Feeling at home, at home

When we left NY for our new city almost two years ago, I knew it would take some time to meet people and feel belonging in a new place. I remember discussions with my husband about how long that might take - my bet was 2 years, his was 6 months. Unfortunately I was right - but I'm glad to report that we've made it.

The activities of last weekend aptly demonstrate this. Friday night we went out to dinner and ate at a familiar restaurant with outside seating. We ran into a couple with a baby we had seen at the same place the previous Friday night and exchanged pleasantries. Saturday morning we went for pancakes at our favorite cafe run by a lovely couple from Ethiopia. We enter and our son runs to hug the open-armed owner - the wife of the couple. We decide to eat outside at the sidewalk tables, park our stroller with infant and proceed to order our usual - of which the husband of the couple, Soloman, is already mentally taking down. My son associates pancakes so much with this man, that he thinks the chef in the blueberry pancake story of Curious George is him. As we are enjoying our meal, a couple we know is walking by on their way to another eaterie. They are with their 2.5 year old and parents. We have a nice chat over coffee and sunshine.

Later we head to the playground. Its a beautiful afternoon with a sun lower in the sky and the feeling of Fall coming. We run into another couple we know (and really like) and spend the next hour or so mingling and watching our kids play (they have twin girls our son's age). We've been wanting to get together with these folks for dinner for a while but with end of pregnancy and birth of new child - social engagements have been on the back burner. So we are delighted when the wife asks if we want to come over for dinner chez eux. We accept, exchange information and start a leisurly stroll home, chatting as we went and enjoying the historic backdrop of old, brick sidewalks and federal period row homes.

We say goodbye on a corner which is crowded with restaurant life - tables are bustling outside and the weather is perfect - its Saturday night. And even though we are jealous of the young and hip who are drinking martinis at those tables we are feeling quite pleased with our weekend so far.

Sunday we go to church. After the service we stay for the coffee hour and chat with the many people we have gotten to know there. Sounds cheesy but we've gained a real sense of community from this place. It helps that it is a particularly liberal Episcopal church which employs a talented and very witty Brittish rector. The new assistant rector is a young and smart woman who happens to be a lesbian and in a couple relationtionship that she wrote about in her first letter to the congregation. So - a very open and interesting environment - one that we fit well in. We then see a couple that we've had dinner with on a few occasions. We met them at a screening and discussion session for "An Inconvenient Truth" that the wife put on last year.

To round out a great weekend, one that exceeded our expectations as we have a 2 month old, we made our weekly trip to the Farmers Market at Headhouse Square - a market location since the late 1700s and one that's constructed of old red brick and surrounding cobble stone streets.

"A" and I talked about how many people we had run into that we knew over the weekend. That combined with a routine of fun places to walk to and enjoy having spent enough time in a place to know them made for a comfortable feeling. We felt happy with our accomplishment of passing enough time to feel at home in a new home.

Sex Talk!

A friend of mine who is a pediatrician recently posted this column on how/when to talk to your kids about sex. I found her advice very helpful and terrifically succinct. Here's the link, if interested:
http://www.brandywinebuzz.com/newsletters/dr-amy050408.html

This came, strangely enough, the night after my son found the head of his penis upon the water draining in the bathtub. As he has a bit of foreskin coverage, this was a foreign thing to him and due to its red nature he thought he was hurt. He called out "Mommy - penis hurt" and he was genuinely scared. The conversation that ensued involved foreskin, penis heads and pee pee... which I thought made for a rather edgy chat with my two year old!

Well, you said it...

Adrift is an appropriate word among the well of adjectives I could use to describe how I'm feeling these days. For those of you not intimate with this foursome, I'm one of the pregnant ones referred to below. This time of life, not necessarily the age, but the "having babies" and "making career choices" time is quite a mystifying one.

Things were pretty simple in my twenties and early thirties when I was full of ambition, adventure and freedom. I currently have a watered down version of the first, ambition, which waxes and wanes with the moon. This has alot to do with my 2 year old whom I cherish with all of my being and the fact that I know my days are numbered with this little guy. If he's anything like me - he'll hit 12 and bye bye to Mama. But how to quash the middle of the night thoughts of getting back into a power position - one that provides all kinds of reward through accomplishment and payout? I'm doing what I can to scale things with a part time job but its nevertheless an emotional tug of war.

Adventure - might as well ditch that one along with Freedom. In fact, you can't have adventure without qualities 1 and 3. Not excersizing ambition = no money, 1.5 children = no freedom. Without these two things there is little possibility for adventure. Still, I dream of the "year" we'll be able to take the tykes to Europe or somewhere outside of the country. There's just so much to see and do.

Feeling adrift can be quite unsettling for those of us Capricorns and the like who live and breath by "order" and "planning". There is nothing orderly or planned about my life at the moment. Let's see, we're having a baby in 7 weeks and are overwhelmed by thoughts of what kind of change that will bring to our lives. Add to that - we don't even know the gender! Yes, yes, by our choice, but I can't ignore the seepage of anxiety this little unknown is responsible for. Our living situation is totally up in the air as our rent which is under "favorable terms" terminates in December and we are no closer to finding a permanent abode than 6 months ago. Oh and yes, the finances - without going too far into this I'll just say that we manage fine at the moment but what kind of havoc does baby #2 wreak on that scenario. Many people say that its common to spend a couple of years in the red with a new family, but again, the Capricorn in me will have a very hard time with that. How does one spend 24 months dipping into savings just to pay the monthly expenses???? This literally blows my mind!

Which brings up inflation and the stagnation of real wage increases. How can us middle classers (whose aspirations of "upper classness" have been smooshed since leaving corporate jobs, moving to smaller cities and having babies) survive when real wages haven't increased in a decade but the cost of everything else continues to go up? I went to Whole Foods last night - because they have the best produce and organic choices around - and my bill was at least 30% more than the average of this past year. Doesn't it seem ironic that those of us who are more "green" and "support your local farmer" concious aren't the ones with the most disposable income? Because of course being green and supporting your local farmer are far more expensive than buying food products produced by Monsanto.

A quick review of the above text indicates a much needed "vent" session, which would be done in person if I lived a bit closer to my best pals. At any rate, I apologize for this. The answer to minimizing the "adriftness", of course and which was so aptly put in Yogamama's April 8th posting, is to look at your life and find the wonder and beauty in it. Of which there truly is so much. It goes without saying that life shouldnt be about material, money and ambition, but about family, laughs and friends. There are many days that my focus is squarely on the latter and I feel JUBILIANT. Today, obviously ISNT one of those days.

There is still time, however, and I'm beginning to feel better already. Thank you for that.

Thinking of traveling with a toddler without your partner?

My advice is – don’t do it! Ok, my current situation has the added dimensions of my being 6 months pregnant and my toddler having just hit the psychological stage requiring him to say no to everything asked. I must admit that these two things greatly influence my recommendation above. And it is a hard recommendation, indeed, as I take pride in my independence and adventure and do not like the idea of my being homebound unless another adult assists with travel. In fact, my son and I have traveled multiple times by car and plane without the assistance of “daddy” and up to this stage its been fairly well managed.

So, the three of us get to the airport one bright shiny morning to find very long lines for check in. My son is not too keen on staying in his stroller as that is what we would like him to do, so A (my husband) decides to wait with us until we pass through security. We endure the lines of both check-in and security which requires one to keep line placement and the other to run after the toddler. Once arriving at the place where non-travelers are no longer welcomed, my husband and I switch baggage, i.e. things in my hand for wiggly toddler in his and say goodbye. Despite the long wait, things are going well until I need to put all of my items, many as they are, into the bins for x-ray. This requires getting my son out of the stroller and convincing him to take off his shoes. He is not happy about removing his shoes and proceeds to fight me on it while impatient on-lookers behind me await my success. At this very moment, amid the struggle and our personal items making their way to the x-ray machine, I realize that I’m missing my very essential bag – you know, the one with our TICKETS, my wallet and the all-important travel toys!! During the hand-off, “A” must have taken it. Sweat breaks out, panic takes hold and a quick mental deduction tells me that we will in fact be missing our plane scheduled to depart in 45 minutes. The two sympathetic men behind me (obviously fathers) calmly instruct me to leave the stroller by the wall and “RUN” to find my husband. I swoop up my son (who is ornery and crying at this point because he doesn’t want to take off his shoes) and bolt down the narrow terminal hallway cramped with security line passengers. Thankfully within seconds I see my husband running with lightening speed towards me. I grab the bag, a quick reassuring hug, a laugh and turn with everything in arms, including my son for security. We make it through and to our gate in time and I am relieved but very tired and a bit rattled.

We wanted to watch the planes take off for as long as possible and so decide to board last. Once on board, I realize one of our seats is filled. I let the attendant know this and within moments I hear over the intercom that the plane is overbooked and would anyone like to step off for a free plane ticket. Meanwhile, I stand next to the bathroom monitoring “the boy” as he runs up the aisles, deciding whether to laugh or cry. Of course by this time I think my husband is long gone in the car. I decide to laugh at the comedy of it all and luckily a nice man gets up and we are saved.

After some rearranging we take our seats and I am so relieved to sit down as both the weight of my son and my “in utero” 25 week old have taken their toll. All I want is a warm cup of coffee – but there is MUCH to do before that big payoff. We need to get ample toys out, have a chat about seatbelts and why one needs to stay in their seat for take-off, change a diaper in an airplane bathroom (toddler standing on toilet technique) and relieve myself while my son jumps around the 1 x 2 ft space in front of the toilet.

The coffee arrives and I am in heaven. It even tastes good – a benefit I was willing to forego. My son is happily playing with his cars in his window seat. I’ve got him boxed in, of course, in an effort to minimize the bother to the UPenn, extremely hungover, college student directly to my right. Ahhhhh the coffee is good and I am happy. But OH – all of the sudden my son has some sort of hormone surge and needs a hug immediately! He jumps up and leaps towards me screaming “hug, hug, hug”… I grab him as to comfort and his left foot comes swinging around, hits the coffee cup and the content flies all over my right arm and yes, you guessed it – the sleeping college student. Not good.

Now I could go on for a while but these are the funnier, in retrospect, events of our flight down to see Grandma. I’m not really recommending that you not travel with your two year old but I am saying that it’ll help to be psychologically prepared for the event. In the end it was truly worth it and a great time on the beach with family…...

Aggregating Retirement Accounts

If you are a woman who joined the motherhood clan later in life like I did, you are likely to have had jobs or a career that included the gathering of multiple 401Ks and IRAs. Do you now find yourself with retirement accounts strewn across several large and fairly meaningless (at least to you) brokerage firms?

While the thought of organizing this seemingly untouchable group of accounts can be overwhelming, indeed to the point of putting it off for so many years that you’ve lost passwords and all knowledge of what is rightfully yours, I promise that taking the time to get them all under one roof and taking control of them will go miles in maintaining your sanity.

Upon my leaving the corporate world due to baby #1 and my husband’s last job change, I realized we were sitting on 6 different and totally unassociated retirement accounts (both 401Ks and IRAs). This drove me a bit crazy as I felt I had no control over the situation much less a comfort level that this money was working as hard as it can for us.

I did a lot of research and am happy to report that there are IRA’s out there that are called “age-based” retirement accounts. The fundamental principle is that the farther away from retirement you are, the more risky your positions in the account are, i.e. more risk = greater return. As you get closer to retirement, the mix of the account changes to less and less risky positions. So if you are in your 30s, the majority of your mix will be in equities while a smaller portion will be in safer instruments like bonds and index funds. As you approach your 60’s – the mix gradually becomes the inverse as you will need to start using that money in the shorter term. Two companies, Vanguard and T.Rowe Price offer these “age based” funds and they have been heralded often in a most positive way.

So, if you can stomach the bureaucratic process of calling the companies where you and your husband no longer work and filling out the paperwork (which is minimal, I might add, it just requires some following up), I would highly recommend aggregating your retirement holdings. Each age based fund invests your money across an array of funds, everything from international to large cap, mid cap and small cap, so you are secure in the diversity it offers. In fact, both Vanguard and T.Rowe Price have such a rich and wide reaching mutual fund offering, short of Fidelity it would be hard to find a company that can match the kind of diversity they offer. Not to mention, they take care of adjusting the risk “mix” as you approach retirement. It’s fabulous!!!
Good luck.

Sap, Sap, Enough to go Around

Wednesday came as any other Wednesday and I was looking forward to our date night. I was unusually jubilant that day and pinned it on things like a great nights sleep, an overall good morning with “the boy” as we saw some planes and a helicopter on the way to daycare, a light day of work and the snow falling outside my window. It was beautiful, the snow that is, and it enhanced my already good mood. On recent date nights we’ve opted for a movie out but this one we decided to go out to dinner. "A" (referring to my husband) suggested a particularly twinkly French restaurant that sits on a great corner with big glass windows looking out. We had not been before. We arranged to meet after his chiro appointment around 6:15. The babysitter arrived and I slipped out, finding myself alone in the car to play the radio and enjoy the beautiful snow coming down. Jackson Brown was on, you know the song “Doctor my eyes have seen the years and the slow parade of tears…” which I appropriately blasted in order to sing loud and get the full effect. I felt really young, like high school young - it was a great.

Upon parking I got out of my car and saw my date with his funny orange hat walking towards the restaurant. I yelled over, ran up to him and planted a big fat one on him. We were really happy to see each other and I was thinking, this is truly a delightful evening. We sat at what we considered the best table in the place – in the corner of windows - and I decided that tonight might be a great night to have my first glass of wine in 5 months (due to pregnancy). “A” had somewhat of a smirky smile on his face. He reached out of his bag and handed me an envelope. I’m thinking, what’s this? It was a very sparkly card of somewhat Moroccan style with two glasses of champagne. Still no clue (UNBELEIVABLY), I open it to see a lot of writing and the word “Anniversary” dead center. Holy Shamalamadingdong…... It was our anniversary!!! I had no idea and more embarrassingly it had not even crossed my mind….. “A” was most pleased with himself.
There’s no real point or advice to this story other than noting what a wonderful day it was even without the reminder of our anniversary. Next year, I’ll try reeeeaaallll hard to remember.

To buy or not to buy?

For those in “expanding family” mode, the looming question of “expanding the home” seems inevitiable. Particularly for those of us who currently live in big cities or have recently moved from big cities (like the authors on this blog) and dwell in adequate spaces but perhaps not quite large enough for the newcomer.

Or is that a state of mind? In fact four people could easily fit (eat, sleep and all that) in our 1,800 square foot, bi-level apartment. In reality, its not even really “4” – but instead two big adults with all the usual space necessities, a small toddler and the smallest person of us all, the imminent infant. As Americans I think we’ve all gone a bit mad in this area. Having the perfect space for each person is a dream, perhaps a goal, but not a necessity.

That said, I do have major challenges with our current abode. It happens to be at the top of a 19th century brownstone, requiring a hefty walk up 3 flights of stairs before reaching the front door. To date, this has not been a problem. One gets accustomed to heaving a 30 lbs., squiggling child up multiple flights of stairs. Groceries can be tricky – but as long as the food requiring refrigeration is taken in during the toddler’s naptime, Daddy can always get the remaining bags as he comes in from work.

My son’s continued weight gain together with my own weight issues (pregnancy) and the physical challenges around that, those stairs are getting steeper and longer by the day. But even worse is the prospect of dragging the infant bucket (with person of course), all the accoutrements AND the toddler up the stairs…..hmmmm, doable? Perhaps if the spindles on the central stairwell weren’t 5 inches in diameter my son could walk up those stairs – damn those architects of the past and their wood carved banisters!!

It’s a shame really. We have a super apartment in a super location. More importantly, I’m still waiting on the real estate market to make it’s final corrections to an expensive urban area that seems to only be growing in popularity. The goal is to move before this baby comes, but we all do what is necessary when circumstances are out of our control. Fingers crossed for the perfect house in the perfect neighborhood at the perfect price - before June!