The things you think about...
Saturday, May 23, 2009

Three teenage girls walk into the pool - probably 13? Maybe 14. Slightly awkward but cute. They look around, as though they are trying to scope out a spot...and then one of them yells, "Dad!" and goes over to the pool to talk to her father. She introduces her 2 friends to her dad and I glance at the baby girl sleeping soundly next to me. My baby girl. Who someday (in about 13 years to be exact) will be a teenage girl too.

I find myself looking at her and thinking "I was that little once" alternated with thoughts of "one day she's going to be 33". It's sort of insane. How do babies turn into adults?

I've watched my nephews grow up. The oldest is now 6....I guess when you watch it happen, it makes sense. But it's still hard to believe.

I wonder who she's going to be. Whether she'll like chocolate or vanilla. What will her favorite song be. Will she be a tomboy or a girlie girl? Will she want to be a movie star or president? (Can't help but hope for the latter...)Or will she want to travel the world or be a teacher?

I can't wait to find out. And when she's 13, I only hope she won't hate me and she'll still think I'm cool. The 13 year old girl at the pool definitely still was into her Dad. At the end of the day, that's all I really want.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 1:34 PM 1 comments  

Doody Day
Monday, April 27, 2009

That's the name of my blog post from yesterday. The one about the fact that every time we changed Evvy's diaper, 5 minutes later she made ANOTHER doody and we had to change it again. Oh wait. You didn't read that post because I never got around to writing it. It lived only in my head along with the other 35 posts I've written but never actually written about being a mommy and having a child and just about life in general. 


But then today came. And the title of yesterday's post was oh, so apropos. Not because the same thing happened all over again today, but because today was, in fact, a shit day. How does one not feel like a bad mother when they are told that onions could give their child gas but they decide that the small amount of onion that's in the recipe they make is small enough that it won't matter.  Because let me assure you - IT MATTERS. I singlehandedly put my daughter through gaseous pain all day. And because she was in such pain, nothing satisfied her. I couldn't put her in my carrier, I couldn't put her in the sling. She only wanted to be held. But that didn't slow me down. No sirree. I was still DETERMINED to get that laundry done, put the dishes in the dishwasher, and every other anal retentive thing that you might think a mom at home would do. At 3:41 PM I looked at the clock, thinking I had another hour before my chiropractor appointment and realized I needed to have left 5 minutes ago since I was walking there with Evvy. 

I don't know when it happened but somewhere in the process of leaving the house, I did something to my back. So much so that when I started walking and pushing the stroller, I questioned whether or not I would be able to make it the 10 or so blocks I had to go to get to my chiropractor. However, the little person in my head (who, by the way, I've been having endless conversations with as of late. Sometimes this person even speaks out loud to Evvy) said that walking would be good for me. I agreed and so I soldiered on. So I said to myself as I winced with each step, "Well what am I supposed to do if Evvy needs to be carried all day and I have stuff to get done around the house? I mean, seriously...am I supposed to just sit and hold her?" And the person in my head paused for a moment and said, "Yes. That's exactly what you're supposed to do. You're supposed to forget about the laundry and the dishes and whatever other minutia you were dealing with when this happened, and you are supposed to just SIT and hold her."

Do you know what I said next?

"Oh."

Because the person in my head was so right. Humbled, I made my way to the chiropractor where he proceeded to adjust me in all sorts of insane ways and then he gave Evvy some belly massage to help with the gas too. 

As I hobbled around the house this evening and my back started spasming, I thought about how ridiculous it was that I had to hurt myself to learn that I need to slow down with a 5 week old. Yay! Good for me...I'm out and about with my little one... everyone is so impressed with how well I've adjusted! But apparently Little Ms. Type A hasn't adjusted as well as she thought she had. So my body slowed itself down for me. 

Lesson learned. I'll take a doody day over a shit day any day. 

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 9:56 PM 4 comments  

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Adventures in Babysitting...Oh Wait.
Thursday, April 9, 2009

That's how it feels sometimes. Like someone's going to come home and ask me if everything was ok, how the baby did, did she eat, did she cry a lot, etc. etc. But that's not going to happen because the baby is actually MINE. And the baby is a she. 


On March 20 at 7:25 in the morning, I gave birth to a little girl. My husband almost passed out when the doctor announced, "It's a girl!" It sounded exactly the way it does in all the movies and tv shows because really, there's no other way to announce it except to do it that way. My husband comes from a family of 2 boys. His brother has 3 boys. Everyone pretty much thought it was a boy. Some people determined this because of the way I was carrying. Others decided that because of my husband's family history, it was a given. I was up in the air the entire time and in the last two months decided that it was entirely possible that it could be a girl. He, on the other hand, didn't even know what that meant at first - like a girl was another species or something. It didn't take him long to learn, however. Because the truth is, when you look at your child and you realize this is YOUR child, you find places in your heart that you never knew existed before.

Evvy and I (that's her name - Evvy. That's 2 v's just in case any of you have the concern that my mother-in-law had...that it looks like Ewy when you type it on the computer. And apparently one of my sister's friends thought her name WAS Ewy so my mother-in-law isn't so crazy after all). Anyhow...what was I saying? Mommy brain is worse than pregnant brain btw. I fear I am completely LOSING my brain...but don't really care at the same time because I figure if it's important enough, I'll remember. And these days that pretty much includes making sure my kid is fed and changed and warm and dry. Anything other than that doesn't really matter. 

So Evvy and I have been on several outings. Apparently this is considered very brave for new moms. We went to a mommy and me yoga class this morning. It was our first. When I was asked how old she was (almost 3 weeks) the other moms looked at me and said, "Oh, she's your second?" 

"No, she's my first."

"Oh, is this your first outing alone with her?"

"No - actually, she came with me to get my eyebrows waxed and to therapy last week, and this week we've been to Barney's and to the Pump Station (there's truly a place here called the Pump Station and for anyone living in LA, it is an INGENIOUS resource for new moms.) And she's been to a few of our friend's houses for dinner."

They looked at me dumbfounded. I gave them the same look back. (Not really - we started chatting and everyone was really quite lovely.)

But they truly were shocked at how much we've been out and about. To me, there's not really an option. I don't do all those things in one day and when we do go out, I'm usually in desperate need of a nap upon return (which I just woke up from) but I figure I might as well get her used to being out and about since that's the kind of people we are. Out and about people.  

It has resulted in some fairly humorous moments. I truly thought I was in a movie last Friday. I couldn't have written the scene better myself and I'm sure it's appeared in a least one tv show if not a film or three as well. We were taking a trip down to Pasadena to go to Right Start because sadly they are going out of business - but that means amazing discounts and as you know, I'm a bargain shopper. My husband had a meeting that morning and asked if I needed help getting the stroller in the car before he left. For those of you who aren't familiar with the Graco "snap and go" (ummm...that would be me about 2 months ago...) it's a stroller like apparatus that your car seat just "snaps" right into and then you can "go". We'd used it around the neighborhood a few times. I told him I didn't - that I was sure I could figure it out. 

Well, I was most definitely wrong. I strolled Evvy out to the car and was feeling fabulous because this was the first time she wasn't screaming in the car seat. I was running a little late since I had not yet quite learned to factor in timing for going places with a baby. I snapped the car seat into the back seat, threw my very chic Stella McCartney for LeSportsac diaper bag in the front (I felt the need to include that because I'm trying really hard to still be fashionable while carrying a DIAPER BAG), and went to break down the snap and go stroller to throw in the trunk. But this was not the easy task that I expected it to be. Five minutes later, Evvy is still content in her car seat but I am sweating and swearing and feel like I'm about to have a meltdown because I can't get the freaking stroller to collapse. So I do the only thing there is to do - attempt to get the entire thing in my trunk. I tried several different angles, all to no avail. I look at my kid in the back seat, who appears to be looking back at me although all the books tell me she can only see 8 inches in front of her. I look at the stroller. I make a snap decision to be a HORRIBLE mother already and I lock my kid in the car and RUN as fast as I possibly can with the stroller to our front door and put it in the house. Granted, the car is parked right in front of our house, it's not 100 degrees out or anything - but really...I feel like I've broken the first rule of parenting 101 by locking my kid in the car. I sprint back to the car, unlock it, get in the back seat momentarily to make sure my baby still has all 10 fingers and toes and still isn't screaming...and off we go to bargain shop. 

See why I called this post adventures in babysitting? 

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 5:16 PM 6 comments  

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Your path is your own
Sunday, March 15, 2009

There's been a lot of discussion of age recently. Not simply because we're having a baby, although I know from personal experience that other people's "milestones" (of which I have always felt having a baby is one) tends to leave others looking and reflecting on their lives...which often leads to looking at age and where you are, where you expected to be, blah blah blah. In the course of a couple of weeks, I have been to the birthday celebration of a person turning 50, a dinner party for someone turning 39 and tonight we're headed to a dinner for someone turning 33. My husband's birthday is on Monday and of course, the most significant (for me) literal birth day is swiftly approaching. And that doesn't even cover the 7 or 8 other friends who had a birthday last week or are approaching one this week. 


Birthdays bring up age and age seems to bring up all sorts of shit. I remember when I was 21, the thought of 30 was insane. 30 was OLD. But it was 9 years away and I had lots of life to live before I hit that. I'd be married and successful by then (whatever that meant) and maybe even have a baby. Shortly before my 23rd birthday, I moved to NYC and started waiting tables while I was auditioning. I landed a job that most NYC waiters coveted but it wasn't the restaurant that I was taken with - it was the people that I had the amazing good fortune to work with. It was an eclectic, bright, vibrant group of creatives - everyone from furniture makers to dancers to actors to philosophers to students to the ultimate fashionistas and foodies. And they ranged in age from 19 to 55. Two years prior I wouldn't have thought that I would have much to say to that 55 year old, but all of a sudden, I was blind to age. I was thrilled by their knowledge, by their thoughts on life, by their triumphs and struggles. One of my closest friends in the group celebrated her 30th birthday that year - and she was anything but old. I had learned my lesson - age was just a number. 

We discussed that at the birthday of the 50 year old this past weekend. If I had thought that 30 was 0ld when I was 21, then 50 must have been one foot in the grave. Now, 50 is young. Perhaps that's because of the youth and vibrance of those that I know that are 50. After all, it is still quite possible to be 50 and be old. But it's also possible to be 20 and to be old. Age is just a number.

It's amazing to me that I spent so many years placing ultimatums on myself surrounding my age. What made me think that I should be married by 30? (Besides a large portion of society acting as though you're a leper if you haven't settled down by a certain age.) I know plenty of people who DID get married by 30 - and now they're divorced. These things should be dictated by nothing more than finding a person with whom you truly want to spend the rest of your life. Not how old you are or how long you've been together. Simply by whether or not you think that you will be a good match for each other...forever. 

And then there's the baby thing. And for women, this is a huge issue because it's not mental - it's physical. As a man, you can get someone pregnant until the day you die. You don't have a "limit" as to when you are able to have a biological child. As a woman, plain and simply, you do. Your body will only allow you to conceive for a certain amount of time, whether you like it or not, whether you're ready or not. While this is (not SEEMS - IS) completely unfair to women, it's a fact and one that women I know deal with on a daily basis. Some women aren't ready to have kids, but worry that if they wait, they won't be able to. Some women are ready but haven't found a partner and worry that they won't before they lose their ability to have a child. Many women (again, myself included at one time) look at those around them having kids and feel like they're not where they're "supposed" to be by this time. Even if we don't think about that on a daily basis, it comes up now and then...often when we least expect it, triggered by someone else's news that should only be about them but all of a sudden has us spinning out about ourselves. And usually, it comes back to, "I'm 29/34/41/56. How am I not where I thought I should be by this age?"

So the question remains - who created an age by which you SHOULD have? Reached your goals. Started a family. Found a partner. Become an adult...(I know 49 year olds who will never be an "adult" and I know 22 year olds who are far too adult for their own good.) Who stuck these parameters - these limitations on our lives? And how do we shed ourselves of them so that we can just BE. And live. And enjoy. And strive. And take away the feelings of failure for not having achieved by a certain AGE. Because, as one of my wisest friends once said to me, your path is your own. And age is just a number. 

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 10:55 AM 2 comments  

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some morning thoughts before I eat my bagel smothered in cream cheese...
Saturday, February 28, 2009

3 - The number of times I have left the oven on

1 - The number of time I have left the stove on (yes - I am aware there is a visible flame to remind you to turn it off...)
5 - The number of times I have lost my shopping cart in Target
1 - The number of times I never found it
1 - The number of times I forgot where I was supposed to be going
750 - The number of times I've forgotten what I was saying, what I was looking for or what I was doing


Pregnant brain is a real thing. I am ready for mine to be gone. Then I am sure that I will not remember anything for a while due to lack of sleep and total cluelessness as to how I am supposed to be raising a child.

We met with 2 more pediatricians. They were both totally normal and lovely and we are deciding between them. 

I woke up on Monday morning absolutely convinced that the baby was coming this week. Essentially, I turned into Paul Revere heralding the news on Monday morning to Matt that we needed to get EVERYTHING done IMMEDIATELY because "The baby is coming! The baby is coming!" 

The baby did not come. I must have had a dream or something...I don't know. But I'll tell you this much - everything is pretty much done! Shocker that I ran around like a crazy person and woke up yesterday morning feeling like crap. So now I'm sick and really round but at least everything is ready. 

That is, until the baby actually comes. Who the hell is EVER really ready for that? 

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 7:48 AM 2 comments  

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I am a house
Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Both literally and figuratively. Figuratively speaking - I have grown exponentially in the past few weeks. Or I should say that my belly has grown. I am just one big belly. It's actually sort of amazing. My belly walks into the room 5 minutes before I do. Heh. I know - not funny. But it sort of is.


But literally, I am a house. Right now, I am my baby's home. I have an almost fully grown baby living INSIDE of my body. My body is a house. Think about this. Not just like, "right Michelle. We know...you're pregnant and you're having a baby and it's inside your stomach." Reeeeeally take a minute to think about the whole concept. It's INSANE. And amazing. 

My body will only be a house (and a home as I like to think about it) for another month - give or take a week or so. And while I'll be thrilled to have my body back and to not feel random pressing on my bladder, I will miss the intimate moments that can only occur between me and the baby. No one else knows what it feels like to have this particular baby inside of them. Just me. And that's a truly remarkable thing as well - something that I'm sure most mothers feel.

There's lots of stuff to be done at this point - we're busy de-cluttering and crossing off the 50 million things on my To Do list. I never knew I could be so busy without a job but I barely have a free minute to myself. (Except it's all time for myself given that in 5 weeks, I'm LITERALLY not going to have a free minute for myself.) 

One of the things on the To Do list is to meet with pediatricians. We met with our first one today and it was...well...how should I put it? Interesting. We are looking for someone who is willing to work with us on vaccinations - with a spread out schedule and the willingness to skip some of the vaccinations that, after much research, we don't feel are necessary. Blah blah blah. SO. We go to this pediatrician today. People rave about her, how fabulous she is. And she very well may be. But only in LA does a pediatrician leave you feeling like they're doing you a favor by being your doctor. Upon arrival into her less than stellar office space (more on that later), her office manager greeted us with, "And the $75 consult fee that we discussed. Did you say on the phone that you'd like me to bill your insurance?" 

There's only one small issue here- there was never a fee discussed. And while I've now been informed (by friends) that this is very common and most offices will not inform you of it in advance, it was clear that this woman was supposed to have discussed it with me and had screwed up. So as far as I was concerned, SHE should be paying for her mistake - not me. 

"You never mentioned a fee on the phone."

"I didn't? Are you sure?"

"I'm certain."

Overhearing this, the doctor says, "It's fine. We'll just do a quick consult out here and there won't be a charge."

Which you would think is lovely but essentially meant, "I'll grace you with 5 minutes of my presence but don't think there will be time for many questions because time is money, kid."

The truth is, her office was not what I particularly imagine a pediatrician's office to be. Let's just say that while I have some liberal ideas about how I might want to handle my child's health, I'm still a Jew from the east coast. In other words, I'm a total snob. I'd love it if my pediatrician were also Jewish and it wouldn't hurt if their office was in Beverly Hills and smelled nice. Judge all you want - I know what I like and I'm NOT afraid to admit it. 

So tomorrow, this house will go visit another pediatrician. Her office is in Beverly Hills. Her last name sounds Jewish. So I guess tomorrow we'll see if I should judge a book by it's cover or not...




Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 4:58 PM 2 comments  

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I thought for certain that I would be here on a daily basis now. But between the insane clutter clearing of my house, the daily pre-natal yoga and walks, third trimester mid-afternoon naps and the fifty million other things on my "do in the next 8 weeks" list, I have all but forgotten about the fact that I have a blog. 


Especially one that's called "Take Me Back to Manhattan". A year ago, I would have written in scrupulous detail about my almost 3 week trip back east (the first one I've had that was that long since I moved to LA four years ago.) I also would have written a lengthy post lamenting my return. But NYC was amazing and coming back to the 75 degree weather in LA was actually kind of nice too. And while I still stand by the fact that the food is better in NYC, the shopping is better in NYC, the ability to walk and take the subway and get everywhere and anywhere in 20 minutes (except for the annoying Upper East Side which I had to venture to once and was reminded why I never EVER go to the Upper East Side) is so amazing about NYC,  and the theater and culture are better in NYC, and I still have tons of great friends in NYC, the weather in the winter will ALWAYS be better in LA. And it's nice to go to the farmer's market. And have a kitchen big enough to cook in. And sometimes, it's even nice to drive a car.

Do I have to change the name of my blog now? 

Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle at 6:00 PM 2 comments  

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