September 29th, 2007
We took Emory to the farmer’s market at McCarren Park earlier today. We had a good time. I was a little neurotic about the cool air, the sun, and whether or not the stroller along the bumpy, city terrain was jiggling his head too much. And then I worried about the dirt and the trash and a little girl coughing. And then I worried about the wind. But overall we had a good time.
Several months ago, when I was about 8 and half months pregnant, my brother sent me an email letting me know what medications I might need when I bring the baby home from the hospital. He said something I’ll never forget. “You work so hard during your pregnancy thinking about your pregnancy, and then the delivery of the baby, you overlook the part about bringing the baby home.”
Wait, we bring him home when we’re done? They give us the baby? Just like that? We don’t need to show ID or pass a test first?
HOLY SHIT.
I never wanted to have kids before I met Toby. But a few weeks after I met him I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. (The hard part was convincing him to spend the rest of his life with me.) It wasn’t long after that I started to imagine making babies with him. (What would they look like? How would they act? What would they eventually design or come up with in order to solve all the world’s problems?) I pictured babies. I pictured having babies. I pictured being pregnant and not drinking booze or coffee. I pictured avoiding seafood, European cheese, and raw meat. I even pictured pooping myself during the delivery. But there was one important thing I overlooked.
I never took my personality – all my quirks, insecurities, anxieties, knack for worry – and applied it to motherhood. And now that I finally got the job, I’ve discovered that my personality and motherhood don’t go together all that well. Because when you take my personality and mix it together with motherhood, you’re left with something that may have good intentions but ends up being potentially dangerous. It’s kind of like wrapping something up in bubble wrap only to have it suffocate to death.
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September 28th, 2007
Jenny McCarthy has been popping up everywhere lately. I have seen her on several talk shows and then this week she was on Larry King Live promoting her new book Louder Than Words. The book is about her son’s autism and how she basically put it into remission.
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September 26th, 2007
The call came in. The spot I wrote about last week is indeed cancerous.
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September 25th, 2007
Some folks have asked me how the cats (specifically, Murray) have dealt with our new addition. In typical feline fashion, they’ve all dealt with Emory in very different ways. Let me explain.
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September 24th, 2007
Yesterday Tobyjoe and I had a talk with Emory intermittently over the course of an hour. We were at a local tapas restaurant in Williamsburg. We sat outside and sipped a glass of wine while they pumped music into the garden.
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September 24th, 2007
I’ve done this before but not since 2004. I’m yearning to envy.
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September 20th, 2007
On Wednesday I had my six-week checkup to find out if everything healed OK. It had. I also had a lot of questions for my doctor. Some of the questions were about my boobs. I’m gonna be honest. I’m exhausted. I’ve been seeking medical advice from the Internet and comparing my own experiences to other’s for far too long. I have a tendency to do this especially when I’m alone. And I’ve been by myself a lot lately. (Well, I’m with Emory, who is amazing, but he’s not the best conversationalist.) So I finally sat down with an actual doctor, a real live doctor!
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September 18th, 2007
Well, I’ve actually been trying to get some work done today, which means I haven’t had a chance to write my weekly Tuesdays with Murray post. So, I’m gonna copout this week and post a video of him as a kitten chatting it up with me.
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September 17th, 2007
I’m curious to hear real life stories about the “cry it out” scenario. When did you let your baby cry it out? Did you let your baby cry it out? Did you find it cruel, difficult? Would you not dream of doing such a thing? If you’re afraid to use your real name for whatever reason, feel free to write anonymously. I don’t mind. (I know how it is with the Internet, believe me.) Also, if you’re not one for leaving comments, feel free to email me at the address on the right.
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September 17th, 2007
I used to hate it, seriously hate it, when family or friends said, “You’ll understand when you have kids of your own someday.” It seemed they used this in response to everything. I saw it as a way shutting the childless up. “We can’t have this conversation because you haven’t had kids.” It seemed so unfair to me. I saw it as a copout. People who said such a thing were wimps. And even if I didn’t understand, what made them think I wanted to understand what they apparently had such a firm grasp on?
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