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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, July 22, 2011

Biggest. Sucker. Ever.

I was always a bit sad, living in high rises and walk-ups, that I never got kids coming around selling things.  On Halloween, it killed me that I never (NOT ONCE) had trick-or-treaters.  I always bought the candy, mind you, but that was dealt with in proper form.  My friends had it right--they would hide on their living room floor when little kids rang the bell (you know who you are, and you were totally justified).  But I missed the peddlers.

So.  I have already pushed this longing to the back of my mind.  Why, you may ask?  Well, because it is perfectly clear to me that every single person in this town who is selling something has targeted my house and has chosen approximately 3 minutes after my kid has gone down for a nap, to ring the bell.  Repeatedly.  They have learned that this house is THE house, by word of mouth.  Got cookies?  Oh, check out that chick on the corner.  Selling magazines?  The corner house will buy, no matter how insanely expensive the magazines are.  Pushing religious materials?  Yeah, that broad is so in need of conversation, she will actually act interested.  Stop by.  And be sure to wake the kid, just to really drive home the remorse she will feel later.

I have always been a sucker.  I over tip.  I talk to people I shouldn't.  I say "yes" without considering whether I should.  But when one has minimum spending cash on hand, being a sucker hurts a bit more.  Yet I CAN'T STOP.  Anyone who rings the bell is treated to the sale of the century.  And I just can't make myself turn them down.

I like to pretend that this is a good trait of mine.  I am perfectly aware that it is not.  Maybe some day I will learn to push away those asking me to pay them to compensate for their crappy childhood as evidenced by the fact that their parents are sending a 5 year old door to door without checking on them.  Hopefully not.  Regardless, if you need me, I will be lying on my living room floor, hiding.  Actually, that's my motto from now on:  when all else fails, hide.  Then they can't find the suckers.
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