“I was a ladies’ man.”

“Wait. What? How old were you?”

“Third grade.”

“You were a ladies’ man in the third grade?”

“Yup. I loved all the ladies.”

“Loving all the ladies doesn’t make you a ladies’ man. In the third grade.”

“And they loved me.”

“How could you tell?”

“Oh, I could just tell.”

Uh, sort of.

This morning I put a piece of paper on the floor and let Nora go to town with a red Sharpie. It was a highly supervised activity because, even though she thought it was cool when she realized what the marker was capable of doing, I think that mostly she wanted to put it in her mouth.

I got laid off last week. I feel very relevant. Very 2009.

I was working part time - three days a week - so the let down isn’t going to be as hard as it would have been had I been working full time. Still, those days were a big deal for me. I’d always assumed I would go back to work full time after my maternity leave. When I didn’t, I had to adjust my life outlook.

I liked it, though. I liked having free days to spend with Nora, although non-working days are, to be honest, sometimes hard for me. I know that sounds like complaining about having too much ice cream, but it’s true. This is why I think motherhood is tough, especially when moms stay at home (working parents obviously face challenges of their own, but that would take a whole other post.) Not only does the job require constant attention almost 100 percent of the time, but it can be a little isolating. You miss the intellectual stimulation of a day out. Yeah, yeah, I’m sure your day at the office was hard, too, but did you get poop on your hand? No? Then I don’t want to hear about it.

Also, an individual’s personality comes into play and unstructured days are definitely not my strength. I tend to excel at days where you have 2 or 3 or maybe 4 things planned and you’ve got to figure out how you’re going to do them all.

So that’s my immediate worry, I guess. That I’ve suddenly been thrown into a new lifestyle and I’m worried I won’t handle it well. Beyond the lack of income, and the fact that the journalism field is really floundering right now and I don’t know how or when I’m going to get another job, that’s the issue: an endless expanse of unstructured days spent mostly at home.

Breathe in, breathe out.

On the other hand, I realize how totally ungrateful I sound complaining about something like this. Here I am, living in a house, with food and clothes and a very supportive family, with my wonderful husband and daughter - who is AWESOME to hang out with, by the way - and I’m like, “Really? Temporary joblessness? I don’t think that’s gonna work out.” Come on, woman, get a grip.

I know, too, that there are many mothers who make the most of this situation. They are not only incredibly moms, but incredible people in general.

Realistically, I know that this will be a little blip on my own personal timeline. That I should shut up and enjoy it and wait for whatever comes next.

So, with “Ulysses” in hand (it’s definitely time), and an open mind, that’s what I’ll do.

Last weekend we went for a hike at Sleeping Giant State Park. It was one of those days where J and I were both tired and getting nothing done, and he suggested the hike, saying some exercise would make us feel better.

So we packed up the baby and our big dog, Cecilia, and went. J looked at the maps and chose a route that was not the most difficult, but certainly not the easiest. It was, at some points - with the Baby Bjorn strapped to my chest, J holding Ceece’s leash - ever so slightly treacherous, in fact. Mostly because I’m not exactly the most sure-footed person and there were some tricky climbs…through a rocky stream bed, for instance, where I needed to keep my eyes down, watching for wobbly rocks and slick surfaces. Normally I would have been no holds barred, but I didn’t want Nora to get hurt.

We made it to the very top, where there’s this stone castle with fantastic views of New Haven and the surrounding area. There were little kids and couples and bands of young adults, probably students at nearby universities, and dogs, too. Everybody was in a great mood. Like the rest of the country, Connecticut has been rained out for most of June, and this was a rare (somewhat) sunny afternoon. J was right, the hike made us feel better. No one had fallen down (me, I mean me) and we’d gotten a good workout. Perhaps most importantly, though, we’d tested one more limit in our lives as new parents. Kinda difficult hike with baby? Check! And we’ll do it again.

Changing the subject for a minute, there was this one time when J and I got together - and I mean first got together - that I’m not even sure I’ve ever told anyone about before. No, calm down, seriously, calm down. I’m not getting all a) pornographic or b) romantic comedy on you all. We were at the New Year’s Party where we kissed for the very first time. Midnight. 2002. We were 23. And then, you know, we didn’t really stop because, well, we’d waited so long for it, and also we were 23 and we’d had a few drinks.

It wasn’t the time to get all philosophical, but I found a way to do it anyway, and asked J something along the lines of “Hey, what if we get sick of each other someday?” Ridiculous, right? What I meant - and what he totally understood - was that I wanted to make sure this was it. That this was IT. I realize that sounds a little too fatal attraction for two 23-year-olds making out at their friend’s New Year’s party, but the circumstances of our getting together were totally infused with big ideas like fate and true love. So, in a weird way, my question made sense.

And when I asked that question, J happily told me, “No, we’ll be like this forever.” No questions. No concern at the level of commitment being discussed. Just certainty. Total optimism.

J can be a worrier. He can get stressed at the most insignificant of details, as his friends and family know. We make fun of his nervous reactions when he, say, realizes at the last minute he forgot to buy his Godfather a birthday present and shuffles around muttering “What do I do what do I do what do I do,” like it might be the end of the world or something.

But he is, beyond a doubt, the most optimistic and confident person I know when it comes to important matters. The most radiant example of everything-is-going-to-be-fine-ness I have ever met.

Because of all the good this quality of his has done for me, I can only imagine how he’s going to open up the world for Nora. I can only imagine those two adventuring all over the place.

From encouraging her accident prone mother up rough inclines, proving it’s no big deal, to who knows? Who knows what’s next?

After our hike, we returned to our car, parked in a shady spot and fed Nora. She was tired by this point, and cranky. Crying, to be more specific. J, heroically, offered to change her diaper, which badly needed changing, and which she very, very badly did not want us to change, because what she wanted was to be in her crib, in our house, taking a nap. While he got in back with her to do the necessary, I was up in the front seat rearranging the diaper bag into some semblance of order.

I got so involved in my task that I didn’t realize that the back seat was vacant and the crying had stopped. Wait a second, where were they, I wondered, whipping my head around, thinking maybe J had taken Nora on an impromptu birding trip in a nearby field. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised.

Then I looked to the right and there they were, outside the passenger side window, J with the baby in his arms. Two huge pairs of blue eyes, forgotten tears on Nora’s cheeks, both smiling at me like crazy people.

I laughed, and my heart swelled with big ideas like true love and fate, I couldn’t help it. It might have been the best moment of my life.

Last week, after forcing this poor Verizon salesperson to go through every single possible scenario on every single phone, including the very highest bill I could expect to pay depending on this particular payment plan, and that particular added feature, I bought a BlackBerry. My rationale went something like “I have to get a new phone and I might as well get one with Internet capabilities, because the future is coming.”

I didn’t want an iPhone because I don’t know what in the world I would do with all those apps. I mean, what in the name of God do you do with all those apps?!

I like my BlackBerry a lot. One of the reasons I was so hard on email-enabled phones for so long - I mean, besides the total insanity I would receive from my father - is that I didn’t see the need to be constantly connected. But having a BlackBerry actually makes me feel quite the opposite. Because going online doesn’t now require the business of sitting down at a computer, I’m more casual about it. I’m less obsessive about checking my email because I can do it anytime I want.

J and I are kind of living in a pre-BlackBerry-esque world right now when it comes to movies, if you know what I mean. Like, we never get to go, so when we go, we think whatever we see is pretty much THE BEST MOVIE EVER even if it’s not. Parenthood, what can I say? You have this amazing child, but people are all “Hey, have you seen any good movi–” and you’re like “DON’T EVEN TAUNT ME LIKE THAT.”

The only downside is that I don’t find my BlackBerry’s technology all that intuitive. Well, for me, anyway. For people who have trouble turning their cable box on with the remote on a regular basis, and usually just give up and turn it on manually, the BlackBerry is kind of hard to figure out.

In fact, the first day I had it, it rocked my world so much (particularly when I couldn’t figure out how to manipulate the ringer volume) that I ended up turning it off and stashing it deep in a pocket of my bag. I got so flustered that I somehow buttoned my cardigan so that I attached it to my bag, and when I went to take my bag off my shoulder, I couldn’t. You know, because I’d buttoned my bag to my sweater. Smooth. But at least I have a BlackBerry now. Take that, modernity.

Our front yard, abloom.

Remember when I was out in San Diego and I had that unbelievable experience watching a bunch of birders searching for, like, an orange winged double breasted flycatcher or something?

At the time, all I could think was, “MAN this would make the best feature story ever! For The New York Times! Or The Washington Post! And then I’ll be famous!”

I mean, ok, mostly what I wanted to do was make fun of them in written format. Mostly.

Fine. Entirely.

But the truth is, my husband and his hobbies make for good writing projects no matter how I approach the subject. I had so much fun writing this story on highpointing (reaching the highest naturally point of elevation in every state) for findingDulcinea. And now I present it to you, readers.

Have fun. Get high…literally (I’m on my second cup of coffee and I’m on FIRE, watch OUT.)

Highpointing: A View From the Top

Some consider mountain climbing or hiking as hobbies. But there are others—highpointers—who are into something a little more specific: reaching the highest peak in every state, from the 345-foot Britton Hill in Florida to Alaska’s 20,320-foot Mount McKinley.

Read the full story here.

Congratulations to Amy who won my Yummie Tummie contest! And thank you to everyone who entered - I loved what you had to say. Like…

Being a woman is awesome because when I wave to babies in the grocery store no one thinks I’m a perv.

Being a woman is awesome because when it’s 90 degrees in the summer and you have to attend a wedding, we get to wear a sleeveless dress and, in recent decades, no pantyhose, and men have to wear a suit. But you still have to wear high heels. Although another wonderful part of being a woman is also getting to wear pretty shoes. It’s a toss up.

It is awesome to be a woman because we can cry our way out of speeding tickets!

Being a woman is awesome because you never have to worry about catching anything important in your zipper!

Being a woman is awesome because, while pregnant, we can bust out “I can’t do ‘X’ right now–I JUST GREW A SPLEEN. What have YOU done today?” in order to avoid chores or expectations.

It’s awesome being a woman because as long as you throw in a box of tampons at the checkout, no one questions or judges the 4 bars of chocolate, pint of ice cream, package of 2-bite chocolate cupcakes and can of whipped cream that you’ve thrown into your buggie at the grocery store!

Being a woman is awesome because it’s fun to be more clever than a girl but yet not quite as crotchety as an old hag.

Being a woman is awesome because we get to wear as much fun, sparkly jewelry as we want.

Being a woman is awesome because we embody sexy, loving, nurturing, caring, get-it-done, and kick-ass, all in one neat little package.

Being a woman is awesome because we have the strength to do what needs to be done but the sensitivity to do it in a nice way.

Being a woman is awesome because I can bring home the bacon AND fry it up in a pan.

Being a woman is awesome because you can live life, give birth to life, be in charge the timing of it all, and secretly everyone knows you’re the boss no matter what at the end of the day.

It is awesome to be a girl because you can be sweet and sensitive and cry and still be tough and funny and cool. You can have best friends that you keep your whole life and email them regarding topics ranging from who to vote for, what the best options for hair removal are and if the man you love is the right guy for you without question or mockery. You can also wear a bathrobe, riding helmet and heels and people MIGHT think you are just being fashion forward and not crazy.

This morning while at a local diner that has been a mainstay since I first got pregnant, J and I looked over at Nora, who was quietly nestled in her carseat, to discover that she was, literally, eating her board book. As in there was a piece of the book in her mouth and she was chewing it, you know, like “Hey, I’m having breakfast, too! It’s cool.” After retrieving the mangled bit of cardboard from her mouth, we noticed the book was Eric Carle’s “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.” Fitting.

I know I’ve written quite a few times about how the latter part of babyhood is so much easier than the beginning part and I’m sure you’re like, “Alright already! We get it!”

I just want to say, one more time for the record, that it is SO MUCH EASIER.

I must admit, I’ve seen a few newborns recently - babies still in the swaddled-and-practically-sleeping-all-day phase and they are adorable. Cuddly and non-violent and willing to sleep on your chest while you read the paper. I totally get why people have more children, I mean, new babies have their perks.

Eight-and-a-half months, though? Wouldn’t trade it for the world. There are some less than perfect moments, sure, like the fact that Nora sometimes beats on my face with a spoon, or pinches my cheeks and arms - hard - and when I say “Ouch!” a small smile spreads across her face without a touch of remorse. She is discovering the world!

It’s all worth it. Nora is so much more of a little person than she used to be, funnier and more interactive. Her newest skill is clapping, which she began doing after getting pieces of food in her mouth on her own. She was, no doubt, copying me, as that’s what I would do when she was successful.

She talks to us constantly, often babbling “da da da da da da” over and over again, not exactly referring to J but to, well, everything. The dogs, the carpet, Winnie the Pooh. Sometimes studying a cardboard book and muttering as though she is going over the latest results from that scientific experiment she did. You know, in the laboratory.

She is alternatively serious and gleeful about playing a wooden xylophone my parents bought her in Rome, her first musical instrument and a source of continual entertainment. Our trip to Italy not only gave my parents the chance to spend a lot of time with their granddaughter, us the chance to visit historic monuments and experience truly wonderful food and wine and for all of us to relax together, but also proved that traveling with our child is not only do-able, but enjoyable. I wouldn’t hesitate a moment before going on another trip, although I know certain aspects of traveling will get more challenging as Nora gets older, while other things might get easier.

But perhaps the most notable change in each passing month is in me and in our family as a whole.

In those first few months, tired and desperate for the company of other mothers, for the company of anyone, I remember feeling a sense of urgency that I have now, happily, left behind.

It’s no longer me and J and the baby. It’s us. We are planting flowers in the backyard and going out for coffee and taking a walk. Life feels normal and easy, and I’m well rested and thinking about creative endeavors again. I sometimes miss working out of the house more than once a week and, instead of that making me feel lonely, I feel inspired. I have a baby and I also have a life besides the baby, and that is important to me.

One more thing: it’s finally getting warm. We have broken free of our confines at home and are exploring the whole wide world. Or, at least, we are going for walks down by the Sound, with Nora in the Baby Bjorn and the two crazy dogs in tow. Breathing in the briny air and getting some exercise, too.

Yes, the long, cold New Haven winter is finally over. We have a well-worn stroller, there is a lot of exploring to do and we are ready to go.