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ad hoc MOM

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: desperate measures, emergency klonopin prescription, my husband can be right, neurotic issues, new york city

7 Comments

Jan11Is That Woman Psychotic? Or is She Just Someone’s Mother?
Paula

I got off the subway today and lucky me! I was right outside the conductor’s car! I waved like crazy and smiled from ear to ear when he waved back. But here’s the thing – he wasn’t giving me the enthusiastic “oh, isn’t your kid just so cute?” kind of wave. That’s when I remembered. IDIOT. YOU ARE ALONE. And seriously? Did you just frantically wave at the subway driver like a total freak? Come to think of it, I have a pretty hard time turning all the mom business off even when I’m alone. Those opportunities that make getting through the day just a little bit easier with a kid . . . like waving to the subway driver – or getting super excited about seeing a fire truck or gasp – a NEW episode of Backyardigans have become so important that I fear I’m forgetting how to interact with normal society. But luckily a few friends were willing to assure me that I’m not alone here. Case in point:

My husband and I were having a rare brunch together SANS child over the Christmas break. Since I had eaten approximately ten billion cookies over the holiday and was not able to button my pants, I ordered the virtuous “porridge” (I know, might as well have ordered a cup of gruel). Peter kindly offered me a bite of his chicken sausage. When I said, “yeah, sure” – my husband, who will be hyper-aware of choking hazards until June is 34 proceeded to spend seven minutes pulverizing a piece of sausage into a paste for me. My porridge was suddenly much more appetizing.

It was also around the holidays that a good friend was in the wretched position of being trapped in the house with two vomiting feverish children just when she needed to be shopping like mad. Finally free of disease, I offered to baby-sit her super adorable infant while she caught up on the gift buying. She got dressed, grabbed her purse, and proceeded to STRAP ON HER ERGO. I was like “That’s a hot look. I especially like the way it dangles down in front of you and casually swings from side to side. Really good.” Ergo removed. Fashion crisis averted.

Another friend who I would describe as especially sophisticated has resorted to greeting people with a very borderline HELLLLOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOW ARE YOOOOUUUUUU?????As you would a two year old, even though she’s quite likely talking to a middle-aged publishing executive.

What’s that noise? It’s just a firetruck! No, actually, it’s the highlight of my day.

When I think about my total inability to separate my parent self from my regular self, I admit I just want to cry. I used to judge such people so severely. . . seriously, I used to want to stone them. So I apologize to those of you who can’t help but refer to themselves as “mommy.” I get it now. I see how it happens. Will you accept my apology? And please, the next time you see me jumping up and down on the 2/3 platform – please be kind. I’m not crazy – I’m just a mom, okay, maybe I am crazy, but please don’t throw anything at me.

Filed Under: Motherhood: The Job, My Neuroses
Tags: new york city, no sleep, WTF?

12 Comments

Nov30There Should Be a Christmas Party For Moms
Paula

It’s 9:30 p.m. Do you know where your family is? According to the images on the baby monitor, my daughter is rifling through her stuffed animals – but craftily keeping one hand on the crib so that she’s “technically” kind of still in bed. And, by the looks of the photo my husband just sent me, he’s having a pretty swell time at the MTV Christmas party. Oh yeah, no spouses allowed. I’m not complaining – about the fact that my daughter has just started crying and I’ll have to go back into the bedroom AGAIN, or that my husband is out having a great time, he deserves it. But the picture he sent made me feel like I was missing out on something – a group of people who work together towards common goals celebrating the holidays in a major way. I want in!

I almost never miss working in an office. I love my flexibility, getting to see my kid, bonding with my friends over the craziness of motherhood. Seriously, I wouldn’t change it. But don’t mothers deserve some sort of wild holiday revelry? I mean, a Christmas bonus would be ideal – but barring a pile of cold hard cash, how about a few martinis and some fancy hors d’œuvres shared amongst a few hundred of our “colleagues.” A night where we would put on fancy dresses and expensive shoes and basically plan to “come into the office late” the next day? I miss that shared sense of irresponsibility. The I KNOW WE WORK TOGETHER, BUT THERE’S AN OPEN BAR so I just can’t be held completely responsible for my actions kind of situation. The kind of night where you lose your purse. . . or don’t remember the cab ride home. Ah, the memories!

This is the photo that saved all of you from a very dull post I was working on about cleaning out my closet.

Well, it’s 10:30, the baby is asleep, and my husband has texted me to say that he’s on his way home. Lucky him. I expected him to be out really late. I just ordered SEX AND THE CITY 2 on demand.

Filed Under: Motherhood: Fun?, Motherhood: The Job, The Holidays
Tags: i think my husband drinks, new york city, Socializing, things that piss me off, Work

8 Comments

Nov5Adults on Scooters: Frightful or Delightful?
Carrie

I love my son’s scooter. It makes him so happy that just walking to the store becomes a fun event. When he’s happy, the whole family is happy! I love walking to school with him as he scoots along side of me. His big, helmeted polka-dotted bobble head instantly puts me in a good mood. When he scoots, it makes my life easier because it means I can use the small stroller for the baby–much easier than the big annoying double stroller.

But what’s that? I hear it before I see it. A blur of a brown ponytail whizzes by. That girl is tall. Too tall. That’s not a girl! That’s a mom!!! She’s riding on a scooter. No, not her kid’s scooter–she’s holding that one under her arm. It’s…her…own…scooter.

What a dilemma: adults on scooters. A ridiculous sight. I can understand scooting beside your child, but the adults I see are clearly alone and in a scooter-induced reverie. They don’t seem embarrassed. They might be (could it be?) just a bit smug.

Perhaps they’ve just come from a school drop off? I want to know: do they ride their scooters when they aren’t doing tasks related to child care? If they had to go pick up a prescription after their child was asleep…would they scoot solo to CVS after dark?

There’s a big part of me that is VERY amused by these adults. I make an insta-judgment: they listen to Phish, smell like hummus and like to juggle.

But then there’s another part of me that is completely preoccupied with getting things done faster. If it means getting some place quickly, without having to drive or ride a bus, would I do it? I wonder….

What do you think: to scoot or not to scoot past the age of 12? I want to know.

Filed Under: Frightful or Delightful?
Tags: new york city, travel, WTF?

10 Comments

Oct27Bullies, Tourists, and Crocodiles
Tonya

Picture this:

the sun is shining brightly, laughter is ringing in the air, and a cool breeze is pushing autumnal leaves along the park path, but there on the horizon a dark cloud is a-growing and trouble is a-brewing…

Pointing a finger an inch from face.

“You’re fat!”

Other points finger and jabs into shoulder.

“No, you’re fat!”

Hands on hips.

“I hate you!”

Hands on hips.

“I hate you too!”

No, this is not a yelling match between Nicole Ritchie and LiLo. Sadly this is apparently the new behavior of 5 year old girls at the sandbox. Well, I think it’s new, I could be wrong, all I remember about being 5 is getting a pair of hamsters, talk about being happier than Richard Gere on ecstasy! I don’t think I knew the word ‘fat,’ or if I did, I don’t think I ever called anyone that.

In 3^rd grade I did call Lisa Doggett a motherfucker but frankly a) she said it to me first and b) she really was one. Besides, ‘motherfucker’ seems – to me – less offensive than ‘fat’; it’s a vague term unlike ‘fat,’ which is quite specific.

Now for the super duper crazy part: the girls’ mothers were standing right beside them! That’s right, just watching their awful progeny destroy one another’s self-esteem in mere minutes. What did they do about this little showdown? After the kids were literally screaming “Ughhhhhhhhhh!” an inch from each other’s faces, and all other playground folks were staring in pure horror, the moms finally said, in low whispers, “now, now girls.” Ummm, I don’t mean to be all Dr. Judge-and-Jury and his wife, what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you, but when Lisa and I got into it a) we had the common sense to do it away from any and all adults and b) our parents were called ASAP and, believe me, there was NO “now, now girls!” Well, actually, I can’t speak for Lisa. Perhaps that is what her mom said, which totally explains why she was a motherfucker (I stand firmly behind my initial assessment, even if I did apologize. Ha! I didn’t mean it, Lisa, so suck it!).

This whole scene really makes me sad. This is just the beginning of the very slippery slope that is the female body image (and I don’t mean this in a lubed up and wrestling kind of way). Don’t we have enough pressure to be a size 0 with perfect makeup, perfect skin, and perfect hair from tween to death, without having to enter into it in kindergarten??? Aren’t the early years supposed to be all about mismatched clothes, dirty hands, all you can sneak candy, un-washed hair and un-brushed teeth? Or is this just post-baby? And just me?

I’m really scared this is becoming acceptable behavior. My friend, Erin, sent me this very disturbing article from The New York Times a couple of weeks ago: “The Playground Gets Even Tougher.”

And now, to change the beat up, here is some awesomeness to eat candy to, and don’t worry about your hair and teeth: