Archive for May, 2012


2012/05/30 2 comments

Haven’t had much time to write recently, don’t see that changing any time soon… But I am still here, and things are going well… And now, let this cute picture of the Meeks distract you:


Shouldn’t we all be so happy? I think so!


when does it count as walking?

2012/05/23 3 comments

i’ve been silent for a bit because, well, BUSY.

what have we been up to? let’s see…

a bit of light reading now and again…

trying to find ways to make being mobile even!more!fun!

swing, swing, swinging!

climbing on EVERYTHING

enjoying plenty of picnics in the park…

… and then climbing some more!

also: walking. well, maybe? sort of?

when do you consider it walking?

for the past 2ish weeks, meeka has been standing holding onto something, then turning, and walking anywhere from 1-6 steps on her own towards wherever she wants to go (sometimes making it, often not). do you consider this walking? hmmmm…


also: the husband has taken his test! woohoo! he arrived back at 3am last night (this morning) and we’ll hear if he passed on friday (but he feels good about it, so… YAY!)


also: my application for a new job is complete! fingers crossed, wish me luck! it would be a huuuuuuuge change for all of us – not just what i’d be doing (for a year), but also location (for a year). but i think it would be good for us. it might just be what we need. a huge shake-up, for sure.


also: well, no. no more also. i just felt like i should try to put one more thing 😉

Categories: the mommy thing


2012/05/09 3 comments

Not to take away anything I wrote last week, because it is still true and I still mean it, but to qualify… first and foremost, PMS! Oh, how I forgot about you! And oh, how you made sure I remembered with a vengeance!

But beyond those bitch hormones, I’ve been thinking about the WHY lately, and tried to articulate it to my lil sis the other day… And what I’ve come up with, is that it is situational. Or perhaps, locational. Take this exact same scenario, but plonk us down in a different city/town/etc? I’m pretty sure things would look VERY different…


Well, some of it is the pressure-cooker environment of New York; no matter what field you are in you feel it, but in the one my husband is in (and that I opted out of temporarily)? It’s even more intense. You get paid less and work more than people in the same field outside of the city, all for the “prestige” of living and training in NYC. And yes, there are benefits to this – once you are done. When you are in the middle of it? IT SUCKS DONKEYBALLS.

Feeding into this – or perhaps, stemming from it? – is the “paid less” part translating into my frustrations because anywhere else, we could more easily get through this rough patch by throwing money at it for a little while – hire a cleaner, eat more take-out, etc. But here? Yes, yes, there are ethnic cuisines of whatever obscure corner of the world you want to explore on every block. But. Money. Not something we have a lot of right now. Don’t get me wrong, we’re not starving… but we also can’t eat take-out and hire a cleaner. So. Yeah. Scratch that solution.

And, of course, what also comes along for the ride in this expensive-ass city is paying more for rent to live in a postage-size apartment than many pay for their mortgage on a house with a yard and a white picket fence, etc etc. While this helps with the cleaning part (less to clean! YAY!) it doesn’t help with much else… Because you are always on top of one another, as well as the hundreds of others who live in your building and thousands of others on your block and millions of others on this one tiny little island.

And the living on top of each other part is where a lot of my frustration lies, I was realizing. As I described to my sister: some of my friends’ husbands are training to be surgeons, which means they are away. A LOT. They might see their children for an hour every other day, or so. But? When they ARE there with their family? They are THERE. Both physically and mentally present (as much as they can be, what with the sleep deprivation). My husband is in a different specialty, and what that has amounted to recently? Is that he is studying – from home. So he is actually physically present, quite a bit of the time. But mentally? NEVER. He is always, always thinking about the test/studying for the test/being annoyed that he’s being distracted from studying/etc. There is no separation between work and home for him, and so he is always absent (though physically there… which is it’s own problem, see next sentences. Would rather he was actually NOT physically there more of the time, paradoxically). Also? Due to the aforementioned tiny-ass apartment? His desk is in the living room. Which means Meeka and I are NOT in the living room. When your tiny living space is cut in half? THAT ALSO SUCKS DONKEY BALLS. Just sayin’…

So. That. Things still suck, the test is two weeks away, I am hanging on til then…

Meanwhile, while I was thinking all this, I read one of those posts that makes you stop and go, “YES! EXACTLY!” … She wrote much more eloquently about the truth of living in NYC:

“New York City takes all the basic facets of normal human existence away from you, and then sells them back to you one at a time as luxuries. Want a bathroom that fits more than one person at a time? That’ll cost ya. A bedroom door? Five hundred extra per month. Don’t even ask about closets; you don’t get those unless you work on Wall Street.”

And also this:

“the truth is that we’re just not reaping any of the benefits of living in Manhattan these days, and city living is getting in the way of our life more than it’s enhancing it.”

That, right there, is IT. Yes, my husband is NOT helping matters right now with his intense preoccupation with himself (ahem. his test. sorry) but the root cause of my frustration? Is situational, locational, perhaps even somewhat vocational (OK, not that last – just wanted to make it rhyme)

So that’s the update.



2012/05/02 9 comments

“You make it look so easy,” he said, watching me wrestle a hyperactive dog into submission with one hand, a curious baby strapped to my chest, my other hand getting the appropriate keys ready to let us into the apartment.

I gave a small smile as I thanked him.

But inwardly, I cringed. That’s the problem, I thought, that’s exactly the problem.

I make it all look so easy.


Our pictures are falling off of the walls.

Something about the change in temperature or humidity, combined with the way we hung them up (3M Command Strips, in case you were wondering… as it is next to impossible to nail into concrete walls), means that every morning I find a new hole on the wall.

They fall, but they don’t break.

And every morning, I pick them up, dust them off, and hang them back up. Hoping that this time, this time, they won’t fall.


My friends have told me that they like to talk to me because I am so level-headed. They can tell me their problems, and I can help them see solutions… Or at least provide a sympathetic ear to listen.

I am the one who tells my old roommate, a new mother, that though she is not the mother she wanted to be – though she has had problems and struggles with things she never thought she would – she is still a mother. And a fantastic one, at that. She might not be able to breastfeed, but she is doing anything and everything she can for her daughter. And that’s what counts.

I am the one who is able to listen to the frantic worries of my friend about what might be wrong with her daughter, and then calm her fears with my background medical knowledge and some insight into genetic testing. Her daughter will be fine; she will be fine; everything will be fine.

But I am also the one who does not confide my worries to these same friends, because what could they say? My worries are not about my skills as a mother (I know I am a good mother. I know I make mistakes, but that I learn from them. I know I am trying my hardest. I know I am doing fine) or the development of my daughter (I still think she is absolutely brilliant… or at least, meeting all developmental milestones). They are more general and more specific than that. They reach to the heart of my family, not just myself…


My husband has made it clear that, for now, his priority is not his family.

While I can see where he is coming from (somewhat), I cannot agree.

But I also cannot change this.

There is no way to change another person’s mind once it is set.

And so I am left to shoulder the burden that he has left behind.

I work full-time, mother my daughter full-time, and do everything else as well.

I feel myself stretching thinner and thinner to cover all the things I need to do.

I empathize with all the single parents out there, because that is what I now am, despite what it looks like to others looking in.

I have hope that it is temporary… But worry that it is not. Once the date of his test comes and goes, what happens? One thing will be over, but we’ll be moving on to another, just as big, just as stressful… What then?

And so I make plans… Plans to get out, get away, get myself the help that I need. Get my daughter other people to help with her care. Get us away from an environment that churns us into these situations.

Of course, none of that helps with the now. Even if these plans work out, nothing will change today, tomorrow, or even next week.


Just like the pictures, I can feel my life falling down all around me… Falling, but not breaking. And just like the pictures, every morning I find a new hole, then pick up the fallen pieces and carefully place them back, hoping that they will not fall again.

The problem is, no one else sees what has fallen.

I am up earlier than everyone, gathering the pieces, replacing them, filling the holes.

They see the wall, covered with smiling photos.

I see the pictures that have fallen, been replaced, and fallen again.

I see myself picking them up, every day.

I see myself making it all look so easy.

But that doesn’t mean that it is.