It'll Keep You Busy, But it Ain't Getting You Anywhere

The things my child says these days absolutely throw me for a loop. Case in point, we met some of our friends for a picnic lunch yesterday at the Turtle Pond. Grant took Griffin over to the water to take a look and there were tons of turtles and ducks milling around. Grif takes one long look at the activity and goes, "TURTLES! Mama turtles and baby turtles and Dada turtles". Shut up, he really truly did.

Not to scare those of you who may not have children yet, but to give you a heads up as to what you may or may not experience as a first time mom, I'd like to wax you some philosophy right now. You may have heard the term, "mommy issues" or seen an episode of Dr. Phil wherein mothers spout off about everything that they think is wrong with their perfect life. And if these people drive you absolutely insane, you are not alone. However, there is some truth to the stress that new parents experience that is usually completely foreign to them, ie me.

When Griffin was first born I felt a lot of anxiety about nothing in particular, but mostly that I was doing it wrong. I come from a big family that has a million people in it, half of which are under the age of 11 with new nieces and nephews popping up here and there, which has blessed me with the knowledge and confidence to lovingly raise children of my own. However, that does not mean I've been spared the feelings that I could be doing it better, which I believe is probably something many parents deal with on a regular basis.

Unexpectedly, the baby is the one who has solved this problem for me. He's not even 2 yet and he has mastered so many things. I mean, he started from nothing and learned how to communicate, learn new skills, have a sense of humor, show patience (sort of), and share affection. Oh the affection. Last week he was playing at the park with a little boy we'd never seen before and when the boy had to leave Griffin stood up, opened both his arms wide and said, "Come here", motioning the boy to bring it in for a big boy hug. I mean, come one, that would melt even Kim Jong Il's cold dead heart.

So to sum it all up, the kid - he's fine. We all need family and friends to help support us and remind us that we're doing a good job. And worry is a rocking chair I don't even want in my house.

Dapper Little Island That He Is

I apologize for the neglectful neglectfulness I have been rightly accused of committing lately. Turns out upending your whole existence to move less than 5 miles away is much more involved than you would think. But alas, we are in Manhattan now, and life is good.

I want to make one quick point here before I go on and that is to apologize for hating Manhattan for so many years of living in New York. I think it was that Brooklyn was my one first love of the boroughs and will always be on my drunkdial speeddial list forever and always, and that my perception of Manhattan was my first experience with it - which was Chinatown from 7pm to 7am 3-4 days a week, sprinkled with a subway strike, and kind of getting fired*... (Which lets be frank, I wouldn't wish on my most gorgeous and successful worst enemy, even on a bad day). Follow that up with our move to the Bronx which was one of the worst decisions we have made in our lives (yep, seriously) though necessary at the time, and constantly wishing and hoping and dreaming of living in Manhattan for the last two years, and you can see why I taped a sketch of Manhattan on my dartboard and you know that's never good.

Enter Manhattan. With it's debonair little bowler hat, pencil thin necktie, complete with perfect vodka martini to completely sweep all 3 of us off of our feet. {Insert huge sigh and deep yoga cleansing breath.} (Only not so much with the baby and the vodka you know, I mean what would the neighbors think?)

Stay tuned for Act II, I haven't even begun to tell you about Magnolia and it's proximity to my front door. Scary.

*(slash) resigning.