momtourage

Confession

I'm terrible at being thrifty.

I used to have quite the gift for it.  I could live on $100 a week in NYC, not counting rent, but counting everything else.

I have no idea where that skill has flown, but it is gone.

I still exercise restraint.  But not really.  And not really well.  I mean, if something is out of my league, price-wise, I just don't let myself look at it.

But if something is an extravagance that I feel worthy of....I think on it for a month or so.  Then I splurge.

Here's my latest thinking project:

My second child is due in July.  My first child will be almost three.  That's a good year, at least, of still strolling child number one.  Now, if you don't live in New York, you may not know just how important a stroller is to the urbanite.  It is akin to one's car.   You take it everywhere.  You haul groceries.  Sorry, kid, get out and walk.  Mama just bought three cartons of milk and a bottle of juice. You walk miles in it.  Miles. You cross the park and you shuttle to the playground.  You lug it up and down stairs and on and off public transportation.

So... it is an investment, no?

I first thought I would not be needing a double stroller.  I thought I would just get a "buggy board,"  which is a platform that hangs off the back of one's stroller, upon which the toddler may stand and get a ride.  OR, I could just wear the baby in a sling, while pushing the toddler in the stroller.  Right?  Then I remembered just how long I was able to use a sling before my back gave out.  That was two years ago, too.

Plus, many folks in New York have gone crazy buying $1000+ strollers, such as the Bugaboo Frog.  It is a fine stroller, that should cost at least $500 less than it does.  But it just costs that much because it can.  And it sells.  So a bunch of other stroller makers have upped their prices and gone for the willing-to-pay-a-grand-for-something-that-should-cost-$400 crowd.

So that makes wanting a $400 stroller seem downright modest, I'd say.

                                                   So this is what I want. It weighs 24 lbs.  That's a lot for a single stroller, but quite light for two single strollers!  It is like a double-decker bus, so it isn't too wide in the store aisles.  And this is the best part... it has a huge basket.  So I could buy groceries and still stroll the children.  Yes, a friend bought and loves this thrifty almost-basketless alternative for $100.  But I'm sure it doesn't have the sweet ride of my first choice.  What do you guys think?

Simple Pleasures

My mom brought Hank to Enzo's, a new pizza place in Windsor Terrace last week. It was a slow lunchtime crowd, so the owner kindly took some time to show Hank how to throw pizza dough then gave him a chunk to play with at the table. My mom raved about how good the food was, but she is happy with a bowl of cafeteria mac and cheese so you never know.

This is Hank's "I'm so happy that I'm hopping in a circle" dance.

Practicing his own throwing technique.   What a kid friendly place! We will definitely be going back.

Poem

so much depends
upon

the clean load
of dishes

glazed with tap
water

below the empty
cabinet

(With thanks to William Carlos Williams.  Happy almost Poetry Month!)

Last Year, Coney Island

Maybe I am confused or just have an extreme case of 'mommy-mind' but wasn't last year supposed to be the last year that Coney Island (as we know it) existed? Due to our car-boon I took the kids out there the other day. It was cold and clear. Hardly anyone was on the boardwalk. And it looked, yes, exactly as it had last year. I almost accidentally stopped into that depressing bar to have a can of beer or two. Maybe the recession is fueling some development slowdown. Did I mention that I hardly ever read a newspaper? Yup, I'm sure there is some big news about this that I am missing.

None of the rides were open, so we peered through the fence and talked about the rides we would go on in warmer weather and we spent a good amount of time over at the aquarium. Before Sam was born I helped escort a whole bunch of 5th graders from the summer program I worked at. As I walked past the opening 'life in the coral reef' exhibit I had a moment of panic remembering how Jee Fong had rushed ahead of everyone and I had to chase him down. Now that I have my own children, I am much more in tune to their wily ways, so when Hank attempted to dart off I was right there to catch his hand. We visited the sharks twice, marveled at the baby walrus,  wondered at the immense amount of jellyfish, and bought a very dry, very stale octopus cookie from the cafe. (Of course the kids loved every bite.)

Whatever happens, I'm glad that my kids have had a chance to get used to this strangely barren playland. The rides are unbranded, the hours unoptimal, and the location - usually a long, long ride on the F (with subway to bus transfers during the frequent repairs) - somewhat of a challenge. But when I mention Coney Island to them, there are no minuses. Their eyes light up and they start dreaming of cotton candy.

Okay, so now I'm scared

So we have this car for 2 1/2 weeks and this time I was determined to actually use it, rather than obsessing about alternate side parking and avoiding driving due to possible mishaps. And for the first couple of days I did so. I drove to Fairway. I took the kids to Liberty Science Center in New Jersey. And then I found the spot.

The spot is right in front of my house. I can look right out of the window and see said car, sitting there, pristine and undamaged. Undamaged is unlike my neighbor's car, which got smashed in whilst parked 3 blocks over. Undamaged is unlike my knitting pal's car which was one of 9 in a row damaged when a drunk driver just plowed into them, parked late at night. (I guess he figured he'd just hit the gas after bumping the first one. "Just get 'em all outta the way!" he must have reasoned.) Undamaged is also unstolen, like woolpear's car when she lived here.

I had grand plans to drive out to Coney Island this weekend, but maybe I'm just too chicken. And maybe it will be too cold.

new boon

These days, it seems that every other new parent is an entrepreneur. Many of them saw that there was a void in design-savvy baby gear, and decided to create products they wanted to buy themselves. A few innovative individuals include: David Netto, Ellen and Michael Diamant (of Skip*Hop), and Rebecca Finell (of Boon).

When I first saw the Boon Frog Pod, I thought that it was something that both parents and kids would appreciate. And if I hadn't already bought a toilet trainer, I definitely would have bought the Potty Bench. Some of the new items seem positively space-age: Flo bath faucet attachment, Fluid sippy cup, and Squirt feeding spoon, but are all examples of how Boon is especially good at combining fun and function.

Whiskers on Kittens and Whatnot (# 10- 18) -- REVISED

A few more of my favorite things: 

10. Maternity yoga pants -- quite possibly the most comfortable clothing item in the universe.
11. Anything pear.  Specifically and most recently added to the list the Canadian  "Liberte Yogourt"  which not only has pears in it, but several grains.  Yum.  Just yum.
12.  These little bags.  They are supposed to help people reduce and reuse.  However, they are so cute
(although eternally wrinkled) and useful, I keep buying more of them.  So far I have green, orange and red.
13. My grandmother.  Ok, not very original, but she is the world's best archivist.  She just sent me letters that my mother sent her when I was a child, including one in which she describes me at three months old: "[ohm] is growing very quickly.  I can't believe it when I look at her.  She's also beginning to be able to amuse herself for fairly long periods of time. Two days ago much to my amazement she rolled over by herself twice.  However, I'm pretty sure it was an accident since she hasn't repeated this remarkable feat since."  I mean, wow.
14. Love notes from my second graders.  I returned to school after going to the funeral last Monday, a little afraid of what I might find, since this particular class has not done well with substitute teachers.  My room was cleaner than it had been when I left.  My closet door was plastered with notes.  This is my favorite one.  I'm not sure if the bump in the funky skirt is supposed to be my child-bearing hips, or the child I am bearing.  Either way, it is just a very cool epistle.  On the back, she even wrote me a song.  Ready?  A song for Ms. M (heart)
Ms. M is my teacher
She is the best teacher
I like her because she
is the best.  I like her

15. The Park Slope Food Coop.  Yeah, that place Kris cheated on.  We deserted it for two years and I just recently rejoined.  Aaaah.  What were we thinking?  The place rocks.  We could have bought an extra car with the money we have been spending on organic milk.  Many folks in my 'hood refuse to join the coop.  Here are some of their reasons:

Lame reason for not joining the coop #1
"I hear it is run by nazis."
Uh, no.  It is a coop.  That means it is run and maintained by a huge group of people.  Therefore, there are rules.  I think comparing a food market to an evil regime that killed 6 million people just because you have to do two make-up shifts if you don't attend the shift to which you made a commitment, a little terrible, frankly. 

Lame reason for not joining the coop #2
"I don't like to work for my food."
So, what do you call that job thing you do more than 40 hours a week?  Playtime?  I call my coop shift playtime.  I did my first make-up (yes, I owe two) last night and had a blast.  I may as well have been at a party.  I don't often get to spend time hanging around with adults without having to pick pretzels off the floor or delegate toy sharing.  And I don't get to go out on a Saturday night much anymore either.  Not only was I hanging out with adults, but we were eating guacamole and sesame blue chips and having deep philosophical conversations about the pros and cons of a snack-sized bag of chips.  One is not usually enough.  Yet often, two is a bit too much.

I don't mind the lame reasons for joining too much.  It keeps the riff raff out.  Heh.

(I am mostly poking fun at the people who knock it w/o trying it, BTW)

16. Led Zepplin

17. I like to say the name of this yoga pose.  It just rolls off the tongue.  Try it: supta baddhakonasana.

18. I love this campaign logo. Note the well-placed apostrophe just in time for St. Patrick's Day.  Somebody, somewhere is very funny.

Your Cheating Heart...

I'll admit it. I cheated on the food coop yesterday. Emboldened by the temporary use (2 1/2 weeks!!!!) of a car, I decided it was time to take a trip to the Fairway over in Red Hook. After all, hadn't friends and neighbors been touting its many glories since the day it opened? Besides, the idea of throwing all of those heavy items in the trunk of a car rather than strategically carrying them or wrestling them into an overstuffed granny cart seemed heavenly.

I had to move the car at 8AM, right when Fairway opened, and it was quite an easy drive over there. We have walked to the soccer fields a couple of times, plus my little sister from a mentoring program used to live on Dikeman so I know my way around. I parked right in the front row by the ramp for easier unloading, grabbed my cart and entered to face a towering bounty unlike the one that I am familiar with. Reminding myself not to overspend, I forged ahead.

But you know what? I have been shopping at the coop for so long (and okay, I do hit the sales - especially of pasta and canned tomatoes - every other week at Steve's C-Town) that I was in shock over the prices. I barely bought any produce. (I am used to buying organic at a low price.) Though I did get some very tasty mandarins in a plastic box. I knew the prepared foods would be my downfall, budget-wise, so I zipped past into cheese-ville. Wow the prices were low, I thought. Before realizing that many were priced by the quarter pound, not pound. I got a few unusual choices to mask my disappointment. By the time I entered the aisles and aisles of boxed and canned goods I was about ready to leave. But not before I had thrown a few boxes of foods I should not be and would not be otherwise buying into my cart. (The marshmallow cookie things from Quebec spring to mind.)

At the check-out there was a problem. None of the scanners were working and the very nice employees were apologizing profusely. They had to add everything up on a calculator by hand. It didn't bother me or any of the other early morning customers, but I hoped they wouldn't have to spend the whole day doing that. People can be extremely surly even when they work at a place  (yes, I am thinking of the coop) and I could just sense some bad tempered shoppers coming along. We did get 10% off our bills, which was a great surprise and certainly helped my total to enter the realm of reasonable.

The throwing the stuff into the trunk part was great. And it wasn't a problem to unload. But then I had to troll around for parking again. After about 15 minutes I gave up and went to a meter. As I moved the car a second time in an hour, I decided my flirtation with Fairway was officially over.   

haunted by my mother

Dozens of times during the day, I hear my mother's voice instructing me to do exactly what I'm doing: Shake the wet clothes out before you put them in the dryer, so they won't dry all shriveled up and wrinkly...Park away from the sun, so the car won't be as hot...Drive at an angle over the train tracks so it won't feel as bumpy...

I even find myself doing things that I remember seeing her do years ago, like plucking the gray hairs.

It's scary to me to realize the huge influence that she's had on me. I wonder if these are images that my son will remember thirty years from now, and whether I'll be passing along the same pearls of wisdom.

On Mothers

It was a rough week.

I had two losses in my family.

On Monday, I found myself sitting not in front of my room full of seven-year-olds, but in front of a marble statue of the Virgin Mary at a funeral.  I was thinking about these two deaths and lives: one, my step grandmother, the other my cousin.  My step-grandmother, who I will call Marie, lived to be 87 years old.  She raised nine extremely different yet successful each in their own way children in her life. She was a mother.  My cousin, I'll call her Maya, who took own her life at 27, lost her own mother to cancer when she was too young to go to school.  She never really seemed comfortable in her own skin.  She died while living with her husband in upstate New York, hundreds of miles away from her father and siblings in New Mexico.

I was contemplating the folds in the virgin's robe when I overheard the priest talking about the exact mother I was contemplating.  He was telling the congregation that there are certain things you tell the Virgin Mary and not Jesus.  Some things are much better told to a mother.   It made me wonder, what is this power we attribute to mothers?  I can't tell my cousin's story without starting with the fact that her mother died when she was young.  As though this must be the reason for her suicide.  Yet her sister has always felt perfectly comfortable in her skin.  She's a successful educator with a seemingly happy and productive life.  My cousin was probably clinically depressed.  Yet even I talk about how her mother wasn't alive for her. All I could do while I watched people enter the funeral was think, "Wow! How wonderful was Marie? She created this whole family.  Nine children, six grandchildren, four great grand children.  They are all standing here as a testament to her productive life." 

My step-cousin gave a moving eulogy, in which she said that when she asked each of the nine children individually what was special about their mom, they all said the same thing: "She was always there for me."  It makes a mom hope that that's what her kids will say about her.  But how can a mom's presence or absence be attributed so much power?  Why?

I don't have a clean way to wrap this up.  The whole thing just makes me a little bit humble and a little bit confused.  Do I really have some sort of superpower because I've chosen to raise children?  Is the absence of mothers anything like the dreaded absence of fathers that people always gripe about?  Does having two moms there for you somehow make you even more prepared to face the world?

What do you think?