A Blog by Any Other Name

I’ve made a decision.

After turning it over in my brain, then getting some awesome suggestions from you, and then thinking about it even more, I have decided on a new name for my blog. As I mentioned last week, I have been considering a change for a while, and now just feels like the right time for me.

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I am excited about freshening things up, and I’m hoping that my regular readers will stick with me during the transition. My address will stay the same, and to a certain extent, my themes/focus won’t be too much different, but I find myself wanting to grow in a specific direction, and that’s where I’m headed.

Several years ago, I thought it would be a good idea to cut bangs AND dye my hair brown. I think I cried for days afterward, and though my hair stylist brought me back to blonde almost immediately, those darn bangs took forever to grow in. It might have been the worst decision I made all year.  It’s not like me to be so impulsive–normally, I take forever to analyze, plan, and worry.

Though I’ve contemplated my blog update for a while, I kind of feel like I’m cutting those bangs all over again. I just hope that it won’t take as long for everything to come together. And maybe this time I won’t immediately need a nap, two tablets of Advil, or chocolate cupcakes to help me deal with it all.

I will be unveiling the new name this week, so please stay tuned!

Are you an over-analyzer, or do you dive right in to change?

Mommy Hugga?

Yesterday, after we picked up a snack and ran a series of errands, Jude and I arrived home to get dinner in the oven. On the menu for the evening? His beloved “Tiz-zah!” because Mama was tired, and well, it just sounded good to both of us. We’d just been dancing along to the Fun. album in the car–his most recent favorite set of jams–and had what I thought was a pretty stellar afternoon.

As I reached in to help him out of his carseat, he said:

“Nonni, hugga?” Nonni is what he calls my mom. It’s short for Nonna, the Italian word for Grandma.

“Nonni will give you a hug the next time she sees you,” I said.

“Papa, hugga?” Papa is his name for my step-father.

“Yes, Papa will hug you when he sees you, too. What about a hug from Mommy? Would you like a Mommy hugga?”

“No,” he said.

“No?! But Jude, don’t you love your Mommy?”

“No,” he said. And was that a hint of a smile?

I set myself up, asking such a question. I knew I shouldn’t put that kind of pressure on him, but I can’t resist hearing him tell me he loves me. It just feels like the world’s best gift.

Earlier in the day, before we left for school, Jude kept repeating:

“Charlie, hugga?”

Charlie is short for Charlotte, the lone female classmate in a room of toddler boys. He then proceeded to make kiss sounds. When we arrived at school, as my little soothsayer predicted, Charlie came over and gave Jude a kiss AND a hug. Right in front of me. It was such a bold move for such a tiny thing. Jude pretended not to care, striding over to his teacher Ms. Z for another set of hugs.

“Such a handsome boy, my love!” Ms. Z said.

Jude was so enamored, he barely noticed that I was leaving.

As I was picking him up at the end of the day, the lead teacher, Ms. S, was sure to tell me that Jude insisted on snuggling next to her and holding her hand as he drifted off into his afternoon nap.

“Each time I thought he was asleep and tried to pull my hand away, he would say, ‘I see you,’ and hold on tighter. It was so cute.”

So just to be clear, Jude would like to kiss/hug/cuddle with everyone except me–you know, the one who carried him for nine months and who gave birth to him and who loves him more than any other person has ever loved anyone in the history of the world.

I know he’s kind of young, but he had better be messing with me.

Here is the part where you make me feel better/loved. And, go.

Almost-Accidents

“Mommy, go!” says Jude before I’ve even started the car.

I laugh and hop into the driver’s seat, strap on my seatbelt, plug in my phone, then get the engine going before I back out of the driveway. As is the case every weekday morning of the school year, Jude and I are each on our way to a day of school.

At the corner, just before we pull away from our development and into the world, a nagging thought creeps into my mind. In the two seconds it takes to swirl around my brain, the notion turns into an overwhelming feeling of panic, and I make the split decision to make a quick u-turn and head back to the house.

I pull into the garage and tell Jude I’ll be right back before rushing back in the door and sprinting up the stairs to the bathroom.

That’s right.

I am afraid that I’ve left the flat iron plugged into the wall and that the house is just hours away from catching on fire, taking the cats and all of our worldy possessions with it.

Of course, this wasn’t the case, nor was it an issue any of the other thousand times I thought I forgot to turn off the flat iron.

I have a problem.

When I was college-aged and living at my parent’s house and working at my summer job, I’d call my brother almost every day to ask him to check the curling iron for me. I’ve turned around on numerous drives–to work, to friend’s and boyfriend’s apartments–and I’ve rushed home in between classes to confirm that I didn’t leave behind an impending fire hazard. And when I didn’t have an opportunity to peek in on my appliance, I spent the day/evening worried about what I would/wouldn’t find upon returning home.

One time in college, in an off-campus apartment, I left my curling iron on by mistake while I went to the cafeteria for lunch. When I returned to my room, I found it melted to my answering machine. It was horrifying, the thought that I wasn’t that far away from incinerating our rental home, and it stuck with me all these years later, almost to the point of madness.

Those small little “almost-accidents” in our lives are often more profound than the actual disasters. Once, my car slid on some ice while I was driving in a snow storm, sending me into a series of 360 degree turns on a major highway. I haven’t been able to drive calmly in even the slightest bit of snow ever since.

Another time, a man begging for money in the Port Authority grabbed my arm when I told him I didn’t have anything to share. I just didn’t feel comfortable opening my purse in that vulnerable moment, and he made me feel less safe by putting his hands on me when I told him no. The man wanted to get my attention, and boy did he have it. I got angry and jerked my arm away before telling him to never, ever touch me again. Sometimes, I get the chills just thinking about that harrowing moment and all the things that might have happened if I didn’t react the way I did or if he became more aggressive.

Often, I marvel at how trusting and open and just excited about the world Jude is every moment of every day. Life is so new and so wonderful to him. He knows almost no fear and absolutely no shame. He has no agenda. He just lives, moment to moment, happy to see almost everyone he meets, free to express any emotion that he’s feeling. I can’t stand knowing that the process of living will create worry and anxiety and doubt. I hate knowing that he will feel pain and hurt and sadness and shame. I want to protect him from all of those dark, negative things, but that isn’t reality, and it isn’t life. He needs to experience them as well as the good things (though less so), just so he can get the full depth of being alive.

I have to remind myself that I am lucky when I experience “almost-accidents” instead of real ones because they teach me to be more cautious, to have my eyes opened a little wider. But at a point, it’s important to stop fixating on what might happen (or might never happen) and just kind of enjoy the moments without worrying what comes next.

Perhaps there’s no better place to start than with my crazy “did-I-leave-the-flat-iron-plugged-in-oh-my-GOD-we’re-all-about-to-die” thing.

Do you worry about leaving appliances on when you’re not home? How have “almost-accidents” shaped your life?

There Once Was This Thing Called a Book

Recently, my American Lit students and I were discussing the news that Barnes & Noble are set to close some of their brick and mortar stores this year. I expected them to be non-plussed by the news, but instead, it warmed my heart to learn that they had genuine concern for the fate of the good, old-fashioned book and for the book-shopping experience. Even the students with tablets were adamant that there is nothing like holding the real deal in your hands or like flipping the pages one after the other, in eager anticipation for what comes next.

I am a bit of a technology addict, so I have nothing against the iPad or the Kindle or the Nook or any devices of that ilk, but when I am laying on the couch late at night or sitting under an umbrella on the beach on a lazy summer day, there is nothing better than an actual book. I love walking through a book store with Jude, sipping a cup of hot tea, disappearing into a maze of shelves. I’ve made some great discoveries there in those stacks, picking up a book on impulse and devouring it over the next couple of days–or even hours. It’s sad to me that such a comfortable little pleasure is fading into the ether, that Jude’s book shopping will be relegated to online stores.

And there’s that deep, secret part of me that feels sad to know that if I ever do finish my novel and sell it, I won’t get to visit a store and see it sitting there amongst the other titles.

Yesterday, I devoted a post to Jude’s affection for the iPad, but I am super proud to confirm that as much as he loves his share of kid-themed apps, he adores real books. He is forever pulling them from his bin and bringing them over to me:

“Mommy?” he’ll say before cozying up in my lap and waiting for me to begin. Sometimes, he’ll flip the pages, and others, he’ll point out the illustrations he notices along the way, but most often, he’ll sit patiently and listen as I attempt my best and most cheerful narrative voice.

As an English professor and as a writer, I want Jude to feel the way I do about books. I want him to love that feeling of getting lost in a story, to find himself so utterly delighted by the words on the page that hours pass like moments, and he’s fighting to keep his eyes open just until he can get to the end of the chapter.

I know that I have no control over what he will and will not enjoy, but I hope that I can inspire him in some way to appreciate writing and reading. I think we’re off to a good, good start, but the longer bookstores can stay in business, the more opportunities he’ll have to enter the labyrinth and to discover the pleasure of wall-to-wall-to-wall-to-wall books.

Are you a fan of e-books, or do you prefer the good, old-fashioned paperback/hardcover variety?

Like Sands Through the Hourglass

Jude isn’t watching TV yet, but he is all about the iPad/iPhone.

At first, I was skeptical about letting him use these devices for more than a few minutes. I was worried it might warp his brain or help him on his way to a short attention span, but his doctor assured me that those kids/learning apps couldn’t hurt him:

“Active play is best,” he said, validating my feelings that Jude should be running around the house physically playing rather than spending too long in a sedentary, trance-like state, “but the iPad and items like that can teach a great deal. Plus, they’re an inevitable part of his future.”

So, I softened.

As Jude gets older and his vocabulary gets more advanced, I see more advantages to his using a tablet. For example, Jude is into this amazing (free) app called Endless Alphabet. It’s a spelling game of sorts, in which a child is prompted to piece together the letters of a word in order to spell it correctly (with a little help from some sound effects). After a week of using this application, Jude was adept at dragging the correct letters to their correct position on the screen, something that stunned Mike and I. Less than a week after that, he was recognizing and sounding out the letters all on his own. Yesterday morning, he was repeating all the words back to the screen after the voice-over read them aloud/put them in a sentence. How could I argue against something that was teaching him the alphabet and furthering his exposure to new words?

Answer: I cannot.

On weekday mornings, Mike leaves for work before I have to get ready for my day, which means that Jude is relegated to the Pack ‘n Play. It is the only way to keep him safe when I shower, and though he entertains himself quite well on most mornings, he is not always thrilled to be confined to a small space. He’s got some books and toys in there, but they are interesting only to a point. Post-shower, I talk to him or hand him my comb or other (safe) items that he can explore, but even then, it’s hard to keep him happy for the whole process.

Yes, it takes me a while to get ready. I’m not saying I need a lot of work; I just tend to move kind of slow in the morning.

Yesterday morning, Jude was behaving so well, but towards what I call the “home stretch” (read: flat iron hair and add smoothing products, etc.), he was leaning against the side of the playard, looking bored.

“You want the iPhone?” I said, hoping to perk him up a bit. Usually, Mike and I don’t give him any item that he can spike against the bathroom floor and shatter–based on experience, of course–but he was so calm and peaceful that I thought: “What the heck?“

“Yes,” he said, reaching out his hands for the device.

Even though he could navigate the screen on his own, I opened Endless Alphabet for him and let him go to it as I re-focused on finishing up my hair. He sat and submerged himself in his activity while I stood and engaged in mine, and it wasn’t until I became conscious of a pair of unfamiliar voices that I was drawn out of my bubble.

I looked over at Jude, who was transfixed my the iPhone screen. Somehow, he wandered over to the NBC app, and there he was deep into a video clip from a recent episode of Days of Our Lives. He was watching so intently, that it was almost as if he understood the dramatic scheming and plotting that was unfolding before him.

At least it wasn’t a love scene.

I guess the issue isn’t whether or not he uses an iPad or an iPhone or someday watches the TV. It’s about the parental supervision that accompanies these activities. I never, ever want to suffocate or smother, but today’s accidental viewing of Days of Our Lives is tomorrow’s deliberate perusing of the nudie channel. At least if I’m not just around but am present in his life, I’ll be there to answer the right questions as he continues to learn and grow and to try and find his way.

Something New

I’m considering something new.

When I first conceived the idea for this blog, I wanted to document the wedding planning process, and after I was no longer a bride but just a plain-old married person, I thought I’d write about that part of my life. Now, I look at the name Just Married, and I think, it just doesn’t cover it anymore. I don’t want to be someone who defines herself only by a relationship status. I want to be seen as someone with a career and hobbies and a full life of experiences who also happens to be a mom. And I want to write about all of those things.

For quite some time, I’ve wanted to change the title of my blog. Just Married has served me well, but as mentioned above, I’ve outgrown it. The web address will remain the same, and I don’t want to change the vibe or make drastic changes to the content, I just want to do a little re-branding.

But I have one problem.

I’m stuck.

I cannot come up with a new title for my blog. And that is why I’m turning to all of you. I am looking for something that captures the spirit of my posts but that isn’t cheesy.

I am genuinely interested in your comments and opinions, so please, please share your thoughts with me. The best suggestion will get a virtual high-five as well as my undying praise and gratitude. How do you feel about a title change, and do you have any suggestions [insert sincere/earnest/hopeful face here]?

Morning Person

Each month, JUST LIVE IT posts a photo challenge of sorts, posing a question of readers and asking us to capture the answer in picture-form. I missed the first installment but wanted to get in on the second–and what better day than the one after I stayed up too late watching the Oscars.

For this round, Nicole asks her readers which beverage helps to jump start the day. The answer for me is so obvious that even Jude could shout it out without much prompting:

“Hot tea.”

Every morning I stop at Dunkin’ Donuts for a medium tea with cream and sugar. It’s such a predictable habit that the drive-thru attendant practically has it ready for me before I get there. In this photo, I’m cheating a bit as it was a morning that I was able to enjoy my vice from the couch. I’m including the TV in the background because I have another secret: I have a small crush on Willie Geist from the Today Show, and thus, he also plays a big part in my daily routine. And last, you’ll notice my super comfy, red slippers. It just isn’t a happy winter day unless I get to shuffle around the house in them.

I am not a morning person, and I never will be–much to Mike’s chagrin. So, it makes sense to throw in whatever items help to make it cheerier/less painful. When you’re chasing around a toddler and trying to get out the door less than twenty minutes behind schedule, you need any boost you can get.

What morning rituals or routines enable you to wake up and feel good about the impending day?