Author: alexgirl

Today I went through my inbox and unsubscribed to all the alerts that had been building up–concerts, readings, gallery openings. I don’t want to alarm any of you preggos out there, but the reality is your social life is about to dissolve. Bye-bye date night, hello diapers.

It may not be as grave as all that, but my husband and I used to get up on a Saturday morning (late morning, mind you), and wander the city aimlessly. Maybe stop for a drink, a movie, or a museum. Now we get up at 6:30am on Saturdays and spend the day wiping boogers and floating from playground to playground, envying the twenty-somethings enjoying a nice mimosa brunch. Going out to eat–even during the day–has become tricky, as Trixie likes to scream randomly when the mood strikes. She is an adorable, blue-eyed n’ pudgy ticking time bomb.

When I was pregnant, a friend said to me, “You’re going to change SO much.” She is younger, and probably didn’t realize that this was the most horrible thing she could have uttered. One of my biggest fears was exactly that–that I would “change” and no longer have my own personality and interests. It’s true that the last book I read was Click Clack Moo, and the new Jonathan Franzen novel is collecting dust on my bookshelf, and that I am at least three crises behind in some of my friends lives. But, I have managed to stay me–with a little work. Instead of scouring the Bowery Ballroom website for awesome shows to see, I check out Stereogum.com to see what new albums to download. I even manage to play them pretty loud after Trixie goes to bed. We rarely go to the movies anymore, but there’s always Netflix, and I still haven’t seen all the episodes of The Wire.

It’s a juggling act. So maybe I didn’t see the McQueen exhibit at the Met, and I probably won’t make it to Sleep No More, but I dress the same, my sense of humor is the same (still awesome), and I’ve got a cute baby girl who walks and giggles and says “mama.” All in all, I’d have to say it’s been a pretty fair trade.

As seen on the New York Family blog.

When Trixie bit me for the ten millionth time, I started to wonder: Is my daughter out to get me?

 

With seven chompers in her tiny mouth, her bite is not simply a “love nibble.” Quite the opposite, my legs are black and blue with her signature bite. And not just my legs–also my face, arms, boobs, collarbone and fingers. She’s a vicious beast. And our nanny told me the other day that Trixie knocked a kid over at the playground and tried to make off with his stroller! Whoa, what have I gotten myself into? Less than one year old and Trixie is about to go on trial (in my living room) for auto theft and assault charges.

She is still too young to really know what she’s doing, but when will she begin to realize that biting and hitting are wrong? So far, saying NO doesn’t work at all. I’ve even tried a few Time Outs which have proven to be excruciating for both of us–she cries, and I die inside watching her–so I won’t do much of that. Sometimes I try to act hurt when she bites me, crying and whatnot, but instead of guilt or remorse, Trixie just laughs. Basically, no matter what I do I get a giggle, which is great for my ego but dampens the effect of the educational process.

So what do I do? Yell, cry, withhold the boob, enforce Time Outs, or just ignore it?! Thankfully, these outbursts don’t happen all the timeusually just when I’m kind of distracted (emailing, cooking etc). Seems like the answer is simple, doesn’t it? Never get distracted, never get bitten. Case closed!

**Also posted on Born & Bred**

I can barely remember why I was so nervous about flying with a 3 month old baby. In fact, I’d give anything for the days when Trixie slept and fed through the flight. It literally couldn’t have been easier. But at 8 months, things have changed. Now, flying is practically an Olympic event. It takes stamina, hydration, agility–especially if you get the window seat. Trixie is a pretty good baby, but as she gets older she is getting more active and more curious. In other words, she is no longer content with sitting in my lap for four hours straight. Oh no, instead she wants to play with everything she’s not supposed to (cups full of ice, my row-mate’s hair), or cruise up and down the aisle. I was worried that the altitude might affect her ears, but so far that’s the least of my worriesI’m more concerned that she’ll kick the person next to me and break their nose! There’s not much advice I can give, but here are a few things that made flying a little easier for me the last time around:

1. Treat the SkyMall catalog as a toy. Tear out a page (preferably one of the boring ones advertising Harry Potter memorabelia or bunion massagers) and let your baby have at it. Apparently, nothing is more fun than crumpling up and shredding magazine pages.

2. If they’re standing, put your baby on the floor between your legs and let her play with the seat belt. That held her attention for a good 15 minutes until the Fasten Seat Belt light was reactivated.

3. Use the tray table as a desk. I like to sit Trixie in my lap and lay her toys out on the tray table, then I pretend it is her “office” and send her to “work” for a while. If you have toys with loops or hooks, you can fasten them to the tray table latch which helps keep things contained.

4. Use the bathroom as your personal VIP area. It may be a cramped, elbow-bruising way of changing diapers, but don’t forget there are mirrors in those teeny lavatories. What better way to pass the time than letting your vain little princes or princesses stare at themselves! Just keep an eye out for other bathroom-goers, you don’t want to make unnecessary enemies by holding up the queue.

5. Let ‘em be creepy. If staring down the guy in the seat behind you keeps your baby quiet for a little while longer, so be it. The guy might start to feel uncomfortable having a pudgy, wide-eyed baby ogling him from between the seats, but it’s a hell of a lot better than listening to that baby shriek at the top of her lungs.

**Also posted on Born and Bred**

My family has a small writing group, and my uncle Tad created our last assignment: Write A Ghazal. The Ghazal is an Arabic poem made up of several rhyming couplets, but the first and second line end with the same word, and each subsequent refrain ends with that first word again–if that didn’t make sense, it will, below. A traditional Ghazal is about love or pain, but then, what good poem isn’t?

I don’t pretend to be a poet, but here is my Ghazal. It’s called “Sigh” and is dedicated to my beautiful 5 month old daughter!

The weight of the world expelled in her sigh
Slow breath upon tiny chest, an innocent sigh.

Watch the sun set and her mood temper,
blinking eyes grow heavy, ever-resistant sigh.

See her father in those eyes/ fair hair,
mama’s presence mirrored in her sigh.

More long nights, fractured sleeping,
a glass of wine, a burdened sigh.

Nothing lasts forever, even tears,
years from now I’ll miss her sweet sigh.

I’m sorry I killed you. Well, not that sorry, because I wanted you dead, but it looked kind of painful as you writhed around in your post-Raid haze, so I’m sorry for that, from a humanitarian standpoint. I hope the toilet-flush took you to a better place, and you’ve been reincarnated as a butterfly or something lovely like that. Now, I have a quick question for you. Where did you come from? My cat found you in the bathroom, and now I can’t go in there without checking above, below, inside, and behind every surface. And then when you temporarily skidded away and hid in the radiator, I wondered if maybe you came from there? So, if you wouldn’t mind telling me how you got into my house, and more importantly, if you have any brothers or sisters, or children that I might find at a later date, PLEASE, be a dear and let me know. My sanity is dwindling.

Yours cordially,

Alex