Activity #153: Create a family photo wall

Real grown-ups might already have one of these in their house, but I am just getting started. I'm doing this to help Julian learn his grandparents' faces.

I recommending assigning this task to family members, both to create less work for you and so that no one complains that they don't like the picture you chose. Call all the grandparents and tell them to bring you a framed picture for this wall. (They should be highly motivated when you tell them it’s for baby to get to know them better. ) To build an outing around this, go out to a frame store and decide what kind you want. Or check out (pictured here) the Picture Wall Company product that will make this as easy as possible.

Once your wall of fame is in place, walk by with baby and point everyone out and say their names. Progress note: Julian is sort of saying "grandpa" as of yesterday.

If you want to get high-tech and achieve the same objective, check out BabyMeetsFamily.com. It's a video, sorta like Baby Einstein, that includes pictures of your family and you. You upload the pictures on the web site and then they mail you a custom DVD.

Getting Old

My husband is sitting nearby, strumming his guitar and watching hockey. It is about 8:30 and the sounds of it all go right through me. The hockey announcers are about to cause me to have an anxiety attack with their choppy, panic inducing words. The guitar- well, I feel bad. It was my idea to get it back out so that Harry could be exposed to it. My sweet Muffin is working on two of my favorite songs - and yet I want to pull my hair out while jumping off of the roof! I think what I had in mind for the guitar was for it to be played during normal hours. Muffin complains that it is only 8:30.
When did 8:30 become late? I used to start getting ready for the evening at 8:30, with the music cranked up! I used to know what Jay Leno looked like. I used to wear tank tops to bars in winter. Did I know a few years back that all of that "craziness" would be short lived? The strangest part of all is that it wasn't that long ago. If I knew then what I know now, I would have worn more bikinis, stayed awake later, traveled more.
I am not sure I know anyone who actually went out on New Years Eve this year. That includes childless couples and those who are single. Okay, I lied. My friend Andrew's 50-something parents have been partying lock rock stars. I went to a mountain resort in the poconos but didn't stay up late enough to see Dick Clarke.
There is a show currently on TV called How I Met Your Mother. It is quirky and I like it and odds are it will be cancelled. Regardless, it reminds me of my post college days, hanging out with a small group of friends in the bars of Baltimore. I guess in a way, those days seemed like vacation. We had just finished a busy phase in our lives, and we were hanging out for a while, preparing for the next one. Of course, I didn't have the cash to travel throughout Europe, and I didn't have the money for a personal trainer. I had to go to sleep at some point so I could wake up and make a name for myself in business world. Still...
The next phase is here for me, and it's not what I expected. I like staying home with my son. I am not that ambitious at work. It is kind of okay that I can barely run a 10 minute mile. I would never have imagines that slowing down could sustain me.
My biggest worry is that everything I have worked so hard for could be taken away in an instant. I guess that worry is a lot to manage. Maybe that is what makes me want to go to bed at 9:30, instead of gettig a sitter to watch Harry sleep so that I can hit the bars...or an 8:30 kick boxing class, for that matter!
I was 30 when Harry was born. I'd had plenty of time to have fun, and I think I did a fair job of that. It's time for me to be a soccer mom now. I love my little house. I want to fill it with furniture from Pottery Barn kids. I love my mini-van (but I did get a stealie for it). Rather than taking advantage of some free time, Kevin and I both take Harry to his gymnastics class, his swim class, out for his bike rides and to his room for his 2 hour bedtime rituals. I guess it is not so bad to be responsible at the moment. I guess, in the words of my father, that's what you do. Besides, I can party like a rock star when I'm 50.

Almost French (a book)

A book that is not about mothers, children, or running...

I have loved reading Almost French: A New Life in Paris, a memoir by journalist Sarah Turnbull. It is one of the best books I have read in a long time. All the clichés apply: I couldn’t put it down; I lost track of time while reading; etc. Turnbull writes about her first years of living in Paris, where she still lives. You may love Paris or know nothing about it – no matter because her story is simply a good story. And her writing is real, clear and uncontrived.

Turnbull, an Australian, moved to Paris in an uncharacteristically whimsical way. (Though Australians are known for being travel-aholics. Some say it is because they live so far away from their cultural roots in Western Europe. As a child, my mother, who is Australian, kept a suitcase packed with essential supplies for her imagined world travels.)

Back to the point, Turnbull meets a Frenchman while traveling in Bucharest, and visits him in Paris. She falls in love (she does not, however, detail their romance in a usual way) and she moves to Paris to live with him. Over the next few years, she builds a freelance journalist career and faces many culture clashes. Some of her experiences are funny, but not always. Some are tense, but not quite look-away painful and hard to read.

Turnbull does not write about motherhood or children, but she does mention running once. Her book has brought a refreshing change to my reading material. And she is so easy to identify with because her writing is so compelling and she faces so many common, yet specific, dilemmas.

And, come on, my whole identity is not about being a mother and a runner, right?

So what do I read next?

Setting an example

The new year -- a time for fresh starts and resolutions (and more episodes of Grey's Anatomy -- I swear, I've been in withdrawal from that show). I've been doing a lot of thinking about the example that I set for my daughter. Navigating the minefield that is girls' body image and self confidence is tough, and since my daughter's birth I vowed that she would not have to go through the same crap I did (a grandmother who would greet me in my thinner times with "you are so much more beautiful when you lose weight," a size 4 mother complaining that she needs to lose weight). Instead of focusing on weight, I've been trying to focus on eating healthy, staying active, and nurturing self-confidence. It is not easy.

A large part of that is my running. My daughter sees me as a runner, and has said that she wants to run with me some day. This makes me so happy to see a positive effect; now I just have to sustain it for another 20 or so years.

My first marathon, run a couple of months after my daughter turned 1, was for me, to prove that I could do it. This year's marathon -- when she will be 4 -- will be for her. OK, maybe just a little for me, too.