currently

Drinking coffee out of a Dunkin Donuts cup. There are a lot of things wrong with this picture; for one thing, there are perfectly good coffee makers in both my home and work kitchens so there’s no reason for me to buy a cup. However the lid of the Contigo tumbler I’ve been using came apart and no matter how many times I watch the nice man on Youtube put his springs back together I can’t get mine reassembled. To be fair to both Contigo and the Youtube man’s video tutorial, I have yet to attempt reassembly without a spirited almost-fourteen-month-old trying to eat said springs. Another thing wrong with this picture is that I’m 96% sure the Dunkin Donuts lady purposely shuts her ears when I tell her how many Splenda I want. This is the same DD lady that hopefully asked “Decaf?” every morning I walked in there pregnant. Everyone I tell about her (and I tell a lot of people about her) (I almost never stop talking about the woman who manages the Dunkin Donuts under the train) is offended at her behavior but I like her a lot. Sometimes stray gentlemen of the transient persuasion get in arguments at this DD and she always peacefully makes everyone happy again and I sincerely doubt that’s in her job description. Plus she gives Zoodle donut holes.

Procrastinating scheduling appointments for all of the creatures. Cat ones and baby ones and Lindsay ones. Mostly the cat ones though; much like our couch, getting Griffon out of the apartment will require some sort of black magic so I’ve got to either dust off the old Book of Spells or get an appointment with the vet that makes house calls. I wonder if the vet does well child visits. And dental surgery. It’d be great to get it all done in one shot. Also procrastinating work. See: This.

Enjoying fall, and being a mommy, and being a mommy in the fall. Fall fall mommy mommy fall. #fall. I’m wearing flannel and kicking crunchy leaves and melting/drinking/burning all the spiced cider pumpkin scented everything because I don’t have a newborn anymore and I am awake to enjoy it all and it is glorious. GLORY. US. Last autumn I was thankful for my healthy baby and for everything good in life that allowed me to stay home with her through the season. This year I’m thankful for full nights of sleep and little bits of time to myself, two things I would do terrible things to get. The older zoodle boodle gets, the more fun things we can do with her, and I’m just so thrilled to have my tiny little buddy to do All the Fall Activities With. And then All the Christmas Ones. And All The Activities For Forever or until she stops wanting to hang out with me as much, which is hopefully when she’s 100 and I’m a ghost.

Drinking lemon ginger tea with honey now because I started this at 7AM and now it’s after 12. And my throat hurts. #fall.

NOT eating the entire bowl of Halloween candy that’s five feet away from me. Not today. I’m not. I won’t. (On Friday I invented a hybrid Snickers/Reese’s candy bar by putting both into my mouth at the same time and then I rode that sad, sad wave all the way into Sunday night and now I have to live with the very unfortunate consequences of my actions AKA if I unbutton this flannel everyone’s going to think I’m knocked up again.)

Reading my tattered copy of Handmaid’s Tale again before I start The Testaments, which I purchased practically before it was written and now am unsure of why I rushed when by the time I actually get around to reading it I’ll surely be able to find it for $1 at any thrift store.

Listening to positive affirmations in the morning instead of podcasts about substance abuse and murder. Unless there’s a really good episode I want to finish, which is mostly. I’ll let you know if it changes my life.

Realizing that I am boring myself and bowing gracefully out.

This Week:

- Put Baby Joe's 18-month clothes into her drawers instead of living out of plastic tubs so I don't have to tell the ER doctor that my daughter fell off a literal mountain of my own poor housekeeping:

Edit: I actually did this last night PLUS ALSO put up alphabet wall stickers I found at Dollar Tree. 

- Get a pedicure so that the summer gets scraped off of my toesies before I jam them into boots for the winter.

- Meal plan so we can eat.

Another edit: I did this an hour ago, PLUS ALSO ordered groceries, PLUS ALSO last night I printed out and laminated a menu for the fridge AND PLUS IN ADDITION TO THOSE ALSOS I've been using Dollar Tree bins to organize ingredients for meals so it's easier to make dinner when I get home from work. THANKS DOLLAR TREE PLS SEND COUPONS. 

This Month:

- Go on a date. 

- Put together Halloween costumes.

- Bake something.

This Season:

- Start thinking about how to redecorate the living room because as soon as we can deconstruct Baby Jail it's time to replace the IKEA couch and carpet that have seen us through three cats, a move and a maternity leave.

- Plan summer vacation because I'm rich and go on a lot of vacations and buy a lot of couches.

- Read three (3) books. COME ON.

We moved into our new apartment at the end of March but I’ve yet to fully process the fact that we don’t live in our old one anymore; I didn’t realize this until we decided to leave but living there was the safest and most in control of my surroundings I think I’ve felt, like, ever. Pssshhheww. (That’s the sound of everyone’s minds blowing.) (Our technical first apartment was objectively terrible so for me at least the apartment we just left felt like my real first home without roommates (stressful) or family members (see: roommates) or, say, a company of marines.)

I loved our insanely cheap rent and I loved our fire escape and our bathroom tile and I loved the light in the living room and the pink siding and just. I really loved it. Plus I quit smoking, hopped on the SSRI train, got engaged, started therapy (then stopped but ugh I’ll finish it later), and finally started earning a living wage during the threeish years we lived there. I also figured out what a 401K actually is and started caring about things like credit and undereye cream. Also like created a human life or whatever but I don’t want to brag. #blessed but #humble you know?

Anyway I was good and attached to the life we built there so when Diego found a bigger place in the same neighborhood I wanted to be sadder about saying goodbye. But since it’s so close to our old place that my routines/commutes are exactly the same and because I work full time and have a bb Joe and a need to leave the house socially once in a (great big) while to avoid inward collapse, I haven’t been forced to make any big adjustments or think thoughts or name feelings so I just. Haven’t. And also, maybe I’m just not that sad about it. Maybe I’m like “Okay, any minute now I will be overcome by sadness” but then I’m like “No, me, I’m not. I’m fine.”

Here’s the thing about talking about it though, is that it’s a great thing to do instead of making a decision on a pattern of removable wallpaper for the corner of your new kitchen and then figuring out a way to cover up the ugly light fixture in there because you don’t feel like buying a new one. Also if you blog about it it’s a great excuse to post a few pictures of bb Joe’s nine-month birthday weekend and tell everyone how even though you do, in fact, understand how calendars work you still do not understand how it is possible that you have a daughter who is three-quarters of a year old. 

"How to explain the strange arc of parenthood to new mothers? 
... It's like you moved to a new country, and it's beautiful but there's a war going on. 
But then the war ends and you begin reconstructing yourself."

Meaghan O'Connell, "And Now We Have Everything"

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It's exactly like finding Narnia, I thought as I put the book down. You say that about everything, said the cat. Yes, I said, petting him. I do. We both looked at the baby monitor for a while in thoughtful silence.

It's neat how you can read minds and speak English, I told him. It's very Narnian of you.

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At a certain point in the weeks and months after childbirth it really felt like my time to be alone and drink hot tea and read books and scratch cats had come to an end. The idea of being the only human on any given piece of furniture was inconceivable; if anyone had told me a day would come where I could once again aimlessly wander home good stores, fit into underwear, and sleep for three consecutive hours without needing to see and touch and comfort the impossibly tiny creature that was and is my daughter I wouldn't have believed them.

Or maybe... was that one of the things that so many people told me so many times that it ceased to mean anything when I heard it? Either way. U-n-b-e-l-i-e-v-a-b-l-e.

And, either way, it turned out to be true.

Having a newborn was like discovering Narnia at the back of the wardrobe, no matter how bad of an attitude the cat has. (I hope Meaghan O'Connell doesn't mind me taking her 'new country' metaphor and making it nerdy. I feel like she wouldn't. I feel like it's fine. She'll let me know, she knows where to find me.) It was fucking magical. It was incredible to the point of being - I like this word today - unbelievable, and I was afraid that if I closed my eyes it would disappear. It was awesome in every sense of the word, which made it also terrifying and disorienting. And exhausting. And exhilarating. But mostly exhausting.

Et cetera, et cetera. Don't worry, I won't put you through this for too much longer.

In short: Right now feels like the part of "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" where Lucy and Mr. Tumnus are having tea in his cozy house. (Minus the creepy sleep flute. That's a very different metaphor. Make a note, we'll come back to it another day.) I know it's the very beginning of a much longer story, but it's just really nice to know for sure that it isn't all wandering around in enchanted snowstorms, you know?

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A Note, Definitely Not Part of the Blog Post: I wrote this OVER a month ago. Feels like I wanted to keep going, which explains why I found it still in drafts, but I don't feel like doing that now so. 

I read blogs that are much more interesting than mine is, and this is a thing that some of the people who write those blogs do. So I am, too. Doing it.

Above and Beyond at Barclay’s Center. Diego got the tickets prior to knocking me up so I ate a hot dog instead of drinking a beer and we danced a lot and it was swell.

Black Coffee at the Apollo. They did not have regular Pringles at any of the concession stands. I still had fun. (But, to be clear, not as much fun as I would have had if there had been regular Pringles.)

Cat rescues with Instagram accounts made a decent amount of money off of my hormones in 2018, which I think makes up for the fact that I threatened to leave Griffon and Papi Choo Choo at the ASPCA approximately 2,018 times this year.

Diego being such a good dad to our little chunk makes my heart inflate like Violet Beauregarde and tip over and roll around in its own pool of ooey gooey love. MMM.

Engagement ring was lost and found.

Five year anniversary. I looked forward to that glass of wine with dinner for eight months, managed to drink almost half of it, and then passed out in the cab home. Misty water-colored memories.

Gestational diabetes testing. This fuckery was WAY worse than labor. I can’t even discuss it. God.

Hospital-issued postpartum underwear is both comfortable and a fun fashion statement. I may or may not still be hoarding a pack of them.

Instead of going to labor and delivery when my contractions started, I went and got a pedicure. Then I came home and had a glass of wine and took a shower and went to bed. The next day I called out of work and watched Parenthood until Diego came home and forced me to go to the hospital and three hours later I pushed a baby out. It’s a birth plan I highly recommend.

Joe. Everyone at daycare calls Zoë “Baby Joe.” It was confusing at first but I think I’ve figured out that it’s just how the two women working there pronounce it – I think it’s really cute and have started referring to her as Baby Joe myself because it reminds me of Jo from Little Women.

Kisses. So many. SO MANY. I’m squeezing them all in now before she’s big enough to say “MOM STOP KISSING MY FEET” and honestly even then I’ll probably pretend like I don’t hear her.

Laundering baby clothes is remarkably easy to screw up considering the things are made to be pooped in and spit up on. 

My Favorite Murder at Kings Theatre. Their NYC shows sold out in five minutes because insane fan cult members such as my good friend at work were ready the second tickets went on sale. We were front and center AND I got to meet them afterward AND I didn’t say anything embarrassing or try to kiss them or anything! (Even though we were second to last in line for the meet and greet because I had to pee because I drank entirely, entirely too much because it was the first time I Went Out after Having A Baby and "entirely, entirely too much" is two drinks.)

Night feedings. I almost – dare I say it? – enjoy night feedings now. She’s such an active baby when she’s awake that it’s nice to have those quiet moments to just sort of soak her in. It’s also a great time to bond with the cats, since they think it’s time to eat every time I get up. Also the tiny cat climbs on the baby so I’ve gotten good at petting him with one hand and feeding the baby with the other. I’m sure that skill will come in handy someday, somehow.

One World Observatory / Oculus. I scolded a man for putting his sweaty sausage fingers on the windows at One World and finally actually looked at the Oculus instead of rushing past it to get to whatever dumb thing I’m ever trying to get to. (And truthfully, the only reason we went was because we had a friend visiting - I'd invite people over more often and maybe go to more Things if I didn't dislike washing sheets so intensely.)

Psychic readings are sadly no longer available directly next door to me. In her place is a travel agency which I suspect is more of a laundromat. You know. For cash.

Quack! is what ducks say. Is it just me or does it seem like a disproportionate amount of children’s books are about farm animals?

Rest. Building a tiny human took a lot out of me. I napped a lot this year. Usually with cats.

School went well considering I found out I was pregnant one week after paying my tuition. I got through it sleepwalking and vomiting, which I guess is how a lot of eighteen-year-olds do it too.

Twenty-ninth birthday. We went to a matinee of Aladdin and had fancy lunch instead of fancy dinner. (I turn thirty in a few days and requested a repeat of this day date because I liked it so much. We’re going to fancy French lunch and then to see Book of Mormon, and we’re leaving our little chunk with her auntie for the afternoon so that Mommy can eat with both hands and day drink.) 

Ubered to and from work for most of August.

Virgo baby! As in, I had one!

Winter Music Conference – JK I DIDN’T HAVE TO GO BECAUSE I WAS PREGNANT. Diego went to Miami with his friends and I got to pretend I lived alone for a week and it was glorious. GLORIOUS.

Also, Waxing (as in the moon) (not eyebrows) (although, also eyebrows):

X… uh, chromosome!

Y? Because we like you!

Zoë Margaret.