Tag Archives: nyc living

Listen It’s a Catchy Tune Ok

Kids, parenthood, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Ran into our right-across-the-hall neighbor, who works from home and has two kids…

Neighbor: “Sounds like you guys are really in the throes of Elmo-obsession!”
Me: “Oh god, yes! Can you hear the TV in the morning? I’m so sorry!”
Neighbor: “No, no. Never heard the TV. But every single day, like clockwork, between noon and 1, I hear you singing ‘Elmo’s Song’ over and over. I totally remember that phase when my kids made me sing that crap on repeat.”
Me: “Oh my god I know. It’s the WORST.”

Our nanny comes every day at noon and takes Nora to the playroom.

Noon to 1 is my alone time in the apartment.

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I’ll Show You What’s Not Safe

Awkward Encounters, pregnancy, ,

Waiting to cross the street, minding my own business, a lady sidles up next to me….

Lady: “You really shouldn’t be wearing flip flops in your condition.”

Me: “Thanks for the advice. But I just got a pedicure, so I need the flip flops. I’m walking a total of 2 blocks. I’ll be fine.”

Lady: “Well you should let your nails dry at the salon and then put on better shoes. Walking on the street in flip flops is not safe– for you OR for your baby.”

So anyway that’s why there’s a dead lady on the corner of 90th and 1st.

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Upper East Side Standards

Teaching, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Before my first session with a new client…

Parent (to her kid): “I want you to listen to everything Miss Emily says, because she went to Penn, and if you listen to her, one day you can go to a school like that, too. Wouldn’t that be so great?”

Kid: (blank stare)

BECAUSE HE’S THREE.

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What I Am

Our building busybody (the same lady who commented inappropriately on my ring, and assumed that because I am a tutor, I am a dog walker) is at it again.

Busybody: “So, how’s married life? Have you changed your last name yet?”

Me: “It’s great! No, I haven’t. I’m not sure it’s necessary to legally change it.”

Busybody: “Oh my god really? I couldn’t WAIT to change my name.”

Me: “Ok. Well, to each her own! I mean I’ll informally use Eric’s last name, I’m happy for people to call me Emily Taylor, and to introduce myself that way. Just don’t see the need to go through a legal process. But we’ll see, maybe one day.”

Busybody: “His last name is Taylor? What’s yours?”

Me: “Lerman.”

Busybody: “Oh, honey. You should change it. Taylor is a great last name– then people won’t know what you are.”

Me (silent, confused pause): “You mean…a Jew?”

Busybody: “Yeah.”

Me: (blank stare)

Busybody: “Sometimes it’s just better, in certain circumstances, that people don’t know, you know?”

Me: “No.”

So now I’m keeping Lerman just to spite you.

Bitch.

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No. Just NO.

Random Thoughts/Happenings, , , , , , , , , ,

I am sitting in a large window nook at Starbucks doing work. The nook is meant for sitting– there is another woman here too, working on her laptop. As we’re typing away, a man walks in with a screaming baby. That’s fine– babies scream. You know what’s NOT fine? When he lay the baby down 6 INCHES FROM MY LAP and changed his shit-filled diaper, right next to my Peach Tranquility tea and half-eaten Kind bar.

Then, AFTER he changed the diaper, he took the baby to the bathroom with him so he could wash his hands, leaving the shit-filled wipes sitting on the ledge, right between me and the other woman.

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This begs two questions:

  1. If you ended up taking the baby into the bathroom with you anyway, and therefore clearly knew there was an available bathroom, why didn’t you just change the baby in there?
  2. WHAT. THE ACTUAL. FUCK?!

This is a public restaurant. WITH FOOD! People are eating and drinking. You are NOT allowed to whip out a mountain of poop in my face. At least not on purpose!

NYC lost 10 points today.

So did parenthood.