Tony and I are finally home from New York, after what was possibly the craziest week of our life. (Tony himself said, “I didn’t think it was possible for things to get more emotional than our wedding.” I think he meant it as a compliment?) It was whirlwind madness, going from the Kids’ Choice Awards to School of Rock premiering nearly a year and a half to the day he booked the job to a red-eye to NYC for Tony’s press tour to me turning 30 (something I’ve been extremely melodramatic about). There was a lot going on in our hearts and brains. In most other industries, if you get the right degree and work hard, you’ll eventually get the job. Hollywood doesn’t work that way. Someone can move out for pilot season and book the very first job they audition for (happened to a friend of ours), or someone can spend their entire life working toward the dream job that never comes (the worst fear of everyone we know). Plus, us actors are prone to drama. I’m not sure if lawyers or garbagemen cry when they get a job, but in this town when you never really know if it will happen, it’s emotional. And all of that hit us like a ton of bricks – seeing Tony on TV, his face on Times Square, and kids shyly approaching him at the airport, a restaurant and on the streets of New York, asking “Are you on a Disney show?” (Close enough. SO cool.) It was beautifully surreal. I’m happy to report that our marriage survived, I entered my 30’s without a complete mental breakdown, and we ate nothing but carbs, butter, cheese and sugar for a straight week. Here’s what it looked like…

We went straight from the airport to sleep at the hotel. (Actually, I did. Tony went straight to an interview.) As soon as he was home, we headed out for a late lunch of what kicked off our carb-bender at Eataly: Cacio e pepe, a white pizza, booze for me and an Italian soda for him. The place is like a giant grocery store that only sells Italian deliciousness, and has about 50 restaurants within it. (We, of course, chose the pizza & pasta restaurant.) I like to think of it as a foodie adult’s Disneyland. HEAVEN.

That night, Tony and his costar Breanna went to an event at Planet Hollywood, where they donated a guitar strap from the show, put their handprints in clay tiles and did a photo shoot of themselves eating giant bowls of pasta and meatballs. I discovered that my new role on these sorts of trips is a hybrid of wife/stage mom for Tony, making sure to take photos for his social media, tote his chapstick and make sure his hair is brushed (and then re-mussed just so). I’m getting a taste of my own medicine as an #InstagramWife.

Shortly after we left for dinner (we needed MORE food after that bowl of photo shoot pasta, obvs), Breanna texted Tony to tell him the show had an ad up in Times Square. We turned the cab around immediately and posed in the rain. I cried and told everyone who walked by that was my husband up there! I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment.

Then we went to Black Tap, famous on Instagram for their insane milkshakes and divine burgers. Even though it was close to midnight and raining, there was an hour-long wait with a line that wrapped around the corner. Tony went in to order take-out and snap of pic of a stranger’s milkshake for my blog while I huddled under an awning with a sweet couple from Australia in NYC for their honeymoon with the same to-go game plan as us. We shared a burger and fries, Tony got a vanilla milkshake and I got a peanut butter Nutella shake. I’m drooling just remembering it; if it was that good cold in our hotel room, I can’t even imagine the magic of eating there. (If you go, go about an hour or two before you think you’ll actually be hungry. If it’s an hour wait at midnight on a Monday, I don’t even know what you would face at a more reasonable dinner-time).

Also, (brag alert) this was waiting in the hotel room when we got home. Tony’s agents know how to spoil a person. (I drank both bottles – on separate nights, don’t worry Mom. I may not know how to diet, but I KNOW HOW TO LIVE!)

Tuesday, Tony had back-to-back press stuff all day and that was the day of my unfortunate Ess-a-Bagel nightmare. I spent the day writing and catching up on work, and that night we got to go see School of Rock on Broadway. It was AMAZING. Every single cast member was insanely talented, and the kids (who actually play their own instruments) were all prodigies. We love love loved it.

{The 2 Deweys: Broadway’s Alex Brightman + Nickelodeon’s Tony}

After the show, we went to Joe’s Pizza. The people who work there were as awesome as the pizza. We got to go into the kitchen and take a picture with Joe himself.

Wednesday, Tony only had press until the early afternoon, so we grabbed a late lunch at Il Buco. Lots of people recommended it to us, but I was hellbent on going because it’s Chrissy Teigen’s favorite restaurant and my obsession with her borders on STALKERRRRRR. She wasn’t there, but it surpassed the hype – not just because the food was incredible, but because the entire staff was gracious, welcoming and kind, and the restaurant itself felt like a local neighborhood spot in a small town in Italy. I loved it so much. (Almost as much as I love Chrissy.)

Then we wandered around what I think was Soho, Noho or maybe “the Village?” We didn’t exactly know where we were and I’d had some lunchtime wine, but we pretended to be locals and took a million photos like the tourists we were.

{Gorgeous architecture}

{Cliche blogger shot}

And about two hours later, we met Tony’s brother and sister-in-law for dinner at ABC Kitchen. (We truly were eating whenever we weren’t sleeping or taking pictures of each other.) We’d been there once on a trip a few years earlier, and when we asked New York friends for recommendations, that was the one restaurant on everyone‘s list. We ate too much, got in fun family time, and then went back to the hotel room for cupcakes.

Thursday, St. Patrick’s Day, was my 30th birthday. I woke up to this:

I blew my candles out, put on make-up, and then we ate 1/2 of the chocolate peanut butter cake (from Buttercup Bake Shop, which is now tied as my favorite bakery with SusieCakes) in bed:

Then, because we’re idiots, we went for a run in Central Park. Luckily, we didn’t barf cake (although, there were so many drunk people out for the St. Patty’s Day parade, it probably wouldn’t have mattered if we had.)

Post-run, we got some slices from Ray’s Pizza, which happened to be walking distance from our hotel and so good I see why New Yorkers say they can’t eat pizza in L.A. It put every other slice of pizza I’ve tasted in any other city to shame. If you go, try the white pie. It’s always Tony’s go-to anywhere we eat pizza, and it was unreal. Around the time we were inhaling our second round of carbs for the day, we got a call from Tony’s costar Breanna. As a birthday surprise, she and her mom had gotten us tickets to Hamilton. I DIED. (And then came back to life, ate more pizza and cake and took a shower.)

Hamilton also surpasses the hype. Above and beyond. No words do it justice. When the show ended, Tony and I both had tears in our eyes. We’ve been listening to the soundtrack non-stop since. It is a beautiful work of art, and getting to experience it made my dreams come true. Thank you, Brea.

Afterwards, we had MORE pizza and pasta at Nizza, and then walked home to the hotel. Along the way, we passed Studio 54, where Bianca Jagger celebrated her 30th birthday by riding in on a white stallion led by a naked man covered in gold glitter. My 30th was much tamer, but it was a lovely “full circle” 30th bday moment. I wouldn’t have changed a thing. You all know I wasn’t excited about hitting that number, but it was the perfect day surrounded by people I love and delicious food that will probably eventually kill me. I closed the night out by drinking a bottle of champagne while trolling the internet and thinking about how lucky I was.

We packed everything we possibly could into our last day. We shoveled an obscene amount of cake into our faces, and then found a homeless person who wanted the rest.

We ran again in Central Park (again, my mind is blown that I didn’t barf cake and champs everywhere. The way some bodies are machines when it comes to working out, mine is a machine in processing pasta, butter, cake and alcohol, I guess.)

{Same running outfit, different day, because I am a dirt person}

{My favorite, cacio e pepe}

And finally, on our way to the airport, we stopped for lunch at Felidia. It was one of those elegant “quintessential New York” restaurants. We’d gotten lost a few nights earlier somewhere near Joe’s Pizza looking for a cab, and a super nice local who was walking home to his fancy brownstone helped us hail a cab. He was so nice, I asked him what his favorite restaurants in the city were. And he told us if we wanted to eat pasta, we needed to go to Felidia. HE WAS RIGHT. The homemade pasta was the best I’ve ever had, the service was impeccable and the experience all-around gave me that Sex and the City moment I was dreaming of. I can’t think of a better way we could have closed out our trip.

{Views of Central Park + the water from our hotel room}

We’ve been sleeping and digesting pasta, pizza, booze and cake since we got home. The trip was a wild blur. If this is 30, it ain’t so bad… Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go run the hills until my clothes fit again. (Have you noticed that this is my theme in life? I’m like a bear. I go on trips and eat like I’m about to hibernate for the winter, then come home and try to undo the damage. I may be 30 now, but I’m clearly not a functioning adult yet.)

{And if you’re wondering if I wore this dress for almost the entire trip, the answer is yes. Yes, I did.}