One year ago I was floating in the pool, worrying about things like
- bathing suits + bloated bellies
- whether or not sun’s harmful ways can penetrate skin and amniotic fluid, and
- homemade ice cream and unpasteurized eggs
If only I knew that perfection was just around the bend:
Owen has attended daycare since March 2. In fact, he’s attended three daycares. He started his third daycare a little over a week ago.
Daycare 1: Precious baby sleeps in swing all day. As in, sleeping in swing all day. As in, never awake. As in, one day, when they let Owen’s milk dump out in the refrigerator for the second time and needed more, they left me a profound terror-inducing voicemail saying only: &#@$*. [Symbols represent the name of the daycare ... or an expletive. It's all the same.]
Daycare 2: Our angel. Our sweet reprieve. Lots of babies being hugged and kissed and showered with words like “precious” and “precious.” But it was only a temporary stop in our transient world of childcare. Kyle and I work downtown, and Daycare 2 is not downtown. But since downtown isn’t overflowing with daycares, it’s exceptionally difficult to get into one. But we finally got into one. So, bye, Daycare 2, the land of so much precious.
Daycare 3: Beautiful, development-focused, and all lovey too. On Owen’s first day, my little 6-month-old was asked: “Owen, now what are your skills?” Now that’s the kind of pressure preciousness I like.
Help!
One year, six months later and we are finally … decorating our master bedroom! Getting a new bed and, most importantly, a new mattress. Putting life onto the walls. If we’re feeling extra-productive, we might even vacuum.
I’ve actually refused to sleep in our bedroom for about the past week. It’s a horrible, horrible place in which insanity is bred. There I sleep anxiously, bracing myself for the night that the mutant bed bugs will finally emerge to eat me.
Before you get freaked out, don’t worry. I am not typing this from my bedroom. Even if I were, I don’t think that bed bugs can travel electronically.
So, the point of this post: I need help. We’re working with a very slim budget to do all this extra decorating. Here’s the formula for calculating “very slim”:
(What you think it would cost for nightstands + wall hangings + lighting + extermination) / (2) = X
X – 0.5X = Very Slim
So there you have it.
Here’s the quilt I purchased from Overstock:
The bed arrives today. Yay! It’s a chocolate-y platform bed.
We need help thinking of creative wall decorations, and, the biggie: a TV stand. We’ve moved my dresser into our closet, which means the TV needs something new upon which to sit. But we can’t make things easy on ourselves and get a standard TV stand. No, siree. We like to make things difficult and creative. All suggestions are welcome. 
I’m hopefully going to get motivated and pull out some paints and a blank canvas so I can go all “abstract” on it. Fun, scary times ahead!
To prove that Kyle and I are crazy, let me tell you the story of Wednesday night.
A community “Movies in the Park” event was showing Princess Bride, one of Kyle’s very favorite movies. Aha, we shall go to this, we say. Wait, Owen goes to bed at sundown, we lament. Well, we will take him in the name of “adventure”! … we exclaim.
So we rush home from work, feed Owen some applesauce that he doesn’t eat, clothe him in frog pajamas and head out to spend a night with mosquitoes. When we reach downtown, we grab burritos at our favorite downtown eatery and make our way to the movie area to get settled. We spread out our blanket and watch Owen giggle and coo on his belly. We notice how the bridge is actually pretty beautiful, all lit up and crossing over the river. We’re glad it’s a peaceful night and that we’re blessed enough to enjoy simple nice things, like picnics at night.
We can say that I’ve been a little bit neglectful of the ol’ blog. No graces, no posts, no excuses.
Much has happened in the last little while.
Owen had his first trip to New York, lucky little guy. So here’s his first visit to Union Square:
What is this, another act of tourism?
And the discovery of his bottom lip:
What is this, my bottom lip?
And his first bite of solid food:
What is this, a spoon?
And his first haircut:
What is this, a clean-cut little boy?
Kyle and I were walking around Times Square before dinner on Thursday when I smelled “it.” “It” is my favorite scent of all-time, the scent of a body wash I found at a Marks & Spencer several years ago when I was in Belfast. The Northern Ireland trip took a downturn when “It” spilled and went down the shower drain. Now, years later, I’m still on a search to replicate the scent. (If only I had journaled about the body wash, I’d know pertinent details like something other than “it was in a white bottle.”) Sometimes I’ll get whiffs of It. I think Victoria’s Secret “Dream Angels Heavenly” sometimes smells similar to it, but it’s not It.
But, I smelled It in New York! Since we had a few minutes to spare before dinner, Kyle declared that we spend those few minutes tracking down the smell. We’d catch a bit of it here, a bit of it there, until finally we determined the source.
You can imagine my dismay when we realized that my many years of searching ended with three old men. My aroma of all aromas was also the perfume du jour of 75-year-old men. But I was undeterred. I would smell like an old man, so be it.
I walked up to them and asked if one of them might be wearing cologne. You can once again imagine my dismay when they turned to me and kindly said that they don’t speak English. They were Spaniards. I pretended to spritz myself and asked about “aroma” in my best European accent. Surprisingly, neither of those things helped.
So, if you see me at the men’s fragrance counter, you’ll know not to ask me any questions. Elderly Man, one day I will proudly smell like you.
This evening I got my hands on a sweet fisheye lens.
Things quickly got out of control.
Eyes got big.
Sweetness reigned.
Legs rolled.
Eyes danced.
Amy smiled.
I have another New York post or two coming soon, but first I’d like to serenade you with these wonderful words from Kyle, spoken matter-of-factly:
“There’s a Carter’s outlet beside my hotel, so I got Owen something. There’s a Children’s Place, too, but they didn’t really have anything I liked.”
Kyle (who I’m sure is really glad that his every word and action are scrutinized for its blog or Facebook-status potential) went into baby-clothing superstores all by himself! To buy our sweet baby boy something special! This is groundbreaking, right? Yes, this is groundbreaking.
And potentially one of the most wonderful things he has ever said to me.
(If this post disappears, it’s because I got censored.)
While Kyle was off cooking himself on the Hudson (I like to randomly poke his legs and watch him scream), I was off hitting strangers in the head with Owen’s stroller in Central Park.
I was really excited to show Owen the sights. He’s at a very impressionable age … very observant and all that. I’m really proud of how he’s using this pre-speech period to just sit back and soak in all kinds of knowledge and culture.
Like here, at Strawberry Fields in honor of John Lennon:
You know, deep introspection can really wear out a 5-month-old emotionally.
Yes, I’m in New York, a city brimming with adventure. Yes, I’m sitting in my hotel room drinking a cup of coffee, updating my blog. You may say that I’m crazy, sitting here instead of being outdoors. But must I tell you about how this is the first morning in probably two months that I have had the luxury of simply waking up to a cup of coffee and nothing but my own free schedule in front of me?
So, I’m definitely on my way out the door, but first I wanted to take a few moments to freely blog, while I’m wide awake and sleep isn’t beckoning me, which is the usual setting.
