Sushi and Martini Vacation.

So much of my happiness these days depends on balance. I can take all of it, easily, if I know there's something else around the corner. I can wake up multiple times throughout the night if I know a break of eight-hour sleep is coming soon. I can stay in my house--I actually love, usually, being my homebody self--for as long as I need if I know that sometime in the near future I'll be doing something out of it. I can go weeks without something "fun," in the traditional sense, because I'm blessed--oh, so, so blessed--that I get opportunities often to live outside of my mom-dom for just a fleeting moment. (This is why I respect, admire, even revere stay-at-home moms as much as I do. For the families and the women who know that staying at home is the best option for their family, and who actually do it day in and day out, I applaud you. Now go take a bath with a glass of wine and a magazine.)

When Adelyn was first born, after we'd adjusted a bit, Jason and I decided that every week we'd take our own little vacations. Once a week I'd do something for myself, once a week he'd do something on his own, and once a week we'd do something together, sans adorable baby. Now all of this is contingent on the fact that we have the best grandparents and great grandparents in the world, because otherwise we couldn't afford to pay babysitters to indulge our little plan. Without grandparents who love spending time with Addy we'd be lucky to get out of the house, together, once every few weeks, if that.

Usually I'll have a friend or two over, and we drink wine and talk and watch reality shows about dancing and listen to Addy breathe over the monitor. Jason will go play guitar or to a friend's house. We try to go on a date once a weekend, too, but that's easier said than done and often gets put on the back-burner for chores and responsibilities that infiltrate our weekends.

Last night we got out together. We just bought a new car to replace my toy-box of a Hyundai, a rattling, stinking, high-school-mechanic-class-project of a car with expired tags. We bought a used Jeep. It's vintage and fun and it feels like an adventure to drive to the gas station. So we drove it all the way to Nashville with the doors off, letting the extreme heat and wind inside, my hair carefully put up to avoid serious whiplash. And then we ate sushi and went to a movie and I came home missing Addy.

Yes, both of the drinks are mine. I make no apologies. Mama needed a honey-basil martini and an Asahi beer to go with her non-spit up-covered outfit.

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The Schlep, Part Two.

In the beginning I called the process of getting Adelyn out of the house "the great schlep." Those first few voyages with a baby are so daunting--it's such a shock to your old life that you can no longer up and leave the house at a moment's notice.

Five months later, and I've come to terms with it. Working between your schedule and your baby's infinitely more complicated schedule (you can wait until you get home to eat. She, on the other hand, cannot. Or will not.) is a delicate balancing act. Next month when I officially start working Adelyn will be with a babysitter three days a week (the other two I get to work at home), which should make our conflicting schedules a little easier to manage. But, still, getting Adelyn ready, myself ready, and the entire gamut of Adelyn's necessities ready before work will require additional planning. For instance--Addy still sleeps in her NapNanny. In fact, Jason and I are thinking we need to break her of this habit. We're wondering if it's maybe why she hasn't rolled over (because she doesn't get to squirm around in her crib all night and in the morning). It's getting harder to stay out with her for long periods of time (when we can't just lay her flat on her back at her grandparents' houses for a nap). And when I think about what I'll need to carry with me each day we leave the house--I don't want to add a bulky, pink, sleep-assistant to the load.

We started talking about this yesterday, when we were planning our trip to Delaware with Addy for my sister's wedding in August. We'll bring the pack 'n play, obviously, for our stay in the hotel. And tons of formula, bottles, clothes, bibs, burp rags, toys. And what about the Nap Nanny? Do we pay extra to check it in on the plane? Then haul it through both airports and cabs and through the hotel along with bags and bags of her other stuff, just because we--it's not her fault, really--are scared to endure a few sleepless nights weaning her away it? No. I think the time has come. Adelyn doesn't, I think, have reflux. Or if she does it's no longer a major concern for her. She's just not used to being on her back at night. Our fault.

So. The "great" schlep? I wish I could go tell myself five months ago to chill out. She weighed, like, seven pounds and she slept all of the time. We hadn't even approached the true schlep of schlepping. I don't know if we've even hit the peak now.

Yesterday, I took Adelyn with me to a meeting. I went with a co-worker to meet the people who run a ministry here in Murfreesboro, because I'm going to be coordinating a lot of literacy programs with them (helping people earn their GEDs, people who have never learned to read, among many other things). Since I was only going to be gone two hours I brought Adelyn with me.

And I timed that thing like a pro--we left precisely when it was time for her afternoon nap. This would mean, I thought, I hoped, that she would fall asleep during the drive and stay asleep for the next hour. But the second I opened the car door at our destination, her eyes opened, too. And that's how they stayed--for the next three hours. Who needs a nap when there are buildings to look at, people to smile at, things to learn? I'd brought the stroller since we were walking from my organization's office to a building a few blocks down. And it was HOT outside. It's been hotter here than I can ever remember.

Adelyn stayed content for the majority of the meeting--a few squawks here and there, quickly remedied by being picked up and shown off.

By the time I strolled her back to the car, though, she was desperate to fall asleep. Rubbing her eyes, blaring crying, onesie soaked through from the heat.

This is where the schlep really starts. The people in the car parked to my left are waiting for me to get this done so they can escape the heat and drive. After giving them a little "sorry this is about to take so long" wave, I hold the stroller in place with my foot, right by the car. I twist and stretch my arms to the front door, open it, and put the keys in the ignition. It's too hot to put her in the car without some sort of ventilation already in place--even I feel woozy when I first get in. So while I'm stretch-Armstronging my body to make sure the stroller doesn't stroll away without me, Adelyn is still crying. Screaming. After a few seconds of blasting the AC I lift up her increasingly-heavy car seat and put it in the back. (How I don't have arms of steel at this point, I'm really not sure.) Then I put the diaper bag in the front seat, and wheel the stroller around to the back to put it in the trunk. The car next to me has started backing up at this point. Luckily, she has a toddler in the backseat of her car and shoots me an understanding glance.

I fold up the stroller and hoist it up into the trunk--teasingly close to being done with the whole thing--but then--oops!--I forgot I'd grabbed a Diet Coke from the office and put it into the stroller's cup holder. So the already luke-warm drink splashes down the front of my shirt, my pants, down to my feet. It's so hot I don't even mind. I just want the stroller in the damn car. Once it's safely in I slam the door shut, climb into the front seat, and speed off. As soon as we hit 30 miles per hour Adelyn is fast asleep--and she stays that way once we get home, even snoozing through the removal of her sweat-soaked onesie and the transition to her swing.

This is a schlep. Not the nonsense I was talking about months ago. Look up schlep in a Yiddish dictionary and there would be a picture of a mother, baby crying in the car, with a stroller halfway inside of the trunk and Diet Coke all over her outfit.

It does get easier with time, though, getting Adelyn out of the house. You learn new little tricks and timesavers every day. Mostly through trial and error (like, put the diaper bag in the car FIRST, then come back and get the baby, or use nap time or independent play time to get everything ready, rather than waiting for the last minute). If you have any tricks of your own, I want to hear them. Please. E-mail them to me, comment them here, or send them to me telepathically. Share your wisdom on making the schlep as painless as possible.

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Going Out.

Last night Jason and I got all dressed up and went out. We've tried to go out a few times since Adelyn's been born, thanks to the generosity of her grandparents, but we've never really been able to leave for more than an hour, thanks to the domestic pull that is being a parent.
I've always loved getting dressed up and going out. More so the getting dressed up part. Since Adelyn's entered our lives getting dressed up usually equates to putting on mascara and a pair of actual pants rather than ones with an elastic waist, so it was nice to feel like my old self, even just for a few hours, and put some actual effort into my appearance.
But, oh, how things are different when you have a child. It's not just the lack of time to get ready and actually go out and do something. Once you've secured the babysitter and manage to finagle a half-hour to get ready, things are still just so different.
Last night, for example, I was a little worried about leaving Adelyn because she hadn't pooped in two days. She's been noticeably uncomfortable as a result, and when I left her at Jason's parents' house she was fussy and I could tell they were in for an eventful evening. And this became the overriding theme of the night. You can take the mom out of her pajamas but she's still gonna think about her baby's bowel movements.
My mom is the executive director of a shelter in Nashville that serves homeless families. Last night, local "celebrities" came together to put on a Dancing With the Stars-esque event to benefit the shelter. Professional dancers teamed up with each of them and a panel of judges as well as the audience rated their performances.
So Jason and I are all decked out, sitting at a fancy table with a fancy dinner with all these fancy pseudo-celebrities, and we're trying to play the part of a couple not preoccupied with a two-month-old's diaper. But Jason stepped out two separate times to call his parents, who kept assuring us that it was fine, that they didn't mind the fussiness.
There are several times in a new parents' life when you find yourself, temporarily, lifted from your new world. For a few fleeting moments you might feel like your old, childless self again, but it doesn't last long. For me anyway. I think this hit me the hardest when I leaned over, wine glass in my hand and lip gloss reapplied, and whispered to Jason, "I wonder if she's pooped yet?"
We had a great time. I had more than one glass of wine and watching pseudo-celebrities dance, as it turns out, is really, really entertaining. And, above all else, my mom's shelter raised a ton of money, and that was the whole point.
When we got back to his parents' house Adelyn was fast asleep.
And she did poop during our absence, I was happy to hear. Except her poor grandma had to change the diaper that was the culmination of two-poopless days. (Sorry, Janu. And thank you a million times.)

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