Blizzard of 2009

We’re back from our holiday travels, and I am just now sorting through the “Blizzard of 09” pictures. We didn’t break any records with our 8-inches of precipitation, but it was fun to see right before we ditched the Northeast for warmer Christmas destinations.

It turns out Lolo places snow in the same category as sand, amusing to look at but better left as a hypothetical pastime.

She wanted no part in it other than to watch us shovel. She does enjoy that it requires a very specific and special wardrobe though.

Pondering When To Have a Second Child

It always happens. When you start to ponder something internally, you suddenly notice that “thing” everywhere. Whether you’re thinking about finally buying skinny jeans or getting your teeth whitened, it’s now all the rage amongst the cool moms. Well, if you haven’t been walking the mean streets of suburbia lately, everyone is pregnant.

As with all stages of life, you find yourself taking the same steps at relatively the same time as your peers. Sometimes you’re the first to jump and sometimes you’re the last. Our ticket to adulthood was the tried and true path of college, marriage, graduate school, baby and then suburbia. With a house, a yard and a dog, it’s assumed you will have at least two children, most likely close in age.

When we were trying to get pregnant with our first, I had this notion that I would want to have the second baby pretty soon thereafter. It sounded like a fine idea. A good use of time and resources. Just add it to my Google calendar and set an alarm. I already felt behind trying to have my first at 30. But, the reality of how much birthing and mothering take out of you from both an emotional and physical standpoint slaps you in the face and dashes all your plans for efficiency.

Don’t get me wrong, I have always visualized myself with more than one child. I was an only child for most of my life and wished I had that insta-companionship with a sibling. Now I can’t imagine my life without my brother. But, honestly, right now, I’m in a groove. I can shower, eat, get to the gym, get to the park, play, shop for groceries with one hand and send a few emails during the day all while helping Lolo learn and grow each day. And, I haven’t even mentioned how hard it’s been to lose most of the baby weight. So, why do I want to shake it all up if I’m comfortable with where I am?

Because you’ve got to keep up. Right?

And, this is when Parenting Magazine arrives in the mail with the headline, “When is the perfect time to have your second baby?” I ripped into the issue hoping for a little objective truth. Seemingly they analyze every angle of the equation interviewing moms with two kids under two and two five years apart. What they come up with is an even-handed spreadsheet of pros and cons that leads you nowhere.

I feel the pressure. When we’re at a mommy-and-me class, other moms ask if she’s my “only one”. Friends ask if we’re thinking about it. I start to regret every time I ever asked anyone if they were having another baby. With your first, you dive in guns blazing because you’re ready to have a baby right now and won’t stop until you have one. When you think about doing it again, you know how steep the cliff is. You know how far you will have to free fall backward and how hard it will be to claw your way back.

Is this urge I’m having a result of watching too many episodes of “A Baby Story?” (Really, it’s on all the time. I think Pampers pays TLC to air it at naptime to ensure future revenue.) Am I afraid of being left behind? When I’m finally ready, will my ovaries have closed up shop?

That’s when I realized that many of the moms I know needed a little (a lot of) help making the leap as well. They didn’t really try to get pregnant with their second but they didn’t try to prevent it either. It’s a very conscious effort to let it just happen because they couldn’t jump without a push.

If we analyzed all the variables, pluses and minuses, we would never do it. It’s insane. It’s just an insane proposition to instantly add a new human being to your family. Even more insane if you already have a tiny human that needs all of your time and attention save the two hours a week you get on the treadmill. So if I am to make sense of all of this data and wrap this article up. To take that necessary step, you have to let go of rationality? In the end, you just have to want all the wonderful things a baby brings, and not think about all the poop.

If I abandon my fears and let mother nature take its course, can I then get back on my Google calendar and schedule my postpartum tummy tuck?

Fat Tree

This year’s tree is a little bigger than last year’s shrub. We visited a Christmas Tree farm in the hinterlands of New Jersey and picked out what looked like one of the smaller ones on the lot. With the fresh perspective of our living room and little salmon-colored couch, it looked a little larger. Enormous. But, Lolo loves it and can’t start her day without turning on the “Kis-kus Tree lights.”

Last year's shrub. It's now a vital part of our landscape as we planted it in our yard after the holiday.

It’s Easier to Dance in Cozy Pants

Randomly Lolo noticed a dollhouse image in one of her picture books that she has seen a thousand times and said, “dollhouse please,” as in, I need one NOW. So, I thought it was the perfect time to “ask Santa” for a dollhouse. Without missing a beat she started chanting for Santa at the top of her lungs as if he was upstairs in the bathroom and could instantly produce a toy.

Not satisfied with calling out to this mysterious-giver-of-wishes, we went into the playroom to write Santa a letter (since I don’t have his mobile number). We mailed the letter yesterday and have been dancing to Christmas music while we wait for his arrival ever since.

(You’ll notice that shortly after recording some footage, she wants to “see” the results. She knows that digital cameras provide that instant satisfaction so you can gaze at your hilarious self.)

Giving Thanks for Stickerbooks

Before the turkey was dressed or the sweet potatoes sliced, the extended Stinkerbean clan decided that it would be quite festive and fun to head into the city on Wednesday for some sight seeing and shopping. Lolo was enthralled with the process of riding the “choo-choo” in her very own seat with four adults to dote on her. Navigating Penn Station and the #1 train downtown to Union Square was a breeze due to the fact that we were traveling post-post-rush hour, and I had ample hands to help carry the bags and stroller up and down the subway stairs.

We sipped lattes, mingled and jingled at Urban Outfitters where my father couldn’t believe people actually chose to listen to their ongoing soundtrack (clearly tortured Indie Rock is lost on him), walked amongst the crowds, and munched on a yummy and casual lunch. We were definitely on the downslope of our adventure after eating, but I thought it would be a good idea to head to the bookstore so Lolo would have something to occupy her on the trip home. (It turned out to be our saving grace.) Clearly the 5 story Barnes and Noble on the Square is her mecca. She would have slept overnight had we not lured her out with a Wonder Pets stickerbook, otherwise known as pure gold to a toddler.

As soon as we made it to the NJ Transit section of Penn Station, I realized what a show we were walking into. It was the Wednesday before the holiday and people were leaving the city a little early with all manner of suitcases, boxes, equipment, and live pets in cages. It was a zoo and we were trapped in the middle. The situation was only made worse by the fact that they don’t announce which track you’re train will be leaving from until 10 minutes before its scheduled departure. We got caught in the classic 50/50 odds and chose the wrong side of the station to hedge our bets on as we were shoulder-to-shoulder with New York’s population. In an Amazing Race turn of events, we were separated from each other as soon as the track was announced. I had the baby, my brother had the stroller, my dad had the tickets and my mom pulled up the rear somewhere in the crowd with our bags. There was a little holiday spirit mixed into the chaos though. A random businessman reached out to hold my arm all the way down the stairs so I wouldn’t be pushed forward while carrying Lolo. Once the masses made their way to the track, I found my mom and brother, but not my dad. At this point I was thinking, we’ll be the last people on the train and won’t get a seat or simply will be turned away due to capacity. We had no idea if my dad had already descended the escalator to the track or whether he was looking for us on the main level. We couldn’t split up to find him but couldn’t get on the train without him.

We opted to stick together and go down to the track at least. In a movie-like scence, we looked all the way up and down the track and saw no one until suddenly a crowd dispersed and my dad appeared. We ran for the last door and hopped on together. The only reason the train hadn’t left was that a transit employee was arguing with a passenger. Classic Jersey.

People were standing in every possible crevice, and we pushed our way into the body of the train so we could at least be in an aisle with plenty to hold onto. I plopped Lolo down on the floor, asked my mom for the stickerbook and was ready to sit on floor of the NJ transit train myself to entertain my daughter when a saint offered me his seat. Then another saint offered my mom a place. I was reeling from the stress and chaos and pushing and worry, and my child was squealing with joy over “Linny, Tuck and Min Ming, too”. In fact, the entire train car knew she was using a sticker book as she has one volume level, and it’s “ON”. The book itself advertised over 700 stickers and I think we exhausted at least a third of those in the 35 minute train ride home. Thank you Wonder Pets and Happy Thanksgiving! Now open the wine.