Dear Alice...

...won't you let me see you smile?

Miss Alice is going to have an upper GI done today. Long story--reflux and food intolerances and allergies--oh my! 

More soon. Wish us luck!

King of the Castle

It's just after 6 am and still dark outside. I am sitting my parents' kitchen with the lights low, giving Alice her first bottle of the day.

My father emerges from the bedroom, hair grizzled from sleep, wearing only his tightie whities and a pair of brown knit legwarmers. "Morning, hon," he says as he shuffles past. I try not to stare.

He opens the garage door, lets the dog out, then steps out into the center of the garage, as if it's a great stage. And there he stands, backlit and facing the entire neighborhood in his strange pajamas, observing the coming day from his perch on top of the world.

Home

I am at my mother's office, where she is proudly showing Alice off to all of her coworkers. "How long are you in town?" a coworker asks me.

"I'm not sure," I reply. "It depends on how homesick I get."

The coworker smiles, but her brow furrows. "Homesick?" she asks. "But you're home right now, aren't you?"

Can you feel "at home" in two places at once? When I'm in Pittsburgh, I miss our morning walks to Central Park, the telltale clanging of the 6 train pulling into the station, the crowds in midtown. And when I'm in Manhattan, I miss the hilly terrain of Western Pennsylvania, the overcast skies, the crazy maze of roadways and boulevards, the unapologetic and unwavering love of the Pittsburgh Steelers, and the way the lights of Pittsburgh shine out over the river as the sky grows pink, then orange, then red, then black.

"Yes," I say. "Yes, I guess I am home.

Colorblind

A few days ago we were in Shadyside, eating gelato and visiting with a friend. She looked upon the face of baby Alice,with her olive skin and cocoa hair, and proclaimed that she is what America will look like in the future.

That is, an America in which we see people before we see race--a country in which we won't think twice about the color of a person's skin before casting our vote for President.

I hope to God she's right.

Somehow Form A Family

Nothing about this parenting thing comes easily; it seems we get it wrong more often than we get it right.

We miss feedings. We waste diapers. A simple outing takes hours of planning and effort and inevitably, we forget something important which results in Alice screaming as though we're killing her, right there in front of everyone. So photos like this one may make it look easy and effortless, but it's actually just one tiny perfect moment caught in 24, 36, 0r 72 hours of complete chaos.
Maybe we'll reach a point of equilibrium and moments like this photo will become the norm rather than the exception. Or maybe not.

But despite our flaws, Alice seems to love us anyway, which makes all of the moments, both perfect and imperfect, totally worth it.

East End Girl

As I have not been off of the isle of Manhattan since going on bed rest in April and I still have some sand left in my maternity leave hourglass, Spiceboy and I are packing up the baby and dog and going to play house in the East End of Pittsburgh for a little while.

There, we will traverse the rusty bridges and steep hillsides of Pittsburgh to visit with family and friends, and no doubt partake in numerous breakfasts at Pamela's, and a cupcake or two from Dozen. We will attempt to navigate Alice's stroller along the bumpy Squirrel Hill sidewalks, and perhaps, one night when the grandparents are babysitting, we will sneak off to the The Cage and have a beer for old time's sake.

We will spend time at Spiceboy's yummy restaurant, Spice World, where I will sit at table C4 with my daughter and whisper to her, "I met your dad at this very table," to which she will cross her eyes and blow spit bubbles in acknowledgement of such an important event.