Jersey Belle and Ice Cream Cake

I really like Bravo reality TV. I've been a follower of the Real Housewives franchise for years. Much like ice cream, they are a guilty pleasure. Just as I know eating ice cream is not particularly healthy, the reality TV shows I so enjoy are not particularly intelligent. Yet, you will still find me watching Real Housewives while eating ice cream. So much for health and intelligence!

Every now and then, Bravo reality surprises me. I recently started watching Jersey Belle. I hadn't planned to add another show to my reality TV repertoire (Real Housewives of New Jersey and Don't Be Tardy are currently on--a girl only has so much time in a week), but it was on demand, and I needed something to watch at the gym. Jersey Belle is essentially Real Housewives of Alabama with a head housewife from New Jersey, Jaime Primak Sullivan.I got hooked. Like all of my Bravo shows, it's a little silly. But unlike the other shows, it spotlights real issues: single moms, working moms, playing moms, and most notably, fertility challenges.

In the first episode of Jersey Belle, Jaime's friend Danielle openly discusses her fertility challenges. She has been married 11 years and indicates that she wants to become pregnant. Subsequent episodes show her going in and recovering from surgery for her endometriosis. Many women and couples struggle with fertility due to endometriosis and bevy of other causes. I was pleased to see these issues brought to light in a forum usually focused on gossip, flipping tables and lavish vacations. I know reality TV isn't real, but these episodes dealt with a very real issue. (Jaime also mentions her high risk pregnancy. With her third child, she had placenta previa, a serious condition where the placenta covers some or all of the mother's cervix.)

Maybe as a new mom, I am hyper aware of all things having a baby, and I wish there was more openness about these things on TV. Women should know that, to paraphrase Danielle, everyone has their thing. But it is also okay to be sad about that thing or seek support. I've already written about being a working mom, but I am sure I have a post in me about all of the parenting issues shown on Jersey Belle (I'll spare you). I value privacy, but sometimes, things need to be said out loud. Or on TV. So thank you Bravo execs, producers, Jaime and Danielle.

On a related note, I made an excellent ice cream cake for my birthday. (Reality TV is like ice cream, and the cake recipe came from my friend Sari who worked at Bravo.) Sari's recipe uses an Oreo "cake" base, two flavors of ice cream and chocolate syrup. With her recipe as a starting point and inspiration, I made this cake in celebration of my birthday.

 

It's not as much a recipe as a concoction. Here's what I did (there are lots of opportunities for substitutions):

1. Line a spring form pan with wax paper.
2. Take half a package of Birthday Cake Oreos (or any other type), place in a plastic zipper bag and crush. Press into the bottom of the pan.
3. Spread ice cream over the Oreos until they are fully covered. It helps to let the ice cream soften a bit, and it is up to you how much you use. I used about 2/3 a container of Edy's Slow Churned Fudge Tracks.
4. Crush the rest of the Oreos and press over the ice cream.
5. Put down another layer of ice cream. I used the rest of the Fudge Tracks and about 1/3 a container of Edy's Slow Churned Peanut Butter Cup (my new favorite since Edy's doesn't seem to make the Birthday Cake flavor anymore).
6. Spread about 1/2 a container of Cool Whip on top of that.
7. Top with chocolate syrup, melted peanut butter (microwave for about 30-40 seconds), rainbow sprinkles and Peanut Butter MMs.
8. Place in the freezer for at least three hours to set.
9. Enjoy!

My Post-Baby Body

A few days ago, I was riding the train home, and a woman made eye contact with me and offered me the empty seat beside her. Naive as I am, I thought she was simply being nice and notifying me, a standing passenger after a long day of work, about the two empty seats on her bench. As I was about to sit down, two other people went to sit down in those empty seats, and the seat-offering woman pointed at me and said, "She's pregnant."

Mortified for just a moment, I replied, "I'm not," and pushed my way to the other side of the train car. A few minutes later, my initial shock waned, and instead of my curt reply, I wish  had said, "I was five months ago, but thank you for your support of postpartum women and their bodies."

Most days, I am just fine with my post-baby body. In fact, I thought  looked quite nice in the dress the woman had mistaken for maternity wear. I don't weigh myself often, but if I had to guess, I would say that I am within five pounds of my pre-baby weight. I have a few pairs of pants that don't fit, and my chest hasn't yet resumed its pre-pregnancy proportions, but other than that, I feel pretty good about the way I look. Like many women I know, I have days where I feel fat and nothing seems to look good--but those days have nothing to do with having a baby five months ago.

Pregnancy and birth allowed me to appreciate my body in a whole new way. I grew a human and somehow got her out. What is more amazing than that! And even though, many of pre-pregnancy clothes do fit, my body is not he same. I am truly okay with that. My daughter is worth every stretch mark and varicose vein that it took to grow her.

A few years ago, a woman in my workplace congratulated me on being pregnant. As with the other day, I wasn't, and I didn't think the dress I was wearing gave the impression that I was with child (as someone who owns her fair share of empire waist and blousey shirts and dresses, I do own clothing that could be mistaken for maternity wear). But, a few years go, I was bothered by the comment, and not just in the moment as with the comment on the train. So, thank you pregnancy and birth. You've given me a new sort of confidence. I feel more internally confident because I have experienced what the human body is capable of. While externally, I would like to lose a few pounds and firm up, internally I know that even if I don't, my body can do great things. For her sake, I hope the woman on the train (who in my opinion should have learned this years ago) learns the all important lesson of never assuming a woman is pregnant. (Note to mass transit commuters: this does not mean you shouldn't give up your seat to a woman you suspect is pregnant. Just don't ask her when she is due!)