My Hodge Podge Post

When you haven't written in such a long time, the pressure of writing a catch-up post becomes monumental...so much so that you end up procrastinating the catch-up post and the cycle keeps self perpetuating. So I'm just going to throw a bunch of stuff out there, in a completely random and uneloquent fashion just to get something on this blog and loosen the self-imposed pressure a little bit.

It snowed buckets and buckets in our little southern city, which means it snowed a completely reasonable amount for any northern city but we were completely paralyzed as the entire city shut down here. I think it was less than a foot, actually, but since there just isn't enough equipment to clear it, we were a bit stranded. Thankfully we live in the city, 2.5 blocks from the grocery store, so we made a trek through the "blizzard" to buy some essentials (and by essentials I mean hot sake) and I must say the LFM was completely nonplussed by the fact that everything in the vicinity was covered in white and the sky was suddenly full of falling white polka dots. You would have thought this was completely normal to him. He was all "Yeah yeah, falling white shit...how boring. But are there any dogs around? Now those are exciting!"

Which brings me to my next little tidbit...the LFM is now talking! He says about 4 words: Mama, Papa, chat (French for cat), and chien (French for dog). Chat and chien sound pretty much almost exactly alike, though he seems to know the specific animals they relate to. However every other animal he sees at all, be it in person or in pictures, is officially a chien. We pretty much pass each day with him pointing to every person he sees and saying "Papa!" and pointing to every animal and/or window and joyously calling out "chien? chien? chien?". The neighbors in the house behind us have a dog that often stands on the deck railing, so the LFM is constantly asking (and by asking I mean pointing and whining or shrieking) to be lifted up to look out of the window or have me open the back door so that he can perhaps catch a glimpse of this godly creature. He has serious chien worship. And Papa worship. Mama, however, she's just chopped liver.

Our sweet little baby is becoming quite the headstrong toddler. Meaning we love him dearly, but we don't always like him very much. Particularly when he's flinging his body on the floor and shrieking like a pterodactyl. I'm trying really hard to remember to let it go once each episode is over and not hold any residual frustration towards him, which in some instances can be a challenge. But toddlers exist in the moment and so our interactions with them need to be the same. I also try to always be sure I parent from the child's perspective and not the parent's perspective. This means I look at the fact that maybe the LFM is really frustrated by his limited ability to communicate instead of merely seeing that he keeps pointing at things and screaming maniacally.

I don't mean to sound like he's only a challenge, because that's not at all the way it is. In fact, I'd still say that he is an incredibly sweet and mild mannered child, and he's an absolute joy most of the time. I'm only being honest about the other times and admitting that parenting has become more challenging and complex. I'm sure this is just the tip of the iceberg, and I'm definitely sure that I'm not the first Mama to go through this...I know its all part of the glorious package of parenthood.

And now my sweet boy has just woken up from his nap, so this will have to suffice for now. At least I wrote something.

One Year Ago Today

My sweet monkey,

One year ago today I woke up at 5:30am and knew that your journey from the dark ethereal comfort of the womb had begun.
One year ago today I began my own journey to say goodbye to my mother, your Mimi.
One year ago today I called the midwife, worried that I would have to miss my mother's funeral and wept as she assured me that Mimi was holding you in her arms and wouldn't let you go until the time was right.
One year ago today your father stood behind me in support and love and held my hand as I spoke at Mimi's funeral.
One year ago today the contractions were stronger in the car, and weaker during the hardest parts of the day. Thank you for that.
One year ago today my mother's sister, Tati Jo, stood in for my mother, anxiously holding my hand and simply asking every once in a while how I was doing, knowing in the way that only another mother that has traveled this path knows.
One year ago today in completely synchronicity my mother's body began its journey down into the arms of mother earth at the very same time you were making your journey into the arms of your mother.
One year ago today I drank wine and did polar bear exercises to slow the labor as friends and family gathered around in a protective loving circle, oblivious to the work you and I were doing.
One year ago tonight I celebrated my mother's life, knowing yours was about to begin in earnest.
One year ago tonight your father and I drove home with Maren Julia to our sweet little apartment, still decorated for the holidays with soft lights and a lovely coziness.
One year ago tonight I took a bath and tried to sleep in preparation for the hard work of your arrival, but that's when the contractions took off at warp speed and we were on the ride, you and I, whether we liked it or not.
One year ago tonight your father made a sweet safe cocoon of us, filled with yogic chants and shared breath, and so much love the room seemed the vibrate with it.
One year ago tonight I slow danced with your father, spiraling my hips to the ebb and flow of each seemingly endless contraction.
One year ago tonight in an endless night I was "working hard!".
One year ago tonight the midwife entered the room in a perceptible energy shift and a calm ocean descended over the room.
One year ago tonight I was 7 centimeters when the midwife checked me, and I was so proud that we had worked so hard and accomplished so much together, you and I!
One year ago tonight I stepped into the heavenly warm waters of the birthing tub and thought "there's no way any one's getting me out of here!"
One year ago tonight I had to have silence and journey so deep within my self in order to do the work I needed to do to birth you.
One year ago tonight I was so utterly focused, and all that existed in the world was the grand triumvirate of you, your father, and I, working together in common purpose.
One year ago tonight Maren Julia boiled water, Tati Jun Jun massaged my back (well, tried to at least...sorry Jun Jun.), and Doula Sara took pictures as Nancy the midwife guided us with love and such gentle nurturing, saying exactly the right thing at just the right moment.
One year ago tonight, whenever I opened my eyes and looked up, I saw a circle of women holding me up with their supportive energy. Whenever I looked within I saw such love and light, as it was only the three of us, so intertwined, so connected, moving and working together in complete wholeness.
One year ago tonight I fell even more impossibly deeply in love with your father.
One year ago tonight we protected each other as a family, even before we knew your huge brown eyes with their sweeping lashes.
One year ago tonight the waters broke and I cried out in great surprise (and maybe a little relief) "I'm pushing!"
One year ago tonight I withstood the ring of fire 4 times.
One year ago tonight in the wee early hours of the morning, with calm breath and while being held by the strong arms of your father, I pushed you out into the warm water, first your head and then the great slippery surprise of your body.
One year ago tonight you floated up out of the water and into my waiting arms as the midwife uttered the most beautiful phrase I've ever heard: "Reach down and pick up your baby!"
One year ago tonight I held you to my breast and cried tears of pure joy.
One year ago tonight, the greatest love story every written was begun, between you, your father, and I.

We love you, sweet Jonah Niquen. You are such light, such blessing in our lives.

Love,
Maman and Papa

First Halloween

Here is our little stinky man on his first Halloween- no, we didn't dress him as a monkey, we went with whatever the local Goodwill had, and luckily it was a freakin adorable skunk costume! We went with Uncle Noah, Chelsea, and met up with Mim and Chuck and checked out the Halloween craziness on a local street in the artsy neighborhood that is renowned for their Halloween festivities. The street was blocked off, there were hundreds of people milling about and some of the houses were spectacularly done up...they were costumes in and of themselves. Jonah had a great time, although he was a little intimidated by all the people and costumes. People stopped us about every 2 feet to tell us how adorable he was, and WB and I were probably glowing we were beaming with such pride at our sweet stinker. After making the full tour, we went back to Mim and Chuck's for pizza. It was just the perfect speed for us on our first Halloween, and Jonah even met and flirted with a fellow skunk! (although everyone agreed he was the cutest by far)

His new nickname is now Pepe. As in the famous skunk. He seems to love it a lot.

On a side note, I'm exhausted and fried. We're still waiting to be able to close on the new house, although we were able to move all of our furniture in last weekend. The builders seem to be either grossly inept, or they're totally blowing smoke up our asses. It might very well be a combination of both, but I'm at the end of my rope. We're homeless, staying at my Dad's house, and the poor LFM has been so freaked out by these major changes that its like having a newborn again- he only wants to be in my arms and except when he's on playdates or at Mim and Chuck's house, he hasn't been letting me put him down. I think the tide is turning though, and he's starting to adjust to his new surroundings...unfortunately he'll be uprooted again when we move, and then again when we go to Puerto Rico in a couple of weeks. Poor little monkey! Mama's feeling pretty lost too. (not to mention stressed beyond belief) Keep your fingers crossed that we can move in soon...this limbo-land is not for me.

By Way of An Explanation

I kind of neglected to mention this gigantically huge major life changing event that has kind of taken over our lives for the past few months...no, its not another baby, not yet, but we are giving birth in a way...to a new house. We signed a contract on the house when it was barely a shell and some architect's plans, oh it seems like 7 years ago now, though I believe it was probably in June or the beginning of July maybe? And after several months of a lot of running around like headless chickens for the mortgage people, and picking out all the various features in the house like flooring and lighting and bathroom fixtures (and mind you I am making this sound far less stressful than it actually has been), we are finally approaching the end of the tunnel, and we're set to close on the 24th. Yes, as in less than 2 weeks away. I think I just had a mini heart attack while typing that. Please don't ask how much packing we still have left to do, or I just might cry. Its not fair to make a heart attack victim cry.

I'm hoping that after we finally get settled in, we get to relax a little and that's it with the huge major life events...I think we're ready for a break after 2.5 years of relentless stress and change. Of course I fully realize that the Universe is now laughing hysterically at me for having the gall to write that and fate has now been duly tempted. But maybe, just maybe, we can settle in, breathe, and just enjoy being for a little while.

The new house (I totally think she needs to be named) is an eco-friendly house with a live roof (if you click on the 2nd picture of the rear of the house you can kind of see a hint of it), which means we have plants growing on our roof insulating the house like 50% more. Yes, we will have to mow our roof like once a year. We have a tankless hot water heater, low water consumption toilets, energy efficient fixtures, bamboo flooring, concrete and recycled glass counters, recycled glass shower tiles, and other stuff that I'm probably forgetting. The point is, its a house that meshes with our values and will be easier on the pocketbook in terms of utilities too. Plus its in the city, within walking distance of a number of things (still being a New Yorker at heart, this was incredibly important to me), although it is strange that I will be living about 5 blocks from the apartment where I lived through most of college. The neighborhood is transitional, so I think its a really good investment, and hey, considering we almost put all of Mimi's money (which is how we're buying a house in the first place) in the stock market...its an excellent investment.

Now I just have to survive trying to move with a very curious, very mischevious baby!

Start Spreading the News

At Uncle Nick's in the old hood

With Auntie Monkey

And Aunt Mica

With Daddy and Aunt Shea

At Vinyl, yet again hanging on 9th ave in the old hood

Flying with Uncle David in Balsley Park

My Two Loves

With Uncle Artsy Hotpants

Like the truly insane people we seem to have become (three cheers for sleep deprivation) on Memorial Day weekend we packed up the 'ol hybrid and set forth on an epic journey northward, to the place where it all began...New York City. This was the LFM's first trip outside of the womb, and our first family trip since we moved last August. Ummm, New York, we didn't really mean to leave...I mean, when we said we needed space, we just meant temporarily. We didn't want to break up or anything. Sure, we're living with Richmond now, but that doesn't mean anything...you're the one we love, we swear. No one knows us like you do...no one brings out our very best selves like you do. No one does restaurants and pizza like you do. And no one titillates our creative senses like you do. New York, we desperately want to get back together, one day, if we can ever afford it. We're still madly in love with you, and we probably always will be. We haven't discussed it or anything, but I think we both still fantasize about you. And going back? Just made our hearts break all over again.

A Bit of Honesty

Its the middle of the night, the LFM is sleeping soundly, WB is snoring away in the next room and its ideal sleeping situation for me...but I can't sleep. The injustice of what I just typed is overwhelming. So instead, I will enjoy the freedom of typing with two hands, and delve into a little bit of new motherhood honesty.

I'm having a bit of an identity crisis these days. I can't seem to find or recognize myself at all. I know its completely normal..I mean, hell, any number of the major life changes of the past 9 months alone would probably cause an identity crisis of sorts, much less all at once. But here you have it- at moments I feel utterly lost, to myself especially. I know who I am as the LFM's mother, as WB's partner...but who am I now as a person, in addition to those things? Right now I just feel lost. Lost and incredibly boring. I used to be interesting and funny with a quirky edge, and now I am just fat, tired, and incredibly boring.

One thing that may be a difficult factor is that I'm not acting or pursuing acting at the moment, and that's always defined so much of who I am. I feel disconnected from the theatre community here these days, and considering I just left the LFM alone with WB for the first time ever last Saturday, it may be a while before I can even think about doing a show here. I received a phone call yesterday from a casting director in New York, whom I had taken a commercial acting class with several years ago (and who had called me in for a national spot shortly after the class had finished because he liked my work). He was calling to ask me to come in to audition for a commercial, and I had to tell him that I was not currently living in the city. So he asked if I was gone permanently, and I had no idea how to answer that one (especially to a casting director), so I explained that for the moment I was gone because I just had a baby. He congratulated me and said "If you get back in the game, let me know". Ouch! I know I'm no longer in the game, but to hear it spoken out loud crushed a little something in my soul. I'm no longer in the game!

Okay, so then where am I? Where do I even want to be? I've been pining for New York a lot lately, but is that where I really want to be with a child? Or am I pining just a little bit for the life that was?

Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled to be a mother, I adore motherhood, and I love the LFM with a fierceness I never knew was possible. I would not trade motherhood for all the national spots in the world and I knew the moment I saw that little plus sign that the world was going to be a very different place for me. Its just that I'm still not sure what that place is for me and where I fit in with regards to this new world and the remnants of the old world. WB best summed it up tonight at dinner when he said that between cancer and the move from NYC and death and birth and postpartum difficulties, its like we were picked up by this gigantic tornado and torn from everything we knew and transplanted into an entirely new terrain and we're still standing there dizzy and reeling and asking "What the fuck just happened?".

I'm also realizing that I do get a little bit lonely during the day, even though I try to leave the house at least for a little bit every day. Sometimes the interaction with the cashier at the store just isn't quite enough, and while I do love conversing with the LFM all day, his grasp of sarcasm still leaves something to be desired. Yet somehow our days seem so full that to fit in a little extra socializing seems difficult. How can this be? And why is it that the days seem so much easier when we are out and about all day than when we are just at home most of the day?

I know these are all normal new mama feelings that everyone goes through, yet I somehow feel so pathetic for feeling them. That and the fact that I am by far the fattest I've ever been in my life (all those comfort sweets in this difficult postpartum period have not helped, I'm sure) are just plain depressing.

And then I look over at the bed to my sweet boy and everything softens. None of this is permanent. I just keep telling myself that. These are the growing pains of life, and I will find my way again. This is just one of many moments...and I should be enjoying them.

Actually, what I should be doing is sleeping. Grrrrr.....

It Could Always Be Worse

The LFM Hanging at the Coffee Shop

The LFM is a closet Nose Eater

Suppertime!

The Little Astronaut Awaiting Lift Off In His Car Seat

Being Read to by his Tiatielle from France

When I was little, I had this book called It Could Always Be Worse. This man goes to the rabbi and says "Rabbi, my house is so so small. My wife is always nagging and the children are crying and I'm miserable, please help!" So the rabbi says "Take all the chickens from your yard and put them in your house." The man does this and comes back the next week saying how much worse this new arrangement is, so the rabbi advises him to take all the goats from his yard and put them in the house and so on and so forth every week until the man's yard is empty and his house is overflowing. The man is virtually at the point of cracking and the rabbi finally counsels him to take all of the animals back out into the yard. The man, who is left with exactly what he had to begin with, is overjoyed at how spacious and wonderful his house has become and believes the rabbi somehow increased the size of his house. The moral of the story, of course, being it could always be worse.

This has been my postpartum experience so far.

I finally think some of the chickens are going back into the yard though, and I am just now starting to really get to enjoy the spaciousness of my new motherhood.

The LFM is now smiling up a storm- these big gorgeous goofy smiles. They're hard to capture on film (I have one from my Dad's camera that I'm just waiting to get a copy of) but boy, i now understand what they mean when they say a smile can light up a room! His eyes totally sparkle when he smiles...as cliche as it is, they do! Our monkey has also begun to coo and gurgle and grunt in his first efforts at communication. He does this in response to what we say, so it becomes this very surreal conversation of sorts. Like when I was a kid and talked in a make believe language with my friends and really believed we knew what each other was saying. Its really cool to watch him so intently watch what we say and how it all works and then put in his two cents worth however he can. I'm sure he's saying only brilliant things, nothing mundane like how gassy he is at any given moment. Its all brilliant philosophical discourse that we're just far too pedestrian to understand at this point. Perhaps one day we'll be evolved enough...

The most recent development though, is that the LFM has suddenly and inexplicably become a Mama's Boy over the last week. While I am truly flattered by all the attention , it certainly makes getting anything done an impossibility. Whereas I used to be able to do things, like bathe for example, he now has decided that I am solely at his mercy and that no, thank you, but the guy with the beard we call Daddy just won't cut it these days. In fact he has decided to save any and all crying bouts for that Daddy character, just to make him feel that much more special. Luckily, that Daddy character happens to be the best father around, and is taking it all in stride. In fact he's braving the threat of a meltdown right now to give me a little time to type with 2 hands. And I have to admit that he really is such a mellow baby (clearly gets that one from Daddy) that his crying is nothing compared to many other babies I've heard. So I'm not complaining.

You hear that, universe? I'm Not Complaining! I get it, It Could Always Be Worse!

Catch Up

Photos of the LFM's Bris (at 8 days old), In which he was much braver and cried far less than his woos of a mother.

I know, I know... I have yet to expound on the many fabulous and adorable qualities of our most excellent monkey, his highness the king of cuteness and super stinky farts. Time is not on my side, no it ain't. We're having some frustrations with breastfeeding, which I really don't want to talk about until it's all resolved, but these frustrations not only make me want to repeatedly bang my head against a wall, they also are incredibly time consuming. I am chained to this apartment and the pump, for the most part. Now for the first 2-3 weeks I wanted nothing more than to stay in the apartment, in our wonderful cozy birth den. But now, a month into it, I'm ready for a little more flexibility than I'm currently afforded.

But I'm not going to spend the precious few moments I have focusing on the negative. Instead, I'm going to tell you how amazing and funny and fun motherhood is. Yes, even at 4am.

The LFM thinks both WB and I must be covered in nipples, and if he just tries hard enough, he'll find one. He's like the world's cutest woodpecker, constantly hurling himself at our bodies in search of a nipple. Sometimes when he's nursing, he lets go of the nipple and then gets super panicky about it and suddenly the missing nipple is a 4 alarm fire in his little world and all systems are kicked into overdrive until the nipple is safely rescued from oblivion and lovingly put back into his screaming mouth. We're certain that when he dreams, he dreams of a giant boob with arms and legs, cradling him in heavenly comfort. And when he has little baby nightmares, its of the boob, on a train, wearing a 1940's hat with veil, and waving an embroidered handkerchief from the train window as the steam engines roar to life and the train begins chugging away with poor little Jonah running behind it screaming for his beloved boob.

Clearly we are sleep deprived.

He does talk to it- he babbles this adorable babble only when he's nursing. I'm certain he's composing brilliant love poems- odes to the boobs. It cracks me up when he does it.

But the most amazing thing of all- the most wonderous beautiful thing in the whole world- is when my litttle monkey smiles at me, sending rays of light from his enormous dark eyes. Its the most indescribably joyous thing. And no, its not gas, its definitely in response to what I'm doing. And its my favorite thing in the whole world.

La Commencement

We are thrilled to announce that the Little Funky Monkey is here! Jonah Niquen (named with a J after his Mimi) was born at home in the water on January 23rd at 4:23am weighing in at 7lbs 11 oz and measuring 22 inches. He is the most handsome perfect baby I've ever seen (not that I'm biased or anything), with a full head of long dark hair and super long legs (he will be tall like his father, no doubt).

His birth was beyond beautiful (I will write out his birth story eventually, because its such a wonderful story) and by far the most amazing moment of my life was when the midwife said "reach down and get your baby!". I loved the birth experience so much that a mere 2 hours after pushing out my little monkey I said "I can't wait to do this again!". Don't get me wrong, it was very intense (active labor, from 4cm to 10cm dilation, was only about 4 1/2 hours, which means that my body worked that much harder to accomplish that much more in less time) and even though Chanteuse said that I made it look easy, it was most definitely hard work. Its just that it was such a miraculous and spiritual journey that I cannot even match words to. And WB made me fall even deeper in love with him (as if that was even possible) by being there every step of the journey with me, in our loving cocoon that made me feel so perfectly connected and protected and loved. The LFM was birthed in the same way he was conceived- as an intimate expression of love and tenderness between WB and I, and I will always treasure that.

I can't even thank our midwife enough, except to say that she is a godsend. She is also clearly a mind reader or found the secret portal into my head, because she always said exactly what I needed to hear in the exact moment I needed to hear it, and has continued to do so in the postpartum period. Chanteuse, JunJun, and Doula Sara, were such perfect birth attendants as well...every time I opened my eyes in the tub and looked up I saw them looking at me with such warmth and love I felt so supported. And WB, well, that man is a miracle in and of himself.

And the LFM! All I could say when we found out we were pregnant is "Wow!" and that's pretty much all I can say now that he's here. With every passing moment I feel like I couldn't possibly love him any more or I will just explode, and yet with every passing moment somehow I do. He is my little bundle of blessings and I am so very proud that he chose us as his family.

Full Term, Full Tank, and Rearing to Go

I was 37 weeks as of yesterday, which is officially full term. This means we're good to go at any time, even though the due date is officially 3 weeks away. I'm voting sooner rather than later, though I'm not presumptuous enough to think my vote carries any weight in the matter really. As the food source both of present and to be, however, could my thoughts perhaps be slightly considered in the decision making process?

I have turned the corner into pretty damn uncomfortable territory, and it really seems to me by the pokes and prods I am constantly receiving that the LFM ain't but so comfy in there either. There seems to be a discernible lack of room for the both of us, and of course he's little so he always wins out. I'm also getting contractions all the freaking time, most of which are benign but just uncomfortable as hell. Yesterday I got the added bonus of the feeling of mild menstrual cramps and slight back pain, but it went away, so don't get all excited that anything is happening. Nothing is happening but awkward discomfort. Lots and lots of it. And as for sleep? That's most definitely not happening.

For the record: I still love love pregnancy. I absolutely adore being pregnant. I think its a beautiful journey and I think I'll actually really miss it when he's out.

Not that I don't want him to make an appearance...soon. As in before family flies in from all corners of the globe, so that we get a little time to ourselves, just the three of us before being overwhelmed and inundated by foreign languages and filial obligations. I'm a definitely finding myself a little anxious about the postpartum period. As if standing at the gateway of both life and death while learning how to be a new mother and breastfeed were not emotionally and energetically taxing enough, I get to do all that, with crazy hormones, no sleep, and company! Yay! Sounds like fun, doesn't it? I've always been a huge people person, but I find that the closer I get to birth the more anxious I am about protecting my space; defending my den so to speak. None of this may end up being an issue at all, and how I will feel is one gigantic question mark at this point, but for right now its a definite fear I'm trying to work through. I'm sure it doesn't help that I've never met WB's parents before. It also doesn't help that my Spanish skills have sadly not progressed at all during the last 9 months and his mother doesn't speak any English. It also doesn't help that my own mother is dying. Gee, why do I feel like the china shop itself watching a bull approach? Hmmm, can't think of any valid reasons really...

Speaking of Mimi, this is why I have not written in decades. To be very brief about it all, she had been falling a lot and was very weak and we brought it up at a doctor's appointment. They immediately did a CT scan and found 6 new brain tumors...and when I say new, these cropped up since the last MRI done in October. Yeah, fuckin cancer moves fast. When my parents met with the doc upon first finding out, he was all gloom and doom and basically there was a question as to whether or not Mimi would even make it to see her grandson born.

As she now tells it, when the doctor said the magic word, hospice, she suddenly burst into action. That was what she needed to hear to get her ire up, collect her inner resources, and motivate the troops to fight. She had gamma knife radiation, which they're hopeful has killed off the new brain tumors, is now on new meds and walking with help of a walker, and will begin a new injection chemo around the 11th of Jan to help buy some time from the 50 million other non brain tumors throughout her body. Its not only her choice, but now her passion to continue fighting with every ounce of her being. Her new goal is not the birth, but 2 1/2 years from diagnosis, which will put her at next December. She's a pretty stubborn lady- she just may make it! On a very selfish note, I'm so relieved not to have to experience both new life and death at the exact same moment. While it is clearly a very definite reality that she is dying, I'm so thankful that its not simultaneous to birth. Grateful for both of us.

So now you see why I have been away for so long...it really wasn't that WB's snoring finally got the better of me. Life's challenges and grief did.

In the midst of all that, I had two amazing and beautiful baby showers thrown for me by two very wonderful friends, and got to have just a teeny tiny bit of light amidst what was otherwise a bit of a dark time. I desperately needed that, and I thank you from the bottom of my being, Coco and Muffinface. Thank you as well to all our wonderful friends who helped make us feel so loved and supported- this monkey couldn't be birthed into a more loving environment.

There was , sadly, one very horrible snafu wherein a friend felt very hurt and offended that WB and I did not get to talk with them enough and did not introduce them to other guests (disclaimer: we didn't introduce anyone to anyone else, and as we had been through the emotional ringer the previous week, which had been shared with said guest, we were understandably more than a little overwhelmed). The manner in which this friend chose to share their feelings was cruel rather than constructive (I had two witnesses to the events and conversation who can attest to that) and the friendship has definitely been irreparably damaged, to say the least. That was a very heartbreaking and supremely disappointing turn of events, but I don't even have the energy to deal with something like that amidst everything else that is going on. Its not a priority, nor should it be.

For the present moment (and I can only live in the moment right now), my priorities all revolve around birthing my baby. We've completed and organized everything we need and/or want for our home birth, I'm ruthlessly nesting (when not horrendously uncomfortable) and we're just excitedly waiting. So LFM, if you're listening, you can come anytime...Maman and Papa are ready and waiting with open arms!

The Kitchen Sink and Beyond

Its 3:30 in the a.m. and I can't sleep at all. I can hear WB snoring very clearly from the other side of our very large apartment (that is after all how he got named the Wild Boar), I've already eaten the requisite midnight ice cream, and still I don't anticipate sleep arriving at any point soon. Don't get me wrong, I'm exhausted. I just can't sleep.

The Little Funky Monkey is awake too.

Then again, the LFM is awake much of the time these days, and is quite the active baby. I've been feeling movement for about 4 weeks now. It began at a little over 16 weeks when I felt what can only be described as someone tickling me from the inside, but very briefly. Just like this little tickle tickle and that was it. That progressed into what I call the "bloop" phase, because I decided that if the kicking had a sound effect, it wold undoubtedly be a "bloop!". Now it feels much more like a kick a lot of the time and its kind of also this weird dropping feeling at the same time, like when you're in an elevator and your stomach drops, only this is much more localized in the body. Its such a weird wonderful crazy feeling...it happens all the time but still kind of takes me aback every single time. Its kind of like this weird thing that's taken over your body - mysterious and wonderful and truly bizarre all at once. It also feels like this wonderful secret between the baby and I - its just us communicating solely with each other during this time, and it feels so special and sacred, this dance that's occurred between mother and child in utero throughout the ages. It makes me feel humbled, even when its slightly annoying or quite strong and distracting.

We have our first midwife appointment here in River City (not its real name) on Thursday. I'm anxious to meet the woman who will be guiding us through this process and even more anxious to schedule our 20 week ultrasound (we turned 20 weeks on Saturday) and find out whether its a boy or a girl. I'm so impatient I can't wait for the ultrasound - I don't know how I'd ever wait through the whole pregnancy! Not to mention the fact that every single person I know as well as every stranger in the grocery line keeps asking me when I'm going to know the sex. Its driving me crazy! If one more person asks me (especially my dear mother who asks me every single time I talk to her, which is often) I'm going to lose my shit on them. Seriously. I'm just as eager to know as you people are - more so, because dammit its my kid - and getting asked every 6.3 seconds only makes it worse!

And that's it for my middle of the night posting - I have much more to update considering I've been a blogging slacker, but I really should try and get some sleep. Also I just don't feel like writing - that seems to be a rather constant symptom throughout this pregnancy, at least since the big move. Then again, I've certainly been more than a little down in the dumps and having a very hard time with the whole transition, so I guess its no surprise I don't feel like writing. Its not exactly fun to write about feeling depressed, and its certainly no fun to read about it. I try and save my pity parties for truly special occasions, like this evening, wherein I laid in bed paralyzed and staring aimlessly into the middle distance while convincing myself that nothing will ever be okay. See? I told you it was really not that fun. Ah, these are the joys of pregnancy that you're not supposed to write about or talk about..doesn't really fit in with the whole glowing thing. I could write post after post about the hormonally inspired mood swings (I'm sure WB could write an entire novel)..but its late and I don't want to scare you off from ever reading this blog again.

Really I'm usually much more entertaining than this. I promise.

(I Move Several States Away) With a Little Help From My Friends

(photos taken by Mica, who was smart enough to know we'd probably want the whole thing documented)

sad me with our life in a truck

WB and I on our old stoop, for the last time...

the microwave goes in the kitchen?? what?? shocking!

So we're here, safe and sound, and actually have been for a whopping three weeks (what??), all three of whom have disappeared into the nebulous cosmos somewhere because I certainly don't remember them. They were most likely a whirlwind of crying, unpacking, the search for the perfect shower curtain, more crying, and then maybe some crying. After that, I believe I cried.

But we're here, and the apartment is wonderful and WB and I have each other, which is the most important part of all. We also have the most amazing friends - on both sides of the mason dixon line - without whom we never ever could have done this. We had friends helping us through every stage of the process, from packing, to kidnapping me while packing and spiriting me away on an adventure involving lunch and the central park zoo, to the actual moving day (in which I would have lost my shit completely were it not for said friends who lovingly took over the entire process and forced me to sit and watch the truck as they hauled our life down 5 flights of stairs) to the unloading here in River City, Dixieland, as well as the unpacking, and the providing of watermelon and hugs to the freaked out pregnant lady. Our friends realy must love us or be very well paid by my parents, because they carried us so beautifully through the whole process from start to finish, all the while indulging me in my hormone induced fits of crying. That's friendship for you.

Moving day itself began on a rather ominous tone, as we were rear ended en route to pick up our moving van way the hell out in the Bronx. It was really such a minimal impact that the most damage it did was to my anxiety level, because of course I was terrified that the seat belt tightening below my womb would cause a miscarriage. Luckily I was wearing the seatbelt correctly, but of course it still scared the pants off of me. And that was just the begining. We had yet to even arrive at the U-Haul from hell.

Let me tell you that the customer service at the Riverdale U-Haul is, oh, less than stellar. Sp much less than stellar that the woman behind the counter could only have been ruder had she spit on us, which she was probably about to do had we stayed there 5 seconds more. The wait in line from the time of arrival onward was an hour...an hour people! there is no need for that! The U-Haul people are not building the trucks, they're just filling out the damn paperwork to rent them out! The worst blow, however, came when WB went to hand in his driver's license to complete the process. WB is from Puerto Rico, and he has a Puerto Rican driver's license. WHICH IS TOTALLY VALID IN THE UNITED STATES! Puerto Rico is a territory of the US! My father was able to out him on the driver's insurance of his car with a Puerto Rican license! Everyone knows this, clearly, except for U-Haul, who would not rent the moving van to WB.

I was less than thrilled about the prospect of driving a 10 foot truck for 7 hours, especially considering I had only slept for 2 hours the night before, so needless to say I asked to speak to the manager. The girl told me "He's outside". I has been waiting outside during the hour long wait in line (to refrain from screaming like a madwoman), and has seen the manager outside. With a bluetooth thingie stuck in his ear, talking on the phone. So I replied "Yes, I saw him outside, and I know he has a phone. So I'd like you to please call him on that phone and ask him to come in here to discuss this with me." She refused, claiming she didn't know the number, and besides, her "supervisor" had said it wasn't doable. That's when I started writing down names, or at least attempting to...our lovely lady behind the counter also refused to give me the name of her "supervisor", saying "She's right there, ask her yourself." Finally WB and Shaby-baby had to calm me down, before we were given the worst truck in the lot.

I did have one little lovely moment of revenge, however, when the rude rep told us that our 10 inch truck was ready. WB and I started laughing out loud, and he asked "Our 10 inch truck?" and she said, with quite the attitude,"Yeah, that's the size you ordered". I said "I don't think that's the size we ordered, at all. " and she said "Yeah, it is! It says right here, a 10 inch truck. That's what you ordered." and WB asked again, "Are you sure its a 10 inch trcuk?", as we continued to laugh the entire time. Rude Rep was more than a little peeved and said "Yeah, I don't know why that's so funny, cuz that's what you ordered!". I finally stopped laughing enough to say "No, I really don't think that's what we ordered. A 10 inch truck would only be about this big [showing the size with my hands]. I think we ordered a 10 foot truck." Rude Rep got all huffy and puffy and thoroughly embarassed and could only reply "Whatever." Revenge is sweet indeed.

A million thank yous to everyone who helped, even when they had shows to run to afterwards, and jobs waiting for them, and law papers to write. You are all wonderful people.

And now I must post this or it will never get done, its overdue enough as is.

Home Sweet Home (To Be)

We found the best apartment ever. Its in a revitalized historic district, with most buildings dating to the very early 1900's. Its got loads of character, loads of storage, and best of all.....its HUGE!!! We're going from an 8 X 8 living room to an entire floor. We have central air and heat, a washer and dryer in the apartment (now I really feel spoiled!) and a dishwasher whose name is not WB. (Though we still have a cook whose name is Synge)

I circled the whole gigantic area of the space that is our apartment in red, just because I am that much of a show off. Also it makes me very happy to see.

This is our entrance and ours alone. The apartment downstairs enters from a side door, so we have a front porch all to ourselves. Nice.

In addition to having a front porch all to ourselves, we have that humongous 2nd floor side balcony for fun summertime barbecues...its a little slanted, so drunk people can just slide right off.

This is the park directly across the street from the apartment. There are several fountains and lots of benches and some really nice flowers in this little park. If you walk about a block, there's this huge hill overlooking the river. Gorgeous.

This is the master bedroom. The photo does not do it justice. It alone is much bigger than our entire apartment now. WB got lost in this room alone, it was so huge.

This is the master bathroom. Two sinks. Count 'em. One...two! Right now our bathroom sink is smaller than an 8.5 X 11 piece of paper. The mirror shot is just for Mim.

This is the nursery, which we referred to as the "office" in front of the fabulous man who showed us the apartment. It has this great little super sunny nook (where WB and my adorable mother are looking) which is perfect for a rocking chair. I've already dubbed it the breastfeeding nook.

This is one of the 2 huge windows in the breastfeeding nook. Though I guess technically its a door, but whatever. Window, door...its still incredibly sunny.

This is the great room. and believe me, it is great. Its a living room, kitchen and dining room (eat in kitchen) all in one...with 2 working gas fireplaces!!! I peed in my pants a little when I heard that one. The kitchen is all redone with bamboo floors (a renewable resource, so that makes me happy) and counter tops made from recycled hardwood. I was impressed that they made an effort to be green.

My incredibly handsome WB in the kitchen space offering everyone gum, because he's just super polite like that. Also, he's super handsome and smart and funny and perfect.

Oh yeah, and all the appliances in the kitchen are new.

One of the working fireplaces in the great room, on the living room side of the kitchen island. The floors here are antique and the built in bookshelves are screaming to be filled with our many boxes of books.

Behold the miraculous machines which will make our lives blissful and about 90% easier. Also note the storage space. We're going from an apartment with one closet (and I use that term loosely, mind you) to an apartment with a downstairs hallway closet, 2 closets in the master bedroom, one in the nursery, and storage space above the closets in addition to this utility room. I can hoard sentimental crap to my heart's content! Also not pictured is the 2nd full bathroom...that's right, two full baths...with bathtubs! do you know how of longed for and dreamt about having an apartment with a bathtub? And now I got me 2 of em! I'm never leaving home again!

And the best thing about the apartment? Its 4 blocks from my good friend Muffin Face (who I adore beyond belief), and Muffin Face loves to cook. A lot. Could we be any luckier?