C'mere You Big 3 Year Old!

Yesterday Q turned 3 years old. Today at his birthday party someone asked me if I was sad that he was 3. I said, no. Why? Should I be? And my friend said something about how the kids are just growing so fast. Which, I admit, did make me pause for a moment even as I told her that I hadn’t thought of it that way.

When I think about the pregnancy we lost, and how still, it is the hardest thing I have ever been through in my entire life, I am able to appreciate how happy I am now. And when I think about my pregnancy with this little boy and how much anxiety, hope, fear all the rest (totally chronicled on this blog) we went through, I have to take a moment to realize how lucky we are to be here. And, of course, baby O is part of everything now too. Little miss independent is showcasing her skills as a world leader, while my Q, my little man, is quietly waging his own happy (less loud) confidence on everyone he meets. So, of course, once I thought of all of this I admitted to myself that in my effort to survive 2 small children, work and marriage and all the rest, I might not stop to appreciate that it IS going so fast, and these moments are all so meaningful and fleeting.

Of course after this thought process, I ran over to Q and grabbed him for many unsolicited hugs and kisses while he, of course, squirmed away--Like SUCH a Very Big Boy.

Happy 3 years old.

Hey, Don't I know You From Somewhere?

I practically have a photographic memory for faces. I guess. I don't know what the deal is, but I recognize people from various places all the time. Like when I see that same mom at the playground I saw at Walgreens a week ago, or that friend of a friend of a friend I met once two years ago. Or that guy I went to college with, and that guy and that girl, all SF residents who either don't recognize me or don't want to bother. Which is fine, I am not bothering either. What is annoying about this ability is that if it comes up, meaning, if I actually am the one who says, "Aren’t you friends with?" or "Did you go to __ College?" I deal with a puzzled "yes...?" and then me, “I recognize you. I'm ___" And because not every one has a memory for faces like mine, I usually get a sort of sometimes nice but sometimes are you a stalker response.

I have had 3 encounters with guys I went to college with recently that just make me feel like an asshole.

I met one guy at a party and we were actually sort of friends in college--or at least totally knew each other because we were on a group project together and had to talk on the phone a lot, and meet to study. It was freshman year, but still. I go through the thing, and he totally doesn’t remember me and his wife, right next to him is nice but also giving me the stink eye, like how do you know so much about my husband and he must have made an impression for you to have all this detail.

Again it happened at work, a new family came to clinic. I'm asked to see them because the mom has a history of depression and a new baby, so I am checking in to see how everyone is adjusting (you're more at risk for post partum depression with a depression history) when I look at dad, "hey! You look familiar." it clicks. Did you go to "__ College?" Again they are nice but act like I am a bit strange, plus; they probably felt vulnerable since I had all this info on them. But I mean well, I do.

The next week the husband and I are getting coffee and I mumble to husband about this hipster at the next table, "I went to college with that guy." Husband tells me to say hi, I say no, I've been seeing that guy around hipster coffee shops for years and I haven't bothered yet. Husband reminds me that I am friendly. "You are friendly. That’s your thing. Be friendly." But secretly, I have always thought this guy knew me too and that we give each other the nod and the acknowledgement that we both were never going to actually say hi. We weren't friends in college, why start now? So with the husband's prompting I say, "Did you go to __ College?" He says yes, I tell him me too that I recognize him, and he is not friendly at all! Again, I feel like an idiot, as if there is something special about this guy other than his totally recognizable face.

I know college was a long time ago, but I also know I don't looks so different I am unrecognizable!

We were at the farmer's market at the ferry building on Sat. I say to husband, there are those friends of friend's. He's all, who? I say, you know the ones our mutual friends carpool with, she's an attorney, and he switched careers to finance. He was an engineer. They have 4 kids; we met them that one time? And then the husband is off and running with the awkward, "Do you know __ and ___?" The guy has the paralyzed suspicious face, "yes." he was friendly enough, but, sometimes it feels like more work than it's worth. On that day I also saw the parent who was giving "info" at one of the pre-schools we visited a year ago, another family who I see all the time in our neighborhood, and a resident who worked at my clinic for 1 month 2 years ago.

I can’t wait for the day that someone comes up to me and says, "Hey! Aren’t you..." I will simply combust with relief. And I will be nice, and very friendly. I admit this talent comes in handy for my work, but overall, it is just sort of annoying. I mean, I could go on and on. I have about 6 other stories on the tip of my tongue!

I'm going to end on a good note, because I am feeling a bit whiny in this post. I admit that this trick has resulted in some very nice friendships and nice mom encounters on the playground.

Fine, I wouldn't give it up given the chance.

The Joy of Parenting--No Really!

I was going to write about Q's tantrums and the fact that if I didn't know anything about child development, I would swear he has an obsessive compulsive disorder he is so picky about every. Little. Thing. He wants it all just so and if it isn't just so? Tantrum! I know that he is trying to be independent from me and that developmentally it is a good thing, his effort at trying to control his little world. I have to be wily to figure out to make him think he wants what I want, but I'm up for it. He's no match for my mental gymnastics! I kid. He's totally more wily than me and it's really annoying. But, wait. I wasn’t actually going to write about this. I was going to write something positive about how freakin' funny he is lately, too.

Yesterday, we were in a "hike" in the park near our house when, "Mommy?" "Yes?" "I have a secret." "O.K. Do you want to wisper it in my ear?" He considered. His head was cocked to the side as if weighing his options. He finally nodded in CEO fashion, like we've decided to shake on a deal--one swift nod. I'm surprised I didn't see the sides of his mouth pull down in satisfaction. I put my head near his ear and he said in a loud whisper, “When you poop you get M&M's." But it came out "enimen's." After giggling a little, I acknowledged that a poop IN THE POTTY does surely result in two M&M's. He paused, nodded again and continued walking.

Growing, Growing, Growing

I knnnowww. It's been so long. I miss you blog. When did you start to become a chore? I am at work again. Like most moral lapses, it's easier the second time around. This time it is bad too because I actually have a lot of charting to do and phone calls to make and yet. Here I am.

I just had lunch with some colleagues and after a not so subtle ("will you please just update your blog??") request from a friend to blog again, I've decided to dedicate my hard working hours to this post.

Except I have nothing to say. I'm so so boring. Ok my kids. Oh my god I love them so much. Gush gush gush! The problem is its too daunting to describe their impossible beauty and overall amazingness, and trying to touch those things in any way just feels so inadequate. Perhaps I could do better than "I love my kids, gush gush gush." But probably not much better.

I will say, shortly, that baby O is now nearly 15 month old. Q will be 3 in August. They're turning into...kids!! I've even had a few glimpses of them ganging up against me. Like when I gave Q a time out for hitting me (another post). O looked at me like I was insane, and also like I betrayed her by removing her play buddy. She ran to the door of the room where I had (very gently:) put Q for his time out and began pounding on the door and screaming. In between yells, she'd look at me with a murderous, impatient and adorable expression that basically said, "Why are you ruining my buzz?" Quinn was inside also yelling, "I don't want a time out!!" That was awesome.

Another peas in the pod moment was when they took all the clothes out of the laundry basket and gleefully threw them, one article at a time, down the stairs. The baby gate at the top of the stairs was up and I was in the other room (what? I could hear them) and I heard hysterical giggling and pitter pattering of little feet back and forth. I realized that they were just too happy and were most likely deep in mischief, but once I investigated, I couldn’t help laughing at their pride as they demonstrated their well worn path from laundry basket to stairwell. I really don’t think this event would be filled with such glee if they didn’t have each other to egg on.

They for sure have their moments (sharing? What?) and they often fight for my attention, but a new exciting pattern of friendship is emerging. It really is satisfying. It is what you hope for when you have a second. You know, that they lurve each other. So while I am scared for my future—if they can do this now, what do I have in store? I am also so happy to see them bond.

I suppose there was a post in me after all. It's almost like I have a mommy blog.

My Life in Exercise

Running today I was thinking about exercise. This might be boring. Who really cares about my musings on exercise? But whatever. Isn't this a whole thing a narcissistic anyway? My blog? If I wrote nice birthday milestones for my kids I could try to say it was about them, but since O's bday post had a virtual pat on my back...not so much.

ANYWAY, I am writing my ode to my two and only forms of exercise, running and yoga.Not that I don’t go months at a time with no exercise but when I do exercise, which is more often than not, I actually think a great deal about it.

I cannot deal with a gym. I won’t explain, but it will NEVER happen for me. These two work for me. My fist yoga class was in 1999. I really cannot believe it’s been ten years of (very sporadic at times) yoga.

Running…well, that’s a part of me. I was on varsity (bragging!) track in 7th grade. I’ve been running as long as I can remember. It’s true! I have “running camp” stories ala “band camp.” Sigh. I LOVED running camp.

This is what I was musing about today. I notice that when I am in a running mode, I sort of hate yoga and when I am in yoga mode, I am all down on running. Right now I am big on running. Running is so fantastic. OUTSIDE is the big draw. I cannot fathom spending nearly two hours in a hot room with San Francisco yogis--their tattoos and their bangs and their fancy yoga clothes. All that hugging and smiling. Gag me with a spoon. Also, let’s be honest, no matter how vigorous a class, it can’t match the cardiac pumping of a good run. There’s a reason people want the “heart of a runner.” Plus the freakin' time suck. Driving to class, class, driving home. It can be a 2 1/2 hour deal sometimes.

There is an actual canyon with trails in it near my house. When I am in the back of the canyon running, smelling the earth pretending I don’t live in a city, it is so beautiful. There are so many days when it is foggy. I feel chilled to my bones before leaving the house, but I force myself out and find I have these moments of such unbelievable splendor—especially if all I can hear is my feet rhythmically moving. It is the smell of earth amd fresh air that move me most (I was talking to a friend about how I don’t “match” with my Virgo astrological sign. But it is an earth sign, and when I run, the damp earth smell, more than anything else, is what gets me). I always come back from a run energized.

But inevitably, my muscles start to tighten, even sitting here right now my shoulders and back ache. I never stretch enough when I am running. The pounding starts to feel…well wrong. My body is not flowing. It is stuck all over. Once I feel that way, I drag myself back to yoga for some good old-fashioned healing and whole body care. There have been times in yoga when I’ve been in the midst of some heart opener, and a thoughtful instructor is playing the perfect music and holy shit, suddenly I am crying because I am so grateful for my life. I love the elastic feel of my body after a good yoga class. It is wonderful.

After I ran the marathon (nearly 10 yrs ago—lame me still bragging) I felt so wrong afterwords that I did nothing but yoga for 6 months. I just needed to be told what to do and metaphorically held and healed by this wonderful instructor. I needed to be still.

Finally though, one day, I had a bad day at work. It was time to let out some steam. It was still not quite spring and it was nighttime. The air had some bite (I was living in Brooklyn), but it was so fresh. I walked into my apartment and dragged out my running shoes.

It was time to fly.

Graduation Day for Baby O

Holy boring work day! I have read and reread all the blogs and now am sinking low enough to blog myself. I am getting paid right now to do something entirely different than what I am doing. I really try to avoid doing this. It feels so wrong, but see. I am already less bored than I was a minute ago.

Baby O is baby no more. My girl is 1 year old! She turned a year on April 20th. Remember?? I went into labor on Passover last year.

O is amazing. Despite the daily abuse (hitting, hair pulling, knocking over and even pinching) at the hands of her only brother, the girl appears to be thriving. She even acts like her brother is the coolest thing since sliced bread. She is a pistol. Every time I worry about some horrible mother/daughter angsty thing because she already seems so strong willed, I have to remember that I love her strength and her confidence. I never want her to feel bad for those aspects of her personality.

Nothing else is new. Which is great. I am so proud of us (reaching hand over shoulder to pat back) for getting through the first year. It was touch a go for the first few months. Seriously? What was wrong with us? I mean, I have friends who had babies in similar age difference who didn't go insane for 4 months. I used to think that everyone was just lying if they said that thing of "actually, it's been ok!" But I have had enough people look at me like I am a little certifiable when I say "Isn't it SO hard?? You are in hell. It will get better, don’t worry!" that I have learned to keep my mouth shut. For me it was just the sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. As one friend said, "I thought my marriage was based on similar values and love and friendship and partnership. But it turns out it's all based on sleep. Good marriage if we all sleep. Bad marriage if we don't." I wouldn't go that far, but I would say that all of us sleeping through the night is a very good thing.

I'm sure I'll have some selfish anxiety freakout to post soon, but I am glad that I have nothing more to say today than: Will this work day ever end?!!

NY State of Mind

That last post never got finished, because, in spite of the disturbing nature of the few sentences I wrote, I did actually have to stop what I was writing to go parent.

We are in NY for Passover and Easter. We leave tomorrow. I love being here and seeing family. I love the city--it is so vibrant and fun to be in again. I love Connecticut, where we had Easter today with its big houses and windy roads. I love seeing cousins and siblings and nieces and nephews. I always start out our East coast trips totally energized and nostalgic, wondering why we live so far away. But inevitably I move towards being glad we don't live here all the time. The city is hard and Connecticut is snobby.

The husband and I had a lot of help with the kids this trip. We stole away for a walk to the scene of our wedding 5 years ago in Central Park. It was so beautiful out, and a couple was actually getting married in the same spot in the same garden we were married in! We totally told them afterwards. They seemed like they didn’t mind. One night we went out to dinner with friends, and the energy of a NY restaurant--small, crowded, intimate and exciting—I actually felt like I was in my 20’s again.

But I have turned into a California girl. This time the main thing that bugged me was all of our inside time. It seems like people have trouble getting themselves outside here. It’s as if all the barriers to get outside--the apartment door, the hallway, the elevator, the building hallway and finally! Outside. It is too many or something. Sometimes I even felt myself thinking I'd like to get outside and dismissed the idea in the same thought because it seemed like a hassle.

So. Once again, I find myself looking forward to getting the kids home to our little house and our big dog where I can open the door to my back deck and breathe the not too cold air.

Happy Easter and Passover! I feel so fat.

One funny totally unrelated story:

The husband returned home from work the other day wearing a suit, which he rarely does. As he took off his work duds and flung them around the room, Q played and chatted with us. A while later, Q said he wanted “Barack Obama’s scarf.” I was curious, since I had no idea what he was talking about. He then ran to the dresser where the husband had left his blue and white tie and threw it around his neck chanting “Barack Obama’s scarf!!”

Is Brack Obama the only one he's seen in a suit??