Letter B

Happy Eastern!

Lowell spent his first Easter in Nutley NJ with our friends Mike and Leslie and their son Ben. Unfortunately Lowell was not able to partake of Easter candy yet except via breastmilk. I ate his portion for him of course. Yet another maternal sacrifice. Matthew laughed at our little christapagan rituals. He asked me at 10 am if I thought I had had enough chocolate yet. I just shook my head and thought "this man has no idea what Easter is all about."

Sometimes when i explain Christian holidays to Matthew I feel like David Sedaris in his masterful story "Jesus Shaves." It describes a bunch of French-as-second-language students trying to explain Easter to a muslim Moroccan student in their class and the hilarity that ensues through broken french and warring traditions. " 'He nice, the Jesus' 'He make the good things, and on Easter we be sad because somebody makes him dead today.' 'The rabbit of Easter. He bring of the chocolate.' 'No, no, the chocolate is brough by a big bell that flies in from Rome.' " David Sedaris then wonders if Christianity would sound any more rational even if they did have the vocabulary. I feel the same way sometimes. To say that most of it is pretty far-fetched is putting it mildly. When I lived in Hungary I had a friend who could never get the word "easter" right and would shout "Happy Eastern!" before dousing me with stanky warsaw pact cologne (don't ask me - that's what they do on Easter). Me and some other english speaker friends adopted this as the new official name of the holiday and I still can't break the habit. Thus the title of this post. Not a typo. A very merry eastern to you all.

Bobby Short, 1924-2005

I was pretty distraught yesterday when I heard Bobby Short had died of leukemia. I have kind of a funny relationship (totally one-sided of course) with him. He saved my life as a little kid and then slamdunked me with New York glamour and panache at a very impressionable age. Probably one of the reasons I live in this city now is because I saw him sing as a young adult and it made quite an impact on me.

My mom and dad divorced when I was 9 years old. It was a confusing and extremely sad part of my childhood and when I think back on those early days after the divorce the pain and bewilderment still feels fresh. One of the bright spots of that dim time was when my mom, not sure what to do with me and my sister when we were staying with her in godforsaken apartment complexes, decided to give us dancing lessons. She would pull out the double album that she (with little protest) had won in the divorce,  "Bobby Short Loves Cole Porter" and put it on the stereo. We would blast "You've Got That Thing" or "How's Your Romance" and she would walk us through the box step and the foxtrot. It helped all three of us regain our footing so to speak. I remember doing this for hours and even when we weren't dancing I would put the album on and memorize all the words to every song. I had to be the only nine-year-old that knew all the lyrics to "Katie Went to Haiti" (The end of Short's version of that song still, STILL, makes my eyes well up with tears). It was all very therepeutic and I fell madly in love. To this day Bobby Short is Cole Porter to me. Mel Torme comes close, and Ella Fitzgerald does amazing things with him, but nobody could sing his songs like Short. Nobody.

Fast-forward a few years to when I was thirteen. We were living in Cincinnati and my mom decided to take me with her on a business trip to New York. At the time i was going to a performing arts middle high/high school (think "Fame" in the midwest) and DEEPLY committed to music theater and the american songbook. My mom asked me what I wanted to do when we were in New York. I told her I wanted to see "Cats" (which had just opened) and I wanted to see Bobby Short at the Cafe Carlyle. My mother, with the help of some Madison Avenue graft, delivered. Loved "Cats" (for which I was mocked and humiliated for months by my savvier friends at school) but the night seeing Bobby Short sing stands out as one of the highlights of my life. No kidding.

We were staying at the Grand Hyatt (a total treat in and of itself) and we met up with other people from my mom's ad agency and proceeded to the Carlyle. On the way there one of the guys with us asked me if I knew the old commercial for "Charlie" perfume. I said sure and he said, "That's Bobby Short!" I remember giving him a look like he was indeed the lowest philistine that ever crossed my path and my mom stepped in and said "she knows who Bobby Short is. This was her idea." As I recall he was appropriately apologetic and I welcomed him back into the fold. We got to the hotel and walked into the Cafe and got seated in a banquette with a head-on view of the piano. I was beyond excited. Here i was, dressed to the nines (in some god-awful 80's jersey sack dress that i got at the Limited) in the most sophisticated spot in the greatest city on earth. I ordered a Shirley Temple and threw it back. Mom pointed out Gloria Vanderbilt sitting catty-corner to us. She was like an x-ray cheshire, all eye socket, smile and clavicle. Bobby Short came out to applause and sat down and proceeded to knock my socks off. I mouthed the lyrics to the songs I knew and beamed throughout the entire show. I was the hap-happiest I'd ever been and I wished that it would never end. Of course it did end and when the last song was over he winked at me. I swear. I remember that I couldn't sleep at all that night. I sat in the window of our hotel room watching the cabs go up and down 42nd street and replayed the evening in my head. The whole night lived larger than life in my memory and remains one of the best moments of my life. Thanks again Mom, it was an amazing gift. Rest in peace Bobby.

It takes an iVillage...

Update on the non-sleeping: apparantly there is this phenomenon called "4th month sleep regression." That's when a new baby who has been sleeping reasonably well through the first  3 months decides around the 4th month that he'd rather go back to the beginning and start over. Lowell turns four months next week. I feel a little bit better that it's not just us and that it happens to a lot of babies and again there is no real clinical explanation or widely-held reason. Just a lot of guesswork as to why it happens. This is according to the UrbanBaby newborn board which basically is a bunch of posts that start with "Help! My baby has stopped sleeping..." I did a search and there must have been 50 posts that sounded exactly like what is happening to us with Lowell. Thank god for the Internet.

Shoutouts to my pisces peeps

I don't really believe in horoscopes but for one reason or another I have always had pisceans in my life. Happy birthday to Nancy, Sue, Leslie, Leah and Marian. No cards got sent out on time this year but there is still March left so don't count me out! I love all you fishes. Special shout out to Leah who is experiencing a milestone bday. Wish I could be drinking gin and juice out there with you in sag h. Actually just wishing i could be drinking gin and juice period but you know what i mean. xo.

Sleep is for sissies

Lowell decided this week that he would stop sleeping. It could be our fault. We tried cycling back his bedtime because he seemed so overtired and was sooo fussy by the time we got him in bed. So we started the our bedtime routine (bath, rub, book, boob, bed) a half hour or so earlier each night. Since we started this little experiment he sleeps about 2 hours and then wakes up. All. Night. Long. Tonight he just refused to go to bed at all. We finally got him down after a few hours of rocking, cajoling, bribery, prayer and outright begging.

I know all of this is temporary and that someday, some beautiful day in the future, he will get it and start to sleep somewhat regularly but it seems like an impossibility. Gentle Reader, let me just discourage you now from giving us any advice if you, at this point, were poised above your keyboard about to type away. We have gotten loooots of advice. Of every kind. How we should put him on a schedule, how we shouldn't try to put him on a schedule, how we should let him cry it out, how we should never let him cry it out. How we should buy this book or that book and follow it to the letter. Or how we should only consider the family bed lest the poor fellow grow up to be emotionally stunted. Alternately there is the opinion that our actions thus far have already spoiled the child beyond repair and we should just accept our fate. (If you are curious at this point we're doing it by blind intuition).

The whole sleep issue thing is ridiculous. It is neither a yardstick to measure how up to snuff we are as parents nor is it a method to divine whether we have given birth to the bad seed. But this is what everyone secretly believes (i am including myself). I feel like there needs to be a summit or a brokered agreement where parents all over declare a moratorium on sleep conversations or advice. Then we would all admit that we have no idea what works other than what works at any given moment with our child. And that even our methods don't work all the time. Then we could dance among the rainbows and the released doves. Feh. Okay, i'm done. Sleep tight everyone.

Calling all comments!

PSA: if you are reading this blog, and have a spare moment, be sure to say hi now and then in the form of a comment. I have no idea who is actually reading (or if anyone is reading at all quite honestly. I get stats but they are minimal and i always think it's only my visits to the site that are being counted). And I love when you give feedback on my posts. Like Janie Schwartz, who informed me that gout does indeed still exist. I live for this kind of stuff. I have also enabled "anonymous" comment posting so you can post without having to specify an email address. So, if you have a sec, say howdy. Thanks. That is all.

Reach out and touch someone you love

Lowell reached up and touched my face for the first time on Thursday. He touched my cheek and then went for my nose. It was wonderful. Then when Matthew got home he did it to him too. It's so fun to watch him figure it all out and then get the coordination to do something. I love it. Matthew's mom said raising a child is like having a front row seat on life and it really is. Even though it is something that happens with millions of babies all over the globe every day for those in the front row, it's an endlessly fascinating show.

A good thing

This morning I was talking to my sister, Kara, who was still in bed because it is spring break for the kids and that's what she does when she isn't going to work. I was complaining about the apartment being an absolute disaster zone and my inability to deal with it and how it is now spiraling out of control. Kara said that it was okay. "It's cyclical," she said, "sometimes you're totally on top of it and you can handle everything and then the next thing you know you feel completely overwhelmed. Then you go back to feeling like you can do it all and then suddenly you're back to fantasizing about false imprisonment." False imprisonment. My sister, who has been doing this mom thing for nearly 10 years, dreams of a short stint in a nice federal facility (with a good library and access to crafts material) before having her name cleared followed by a triumphant return to her family who no longer take her for granted. I used to think this was hilarious. Now I think, "you know, i could finish that book..."

Rare Medium

Is anyone else out there watching "Medium?" I love this show. I love Patricia Arquette and her crooked teeth. The premise is about this psychic who helps the DA's office solves crimes in Arizona. That is entertaining enough since i love the crime-solve genre (Law and Order, CSI etc.) and the plots are pretty good. But what is really cool about it is Arquette and her family. She and her husband argue and it's okay. Her kids are bratty and annoying and it's okay. This is pretty damn cutting edge for network. It really is a metaphor about female power and domesticity. Arquette is constantly trying to deny her talent either by ignoring it or drinking to numb it but ultimately she's compelled to use it. It creates a nice tension. Her husband is alternately loving and irritating. He wants to support her but is scared by her "powers." Her daughters don't want to share their mother with her life outside the house and also show signs of developing these "powers" too. It's so interesting and really makes the show very layered and nuanced. I hope they can keep it up because I think the premise has its limits (some of which are already starting to show). It's on Monday nights on NBC. Don't watch it if you don't want to get hooked though. I am totally addicted.

Attack of the Giant Baby

I have had a million thoughts about things to write down but a giant baby has kept me from posting every time something pops into my head. There seems to be some kind of psychic connection between mother and son - as soon as I want to sit down and scribble something down he poops his pants. So the following is a random list of things that i have wanted to get down:

1. As mentioned, my baby is giant. At 3 months he is the size of an average 6 month-old. Of course he is still itty-bitty to strangers but to me he is my enormous son. I keep saying to people "look how huge he is!" and they think I'm a little strange. Unless they have babies themselves and then they ask me what I'm feeding him.

2. Supposedly we have come out of the so-called "fourth trimester." But don't tell that to my body. My body seems to be in denial and is hanging onto postpartum for dear life. While this allows me to eat constantly and say no to sex it is actually really bothering me and making me super cranky. Don't tell me to be patient. Don't tell me I will heal. And for sure do not tell me how breastfeeding helps you lose weight. Just keep the doughnuts coming if you know what's good for you.

3. Becoming a mother has all sorts of strange side-effects. Like suddenly becoming all compassionate and empathetic. I was listening to the radio the other day and a woman was telling the story of giving up her baby for adoption. The doctor asked her if she wanted to hold her baby before they took it away and she said no. She thought it would be better to just let her go.  I burst into tears and cried for her. I can't imagine how deeply painful it must be to give a baby away, no matter the situation. The instant true despair I felt hearing her story made me realize how affected I am by this experience. It really does rewire your heart and your brain.

4.  Being responsible for something so incredibly precious makes you crazy. I have never felt so vulnerable or powerless in my life. Even imagining something bad happening (which i do several times a day now that the world sometimes seems to have turned into a giant video game of potential dangers) makes my heart race and gets me all fight or flighty. Lowell was sick for the first time this week (caught a bug that has been going around) and we had to take him into the pediatrician because he was screaming when we touched his abdomen. Even though I knew in my heart that he was fine and that taking him in was just a protective measure because he is still very young my mind instantly went blank with low-grade panic. It's just that the stakes have become incredibly high now and I feel like a very puny human being when the enormity of it all is made apparant.

5. I miss work. (okay, i know some of you are like "whatever Sybil, call me after you take your meds"). I don't miss the daily headaches, the office drama or pointless meetings. I don't miss the commute, my alarm clock or the crappy lunches. But I do miss the satisfaction I would get on the good days. And I miss my work friends. I felt like i was very good at my old job. My new job is a hell of a lot harder and i am a total beginner. My new gigantic baby boss is a real doozy too. I have had some "challenging" bosses in the past but I didn't have to clean up their poop except metaphorically. But as I have posted before, the highs are pretty damn good, even if the money sucks. I think this going to be an ongoing tug-of-war until I find some kind of balance (oooh i can actually hear you guys hooting at me! cool).