Skipping Town

Last night, I sent Andrew on a thankless errand, an errand of the type that might make any man question the wisdom of having gotten married, or having gotten married to a particular woman: I arranged for him to pick up two secondhand nursing bras I purchased from someone on my neighborhood parenting listserv. Andrew is, it has to be said, adamantly against my purchasing used nursing bras, and I completely understand this. It is a strange thing to buy used, I admit. But when really good nursing bras cost $40-50 or more, and when my size in the first week post-birth might be radically different from my size a week later (or even just days later), it just seems logical to me to have a couple of larger-size options that I can wear a few times then set aside. Anyway, I purchased two secondhand, high-quality, large-size nursing bras that I will put in my hospital bag in case I have a repeat experience this time around of being horrifyingly, nightmarishly, grotesquely engorged. Fingers are cr...

I had a very strange experience yesterday at my first-ever acupuncture appointment (a Hail Mary attempt at moving my placenta). When I’d talked to the acupuncturist on the phone, she said she’d worked with placenta positioning before and seemed fine with having me in. But when I arrived at her home yesterday afternoon, she said she’d actually been feeling uneasy about it because she felt it would be a waste of my money—if I weren’t so far along in my pregnancy, there’d be more chance of the upward-pulling energy having an effect. Furthermore, she’d double-booked my appointment. To apologize, she said she’d do a basic stress-relieving session at her kitchen table for no charge while her other patient was having his full treatment. So that’s how I found myself with five needles in my head, sitting at this woman’s kitchen table while a housekeeper tidied the counters and a young man (her son?) talked on a cell phone in another room. Before beginning the needling, however, the acupuncturis...

I have little to say about this issue, mostly because I was rendered speechless by this issue’s cover image and main headline. The image is of Tori Spelling and her two children, dressed up as “Old Hollywood.” The headline: “Tori Spelling stars in our Halloween Spooktacular!” To make this issue even less appealing, the following headline is the following: “We adopted our baby on Facebook!” It was enough to make me consider not reading the issue at all. Nonetheless, I persevered. The first thing to point out is that the magazine has once again undergone a redesign. GoNe ArE the RaNdOmly capitalized section titles; in their place are tiny, nearly unreadable section titles, half in lowercase, half in ALL CAPS, like this: “right now | BUZZWORTHY”. (I have a suggestion: Why not just use the standard initial caps for titles?) We still have a ridiculous amount of celebrity nonsense, including interviews with someone from Gossip Girl and someone named Natalie Morales (am I the only one who doe...

Just as I am unable to stand or walk for long (or short) periods without being seized up with contractions, so too am I unable to formulate enough coherent thoughts for a long blog post. And so I will recount some random recent bits. We went to Ikea on Saturday to get Lucia her birthday present (adorable table and chairs). She was fairly docile for most of the shopping, which we tried to do quickly; but she eventually began writhing in her stroller constraints and making one loud, persistent demand: “BUNNIES. BUNNIES.” Annie’s-brand bunnies, both cheddar and honey graham, are her current favorite snack. At home, when I suggest alternate snacks, she says “Bunnies” with a decisive nod, as though there were clearly no question about what snack should be served. At Ikea, “BUNNIES. BUNNIES” became more and more wildly proclaimed. Instead of giving her more bunnies, like I should have done, we decided to go eat lunch at the café. Of course Lucia did not eat even one bite of her mac and chees...

Lucia is wielding two-word sentences right and left these days, and she’s come up with a few shortcuts for things she says frequently. “Homama” is her version of “home to mama,” which is what I say when an animal at the park scurries away, or when a child in a book goes off somewhere. “She’s going home to her mama,” I say. Lucia nods and agrees, “Homama.” Even at the end of our Five Little Pumpkins book, when “the five little pumpkins roll out of sight,” she announces that they’re going “homama.” There are some things, like bathtime or going grocery shopping, for which Lucia wants to be accompanied by both Andrew and me. At these times, she makes her request known by saying “Daddymama.” It’s two words blended into one, with the emphasis on the first “ma”: “DaddyMAma.” This morning, for the second time since moving here, I went to church, trying to shore up our status as bona fide parishioners so we can have our new baby baptized without having to get married for the fourth time. The id...

Dear Little One, One morning this week, when you led the way to the living room—your arms full of your stuffed-animal entourage—and we sat down on the couch to read the first book of the day, I was shocked to see that seemingly overnight you looked older. You were wearing mismatched pajamas and just seemed more kid-like as you giggled over something and smiled your toothy smile. After a while you said “Eat! Eat snack!” and we went to the kitchen for breakfast. Each morning, we go outside with Daddy and wave to him when he goes to work. But now you join me in asking him if he’s remembered important items. Each morning I ask if he has his phone; now you, as we emerge onto the stoop, say, “Phone? Keys?” It is very cute, and helpful. (It would have been even more helpful this week if you’d asked Mama if she had her keys; I locked us out for the first time on Tuesday.) You’re growing fast, and your 18M summer clothes are pretty much unwearable now. But you are too slim for 2T pants, so we a...

First, a breakthrough: This morning, when I brought Lucia to a friend’s house for our weekly babysitting swap, she put on a wobbly but brave face when I left and, my friend texted a bit later, cried for only twenty seconds before going off to play with little T. She played happily the whole time (I heard her laughing when I got to the door at pickup time!) and greeted me with a big smile and a cheerful “Hi!” instead of dissolving into plaintive tears at the sight of me. I was thrilled. Perhaps because of the more trying episodes in weeks past, or perhaps because this is just a stage she’s in, Lucia has become extremely focused on babies and mamas and the fact that one can’t be (and usually isn’t) without the other. When she spots a baby on the street, she not only says “baby” but also “mama” or “daddy,” depending on who’s pushing the stroller or carrying the baby. She says the word-pair seriously, with a little nod of approval: “Baby. Mama.” “Yes, a baby with her mama,” I say back. “Ye...

Last week, I had another ultrasound, which showed that my placenta still has not moved. At the doctor’s appointment that followed, a C-section was scheduled for me at the end of October, at 37 weeks. I will continue to have scans right up until then, so there’s still hope, but still. My doctor also prohibited me from traveling, warning me that if I went anywhere I could be stuck in a hospital there for the rest of my pregnancy. Also, because she revealed that the awful belly discomfort I’ve been having in the evenings is actually contractions, I’m now to “rest” in the afternoons. She has three children, but I suspected for a moment she’d never been around a toddler. So, no good news, just worry—and a search for a mother’s helper to allow me my afternoon “rest.” The search so far has been unfruitful; Park Slope is full of mothers, which is probably the problem—finding a mother’s helper just may be as competitive as finding a good apartment. The woman I was slated to interview tomorrow c...

Belly with field of mint.

We spent the long weekend in NH, a rejuvenating few days of quiet and fresh air and green grass under bare feet. Lucia learned several new words: mint, because Andrew discovered a vast field of wild mint growing by the driveway and we spent lots of time harvesting it and piling it in a wheelbarrow; moth (“mof”), because lots of them flutter in the windows; and turtle, because after a long night of rain we discovered a tiny black turtle that had crawled into the tray of Lucia’s bubbles. We delivered him safely to the pond. The pond was the focus this trip. She asked for it constantly. There’s a floating dock attached by a rope to the regular dock, and this is where she wanted to be. It is not a sturdily floating structure—part of it dips down into the water when you walk to the edge, and it all tilts from side to side precariously. But Lucia loved being right down at the water’s surface, and she ran from edge to edge (stopping our hearts, even though Andrew was right there in the water ...

Wednesday night, we joined a friend and her toddler for some live kids’ music at a park near home. The place was crawling with toddlers—ordinarily the sort of scene Lucia would hate. But the music was great—and Lucia absolutely loved it. She was so excited about seeing other babies dancing, and kept pointing to the wiggling crowd and saying “Baby!” Though she stayed close to me, she, too, danced maniacally and giggled nonstop with a huge toothy smile. Andrew met us there after work, and though I’d planned on leaving halfway through so we wouldn’t miss bedtime, she was having so much fun that we let bedtime slide by half an hour. (The horror!) A mom from our playgroup wound up sitting behind us, and she was shocked at this wildly laughing, dancing Lucia. Lucia ordinarily wants nothing to do with anyone in playgroup and stays by my side the whole time, venturing forth now and then only to retrieve a toy which she then plays with at a safe distance from the others--who, admittedly, are...

Lucia’s language is progressing every day. It’s truly an amazing thing to witness. She adds new words all the time by herself, and she picks things up quickly and permanently when I suggest them to her. Yesterday, when she was asking for “Book!”, I suggested she say “Read book, please,” when she’d like to be read to. She is now pretty consistent at saying “Read book!” and does a very cute “Peees!” when I remind her. Then she’ll keep saying it—“Peees! Peees!”—making it impossible not to do whatever it is she wants. She asks for her "blue hat," tells us when she's dropped something ("drop Bibi!" "drop cat!"), asks for more, which is still "mai" ("Mai cheese!" "Mai apple!") She says "Bye, bye, cat" and "Bye, bye, stick" or whatever else we're leaving behind. She says "Baby cry" when we hear a crying infant. Two-word phrases are a standard milestone for two years old, I've been reading,...

Lucia has taken to carrying around a bucket o’ treasures now whenever we leave the house. She always takes a stuffed animal or two, and she always has her bucket in the stroller, but filling the bucket prior to leaving home is new. It started Monday, when I went to a stoop sale and bought her a few trinkets—two tiny star-shaped slinkies, a tiny rubber duck. For the rest of that day she wouldn’t go anywhere without them, and what better way to carry them than in her “bubbick”? They are never far from her at home, either. Yesterday, her bucket collection grew to include her beloved (and, of course, tiny) cat figurine, Elmo, a beanbag monkey, and her favorite stuffed cat. Despite my diligence, when we reached the playground, I realized Elmo was nowhere to be found. I grabbed Lucia and began retracing our steps. At the end of the block I encountered another mom, who held Elmo up questioningly. He’d been found. Today Lucia walked the entire way from our apartment to Prospect Park, which...