They sat on the bookshelf for a while before I realized I had to get a mobile of some sort up before Remi grew out of the mobile stage. It took me another couple of weeks (in my disorganized Mom-state) to get an embroidery hoop, but once I did I threw this together pretty quickly with ribbon, a glue-gun, and a mug hook for the ceiling (close-up photo here).

I think it's quite cute and I plan to change it up with more fish or something else to keep Remi interested. I love it when he looks at it and smiles. I'm not sure that non-DIY friends think it's terribly exciting (no noise or battery-operated movement = bad parenting), but Remi's got to get used to hand-crafted Mom craziness at some point.

I can also move it out of his reach as he gets older, which can't be said for the store-bought variety. I admit that I'll pick up this, too, since he went bonkers for it at a friends house today, but I may just use the pieces to augment the DIY version. (I imagine much of my life in the coming years will involve caving to peer pressure and getting store-bought items to make a certain someone smile.)

We new moms have trouble with basic things sometimes. The baby is crying, we can't think clearly, and we try fixing the five things that are not wrong before fixing the one that is. Or we leave the house without one of the following: keys, a hat, a diaper, a blanket, the cell phone, etc. It's clear that during these times we are not ourselves. We have been attacked by BadMommy. Can't you see this playing out comic-book style?

Example: GoodMommy and baby are sleeping. Baby starts fidgeting. GoodMommy wakes up, gets baby, and starts feeding him. He's somewhat interested and calms down, but is still fidgety. GoodMommy realizes she, too is hungry.

A shadow falls across her face. A blank expression ensues. Fatigue-induced poor judgement turns her into ... (next panel, with some sort of Hulk-like transformation graphics and "KABLAM!" exclamations) ... BADMOMMY!

BadMommy is braindead and leaves babies to suffer! She doesn't change poopy diapers! She makes sure that all clothing is always uncomfortable and the baby is always too hot or too cold! She bathes the baby in freezing water and puts the baby to sleep in a sauna! She bangs baby's head on doorjambs! She takes him out in the sun and subjects him to the germs in the park! She sometimes lets baby SLEEP ON HIS TUMMY.

GoodMommy is perfect, always knows what's wrong, and never appears in public.

BadMommy thinks only of herself and is hungry! BadMommy convinces herself that fidgety baby will go to sleep if she puts him in his cosleeper! She watches him fidget and then leaves the room, heading for the kitchen.

She forgets to turn on the baby monitor!

She leisurely takes a yogurt out of the fridge and adds granola, never realizing that the baby is fidgeting because she forgot to BURP the baby!!!

She forgot to burp the baby two hours ago, and again just now!

The baby is struggling against a gigantic burp! (Cue illustration of baby with tortured expression. Vibrating squiggle lines indicate discomfort of gigantic pulsating burp.)

But GoodMommy lies somewhere in the back of BadMommy's mind. The yogurt slowly brings her back to life. Guilt enters BadMommy's brain.

She remembers the monitor and hears the baby crying. Oh @#$@#!, says BadMommy. GoodMommy still isn't entirely back, though, because she brings her yogurt to the bedroom. She gets the baby and he quiets down as she sits in the rocker, eying her yogurt. She reaches for it, contorting baby. BABY BURPS!! BadMommy had no idea that's what was going on!

BadMommy and baby will go to sleep now, and hopefully when they wake up, GoodMommy will be back. But BadMommy is always lurking in GoodMommy's brain ... lack of sleep and a crying baby may bring her back at any moment. Stay tuned for next week's adventures with GoodMommy and baby's nemesis, BadMommy.

(It occurs to me that this may not be funny or seem interesting to anyone but a new mom... er, sorry about that.)

Update! I forgot the gratuitous baby pic:

Little D is having some trouble with reflux. He gets upset after feeding, which can be heartbreaking, but there are blissful feedings now and then where he doesn't cry. This makes me think we can work towards more comfort for the rest, so we're troubleshooting. There's a learning curve, though.

On the up side, he loves to be on the changing table. He bicycles his legs and bats his arms and stares at whatever entertainment we have nearby. At the shore, this was a skylight. At home, it's a Whoozit. And wherever we are, it's our faces, which we contort into various expressions in order to elicit the half-grin that D gives us when he's amused. It's a blast.

It amazes me that D is already growing out of clothes. He swam in everything we had at the beginning. There are three stretchies that don't fit anymore. He'll be six weeks old on Wednesday.

1. Poop and wicker don't mix.

2. No matter how ready you are for it, the pee on the changing table will come when you're not looking, and will go straight up and in whichever direction the diaper is not.

3. If the baby smells strongly of poop and doesn't have any in his diaper, the poop is on you. Most likely all over your shirt.

4. Pacifiers are not at all evil.

5. Eating soup with one hand while holding the baby is not advisable.

6. Husbands are wonderful, especially when they make you food and their voices jump several octaves when changing a fussy baby.

7. The outside world is both a scary place and a wonderful place.

8. The diapers are not getting smaller -- the baby is growing!

To the uninformed, D and I had a son a month ago -- Derek Jeremiah. He's a wonder. He's beautiful. It's thrilling to see hints of a social smile, and to hold him and fall asleep together. Here's a photo of the three of us at exactly one month:

The All-Important Name

We agonized about the name because I liked Noah and D hated it. I'd wake up from a nap in the hospital, turn to D, and say, "Name! We need a name. Give me some names." We knew we wanted Jeremiah in there, but thought it might be long for a first name. At the last minute, we thought seriously about Gavin, but I didn't love it. Luke was considered and rejected. A friend showed up at the hospital with a list of suggested names. No go, so we managed to leave the hospital without naming the poor kid at all.

We were supposed to call the hospital the next morning with a name, which we failed to do. We didn't decide on something until the following Tuesday, at which point we'd gone back to the only name we've been able to marginally agree on -- Derek Jeremiah. This, because we have no imagination and the elder Derek doesn't like any names but his own.

Having two Dereks in the house in not ideal. There has to be a nickname. We thought about Remi, Jerry, DJ. Nothing is sticking. We've also discovered that having two Dereks with the same middle initial does NOT help matters.

The Ghetto Stroller

We took him on his first stroller outing today. Thus far, we've used a sling to take him anywhere, which is much more convenient, but he can't see much from inside the fabric and he's usually asleep in there anyway. I noticed him checking out the view when we had him in a car seat for a doctor visit yesterday, so we tried it again today.

Compared to the two Bugaboos in our building and the variety of upscale strollers in Park Slope, we have a pretty ghetto ride for Little D. It's a hand-me-down car seat with a universal stroller bottom (not the matching base you're supposed to have) that we picked up from our neighbors who were putting it on the street. We'll graduate to a used Maclaren as soon as he's a little bigger. We're enjoying being stroller rebels at the moment.

Little D seemed quite interested at first, looking inquisitively upwards. It's fun to put words in his mouth, so Big D said, in a mock-panicky voice, "Hey, where's the ceiling? What happened to the ceiling?", which isn't such a stretch -- he hasn't really looked up at anything but a ceiling for a while, not that he can see beyond a few inches, but a SKY is a new concept. Scary. Then he fell asleep.

We kept venturing farther away from home, thinking we could get a thing or two done. We'd pause, look at him sleeping, and then go another block. He didn't wake up and have a meltdown until we were a good 12 blocks away, at which point we realized the following simultaneously: the weather had turned icy cold, he needed a new diaper and to be fed, we'd forgotten the pacifier, and the stroller couldn't possibly be any slower.

The Stuart Smalley of Parenting

Tonight, because a bout of fussiness has been making us freak out, new parent-style, we got The Happiest Baby on the Block DVD. When you're pregnant, other parents say you MUST get and watch this to save your sanity.

I was feeling like an idiot for not watching it, but now I find it hilarious for its similarity to Stuart Smalley SNL segments. A soft-spoken, affectatious guy in a sweater vest goes on about calming babies by putting them in straightjackets and shouting in their ear (shushing as loud as a jet engine), while soft music plays and care-bear style bullet points in soft focus outline his method for success.

The method may work, but the delivery is very low-budget, self-help infomercial. It's probably because I haven't been out enough, but I was laughing hysterically two minutes into it. D pointed out that he's saying "You're good enough, you're smart enough, and your baby likes you." I need to check with other Moms to see if this is my warped response or not.

That's all for now. Here's a parting photo of D with his best friend and confidant, Mr. B. Rabbit.

Since there are tons of NYT Topic pages with RSS feeds on all sorts of subjects, this is pretty customizable. Plus, it's semi-open-to-the-public (in that I'm allowed to post this, and you're allowed to view the source and figure out how to add your own). A widget-building tool will be available to the public soon.

By then, a crowd of NYTers had moved to the 8th floor window, and the construction workers across the street were all gawking. A coworker said it was Alain Robert -- the "climbing guy" who has done other stunts on skyscrapers. Someone said he was wearing climbing shoes and had chalk, but there was no safety equipment. City Room has more.

As we watched (I had to look away a couple of times -- sympathetic vertigo), some police officers arrived on our floor and started putting on climbing harnesses. There was talk of "glass cutting equipment", but Robert started moving again and the police went upstairs (they didn't end up cutting any glass). I hear that people were watching from the cafeteria on 14, and I guess he must have moved pretty quickly because he made it to the top (52 stories) and was arrested by about 12:30.

I headed downstairs just after that and people outside the port authority were confused (did someone jump? he climbed up and he's gonna jump? Was there another crane collapse?). 41st was closed off and there were police and guards everywhere.

Here's a video from someone who works on my floor. No boring days here!

I imagine I'll see someone come to take down the sign eventually. Maybe I should start bringing my camera to work, huh?

Update: ANOTHER person is treating the NYT building like a giant jungle gym. This time, it's on the 8th Ave. side and since it's rush hour, there are throngs of people outside the port authority staring up. This climber's t-shirt says "Malaria". Architectural flaw, perhaps?

These two worlds have also been joined with the fabulous knitting social networking platform that is Ravelry. Right now, I'm making Fetching mitts with Malabrigo yarn, and I've just browsed through pages created by knitters making the same pattern with the same yarn to see whether they used the same needle size, etc. Hurrah for organized, community-improved, online knitting data (with pictures!)! Adding all of my completed projects has also helped me realize that I've made nine (9!) baby hats recently and not much else. Time to branch out...

Montclair is the next town over, and it's mecca for yuppie urbanites who decide they can't take the city and opt for a car and yard. In some ways, it's like a Vegas/Disney version of Park Slope. There's a better analogy out there, but basically, it has many city-worthy amenities while still being, at heart, very Jersey. There are walkable downtown areas. There are roving packs of hoodie'd teens. There are independent bookstores and coffee shops that remind us of the Tea Lounge. There are chic-looking clothing boutiques. There are TONS of restaurants. Some have names like "Soho (something)" or "Uptown" and are just flat out trying too hard. The decor in some is so ridiculous that we started laughing (think armchairs with floor-length slipcovers, mood lighting, elaborate arrangements of branches). Others look worth a try. There is far less pedestrian traffic than you'd see in the Slope, but the stores don't lack for visitors (people just arrive in cars).

Discoveries

1. A Jamaican/Guyanese restaurant on Bloomfield Ave. with great Roti (D's discovery). I think I've tried sorrel drinks before, but the one here was really good. The doubles we had before roti were amazing -- fresh, with a touch of something sweet (mango puree?).
2. THREE yarn stores. One was old-style (acrylic, pastel colors, closing soon), one was new, molded in the Yarn-Harlot tradition of the LYS (familiar with Knitty patterns, seller of snarky tee-shirts about knitting, with a web site and blog), and a third was somewhere in between.
3. A British food import store packed to the brim with things like Marmite and digestive biscuits and Cadbury chocolate. We made a wonderful discovery -- tubes of Rowntree blackcurrant fruit pastilles and ONLY blackcurrant fruit pastilles. Normally you have to suffer through green and yellow pieces before you get the occasional purple one. In Heathrow last year we found bags of just blackcurrant and strawberry fruit pastilles and thought we'd lucked out. This store also sells pies of the savory variety (shepard's, steak & ale).
4. A nice antique shop on Church St. that I prefer over Atlantic avenue versions, simply because of the reasonable prices and great collection of jewelry.
5. A blight of luxury condos (well, at least one). See The Siena. With your order of an overpriced condo, you get a side of Starbucks, a gym, and absurd name and marketing campaign. Not that I didn't have a little inkling of a desire to see what it would be like to live there...but still.
6. A great blog called Baristanet, which chronicles local happenings.

While it's fun to walk around the various downtown areas and shop and eat, my childhood as the kid at the bottom of the social order in the fancy private school there will always follow me around. I went to Montclair Kimberly Academy, where I wore all the wrong clothes and had a bird's nest for a hairdo. I participated in the same popularity contests that I imagine the well-to-do parents of my classmates did. I got a great education (including that exchange program in 7th grade), but a cockeyed lesson in social politics.

As much as I like the revitalized downtown areas on Montclair, I'm wary of people who are going to these silly restaurants to show off their cash -- there's something small-town about that behavior.

Update: If you're not seeing a new image and a black, white, and gray design instead of a green one, hit Shift+Refresh.