Summer Lovin'

Well, here we are again. Sweating our bejesus' off in this city with about a jillion people also sweating their bejesus' off directly adjacent to ourselves. Awesome.

And no, I will not apologize for letting my child run around in his diaper with no clothes on at the park because if it were up to me, I'd be doing the exact same thing. Unfortunately, Park Police do not agree with me. They lack all sense of imagination. Poor people.

But seriously though, Griffin loves him some water works at the parks nowadays. He starts asking for it when he wakes up in the morning and it's the last thing on his mind at night. Kind of like me and Reeses Peanut Butter cups. Now you understand the obsession. Wait till you see the pics.

3 to the Izz-0 And Still Got It

*Griffin Story Alert*

So his new thing is, how can I put this delicately? Farting. And then sheepishly in a very quiet voice announcing to everyone in earshot, "Toot".

The other day he was raving on about something or other to me for a full 14 minutes of uninterrupted toddler-babble when he passed a little gas. He didn't even take a breath and stop before he goes, "toot", and kept right on talking.

Which sets you up for yesterday's event when Grant and Griffin were playing in the living room while I did some work on the computer in the next room. I hear random bumps and yells scattered with a few musical toy interludes and finally someone rips a huge one which jarred the very bones in my spinal column. I wait for it, and Griffin yells, "DADA TOOT! DADA TOOOOOOT!"

Happy Birthday, Babe. We love you.

Now Auditioning for Deadliest Catch, Season 6

I cannot quite explain my excitement for this week and this weekend's events. Grant is graduating! Holy hell in a tuition basket, these last 2 years flew by. And this whole week leading up to Sunday's graduation is full of celebrations and parties that we can actually participate in because we have the most valuable comodity to new parents anywhere - babysitters! S. to the c.o.r.e. my friends, yes. My most favorite of the events being a dinner cruise around Manhattan, which I've wanted to do since we moved here 4 some odd long years ago, but never have. And alas. It is this week.

However.

Friday forecast:

And I was surprised, why?

To All the Mom's I've Loved Before...

Mothers Rock*.

*Disclaimer: At this time I must disclose that I, myself, am a said "mother" and thereby hold certain financial ties to being a "mother" and therefore so what.

My mother and my relationship has run the gamut of emotions in my lifetime, as do most maternal-daughter relationships I would contend. We bonded early or so I was told, since it began at birth and lasted for several years of which I have no memory, but the fact that I survived and was a pretty happy and extremely intelligent child is proof enough for me. Then we went through our headbutting stage, which I might pinpoint to start when I was 4 years old (meaning the first formable memories I do have of my life) and ending at about 24, so that was brief. But around the time that I had Griffin, and you may have heard this before, my entire perspective of mothers completely went out the window and crashed on the pavement 4 stories below, injuring hundreds of people. There's just something about pushing a gigantic human baby out of your you-who that says, "Gee, my mom's a pretty f-ing terrific and classy lady. I better make her a really special construction paper card right now". Trust me, if you don't understand exactly what I mean now, you surely will someday soon.

Over the course of the last 2 years my suspicion of her awesomeness has only grown. If I thought pregnancy was challenging, raising a 1.5 year old absolutely blew my mind. And it's not even the disciplining that gets me, it's the teaching. Over and over again with the teaching. This is a spoon, this is an apple, this is your bathtub, that is your peepee now leave it alone for the love of the lord. Don't blatantly hit the kid that stole your truck, just make it look like an accident. Say please and thank you but only to grownups or if a grownup is watching, otherwise kids your age will think you're a dork. I mean, was there a course on this in college because I'm pretty sure I would have remembered it and possibly had a plan and budget in mind to outsource my childrearing responsibilities when this time came. J/k! Ha. Haha. Okay, well maybe just a few hours a week at most.

But I think I do an okay job of it, and that is because of my mom. As these situations of being a mom crop up here and there with Griffin, I find myself remembering that I know what to do. As if I read this book somewhere along the line that told me all the answers but then I totally forgot I read it so when it comes back to me, I'm totally surprised and thankful for that book. Only the book was my mom and I'm still reading it every day, every time I talk to her. And the scariest part about the whole thing is now I've realized I need to read ahead, because at some point I won't have the book to consult anymore. And yes, I'm sorry I just went there on a Friday morning when the sun is shining and the birds are chirping there little heads off but the reality is I have never been more aware of my parents mortality than I am as a parent myself. So hug your mom today and tomorrow and your dad to because 1 or 2 days a year is not enough to thank them for being everything to you as a child, and more importantly as an adult.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.

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.

Stace - This One's For You

Just a quick question...

Anyone else appreciate the irony in our new Super's name?

Mario.

When I mentioned it to Grant he had never realized it. Why was this the first thing I thought of when they told me his name? Now it's going to be entirely impossible to resist calling him Super Mario. Just one more reason to anticipate this move.

And No, I Will Not Reveal Their Identity, Find Your Own Gay Furniture Hookup

One of the things I dislike most in the world is the responsibility of knowing that Craigslist exists. Stay with me on this one. Any time in the past 6 years that I've needed to make a big purchase, locate an apartment, buy a car, sell a car, or complete any other grueling task, I've had this little devil on my shoulder whispering, "Check Craigslist". "Do you think there's one for sale on Craigslist?" "You would never pay that much on Craiglist". "Craigslist, craigslist, craigslist!" Things have gotten out of control. I'm crippled by the existence of Craig and his damn list. Which wouldn't be so terrible, if not for the fact that 96.8% of the material on the list weren't complete garbage that you have to spend hours sifting through to find one worthwhile deal. I recently compared it to spending 3 days going door to door through 27 discount furniture stores piece by piece to find one $15 lamp that you really don't even like, but for the fact that it's under $20 and you can stop looking at damn lamps if you just buy it on the spot. {Deep Breath.}

So.

Finally, after years of figurative perpetual finger slamming in drawer Craigslist surfing, I have redeemed myself with the mecca of all deal finding, a gay couple cleaning out their warehouse of furniture from Pottery Barn, West Elm, and Crate & Barrel. Quick, pick yourself up off the floor where you just passed out from sheer amazement, it's true! And whilst we dragged our son all over Manhattan yesterday running errands, I successfully transacted 15 times with said gay couple to secure the following: a dining table from Pottery Barn, 6 chairs, and a 6 foot stand up mirror without ever having to see it or move a muscle, because do you know what else? THEY DELIVERED IT TO MY HOUSE. Now I'm just bragging.

My point is, don't give up on Craigslist just yet. There may be a gem out there for you too.

Short Story Shorter...

WE FOUND AN APARTMENT. And since I am so good to you, I will spare you the disgusting and heartwrenching details of all the many mishaps we made along the way. Because the greatest outcome of all was achieved, I did not kill a real estate agent. S.c.o.r.e.

I will fill you in photographically soon, but first another "quote of the century" to add to your collection. After 53 days of the most awkward and personally offensive professional relationship 3 people could try to screw up, our real estate agent and ourselves have reached a successful end. Bless the god that I continually insult. Amen.

So I no-shit got a text from her earlier asking, "Do you guys drink wine? If so, what color?". Just reading it made my cold, dead heart of a New York Real Estate Casualty begin to melt. So I texted her back, completely honestly, "Definitely! Both, we're not picky".

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL. Out loud.

Who was I trying to kid? I will respect her less if I see her tomorrow and her cell phone is still in working order after she saw that message from me and resisted hurling it into the nearest concrete surface she could find, as hard as she possibly could.

Stay tuned for tomorrow's update.

But at least: we're moving! Y to the hell E.S.

19 Incredible Months

Here are a few glimpses into the many accomplishments of Griffin "Jack of All Trades". First up, we have Engineer Griffin...
Not to be outdone by Cold Weather Student Griffin...

Here we see Professor Griffin, and lest you think I masterminded this little ditty myself, rest assured he lined up every one of those animals and went and got a book to read to them. Who is this kid? I'm pretty sure the Engineering Department at the Human Genome Project wants him back.And because it's a national holiday, I wanted to get you something special... No, your eyes are not playing tricks on you. He has his baby in his baby sling which he carried around all.day.long.
Happy St. Patrick's Day!