I don't want to share my babysitter

I'm not sure if it's just a NYC thing or a universal truth, but finding a good, reliable babysitter is a PAIN in the ass. It takes research, phone calls, emails, and in my case, a little bit of luck. I met one of my amazing nighttime baby sitters (not my daughter's nanny but a woman we use in the evenings) outside of my building one day last summer. I was with L and the woman came up to me and asked if I ever needed a babysitter. Long story, short: she's amazing and lives one floor below us. Awesome. And, now we use her whenever we make the rare venture out in the evenings for an adult-only event/dinner/movie, etc. I'm sure my nanny would love the extra money, but unfortunately on top of her hourly fee, we also have to pay for her cabs to and from the train station. So, that's just not going to happen.

Well, the other day, I was on a group email with some of my mommy friends (women I met through a mommy stroll-in group when I was on maternity leave) and one of them asked if anyone knew of a good babysitter for evenings during the week and/or weekends. Part of me wanted to reply to her and share my amazing luck...and part of me, well, didn't. What if she started using her regularly and then when I wanted to use her, she wasn't available?? I have a deal with another mommy friend (who I turned on to this sitter as well) that we check with each other whenever we book her. So far, it's worked out really well. But to add someone else to the mix, well, you know what they say...two is company and three is...well...I just don't want to risk it.

Am I being selfish? Should I just share my good fortune and hope that my babysitting karma benefits from this act of selflessness.

It's been a week, and I still haven't responded to her email. As far as I know, no one else did either. So, maybe I'm not the only one who wants to keep their sitter all to themselves...

Number Two - Month One

It's official. We're going for another one. We've been talking about it for months. O and I kept switching sides -- pro kid #2 vs. anti kid #2 -- until we finally both landed somewhere in the middle and took that as a sign. Our current mantra is "You Only Live Once" - cliched, but somehow it gives us the inspiration to take this huge leap. There are moments when I think I'm ready and other moments, like this morning at 5:55am when L woke up and didn't go back to sleep, that I think I'm not.

We started trying a few weeks ago. When I say trying, I mean, we stopped using birth control. I used an online ovulation calendar to determine when my most fertile days were -- probably not the most precise method -- and used that as our sex scheduler. How romantic. By the way, they now have these ovulation calendars/calculators that tell you which of your fertile days are your best chances for having a boy or a girl. I really tried to ignore what it said, but it was like a big, warm, freshly-baked chocolate chip cookie - I just couldn't resist.

Speaking of things I couldn't resist....

We started this process the week we were away on vacation. In wine country. There was no way I was going to be in wine country and not partake. So, I did. Every night. I didn't drink a lot or anything. Just a glass or maybe two. I've been rationalizing my alcohol intake with the fact that the Europeans drink throughout their pregnancy, don't they? And, since I've been home from vacation (it's been over a week) I haven't drank a drop. Oh, except that 1/2 a glass if Rose at my Board meeting. But, that was all. Honest.

So, now I'm waiting for my period to arrive because I am fairly certain that I am not pregnant. I even took a home pregnancy test, just to be sure. It was one of those early hormone detector ones. Even though I knew deep down that I wasn't, I still got nervous as I waited for the results. It brought me back to the day I found out I was pregnant with L. It was our second month trying, and I got what I thought was my period. It only lasted a day, and when I told my best friend A, she said "You're pregnant. Go get one of those pee on the stick tests and call me in an hour." I was on my way to work but couldn't wait until the end of the day to find out, so I took the test in a bathroom stall at my office.

I really hope it doesn't take us too long to get pregnant, but know that this time around I'm older, busier and more stressed-out. Yet, I know that if I don't try, I might regret it. And, even if that doesn't sound like the best reason to have another child, it's my reason. At least, it is today.

My Kid is the Boss of Me

My mom always says, and I hate her for it, that "older" parents are so much more lenient than younger ones. We analyze too much and give in way too easily to our children's whims, tantrums and desires. While it's true that I do fall into the "older" parent category (I had my daughter at 35), I never in a million years thought I'd be a mom who had problems disciplining my child. Or rather, more specifically, that my child would be the "boss of me."

Well, guess what? She is. My daughter tells me to jump and I say how hi...she tells me to sit down, stand up, roll over, play dead. Seriously. Now, I don't know if it's just an age thing - she'll be 2 in July - but, often I feel like I have no control over her and that in my house, "no" does not mean "no". At least, not when it comes out of my mouth.

Don't get me wrong: I don't blame her for this. I think my lack of "strictness" comes from the perfect storm of working-mommy guilt and lack of self-esteem. Both of which, I spend many hours discussing in therapy. Regardless, it sometimes feels like a helpless cause to stand up to her, and just easier to sit back and let her have that second scoop of ice cream or watch another 3o minutes of television. Really, in the scheme of life, is it really such a big deal?

I know, I know. I have to set the groundwork now so she knows that she can't walk all over me or get whatever she wants whenever she wants it. Boundries, people, boundries. That's what its all about. If someone could help me establish them, I would be eternally grateful. The one thing i do know, is I would be this way whether I was 37 or 27, so mom, sorry, I think you're wrong about this one.

The Birthday Party Blues

L is turning two July 9. That's exactly one month from now. And, I (we) still haven't decided what we're doing to celebrate. At first, we agreed to do something small - a little party at the local playground with a few balloons, some cupcakes, and maybe, if we were feeling really crazy, some pizza. But, unfortunately, it seems that that's exactly what all of her other friends parents decided to do as well. At last count, we have received 5 invitations within a 4 week period for parties that will be taking place at the SAME PLAYGROUND. Now, being "original" is not a top-priority in my life, but come on, this is RIDICULOUS. How could I have L's party be #6 in the line-up? So now we're considering the unthinkable - NOT HAVING A PARTY. Even as I type those words, I can't accept that they could really be true. The thing is, I come from a family of partiers...Every holiday, birthday, long weekend, sunny day -- was an excuse to celebrate. So, the idea of NOT having a party is truly, absolutely, positively STRANGE to me. My husband says - "she's only 2 - she won't remember it anyway." But I will remember! And, be racked with guilt, shame and regret. Or will I? I guess that's the real question right now. Mommies out there in the blogosphere - any thoughts, suggestions and advice would be appreciated!

Business Travel is a Bitch

I like my job. I really do. And, when my boss asked me to go to Los Angeles to cover a photo shoot, I was relatively okay with it. Truth be told, my mom lives in Santa Monica, and we only see each other a few times a year, so I thought the trip was a good opportunity to "kill two birds with one stone." And, I even agreed to stay with her while I was there - the plus side: I would be saving my company two nights worth of hotel costs, the downside: the experience was sure to set me back at least 6 months in therapy. Since the birth of L, the longest we've been apart is two nights. The first time was last summer. It was for a work-related two day retreat in the Catskills. I cried for three hours the first night and then barely kept it together the second. The nights are so much harder than the days, let me tell you. The second time was this past March. My best friend and I went to Vegas for a "girls" weekend. (Its NOT what you think.) All we did was see movies, go out to dinner and sleep. Well, I did drag her to the casino with me a few times. I even won $100 on the .25 slots! The thing is, she was 7 months pregnant with her second, so that REALLY limited our choices of activities. Not that we cared. We were thrilled to just hang and talk and laugh and be with each other. She's lived in San Francisco since 2001, and we barely see each other. That time, for obvious reasons, it was a litte bit easier to be away from L. I still felt guilty, but, was able to endure it because I was having such a great time with my bff. So, when this LA trip came about, I was feeling confident that I could do it. Especially since it would only be for two nights. But, of course, just when you think you've got it all under control, life throws you a curve. The person (an infamous b-list celebrity) we were shooting made us move the photo shoot to the following day because she was "sick." Besides incurring over 10K in cancellation fees, the biggest loss, as far as I was concerned, was the fact that I was now going to be away from L for THREE days. O wasn't too happy about it either.

At the moment, I'm still here in LA. Just got off the phone with O and L to wish her good night and let them know which flight I'll be taking. I"m trying to not let the mommy guilt overwhelm me. How do other moms do it? I rationalize that she's so young and won't remember this. And, sometimes I think that my working is actually GOOD for her and that I'm a positive role model and teaching her that women can do it all...but, at the end of the day, is that enough? For her or for me? I just don't know.

Me? A Blogger?

So, I did something a little bit...well..."crazy". I decided to blog for another, well a real, Web site. It's called NYC Moms Blog and it's basically a group of what appears to be very intelligent, interesting, well-read women who blog about life as a NYC mom. I had seen the blog on my friend's Web site and sent them an email to see if they were looking for more writers. Jill, one of the women who started the site, checked out my blog and said she thought I'd make a good addition to the "group." It's been over a week since I've been accepted and I still haven't posted anything. I'm PETRIFIED. Plus, the posting procedures are a little confusing...At the moment, I'm trying to decide if I really want to be a writer or if I just like the idea of people thinking that my writing doesn't suck. The whole idea of people actually reading what I write is really, really scary. Yet, it's also thrilling.

Stay Tuned.

Mommy = Worrier 4 Ever

Little L is sick. She has a 102.4 degree fever. I knew it! This morning when she woke up crying, I had a feeling something wasn't right. And when I held her, she felt very warm. But, as usual, when I asked my husband if he thought she had a fever, he touched her forehead and said "you know I can't tell these things. Maybe it's just warm in here." So, I ignored my own instinct and went to work without taking her temperature. And, to be fair, she seemed fine. She wasn't her usual bouncing off the walls self, but she wasn't curled up in a ball on the floor either. As I was walking out the door, I mentioned to my nanny that I thought something might be wrong and to take her temperature in a few hours, especially if L continued to feel warm and/or acted strange. The first call came at 10:36a. It was J. 98.8 degrees, she reported. Hmm. Good. No fever. I guess I was wrong. I was obviously glad and went about my day, accepting the news even though I was skeptical.

The second call came at 4:34p. J said they had just come home from the playground and L wasn't acting like herself. She was clingy and whiny so they left after a few minutes and J decided to take her temperature again. 102.4. I immediately emailed O. Part of me was worried, of course, and then part of me felt a little... satisfied. I was right! She was sick! Ha! I told you so...

The thing is, I'm always thinking L is sick. Whenever she coughs or acts a bit off, I assume the worst. To be fair, I come by it honestly. Both my parents are certified hypochondriacs. Big time.
And, I have a slight, okay, raging case of it myself. But, as enter my second year of being a mom, I realize the importance of curbing my own anxieties and trying not worry too much about every little thing. Yet another thing to add to my to do list...

24 hours later little L's fever is down. We had a rough night and an early morning. But, she seems better and I'm thrilled about that. I should be getting ready for work, but instead I'm sitting with her watching Little Einsteins and drinking juice.

Facebook is Crack

And Crack is Wack. I recently signed up for Facebook after a few glasses of wine. I must warn you: alcohol and social networking sites do not mix. Now I have a full profile with pictures, and games and little icons that I have no idea what they mean. Plus, I have reconnected with people I haven't spoken to in 10, 20 and maybe even 25 years. The truth is, there was a reason I wasn't in touch with them in the first place. Now, it's all I can think about. I go on my "page" all day long. I play Scabulous. I look on my friends' pages to see if they have people on there that I want to be "friends' with too. Help me. It's getting out of control.

Mommy Land

There's a place called "mommy land" that I have been a frequent visitor of since late July 2006. It all started when I joined the "New Mothers Drop-In" at the 14th Street Y about 5 weeks after I had L. I was desperate to make new "mommy" friends -- women with whom I could share this ridiculously mind-boggling experience called being a mom. The group varied in size from 10-20 people and was filled with women in their late 20's to mid 30's with babies (give or take 3 months)the same age as L. I loved it right away. It was like a group therapy session on speed. It was that intense. I went every Tuesday for the entire time I was on Maternity Leave. And, I have to say, it really helped me through those first few months. Because, whatever ANYONE says, those early days can be rough. And, having some kind of support outside of your husband or immediate family, can really make a difference. I met a handful of great women who lived in my neighborhood and soon, my days were filled with play dates, meeting up for coffee, hanging out in the park or, on those very special occasions, a glass of wine or two at 3pm on a Friday.

I really look back on those days with such fondness. It was an incredible time -- I had never been so tired, yet so happy and yet so unsure of what I was doing. We all bonded so quickly and it felt like we were at summer camp, isolated from the rest of the world and having to rely only on each other for survival. I really loved "Mommy land" and all of the banalities and mundaneness that it entailed. I don't mean that in a negative way -- I honestly mean it was nice to focus on someone other than myself and on all of the things that go into caring for another human being on that level. Soon, though, I went back to work and quickly the friendships and the world we created began to dissolve. At least it did for me. I also came to see how there was such a divide between working and stay at home moms. I think I will go into that more in another post because I really struggle with that and have trouble coming to peace with how I feel about it.

I just visited Mommy land again today. We had a play date with a few of the original women and their babies (now almost 22 mnth olds) in one of the playgrounds near my house. We all shared a few stories and complained about how our rugrat wasn't sleeping enough or napping enough or eating enough...It felt good to be with them again, yet, I realize that like dark chocolate or Valium, it's better in small doses.

Another Thing To Stress About?

Dinner. It's been the bane of my existence ever since I've been married. Oh, I know I'm not alone and that there are hundreds of Web sites, and cookbooks and television shows dedicated to answering the age-old question: What can I make my family for dinner? But, somehow, I never thought it would happen to me. I never thought I'd be one of those millions of women (come on, you know it's usually our responsibility...even in the most modern households)who stress, worry and dedicate WAY too much time thinking about what to cook. The thing is, food is already a complicated subject for me. I have been "watching" my weight for as long as I can remember. And of course my dear husband is tall, lean and has never had to count a calorie his entire life. Plus, there's the time factor. During the week, we get home at 6:30. L has already eaten, so at least I don't have to worry about HER (only Wednesdays and the weekends - I'll cover that in another post)and little Ms. 21 month old doesn't go to bed before 8:30p (on a good night) so, I don't start cooking until then. Suffice it to say, we're not eating until at least 9 and then there's clean up...You get the idea. The good news is, I do have a few recipes that I can rely on -- mostly from Giada de Laurentis' pasta and everyday Italian cookbook. But, there's only so many times I can make those without getting bored and/or boring my husband (which I was accused of lately -- not a pleasant conversation.) So then I try a new recipe, but that entails the uncertainty of whether or not my husband will like it. Yes, I know, it sounds so 1950's of me. But, at the end of the day, isn't that what cooking is about? Making other people happy? Okay, okay, I know that's not exactly all that it is about. But, I know how much pleasure I get from really good food and I love the feeling of satisfaction (?) I get when I cook something that everyone (mostly my husband) thinks is delicious. Maybe that makes me a bit old-school. I can handle that. In the meantime, I need some new recipes (ideally, low fat and healthy for me -- rich and hearty for my husband)and more time. A girl can dream, can't she?

The Skin I'm In

No one would ever describe me as "freckle-y" but, I do have my fair share of those infamous brown dots all over my body. When I was younger, they were kind of cute. My mom used to pretend to play connect the dots with the ones on my back. But, now, as an adult, many of those freckles have grown into moles and quite frankly, they're just ugly. As a result, I am fairly serious about sun protection and 350 days of the year, I'm as pale as can be. Though, of course as a teen and tween, I burnt the SHIT out of myself constantly, based on the belief that the tanner my skin, the thinner I looked. I remember even before that, when I was just a girl of 5 or 6, my grandfather would encourage me to "get a little color," while slathering himself in Coppertone SPF 2, and smoking a cigar. Ahh, those were the days. Today, getting a suntan or burn is almost as taboo as drinking alcohol while you're pregnant or smoking in a restaurant. I kind of miss being oblivious to the danger that all that fun stuff can cause. Well, I'm here to tell you, the party is definitely over. I just came back from my annual appointment with my dermatologist and he took a biopsy of one of my mole/freckles on the side of my cheek. He didn't like the "color" of it and it had grown 2mm in the past 5 years. Anyway...turns out I don't have cancer. Phew! But, "they" (not entirely sure who "they" are) said it was a very unusual type of mole and, even though it's flat, it should be removed. Just to be safe.

So, I'm going to be safe and doing the procedure next week. I know I should be grateful and that it could be so much worse. But, I'm still a little freaked out by the whole thing.

 

Islamorada 2008

We've been back from vacation for almost 4 days. All in all, it was a good trip. The weather was beautiful, the house we stayed in was huge and well-appointed, and O and I were actually able to spend a few hours alone...which was due to the fact that we brought our nanny with us.

Bringing your nanny on vacation is not for everyone. And I'm not even talking about the money. Because, sure, it's expensive. But, beyond that it is definitely strange having someone who is not really your "family" (even if you say she is) spend pretty much 24 hours a day with your family.

J (the nanny) and I have had our ups and downs these past 1.5 years. But, lately, (before the vacation) we have been getting along really well. I would even say we've become actual friends. Of course I had my doubts about having her come with us on the trip. She had come with us last year, but, for some reason I had completely forgotten any of the awkward/tense/annoying moments, and just had a lovely, romanticized memory of the experience.

Well, this year, there were definitely times when I almost lost my shit with her. Specifically, I felt like she kept criticizing how I handled L -- insinuating that I wasn't being strict enough with her, etc. There was also the "celery incident" -- which is too ridiculous to explain, but suffice it to say it started with my storming off in a huff and ended with us hugging and crying in the kitchen. Oy.

But, overall, would I do it again? You bet.

The L of my life

Welcome to Mommy Juice

Wow. I'm really doing it. I'm starting a blog.
This is crazy. Uncomfortable. Strange. Nauseating.

Well, here it goes...

First I should explain what "mommy juice" actually is.

A few months ago, my daughter and my husband and I were sitting around the table having dinner. My daughter, who is almost 21 months old, pointed to my glass of red wine and asked if she could "have some." Of course, my husband and I, practically at the same time, said "no!"

Then, she looked at us and smiled and said "Mommy juice!"

So, that's the literal definition of mommy juice. But, my blog, Mommy Juice, for now, is just a place for me to share my experiences of being a working mom in NYC...which includes all the bullshit, all the craziness and all my neurotic observations.