I am a perpetual list maker. I love lists. I have several different books of lists, each with its own theme. I have a book filled with lists of items to pack for various trips I’ve taken over the years. Another one for craft projects I’d like to work on (and have completed), and most recently my book of lists for things that pertain to Isadora.
I adore my books of lists. Nothing gives me greater satisfaction than crossing off my to-do items. I also love to go back through completed lists and review. It reminds me that I get things done. Until now.
I still make lists, but I no longer complete tasks. I don’t get to cross anything off. I can’t review and reflect on my accomplishments. It’s hard to accept, but accept I must.
I set three goals a day for myself these days, usually in this order:
1) Take a nap
2) Take a shower
3) Complete a household chore or an item from a To-Do list
I almost always complete the first one, occasionally complete the second and almost never get to the last. I know I can only do so much in a given day and I don’t want to delude myself into believing I can be Super Mom. That would just set me up for failure and disappointment. I think I can be Pretty Okay Mom, and I’m fine with that as long as the entire household is well fed, fully clothed when interacting with the general public (clean clothes optional) and happy.
Our first big adventure to Target was a success!
1) Isadora slept the entire time we were shopping. Not a single fuss.
2) She didn’t dirty her diaper until we got home. Yay!
3) I got 10% off nearly my entire purchase.
You see, I received a coupon for 10% of anything that was on my baby registry so when we showed up at the store, I got a registration gun and scanned everything that went into the cart–tons of baby items we still needed, underwear and a hat for Mitch, batteries, people food, pet food, etc.
The clerk was having problems entering the coupon in the register and called a manager over for help. The manager got mad and snippy at me because I put “non-baby” items on the baby registry.
She told me that the baby did not need a Fedora. I thought that was a very judgmental statement and replied, “she most certainly does too need a Fedora. She thinks her daddy looks really cute in it.” The manager also argued against the batteries. I told her that a baby swing takes 6 batteries and eats them like candy–they are absolutely baby related. And so the conversation went with each and every item–her judgment and my justification
Eventually she just stopped questioning, but she kept muttering that I was only supposed have baby items on my registry. I told her that was not my problem. I scanned items and the gun accepted them. The coupon clearly stated “Come in to the store and add items to your registry for 10% off your shopping all day.” Notice how baby is no where to be seen before items?
I also explained to her that when I registered for my wedding at Target, I added things I would actually use like toilet paper, cat litter and trash bags. I had I nice set of dishes and cookware already, so I certainly didn’t need more. Not your typical wedding registry fare, but I only put things that we needed on the wedding registry. With that, she gave the go ahead to give 10% off my entire cart.
The funny thing is, she was mad because she had to go line by line for every item I bought to give the 10% discount instead of just giving 10% off the final total. Then she barked at me, “You know, you’re going to end up getting a much bigger discount because I have to do the entries this way.” I looked at Mitch; he looked at me and we both shrugged our shoulders.
Walking out to the car, Mitch started shaking his head and said, “she obviously doesn’t understand the transitive properties of multiplication and addition.”
Ya think?
When I got to the car, I took a closer look at the receipt. The manager cheated me out of about $10 worth of discounts. She flat out refused to give me a discount on the 4 pack of Red Bull. How does she not see that is absolutely baby related!? How else is Mitch going to stay up through the night with the baby so I can get some much needed sleep!
1) I gave birth 8 days ago and I already lost “the baby weight.” I weigh three pound less than my pre-pregnancy weight yet, I still look like I am 5 months pregnant.
2) The Baby Bjorn = Freedom. Why didn’t I think of this before? It took me two hours to sort half the laundry. When I finally put Izzy in the Baby Bjorn, I finished the job in 5 minutes.
3) I’m still having breastfeeding issues. The lactation consultants over at Newborn Connections have been extremely helpful, encouraging and non-judgmental with their advice and guidance. Update: This issue is related to the rapid weight loss I experienced. Thanks for the tip Brian! I’ll be sure to ask the milk ladies about it tomorrow when I talk to them.
Everyone told me my whole life was about to change. It’s as if I was about to drop acid or joining the military. How should one prepare for the unexpected?
Although no lightning struck from the heavens (even if it appears it has in the picture of Isadora rising from out of the womb), every day I notice something new and profound.
That said, like most profundity, what makes it so deep is its utter simplicity. What changes, honestly, comes down to priorities.
Before having a child, I followed my whims for the most part. Not to say I was a hedonist, but I followed simple pleasures to the extent it was healthy for me to do so. Once I’d survived my 20′s, I spent the following years resting. Playing ukulele and poker, sleeping in almost every day AND taking a nap in the afternoon.
That has totally changed. I wake up, whether at 10am or 3am, with an entirely new sense of clarity. I know what needs to be done. I know, for the predictable future, exactly what my priorities are, and it’s no longer getting more xBox 360 unlocks in GTA4 than Dan.
I’m pleased to announce that everyone we’ve heard back from has loved the name Isadora Elliott Harris.
The only criticism leveled was that Elliott is a boy’s name, and it only came, ironically, from my friend Keith. Keith is also the name of Rick McKay’s longtime friend and bassist Mark’s wife. And she, the woman Keith, is fabulous both in personality and appearance, clearly suffering no worse effects of her name than had Keith, the man.
Outside of that lonely criticism, people were generally curious about how we arrived at such a powerful yet approachable name. Well, it happened like this:
When Wendy and I were first discussing names, before we’d determined the sex of our child, we’d chosen the name Elliott for a boy. Much of the decision was basically aesthetic, but the name’s spelling belies the original inspiration: Elliott Smith. Elliott Smith has been one of my favorite songwriters since before the time Wendy and I met, when I invited her to two of his performances, through the time of his death in 2003 up to and through the present. The only rules I was operating under in choosing a name were that either the first initial or name itself came from someone who had influenced us and was no longer living. Check and check.
Isadora was an outgrowth of Isabella, which we were considering until we realized how popular a name it had become, one of the top 10 names for the last three years running. While we were still tossing around other names, we walked by Isadora Duncan alley just down the block from our Apartment. It leapt off the sign. Not only was Isadora Duncan born local to this neighborhood which has become more my and Wendy’s home than anywhere we’d lived before we met, Â Isadora Duncan lived a life, similar to Elliott Smith, of great self expression. In fact, she revolutionized an art form that had become very mechanical with a whole new level of humanness–a quality Elliott Smith brought to every song he performed during a time much of modern music was suffering the same kind of spirit crushing mechanization.
Unfortunately, like Elliott Smith, Isadora Ducan died prematurely under incredible circumstances. But here, again, aesthetics won us over. Isadora Elliott struck us as a wonderful name, a name combining two great artists and two people who lived and died with great self-expression. Anyone who knows me knows how important–how downright necessary–it is for me to feel free to express myself and to do so at every opportunity. Between a long life and a life of great self-expression, it’s a no brainer for me.
In the end, however, a name is neither a blessing nor a curse. Not everyone named Abraham is destined to help free a people, nor are they doomed to be shot in a theatre. What people are coexists with their name, and how people are impressed by names is a result of the individuals wearing it as much as its sound or anything else.
Isadora Elliott ultimately shows her (and those who meet her) a bit about us, her folks; that we’d be as impressed by a young songwriter as the creator of modern dance as anyone else. But like my name, Mitchell Sanford Harris, and Wendy’s, Wendy Leone Guthrie, names which were essentially drawn from thin air–it sounds good and is easy to say. And in the end, that’s what a name is for. Like the names Kirby and Murky. They just fit.
I haven’t had a proper shower in a week. I’ve been wearing the same nightgown for two days, and I’m starting to smell like onions. And yet, my husband still tells me I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.
The cats adjusted quickly to their new roommate. They were a little peeved at first when they were dethroned from the changing table/crib by Isadora the Beautiful. It’s pretty nice; they almost never get in the crib if she is in there.
Kirby is very curious and was the braver of the two. He walked right up to Izzy and introduced himself withn the first few minutes of her arrival.
It took Murky over a day to get brave enough to approach the baby, and once she did, she was very calm.
but really damn cute!
Murphy lived in the basement of our apartment building. He spent his lazy days hanging out in the courtyard garden, and he loved to visit with people while they were doing their laundry. I noticed last year that he really started to look old and it was breaking my heart. His eyes were smoky and his fur was greasy and separated. Murphy’s personality changed as he started to lose his vision and hearing. He didn’t come when called and his howl-moans increased in volume and frequency.
He came to visit me while I was doing laundry last weekend. I told him I didn’t have time to give lots of pets because of the long list of things I had to get done before the baby’s arrival. I told him I’d catch up with him next time. I’m really sad I didn’t spend a few more minutes with him while I had the chance.
