Category Archives: Parenting

Almost a month!

Posted on April 13, 2011 | 3 Comments

Almost a month without posting. Sheesh. So what have I been up to if not writing here? Among many other domestic tasks (!) I’m embarrassed to admit but I’ve been . . . wedding planning. Blech. And above all, I have been deeply involved with making our wedding website. Yes, really. A wedding website. Absurd.

As a child, I never imagined myself getting married. And I ESPECIALLY never imagined having a wedding. That is fodder for another post – how I never had many of the young girl fantasies of princesses and brides. And I am SO thankful for that and curious how it happened. While I’m sure some of that is inborn -I wonder how much of it was my parent’s influence. My mom says, “We just never had that princess stuff around the house.” I don’t think this was conscious on her part – but I thank my mom 1000 times over – THANK YOU for not filling our house with pink princesses. The result is a girl who spent her childhood examining bugs, debating her future career choices, and never once – not once! – imagined her wedding.

Anyways – like I said – fodder for another post.

So here we are – getting married and wedding planning. The theme is: “Some Sort of Wedding,” in the hopes that people will arrive for the event expecting something a little off kilter. This way we won’t dissapoint if their traditional wedding expectations are not met.

Here, I often neglect John – as he is pretty uncomfortable/disinterested with the let-me-tell-strangers-about-my-life phenomenon [which is a very reasonable reaction]. Not just on the blog, but in real life too, our relationship has probably fallen by the wayside as Elsa has stepped in and eclipsed everything with her impossibly ginormous shadow. Wwriting our history for the wedding website was a nice change of pace. Remembering our 10 years together – 8 years of which were spent totally without Elsa – without even a glimmer of Elsa . . . And it even made me feel a little tingly to see all our history laid out there in pictures. Tingly like we used to feel. Tingly to the point where I needed to text John how much I love him. So – here it is. A longwinded way to introduce a post about me and John . . . from the wedding website:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is John:

And this is Georgia:

Hi! My name is Georgia.

10 years ago, John saw Georgia sitting in the lifeguard chair at Camp Chase. He asked her, “Hey. You want a glass of water?” Georgia said, “Yeah.”

Way back then, 10 years ago, John and Georgia were still teenagers. They looked like this:

Summer. 2001


Summer. 2001



Saying "goodbye" after their first summer. Back to college.

After that first summer, they headed back to their respective colleges. Georgia to Gambier, Ohio. John to Storrs, Connecticut.

The two had many adventures over the next ten years.

NYC. 2001


Falcon Ridge Folk Festival. 2002


Barcelona. 2003


Cinque Terre, Italy. 2003


New Hampshire. 2003


Dominican Republic. 2004. John's head expertly wrapped with Georgia's first aid skills.


South Dakota. 2005. (The great Cross-Country Road Trip!)


Soon, John and Georgia started to grow up a bit. They moved to Queens, New York together. They went to school. They raised some guinea pigs. Georgia graduated nursing school. John kept going to school. Georgia started working in the ER. John kept going to school. The adventures continued. . .

New Years Eve. NYC. 2006-2007


Georgia with the aforementioned guinea pig. Queens, NY. 2007.




Seattle, Washington. 2008


Southampton, NY. 2008.


Then John asked Georgia, “Do you . . . Do you want to marry me?” She said, “Yeah.”





March, 15, 2009. That was a nice day.



Post-engagment. Southampton, NY. 2009


Before they could even blink an eye (or manage to get married), John and Georgia found themselves getting ready to be parents! Instead of getting married, it seemed like a good idea to get a dog first. Enter: Stella.


30 weeks pregnant. With dog. Bristol, CT. 2009.


John. With Dog. The Woods, CT. 2009




Soon after Stella joined Georgia and John, Elsa decided to join in too.

Elsa's first day. Waterbury, CT. 2010.


January, 29, 2010. That was also a very nice day.


So here we are. John and Georgia. And Elsa. And Stella.

John is now “Dr. ______” or “Dada.” Georgia is usually “Mama” these days. Elsa is now a walking, talking, sneaky, delightful, little stinker. Stella is still the dog. She is also a stinker.

Next stop: Some Sort of [awesome] wedding at Woolman Hill! We imagine that it will be a very nice day as well.

See you there!

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Posted in Life Before Baby, Parenting, Wedding Blah Blah

Tagged , ,

run down times.

Posted on March 16, 2011 | 3 Comments

I’m writing this for catharsis. To get it out and hope that, in the process, it will evaporate. I hate writing about awful times when, in fact, they are not so awful. Japan? Awful. Bodies washing ashore? Awful. Orphans? Awful. Awful. Being a stay at home mom to a very cranky baby? Not so awful. . . Now that I have shown my ability to step back and acknowledge reality, I would like to delve deep into self pity. I need to. I’m sorry.

These past couple of weeks have been awful. I keep making up excuses: teething, sick, new development, your lack of language skills to express yourself, your lack of, even a shred of, emotional self regulation . . . I’m running out of excuses. I just have to keep telling myself, we can not possibly go on like this. This is not you. This is some fleeting stage and my delightful child will return to me. Running. With open arms.

You stumble around the house, approximately two and half minutes between outbursts. Screaming because you fell. Screaming because you are hungry. Screaming because you want to nurse. Screaming at my violent reaction when you bite my nipples and yank with your teeth. Screaming because you are exhausted from NOT SLEEPING. Screaming during the night. Screaming at the library when I foil any of your dangerous, self-injurious plans. Your head on the ground, bent in half, heaving. Screaming. The librarians horrified.

Never napping. Exhausted. All the time.

I am unable to make dinner. Able only to check email, but never reply. Unable to tidy the house. Unable to complete a load of laundry. Unable to even attempt to get within a 20 foot radius of any of the projects I would like to complete for my own sense of self worth.

You are, amazingly, sleeping right now. This is unheard of these days. You do not sleep these days. I no longer feel badly when you are screaming alone in your bed. Those days are over. I would hold you, but you don’t want to be held. I would nurse you, but you don’t want to nurse. I would hug you and sing to you for hours, but you only want boundless freedom. You only want to thrash. Pointing wildly around the room, exhausted, but grunting, “Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh.” This is your way of communicating, “I want that, now, now, now, THAT, now, now, now.” I can hand you 100 different items. Tell you what they are. Smile weakly and try to make them look exciting. And you bat them away, continuing to point blindly. “Uh, Uh, Uh, Uh.” You have no idea what you want, but you know you want it immediately. You want everything. NOW.

I have nothing left.

I put you down in your bed. You scream. I tell you, “It’s Ok. Here’s your blankie. Time for nigh’ nigh’.” And I walk out of the room. And I approach the computer, hoping that if I can just vomit out all these feelings, they will disappear. We will emerge from this, friends again. We will have a good time again. I will find joy in parenting you again.

I took some pictures of you yesterday, in a brief moment of calm. I am going to look at them and will you to wake up, looking like this:

or this

I’ll take either.

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Posted in Dear Elsa, Parenting

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Getting off the couch

Posted on February 18, 2011 | 1 Comment



Yes. That is some very long drool.

Can I just say, “I like you”? Is that enough? I find you delightful and tricky and sometimes just a little bit horrible – but even at your most horrible, I want to kiss you on the lips. Can you say these things to your daughter? Is it OK?

I’m so incredibly pleased that I love being a mom – I didn’t expect to find such cliched joy. I guess that is the problem with cliches? They are to be expected. One year out and I feel like myself again. 100% me. Georgia. But better. And happier. With more purpose in life. And that sense of purpose is not solely derived from my newfound motherhood – it’s just that becoming a mom seems to have prioritized everything for me. I see where we are going. I see where I’m going – both as your mom and as myself.

I still find myself wanting to wallow. Wanting to spend the day on the couch feeling sorry for myself and thinking sad thoughts. Watching serial episodes of whatever mindless crime drama I can find for free online. Feeling ugly and dirty. Feeling like I could never possibly rise from the couch because the world is too sad and we are all going to die someday so why bother. Sleeping out of sheer exhaustion from my treadmill of thoughts about death and uncertainty and loss. Dwelling.

Something about you though. Such an unexpected antidepressant. Whereas I would have spent the whole day on the couch, now I spend five minutes. I start to wallow – to really dig myself way down – get myself going on a good trajectory of horrible, imagined, disasters that might befall us. Get myself caught up in thoughts of “Why bother?”

. . .But there you are! Right in my face. “MOM! Let’s do some stuff! If you don’t get me out of the house, I’m going to start acting like a jerk! I will make myself unbearable to be around . . SHOW ME SOME AWESOME STUFF OUTSIDE THE HOUSE! The dog! Let’s take the dog! I love her! Look! She is licking my crackers! I LOVE THAT! Come on. Come on. Come on!”

So I bat away the fog. Forget about the facts that I’m going to die someday and you’re going to die someday and John is going to die someday and I don’t know when or how. I guess there is nothing we can do about it and apparently you don’t care. And I like you! And you seem to like me! What better could we ask from the day? So let’s go hang out. Let’s get out of the house. I can’t stay on the couch all day, right? Right.

As a mom, I have much less time to myself – which, as it turns out, is a good thing.

We're booooored!

I’m so lucky. Gross. Cliches. Blech.

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Posted in Dear Elsa, Parenting

Tagged , ,

Not the end of the world.

Posted on December 29, 2010 | 1 Comment

I’m inspired. Inspired by my friend Rachel over at Dear Dear Maxine. She is a student and a mom and a wife and a cook and a writer. Her life is about 3 – 5x busier than mine and yet, somehow, she has the fortitude to post regularly. So that is that. Something to strive for. (oh. and you’re welcome rachel for the hordes of readers who will now flock to your blog from mine. HORDES!)

____________________________________

For posterity’s sake, I will say that I am stressed out x 3,000 these days. This way, years from now, I can look back and laugh at how stressed out I was over nothing. I got a job. Which is great, financially. I will earn enough to pay my voluminous student loans each month (thank you NYU) and our car payment every month (thank you certified pre-owned prius). At the end of the month, I should still have enough to toss around at the kids consignment store. Or perhaps at the chiropractor. Or the massage therapist. Or Whole Foods! Or our savings account. Probably our savings account. And all of this while only working ONE night shift per week! Which is amazing and I am so fortunate to have found such a portable profession like nursing and blah blah blah.

The ONE shift a week is not what is stressing me out. Well, it is . . . but what is really freaking me out is the 2 week FULL-TIME orientation that I have to start on January 11th. I have been home with Elsa for 11 months. I have never left her for more than 4 hours. Starting January 11th, I will be away from her for 9 hours a day for 9 days! If I think about it too hard, I feel like my heart is going to crumble and I will surely die.

I think it might actually be harder to leave her now than it would have been when she was tiny. I just didn’t love her then the way I love her now. My love for her, when she was an infant, was born of anxiety. Anxiety that she might get hurt or die. Anxiety that she might break or I might break. She was not yet a really lovable person so I loved her by telling myself, “If she died, I would die. I love her that much.” And while it was true – and still is – I love her differently now. I love her for the little person she is becoming. For her absurdity and her willingness to try new things without hesitation (which I realize might be a detriment to us later on). For her giving kisses to everything. For her startling independence. For her fierce love of the dog (perhaps too fierce) and animals. For her cleverness.

I stood her on her changing table, naked, the other day and stared at her. I felt like I’d never seen her before. And I was astonished and dazzled by her. Scared by how I felt.

I KNOW she will be fine without me for those two weeks. She will be great, in fact. I KNOW I will be fine without her. I will probably be great, in fact. Great as I venture forward to rediscover my professional self now that I’m a mom self too. I KNOW she will have a great time with the variety of friends and relatives who I have signed up to watch her. I KNOW that the worst possible scenario is that she takes a day or two to get acclimated and she cries a little. Big deal. She will be fine. I know that. And I know how fortunate I am to have been able to stay home with her for 11 months . . . 11 months! And after this two weeks is over, I can go back to staying home with her full-time. I know that none of this is the end of the world.

It feels a little like the end of the world though.

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Posted in Parenting