Everything is wet

When new parents ask for advice – which they seldom ever do – I offer that they should expect and accept that for the first few months, everything is wet. They look at me like, wtf is she talking about? And then they have a kid and get it in their heads to breastfeed and woah… then the WhatsApp messages commence! There are just so many liquids. Viscous. Oily. Watery. Dripping. Soaking. Clear. Milky. Yellowish. Red is the bad kind. I mean, and there’s the process of identifying the source, is it #1 or #2? Are you wet or did something (or someone) make you wet? How long will it take to dry? Do you have to put it in the washer OR will fresh air do the trick? Seriously. I never got so acquainted with the sensation of feeling wet as in those post-partum months, but it is a good lesson for parenthood.

I am no expert, but neither was Ali Wong or Jessica Grouse until the sh!t got real. And things got real for me when I had to call a lactation consultant a day after my son was born, because frankly, my boobs weren’t getting wet enough! And then I learned about nipple guards and skin-to-skin and La Leche League. All of which made it their primary focus to get my body to give this stranger, who had been kicking me from the inside, all the liquids he needed to live. And once they worked their magic, everything was wet. I was leaking. Bottles spilled. I cried when I spilled bottles of pumped milk (liquid gold!) all over the kitchen floor. He peed more. I was wet. He was wet. And we really didn’t take enough baths and showers to warrant how wet we were. But, somehow being wet was a sign that we were doing something right – maybe a lot of somethings. Parenting is really effing counterintuitive like that. The rules of adulting that you’ve been learning since you were a teenager go out the window when you become an adult newly responsible for a child.

For example, screaming is bad right? No. Actually, it means your kid is breathing. And if they’re screaming, it’s better than their silence, which could be an indication that they aren’t breathing or just deeply engrossed in coloring themselves red with a fresh new stick of “Lady Danger.” So, screaming is good. Screaming is very good.

Likewise, crying is also very good. You will cry. The baby will cry. There will be tears. And tears are good. You’re hydrated and signaling to the world that you need help – you probably need sleep, the baby maybe just needs a diaper change. And crying is your bodies’ way of ensuring that you both get that help, in spite of yourselves. Someone will hear you – a grandparent, a friend, someone who has a propensity to pick up a crying parent (I mean baby) and pitch in. Either way, liquids are our lizard brain’s way of saying things are working, maybe not smoothly, but they are working.

There’s no science behind any of this. But two years of field experience has shown that if things are dry, sh!t is going downhill. There’s too much powdered formula and no one has added the water to make the bottles. Dry hands have dirt, peanut butter, and unknown “outside” residue on them. Wet hands, my friend, are freshly washed. Frequently wet diapers are not nearly as scary as ones that have been dry for too long. And if you haven’t cried yet, new parent, trust me… you will…

So get used to all this backward thinking, because being a parent is like a really wet game of opposites. Go with the flow.

My day in the District…

Some would say that I have a tendency to D.C. bash.  Some might be right. But, today I’m going to try to offer a fair and balanced view of our nation’s capitol. Here’s a day in the life, as told by my iphone3 photographs. #vintagetelecom

First, I tried to catch the train. D.C. has always been on the cutting edge when it comes to the metro. They’ll threaten your life if you drink your morning latte on your morning metro commute AND they always have those handy, dandy signs that tell you just when the next train is coming. Imagine my surprise when I reached the platform and found this: 
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I waited for a few minutes with the mob of people on the platform. Turns out that they were doing construction on the Virginia bound platform and trains in both directions were sharing the same track. Luckily, within just a few minutes the train came and the board changed. Mass confusion ensued:

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En route to Dupont Circle, which is on the infamous red line, I had the pleasure of taking a shuttle bus to try to get around Metro Center. Why around? Because, wmata decided to close its busiest station all weekend…IMG_0725

I eventually got off at Dupont Circle and had the pleasure of knowing that if I wanted to buy a pack of Newports at this gas station, I could actually take out $9 whole dollars to make the purchase. Who needs even numbers anyway? IMG_0711

I ate – guacamole – and drank – Diet Coke – at Lauriol Plaza. And honestly, I wish my iphone3 took better pics in the dark, because there were some fashionable folks coming in the door. And everyone knows that I don’t dole out fashion kudos easily. Alas, on the walk back to the train, I stumbled past an institution that I’d heard about in books and on cnn. Who knew that the German Marshall Fund was just blocks away from Dupont Circle? This is one of the perks of living in the epicenter of political power. You learn something new every day!IMG_0709

Since today was quite nice, I figured I’d roam around the city some more and soak in the sun. D.C.’s weather has been having serious mood swings lately. Just think, the temperature today was in the low 50s. Just Monday we had a snow day!
And the streets looked like this:
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Anyways, the snow is behind us, so there’s no better D.C. haunt on a Sunday than the flea market at Eastern Market! Today, I discovered that a Huffington Post Poll named this flea market the 2nd best in the world. I still can’t find the poll to determine which is first or first best or best – however you’d say that. This sign vaguely reminded me of that time that I was in the IGIA Airport and they had a sign that named the airport the 2nd best airline in blah blah blah… you should re-read the post to recollect. (This isn’t the HuffPo poll that this market is mentioned in as 2nd, but here is a recent HuffPo review of world flea markets, in case anybody is interested: http://huff.to/1fiDyXb) IMG_0713

I loved to see that vendors I love still have booths and are still doing well. I dropped by the BAMI booth and it was nice to see a friendly face. Though I didn’t buy any new soaps today, I’m now kinda regretting that decision. I also saw a few home decor must haves at Olde Good Things, but I’m often shocked by their sticker prices – especially at the Manhattan store – so I didn’t dare browse too seriously. Anyway, I did nab a whole gaggle of scented diffusers from CandlesbyGeeda.com! I was the lucky buyer-beneficiary of a scented oil that smells like man. Yes, people, man! I’m so excited I could do a dance. IMG_0715

I found two new booths that will become my new regulars. Well, maybe they’re just new to me, which isn’t saying much. But, I loooveeeddddd the goodies I bought from Was Paper. I’m going to tell you what I got, but please hold your horses. Don’t be copy cats and try to have a safari fridge theme in your house too. Get horses or elephant’s butts (yes, she has those too!) or anything else other than my beloved rhino. Consider this a warning…

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was paper

And just as I mustered the will power to walk past this sign and not give in…

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… i found Mirasa! The lovely woman at the booth was already packing up, but she didn’t seem in the least bit perturbed when I started digging through the bib box. I noticed her accent and was so enamored when she said she was from Bombay (only Bombay people call Mumbai Bombay. That’s an insider tip!). I LOVE Bombay! Turns out she came to the U.S. to study at F.I.T. and found her husband. I can relate, since I went to India to work and found my fiance. I told her that I got engaged in front of the Gateway of India in her hometown of Mumbai AND I went to college in NYC too! #smallworld

Honestly, after weeks of feeling disconnected and misunderstood in D.C., this conversation was a light in my lonely heart. It was lovely to find someone who also understood the craziness of the Delhi I left behind – its positives and its negatives. It was really cool to connect with a perfect stranger and to feel so familiar with her personality and her designs.

Bombay has a booming design scene for fashion, housewares, art and more. In fact, since I haven’t been to Helsinki yet, I’d argue that it’s one of the best places to find innovative contemporary design. Alas, underneath a string of baby bibs and onesies, I found that Delhi wasn’t so far away and D.C. might not be so bad after all.

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I pressed on and tried to avoid the rest of the tempting vendors…

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I navigated my way back to the metro…

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I made it back on to the train and decided to stop at Chinatown for a peak around…

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…but it was reaching the doggie’s walking time, so I headed back to the far, far, away land that is Northern Virginia. I left D.C. behind somewhere in the wmata space after Foggy Bottom, before Rosslyn and underneath the Potomac river.

THE END.