So there's alot going on right now, and I've decided that maybe getting back to this will be therapuetic. (did I spell that right? too tired to check)
I also have a lot to be thankful for. My boys are great, they are healthy and happy and sleeping through the night. We have thankfully been spared much damage in this crashing economy, and I can provide for my children and give to those less fortunate and we're going to buy a house. My husband is fine, although annoying the shit out of me today.
But my uncle, my mom's eldest brother and my Godfather, was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I have not yet wrapped my mind around this, am willfully remaining swaddled in denial, although I speak to him about it freely. He didn't tell my grandmother, because she is 92 and failing and he didn't want her to know if she didn't have to. And now my grandmother, my beloved and cranky old Nana, is shutting down.
This I have wrapped my mind around. I am sad, and I'm not yet giving in to the sadness, although tomorrow when I go there I'm sure to lose my shit. It's so rare these days, and a blessing, for me to know anyone who dies of old age. Who just wears out. No disease, no grueling treatments. My grandfather, her husband, died similarly, and once hospice told us it was imminent we began a bedside vigil, without ever speaking about it. The gift they gave us, my grandparents, the appreciation of family, the unspoken rule that you circle the wagons when things are bad. And it will be grueling, and emotionally draining, and it will also be beautiful and warm and closed and just as it should be, instead of in a hospital, surrounded by industrial smells and strangers and the lights that never really go off. I am not ready, I am not prepared to explain to my son what happened to Nan, his Nan that he proudly helps walk with her cane, clutching her hand in his own. I am not ready to tell her I love her for the last time, and that she's given us the greatest gift, and that she'll live on in all of us.
Hospice told us once she gets into bed she'll never get out. A couple of days, a week at most. So I guess it doesn't matter if I'm ready or not.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
the Baby
I at the very least need to document some of what is going on. The baby is almost 8 months old, and this time is just flying by.
He is huge - 29" and 20lbs, and is just starting to grow some peach fuzz. He was like a suspicious, bald old man until last week.
He has 4 teeth already, and he grinds them. aaugh.
He is happily sitting up to play for much of the day, and if something is out of his reach he hurls his whole body forward to get on his belly, sometimes faceplanting right into the carpet with his pacifier in his mouth. Ouch.
He is obsessed with drinking water from a glass. He will spy my water glass sitting on the table, and start wriggling his whole chubby little body, opening and closing his hands and grunting. When I hold it up to his mouth, he drinks it pretty well (except for the teeth clanking) and holds it with both hands.
He eats everything you put in front of him, and has started eating those little dissolvable puffs - tonight he figured out how to get it to his mouth himself.
He thinks the sun rises and sets on his big brother, who alternately plays lovingly with him and smacks him around. As soon as he sees the Boy his whole face lights up, and he grins with his two top jack o lantern teeth.
He is huge - 29" and 20lbs, and is just starting to grow some peach fuzz. He was like a suspicious, bald old man until last week.
He has 4 teeth already, and he grinds them. aaugh.
He is happily sitting up to play for much of the day, and if something is out of his reach he hurls his whole body forward to get on his belly, sometimes faceplanting right into the carpet with his pacifier in his mouth. Ouch.
He is obsessed with drinking water from a glass. He will spy my water glass sitting on the table, and start wriggling his whole chubby little body, opening and closing his hands and grunting. When I hold it up to his mouth, he drinks it pretty well (except for the teeth clanking) and holds it with both hands.
He eats everything you put in front of him, and has started eating those little dissolvable puffs - tonight he figured out how to get it to his mouth himself.
He thinks the sun rises and sets on his big brother, who alternately plays lovingly with him and smacks him around. As soon as he sees the Boy his whole face lights up, and he grins with his two top jack o lantern teeth.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
the burbs
So now it's fall, and the Boy is in preschool for three hours a day every afternoon. Last year this meant three free hours. This year it means walk him to school with the Baby, take the Baby home for his nap while I make or prep dinner, then have a little Mama time alone until it's time to pick up the Boy. I'm a damn 1950s housewife.
But we're into a routine, and we're home alot more, and making fewer plans, which results in a lot more time for the three of us. And I'm starting to feel a little penned in in this apartment. That second boy is making me long for some more space, a kitchen where I can have them play while I cook, a yard they can go run out in while I sit out there bleakly, trying to wake up with that first coffee.
Scary. My husband, of course, does not want to leave the city. There are a lot of cons for him, I admit. The commute, for one. As it is, he maybe sees the boys for half an hour in the morning, and sometimes half an hour at night. But for the Boys first day of preschool he came home and we all walked him to school as a family, and P worked from home for the rest of the day. He won't get to do any of that, and now that we are successfully nap free, he will not see them at all during the day during the week. Sucky deal for everyone.
And I am the one with the suburbs issues. I spent some very unhappy years there as an adult, and my life didn't truly change until I came back to the city. But I am starting to feel the pull, and I still do think it's best for the kids.
Though maybe not for me.
But we're into a routine, and we're home alot more, and making fewer plans, which results in a lot more time for the three of us. And I'm starting to feel a little penned in in this apartment. That second boy is making me long for some more space, a kitchen where I can have them play while I cook, a yard they can go run out in while I sit out there bleakly, trying to wake up with that first coffee.
Scary. My husband, of course, does not want to leave the city. There are a lot of cons for him, I admit. The commute, for one. As it is, he maybe sees the boys for half an hour in the morning, and sometimes half an hour at night. But for the Boys first day of preschool he came home and we all walked him to school as a family, and P worked from home for the rest of the day. He won't get to do any of that, and now that we are successfully nap free, he will not see them at all during the day during the week. Sucky deal for everyone.
And I am the one with the suburbs issues. I spent some very unhappy years there as an adult, and my life didn't truly change until I came back to the city. But I am starting to feel the pull, and I still do think it's best for the kids.
Though maybe not for me.
Friday, September 5, 2008
end of summer
So it's been a truly fabulous summer, and this was our last free week before the Boy starts preschool. I am a little bit in denial about this,because he's going five days a week. Only for three hours a day, but still. This means now, RIGHT NOW, he's going to start leaving me five days a week for the rest of his childhood. *sniff* Although the Baby will be happy, because that means three whole hours of uninterrupted mommy time and no one trying to shake his bouncy seat or yell in his face or kneel on him.
But Mama? This was the first week I've had alone with both kids since the Baby was two months old - my temporary three month babysitter ended up staying until Labor Day, and man, it was bliss. She came early in the morning, and I could make the beds and shower and clean up, then take the Boy out for some mama time (not so easy to go on our beloved NYC excursions with a three year old and an infant.) Then we'd all go to the playground, and the babysitter did the kids laundry, and maaaaaaaannnn, I miss that woman. Not that I'm complaining - I would never have imagined that I'd have that luxury.
The good news is that the Boy dropped his nap,. which has turned out to be fabulous - we're out all day and then home by late afternoon and I'm finding it much easier to keep on top of things. Home at 4, start dinner while kids are still happy, baths before dinner, dinner by 6, Baby asleep at 7, Boy in bed reading books by 7:05. So I've had evenings to get shit done. And I must say, having a second child has definitely increased my housework tenfold. Not sure why that should be, but it is. And while I love staying home with my kids, the whole housewife thing is not really my strong suit. But I'm working on it. Luckily, I set the bar very low from day one with my man, so he considers any sort of dinner a bonus.
And now that I have some evenings to myself, maybe I'll write some more. These days are going by fast, so fast, and I'm going to be sad to see them go.
And while I'm talking about chronicling:
The Baby is now 6 months, with a Buddha belly and fat little leg rolls and a bald round head. He has his two bottom teeth, his two top are just breaking through, and he eats anything you put in front of him, although his current favorite is a whole skinned plum. He wakes up happy and gurgling, and when he sees me over the top of his crib his whole face breaks into a huge smile and he kicks his legs like crazy. I could eat him up. And he sleeps 11 hours a night, too.
And the Boy. The boy is getting so big so fast, the big round eyes and cheeks thinned out into the face of a boy. I look at pictures of him at 9 months, at 1 year, and I can't believe how he's grown. He's an awesome kid, although he never, never stops talking, never stops asking why. He loves music, is currently obsessed with a rather annoying bluegrass CD of his dads, and he listens to the entire thing no less than three times a day, playing his guitar,shaking his head, and singing along. He loves his scooter, and chicken stew from the restaurant on the corner, and playing car wash. And he is thoroughly a city kid. About to go to preschool, five days a week.
But Mama? This was the first week I've had alone with both kids since the Baby was two months old - my temporary three month babysitter ended up staying until Labor Day, and man, it was bliss. She came early in the morning, and I could make the beds and shower and clean up, then take the Boy out for some mama time (not so easy to go on our beloved NYC excursions with a three year old and an infant.) Then we'd all go to the playground, and the babysitter did the kids laundry, and maaaaaaaannnn, I miss that woman. Not that I'm complaining - I would never have imagined that I'd have that luxury.
The good news is that the Boy dropped his nap,. which has turned out to be fabulous - we're out all day and then home by late afternoon and I'm finding it much easier to keep on top of things. Home at 4, start dinner while kids are still happy, baths before dinner, dinner by 6, Baby asleep at 7, Boy in bed reading books by 7:05. So I've had evenings to get shit done. And I must say, having a second child has definitely increased my housework tenfold. Not sure why that should be, but it is. And while I love staying home with my kids, the whole housewife thing is not really my strong suit. But I'm working on it. Luckily, I set the bar very low from day one with my man, so he considers any sort of dinner a bonus.
And now that I have some evenings to myself, maybe I'll write some more. These days are going by fast, so fast, and I'm going to be sad to see them go.
And while I'm talking about chronicling:
The Baby is now 6 months, with a Buddha belly and fat little leg rolls and a bald round head. He has his two bottom teeth, his two top are just breaking through, and he eats anything you put in front of him, although his current favorite is a whole skinned plum. He wakes up happy and gurgling, and when he sees me over the top of his crib his whole face breaks into a huge smile and he kicks his legs like crazy. I could eat him up. And he sleeps 11 hours a night, too.
And the Boy. The boy is getting so big so fast, the big round eyes and cheeks thinned out into the face of a boy. I look at pictures of him at 9 months, at 1 year, and I can't believe how he's grown. He's an awesome kid, although he never, never stops talking, never stops asking why. He loves music, is currently obsessed with a rather annoying bluegrass CD of his dads, and he listens to the entire thing no less than three times a day, playing his guitar,shaking his head, and singing along. He loves his scooter, and chicken stew from the restaurant on the corner, and playing car wash. And he is thoroughly a city kid. About to go to preschool, five days a week.
Friday, August 22, 2008
well, hey....
June, was the last time I was on this thing. Sad, really, and I should just give it up completely but what the hell.
I was inspired to write tonight because on my way home from my big night out (coffee and CVS shopping - coffee to go, mind you) I stopped in front of my building to answer my phone and there was a NAKED GUY in his kitchen on the first floor. With no curtains. A young guy, too. Maybe I'll start running all my errands at 9pm.
And in other news, we moved the boys in together into our room, and we took the Boys old room, which is smaller and has no attached bathroom. Why yes, we did give up the master suite (such as it was) for the kids. But that's where the bathtub is anyway, we shower in the stall in the 2nd bathroom, and I cannot live for one more minute with all these toys in the living room. Bad enough I've had to push all the furniture back against the walls (mind you, we have one big room for living and eating) but the giant easel in front of my bookshelf is pushing me over the edge.
And I must say, I have been having a fabulous summer, one I don't think I have been nearly grateful enough for. Two weeks on Cape Cod with the family, and then another week in the Hamptons with my dear, dear friend who has been unfortunately relocated to Europe, taking with her the only mom-stage friend I could call at 5 and say, "These kids are driving me nuts, bring yours over and we'll feed them together" Which really kind of sucks for me, but it was great to see her, even though the week was all work and not the least little bit relaxing. The beaches were beautiful, and we got to hang out, even if it was sometimes at 3am with crying children around rather than at 3am with a glass of wine at an outdoor cafe. So all good.
The Boy had a great time at the Cape. He played miniature golf for the first time, learned to play ping pong, collected rocks, and spent every possible second in the water with Daddy. One day, when he condescended to go to the waters edge with me ("But Mama, you don't take me out reeeeally far and jump the big waves" - Reeeeealy far means knee deep, btw), he looked at me and said, "This is a great vacation."
And the Baby is a big ole bruiser - big boy, with his fathers dark skin and a fuzzy little halo of blond hair, and teeth! Two teeth, first at four months old.
So I'm tired, and I think these last 5 months have aged me, oh, 10 or 15 years, but I feel so lucky to have it. And now I have a naked guy in my building.
I was inspired to write tonight because on my way home from my big night out (coffee and CVS shopping - coffee to go, mind you) I stopped in front of my building to answer my phone and there was a NAKED GUY in his kitchen on the first floor. With no curtains. A young guy, too. Maybe I'll start running all my errands at 9pm.
And in other news, we moved the boys in together into our room, and we took the Boys old room, which is smaller and has no attached bathroom. Why yes, we did give up the master suite (such as it was) for the kids. But that's where the bathtub is anyway, we shower in the stall in the 2nd bathroom, and I cannot live for one more minute with all these toys in the living room. Bad enough I've had to push all the furniture back against the walls (mind you, we have one big room for living and eating) but the giant easel in front of my bookshelf is pushing me over the edge.
And I must say, I have been having a fabulous summer, one I don't think I have been nearly grateful enough for. Two weeks on Cape Cod with the family, and then another week in the Hamptons with my dear, dear friend who has been unfortunately relocated to Europe, taking with her the only mom-stage friend I could call at 5 and say, "These kids are driving me nuts, bring yours over and we'll feed them together" Which really kind of sucks for me, but it was great to see her, even though the week was all work and not the least little bit relaxing. The beaches were beautiful, and we got to hang out, even if it was sometimes at 3am with crying children around rather than at 3am with a glass of wine at an outdoor cafe. So all good.
The Boy had a great time at the Cape. He played miniature golf for the first time, learned to play ping pong, collected rocks, and spent every possible second in the water with Daddy. One day, when he condescended to go to the waters edge with me ("But Mama, you don't take me out reeeeally far and jump the big waves" - Reeeeealy far means knee deep, btw), he looked at me and said, "This is a great vacation."
And the Baby is a big ole bruiser - big boy, with his fathers dark skin and a fuzzy little halo of blond hair, and teeth! Two teeth, first at four months old.
So I'm tired, and I think these last 5 months have aged me, oh, 10 or 15 years, but I feel so lucky to have it. And now I have a naked guy in my building.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
wait, where am I?
I cannot believe I have abandoned yet another journal. No way to catch up on this one, either, what with having the baby and all, so I'll just have to start again. And tonight, just wanted to note that I should be SLEEPING, not drinking tea and blogging, not answering emails from long lost friends and exes, not sorting through the mail. Sleeping, while I can. But man, my husband is away on business, the boys are asleep, and this is the only time I get any quiet to myself. Ok, going now.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Damn
And I've just heard, albeit unofficially - our first choice for preschool in September, the most normal, warm, traditional little preschool without the crazy money-donating parents - has no openings for the 4 year olds because every single three enrolled currently is staying.
Damn. My chances of having to send my 3 year old door-to-door selling wrapping paper and candles just increased by 30%.
Damn. My chances of having to send my 3 year old door-to-door selling wrapping paper and candles just increased by 30%.
countdown
So am currently a week away from Scheduled Baby Day - went to the OB today and she said nothing is happening, so that's good. If I have to have another C-section, I'd prefer it to be scheduled and not in the middle of the night.
I have been cutting back my usual schedule (which I fully admit is manic and freakish - plenty of people stay at home with their kids almost all week long..I get all neurotic if we spend one whole day in the house, and feel I MUST get him outside, even if it just to go for a walk.) but is still pretty strenuous, considering the size of this belly. I truly look like I have strapped a watermelon to my regular body, and while people say, "oh, you look FABULOUS, it's all in your belly.." I feel like a weeble that could tip over at any moment. Not to mention the icy fear of what my belly will look like after this. I'm going to be tucking that mother into my pants, for sure.
Anyway, I am still walking the boy to his preschool program, halfway across town, pushing 50+ pounds of stroller+kid+bag, but now when I get there I'm pretty much spent, and have to spend the majority of the class sitting there on the mommy bench. Or as I prefer to call it these days, the sleeping nanny bench, because for some inexplicable reason FOUR nannies, none of whom are past middle aged, plant themselves on said bench and NAP for the entire duration of the class. Which I suppose is ok, since their charges are occupied, but dude. Why do they need a nap at 9am? Plus, I have to wake them so I can sit my fat ass down and stop the Braxton Hicks so I don't have an anxiety attack that I'm going into labor right there at preschool.
Problem with this is that I have THINGS to do before the baby comes, important THINGS like get my eyebrows waxed and go pick up a thin robe for the hospital and make sure I have enough paper towels because god forbid my mother be here for four days without enough paper towels. Forget the fact that she can buy paper towels at four places within a two block radius of my apartment. I guess this is my crappy housewife version of nesting. And walking the few blocks to the Gap from school? Makes me feel like this baby is headbutting my pelvis. Ah, the joys.
And the other reason it bothers me? Is because soon enough getting out to run an errand is going to be a big, fat, complicated deal involving an infant, a toddler, a stroller, a sling, and who all knows what kind of accoutrements. Am getting nervous.
I have been cutting back my usual schedule (which I fully admit is manic and freakish - plenty of people stay at home with their kids almost all week long..I get all neurotic if we spend one whole day in the house, and feel I MUST get him outside, even if it just to go for a walk.) but is still pretty strenuous, considering the size of this belly. I truly look like I have strapped a watermelon to my regular body, and while people say, "oh, you look FABULOUS, it's all in your belly.." I feel like a weeble that could tip over at any moment. Not to mention the icy fear of what my belly will look like after this. I'm going to be tucking that mother into my pants, for sure.
Anyway, I am still walking the boy to his preschool program, halfway across town, pushing 50+ pounds of stroller+kid+bag, but now when I get there I'm pretty much spent, and have to spend the majority of the class sitting there on the mommy bench. Or as I prefer to call it these days, the sleeping nanny bench, because for some inexplicable reason FOUR nannies, none of whom are past middle aged, plant themselves on said bench and NAP for the entire duration of the class. Which I suppose is ok, since their charges are occupied, but dude. Why do they need a nap at 9am? Plus, I have to wake them so I can sit my fat ass down and stop the Braxton Hicks so I don't have an anxiety attack that I'm going into labor right there at preschool.
Problem with this is that I have THINGS to do before the baby comes, important THINGS like get my eyebrows waxed and go pick up a thin robe for the hospital and make sure I have enough paper towels because god forbid my mother be here for four days without enough paper towels. Forget the fact that she can buy paper towels at four places within a two block radius of my apartment. I guess this is my crappy housewife version of nesting. And walking the few blocks to the Gap from school? Makes me feel like this baby is headbutting my pelvis. Ah, the joys.
And the other reason it bothers me? Is because soon enough getting out to run an errand is going to be a big, fat, complicated deal involving an infant, a toddler, a stroller, a sling, and who all knows what kind of accoutrements. Am getting nervous.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
it's the hormones
I cannot believe I haven't posted in weeks - I have about a zillion topics, too, ranging from stupid meaningless things that are driving me crazy to the fact that I am having big big Issues with hiring some help for after the baby is born - but I seem to spend all my free time either napping or reading other people's blogs. Maybe starting tomorrow I'll post some of them, as I am only 10 days away from baby day and Lawd knows there'll be no more posting after that for a while.
But I did want to just say that I went to see Juno (by myself, on NYs first snowstorm afternoon), as I had previously lamented that I spent my last movie day watching the heavy and dark Atonement. And it must be the hormones, because I cried in Juno, too. Cried at Juno. All is not right with the world, my friends.
But I did want to just say that I went to see Juno (by myself, on NYs first snowstorm afternoon), as I had previously lamented that I spent my last movie day watching the heavy and dark Atonement. And it must be the hormones, because I cried in Juno, too. Cried at Juno. All is not right with the world, my friends.
Friday, February 8, 2008
not the boss of me
So my glucose test came back completely normal, and it turns out my last one was barely high. I left the dr and went to lunch, and then scouted around the Upper East Side bakeries and shops, trying to decide if I should have a celebratory cupcake or brownie or maybe some candy. And I ended up not really wanting anything.
So turns out I didn't really want the sugar and carbs, I just didn't want someone telling me I couldn't have them.
So turns out I didn't really want the sugar and carbs, I just didn't want someone telling me I couldn't have them.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
pass the brownies
Today I had my 3,467th glucose test. Seriously, ALL DONE. Apparently my levels are coming back slightly elevated, but not enough to qualify as gestational diabetes. My doctor can either a: treat me for gb and have me on a restricted diet and monitoring my blood sugar or b: get the hell off my back for the last 4 weeks but I am not spending any more precious babysitting time sitting in a lab for 3 hours at a clip. And can I tell you? I don't know how people can do Atkins. No cookies, etc is one thing. But no fruit? No yogurt? And how many eggs can I possibly eat for breakfast? It just feels so....unhealthy. I have always listened to my body, always been thin and healthy, and this seems really unnatural and I don't know, fucking annoying.
Anyway - I had a big fat pity party for myself in the middle of the night last night, because I am up every hour to pee (from 11:40 to 3:40, then I sleep for two whole hours until 5:40 or so - every night, like clockwork) and my poor boy has yet another cold and so was up a few times in between there. I was working myself into a frenzy at that point, thinking of how uncomfortable I was and how little sleep I was getting and DAMN, I was thirsty and hungry and had to fast for this stupid test for the fourth time...... but at 6 I went back to sleep until 7:30 and when I woke up I was over it. Heh. Sure does make me look forward to getting up every two hours to nurse a newborn.
I do have one more little teeny rant but I think I'll save it for a separate post.
Anyway - I had a big fat pity party for myself in the middle of the night last night, because I am up every hour to pee (from 11:40 to 3:40, then I sleep for two whole hours until 5:40 or so - every night, like clockwork) and my poor boy has yet another cold and so was up a few times in between there. I was working myself into a frenzy at that point, thinking of how uncomfortable I was and how little sleep I was getting and DAMN, I was thirsty and hungry and had to fast for this stupid test for the fourth time...... but at 6 I went back to sleep until 7:30 and when I woke up I was over it. Heh. Sure does make me look forward to getting up every two hours to nurse a newborn.
I do have one more little teeny rant but I think I'll save it for a separate post.
Monday, February 4, 2008
housefrau
I was talking to one of my childhood friends today, about kids. He has three, and was saying that if he were younger he'd want to have one more. Then he said he'd love to be able to stay home with his kids....and I said, "You would??" His reply? "Hell yeah. What's my biggest worry, whether I should use the laundry detergent with bleach or without? I'd love it." Funny, because the hardest thing about staying home for me is feeling that all I have to think about is laundry detergent. All in your perspective, I suppose.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Neurotic
I'm back on the subject of neurotic New York parents today. But before I describe my morning, let me start with an admission, lest you think I am harshly judging these Preschool Parents. I am just as neurotic in my own way, as was brought home to me clearly last weekend when we went to have dinner at our friends house in the suburbs. There were four couples all together, with four kids total, ranging in age from 2 to 6. For all these people, having the kids downstairs in the playroom while we had an adult dinner upstairs was par for the course. To my husband and I, this was some unheard of and slightly anxiety producing nirvana. When the other parents heard someone crying or shouting, they rolled their eyes and waited for the injured party to a) work it out for him/herself b) come upstairs seeking parental assistance. When it was my kid crying, my first instinct was not only to jump up and run downstairs, but also to broker the peace between the kids. Every 20 minutes or so my husband would look at me and say, "should I go check on the Boy?" Now clearly, the other parents have a far better and healthier approach to this. In our defense, we not only live in tight quarters with our children in New York, we are, for the most part, required to keep a sharp eye on them at all times. I don't let my kid go running wild in the museum, or even out of my general sight at an unfamiliar playground. And walking down the street with your child in NYC is an exercise in vigilance. Too many crazy people, too much traffic, just too much, in general. And when removed from this urban environment, it's hard to relax the standards, I admit.
This morning we had the followup visit to one of the preschools we are applying to for September. The "playdate." I mentioned this in my earlier rant about Manhattan preschool insanity, and today was the first of three I have scheduled. It's also the most normal, in my opinion, and the one I'd most like him to attend. So whatever, I don't really get why they do this unless they want to weed out the super aggressive kids or something, but we went and it was low key, just four kids, one parent each, and all they did at first was free play. The point, the director told us, was to observe the children. Get that? Observe the children. Which I took to mean that I should hang back, shut up, and let my kid do what he wants, right? The Boy, being who he is, found a bucket of tiny blocks and proceeded to build a tower in his meticulous and focused way. And spent the entire freeplay time doing it. Which was fine with me - just as well she see his anal retentiveness right off the bat. And there was another mom there doing pretty much the same thing, and she and I chatted a little and kind of watched the kids and waited to see what we were supposed to do next. But the other parents? Holy crap.
There was one dad there, who I am familiar with from some previous classes, who was pumping his kid so loudly I was embarassed for him. "Julia, look! There's an alphabet puzzle! You love alphabet puzzles! You know your letters, Julia! Do you want to play with the alphabet puzzle? The RED, YELLOW and BLUE alphabet puzzle?" Good God, man. I'm sorry you didn't make your high school football team, but you really need to back up. Your kid is three. He then followed her over to the play kitchen, where he entreatied her in a loud voice to play with the other little girl there: "Say hello to Lucy! Say hello, Lucy! Why don't you give her some food on a plate? How about the YELLOW BANANA, Julia?" Oy. I had a headache by the time I left. If the Boy doesn't get in because he didn't display his knowledge of the alphabet, we'll live.
And a few random and odd things rattling around my head:
I do not understand the big fuss over this stupid Jessica Seinfeld book, Deceptively Delicious. First of all, our own mothers and grandmothers have been doing this for years - ask yours. I bet you anything she shredded carrots into spaghetti sauce, grated peppers in meatloaf, etc. I know mine did. If that woman had a different husband, that book never would have been published, if you ask me. BUT! I keep reading blogs where people are raving about it, and talking about copying down the recipes. What?? You need a recipe to puree vegetables and stick them in what you're cooking? It boggles the mind.
Why am I craving ice? I am drinking a boatload of ice water these days, but what I really want is the ice. And for some reason, the ice from my freezer tastes just like I remember the virgin, unbroken snow tasting when I would eat it as a child. Weird.
This morning we had the followup visit to one of the preschools we are applying to for September. The "playdate." I mentioned this in my earlier rant about Manhattan preschool insanity, and today was the first of three I have scheduled. It's also the most normal, in my opinion, and the one I'd most like him to attend. So whatever, I don't really get why they do this unless they want to weed out the super aggressive kids or something, but we went and it was low key, just four kids, one parent each, and all they did at first was free play. The point, the director told us, was to observe the children. Get that? Observe the children. Which I took to mean that I should hang back, shut up, and let my kid do what he wants, right? The Boy, being who he is, found a bucket of tiny blocks and proceeded to build a tower in his meticulous and focused way. And spent the entire freeplay time doing it. Which was fine with me - just as well she see his anal retentiveness right off the bat. And there was another mom there doing pretty much the same thing, and she and I chatted a little and kind of watched the kids and waited to see what we were supposed to do next. But the other parents? Holy crap.
There was one dad there, who I am familiar with from some previous classes, who was pumping his kid so loudly I was embarassed for him. "Julia, look! There's an alphabet puzzle! You love alphabet puzzles! You know your letters, Julia! Do you want to play with the alphabet puzzle? The RED, YELLOW and BLUE alphabet puzzle?" Good God, man. I'm sorry you didn't make your high school football team, but you really need to back up. Your kid is three. He then followed her over to the play kitchen, where he entreatied her in a loud voice to play with the other little girl there: "Say hello to Lucy! Say hello, Lucy! Why don't you give her some food on a plate? How about the YELLOW BANANA, Julia?" Oy. I had a headache by the time I left. If the Boy doesn't get in because he didn't display his knowledge of the alphabet, we'll live.
And a few random and odd things rattling around my head:
I do not understand the big fuss over this stupid Jessica Seinfeld book, Deceptively Delicious. First of all, our own mothers and grandmothers have been doing this for years - ask yours. I bet you anything she shredded carrots into spaghetti sauce, grated peppers in meatloaf, etc. I know mine did. If that woman had a different husband, that book never would have been published, if you ask me. BUT! I keep reading blogs where people are raving about it, and talking about copying down the recipes. What?? You need a recipe to puree vegetables and stick them in what you're cooking? It boggles the mind.
Why am I craving ice? I am drinking a boatload of ice water these days, but what I really want is the ice. And for some reason, the ice from my freezer tastes just like I remember the virgin, unbroken snow tasting when I would eat it as a child. Weird.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
work it
A few weeks ago I wrote about going to my prenatal massage at the spa in the W hotel. It was dark and rainy when I got out of the spa, so I decided to have lunch in the hotel restaurant. You know, since I couldn't make my lunch all those brownies at the spa lounge.
As I made my way to the restaurant, I had to walk through both the lobby and the lounge, and both of them were full of business people. Small groups of 3 or 4 people sitting around low tables, having meetings. Colleagues reviewing paperwork. Business travellers on their own, working on their laptops with a cappuccino in front of them.
And I was jealous. Bitterly, longingly jealous, missing those days. Those days of travel, of meetings with grownups, of decisions that produced immediate results and the camaraderie of colleagues. Oh, and employees that actually listened to me and did what they were told. Unlike my current staff of one.
Don't get me wrong - I am thankful that I had the choice to stay home for these past three years, and thankful that I'll get to do it again with baby #2. I'm glad I got to be there for all his firsts, to watch him grow and develop, and to see him, every day, turn into the little person he's become. But I really miss working - I have just removed myself so far from that world that I don't often think about it - my days now are filled with kid classes and my world populated with parents and other children. Walking through a business hotel made me seriously nostalgic, though. And as much as I bitched about it while I was working, I have always, always loved to be busy. I mean productively busy, not busy wiping noses and doing endless amounts of sweeping, laundry, and play-doh playing. I'm an immediate gratification kind of girl.
The good news, though, is that I can take naps when the Boy does. There were no naps at work. If there were, though, I might be tempted to go back.
As I made my way to the restaurant, I had to walk through both the lobby and the lounge, and both of them were full of business people. Small groups of 3 or 4 people sitting around low tables, having meetings. Colleagues reviewing paperwork. Business travellers on their own, working on their laptops with a cappuccino in front of them.
And I was jealous. Bitterly, longingly jealous, missing those days. Those days of travel, of meetings with grownups, of decisions that produced immediate results and the camaraderie of colleagues. Oh, and employees that actually listened to me and did what they were told. Unlike my current staff of one.
Don't get me wrong - I am thankful that I had the choice to stay home for these past three years, and thankful that I'll get to do it again with baby #2. I'm glad I got to be there for all his firsts, to watch him grow and develop, and to see him, every day, turn into the little person he's become. But I really miss working - I have just removed myself so far from that world that I don't often think about it - my days now are filled with kid classes and my world populated with parents and other children. Walking through a business hotel made me seriously nostalgic, though. And as much as I bitched about it while I was working, I have always, always loved to be busy. I mean productively busy, not busy wiping noses and doing endless amounts of sweeping, laundry, and play-doh playing. I'm an immediate gratification kind of girl.
The good news, though, is that I can take naps when the Boy does. There were no naps at work. If there were, though, I might be tempted to go back.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
zzzzzzzz
When my boy was around 18 months old, he really started fighting the crib. After months of this, my husband, in a 3am moment of desperation, set him down on the futon that was in his room at the time. The Boy rolled over and promptly fell asleep for ten hours. Needless to say, we went out bed shopping the day after.
Unfortunately, the delivery of his big boy bed coincided with his worst-ever bout of separation anxiety and a terrible stomach bug. This combination led us, his exhausted middle aged parents, to break the cardinal rule of bedtime and start laying with him in his bed until he fell asleep. Now this has been going on for a year, and with the imminent arrival of Boy #2, I decided we had to nip this in the bud. So I bought the Supernanny book, dusted off my copy of Weissbluth, polled all my mom friends, and did a few internet searches, and I devised a plan. A plan involving a week of talking it up, a kitchen timer, and a basket of small treats. I dreaded the implementation, as I have never been one of those parents who could stomach the cry-it-out method, but time is growing short - I'm about 6 weeks away from delivery, and figured it could take about that long.
I can hardly believe it, but it's worked like a charm. IN TWO DAYS. The first night he cried out for me a few times after I left his room - I went back and reassured him that I was just in the next room - and the second night when it was time for me to leave the room he put on a brave face - "Is okay, Mommy, is okay, I not cry, you check on me in a few minutes.." And now? Now when that timer goes off he opens his eyes and says, "Dat da timah? Ok... you go." And he goes to sleep. Goes to sleep! I should have done this 6 months ago
Unfortunately, the delivery of his big boy bed coincided with his worst-ever bout of separation anxiety and a terrible stomach bug. This combination led us, his exhausted middle aged parents, to break the cardinal rule of bedtime and start laying with him in his bed until he fell asleep. Now this has been going on for a year, and with the imminent arrival of Boy #2, I decided we had to nip this in the bud. So I bought the Supernanny book, dusted off my copy of Weissbluth, polled all my mom friends, and did a few internet searches, and I devised a plan. A plan involving a week of talking it up, a kitchen timer, and a basket of small treats. I dreaded the implementation, as I have never been one of those parents who could stomach the cry-it-out method, but time is growing short - I'm about 6 weeks away from delivery, and figured it could take about that long.
I can hardly believe it, but it's worked like a charm. IN TWO DAYS. The first night he cried out for me a few times after I left his room - I went back and reassured him that I was just in the next room - and the second night when it was time for me to leave the room he put on a brave face - "Is okay, Mommy, is okay, I not cry, you check on me in a few minutes.." And now? Now when that timer goes off he opens his eyes and says, "Dat da timah? Ok... you go." And he goes to sleep. Goes to sleep! I should have done this 6 months ago
Thursday, January 17, 2008
I'll miss reading
I really have been trying to make the most of this time before the baby comes, both with the Boy and on my own. You know, while I still have an "on my own." The massage and solo movie day, of course, because it will be a long long while before I indulge myself like that again once the baby is born. I'm also trying to read as much as possible - while I read a TON when the Boy was a newborn (after a month or so, I started reading while the baby was nursing or sleeping in my arms - you know, instead of just staring at him) But I don't see that happening this time, not with my 3 year old monkey man doing backflips off the couch. Since New Years, I have read four books and am well into numbers five and six (yes, two at a time.) If I wasn't so ignorant and lazy I'd create some kind of sidebar, but instead, here's what I've read:
Up in The Old Hotel - Joseph Mitchell
Leftovers - Laura Weiss
Heat - Bill Buford
Digging To America - Ann Tyler
I'm currently alternating between Adam Gopnick's Through the Children's Gate, which is his story of moving his family back to NYC after 9/11 (the Children's Gate is an actual entrance to Central Park, at 76th Street and 5th Avenue. Hard to see the sign now, though, as there is usually a hot dog vendor parked in front of it) and What is the What by Dave Eggers. The latter is the story of one of the "Lost Boys" a young Sudanese man who escapes the horrors of Darfur to come to America, where he is promptly abused and robbed by young African Americans, mostly men. I've just started it, but may soon put down Gopnick, as I've already cried twice in the first chapter. It's riveting, and makes me just a little ashamed to be an American.
Ok, time to go read books with the Boy - I'll try to get back later to post on Operation GO TO BED, DAMMIT. It's going to be a tough go.
Up in The Old Hotel - Joseph Mitchell
Leftovers - Laura Weiss
Heat - Bill Buford
Digging To America - Ann Tyler
I'm currently alternating between Adam Gopnick's Through the Children's Gate, which is his story of moving his family back to NYC after 9/11 (the Children's Gate is an actual entrance to Central Park, at 76th Street and 5th Avenue. Hard to see the sign now, though, as there is usually a hot dog vendor parked in front of it) and What is the What by Dave Eggers. The latter is the story of one of the "Lost Boys" a young Sudanese man who escapes the horrors of Darfur to come to America, where he is promptly abused and robbed by young African Americans, mostly men. I've just started it, but may soon put down Gopnick, as I've already cried twice in the first chapter. It's riveting, and makes me just a little ashamed to be an American.
Ok, time to go read books with the Boy - I'll try to get back later to post on Operation GO TO BED, DAMMIT. It's going to be a tough go.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
roll, over
I was really on a little roll, there - 3 entries in 5 days - but apparently it's all over now. Not sure why I haven't posted, just every time I sit down to it seems like I'd rather read other peoples blogs.
Anyway, in my last post I mentioned that I would be having the prenatal massage my husband got me for Christmas. Where have I been??? I should have started this prenatal massage thing waaaaaay earlier in my pregnancy - no wait, I should have started it in my FIRST pregnancy. It was at Bliss, which is not my favorite, but I went to the one at the W hotel on 49th Street and it was much more relaxing than the one in Soho. They gave me a male masseuse, which normally doesn't bother me, but being pregnant and all I was a little hesitant. He turned out to be one of those spiritual yoga type guys, though, so it was all ok. He gave me a Buddha charm at the end. Anyway, it was fabulous and relaxing and I think that I must need a heated bed and a giant fluffy body pillow in my own house, because I almost fell asleep. And sleep is a rare commodity for me these days. Alas, the husband doesn't agree. He's already complaining that I want a private room at the hospital. The only bad thing about was the brownie bar. Because my facist OB, if you recall, has me watching my sugar and carbs. And really, what pregnant woman wants to hear that? And ok, I had one, but they were really tiny and if she didn't tell me to stay away from the sweets I would have eaten eleventy million of them. They're pretty crafty, that Bliss spa. First a massage, and then a brownie bar? You have to admit, it puts them right up over the top.
So it has been decided that I will be having another C section. My OB, who is all about the natural way of doing everything, has determined that if my 7 lb 1 oz first baby didn't fit, the second one probably won't either. And it looks like #2 has also inherited his fathers (and older brothers) giant size head. (An aside - after the Boy was born, I mentioned in front of my inlaws that he had the big MYLASTNAMEHERE head. Whereupon my brother in law remarked, " I didn't realize there WAS a big MYLASTNAMEHERE - which is also his last name - head." Heh.) I won't get the date until the end of the month, but looks like the very first week of March. Yikes. I better get my ass to the country to get the baby stuff out of the attic. And I guess I better think about a double stroller, too.
And in other news, my boy has some kind of weird bumpy little rash thing on his face that's freaking me out just a little.
Anyway, in my last post I mentioned that I would be having the prenatal massage my husband got me for Christmas. Where have I been??? I should have started this prenatal massage thing waaaaaay earlier in my pregnancy - no wait, I should have started it in my FIRST pregnancy. It was at Bliss, which is not my favorite, but I went to the one at the W hotel on 49th Street and it was much more relaxing than the one in Soho. They gave me a male masseuse, which normally doesn't bother me, but being pregnant and all I was a little hesitant. He turned out to be one of those spiritual yoga type guys, though, so it was all ok. He gave me a Buddha charm at the end. Anyway, it was fabulous and relaxing and I think that I must need a heated bed and a giant fluffy body pillow in my own house, because I almost fell asleep. And sleep is a rare commodity for me these days. Alas, the husband doesn't agree. He's already complaining that I want a private room at the hospital. The only bad thing about was the brownie bar. Because my facist OB, if you recall, has me watching my sugar and carbs. And really, what pregnant woman wants to hear that? And ok, I had one, but they were really tiny and if she didn't tell me to stay away from the sweets I would have eaten eleventy million of them. They're pretty crafty, that Bliss spa. First a massage, and then a brownie bar? You have to admit, it puts them right up over the top.
So it has been decided that I will be having another C section. My OB, who is all about the natural way of doing everything, has determined that if my 7 lb 1 oz first baby didn't fit, the second one probably won't either. And it looks like #2 has also inherited his fathers (and older brothers) giant size head. (An aside - after the Boy was born, I mentioned in front of my inlaws that he had the big MYLASTNAMEHERE head. Whereupon my brother in law remarked, " I didn't realize there WAS a big MYLASTNAMEHERE - which is also his last name - head." Heh.) I won't get the date until the end of the month, but looks like the very first week of March. Yikes. I better get my ass to the country to get the baby stuff out of the attic. And I guess I better think about a double stroller, too.
And in other news, my boy has some kind of weird bumpy little rash thing on his face that's freaking me out just a little.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
OUT
So I dropped the Boy off at my parents this afternoon, did my usual trip to Target while in the suburbs with the car, and am now home drinking tea. The boy is sleeping at Nana's tonight while the husband and I go to an early dinner at Gramercy Tavern and then to the theater to see the new Mamet. (I bought him those tickets for Christmas. Nothing like a gift for your husband that you get to enjoy, right?) I figure we better live it up while we can. Well, live it up as much as possible before 10:30 pm, when I turn into a pumpkin.
On Friday when the babysitter came I actually really did make it to the movies, which is shocking - I always end up feeling guilty for squandering my babysitter time and end up running a million boring errands. Atonement was amazing, while maybe a little heavy for 11am on a sunny Friday afternoon. I debated seeing Juno first, but am not sure I'll get back to the movies anytime soon and really wanted to see Atonement. It was a gorgeous film, and right in line with the dark and depressing genre I seem to be drawn to while pregnant and extra emotional. When I was pregnant with the Boy, I went to see 'Night Mother with Edie Falco on Broadway, and literally spent the second half of the play sobbing and hiccuping and shredding tissues.
It was a good relaxing day, though, and by now I have pretty much let go of all the holiday stress that was weighing on me, so I think I won't even post about it. And one of my new years goals is to spend one of my babysitting days per week doing something relaxing, just for me, until the baby comes. Next Friday I'm cashing in on my prenatal massage certificate that P got me for Christmas. Ok, off to find something suitable to wrap around this giant belly.
On Friday when the babysitter came I actually really did make it to the movies, which is shocking - I always end up feeling guilty for squandering my babysitter time and end up running a million boring errands. Atonement was amazing, while maybe a little heavy for 11am on a sunny Friday afternoon. I debated seeing Juno first, but am not sure I'll get back to the movies anytime soon and really wanted to see Atonement. It was a gorgeous film, and right in line with the dark and depressing genre I seem to be drawn to while pregnant and extra emotional. When I was pregnant with the Boy, I went to see 'Night Mother with Edie Falco on Broadway, and literally spent the second half of the play sobbing and hiccuping and shredding tissues.
It was a good relaxing day, though, and by now I have pretty much let go of all the holiday stress that was weighing on me, so I think I won't even post about it. And one of my new years goals is to spend one of my babysitting days per week doing something relaxing, just for me, until the baby comes. Next Friday I'm cashing in on my prenatal massage certificate that P got me for Christmas. Ok, off to find something suitable to wrap around this giant belly.
Friday, January 4, 2008
hmmmmm
So I had an appointment for my regular (now three week) checkup at my OB - but she called this morning to cancel, as she has a patient who needs to be delivered. (This is one of the things I love about my OB - she delivers all her own babies if at all possible. One of the things I don't like - she wouldn't give me painkillers stronger than prescription Tylenol after my C section because I was nursing.)
Anyway, so I find myself in the position of having a babysitter and nothing to do. I think I might just take myself to the 11 am showing of Atonement in Union Square and eat popcorn and Twizzlers.
Anyway, so I find myself in the position of having a babysitter and nothing to do. I think I might just take myself to the 11 am showing of Atonement in Union Square and eat popcorn and Twizzlers.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
finally
I can't believe it's taken me so long to post, and now I'm so bone tired that I can't even attempt a post holiday recap. All I have to say is that as of 8pm tonight, I FINALLY, FINALLY have my apartment back - no one staying here, no overnight bags strewn over the living room, no more Christmas toys spread wall to wall....ahhhh.
I will update the holidays tomorrow, but I had to just hop on and post this, as if I had to spend one more hour entertaining people I think I might have gone off the deep end.
And in other frightening news - Huckabee won Iowa for the Republicans? Guess that's good news for us in the general election, but damn, man. That guy is a nutter.
I will update the holidays tomorrow, but I had to just hop on and post this, as if I had to spend one more hour entertaining people I think I might have gone off the deep end.
And in other frightening news - Huckabee won Iowa for the Republicans? Guess that's good news for us in the general election, but damn, man. That guy is a nutter.
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