A few weeks ago I read
So, here’s a peek into our last weekend. It was a busy one full of more social plans that usual, but I loved (almost) every minute of it. Read on.
Saturday, March 1st
Though I started the weekend sleeping in until 9 am, it was not entirely restful because Zora was up at 3 am? 4:30 am? It’s a blur and I have to look at my Apple Watch sleep tracker to know exactly, but it truly doesn’t matter🤪. We took her into our bed where she stayed until about 6:20 am before she started randomly just singing baby songs at the top of her lungs. “Baby Bumblebee” is in heavy rotation these days and as cute as it is when her voice cracks on the high note, I had to put her back into her crib for everyone’s sake. Her inconsistent sleep has been some form of torture, like I wrote about last week.
Bill and I switch off who gets up with Zora on the weekends, which has been one of the best parent hacks we’ve discovered. Sleeping in as a parent is one of the purest forms of bliss. If I could go back in time, I would remind my past self how much of a luxury it is to just laze about in bed all day. When my alarm went off at 9 am, I crawled out of bed and took a speedy shower, because we were hosting friends for pancakes1.
Before preparing any food, I bopped over to my local coffee shop, Prima. I can walk out my door and be inside of Prima in less than 90 seconds, so I’m here a lot (and once calculated that I spent $200 in there in one month. I am a millennial who will never own a home). It was Prima’s 3rd birthday, but before it was Prima, it was called Primrose Cafe, and based upon my Yelp investigations, it was a different cafe that was poorly managed and the staff was rude. The staff at Prima are all seemingly cool Gen Z people who I just assume are Pratt students.
I began coming here in my third trimester, then took Zora when she was 8 days old and the staff was so happy, like, “She’s here!” when I walked in with her. There used to be a real grumpy guy who worked here, and literally seeing Zora is the only time I saw him smile. He gave her a teddy-bear-shaped madeleine treat that is popular with the neighborhood kids, and I took it without explaining to him that there’s no way a week-old infant would be able to eat it. A lot about my neighborhood feels this way - a sweet little pocket in Brooklyn with a lot of familiarity among neighbors and businesses. Bury me here, I never want to leave.
On the way home I popped into the grocery store next to our apartment, which is actually more like a fancy overpriced bodega where you have to be vigilant about checking expiration dates. I bought some frozen parmesan and garlic potatoes to go with our pancakes, truly unsure how they’d mesh, but this morning’s breakfast was more about the company than the food.
Despite the proximity of so many of our friends, it’s hard to get together often in this stage of our life. I didn’t want to let having a kid be something that slowed the nurturing of these friendships, so we’ve found that having people come by in the morning up until about nap time is the perfect low-key hang. Around 10:45 am, our friends Tim and Cora who live just down the block came over for our Pancake party. I met Tim almost 10 years ago because I dated his roommate and while that romantic relationship didn’t last, this friendship did. Zora is enamored with Tim and Cora and we passed the time eating pancakes, jamming with baby instruments, and reading books. When I think about living in community, it’s little things like this - being in each other’s home, sharing a meal, and integrating our child into it.
We put Zora down for a nap and she cried, not wanting to part from her adult bffs Tim and Cora. They left shortly after, our groceries were delivered, and we did the all too familiar Saturday naptime dance. When Zora is sleeping, it’s a mad dash to clean out old leftovers from the fridge, put new groceries away, tidy up real quick, and find a little time to rest or do something for ourselves. Naptime always feels like a ticking time bomb, because Zora could sleep for 1.5 hours or 3 hours. Whenever she goes down, I make sure to do the one thing that I absolutely have to do first and I count anything else as gravy. She gave us the gift of sleeping for 2 hours, which gave me time to work on my newsletter too.
The cries for momma started around 2:45 pm from her room. As much as I relish a little nap time break, there’s an indescribable joy about walking into your kid’s room and seeing their face light at your presence. There was still laundry to be dealt with, so Bill took care of it while I took Zora to the playground to kill some time before a birthday party we were going to later.
It’s been so cold and snowy that we haven’t had many playground hangs, but it’s a nice day, the sun is out in full force, and the neighborhood feels alive. Zora and I swing for a bit, before seeing our friends enter the gates. As the weather gets nicer there’s more and more spontaneous run ins with our neighborhood faves and again I’m reminded that the community vibe of my neighborhood is so special. Zora and her friend, who is 4 days older than her, swing side by side while his parents and I sing Wheels on the Bus and Itsy Bitsy Spider over and over and no one around us bats an eye. I laugh at the person I’ve become, while deeply relishing in it.
Bill texts me that he’s done dropping off the laundry, so Zora and I head home to collect him and walk to Nina’s house for her birthday party. The party starts at 4 pm and we’re leaving our house at 4:15 pm. Being late used to stress me the fuck out, but now that I have a kid, it’s something I’ve learned to (mostly) just let go. Time has nothing on a child who refuses to put on their shoes or jacket.
We power walk the 20 minutes to get to the party, and Zora is probably the most excited. She’s been saying “Aunty Nina birthday” all day, and the minute we get to their apartment, Zora attempts to run up the stairs, eager to get into the mix. Zora is obsessed with Nina’s daughter, especially because we get a lot of her hand me downs and Zora loves to tell me when something that she’s wearing is from her cool, older toddler bff. The party is a family friendly gathering with a few kids, which means all of the adults know how to have a conversation with each other while simultaneously preventing their kid (read: mine) from slamming their head on a coffee table.
We leave around 6:15 pm, which means we will definitely miss her 7 pm bedtime, but sometimes on the weekend you just have to yolo. Zora is with our nanny for 45 hours a week while we’re working and I always remind myself that those 45 hours are dedicated to and centered around her pure enjoyment. It makes me feel better on the weekends when we center our own needs and hope that Zora likes it too.
We get home at 7 pm, speed feed Zora a plate of random leftovers, including rice and peas, some sweet potatoes, a meatball, and chickpeas and feta (a dish I know she’ll always eat). Dinner is followed by milk and stories - Goodnight Moon and Giraffes Can’t Dance are in heavy rotation these days. Storytime is followed by our goodnight melody: a song I made up in the tune of We Love you Conrad from Bye Bye Birdie, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and Zoom Zoom We’re Going to the Moon (of course). Mid-way through our last song, Zora says, “Bed!” and I slow my singing, put her down in her crib, and she passes out. We cross our fingers that she sleeps through the night.
Bill and I eat pizza and finally finish organizing our Fair Play cards, which we’ve been hacking away at since the week of Christmas. While we have a very equitable split of the household tasks, there really isn’t a system to it, and I constantly feel we’re making the same decision or trying to solve the same problem every week, and I’m starting to feel crazy. We finalize the details in a Google Doc (based upon this template I found) and a shared calendar, and I hope that having an agreed upon routine gives us some mental space back. We’ll see.
We read in bed for a little bit and pass out by 11 pm. I find that on the weekends I am often falling asleep earlier than I am on the weekdays - I should probably figure out how to fix that.
Sunday, March 2nd
It’s my turn to get up with Zora. She sleeps until about 6:50 am, when I hear her doing a passive little cry on the monitor. I walk to her door and it’s quiet again, so I take the next 10 mins to lie alone on the couch, savoring the last moment that I’ll have to myself in awhile.
I go in at 7 am and she’s standing up in her crib waiting for me. I scoop her up and we open the curtains. Our building looks out onto another building separated by a courtyard and we have a little ritual where we look out the window and say “Hi everybody!” I change her diaper and bring her into the kitchen with me while I make her breakfast and warm up her milk. She stands in her toddler tower eating leftover macerated strawberries from our pancake party while I make myself a quick breakfast of plain yogurt, honey, and baked cinnamon apple cubes that we make nearly every week for the whole family to enjoy.
I pull out her breakfast from the fridge that’s basically half chia pudding, half overnight oats. I was experimenting when I made it in an effort to switch up our breakfast routine. I ask Zora if she wants it warmed up and she says no, which personally would not be my choice, but I roll with it and take her to her high chair where she eats at least 10 bites, which is a huge win in my book. There’s a little bag of Cheddar Chickens (the generic Whole Foods brand of goldfish) on the table from the day before, so of course she has that for breakfast, too.
It’s 7:50 am and we get dressed and head to Target for diapers because we’re nearly out and it feels like a good way to kill time. She brings her Black Bear from Cora and Tim and when we go into Thea for our weekend croissant (I swear it’s the best in the neighborhood), Zora excitedly shows the person working behind the counter the bear. Last weekend Zora had a different stuffed animal, and the counter person remembers that this stuffed animal is different than last week’s. It makes me feel like we’re regulars here, even if only because of Zora’s outgoing personality. While we wait for my cappuccino to be made, I break the croissant in half and we dig in.
Target is empty, and I make a note that this is a good time to always go to Target, especially because I’m usually up at this time. We get what we need, plus a cute dress that I just can’t help myself with - I didn’t think I’d be the kind of mom who gets excited about cute, frilly clothes for their kid, but I am. It’s 3T and Zora is barely 2T, but the only other option was 18 months and we’ve sailed past that size! I think Zora has only ever worn one dress and it was a gift from her Nanny, so I decided we should have a few more in her wardrobe.
We’re speed walking home at 8:50 am because we have breakfast plans at a restaurant at 10 am with some friends and their kids. I text Bill to tell him that as soon as I walk in the door I need to shower. I’m stressed about being late to breakfast, but again, life with kids kind of means you’re hardly on time. I shower, do my hair in two braids - my weekend hairstyle more often than not - and we bolt out the door. Bill is pushing the stroller and I ask him if I can push because I’m anxious about being late and I’m definitely the faster walker between the two of us. He knows me well enough now to just say, “Sure…” I laugh at how ridiculous I am being, but we arrive only 6 minutes late and that feels like a win.
Breakfast is a blast, I love hanging out with other families because it means we’ll all just accept the chaos of whatever happens. We order fries and pancakes for the table immediately, a parenting pro-tip: always order something for the kids the second you’re seated. This is a super family friendly restaurant, so when we take the kids up and down the restaurant to get some wiggles out, no one bats an eye.
After breakfast, Bill heads to band practice and my friend Mariel and I take our kids to her building’s playroom. We catch up while doing the parent dance of fragmented conversations, caring for each other’s kids, and making sure our kids are sharing and getting along with the other kids we don’t know. Mariel and I met in a prenatal yoga class and it feels so special to go from strangers, to pregnant friends, to our kids being friends. Our kids are on the same nap schedule, so we leave the playroom at 12:30 pm and Zora and I zip home for nap time. On the way, we stop for another coffee because I’m exhausted. Our nanny taught Zora my and Bill’s names, so when I pick up my coffee at the counter, Zora points and says “Mah-ghens coffee.”
The minute we got home Zora says, “Bed!” (this girl loves her sleep) so I change her diaper real quick and put her in her crib. I lay down on the couch again, debate whether to take a nap, but need to make some progress on my newsletter so I do that until Zora wakes up an hour and a half later.
We snuggle on the couch for a little bit while she comes out of her nap daze. I had gotten a cookie earlier and promised Zora I’d give her a little piece when she woke up from her nap. It’s tiny moments like this that I find so fun in parenting, like saving something for her and knowing she’ll be so excited about it.
We read some books and play with a few toys (the Melissa and Doug wooden cutting fruit is a big hit - satisfying for me to cut tbh), but to be honest I’m barely hanging on - my energy is zapped. I text Bill to see when he’ll be home from practice and he says 4 pm, and tells me to take some time for myself when he returns. 90 minutes have never felt longer.
We’re not a screen time family, which makes the rare occasion that we watch something on TV extra special. I pop on Elmo’s World on MAX and Zora is mildly interested, but totally freaked out by Ilana Glazer’s character Mrs. Noodle. “No Mrs. Noodle!” she cries as she turns her back to the TV and buries her head into my shoulder. “That’s our neighbor!” I tell her, which is true-ish, I see Ilana all over the neighborhood, especially in the summertime.
My sister FaceTimes us and it’s like a gift from the Universe - another way to pass the time. Zora sings all her favorite songs to her aunt, uncle, and cousins and I remember that I’ll never have a shy child. I love seeing her unabashed confidence.
A little bit later at 4:15 pm Bill gets home and I immediately get into bed. It’s like the changing of the guards. He takes Zora to a friend’s house down the street to hang out with her and her parents. I text them to say that I wish I could make it, but that I desperately need to nap. They get it and tell me to enjoy. I set my alarm for 20 minutes, but end up sleeping for a little bit over an hour. Bless.
I wake up with the hint of a second wind, and start making Zora dinner. It’s 6 pm and I know that we’re going to miss our 7 pm bedtime again, but roll with it. Dinner is leftover pizza (she doesn’t touch it), 2 fish sticks (licks one that has some bbq sauce on it but doesn’t take bite, but proceeds to eat spoonfuls of the sauce on their own), and Annie’s white cheddar mac and cheese. She’s only had mac and cheese once or twice before and she devours it. I refill her little bowl 3 times.
I take Zora to bathe while Bill cleans up and makes her evening milk. When bathtime is over, we lotion, change her diaper, and put PJs on. As we’re reading Giraffes Can’t Dance (again, of course), out of nowhere, Zora declares, “Night night!” I look at the clock and it’s 7:28 pm, we sing our songs and she’s down by 7:32 pm. We hope that she sleeps through the night again, and tell ourselves if she does, maybe shifting her bedtime from 7 pm to 7:30 pm is the move. We’ll see. Like so many parts of parenting, it’s all an experiment and we’ll just have to find out.
I go into the kitchen and start doing the dishes, before I remember that according to our new Fair Play schedule, it’s Bill’s turn to do the dishes. He’s cleaning the living room, so I tell him not to worry about it and do most of the dishes, but force myself to be done by 8 pm so I can finish my newsletter and playlist. It gets out the door at 10 pm. I should be going to bed now that that’s sent, but I still have to make Zora’s lunch for the next day, and I have to fill out some forms for my doctor’s appointment at 9:30 am. If I don’t do it now, there’s no way it’ll happen in the morning. I reassure myself that the little cat nap I took earlier gives me a little extra umph to power through.
My head hits the pillow at 11:45 pm, much later than I’d hoped for a Sunday evening. I’m exhausted, but feel grateful for a full, fun weekend. We don’t usually have this many social plans, and the tiredness I feel reminds me why, but, that aside, I’d be happy to relive this weekend many times over.
Enjoy this week’s playlist, friends. It’s got some bright and soulful vibes and it’s definitely something I’d listen to walking around Brooklyn on a sunny Saturday morning.
<3 Meghan
This was such a beautiful read - I was hanging onto every word, perfectly picturing this sweet (and relatable) weekend 🫶
This is a gorgeous recount, Meghan. You've made me quite nostalgic for the place. Can't wait to return to Brooklyn and take in a weekend there when our little one arrives!