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In the movie Lost in Translation there is a scene in which Bill Murray's character explains that, upon having your first child, "your life as you know it is gone...never to return." The movie has been one of my favorites for years. I just wish that I had known he meant my life.

In early 2010, I gave birth to the world's most perfect child. (Is there a parent who doesn't think his/her child is the world's most perfect?) In addition to being beautiful, he is brilliant and sweet and funny and hands-down the best thing that will ever happen to me. This kid is my entire world. I had somehow suspected through most of my life that he would be, which is why I fought very hard to have him. But about the post-childbirth apocalypse, I had absolutely no clue.

To say things have changed would be misleading. EVERYTHING has changed. Most of it has been good--some not so great--but everything is without a doubt different. And now the world changes once again. My little family and I find ourselves journeying from the big city to beautiful, calm Montana. Will the change be for the better? As with anything, the answer is sometimes "yes," sometimes "no," and always sought with massive quantities of hope. Come with me as I navigate the roads from fast-paced, big-city lawyer to Montana Momhood. Is there a line that can be walked? We'll see. But I can guarantee, at a minimum, it will be an adventurous road trip....

Friday, May 6, 2011

Baby Ducks

We spend a fair amount of time here discussing the fact that I am a jerk.  But today I would like to discuss a guy I came across recently who, in my humble opinion, is a bigger jerk.  And, accordingly, my acting like a jerk in response (and enjoying it thoroughly) was justified. 

I was driving down a major street (35 is the speed limit on most city streets, which is nice) when I noticed that both the car in front of me and that coming the other direction were slowing to almost complete stops at a crosswalk.  I didn't see anyone crossing, so I was confused.  But I slowed and, as I got closer, I saw that they were stopped for a mommy duck and six little ducklings.  The abso-freaking-lutely adorable ducks were crossing--at the crosswalk, mind you--I can only assume to get to the other side.  It was completely precious.  So we all waited as the last of the little ones hopped up onto the sidewalk, smiled and began to resume our driving.  But as all of this was taking place, I noticed the guy behind me coming up, fast.  He clearly saw us stopped, I have to assume he saw why we were stopped, and his reaction was to try to swerve around us, directly toward the little duck family.  Fortunately for all involved, we were back and running before he could get around us.  But I was pissed.  They're baby ducks, for goodness sakes.  Again, I have my issues, but to the best of my knowledge I have never been in such a hurry I was ok with taking out baby ducks. 

So what did I do?  Well, when I went to make a right turn a few blocks up the road, and having this tool on my tail the entire time, I turned on my left blinker for about 5 blocks.  Then before he could start to go around me, I turned right very, very, very slowly.  He was pinned in and had to stop completely.  He was not the happiest of campers.  But here's the kicker.  It absolutely made my day.  I was super happy for hours.  It wasn't so much that I had irritated this guy, it was more that I felt like myself.  Like the me who used to call in cab drivers when they cut me off on the Kennedy.  Like the me who once started yelling "help, he's threatening my baby" out the window at a crosswalk because a guy walked in front of my car when I was turning, then stopped to give me a dirty look (I didn't have a baby at the time, by the way).  I felt like me.  Sometimes it's as little as being true to your nature that can make your day.  Well, that and baby ducks.
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