No. Sleep. ‘Til Brooklyn.

Stay tuned, friends.

Next post is coming your way shortly from a new apartment in Brooklyn. . . .

Come Together Right Now . . . Over Me

An incredible thing I’ve already noticed about having a child is its simple and unmatched ability to bring a family together.  Super cliché, I know.  But kind of true.

The third trimester and I are not getting along very well, and I’ve felt considerably less than 100% for the past few days.  This morning I called my mom to ask about some coupons I thought she might have.  This evening she called back to check on me, saying I didn’t sound well this morning, and wanting to know if anything could be done to make it better.  This is typical Mom behavior, and something I appreciate—that she can tell when something’s not right without my having to say anything.

But tonight I realized that this particular conversation happened in many ways because of our baby; we need coupons to buy another rug for our new two-bedroom apartment, and I feel gross because the baby is growing big time this week.  Now my parents are always generous with their time and energy with us, and do whatever they can to help us out.  But with this baby in mind, really everyone in our lives has been even more willing to be a part of this special and challenging time.

John and I have always been close to our families.  When we were engaged, people would ask me if I got along with John’s parents, and if he got along with mine.  If only they knew!  His parents were calling me daughter, minus in-law, much before the big day, and my parents were celebrating John’s birthday with gusto years before as well.

This past weekend I was home for a baby shower, turned barbecue and was again in awe of the love pouring out of our family and friends, who were filled with excitement for us, for this baby, for a new member of our family.  I’m always happiest about our Peanut when I’m in New Jersey, and this weekend was no exception.  I learned there is nothing in the world like seeing a smile on my brother’s face as he reaches out to touch my belly.

“Weird,” I asked him, “right?”

He nodded, “Yeah.  Weird.”  But perfect.

At the same time that I am humbled by the love I feel when I’m with my family these days, I realize it’s kind of a shame that we probably wouldn’t be spending as much time together if it weren’t for this baby.  Sure, we see our immediate families often enough (thanks, NJTransit!) and we manage to see most of the extended family—both sides—at holidays, but there’s a tangible expectation and a new joy that hangs in the air when we get together now.  Sounds cliché, I know.  But maybe you have to be in it to see how true it can be, like a cheesy chick flick.  Seems silly on screen, maybe, but when you’re living out a truly romantic moment in real life, nothing seems more natural.

And so tonight I am simply grateful—for my family, for my friends, for the little ambassador Peanut that we are all so anxious to meet. . . . even if it does seem to think my bladder is a trampoline at the moment.

Life Lessons

Like just about any parent, there are certain values I believe I absolutely must teach my children: kindness, charity, responsibility, compassion, and love, among others. While I realize most of these I still need to learn a lot about myself, I also understand that these lessons often take a lifetime to fully appreciate.

With that in mind, I hope that if I continue to grow in these virtues, I’ll be able to teach my children that they are what we need to strive for. We are all works-in-progress; even though none of us is perfect, there are certain things we try our best to live out. A heartfelt effort is the best we can ask for, and it will often lead to greater results than we’d ever imagined ourselves capable of.

As crucial as these lessons are, there are a couple of other, less momentous things I also consider vital to a good and happy life. A number of these things my mother taught me, and I consider it my duty to pass onto my children (especially any daughters I may have).

These include a) As a matter of fact and not opinion, Dirty Dancing is an excellent movie. The combination of Patrick Swayze, dancing, and that blasted watermelon is a recipe for cinematic perfection; and b) French fries can and should be dipped in milkshakes when the opportunity presents itself.

At thirty-two weeks, I’m continuing to count up the weeks of my pregnancy, but realizing the moment is imminent in which I’ll start counting down to my due date. As that time approaches, I’m more aware of what I have a responsibility to teach our little Peanut.

First and foremost, this child may be born in New York, but its roots are Jersey through and through. This leads to sub-articles a and b, which are that 1a) Taylor ham is the eighth wonder of the world; and 1b) Bon Jovi songs should always, always be accompanied by a succession of fist pumps.

Secondly, the “bagels” at Dunkin Donuts (as much as I love that place) are not really bagels at all—they are round pieces of a bread-like substance, searching for an identity. Real bagels rarely have true holes through them, and are sold at specialty delis that are only open between the hours of six a.m. and three p.m., or something of a similar window.

Thirdly, the Bee Gees did not produce what is considered “good” or “quality” music. “Stayin’ Alive” might be fun every now and then, but I hope our little one will not be fooled, no matter what its father tells it. I trust a few bars of “Good Lovin’” or anything else by the Rascals should sort this one out, should there be any question, ever.

All right, I know you’re out there, readers—or at least folks who accidentally click on my blog a couple of times a week. So here’s your chance to make yourself known: if you could teach one somewhat inconsequential pearl of wisdom to a child in your life (be it son or daughter, niece or nephew, godson or goddaughter), what would it be?