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“Watty & Meg ”


  Occasion: Cuisine: Area: Cost: Rating:
  Night Out New American Brooklyn Moderate Great

Well, it’s official: I’m a mom. As most of you know, Emily Juliet was born on May 6th. It was an incredible experience, and one I really never thought would happen to me, but low and behold, nipping at the heels of my 40th birthday (which was June 8th), it did. Miracles do happen.

So, I’ve been a mom for six weeks now, and I am still standing—exhausted and hunched over a bit—but I’ve made it through the first of many milestones: the six week mark. It’s been quite a steep learning curve, maybe along the lines of Mount Everest. This should come as no surprise considering that I had zero experience with infants, but as it turned out, I was even more unprepared for the challenges that motherhood would present. Aside from an inability to write, or even to contribute to my own blog (thanks to my interns Bao, Dara and Susan for helping me out), there have been a myriad of other changes I’ve gone through. I thought I’d catalogue my discoveries, beginning with the most overwhelming of the lot: sleep.

Turns out, you don’t sleep at all when you have a baby. I knew there would be little sleep, but I didn’t realize that the first few weeks would mean no sleep. Sure, I had a few opportunities for an hour or two here or there, and everyone said “YOU HAVE TO SLEEP WHEN SHE SLEEPS,” but that was not possible for me. I was too anxious or too overtired to actually drift off. My mind would race, I would hear her crying in my head, and I’d just toss and turn, angry at myself that I could not get any rest, and even more stressed out at the end of my hour “nap.” I’ve now come to the conclusion that people who say “Sleep when she sleeps,” have never had a baby. And if they have, they’ve conveniently forgotten what it was really like early on. Talk to me in three months and maybe I will have forgotten too. I hope so.

Boobs: You may think you are a modest person. You may think that your boobs are private property. Then you start to breastfeed. Boobs are no longer personal playgrounds reserved for husbands. They are feeding ports. They are out anywhere (Downtown Bar, Brooklyn Bridge Flea Market, Cobble Hill Park), anytime, in front of anyone. Just the way it is.

Time: Fifteen minutes to a new mother is the equivalent of two hours to a regular person. Believe me, when your sole window of personal time is fifteen ... [more, click below]

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