Ramshackle Glam A lifestyle blog by Jordan Reid.

Up all night with a sick baby + 5A.M. call time for today’s shoot = sunglasses and juice.

(This post was written at 4:45A.M., so apologies in advance for any typos and/or general incoherence.)

Last night was a little rough.

It was one of those nights that every parent has once in awhile: our son was sick from about midnight on, which meant a constant stream of baths, bedding changes, pajama changes, carpet cleanings, water deliveries…you name it. Nights like these are terrible, mostly because you just want your child to feel better and fall back asleep, but also because there’s so much anxiety involved (the baby’s crying, the dogs are panicking, everyone’s exhausted). And in my experience, anyway, that anxiety can snowball on top of itself, creating friction between the parents that does nothing but make a miserable situation that much worse.

I remember the first time we had a night like this, not too long after we moved. Neither Kendrick or I had any idea what to do, really: let him lie down? Try to get him to stay awake until he feels better? Give him a bath…or just worry about cleaning him up once the sun rises? Because there’s so much to do when a child is sick in the middle of the night – logistical stuff like changing the sheets, but mostly just trying to figure out what he needs to feel better – and it can be very easy to take out your frustration and worry on the other parent: you’re not doing it right.

And the fact that it’s 4AM and you haven’t slept at all and you have to start getting ready for work soon doesn’t help. You might not fight, exactly…but you snap at each other. And it feels horrible.

But last night, something was different. We heard our son crying in that way that you know means something is actually wrong, and without even talking about what to do, we were in his room. I stripped the bed; Kendrick got Indy out of his PJs and ran a bath; I went downstairs for some water and medicine. It went on like that, over and over, all night long, and when our son finally relaxed and fell back asleep…

You know what we did?

We high fived. And gave each other a kiss, and said “good job,” and closed our eyes.

It was a bad night, but something about it wasn’t bad at all, exactly…because even at 3AM, ferrying towels up and down the stairs, it felt like we - all three of us – were on the same side. I’m so proud of my son for being so brave – because he was – but I’m also proud of us for getting through it like the partners we promised each other we’d be six and a half years ago. We’re not always perfect at that, but we’re working on it. Getting better. And I think that’s what matters.

Also: I think everyone in this house could really use a nap.

I’m on set several days this week for a Snuggle campaign (which means – yes – that I get to meet The Bear at some point; I am weirdly excited about this). The crew working on this project includes some of my absolute favorite people in the industry, such as hair and makeup artist Kerry Lou (pictured with me above), videographer John (who shot all of my JITH segments), and stylist Felix, who I’ve known for years and who never fails to send me home with some completely random (and genius) wardrobe idea that I would never, ever have thought of on my own.

Yesterday’s Felix Wisdom: when you’re wearing earrings with a detail on only one side (like the pair pictured above), try putting them on your ears the reverse way, with the post going through from the back, so that the side with the detail frames your face – as opposed to only being visible when you turn your head. (Especially good if you’re taking lots of forward-facing photographs, such as for a wedding.)

I would never, ever have thought of this. Huh.

OK, so the truth about Buying For Baby is that you think you need bazillions of things, and what you really need is…about one-eighteenth of that. When you walk into Buy Buy Baby or Babies ‘R’ Us for the first time, all pregnant and confused-looking (or, in my case, vaguely panicky), a store attendant will hand you a long (long) list of all the crap the store wants you to think that you need. And that can be helpful to some extent, but it’s also way overwhelming, and way way way way expensive.

You don’t need all that. (Try handing over the list to a friend who’s recently been through the newborn phase, and let her go to town with the crossing-off.)

Shopping for our second child has been a completely different experience. First of all, other than the fact that I obviously went a little nuts with the purchasing of teeny-tiny dresses when we found out that we’d be having a daughter…we actually hadn’t bought anything at all up until last weekend. Which makes sense: we already have about 90% of the things we’ll need (crib, dresser, baby carrier, infant car seat, et cetera). We still want to pick up a good double stroller and a Snap ‘n’ Go (we not-so-smartly got rid of ours when our son outgrew his infant car seat)…but other than that: we’re pretty good to go, I think.

But there were still a handful of must-haves to check off the list, so over the weekend we took our first (and hopefully only) trip to Buy Buy Baby, list in hand. What we came home with: replacements for some items that I recall being absolute essentials the first time around…plus a few things that I didn’t buy when we were expecting Baby Number One, but that I ended up really, really wishing that I’d had.

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I don’t know whether it’s the warm air or what, but something’s in the water lately: everyone is just so nice. The other day I went into the city to shoot a segment and hung around for awhile afterwards to get a few errands done (including a stop into Anthropologie to return a broken necklace, which I exchanged for the completely amazing tank pictured here)…and it was lovely.

As a point of reference, what usually happens when I go into the city for the day is I am instantly reminded of all the things about city life that make me glad that I’m close by, but no longer a resident. Like the people. Who are very numerous, and often very angry. And that many people being that angry…it makes me angry, too. And I hate hate hate being angry, because I get rude, and then I instantly feel guilty and beat myself up about it for the remainder of the day. A few weeks ago when I went in for a meeting I was trying to get off of the subway and got so frustrated by the fact that not one single person would move away from the door and allow me to take even one single step off that I actually yelled:

“BACK IT UP, PEOPLE.”

Like, yelled it. If I did that in Tarrytown – which I wouldn’t, because there’s an excellent chance I’d be yelling it at, like, kindergarteners and the nice lady who helps me deposit my checks at the bank – I would probably be handed a cup of tea and asked if I needed a foot rub or something. But in New York, people yelled back at me. And then I got all weepy, and…well…

Ugh.

But the other day when I went in, the sun was shining and the weather was perfect and it seemed like everyone was doing nice things for each other. I didn’t have a receipt for my broken necklace, but the attendant let me return it at the full, non-sale price just because, and then chatted with me for awhile about having kids. A man let me go ahead of him on line for pizza. A reader came up to just to say hello. And on the train home, when I couldn’t find the return ticket that I’d tucked into my jacket pocket, the woman collecting tickets winked at me and told me not to worry about it and to have a nice day. And I did.

It’s hokey, but also true, you know: it really can make a person’s day better if you just go ahead and smile at them. Let them cut you on line. Say hi.

It’s a good thing to remember every once in awhile. It was nice of New York City to remind me.

On Me: Anthropologie tunic; Hat Attack fedora; DIY-ed distressed jeans (click here for a tutorial); pumps ℅ Call It Spring (similar); Karma Clutch ℅ Deux Lux.

Today on Momtastic: an excerpt from the RG book about one of the issues I struggled with most while pregnant with our son…and what I eventually realized that I was really afraid of.

Click here to read.