Posts Tagged ‘ Brooklyn ’

Introducing Me and Fi (pronounced “Fee”)

Friday, June 3rd, 2011

Mama and Baby on Beach

I was so adamant about not having children, I debated getting my tubes tied at 30. My mother begged me not to. (Obviously I listened.) Still, it is with great irony that I find myself an “official” mommy blogger.

Pre-Fia, I’d cross the street to avoid the little Petri dishes. Diapers? Disgusting. Playgrounds? I’d rather have the plague.

My neighborhood didn’t help matters. I live in Park Slope, Brooklyn–perhaps the biggest breeder neighborhood in New York City. A place where wee little inmates run the asylum. We’re featured in articles and blogs—one equates Park Slope to a battle zone between “the ballers” and “the breeders”.  For those without children, you can’t overstate the annoyances: strollers on every inch of the sidewalk, oblivious parents who bombard quiet coffee shops with their babies, intimate restaurants that quickly become cacophonies of chaos when toddlers are unleashed.

No, my husband and I certainly didn’t move here six years ago to procreate. The reason we moved here is it sits right on beautiful Prospect Park and we’re runners (or were before we had Fi and P90X).

But then, through various events, we changed our minds. We decided to give up birth control and “see” what happened. At 39, I figured my ovaries were toast anyway. Off to Mexico we went where tequila poured free, and boom, Ms Fi was on her way.

Throughout my pregnancy I spent many a therapy session worrying that I’d love my cat Wayne Sanchez more than my daughter. Thank god nature does its job well. Wayne still gets spooned every night, but it’s Fia who rocks my world. And the fact that I love—not loathe—babies is nothing short of a miracle.

So now I’ve been given this platform on Parents to basically write whatever I want about my life with Fi. A golden ticket covered with baby barf.

I hope to bring an honest perspective to my blog that’s not indulgent, irritating or precious. I hope I don’t bore you. And that you’ll come back and visit. Lots.

I find it a privilege to be a parent and an honor to write about it. And thank god. Because if I hated it, or loved my cat more than my daughter, then I’d probably be in the loony bin. And who wants to write from there?

FOR A YEAR, I BLOGGED IN CONJUNCTION WITH THE SHOW I WAS HOSTING, CALLED MY FIRST BABY. HERE ARE MY PAST BLOGS THAT SPAN MY FIRST YEAR WITH FI.

What it Means to be a MOM–the feelings of early motherhood

The Fog Will ClearHow early motherhood does get easier

Baby’s Not-So-Cute-Milestone: Diaper Rash–a traumatic event, followed by another involving a red bum and a lot of cornstarch

Living in the Moment--how having a baby gives you a chance to indulge. And play. Especially if you’re a Type-A person.

Not A Vacation--did  I really say in the previous post that having a baby allows you to indulge? Play? Feel like you’re on vacation? Was I on drugs?

Have Baby, Will Travel--tricks for traveling with baby/helpful advice and tips

Navigating the Minefield of Milestones–the good and bad of baby milestones

Travel Fiasco–My Scattered Self–a shit show, for lack of a better word, at LaGuardia. I must be losing it.

Picky Eaters–great advice from my pediatrician for picky eaters and avoiding the terrible two’s

Fia Turns One--the emotional journey leading up to your baby’s first birthday

What Travel Does For Me…and Fi–my first babyless vacation. And why I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Return From My Baby-less Vacation–I find out things weren’t so smooth while I was away. But I don’t feel guilty.


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The Fog Will Clear

Tuesday, June 15th, 2010

I was strolling in Prospect Park yesterday. Fia was sleeping in her stroller. A couple of moms strolled past me with their newborns. They had that glazed over look I remember all too well from those early months. I was enveloped in a fog, but was okay with it (until my husband proclaimed me certifiable). As time went on, I began to lose my sanity. Lack of sleep, this huge life change and the monotony of it all started to get the best of me. My mom friends would reassure me, It’s normal. It will get better. Trust us. For the life of me, I didn’t know what they were talking about–even leaving the house felt like a chore–but I had no choice other than to hang in there. And wait.

Today, I feel like I am standing on the other side of a huge mountain. I’m not alone, but rather with all you other moms who have been there before me. And it’s my turn to say to those with the glazed-over look, It will get better. Trust me.

From my perch now, I want to share some of my most significant achievements and insights I’ve learned in this  journey. And for all you expectant moms and new moms who hear, It will get better, my advice is not to over-think or question it. Because it does. It is that simple.

Try and get out once a day. Even if it’s only walking around your backyard or to the mailbox. My first outing with Fia was around our block. Small steps but a huge sense of victory and accomplishment.

–The irrational, fearful thoughts will lessen over time. When I first had Fi, I was convinced a brown recluse spider was going to fall out of the ceiling vent into her crib. Seriously. This, despite the fact that I have never even seen a spider in my house, much less the reclusive one (which as the name suggests, isn’t an overly social insect). I went so far as to buy netting to put over her crib. My husband had had it at this point, stormed in her room, ripped the netting from my hands, and threw it out.

–I never thought I’d feel like my old self again. I was overwhelmed with both love and responsibility; angst and self-doubt. From the other side, I now feel like Fi and I are rocking this world together. And I’m not my old self. I’m better. Kinder. More compassionate. More patient.

–Pumping, feeding, washing bottles, doing laundry, changing diapers. Never sleeping. My life was never so tedious in those first months. That changes drastically. Hang in there.

–Now my day goes like this: wake up well rested. Go in to a smiling Fi. She stands in her crib, overjoyed to see me. I feed her. We play. We laugh. We laugh more. She naps. I write this blog. We meet friends. We go to the zoo. The park. The museum. We run. She tortures Wayne. We bathe. We feed. We sleep.

This is one of the few times in my life I’ve felt so content. I want to bottle it up and freeze it. But all the moms before me are saying, Just wait. It gets even better. And now, I don’t question them. I simply believe.

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