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Saturday, July 29, 2006

Friends Who Get Away

A week ago I met a woman at the playground. We got to talking and I found out that she is a writer who wrote a very interesting book. It's a totally universal topic about friendships lost. We all have our own stories of the friend that got away, the person we stopped speaking to for some reason or another or the one that we had a huge fight with that ended years of comradeship.

Friend #1 - Toni was the coolest girl I knew. She was beautiful, stylish, graceful and lived life to the fullest. I met her in Philly and when I moved to New York I ran into her at the old Ritz one night. She was the person who introduced me to Indian food, Sunday nights at the Pyramid Club and the best thrift shops in New York (and Philly). We drifted apart, came back together and then drifted apart again. Through her I met my dear friend Gisela -- who I still am very much in touch with, in fact, she is my best friend. Anyway, I thought of Toni today in of all places, the D'Agastino on 7th Avenue because "Golden Lady" was playing. That is such a Toni song and I got extremely nostalgic for her.

Friend #2 - Joyce was my best friend since 5th grade. We did everything together from roller skating to going to the mall (where she'd push me into cute boys and yell "She likes you" at them) to having her over for Seder and going to church with her on Easter. We were tight but then college came and we morphed into different people. I moved to New York and came back to visit with red hair, thrift shop clothes and a penchant for walking everywhere. Joyce was tan, dressed in Casual Corner threads and loved to drive her Duster, even to the corner store. Still, we remained friends, albeit ones that didn't see each other that often. When my father was diagnosed with brain cancer I wrote Joyce a tearful letter (I'm better on paper sometimes) and she didn't answer me for over 3 months. When I finally got a phone call from her it was a week before her wedding (what wedding?) asking if I was coming. When I replied that I never got the invite, she snapped at me that it must be my fault; that my mailbox was faulty in some way. Then I snapped back at her for not calling me to see how my father was doing. The F word surfaced (from me to her) and that was that. When my father died a few months later, we received a card from her, addressed only to my mother. I was angry and sad. Years went by and she called to leave me a birthday message for my 30th. I didn't return it.

Friend #3 - Megan is a great artist, a good listener, and a very dear person who didn't show up to my wedding party because she misread the time on the invite. This happens all the time, I think, and the person who misses the party always feel worse than the one having the party. Megan thought our wedding brunch started at 4PM, instead of what it said on the invite (12PM) and thus, missed the party. She wrote me a lovely email apology and I assured her that we'd have many more parties in the future. I wanted to let her know that I understood. But the thing is, I never heard from Megan after that. At all. Like, ever. I sent her emails asking if everything was ok, but I think to this day she still feels badly about missing our wedding party. That, or maybe I smell?

Friend # 4 - Alicia was someone that I thought I'd be friends with forever. She was beautiful, smart, wise cracking and had incredible taste. Take Alicia shopping with you and she will zero in the one piece of clothing that you have to have. I still to this day have no idea what happened between us but I think it has to do with me getting married and turning into another person -- in her eyes. We had been drifting apart for well over a year before my wedding, but soon afterwards we completely disintegrated. What she doesn't know is that I stopped emailing her because I was suddenly pregnant and then suddenly miscarried. I was so distraught that I couldn't reach out to anyone, I was waiting and hoping for people to reach out to me. She didn't. I wrote her several times and told her that I missed the friendship, but like yesterday's bread, she wasn't having any of it. What can you do? You can't make someone be your friend. We've all been on both sides of that one and both sides suck.

Those are the 4 biggies. I suppose there are more but these are the women I think about often. I wish them all well and wonder when I will run into them -- life is funny that way and living in New York, well, it can be an awfully small place sometimes.

Then I realize that I probably never will see them again. Life is funny that way too.

Friday, July 28, 2006

Ode to Corey

It took me a long time to accept help after I had Mamie. I needed it -- badly -- but since Doug and I come from relatively small families, with mothers who live far away, we had gotten used to being on our own with the baby from day one. Sure, we hired a post-partum doula for a few afternoons a week for the first couple of weeks and then got a friends' au pair (hi Monica!) to help out for 6 hours a week, but mostly we were doing it for ourselves. I look back at these months as the stupid time. Folks, if you don't have family to help you out with your new baby, buy help. For reals. Tell your friends to forego the schmancy baby outfits and to chip in for the night nurse.

Anyway, when Mamie was 4 months old we hired a somewhat regular sitter. Annie came for 3-4 days a week for about 4 hours a pop. She took Mamie out for long walks to Bed Sty and Brooklyn Heights and sang to her while she fed her. I think she took Mamie out so much because I hovered so much. Yes, I am a hoverer. Which is crazy because the whole point of having a sitter is to have time to yourself. But me, I missed Mamie if I didn't see her for 2 hours. Which led to the hovering. Two months into the job, Annie got a better offer with health insurance and everything and that was the end of sitters.

See, I decided that I could handle things and that I didn't want a sitter. Of any kind. For even a few hours a week. I was clearly out of my mind. Three months of this, and Doug was writing an ad for a mother's helper/writer's assistant. He posted it on the NYU job board and we got about 5 responses. We liked two girls but when we offered them the job, one decided that she didn't want to work in Brooklyn and the other decided that her hours weren't all that flexible. We had one other person to see, a guy named Corey who perused the job board from his home in Michigan.

A boy sitter? Some may think that's strange or odd or dangerous, but this is Mamie that we're talking about -- the girl loves men. When Corey got to town he came over and Mamie fell a little bit in love with him right away. We got a really good vibe from him too. Although I don't remember saying this, Corey told me today that when he came in wearing New Balances, I looked at him and said "We're New Balance people too." Then again, I kinda do remember saying that. You're hired!

I continued to hover, but Corey let me. I knew he was capable, he knew he was capable, but he also knew that I had a wee bit o' trouble letting go. So we took it slow and he let me hover. Slowly, I backed away. Slllllllllllowly. Ask him. It took a long time. Ok, I still hover a little.

When Corey started Mamie couldn't even crawl. She was 8 months old. He saw her through teething, crawling, walking, talking and the big daily question from me: "What kind of poop did she do today?" Corey was the one there when I had to be taken to the hospital for anemia -- he was the one who came over at 1 in the morning to sit with Mamie and dropped everything the following week to help take care of her when I was confined to bed. Corey was there the night I couldn't get Mamie to sleep, when I came down the stairs crying to him that I was never going to leave the house. "Dude, " he said, "The minute you left her room, she fell asleep. Now, go out!" Corey was the one I used to watch rock Mamie to sleep on his shoulder. He was so sweet with her that I wanted to be able to let go so Mamie could experience this wonderful individual on her own.

So of course here we are almost a year later. I trust Corey implicitly, Mamie loves him and ... he is graduating from college next week. Which means he gets to start a whole new life in Chicago. Tears are welling up in my eyes as I write this... Man, isn't this crazy the way people come into your life, you have this amazing bond with them, and then whoosh, they move on? This is life, I know that, but, dang.

I don't say it's over, because it's not. Corey is part of our family now and that will never change. But jeez, life is funny, isn't it? We will miss him so much although I doubt he will miss me asking "did you do that?" after Mamie farted. I'll miss being able to say that to her sitter.

You will be mised for sure, Corey but know that you have a home in Brooklyn always. And that you are loved.

Monday, July 24, 2006

Three Day Weekend

Doug went away for three days last week to attend ComicCon in San Diego to promote his comic. When he booked this trip months ago, I had no problem with it. After all, it seemed months away; maybe Mamie would be going to the movies by herself then. But as it approached I thought about all those hours alone with the baby.

So, how much Elmo can you watch anyway?

I shouldn't have worried though because it turned out to actually be fun having her all to myself. We played pretend games, dressed up in headwraps (she likes a kerchief, this one) and spent a lot of time just giggling with each other. I know she missed Doug, but she also got the notion that he was coming back to her. It was kinda fun to see her process the time. I think the long weekend (3 days, 3 nights) went so well because I have become so relaxed with her. The early days of motherhood used to send me in a panic when I was alone with the baby. Suddenly being in charge of a PERSON usually to freak the fuck out of me. Oh no, what if she acts like a person, and you know, wants things?! But as time went on, and as we grew more and more comfortable with each other, it started getting a lot easier. And a lot more fun.

On Saturday we went to the playground and we both had a great time. I struck up a conversation with a cool lady (Jenny) and even exchanged phone numbers so we can have a date -- with our babies and perhaps a beverage? A lot of people think they have to be friends with moms who have they have nothing in common with except for having a baby in the same age range. I've found that the mom friends I've made are all women that I would have become friends with even if I didn't have a kid (Hi Megan! Hi Dara! Hi Joanne! Hi Carol!). These are all cool women. We just happened to meet at the playground instead of a cocktail party.

Sure, I've met some real doozies too, but I don't let it get to me. I am still laughing at the woman I met in the park a few months ago who was trying to toilet train her 14 month old. Sure. Go ahead. We'll be on the swings over here.

Friday, July 21, 2006

So Long, Neighbor

One of the first things I remember when we moved to our apartment was meeting our next door neighbor, Glenna. She was a lady in her early 70s, with bright red hair courtesy of Clairol and was usually attired in leopard skin or black ensembles. Her voice was booming and she liked to tell us that she was a chorus girl on Broadway once. She was a character, all right. She'd complain vehemently to us and to the management company when we were renovating our apartment. "It's too noisy, I have to sleep," she'd wine at 11AM. Glenna was a night owl.

She was also a hoarder. Her small studio apartment was packed to the gills with stuff that she'd picked out of the trash. I only got as far as the front door, it was simply impossible to edge in after that. I saw that she contact papered her entry way in that gold/green velvety stuff. I always wondered what else she had in there. From time to time there would be a cheery note slipped under our door. It'd start out nice, then ramble on to her afflictions. I recall an entire letter dedicated to her fibromyalgia and how my singing to the baby seemed to make it worse (the walls were thin.) Glenna walked the fine line of being an interesting character and a mean old lady. Both were entertaining as hell.

When we had Mamie's baby naming, we decided to invite Glenna. After all, she had only recently hung a meatloaf on our doorknob as a peace offering (I promptly threw it out). She basked in our living room, and dined on Russ & Daughter's salmon while bragging she was the only one in the building invited. I picture her now in that seat, feeling happy and surrounded by people.

Glenna could be found sitting in the lobby in her nightgown, talking about life's woes. She delighted in Mamie, declaring her chunky chunks to be "dancer's legs" and I knew she looked forward to seeing Mamie grow up.

Last week Glenna died.

She was buried on Monday, a small burial in Queens. There was practically no family. Part of me is so sad about this, about the way she died. But I have to remember that she lived, really lived too. I used to see her joking with the young guys at the Key Food checkout, her jaunty cap poised on her perfectly coiffed head of long hair. Yes, she could be downright nasty at times and her diatribes would send me into a tizzy if I listened for too long, but I can't think of those things now. She was a person. She was our neighbor.

R.I.P. Glenna.