Sunday, August 20, 2006

5 AM "me time"

It's 5 am on a Sunday morning and it's essentially the only time I have that is mine alone. Randy is snoring away in the bedroom and I have just finished feeding and changing Dante and he's back to snoring away in his crib; completely sated with a choochie in his mouth and a clean diaper on his ass. Can you believe that no more than 3 years ago, when I was still living in NYC, I would be COMING HOME at this time. Susan can attest to that, having been my Batcave dance partner (Blue Lights!) for many years, and if we didn't go out to breakfast after Downtime closed, and the N train was running at a decent pace, I'd be stepping into my apartment in Queens just about this time of night/morning. I cannot believe how much everything has changed in my life since then. I think back on it and have to giggle. I move down to Florida with one husband, throw him to the curb not 8 months after coming here, and then end up with a new husband and a baby not 2 years later. If anyone had said this would happen to me 3 years ago while I was drinking a Kir with Susan laughing at Nelson's antics while listening to Ian spin The Psychedelic Furs and watching Alexia's 80's dance perfection , then I would have probably punched them in the face and told them to take a hike. Who knew? And I hate to say it, no actually I don't hate to say it, but I don't miss it at all. Sure, I miss my gang back in NYC, I miss the smell of bagels baking in the early mornings (no one knows a good bagel down here oy vey!), I miss mine and Susan's cheeeeeeeeese feasts, I occasionally miss the subway (but then I remember that not everyone wears deodorant and I would always find the crowded car that had no A/C in summer and no heat in winter), and I most definitely miss the Metropolitan Museum of Art and it's European Paintings and Medieval Arms and Armor wing (there are no museums down here that could even come CLOSE to the Met). But all in all, I am completely satisfied and happy with the direction my life has taken. Ok, ok so I can't put my best gothy chick outfit on and jet off to the Morgue on Wednesday and dance my ass off until 5 am, but honestly I can't get through one song without having to sit down, and everyone down here is 11 years old and I feel like an old lady at these clubs. Plus, making Dante smile and almost laugh (he has yet to master a full giggle...I've gotten some attempts while playing with him, but a full fledged laugh is still in the works) at 5 am while I'm feeding him and watching some cheesy infomercial about the Bedazzler beats anything these days.

Topic #2 while I still have some time. I've now noticed that everyone feels the need to tell me how to raise my baby and give me unwanted advice. Granted, I am a first time mom and can use any HELPFUL (notice I said helpful) advice, but lately I've noticed that everyone's a critic, and a crappy one at that. Example one, I'm at Publix the other day picking up some groceries. On a whim, I decide to grab a bottle of champagne and a carton of OJ so I can whip me and Randy up some snazzy Mimosas. As I'm going through the checkout line, the checkout lady who I will call Fat-Ass Get Some Teeth says to me, "Oh is that your baby? He's so cute! But you shouldn't buy this alcohol if you are nursing him. It's dangerous. I'll just put it back for you". Um, hang on there sister. First of all, although I realize that anything I put into my body will transfer in some form to Dante while he is nursing. Trust me, I love broccoli and cauliflower but I've had to cut down on them as they give Dante SERIOUS gas, but honestly is a Mimosa going to kill my son? Hell, our grandmothers smoked and drank martinis while pregnant with our parents so I'm not too concerned about having a bit of champagne mixed with OJ. Second of all, last I checked Dante was my baby and if I want to feed him chips and salsa while dancing the hula on my head that's certainly not FAGST's concern. Thirdly, who the fuck told you to take things out of my grocery cart and put it back for me? Don't ever mess with a big girl's food you know? I calmly put FAGST's in her place and told her that I wasn't concerned about a bit of champagne in my sytem while I was nursing because the Crack-Cocaine would balance it out. I swear, I think if this woman knew my name, she would call Social Services on me. She actually thought I was SERIOUS!Another example: my mom and I were having lunch at Denny's a few days ago and Dante started schmickling (my invented Yiddish word for getting fussy). So I pull him out of his carrier and soothe him. Not 10 seconds after I do this, this DUDE in the booth next to us informs me that Dante is cold and that I need to put a blanket and a hat on him or else he'll get pneumonia and die. Um, ok thanks for the tip Mr. You're Not His Father, but as I am holding my child in my arms and can tell whether or not he is cold or just schmickling because he is a baby, I would suggest keeping your idiot comments to yourself and focus more on eating your Moons Over My Hammie before I jaw you in the mouth. My kid wasn't cold, he just wanted boobie to which I obliged him and to which Mr. YNHF got offended because I was nursing him. Whatever. My baby needed to eat and I certainly was not going to go feed him in that hellhole they call a bathroom at Denny's.The other thing that I've been getting lately is the "Oh he's so big! You're feeding him too much" comments or the "Oh he's so small! You're not feeding him enough" comments. Since his birth at 7lbs 1oz, Dante has gained almost 3 lbs and is now weighing in at a HEALTHY (ask his pediatrician Dr. Grell) 9 lbs 9 oz. He is not overfed, he is not underfed. He does not need a blanket nor does he need a hat; his socks keep his feet warm and we all know that when your footsies are warm everything in the world is good. He can handle a modicum of champagne diluted through my bloodstream and then POSSIBLY transfering itself in millionths of potency through SOME of my breast milk (plus the crack-cocaine is still there to balance it out ). He is healthy. He is happy. If you are a grandparent/aunt/uncle/relative/good friend, we will listen to your advice and take it to heart. Anyone else, zip it.

Ok, enough with the typing, now I need to get some of that precious sleep everyone has been telling me about. Cross your fingers he won't schmickle for a few hours and I can get a good 3 hour nap in.

Thursday, August 3, 2006

Our first Outing as a Family!

This past Saturday I basically forcefully announced to Randy that we were going to the mall to "window shop" and test out our "emergency" credit card and that he had no means of backing out and saying no. People, I've been stuck at home for 3 weeks. I can't drive (something about pressing on the brake pedal would mess up my healing...don't ask me, ask my doctor), I can't lift anything besides Dante (once again; healing stuff, ask my doc), I cannot have sex and/or "relieve stress with a massage tool" (*ahem* you ladies know what I mean) and I literally cannot do anything besides whip out a boobie here and there and feed my child. So naturally I am going stir crazy. Thus I decided that I needed some sort of excuse to put on clothes that did not involve an elastic waistband and spit up all over the front of them and to put on some makeup and do my hair. Sure, it was just the Pembroke Lakes Mall, but I was dressed to the nines and it felt good. Plus, any excuse to test out the "emergency" (*ahem bullshit) credit card was fine by me as well.

I have to say, this having been my first official outing as a MOM, that I felt (and looked if I may say so myself) fantastic. I have already lost nearly 20 lbs. since Mr. Dante Lane was born, and I am actually thinner than my pre-pregnancy self. Now keep in mind, that when I say "thinner" don't start picturing some sort of toothpick chick. All of you who have known me longer than a year know FULL WELL that Alessia was never a toothpick, rather more "fluffy" in general areas. Thin on me is quite different than thin on a "normal" person. Anyhoo, with the 20 lbs. shed (and still going strong if I may add), I am now back into my pre-pregnancy clothes, albeit my stomach needs some work but again, no excercise until my 6 week checkup via doctor's orders (that bastard!!!). But I digress. In a nutshell: I felt like a smokin' MILF. 'Nuff said.

If you thought maneuvering through a crowded mall with just yourself was tough, try doing it with a baby in a stroller. When did everyone decide to walk .0000000000001 miles an hour and look into EVERY shop window? When did everyone who walks in front of you weigh like 500 pounds and take up the whole aisle? Even better, now the Starey McStarers who used to stop and glare and Randy and me for being such an odd couple (Queen of Halloween dates Blue Collar Frat Boy), now they have to stop and contemplate that this unholy union has spawned and brought some sort of devil worshipping Jack Daniels drinking baby into the world. The funniest is when people would say, "Oh it's a baby in there". I mean, were they expecting a pound of liverwurst? And I love people who say, "Let me guess, you named him Damien". Um, no we didn't you douchebag.

***side note: Do people read books anymore? Do you realize how many people have NO IDEA who my son is named after? If I had a nickel for everytime I've said, "my son's name is Dante" and someone says "like the football player", I would be richer that Bill Gates. Come on! Ok, I can understand having never read The Divine Comedy, but having never heard of Dante, the author? That's like never having eaten chocolate!!!!! So, if you have never read The Inferno, Purgatory, or Paradise...please...get off the internet...get a nice cup of whatever you drink and curl up and read!!!***oh, and also, I wish, that after telling people his name is Dante Marcello, people would quit saying "Damn that's like a pimpin' name". No, it's not. If you've ever seen an episode of Starsky and Hutch you would know that Dante Marcello is NOT a pimpin' name. Silky, Huggy Bear, Mr.Smooth, D-licious, those are pimpin' names. My son's name is classic and timeless and honors 2 very influential people. Pimpin' it is not.****

But I digress again. Sorry, I just don't get to have many adult conversations these days. Lately I've just been walking around the house singing songs about Mr. Yakkie McShitty or Smelly McFarto in my best falsetto to which said subject of these songs does exactly those things. Alaso, when Randy gets home from work, I'm usually waiting for him at the door to "hand off" the baby to him so I can get some semblance of sleep. Our conversations are limited to "hi how was your day", "I'm going to bed" and "No honey we still have to wait 3 more weeks before we can do THAT!". So bear with me while I branch out in every direction.

I actually started writing this blog today to discuss how impressed I was with how the view of parenting and families has changed. I say this based on the bathrooms at the mall that day. There's this thing now called a Family Restroom and it is fantastic. It's basically a separate area where bathrooms are non-gender specific and are big enough to accomodate both parents and child. Bathrooms are equipped with changing tables and sinks and smaller toilets for smaller children, along with a regular toilet for the grown-ups. There is also a separate Nursing Room which is nice for the shy moms, but as I see it, I should be able to nurse wherever the hell I want. I'm feeding my child and people who have issues with that should get over it. I say this because recently a woman down here was nursing her child in a bagel shop and WAS ARRESTED because people complained. To me, that's crap. She was feeding her baby, not auditioning for Tits on Parade. Anyhow, I really like the concept of a Family Restroom because it broadens the spectrum of what a family can be. There is no boundary here as far as who can go where (except the Nursing Room obviously). Family can now be defined as two moms or two dads or a single mom or a single dad. I really appreciated that. I am sure I am deliving much deeper into the meaning of the Family Restroom, but I am sure any alternatively compiled family would appreciate not having to figure out "Do I take my son into the ladies room? Do I take my daughter into the mens room?" and so on. Basically, it seems as though Family is no longer defined by mom, dad, and baby and I can appreciate that. Why I see this in the development of a restroom? Blame it on post partum hormones.

We had fun at the mall. I got a fabulous pair of shoes and a new purse (which I need like a hole in the head), Randy got Guitar Hero for the PS2 which is hysterical, Dante got an Ozzy Osbourne onesie at Hot Topic and we ended up spending too much money on things we didn't need with money we don't have, but it was all worth it!