*This is a piece I wrote August 2016. I find it highly appropriate as one of my first posts on my revamped blog at the end of my second summer as a mom. This post represents me exactly one year ago*
In my pocket: Memories of yesterday
Remember that time when you ate half a package of chewy Chips Ahoy for lunch because the baby finally settled down and you couldn’t move a muscle and the cookies were sitting near you on the coffee table, taunting you? How you decided that cookies and ice cream were as good as any post pregnancy diet?
Remember that time you ran out of bibs and the laundry room in the building was closed for renovation and your baby eats like a little drunk man, half of the milk breaking free from the corner of his mouth, his latest outfit soaking it up like the last rays of the summer sun? Hence, the need for bibs? Remember how you saw that little stack of leftover newborn sized diapers? The itty bitty diapers you once thought he would never grow out of and now look to you like they were made for a baby mouse, they’re just so minuscule? And the light bulb went off and you realized there’s nothing more absorbent than a contraption designed for catching pee? And so you grabbed a diaper, flipped it inside out, slapped it under the baby’s chin, fastened it around his neck and popped that bottle into his mouth, telling him, “Spill away little one, you can’t ruin any outfits today because your mama is a genius!!”
Remember that time you needed to get out of the house and didn’t want to face the Target cashiers because you had been there three times already that week so you went downstairs from Target to the Home Depot instead? Remember how it was so hot out and the air conditioning felt so nice that you made a pact with yourself to walk every aisle before going back out into the heat? How you spent an implausible amount of time in the refrigerator section? And then found out that there are way too many varieties of nails and screws in existence? And then you found things with names like Paddle Switch Angle Grinder, and Wax Toilet Bowl Gasket and realized you don’t know as much as you thought you did about life? And then, as you were heading toward the door, the song Nobody Knows It But Me by Babyface came on and brought twinklings of tears to your eyes so you veered the stroller back around and pretended to be interested in the artificial plants instead of distracted by your eighth grade nostalgia?
Remember that time when the baby was all calm and quiet so you took the opportunity to pump? And of course, like the little stinker he is, he decides to throw a fit about ten minutes into your pumping session? Remember how you reached over to put in his plug (his, best invention since sliced bread, pacifier) and spilled breast milk out of the pumping bottle, into your lap, through your pants, and into many layers of couch cushions?
How you, quite literally, cried over spilt milk.
Remember that time you rushed out the door to try to make it to story and sing along hour at a local library? And you got on the train just in time to realize you didn’t know exactly where the library was, just that you had to get off on 116th street? And that something was wrong with your phone so you couldn’t Google the location? And then cursed yourself for not having gone to Verizon yet to fix your phone problem? Remember how you texted both of your parents to ask for the address of the library, placing bets on which one would get back to you first? And then you won the bet against yourself as your dad called you within a minute with the exact location? And as you ran down the street you thought to yourself, what are parents for if not for last second directions to library story hour?
Remember what happened at story sing along hour? How you were so flustered from running down the block when you got there that you continued to sweat through the whole half hour ordeal? Sweating while frantically bouncing little K and singing Happy and You Know It, Mr. Sun, and Itsy Bitsy Spider? Sweating and singing and ignoring the other parents’ quizzical stares as you continued to wipe your forehead and neck with paper towels? Remember how, when the singing ended, you sat in the corner, pretending to read board books to the baby, trying desperately to cool off before it was time to leave?
(Total faker. I was dripping sweat and miserable.)
Remember how you made the mistake of taking off the Moby wrap because it was adding ten degrees to an already hot situation? How you didn’t invest any advanced thinking on how in the world you’d get it back on? Remember how you wondered if it would raise too many eyebrows to ask the children’s librarian, whom you just met, to hold your baby while you wrap that darn wrap back on yourself? How you wanted to call the inventors of this great product and ask them, “How the heck do you expect me to get this on if I am not home and don’t have someone to hold my baby?!?” But the baby needed a new diaper anyway. So you went to the bathroom, changed him, and then looked at the changing table with a new appreciation. Remember how you thought, screw the athletes in Rio, I am a real champion, because you managed to pee AND then get the Moby wrap on while still holding one hand on the baby, balancing on the not quite sanitary changing table? Remember how you crossed your fingers that no one was waiting in line outside the door because you had, indeed, been in the bathroom for a good fifteen minutes?
Remember how you got that really cute hamper for baby K? You thought it was so perfect and stylish and you complimented yourself on it not being too “babyish” for a baby? Remember how you discovered that your tiny shrimp of a dog was tall enough to reach to the top of the hamper when full and pull Kingston’s clothes and bibs out? How Laila became so enamored by the smell of his milky attire that part of you has been tempted to pour some breast milk into her bowl for a sweet treat? Remember how every time you blink, half of his clothes are scattered around the floor? If only Laila could learn to put them IN the hamper, this could work out for both of us.
Remember that time that you really wanted to take Kingston swimming? So you traveled on the Metro North to a friend named Carla’s house to go swimming with her and her two toddlers? Remember how you two pushed strollers through streets, with and without sidewalks, for 30 minutes in 90 degrees to get to the pool? Remember how you got stuck on a grassy hill with a busy street on one side and a car dealership on the other? And how you zoomed down the hill with the strollers, getting stuck behind the parked cars and laughing the whole time? And how a man from the car dealership came out to see what the ruckus was all about? How he had to lift your single stroller with a teeny tiny guy and Carla’s double stroller with two good sized toddlers OVER the cars because you couldn’t fit in between? How the toddlers cheered and clapped as they flew up in the air and Kingston just slept right through it? Remember how it was worth the 1.5 hour commute each way, long walk in the sun, getting stuck on a hill and saved by a car salesman, just to give Kingston his first swimming experience and get sticky sweet from popsicles after?
Remember that time when the baby was grumpy all day? But you gave him a pass because you know that life is rough at 12 weeks old? Remember how he wouldn’t nap so you tossed him into his stroller to go for a nice long sleepy walk? Remember how when you got outside a stranger said to you, “You better be careful with that baby in the rain.” And how you made a mental note to never listen to strangers’ unsolicited advice because they offer it up waaaaay too often and it wasn’t even raining! And then when you got across the street and one block away, the first drops of water began to fall. And within five minutes you were running back toward the apartment, hating that the stranger was right, and mad at yourself for never having followed up on the stroller rain canopy that was out of stock when you went to buy it, the baby still screaming and now wet.
Remember how you learned to shave your legs, load the dishwasher, carry packages from downstairs, and send emails, all one handed, with another human being attached to you? Remember that time you couldn’t find someone to paint your bathroom? And you remembered that you were brought up as a strong and independent woman so you took it into your own hands? Remember how you wallpapered the bathroom all by yourself while the baby slept?
I remember this. I remember this all because it has happened within the past ten days. Since the baby’s release from the hospital, life has been chock full of adventures and funny stories and moments where I think I might be on Candid Camera. Whether I’ll remember each individual moment or not, I will always remember my first summer as a mom.
*Me and Kingston walking out of our second summer like true bosses compared to the chaos that was last year*
Terrific writing!