Cutting the Monitor Cord

Before I became a mother, I always assumed that I would experience the proverbial cutting of the umbilical cord once my kid hit puberty. You know, when I was no longer cool enough to be seen in public with, when my son was becoming his own man, asserting his independence. I am mentally preparing myself for the kind of mother I will develop into and hope that my love for him will be reciprocated -- probably via a silent code of acknowledgment; a smile, a look, an occasional hug. Sure, I'll wait up until he comes home from a party, but pretend I wasn't waiting up for him -- Oh, I'm just watching TV. Did you have fun? And then he'll proceed to tell me how his life is going. The life I'm no longer the center of, but only an observer with front row seats (I know people. I'm connected like that).


But, when my video monitor broke a couple of days ago, I felt a pang in my chest. No, I'm not ready for this yet! Of course, it's not like the separation I'm going to adjust to in a few years, but I didn't expect to feel such panic over losing my connection to him while he's drifting into peaceful slumber. I don't know how parents did it before video monitors. I love being able to watch him sleep, surrounded by his stuffed animals, completely oblivious to the world. His arms spread out, moving from position to position in his comfy crib. The video monitor isn't so much voyeuristic as it is my umbilical cord to him when he's in his own world of dreams. I miss him when I can't hear the little patters of his feet running around the house. (Walking is not an option. He must RUN everywhere.) I'm not alone in my dependence on this device, my husband loves it too; it's his only chance to "see" him when he comes home at night. Then it serves yet another purpose in the mornings: watching K talk to his bed buddies -- Big Blue Dog, Happy Dog, Mini Dog and Mr. Bear. He babbles to them, maybe telling them about the dreams he had or just checking how they slept.

I went to see an exhibit of Leon Levinstein's New York photographs at the Met the other day. Each portrait more intimate than the next. But one just grabbed me and didn't let me go. It was a picture of a mother cuddling with her baby on a beach. The way she's embracing him with her long elegant arms, with undeniable love. While her baby is nuzzled up into the crook of her neck. They are both laying there, between wakefulness and sleep. That perfect state of bliss. Well, that's how I see me and K. I want us to stay like that forever, but I know we can't. He's growing up so fast and now that I don't have a video monitor, I can't watch him sleep. I'm not ready to let go yet.

When/what was your moment of realization that your baby isn't going to remain in your arms forever?

Last Taste of Summer

I love summertime. And this summer was a truly special one. We spent an amazing 5 weeks in the Mediterranean with my family. K swam every day and was spoiled rotten by his grandparents. It was also the first time that I'd left him to spent 5 days alone with DH. Before I left, I never thought I would ever be able to leave K behind, but after the first day in the south of France -- living a second honeymoon -- I've decided that we should do this every summer! I think it's also good for K to know that sometimes mommy & daddy have other things going on and that he has to make his way.

My favorite shot of K. from this summer

There is a snack that K. loved having while we were with my parents. We ended up bringing back two large boxes with us to the states. It so happens that today is the last on those bars It is filled with pistachios and dried fruits -- all of which remind me of my country. I'll miss seeing K's face as be slowly munches through the whole bar. Savoring it with constant "Hmmm...Yummmms." It's a taste of summer that we'll have to recreate in the colder months (I think my parents have another box on the way for us).

"The Gift of Magi" by O. Henry

I also was reminded how lucky I am to be married to the most amazing guy on the planet (ok, at least on my planet and that's what counts!). For over 6 months, we've been exploring the possibility of moving to another state for what could be an tremendous career opportunity (and LOTS of money) for DH. From the start I wasn't thrilled about the idea of moving but I wanted DH to pursue it for the experience and possibly a way to leverage the offer at his current job. For 6 months we went back and forth (this must have been the longest interview ever). I really put my best foot forward and did everything I could do be supportive. I know he wanted this and I wanted it for him. Eventually, I broke down and told DH I couldn't move; that being out there, isolated, in a city that doesn't speak to me would make me miserable and eventually lead me to resent him. In the end, we chose our marriage (each other) over money. Our story was like this wonderful short-story by O. Henry, "The Gift of Magi." If you've never read it, please do.

Perhaps out of fear that we might be leave New York behind, we were pro-active and made the most of what our area has to offer. We had a spectacular day at the Storm Kind Art Center, which is now by far my favorite art center. K ran free, weaving through the giant sculptures. He and I went to the Children's Museum, which he really enjoyed (albeit exhausted me in the process). We went countless times to the Museum of Natural History -- it's always a joy to see him go "Woowww!" at all the life-like animals.

On a sad note, a friendship that I cherished, unravelled. For over 6 months I had noticed that things weren't the same but was willing to accept the lame excuses she was giving me. But as her silence grew longer and more pronounced, I eventually confronted her. From the conversation I discovered that the person I thought I knew and loved had only been an external layer, and that peeling things down to her core, she was actually a very insecure person. Distorting reality and facts; seeing things through a lens that can't be rationed with. Despite it all, I still miss her terribly and am saddened by the loss. But I guess people come in (and eventually go) for a reason. But summer is ending with new friendships that I've made with women who seem to have a stronger head on their shoulder. New season, new friendships. Hoping these will not disappoint me.

Tomorrow is the first day of fall, and I wanted to make the most of this Indian summer we're having this week to do something new with K. I'd never been to The Cloisters. We had this incredibly lovely morning there. The religious art was truly beautiful (that's where it stops for me). But the most stunning was the peacefulness of the courtyards. Surrounded by the gorgeous views of the Hudson, I watched K. sniff the flowers and lean over the fountains. I know he won't remember any of our cultural outings together, but I will never forget them. He is growing up so fast (he goes down the slide all by himself now) but thankfully I have pictures that I will forever cherish.

A last taste of summer, that can be lived again and again thanks to little bits of life -- a snack bar, pictures, books. Oh, I am so going to need those come winter.