Ok. I know it seems like I didn’t try very hard with the reading. But for some reason “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest” (which was AWESOME) took me forever. I think it’s because I insisted on trying - in my mind - to pronounce all those Swedish locations, and that added time to the project.
And “For Whom the Bell Tolls…” Well. I know that’s a great work of literature that, somehow, in my years of fervent reading of the classics just for fun during high school, and my study of literature during college, I missed out on. So I started reading it. And, you guys, it made me feel sad. I know you can’t simply say that about Hemingway: “It made me sad,” and then put it down. So I’m continuing on, because I know how wonderful it is and how happy I will be when I finish it. Which might be about a year from now because I think I’m going to read it during the day when I can, a few pages at a time, and retreat back to my murder mysteries at night. Come on, you know I deserve it.
But as for the list as a whole, honestly, it made my life better. I know that sounds crazy - that a list that included “have a Frappuccino” made my life better - but it really did. Little things, like the fact that instead of watching TV I’d opt to take the dog for a walk down by the seawall, where I’d have a few moments of peace. Or that I’d take Nora down there instead of staying inside and doing the dishes, and it wouldn’t be peaceful, but it would be really fun.
I ran the New Haven Road Race over Labor Day weekend, and it was so much better being a participant than an observer, as I have been in the past when J runs these things. Plus, it was the first competitive race I’d run since high school cross country, and it was a hell of a lot less stressful. The smell of freshly cut grass on an autumn morning still makes my muscles clench up in nervous anticipation - that’s how strong those memories of cross country are for me - but this was simply a good time. I took it easy and ran alongside the thousands who were taking it pretty easy, too. I listened to the live bands play and waved to people cheering from the sidelines.
The list was good for inflating my ego, as well, but in a purely constructive way. I was very proud of myself when I impulsively latched on to the long trail of people who’d just started on the Yale walking tour one day when I just happened to be passing by. I realized happily when cutting up the first tomatoes we’d picked from our garden for tacos one night that - sweet! - I could cross off another goal.
I got all worked up about the fact that I hadn’t published any column-like essays at the end of the summer, so when my brother suggested I write something for The Huffington Post, I worked harder and faster than I would have otherwise, with a piece on the challenges of being a stay-at-home mother the result.
And although I didn’t do it all (I seriously can’t believe we didn’t go to Lenny’s), I’m excited to keep working on the list this fall. I can’t wait to try baking my own bread, especially because I hate baking and I need to get over my fears. And also because, I mean, anything to avoid reading “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” Ha! Kidding! I know I’m gonna love it! I should read some right now! Or, well, “SVU” might be on or something…so I don’t know if I’ve exactly got the time…
It was the summer of 2010.
go to Maine
have a Frappuccino
walk by the water almost every day
drink (most of) our wine
read “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest”
reread “Wuthering Heights”
make mint iced tea with my mint plant
run a road race
grow and eat our own tomatoes
see the coffee exhibit at the Peabody
publish another first person essay
eat at Lenny’s (again)
go to Poland
see some fireworks
take Nora to the beach
take a walking tour of Yale
read “For Whom the Bell Tolls”
show my parents how to video chat
publish another first person essay
buy some new bookcases
read a non-fiction book
read another non-fiction book
take a class, any class
organize the basement
go to Scranton
bake my own bread
steam my own mussels
see a live concert
have a picnic in Prospect Park
have coffee on the patio
Nora’s really amped it up in the past few weeks. Amped what up? Well, the screaming for one thing. The contrariness. I know this is par for the course as far as her age is concerned, but seriously, after about a week of the thousand decibel cries of despair I pretty much knew that I was simply going to lose my mind. That this was it. This was as far as I could go in the realm of stay-at-home parenting and I Was. Going. To. Lose. It.
But I bucked up and did something I barely ever do, and that’s break out the parenting books we received when Nora was born. I mostly trust instinct and advice from friends and family, but I knew I had to bring out the big guns as far as this terrible twos behavior was concerned, and I’m so glad I did. After calmly reading a couple chapters on “challenging behaviors” (”challenging” my ass, I can think of some stronger words) I was reminded of really simple, age-old coping methods.
For instance, instead of throwing myself on the sofa near tears when Nora is yelling - at the top of her lungs - “Milk Mommy, I WANT MILK MOMMY I WANT MILK I WANT IT” - you can try a response like, “I can’t hear you when you whine. Why don’t you use your nice voice?” So easy! So obvious! And so totally helpful! I mean, I realize Nora’s going to be a bit of a tyrant for a little while, but as soon as I started using these methods I felt instantly more in control and happier. I remembered I was the parent who can say no and set boundaries. I remembered that distraction is an incredibly powerful tool.
Of course, sometimes the solution to a problem presents another. The other morning Nora was hanging out in bed with me reading when she, for no apparent reason, slammed the book shut and went into a mini rage. I patiently waited a beat before saying, “Nora, what’s wrong? Can you use your words to tell me what you want?”
And she instantly snapped out of it, sat up straight and said, so politely and clear as day, “I want cake.”
Our trip this summer shall forever be known as the Po-and trip, as Nora named our destination, despite the fact that we also spent a few days visiting Prague in the Czech Republic. It will also be known as The Trip Where I Saw People Drink More Vodka Than I Thought Humanly Possible.
Of course I don’t want to discount the castles and cathedrals and culture and everything else, but dudes, the vodka. Max and Kasia’s wedding was the primary reason for our trip and the first major event on our itinerary. Well, I mean, following the plane ride to Prague, which - with an almost two-year-old - is a major event.
Nora was good on the flight over. OH except for the fact that she didn’t sleep at ALL. What? What’s that? Your daughter didn’t sleep AT ALL on the overnight flight from New York to Prague? At all? Guys, not at all, and you’d better believe I was hating myself for not figuring out the whole Benadryl dosage thing a day before we left, instead of throwing my hands in the air and saying, “You know what? We don’t even need this. Nora’s a good sleeper.”
The fact that Nora was super pumped to be on the airplane was the first problem, combined with the fact that it wasn’t exactly an overnight flight in the truest sense. We left around 5 p.m. our time and arrived at around 7 a.m. their time, which is really 1 a.m. back home. So she didn’t get that she was essentially skipping an entire night of rest. Instead it was like she was staying up super late with all these fun people and noises and movies playing on all these screens. She wasn’t bad, per se, although she had a few moments. The real problem was that because it’s not a great idea to leave your toddler unattended when they’re awake on an airplane, J and I barely got any sleep either.
So when we got to the Budget rental car window at the Prague airport and Nora closed her eyes and passed out right there in her Go Go Baby carseat carrier, like, mere minutes after we’d de-boarded the plane, we were more, “You have got to be kidding me” than we were relieved. She proceeded to sleep for about the next six hours while J and I drove our Fiat Panda (!) the three or so hours from Prague to Jelenia Gora, a city located in southwest Poland where Kasia’s family lives.
Except that I drove, not we, because when I was 16 the car available to me was my father’s Toyota Tercel and it was stick. And that’s just how I learned to drive, a skill that comes in exceptionally handy when you’re in Europe. And, I must admit, it’s pretty cool that I know how to do it and J doesn’t. He may be an incredible scientist, but guess who got to take the Panda through all those hills and curves? Sometimes coming dangerously close to scraping the paint off other cars, because who do these people think they are with these narrow gravel paths that they call roads? But whatever, I had a good time.
As tired as we were, and with the help of a roadside nap at a Czech mall, we made it over the border and to the palace where we’d be staying for the next two nights. That’s when the real fun started. After depositing our belongings in our lovely room with a view of the gardens below, we met up with old friends and new as the celebrations began. After an amazing dinner that night, the three of us slept a good 12 hours, regaining our strength and setting ourselves up for a decent way to cope with jetlag - from then on we simply went to bed late and got up late, not really caring if our days got started closer to lunchtime than breakfast.
On Max’s wedding day, we headed into town with my brother, who had arrived a few hours after us the night before, and explored Jelenia Gora’s streets and sites, and then ate Polish food for lunch. As I’d imagined, Nora was totally down with the local fare. As in, she may have eaten 500 pierogies.
Max and Kasia’s wedding was in a gorgeous church downtown. Nora was remarkably good if you don’t count her repeatedly pointing to the front of the church and saying, rather loudly, “See? See it?” to make sure we were all properly absorbing the depth and meaning of the moment. I was. Flying to Poland to see Max get married…I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
The reception that followed back at the palace was, as I hinted at in the beginning of this post, a very lively affair. Yeah, the vodka, which was placed on our tables as dinner ended, and we foreigners soon saw why as we were all asked to stand and join in a song and toast followed by a shot. The Polish people know how to have fun and although I’m harping on it, I don’t just mean the liquor. There was ceremony and joy and…togetherness at this party that I haven’t really seen anywhere else.
I hate to admit it but Nora and I were some of the first to head to bed that night, although I would like to make it clear that beforehand we both tore up the dance floor. Especially Nora. But at a certain point, roughly one in the morning, she simply couldn’t stay up any longer. This was made apparent by her rolling around on the floor in her little white dress, brown in several spots because of the chocolate ice cream she’d eaten from her plate and then some from all the plates of her table mates. So I happily relieved J of parental duties and headed up to catch up on sleep I still needed.
The wedding went on until 4 or 5 a.m. and, incredibly, the toasts and singing and vodka continued the next day at a pig roast with Kasia’s family. Nora made fast friends with various cousins and aunts and uncles. Dancing, exploring and playing with a puppy named Stevie. At one point Max asked if I minded driving him to a nearby gas station to pick up additional drinks, as supplies were dwindling. We went, just the two of us, and it was exactly like so many of the mundane adventures we’ve had over the years of our friendship. Except this one was in Poland.
Those two days kicked off our vacation, and what a way to begin. I won’t write paragraphs and paragraphs explaining every beautiful site and experience that took up the rest of our week in Krakow and Prague. But trust me - and please excuse the lack of imagination here - it was awesome.
When we got back we were, understandably, tired. It had been a bit of a whirlwind and we spent the next week getting back into the swing of things at home.
Even now, a few weeks out, I feel like I’m still trying to get into the swing of things. Maybe because there isn’t much of a swing to be had. I don’t really have any work thanks to trying times in the world of journalism, and every now and then I feel at a bit of a loss concerning what I should do with my time, although I’m hoping the fall will bring some answers.
Just this morning I was changing Nora’s diaper as J was getting ready for work and I called out, “Wow, Nora really peed a lot this morning.” What? Nora peed a lot? I sighed as I heard myself say it. What kind of person says things like that? A person with nothing going on. J didn’t respond and I felt a little dejected at the lack of interesting events in my life, beyond my daughter’s diaper.
But wait a second, I realized. We just got back from fucking Eastern Europe. We wandered the streets of Krakow! We danced all night at a Polish wedding!
Life is all kinds of interesting. Thank you, Po-and. You were exactly what I needed.
Have a great Labor Day weekend, everyone!
go to Maine
have a Frappuccino
walk by the water almost every day
drink (most of) our wine
read “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest”
reread “Wuthering Heights”
make mint iced tea with my mint plant
run a road race
grow and eat our own tomatoes
see the coffee exhibit at the Peabody
publish another first person essay
eat at Lenny’s (again)
go to Poland
see some fireworks
take Nora to the beach
take a walking tour of Yale
read “For Whom the Bell Tolls”
show my parents how to video chat
publish another first person essay
buy some new bookcases
read a non-fiction book
read another non-fiction book
take a class, any class
organize the basement
go to Scranton
bake my own bread
steam my own mussels
see a live concert
have a picnic in Prospect Park
have coffee on the patio
