Today’s a special day in our family:
Now if only we weren’t both sick…
And, as long as I’m wishing for things, maybe we could win the lottery?
Oh that’s right! We already did win the lottery! (Awwwwww)
Carrying a diaper bag suits me.
I’ve always been the kind of person to have too much stuff on me. Occasionally it pays off – like when I’m stuck in line somewhere and need something to read, or when someone says, “Does anyone have contact solution?” or when someone needs to borrow a pen and I can offer them a choice between 7 different pens and 1 mechanical pencil.
(I like mechanical pencils way more than regular pencils: you don’t have to sharpen them and I just feel like they write really nicely. One of my favorite things in high school used to be sitting down to do math homework on a nice piece of fresh graph paper with a nice 0.7 mechanical pencil…NOT a 0.5!)
Often, of course, I’m just the person with a way-too-full purse, and people with good intentions will tell me that it’s too heavy and that it’s bad for me or something. I remember, right when we moved back to California in 2009, I finally decided to stop carrying around a messenger bag, and I went to Macy’s and bought my purse, the same one I’ve carried since then. It was purple and hobo style, not super huge, but big enough to fit a book and my planner and a granola bar and a bunch of papers I don’t need and of course, up to 10 writing implements.
I carried that purse for over 3 years, probably never matching it to my “outfits,” and I loved it no matter how worn out it got and how dirty it was. But then at church on Christmas Eve, I tried to zip it shut and I guess it was just too full, and the zipper broke clean off. A couple days after Christmas, I remembered about the zipper busting, and so I sat down, ceremoniously emptied everything out, threw away all the old gum wrappers and receipts, sorted the papers into three piles (“shred,” “do something,” “file”), and then, without further ado, stuffed the purse into our kitchen trash can. Not the most illustrious send-off for an accessory that has served me well, but rest assured, purple Nine West purse, I will never forget you.
So now I’ve busted out my cross-body bag that has the NY Public Library lions on the front. Drew’s mom gave it to me for Christmas in 2008. I love it, and it’s got more room, so now I can have all my regular stuff, plus my Nalgene and even an extra granola bar. But probably my favorite thing about it is, since it’s a cross-body, it doesn’t require extra work to keep it on my shoulder, and it doesn’t fall down my arm when I lean over to pick up the carseat, grocery bags, baby toys, etc. (Women will probably understand what I mean.)
But a diaper bag opens up even more possibilities than just a medium-sized purse. I love having an excuse to take an even bigger bag with me. I love that I can just pack up everything I could possibly need: extra clothes (and they’re so tiny, you can fit so many!), bib(s), diapers, almost empty package of wipes, brand new package of wipes, burp cloths, disposable burp cloths, toys, nursing pads, travel lotion, more toys, extra pacifier, pacifier leash(es), other nursing pads, extra plastic fork (just in case?), large hook (for the stroller push bar to hang your plastic shopping bags on), pacifier wipes, diaper disposal bags (scented in case you have throw away a dirty diaper in your office)… and I might be forgetting something.
All this stuff fits in one regular-sized diaper bag…and means that we’re prepared for almost any occasion. I just love that. I love being prepared. I think that’s one of the things I really liked about stage managing – having a kit full of office supplies. (Well, being prepared, and, I just love office supplies.)
The funny thing is, we don’t really need this stuff that often. We do leave the diaper bag at home, or in the car, and go out without it. I’m sure a day will come when we’ll regret that.
In the meantime, we’ll make sure the diaper bag is well stocked for all contingencies. I’ll continue my quest to fit more and more things in my NY Library lions bag. And maybe one day, when all this baby stuff has calmed down, I’ll get myself a new, ladylike purse. One that would make the ladies of Sex and the City proud. Maybe.
To no one’s surprise, the world did not end this year – meaning 2013 is nearly upon us. That means it’s time to start making all kinds of promises that are meant to make ourselves “better” people: thinner, smarter, cleaner, neater, richer, more interesting, more well-rounded people.
I have made New Year’s resolutions every year for the past 5 years, to varying success. Sometimes they have taken different forms, depending on how ambitious I am. Also how tired I am of failing at my standard resolutions: save money. Go the gym. Write more. Eat better.
In 2009, when I was still living in New York City, I made a list of 100 things I wanted to accomplish during the year. Some things were easy: watch a sunrise. Send valentines to my family. Go on rollercoasters. Some things were more of a challenge (and thus, didn’t happen): Buy a MacBook. See a Cirque du Soleil show. Some things were private, some things were silly. Some things were foresightful: Move back to California (by driving). At the end of December 2008, how could I have known for sure we’d move back? I guess some things work out. Ultimately I crossed 59 things off that list. In terms of grading, I believe that’s an F. But in terms of New Year’s resolutions I’d say it’s pretty darn good.
In 2010 and 2011, I just made categories of promises to myself: some resolutions about my health, some about writing, some about money, some about relationships. There are usually two or three things under each category, and I try to be as specific as possible. So not just “save money” but specific amounts. Not just “write more” but certain monthly goals to meet. It doesn’t always work but it makes it a lot easier to say how it went at the end of the year.
I’m coming to the time that I review how I did in 2012. I will say that my two biggest goals – “Get pregnant” and “Have a baby” – will make up for any goals on which I fell short this year. (And yes, I made those two resolutions separately as my way of making it clear to the universe what I wanted. Like I said, I believe in clarity.)
I’m also coming to the time that I will form my new resolutions for 2013. I predict they will be much the same at my 2012 resolutions. But as always, I have high hopes for the new year.
Here are my tips for writing successful New Year’s resolutions:
1. Be specific. Don’t say “be healthier,” say “Drink 32 oz of water a day.” Instead of “Be a better person,” try “Volunteer at a soup kitchen once a month.” Specificity keeps you on track and gives you a way to assess how it’s going.
2. Categorize. I find it really helpful to group things together. Then I can have one from each category that I’m working on at once. I like the categories of “health,” “finances,” “relationship,” and “writing.” But that’s just me.
3. Don’t go overboard. I usually have around 12 resolutions, but they are all baby steps and lots of them are season-specific. Many of them are monthly goals. So it’s not like I’m ever actually juggling 12 things. It’s just things to think about throughout the year.
4. Keep them somewhere you’ll see them occasionally, so you remember that they exist. I’m not a print-them-out-and-stick-them-on-the-fridge kind of girl, but I keep them somewhere that I can glance at them now and again, and see how far behind I am.
Happy New Year and happy resolving! May you accomplish enough in 2013 to feel proud…but still leave plenty of room for improvement in 2014!
The looks back at 2012 begin! Up next: a review of my new year’s resolutions, and how well I did.
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The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
4,329 films were submitted to the 2012 Cannes Film Festival. This blog had 13,000 views in 2012. If each view were a film, this blog would power 3 Film Festivals
You know that one person in the room who will read something on their computer or their phone, and then laugh out loud in a really fake way, and you know they want you to say, “What’s so funny” so they can tell you about it?
That person drives me crazy and I usually just ignore them. Very deliberately. As obviously as possible.
But, I have found myself reading things and laughing out loud. And I always tell Drew that I’m not doing it so he’ll ask me – I really just find it that funny. I don’t laugh at loud at everything. Like, I love 30 Rock, and I think it’s really funny, but I wouldn’t say I laugh out loud at it all the time. Laughing out loud at a movie, TV show, or written material is pretty special. (Not to be confused with lol-ing, which I do all the time without irony.)
So, I thought I would share this list of blogs and books that have made me legitimately laugh out loud.
That’s the thing about those really good belly-laughs when everything starts to hurt and you can’t breathe and you just smeared your mascara all over. You can’t always predict them and you can’t usually make them happen again on command. So you have to really appreciate them in the moment.
I wrote this poem this morning.
For B, On Saturday Morning
When you fell asleep while nursing,
I thought you’d go back to sleep,
But you started crying.
When we brought you into the big bed,
I thought you’d at least stay quiet,
But you just wanted to kick and coo.
When Daddy got up with you,
I thought I could (possibly) doze for another few minutes,
But then you peed in your own face,
Twice,
And I knew it was time to just get up.
We did it! We went to church!
For weeks months years now I’ve spent the whole week gearing myself up to go for it, only to talk myself out of it Sunday morning for one or another reason. There is always an excuse.
On Saturday night I went to the opening night of Big River, and didn’t get home until nearly midnight. On Sunday morning I managed to get the baby to sleep until 9. And it was drizzly and cold. All great excuses to stay home in pajamas. But I bribed us with the promise of post-church Starbucks, got dressed, and we headed out the door to check out the Lutheran church with the great view that’s only 5 minutes away.
Church is just one of the things I’ve decided to put on my last-ditch 2012 resolutions list. I figured that even though it’s intimidating, it’s never going to take more than an hour. And what’s the worst that can happen? It seems worth the benefits.
On our (short) drive there, I told Drew that I think the thing I would want to avoid the most would be having to talk to a bunch of new people. I just wanted to sneak in, sit in the back, and get out. But when we got there, people were immediately friendly, and the large, high-ceilinged sanctuary was far from full…and I realized how silly it was that I thought that we could sneak in with a baby and not attract a ton of attention.
B did okay at his first church service, but he was fussy and Drew was really working hard to keep him quiet. He finally lost that battle around the beginning of the sermon, and they went out to the nursery. We ended up leaving a little early, but still considered it a total victory. I’m looking forward to trying again next week.
I don’t actually think that B was bothering anyone. They seemed really welcoming, and we were in the same pew as some little girls who were coloring loudly (I remember doing that). In the pew in front of us a guy fell asleep during the sermon and snored for a few minutes. So I think it would have been okay even if he had gotten a little noisy.
On the other hand, I was super distracted by being nervous about it (and I bet Drew was even more distracted, what with actually holding him and all), so I’m not sure how much I got out of the whole thing. But still, when it was all over and we were heading to Starbucks, I felt accomplished and productive and virtuous. Like the feeling you get after going to the gym, or volunteering, or cleaning the whole house. Addictive…I hope.
The other day B and I went for a walk on the levee. Since then the weather has taken a turn for the rainy, so I’m glad we spent the last week getting outside every day.
I’ve been sticking to pretty flat routes for walks – but I decided the other day that we were going to tackle the stairs at the end of the levee that head up the hill. I meant to count the stairs but I forgot, because I was too busy stopping three times to catch my breath. It’s from being out of shape practice…I don’t think I can blame the 10 pound baby strapped to the front of me.
Every time I stopped, I would turn around and look at the view, so just in case anyone was watching (and judging), perhaps they would think I just wanted to admire the ocean and the pier and the beach. On my last pause, I noticed a person starting up the stairs behind me, and I decided I was going to get to the top before them.
I got to the top and paused again (you know, for the view), and eventually the guy caught up to me. He was older and friendly, and asked me about the baby. I showed him off a little bit, and we talked about the guy’s son (who is 21 now) and how when he was a newborn, he would take his son for walks at Pleasanton Ridge all the time, and he thinks it helped turn his son into an athlete. Finally, he told me how cute B is, and good job for taking him out, and have a great day before the rain starts. A very pleasant interaction. I love when people are nice.
Although, I’ve gotten kind of paranoid, so I definitely stayed out in the open, away from the point, and where I could see other people.
We made our way back down the hill and were heading back home, when another older guy, walking the opposite direction, said
“You look happy…do you have a baby in there??”
“Yeah,” I said.
“He’s so little!”
“Yeah, he’s still just a little guy.”
Then he came out with, “I hope you’re married.”
Um… “I am.”
“Good…I mean, I hope you’re happy.”
“I am.” Okay, thanks, bye.
…
I liked the first guy better.
Baby B’s first thanksgiving! He’s thankful for his Lion King mobile. And so are we, because he loves it and will watch it happily and smile and dance. This allows me to brush my teeth and put in my contacts on the days when Drew is at work.
My brother and his wife weren’t able to fly out from Denver, so I’m thankful that my parents came down and we had dinner with Drew’s family, and it was really fun.
B was super fussy all day (growth spurt?) (they’re all growth spurts) so I’m thankful that everyone was easygoing about all the crying, and eager to try to hold him and calm him down, but understanding when I just had to go in other room and feed him. I’m also thankful that he’s strong and healthy and altogether a normal little boy. (I’m even thankful for the crying.)
Drew held him throughout dinner, and we were both kind of up and down with him, so neither of us gorged in that traditional, Thanksgiving dinner way. I’m thankful for that, in itself. But I’m also thankful that we got lots of leftovers to bring home, so we can eventually get our fill of turkey, stuffing, gravy, and all the rest.
I’m thankful that B has two sets of awesome grandparents who love him and are excited to watch him grow up. I’m thankful that those two sets of grandparents get along with each other.
Last year I was being deliberately optimistic about not being pregnant yet, and I was counting my blessings, and all that. I’m really thankful that this year I don’t have to twist the situation to shed it in a positive light.
Most of all this year I’m thankful for my two boys – for the one I chose and for the one who then (finally!) chose us.
This week, Drew and I celebrated our third wedding anniversary. How did we celebrate?
My parents came down and babysat:
And they sent us out on a date, where we promised each other not to talk about the baby. (We had occasional lapses. But overall we did way better than I’d expected.) I knew the evening was a special one, because I used two different colors of eyeshadow, and put on jewelry.
We went to the Melting Pot, which we have talked about doing for ages but have never quite gotten around to it. Neither of us really knew what we were getting into – for instance, they prepare and melt the fondue on a burner at your table. And you cook your meat in a pot on a burner at your table. And there’s a burner on your table.
We had spinach artichoke cheese fondue…
…Salads; then a variety of meats we attempted to cook; and then a white chocolate/banana/caramel/cinnamon dessert.
It was a fun, out of the ordinary experience that we might not have had if we hadn’t been pushed out the door…so thanks, Mom and Dad!
In a weird way, this year’s anniversary felt somehow more significant than past anniversaries have felt. Maybe because this year we really took the time to plan something, make a reservation, get a babysitter (or two), and go somewhere. It was really good to get out. And I think the timing (baby B is just over 6 weeks old) worked out well also.
Happy three years! It feels like an eyeblink, or maybe a decade. Let’s go on more dates.
The Cameraphone Diaries 