Perch Babies Turn Two

Who are the Perch Babies?

I know I've made many references to my mom's group in these pages, but I've never explained how I came to be part of such an amazing group of women (and husbands and children).

Perch is the name of a restaurant in Park Slope where "kid-friendly" is not jut reflected in high chairs and kiddie menus, but in the very business plan, which encourages groups of moms to gather in the back room at off hours. When Clio was a tiny baby, my friend Emily and I took her son Abe and Clio there for lunch. As we ate (and the infants slept in their car seats), a woman came in with a stroller, and as she passed, asked us, "Are you here for the mom's group?"

There is a maternity and baby store in Park Slope called Boing Boing, where you can buy nursing bras and take classes to learn how to use various baby slings, and where you can sign up to be part of an email list of mothers whose children are born in the same month as yours. When I was pregnant with Clio, I bought a maya wrap sling there with my friend Liza after pre-natal yoga one day, and when asked if we would like to be on the June babies list, we politely declined (having both learned at Vassar how not to be joiners.)

Sure enough, what Emily and I happened upon at Perch some months later was one of the first meetings of the July babies group, and knowing better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, we moved to the back of the retaurant, met a slew of women with babies in all shapes and sizes, and began to compare stories. Every Tuesday through my maternity leave, and plenty of Fridays after I had returned to work, I drove to Perch and enjoyed delicious decaf coffee and the comfort of talking to woman facing the very same issues as I: breastfeeding and pumping, sleep trouble, the best high chairs, separation anxiety, exhaustion, and so on.

Eventually, the lunches at Perch became a thing of the past, but we began a google group called Perch Moms, arranged regular movie nights and craft nights and mom's nights out, started swapping free babysitting and borrowing equipment, and became a support network, especially for those of us with no local family. These are the women whose blogs are linked to at the right, who I call on when I have kid questions practical or emotional, and who were literally on call for the graveyard shift every night for a week leading up to Eleri's arrival, waiting for the phone call that I was in labor, that they were needed at my house to be with Clio while her parents went to the hospital. Despite having met just two years ago with nothing in common but the month of our babies' births, these are the women who, it sometimes seems, make being a mom in Brooklyn possible.

Today we got together in the park to celebrate two years of parenthood. It was amazing to all of us to see how much our children have changed- last year they were babies, this year they are truly kids. And as kids, they tore the place up. Statia recalled that last year, only Melissa's daughter Eva was walking, and how impressed the rest of us were. Melissa remembers wishing she could sit like the rest of us, rather than running after a new walker. This year, run they did. Up and down the hill, after various balls, pushing strollers. A good time was had by all.



But it was also a little bittersweet: since the perch babies' first birthday party, Rebecca, Anneliese, Cari, and Christine have all moved away, and Stephanie and Melissa are next. At the same time, we have welcomed three new additions to our family, Amanda's son Sam, Eleri, and Millie's son Ibrahim (below, with big sister Zuzu); Statia is due in a month, and Stephanie and Jennifer are both due in October- Jennifer with twins! It is my hope that I will meet and get to know all of these children, and that Clio and Eleri will count all of the "perch babies" as friends for some time to come.

Second Child Syndrome

Is it starting already?

I was checking our photo archive to see whether or not Eleri looks like Clio as a newborn, and noticed that at this stage in Clio's existence we had taken over 100 pictures of her; we've taken maybe half that many in the last five days, and truthfully, most of them are in some way of or about Clio.


So I just snapped this one to share a rare glimpse of Eleri awake.


We went to Zoe's disco dance birthday party yesterday, and I took Eleri to pick up our veggies from the CSA Saturday morning, and everyone I ran into was surprised that I was out already (WITH the baby), and commented about how cautious we are with first children; indeed, I don't think I left the house until Clio was about a week old, and she didn't make a real outing until my mom and I took her with us to lunch on her 10th day. In a way, this change in attitude definitely has to do with the confidence we've earned over the past two years of raising a daughter, and our faith that ordinary outings are not going to "break the baby." There is also a related casualness, stemming, I think, from the gradual understanding that perfection isn't possible in parenting, and often "good enough" will have to do. Take Eleri's name. At Zoe's party, our friend Peter asked where it came from, and if it is pronounced "el-AYE-ree." He'd never heard it before, and so looked it up. Funny thing is, the name, spelled Ellery, had been on our early list and removed for a handful of reasons. But when I saw what I thought was the Celtic (read: Irish) spelling of the name, I was sold. Plus, I had been discharged from the hospital, transport was on the way with a wheelchair, and the last piece of business was putting a name on the birth certificate. So we made a fast decision, and only AFTER we came home did I discover that the name is not Irish but Welsh, that it is, as Peter asked, pronounced with the emphasis on the second syllable, and that it doesn't really mean anything at all. Luckily, we love the name and think it suits the girl, but this kind of thing would NEVER happen with a first child.

Finally, of course, second-child-syndrome has everything to do with the demands of parenting the older child: Eleri just had to cry and wait for a few minutes tonight when she got hungry while I was doing Clio's bedtime ritual; and after the 100th time of telling Clio to be "careful," you realize that there's only so much you can do to keep a baby safe from her siblings. Right?

Now, a disclaimer. Despite Missy and Jim's claim that babies are like fires and the ocean in that you can watch them forever, I understand that photos of infants aren't that interesting, and stories about them, even if they are your own, are even less so. But so far, to me, becoming a parent of two does have its tales to tell, and I just might indulge them here.

How's Big Sister?

When Clio came home from the playground after day care yesterday, she was so thrilled to see me that I almost cried. (There's really nothing like the love of a 2-year-old, is there?). She came into the house and gave me a huge hug before laying eyes on the baby.

The moment of truth.

Eleri was in the car seat in the middle of the living room, sleeping. Clio went right over and looked at her, and said, "there's my baby brother. He's sleeping." (We're working on the "sister" thing, and Clio has been working out the pronoun problem in general lately). She touched Eleri's hat and helped put a blanket over her and Dave said "gentle!" a hundred thousand times.

While Clio had a snack, she told us all about her baby brother-sister, how cute, how tiny, and we breathed a sigh of relief.

This morning, same story: Clio came down for breakfast and Eleri was asleep in the car seat. Clio was again nonchalant, and we sat and ate breakfast together. Until the baby started to cry. It's lucky that the baby part is so much easier the second time: I was able to pick her up and get her nursing with one arm while standing over Clio helping her with her breakfast.

And we had what may be the real Moment of Truth:

Clio took one look at this new scenario, pointed at the car seat, and sort of whimpered, "put her back." I explained that she was eating breakfast too, that babies drink special milk their mommy's make, and Clio said "you're MY mommy," and didn't seem to like me telling her that I am Eleri's mommy, too.

After breakfast, Clio spent some time trying to get into the car seat, and ultimately settled for putting her own baby in there.

She did wear her Big Sister shirt today, wanted to help with Eleri's diaper, and ultimately didn't want to leave for Day Care until she had "fed" Eleri some "peas." So I'd say we're off to an auspicious start, all things considered. I'm glad to have a day or two to transition, and it will be interesting to see what this weekend brings. (While I say that the baby part is easier, this simply comes from the knowledge of having done it before. If we could isolate just that part, it might be a piece of cake. Unfortunately, I'm sure the new terrain called "parents of two children" is highly complicated. Any special advice from the pros is welcome.)

I'll say this much: I've heard all the cliches about worrying whether there will be enough love to go around, but I think having another baby has made me love Clio double. Or triple. My heart goes out to her as her world changes, but I look forward to all the funny, wonderful things she will do and say as a sibling and important member of our expanded family.