Rasberries

Genevieve set a new world record for total nappage time—five hours! She awoke from both of her ultra-long sleeps in a joyful mood to boot. I crammed my own nap in there, did the laundry, washed the dishes and sorted wedding photos.

My mood has been a bit erratic today although I enjoyed Genevieve quite a bit today. I’m sure I owe a large part of that enjoyment to the fact that I had those lovely breaks throughout the day. The negative feelings seem to be centered on my inability to get anything creative done today. I didn’t find any of those precious nap minutes filled with me writing. Very annoying.

Genny mastered saying, “Mom”, today. As I folded laundry she clung to my leg, bounced and let go with a long string of the aforementioned word. She also crawled headlong into the stack of pillows on her bedroom floor, rolled from side-to-side and laughed like a hyena.

Speaking of laughing, she tried raspberries at supper and found them hysterical. At first, she nibbled daintily and made a slightly scrunchy quizzical face, and then she began chomping in and absolutely busting her gut with laughs. Blueberries she loves to pop in too, but they do not cause any fits of emotion.

I wish raspberries could make me so happy. She is so in the moment when she does anything. When she eats—she eats. When she poops—she poops. There’s none of this embarrassment or self-consciousness of the plague of adulthood. Gen just does what she does and wallows in it.

When do we lose that pure love of life? When do we lose touch with the simple joys of eating a raspberry?

A Step

From too hot to too cold. Genny and I went on an outing today with three other mom friends and their babies. The thermometer read 61 degrees when we pulled into the Jones Beach parking lot. We huddled on the sand with towels and blankets as our warming gear. The babies didn’t seem to mind the weather at all and other than Grace eating fistfuls of sand, there were no major crises to report.

Geneveive has reached a few new, not milestones, but more like, breakthroughs. She can climb up a step on her own, as demonstrated earlier when she hitched up her knees on to the boardwalk. Also, Gen’s babbling has taken on new dimensions when it comes to inflections. When she’s asking a question there’s a certain lilting rise at the end of her query. When she’s offering food crumbs as gifts there’s a certain forceful heaving grunt that makes you aware of the offering even if your head is averted for a brief moment.

She’s just full up of cute imitations lately. Last night, upon seeing her daddy blowing on his green beans, Genevieve also blew on the beans before they passed her eager open lips. After seeing Dad kissing my back, she lunged upon me and gave me kiss like sounds in the air around my shoulder region. And because Nick and I are always so sure to place our drinking glasses upright on the table, Genny is also very persnickety about getting her sippies and bottles to stand up on the table after a slurp.

Okay, so yes, there, I said it. Genevieve is uber-adorable and I love her to Mars and back again, but I’m still going bonkers during the day. I’m still wishing her crying jags were nonexistent. I’m still feeling like I am teetering on the edge of sanity. I just seem to be clinging to the ledge pretty well tonight. I may even be able to heft my knee on up and imitate Genny—and get myself safely up that first step.

The Heat is On

Genny did a lovely downward dog on the bed this evening. She should have been sleeping, but this new use of her legs seemed more interesting I suppose. Also included in her non-sleeping state were throwing herself onto the pillows, rolling from side to side and plucking Mommy’s bottom lip like a finger harp.

And she’s still not sleeping. Her daddy is in there right now and I just heard the sad little wails starting again. It’s almost two hours past her bedtime.

We did have an adventurous day. A morning trip to UPS to stand in line for half-an-hour to pick up a package. Then we drove to Grandma and Grandpa Koechig’s house for a visit and then finally on to G & G Hageman’s house where Genny went for a swim.

I’m really worried about my mom. The side effects from her latest chemo are knocking her out. She’s lost so much weight and has zero energy. She could barely walk today. I know she’s feeling bad when even Genny is unable to lift her spirits. I hate that I can’t make her better.

It sounds like Genevieve has finally quieted down. I hope this sleep sticks.

If you’re out there reading this and you believe in prayer or visualization or any other helpful remedy, please think of my mom tonight. Please send her strength and renewed energy. Thank you, and here’s hoping we all sleep well in this heat tonight.

But What Do You Feel?

Act in spite of my feelings. That is the kernel of knowledge I came away with today after seeing my therapist. It is really good and simple advice. Yes, I feel fraudulent when it comes to most areas of my life—I’m not a good enough teacher, I’m not a good enough writer, I’m not a good enough mother. The key is that I can’t let those feelings stop me from living my life.

Too often I have bowed down to my almighty feelings, allowing them to determine how my life would be lived. No more. I know I will have negative feelings, depressing loops of conversations inside my head, but I am not going to let them rule me. I am not going to accept those thoughts and feelings as real anymore. They are just thoughts passing by. Wisps of feeling hazes that aren’t necessarily true.

Genevieve has a new book called Tad’s First Feelings, when you turn the pages you hear little rhymes about feeling happy, sad and sleepy. All passing sensations. All temporary. All feel very real when you are experiencing them, but then you move onto another feeling.

I want Genevieve to learn to trust her feelings, to express them, but to also understand that that is all they are—passing sensations soon to be replaced by new ones. What is the state we return to? What is that feeling where we most often reside?

Perhaps this is the answer to the meaning of life—to live in the moment unfettered by passing sensations, thoughts and feelings. I always strive to be in the moment, to experience without judgment whatever is occurring within and around me.

I will act in my best interest. I will be the best person I can be. I will do the best I can at anything I attempt and allow that to be enough.

And hopefully, Genny will grow up to love herself and feel good enough about herself to develop her own healthy philosophy of life. More than anything for Gen, I wish her happiness and contentment within herself. I wish her peace with life and a good heart.

Let's Talk About Sex

Lots of revelations about my lifelong sadness. Nick and I had a conversation last night that started about sex and porno and ended with an in-depth look at my issues about being a woman in our modern society. I think I’m on the edge of discovering the roots of some of my issues about my sexuality and why I became a stripper and all that jazz.

The key factor in understanding my coming-of-age has always seemed to focus on finding the porno magazine trunk in my basement when I was about thirteen years old. I was at an impressionable age when I was just learning about what it means to be a woman. The naked photos seemed to show me what it meant to be a desirable woman.

Thus began my conflicting attempt to become both a desirable woman and at the same time to stop myself from ever growing up at all. One part of me urged on my self-discovery of my sexual self: dancing half-nude in front of the living room mirror every day after school, learning how to undulate my body to make it look good from every angle and practicing my new discoveries with boyfriends. While it seems that I was attempting to become a “desirable” woman like those I saw in the magazines, I also began my attempt to halt the process altogether: starving myself all day long, seeing how tiny (and unwomanly) I could become and sinking into an attention-desiring depression.

I was like most hormone-driven teenage girls—making out with my boyfriends and savoring every passionate-filled moment grabbed in the backseat of cars. I was always dating older guys and feeling super-sexy and just enjoying my discovery of how much fun my body could supply me.

Once I actually physically became a woman and realized the process was unstoppable, I slowly began regaining weight and coming back from the edge of scary skinniness. The crack in my, what I consider normal sexual self, happened when I became a stripper. My sexy self became exaggerated and a performance. That’s who “Kyrea” was. Sheila, on the other hand, became the good girl, who wasn’t terribly interested in sex because that other me was getting all the “sex” she needed at work.

Soon, the split deepened, and I found myself becoming a promiscuous and cheating female. That was when I felt sexy. I began to associate sexiness with being bad. Not a great development for my own sexual self in real-life relationships.

Fast forward to today. I’ve gone through a long trip to Hell and back. I’ve landed in a place where I want to reunite my split selves. I go through phases where I think I’ve already done that successfully, but I realize I still have a lot of issues to work through.

Sheila can be sexy without having to be overtly “sexy”, like I was as a stripper. That real sexy part of me is allowed to exist. Time to let go of all those messages driven in by well-meaning boyfriends that I could leave “Kyrea” behind and just be Sheila. Kyrea is a part of me. It’s time to make her feel welcome rather than hanging her out to dry in the name of being more adult.

I am a sexual person and I’m allowed to express my sexiness. Take that world.

Summer Saturday

A warm and wonderful day at Walnut Beach in Milford, CT with Adam and Gayle. Genevieve discovered sand and I received a belly and bikini-bottom full. The day zoomed by. We're all wiped out here. I want to close my eyes and zzz away.

Hugs and Squeezes

Well, I did it. I saw my first movie in over a year. Cinderella Man. It’s one of those stories that you know is going to work out in the end, but during it, you’re simply biting your nails off, as cousin Alison said she did.

Now I’m home and Genny is still sleeping. I just wolfed down four large chocolate chip cookies, which always makes me feel nauseous afterward. So, why do I do things that make me feel like puking? Ah, perhaps a good question for all of us. Some people have alcohol and some have chocolate.

I just looked at the headlines and was reading about the young woman missing in Aruba. How often do these situations turn out well? It makes me grateful for having survived as long as I have. When I think back to the risky lifestyle of my younger days, to the days when I traveled by myself and somehow always managed to hook up with someone. There are always men waiting for young lonely women on vacation—waiting to be their vacation Sweetie.

I remember when I was on vacation I was always ready to be swept off my feet by a local guy or two, and they usually obliged. These travel romances made me feel sexy and desired. I loved the power I felt I was exerting. The thrill of the warm, breezy air. Freshly sunned skin. Unfamiliar places were begging for me to drop my normal self and allow the Kyrea (my stripper persona) in me to come out.

Someday Genny will be a young woman discovering relationships and all the fun stuff that goes along with the territory. I can only hope that she makes wiser choices than I did. How do we protect our little girls—our babies? We have to let them go at some point, to face that huge open floating bubble of an endless world.

I’m going to hug her and squeeze her tomorrow. I’m not ready to even think about letting go yet.

Hot

It was hot today. Very hot. I am wondering if after having a baby the heat bothers you more. I have always begged people to turn down the air-conditioning, but now I’m roaring about the AC not being cranked enough.

Genevieve only needs to wear simple little one-piece outfits now, which is a relief. No more coats, hats and mittens to yank on her. Of course, now Genny needs sun block applied, a sunhat and lots of drinking water.

I visited Lloyd, the hypnotherapist, while Genny was at the babysitter’s today. We talked about what holds me back from making more money in life. Some very interesting issues came out having to do with family and those thoughts we all have that get buried deep inside our psyches. When you think about how many times we absorb the negative messages of our family and society when we are young without being able to control the impact on our lives, it’s overwhelming.

I have always felt that I’m not allowed to have more in life because there are others who have less than me. Wallowing in guilt for what I have obviously isn’t productive, but I have never been able to free myself from this belief. I hold myself back because I resent those women I see who have everything I want and I don’t want to be resented one day.

I’ve got to take action to improve my life no matter what my feelings are about what others will think of me. As long as I share some of what I make, I shouldn’t feel guilty.

And I want a nanny. There, I said it loud and proud. I want to have my own life along with being a mother. For anyone who doesn’t understand that, well, phooey to them. Phooey to all.

From my own life to Genny’s we jump. Genevieve gave me a real kiss on the lips this afternoon. And she hugged me a bunch of times. Laid her head down on my lap. Rubbed her sweaty head and hair against my arm.

I’m a mom. But I’m also so much more.

This Summer

Suburbia soothed my savage mommaness. I am home in the Heights and feeling much more relaxed and at ease.

Genevieve swam for the first time today. Well, maybe swam isn’t the right word, but she did splash around in Grandpa’s pool. And so did Mommy. I was very impressed that I made it into the water up to my shoulders. I usually don’t do well with cold water.

And since I was doing the whole suburban super saver center thingie, I also hit the local Target, which much to my great delight, had nestled within it, a Starbucks. I feel very madcap and carefree when I pull out my Starbucks gift card to pay.

Genny and I were both very excited to see Nick when he came home from work, perhaps Genny a little too much so, because she couldn’t fall asleep tonight. Nick tried to put her down for half-an-hour while I cooked dinner, but to no avail, so Genny had a second dinner of green beans. She finally passed out at nine o’clock.

I’m feeling very revved up and hyper. I’ve got about twenty tasks to do in the next couple of weeks. I have to take the GRE as a formality for Grad school, but I still feel the need to do well. Looks like I’ve got some serious math review to tackle.

And I need to get some writing done on an essay. And I need to figure out what Lit class I’m taking in the fall. Then there’s organizing, ebaying, working on my new website, freeing myself from depression, enjoying being a newlywed, washing the dishes, putting away Genny’s toys, planning a Mommy and Me yoga class and returning emails. And that’s just what is on the tip of my mind.

I think I will make a trip to Connecticut an every week experience for the summer. It will do every member of my family some good.

WalMart

This is what my life has come to. Standing in line at WalMart staring at a bag of fried pork skins and finding myself actually interested in whether "US" magazine's cover story about Tom and Katie, "Getting Married", is true.

Welcome to Suburbia.

I'm in Connecticut tonight at my mom and stepdad's place. This is where I find myself standing during my rare time off. A super saver center. Buying stuff to organize all of Genny's toys.

I smell WalMart pizza and I feel scared because it smells good.

It's 9:30 pm and I can't believe how many babies are here. They all seem to be eating cheese doodles.

Of course, I chose the wrong line. I've been in this line for twenty minute while the manager stands at his little desk with his, "How may I help you?" vest on, but he's not helping me.

Genny cried her little head sweaty again tonight. She didn't take her afternoon nap and did not want to take her evening sleeptime either. Eventually she fell asleep on my chest and I was able to place her down.

I think I'll go savor some quiet time before I pass out.

Savory

Nick was saying last night how people probably think the exact opposite of what I think they think about me. My parents probably couldn’t be prouder of me now. I mean, I was a stripper. Look at me now. Married to a great guy with a job and I’m a mom. I’m finally living on the straight and narrow, or is it straight as an arrow?

Earlier today I walked along the choppy sidewalk, eyes glazed over. And it hit me. I am a zombie mommy. Would that be a zommy or mombie?

I am the living dead. A mommy who has lost herself. Sure, I have moments when I have me, but increasingly I find myself depressed, missing from life and unable to really enjoy my daughter.

If what everybody is saying to me is true, “Enjoy this age. It goes by so fast.” Why am I missing out on the joy?

Or is the reason people give this advice because they felt the same way I did when entrenched in the day-to-day of baby caring, but now, looking back, they wish they had savored it because it’s gone.

But then, what is there to savor? Nick enjoys watching her discover and learn, even when it’s through emptying out a jumbo size box of Band-Aids from Costco.

I have such a hard time letting chaos reign. I’ve spent my life trying to control chaos, so I find it difficult now to just let it happen and see it as education for the baby. I feel a need to put away all those Band-Aids right away. And when Genny grabs something and cruns away with it, like her doll’s plastic pink fork, I have to chase after her and grab the aforementioned stolen object and return it to it’s room of departure.

Why have I chosen this time of my life to get neurotic about cleanliness? I couldn’t wait until Genny goes to college? I think it has more to do with the letting go of how things were pre-baby. I may have to get used to the fact that life will never be the same. I’m going to be running around for the next eighteen years at least. There’s no slowing down for a while. Unless I get better at making the time.

Remember to make time for Mommy.

A Mommy On The Edge

In case you were wondering, babies sweat from their heads. I know this because Genny was just screaming in her crib with her hair completely drenched. Nick called the nurse line, but it’s okay, she’s just a hot, sweaty and cranky baby.

And I’m just a hot, sweaty and cranky mommy.

Today was supposed to be a relax day, but it turned into a workday. We went to Nick’s Cousin Bob’s and I decided I would take our two humungous dirty laundry bags. Well, it turns out Bob keeps the dryer on the delicate setting so that his pants won’t shrink. I spent about three hours doing laundry.

As the day wore on, Genny became increasingly cranky and feisty. She was crunning (crawl-running) all around Bob’s three-bedroom house. In the spare bedroom, which Bob has now filled with hand-me-down toys, Gen was molesting a giant Pooh Bear by jumping on him and rolling and pushing.

She got to play with her cousin, Anna, who is 15 months old. They really didn't interact much though, except when Genny offered her some cheddar cheese rice cake.

Then I had my mommy on the edge moment while I was folding the still damp laundry in the basement, chasing Genny for the umpteenth time to the unfinished section of the cellar and feeling alone and miserable. Nick came in from working on the minivan and I was just like, “She is driving me insane.” I think there might have been an expletive in there, too. No, actually, I know for sure that there was an expletive in there.

I feel so frustrated with myself when I lose my patience with her. I can just hear everyone who hears me complaining about motherhood whispering that I’m a bad mother. But I’m not! I’m an awesome mother.

Why do I care so much about what other people think about me? What is this image that I think others have of me that I’m so afraid of tarnishing? People probably already think I’m a weirdo and a bad mom, so I should probably just relax and be who I am. A mommy on the edge.

Go With The Flow

Saturdays are dream days. I get to actually enjoy time spent with Genevieve because Nick is there to join in on the family unit. I love to watch Genny crawl into his lap, lifting her knees up to attain the height she needs to scale the mountainous Nick knees.

I also got some much appreciated alone time today, which I spent doing yoga with Julie. Later on in the day, while Genny was napping, there was some Momma and Dadda lovin’ time and then even some nappin’ time for Momma.

We then swung over to Michael’s craft store to return the pew bows that we didn’t need because the wedding in the chapel before ours had left theirs up and they were quite lovely. In exchange, we got our wedding thank-you cards (and a venti Starbucks Mint Chip Frappucino since it was right next door).

Genny passed another milestone today—she’s a forward-facer now. It’s so convenient to be able to simply turn around while we’re driving and check on her. Ah, the wonders of modern-day car seats.

Speaking of seats, we purchased Genny’s first potty-seat at Toys ‘R Us. She is a bit young, but it’s never to soon to start introducing a baby to a more convenient (well, for Mommy anyway) place to poo and pee.

I was just thinking how my blog is an interesting testimonial to the up and down swings of my depression. I bet I could go back and make a chart documenting my depression level on a day-to-day basis. That might be kind of neat, and perhaps a bit neurotic. I could just see Nick creating a flow chart to go along with the tracking of our budget. Hmm, I wonder if there would be any correlation between our cash flow and my mood flow.

Kisses

Genny learned to kiss today. It’s more of a lip smack than a kiss, but we’ll count it just the same. She also planted a big wet open mouth all over my chin a couple of times; I think those were kisses, too.

I had my second hypnotherapist visit today, which went very well. He didn’t actually hypnotize me—we just talked. It was very motivational and I left on a buzz and ready to take on some new writing projects. Now, will I be able to keep the forward thrust moving?

The most important point I must remember when it comes to dealing with my hatred of motherhood is that I am still doing quite a fine job of it. I mean—I am a perfectionist after all. Even though I am not thrilled with the day-to-day life I am living right now, I still love Genny. And it’s not like I have ever really loved normal day-to-day life, no matter what I was involved in.

That thought is just making me realize that perhaps I have never been truly happy as I suppose most normal people experience happiness. Is it that I have a mixed-up notion about what true happiness is? Or has depression always caused me to blame the external circumstances of my life for the sadness I feel? Maybe it doesn’t matter what is going on in my life—maybe I will always hate whatever I am doing.

Hmm…if I was just to assume that this is true, that it is not so much what I am doing in my life that I hate, but rather just this snarky depression making me think I hate whatever I’m doing, would that free me in any way to enjoy my life more? Maybe I can find a way to sidestep my depression by laughing when I feel hatred of everyday life knowing that I don’t really hate life, my depression only wants me to think that. But what does my depression gain from occupying me?

How interesting that I talk about my depression as though it is a thing of and to itself, like it’s not an illness or a feeling, but rather an unwelcome intruder creeping through my brain, trying to infiltrate my soul—well, no, I think the infiltration has already happened. I just have to find a way to force out the invader, so that I can enjoy watching my daughter grow up.

I imagine my whole life has been about trying to find ways to defeat the enemy. As an actress, I was allowed to be somebody else and escape my own darkness on a regular basis. As an exotic dancer, I got to pretend that I was a happy-go-lucky gal who just wanted to prance around naked. As a writer and a yogini, I get to delve into the meaning of the pit within me and try to find ways to restructure and deal with the darkness.

For Genevieve, I’d really like to banish depression once and for all, but I don’t want to put too much pressure upon myself and then only get more depressed because I don’t succeed.

And I come to the end of another day in my life. I close my eyes and see Genny’s drool-dripped chin telescoping toward me and I feel a wet pucker on my nose and I smile and I feel good.

"A" is for ahhh

Okay, so motherhood is not what I expected.

I thought as a mom my depression would be gone. I thought I would be personally fulfilled.

I was wrong.

Nick suggested I try enjoying the anger I have—anger at having my life and freedom taken away. Express my hate loudly. Then maybe I’ll come to acceptance. Don’t deny the hating of motherhood. I hate the responsibility. I hate the mind-numbing tedium. I hate the not being able to have a conversation with the person I must spend my entire day with.

I hate being a mom. I hate having to take care of someone else instead of me. I hate picking up toys that I just picked up twenty minutes ago. I hate it all. I hate it. I hate it. But I’m afraid if I go back to work fulltime that I’ll hate that even more.

And I hate the word hate. I don’t want Genny to think I hate her because, obviously, I don’t. I love her to smithereens. I just hate this new life I’m living. I don’t even remember what I like anymore or who I am or was.

My friend Rebecca pointed out today that there are also many good moments and experiences I have with Genny. It’s good to be reminded of this. I know that it’s true. And I don’t know what I would do without all my wonderful momma friends that I’ve made here in Jackson Heights. They help keep me sane.

I am going to see a hypnotherapist for the second time tomorrow. I will hopefully be much happier when you read from me this time tomorrow.

I know I’ll make it through this wave of low feeling. I always do. And I have so much to be thankful for. My friend, Clover, and I used to go to this Interfaith church in the city, after the service we’d walk along 57th Street singing, “I am as God created me.” Then we’d end up in a diner for brunch where we’d go through the alphabet naming the things we were grateful for. We were developing “an attitude of gratitude”.

I am grateful for what beginning with the letter “a” tonight?

Hmm, aromatherapy. I think I’ll take a bath and sniff something flowery.

Another Day

Today was one of those days during which I questioned why I ever wanted to be a mom. I didn’t even spend the whole day with Genevieve; she was at the babysitter’s for four hours while I went into the city for my advising appointment for the coming semester.

I am disappointed that I am not enjoying motherhood more. I don’t know why I didn’t realize how much work there would be. Honestly, I don’t remember what I thought being a mom would be all about. The main disappointment that I can plop my finger upon is that I don’t feel more satisfaction at the end of the day. I thought I would feel fulfilled on all levels as a mom, but unfortunately, I am feeling the exact opposite.

Perhaps I thought that I would feel complete and happy once I had another life dependent upon me, but that completion hasn’t happened for me yet. I think also that I am unconsciously always thinking that the next big thing is going to erase my depression permanently. Of course, I know that life doesn’t work that way.

I am probably feeling the post-wedding blues, too. Sunday was so perfect and love-filled; how could I not feel slightly let down upon returning to everyday hectic life with Genny?

A sampling of our time spent together today: Genevieve pulled every single book off her shelf creating a jumbled pile; she emptied out an entire box of panty liners crumpling a number of them into unusable crinkled garbage; she slopped baby food on the wall and threw melba toast crumbs way under the kitchen table; she threw Baby Doll Two from the stroller at least a dozen times, but would scream if I didn’t hand her back after being rescued from the filthy sidewalk.

Now, for all of you wanna-be moms out there, I know you are probably thinking to yourself, “Oh, I think that all sounds so cute, and besides, my baby won’t throw things.” Well, just for the record, you‘ve now been warned, so please don’t come crying back to me, “Why didn’t somebody tell me what it was really like?”

Number Two

Three days in a row of Genny waking up at 5:30 am has caught up to me. A dizzying exhaustion is rampaging through my head, stomach and soul. I need a break before I crack in half. Nick and I really need a vacation.

To make matters worse, Genny’s Baby Doll was doll-napped from the playground. She had been propped up against a rail of the old jungle gym, but when it was time to go, Baby Doll was no more. There had been lots of toddlers darting in and out during my visit and I guess I just lost track of Doll.

We left the playground empty-handed. Back at home, Genny pulled all the sheets, the blanket and even the mattress from Baby Doll’s cradle and then sipped at the little toy bottle. After two hours of on and off screaming and crying I gave up on her taking an afternoon nap, which I had been looking very forward to.

We strolled to Kaybee Toys instead where we dawdled in the doll aisle. I’m happy to say that we found a Baby Doll replacement—I give you, Baby Doll Two. I found myself repeatedly saying to Genny, “We’re not trying to replace Baby Doll, we’re just…replacing her.”

This didn’t make much sense then, or now. I think though that the switch will be accepted even though Baby Doll Two is slightly different than the original. The new doll is not all hard plastic; she has a soft and squeezy torso, but the same bristle blink eyelashes that Genny loves to touch.

Genny is sleeping now and that’s probably what I should be doing. I’m fighting off a clinking depressed feeling in my chest. The wedding euphoria was too short-lived. I wish we could celebrate a few days without us having to rush back to work, but that is not the way the world works. We must work hard for our money.

Argh, I’m feeling squishy and sentimental and sad and happy all at once. I think Gen just really burned me out with all the screaming today.

I’m thinking of putting a harness on Baby Doll Two tomorrow.

The Day After

We ended up going on a tourist adventure with Nick’s Aunt Nina and the rest of the family. First stop was Starbuck’s, where I realized I’d forgotten my fabulous new Starbuck’s gift card (thanks Julie!), and then we hit the subway down to the ferry. We chugged over to the Statue of Liberty and then on to Ellis Island.

Genny liked the breeze on the boat flying through her wispy hair, but her lashes were flashing like mad. She wore sun block for the first time. Is that a milestone? And I wore sun block for the millionth time and still got sunburned shoulders.

I tried using up some of the disposable cameras left over from the wedding. It’s a very freeing feeling to snap away with no reservations on how much film you’re using. Some of my mad-hatter shots today included: Nick holding Genny up in front of Lady Liberty, the aforementioned breeze rustling through Genny’s hair and assorted subway family shots.

Genny finally knocked out for a nap on the subway ride back uptown. She slept straight through dinner at the Heartland Brewery restaurant and then suddenly woke up in a crying frenzy. We probably overdid it for her these last three days of nonstop fun.

Since we aren’t going on a honeymoon until October, we are back to normal life. No week off where we can just lounge out and be lost in our wedded bliss. Nick is back to work tomorrow and diapers wait for no wedded anything. Our apartment is a total disaster area. I have a zillion chores and work type things to do. And, yes, I am still exhausted.

And, yes, the wedding was phenomenally perfect. Is it odd that like absolutely nothing went wrong?

Wedding

Today was a whirling swish of love and I am now a Mrs. An incredible day. Happy. Joy. Love.

I am also utterly exhausted.

Today Is

Today is my birthday. Today is the day before my wedding.

I am feeling overwhelmed and disconnected from my body at the moment. We had a big family dinner at The Delhi Palace. There were seventeen of us around a long table on the second floor. Nick, Genny and I sat at the head of the table.

I felt like I was hovering above the table, floating atop everyone’s heads and gently waving hello to all below me. The constant feeding of Genny of bread and chicken and cucumber slices is like a fly buzzing about your face, so close, so there, so far.

And the crushing down responsibility of knowing we need to take her home and put her to bed and then feed her again tomorrow and the next day. We must consider her in everything. Consider her before we consider ourselves.

Nick got me a beautiful chocolate cake with cannoli filling. Everyone sang Happy Birthday to me. I could hear the applause from downstairs as well. So nice. So about me. Maybe that’s part of the overwhelming feeling, knowing people love me and think about me in the way I feel about Genny.

I’ve never dealt well with receiving things. I tried to give myself over to it tonight and just allow myself to sink back and savor the generosity of those who love me.

I feel so tired now. Tomorrow I will be married.