You guys,
My one job as a parent of two babies is to keep them safe.
So as Sam and I drove to New York City and left George and Layla at my parents’ house in Jersey, I cried. What kind of mother leaves her kids in a house where they can find batteries on the floor and handsaws lying out in the open?
The kind of mother who has a real hard time having hard conversations.
Back in her day, my mom was a super mom. She raised five kids on her own while Dad worked long hours and didn’t think of babies as people until they were 8 years old.
But just because we call Mom The Baby Whisperer does not also mean she provides a safe environment for my kids.
Right before Sam and I got in the car to leave, George was chewing on something and we didn’t know what. Was it a raisin? Or Play-doh? The day before, it was a battery. I panicked as I tried to look in his mouth. He ran away from me, into the other room, and found the handle of a handsaw. Sam intervened and hid the saw away.
Dad made a stupid joke about their tools being in the dining room and Mom chuckled.
I snapped. “George needs eyes on him at all times. He puts everything in his mouth.”
I should have done more. I should have told my parents that regardless of their looming reconstruction on the house, there should not be tools lying out in the open. I should have emphasized the importance of baby proofing. I should have reacted with horror at finding tiny batteries on the floor, instead of just sitting there quietly while Mom told Sam he could throw them in the trash.
But I didn’t want to offend my mom. I didn’t want to step on her toes. I felt guilty about never visiting and rarely giving my parents the opportunity to spend time with their grandkids. So instead of voicing my opinions and being clear about what I needed for my kids, I held it all inside until I burst out crying as we pulled onto 295 North.
Upon returning two days later, the kids were fine. Grandma kept a watchful eye on our kids. They were safe.
But there will be more visits in the future, which means I can’t hide from hard conversations forever.
Or maybe I can, and we’ll just stay at a hotel.
New York Nostalgia
Walking the streets of Manhattan always takes me back to the years I lived in New York and Hoboken from 2008-2011.
They were dark times when my thoughts were consumed with how much I weighed and exactly what I ate each day.
This time, as I passed the swarms of people and enticing bars and restaurants, I had a new realization that had nothing to do with food and body image:
I used to think the people who were the happiest — the people who really “made it” — drank alcohol.
Those who were able to indulge each night and have fun and be social, those were the people living their best lives. So even if I was poor and pissing away money every day in New York, even if I hated myself when I looked in the mirror because I was overweight, even if I was unhappy and lonely in my 6-year relationship with my boyfriend, I could at least drink a bottle of wine each night. I could pretend to be like all those happy people who were winning life.
At the same moment I had this realization about drinking, I thought of my kids. I’ve got my two little babies at home and Sam by my side and with a heart this full there’s not much room for all that darkness.
Feeling sad for your past self is a good thing. It means your present self is doing okay.
BREAKING NEWS
Did you know that Bed, Bath, & Beyond no longer accepts coupons??!
Also, starting October 21, the Hallmark Channel has all new holiday movies every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night.
This is the news from my mother-in-law. You’re welcome.
What’s In A Name
We passed Bleecker St. on our way out of the city.
I named myself after this street for no other reason than I liked the name and there was just something about this area of New York I always found magical.
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Until next week,
Charlie