NYC Moms

I Have A Feeling We're Not In Park Slope Anymore

Yesterday I had to go to Manhattan  on the subway with BOTH kids, and not just Manhattan, the Upper East Side, a world away. Logisitics are easy- you just strap em in, strap 'em on and go, it's the frame of mind. You know, people, including myself, make fun of Park Slope all the time. But it is kind of like your mom- only you can make fun of her, the rest of you- back off. I love my small town Brooklyn neighborhood, I feel safe here. Feeling safe to me now means being able to nurse in public without death stares, not worrying about a tantrum, wearing Old Navy Jeans and having an intentional stripe in your hair is ok.

"Real" Housewives of New York City

I have succumbed to Bravo's new series, The Real Housewives of New York City. Since the writers' strike I have been filling the void with over-produced drivel set before me. At the end of a long hard day rearing a 2 year-old and a 6-week old, trying to keep an apartment clean and a family fed- all on a tight budget, I like to decompress a bit in front of the TV. It's my brain candy. "Real Housewives" is more like brain crack. So bad, so addictive. So ugly. So wrong. But I watch, not to make me fantasize about what it would be like to drop two grand on two blouses but to make me feel better about what I do as a real "real housewife" of Brooklyn, New York.

I Don't Feel Guilty, Thanks

Call me a selfish bitch or bad mom, I don't care. I don't feel guilty that I count the moments till the sitter arrives on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. I don't feel guilty that I even have a sitter AND that I ask her to clean the bathroom. I don't feel bad that I am already planning my drink order (a Manhattan, up) and how many cigarettes I will smoke when I go out with my girlfriend ALONE tonight for the first time in, well for the first time.  I don't feel guilty spending three bucks on an ice coffee. I don't feel guilty when my son is crying for a hug and I don't give it to him because I am on the phone gossiping with my mom about the latest family drama.

Epidurals Are For Tolerating the Hospital, Labor Is The Easy Part

I just gave birth to my second child. This time I had an epidural. Usually, it's the other way around- the first kid is the long, hard labor.  For my firstborn I was able to labor comfortably at home, in my ground floor apartment of a Brooklyn brownstone with the help of my husband, cat, and best friend (full disclosure, she is an RN specializing in women's health). For 12 hours I used my hypnobirth techniques, got massaged and could position myself in compromising yet pain managing ways. I could pee on my own and be as loud as I wanted. I could eat! We could go to the Birthing  Center at St Luke's Roosevelt - a 40 minute drive-any time after 6 Centimeters, but why go early? I was so comfortable. I didn't need drugs.

YouTube = UsTube, Clips You And Your Kid Will Love

Well, TV isn't bad, per se. We are big fans of it in our house. As a matter of fact I know I have precisely thirteen minutes to finish writing this uninterrupted because the second half of Curious George just started. This is one of the shows that my two-year old and I love to watch together. Have you watched it? It is addicting. There does not seem to be a big difference between a toddler and "Monkey George" as he is called around here. The other great show we love, besides Sesame Street of course, is The WonderPets. It is so refreshing. It reminds me of the old Bugs Bunny or Tom and Jerry shows (which, I admit, we have also watched a smattering of) with the excellent music and animal hijinx. Recently, while confined to bed rest,  we had to get creative for additional sedentary entertainment which we did, thank you very much, but then...I turned on the laptop and my son discovered YouTube and I revisited my  own childhood.

Mom To Humans First, Cats Second

Please don't judge me. I am one of those people who "can no longer take care of their cats." Today, Leroy and Barney are going to a new home. As I write this, Leroy is curled up next to me, purring into my pregnant belly. I am heart broken and so is he. He knows what's up.  See, what happened was, I had a kid. Before my boy was born Leroy and Barney were the center of our young married couple lives. They weren't even my own cats, my husband's crazy ex-girlfriend left them behind. But I have raised these children, er, cats as my own. I would bring home the discarded anchovies from my Cesar salads. I cried when I thought Leroy was going blind or that Barney was having a stroke (ends up they are less coordinated than most felines) I would pour milk in fine china saucers for Barney and let him sleep on my silk scarves. It was cute when Leroy wanted to sleep on my chest and lick my face with his raspy tongue. Now, not so much.

I'm Pregnant?! AGAIN? With a GIRL?!

Ok, so I nursed my first born for 13 months not just to benefit him, yaddah yaddah, but to help burn me some calories, yo....and it worked. I got skinny, skinnier than before I was pregant even! I admit I was also on the micro pill. I am not proud of it- I was just petrified of getting pregnant again too soon. Not that we were rolling in the hay like banshees, mind you, I just wanted to be super, extra, really, uber safe.  I was feeling hot, looking good. Finally, I was begining to feel I had a non-mom body again. Sure, I had raisin boobs, but I could now wear a hot bra and no one would be none the wiser. I guess my husband thought I looked good too....

"Let's try for another kid" he said simply, as if her were saying "let's get another kitten." Had the old kid gotten stale? He was still cute  and all but no longer did what we told him. He was begining to think he was his own person. Dangerous territory. Maybe I was missing a docile cooing baby. I was feeling good as a parent too.  I won't brag but at least our son was alive and well and sleeping so, I could do it again,  right?  So I said, sure, why not. I stopped nursing

Please Don't Tell Me What Caused My Miscarriage

My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage at 12 weeks on Valentine's Day 2005. I know many pregnancies end like this and couples have endured far worse, but for me at that point, my world collapsed on itself a bit. In light of recent research which potentially connects caffeine consumption with miscarriage and the article that appeared in the New York Times yesterday I am forced to remember that horrible period. I can hear the question of whys and what ifs of recent childless mothers who have experienced a miscarriage. I was there too. Sometimes I still question why and what if about my miscarriage, even though I now have a healthy crazy toddler and a little ball of fire in my womb due any day now.   

Here's To My Friends (And My Past Lives)

You know what? Sometimes I don't want to talk about poo, childproofing, pre-schools, sleep training, time-outs or anything of or pertaining to what has become my present identity. Sue me. Sometimes I like to revert back to the immature and irresponsible actress, the sexy single gal, or the pre-mom wanna be hipster do-gooder for humanity. Don't get me wrong, I am practically married to my mom friends, we have jokingly referred to each other as our wives and co-parents and another time I will explain how my love for them is nothing short of a girl-crush. For now, I want to talk about my non-mom, pre-mom, even male,  friends.  People who have absolutely nothing to do with or even interested in anything child related.

Baking Cookies With a Toddler

Why? Why on earth would someone who not only doesn't bake, but HATES baking make Christmas Cookies with their 22 Month old? What was I trying to prove and to whom? What was the thinking behind this? 2 hours of prep, 2 hours of clean up, some tears (mine) and only 8 cookies later? Well let me tell you why I embarked on this odyssey of insanity...