The times, they are a changin’ October 21, 2009

I have had several experiences lately that have really brought home to me how different my life is now.  Somehow – and I think I’ve said this before – it’s not the big stuff like the fact that I can’t just spontaneously go out after work, or always have a high chair in my kitchen.  It’s the smaller things.  The things I didn’t anticipate before.  A few examples of changes:

Dinner theater — before, this meant you’d do something fun and kind of cheesy, like going to Tony N Tina’s Wedding or something.  You would have dinner at the theater.  Now, however, it means that I have to sing the same songs over and over again while Darwin eats, so that I keep him distracted enough to keep eating things that he wasn’t excited about.  He really likes marches and fight songs, so I sing a lot of “Bear Down, Chicago Bears.”  There also have to be big hand gestures and funny faces.  All this in our kitchen, with a window that faces our neighbor’s kitchen, where they can see everything that goes on.  I’m sure they think I’m crazy.  Especially when I get really desperate, and start doing high kicks and putting my leg up on the counter and reaching under it to grab Darwin, contorting myself, pulling muscles and generally looking like an idiot.  All so that he’ll eat more spinach.

Dialing for dollars – it used to be that a radio station would give away 2 tickets to the Journey concert if you were the 7th caller.  So, you’d get on the phone, call, get a busy signal, then hang up and push redial for half an hour or so it seemed like.  This week, I have found myself doing the same thing, only now it’s in order to get my child a flu vaccine.  Our pediatrician only gets a limited supply, because they get it without preservatives, or something, and kids under 2 can’t get the mist kind, so they have to get a shot, which apparently appears in the same amounts as water on Mars.  So, I got an email one night that they got some in, and the next morning I left a staff meeting early so I could call right when the office opened, and sat on the phone like I was trying to win those Journey tickets.  Call, busy signal, hang up, redial.  Finally got through and got an appointment — at 11:20, which means that I’ll take Darwin in, get him a flu shot, then have to drop him off at daycare right in the middle of naptime where he’ll scream and cry and wake everyone up because he’ll be expecting to stay home by then.  If he’s not at daycare by 8, then he just assumes he’s staying home.  But it was just such an accomplishment to get an appointment, I felt like I couldn’t complain that it wasn’t convenient.  When you finally get the golden ticket, you can’t tell Willy Wonka that you have a math test that day so you can’t come.

Vacations — Ha.  Vacations.  Vacation used to mean traveling to China or India, and looking disdainfully at those people who chose to spend their time sitting on a beach doing nothing.  Now, what I wouldn’t give to sit on a beach and do nothing!  Some friends of ours are planning a trip to Cancun with their kids, and have invited a bunch of us to go with our kids, too.  Sounds great, right?  Family vacation that involves pina coladas and a pool and massages!  And, in the past, we would have just made the decision to go, if we could afford it.  But now — now there’s all sorts of other factors to take into account.  Sure, we could afford it, but what if we dropped the money on this vacation and it turned out to be NOT relaxing?  That Darwin ran around the resort drooling on high powered businessmen and their trophy wives, and instead of drinking pina coladas, we just chased him around for 5 days, much like we do at home, only with the danger of heatstroke?  And, sure, I have the vacation days, but can I really use them when Darwin was so sick last winter and I had to take so much time off?  Shouldn’t I save my vacation days for afternoons of ear infections and swine flu?  These are things I never would have worried about in the past — my biggest worry about this type of vacation would have been that I wouldn’t get any “culture,” or be able to “explore.”  Now, my biggest worry is that my kid will get eaten if we visit the onsite alligator farm.

Somehow, life doesn’t seem that different when I’m in the middle of it, but as soon as I can take a step back, catch my breath, and think about things, I realize how different things are.  While some friends are going out 12 nights in a row, if I go out one out of 12 nights, I feel pretty social.  The times, they really are changing.  And if you have any suggestions for songs in 2/2 time that lend themselves to looking ridiculous, please let me know.

Best weekend evah September 21, 2009

OK, so the first thing that made this weekend awesome was Darwin being unbelievably cute.  He does this thing, wherein he sits somewhere (usually on a step, or with his back to the wall) and goes “Choo Choo!’  You then sit with him and say “We’re on a train!  Where are we going?”  He replies “To the mooooooooon!”  You then say, “To the Moon?  That’s pretty far.  I hope you packed your oxygen/spacesuit/good book.”  He then stands up, puts both hands on top of his head and says “Uh-Oh!  Forgot it!” and runs away.  You then collapse in giggles.

The other part of my awesome weekend involves living in an awesome city.  Here is a rundown of awesomeness:

Thursday:  I go with Colleen to see writers reading from their works featured in the new Granta snooty literary magazine featuring Chicago (only the second city ever featured by Granta, after London).  We then to go The Bad Apple, close to my house, and eat the best burgers ever, and choose from an amazing beer selection, and have a great time with good friends who put up with me even when I hurl embarrassing curses at clips of the OSU-USC game on the TV.

Friday:  Darwin and I visit the North Park Nature Center, where, while we could still hear traffic from Peterson Avenue, we come within 6 feet of two deer, get swooped by an owl, and see bees making honey.  In the afternoon, we went to the Sulzer Library where Darwin made the security guard laugh out loud by taking a shopping basket, carrying it to the middle of the floor, putting it down, and climbing in. That evening, Joe and I watched the No Reservations show where Bourdain comes to Chicago, and waxes poetic about how great the city is, and how, besides New York, it’s the only real city in America.

Saturday:  Joe, Darwin and I walk to Apple Fest in Lincoln Square (which is entirely too crowded for a stroller), then have afternoon beers and a snack at the Grafton (Darwin had water, not beer), and meet co-workers at Welles park, where we catch peeks at a circus going on and play on the slide in the park.

Sunday:  Rally day at church with street closures and all.  But we don’t go, as it’s naptime.  So we go home and nap.  After nap, we visit our old babysitter, a lovely woman from Ghana, and feel lucky that we live somewhere that Darwin knows people from Ghana.  And then the Bears win.

All in all, a wonderful Chicago weekend, making me so happy to live here.  Which is good, because as of this morning, I am fighting my way through two permitting snaggles (for work, not renovations.  Sigh) and dealing with surly city employees and wishing I lived in Mayberry where I could walk to Andy Griffith’s house and ask him if we could have root beer floats on Walton Street Saturday without worrying about permits and forms and insurance endorsements, and have Aunt Bea offer me a piece of pie.

Loves it September 1, 2009

A blog that has links to buying an oil painting of the Dramatic Chipmunk, a rant about sex offenders, and a poll dancing doll toy?  How can I NOT love it!

http://whitetrashmom.com/

Empty Net August 26, 2009

Well, we’ve gone and done it.  We’ve pulled the goalie, as it were, and my ovaries are unprotected, in the hopes that there will be a new little person in our lives in the next year or so.  It’s a very strange feeling, and I’m not sure how exactly I feel about it, to be honest.  I think this is evolution at its strongest — to know how hard it was the first time around, and how much I did not enjoy the first 6-9 months of having a baby, and then to imagine how hard it will be with a toddler and a baby, a toddler who has been an only child for 2 years and is used to undivided attention, a toddler who may or may not nap at the same time as the baby, a toddler who has just begun to throw honest-to-god writhing on the floor and hitting people temper tantrums — but yet, to want to do it all again.

I wish I could give some kind of vacuous reason like “his smiles make it all worth it” or something.  And indeed, baby giggles are the most amazing and wonderful thing I have ever experienced, and would summon my patronus if I had one.  But that’s not really it.  I don’t hear Darwin’s giggles and think “Ah, yes, more.  That’s what I need.  More.”  I feel like I’m just emerging from the woods, where Darwin is just now becoming a real person, someone who can tell me what he wants, someone who has a sense of humor, someone I can imagine someday going over to a friend’s house for the afternoon while Mommy has a glass of wine and reads her book — and now we’ve just decided to go right back into those woods again.  The deep dark woods of sleepless nights, of having no idea why someone you love more than life itself is crying, of worrying obsessively about pesticides or measles or dog attacks or whatever, of not talking to my husband for weeks on end because we’re both so tired.

And it’s not just the baby itself, after arrival.  It’s the horrible anxiety during pregnancy.  Last time, I know how worried I was.  This time, I’m older, I know a lot more about what could go wrong, and ironically, the fact that none of my friends have children with Down syndrome or any other issue makes me more certain that it must just mean the odds are it will be me.  Whenever I think about it, I can’t believe our luck (dare I say, the blessing?) that Darwin turned out to be such a wonderful, perfect baby (OK, despite the hip harness, head helmet and irritable bowel syndrome, but relatively perfect…..)  Can it really happen again?  How can I ever really believe it can?  Already, my stomach is in knots just thinking about it, worrying about all those chromosomes trying to get to the right places, replicate just enough but not too much, direct the operations correctly.  I mean, I don’t understand how a telephone works — how can I possibly feel comfortable growing a whole person?

But yet….

But yet, I still want to go through this all again.  Maybe it’s the same drive that allows you to date again after getting your heart broken, or gets you to taste lima beans just one more time, or try reading Gravity’s Rainbow again and maybe getting to page 400 this time.  Whatever it is, it’s there.  People do this all the time, right?  They have 2 children.  They seem perfectly happy.  They have lives.  They smile occasionally.  It may not be until their children have gone off to college, but they do smile.  I’ve seen them.  I hope I can be one.

Finally July 28, 2009

A reason I should be happy that JoeKim, although several years older, looks many years younger than I do — for example, when we went out for his 36th birthday, HE got carded and I didn’t! Unfair! But, a couple nights ago some guy came to the door for money, and when Joe answered, said “Is your mom or dad at home?” Joe said “No, sorry,” and the guy left. Mind you, Joe is going to be 40 this year.

And so it begins July 15, 2009

At our last doctor’s appointment with Darwin, she told us that the “terrible twos” could begin really anytime now. Perhaps she is psychic. There seems to be an unhappy convergence of Darwin’s independence, curiosity, stubbornness and minimal language, and it makes things wonderful and difficult all at the same time.

Recently, Darwin was very unhappy to sit in his stroller on the way to daycare. And when he becomes unhappy in his stroller, he can push down with his legs in such a way that one cannot actually steer it or move it. So one takes him out to walk a while.   But, when walking, he was also unhappy to go in the right direction. There were just too many dogs, fences, buses and trees to look at and touch. He stood looking at cats (“a cat!  “a cat!”  “a cat!”)  in a doorway for many minutes, and I had to physically pick him up and carry him half a block — but of course he ran back when I put him down. So I carried him farther. Then there was a dog in the alley (“a dog!”  “a dog!”  “a dog!’  “Hai dog!”). Then he wanted to go straight when we had to turn. Every time he was foiled he screamed and cried. If no one on our block was awake by 7am, they had their own little alarm clock. When we arrived at daycare (finally) he was fine, which was good, and I was regaled with stories (more stories, since I had been treated to them the day before also) of Darwin’s Amazing Poop Explosion the previous day. When I finally left, I was a half hour late, and of course had to email something to someone for a 9am meeting.  On the way home, he saw a woman and pointed at her saying “Mommy!”  Every woman seems to be a mommy.  However, he tried to follow this particular “mommy” into her house.  Luckily, a call of “Hey, how about following THIS mommy over here, since she’s the one with your dinner?”  worked.  But for the whole walk home, he would walk a ways, then look up and suddenly say “A house!  A house!” as if he had never seen one before, as if we lived in rural North Dakota instead of a densely populated area where the houses are as far apart as Michael Jordan’s arm spread (I think that’s in the zoning laws or something).  He would run up the walk yelling “a house!”, and I would have to either call him, or in many instances, pick him up and place him back on the sidewalk, trying to distract him with something further up in the right direction, like a bush or a tree or (jackpot!) a dog.

Then, the very next day, not having learned my lesson, we flew on a plane. During naptime. I thought, “Ah, we’ll fly at naptime, and Darwin will fall asleep like a veritable cherub. All around us will comment on his cuteness and calm nature.” And, had he been 6 months old, this logic probably would have played out well. However, he is almost 2. So, instead, there was screaming, crying, kicking (of the person next to us, who was just trying to sleep. Ha). The woman in the seat behind us jingled her keys to no avail. The flight attendant said “can I do anything?” A sharp stick to the eye, perhaps? It was quite possibly the worst screaming of any child on any flight I have ever been on. And it was my child. Lucky me. Lucky passengers to Philadelphia. No amount of grapes, Curious George books, toy cars, cell phones, or crackers would do anything to stem the tide of toddler tantrum. I even tried breastfeeding. Breastfeeding! A 20-month-old! On an airplane! Nada.  He just needed to be somewhere different, doig something different.  Preferably climbing up or down something, or sitting on top of a parent singing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.”  These things are difficult to accomplish on an airplane.

Once we were safely on the ground, and let all the other passengers off (hurriedly, I’m sure, with several terrified and/or dirty looks in our direction) Darwin was fine. Of course. My mom came to pick us up, driving 2 hours (she thought it might be “easier” than having us change planes and fly closer). She got a flat tire in the cell phone lot. A very nice man from the hotel shuttle fixed it, and put on our donut spare tire. Which went flat about an hour into our drive. So then we spent an hour at a random tire place (which serendipitously had appeared just off the highway). Again, happy toddler, looking at tires and saying “Hai!” to everyone he saw.  Because we were mostly on his terms again.  He could wander around pretty much at will, look at new and interesting things (like tire treads and old coffee), and be doted upon by a mother, grandmother and paternal tire guy.  Maybe I could bring some old coffee, chewed gum and Michelin brochures on our next plane flight.

Just like old times. Sort of. June 24, 2009

Making your way as a mother is a little bit like that line from Pulp Fiction, where John Travolta is talking about life in France, and says “It’s the little differences. I mean, they got the same shit over there that they got here, but it’s just – it’s just there it’s a little different.” Often, you do the same things you used to do, but it’s the little things that make it seems a lot different.

A couple of weeks ago, a bunch of friends got together to go to Blues Fest. With our children. I have to admit (sorry Sara) that on the el ride there, I was grumbling. I have never been a big fan of crowds, and crowds with a very short person who has inherited my sense of direction and Joe’s sense of adventure seemed especially torturous. Not to mention the PREPARATION! Do we have sunblock? Do we have extra diapers? Do we have snacks? Do we have a change of clothes? Do we have money for beer? (Incidentally, we actually had none of those things, except the diapers and money for beer. That’s the genius of meeting friends who also have kids — SOMEONE has a bag of grapes, has made snickerdoodles, and has diapers in your kid’s size). Once we got there, though, it was great. Of course, little Dash Dartley Kim did his thing — within the first 15 minutes, he had “made friends” with the family on the blanket next to ours, getting a piece of cheese (and one for Joe), as well as a ball to play with. This was, of course, before he ran headlong into the steady stream of people walking by along the path, with strollers or lawnchairs or looking straight up at a particularly interesting cloud. And before he made a beeline for every puddle he could see.

It did feel good to be out and about, doing the things we used to do, and feeling like one can still have a life, even when one has procreated. Although I do have to admit that when Darwin strayed a bit farther, and ended up in a circle of 20-somethings with their surreptitious red plastic cups of cheap beer and their cigarettes, I wanted to take each one of them by the shoulders and say “please, please enjoy yourself. Someday, you may be me.” I did say, as I was whisking Darwin away from one PTY with her smokes and her cup, “No, no, honey. This USED to be mommy. Then we had you. Now we’re over on the green tarp with the stroller.” So, back we went. When we all looked back at the young-uns, we realized that they had not brought a tarp, or a blanket, or extra snacks, or books, toy cars, or even a change of clothes. The only thing important enough to remember was a cooler and those red plastic cups. Somehow, the only person in our group who remembered to smuggle in alcohol to Blues Fest was grandmother to two of the toddlers (which gives me hope that someday your brain reverts to normal).

Then, Joe was superdad and took Darwin home to put him to bed, and I went out with a couple of the other moms for a drink or three. I felt very footloose and fancy free, and felt even better when I actually ran into someone at the bar that I knew. I know people! People who go out on a Saturday! And they acknowledge me! But again, it’s the little differences. Like the fact that I can barely keep my eyes open past 10pm, and can’t seem to make conversation that doesn’t involve bodily functions or “milestones.” Luckily, we had met up with some friends who are childless, and could keep us endlessly amused with their witty, very much awake stories while we just enjoyed being out past sunset.

After that weekend, I then had a much less interesting weekend this past weekend. I spent my Friday in front of the TV, and “I Love Lucy” was on. It was an episode right after they had Little Ricky, and the premise was that he wouldn’t go to sleep, and Lucy was tired, and the neighbors were complaining, and then finally when he went to sleep, Big Ricky came home from the Club and woke everyone up. I honestly had to turn it off because I couldn’t watch. Lucy looked so tired, Ricky gave so many “helpful” suggestions, and there was so much crying that it just hit a little close to home. So, I then spent my Friday evening watching the Square Pegs marathon. We really need to get cable again.

This weekend we’ll be attending a birthday party — for an adult — and leaving Darwin with the grandparents. It will be interesting to note the little differences once again, as we have a life, but one that’s through the Looking Glass.

I’ve turned June 2, 2009

Somehow, toddler giggles and Darwin smiles are making me less tempted by alcohol, late nights and holding grudges. Who is this nice, motherly, non-psycho person I am becoming?? It’s very strange. On Saturday, we had a BBQ at our house, and afterwards, Joe went to Mayfest with some friends. That was at 6:30. At midnight, he came home, pretty much incoherent. Things like “Who did you see at Mayfest?” Were met with responses like “Yes.” When I explained I said “Who,” which usually involves an answer of a name, I got “Don’t pretend that way with me,” or something like that. (I tried several times to re-create the “conversations” I tried to have, but could not fully capture the non-sequitur-ness of the night accurately.)  Then, Joe stumbled off to bed, holding tightly onto the wall (and still almost taking a digger in the 10 feet from living room to bedroom). When I came to bed a bit later, I was surprised to find that, contrary to tradition, Joe had not spread out all over the bed and then passed out immovable, so I only had 3 square inches in which to sleep. But, I then realized it was because he had passed out on the floor, fully clothed, next to his side of the bed. Sigh.  I was magnanimous and threw a blanket and pillow over the side of the bed around 3am.

But, the point is that the next day, Darwin and I went to church, where Darwin clapped after every choir song, pointed at all the lectors and said “ooooh!” when they got up to read, tried to share his sippy cup with all around us, and was generally super duper cute (one woman actually sought us out after the service and said “I want to babysit him.  Tell me when you want to go out to dinner sometime and I’ll come over.”  Score!). Then I planted geraniums in the front yard. Then, at 3pm, when Joe was still passed out sleeping off Mayfest, Darwin and I went to the zoo (where he was much more excited about the squirrel and the empty pigpen that was being hosed down than about gnus, kangaroos or gorillas). And you know what? I didn’t even care that Joe was in bed all day, and that I was solo parenting. I didn’t care that Joe was out late whooping it up while I was watching MeTV (no cable. Sigh). I had such a great day with Darwin, and he was so happy and smiling and endearing to strangers, that I was just glad to have the day. Weird, huh?

A part of me is kind of sad about that. I mean, I am really good at drinking and holding grudges, and society tells me that those things are FUN. Desperate Housewives is a lot more fun to watch than Seventh Heaven. And if 5 years ago, someone else would have told me the same story, and said “But I don’t care, because I had such a great day with my son, and am just so thankful for it,” I would have: a) not believed them one whit, and b) felt sorry for their boring life. And had another drink.

But a part of me is really happy about it, too. I really DID have a great day. It was beautiful out, and we live in an awesome city, and Darwin was just a peach the whole day. I had a lot of fun enjoying the city, enjoying the sunshine, and enjoying being a mom, and really feel like Joe missed out, and that’s punishment enough.

I am still making him wash diapers today, though.

Meeting of the minds May 12, 2009

We took Darwin to his new daycare for the first time today (we can walk to it! It’s in the city! Hooray!). There is a kid in his class whose name is — I’m not kidding — Voltaire. It’s a very learned group over there in the toddler room, apparently.

Good news and Bad news May 6, 2009

Well, as you may have divined from the subject of this post (sorry it’s been so long, by the way — a fundraiser, a program a week, and a toddler apparently take up some time), I have the proverbial good news and bad news.

The good news: we’re moving home this weekend! I cannot wait. Tonight is my last ride to Hinsdale on the train, and I am planning a celebratory tallboy beer for my ride already, and it’s only 8am. I can’t wait to get back to our own house, with free-range kitties who are not locked in the basement, and no guilt if I spill something on the floor. What a relief!

The bad news: Not one blessed thing has been done for renovation, and we’re moving home because Joe got laid off and renovation is on hold. We were so close! We had bids from 3 separate contractors, and were ready to select one, and then this. We’ll probably still select a contractor and get a permit, and see what happens. The permit is good for a year, so you never know. It’s just a bummer, for so many reasons. Joe is such a smart guy, with good qualifications, that I know he’ll be fine, and the fact that we didn’t start the renovations works in our favor, because we have a year’s salary saved up (and when I say “we,” I mean “Joe,” as I just bounced several checks. Oopsie.), so we should be fine.

And I have to admit that I’m a little jealous of Joe — in the same way I’m jealous of people in traction: “Oh, I know it must suck to have bedsores and not be able to move, but still — you DO get to lie down all day….” I know that Joe feels terrible about losing his job, especially because he has that whole manly guy provider thing, but when I find the Oprah magazines in an unmade bed, and the wine glass on the counter, I have to admit there is a twinge of jealousy. His trip to the unemployment office yesterday, his numerous calls to aggressive and somewhat berating recruiters, and his constant resume revision do not inspire any such envy in me, however. Not to mention the self-doubt. I have more than enough as it is, thank you very much.

But, back to the good news. we are moving home! We found a daycare 2 blocks from our house — the hours that it’s open may be a little tricky, but it’s doable. We still have to figure out how to make sure the cats can get to the litter box but Darwin will not fall to his death down the basement stairs. We’ll have to mow our own lawn, and I’m sure we’ll miss the dishwasher. But, I just can’t wait to be back in the city, taking the el, walking to parks, just in time for summer. That tallboy on the train tonight is going to taste mighty fine.