on jackie

If you look at the pictures below, the one with the kid rocking a pumpkin outfit, you wouldn’t know. For instance, you wouldn’t know that in spite of appearances she’s not 3 months, she’s a year. You wouldn’t know that she’s had a really hard year, one like most of us thank God, have never had to endure. You also wouldn’t know that her parents astound me. They’re relentless in their faith. The family, collectively, treasures this little person more than I’ve seen anywhere else. Ever. You wouldn’t see us taking turns holding her, celebrating every minute victory (she gained 8oz!), or what happens to our insides when we realize that in spite of everything, she is, and will probably remain, really fragile. A few weeks ago, she dislocated her elbow. It was just her arm, not anything especially scary or traumatic. But she was helpless, and hurting, and she’s already been through so much. So we stood there, and cried along with her while the doctor popped it back into place.

I haven’t managed to give up on the hope that I’ll get to watch her grow up, even if statistically, the odds aren’t in her favor. This is my own form of denial, one that I’ll keep on living in, until circumstances force me out of it. I want her to have a future, even if that future looks dramatically different than I would’ve hoped for when I initially heard that baby #5 was on the way. The whole situation… the realization of just how much you can love someone and yet have no control over whether or not they stay or go, is both incredible and heartbreaking.

airborne - water = bad

Facts you should know before you read the rest of this:
1. I'm fighting a cold.
2. I'm supposed to go to Ikea tonight and said cold is kicking my ass and making me just want to lay on the floor in a puddle and demand that those younger than myself (read: the little cousins) feed me orange juice through a straw.
3. It's friday, and I'm tired.

Instead of getting up like a normal person and walking to the water cooler, I decided to be lazy and break up an Airborne tablet into 4 little swallow-ey size bits and just down it with the semi-stank water that I had sitting in my Nalgene.

Now I have a bubbley sensation somewhere in the middle of my esophagus, which in addition to feeling just a weensy bit uncomfortable, has also resulted in Airborne burps.

Why I'm still single eludes me.

it's over.

That apartment I mentioned? The one with a bedroom, separate from the living room, and miracle of all miracles a reasonable amount of closet space?! Yes, that one.

It's mine. Officially, it all goes down on Dec. 1st. To commemorate the event I bought a poster. A poster I love almost as much as I do closet space.

EDIT - No, I did not pay the 2K fee and somehow I managed to get them to drop my rent by $150/mo. The details are a bit fuzzy, but I do seem to recall throwing down the words "couisin" and "lawyer" somewhere along the line.

apt. hunt continues

Last night I put a deposit down on an apartment. A massive 1bdr. apartment, in a fantastic neighborhood, with a laundrymat 2 doors down. I can handle 2 doors down. The space needs paint, and a fresh grout job in the bathroom. But, by the time I put the deposit down, I'd psyched myself out not to care. I thought things like "Paint? You LOVE painting. You were MADE to paint these cupboards something resembling Pantone 383C... or maybe 390C."

Did I mention that by the time I climbed the train to head back to NJ, that I'd already mentally decorated the place? Because I had.

First I'd tackle the kitchen and the bedroom and then I'd work on the hallway and living room next. Anyone that visited between now and whenever I finished said living room, was just going to have to suck it up and deal. Afterall, that's why God invented air mattresses. I'd graciously decided to overlook the fugly linoleum in the hallway, remembering that CB2 now carries FLOR tiles, and that CB2 just opened a store in Soho. If CB2 didn't have what I wanted, I could hit up Ikea, which in addition to air mattresses, is God's other gift to housewares.

So I guess, it shouldn't surprise me that this morning the landlord requested a broker's fee. Which basically equates to 2K getting shot straight down the crapper in the apartment that I have already decorated in my head.

And now I'm cranky, having to decide whether or not just to bite the bullet and go for it. Or go with option B) which involves me fully embracing my dutch instincts and telling the landlord where exactly he can stick his effin' fee.

watching the pumpkin grow up

When I first announced that I was moving to manhattan, no one bothered to inform me that moving to New York is akin to winning a lottery. I don't mean this in the You've Just Won a BAJILLION Dollars sense of things, but rather in the There's Not a Snowflakes Chance in Hell that you're "moving" in the time frame you'd like to believe missy.

"Moving" has instead translated to living indefinitely with the aunt, the uncle, and their 5 off-spring. Fortunately for me, I adore them. Unfortunately for them, they've inherited child #6. Working in their favor is the fact that at least I am the child that calls when I say I'm going to call, goes to bed (ALL BY MYSELF), and pokes fun at The Uncle for the benefit of The Aunt. I've also mastered the art of baby-feeding which really, is no small feat when you consider that this baby likes to spit food back out projectile-style whenever she's decided that she's done with her supper. Because in the world of Jackie, who could possibly have time for eating when there is so much kicking and stretching to do? Mealtimes are a battle, especially when we try to feed her anything other than ice cream and liquid rainbows. All that being said, I wouldn't trade these last few months for anything. Mostly because there are days that are totally shite, and then I come home to this: