Can we talk?

As a parent to be, I plan on talking to my child a lot. I'm already saying good morning to him/her every day, using my wife's belly button like a phone receiver. I've promised myself that when our child is born I won't speak in the squealish baby talk that most people are wont to do in the presence of a baby. Seriously, is there scientific proof that the baby actually understands you better when you sound like an blathering idiot? Or are they smiling at you because they have gas? I guess I'd better Google that one.


My hope is that my wife and I will create an atmosphere where our child will want to talk to us freely about things. I will do my best to not cringe when an awful truth comes out. I will try hard to not react quickly when I hear something that I don't agree with or can't believe my child would say. It's easy for me to sit here and say this without years of parenting experience behind me, as I'm sure veterans would laugh at my naivety. But I think my lack of having an open dialogue with my parents has made me see how important such a thing can be. And honestly, I should have written 'mother' rather than 'parents' there. Look at that, I totally went against something I just told you I wanted to have with my kid. I'm going to go sit in the corner for 5 minutes and think about what I did.


First, some backstory. My mother has been divorced twice and married three times. She has been the one constant parent in my life, so it's only natural that I would be more open to talking to her about things. She divorced my biological father when I was young (around 10), and married my first stepfather (Chuck) pretty quickly after. Chuck and I didn't get along very well, but he came along close to when I hit puberty and I didn't get along with most people then, so go figure. He and my younger brother hit it off well, having a similar knack for taking things apart and annoying me. So I naturally moved closer under the wing/apron of my mother, who was there to listen to me agonize over all the woes about my budding adolescence. If I needed to talk about girls, she was there. If I needed to complain about my brother, she was there. If I needed to talk about how awesome 80's rap was, she was there too.


One day, things changed. I don't remember the conversation, but I remember being in the car with her talking about something. A response she gave to me using something I had divulged to her earlier was used in a way to get a dig on me. I had let her in on some kind of secret or private thought, something most likely trivial if I were to find out what it is now, but it was a moment of clarity for me. This moment in time made me realize that sharing things with my mother would only allow her to use those things against me at some point.


The funny thing is, I don't know why I didn't see this coming sooner. Looking back on the family get togethers we had, this type of shit happened ALL THE TIME. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas our grandparents and uncle would come over and there would be a non-stop barrage of digs thrown at any and everyone. Sometimes they were playful, other times they brought up subjects that you thought were off limits to other family members. Somehow I never realized this was going on until I moved out of the house and made annual holiday visits. My wife and I would sit there uncomfortably while digs were hurled across the table like mashed potatoes in the food fight scene of 'Animal House.' Everyone traded barbs while I looked at my wife in astonishment and tried to chew my dinner as quickly as possible.


So is that what it means to be loved in my family? Is throwing some resentful dig a way of showing how much we care about each other? I've certainly used this on my friends and my wife on numerous occasions. I used to say that I let you know that I liked you when I did something like that. What a nice guy I was. Care for a nice compliment about how you look? Nooooooo. I'm going to tell you that you looked a lot worse the last time I saw you. What an asinine way of doing things. Excuse me while I hide behind sarcasm and resentment to avoid telling you how I really feel. It's only been through therapy (and lots of co-pays) that I've come to realize that this happens and that I'm just as guilty as my family members. Thankfully I can now recognize that I'm doing it and try to correct myself when I slip.


Ever since we told my family that we're going to have a baby, the lines of communication have been opened much wider than before. The phone calls that used to come only on holidays, birthdays and deaths in the family have turned into almost weekly status updates and real conversations. My mother used to call and quickly ask me how I was, followed by her updates and a check of the weather in our respective areas. It's like we were anchoring a newscast rather than having a conversation. "That's the weather in New York state. Reporting live from Brooklyn I'm Chris. Back to my Mom in studio and a look at who won the game last night." Now we're talking about how my wife is handling the pregnancy, ultrasound results and even a bit about parenting strategies. It's going to take some getting used to, but I like the direction we're headed in.


You know who I have to thank for getting us to this point? Our unborn child. That little lemon-sized (he/she has grown since my last post) little wonder has made it possible to have some type of connection with my mother again. Our relationship has been strained for some time now, and it's nice to see things changing for the better. I'm not entirely comfortable with it yet, because I've grown accustomed to our abbreviated annual calls. But I know that it is nice to see some of the ice between us melting away, and I hope that we can gradually get to a better place in our relationship. Until she makes a dig at my child, and then it's on like Donkey Kong.

The next step

That's a picture of a plum. I've never eaten one before, nor do I have any intentions of trying one. I've never met one on the street, but I'm sure they are quite nice once you get to know them. This image, however, is something that I can't get out of my head this week. This is due to the fact that the above plum is the same size as my unborn child. Right now my wife has a little baby plum nestled in her womb, leeching away at the nutrients she's taking in every day. Normally I wouldn't want another organism doing this to my wife, but I suppose I'll make an exception this time around.


I have to admit, it's absolutely blowing my mind most days. It's been doing that ever since we found out this past Easter. We got home that night from a trip to Washington, D.C., she peed on a stick, and 3 minutes later the game had changed. We knew it was true, but she still peed on another stick the following morning (I think she likes peeing on sticks, but you didn't hear that from me). Same result. That glowing + is etched into your brain forever, whether you like it or not. Ever since then I've been excited, worried, freaked out and a bunch of other emotions I don't normally feel on a regular basis.


I'm reading a book to prepare myself. I'd like to read more of them, but I'm a slow reader and fact heavy books have a way of boring me. We've watched 2 documentaries on childbirth, a National Geographic special on the first year of child development, and as many episodes of NBC's 'Parenthood' as we can stand. The problem I'm having is that I can't stop thinking about the future issues we'll have to deal with: driving, sex, arguments, school, etc. I have this knack of distancing myself from present issues by over-analyzing and critically thinking about ones that haven't even happened yet. It's easier that way, because I can plan out which emotions I might feel, what words I would choose to say. Present tense problems put me on the spot, make me try to feel in the moment, speak off the cuff. So in my head, our child's toddler through teen years are already being played out like a grandmaster plays out future moves in chess. I guess this means that if it's a boy I should name him Kasparov or Fischer.


This week has been a mix of high and low for me, as we hit the 12th week and decided it was time to tell the world. It was great getting congratulated by friends and co-workers, hearing them share stories if they had their own children and just feeling that appreciation of more humanity being brought into the world. It's funny how people who can't stand kids will still congratulate you and talk about it. Sometimes it feels more genuine coming from them than from someone who does want kids but doesn't have them yet. Sometimes you even get resentment from people who thought they would have them before you. Trust me, I wasn't trying to compete with you on who would procreate first. I was just happy I was in the running and taking one for the team by having sex all the time. Poor me.


The low end of this week came from exactly the same place: telling more people about the news. The reality of the situation grew exponentially. It was no longer our secret to cherish and share together. The little winks and nudges we would give to each other when someone talked about kids, or if we saw a child and thought about what ours would look and act like. I feel like I've put myself under the microscope to be judged on an entirely different level. People who know me or work with me can now take that knowledge and apply it to how they think I'll be as a father. I know I can't worry myself over such things, but one's mind does have a tend to wander.


Some people mentioned that having a baby means I finally have to become an adult. You're the parent now, the adult of the household. I'd like to think of myself as more of a person who's starting a new phase in life. It's taken me a long time to realize that life is more a work in progress than a destination you work hard to reach. Parenthood for me, right now in this moment, is another way of shaping who I am. Perhaps it's ignorance, or denial, but I right now I just feel a little older, somewhat wiser and nervously excited about the future.

Goodbye Jackson Heights

When we first moved to New York, my wife and I had a 1-bedroom apartment on the UWS. It was a quaint little place with a kitchen the size of a closet, and it served us well. After our first year, the rent was raised to an amount we didn’t see fit paying. Sure, we were living IN the city, but paying over $2k a month to hear fire and police sirens (we were a block away from both departments), getting followed by homeless people into our building and living in a small place just didn’t seem worth it. So we did a little searching on craigslist and found a nice little neighborhood called Jackson Heights in Queens.

Our first impressions: “Look they have trees!” “Do you hear that silence?” “Access to 5 different trains?” We had hit the motherload. Our search then lead us to a 1 bedroom that had a decent sized kitchen with lots of counter space, more closet space, and a seemingly quieter neighborhood. What else could we want? Cut to four years later. My wife and I have grown as individuals and as a couple. We’ve learned some things, we’ve lost some things, and we’ve experienced more in that apartment than we could have anticipated.

For starters, we’ve lost a number of family members during our stay. Our first dog together, Molly, was a medium sized (she preferred fuller figured) border collie/cocker mix who enjoyed chicken bones, barking at other dogs and being sweet as hell. She loved people and always enjoyed giving them, and us, all of her unconditional love. Ok, maybe she wanted treats in return, but still, it was mostly unconditional. One day we noticed she had slowed down considerably, and that she was straining to do the things she could normally do with ease. We took her to our local vet who kept her overnight for observation. The next day while we were at work the vet called us, saying we needed to get there right away. Upon our arrival we were told that she was critically ill and needed to be taken to an animal ER right away. We found one in the city and waited to hear what her prognosis would be. It turned out to be a disease where her body was destroying her red blood cells at a rapid pace. Almost a week passed by, with multiple transfusions, multiple credit card charges, and worry filled nights wondering how she would do. At the end of the week she had blood clots in her lungs, and the only thing we could do was to ease her suffering. I hope we never have to do something as hard as that ever again.

Our stay there also saw the passing of grandparents and an uncle. My wife’s grandparents on her father’s side got into a bad car crash, and her grandfather died shortly after. Her grandmother survived and had to deal with both being all alone in the house they lived in together and the return of her cancer. My wife loved both of them, and it was hard to see her lose one while watching the other wither away. I couldn’t help but see us in them, and secretly wonder what I would ever do if I lost my wife prematurely. I’m so glad to have known them, and I can only hope that my wife and I have the same longevity in both our relationship together and our love of life and the people around us.

I, on the other hand, lost my grandmother and my uncle. Mother and son, both on my mother’s side. My uncle was stricken with Pick’s disease at a relatively young age, and we watched him deteriorate both mentally and physically. Pick’s is a degenerative disease of the brain, much like Alzheimer’s, in which brain function lessens and the body starts shutting down because the brain isn’t telling it what to do. I was only able to visit my uncle a few times while he was in the nursing home, and unfortunately he hardly knew who I was. I was told that near the end his throat had closed up so much that they could only feed him apricot nectar. My grandmother had lived a pretty full life with my grandfather, and she seemed to be doing ok although she had lost him back in 2001. They were like my second set of parents, and I’m still realizing how much I gained from them to this day. When my uncle got sick, my grandmother cried and said that she should not have to see her child die before her. Thankfully for her, that did not happen.

Living in JH also gave us a glimpse into the wonderful world of bedbugs. We got these unwelcome tenants (shhh! Don’t tell anyone we got them!) shortly before Molly got sick. After noticing the huge red bites on our arms and legs we alerted our landlord, who promptly questioned whether we were correct in our assessment. I assured her that we were, in fact, not joshing her by capturing one of these critters and showing it to her in person. They quickly got an exterminator, and we got to work washing everything with fabric on hot and sealing our personal belongings in oversized Ziploc bags and Rubbermaid bins (shameless plugs!). It was like we had gotten leprosy and we didn’t want to tell anyone else for fear of us being shunned. We hardly went out, and the few people that did know about it kept their distance (rightly so). We vacuumed the floors every day and lived like hermits for what seemed like an eternity. This happened almost 2 years ago and we are still waiting to open up certain bags, just to make sure that those things have died. Did you know they can live without food for a year and a half? Now you do. Sleep tight.

Lastly, but certainly not least, is the rewarding relationship we had with the neighbors that lived below us. They are an older Indian/Bangladeshi couple whose favorite pastimes are karaoke and being inconsiderate assholes. Turn the kids away from the screen if they are reading this, shit’s about to get real. Our neighbors, or the “Noisies” as I will refer to them, tended to have company over in the later hours of the evening during most of the week. I’m told by a co-worker (who is also Indian, so my information and assumptions are based on valid, second-info) that it is standard practice for Indian/Bangla people to have later dinners and, thus, later gatherings. So imagine our surprise when a karaoke party lasted from 8pm to 11 or 12 on a week night! Oh sure, we knocked and asked politely to have them turn it down, yes, we tried. The music did get turned down, but it somehow (through black magic, I assume) crept back up. And yes, we can’t only blame them. The building is post-war, which means the floors are thinner and less patriotic, so sounds do creep through much easier. What’s even better, is that they enjoyed watching (or sleeping with) the TV on late at night. So anywhere from 10 until sometimes 2 in the morning, we (correction, I, because my wife can tune it out most of the time) would hear the high and low warbling of their television. No amounts of pounding on the floor or ringing their doorbell would get them to turn it down, off or to put headphones on. We have dealt with this since day one of living there, and I for one am becoming a little koo-koo for cocoa puffs over this.

So, it is with mostly joy and a little sadness that I bid JH adieu. We’ve found a nice 2 bedroom in Bay Ridge that (so far, and with fingers crossed) seems to be pretty quiet. The people we’ve met so far have been nice, we have friends that live within a 15 minute walk, and we have access to the main shopping areas without being too close to the action. I have high hopes for this apartment and the area, and I hope they don’t disappoint. However that’s the problem with moving in the winter: the crazies aren’t out right now. Right now they’re quiet, hibernating and figuring out which karaoke songs to perform once they can open up their windows.

Resolute

Another year has come to a close, another begins. I'm doing my best to put the past one behind me and look forward to what the new one has to offer. My problem is, I can't let go of things that easily. Certain things stay put in my mind and get over analyzed and chewed like a piece of flavorless gum I should have spit out a really long time ago. Why did I act that way to my friend? Why didn't I think of doing 'x' sooner? Why did I keep watching 'The Event' like it was going to turn into a better show?

In thinking back over the past year, I came upon my list of resolutions from last New Year's Eve. I had big ambitions for myself and the year, or should I say I just wasn't satisfied with doing so little with myself, so this was a pretty big list. Needless to say, I did not do a great job of crossing off a lot of those things I wanted to do. Here are a few that didn't see the light of day:

- Learn to play slide guitar (I took lessons a while back and dabbled a bit with slide, however I think I picked the guitar up twice in 2010)

- Stretch daily (I got to the gym maybe once a week at the least, and that's the only time I really stretched. My hamstrings do not like me and show their distaste every time I try to lengthen them)

- Do at least one creative thing a week (Never even happened. Maybe I should have changed that to 'Go to therapy once a week,' then I would have aced it.)


Now on the bright side, there were some things I wanted to do that did actually get started. For example:

- Cook more (My lack of knowledge and ability in the kitchen leads to normal self defeat in this arena. However my wife and I have done our best to make a few dishes here and there and they turned out great. One of my goals was to eradicate mac & cheese from our weekly menu, which was accomplished.)

- Read more (I used to read a shit ton (that's in metric) of books and comics when I was a wee lad. I've since been wooed by TV, movies, the internet and video games and have not read much. It feels like my brain is turning to mush, I'm not retaining much info and I know a lot less than I should. So my hope is to remedy that by reading more books, newspapers and magazines. Let's hope I can gain insight into the world's political climate through current issues of 'Highlights' magazine.

- Research fatherhood (I'm the kind of guy who likes knowing what he's getting into before doing it. And this, well, this is a doozy. So I got a few books, read some blogs, talked to some fathers and in the end I can safely say that I'm still scared shitless but at ease with the idea of becoming a dad. Now we just have to fit it into our future plans.)


So now that the past is history, what does the future have in store for me? Here's my rough draft so far:

1) Continue doing the things I started last year (cooking, reading, etc.)

2) Meditate on a regular basis

3) Stretch daily (ambitious, I know)

4) Go to the gym at least twice a week and do Bikram yoga at least once a week

5) Turn off the TV and listen to more music in the house

6) Find a new apartment

7) Stay focused on the things I'm working on and try not to get distracted or sidetracked (I have too many things I want to do with my life, and that makes things more complicated and confusing. It also leads me into being a Jack-of-All-Trades, but a master of none.)

8) Get more organized

9) Try to keep in touch with my biological father (Long story...)

10) Write on a weekly basis (How much? We'll see.)


Glad to see I'm already on the right track. Let's try not to screw this up, ok?