Today is Grover's birthday.
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Tuesday, October 14
Pregnancy & Babies: Am I Realistic or Glass-Half-Empty? You decide.
When I read the first line in Baby Proof, I felt a sense of validation and relief. Even though the book was fiction, at least I knew someone had considered that a woman might struggle with the decision to have a child. So, I began looking for a nonfiction book about real women struggling with this decision and feeling trapped in a society that seems to be making her decision for her. I haven’t found the book I’m looking for, but nevertheless have an ever-expanding library of pregnancy and baby-related books.
.
Girlfriend’s Guide to Pregnancy, by Vicki Iovine.
This is my favorite of the books I’ve read. Iovine details her personal experiences during four pregnancies. The premise of the book is to speak to the reader as “only a girlfriend would”. What I appreciate about this book is that Iovine doesn’t sugar-coat pregnancy. She also doesn’t limit her discussion to her first pregnancy, which I have noticed is often romanticized by a first-time mother. After having four babies, Iovine gives the gross, uncomfortable details that other books on pregnancy barely mention.
.
Since turning 30, I have been developing a mental filter that sifts through the idealistic picture of pregnancy and babies. In Iovine’s forward, she says, “Being pregnant is a time of such anticipation and optimism and dreaming . . . and fear and insecurity and self-doubt (but more about that later).” I am still looking for the book that discusses what she puts off for later because right now, I only feel the latter emotions she described and am numb to the former.
.
I am afraid. I recently wandered onto the Café Mom website out of curiosity for what online moms in my geographic area have to say. I was appalled at what I found. Mothers in the “Regional Club: New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania” were opening their introductions like this, “Hi. I’m Janice from Northern New Jersey, and my son has Autism, asthma, Asperger Syndrome, ADHD, and anxiety.”
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I got nauseous reading the countless entries about the illnesses (which don't all start with the letter "A", by the ways) these children have. There were very few who mentioned the child’s hobbies or interests. I also have a friend who recently had a baby with Down Syndrome. Like I said, I am afraid. Terrified! These aren’t issues that I want to learn about, explore in detail or recognize as a possibility after I am already pregnant. I want to know them now, before I decide whether I want to have a baby, a baby who could also be affected by them.
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As far as insecurity and self-doubt, I abound there also. Am I being realistic, or am I being glass-half-empty?
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Want more information on the illnesses listed above?
ADHD
Asperger Syndrome
Autism
Girlfriend’s Guide to Pregnancy, by Vicki Iovine.
This is my favorite of the books I’ve read. Iovine details her personal experiences during four pregnancies. The premise of the book is to speak to the reader as “only a girlfriend would”. What I appreciate about this book is that Iovine doesn’t sugar-coat pregnancy. She also doesn’t limit her discussion to her first pregnancy, which I have noticed is often romanticized by a first-time mother. After having four babies, Iovine gives the gross, uncomfortable details that other books on pregnancy barely mention.
.
Since turning 30, I have been developing a mental filter that sifts through the idealistic picture of pregnancy and babies. In Iovine’s forward, she says, “Being pregnant is a time of such anticipation and optimism and dreaming . . . and fear and insecurity and self-doubt (but more about that later).” I am still looking for the book that discusses what she puts off for later because right now, I only feel the latter emotions she described and am numb to the former.
.
I am afraid. I recently wandered onto the Café Mom website out of curiosity for what online moms in my geographic area have to say. I was appalled at what I found. Mothers in the “Regional Club: New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania” were opening their introductions like this, “Hi. I’m Janice from Northern New Jersey, and my son has Autism, asthma, Asperger Syndrome, ADHD, and anxiety.”
.
I got nauseous reading the countless entries about the illnesses (which don't all start with the letter "A", by the ways) these children have. There were very few who mentioned the child’s hobbies or interests. I also have a friend who recently had a baby with Down Syndrome. Like I said, I am afraid. Terrified! These aren’t issues that I want to learn about, explore in detail or recognize as a possibility after I am already pregnant. I want to know them now, before I decide whether I want to have a baby, a baby who could also be affected by them.
.
As far as insecurity and self-doubt, I abound there also. Am I being realistic, or am I being glass-half-empty?
.
Want more information on the illnesses listed above?
ADHD
Asperger Syndrome
Autism
.
As if there aren't enough things to worry about.
What if the child looks like this?!
.
.What am I reading on the topic today?
The author's introduction: "You probably think this book talks about nothing but a long list of complaints. And while it's true that they do focus on the negative, they're more importantly filled with compassion, great advice, and plenty of much needed humor to help get you through this difficult time."
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Wednesday, October 8
Baby Proof
I love Emily Giffin's books. I finished her most recent one, Love the One You're With, in record time. But, the one that came to my mind today was Baby Proof. The thought came during an elevator ride with my neighbor. This was the first time I had ever seen her without her toddler son. In our brief conversation, she said that she just needed some time to herself, and then she said that she never thought about how much her life would change after having a baby.
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I got off the elevator with Emily Giffin's first line in Baby Proof ringing in my head like a gong. "I never wanted to be a mother." I have been thinking this at an ever-increasing rate as more and more of my friends and family are nesting and dedicating all of their effort and investing in every resource available to make a baby.
.
My thoughts here in no way mean that I don't like babies or that I don't ever want to have them. I was just never the girl pushing the stroller or swaddling a baby doll. Trust me, other people's babies are very cute, and my nephew is among the most irresistible of all of them (as I'm sure my niece who is due in December will be also).
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What I am saying is this:
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First, having a child is an enormous, life-altering event; an event that will span the rest of the parents' lives and turn their sense of identity on its head. Also, I don't believe being married means that I must have a child. I'm saying that my own decision about having or not having a baby will be based on intense self-examination as I try to understand and answer this one question - is having a baby something I think I should do, or is it something I want to do?
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I do have a sense of humor about motherhood, don't get me wrong. Here are a couple of pictures as proof.
..
.
I got off the elevator with Emily Giffin's first line in Baby Proof ringing in my head like a gong. "I never wanted to be a mother." I have been thinking this at an ever-increasing rate as more and more of my friends and family are nesting and dedicating all of their effort and investing in every resource available to make a baby.
.
My thoughts here in no way mean that I don't like babies or that I don't ever want to have them. I was just never the girl pushing the stroller or swaddling a baby doll. Trust me, other people's babies are very cute, and my nephew is among the most irresistible of all of them (as I'm sure my niece who is due in December will be also).
.
What I am saying is this:
.
First, having a child is an enormous, life-altering event; an event that will span the rest of the parents' lives and turn their sense of identity on its head. Also, I don't believe being married means that I must have a child. I'm saying that my own decision about having or not having a baby will be based on intense self-examination as I try to understand and answer this one question - is having a baby something I think I should do, or is it something I want to do?
.
I do have a sense of humor about motherhood, don't get me wrong. Here are a couple of pictures as proof.
..
.
.
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Saturday, September 27
I Took a Shortcut
As my knitting friends know, math is an important component in knitting. I have finally learned my lesson. After skipping the math part of several of my projects, this is by far the best example of why I not to do it again.
The math: at 4 stitches to the inch, I could make a 4-foot by 4-foot blanket with approximately 200 stitches. Instead, I skipped the math and simply thought 400 was a good number. So, I am knitting 400 rows of 400 stitches each.
The math: at 4 stitches to the inch, I could make a 4-foot by 4-foot blanket with approximately 200 stitches. Instead, I skipped the math and simply thought 400 was a good number. So, I am knitting 400 rows of 400 stitches each.
Really, Mindy? This is the blanket so far.
...after 120 rows
...over 30 hours
...and 48,000 stitches.
It's 9-feet, without even being stretched out.
No more shortcuts!
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Wednesday, September 10
My Week as a New York City Tourist
For the past week and a half, my husband and I have been taking in the sites of New York City as from the eyes of tourists. Yes, you may remember that my husband started work recently, which began with six weeks of training. Well, the short story is that the training program coordinators allowed him to skip part of the training because he didn't need it. Four out of one hundred trainees skipped this part of training. Anyway, I'm bragging and digressing . . .
First Tourist Stop: The U.S. Open on Long Island. We visited on a fabulous day. The weather was great, and the matches were spectacular.
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Welcome to the U.S. Open!
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A wide angle view from the top of the stands. 
View back toward Manhattan from the top of the stands. Hoboken is
on the other side of Manhattan, which made for a lengthy train ride.
Second Tourist Stop: Ellis Island. Ellis Island was the first stop for all immigrants who came to the United States between 1900-1925. It was fascinating to learn about our ancestors' first steps on American soil.
The view from Ellis Island to our next stop - The Statue of Liberty
Third Tourist Stop: The Statue of Liberty.
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Beautiful. American. Freedom.
.Fourth Stop: The Letterman Show. We sat in the front row at the Letterman Show today and saw Senator Obama and Lebron James. Seriously, it was fantastic. I got in the spirit of television and acting, constructing myself completely bi-partisan. I think I was made, though, when I was the only one cheering and clapping when he asked the crowd how they felt about Sarah Palin.
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We weren't supposed to take pictures inside the theater, so this is a shot I took from my camera phone right before a security guy came and threatened to take the battery out of my phone.
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Tourist or not, though, there is no label for anyone here in New York, or elsewhere in this nation, other than American when it comes to September 11. I never saw the skyline before I moved here.
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Here is a picture someone else took of the skyline with the twin towers.
Here is the picture I took last week.
God, bless America. .
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We have never needed it more. 
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Monday, September 8
Hanna Leaves Behind a Beautiful Skyline
Two shots of New York City's Financial District the day after Hanna blew through. It's only a few days before September 11, and this view is very different than it was before September 11, 2001.
Sunday, August 17
It's Like Babysitting
My husband and I went to Manhattan today. It was a beautiful day for sauntering through Greenwich Village, which we did plenty of as we searched for the right subway line to get to our destination - the Museum of Natural History. Of course, we couldn't have asked anyone on the sidewalk for assistance. It would have been like pulling over at a gas station and asking directions.
We finally found our way to the Upper West Side and the museum. They are near where my husband lived last summer while interning for the firm he works for now. The museum was impressive, to say the least. However, I could only walk through a fraction of its exhibits. I wasn't at all prepared for the initial exhibit. It was an enormous room housing at least fifty animals taxidermied (it's a word, don't look it up) into stances and environments as if they were in their natural habitat. My husband was in awe, fascinatingly reading all about each animal and their native environment. I was in shock! It was a zoo...of dead animals. In my mind, all I could see were these animals being killed, stuffed, and put on display in glass cages. I kept imagining how each one of them suffered and then died, and I was subconsciously looking for the fatal wound that was cleverly masked by a skillful taxidermist.
My husband was very sweet when he found me in the bird photography hallway with tears in my eyes. He tried to console me by explaining that these animals were killed (I say "murdered") for science, and that we have learned so much from studying them.
I'm not radical, I'm emotional; there's a huge difference. I'm the one you see on the side of the road bawling over a dead squirrel I accidentally ran over, and I'm the one who had to call Daddy when I came home to find that my cat had suddenly died. He had to come to my house at midnight that night. I was 27 this time, but this situation had been repeated countless times before.
After strategically weaving our way through the museum in an effort for me to avoid rooms where I would imagine each animal's cruel death, I made it out having only used one Kleenex. And all in all, I enjoyed what I saw. Truly, the dinosaur exhibits were absolutely magnificent.
Then, we walked through Central Park, which was beautiful and full of happy weekenders like the ones you read about in some of the sappy ChicLit books out these days, such as my favorites - New Yorkers and Emily Giffin's four books. Because of the size of Central Park (683 acres total), it didn't seem terribly crowded. As we were leaving, there was a funny sign that said "250 acres of grass to mow." There was something written below in fine print, but I didn't want to ruin the image in my mind of the happy August day in the park with a plea for a donation or a demand to pick up your trash.
I have Netflix'd a 7-disc PBS series on the history of New York City, and it contains a short history of Central Park. As we were walking through, I thought back to its history and the requests for architectural drawings to build the park. The chosen drafter wasn't an architect at all. That's what has been so interesting in my learning about New York City. People were coming to re-create themselves, take a life-changing risk. The series has also been helpful for me to appreciate Manhattan for its diversity and success, in spite of having no reference to help guide it to succeed at all, much less thrive. In short, the series has helped me look past the swarms of people, the publically urinating homeless men, and the rude and unapologetic woman who literally stepped on me today in order to get in front of me on the sidewalk.
But in the end, to me going to Manhattan is like baby-sitting. She's fun to visit, learn about and watch develop, but I’m always ready to give her back to her rightful owners. Tonight, I'm happy to be home in Hoboken.
We finally found our way to the Upper West Side and the museum. They are near where my husband lived last summer while interning for the firm he works for now. The museum was impressive, to say the least. However, I could only walk through a fraction of its exhibits. I wasn't at all prepared for the initial exhibit. It was an enormous room housing at least fifty animals taxidermied (it's a word, don't look it up) into stances and environments as if they were in their natural habitat. My husband was in awe, fascinatingly reading all about each animal and their native environment. I was in shock! It was a zoo...of dead animals. In my mind, all I could see were these animals being killed, stuffed, and put on display in glass cages. I kept imagining how each one of them suffered and then died, and I was subconsciously looking for the fatal wound that was cleverly masked by a skillful taxidermist.
My husband was very sweet when he found me in the bird photography hallway with tears in my eyes. He tried to console me by explaining that these animals were killed (I say "murdered") for science, and that we have learned so much from studying them.
I'm not radical, I'm emotional; there's a huge difference. I'm the one you see on the side of the road bawling over a dead squirrel I accidentally ran over, and I'm the one who had to call Daddy when I came home to find that my cat had suddenly died. He had to come to my house at midnight that night. I was 27 this time, but this situation had been repeated countless times before.
After strategically weaving our way through the museum in an effort for me to avoid rooms where I would imagine each animal's cruel death, I made it out having only used one Kleenex. And all in all, I enjoyed what I saw. Truly, the dinosaur exhibits were absolutely magnificent.
Then, we walked through Central Park, which was beautiful and full of happy weekenders like the ones you read about in some of the sappy ChicLit books out these days, such as my favorites - New Yorkers and Emily Giffin's four books. Because of the size of Central Park (683 acres total), it didn't seem terribly crowded. As we were leaving, there was a funny sign that said "250 acres of grass to mow." There was something written below in fine print, but I didn't want to ruin the image in my mind of the happy August day in the park with a plea for a donation or a demand to pick up your trash.
I have Netflix'd a 7-disc PBS series on the history of New York City, and it contains a short history of Central Park. As we were walking through, I thought back to its history and the requests for architectural drawings to build the park. The chosen drafter wasn't an architect at all. That's what has been so interesting in my learning about New York City. People were coming to re-create themselves, take a life-changing risk. The series has also been helpful for me to appreciate Manhattan for its diversity and success, in spite of having no reference to help guide it to succeed at all, much less thrive. In short, the series has helped me look past the swarms of people, the publically urinating homeless men, and the rude and unapologetic woman who literally stepped on me today in order to get in front of me on the sidewalk.
But in the end, to me going to Manhattan is like baby-sitting. She's fun to visit, learn about and watch develop, but I’m always ready to give her back to her rightful owners. Tonight, I'm happy to be home in Hoboken.
Saturday, August 9
Happy in Hoboken
I truly love it here in Hoboken, New Jersey. It's early August, and I can run everyday without passing out from heat exhaustion (Houston), or getting plowed over by a taxi cab (Philadelphia). I can also take an elevator when I bring home groceries, which is such a wonderful change from the 3rd floor walk-up in Philly.
I've only been in to "the city" once since we moved here a month ago, and that's quite fine with me. Manhattan is a madhouse, and I find that gazing at it across the Hudson River is far more marvelous than actually being there.
I've made a great friend too, who as luck may have it is from Texas. She is a professional photographer in town, and in exchange for my studio managment and editting help, she and her partner let me use their gear, work with me on special photography projects of my own, and let me attend the photography classes that they teach.
I am continuing to knit on the camouflage blanket for my nephew. It's 400 stitches across, and I plan to make it 400 rows long as well. At roughly 9-12 minutes per row, I finally reached 1/8th of the way through after around 6 hours of knitting.
Here are a couple of pictures that I took tonight in the park that protrudes from Hoboken into the Hudson River and is about a football field in size.
I've only been in to "the city" once since we moved here a month ago, and that's quite fine with me. Manhattan is a madhouse, and I find that gazing at it across the Hudson River is far more marvelous than actually being there.
I've made a great friend too, who as luck may have it is from Texas. She is a professional photographer in town, and in exchange for my studio managment and editting help, she and her partner let me use their gear, work with me on special photography projects of my own, and let me attend the photography classes that they teach.
I am continuing to knit on the camouflage blanket for my nephew. It's 400 stitches across, and I plan to make it 400 rows long as well. At roughly 9-12 minutes per row, I finally reached 1/8th of the way through after around 6 hours of knitting.
Haydn and Dietrie are enjoying their newfound modeling gigs in my photography practicing. Malaney is also, but she can't sit still long enough for me to get one that isn't blurry, so stay tuned for her picture.
Here are a couple of pictures that I took tonight in the park that protrudes from Hoboken into the Hudson River and is about a football field in size.
This is the view of Manhattan from the other end of the park - it's actually a view of midtown, where Times Square and my husband's office are located. Of couse, the Empire State Building is the most prominent building in the photo.
Friday, July 18
Moving. What's Not to Love?
If you find yourself asking this question, let me help you answer it. Because I'm such a Letterman fan, I developed a Top Ten List of what's not to love about moving:
(10) Moving Service Estimates.
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Our moving company's estimate was based on a phone conversation, during which I was asked mostly about the furniture we were moving. She asked, "Are you moving a refrigerator, washer/dryer, oven...etc.?" My response to most of her questions was "No." What she forgot to ask was whether we were moving a university-sized library with us. Based on our phone conversation, she estimated 2800 pounds. When the movers arrived and their eyes popped out of their heads, we knew we were in for an unfortuante cost hike. Upon delivery, the movers let us know that we had hit 5800 pounds. Our estimate went up by 50%. Our lesson - get the price locked in up front.
(9) Discovering Your Crap during Packing.
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Fortunately, my husband did not have the hobby I did in my 20s - buying and collecting crap. I must have been afraid of disposable income back then because I traded it in for junk. In return, I have heaps of crap. What is my definition of crap? Items used to fill glass bowls such as wooden balls, pine cones, and potpouri; wall hangings that even your grandmother would think were old and tasteless; and votives that haven't been used since they were on display in the store. And the list goes on for miles.
(8) Spousal Friction.
I've only been married for 2.5 years, and we have already moved twice. My husband has countless positive traits, but finding direction in chaos isn't one of them. He freezes as a deer in headlights in these situations, while I become militant and want to rid my environment of any deterent from my mission. However, I must say that, to his credit, my husband has been wonderful in completing tasks such as cancelling/setting up electricity, cable, and vehicle insurance and registration. Complementary traits in a husband and wife. Hmmm, I think there's something to that. I should write a book.
(2) Losing Track of Time.
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Continuing from number 4... With no sleep, I was on fumes. My husbands birthday was on delivery day. I forgot. Bless his heart, he was relatively forgiving about the whole thing. I still feel badly, and I continue to try to think of a way to make it up to him.
(1) Discovering All of Your Crap Arrived Safely at Your New Place.
.
The absolute worst feeling I had was when I started opening boxes and realized that the stuff I thought was junk on the origin end was packed and arrived safely at the destination. And, I PAID for it to be moved. Now, I'm physically paying for having to move it all to the curb. I am trying to sell some of it on CraigsList, but I'm impatient now. I just want it out!
Don't get me wrong though. There are many positive things that have come from this move. I'll share them with you in the next post.
.
.
(10) Moving Service Estimates.
.
Our moving company's estimate was based on a phone conversation, during which I was asked mostly about the furniture we were moving. She asked, "Are you moving a refrigerator, washer/dryer, oven...etc.?" My response to most of her questions was "No." What she forgot to ask was whether we were moving a university-sized library with us. Based on our phone conversation, she estimated 2800 pounds. When the movers arrived and their eyes popped out of their heads, we knew we were in for an unfortuante cost hike. Upon delivery, the movers let us know that we had hit 5800 pounds. Our estimate went up by 50%. Our lesson - get the price locked in up front.
(9) Discovering Your Crap during Packing.
.
Fortunately, my husband did not have the hobby I did in my 20s - buying and collecting crap. I must have been afraid of disposable income back then because I traded it in for junk. In return, I have heaps of crap. What is my definition of crap? Items used to fill glass bowls such as wooden balls, pine cones, and potpouri; wall hangings that even your grandmother would think were old and tasteless; and votives that haven't been used since they were on display in the store. And the list goes on for miles.
(8) Spousal Friction.
I've only been married for 2.5 years, and we have already moved twice. My husband has countless positive traits, but finding direction in chaos isn't one of them. He freezes as a deer in headlights in these situations, while I become militant and want to rid my environment of any deterent from my mission. However, I must say that, to his credit, my husband has been wonderful in completing tasks such as cancelling/setting up electricity, cable, and vehicle insurance and registration. Complementary traits in a husband and wife. Hmmm, I think there's something to that. I should write a book.
(7) Plant Shock.
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The bigger the plant, the more shock it experiences during a move. This plant used to be full and beautiful. My husband says that I've killed it before (by simply moving it across the room) and it came back, and he believes I'll bring it back again. Nevertheless, I threaten it daily with trash pickup, and trash pick up occurs 4 times per week here in Hoboken.
(6) Sedating and Traveling with Your Pets.
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The kitties are not good travelers. Period. They also don't like to be trapped in the bathroom when there is heightened activity throughout the house. Additionally, Haydn gets car sick from in-town driving. This is a terribly out-of-focus picture, but I think the point is clear. Even his third eyelid is up from the sedative.
This doesn't quite convey how sick he actually was, though. My husband came quickly out of the bathroom at one point, standing in front of the door blocking me from entering. "I just want you to know that Haydn is really really sick. I just found him laying with his head in his own pee." I was frantic! The sedation medication is funny. Even though he weighs more than Wayne, he can't take nearly the dosage she can. (Yes, Wayne is a girl. Happy to tell you why if you want to know.) I hope I remember that for next time!
(And no, Lisa, I consulted an attorney, and this accidental poor mothering on my part doesn't give you parental rights to Haydn.)
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(5) Exhaustively Searching for Necessary Items.
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All of my underwear was hiding in an unmarked box for several days. I hadn't wanted to label it because I was too embarrassed. Well, obviously I'm telling YOU, so I must have gotten over it. Next time, I'm going to write it in big bold letters!
I also lost my cell phone during the packing process. It was a terrible disaster. I didn't have Lisa's number memorized, and I was in a state of panic! I finally found it and had missed 15 calls. What has this world come to that losing a phone could be so traumatic.
(4) Packing Precious Items in Black Trashbags.
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I lined a box with a black trashbag before carefully loading my yarn stash inside. In an effort to give the movers as many boxes to take away as possible, I pulled out the sack and sat it to the side. I then proceeded to collect trash in black trashbags. A few days later, I heard the trash truck coming down the street and almost canned my hobby all together.
(3) The Previous Tenant's Home Decor and Maintenance.
I knew before moving in that I was going to re-paint the red master bedroom in a more muted color. I planned to paint the room the evening between packing and delivery. Instead, I spent the entire night priming the room (4 times!), and had to finally stop and get the apartment ready for the delivery. No sleep between starting to pack and finishing delivery. I think it was 40 hours before I went to bed.
And I don't think I need to say much about the owner's home maintenance than what this picture of the air filter conveys.
(2) Losing Track of Time.
.
Continuing from number 4... With no sleep, I was on fumes. My husbands birthday was on delivery day. I forgot. Bless his heart, he was relatively forgiving about the whole thing. I still feel badly, and I continue to try to think of a way to make it up to him.
(1) Discovering All of Your Crap Arrived Safely at Your New Place.
.
The absolute worst feeling I had was when I started opening boxes and realized that the stuff I thought was junk on the origin end was packed and arrived safely at the destination. And, I PAID for it to be moved. Now, I'm physically paying for having to move it all to the curb. I am trying to sell some of it on CraigsList, but I'm impatient now. I just want it out!
Don't get me wrong though. There are many positive things that have come from this move. I'll share them with you in the next post.
.
.
Tuesday, June 24
One Month Later...
I know I haven't been the most consistent blogger lately, with my last post almost one month ago. I can't imagine that my current life of packing my house and making moving plans would possibly be of any interest to anyone, not even me.
I finally did something that is fun to blog about.
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I went to Dallas again, this time with my husband. My nephew turned one month old while we were there. He's a doll, and we're terribly proud of him. I'm making him a new blanket, at the request of my brother. Camouflage. They're so silly. They have a number of camouflage baby items. I have to wonder, though, if they get too many camouflage items, won't they have trouble finding them?
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