I've written this post in my head so many times over the past 2-ish years but tonight, I just felt the need to actually put pen to paper (so to speak...and btw, I love the idea of actually putting pen to paper these days. The computer screen is so bright...)
My friend Stacey is on a plane to NYC right now. She wasn't supposed to go until Tuesday. But she got that phone call - the "you need to come now" phone call. She got the phone call I got 2 years ago, the one I chose not to act on because I'd had my "last" visit. But Stacey hadn't yet had hers - it was planned for Tuesday but it needs to be tomorrow instead. I don't know why talking to Stacey prompted me to write when other moments have not. The brief conversation we had on the phone tonight brought emotions flooding for me. Maybe it's that I feel uncannily connected to Stacey. Maybe because my grandmother's birthday was this week and I can't bring myself to take it (or her phone number) out of my blackberry. Maybe it's because the circumstances surrounding Stacey's trip felt all too familiar and because Stacey's relationship with her grandmother seems so similar to the one I had with mine. Maybe there's no reason that it's hitting me right now specifically. There's not much to say in those moments so I just shared what had brought me peace in those final weeks - that my grandmother wasn't comfortable anymore and that it didn't matter how much we were all going to miss her (terribly beyond words) - because her life wasn't what she would want it to be. And so, while it was painful to see her go, it was best for HER. I said it without a quiver in my voice, but I hung up the phone and for the first time since my grandmother's unveiling last September, I cried that she was gone.
A few months ago I brought Evvy to Massachusetts for the first time. And when I walked into my parents house, I had the oddest sensation. I had to remind myself over and over that my grandmother wasn't here anymore because I kept having this overwhelming desire to pick up the phone and call her to say that we were here the way I always did when I got home. I've often missed my Grammy, but I've rarely wished her back - except in that moment. She would have loved Evvy - not just because she was her great grand-daughter - but because she has great pulkies (as my mother-in-law says, "her rolls have rolls!") and she has great spirit. At 4 months old, this kid has chutzpah that can rival the best of them.
I wish she could meet her. I know in my heart that she knows her - probably more than even I do at this point. But tonight, I wish her back just for a moment...
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle
at
8:32 PM
Labels:
family,
introspection,
musings on life
Do you ever wonder what it was like to be a baby? I stare at Evvy and wonder what's she's thinking and wonder what it must be like to be her. I can't fathom being that little and depending so completely on someone else to make sure that you are cared for. The whole thing blows my mind. Watching her discover her hands, her mouth, her laugh...everything is new to her. That must be amazing - to have everything be new. I suppose I'm living vicariously through her because everything with her is new to me.
Why do you think it is that we don't remember what it's like to be a baby? That we don't have memories that early? There has to be some sort of reason for it - everything else in this whole process of having a baby has a reason - so there must be one for that too. Although I'm certain it's not as scientific as the reasons behind most of the things that happened while I was pregnant and having a baby. But our bodies just know how to do so many things without having to learn or being told...so I'm guessing not having memories as a baby is something our bodies do for a reason as well.
When I started thinking about my earliest memory, my first year of pre-school came to mind. Those are my earliest memories - when I was 3. They're vague most of them - flashes of people and pictures of places. I remember driving up to the house that my parents now live in and sitting outside looking at it. I must have been 2 1/2 at the time actually because we moved in before my sister was born and she's a little bit less than 3 years younger than me. I sat in the backseat of my mom's blue car - a chevy maybe? My mom was in the driver's seat and my grandmother was in the passenger's seat. I have such a vivid picture in my head of sitting outside the house and leaning forward while we all peered at the new home we would be moving into. That's it - just a snapshot...but I remember it. I wonder if it's even real.
And I wonder if the memory of my nursery school car pool where I screamed at the boy who got in the car to "Get up. GET UP!! You are SITTING on Wonder Woman! YOU ARE SQUISHING HER!!!!" is a real memory of my own - or simply one that I remember from hearing my mother tell the story so many times.
Why are certain memories so vivid for some and non-existent for others - even if they shared the same experience? What will I remember to share with my daughter about this time? (I was supposed to be writing it all down but I am certain that I will remember to tell her that there's no time for that.)
Sometimes I want to freeze this moment - where my child still needs me. The moments before she finds her independence. I know that I can not and so instead, I just breathe it all in deeply and stay present. And I stare at her and wonder just what is going on in that beautiful little head. And I believe that I will remember these moments forever.
Posted byMeesh-elle my Belle
at
11:03 PM
Labels:
I HAVE a baby,
introspection
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
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
Labels:
daily,
I HAVE a baby,
life lessons
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
Labels:
I HAVE a baby,
ummm
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
Labels:
introspection,
life lessons,
musings on life
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
Labels:
daily,
we're having a baby,
yeah...i'm a little bit crazy
