So Far

Williamsburg, 2016

So I obviously haven't had much time to check in on what it's like to have three kids, three-and-under.

It's an amazing feeling and yet so intense and humbling and wild. If we were winging it before, now it feels like we need to be strategic and thoughtful about every little moment in the day. Who needs what at this exact minute? And that in itself is exhausting.

When people ask, I say this has been the easiest newborn stage yet. But that comes with a big caveat, in that it's easiest because the older two need so much that Bo's demands seem pretty simple and deliverable in comparison.

New babies need a lot of caregiving, but they don't throw tantrums or Cheerios or sob because they 'don't like Mommy and Daddy.' You don't have to worry about screen time, or practicing letters, or not practicing letters, or whether they are a nice person. Much of a new baby's development takes care of itself (oh look, my hand!), whereas the big guys need a lot of guiding and coaxing and wrangling, plus constant adjustments as new challenges come down the pike.

I think my brain is tired from trying to grapple with it all, which means that at eight weeks into Bo's life, I feel like I'm still not myself.

There's a lot going on and I can't quite see an on ramp back to life as it used to be, where I could finish a sentence or read a New Yorker article from start to finish in less than three months (oh yeah, because life as it used to be has been totally obliterated.)

In a good way, of course. The highs are pretty high too.

Winter

Williamsburg, 2013

I know it's technically still fall, but when the temperature is 38 degrees out, I call it winter.

I'll admit I have nerves about a winter pregnancy, because I tend to struggle a bit with the shorter, darker days and with feeling cooped up at home. I love the run up to the holidays, and all of the cooking and planning that that entails, but on a day to day basis, all the layers and logistics of going outside make me rather grumpy.

My spring and summer pregnancy with Axel was pretty great. We had a really mild winter that year, and I took little jaunts to Nevis and to the Virgin Islands, and then spent much of the summer in sundresses and flip flops, eating watermelon slices. There were a few unbearably hot days here and there, but I was generally blissed out from all of the Vitamin D and didn't really mind.

Alas, today I finally put all of my summer-ish clothes into a box under the bed, and it was a funny experience. I am not much of a clothes horse, but even so, a lot of our identity is wrapped up in why we wear what we wear. And it made me laugh to see that all of my warm weather clothes are suited more to traipsing around Vietnam or Morocco or India (in fact, a lot of them were purchased there) than they are to life in Brooklyn.

Of course, a few years ago, I was doing a ton of traipsing, for professional reasons and for the plain old adventure. But looking at all the floaty skirts and beaded tops (many of them, sadly, a little worse for wear) made me realize that that it feels like that phase of my life is indefinitely on hold. It's not that we aren't going to travel; it's just not going to be the freewheeling kind of stuff it once was, at least for a while.

When you are in the thick of the baby years, clothes get complicated. It was funny to see this shopworn pile of colorful things from what feels like a past life. In becoming a parent, so many of us are determined not to lose our identities. But those identities change. I could toss everything out, beginning again after this baby. But even the notion of that simple act sets my mind spinning...'Well, I should really wait until I am done with pregnancies and those early, messy baby years to really make any big changes...' I'm not quite ready to get rid of the improbable, impractical skirt.

It's no secret that Will and I would like a tribe, if nature agrees with our plans. We are set on three children, but in casual conversation with friends Will will slip in 'or four'...and hahahahahahaha. We'll see. So the idea of this post-infant phase, when my body is again my own and I am not likely to have banana wiped on my pants and will once again wander through markets in India? It's seeming like it's a long way away.

 I know, I know, one thing at a time. It's just that I am a planner. And so a simple errand goes from zero to 'How the hell are we going to raise four kids in the city' in about 30 seconds.