Year: 2011

Our New Home

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We’ve been in our new home in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn for over a month and we love it. The actual move was a total bitch and it took us several days sans child (he was at his grandparents house in Connecticut) to make the apartment safe and ready for our son to come home to.

When people ask how our new place is I say it’s great, it is, but coming from seven years of living in a full service building I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was also a big adjustment. The three bedroom apartment with a deck is a total upgrade as far as apartments go but the one floor walk-up with no super has been a complete downgrade in buildings.

Mylo on our deck which has no furniture, yet.

For instance, we are responsible for sorting our recycling and taking the trash to the curb three times per week in our new home. In our old building we were one of 320 apartments in which anything you threw out went down a garbage chute at any time of day you wanted. In our new home recycling only gets collected on Mondays. I can tell you from two weeks of some of our refuse getting rejected that the Department of Sanitation is strict when it comes to having the right bags, the right twine and the right square foot of curb for your trash.

Now that we have our garbage routine down there is a nice ebb and flow to our lives here on Bergen Street. We’re a little worried about what the empty storefront down below will be. If it’s a bar we’re screwed but if it’s a burger joint as it’s rumored to be, even as vegetarians we could probably make do. But of course a shoe store that closes at 8pm would be the ideal downstairs neighbor!

Another awesome thing about our new home is that my friend Scott from junior high school, his wife Shelly and their 10 month old daughter Olivia, live upstairs from us. It’s been a blast. We drink wine in our pajamas, not to mention it’s proved convenient when we’ve locked ourselves out of our respective apartments. Mylo gave Olivia her first kiss the other night — my heart melted and Scott’s raced as he watched his little girl squeal in delight. Never in my life did I think our children would be playing together, much less stealing precious moments together. To tell you that mine and Scott’s relationship growing up was one built on a lot of joking around is an understatement. But it was also shaped and somewhat marred by the tragic loss of a mutual friend. I am so glad he is back in my life and of course it helps that I adore Shelly, too!

Breastfeeding Ends

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In mid-October breastfeeding my son Mylo came to an end. He was just over 14 months old.

I am one part relieved because I wasn’t eager to be breastfeeding a toddler, but also several parts sad. Never in my pre-baby life did I think I would breastfeed. And if I did, that I would come to enjoy it.

While I less-than-cared for the five months of spit up that came after each feeding, I thought it was awesome that I was the sole source of my son’s nourishment. Not to mention it was gratifying that at a moments freak out, my boob in his mouth had the ability to soothe him beyond belief. Our first game – blowing zerberts – began while breastfeeding. Thanks to the uber-understanding Brooklyn community in which I live, breastfeeding in public was something that I found empowering, and welcoming. I breastfed Mylo in movie theatres, in restaurants, in bars and tons of other public spaces. One time, I even breastfed Mylo who was having a meltdown in his stroller, on the steps of someone’s multi-million dollar Brooklyn Brownstone. It was 90 degrees out and I needed to sit.

Ah, sitting. One of the things I appreciated most about breastfeeding is that it made me sit. Other than sitting on an airplane which, let’s face it, doesn’t happen often these days, I never “just” sit. Giving him a bottle still requires sitting, but it’s not the same.

I am so proud and grateful that Mylo took this journey with me. (Even though I know it will make him squirm when he reads this post some day) 🙂

Mylo was a lion for Halloween. Breastfeeding came to an end around this time.

 

A Bittersweet Move

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I am anxious. I am torn. And I am excited. We are moving this weekend.

The good news is that we’re leaving our one bedroom apartment in our Brooklyn neighborhood for a three bedroom apartment down the block. We’re leaving behind floor to ceiling windows with partial Manhattan views for a quiet street view in a one floor walk-up that costs less than a two bedroom where we live now. We’re moving up (no pun intended), but why then am I so sad?

Brooklyn sky

One of my favorite things about our Brooklyn neighborhood is the strong sense of community it invokes. The community which I feel so connected to is even more present in the building I have lived in for the last seven years. With 320 apartments, we don’t just have a lot of friends here, but our dog Ella does, too. Of the few hundred apartments at The Courthouse at least half have dogs. We have forged close relationships with neighbors over the years and with the staff, too. Two doormen in particular. We have seen new life enter the building, our own son Mylo included. We’ve also seen old life – like the producer with Lou Gehrig’s disease – leave the building. And tragically, not so old life, like the mom on the eighth floor who recently left behind two young children. And of course Kitty died here, too.

It would have been nice to stay on in our building. Two years ago we left our cozy studio in the south tower for our big one bedroom in the north tower. Having a baby in a one bedroom apartment was doable until Mylo was five months old and no longer co-sleeping peacefully. It became even more difficult though at about eight months when he wasn’t even sleeping in his crib peacefully.

So the kid got the room and mom and dad moved out into the living room. That’s right. We’ve been sleeping on the floor college-style since April. It’s been fun, and cozy, and I’ve grown accustomed to watching my Tivo’d shows in bed, but let’s face it, it ain’t practical. So moving to a three-bedroom is a big huge step up. I should be happy, right? I am.

But I am also sad. There are lots and lots of memories here that don’t quite feel transportable — I can’t pack them in a box with all our belongings and take them with us.

But I will try.

Mylostone – First Word

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This Mylostone is long over-due. I don’t know the exact date but it was well before Mylo’s first birthday when he said his first word. And no it was not “mom”. Nor was it “dad”, or any version of the two. It was Ella. That’s right, our dog’s name. It’s true.

The first time he said it he was crawling all over her. He began smacking his hands up and down on her — I know, probably not the ideal that we’re allowing him to hit the dog, but she’s so remarkably gentle and patient when he does this. And then he said it, “Er-ra!” And he hasn’t stopped since. When he’s at my parents house he says her name over and over again and even runs to the door we use to let her outside in the backyard.

A wonderful friendship is developing before my very eyes and I cannot wait to watch it grow. And to watch them grow, together.

Besties.

Happy 1st Birthday Mylo, My Love

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Yesterday morning I went for a four mile run over the Brooklyn Bridge. On the same morning last year at 40 weeks pregnant, I walked up a very steep hill in my hometown on Long Island. I’m confident that that challenging walk is what helped start labor because in the middle of the night on my due date, contractions began. It would be an entire day later and then some, though, before our son Mylo entered the world. One year ago today.

I am a mixed bag of emotions. One moment it feels like yesterday and in the next moment it feels like he has always been in our lives. I feel so lucky and so honored to be a part of every Mylostone, every development and every day. So happy to be Mylo’s mom.

Happy Birthday my love, my baby boy, my buddy boy. Thank you for the most amazing year of my life!

My big boy on his 1st birthday!

Mylostone – WALKING!

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Shame on me for not finding the time to post my son Mylo’s most important Mylostone yet… walking.

On a Saturday afternoon in July, while Jason and I were both at home, Mylo took his first few steps, and then fell. It just so happened to be his 11 month birthday. It was a moment of great joy and immense pride and one that I won’t soon forget. And because we knew it was going to happen any day (he had been taking a step or two towards stationary objects for a couple of weeks), I was most elated that it happened when both his mommy AND daddy were home to witness it, and praise him.

Walking – week 1

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Walking – week 2

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Mylostone – First Beach & First Trip to Montauk

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MyMy playing in the sand with baby James.

For two self-proclaimed beach bums, Jason and I sure took our sweet time introducing our son to the beach.

For the fifth consecutive year, we took our summer vacation in Montauk, a rugged and dreamy beach town on the eastern most tip of Long Island. It was a wonderful vacation and Mylo did surprisingly well sleeping almost-through-the-night in a hotel room in which his crib nearly touched the foot of our bed.

Hackin’ around with the hotel ice bucket.

Each year we make the trip out east with the same group of friends. My best friend’s boyfriend, Jack, came along this year and I was grateful for that. Not just because I like to see how happy he makes my dear friend, but because ever since Mylo was a newborn, Jack has had an amazingly pacifying affect on him.

Jack with Mylo at 2 weeks.

Jack with Mylo at 11 months.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My favorite part of the trip was taking Mylo to Ditch Plains – the beach where we did our maternity photo shoot last year.

I will never forget this time in our lives…

Mylo was 8 months grown in my belly on the very same day last year that he was about to turn 11 months old this year.

…but this has been even more memorable.

A great Mylostone indeed… cannot wait until next year!

Mylostone – First Farm

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This Mylostone is a particularly personal one for me. As a vegetarian, it meant a lot to me to be able to introduce my son Mylo to farm animals. I apologize ahead of time if what I’m about to write offends you, but since becoming a vegetarian, I’ve always wondered how parents take their children to farms to feed and admire the cows, chickens and goats to then turn around and feed those same animals to them for dinner. My own folks included.

I’ve always intended to write in more detail about our decision to raise our children vegetarian but have sadly not gotten around to that post, (and others for that matter). My husband Jason is only vegetarian 75% of the time, but I am immensely grateful that I have his full support in bringing up Mylo as one. As he said to my parents when we explained to them of our wishes, “How can you really argue with a lifestyle that is healthy, environmentally responsible and compassionate.”

So you could imagine my delight at seeing my son hand-feed this bully billy goat a carrot in my hometown of Northport, NY — at the same farm I grew up visiting no less!

Injured Pup from ACC

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One June 14th I pulled a dog off of the euthanasia list at Manhattan Animal Care & Control who had a bum leg. She wasn’t going down for kennel cough (as most are), she was going to be killed for having a bum leg. She had $750 dollars in pledge money and a foster/possible forever home with a family in Connecticut.

Mary scared at the shelter.

She was A# (animal #) 899911. ‘The 911 was fitting,’ I thought. The dog, named Mary, generated by the shelter’s antiquated computer software, was transported to an emergency vet hospital in Connecticut. X-rays showed that her left front leg was broken and they referred her to a specialist.

When I heard the news, my heart sank. It immediately made me anxious because all I could see were all the dollars signs that my bare bones rescue group does not have, and at the same time it touched a soft spot in me reminding me of my own dog and what we had been through with her broken legs.

I was fortunate to be able to send the dog to Animal Medical Center in Yonkers where she underwent surgery to repair her humeral fracture. I was even more fortunate to piggyback off of a bigger, more powerful NYC rescue organization’s 50% discount. A surgery that normally costs $4,500 cost us half that.

Mary, now called Angel, is recovering well at her new home and has grown particularly close to the family’s three teenage children. She sleeps with the youngest under a pink blanket every night.

Angel safe and loved.

A ChipIn for Angel has been set up as we are still more than $500 away from being able to pay off her surgery bill. If you are able to ChipIn to help Mary, please click here.