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.