The Bug Story

This is a story about me and a big bug.  I’m warning you in case you’re the kind of person who can’t read a bug story without losing a week to nightmares. 

I hate when bug stories come without warning.  Recently, someone started telling me a story about a “weird thing that happened” to her; next thing I knew, I was hearing that a freaking cockroach crawled across her chest.  That is not a “weird thing”.  A weird thing is if a Velvet Underground song comes on your Ipod and just at that moment, you pass by Lou Reed. 

A cockroach on your chest is not “weird,” it’s horrifying.  And a story like that should come with a warning.  And possibly blinking lights in case I wasn’t listening. 

So, now you’re warned. 

I’m not bothered by all bugs. When I went to summer camp they had those skinny Daddy Long Legs spiders, which apparently aren’t technically spiders.  They ran up your leg in that tickly way.  I didn’t love it.  But I was in the freaking woods.  It’s their territory, not mine. 

But the city is for people.  Sure, there are wild turkeys in Riverside Park and Red Tailed Hawks nesting atop fancy buildings on the East Side, but I’m not for any other creature, here, besides us and cats and goldfish.

But of course they are here.  And I know, each year, that as soon as I have celebrated the Melting of Big Mountains Of Dirty Snow On Every Corner, I have to prepare for Big Bugs.  I’m not talking about generic cockroaches.  I don’t like those, but they don’t show up unexpectedly.  Some people’s apartments have them and others don’t, and if you don’t, you’re OK.  Several years ago I had two clients in a row who both had cockroaches.  It was super creepy and I will never forget their buildings, but, you know, those bugs stay put. They’re not going to jump out at me on the sidewalk while I’m walking in my strappy sandals.  They are homebodies.

The ones that really freak me are the Big Ones.  You know which ones I mean.  People call them water bugs, but they’re just as likely to be skittling down the sidewalk as creeping around a drain.

They’re huge.  They’re armored, defiant, impervious, like those young people in the East Village completely covered in tattoos and piercings, or those older, rich people uptown, hidden under Botox and Keratin treatments.  In some ways, water bugs fit right in in a city where so many people inhabit armored shells.

I can remember each one I’ve seen.  Where I was, where I was going, my footwear at the time. 

Once, my sister was apartment-hunting in my neighborhood.  When I heard the address, I thought, “last summer there was a water bug on the sidewalk right in front.”

She moved elsewhere.

A couple times, I’ve seen one in my own, (gasp, cringe, twitch) apartment.   I’ve lived in the city almost twenty years; it happens. 

Once, one ran by my feet – centimeters away, in my bedroom!!  I grabbed my children and hopped into the living room, stopping very quickly to pour myself two fingers of bourbon.  I planted the three of us on the couch, cross-legged, saying, “We are staying right here until Dad gets home.” Two drinks later, after my son had killed the thing, I still insisted we leave the city and spend the weekend at my parents’.  Even in the country, where Big Bugs aren’t, I jumped at every tickle and breeze for two days. 

It’s bad.

And yet.  When you live in New York City, you know, in the summertime, that you’ll likely see one, especially if other conditions are present.  Which is why, recently, when my building was getting a new stoop, I was in a chronic state of panic.  The front door to the building was completely blocked; there were three weeks of construction.  To get in or out, you needed to walk down to the garden level and out the back door.

New York + June + construction + walking downstairs into a garden.

It was only a matter of time.

I feel I need to digress for a moment and just say – there are lots of areas in my life where I’m confident and competent.  I think most people wouldn’t meet me and immediately think, “that is the kind of woman who completely loses her petunias over everything.”  You’ll have to take my word.

**

I was leaving my house to see a client.  I work with new moms, and if you are, or ever have been a new mom, you know it can be kind of freaky, at first, when they let you loose with a new baby.  Half the time you have no idea what to do and the other half you’re too exhausted to notice.  New moms need lots of things to help ease the transition, but more than anything, company helps.  Because when they’re all alone, moms can start to lose it a little.  When you’re isolated, normal worries can become epic.  Spending hours/days/weeks without talking to other adults can make anyone a total whack-noodle. 

Most moms navigate just fine through this transition, but some become overwhelmed.  And one of the things that makes it all harder is, almost no one wants to ask for help.  We kind of all act like asking for help is a sign of weakness, not a sign of strength.  We pretend that the goal is to have everything under control all the time, to never feel overwhelmed, scared or doubtful, and certainly not to admit it or depend on anyone. 

But when you have a baby, it’s not under control, and it’s not meant to be handled solo.  And so a big part of my work is helping moms recognize when they need help, and learn how to ask for it – from each other, from me, from their loved ones, from specialists when necessary.

Anyway, I was walking down the stairs thinking about my client, got to the front door and idiotically tried to open it, forgetting, for the 30^th time, that it’s blocked off.  Then cursed a little and turned down the stairwell to the basement.  There’s a little half-staircase that leads downwards, and then a small vestibule.  At the far side of the vestibule, a fire door leads out towards the garden.  I rounded the corner and stood atop the stairs, facing the vestibule.  

At the foot of the stairs was a bug the size of my fucking hand.

It was on its back but very much alive.  It was trying earnestly to right itself, flitting and flopping and moving very frantically. And it was blocking my path.  A normal person would (a) walk by it or (b) step on it.  But I have this Thing. 

I considered my options.  

Option 1.  Cancel Client. 

Option 2.  Be magically beamed out of building and, ideally, off the planet. 

Meanwhile, the bug is buzzing, flitting and vibrating on the floor making a thwick, thwick, thwick sound.  But faster than that:  Thwick!thwick!thwick!thwick!thwickthwickthwick!

Now comes the part of the story where I say “fuck” a lot.

Fuck.

I can’t just cancel clients.  I’m a fucking professional.  And I had crap to fucking do that day.  I really did need to leave.  Plus, what was I going to do, go back upstairs and tell my kid and her babysitter, “oh nevermind, I think I’ll just stay home all day”?  With a mouse-sized bug thwicking around a few floors below us? 

The obvious thing to do was to walk past it, so I geared myself up for it.  I spoke sternly to myself:  ”Dude, just walk past this fucker.  Right this minute.  Get over yourself.  Don’t be a baby.  Just fucking walk.  One foot and then the next.  Just. Do. It.” 

Thwick.  Thwick. Thwickthwickthwickthwickthwick.

I couldn’t even lift my foot to take the first step.

I switched to a gentle, encouraging voice.  “Come on honey, you can do it.  You are much bigger than the bug.  Just, easy now, just take one step.  Just take one breath.  Slow your heartbeat.  Breathe down to the floor.  Good.  And now.  One step forward.”

Thwickthwickthwick went the guinea-pig sized bug.

Looking, now, at the words on the page, it’s embarrassing.  I am a grown woman.  I have endured worse shit than this and managed to keep going.  This. Was. Just. A. Bug.

But.  I couldn’t walk. 

You know how usually your thoughts come in chunks, but sometimes you get an actual sentence in words?  Well, this was one of those moments where an actual sentence went through my mind, and the words were: “I can’t get past this without help.” 

And I stood there, with the rabbit-sized, thwicking bug before me, and laughed bitterly.  Because how many times have I sympathized with a client, saying I know how hard it is to ask for help, but pushed her, encouraged her to reach out to whoever was available? 

It is easier to say than to do.

On the other hand, if I expect my clients find a way to ask for help, I need to be able to do it, too.  And so.  I walked up the  half-flight to the first floor and stood outside apartment 1A.

Karen, who lives there, is probably 60.  I know her vaguely — she has cat-sat for us sometimes and she is always nice to my kids. She has always seemed a little depressed to me. 

She opened the door, barefoot and in a house dress with no bra and unbrushed hair.  I managed to say, “Um. Karen, Hi. Uh. There’s a, um. Well, there’s a big water bug down in the vestibule, and I’m kind of finding that I … “

She pressed her eyebrows together and said, “You want me to kill a bug?!”

She got a pair of slippers (Slippers! For the armadillo-cockroach!) and the New York Post. We rounded the corner to the little half-stairway and I hung back.

“I can’t see it,” she said. 

"Well, fuck, it was on the floor."

"It’s gone now." 

My face obviously said, “It might be on its way to my bedroom right this fucking moment!”

Karen began to laugh and said, “Well, anyway the coast is clear—“   when suddenly she stopped and said, very quietly, “OHHH. Oh. There it is. On the wall. Wow. OK, it’s big.”

Fuck.

Karen eased into the vestibule and although I didn’t dare look in the direction she was looking, I could see her head tilted way back.  That fucker must have been way up high.  

She approached slowly, holding the newspaper back like a bat.  She braced herself to take a swing, muttering, “it’s big, it’s big, it’s big.”  She took a deep breath and did that little backwards motion batters do right before they swing. 

But then she stopped and lowered the newspaper-bat and appeared to deflate and said, to the floor, “Oh, Meredith, I’m sorry. I’m not going to be able to help you.  It’s – it’s too big.  I’m scared.” 

She turned to me, her shoulders slumped down and there was a very clear moment where I saw that I had just put all my hope in a depressive 60 year old with bed-head.  That was stupid, stupid. 

And yet – what next?  She could go home to her housedress and New York Post, but I was still stuck in the vestibule. 

Karen was walking back towards me and looked up sadly at my face. 

I tried to muster the Calm Face.  I have a lifetime’s experience telling people it’s all OK.  But I’d stretched myself a little, to ask for help this time, and I wasn’t springing back into the usual “It’s All Under Control” mask so easily. 

By now Karen was right next to me on the steps and in the pause, she looked me in the eye.  And what she saw was someone very vulnerable, and very frightened.  She took a big breath and said, “No, wait. I have an idea. How about I stand in front of it and you walk in front of me, so I’m between you and it?”

I felt a wave of relief.  Karen was obviously scared, too. But she wanted to help me.  And she was already walking back down to the rhino-sized-bug-zone and waiting for me.  She was stretching herself — pushing out of her comfort zone to try to help me, and, I thought, I had to try to do the same. 

Deep breath. 

“OK, Karen,” I said, “Thank you.  I’ll try—. 

And at that exact moment, the thing FLEW AT HER HEAD! She screamed, and batted at it frantically, and it fell to the floor and she jumped on it about five times and then pounded at it with the Post.

Actually all that is just how I imagine it, because the moment she shrieked I ran, screaming, up the stairs. 

Finally Karen called out, panting, “OK, it is totally and definitely dead now.”

I tiptoed back down, shaking. I felt horrible that I’d done this to her, but when Karen looked at me, her face looked, sure, totally grossed out, but also kind of alive in a way sometimes women look after giving birth, like, “WTF, I did it!”

And she grinned at me. 

So, I thanked her profusely, but the funniest part was that afterwards, as I walked through the garden and then to the train to meet my client, I felt a little bit high. I asked for help, and the help helped.  I got out of the house. I didn’t lose the whole day. And my life, now, included Karen in some way.  Karen the unlikely hero.

And I had the distinct feeling that Karen felt awesome about it, too, afterwards, having been able to do something for me.  Happy to be considered for the task.  She got to be included in my life, to make the world better for someone.  It feels good. 

Later, I bought flowers, and as I brought them to Karen’s door, I felt the embarrassed, exposed feeling.  She was, after all, basically a stranger.  Here we were, living in the same building, possibly for decades to come, and she now knew the depth of my craziness.  She would know it every single time she saw me.  She would give my kids Halloween candy and think, “Their mother lost her shit once over a water bug.”  Perhaps she would tell others. 

It’s easier to imagine that if I keep everything to myself, they might all be walking around thinking I’m perfect, right?

On the other hand, so what?  So Karen, and now everyone else knows I’m a little whackado on this issue.  It means, also, that they can help me, in whatever way they turn out to be able.  And help helps. 

And here, finally, is why I’m blogging this story:

Keeping the hard stuff secret keeps us all apart from each other, but sharing it—asking for help, stretching out of your comfort zone to give help, having courage to accept help you’re offered– weaves a net under us all.  And that net is the community that holds us together.  It’s the net, safely beneath you, that helps you remember, even when you’re at your worst, that overwhelmed isn’t the same as “helpless.”  New moms can feel low, weary, out of their depth.  What helps is reaching out, asking for help. 

I know it’s hard!  You’ve got to weave that net yourself and the thread is made of your own courage.  But when it’s there, it makes our passage through this messy and surprising life a little more manageable.

This month they’re replacing our roof.  I hope Karen hasn’t gone on vacation, oy.

How To Get Out Of Funkytown

There’s a kind of general cultural vibe that says that as long as your baby is healthy and your hair isn’t on fire, you shouldn’t complain.  But we all have days/weeks where ‘lousy’ is a euphemism, and especially for new moms whose lives have just turned upside down anyway, it can be hard to take. 

So, I really like this post from Meagan Francis’ lovely blog, which lists five things moms can do when they’re in a funk. Her suggestions:

1. Go for a walk
2. Take a bath
3. Clean something
4. Consume some non-computer media
5. Engage in a mentally stimulating activity.

It helps a lot to have a list there at those moments when you’re so funky you can’t even think straight.  I suggest you make one for yourself.

I have a list like this stored as a memo in my phone.  Then, if I’m walking around and positive that Everything Is Shit, I can click on a button and get visited by a saner version of myself who is saying, Darling, everything is not shit.  But don’t sit here stewing in your own juices.  Go for a freaking walk.

There are some things on my list that aren’t on Meagan’s.  They include:

• Call a friend.  I actually listed a few friends’ names because sometimes when Everything Is Shit I need really specific reminders of, like, who I like. 

• Exercise.  Underneath, I wrote:  “If even seeing the word ‘exercise’ makes you feel like throwing the phone, it is good evidence that you should go to the gym asap.”

• Music.

• Chocolate.  One day the medicinal value will be clearly established and I will feel validated for taking chocolate syrup in a medicine cup.

• Sex.  I feel like this is all I’m blogging about lately, but you know it does help, people!  Go it alone if necessary ;-)

• Emergen-C.

• Prayer.  Meditation would work, too, if you’re not a praying type of person.

•  Call a friend.  I have this one in twice in case I ignored it the first time.  Because reaching out to someone who loves you is probably the thing that will restore you more than anything.  

Here’s the thing.  I don’t always remember to look at the note in my phone!  Neither will you.  There’s really no avoiding the occasional funk, and there’s no magic way to get out of it instantly.  But this stuff is a good place to start. 

Erica Jong is a Cranky Grandma

Recently I had dinner with a friend, who told me, in rather elegant detail, how she and her husband had recently got their freak on in a cab.  Date night, FTW!  We also talked about her new business venture and about my work, and about a recent Supreme Court decision and a few other things. 

When it was time to leave, standing on the street corner outside the restaurant, I said, “Oh and how are your kids?” 

There was a pause and then a lot of laughter at the irony.  A decade ago, she and I met not for drinks and sex chat, but for playdates.  Back then we discussed night-weaning and infant slings, and whether “time out” was a good discipline method and the evils of High Fructose Corn Syrup.  I remember several lengthy conversations about the color of our infants’ poop.  It made us both happy, then.

Isn’t it interesting how things change? 

 It’s this that makes me feel so weary of Erica Jong.  The famous sex-crazed ‘feminist’ writer, last fall, wrote a ham-handed polemic against young mothers who, she thinks, care too much about breastfeeding and holding their babies and don’t go to enough parties.  This week she has an essay claiming new mothers are too apathetic about sex.  She wants moms to get a life. 

The thing is, she’s so close to a real issue:  our culture tells us that “good” mothers are merely vessels to serve their kids, not adults in their own right.   The new moms Erica Jong knows are into attachment parenting; she sees them erasing themselves in a whirlwind of breastfeeding, helicoptering and sexlessness.   But there’s the other end of the spectrum, too:  all those parenting books and “experts” who tell moms to control their children’s sleep, food and behavior are also saying:  Mothers Exist Only To Serve Their Kids.

All that stinks.  It’s bad for moms; it makes no one happy; it even suggests that you’re not supposed to be happy.  We all have to stop buying into that.

But Jong’s essays lump the whole lot of it together in the most cantankerous and judgy way, somehow criticizing the moms themselves, sounding awfully like a Cranky Grandma.  

This is not the encouraging reminder that moms are human beings who deserve self-care, that their own needs are real needs. It’s an attack on the moms themselves, trivializing their earnest dedication to motherhood.  She criticizes new moms who:

wear [their] baby in a man-distancing sling and breast-feed at all hours so your mate knows your breasts don’t belong to him…. With children in your bed, is there any space for sexual passion?

Lets get a few things sorted out:

1. Your breasts don’t, actually, belong to your mate.  Whether you are lactating or not, they belong to you. 
2. No one likes that babies get hungry “at all hours,” and feeding them can absolutely interrupt your sex life and other things.  It would be less of an interruption to have your kids raised by a governess/wet nurse.   Or not have any.
3. There’s nothing un-feminist about being, for a while, consumed with the mothering role.  Mothering is a female thing to do — why should it be the one thing feminists aren’t allowed to really dig? As you make it part of your identity, motherhood will fold in with the other aspects of you:  woman, worker, artist, activist, whatever.
4. There’s nothing feminist about the idea that All Women Must Indulge Their Maternal Feelings Only On Erica Jong’s Timetable of Grandmotherly Wisdom.

So, how about this, instead, NewMoms:  if you dig breastfeeding and carrying your baby and thinking about your baby, that’s OK.  It’s more than OK, it’s awesome.  And it’s appropriate, especially if you’re dealing with a kid who’s not even walking yet.  But hey, NewMoms, that doesn’t mean you should never do things for yourself, either.  In fact, you really need to.  Check in with yourself from time to time and think about what you’d enjoy doing, just you, not for your baby.  And then go get some of that.

And speaking of getting some, NewMoms, if you’re sharing a bed with your baby and attending to his needs and consumed with the newness of it all, and that leaves you feeling a little blah about sex, for a while, that’s OK, too.  It’s more than OK, it’s totally appropriate.  Temporarily.  But do make sure that from time to time you check in with your own needs.  Adults need physical love as well as emotional sustenance.  If your dose is low for a while, that’s fine, but don’t ignore it entirely.  

My own kids are out of babyhood, but not so far out that I’ve forgotten it all.  A decade ago, a friend told a bunch of us, “We used to have sex and I’d think, ‘that was so great!’ and now if we do it, I think, ‘that was so great for the marriage!’” 

 “So true, so TRUE,” we all groaned wearily.  

Now we’re sharing our raunchy stories over drinks. That transition didn’t happen in a week, but it did happen.  Looking back, all of that seems like a season we all passed through, not a place we got stuck living in forever.  It was like a very, very cold winter that was in some ways unpleasant, and which I don’t want to return to, but was after all just one season.  We all worried a little bit that spring would never come, but when we could stop fretting over how freaking cold it was, we could see that it was also shockingly beautiful, unlike anything else.  And after a while the sun came out and flowers budded again, and that’s beautiful, too.

“Men and women both were likely to report sexual satisfaction if they also reported frequent kissing and cuddling … . Men did report more relationship happiness in later years, whereas for women, their sexual satisfaction increased over time.”

—

Kissing only takes a second.  You can do it even when you have a baby, even when you don’t have a lot of time or inclination to devote to your romantic life.   And a new study by the Kinsey Institute suggests it’s important, too.  

The study looked at sexual and relationship happiness in men and women in long term relationships.  The results may surprise you — kisses and cuddling are important to men even without the whole sexual shebang.  And for men, longer relationships predicted sexual and general relationship-happiness.  For women, the longer they’re with a guy, the more they tend to report sexual satisfaction.  Couples (the women and the men) were happier if the guy prioritized his partner’s orgasm. (well, duh!)

So, contrary to what you see in the movies, a long relationship can be rockin’.  While your baby is a baby, if you’re just too busy to get busy, it’s OK — there’s a lot to look forward to.  But meanwhile, yk, take a moment and squeeze your partner’s shoulders as he or she bathes the baby.  It feels good.  Hold hands while you watch tv.  Kiss each other good night twice.  It’s easy.  And it’s worth it.

Full article (source of quote above): here.

Full study here: 

Summer Workshops at Gumbo!

Hi Brooklyn Moms!  Later this month, I’ll do two workshops for new moms at Gumbo.  Details and registration info below:

Getting Started on a Sane Life
Wed., July 20, 2-4:00 p.m., $60.  Limited to 12, register: (718) 855-7808 or by email to zebulonk@earthlink.net

We all know that living with a baby is a little crazy, but parenthood shouldn’t mean that your entire life is insane forevermore!  In this 2 hour workshop, we  talk about getting perspective, and creating habits, which will help you regain some balance.  We talk about setting reasonable goals so you can aim for a life that includes:

• great, fun, attentive and fulfilling time with your baby

• time to recharge yourself

• enough sleep!

• daytime routines that don’t run you ragged and leave you feeling inadequate

• affection, a sense of humor, and, as you get your groove back, satisfying intimacy with your partner 

• space to think about who you are now and  what you’d like your story to be

You can have all this!  But you have to aim for it to get it.  And you have to know what’s reasonable to look for, now, and how to find some appropriate balance.  That’s what this workshop is about.

Work and Life:  A Workshop for Moms on Maternity Leave
Tuesday, July 26, 2-4:00 p.m., $60. Limited to 12, register:  (718) 855-7808 or by email to zebulonk@earthlink.net

In this 2-hour workshop, we cover all the stuff you need to know but dread discussing:

• Finding and maintaining excellent childcare
• Breastfeeding and pumping issues
• Sleep issues for working moms
• Finding “me-time”
• Negotiating boundaries at work
• Getting “everything else” done and being … happy
• Co-parenting with your partner when you’re both employed
• "Will My Baby Still Love Me?"  (yes!  yes yes yesyesyesyesyes)

Questions?  Email me:  meredith (at) amotherisborn (dot) com

Frank Talk

I do love candor.  And so I kind of love this post on Jezebel, where the writer declaims about “boobernecking,” body smells and other truly unglamorous realities of living in a post-baby body.

I truly find the whole gnarly reality of having a baby — taffy boobs, hot vag, and all — inspiring.  But it’s far from the plucked, smooth, odorless tautness of the celebs in the Us Weekly you read during a pedicure.  And that can be a shock.

It’s temporary, it’s a learning experience and if you can talk about it candidly, it’s kind of hilarious.  

But a couple points.  

1.  Ms. Moore says:

You will practically be in diapers.

Google the size of the pad you will wear after vaginal birth. It’s bigger than a catcher’s chest armor. Friends, nurse-friends and anyone who’s ever been pregnant: Why didn’t you tell me?!?!? Why doesn’t anyone tell anyone?!?

Well, if you’d taken my childbirth class, I’d have told you!  About all these things, actually.  I describe those pads as “saddle sized” and then act out the way getting into one is like mounting a horse.  Childbirth education classes, properly done, do have many practical benefits.   

(By the way, if you’re still pregnant, you should also know that you just can’t buy the huge pads in stores.  If you’re giving birth in a hospital, though, you can take the entire stock of saddle-pads in your hospital room.  Take the disposable underwear, too.  That’s what your health insurance premiums pay for.  Plus, there’s really nothing that says photo op like you saddled up on a giant maxi pad held in place by mesh disposable underwear, with cabbage leaves on your engorged boobies. A cowboy hat completes the look.  Try not to accidentally tweet the pic, though; some things are to share with your partner only. 

2.  There is a book that talks about all this stuff, candidly and with humor, and it’s called From The Hips, by Rebecca Odes and Ceridwen Morris, and it’s awesome.  There is absolutely no reason anyone ever needs to buy the loathsome and fear-mongering book whose cover is parodied above.

Full article here.

Abridged Summer MOMs Group

Summer scheduling is always complicated, but there will be a new 4 week series of the New MOMs Group beginning July 5.  You can see a full description of the new MOMs group here, and some happy moms’ reviews here.

The Group will meet from 11-1 on four consecutive Tuesdays, July 5-26, in the downstairs classroom of Tribeca Parenting, 54 Warren Street.  Cost:  $120.

It is open to new moms and also to those who’ve come to MOMs in the past, and will be our last series in Manhattan until September.  Bring your baby — of course!   Register here.

When in doubt, bathe

The other day, the moms in my Chelsea New MOMs series were talking about evening routines, and one mom mentioned that she likes to get into the tub with her baby.  It’s kind of a brilliant way to do some multi-tasking — you get your baby clean, you get yourself clean and you get to relax in the tub at the end of what was undoubtedly a long day.  

And apparently there’s even more to it:  a new study has found that soaking in a hot bath is helpful when you feel lonely or isolated:

Warm physical experiences were found to significantly reduce the distress of social exclusion, said the study published in the psychology journal Emotion.

"Findings suggest that physical and social warmth are to some extent substitutable in daily life," the study concluded.

"The lonelier we get, the more we substitute the missing social warmth with physical warmth."

Isolation can be a problem throughout the course of parenting, but especially strong for new mothers in those early weeks.  The best investment you can make in your own sanity is to reach out to others by making real, deep, personal connections with likeminded folks.  That’s what mothers’ groups and parenting classes are for.  Ideally, the moms you meet at a new moms’ group become lifelong friends who share each others’ lives through the ups and downs.  

But I know it takes a while for those relationships to deepen, so in the meantime, how about a nice bath and a cup of tea?  Warming yourself helps, and when you’re helped, you’ll be able to do more, get out, and begin to feel even better.   

Note — if you’re taking a bath with your baby for the first time, do it with someone else at home.  The tricky part is getting used to transferring a wet baby out of the tub while you’re still in it.  It’s easiest, at first, to hand the baby off to your partner, and then get out by yourself.

Full article here.

Go The F*ck To Sleep, part 2

A couple months ago, I saw the cover art for Adam Mansbach’s Go The Fuck To Sleep, and one sample verse.  Of course, I burst out laughing.  I think the word “perfect” crossed my mind.  And I posted about it here, because the concept totally captures that bizarre moment we all know: when the parallel universes of Earnest Parenthood and I’ve-Totally-Fucking-Had-It collide.  

The actual book, though, is super-repetitive. It’s a funny joke, but it’s just the one joke.  And yet, it’s become a phenomenon.  I get it, and I love when art screams out the truth, yet it makes me pause that so many folks seem to experience it as not just as funny but as such a relief, such a release, such an antidote.  What is missing in your life if this book fills the gap?

Amy Sohn wrote an interesting essay arguing that no woman could have written GTFTS.  No one wants to hear a mom who can’t hack it, is gripe-y or ungrateful – mothers are supposed to pretend it’s all good.  There’s a lot to this idea.  Mom-on-mom criticism is so common — and so vicious, and prone to go viral — it’s become an online publisher’s dream.  (Hey, let’s stop participating in that, ok?  There’s no vitality in being, anonymously, online, a sanctimommy or a carping meanie; venting impersonal criticism is a habit of loneliness that keeps you alone.)

Here’s the flip side to that.  If lonely parents tear each other down, parents with real life support do something else with their “Go The Fuck To Sleep” moments, something that makes them less likely to need this Book As Antidote.  

Here’s an example.  About a year ago, my cousin, author Rachel Vail emailed my sister and me, jokingly, a book idea:  Boo Fucking Hoo, a compilation of mothers’ snarky responses to kids’ little griefs.  

My sister and I shot back our own verses within the hour.  There was a suggestion that it be a pop-up book — a large middle finger would burst forth from the book’s pages.  We contemplated putting it to song.  We branched out into disgruntlement with husbands, careers.  Hilarity ensued. 

And the next day, we all moved on.  Why did we stop?  None of us felt even slightly guilty for our obnoxiousness and none of us is a shrinking violet.  We stopped because what we’d exchanged was not cathartic venting.  It wasn’t a new “edgy” or “irreverent” parenting style.  It was real friendship, and everyone should have plenty of it.

With friends, you can admit you don’t always like everything, or know what to do.  

You can say you don’t feel like doing it all — without the self-deprecating “Slacker Mom” tag.

You can complain that your kids are annoying without dissing them or making them cartoons, and you can say something great about them without being considered a braggart.

When you invest in deep, real friendships, you can be the full, florid range of real – not sarcastically harsh and not saccharine precious. And in return, you’re loved and supported.  So you can move on.           

New mothers, especially, need real life connections that let them find their way.  And yet it can be hard to find — blogs and listservs are easy, available, and are in some ways like community.  But you need to do more than “follow” someone who can say the real things you also feel:  you need to seek out real people you can talk to, you can trust,  you can love.  Those first GTFTS moments you feel can be shocking and unsettling.  But when you dare to share those thoughts with people you care for, you get something besides the laugh:  love.  And that helps you let it go.   Then you can enjoy the hilarity of a book like this, but not need prescription strength.

What Not To Say To A New Mother, Grandma Edition

Let me start by saying I love grandmothers, generally.  And when I’m working with a new mother, almost always, NewGrandma strikes me as loving, enthusiastic, concerned, and deeply lovable. 

 Yet her foot is often in her mouth.  And so, continuing with What Not To Say, this list is specific to New Grandmas.

1.  “Why don’t you just … “ 

“Why don’t you just hire a babysitter so you can get some baby-free time.”

“Why don’t you just stop worrying about everything?”

“Why don’t you just grow a vegetable garden in your window-box, and then cook my son nourishing food every night like he deserves after he works so hard all day.”

These remarks are undermining if they suggest that you don’t take her situation seriously.  And they aren’t questions at all, unless NewMom can respond, “Well, Mom, it’s because I’m overly controlling/anxious/inadequate just like you’re implying.” 

“Just” implies that whatever the new mom’s got going on is solvable by something extremely simple.  The journey into motherhood is not “solvable,” people.  It’s a process. 

Most of the time NewGrandmas say these things because they are concerned and want to help.  So, NewGrandma:  when that feeling springs up, why don’t you just say,

“What could I do right now that would help?”

And, New Moms:  if you hear one of these questions, feel free to respond to the question she ought to have just asked, by saying,

“I’d love it if you babysat for an hour so I could get a break!”

or

“I’m not ready to be apart from the baby yet but I’d love if you did a load of laundry!”

or

 “I’m amazed at how many little things worry me these days, but it might help if I met some other new moms, could you help me pack the diaper bag so I can get to the new MOMs group?”

or 

“Thanks so much for the joke about the vegetable garden, it’s so helpful to have some laughter to break up the intensity of my day with the baby.”

2.  Anything about your body or her body

Once I had a client with a five day old, whose mother told us that back in the Day, when she was nursing, she got a clogged duct.  “There were no pumps then,” she said cheerfully.  “So NewGrandpa had to suck the clogged duct out of me.” 

Silence.

Now, I love breastfeeding and am fascinated by the human body and actually could have chatted at length about this with NewGrandma and NewGrandpa.  But they weren’t my parents and I hadn’t just had a baby.  NewMom didn’t want to hear anything about it. 

Let us generalize from that and say it’s best, NewGrandma, for you to avoid telling NewMom about your episiotomy, hemorrhoids, bleeding nipples or postnatal weight loss timeline.  She has enough to deal with as her own body changes.

Speaking of which, don’t talk about NewMom’s body either, unless it’s to say, “You look great!” New moms can be sensitive about how they appear, and some will hear even your most sympathetic delivery of:

“You seem tired today”

as

“You look like crap!” 

So it’s best to avoid that possibility by skipping it.  Instead, why don’t you just say “Would you like me to hold the baby while you lie down?”

3.  “In my day we never/always did ________ and it was just fine/ even better / much more work than you are <lazily> doing / much less work than you are <stupidly> doing.”

The classic examples are how she fed the baby and how she dealt with sleep, but I’ve heard this on everything from car seats (“when you were a baby we just lay you across the seat!”) to making baby food (“in my day we pureed everything by hand!”) 

Logically NewMom might hear this as an interesting artifact from another time, but logic doesn’t always prevail.  Some moms hear, in these statements, an unspoken conclusion: 

“ … and the way you do it now is bad.” 

A breastfeeding mom might hear her mother-in-law’s reminiscence (“I had bottles lined up in the fridge at the ready!”) as a criticism of her nursing efforts.  A mom who’s struggling with a wakeful baby does not need to hear that “in my day we put you on your stomach and you slept through the night right away.”* 

I think NewGrandmas say these things, almost always, out of pure nostalgia.  After all, how trippy must it be for her to realize that several decades have just disappeared?  So, NewMoms, I encourage you to do a mental translation and hear it as though she just said, “Gosh, I’m so flooded with memories that at the moment I’m not thinking about you at all!”

And, NewGrandma: try to say that instead!  Because even if NewMom is being oversensitive, she just had a baby.  Cut the woman some slack. 

Occasionally, NewGrandmas do mean it personally.  And to them I say:  your daughter is not breastfeeding as a passive aggressive way of saying ,“You Were A Crappy, Ignorant Mother!” It’s not all about you.

*BTW, NewMom, you so did not sleep through the night; NewGrandma doesn’t remember as clearly as she thinks she does.

Space Available in Upcoming New MOMs Groups!

The next rounds of the new MOMs groups are starting up in the coming week; you can find detailed info and register here or, if you have questions, contact me directly at meredith at amotherisborn dot com. 

Chelsea New Moms: new series starts June 1 

Tribeca New Moms: new starts June 7.

Summer is upon us and schedules change — make sure to check on all your new-parent and mom/baby activities to confirm their summer schedules!

Hope to see you at the MOMs group!

New Moms’ Groups

New Moms’ Groups

This is the place where you can be real: messy, and unshowered some days, energetic and fresh-from-the-gym other times, deeply inspired one week and filled with doubt the next.  Moms’ Groups are the place to sort it out and to find like-minded women in the same life-moment. Some of the people you meet here will be friends for life.   

UPCOMING DATES: 

Four Thursdays (11-1) in Columbus Circle: (new series starts each month) at City Births, 370 W 58 St.

Four Wednesdays (2-4:00) in Tribeca: (new series starts each month) at Pregnancy & Parenting, 54 Warren St. 

Six Fridays (11:30-1:20) in SoHo: (this group is for Bowery Babes members; please contact me directly at meredith (at) amotherisborn (dot) com.

No matter the location, our focus is on the way that being a mother — not just having a baby — shapes your day and your life.

FAQ

Can I bring my baby?  Yes! 

Can I ask questions about breastfeeding?   Yes, although this is not only a breastfeeding group, the topic of breastfeeding often comes up!  I am an IBCLC and can give perspectives on the nursing relationship.  There is also a digital scale in Columbus Circle and in TriBeCa if you wish to weigh your baby.  However, this group is not a place to get one-on-one clinical support, and if it seems that’s what you need, I’ll suggest we chat afterwards about working together.

What if I’m not nursing?  Will I feel left out?  No! — the group is for moms, regardless of feeding method.  One of the benefits of a moms’ group is learning that in real life, if not online, people get along and support each other even if they are not all doing the same thing.

What do we do in a moms’ group, anyway?  Here are some topics:

• dealing with crying and fussy behavior
• establishing routines
• getting your body back
• co-parenting with your partner
• "myths" of motherhood
• sex and intimacy and parenting
• feeding, and sleep issues
• dealing with parents and in-laws
• coping with normal new mom anxiety and doubt

If I’m going back to work, is it worth it to come? Yes!  A new moms’ group is an introduction to a wonderful peer community. Being around other mothers will help you get your bearings in the transition to parenthood.  Some stay-at-home moms will continue month after month, and some of the moms who return to work will continue with the working moms’ group, but at the outset, you’re all starting in the same place. 

Can I come to more than one location? Yes, you can join more than one! Many moms do! But you have to register for each group separately with the host organization.  

What if I really can’t get out of the house but have lots of questions? Joining a group is best, but for moms who can’t, I do private parenting consults on these issues as well.

  

 Look at all these happy moms and babies!

How Not To Wet Your Pants, by Babeland

One thing I love about my job is that at the new MOMs groups I facilitate there is often crying and laughing all at once.  Just recently, for example, during a discussion of post-birth bodies, sex and intimacy, one new mom described her scramble to unlock her apartment door one day when she had to pee.  Moms’ lives can get busy: she’d been out with her baby doing a thousand errands and “holding it in,” till she reached emergency levels, and now that she’d made it home, her key was nowhere in sight. 

I think the rest of the room knew the story would end “and then I sneezed/coughed/laughed… .”

Standing outside your apartment door with a crying baby on one hip and pee in your sandals, that mom pointed out, is not the sexiest thing.

I know you’re now madly doing a dozen kegels while you read, because you know they improve perineal tone and reduce the stress incontinence that is common during and after pregnancy.  But perhaps you’re one of the many women who blow them off except at moments when the word “kegel” is uttered.  Because — do you really need one more thing on your to-do list?  

On the other hand, do you really need to pee into your sandals?

So but here’s an alternative: the Je Joue Ami, a PC muscle exercise toy.  I learned about the other night at a workshop for childbirth professionals at Babeland.

Here’s how it works:  you insert one of the Ami, (a small plastic and silicone ball with a plastic string for removal), vaginally, and … do nothing else!  Apparently the weights inside the ball cause your perineal muscles to tighten – spontaneously – as effectively as kegels but without thinking about it.  You can wear them for hours, I learned at Babeland, “while you go to the bank, do your errands or whatever you need to do all day.”

Perhaps the idea of walking around with plastic balls in your vag strikes you as a little funny, but I like that it’s both private and minimalist: you can wear it all day and no one knows.  And as you get stronger, you can graduate up to Ami 2 and Ami 3, also included in the set.  You might just end up with the Toned-est Perineum on the Block.

And there’s a bonus:  the description promises that as you “exercise your way through the set of three” you will “build up kegel muscle strength, increase orgasmic sensation, decrease incontinence, and stimulate the G-spot.”  Talk about multi-tasking!   And of course you could also just use them like Ben-Wa Balls.  They are, after all, called “Je Joue.”

By the way, Babeland is awesome, and the staff there really cares about your happiness and health.  Their Brooklyn location has some pretty excellent programming for pregnant women and new mothers, check them out.

“In the birthing world, it was big news: After a 15-year decline, home births in the U.S. rose 20 percent between 2004-2008. Though the actual numbers remain tiny — out of about 4 million births, 28,357 happened at home in 2008 — the reversal of the long downward trend is notable. So are the demographics: much of the increase was driven by highly educated white women. A full 1 percent of them decided to forgo the hospital and give birth at home, according to the new report published Friday in the journal Birth: Issues in Perinatal Care.”

—

I’m not sure I’d call it a trend, yet:  even with the increase, fewer than 1% of American women give birth at home. But what’s interesting about the data is that he biggest increase in home-birthing women is among white, highly educated women.  Home-birth is no longer just a “crunchy” option; increasingly, women who don’t even wear Birkenstocks are doing it.

Some folks have suggested that this proves more American women want “natural birth.”  If you’ve taken my childbirth class, you know I don’t like the word “natural” (in food labeling and in childbirth, it’s somehow both too-charged and unspecific).  Becoming a parent is quintessentially natural, though not everyone does it.  It’s natural, irrespective of how you cope with pain. 

To me, though, what’s even more natural is the desire for control and dignity when you face a challenge.   For some women, pain medication gives the sense of control they need, to cope with labor.  For other women, control means a familiar setting, not dealing with strangers, and avoiding hospitals’ institutional protocols that are designed for litigation-avoidance and not always for safety.   Part of the trend towards home-birth may be that more educated women, considering their options, choose a setting that gives them the sense of command they need in order to cope.  Hospitals wishing to draw women back might do well to consider what changes might let women feel more control.

For all women, control involves respect and dignity.  And one area where home-birth is unbeatable is customer satisfaction.  Women who give birth at home tend to describe a relationship of trust and respect with their caregivers.  I don’t mean in a soft-focus-let’s-all-gather-round-the-bonfire-and-talk-about-our-vaginas way.  What I mean is that their midwives treat them as competent adults and consumers, and remind them that birth is not only about the dilating cervix and the fetal heart tones.  It’s certainly more convenient to ignore the woman attached to the cervix – she might have questions!  She might want to tell you everything about her mother and her sex life!  She might need you to talk her down after she’s read all manner of horror stories on the internet!  She might want every single thing to be explained, or she might be so visibly scared that she says she is afraid of any information at all, to her detriment! – all of these things are complicated to deal with.  But it doesn’t compromise safety to take the time to meet her where she is and treat her as a human being so that she can feel respected and dignified.

Not everyone needs an intimate relationship with her doctor or midwife, but no one – not the Granola Birkenstock Mom, and not the Type A Wall Street Mom – can feel dignified if she is shamed, rushed or disrespected.  I meet several hundred pregnant women and new moms per year and the overwhelming majority are college educated women who give birth with an OB in a major hospital.  I hear many, many complaints about being rushed, chastised or even bullied, from moms who simply had questions.   It is upsetting to hear and it’s demoralizing how many of my clients don’t object because they despair that there is “no other option,” or that objecting would just make it worse.   Women planning a home-birth with a competent, professional midwife do not report being rushed, chastised or bullied – to the contrary, they typically report that they are treated like competent adults and human beings, and that being treated properly increases their self-confidence.  In this day and age, shouldn’t that be something we can all expect, anywhere?  

My hope is that the trend of highly educated women choosing home birth is a sign that women are voting with their feet.  And I hope that hospitals and OBs take note:  customer satisfaction is part of maternity care.  

(Full text of quote here).

Bottoms Up

I hate to blog about celebrities, but this post at the Bad Moms’ Club was worth passing along.  Apparently Mariah Carey was visited by Child Services after sipping some Guinness as she nursed her twins.  Her baby nurse had recommended that she drink beer to bring her milk in.

Here are some things we can all learn from this:

1.  your baby nurse (or mother, OB, pediatrician or neighbor) may not know jack sh*t about breastfeeding.  If you have concerns about your milk “coming in” or need other advice, or support about breast-feeding, contact an IBCLC.  

2. Occasional, moderate drinking (1-2 drinks) isn’t necessarily taboo while breastfeeding.  Little alcohol passes into the milk (about 16% of the moms’ dose), and, more importantly, it is metabolized out of the body relatively quickly.  Ideally the mom would wait before nursing— alcohol levels in milk peak 30-60 minutes after drinking, and then fall as the alcohol leaves mom’s blood stream.

3. Drinking alcohol can reduce your milk supply temporarily; alcohol inhibits the let down reflex.  Also, abstaining for 9 months of pregnancy, it may make you really sleepy, which may not be what you had in mind :-).  

4.  Apparently Mariah is nursing her twins!  Also apparently one of their names is an adjective.  Hm.

Childbirth Education

When folks think “childbirth classes” they often think “Lamaze,” and picture a bunch of crunchy granola ladies in 1970s garb, panting and blowing rhythmically.

No thanks! A good class gives you:

• basic information to familiarize you with how childbirth works, to build your confidence,

• factual information about medical procedures and options, specific to to how things are done in your zip code, so you are not relying on the internet or a book for information that varies regionally,

• guidance about how to interact with your provider to get the best care and a good experience, 

• lots of practical tools that help you cope with labor and work with your partner,

• a community of others going through this life event with whom to connect.

(Scroll down for FAQ).

I currently teach group classes in two formats.  

Weekend Intensive, first weekend each month  City Births, 370 W 58 St, $375/couple.

NOTE, in the CB series, infant care and breastfeeding is a combo class held the following day at either 10 am or 2 pm, and you must register and pay for them separately, here. 

Four Wednesdays, Pregnancy & Parenting uptown “Preparation for Childbirth,” 304 E 62 Street, $350/couple.   

NOTE, in the P&P series, baby care and breastfeeding is a combo class held separately in a different location; contact me to find my teaching dates when you register for childbirth. For more information on breastfeeding and newborn care classes, see here.

To schedule a private class, contact me: meredith (at) amotherisborn (dot) com.  

FAQ: 

1.  What style of childbirth class is this?  I am certified as a childbirth educator through CEAMNY, which is the most rigorous certification program in the country, requiring two- to three years of study before teachers begin their practice. The class is also locally tailored; I participate in ongoing continuing education about local birth practices and current research.  

In class, rather than teaching one technique, we begin with the notion that different people respond differently to pain and stress, and each birth is different. Therefore every woman needs to learn a wide range of pain coping options. You will be educated and well prepared for birth after this class regardless of your personal style. You will have tools to engage your care provider, to get the information you need.

2. What topics do you cover? 

• basic biology and anatomy 
• hormones of pregnancy/hormones and physiology of labor
• signs and stages of labor, and how long the whole thing takes
• when to go to the hospital
• pain coping tools including massage, positions, meditation, breath work, hydrotherapy, and drugs
• how to develop a dialogue with your caregiver to get the information you need and the best possible care
• basics of the technology and procedures used in hospital births, including induction, monitoring tools, assisted vaginal birth, c-section
• the wide range of normal variations in the birth process
• fears and anxieties around childbirth and parenting
• normal postnatal physical, emotional and logistical issues, as well as breastfeeding basics
• when to go to the hospital, what to bring, do you need a “birth plan” and other common questions.

3. What if I plan to use the epidural?  Do I still need a class?  Yes!  Everyone embarking on childbirth needs to know her options.  Epidural does not take away the stress, and it does not push your baby out.  And everyone needs to have a sense of how labor progresses, how the hospital works and how to communicate with your midwife or doctor.  

4.  I am not really a very crunchy granola person, will I feel out of place?  Neither am I, and I’ve never felt out of place in my class :-).  Seriously, it’s a class to teach you about the childbirth process and help prepare you for what you’re about to do.  We talk about facts and information, you’ll meet other people who are in the same moment as you are, we will have some fun, and you will feel more prepared.  It’s not about being a “type.”  

5. Do I bring my partner?  Yes — the class is for both of you and covers the role of the nonlaboring partner as well. 

6. Do you teach breathing?  I assume that if you’re a living adult you already know how to breathe!  But meditative breathwork is one of many tools that help some women, so we cover the basics of breathwork for mindful relaxation, and we talk about using breath as a self-hypnotic focus.

7.  What should I wear?  Wear comfortable clothes. In Classes 2 and 4 of the P&P series we practice different positions and it helps to wear stretchy pants so you can move around.  

8.  Do you cover breastfeeding and newborn care?  The culmination of pregnancy is the birth of your child, who must be cared for and fed.  A good childbirth class is incomplete if it doesn’t acknowledge what birth leads to.  My private classes, cover everything you need to know about birth and beyond.  At this time, group classes only include childbirth, and you will sign up for breastfeeding and newborn care separately. 

8a. Does a dad-to-be come to breastfeeding class?  Yes.  The class is designed for both parents; it is extremely helpful for dad to be there to learn the range of normal, how to help you, and troubleshooting.  

9. Is there a class reunion?  I don’t hold reunions, but I will create an email list for students so that you can share your birth stories and ongoing questions/concerns by email.  We love to see the pictures of all your little ones!  And all students are invited to join my new moms’ groups once their babies have arrived.

Classes for Parents of Older Babies and Toddlers

Even after the newborn stage, there’s more to learn about this wild ride of parenting!

In YOUR CHILD AGE 0-2, we cover:

• intellectual and emotional development thru the 2nd year
• dealing with food fights, bedtime battles and the word “NO!”
• side-by-side play and friendships between older babies and toddlers
• new-sibling issues
• nutrition, growth and physical development
• separation anxiety and transitions, and
• whether my daughter, (pictured above) had a meltdown about which bagel-half to eat first. 

         (just kidding, of course she did!)  

Contact me for dates and to register, at meredith (at) amotherisborn (dot) com.

___________________________________________________________

Development in the First Year is a workshop that covers the cognitive, physical and emotional milestones of the first year, as well as corresponding parenting skills as your baby grows.  

Contact me for dates and to register, at meredith (at) amotherisborn (dot) com.

________________________________________________________________

In the Older Baby Workshop we cover:

• cognitive and physical milestones from 6-15 months
• nutrition, solids and weaning
• baby-proofing
• appropriate play for your older baby
• beginning discipline issues
• repetitive and annoying behaviors
• nap transitions
• separation and stranger anxiety, and one-parent-preference

Contact me for dates at meredith @ amotherisborn dot com.

Private Classes are available, in your home, at work or by phone.

For Daughters Who've Become Moms, on Mothers' Day

I was rearranging my kids’ room last night, getting rid of books that won’t be read again.  Piles and piles of them, now, simply, outgrown.  Of course I saved some favorites for eventual grandkids (can I be old enough to have just used the word “grandkids”??), and others I was only too happy to be rid of.  But watching the pile grow, I thought of how much time I’ve spent, these past ten years, reading to my kids.  Mornings in bed.  Evenings in the rocking chair.  Long rainy afternoons at the kitchen counter.  On the subway.  At the beach.  Beloved, memorized books recited walking down the sidewalk. 

So many, many, many of those times were wonderful, close and intimate.  Reading to your kids is so much like nursing them — you use your body and your love to introduce them to the best of what the world has in store.  But other times were dull, endless, irritable, my impatience the background music, blaring.  How  many times have I skipped pages in _One Fish, Two Fish_, hoping my daughter wouldn’t notice? 

And yet, now, looking at this pile of books for nevermore, and my son, too big to share the rocking chair, it seems like it’s gone by very fast.  I do not mean the platitude.  It doesn’t “fly by.”  Sometimes, it positively drags.  But then, somehow, it’s gone, anyway. 

I see my own experience reflected in that of my students.  For them, it’s the long colicky evenings, or the marathon nursing sessions they’ve been justifiably complaining about for weeks, or the endless days where they look at the clock every five minutes, waiting for their partners to get home, only to find themselves, one bright morning, suddenly, tearful while putting away outgrown newborn clothes and hats.  For good.

Time moves weirdly.  We’ve no choice but to enjoy the parts of it that are enjoyable. This is what I think about when I read this lovely poem, by Thomas Lux:

A Little Tooth

Your baby grows a tooth, then two,
and four, and five, then she wants some meat
directly from the bone.  It's all

over: she'll learn some words, she'll fall
in love with cretins, dolts, a sweet
talker on his way to jail.  And you,

your wife, get old, flyblown, and rue
nothing.  You did, you loved, your feet
are sore.  It's dusk.  Your daughter's tall.

You were once that baby, growing a tooth.  How amazed must your own mother be that you’re now full grown with a child of your own.  Take some time, this Mothers Day, to be amazed with yourself and your child and your life, so marvelous, filled with love.

New Bedtime Story for Parents Willing to Laugh

OK, this is a new bedtime story by Adam Mansbach, in board-book format, showing a toddler cozying up for sleep with animals, by moonlight, on the cover.  The title? 

I kind of love this.  Because really?  No matter what you actually do when it comes to bedtime and nighttime, parents do have these moments, being, yk.  

Human.

Sample verse:

The cats nestle close to their kittens now.
The lambs have laid down with the sheep.
You’re cozy and warm in your bed, my dear
Please go the fuck to sleep.

I would write more about this, but my daughter is currently doing her best impersonation (im-pigeon-ation?) of the pigeon in _Don’t Let The Pigeon Drive The Bus_, except of course she doesn’t want to drive a bus, but play on an Ipad.  Too bad Mansbach’s new book isn’t out yet, or I’d whip it out right this second!

“Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.
What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.”

—

From Tina Fey’s book, _Bossypants_, part of her “Mother’s Prayer for Its Daughter”.

The whole prayer is great (you can hear her reading an excerpt in this interview with Terri Gross here) and hits on so many of a parent’s hopes and fears for her child (I especially liked, and related to, the part where she hopes that cutting grapes in half, today, will one day prevent her daughter from trying crystal meth — and “stick with beer” instead).

But I most love the quote above, because it’s a fantasy that a child will get the “perfect” career — and some agony about whether such a thing exists —  from a famous working mother who appears, truly, to have it all.   

No one has it all, of course, not even really happy people, not even really successful people.  But aren’t her dream jobs interesting?  Architecture, midwifery, golf course design … 

What is a dream job?  What are the ideal hours or industry or work parameters that would make it feel “just right”?   Would it be a job that allowed you to bring your child along, like Sacagewea did?  Would you be your own boss, or work for someone else?

And what kind of work do you dream for your child to do someday?  What would make you proud?

And if you’re an architect, midwife or golf course designer, is it all it’s cracked up to be?