3 min

Dear Charlie #2

What’s the dumbest thing you’ve done while drunk?

I stole money from a drug dealer.

I was in my 20s, walking the streets of Philly, when I passed a car parked illegally on a median. The driver was passed out at the wheel. My brother assured me he was a drug dealer. 

In my drunken state I approached the car and peered in. There was a wad of cash on the passenger seat. I screamed hello but the guy didn’t budge. I jiggled the handle and it was unlocked. 

At this point my brother bolted. He wanted no part of whatever I was doing. I opened the passenger door and yelled again, “Hello! I don’t think you can park here!” 

No response. I grabbed the money, shut the door, and caught up with my brother. I unrolled the cash to see my winnings. 50 bucks! I bought the next round of beers and celebrated my victory.

The next morning I realized my stupidity and the dangerousness of the situation. I could’ve been killed. 

What’s it like to go from having no money until your mid-30s to now having plenty of it?

It’s wonderful.

I rarely check my bank account. I order anything from Amazon without a second thought. I don’t hesitate to buy nice clothes. There are so many more luxuries I can afford: expensive skincare products, organic everything, nice furniture, all the Christmas decorations. 

The best part is waking up every day and living the life I want to live. I get to write and spend time with my family. I don’t have to work in a restaurant. I don’t have to dread going to work. I don’t even have a boss. 

There’s a part of me that feels I need to prove myself to others because I’m not supporting myself financially. Not receiving my own steady paycheck sometimes makes me feel like I’ve turned into housewife and stay-at-home mom. 

Even though I know I’m pursuing my passions and curiosities and feel more ambitious than I’ve ever felt, I’m still concerned with outward appearances. 

But inwardly, I’ve never been happier and more content. 

Any update on family drama?

I’m no longer speaking to my brother Jim. No real reason for the fallout but haven’t heard from him since my son was born in August 2020. 

Jim also stopped speaking to my parents, and that was because they refused to get the COVID vaccine. Prior to that, he told them if they voted for Trump they would never get to see their unborn grandkid. … he and his girlfriend were not expecting a baby and still aren’t, as far as I know. 

Recently my mom did finally get the COVID vaccine because “her doctor scared her,” but she didn’t tell my dad and she definitely didn’t tell my brother. 

My older sister thinks Jim walks on water, so she is just annoying. 

My younger sisters are fine, but they still live with my parents at 34-years-old and I wish they would move the fuck out already. 

Also, after a successful hysterectomy, Mom is cancer-free! 

Are you ready for this pregnancy to be over? 

Of course. My back hurts, my butt hurts, I can’t get comfortable, I can’t sleep, I can’t drink wine, I can’t do real workouts. 

But I’m also not ready to have two kids. I’m not ready to have a newborn again. I’m not even ready to go through childbirth again. 

You’d think this would be old hat. You’d think I’d be a pro now. But birth is scary. 

Giving birth to my son was the most excruciating experience of my 36 years on this planet. It’s been over a year since the traumatic event and I still struggle to write about it because it’s hard to describe just how painful and horrible it was. 

When it was over and I held my tiny baby on my chest, I did not feel love and happiness and an unspeakable bond between mother and son. I only felt relief that it was over. And I desperately wanted to sleep. 

This time around I do not have a birth plan because birth plans are trash. A playlist? Are you kidding me?? If anyone tried to play music while I was in labor I would have punched them in the face and told them to get the fuck out of my room. And yet there I was in the weeks leading up to my due date, compiling songs I thought I might want to hear while breathing (read: screaming) through the pain. 

I still don’t know if I want to have a natural birth again or if I want to get an epidural because even though it was torturous, there were no complications and I recovered quickly. Was it because of the natural birth? I have no idea. But I’ve also heard stories of women asking for the epidural and not getting it in time, or instances where the epidural just didn’t work. And I can’t fathom expecting relief and then not getting it. At least this time around, I know what to expect. 

Unless I have back labor. Dear God, please don’t let me have back labor. 

What’s the best part of your day?

We have a recent daily ritual: the evening family bike ride around the neighborhood. 

As soon as I get on my bike and start gliding I can’t help but smile. Riding a bike brings me back to being a kid. I’m part of the generation whose parents kicked us out of the house in the morning and told us not to come home until dinner time. I spent entire summers riding my bike around the neighborhood and climbing trees. 

It’s an even better feeling now because I look to my left and see my husband on his bike and our 1-year-old son sitting behind him, taking in the sights and sounds. When George looks over and sees me I wave. He waves back and life is perfect.

What’s the worst part of your day?

Bedtime. I can’t get comfortable. I can’t fall asleep. And even though I’ll eventually fall asleep I’ll be tossing and turning all night. My EightSleep stats confirm “14 tosses and turns” but I don’t believe it. I’m sure it was more. It doesn’t help that I have bad dreams every single night. It sucks. 

But I did have one good dream recently. I was vibing hard with Casey Neistat. 

Nothing happened! We were just flirting and into each other and he was more attractive to me in the dream than he is to me in real life. 

I told Sam I finally had a good dream. I think he was happy for me.