Milestones

Mar30Goodbye, Yellow Walled Apartment
Paula

I’m sitting in the apartment I bought with my boyfriend over seven years ago.  It’s weird to write the word “boyfriend” – it sounds so youthful, and frankly, exciting.  Boyfriend!  We bought this place because we thought it was pretty.  It’s one of those pre-war deals that has loads of character.  It has a sunken living room that we thought would be conducive to cocktail parties (it was).  The first time we looked at it we knew exactly where we would put the bar.  It has a real foyer which feels incredibly grown up.  We never got tired of saying stuff like “can you get my book?  It’s in the foyer.”  Or more likely – “watch out, the cat just vomited up a hairball in the foyer.”  We loved that the apartment was across the street from a museum, the botanic garden, and my favorite – the main branch of the library.  I couldn’t believe my luck that I lived so close to such a magnificent place.  But here’s the thing, when you buy an apartment for its cocktail party potential, you’re not thinking about what you’ll do a few years down the road when you decide “Hey!  I know!  Let’s get married and then have a kid.”  Suddenly your bar is holding baskets of toys and the booze is relegated to a safer more secure area in your very tiny kitchen.  While it’s wonderful to have a foyer, you’re wondering why it didn’t occur to you to consider apartments with second bedrooms.  I’m not saying we have regrets – neither of us has a single one, I’m just pointing out that it’s absolutely fascinating how quickly needs can change.  One day our sunken living room was elegant, the next day a death trap as we found ourselves with a newly walking baby.  But we’ve loved every second of our lives here. . . even as we’ve struggled to stay organized or out of each others way.

I’m really going to miss this place.

Tonight is our last night in our yellow walled apartment.  We arrived as two people and are leaving as three.  It’s sad, but it’s happy too.  We’re moving to a beautiful house in a lovely town – I worry we won’t see our friends as often, but I know we’ll manage to see them.  We have to!  It’s that simple.  But when all of this change feels like too much, I think of another simple thought.  As of tomorrow, I’ll have enough space that I can put my liquor back on the bar.  There will be an entire room just for toys.

Filed Under: Milestones, Musings
Tags: , , ,


21 Comments

 
Mar10Botox Cures Mental Illness, Or It Might Encourage It, Really, It’s Hard To Tell…#stillwinning
Tonya

Recently, I read some current research floating through the etherspace that suggests Botox may be helpful for depression and anger issues! Apparently, it’s the immobilization of the facial muscles, which are used to frown, that stunts the negative emotional response or maybe it’s the cow poison in your blood that gets you so high you forget to be upset, I don’t know, I can’t remember everything. Jesus! The things you people expect from me.  Anyway, moving on, let me get this straight: not only will it make my eyes and forehead look like a shiny new baby’s bottom but it may also make me a much happier person??? Frankly, I’m just amazed my husband hasn’t ruffied me, stuffed me into the car, and dropped me off in front of some plastic surgery clinic or a guy with a garage and a needle hook-up. I’m not too sure he’d do much research but, at least, he would pin a note and a check to my nightgown. And, in case you’re wondering, the note would read:

Dear Dr.,

Please give me Botox. Lots of it! For the love of all things on this earth, my husband needs a damn break!!! Make the check out for whatever amount you want. It’s totally worth it! And only return me once the Botox has taken full effect.

Thank you.

But so far he hasn’t, this leads me assume he’s either clueless to this new research or lazy. I’ll probably go with the latter only because I’m pretty sure there was a new episode of Law & Order SVU on last night and he has a thing for Mariska Hargitay.

So, I’ve decided that before I wake up with a hideous headache, being a poked head-to-toe by Mickey Rourke and his enormous supply of Mexican Moo-tox, I should make a pro/con list.

Pros:  Mommy SHOULD get Botox:

1.  Recent research shows it may be able to reduce anger and depression thus making it possible to avoid those anger management classes recently ordered by judge.

2.  Erase all facial lines that appeared with husband’s inability to ever find wipes or diapers!

3.  Toddler will finally tire of I-am-hiding-but-you-think-something-horrible-has-happened-to-me game because Mommy will no longer look surprised and freaked out.

4.  Will finally be able to make it through a PTA meeting. May even make friends?

5.  Can make extra income playing poker (but not strip poker…no one wants to see that).

6.  May finally be able to stop cursing and thus having to have meetings with preschool teacher about what child repeated during Circle Time.

7.     Possible application to Real Housewives series?

Cons:  Mommy should NOT get Botox

1. When mad at spouse will have to resort to throwing items at his head to get anger across. Police will be called.

2.  Bully at playground won’t respond to facial expression of mild amusement so will have to whisper quietly “I know where you and your family live, you little bastard.” Police will be called.

3.  Lip-syncing to any Eminem or DMX would no longer be possible.

4.  Unable to ride NYC subway system since no longer capable of anger necessary to get on and off and to acquire a seat. Will have to carry a sword instead. Police will be called.

5.  Would spend time knitting instead of writing vitriolic blog posts thus no longer having a career since poorly made, easily unraveled scarves don’t seem to have a market. Yet…

6.  Could no longer keep upstairs neighbors from making too much noise since ruling by fear would no longer be possible. Would have to buy a gun. Police will be called.

7.  Couch will become launching pad/trampoline since “Mom Stare” will no longer be possible and able to force tushy onto chair with one glance!

8.  Will be unable to use curse words with any meaning or emphasis thus cutting off half of usable vocabulary.

9.  Putting Botox into a hypochondriac could result in constant visits and calls to doctor. Going so far as to follow him and wait outside his house in the fear that some crazy side effect may take hold. Police will be called.

I guess, if my math skillz are still in full effect, I’d have to say that the world is slightly safer with me NOT having Botox…for now…

Filed Under: Fear, Genetics, Milestones
Tags: , , ,


10 Comments

 
Mar2Will This Birthday Ever End?
Paula

Sunday, February 27th, 6:30 a.m.

June:  “Mom, is it my birthday?”

Me:  “No, you were born on leap day, which is weird but very cool, but we’re celebrating your birthday today because it’s a weekend and therefore the gay uncles were available for champagne cocktails and pizza.”

I can tell by the look on her face that this kind of answer is not helpful, things are just not computing.  Sort of like someone who works in investment banking trying to explain to me what exactly it is they do.

Me:  “Okay.  Yeah.  It’s your birthday!”

June clearly understands she can use this birthday business to extort extra veggie bootie, more episodes of Backyardigans, etc.  There’s a sucker born every minute (if you have a real birthday).

I may be only three, but my birthday lasts several days, I’m wearing fabulous shoes and there are cute boys at my party!  Truman Capote can basically kiss the ass of the stuffed rabbit I’m holding.

Monday, February 28th, 6:15 a.m.

June:  “Mom, is today my birthday?”

Me:  “Ask your father.  He feels that today IS in fact your birthday because your were born in February, and this is THE closest day in February to the non-existent February 29th which I feel is a very arbitrary reason for selecting this day to celebrate your birthday.”

June:  “I want juice.”

Because I feel guilty about giving birth on a fake day, I basically let my child eat frosting all day and let her have 100% free reign over the remote.

Tuesday, March 1, 6:40 a.m.

June:  “Mom, today is my birthday too right?”

Me:  “Well, since it is officially 365 days since I spent 3 agonizing hours pushing you out of my body, I personally feel that yes, today is your BIRTH day, but again, it’s complicated because you were born on a day that only comes around once every four years.   You may hate me for this in your youth – but when you’re older you’ll feel special and will probably celebrate by throwing exclusive dinner parties where expensive bottles of wine are served.”

June:  “Make me oatmeal now.”

The cake is drying out, I’m going to scream if I have to sit through season three of the Backyardigans again, and it’s interesting to see which half of the friends and family pick this day to call.  Next year June will have a real birthday.  I’m excited.  I want to have a real party, but I have a feeling she’s going to be disappointed.  One day?  One stupid day for a birthday?  I feel like either way I just can’t win.

Filed Under: Celebrations, Milestones, Musings
Tags: , , ,


6 Comments

 
Feb21Age Rage: How Did I Get So Old?
Carrie

OK, my title is a little hyperbolic. I’m only 38, which by most people’s standards is perfectly average. Not old, not young. But a couple of things happened over the past week that made me feel a little crazy about how fast the past ten years have gone by. I don’t quite remember the moment when I left my “youth” and started living as a middle-aged person. But suddenly, everywhere, there were clues that it had, in fact, happened.

1. I tried to join an organization that offered an enticing discounted fee for those 35 and under. I didn’t qualify. I needed to go ahead and pay the higher fee. I thought: “EXCUUUUUUUUSE me? Do you know WHO I AM?” I wanted to explain that I was young at heart, kind of like those guys and gals in the movie Cocoon. I was old-er, but in the most IRONIC way possible. Then I thought “Just keep your mouth shut and fork over the cash.”

2. I Ioaded up my iTunes with lots of songs that were either from a past era or sung by young people. I had my regular outing without husband and kids on Saturday and took along my iPod. I walked around the city of my youth, parka hood on and music blasting in my headphones for a couple of hours. I felt invincible and relevant. Then I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a store window. People must have been looking at me thinking: “Oh look–there’s a 38-year-old mom going on some errands without her kids. I bet she’s listening to the Indigo Girls**. HAHAHAHAHA.”
** for the record I was/would not.

3. Unfortunately/fortunately, I happen to live in the exact neighborhood that I grew up in. Memories of my youth are everywhere: pizza parlors, factory smells, schoolyards. I ran into an acquaintance from high school. I felt 15 again. Awkward, flummoxed. But then the feelings got worse. I felt…mortified! What was I thinking leaving the house looking all 38 and everything? So embarrassing!

4. I put on some music for my son. I started dancing. The thing is, I love to dance. I used to be kind of good at it–at least in the way that I wouldn’t look like a total dork doing it. I can remember the feeling of dancing well. What happened in my living room the other day could not ever be described as good or cool in anyway. My limbs’ movements do not correlate with my brain’s intention. I’m a total mom dancer and I only have a couple of years left before both of my sons demand, red-faced, that I stop immediately.

UGH! So here I am: a not young person. What am I going to do about it? The past is gone forever. So what if I flipped the script? Instead of wishing that I looked and felt younger, what if I envisioned a totally awesome and enticing future for myself as an old lady? What if instead of wanting to STOP time, I anxiously awaited the passing of the years? All I needed were some positive visualizations–some role models.

The next time I feel completely awash in grief for the younger person I once was, I’m going to look at my future self. I could be an unassuming English gentlewoman who just so happens to be the most kick-ass crime-solving sleuth without a badge this side of the Thames. Or a morally loose lady named Alexis living in Denver, scheming and smoking cigarillos and hating on a lady named Krystle. Or a luminous stage actress with piercing blue eyes that shine with experience and romance. Or a television and film star who can play gritty crime drama like nobody’s business, but who also happens to look amazeballs in a bikini. I guess, actually, all I really have to be is…British.

So how about you: who are you going to stop wishing you were and who are you going to start striving to be?

Filed Under: Life Lessons, Milestones, Musings
Tags: ,


13 Comments

 
Feb10Sometimes I Should Actually Just Listen To My Husband
Paula

June and I like to reminisce.  We’ll sit back on the sofa, open up iphoto (because I’m a terrible mother and we have exactly ONE photo album that has about 15 real photos of her) and look at her baby pictures.  Today a photo of herself at just about age two and her dad on the subway was of particular interest.  I completely agreed with her that it was cute, until I remembered when I took it.  We were on our way to her friend Eli’s second birthday party, and June was at the awkward stage where she’s getting too heavy to be carried down the subway steps in a stroller, but still too little to walk more than 30 feet.  Peter thought we should try traveling without a stroller.  OUR SPASTIC TODDLER LOOSE ON THE SUBWAY?  I immediately envisioned a NY1 headline.  NEGLECTFUL MOTHER LOSES CHILD TO SATANIC CULT BECAUSE SHE TOOK HER TODDLER ON SUBWAY WITHOUT A STROLLER AND OF COURSE SHE RAN OUT OF THE TRAIN CAR THE SECOND THE DOORS OPENED AND WAS NEVER SEEN AGAIN.  WHAT DID THESE STUPID PEOPLE EXPECT?  I was about two seconds away from calling my primary care physician and begging for an emergency klonopin prescription before getting on the 2/3 train.  Anyone who knows us knows that Peter is the rational half of the pair.  He finally convinced me that literally hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers (really, that many???) take their children on the subway every single day without incident.  I demanded proof, but he said there wasn’t time, and it’s true that June was getting restless – which was ultimately just going to add danger to the trip.  Bottom line was we made it.  And he was right – in the end, everything was okay and it really did make a cute picture.

Several cocktails were consumed after this death defying act known as “riding the subway.”

Filed Under: Life Lessons, Milestones, My Neuroses, Worries
Tags: , , , ,


7 Comments

 
« Older
Newer »

© 2010 ad hoc MOM. All rights reserved. Powered by WordPress. Designed by Carrie Harvey.
Entries (RSS) and Comments (RSS).