Photo A Day Challenge | Day 28 | Trash

Sorry I'm a day late with this one. And it wasn't taken yesterday but way back in September 2010. And it was taken by my dear friend Nadine who was visiting us from Switzerland with her son, Janosch. I admit I thought Nadine was crazy taking photos of "trash cans" but it has proved to come in handy. :)

I felt that since today's prompt was "trash" I best use a picture of "trash" - as opposed to "rubbish" which we have here in Australia :)




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Photo A Day Challenge | Day 13 | A Sign

A bus roll of our life in the USA.

Los Angeles to New York.

East vs West

When we decided to have another baby, the fact that we were on the opposite side of the country did not factor into our decision. Besides the obvious obstacles of finding a new Ob/Gyn and delivering at a new hospital, we did not think much more about the East vs West Coasts differences.

However, after our first appointment with our new Ob/Gyn it became obvious that there were some significant differences. Gone were the plush Beverly Hills offices of my Ob/Gyn in LA, with large exam rooms, offices with views up to the Hollywood Hills and sonogram machines in triplicate. Instead I found myself struggling to fit myself and the stroller holding my 18 month old into the tiny exam room and even smaller doctors office of my East Village Doctor. There was no sonogram machine to be seen and the view was the pavement and street-scape of 1st Ave.

That said, the real difference was not evident until we toured the hospital where our baby was to be born, Beth Israel Medical Centre. It was on this tour that we were taken into the delivery suites in the Labor and Delivery ward. When this had occurred in LA, at Cedars Sinai Medical Centre in Beverly Hills, we were told, "You are permitted up to 17 people to be in your Labor Suite with you during labor and birth." This was said with a deadpan serious face by our tour guide. Nathan and I were hiccuping trying not to laugh at the ludicrous suggestion that we would want or need 17 people in the room with us. I mean, if I had my way I myself would not be there. The question had to be asked, "Who has 17 people with them when they are giving birth?" This question was met with some disdain. "We have a lot of celebrity clients here at Cedars Sinai, and many come with their own camera crews." Of course! Only in LA!

In New York when we entered the Labor suite we were told, "You are permitted a maximum of 2 people with you in your L&D room." My response, "Two!? That could be pushing it if we also want a doctor in this room." The room was tiny and there was hardly enough room for the bed and the warmer, let alone anyone else. You certainly would not want to be claustrophobic.

In LA our Labor and Delivery suite had 180 degree views out to the Hollywood sign. In New York, no Labor and Delivery suite had no windows. In LA all rooms came with baths and showers, labor balls and inbuilt sound systems. In New York less than half the rooms had a shower and there were no baths or sound systems and labor balls were scarce. In LA all post-partum rooms were private with private bathrooms. In New York most rooms were shared with several semi-private rooms which share bathrooms, and only 2 truly private rooms for which you have to pay $300-500 per night extra.

On the upside for New York, we had a wonderful British trained Labor and Delivery nurse who was also a midwife. Juliet was with us throughout the labor and stayed past her shift to be with us for the birth. In LA we had 3 nurses and saw them only sporadically. In New York my Ob/Gyn stayed with me for much of the day suggesting position changes, getting out of bed, walking in the halls. In LA my Ob/Gyn was pretty much only with me for the delivery - Nathan described him as swooping in like "a rock star" for the good part.

Ultimately though, in both cities we came away with beautiful, healthy little boys and could not feel more blessed.

Santa Visit Take 2

Although it is already New Year, and the season of Christmas is well behind us as people return to work and the post-Christmas sales die-down, I have been wanting to post about our second New York Santa experience since well before "the night before Christmas".

Following our disappointing experience at Bloomingdales (see Santa Visit) we headed to Macy's on 34th Street - 'the largest department store in the world' with "Believe" written in Christmas lights across its facade and windows adorned with miniature scenes from Miracle on 34th Street.

We thought Bloomingdales was packed to the rafters - well Macy's was bursting at the seams. Thankfully they had elevators designated solely for families with strollers running express from the Ground floor to "SantaLand". And this time it was a Santa wonderland.

We first stepped onto, what can only be described as The Polar Express train, in which we rode to the North Pole (actually first we walked through the maze that was the roped queuing area but thankfully the queue moved rather fast). Upon stepping off the train we found ourselves in a winter wonderland, complete with elaborately adorned elves to direct us on our way, sign posts to well-known magical places, and an enchanted forest.

There were snow bears ice-skating and playing on see-saws, a miniature city complete with electric trains and buses, and a Santa Tracking Station. We wandered through this magical land for almost 30 minutes before being whisked through an snow-covered forest of Christmas Trees by our personal tour-guide-elf to Santa's cabin (ssshhh - it was one of 6 such cabins operating on that day) where we waited to see Santa.

And indeed Santa lived up to the description laid down in the well known poem "The Night Before Christmas", with rosy cheeks, and twinkling eyes, and a belly that jiggled like a bowl full of jelly. It was at this point that Noah's awe and excitement turned to logical practicality,

"All done Santa. No fine. Bye Bye Santa."

But with some coaxing and encouragement - and two eager parents - Noah reluctantly agreed to sit next to Santa with Mummy and Daddy for a photo. He eagerly waved goodbye to Santa and kept a firm grasp of the badges he was given by the resident Cabin elf. He talked about seeing Santa for the rest of the day, and about the train and skating bears.

It was a Santa experience we were all happy with - well except for Nathan who had to stand in line for 40 minutes to buy the photos. But all in all, it was a great trip to the North Pole!

Santa visit

Well its that time of year again, and it is beginning to look a lot like Christmas. New York is a wonderful city to be in for Christmas: 5th Ave is adorned with beautiful Christmas lights; Macy's windows display an amazing Christmas-time story; and there is the possibility of a white Christmas.

This is our second Christmas in New York, but our first attempt at a Santa visit here. For Noah's previous 2 Christmas' we visited Santa at The Grove in LA. The first was when he was only 6 days old! On both occasions, visiting Santa was a magical experience and the whole ordeal was well practiced production, in true Hollywood fashion. Santa was gorgeous:

He was dressed all in fur

from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished

with ashes and soot. (...ok not really)

His eyes how they twinkled!

His dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses,

his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth

was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard on his chin

was as white as the snow! (And real!)

He had a broad face

and a round little belly

That shook when he laughed

like a bowl full of jelly.

On both occasions we received a Christmas songs CD and a DVD entitled "My visit with Santa at The Grove" (and if I could work out how to upload the DVD to Blogger I would put it here so you could see it). Santa sat in a Candy Wonderland house straight from the North Pole, on a velvet throne and with elaborately adorned elves and helpers busily assisting him in pixie shoes and elf hats, hooped skirts and laden-hose-type shorts.

Our LA Santa experiences have been magical, but like visiting Santa in Australia, a large man, dressed all in fur seems a little out of place amidst the 25-30 degree weather outside. So this year, on a day when the temperature reached a high of 6 degrees, and a low of -1, we decided to seek out Santa in New York City. We headed to the upper East Side to Bloomingdales, where we had heard we could avoid the crowds of the Macy's Santa experience, but still have a wonderful photo in "Santa Land" on the 8th floor.

So after catching the F train uptown and finding Bloomingdales, packed to the rafters with pre-Christmas shoppers, we navigated our way to "Santa Land". This was our first disappointment. It was the smaller than Noah's bedroom and the decorations consisted of an arch which read "Santa Land Happy Holidays". Santa's throne sat in front of a window full of children's sized mannequins with just one santa hat between them and one small Christmas ornament at their feet.

Then the second disappointment - the elves were middle-aged woman in green vests over their usual Bloomingdales uniform. No elf hats, no pixie shoes with upturned toes, no elf costumes. We could however see a bright red suit sitting on a thrown through the crowd and so brushed aside our initial disappointment and joined the small line, saying to ourselves, "Well at least the line is short".

Then the third disappointment - one of the "elves" told us their camera equipment was not working, so we were welcome to use our own cameras. Of course all we had on us was am iphone or blackberry camera, neither of which were ideal, but we said to ourselves, "Well at least the line is short."

Then the fourth disappointment - Santa. No fur. No rosy cheeks - in fact we couldn't see is cheeks or nose or twinkling eyes for all the fake beard and hair plastered lopsided on his face.

All that said, Noah still got excited when he saw Santa. He refused to sit on his lap, but he was happy to sit with Daddy and have a photo with Santa, and he has continued to talk about Santa all afternoon. He tells us Santa is coming down the elevator (as we lack the traditional chimney), that he is bringing presents and toys, and that Noah is going to get a fire-engine. He is also quite proud of the mini colouring book Santa gave him after his photo.

I guess in the end, the disappointments were all Mummy & Daddy's and the most important thing is that for Noah the magic of Christmas is starting to come to life.

"Merry Christmas to all

And to all a Good Night!"

Pregnant in New York

We are excited to be expecting our second child at the end of winter. This will be a second little American for us, though whilst Noah was born in sunny California, this little miracle will hail from the other side of the country, arriving in a potentially snowy, and definately freezing, February New York City. My first concern when we found out we were expecting a winter baby was, "What if there is a snow storm when I need to get to the hospital?" But there have been other hurdles to overcome even in the first half of this pregnancy, which I did not experience during my LA pregnancy.

#1. Smells

Sure, all cities have a certain unpleasant aroma that pervades from the inner streets. But NYC takes city-odour to a whole other level.

Above ground in our neighbourhood of NYC there is a constant smell of urine and feces (and unfortunately not all of this is of a four-legged origin). There is the stink of rotting trash and refuse which is piled up at least weekly on the curbs. There are the fish mongers, butchers and fruitiers of Chinatown spilling the aromas of their trade onto the blackened sidewalk and down the congested gutters.

These smells have been exponentially heightened by the sweltering heat of summer, with average temperatures in June-August making this the hottest summer in New York City history. This heat served to bake and enhance and accentuate the smells and stink of a sweltering melting pot of a city.

Then there is the smells trapped in the public transport systems above ground and below. Take all the aromas on the streets and stuff them into the poorly ventilated compartments of taxi cabs and subway elevators, stations and trains.

Roll all of this into the hypersensitive olfactory organ of a nauseous pregnant woman and the result is not pretty! Gaging walking down the street. Hanging a head out the window whilst traveling in cabs only to recoil when a strong whiff of something or other passes by. Feeling generally green the entire time one has to travel underground.

#2. Driving

Not only do you have to overcome the stenches which are synonymous with NYC yellow cabs as a regular commuter, you also have to endure the stop-start-stop-start nature that is NYC driving. Sometimes, ...no actually often, this is made even worse by the driver who refuses to ever come to a complete stop, jerking forward a millimeter at a time at every red light.

On my best "non-pregnant" days I would emerge from my cab rides needing 10 minutes to recover from motion-sickness. Throw into the mix morning sickness (aka all-day-sickness) and the aforementioned stenches of the city and it is a recipe for disaster!

#3. Cravings

Pregnancy cravings now come with a whole new set of logistics and considerations that they are emerging in NYC. I do not have the luxury in this pregnancy of thinking, "Well I REALLY feel like Dim Sum for lunch" and then stepping into my nicely air conditioned clean and smell-less car. Instead when I crave Dim Sum for lunch I have to walk through smelly, hot, putrid, Chinatown to get there. By the time I arrive food is the last thing from my mind, or my stomach.

New York City's saving grace? In this city you can get almost anything delivered.

An old rivalry played out in the splash pool

The great Australian v. USA swimming rivalry. One that I had been made acutely aware of whilst watching the last Olympic Games here in the USA. But one which I didn't expect to see trickle down to the "Mommy & Me" swim classes I have been taking for almost a year now with my son, Noah (now 20 months).

A new term for swimming lessons started in June, and due to some fun summer virus we missed the first couple of classes. When we returned it was a new group of Mums and bubs in our class, some younger and some older than Noah. Class begins with "Humpty Dumpty" where the babies sit on the side of the pool and we encourage them to jump off into our arms. Noah has this pretty mastered after a year of classes and often needs encouragement to stay on the wall until the line, "..had a great fall", rather than encouragement to jump off. He also doesn't like me standing too near him, but loves splashing into the water and kicking his little heart out to get to the surface and to me.

It was after this first game, that I noticed the other Mums in our new class staring wide eyed at me and my now sodden child - who was grinning ear to ear, and shouting "More! More!" whilst doing the hand sign for "more". The other babies were dry from the waste up, several were hysterical and none were smiling. The mothers shocked expressions turned from me to our instructor, Michael, who hurriedly explained, "Noah has been taking classes for a year. Your babies don't need to do what he does. He's Australian."

The rest of the class proceeded in much the same fashion with many anxious glances coming our way when Noah swam underwater between Michael and me, or when I got him floating on his back for the first time (Note: Noah no longer floats on his back as he has realised how easy it is to flip onto his belly and dive under the water - obviously a lot more fun). And every class since has been much of the same. Noah and I don't mind, I want him to keep learning and enjoying swimming and he does.

However, the shock and awe of other parents became even more evident on the weekend when we took Noah to a community pool in Thompkins Square Park. Noah had to be restrained from diving headlong into the pool whilst Mummy and Daddy undressed, and no sooner had we entered the water than Noah assumed the position for "Humpty Dumpty" and dove into the pool, kicking his way to the surface and into Daddy's arms, before flipping over and kicking back toward the side. The first comments could immediately be heard, "Wow! Did you see that baby?"

After a few more minutes of this and Noah swimming underwater between Mummy and Daddy the comments continued, "See that baby? He isn't scared of putting his face in the water. If that little baby can do it, so can you." "Look at that baby swimming underwater. I bet you can do that if he can." We were stopped by a number of parents asking how old he was, and how long he has been swimming for. And 2 sisters, aged around 7 and 8 proudly told us they had just learnt to blow bubbles that day. To this comment, Noah lowered his face to the water and blew bubbles. The 2 little girls looked a little deflated. They then asked Nathan to teach them to float on their backs.

All this may sound like Noah is a super fish, but I am quite certain that in Australia his swimming abilities would be just average, if not a little behind. Recently, Nathan and I watched a DVD by Laurie Lawrence in which 6 month old babies when dropped in the pool can swim to the surface and float fully clothed. An amazing life saving skill I would love to see Noah master. Water or pool safety is not something taught here in the US at very many swim schools. In fact until recently the American Academy of Pediatrics did not recommend swimming lessons for children under 4 years old. I have only found one swim school which offers advanced water safety for babies and toddlers near New York, and no instructors are available in Manhattan (although a fellow Aussie Mum is currently trying to encourage them to send an instructor to the city).

So until our return to the land Down Under, where swimming is second only to walking, I guess Noah will stand out in the pool!

Spring cleaning

Spring arrived in Manhattan this week. Surprise! Just last week I was emailing photos to my parents of "all-the-layers" that go onto my son before we can go to the park for 20 minutes. Diaper, singlet, onesie, thermals, woolens, snow suit, beanie, mittens, socks, socks, boots.

And then Monday came. The air was a warm 14 degrees. Tuesday it was a balmy 16! It was magnificent! Diaper, onesie, jeans, jumper, socks, boots. Noah could hardly believe his freedom of movement without all the layers on. No more michelin-man walking awkwardly around the playground. He could twist and turn and walk backwards and run and bend! Even better, we stayed at the park for close to an hour, 2 or 3 times a day. Noah and I actually worked up a sweat racing around the playground. He was exhausted and had lovely long naps and crashed out early at night!

I truly never thought I would be so excited about 14 degrees. My Grandma in Sydney laughed at me when I was telling her how warm it was - in Sydney autumn is creeping in and the temperature has fallen to a chilly 18 degrees. Jumpers are being pulled out of closets and people are wondering if it is too early to put the electric blankets on the beds. If it was 18 degrees here tomorrow, I would be taking Noah to the roof deck for a splash in his inflatable pool!

Everything is relative. That statement seems so much more evident now that I am living in NYC and my extended family are all Down Under in the hemispheric opposite climate.

It is quite spectacular to see and feel this drastic season change here on the east coast. After almost 3 years in southern California, I had almost forgotten how good spring feels. The season changes are so subtle in LA, the weather is always temperate and pleasant (one reason nearly all Los Angelenos note the weather as one of the best things about the city).

I have also realised that spring has a profound and irresistible effect on all of us. Spring cleaning, I have discovered is an innate reaction, a reflex, that is triggered by this climate shift. There is no other explanation for, why, on a Saturday afternoon, I had husband and baby packed into the storage closet organising and cleaning and sorting.

Spring is sprung.

Post Script: Of course it has also brought with it torrential rain for the past 2 days!

Photo: With all the extra movement afforded Noah without the michelin-man layers, he refuses to face forwards on the swings, preferring to watch all the passing trucks out on the road.

Planes, trains and fire-engines

"Urrgh!"

A chubby little finger points out the window and the big blue eyes seek out where I am in the room to ensure I am sharing in the excitement. Outside a truck, or a bus, or a fire-engine rolls past the window.

"Bbbbrrrrr!" Noah calls after the truck, doing his best to mimic the "Brum-brum" of the engine. Noah has discovered trucks, cars, buses and most importantly fire-engines. They elicit unparalleled excitement, pointing and talking. Nothing sends Noah scampering to the window faster than the sound of a garbage truck outside.

Even when he is half way to sleep, eyes closed and breathing slowing, if a fire engine's siren is heard in the distance, Noah sits bolt upright, "Urrgh! Bbbbrrrr!" and points, trying to convince me to let him down so he can run to the window to see. No longer does my city baby sleep through anything. I spend much time now praying that no sirens or large trucks pass by our apartment whilst Noah is in the delicate stage of drifting off to sleep. Often these prayers go unanswered - we do live in Manhattan after all, I can't expect God to stop the city so my baby can sleep.

Dogs, pigeons and squirrels elicit similar reactions, with the addition that Noah wants to chase after them, arms outstretched. On a recent trip to the park, Noah was delighted to find the pigeons were distracted enough that he almost caught up to them (mating season). They were actually distracted enough that I got concerned he may actually catch one - thankfully, they did notice the 2 foot tall blue toddler bearing down on them and fluttered off to a safe distance to resume their activities. Not too sure what Noah would have done if he had gotten any closer...

Noah's new found excitement at all things automotive and animal, was only recently surpassed by a friend's little girl's excitement at planes. On taking us to the airport, our friend had suggested that if her 3 year old daughter came along it would make her day. Little did I realise that Mia would be positively breathless at seeing all the planes. Her excitement was palpable still a few miles from the airport, when Mia caught sight of the first plane coming in to land. By the time we reached the airport, Mia could no longer talk, was completely breathless with excitement and could do no more than stammer and point at all the planes. Finally, after catching her breath, Mia managed to tell me exactly what she was feeling, "I JUST LOVE PLANES!"

This sums up what I think Noah was experiencing at the same time. He was excitedly pointing out the other side of the car at all the airport buses rolling past the car. He looked like his little head might explode with happiness, he could hardly contain himself.

"Urrgh! Bbbbrrr! Bbbbrrr! Urrgh! Bbbrrrrr!"

My city baby

It has really become clear over the last few months that I have a city baby on my hands. Living in the urban jungle that is Manhattan I guess this is hardly surprising. But I still get surprised that what I took for granted growing up, Noah finds novel. Or alternatively, what I found so fascinating and rare, Noah hardly looks twice at.

Take grass. On our recent trip home to Australia, I was ecstatic at the prospect of the warm Sydney summer sun, swimming in my parents pool with Noah and playing in the backyard. But Noah cried the first time I placed him on the grass, holding his little legs up at 45 degree angles whilst trying to balance in a sitting position. He continued to protest and adopt this pose every time I sat him on the grass thereafter. Meanwhile back in Manhattan, he likes nothing better than crawling around, bare-kneed, on the cement and rubber over the park. Gravel and sticks do not phase him, grazes and cuts hardly get a flinch from him - but a little grass Down Under and we have tears!

Noise tolerance is another great example. We are frequently out and about with Noah snoozing in his stroller, when we have fire-engines, police cars or ambulances scream past us (often several at a time). Noah never stirs. At home, we frequently have the same occurrence at all hours, and I pray every time that Noah won't wake up, he never does. His parents might be wide eyed at 2am, but Noah sleeps soundly undisturbed by the sirens screaming down the block.

His fascination with anything that moves, flies or crawls, may not be uniquely a city-baby phenomenon, but how wildlife deprived he is, is. His excitement at seeing a subway rat, is only trumped by seeing the mangy pigeons over the park. Noah points and squeals and tries desperately to run after the animal (or rodent) with pure delight in his eyes. Coming from a city that has more species of skinks in the average backyard than the whole of the United Kingdom, rodents never fascinated me in quite the same way - and I tried to save nearly every type of living animal in our backyard at one point or another. I can't wait for Noah to see cockatoos and kookaburras, possums and blue-tongue lizards. For now rats and pigeons will have to suffice.

Rolling Snow Balls

December 31 2009 10:11am. I'm sitting on my bed, feeding my baby boy and watching the world outside turn white. For someone who has lived in Sunny Sydney, Perth & LA snow is still a beautiful novelty. And I am still getting used to all that goes along with living in a city that snows.

It now takes me half an hour to dress me and the baby so we can go to the park over the road for 20 minutes for a swing and a slide. There are beanies and mittens and scarves and jumpers and coats and boots and snow suits. Inevidably once we are all dressed and geared up I realize my keys are back in my bedroom. So the boots come off and I go searching. Meanwhile the baby is getting restless from overheating in all those layers.
Slowly I am rearranging our apartment to be more "snow-day" friendly - or just cold-weather-friendly. But it's a slow learning curve.

But right now I am just enjoying the view. And watching 3 boys roll snow balls. I didn't actually think you rolled snow balls. In the movies they do it sure, but that's the movies. But I have learnt something here. 3 boys started pushing small snow balls around and around the playground. Each time they pass my window their balls are bigger. They started no larger than a volleyball and now one of them is so big the boy is struggling to push it. It's at least 4 feet in diameter! Impressive! That is going to be one fantastic snowman!

Now I just need my husband home, the baby awake, and we can roll our own snow balls.

Winter Wonderland

Our first snow!

Not just our first New York snow, but for Nathan, Noah and I it was our first EVER snow. What a special moment to be shared by the 3 of us.

Walking through the cobblestoned streets of SoHo together as the first snow flakes fell. Except that Noah was asleep, and therefore oblivious. Still it was romantic and beautiful and picturesque.

After ducking into Patagonia and joining the queue of people also purchasing last minute cold-weather gear, we emerged to find a world transformed. A thin white blanket covered the dirt and grime that usually defines NYC. We walked along with our tongues out, trying to catch snow flakes on our tongues. We heard a few sniggers, and saw a few raised eyebrows from the long-term New Yorkers as we took photos and chattered excitedly about the snow - "Tourists". But no, we live here too, just never seen it snow before.

It snowed all day and soon the whole world was transformed. We ran over to the park when we got home with Noah and made snowballs with the few centimetres of snow on the ground, trying not to scrape up the dirt and grime just below the surface. Noah laughed at us - a lot. I am pretty sure he was thinking, "Crazy parents!" But we didn't care. We posted pictures on Facebook and sent them home to our family.

But we peaked too soon. This morning we awakened to a Winter Wonderland. Almost 11 inches of snow had fallen since yesterday. The world was transformed completely. I made Nathan and Noah dress as soon as we were up and raced over to the park. We made the first snow angels. We made the first snow man. Actually we made the first footprints in much of the park. Noah laughed and giggled. He cried a couple of times when we sat him in the snow. But he pointed and chattered away and seemed to think it was all very fantastical. We made snow balls and never even saw the grime which we knew was down there somewhere - just beautiful white powder.

An hour later and from the warmth of our apartment we saw the park filled with children and families. Each vying for a place to build a snow man or make a snow angel. Ours of course did not survive the onslaught. But they were there. First. That's what counts.

Stopping Traffic

Saks Fifth Avenue. A rainy Saturday afternoon. We take refuge from the weather outside in the hope of finding a dry, warm and baby-friendly cafe for lunch. When we enter into the cosmetics floor no-one takes much notice of the two drowned rats pushing the wet stroller. Even the concierge is too busy with two "muttons dressed as lamb" to tell me if there is a cafe in the store. Noah is looking disappointed that he can't catch anyone's attention from inside the "bubble" that is his stroller and rain cover. We find 3 options for lunch and head up to the 8th floor cafe - inside the infamous Shoes 10022.

After a great lunch, with much more attention being paid to Noah who sat up in a high chair and ate Mac 'n' Cheese, we head back downstairs. As we exit the lift back onto the cosmetics floor Nathan places Noah on his shoulders - Noah's favourite spot. I am walking in front of them with the stroller.

Suddenly, a commotion breaks out behind me. A couple of the staff in front of me call out, "Oh look! How cute!" I turn around to see Noah beaming and squealing and waving at everyone who is looking at him. And there are about 10 Saks employees stopped in their tracks waving and pointing at Noah. Noah is overwhelmed and doesn't know where to direct his attention - he turns franticly from side to side, alternating which hand is grasping onto Nathan's hair for stability, waving with the other hand. Eventually he decides he just needs to wave with both hands and has to abandon all hope of stability on Daddy's shoulders.

After briefly pausing so Noah can greet and charm those around us, we continue through the maze of cosmetic counters and perfume atomisers. More and more gasps erupt from the staff and customers as we pass by them:

"Hi there cutie-patootie!"

"Oh how adorable!"

"Do you have your camera? Your son is so cute! You need to take a photo of this!"

"Oh! Look at the baby!"

"Hi sweetie!"

"Adorable!"

By the time we reach the other side of the floor and get ready to exit, we have left a trail of destruction. Customers have been ignored. Staff are left staring after us in the hope that Noah may turn around one final time with a squeal and a wave. He did not disappoint.

Vintage Toys

Noah and I enjoy several of the wonderful "Mommy & Me" classes and groups that NYC has to offer, from a relaxed mothers/play-group, to swimming, to music, to yoga. I have found it an amazing way to meet other Moms and babies that are around Noah's age, and they have really helped us settle in quickly to the city.

It was at one of the these classes today, that I came the closest to complete disaster with Noah.

The class was at another Mom's apartment. This Mom is super artistic, being an artist and her husband an art-dealer, and probably not someone I would easily be-friend if we didn't sign up for the same class and have babies of the same age. Lets face it, I was the nerd at school, slightly obsessive-compulsive, a huge advocate for order and presentation. I put clothes together according to the layout in the store, the picture in the window, or what my big sister said was "trendy" (or later my younger sister). I was not the uber-alternative artistic type, who wore wonderfully eccentric vintage clothing in her very own style. This Mom, is just that sort of person, and I admire both the aesthetic qualities in her "loft apartment" and the vintage-sophistication of her clothes (and her daughters). I have always wanted to be the care-free artistic type, but no matter how many times I take it, the Myers-Briggs keeps telling me I am not that type of personality. Oh well.

I was particular impressed with the amazing array of vintage toys set out for this Mom's daughter on the toy-bench in the living room. From a vintage rocking-horse (actually I think it might have been a husky in its former years - it is a bit hard to recognise these days), to 30 year-old Fisher-Price toys - just like what we used to have as kids. Noah, and all the kids in the group love to play at the bench. Sitting up on their knees, grabbing down the unusual toys and objects perched somewhat precariously on the bench. The old cow-bell was a hit today, along with the old-style coloured pegs and board. And this is were we struck disaster.

Noah was playing, along with the 6 other babies, not more than 2 feet from me. He kept turning around to show me his latest find - a coloured peg, the cow-bell, an old Fisher-Price radio toy. He was very proud of himself (usually because he had beaten one of the other babies to the object). Then it was time to go, and I picked him up from the floor and saw a glimpse of something white in his mouth. Now I didn't immediately freak out. He eats everything, and at the moment his favourite is fluff from the shag rug and paper. This is what I figured I would be pulling from his mouth, like I do a thousand times a day to stop him coughing up a fur-paper-ball as big as his fist. But instead, today I pulled out a small white screw! A rather obvious choking hazard.

I turned to the Mom and showed her, to warn her that there could be others around and I didn't want her daughter to eat any. Her reaction took me quite by surprise.

"Oh yes, sorry about that. I did tell some of the Moms there could be a screw lying around."

I'm sorry? You knew there was a screw and yet were quite happy for our "mouth-fixated 10 month old children" to play there? And why tell only some of us? And...the questions kept racing through my head as I absently handed her the screw and said our farewells. Apparently the screw had fallen off one of the previously-admired vintage toys when the babies were playing with it, and she hadn't been able to find it.

No. Because Noah was chewing on it!

I had been feeling bad, that poor Noah only had new toys to play with. No worn-in, old-style, vintage-cool toys like his little play-mate. I no longer have that concern. There is a place for vintage, and it is not in my sons mouth.

Pediartician obviously failed Physics

Moving to NYC has had its challenges, especially with a baby in tow. Coming from LA, and before that Sydney, having your own car was almost a necessity. Certainly in LA, the city with more cars than there are people in Australia, your car is everything. As a mother, my car became a baby-accessory-storage-box. From diapers (nappies for the Australians), to wipes, to car seat, to stroller, to blankets and toys, and all that goes along with a baby when you need to go out. When I lived in LA, I hugely underestimated the convenience of having your own car (even if it was a 2-door VW Beetle - not the most family-friendly car a new Mother could own).

In NYC, I am car-less. When I need to go out with my son, I no longer have the convenience of already having the car seat and stroller in the car. I need to carry the baby, the car seat, the stroller and the diaper bag, find a taxi, pile everything in, argue with the taxi-driver about not taking off until the baby is strapped in, and then at the other end, repeat it all in a reverse order.

But I really shouldn't complain. At present the infant car seat straps into the stroller and is relatively compact and lightweight. What is concerning is the fact that in a few months, Noah will outgrow the infant car seat and need to move into a toddler car seat, which is both bigger and heavier. More concerning is the fact that I know of only 3 products on the market which address the issue of attaching a toddler car seat to a stroller so that I can get around once I am out of the taxi. Two look useless for negotiating the sidewalk minefields of New York, and the other retails for $1500!

This is the problem I took to our Pediatrician on our last visit, hoping she would have some pearl of wisdom passed on from her own experience or one of the many New-York-Moms she encounters on a daily basis. What do other parents do once their child has outgrown the infant car seat?

I had a number of questions for her actually at our last visit including when can Noah where a bike helmet so that my husband can buy a baby seat for his bike and take Noah riding? Nathan had been wanting to buy a seat for 4 months, and is getting impatient, but all the recommendations we've read suggested that babies shouldn't wear helmets until 12 months + because of the weight and the strength of their necks. Our pediatrician agreed. Definately not until after 12 months, as there are still significant spinal developments which occur up until 12 months, including strengthening and straightening of the spine. She said that whilst Noah was very strong, a bike helmet was still too heavy for him at this stage. It was the answer we were expecting.

What I didn't expect was the response when I asked about toddler car seats and strollers in NYC. The pediatrician said, that since there was no law in New York requiring children to be restrained when traveling under certain distances, most parents just held their babies and children on their laps and "hoped for the best".

This just didn't seem to follow from her previous answer. So Noah shouldn't go on a bike, traveling an average of 13 miles per hour, being restrained into a child seat and wearing protective clothing. But in a taxi, traveling an average of 20 miles an hour, "just hope for the best". Basic physics would suggest this is not an intelligent, wise, or logical answer - especially from one's pediatrician. After all, Newton's first law of physics suggests that if a car is traveling at 20 miles an hour, then any person or object within the car is also going that fast and will continue to go that fast until a net force acts on them to slow them down - such as a windscreen or another person. Furthermore, a child riding on a lap is at double risk - it is not only physically impossible for a parent to prevent the child being thrown into the windshield or dashboard, but if the parent is not wearing a seat belt, or they have the seat belt around them and the child, the force of the adult's body may crush the child. In fact, motor vehicle accidents are the second leading cause of death in small children in the US.

As far as I know, the physics, logic and parental caution that I apply in Australia, LA and every other state or country is the same that applies in New York. Newton's law certainly doesn't change in Manhattan. My arms didn't become super-human when I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, and my parental concern was not checked at the airport. And surely, the spine I am protecting by not putting Noah on a bike with a helmet just yet, is the same spine I should be protecting in a taxi.

Peek-A-Boo Train

Riding the subway was always going to be one of my least favourite aspects of New York City living. Hot. Stuffy. Crowded. Dirty. Smelly. The general public. And I had to take my baby down there.

Hand sanitizer has become my new best friend when we take the subway. Sanitizing after going through the turnstiles, when I get on the train and again when I get off. I am living in fear of the day when Noah is no longer confined to his stroller or Ergo Baby Carrier and is free to touch everything. On that day, sanitizer will become Noah's best friend too (mind you, I have already found him sucking on the tires of his stroller, so he has effectively sucked on the floor of the subway, and he is yet to display signs of golden staph, meningococcal, meningitis, or other horrible venereal diseases that make a mother's nightmares).

But, alas I digress.

You get the picture, riding the subway, whilst convenient, is not a pleasant experience. There is also an unwritten law, that you don't make eye contact with other patrons of the subway. At least not after the fleeting glance you cast around when first boarding, to make sure you are not going to regret your seating choice after you sit down. This unwritten law suits everyone just fine. Everyone that is, except Noah.

Noah, it turns out, is an exceptionally sociable child. I had thought all babies where as sociable and inquisitive as Noah, but other mothers assure me that Noah is "the most social baby", "the biggest flirt".

I can't deny it. Noah is happiest when he is smiling at someone, when they smile back and when he is surrounded by people. He has an ability to make strangers stop in the street and comment on his "big smile" and his "beautiful eyes". From the gay men in Chelsea, to the Chinese grandmas in the Lower East Side, Noah attracts a lot of attention.

This is why the subway is such a perplexing place for Noah. He has to pull out all his tricks to get a smile from a stranger, even though he is surrounded by them in such close proximity. First of all he tries to catch someone's eye. If that proves difficult, a little coo will follow. Then a small sheepish smile, and maybe a little giggle. If that still fails to gain the desired effect, he may wave, or clap, or both. His little legs may pump in excitement, and more cooing and giggling will follow. It is pretty much impossible for the poor subway patrons to keep their eyes downcast and keep to themselves. I have realised it is next to impossible to ignore Noah and not find yourself smiling in response. Few passengers have escaped his charms once he sets his sights on them.

Quite frequently, when Noah is in the Ergo Carrier and strapped to my chest, he will alternate charming the people sitting on either side of us. To the people behind us, it must look like a spectator at a tennis match. But Noah is skillfully charming the poor and unsuspecting patrons we chose to sit between.

Then yesterday on the subway, Noah stepped up his game a notch. After 15 minutes, most of the passengers around us were wearing smiles and having the occasional giggle, and no-one was minding the "no eye contact" law of the subway.

When we sat down on the F Train, placed between 2 young woman, it all appeared as an ordinary ride. Noah worked at getting smiles from the 2 woman. Both were easy targets, and Noah was quickly satisfied by both of them smiling back quickly and telling him how cute he was. The when one of them left, Noah found a new target.

A young boy, about 7 years old was sitting on the seats perpendicular to us. Within seconds Noah had initiated a game of peek-a-boo, hiding his eyes in my chest before looking up with a giant grin on his face. The little boy caught on amazingly quickly and was soon, calling out "peek-a-boo" everytime Noah looked up. Soon they were alternating who was hiding, and Noah was having frequent giggling outbursts, legs pumping and arms waving.

By the next stop, several other passengers were transfixed by this game, unknowingly smiling at the 2 boys playing. By the time we got off, all 15 passengers were looking from Noah to the little boy and smiling.

When we were out on the platform, I looked back into the carriage. and all had returned to normal - no smiles, no eye contact, just another carriage on the New York subway. But for a few minutes, Noah made those people smile and forget the laws of subway travel, and it was a nice few minutes for all of us.

Finding a little piece of Australia around the Manhattan corner.

When we moved to America I made my peace with the fact that certain aspects of my life, which I took for granted in Australia, would no longer be available. These farewelled past-times revolved mainly around food.

Flat Whites - Never mind that you can order a "decaf, soy, skim-milk, caramel, upside-down, wet latte", Americans do not know what a Flat White is, let alone how to make one. This was something I was unprepared for, but begrudgingly accepted. I tried to adapt my taste-buds to the drip-filtered variety that American's have grown up on, but alas I do not like coffee that much. We discovered if we ordered double-shots, and asked for a "wet-cappucino" we usually managed something resembling an espresso coffee we would expect in Australia. But nothing was quiet the same as my beloved "Flat White".

Vegemite and cheese sandwiches - Whilst vegemite was easy to bring with us, decent cheddar cheese was a hard staple item to find amongst the orange-rubber which Americans call Cheddar. Not to mention the bread issue - Americans eat bread which is more closely related to cake than the Sunblest, TipTop, or even Helgas varieties we grew up with Down Under. The American varieties emit a sickly sweet caramel smell when toasted, crumble when biten, and do nothing to compliment the salty-savory flavours of vegemite.

Cadbury's Chocolate - Whilst America does indeed have Cadbury's as a brand, it is made by Hershey's, and even the "glass and a half of full cream dairy milk" will not counter-balance the atrocities of using vegetable oil in chocolate.

Crunchie Bars and Flakes - Sadly Americans, for all their Reeses Peanutbutter Cups and Hershey Kisses, are deprived of the wonder of golden honeycomb covered in chocolate or flake away slivers of soft creamy milk chocolate.

Tim Tams - Even stocking up on family-sized variety packs of Tim Tams at Sydney airport was only ever going to last us for so long. Especially with the inevitable impromptu visits by our Aussie friends which followed our return from any trip Down Under.

So to all of these "Australian staples" which I had become accustomed to, and taken for granted for so many years, I had farewelled. That is, until we moved to Manhattan.

When we first arrived in Chelsea, at a quaint coffee shop, Grumpys, we found Flat Whites on the menu "For our Australian Friends". Even better, several mornings a week, I would be magically awakened by the aroma of a flat white drifting through our front door as Nathan and Noah returned from an early morning walk. Now that we are in the Lower East Side, I have again had to farewell Flat Whites, however The Roasting Plant on Ludlow Street offers a pretty close substitute, and who is complaining when your Son and Husband deliver it to your bedside 3-4 mornings a week!? Not to mention the fact that Noah is on a first name basis with the early morning barister, Crimson.

Indeed living on the cusp of China Town has proven very advantageous for us home-sick Aussies. The Golden Carriage Bakery across the road, with its enthusiastic staff who leap over the counter to tug on Noah's chubby cheeks and feet, offers a wonderful white sugar-free alternative to the American cake-type bread. Something that closely resembles the sliced varieties in Australia - no caramelisation when toasted, no crumbling of cake as you eat it, and it compliments vegemite (albeit without decent cheddar) on toast beautifully. Even Noah is enjoying morning toast and vegemite on a daily basis.

Then one night, when I had sent Nathan out in search of ice-cream at 10pm, he returned with an altogether surprising and wonderful discovery - a Crunchie bar for me and a Flake for him! Delicious golden honeycomb covered in chocolate devoid of vegetable oil. Delicious. And available from our local corner store along with some delectable Haagen Daas ice cream flavours.

We also discovered the Sweet Life on Hester and Ludlow. A store reminiscent of "Willy Wonka" with jars of sweets and chocolates, including the deliciously sinful 'Dark chocolate covered orios'. And there on a shelf in the window proudly sits jars of vegemite and packets of Tim Tams. Overpriced? Yes, but when you are almost 10 000 miles from home, a few extra dollars is worth it (and we are going through our vegemite at a rate of knots now with Noah eating it every day).

Yes, we are still in search of the Australian variety of Cadbury's chocolate, and will have to suffice with taxing our international guests with delivering several family blocks of Cadbury's Dairy Milk whenever they visit. But all in all, this Aussie Mum is feeling more at home in New York thanks to the little things around the corner.

Rained Out!

For the first 5 weeks after we arrived in New York I put into my diary "Aussie Mums & Bubs playdate Central Park". And 5 weeks in a row it rained on a Wednesday - and I thought we were arriving in New York in Summer?

After 5 weeks of rain, I was determined to make it to Central Park. I was decked out with NYC-appropriate baby-transport gear - we now had a lightweight stroller so tackling the subway on my own was difficult but manageable (give or take a few bruises acquired going up and down the stairs). Or I could go via taxi and strap the car seat into the stroller. Noah's morning sleep meant there was hope that his afternoon sleep would be conducive to getting to the park for the 3:30pm start. It was a sunny morning in Chelsea. Tick, Tick Tick.

But of course all these ducks lined up in a row were just too good to be true. By lunch time it was sprinkling intermittantly. Noah went down for a much later sleep than usual. All looked doomed.

Or was it? Noah woke up early. I could make it if we left immediately in a cab. Changed the babies diaper, threw the baby in the car seat, grabbed the diaper bag, decided my hair and outfit were passable, put on a smidge of eyeshadow and blush, grabbed a rain jacket and ran out
the door.

I hailed a cab - buckled the baby into back seat, collapsed the stroller and threw it in the boot, jumedp into back seat beside the baby and said, "To Central Park please at West 81st Street".

"I am going to make it!" I thought proudly to myself. I was excited and so I texted Nathan to show him what an adventurous wife he has - getting out and about in New York. Meeting new people.

Traffic was bad - school had just come out. That's ok though. "I don't want to be the first to arrive anyway" I thought to myself reassuringly.

Then after about 20 minutes, around 60th street, the heavens opened.
At first just teasing me with a few sprinkles and I started to weigh up my options.

"It's raining" said the cab driver in a thick Polish accent (at this point in time I did not know that it was a Polish accent, but still it was a thick accent).

"Yes I can see that" I thought to myself.

Then it poured. Big fat soaking drops of rain. Noah's eyes widen as his view out the back window was obscured by rain and the noise in the taxi was drowned out.

"It's really raining now" said the taxi driver. "What you doing in Central Park? Going for a walk?"

"Mmmm not good." I weighed up my chances that the rain would stop or not even be falling in another 20 blocks. But the black sky ahead of me warned of impending doom to my adventurous outing.

"Would you mind taking us back to 21st Street?" I reluctantly asked.

And so Noah and I spent an hour and $30 going nowhere. When we arrived home I swear Noah looked at me like I was crazy. "So Mummy, you threw me in my car seat, stuffed me in a taxi, and an hour later, all we did was drive around the block? That was no fun at all!"

Apartment Hunting - A full contact sport!

A friend recently said to me, "From what I hear, apartment hunting in NYC is a full contact sport". After viewing 40 apartments over the last four and a half weeks, we have finally signed a lease! And yes, it is a full contact sport!

And what a broad spectrum of potential abodes we saw. We looked in TriBeCa, the Financial District, NoLIta, the Lower East Side, the West Village, the East Village, Greenwich Village, Chelsea, the Flatiron District, and the Upper West Side.

We looked at the insanely tiny (this is New York after all), and apartments up 5 flights of stairs (which I couldn't be convinced to traverse each day with a baby under one arm and the stroller under the other - not to mention the groceries!).

There were one bedrooms (in which we were supposed to erect additional walls to create a second bedroom aka "cupboard" for the baby to sleep in - because he doesn't take up much room right?).

There was the apartment block I was denied entry to because "babies are not permited on building sites" - a fact which may make living there difficult since the baby is non negotiable.

We saw an "apartment" which was actually a sewing factory (and the fact that the dress Whoopi wore to the Oscars this year was made there will not make me want to live there more - no matter how often you repeat it).

There was the loft with the "6 foot" ceiling in the second bedroom (interesting that I could not stand up being that I am 6 foot and no I am not mistaken I am not 6 foot 2! And no it won't be perfect for the baby because his mother needs to be able to enter his room without risking concussion).

And there was the apartment Nathan didn't even let me see - retreating out shaking his head.

Then there were the brokers! Like used car salesmen but somehow worse. We met no fewer than 5 brokers and, with exception of Lior our final broker, all were useless. Sentences would start as follows:
"Now I know this is above your price range but..."
"This isn't a true 2 bedroom but..."
"This apartment does have some stairs but..."
"That air conditioning unit isn't the correct fit so it is packed in the space with bubble wrap. Not attractive but it works" (don't worry about the choking hazard not to mention risk of small child falling through the gap!)
"There is no washer/dryer but do you know you can send your laundry out to be done?"
"This apartment is a little small but..."

And the list goes on!

Then finally there was the Forward Building in Manhattan's Lower East Side. I literally heard angels begin to hum "Aaaahhhhh" as we entered.

• 24 hour doorman (tick)
• Elevator entry to apartment (tick)
• Washer & dryer (tick tick)
• 1,435 square feet (tick x 1,435 squared)
• 2 complete bedrooms (tick tick)
• View onto a park (tick)
• Children's playground in that park (tick)
• Lovely open kitchen (tick)
• 2 bathrooms & a tub (tick tick tick)
• Bike storage facilities (tick)
• Additional storage space (bonus)
• Roof deck (bonus)
• Built in very large flat screen tv (bonus)
• Famous land lord (cool)
• Famous neighbour (extra bonus and cool)!

Of course, one final note should be, that whislt we looked at a staggering 40 apartments in the flesh, hundreds more were perused and discounted online. All of which was completed on the 11 cm x 6 cm screen of my iPhone (being that our computer is in storage).

We may be left bruised and bloodied, and in need of new glasses, but we have a place to live. Isn't that what this contact sport is all about anyway!?

48 hours in transit

After 48 hours in transit, with a 5 month old, we got our first glimpse on Manhattan from the ground before sliding underground into the Midtown Tunnel. The husky hues of sunset were the perfect backdrop to a city coming to light. The pinks and purples faded into oranges
and yellows before being washed out into blues and grays. Lights began to twinkle in the windows of the city that never sleeps.

We emerged onto Manhattan under the Empire State Building. Iconic and encapsulating all we looked forward to in our new life here.

But it is not all so romantic. 48 hours ago we left behind our families in Sydney. Our son's grandparents only just stopped short of kidnapping him but did not manage to hide how sad they were to say goodbye. So sad in fact we had our smallest farewell party at the airport in our 2 years of living in the US. Too hard to come to the airport again and say goodbye.

Then 24 hours ago we farewelled our Los Angeles friends (and tried to convince them to move to New York with us)!

In between all the farewells were two mammoth plane rides. Mammoth both in time spent travelling and because we had our robust (as my husband describes him) and adorable 5 month old son with us. The adorability is the harder trait when travelling we have discovered, for even when he is asleep hostesses and other passengers stop and coo and cluck - and none too quietly -often waking the poor little guy up, who of course just flashes a big smile at all the inquisitive faces above him. My husband and I however were all scowls knowing we have little chance of getting him back to sleep for at least another couple of hours!

"Yes he is cute"
"He's 5 months old"
"His name is Noah. Yes adorable"
"It's a Phil and Teds cocoon. It comes with our stroller. Yes it's great."

These are just some of our conversations whilst in transit.

But I guess we shouldn't really complain. We were flying business class and on the Sydney-Los Angeles leg of the journey we had 4 seats to ourselves. Noah is already used to the luxury and space. He may get a rude shock when we head home in November and only in Premium Economy!

A couple of other travel and transitting whinges to end with. We are srrugglung to understand why, when forced to switch planes in Los Angeles on our way to New York, our baggage allowance dropped. Does United Airlines expect us to drop 20 pounds out of each of our suitcases as we pass between terminals? At least the staff were so smitten with our "Mr Adorable" son they helped us repack at the check-in counter.

Some highlights from our travels to New York:
Noah timed perfectly his once-a-week poo to arrive 15 minutes prior to boarding (we got called over the airport paging system for the first time ever as a result)!
Being able to go into the American queue at customs due to Noah's birthright (not that we did as it seemed longer only to be pulled out 10 people from the front of the visitors line and sent to the back of the American line)!
Bring able to sit at our favourite cafe in Los Angeles, Joans on Third, one last time for hours with our friends.

Good-bye Los Angeles. Good-bye Sydney

Hello New York.