LET'S GO FOR A WALK

the other day my instagram app and i went for a nice walk through central park. 

this is what we saw:

brinkley!?!?!

on babble this week, huck

fell off the bed,

got mastitis,

rejected sleep training efforts whole-heartedly,

had his six month well visit with his (possibly) crazy pediatrician,

and got a brand new bedroom (in a closet).

poor kid!

(but his closet is rad!)

THIS IS A CASH ONLY LINE

i have been having a cosmically funky week. normally i would put on you've got mail (my bad day movie of choice), but even though i swear i only upgraded from vhs just last year, my dvd of you've got mail is already skipping in places. such a mystery! who is obsessively watching this movie too much?

rather than watch a busted copy of my feel-better movie, i decided to go outside and live my feel better movie--FEEL THE RAIN ON YOURRRR SKIN!

so! zabars!

"she has no cash? she has no cash."
"oh, get on another line lady."
"hello henry! happy holidays!"
ohhhh i could go on all day.

the walk home from zabars is just lovely, too.

discovering bedrooms

i have every reason to love my apartment.

i have lacy curtains on the windows, and a mary poppins view of rooftops and tree tops and water towers and clouds of steam and smoke just beyond. the brick buildings outside sing red and gold and brown and yellow.

i have tulips in planters along the sidewalk, and a canopy of blossomy trees overhead. central park lays yawning and sleepy just down the street.

my prewar ceilings stretch high, my bathroom is green. my floors are original hard wood. my front door is silver, and banged up in the most perfect kind of way. the bedroom is spacious, the neighbors are gracious, the maintenance guys call huck "king henry." they make clucking noises at him, they praise his glorious fatness in spanish. they don't mind my incessantly stupid canine lovers.

i'd very much like to somehow, in some way or another, feel permanent here. this place is so beautiful and sweet, and though i'm not sure i'm meant to make it work, i have decided i am going to try. try really really hard.

but.

the kitchen is not to be cooked in. there is nowhere to keep pots or pans, only one drawer for all of the things that have to go in drawers, and any cooking attempt requires temporary relocation of every kitchen item i own, plus a step stool, and also i am standing in the living room during all of this because the living room is the kitchen.

this certainly conflicts with my gwyneth-paltrow-type dreams of organic microgreens served on a rustic farm table, all those mismatched metal chairs, and my collection of wrinkly white linens.

i have no room for guests. no comfortable place to sit, no entryway for welcoming or goodbye hugs, absolutely nowhere for a second stroller or good spread of toys on play dates.

the hallways beyond the door echo with every footstep, every clanking key, every turning doorknob, every neighborly conversation, and every drunken belch at the elevator bank. the dogs bark and growl and pace anxiously.

but. as it turns out, our only closet happens to be just the right size for our tiny baby crib. so our one bedroom, 300-square-foot tiny palace in the sky is actually a two bedroom, 300-square-foot tiny palace in the sky.

oh the riches of a two bedroom apartment in manhattan! how lucky can a girl get?

we are staying put.

(until we can afford a real two bedroom.)

don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?

My allergies are killing it today.

Congestion, non-stop sneezing, occasional moments where I wish I were dead, the whole thing. 

The bad news is: I'm nursing and can't take anything.

The good news is: my voice is in the perfect condition for me to recite the scene from You've Got Mail where Tom Hanks brings Meg Ryan the daisies and makes her some tea (honey?) and she stuffs all the tissues in her trench coat pockets.  

(I hope I feel better soon . . . it'd be a shame to miss New York in the Spring.)

on the day i reached adulthood.

SHIFT #1 (8AM)
Awake with terrible allergies.
Kiss husband off to study.
Suckle first born son (I just really wanted to use that word "suckle").
Put on make up and curl my hair while Huck jumps in the jumpy chair.
Become entirely disgusted with state of affairs in the bathroom and scrub the whole dang thing top to bottom while singing "Twinkle Twinkle" and the Hot Dog song at increasingly loud volumes to satisfy an increasingly grouchy baby.
Think up a wild excuse to run errands.
Decide to toss out the old moldy shower curtain in order to "need" a new one.
Out the door, neighbor in hall says "Good morning!" Think, is she on crack? Look at watch, it is only 9. Think, am I on crack?

OUTING #1 (9AM)
Walk to Bed Bath & BEYOOOOOOOND!
Laugh to myself at how the Bed Bath & Beyond doormen are wearing top hats, like I always do.
Find shower curtain, become distracted by my allergies, wander to air purifiers.
Become alarmed when Huck starts hooting at me and I have no toys on hand. Start narrating my every move and thought with grandiose gestures and facial expressions to entertain the owlchild.
Laundry detergent? Don't mind if I do!
Pay for purchases. Decide the Duane Reade has been missing me.
Visit the Duane Reade.
Buy Diet Cokes (on sale!).

NAP #1 (11:00)
Huck naps furiously in his stroller, I realize there is plenty of room in my (not walk-in) closet for Huck's (very mini) crib. His own bedroom!
Impulsively pull all of our clothes out of the closet.
Sweep, dust, wet mop, crib in place, more sweeping, more dusting, more wet mopping, hilarious amounts of clothes rearranging.
Sudden, grand vision of what I should do with new open spaces! Decide to completely redecorate apartment. Scour Ikea/Craigslist and text Brandon the new plans with wild abandon.
Huck wakes up.

SHIFT #2 (NOON)
Play with some fat baby.
Sing lots of Disney songs while I sweep the living room and do the dishes.
Nurse to almost-passed-out status.

NAP #2 (2PM)
Initiate Sleep Training torture per Pediatrician's orders, feel like killing myself. Contemplate getting new pediatrician instead.
Huck finally sleeps. Clean out the fridge. BUT YES I DID.

SHIFT #3 (4PM)
Get a wild hare and walk to H&M at Rockefeller to find warm-weather jams for Huck. No dice, the kid's department is on 34th Street.
While I'm out, decide to walk to Forever 21 in Times Square. Try on rather unfortunate white jeans, nurse and change Huck's diaper in the dressing room. Lose one of his socks. Decide life will go on. BUY NOTHING. This is worth noting.
Stupidly walk to 34th Street H&M. Find warm-weather jams, ridiculous crowds, and an incurable hatred for fellow man.
Take the subway home
Subway lulls Huck to sleep.

NAP #3
lasts only 15 minutes.

SHIFT #4
Discover Huck's lost sock when I change his diaper. The sock was in the diaper. Miraculously it has survived and is unscathed by back end deals.
Feed and walk dogs with Huck in the Ergo. Apologize to Puggle owner even though it was obviously her Puggle's fault.
Bedtime.

Initiate Sleep Training Sequence Attempt Two. Goes slightly better this time.
Settle in bed with Bossypants, a 2 Liter of Caffeine Free Diet Pepsi, and attempt to drown my allergies in kettle corn.

Await return of the husband who will undoubtedly be too tired to tickle my back, but who will be super excited to see that I found a shower curtain liner with metal rivets. High five!

Here are this week's Babble posts.

I am really thinking of getting a new pediatrician (she wants me to stop swaddling now too) 

Mothers Day, my old nemesis

Could this be an earache? (Spoiler: teething)

Bath time essentials

Day seven of my nursing experiment, with lots of beautiful reader-submitted nursing photos.