deprive my soul of this rush.
When we got out to the farthest point, looking out at the Gulf, we were quickly reminded how vast and deep and wonderful the ocean is, and we wondered if we could ride the 90 miles to Cuba. I found it fascinating that the island just rose from the water, and less than a mile away another much smaller island did the same thing. I was awed by the cruise ship, larger than I expected once I saw it up close, that cast a shadow on the island. It is unbelievable how complex the world's creations are, a feeling that overwhelms me when I am in the middle of the sea or 35,000 feet in the air.
When the ride was over, I sighed with relief and then thought..."When can we do it again?"

Cruise ships are rather large!

From 35,000 feet in the air

Bikini Body

I don't think I ever really had the perfect body for a bikini. Maybe that is being kind, I know I did not. Despite this self awareness, I did always wear them anyway. Sure, at times I was a little insecure that my belly, yet to be inhabited by my spawn, lacked the washboard look and instead resembled more of a kangaroos pouch. But, I did not let that stop me, afterall a tanned muffin top is better than a stark white one. In times of need, perhaps during the periods when additional weight decided to spend the summer around my middle, I had the tankini. The tankini had almost the coverage of a one piece, but the ease of a two piece. It has been the answer many times before, but is it now?
You see my belly, in addition to the muffin top appearance it had even in my best of shape, now carries an additional two digit number in post-partum weight. And, even as I continue to lose it (though not on this trip,) the marks and stretching evidencing my recent pregnancy resemble the peel of a watermelon and must be hidden. So, a one piece suit became a mandate for my sunbathing. I was fine with this, I found a few I liked and was ready to wear them. But the problem, I realized, the reason why two piece suits are far superior to one piece suits has little to do with tan lines or sex appeal and everything to do with the bathroom. Going to the bathroom in a one piece suit, particularly a wet one, makes even the quickest of pees a complete pain in the ass. Yes, having to go the ladies room is the reason I must find my way back to a bikini, or at least a tankini. Will these stretch marks ever fade enough?