A Capitalist Brew

Two weeks ago I ventured to Pennsylvania and New Jersey alone with both kids. Last summer I hauled Brooke and a big carseat on and off planes to make the same trip, so I did have some idea of the adventure on which I was embarking. The trip was difficult, but it was important for us to get there this summer. Really the only helpful people were other mothers who obviously felt sorry for me hauling a 2 year-old and 2 month-old through the airport. There are some simple tasks you take for granted that are nearly impossible when you are taking two kids by yourself on an airplane. The two hardest ones for me were getting through security and getting secured on the plane. To get through security you must remove the baby from the Baby Bjorn and send it through the x-ray machine. Fine. But then you must put the Baby Bjorn back on and get the baby secured in it…while holding the baby and trying to make sure the 2 year-old and your bags do not run off. And everyone in security and walking by just stares at you. I was almost in tears and we had not even gotten to the gate. Then have your flight be delayed for 2 hours and have to entertain the 2 year-old and 2 month-old as well as explaining to an anxious 2 year-old why you cannot get on the plane even though it is sitting right there. You get on the plane and then have to get your seatbelt on and buckled…with one hand while holding the baby in the other hand. Again, a task that does not seem too bad until you try to do it. And are getting bumped by other passengers trying to make their way down the aisle. Then you arrive at your destination late at night and have a long drive yet to make. And when you get there find that the 2 year-old has thrown up all over herself and her new carseat but was evidently too exhausted to even let you know. So, after all the stress you have already experienced that day, you now have to clean puke off the 2 year-old and wash her clothes and carseat. You finally get in bed with the 2 year-old and fall asleep only to be awakened an hour and a half later to feed the 2 month-old. Ack!

I will say that the rest of the trip was much improved. We had a great time visiting my parents, and my mother was a huge help with Luke. She watched him while Brooke napped so that I could finally make a good start on my summer research. We got to visit with my grandparents in NJ, go to Knoebel’s amusement park, enjoy the cooler weather, and enjoy the northern culinary treats such as Carvel birthday cake, Friendly’s, Dunkin Donuts, and Rita’s gelato. We had a really fun trip.

The trip home was a little easier because a nice ticketing agent gave my mother a pass to come down to the gate with me. So, I had some help getting through security. Brooke’s bag was searched by the security agents though. We were like “Brooke, what did you put in your bag?” Evidently a 2 year-old redhead in pigtails carrying a Buzz Lightyear backpack looks like a security threat these days. We think they may have taken her bag because of a matchbox car, but wouldn’t you think they see boys carrying those in their bags all the time? Or do boys not play with those anymore? Anyway, we boarded the plane a little late and then sat for an hour since Philly was down to just one runway for some unknown reason. We got back home very late, but everyone went straight to bed and slept until late the next morning. Even Luke slept through until around 6 am. A lot of ladies in the airport commented that I was brave for making the trip with the two kids. I thanked them and suggested that the word they were looking for was not brave but stupid, but we had to make this trip. I am just thankful that the kids really could not have behaved any better…and that I won’t be doing this with them again any time too soon.

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Yesterday was my 30th birthday. Thirty. It’s just a number, right? The problem is that it is a big number with a lot of emotion connected to it. And the world seems to be mocking me a little right now. The night before my birthday there was an episode of Sex and the City on that dealt with the differences between twenty-something and thirty-something women. Today I went to fill out a form and had to check the 30-39 age bracket for the first time. I am the member of a whole new bracket and a whole new group now. I would not really say that I am depressed about the birthday, but it is certainly a time of reflection for me. I have been thinking a lot about about where I thought I would be in my life versus where I am now. I have also been thinking about the past I am closing the door on and the future I have in front of me.

In some ways thirty is a tough year. When a woman turns thirty she has a whole new set of concerns. Suddenly we are forced into battle on a host of new fronts: gray hairs, wrinkles, slowing metabolism, cellulite, and gravity. We will need to build up an arsenal of strict diet, anti-aging products, skin firming lotions, hair color, and maybe the number of a good plastic surgeon. Those things are depressing! For now I will remain optimistic that my healthy lifestyle will carry me through gracefully. Besides, I don’t really think I look 30 at all. I see other women who are 30 and think I probably look a good 5 years younger than they do. Maybe I need my eyes checked again too?

As far as reflecting on where I would be and where I am, well, in some ways I have much more than I anticipated and in some ways I have much less. I did not think I would already be married with two kids. I didn’t think I would still be working towards financial stability, that I would have traveled so little, and that I would still be in college.

I did some stupid things in my early twenties that I reflect upon every once in a while, and I am happy to leave in the past. I also did a lot of outrageously wild and fun things with some great friends, and I am less eager to really close the door on that part of my past (How can it really be 10 years ago when it feels like last week?). Still, turning 30 means closing the door on the outrageous twenties where I enjoyed being in college for the first time, met the friends I will hold onto for the rest of my life, lived on my own, fell in love and got married, and completed my family with the birth of a gorgeous daughter and son. In my twenties I had the experiences that established the person I will be for the rest of my life.

Turning thirty is the beginning of a whole new era. At the end of 2006 I will essentially be done with all the college courses I will ever take (I have one more to take in the spring, but for all intensive purposes I can say I am done). My research will take center stage, and I will soon be done with my Ph.D. In my thirties I will no longer be called “Student” but will take on the new title of “Doctor” or “Professor”. I will finally begin my career. In my thirties I won’t be pregnant and can enjoy watching my babies grow into amazing children with their own personalities and strengths. In my thirties maybe I can finally run that marathon. In my thirties I will finally get out of credit card debt. In my thirties I will finally purchase my first home. In my thirties I will finally be able to travel again (since this is hard to do with the burdens of massive credit card debt and babies). In my thirties I can take the lessons I have learned in my twenties and become the mother, wife, and woman I have always hoped I would be.

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Happy Birthday, America! This is also the date I like to call and bug my mother about why she didn’t get induced to have me on the bicentennial. This year, however, I think I will refrain from the tradition since it means I get to keep my youth for a few more days.

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We recently received a magazine in the mail from Enfamil in which there was an article entitled Two is better than one. The author discusses how people always told her that two would be more than twice the work of one and how she never really understood until she was in the midst of it herself. She says that when you become the mother of two you suddenly wish you had more of a lot of things. I totally agree with her comments on needing:

1. More fun ideas. I try to think of fun activities and crafts to do each day, but I am not nearly as creative as I would like to be. I am really trying to work on this, but with a colicky newborn my ability to execute on anything more than a Disney movie is fairly limited.

2. More patience. Again, taking care of a colicky newborn tests my patience each and every day. God is really teaching me to dig deep inside for patience and strength, but I still snap at Brooke and get angry sometimes. And it is hard to be patient and calm when someone is screaming for a bottle, someone needs help using the potty, you have to pee and are dying of thirst and hunger, and you trip over the clutter of toys and clothes on the way to grab the bottle and run the other child to the bathroom.

3. A psychic coffeepot. I can usually manage to get the coffee brewed in the morning before one or both kids are awake. Drinking the coffee is another story. I pour a cup and then get torn doing 50 different things only to come back and find a cold cup of coffee I had to leave behind. I guess what I need is a psychic coffeepot and a cup that will keep my coffee warm for at least an hour. Maybe I need to start using a good travel mug? Maybe I just need an IV of coffee?

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So, here is a post about the happenings in my life this month:

1. I was stalked by the Alabama Department of Revenue. They called but never called back after I left a voicemail message. They came to my house. Finally, I get a return phone call and find out they are stalking me for not paying witholding tax…which I don’t need to pay since I don’t have any employees. Yes, I got the form telling me to pay witholding tax. No, I didn’t send it in because it did not apply to me. Still, it was stressful being stalking by the revenue service, and I am relieved that is cleared up.

2. Luke has colic. He screams for 1-3 hours a day at least 5 days a week. With a lot of work, we can keep him from erupting into a fit until around dinnertime. Once he gets started it is very hard to get him to calm down. I helplessly try everything I can think of hoping to stop the screaming for all of our sakes. The ped says he is healthy and that this is just a developmental thing he needs to outgrow in another 5-9 weeks. Lord, please give us the strength and patience to survive. It would be nice to have more than 15 minutes a day where we can actually enjoy this sweet little boy.

3. My ob pronounced me to have healed excellently, and I am back in the gym at least 3 days a week. It is insane how out of shape I am now, and I am starting from scratch. When I got pregnant I could pretty easily run for an hour. Now I am dying after 5 minutes. Right now I am doing 5 minutes running/5 minutes walking but hope to start picking it up soon. Thursday we went to Birmingham so I could get fitted for new running shoes. My current pair is a year old, and I felt like my feet may have grown during the pregnancy. Sure enough, I am now in need of shoes in the next size up. I guess that means I need to invest in a whole new shoe wardrobe. It’s a good thing I needed one anyway. I don’t think I have bought any good shoes other than sneakers in about 5-6 years.

4. I have barely had any time to work on my research. This is not good.

5. Alabama summers are too hot. We are really hoping I get a job someplace where we do not have to endure 5 months of days in the 90s. Of course, my getting a job is dependent upon point 4.

6. We are headed North in 2 weeks! Our luck is that there will be a heat wave.

7. I have a big birthday coming up in less than a week. No big plans. These days actually getting mascara on and leaving the house with one child is a big deal. Unfortunately, I don’t think I will be getting my dream gift of a manny or a trip to NYC to get my hair done by Nick Arrojo.

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