But enough about me...what do you think of my blog?
Some introductions are in order:
In September 2002, Mom101 was Single Thirty-Something Girl505. The Carrie Bradshaw comparisons not withstanding, I was a freelance copywriter in the big city with a wallet full of Barneys receipts and a spate of hiLARious match.com stories. I was on a much-needed hiatus from my Prada-mandatory advertising job, writing allergy medicine ads to pay the bills, co-authoring a book, and dabbling in improv comedy at UCB theater.
Nate was the cute geeky guy in my Level 3 class--grandpa eyeglasses, spiky hair bleached at the tips, faded tribal armband that he swears he had a full year before it became the tattoo of choice of frat boys everywhere. He overlooked my many failed attempts to be funny on cue, and I overlooked the fact that he was slumming it on Avenue C with three roommates and no health insurance. Also, he was 8 years younger. Also, he stared at my boobs a lot. Nate walked me to a cab one night after a few rounds of after-class mojitos. He watched us pull away up Essex Street when the driver, like a character out of a bad romantic comedy, said with great authority, “he is the one.”
“But he didn’t even kiss me!”
“That,” the driver responded, “is how I know he is the one.”
By February we got a dog. By June we were living in Brooklyn.
On October 10, 2004, a determined sperm collided with a surprisingly fertile egg. Both parents, I am pleased to report, were surprised and delighted. I spent the next nine months morphing from Relatively Cute Skinny Girl to “Dear God, What is That Thing?” (With apologies to William Goldman.) The doctor-ordered bedrest was almost entirely to blame, but I must give a little credit to the batallion of empty navy blue boxes in my trashcan, each dusted with that telltale neon orange powder. And to some degree I think it was a bit of karmic irony: easy conception, tough pregnancy. Pay me now or pay me later.
Mild depression coupled with the standard hormonal dementia managed to transform my pregnancy into a creative black hole. It’s amazing how a former go-getter can spend the better part of nine months doing nothing but researching crib bumpers, comparing diaper rash creams, and trading snark with anonymous strangers on mommy message boards. I’ve got the permanent PowerBook crease in my thighs to prove it.
It was a long, long, 41.5 weeks. But emerging from the haze I realized I was no longer Single Thirty-Something Girl505. I knew the difference between Weissbluth and Ferber! I had credentials!
Nate wanted to name her Gibson, for Joe, the coach of the Washington Redskins. We agreed on Thalia, for the Greek Muse of comedy.
She was born on July 6, six perfect pounds, eleven perfect ounces. I’m in love. But I would like her to sleep a little more.
In September 2002, Mom101 was Single Thirty-Something Girl505. The Carrie Bradshaw comparisons not withstanding, I was a freelance copywriter in the big city with a wallet full of Barneys receipts and a spate of hiLARious match.com stories. I was on a much-needed hiatus from my Prada-mandatory advertising job, writing allergy medicine ads to pay the bills, co-authoring a book, and dabbling in improv comedy at UCB theater.
Nate was the cute geeky guy in my Level 3 class--grandpa eyeglasses, spiky hair bleached at the tips, faded tribal armband that he swears he had a full year before it became the tattoo of choice of frat boys everywhere. He overlooked my many failed attempts to be funny on cue, and I overlooked the fact that he was slumming it on Avenue C with three roommates and no health insurance. Also, he was 8 years younger. Also, he stared at my boobs a lot. Nate walked me to a cab one night after a few rounds of after-class mojitos. He watched us pull away up Essex Street when the driver, like a character out of a bad romantic comedy, said with great authority, “he is the one.”
“But he didn’t even kiss me!”
“That,” the driver responded, “is how I know he is the one.”
By February we got a dog. By June we were living in Brooklyn.
On October 10, 2004, a determined sperm collided with a surprisingly fertile egg. Both parents, I am pleased to report, were surprised and delighted. I spent the next nine months morphing from Relatively Cute Skinny Girl to “Dear God, What is That Thing?” (With apologies to William Goldman.) The doctor-ordered bedrest was almost entirely to blame, but I must give a little credit to the batallion of empty navy blue boxes in my trashcan, each dusted with that telltale neon orange powder. And to some degree I think it was a bit of karmic irony: easy conception, tough pregnancy. Pay me now or pay me later.
Mild depression coupled with the standard hormonal dementia managed to transform my pregnancy into a creative black hole. It’s amazing how a former go-getter can spend the better part of nine months doing nothing but researching crib bumpers, comparing diaper rash creams, and trading snark with anonymous strangers on mommy message boards. I’ve got the permanent PowerBook crease in my thighs to prove it.
It was a long, long, 41.5 weeks. But emerging from the haze I realized I was no longer Single Thirty-Something Girl505. I knew the difference between Weissbluth and Ferber! I had credentials!
Nate wanted to name her Gibson, for Joe, the coach of the Washington Redskins. We agreed on Thalia, for the Greek Muse of comedy.
She was born on July 6, six perfect pounds, eleven perfect ounces. I’m in love. But I would like her to sleep a little more.
posted by Mom101 at 7:52 AM
12 Comments:
let me just say that i personally know you both and that little story just made me cry, even if it did require my brother to look at your boobs a lot. i love you three and can't wait to meet the ever adorable thalia....
Let me start with how incredibly touching (and nauseating) that love story is. I love you guys, especially my adorable niece! The queston here is, does Nate still check out your boobs? Than he definately is the one!!!
Great minds think alike. Especially when they are sisters.
I'm very happy to know that someone else settled into what feels like middle age with overactive, compliant ovaries. The same exact thing happened to me, but then happened again 9 months later! 2 boys, and wouldn't trade them for the world.
and now you're going again. Why not? I have six- I never "tried" for any of them. I just had great sex, and that was it.
(We'll leave all the suprises for another post.)
This is so good, I love it.
although i thought i had read most of your stuff, i realize i've never read this post before. did you ever know brian huskey at ucb? he's one of my oldest friends -- i've known him since 5th grade!
also, great love story here. thanks for sharing. i'm trying to write my own bio right now so i'm visiting all my beloved blogs to see what your bios say.
i have no memory now of how i found you, but i did and now i too am in love (and years behind). i'm going to spend the rest of my night reading the rest of your stuff. so there you go. in case it matters, i'm a new mom who's also brand spanking new to brooklyn who finds your thoughts gloriously refreshing.
After dealing with you on stuff for coolmompicks (for my shop blueskyrocket.com) and stumbling upon your personal blog I felt compelled to check out your first attempts at blogging by going into your archives. Judging by the first entry (the haiku that is totally relatable - well except for the big boobs part) I see that you were a pro from the start!
Seeing that you were taking part in improv classes at UCB has now hooked me! I would LOVE to do that. I have been a huge Amy Poehler fan since the days of UCB on comedy central in the late 90s.
How fun and wonderful to live in NYC. I've only visited, but that short visit opened my eyes to so much.
Just found you through google and "Top 50 Mom Blogs" You're hysterical! Thanks for the laughs, and yes, what a sweet love story. Made me throw up in my mouth a little. New to blogging, not to writing and sarcasm. Can't wait to read more of your works. Thanks so much for sharing!
Elaine
OMFG!! I love you, I cannot believe it has taken me so long to find you. Truthfully I have only been a mom about 4 months, but still it has been some long 4 months. I conceived my first child at 38 on the first try, my husband is 9 years younger, and I was very Carrie Bradshaw just in SF and a bit crunchier. Can't wait to keep reading!!!
I think we were sharing the same body and brain during pregnancy. I love your story. I love snarky mommy message boards (not really, but I try to fit in). Love your blog Liz.
Post a Comment
<< Home