big city mama

hey, Becky

2009-01-23T19:08:00.000-08:00

I have zero motivation to update this thing, but I have decided that it will be good for me to get back in the swing of writing..writing anything. So since I have only one reader, and I love her, I have decided to write like I'm updating Becky, personally. And I'm hoping that she will do the same.

This staying home with two kids? Kicking my ASS. Was I stupid, thinking having 1 measly 3 year old was hard? The baby is crawling now, and climbing on everything, and has decided that his very favorite activity is opening drawers, pulling up on his knees, then falling forward and closing the drawer on his fingers. Good times, my friend. He is cute as hell, though, luckily, and I look at him and can just see the big-bellied frat boy that lives inside him. He is completely and utterly smitten with his big brother, and laughs a big old frat boy belly laugh when his brother deigns to make faces at him. And the Boy - well, he's still embroiled in his love/hate relationship with his baby brother.

But. But! In less than a week I will be leaving for Aspen, sans children, for the wedding of a dear friend. 5 days without my kids - I get a little knot in my stomach just thinking about it. They will be with my parents, so no worries there, but it's the longest I've ever been away from them. I need it, though. We need it. We are in that stage where it's all kids, all the time, and no sleep, and winter cabin fever, and long hours at work. No time for us at all, really. And me, I'm a fiery mess. My hair has suddenly turned to straw, refuses to hold its curl evenly, which nicely accentuates the two inch crackwhore roots. I have two big old zits on my face, dark circles, and we will not even discuss the flesh OOZING over the top of the push up bra I tried to buy today to hike these tired puppies up for the wedding. So, it's going to be blissful, unbroken sleep, a day at a spa, naps, yoga and a couple of books, amidst the wedding revelry. SO NEED THIS. Kids will be fine. Right? Right.

Ok, I do have more to say but I'm wiped. Better than nothing. x

well, this is a crappy end to my year

2008-12-19T21:17:00.000-08:00

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.

the Baby

2008-10-24T19:30:00.001-07:00

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.

the burbs

2008-09-14T19:01:00.001-07:00

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.

end of summer

2008-09-05T20:34:00.000-07:00

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.

well, hey....

2008-08-22T19:16:00.000-07:00

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.

wait, where am I?

2008-06-19T19:56:00.000-07:00

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.

Damn

2008-02-27T14:12:00.000-08:00

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%.

countdown

2008-02-27T13:03:00.000-08:00

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.

it's the hormones

2008-02-26T14:24:00.000-08:00

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.

not the boss of me

2008-02-08T15:03:00.000-08:00

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.

pass the brownies

2008-02-07T13:43:00.001-08:00

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.

housefrau

2008-02-04T16:54:00.000-08:00

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.

Neurotic

2008-01-25T13:50:00.000-08:00

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.

work it

2008-01-24T09:41:00.001-08:00

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.

zzzzzzzz

2008-01-23T12:39:00.000-08:00

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

I'll miss reading

2008-01-17T10:06:00.000-08:00

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.

roll, over

2008-01-16T14:45:00.000-08:00

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.

OUT

2008-01-05T14:17:00.000-08:00

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.

hmmmmm

2008-01-04T05:47:00.000-08:00

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.

finally

2008-01-03T18:45:00.000-08:00

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.

Not Christmas

2007-12-21T13:42:00.000-08:00

One more thing I forgot to write about. Last weekend, we took the boy to a birthday party at the NYC Fire Museum. It was very cute, and they got firehats and did a scavenger hunt and ate pizza... and as we were leaving I told my husband to hold on a second, I wanted to just stick my head into the 9/11 Memorial room.

And I ducked in, and in front of me was a giant arch covered with black and white ID photos of all the firefighters lost. And somehow, oddly, the very first photo I zoomed in on was one of the firefighters lost from my own blocks fire station. I turned away, and faced a wall of candid photos on my right, a firefighter with his head in his hands, people covered in dust, their faces turned upwards while tears made rivers in the soot on their cheeks, that horrible, unspeakable cloud of blackness coming from the first tower. The closed fire station door of my 10th Street block, it's very Village painting partially obscured by all the flowers and banners and candles the neighborhood had piled there.

And I lost it. Completely lost my shit, right there. And while I first blamed it on the pregnancy hormones, the real deal is this. I was one mile away from the towers the day they fell. I will never ever begin to be able to put the experience into words, although I wrote about it in my old journal when it was fresh and raw, without editing, and maybe next year I'll post it.
In the days and weeks that followed, when my family would come to visit (I wouldn't leave, couldn't leave the city) and we walked around and saw all the hopeful, tattered homemade "missing" signs, all the smiling photocopied faces that would never be found, they all cried and asked me, "How can you walk by this every day? How can you live like this?" And the answer was, I had no choice, right? You steel yourself, to some degree, because otherwise you'd spend every day in bed with your head under the covers, scared to go out, scared to ride the subway, unable to work or shop or eat. You put your head down and go. My mantra for many, many things in life.

But now. Now all this time has passed, and I'm no longer steeled to it, and I'm actually a little incensed every time I hear Guiliani on his new right wing campaign trail. I can actually feel it again, now. So very very strange.

And if you ever get to NY, that's the memorial to see.

it's a wrap

2007-12-21T13:02:00.000-08:00

So, I did it. Finished my shopping today while the babysitter played Playdoh with the boy - it was cold as hell but I took lots of breaks - hello, mothers room at babies r us, thank you for letting me rest my fat ass, even though I technically didn't have a baby with me - and whatever isn't done now isn't getting done. I have added one thing to the husband's list for his shopping day tomorrow, but no more stores for me.

My cold, meanwhile, has clogged my head up into a solid brick. I called my OB's office, and she told me I could take ONE otc cold medicine, in the childrens dose. So I went to the drugstore and got it, took it, and...... nothing. Right. Because it's for CHILDREN. Children under 6, who weigh less than my leg, at this point. And when I called her back and told her she better step it up, she said nothing else otc, but she'd call in a prescription for a Z pack. Now, this goes against all my extensive medical training, but I am willing to try anything at this point. A cold is a virus,right? Which antibiotics don't help? Whatever, I'll give it a shot.

So tomorrow I am going to stick to my original plan of staying in, baking cookies (which will probably be given only to Santa, as they will be filled with my sick germs) and wrapping the trillion gifts I haven't even thought about wrapping yet. And maybe watching some Christmas movies with the boy. Oh, and remember those ornaments he refused to paint? He looked at me at 5 o'clock yesterday evening and said, "Mama, I want to paint now." So he painted all six of them in one fell swoop, and now I am happy. Even though my house is covered in glitter. Or maybe especially because of that.

4 days and counting

2007-12-20T13:40:00.000-08:00

I've been doing a lot of stressing and complaining about getting things done for the holidays, but haven't mentioned that my husband and I have been doing some fun things, too - we rarely get a sitter during the week, as it is so expensive and I prefer to use my babysitting budget during the week so I can do wild things like go to the OB and the dentist. But 'tis the season, so we've been biting the bullet and going out.

We went to see the new Pinter play out on Broadway (Homecoming - not a new play, but newly restaged) with friends of ours a few weeks ago - while I found it highly disturbing and without much redemption after all, it was great to get out - we used to go off-Broadway at least monthly B.K (Before Kid), and getting back out inspired me to get some tickets for my husband for Christmas, for the new Mamet he wants to see. Which, of course, is also a gift for me. Plus I lined up June Cleaver for FREE overnight babysitting, so maybe we'll get dinner, too.

We also had a very fabulous dinner at BLT Prime with some other friends, and on Tuesday went to my husband's work party, which is actually pretty fun and not at all corporate or stuffy-like. So it hasn't been all drudge and no play

Now tomorrow is my very last day for Christmas shopping, and I have yet another cold. My OB is very anti-medication, so I've been driving myself nuts trying to figure out what I can take for this so I can get some damn sleep already. And you know what happens when you start googling stuff like this. Anyway, I need to finish up tomorrow. Saturday is M's day for shopping (for me, which is somehow all he ever ends up having to do, I take care of both of our families) and I am bound and determined to stay in with the little man and get him to paint the ornaments I bought him to give to his grandparents. (Me: "LOOK!" Look at these coooool snowman ornaments, and all these paint colors. And glitter! You love glitter! And this sponge brush! Want to paint these with Mommy? Him: "Um, no thank you." Been going on for weeks now.)
And we also need to bake at least sugar cookies so we have something to leave out for Santa. I'm really looking forward to the Santa thing this year, as it will be the first year he sort of gets it. And if Santa could please get rid of the snotty head and bring me some sleep, I'll believe again myself. And maybe even leave him some single malt with those cookies.

impeccable timing

2007-12-19T06:29:00.000-08:00

So yesterday, as I was running around trying to get gift cards and holiday cards for the Boy's gazillion and one teachers at his little preschool program, my cell phone rang. It was my OB's office, telling me that my glucose results were a little (5 points! 5 lousy, measly points!) high, and that I need to go for the 3 hour glucose test. I am dreading this, as the one hour had me feeling dizzy and lightheaded, but I pointedly told her that this new test will NOT be happening until after Christmas, as I have exactly one day of babysitting between now and then, and a very full to do list.
So she said fine, and I made an appointment for the lab two days after Christmas, and then called her back to give her the date so she could fax the paperwork. And before we hung up, she said, "Oh, and the doctor says to watch your sugar and carb intake between now and then. "

GRINCH! It is CHRISTMAS! How am I supposed to watch my sugar and carb intake? Doesn't she know that June Cleaver spends the whole month baking cookies that we never get any other time of the year? Or that I make homemade manicotti for Christmas dinner? Hasn't she heard of my grandmothers pumpkin bread?????? BOOOOOOOOOO.

My son just brought me a little frying pan full of plastic food from his play kitchen - and in it are an ear of corn, a piece of bacon, a chicken leg, two french fries, a piece of lettuce, and a piece of cheese. She must have gotten to him, too, because there's no sugar in sight.

bah

2007-12-18T15:20:00.000-08:00

So I found this holiday tour of homes thing over at BooMama (sorry, you'll have to google it as I cannot link) and man, does it make me feel like a slacker. I like to blame it on the pregnancy, but I think some of these women are more pregnant than me, and their houses are FESTIVE. Festive like June Cleaver's house (my mom) - here, we have a tree, a wooden Christmas train, and um.... that's it. No, wait, we have a basket of kids Christmas books, too, and some tree placemats and dishtowels.

Once upon a time, in another life, I had a big house that I decorated full out for Christmas. Maybe I should get into that attic and dig some of that stuff out. Now I have to go back to obsessively admiring everyone else's Christmas decorating. Instead of finishing addressing my cards, which is what I should be doing.

skinny bitches

2007-12-14T12:33:00.000-08:00

I know now why all the women on the Upper East Side are so skinny. It's impossible to find carbs up there. I left my boy at home with his babysitter today to go to my regular OB checkup, then on to the lab for my glucose test. Ugh, I hate that test - and every woman in the waiting room of the lab cringed in sympathy when I came back with that vile bottle of orange nastiness. And it's funny, even though they give it cold, for some reason it's impossible to chug it fast. After the endless hour long wait for the blood draw, I was telling the tech that - "Why can't you just hold your nose and drink it fast, like you do with medicine?" And she laughed and said she didn't know, but you definitely couldn't. And then she told me she had five kids herself, and when my phone rang and it was my apologetic babysitter telling me that the Boy had flung himself full length into a mud puddle and would need to be taken home and showered, she laughed and said, "That's a boy, for you! "

Anyway, I did have a point. After no food since 8am, a nasty bottle of pure glucose, and 6 vials of blood, I was really ready to pass out. I was ready to get out of there, find a bagel shop and have a bagel (everything with cream cheese and tomato, thank you), a cup of coffee and a giant bottle of water. Alas, it was not to be - I walked from 75th Street and Madison Ave to 63rd and 2nd without finding a single bagel shop. It was like being in LA or something. I finally grabbed a cab and hauled it back downtown, where the normal eating people live, to get my bagel.

And now I'm home, and the boy is clean and sleeping peacefully, so I'm catching up on blogs and trying to ignore the fact that I still have Christmas shopping to do. Tonight we're going to get our tree, finally. The heat in most NYC apartment buildings is on so high that you leave the windows open even in the winter - which is fine, but tends to dry out the tree fast. We'll put the boy in the stroller, go pick our tree from one of the myriad sidewalk tree stands that start sprouting up after Thanksgiving, and then decorate it tomorrow after the kid birthday party we are attending. I really can't get into the spirit until that tree is up.

and later

2007-12-11T19:31:00.001-08:00

My friend and I had told the kids we'd take them out for dinner before the tree lighting tonight, and when we left it was raining and we assumed the lighting would be a washout. But by the time we finished eating it had stopped, so we headed over and met up with our husbands. I'm glad I motivated myself, as the Boy had a great time running around, and after they lit the tree a one-hit wonder band (the one hit was "Stacy's Mom", you know that one? I forget the name of the band.... Fountains of W@yne, I think) played at this big makeshift bandstand.

The boy sat up on my husbands shoulders ("Wanna go on Daddy's HEAD") and watched that band wide-eyed, bobbing his head up and down in time to the music. So cute. And he couldn't stop talking about it when we got home. "Momma, you like that music? That music we saw outside? In da dark?" And although he ran through his usual repertoire of stall tactics at bedtime, which now include needing a washcloth for his headache (remnants of that cold), one more book, a "little song", and much questioning of what Daddy might be watching on TV, he fell asleep fairly quickly. I even got some envelopes addressed for my Christmas cards, and cleaned up the toys and set up the coffee for tomorrow. So am feeling a little less frazzled.

Now if my upstairs neighbor would stop stomping around in concrete boots, things would be great. Maybe I should bang on the ceiling with a broom like the old shrew I'm becoming. Seriously, though, it's 10:30 at night - what the hell could he be doing up there?

'Tis the season

2007-12-11T13:05:00.000-08:00

..to procrastinate, apparently. I started out so strong, too.Before Thanksgiving I had about half my Christmas shopping done, my stamps bought, my list made. Unfortunately, I somehow woke up on December 10 and that was STILL all I had done. Christmas shopping in NYC with a 2 and a half year old and a giant belly is not exactly easy - I don't often feel this way, but I find myself wishing for a mall lately, where I could strap my fat ass into the car and load up all my bags after my one stop shopping trip.

Instead, I have to do an awful lot of walking, carrying progressively more numerous and heavier shopping bags. Last year, when I wasn't pregnant, I'd use my babysitter days to power shop, and come home at the end of the day with purple hands from carrying those loaded to the brim shopping bags. These days, however, 10 blocks with two carrier bags feels like an awful lot, so I'm not nearly as efficient as I'd like to be. And I don't think I have to tell anyone with children what it's like to try to shop with a toddler.

Anyway, I ran out today while the boy was in preschool and got wrapping paper and cards - last night I ended up choosing the least lame of the pictures and ordering them 2 day shipping - and finished up my photo calenders for the grandparents and now I've had it. I had grand plans to get some kind of holiday themed picture taken this year, but the boy now thinks it's hysterical to close his eyes and make weird faces when I bring out the camera, so that didn't happen.
I should at least be addressing some cards or wrapping a couple of gifts but I haven't got the energy. We have plans to do pizza with some friends tonight and then the little tree lighting in our neighborhood (Rockefeller Center tree is OUT until the kids are older - much as I would love to take my native New Yorker son to see HIS hometown tree lighting, the place is so swarmed with tourists at all times that I could very well be pushed right over the edge) Rain is in the forecast, so we'll see how it goes.

I guess it's good I never got around to cookie baking this year, either, or right now I'd procrastinating wrapping AND eating way too many cookies.

Guess he's not as oblivious as his father

2007-11-30T05:19:00.000-08:00

My two and a half year old is a pretty good eater - he will try (or at least lick) most anything I give him, but he does have his preferences. And like any good tri-state area kid, he is a bagel connoisseur - don't be trying to pass off some (easy for me) frozen Lender's mini bagels on him - it must be a full size bagel, from the bagel store.

This morning I toasted and buttered him a bagel (the whole thing, which is huge) and cut it up as usual, in eight pieces. Since I am currently suffering from some mild pregnancy induced TMJ, I am forbidden to eat bagels myself, so when I saw a thin little piece of his, I took it off the plate and ate it before I brought it to His Highness at the table. I put it down in front of him and went back to the kitchen for my coffee, and I hear him yell indignantly, "Hey! Hey, what happened?"

So I came back in and he said, "I missin a piece!" Little stinker. When I fessed up that I'd eaten it, he screwed up his face, pointed his finger and said, "You don't do dat AGAIN!"

At this rate, I won't be able to eat all his Halloween candy next year, either.

It's not Harvard

2007-11-28T12:46:00.000-08:00

So we are now entering the circle of hell known as Manhattan preschool admittance. For anyone living outside NYC, the process of getting your child into preschool usually involves 1. touring the school 2. signing up 3. writing your check. Not so in Manhattan.There are different degrees of lunacy, of course, depending on which schools you want to apply to. But some things are true of all of them. For starters, you must call the schools for applications the day after Labor Day the year BEFORE you want your child to go. Then, in the fall, the school contacts you (the parents) to schedule a tour and an interview. Did you get that? So THEY can interview YOU, the parents, who will NOT be attending the preschool. And by YOU, I mean both parents, because showing up solo for an interview is a big fat strike against you.

Now, this already bugs the shit out of me. First of all, I need to spend the day after Labor Day on the phone with schools? Man, what if I wanted to be on vacation? Of course, some schools starts apps then, and you can continue to call for them after that - those are the only schools I chose, because there is something about thousands of neurotic NYC parents speed dialing the same number on the same day that makes me want to throw myself in front of a bus. I also only chose schools within walking distance of my house, because it's fucking preschool, for God's sake. I'm not schlepping my kid 25 blocks so he can have a more enriching experience with the finger paints, you know what I mean?

The second thing that bugs me about this is the two parent thing. Obviously they don't hold it against you if you're a single parent, or divorced. But some people have JOBS, and maybe they can't just take off on the preschools scheduled day to go check out the playdough station. Why isn't one parent there enough? I mentioned to one of my friends (a former Manhattan preschool teacher herself) that I found this ludicrous, and she disagreed. I said, "What if one of the parents is a SURGEON? Or a nurse? Or a fireman?" And she shrugged and said, "Well, they're also a parent, and they need to show the school that their childs education is a priority." I wanted to grab her and smack her back and forth in the face - your child's EDUCATION? It's absolutely amazing to me that they get so many people to fall for this bullshit. And let me just state right off, that if you can't take a day off because you will lose a days pay and won't be able to pay your bills, they don't care because you will not be able to afford their outrageous tuition anyway. Which brings me around to the third thing that bugs me. There are no other options. Your kid has to go to some grimy daycare or you have to pay a sitter if you don't have money.

Anyway, on to the process. After you do the parent interview, you schedule an interview for your child. They call it a playdate, but here is my question - Why do they need to see my kid play? As far as I can tell, with a few exceptions, they all do the same thing. Especially if you are sending your kid early, at 2 - they want to observe an 18 month old playing with other kids? It's so frustrating. Anyway, the kids come in February, and then you get acceptance or rejection letters in March. And the reason they can get away with this? There are 3 times as many children applying as there are spaces. They sell guides and write magazine articles about getting your kid in, suggesting you apply to at least 15 schools to be sure you get into one. I'm drawing the line, man. I'm applying to my neighborhood schools and that's it - if he doesn't get in, he'll have to stay home and learn to spell with me. Or go to the Y.

And don't let's get started on the emphasis they have already started pushing on FUNDRAISING. It's not enough that I have to pay thousands of dollars to send my kid to school for 3 hours a day, I also have to pimp wrapping paper.

I sometimes make fun of Kansas, but I'm starting to think maybe we should relocate.

It would be so nice

2007-11-26T12:33:00.000-08:00

to take a shower just once without the boy standing outside the glass door.

from the land of tea and honey

2007-11-19T13:39:00.001-08:00

Last Monday, the boy started sounding a little raspy, and Monday night spiked a fever before bed. And since then, we have been stranded in a sea of tissues, coughing, and snot. The poor kid (and his poor mama) didn't sleep through the night until last night - humidifiers, vaporizors, and Tylenol notwithstanding. I ended up sleeping on the extra bed in his room, since he was waking up choking and coughing, and in the middle of his hacking would hold up his little arms and say, "Mama, I needa hode you."
So now I've got it too - and can't take anything for it, either. I somehow made it through my first pregnancy without illness of any sort, so was unprepared for just how crappy a common cold would make me feel without the dual miracles of DayQuil/NyQuil with which I normally dose up and carry on. He's better now, and slept through the night last night FINALLY, so I know I'll be turning the corner soon.
Except my husband just called me from work to say he has a headache and doesn't feel well, and he's been working like a maniac the past week or so. Which means he'll be worse and more dramatic than the 2 year old.
I love winter. And all those damn nannies who bring their sick charges to preschool.

I hope those brain cells aren't gone for good

2007-11-15T07:35:00.001-08:00

So I am now 25 weeks pregnant with my second son - my first is 2 and a half. I'm also 40. So when I was pregnant with the boy, I first experienced pregnancy brain - but I was working then, and so pretty much holding it together, although I would occasionally forget some obscure word like 'dresser'.
This time, however, I have reached new depths of stupidity - this morning I was randomly clicking around some blogrolls (sick kid, stuck in apartment for 3 days now) and found a link for someone I used to read in the old days. I eagerly went to her blog, caught up a little, and noticed her little link list - clicked on, and found a site about the first months of a new mother in Manhattan..... and then I realized it was mine. I started a blog, way back then, as I somehow couldn't continue my old one once I had a baby - instead of writing about restaurants and dates and crazy people, my life had become all diapers and teething and daytime TV, and I just couldn't make the leap. Anyway, point of this rambling diatribe is that I started a blog and forgot all about it, until today.

I'm hoping it's pregnancy and not old age.

hellooooooooooooo

2007-11-13T14:24:00.000-08:00

I have really missed having a blog - actually, the last time I had one they were called online journals - but have been short on time. Am going to try to keep up with this one, as I'd like some record of these years, raising my kids in NYC.