KDUNK

Today I decided to treat myself to a pedicure. I haven’t had one since the month before Lili was born. My toes were starting to resemble those that might belong to a hobbit with nails so long they could qualify for the Guiness Book of World Records. Gross. It was time to deal.

This may sound totally vain but – oh well. One of the things I miss about my life pre-kid was having time to look nice. Put on lipstick. Brush my hair. Shave my legs. Wear an outfit that matches and is not barfed on. Iron things. Get my hair cut on a regular basis. I just can’t deal anymore because by the time I wake up she is already freaking out and I hit the ground running.

So – was feeling sorry for my disheveled self and decided to get a pedicure. The more and more I try and do things I used to do pre-newborn like…get a pedicure the more I realize why those places aren’t full of kids. Because it sucks and is unrelaxing to bring your kid places where the goal is for YOU to relax. Like what genius invented Mommy and Me Yoga? Lame. What a nightmare – trying to do a child’s pose while your own child strikes a pose that resembles a backwards letter C as she screams her guts out in a purple faced protest on your yoga mat. Mmmn. Relaxing.

So I walk into place which is fairly empty to my relief.

K: Hi. I’d like a basic pedicure please

Lady: You want Pedicure Deluxe with 20 minute foot massage and lavendar scrub wine bath? $45 dollars.

K: Ah…no. I want a basic pedicure please.

Lady: Oh ok. Right this way…

So I stroll Lili to the back but the way the chairs are set up I can only place the stroller where I can’t see her and she can’t see me. This is a bad arrangement on several levels so I am forced to take her out of the stroller and hold her on my lap.

She is momentarily mesmerized by all the pink and glitter in the room which I mistakenly took as a sign like ‘Hey – this might work!’ but within seconds she looked like she had sucked on a lemon and began to cry and was like forget this….boobs please. So I had to feed her. Burp her. Bounce her. Feed her again. Talk to her. Turn my body around in a back breaking position so she could space out quietly while looking at a wall full of bright colored nailpolish. Stroll her furiously around the salon until my toenails were dry. It was basically everything I do at home but just having my feet dipped in water and paying for it. Literally.

The woman giving me my pedicure was also SO SLOW. Each toe of mine that she painted was like the freakin’ Mona Lisa. I finally started to lose it as Lili gave me her usual meltdown warnings.

After a colossal dump and a messy diaper change on the table in the eyebrow waxing room in back I paid and we finally left.

Time for a massage.

Dear Lili,

The other morning you were kicking up a fuss. I overheard your father talking to you. He said, “Hey you! Just because you have eyebrows now doesn’t mean you can get away with everything.”

Taking a kid to a restaurant is scary.

Talk to any parent of a kid of any age and they will most likely agree. Also – depending on the age of the kid the levels of scariness varies. At Lili’s age – clearly – I do not have to worry if she will stay in her seat or throw food or even the toys we brought to entertain her at the other people sitting nearby. But I still worry.

My best memory of such an incident was dining with my best friend and her freakishly well-behaved two-year old boy and girl twins last summer. At one point the young boy accidentally in genuine excitement threw his fake bug toy in the air and it landed on the table of the people sitting behind us. There was an awkward pause. And right before my friend went to apologize the man sitting at the table looked her son square in the eye, took his fist and smashed the fake bug saying, “Got him!” We all laughed. Not everyone is so understanding.

We got a call this morning from our non-kid friends. They wanted to meet for brunch. Their exact words were, “Call whenever. We’re just sitting around reading the paper.”

Reading the paper. Huh. I remember those days. In fact just last weekend we were strolling Lili down the street groggy and grumpy passing by all these bed headed, kissy faced, leisurely strolling couples walking down the sidewalk with their New York Times tucked under their jackets and I wanted to stab them all. Ok. So I was a little jealous.

I called our friends and said, “How about noon?” trying to be all cool even though noon in kid havin’ time is like 5:30pm. Bring out the wine and cheese. The amount of stuff that is accomplished by noon when you have a kid is insane.

When we got to the place Lili was very well behaved. She stared at the ceiling fans, ate her hands, flirted with some men – etc. I dropped some bacon on her head while holding her. The usual. Luckily the whole meal didn’t end in a big ball of burning crying freakout flames resulting in a room full of eyeballs staring at us like we were ‘those people’. Those people that have kids and actually bring them places.

Towards the end of the meal I handed her off to the hubs and headed to the restroom. While on line I was approached by an older, bright-eyed Mom type wearing a college sweatshirt.

Mom: I just wanted to say your daughter is so cute!

Me: Thank you so much!

Mom: I also wanted to thank you. My husband and I spent the whole meal going down memory lane remembering what our daughters were like at that age. One would light up the room. The other didn’t want the attention. So different. They are now both in college! Enjoy it. It goes so fast. I love being a Mom.

For once I felt proud. Finally I was one of those people.

Sometimes after a bath I comb Lili’s hair and it’s all clean and slick and combed back and I think to myself – wow – she really looks like a mini Michael Douglas from the movie Wall Street and then I nurse her.

Frankly – it’s a little creepy.

Dear Lili,

You are doing so many little funny, quirky things now. I better write them down before I forget.

-You stick out your tongue while taking a bath. It pops slowly in and out of your little mouth – just the tip – like a little lizard. Your Dad thinks you are hoping to get a drop of water.

-You love books – me reading you books – but you only can tolerate three at a time and if I read any more you freak out as if someone has pinched your behind and cry your head off. You get a little overstimulated

-You are still clenching both fists into little balls like a boxer no matter what you are doing or how you are sitting. This brings to mind the phrase ‘put up your dukes’

-You LOVE the changing table. I don’t know why but the minute you are on there you start talking and smiling and kicking your legs. You still love to be nude.

-In a crowded room you focus on me or your Dad. I don’t know if this makes you feel more comfortable but it’s cute

-Sadly you like TV but we try and block the TV with pillows. Your Dad caught you watching a violent car chase scene from ‘The Departed’ the other night. You are tricky.

-You like to stare at the black and white photographs of Dad’s Gary Winogrand book

-You like it when I sing ‘Cielito Lindo’ by Pedro Infante – at least it’s not ‘La Bamba’

-Your favorite sound to say is – AH- GUH – you like to say AH-GUH loudly over and over and over again in a stream of AH-GUHS and as if you are exhaling when you do so. It is cute because when you are done your eyes dart around and you look proud.

I know we are

xo

On Friday the doorbell rang. It was the UPS man. When I opened the door he looked tired and pissed.

UPS Guy: (pissed) Here’s your package lady. No signature required.

I took the package which he practically threw at my face and when I shut the door thought, “Geez. What’s his problem.”

Within five seconds I knew what his problem was. Why? Because the box started singing to me. That’s right – singing to me in a loud, Casio keyboard sounding, off-tune version of “It’s A Small World After All” over…and over…and over…and over again. I’m sure the poor UPS guy had the pleasure of listening to it the entire day at the bottom of his truck as he drove all over Brooklyn. I didn’t know what was inside the box but I thought to myself – this can’t be good.

We have gotten many, many amazing gifts for Lilian. Many of them from her thoughtful grandparents. Before Lilian was born we asked that everyone please respect the fact that we have a tiny, tiny apartment and when buying her gifts PLEASE do not buy her anything LARGE or worse – that involved batteries.

A good friend of mine – a Mom of two kids – heard this rule I attempted to set up and snorted and laughed:

Friend: Good luck with that one!

The friend had just finished up the holidays with a visit from her in-laws. It involved a GIANT gift from them to her son – an ugly, plastic, mini basketball court complete with bleachers – in her beautifully decorated living room.

When I got upstairs I tore open the box. It was like opening up an animated box of Lucky Charms as rainbow light beams flashed in my eyes, music blared and tiny pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, and green clovers flew out of the box and projected themselves on the wall. Apparently it came with its own batteries.

What the hell is this thing? After recovering from the near seizure moment I rubbed my eyes and saw that this was in fact a gift. A present from someone. And of all things it was an object one can clip on to a baby’s crib to entertain them. Ironically the photo on the box showed a baby ‘sound asleep’ with its head turned away from the object (who could blame him) which was clipped on the crib an inch from its face. I don’t buy it.

In our hippie overpriced, birthing class they warned us of this. They said so many parents are tempted to stuff their kids cribs with flashing light toys, musical mobiles, tons of stuffed animals, wild print blankets, posters on the wall, etc. Yes – while babies do love some of those things some of the time those objects can often prove to be way overstimulating and just freak them out and make them cranky and exhausted. I am guilty of doing this often. Playing music for Lili while having the TV on while talking on the phone while shaking a rattle or reading her a book all at the same time. Believe me does a baby tell you when it all becomes too much. Can you say, WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The craziest thing that I discovered about this gift that it was from all people – my mother. Lili’s thoughtful ‘Zen’ Grandmother. The same one that buys Lili beautiful, soft cotton clothes and delicious smelling baby lotions made from all natural ingredients. The same Zen Grandmother that holds her grandchild tenderly and speaks to her in soft, calm voices – so much so that Lili picks up on this and never looks happier and more calm than when she is with her. What happened???

Mom blames a small tumbnail photo on the web site in which she ordered it. I blame her missing Lili. Regardless we shared a good laugh over the object. Now if we could only apologize to that UPS man…

Dear Lili,

A quick note to thank you for being such a good girl today. It was a sad and hard day.

Mom and Dad had to bring their kitty Jane to the vet where she died today. She was sixteen-years-old. You’ve never been sixteen but when you are you will most likely hate us and go to parties with people that pick you up in cars blasting loud music and speed off into the night throwing cigarette butts out the window. Jane didn’t do this – but she probably would have if she could.

Jane was our little princess and our baby. We held her in our arms as we now hold you. She didn’t need to be burped like you do but she needed to be fed and her litter box changed. Jane was a funny little cat. She liked to lick photographs (in addition to arm pits). Took such pride in keeping herself soft and clean. She liked to do naughty things like rip up the side of the couch or door frames and sometimes important paper documents. She used to stand on glossy magazines and run in place tearing it to shreds – like she was on a treadmill – which always made me laugh. She liked to cuddle on the couch and often between us in bed or under the sheets. She always drank out of our water glasses left on the table and was a fan of knocking them down. She loved sniffing fresh air. She hated getting her photo taken. She broke a lot of glasses. She loved parties and joining in on the fun. Especially girls night with wine and cheese. She had the loudest purr around and it made you feel later after you had pet her that she felt loved. Very, very loved.

You didn’t know Jane for long. In fact you only knew Jane for exactly 74 days. Many people have sent their condolences and even more have said they were glad that Jane got to meet you. This gives me a little giggle because – no offense my dear girl – but I think Jane was a tad jealous of you. Ok…you basically ruined her life. Not really but she acted so because she was a funny little cat – as I said – our princess – with a funny little personality.

In the lobby of the vet’s office today Dad left us and was brave. He walked through the doors to say goodbye to our Jane. You and I sat in the lobby while I nursed you and was crying and watched Rachel Ray on the Food Network make a pot roast. The lobby was FULL of tissue boxes – an alarming amount. I snickered at the amount of tissue boxes when we arrived but I ended up using most of them or so it seemed.

Recently a friend said it will be really cool to watch when you – the baby – discover the cat. Now you will not have this chance. Perhaps it was best this way. You never seeing Jane…and Jane pretending…never to see you.

xo

This morning Lili went for her first round of vaccination shots. It’s been a long time coming since we had to switch doctors, deal with some healthy insurance nightmares, etc. You are also given packets of info about vaccinations you are encouraged to pour over – the possible side effects, etc. I was not aware of this being a first time parent but the subject of vaccinations is a heated topic among many parents. In fact recently at a party I was cornered by an extreme non-vaccinator Dad who challenged me if I’d feel comfortable giving my child monkey brains dipped in formaldehyde (or something like it) – would I, would I?

On the way home from the doctor Lili slept soundly and I said goodbye to the hubs and strolled Lili to the apartment of some friends in the neighborhood. The friends I was visiting are the parents to two adorable children. Watching parents of two children is like watching a magic show. Each time I see it I can’t help but ask myself in amazement – how do they do it?

When you are a parent of one kid you have to multi-task – aka – feed kid while checking email, etc. But from what I have witnessed from our many friends with two kids – having two brings it to a whole other level. With two kids it seems you are more or less getting the job done (feeding, changing, etc.) the baby while you are called on to stimulate/entertain the mind of the older child with conversation, etc. On top of this it seems you are also dealing with your relationship as a couple in addition to your general life multitasking – cleaning the house, paying bills, etc. On top of that – there is also your relationship with friends with or without kids. Holding up adult conversation, etc. And then if there is any time left over – you have a moment to yourself.

Parents with two kids have this down to a science. They don’t have time not to. To them it may seem like chaos but to me it always looks like they handle it with such ease. I wouldn’t be surprised if our various couple friends with two kids also tended to a greenhouse full of rare and delicate Orchids out back. Really. Why not?

On the walk home after my visit, I ran into my cousin. She asked to peek into the stroller and see Lili to which I proclaimed with pride – was sound asleep. When I lifted the hood of the stroller, guess what? She was asleep. But she was also smothered in her hat – as in her hat had covered her entire face – entire. No air holes.

Was she fine? Yes.

Will I be growing an Orchids any time soon?

No. No I will not.

The other night a great friend of ours who is a natural with babies came over after work to watch Lili while we went for our first outing alone since the baby was born. An early Valentine’s dinner date.

We learned a long time ago in our relationship that doing something on the actual day of Valentine’s Day is annoying and too much pressure on both people in the relationship. (Remember – diamonds are forever) Not to mention we already had enough pressure and stress in our lives currently like say…I don’t know…raising a tiny helpless HUMAN!

When our friend who was watching Lili came over I attempted to be casual and calm in my run down of what she needed to know before I left the house. Like I do this all the time. Leave my tiny newborn child who I have never left with anyone EVER and go out for drinks and dinner with my husband. No problem. Instead I proceeded to give our friend a mini-lecture on things like how to properly feed her a bottle, how to calm and change her, etc. I was just short of a slideshow when the husband gave me crazy eyes like ‘LETS GO’ so I wrapped it up and told her there would be a pop quiz when I got home.

When we left the apartment we opened the front door and it felt wild and exciting…and a little strange:

E: Um…I think we forgot something

K: Yeah…perhaps our child?

But then we laughed and quickly embraced our freedom. Plus it was snowing! It was the first time all winter and it was beautiful and quiet and romantic out. I clung on to E’s arm slipping here and there on the snow in my non-Mom boots.

Our meal was lovely. We ate by the light of a tiny flickering candle. We had drinks and an uninterrupted conversation like real adults without ever using the words boob, diaper, pacifier, milky, tubby time, etc. We did a toast to the craziest ride of our lives. It was a lovely and important evening to share together.

We only checked in once via text message to our friend and she wrote back immediately. “She’s snoozing away. Go for a drink!”

Towards the end of the meal after a few drinks and feeling giddy E noticed I still didn’t have my wedding ring on. Ever since I got pregnant and even after her birth for the life of me I can’t fit the thing on. I’m not THAT fat – come on.

After my dramatic sigh and staring down at my empty ring finger E made me feel better by saying,

E: Hey, at least people think you are my mistress.

K: (pointing to chest) Yeah…and that you bought me these boobs

The other day I was at the Rite Aid drugstore. I was semi-sleep deprived. I wandered the aisles as I often do thinking, “I know I came here for a reason.” These types of days are never good. They always end up with me on line at the checkout with the most random basket of stuff – bobby pins, three manilla envelopes, 1 roll of paper towels, pacifiers, TUMS, one light bulb, a candle, small picture frame, etc. That will be $75 please.

In this particular trip I was saved by a short flash of light as I remembered why in fact I had come to the drugstore. To pick up my allergy medication. That’s right! Excited I ran over to the pharmacist window.

I waited for the girl behind the counter to assist me but she was taking forever. Lili was asleep in the stroller. So…I picked up a trashy magazine from the rack by the register and also grabbed one of the waters from a nearby cooler. After a few minutes I realized I was hungry so I reached over to the snacks and opened up a package of trail mix. I had good intentions of paying for it all but by the time the girl returned four hours later with my medication my mind had wandered.

Seeing that she was ready to ring me up I threw the magazine in the bottom of the stroller basket, stuffed the remaining trail mix in my purse and while getting out my wallet to pay for the medication had the balls to ask the girl to throw out the empty water bottle.

Me: So…how much is the medication?

Girl: Um…miss…are you also going to pay for that stuff?

Me: What stuff?

Girl: The magazine and the water and…

Me: (long pause) Oh my god. I’m so sorry!! I swear I was going to pay for it…I swear!

I suppose it is not as bad as the story a family friend shared recently. The friend was in a deli one morning (without her kid) and after getting her change grabbed the handles of another woman’s stroller and started wheeling out the door with some random child by pure habit and mistake.

Hopefully it won’t come to this.

This morning E was running around getting ready for work. He turned to me where I was sitting on the couch with Lilian and said,

E: How are you doing on cash, babe?

Lilian responded (at volume ten): GOO GAA GOO GOO GAA GOO GAA

After a moment of silence E said not missing a beat:

E: In this case I was talking to your mother

She looked bummed.

All things considered we have been pretty lucky over the past few weeks – knock on wood. While Lili screams her head off when she isn’t sleeping during the day – at night she often does sleep for a pretty good chunk of time. Like 9:30PM until 5AM. Which is great.

Last night for the life of us she wouldn’t go down to sleep. For hours and hours we attempted to put her down but she wasn’t having it. We passed her back and forth. Attempted to feed her. Nothing worked. She just looked so exhausted and tired. If she would only keep her little eyes closed life would have been so much better. For all of us.

Around midnight we were so done. When all of the sudden my poor bleary-eyed husband glanced over and spotted a giant, oversized bag of Cadbury chocolate mini eggs candy on the living room floor – empty.

E: Um…when did you eat those?

K: Ah…(slowly realizing what I had done) around 5pm?

E: How many did you eat? Did you eat that whole bag?!?

K: Ah…kinda…?

We then both looked over at our child. She was thrashing her head to the left and to the right while kicking her legs over and over again. She looked possessed by the devil. But no. It was not the devil. It was her mother – the only woman on earth meant to care for her – who on an afternoon chocolate bender…consumed an entire bag of Easter candy. And it’s only February.

Before the hubs left for work today he emailed me to ask if he could bring me home anything.

E: Perhaps some CHOCOLATE COVERED ESPRESSO BEANS or a few cases of RED BULL???

Oops.

Dear Lili,

You and Dad have a lot of similarities. The shape of your heads. The way you both can’t wake up easily in the morning. The way you stare at people when they annoy you. Your love for music.  And finally – your snoring.

Currently as I type this you and Dad are sacked out on the couch snoring LOUDLY in a perfect duet like a couple of rusty chainsaws:

DAD: SNORE

LILI: SNORE

DAD: SNORE

LILI: SNORE

It’s going to be a long night.

xo

The first time I attempted to give Lili a bottle I did the worst possible thing one can do. I half tipped the bottle backwards so the bottle nipple was half full (of air- not good) so she wouldn’t guzzle the milk too fast. As a friend said – I might as well have pumped her with a bicycle pump full of air. She screamed in pain and was too hysterical to burp and was miserable (and so were we) for the next several hours. It turned out the milk was also freezing cold and had not fully thawed so it was like giving Lili a frozen boob-sicle in the middle of the night when what she really wanted was something warm in her stomach. Ugh. Disaster.

So like any normal human beings would do – we have completely avoided the subject of having to teach her how to use a bottle entirely. It’s fun to pretend you don’t have to deal with really important stuff isn’t it? We thought, “Hey! That’s cool. Not all kids need bottles. Instead we’ll just carry her with us at all times having no privacy or alone time away from her whatsoever for the rest of her life.” That’s cool.

Next week we have a ‘date’. At an actual restaurant. With no baby. For Valentine’s Day. I am terrified – and not just because the only thing I have to wear are nursing bras and maternity jeans (hot). I am terrified because we will have to leave a bottle for the person watching her. I’m worried she’ll scream her head off. Throw up. Choke. The thought of it all makes me very nervous but I suppose for any first time Mom leaving her child for the first time this is all very normal. We chose a place that is literally about a four minute walk from our apartment so god forbid we need to go home we can but still. I did my best to convince the husband that there is nothing more romantic for Valentine’s Day than sharing a bag of chips on the front stoop but he wasn’t having it.

So…this week I have tackled operation bottle – on my own! That’s right people! On my own. I bottle warmed the milk this time – what a concept. I held her tightly as if I were nursing her and then gave the bottle. I did it during the day when she and I weren’t both exhausted. I fully tipped it so the bottle nipple had no air. I also sang and made faces while she looked at me and generally acted like a fool to distract her. It worked.

She took the bottle while giving the most hilarious face. Her eyebrows furrowed and eyes darted as in, “I paid good money for this party and you’re serving me top shelf boob in a plastic cup – how gauche!”

I will continue the cycle again today and will try again tomorrow.

Hope it works.

There are many things I miss about living pre-kid:

Sleeping late. Sleeping at all. Traveling anywhere in the world and not worrying about places that might be ‘kid friendly’. The weekends with my husband where we’d grab our cameras and go – no plans for the entire day. Seeing friends. Sleeping in my husband’s arms and not butt to butt because we are so tired and just need our rest. Eating. Actual meals. Not something you stuff in your face because it will merely fill your belly and fuel you up for the next hour. Peeing alone. Walking at a slow speed. Free time of any sort. Uninterrupted phone conversations and not having to go because someone is starving or crying. A clean and tidy house.

There are many things I love about living with a kid:

Getting no sleep but it’s quiet and we are nursing and I see she’s developed another fat roll under her chin. Traveling to new stores and places I’ve never been in the neighborhood that I’ve lived in for several years and had only walked past before. The weekends where it is the three of us and we take Lili to Brooklyn Chinatown for dumplings or something fun and semi-adventurous. Seeing friends with kids that give us hope that it only gets better. The three of us sleeping in the same bed side by side. Eating when Lili eats. Buying cookbooks of foods to make her when she can eat solids. Peeing wearing a sling which makes me feel like I can truly accomplish anything. Walking at a fast speed allowing me to be productive with my day. Free time spent reading books to Lili as she talks back to the images. Conversations that are cut short allowing me enough time to sing Lili one more song before bed. And finally – the unclean and untidy house – the stuff – baby lotions, baby blankets, baby books and toys, the wipes and finally the little tiny socks no bigger than my thumb that I find scattered about the apartment. I love all of it. A constant reminder that we are finally a family now. For this I am grateful. Less lonely.

Today I organized my first meet up of Moms in the park. This is unlike me, why? Because I am actually a bit shy and awkward when it comes to meeting new people. Pregnancy and then now having a kid has changed this about me. I’ve become more open to talking to new people and it is actually really fulfilling in a way I hadn’t expected. Plus I can now add more people to my Facebook which is all that really matters.

So…I joined a web site in Brooklyn where Moms introduce themselves and state the age of their kids. I contacted a few of the Moms who have kids around Lili’s age. It’s like Match.com but for Moms.

Meeting other Moms is like dating. Where are you from? What does your husband do? How was your labor? When was your kid born? In fact it’s like speed dating because you have less time for bullshit in your life now. You just don’t ‘meet for a coffee’ and ‘get to know one another’. You meet for a coffee, get to know one another while nursing, burping, changing and strolling a newborn baby.

I arranged to have us meet in the park. And then half an hour before I was due to meet everyone – a dark cloud rolled in. The wind picked up. I quickly emailed everyone in a panic and suggested we meet at an alternative location promising I’d swing by the park first to make sure people knew the plan should they not get the email. Somehow I managed to make everything annoying and complicated within minutes – as I often do.

I was about to pack up Lili for our outing but in the five seconds of me sending the email she decided to take an actual nap during the day for the first time since birth (ok not really but almost) and the thought of waking her was a total bummer. On one hand this was better than what she normally does right before we rush out of the house – which is take a large dump that requires towels, water, change of clothes, duct tape, etc. Plus she wasn’t wearing any pants. I can’t show up to meet new Moms with a child with no pants on, could I? What would they think?

So. Ok. I woke her up and put pants on her. Sue me.

She was not pleased.

I then strolled – late – about 500mph to the park with an angry pants wearing newborn. I was one of ‘those women’ that I used to see when I walked around the neighborhood pre-kid. Frazzled, unshowered Mom strolling 500mph with a crazy look in her eye. and screaming child. Yeah. Now that was me.

Got to park. No one was there. I felt a few drops of rain. Called husband at work for advice on if I should wait at park for a while or just go to new location. He probably really wanted to say, “Um…I don’t have time for this lame conversation.” but instead he was nice and said go to new location. Bye.

The rain was coming down now. I strolled another 500mph to the new location which was the local tea shop in the neighborhood that I have avoided since moving here. Why? Because it looks lame and Seattle circa ’91 and it’s always jam packed with strollers. But I had no choice.

When I walked in I saw a Mom from my birthing class with her adorable son. Shortly after another Mom strolled in and introduced her daughter. More Moms from the list I emailed came in wet from the rain and within minutes we all started talking and laughing and getting to know one another. We were all very different women in our own ways but had something very much in common – boobs that had more exposure than sunbathing women on the beaches of Europe.

One new Mom also had a girl named Lily that was born a day before my kid.

New Mom: (taking her baby out of stroller) I was going to put pants on her but was late and was like…ah…whatever…

I liked her already.

Lili you are one lucky girl. To date you have gotten 73 gifts to celebrate your birth. 73! I counted because I attempted to write thank you notes for all of them but because I am human I’m sure I forgot a few which is horrible of me I know.

You have more clothes than your mother and almost enough to last you through to six months which is so fortunate and amazing. I’ve been donating the clothes you are rapidly outgrowing to Head Start and keeping a few that I hope to give you as keepsakes when you are older.

Some of your more unusual and cool gifts have come from our friends that live or have traveled around the world. They include:

a sling from Mexico

a pan flute from Guatemala

rattles from Peru

Chinese stroller blanket

cozy pjs from London

colorful bird wall hanging from Costa Rica

a hat with bells from Vietnam

hand made bib from Portugal

hand knit mittens & hat from Maine

I look forward to traveling with you and your father to all of these places.

We will start with Mexico.

Your Dad and I have very different styles of putting you to bed.

This can sometimes cause a few fights – as you may have noticed – but nothing to worry about. If you didn’t know by now your parents are very stubborn people. Wait – why am I telling you this? You are the same way.

DAD’S STYLE: Dad’s style of putting you to bed is loud and happy. He likes the lights on, to sing songs to you, read you a book, talk to you, cheer, laugh, grab your little arms and put them over your head, play games, smile at you during a swaddle, put you down to bed and tap his hand on you. Often right before you are asleep he leaves the room and you start to fuss – I try to act cool and casual reading a magazine but instead I am like one of those little round bombs you see in a cartoon with a wire and a spark slowly making its way up for the big explosion. So…mid-fuss Dad leaves the nursery, munches on a snack in the kitchen (spark now climbing up wire at rapid speed) and leisurely makes his way back to your nursery where I am waiting outside with crazy eyes saying, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING???!!! SHE IS ABOUT TO FREAK OUT?! YOU NEED TO GET IN THERE!” to which he ignores me and saunters his way back in where he talks to you until you are quiet again. You fall asleep.

MOM’S STYLE: Mom’s style of putting you to bed is quiet. Lights dim if not off. Some white noise. Using a quiet tone of voice while you nurse I thank you for a great day and recap all the fun things we did together. I stroke your hair with a tiny white hairbrush. I massage your shoulders and feet. I put nice smelling cream on your skin. And just as I think I have you calm enough to put down sometimes Dad will come in and say something explosive like,

“YOU GONNA EAT THOSE LEFTOVER SPRING ROLLS IN THE FRIDGE OR CAN I EAT THEM?”

and I will look up deflated and think, “Are you kidding me right now???” but instead I quietly nod as if to say YES YOU CAN HAVE THE MO’FO SPRING ROLLS and I go back to calming you – wrap you in a tight swaddle, cuddle you until your eyes close and gingerly put you into bed with some gentle rocking. I shut off the light. You fall asleep.

There is no right or wrong in either of these methods. In fact we agree on the most important thing which is how much we love you. Often minutes after you are asleep one of us is bound to say, “Lets wake her up…”

Why? Because we already miss you.

Dear Lili,

I have many nicknames for you. Lili. Lilers. Lils. Lilster. Lili Bird. Lil’ Lily. Sack o’ potatoes, mama’s little chunkster, sweetie, sweet pea, honey, baby and mommy’s little peanut. These may sound lame but I am your mother and it is never too early for you to be embarrassed by me. So there.

In other news you have become a real character this week. A real little person. You make these faces now that are very expressive and combined with that certain look in your eye I can tell when you are ‘not having it’ or happy or about to freak out or sad. Pretty big developments from your recent blob of a state as a newborn.

You’ve also managed to develop one distinct act worthy of an Oscar. I call it the, “I’M STARVING AND MY MOTHER NEVER FEEDS ME”

This begins with you on the boob eating with loud dramatic gulps that to anyone listening sounds as if I’ve never fed you in your entire short life – GULP gasp GULP gasp GULP gasp GULP gasp GULP gasp exhale exhale exhale (repeat).

This is followed by hysteria when I take you off the boob for one nano second to burp you. You stand stick straight like a board, pound your tiny fists on my shoulders or grab a chunk of my hair, throw your head back and scream until you are red/purple and contort your face into the most unflattering expression. It is hilarious and I love you.

xo

Today heroic husband E offered to take the babe out in the pouring rain for an hour to give me some free time. That is the funny thing about being a parent. In the past you’d pull back the curtain, take one look at the rain and stay indoors all day playing Wii and watching movies. With a kid you are dying to get out of the house so you don’t go insane. What’s a little monsoon!

So…I decided to use my free time wisely. Dash across the street to the nail salon for a quick manicure and 15 minute massage. Ahhh. Finally some time free from anything kid!

Nope.

Instead when I walked in my normally quiet nail salon I was greeted by what appeared to be a birthday party for eight-year-old girls in full throttle. Fourteen of them. The place was as calm as a Long Island Chuck E. Cheese at noon on a Saturday. There were tons of girls dressed in little Ugg boots and fur vests and cooler jewelry than I have ever owned running around saying precocious things like, “Ugh! The nail polish selection here SUCKS! It’s not as good as my usual place.” and “What holiday is coming up? I like to pick my color based on the upcoming holiday. Oh yay! Valentine’s Day!!!”

I was not this cool when I was eight. In fact I was still wearing clothes my mother made for me and collecting seashells from our local beach. I didn’t know about nail polish until I was at least twelve, why? Because I was still playing in the mud and getting my nails dirty.

This scene was a different kind of cool. It was a creepy cool. It was as if grown up women were living inside these tiny little girl bodies. I had a sinking feeling each of these kids had eaten at Blue Ribbon Sushi since birth (the Park Slope one) or at least had heard of it.

On top of the chatter the salon TV was blaring updates of presidential candidates:

Precocious Girl #1: I think Hillary’s going to win this one

Precocious Girl #2: No. I think Obam-ba (Obama)

Precocious Girl #3: Hey look! Miley Cyrus! (commercial)

It was too late for me to turn around. It was pouring rain. The nearest nail salon was a good ten minute walk there and back. It would mean giving up one of my ‘treatments’ the manicure or the back massage and well…frankly that wasn’t worth the sacrifice. So I sat in the corner reading my magazines patiently waiting for my turn and doing my best to focus on my magazine regarding Britney’s latest meltdown and tune out the shrieks of laughter and chatter.

Suddenly I was approached by one of the little girls who had an “I was raised on organic foods only and live in a renovated Brownstone” way about her…

Precocious Girl #4: Excuse me…(shoving my shoulder aside) my friend needs to get behind you to the nail polish selection

Me: Ah… (shocked and looking up from magazine)

Precocious Girl #5: Yeah. I’m going to need you to…scoot .. so …

Me: Um…you are going to have to give me a second

I wanted to add ‘little girl’ at the end of my sentence but it sounded too old like ‘listen here sonny!’ and/or something a Mom would say when a little child was being rude. And then I realized oh wait – I AM A MOM.

So. I didn’t say it. I don’t know why. Even worse I reluctantly got out of my chair and moved over so these two brats could get to their nail polish color of choice. Or at least their second best choice since this place ‘sucked’.

Then – I spent the next 15 minutes thinking about the fact that I will have to raise Lili here surrounded by brats. Not all of the kids in Brooklyn are brats but some are. And plus girls are tough. They are mean and run in packs and can intimidate other girls. I spent plenty of nights at their age crying to my parents that I just didn’t ‘fit in’. This will be something we may have to handle as Lili’s parents. Not only that – other friends warned me that your kid inevitably becomes friends with that ONE kid with parents you have nothing in common with. What then? They invite you over for play dates at their four story Brownstone mansion and you invite them back to your place asking them to please leave their arms and legs outside because there is no more room in your tiny apartment?

Pre-Lili I always wondered if I would bring my daughter to a nail salon to get her nails done if I have a daughter. Now I have a daughter. I suppose it would be ‘cute’ if it were a special occasion and not something your kid became jaded about just like anything else.

For now I am determined to keep Lili a kid for as long as we can. There may not be seashells and mud in Brooklyn but god help me if I don’t help her find them.