NYC Moms

So, you say I'm high risk?

Two months before I became pregnant with my second, I was 34 years old and considered low risk. Those were good times and they're gone forever. I learned some valuable lessons from my first pregnancy and the positive changes I've made this time around are going unnoticed. It doesn't help that I have a new Obstetrician because of my new lame insurance. I now pay out of pocket for 20% of all prenatal tests that my alarmist doctor pulls out of his hat. One or two false positive gestational diabetes tests from my first pregnancy got him all fired up recently. I'm scheduled to drink yet another glucola in a couple of weeks. I probably lost credibility when he realized I switched OBs at 6 months during my first pregnancy; it's frowned upon. Somehow consumers are not expected to shop around for OBs or other doctors, just take what we get.

I was told at 20 weeks by the non-alarmist doctor at the St. Luke's Roosevelt Hospital fetal unit that I have a low lying placenta. Going through my mental rolodex of potential prenatal catastrophes, I immediately asked if I had the more serious placenta previa. He assured me I did not and told me there was nothing for me to do; the placenta would most likely move up with the growth of my uterus. So, imagine my surprise when I received a call from my OB weeks later to discuss my complete previa and modified pelvic rest.

Letting go

I had to let a friend go recently because it just wasn't working out for me. Her criticism of my parenting style was beginning to weigh me down. I'm not as sensitive as I was in the early months but I'm still pretty sensitive. Like, I'll never forget the first thing my sister-in-law said when she walked into my apartment and picked up my five day old son. "An undershirt?" she said, "not even a onesie?" I walked directly to our dryer to get a new outfit but changed my mind. My instinct told me I would never be able to keep up with the criticism so why even try. I guess you could say that this particular friend let me go as well. It's not like she's been calling me to hang out. But the things she would do and say used to totally bug me.

Public schools and the public interest

My husband, Matt, has been helping out at our local elementary school, PS 9, and wanted to speak to this issue. I hope you enjoy his post!

When I think about education — and education for our children (a 2 year old boy, and baby on the way) — I have two things in mind. First, of course, I want to find a school that is nurturing, challenging, and rewarding. I want well educated, experienced teachers who have modern materials at their disposal. I want an environment that is calm and secure. I want our children to be academically challenged and to develop the academic record and skills that will garner them acceptance into top colleges and universities, when the time comes.

I think of these hopes and desires as our private interest in education. But as members of society and a community, we have both private and public interests. For me, this translates to a belief in public education. I believe that a strong public education system is important to achieving a just society. Sometimes our private concerns and our public concerns are at odds (e.g. it hurts when we do our taxes, but we still want parks and roads). This tension also exists when considering schools. The "best" school to meet our private concerns is not always the best when we balance those concerns with our public interests.

Out and about in the city

I recently crossed over to the other side. I had a day where I did two things. Usually I only do one thing per day when I'm watching the boy. But on this particular day, Good Friday, I booked two things to do by accident. That doesn't even count the third thing I did in the evening. The day went over famously and I think I'll be bragging about it for some time. I realize that some people do more than three or even four things in a day and this post may be lost on them, if these people exist.

I didn't go to the MOMA or anything like that but I did take the subway and crossed a bridge into Manhattan. That was after taking a frigid walk through the Botanic Garden (thing #1) with a friend and their little girl. We counted the ducks (two) and my son fell on his face, one time. We also had lunch. Then Diego and I were off to the Manhattan family court where I swore I would never bring a child of my own.

Guilt, a gentle prodding

Doesn't it go without saying that the selfish things I've done at Diego's expense make me feel guilty? The one that makes me feel terrible is fighting with Matt in front of the boy. I also feel bad about watching the Golden Girls while he plays. Taking him on long boring jogs never seems fair to him. Deciding to quit breastfeeding at six months is a classic guilt churner, not to mention being lazy about his meals. Well, I don't feel any better for getting that off my chest, probably because I know that some of that is not going to stop. But, generally speaking, it's not a debilitating guilt and the show does go on.

When both parents work part time

I love going to work which is not to say that I love my job. The two and a half days that I spend in midtown Manhattan balance out the two and a half days at home with Diego. Matt covers the other two and a half days and we compare notes during the overlap to try to be consistent with rules (only a few) and potty training (which is currently nowhere). This schedule began when the boy was six months old and it has worked thus far. We surprise ourselves by the little money we earn while the mortgage gets paid and we keep up our health insurance. Of course, it's Aetna, so don't go getting sick anyone! Matt also surprises himself by how little work he gets done since two and a half days is more conducive to the straightforward work that I do. At the Legal Referral Service of the Bar Association, my job ends when I hang up the phone and walk out the door.

By all accounts, Matt is better at most things than me. How did this become accepted as truth, unsure. But lets review the facts: whose college Ultimate Frisbee team went to Nationals, twice? Well, it wasn't the Colby's men's team! We may have placed last-ish, but the Tufts E-Women were present in 1991 and 1994. Fast-forward to the present and it's time for a new assessment.    

What to expect from a candidate, lowering the bar

I like Hillary and Obama generally speaking but they both voted for the Patriot Act which is loathsome to me. Being robbed of such basic civil liberties is both an outrageous abuse of power and unamerican. But since I don't expect candidates to embrace all my beliefs, I can settle for one of them, either of them, in many ways. I am impressed and daunted by Hillary's immigration plan; the idea that illegal immigrants can step forward and stop living in fear is very moving to me. I voted for Hillary because she's qualified and I'd like to see the ultimate glass ceiling broken. Now, since women make 77 cents to the man's dollar, what would her presidential salary look like?

Please don't make me party in the suburbs

We went to a party in Chappaqua, NY. It was really Mount Kisco, but someone called it Chappaqua, and the hosts' children could attend the famed public schools, so I wasn't going to argue about borders. Soon after we arrived, I was asked whether I was feeling the pull of the suburbs. I looked disquietly around and responded, no, what is the opposite of pull? Something along the lines of the repel of the suburbs is what I felt. I was nervous about furnishing so many rooms and concerned about the rooms that held no purpose, save sitting or piano playing. I fear excessive storage space for rarely used objects and felt like little Alice in an overgrown world. Someone was playing house and the rest of us were playing along. Perhaps I should add that I was the designated driver and it's not like I was pregnant or allergic to alcohol.

So what is the obsession with the suburbs and, additionally, with suburban women. I recently read Four Wives, by Wendy Walker, where it's all about struggling marriages and struggling parenthood in suburbia.

The housewives of NYC, a reality

For someone who doesn't watch a lot of TV, I watch a lot of TV. At least I can speak "intelligently" about what's on the tube. I'm not sure exactly when I manage to watch, but I do, and am well versed in reality television. This knowledge reaches beyond the classics, such as Project Runway and Top Chef, and extends to the seemingly more obscure Girls Next Door (what antics are the Playboy bunnies up to today?) and the colossal trash that is the Real Housewives of Orange County.

I was a little unnerved to learn that Bravo anticipates a NYC version of Real Housewives to debut in March. It is one thing to watch a ditsy, rich Californian of Orange County, transformed by plastic surgery, pick up her son from juvenile detention and quite another to consider the New York City equivalent.

Sexism versus racism- the presidential election

We were watching the most recent presidential debates and debating amongst ourselves whether the country was more prepared to accept a woman or a black man as president. Presumptuous considering the multitude of white male republican candidates. When my brother-in-law referred to Hillary Clinton as sounding "at best, like a first grade teacher," I simply rolled my eyes. But I feel strongly that her accomplishments should not be reduced to elementary school instruction. I don't think there is anything easy about teaching first graders but she is a United States Senator and I find the remark to be undeniably sexist. You don't hear anyone comparing John Edwards or Mitt Romney to a schoolmarm or describing them as shrill.