The pump broken down, so the pool had to be closed. Sigh. The good news is that I already scheduled a make-up session for A this Friday. The bad news is that I left early so A could get a nap and so I drove all the way to Belmont Park and woke him up only to discover there were no classes today.
We had a good weekend. I have to clean. We are in desperate need of bookshelves and I have to sort through a stack of files before I throw out a lateral file.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Friday, August 17, 2007
Jury Duty
At playgroup this week (which should almost be renamed "A and L have a playdate" but hope springs eternal), I saw a jury duty summons. K and I had a discussion about how she and her hubby have had to go every year for as long as they've lived here.
I said, gosh, isn't there an exemption period if you've served? She said no, one year.
So today in the mail, what did I spawn with my idle chatter about jury duty? That's right, a jury duty summons. The paperwork actually says I'm exempt from jury duty for three years if I've served as a sworn juror, which, of course, I have. And I blogged about it so I have the dates, yay!
I said, gosh, isn't there an exemption period if you've served? She said no, one year.
So today in the mail, what did I spawn with my idle chatter about jury duty? That's right, a jury duty summons. The paperwork actually says I'm exempt from jury duty for three years if I've served as a sworn juror, which, of course, I have. And I blogged about it so I have the dates, yay!
Stupid bibs
Yesterday the NYT had an article saying some of Toys R Us's baby bibs were contaminated with lead. Unfortunately, they're the ones A has. Bleack.
Duly motivated, I took A for his lead screening, which is a normal part of the 12-month checkup but I just hadn't gotten around to doing yet. The phlebotomist was not the best we've ever had, but A was a superstar. The guy stuck him in the arm, lost the vein, moved the needle around for twenty seconds to find the vein while A watched (not screaming). I was about to scream myself but settled for asking with the right amount of umbrage and studied casualness: "Do you want to try his other arm now?"
"No, I've almost got it," he said, and in a second, yes, he did. A did not yell or cry during any of it. When I put him in his stroller to go, he pulled his band-aid off. The guy gave us another band-aid and taped it to A's arm.
The window where A used bibs was actually pretty small, but it still makes me nervous. I'm about to go throw out all his non-German toys. I think the Germans are the only ones left I trust.
Duly motivated, I took A for his lead screening, which is a normal part of the 12-month checkup but I just hadn't gotten around to doing yet. The phlebotomist was not the best we've ever had, but A was a superstar. The guy stuck him in the arm, lost the vein, moved the needle around for twenty seconds to find the vein while A watched (not screaming). I was about to scream myself but settled for asking with the right amount of umbrage and studied casualness: "Do you want to try his other arm now?"
"No, I've almost got it," he said, and in a second, yes, he did. A did not yell or cry during any of it. When I put him in his stroller to go, he pulled his band-aid off. The guy gave us another band-aid and taped it to A's arm.
The window where A used bibs was actually pretty small, but it still makes me nervous. I'm about to go throw out all his non-German toys. I think the Germans are the only ones left I trust.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
The fever is down
So we'll hopefully get to avoid the doctor this week. A's currently trying to make clicking noises with his tongue because I can. He's also found a set of calligraphy markers that I'm letting him play with in a fit of parental insanity. He can't take the tops off of them and I'm not sure he knows the tops come off of them. He'll figure it out as soon as I look away.
I took him to the zoo this morning to take a nap. He fell asleep (of course!) on the way to the car. I managed to get him into the car seat without waking. I picked up some In-n-Out, ate in a parking garage and read books. When A woke up, the engine wouldn't turn over. Call C, say, "Hey, is this a dead battery thing?" (I get all stupid-girl about the car. I try not to, but I'm honestly only hoping it goes most of the time.) Yeah, probably battery, C says. (I do not mention that C owes me jumper cables.) I call AAA, ask for a jump, a new battery salesman, and possibly a tow truck. They're as friendly as can be.
Then I put the key in the car, and it comes on just fine. Call them back--not realizing in my brilliance I have programmed the number into the phone--and cancel. Come home, feed boy. Now he's working on climbing on top of my desk. Boy, he's scary.
I took him to the zoo this morning to take a nap. He fell asleep (of course!) on the way to the car. I managed to get him into the car seat without waking. I picked up some In-n-Out, ate in a parking garage and read books. When A woke up, the engine wouldn't turn over. Call C, say, "Hey, is this a dead battery thing?" (I get all stupid-girl about the car. I try not to, but I'm honestly only hoping it goes most of the time.) Yeah, probably battery, C says. (I do not mention that C owes me jumper cables.) I call AAA, ask for a jump, a new battery salesman, and possibly a tow truck. They're as friendly as can be.
Then I put the key in the car, and it comes on just fine. Call them back--not realizing in my brilliance I have programmed the number into the phone--and cancel. Come home, feed boy. Now he's working on climbing on top of my desk. Boy, he's scary.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Completely random
So I was reading a L&D nurse's blog (pointed to courtesy of Jennifer, thanks!). Recently she's got a collection of birth stories there; one of which had the most beautiful term for a sunny-side up (OP) baby like Mistah A here: Sternengucker (German) or "star gazer." My little star gazer! How fab!
Monday, August 13, 2007
Fevers and doctors and pedialyte, oh my
Our boy was running a fever today. This is notable because I've got the mommy touch now, you know, the put a hand on the forehead and say, "You're hot." I thought he was hot at swimming, then later thought he was hot as I was considering an outing. So I took his temperature and sure enough, he was running a low grade fever (100-101°F).
He's had some intestinal issues over the last week and he's got a cut on his finger (which I think is him biting himself), so I called the doctor's office. They think it's a virus. Tylenol for the fever, Pedialyte for the intestinal issues; they'll see him if he runs a fever for three days.
The mommy touch comes from touching a baby all the time. You get acclimated to what they should feel like. My guy's hot like his dad, but fever feels different.
His ezcema seems to be doing somewhat better, although he's still getting slathered with lotion for some rough patches. Swimming today didn't seem to make it worse.
He's had some intestinal issues over the last week and he's got a cut on his finger (which I think is him biting himself), so I called the doctor's office. They think it's a virus. Tylenol for the fever, Pedialyte for the intestinal issues; they'll see him if he runs a fever for three days.
The mommy touch comes from touching a baby all the time. You get acclimated to what they should feel like. My guy's hot like his dad, but fever feels different.
His ezcema seems to be doing somewhat better, although he's still getting slathered with lotion for some rough patches. Swimming today didn't seem to make it worse.
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Saturday at the doctor
Today A had a rash on his sides (right where you would hold him) and it looked like it was spreading to his tummy. He didn't seem bothered by it, but it bothered us. Long story short, we went to the pediatrician's and he's got a mild case of eczema.
The doctor thinks it was brought on by swimming with a wet suit. He said we should keep A moisturized and use 1% hydrocortisone on the rashy bits.
I'm quite annoyed, because my father had nasty, severe eczema and eczema is hereditary. I was pretty happy when A had no signs of anything relating to my father. I thought I was mostly over my cheap self, but then this happened and I thought, great, eczema, one more asshole thing the stupid sonofabitch can do to me (which is kind of funny, now that I see it written down like that). I don't like it when my daddy issues rear their ugly heads. It's not often that they do nowadays, but man. I had the same gut reaction that I would have if someone slapped A.
But I'm trying to cut back on my completely irrational and crazy lines of thought like that, and identifying something as crazy is the first step towards leaving crazy. Also helping with crazy: getting more sleep, like now.
The doctor thinks it was brought on by swimming with a wet suit. He said we should keep A moisturized and use 1% hydrocortisone on the rashy bits.
I'm quite annoyed, because my father had nasty, severe eczema and eczema is hereditary. I was pretty happy when A had no signs of anything relating to my father. I thought I was mostly over my cheap self, but then this happened and I thought, great, eczema, one more asshole thing the stupid sonofabitch can do to me (which is kind of funny, now that I see it written down like that). I don't like it when my daddy issues rear their ugly heads. It's not often that they do nowadays, but man. I had the same gut reaction that I would have if someone slapped A.
But I'm trying to cut back on my completely irrational and crazy lines of thought like that, and identifying something as crazy is the first step towards leaving crazy. Also helping with crazy: getting more sleep, like now.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Swimming blahs
Today's make-up swim class wasn't great. We had a sub since our regular teacher is on vacation (thank God, because I thought she'd never get one) and the sub didn't really know how class went and winged it. So A was a little confused but game. He did okay except for when she moved him around without really watching where he was and he ended up a little submerged and drank some water. That wasn't cool. She normally teaches the three- and four-year-olds so I'm guessing she just had issues adjusting to the babies. (One of the things she wanted them to do was shout, "Hooray!" They don't shout on cue yet, lady.)
But A grinned and grinned when he saw the pool so that's good.
A has had some nasty diaper rash going that's made him now wiggle and squirm like, oh, an electrocuted puppy every time I try to change him. On the last change, I apparently twisted something in my back by my left clavicle and now it's difficult to turn. Hmmm. Parenting is a full-contact sport.
But A grinned and grinned when he saw the pool so that's good.
A has had some nasty diaper rash going that's made him now wiggle and squirm like, oh, an electrocuted puppy every time I try to change him. On the last change, I apparently twisted something in my back by my left clavicle and now it's difficult to turn. Hmmm. Parenting is a full-contact sport.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Oh crap, he's climbing!
As I type this, the wunderkind is perched on top of my oak step stool and making his way to the seat of the futon. Poor sweet Niles was having a nice lie-down in the sun; he has now, resentfully, moved to the window where he is watching A to determine if this was a fluke or a development. Sadly for Niles and me, it's a development.
Now we can climb up things. Whee!
Now we can climb up things. Whee!
New blog, new blog
I realized that the writing stuff was taking up too much room on the blog of baby stuff, so I've made a new blog.
Due to my tendency to not keep my big fat mouth shut, that one will be invitation only. It's not you, it's me. I need to be able to sleep after I rant about people who piss me off. I sent out invitations this morning to people who I thought would care, but if you didn't get one, email me and I'll send you an invite. I'm including the people I just forgot and the people I weren't aware read the blog.
Those of you who just want to hear about the bambino should be thrilled.
A picked up a new sign, btw: bird. He likes birds. We went to Sea World yesterday and saw the "Pets Rule" show. He tracked the animals, said "Meow" for the kitties and "Doggie" for the dogs, then watched the window behind us that the birds flew into mid-show very carefully. There's a lot going on in his head.
Due to my tendency to not keep my big fat mouth shut, that one will be invitation only. It's not you, it's me. I need to be able to sleep after I rant about people who piss me off. I sent out invitations this morning to people who I thought would care, but if you didn't get one, email me and I'll send you an invite. I'm including the people I just forgot and the people I weren't aware read the blog.
Those of you who just want to hear about the bambino should be thrilled.
A picked up a new sign, btw: bird. He likes birds. We went to Sea World yesterday and saw the "Pets Rule" show. He tracked the animals, said "Meow" for the kitties and "Doggie" for the dogs, then watched the window behind us that the birds flew into mid-show very carefully. There's a lot going on in his head.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
So what do you do with a baby in Vegas?
Well, let's see. We drove to Vegas, which took about five hours, out of which A was unhappy for half an hour. I put my hand on him and he fell asleep.
We met up with C's work people at the hotel and ate. Then C wasn't due back until later, so we checked into our hotel, let the boy run around the room, and then headed over to the hotel for a tour of J&T's suite and to get my badge. C dropped A and I off at our hotel and he went to the Voodoo Lounge for the company shindig. A and I fell asleep. C crept in later and escaped death by not waking me up too much.
Day two, we dropped C off and picked up Miss Julie and went shoe shopping and fishing shopping. Did you know Zappos has an outlet in Vegas? It does, and I found it and the most darling pair of cute trendy sneakers, plus a pair of blue snakeskin heels. Plus we had excellent Memphis-style BBQ. We went to see The Big Announcement by the CEO and then C, A, and I had dinner and went to bed.
Day three, we had a long lazy morning. C, T, and I went and had BBQ again because it was just that good. Yum! I could eat another pulled pork sandwich right now. The sweet potato came with brown sugar butter sauce. I can't begin to tell you how good that is. Brown sugar and butter might be the best tasting thing in the world.
C went to his panels, A and I drove around Vegas for a nap, then we went to the pool (where some person tried to tell me that the pool was an adult-only pool like I was an idiot and I went all Willy Wonka inscrutable/loony on him), and then we went to watch C in his last panel, then went to the Grand Banquet and ditched after the wedding and costume contest.
Day four, we got up, had breakfast, and came home.
There's a huge difference between staying on the strip without a car and staying off the strip with a car and there's a huge difference in having your baby there and not. But we were not the only ones there with young 'uns.
I think A's favorite part was either trying to walk around in the hotel hallways or taking a bath in the hotel tub.
I took no pictures aside from ones of the hotel room, which is truly a shame.
We met up with C's work people at the hotel and ate. Then C wasn't due back until later, so we checked into our hotel, let the boy run around the room, and then headed over to the hotel for a tour of J&T's suite and to get my badge. C dropped A and I off at our hotel and he went to the Voodoo Lounge for the company shindig. A and I fell asleep. C crept in later and escaped death by not waking me up too much.
Day two, we dropped C off and picked up Miss Julie and went shoe shopping and fishing shopping. Did you know Zappos has an outlet in Vegas? It does, and I found it and the most darling pair of cute trendy sneakers, plus a pair of blue snakeskin heels. Plus we had excellent Memphis-style BBQ. We went to see The Big Announcement by the CEO and then C, A, and I had dinner and went to bed.
Day three, we had a long lazy morning. C, T, and I went and had BBQ again because it was just that good. Yum! I could eat another pulled pork sandwich right now. The sweet potato came with brown sugar butter sauce. I can't begin to tell you how good that is. Brown sugar and butter might be the best tasting thing in the world.
C went to his panels, A and I drove around Vegas for a nap, then we went to the pool (where some person tried to tell me that the pool was an adult-only pool like I was an idiot and I went all Willy Wonka inscrutable/loony on him), and then we went to watch C in his last panel, then went to the Grand Banquet and ditched after the wedding and costume contest.
Day four, we got up, had breakfast, and came home.
There's a huge difference between staying on the strip without a car and staying off the strip with a car and there's a huge difference in having your baby there and not. But we were not the only ones there with young 'uns.
I think A's favorite part was either trying to walk around in the hotel hallways or taking a bath in the hotel tub.
I took no pictures aside from ones of the hotel room, which is truly a shame.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Vegas with baby
Yes, we were those people in Vegas with a baby in the stroller.
Pizza's hot so I will say that we went to Vegas, had a good time, and didn't gamble or drink. Vegas with a baby is worlds apart from Vegas without a baby (at least, if you are a good parent--yes, I'm looking at you, people who line your kids up against the wall of the casino while you gamble).
More when pizza's not hot.
Pizza's hot so I will say that we went to Vegas, had a good time, and didn't gamble or drink. Vegas with a baby is worlds apart from Vegas without a baby (at least, if you are a good parent--yes, I'm looking at you, people who line your kids up against the wall of the casino while you gamble).
More when pizza's not hot.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Viva Las Baby
I'm trying to pack but Mister Crankypants here is making it difficult. So I'm blogging and holding him in my lap.
He desperately needs a nap.
Today was his 12-month checkup. I asked a lot of questions about food, allergies and parenting. He's doing great. He's average in weight, height and head circumference (but in no other ways is he average!), 22 pounds, 29 and a half inches. The length surprised me; his car seat's limit for height is 30 inches so we'll be getting a car seat sooner than I thought. The pediatrician says he has a lot of words for a one-year-old.
He has a new trick where he runs over to a light socket, sees how close he can get to it before I say, "Danger!" then runs back to me, giggling. He also thinks sneezes are hysterically funny right now. Anyone sneezes and he looks delighted, like a large and beautiful butterfly just floated by. If it's a particularly good sneeze, he giggles.
He got the MMR vaccine today and he's running a low-grade fever, which the doctor told us to expect. He really didn't like these shots; he howled and turned so red I thought he'd had a reaction to the drugs at first. One of them apparently burns.
We've got a rental car to go to Vegas (since my car had a nervous breakdown the last time we were there) and we've got to pick it up this evening. I wonder what you do with a baby in Vegas. I'm packing swim togs and we'll spend a lot of time at the pool.
He desperately needs a nap.
Today was his 12-month checkup. I asked a lot of questions about food, allergies and parenting. He's doing great. He's average in weight, height and head circumference (but in no other ways is he average!), 22 pounds, 29 and a half inches. The length surprised me; his car seat's limit for height is 30 inches so we'll be getting a car seat sooner than I thought. The pediatrician says he has a lot of words for a one-year-old.
He has a new trick where he runs over to a light socket, sees how close he can get to it before I say, "Danger!" then runs back to me, giggling. He also thinks sneezes are hysterically funny right now. Anyone sneezes and he looks delighted, like a large and beautiful butterfly just floated by. If it's a particularly good sneeze, he giggles.
He got the MMR vaccine today and he's running a low-grade fever, which the doctor told us to expect. He really didn't like these shots; he howled and turned so red I thought he'd had a reaction to the drugs at first. One of them apparently burns.
We've got a rental car to go to Vegas (since my car had a nervous breakdown the last time we were there) and we've got to pick it up this evening. I wonder what you do with a baby in Vegas. I'm packing swim togs and we'll spend a lot of time at the pool.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Birthday madness!
We just took the grandparents to the airport (sadly, it was great fun to have them here) after Mister A's Big One.
It was madcap. Friday we decided to go to Comic-Con. If you don't know what Comic-Con is, you probably won't enjoy it. I realized that I was not the big geeky loser girl I thought I was after going to Comic-Con. It makes the SCA people at Ren Fairs look positively well-adjusted.
But then we ran around here cooking and cleaning before we had to pick up the grandparents. Then we woke up and cooked and cleaned until everyone ate, really. We had a good time; I hope everyone else did. A took a nap halfway through his party so the party ended up lasting an hour longer than I thought. Mister L was a trooper and was pretty happy throughout. We had enough food to feed three times the people; I don't know why I'm always convinced everyone will starve.
A liked the frosting but didn't like the cake. He chewed on the cardboard cake round instead. He now has more toys than I know what to do with, but they're all really cool ones. We're parceling them out. He still hasn't opened all the ones from Grandma and Grandpa and us and the out-of-town folks. It's a little overwhelming for a little guy.
Yesterday we took him for a birthday ride on the carousel and train in Balboa Park, which he enjoyed. We went out for BBQ and he took great pleasure in chewing on rib bones. It looked like he was a serious BBQ aficionado from way back. He dropped his bone, then turned and pointed to Grandpa's plate, like, "Hey there, Grandpa, better get me another one." We had a small incident when he got a little bit of the spicy sauce but Dad put a pat of butter in his mouth and everything was better.
Today A and I will try to put the house back together and get back onto a more normal schedule. Boy, birthdays are exciting.
It was madcap. Friday we decided to go to Comic-Con. If you don't know what Comic-Con is, you probably won't enjoy it. I realized that I was not the big geeky loser girl I thought I was after going to Comic-Con. It makes the SCA people at Ren Fairs look positively well-adjusted.
But then we ran around here cooking and cleaning before we had to pick up the grandparents. Then we woke up and cooked and cleaned until everyone ate, really. We had a good time; I hope everyone else did. A took a nap halfway through his party so the party ended up lasting an hour longer than I thought. Mister L was a trooper and was pretty happy throughout. We had enough food to feed three times the people; I don't know why I'm always convinced everyone will starve.
A liked the frosting but didn't like the cake. He chewed on the cardboard cake round instead. He now has more toys than I know what to do with, but they're all really cool ones. We're parceling them out. He still hasn't opened all the ones from Grandma and Grandpa and us and the out-of-town folks. It's a little overwhelming for a little guy.
Yesterday we took him for a birthday ride on the carousel and train in Balboa Park, which he enjoyed. We went out for BBQ and he took great pleasure in chewing on rib bones. It looked like he was a serious BBQ aficionado from way back. He dropped his bone, then turned and pointed to Grandpa's plate, like, "Hey there, Grandpa, better get me another one." We had a small incident when he got a little bit of the spicy sauce but Dad put a pat of butter in his mouth and everything was better.
Today A and I will try to put the house back together and get back onto a more normal schedule. Boy, birthdays are exciting.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Dog! Dog! Doggie!
This morning, A was between C and me in our bed while we (the grownups) tried to sleep. He stood up and looked out the window over our bed and started yelling what sounded like the same word over and over again.
I resigned myself to being awake, found my glasses and peered out. There were two coyotes playing right outside our window. A waved the white curtain around, pointed with his other hand, and said, "Dog! Dog! Doggie!" (At least, that's what it sounded like to us once we realized what he was pointing out.)
"Yes! I mean--no! That's a coyote, not a doggie, not that you'd know that, A," I said to him. He was thrilled. The coyotes saw the white curtain waving around and ran away. But yes, A has doggie. We'll work on coyote. I was amazed that he had "doggie," just because we don't have a dog. I guess I do point out the dogs that we see and he's pet some (the poodle being carried by the two gay men the other day comes to mind), but it still surprised me that he could make the leap. At least he didn't say "kitty."
It's hard to confirm that yes, doggie is probably the logical word but no, that's not a doggie. Maybe we'll have to spend some time in the zoo, although I don't think there's coyotes in the zoo.
Also in A news: he's been helping me with housework by handing me papers and envelopes to shred. (No, I don't let him touch the shredder. Jeez!) He thinks this is a fabulous thing. I must say, for the first time since we've lived here, all the shredding is done.
I resigned myself to being awake, found my glasses and peered out. There were two coyotes playing right outside our window. A waved the white curtain around, pointed with his other hand, and said, "Dog! Dog! Doggie!" (At least, that's what it sounded like to us once we realized what he was pointing out.)
"Yes! I mean--no! That's a coyote, not a doggie, not that you'd know that, A," I said to him. He was thrilled. The coyotes saw the white curtain waving around and ran away. But yes, A has doggie. We'll work on coyote. I was amazed that he had "doggie," just because we don't have a dog. I guess I do point out the dogs that we see and he's pet some (the poodle being carried by the two gay men the other day comes to mind), but it still surprised me that he could make the leap. At least he didn't say "kitty."
It's hard to confirm that yes, doggie is probably the logical word but no, that's not a doggie. Maybe we'll have to spend some time in the zoo, although I don't think there's coyotes in the zoo.
Also in A news: he's been helping me with housework by handing me papers and envelopes to shred. (No, I don't let him touch the shredder. Jeez!) He thinks this is a fabulous thing. I must say, for the first time since we've lived here, all the shredding is done.
Ladies first
My read-and-critique update comes first so the boy update will be at the top of the page.
I had critique group last night. We had a new member, someone whose baby is one day older than Young Master L, which means he's right around A's ago. She was pleasant enough if only looking not at all like she'd had a baby.
I am back to calling the prat the prat. He's a horrible writer but doesn't know it, which is the worst kind of horrible writer. His women are stereotypically "dark" in an Orientalist way that skeeves my little historian's heart and "hot" in a fifteen-year-old writing fan fiction based on Buffy or Babylon 5 way. He's having something published online this month, and that apparently gave him the confidence to nitpick everyone else's work.
One of the writers brought the same piece she'd written before because there's an anthology at the end of the month she's submitting it to and she wanted a last look-over from the group. He looked at it briefly, made the same complaints he made before, then lectured her on letting go over pieces and getting on to the next thing. "I have started something else; I'm just submitting this at the end of the month so I wanted a last opinion," she said. Never mind; he's still going to lecture her on the importance of not working a piece to death. Then he got up and left the table and paced around the restaurant, thank God.
He wanted to have an argument about whether or not "that" was needed in a sentence. Just for those of you playing along at home, current writing trends are to cut words, not add them, and most of the "that"s in the universe can be excised. The prat likes to add "that"s. He wanted to add one where it wasn't needed. I said, no, that's not needed. He ignored me and told the writer to go check with a picky grammar person. She said, "I am a picky grammar person." I said, "So am I, and you don't need it." So he was a little put out. I think he's working in Best Writer In The Room mode, and I don't have the heart to tell him that I've spent the last ten years writing and the last two years copyediting. That'll be my secret.
He had an POV (that's point of view) argument with me about whether or not the POV in my story switches. The story is first-person (just like this here blog), and his argument that it was a POV switch was because of a sentence like this: Now Jake has a toy mouse. See? Did that throw you? I, Miss Kim, writer of the blog, am making a statement about something my cat possesses even though I am not my cat. Did you suddenly feel like I went all omniscient and God-like there? Did it throw you that I didn't say, "I see that now Jake has a toy mouse"? No? Then you're three steps ahead of the prat.
The rest of the group is lovely. I was happy because I got to hear some interesting ideas from other people and spend some hedonistic little time talking about how to make my writing better. It's nice to be with people who are struggling along in their own causes. I have been consuming Miss Snark's blog, but I think it would be better if I didn't read her vorpal wit before read-and-critique group. I felt like my already pretty sharp knives were honed and poker-hot.
I had critique group last night. We had a new member, someone whose baby is one day older than Young Master L, which means he's right around A's ago. She was pleasant enough if only looking not at all like she'd had a baby.
I am back to calling the prat the prat. He's a horrible writer but doesn't know it, which is the worst kind of horrible writer. His women are stereotypically "dark" in an Orientalist way that skeeves my little historian's heart and "hot" in a fifteen-year-old writing fan fiction based on Buffy or Babylon 5 way. He's having something published online this month, and that apparently gave him the confidence to nitpick everyone else's work.
One of the writers brought the same piece she'd written before because there's an anthology at the end of the month she's submitting it to and she wanted a last look-over from the group. He looked at it briefly, made the same complaints he made before, then lectured her on letting go over pieces and getting on to the next thing. "I have started something else; I'm just submitting this at the end of the month so I wanted a last opinion," she said. Never mind; he's still going to lecture her on the importance of not working a piece to death. Then he got up and left the table and paced around the restaurant, thank God.
He wanted to have an argument about whether or not "that" was needed in a sentence. Just for those of you playing along at home, current writing trends are to cut words, not add them, and most of the "that"s in the universe can be excised. The prat likes to add "that"s. He wanted to add one where it wasn't needed. I said, no, that's not needed. He ignored me and told the writer to go check with a picky grammar person. She said, "I am a picky grammar person." I said, "So am I, and you don't need it." So he was a little put out. I think he's working in Best Writer In The Room mode, and I don't have the heart to tell him that I've spent the last ten years writing and the last two years copyediting. That'll be my secret.
He had an POV (that's point of view) argument with me about whether or not the POV in my story switches. The story is first-person (just like this here blog), and his argument that it was a POV switch was because of a sentence like this: Now Jake has a toy mouse. See? Did that throw you? I, Miss Kim, writer of the blog, am making a statement about something my cat possesses even though I am not my cat. Did you suddenly feel like I went all omniscient and God-like there? Did it throw you that I didn't say, "I see that now Jake has a toy mouse"? No? Then you're three steps ahead of the prat.
The rest of the group is lovely. I was happy because I got to hear some interesting ideas from other people and spend some hedonistic little time talking about how to make my writing better. It's nice to be with people who are struggling along in their own causes. I have been consuming Miss Snark's blog, but I think it would be better if I didn't read her vorpal wit before read-and-critique group. I felt like my already pretty sharp knives were honed and poker-hot.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Teething teething teething
Molars suck.
They really do.
A has at least four molars trying to come in and oh my Lord the boy is cranky and in pain.
I don't like to give him Tylenol but if they had an over-the-counter drip I'd be on my way to Target right now to buy one. It's the only way he's sleeping right now.
A saw a picture of himself and C on my screen saver, pointed, and said, "Da!" so we're upping the word count. I'm also suspicious that he's trying to say "Jake" and "Niles" but that's still not clear.
They really do.
A has at least four molars trying to come in and oh my Lord the boy is cranky and in pain.
I don't like to give him Tylenol but if they had an over-the-counter drip I'd be on my way to Target right now to buy one. It's the only way he's sleeping right now.
A saw a picture of himself and C on my screen saver, pointed, and said, "Da!" so we're upping the word count. I'm also suspicious that he's trying to say "Jake" and "Niles" but that's still not clear.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Harry Potter Harry Potter Harry Potter
We're done with Harry in this household. The period of time where I am finished and C is not is somewhat tension filled around here since we hold firmly to the concept of not blabbing the bits of books or movies until everyone is done.
So no Harry discussions here. If you finished it and want to chat about it, email me.
But this is all irrelevant to the real attraction which is the boy.
It was birthday party weekend (and it should be a measure of how much we like people that we ventured forth into the world with HP unfinished). Saturday was Little Miss S's birthday, also known on this blog as the Biter. A didn't get bit. It was in a park; all the other birth class babies were there and there were tunnels and toys to play with galore.
There was a huge spread of corn-based food, none of which I could eat. I happened to be standing where the front of the line was when the announcement came to eat, so I gamely walked through the line and took a little of everything, while realizing that I could eat nothing. So then I found my husband (this is why married couples should circulate at parties) and said, "Look, honey, I got you a plate of food." At least everything that I could touch (no utensils for grabbing corn-husk-wrapped tamales, so no tamales on my plate).
This makes me feel slightly better about not killing myself to make sure I have wheat-free, gluten-free everything for our shindig this week.
Sunday we went to Terry's birthday dinner and that was fun, even if there was just too much going on for A. He was mostly fine, a little fussy but it was a long time. I'm feeling increasingly apologetic to my child-free friends because I just can't have a normal conversation any more. I'm trying but my brain's completely taxed. I'm trying to keep my baby occupied and happy first of all, and then second, I can talk to you. You're already coming in second. But then, I have to really concentrate to try and think of something small-talk-y or conversational and that's probably too much work. I don't want to talk about the baby, but I have very few other things that I'm spending my brain power on. Plus I'm consumed by envy of child-free people in restaurants because they don't have someone who is desperately interested you and only wants to be in your lap with a hand down your shirt. Well, you might have someone who wants a hand down your shirt, but you won't be changing his diapers in the next half hour.
The other things that I'm spending my brain power on are things I don't want to talk about, like the fact that I need to figure out whether the protagonist in my novel-in-progress is more of a girl who likes sour candy or sweet, exactly how much already-written back story needs to go and how sad that will make me because I really like the bit about Estefan quitting cigarettes, and whether I should submit my story about the safe for critique this week or the part of the novel where my protagonist meets up with her ex.
See, your eyes are glazing over already.
The tiny bit of my brain that's left is spent on the fact that the hornworms have spread to the basil which pisses me off and that I need to clean the house this week for the impending in-laws and birthday party. You know, remembering milk at the store.
So no Harry discussions here. If you finished it and want to chat about it, email me.
But this is all irrelevant to the real attraction which is the boy.
It was birthday party weekend (and it should be a measure of how much we like people that we ventured forth into the world with HP unfinished). Saturday was Little Miss S's birthday, also known on this blog as the Biter. A didn't get bit. It was in a park; all the other birth class babies were there and there were tunnels and toys to play with galore.
There was a huge spread of corn-based food, none of which I could eat. I happened to be standing where the front of the line was when the announcement came to eat, so I gamely walked through the line and took a little of everything, while realizing that I could eat nothing. So then I found my husband (this is why married couples should circulate at parties) and said, "Look, honey, I got you a plate of food." At least everything that I could touch (no utensils for grabbing corn-husk-wrapped tamales, so no tamales on my plate).
This makes me feel slightly better about not killing myself to make sure I have wheat-free, gluten-free everything for our shindig this week.
Sunday we went to Terry's birthday dinner and that was fun, even if there was just too much going on for A. He was mostly fine, a little fussy but it was a long time. I'm feeling increasingly apologetic to my child-free friends because I just can't have a normal conversation any more. I'm trying but my brain's completely taxed. I'm trying to keep my baby occupied and happy first of all, and then second, I can talk to you. You're already coming in second. But then, I have to really concentrate to try and think of something small-talk-y or conversational and that's probably too much work. I don't want to talk about the baby, but I have very few other things that I'm spending my brain power on. Plus I'm consumed by envy of child-free people in restaurants because they don't have someone who is desperately interested you and only wants to be in your lap with a hand down your shirt. Well, you might have someone who wants a hand down your shirt, but you won't be changing his diapers in the next half hour.
The other things that I'm spending my brain power on are things I don't want to talk about, like the fact that I need to figure out whether the protagonist in my novel-in-progress is more of a girl who likes sour candy or sweet, exactly how much already-written back story needs to go and how sad that will make me because I really like the bit about Estefan quitting cigarettes, and whether I should submit my story about the safe for critique this week or the part of the novel where my protagonist meets up with her ex.
See, your eyes are glazing over already.
The tiny bit of my brain that's left is spent on the fact that the hornworms have spread to the basil which pisses me off and that I need to clean the house this week for the impending in-laws and birthday party. You know, remembering milk at the store.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Wednesday is stinky
A didn't sleep well and woke up yelling and crying and thrashing and complaining. He's been cranky all day. We had a lovely day yesterday at Balboa Park, went to the free museums, saw Miss Julie for lunch and viewed baby peacocks.
But today has stunk. Usually in stores I get the "oh, he's adorable," comments. Today at Whole Foods, I was the woman with the cranky baby. I was also right behind the immaculate, yoga attired mom with her baby in his perfectly coordinated outfit that matched his grocery cart liner with the little ruffles. He was quiet and lovely. Mine was thrashing and dressed by his father, which means creatively. A grabbed everything in sight, then discovered he could hold on to the counter and rock the cart back and forth (while yelling MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA!). The Whole Foods clerks couldn't get rid of me fast enough.
A decided that he doesn't like mozzarella any more and threw it all on the floor. Argh. I've stubbed my toe at least twice now, and while that seems minor, I had a biopsy on that toe this morning and it hurts like hell. So. I'm joining the circus as soon as my toe heals well enough for me to walk the high wire.
But today has stunk. Usually in stores I get the "oh, he's adorable," comments. Today at Whole Foods, I was the woman with the cranky baby. I was also right behind the immaculate, yoga attired mom with her baby in his perfectly coordinated outfit that matched his grocery cart liner with the little ruffles. He was quiet and lovely. Mine was thrashing and dressed by his father, which means creatively. A grabbed everything in sight, then discovered he could hold on to the counter and rock the cart back and forth (while yelling MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA!). The Whole Foods clerks couldn't get rid of me fast enough.
A decided that he doesn't like mozzarella any more and threw it all on the floor. Argh. I've stubbed my toe at least twice now, and while that seems minor, I had a biopsy on that toe this morning and it hurts like hell. So. I'm joining the circus as soon as my toe heals well enough for me to walk the high wire.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Lazy Sunday
The boychik is sleeping in C's lap while he re-reads HP 6, so I am trying to cobble together some quilt patterns and blogging.
Let's see: we went to see Miss Julie's short piece in the Actors Alliance Festival, C on Wednesday and me on Friday. That was fun. It's interesting to see what people come up with. I realized that I think about theater from the writing and Julie thinks about it from the performance aspect, which is fascinating, really. But it was fun to see. I sat next to one of the judges and had to cover my eyes every time he got a scorecard out because I knew if I saw what he wrote I would have to tell Miss J. So I didn't look. And I got to meet some of her acting friends that I hear so much about, which was great. And Julie was good, which is always gratifying when you don't have to lie or fudge about how someone did.
Yesterday we hung out here, C cleaning and me watching the boychik and writing. We went to see HP 5 at the drive-in, which was not quite the great success the last trip was. A had slept in the car a lot already, so he was raring to go. He wanted to look out the window, wave to the girls sitting in front of the car next to us, press all the buttons in the car... Oh my. He fell asleep maybe halfway through. I have serious reservations about the things they chose to cut from the movie. It was fine and the actors do well, but they need more money for their special effects (or to reallocate the budget). It reminded me of a ten-year-old's book report on the book, except I think a ten-year-old would have spent the money on (spoiler) Fred and George's swamp.
There are nasty green worms on my tomato plants. I've been picking them off and throwing them over the side for the birds to eat, but I'm going to have to get a little more chemical on them soon.
Let's see: we went to see Miss Julie's short piece in the Actors Alliance Festival, C on Wednesday and me on Friday. That was fun. It's interesting to see what people come up with. I realized that I think about theater from the writing and Julie thinks about it from the performance aspect, which is fascinating, really. But it was fun to see. I sat next to one of the judges and had to cover my eyes every time he got a scorecard out because I knew if I saw what he wrote I would have to tell Miss J. So I didn't look. And I got to meet some of her acting friends that I hear so much about, which was great. And Julie was good, which is always gratifying when you don't have to lie or fudge about how someone did.
Yesterday we hung out here, C cleaning and me watching the boychik and writing. We went to see HP 5 at the drive-in, which was not quite the great success the last trip was. A had slept in the car a lot already, so he was raring to go. He wanted to look out the window, wave to the girls sitting in front of the car next to us, press all the buttons in the car... Oh my. He fell asleep maybe halfway through. I have serious reservations about the things they chose to cut from the movie. It was fine and the actors do well, but they need more money for their special effects (or to reallocate the budget). It reminded me of a ten-year-old's book report on the book, except I think a ten-year-old would have spent the money on (spoiler) Fred and George's swamp.
There are nasty green worms on my tomato plants. I've been picking them off and throwing them over the side for the birds to eat, but I'm going to have to get a little more chemical on them soon.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Biting fallout
So I called the Biter's mom today and told her about A's little visit to the doctor and the blood tests. She couldn't be more apologetic or embarrassed. She offered to pay for the medical bills (which I refused graciously since it's a $10 co-pay and the price of having kids, YKWIM?) and apologized over and over. Anyway, she's going to have her kid tested and then have the results forwarded so I think everything's fine on that front. She told me not to worry about it and to never hesitate to call. I think she's just horribly embarrassed.
A is super happy today. He crawled around taunting Niles with a mouse. Also, his third word, which I didn't mention before, is "Meow." We were sitting at dinner one night over the weekend and Niles began howling upstairs. A looked at us and pointed upstairs and said, "Meow?" Yes, meow. Kitties say meow. Momma, more, meow.
He's had two all-regular-food meals now: turkey, cheese, applesauce, and rice crackers. Someday soon he'll be eating regular food in restaurants. Whoa.
A is super happy today. He crawled around taunting Niles with a mouse. Also, his third word, which I didn't mention before, is "Meow." We were sitting at dinner one night over the weekend and Niles began howling upstairs. A looked at us and pointed upstairs and said, "Meow?" Yes, meow. Kitties say meow. Momma, more, meow.
He's had two all-regular-food meals now: turkey, cheese, applesauce, and rice crackers. Someday soon he'll be eating regular food in restaurants. Whoa.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Doctor day
It's been a doozy of a day here. Swim class was fine. We miss Miss M. But we still love swimming. A fourteen month old girl came with her grandmother and cried and shrieked for the five minutes she was in class.
We got in to see the doctor today, the last one in the office we haven't met. (For you baby weight watchers, he's 21 pounds, 9 ounces today.) She was of grandmotherly age and was probably about as peeved as I imagine A's grandmother would be that someone bit him. A's now on antibiotics for ten days since the cut's infected. Plus we had to go for blood tests: HIV and HepA acute. It would be great if the biter could get the same blood tests done and send the results to our pediatrician's office. The doctor even went and found my doctor for a consult before recommending all the blood tests.
I was gobsmacked. Then she asked, "How well do you know this kid?" Well, since before she was born so somewhat well. But her mother's not doing all the vaccines, or not on schedule, and oh my God fine, let's get the blood tests done just to be safe. And somehow I will have what will be a very uncomfortable conversation where I ask someone to get her kid blood tests because it would make my health care professionals (and me) feel better about my kid's health because her kid bit my kid.
And the blood tests all need to be done again in six months.
So I asked this grandmotherly type doctor what I should do about a biter. "Nothing you can do," she said. "Her mother needs to do it. Her mother needs to put her in time-out. And if she keeps biting, she shouldn't be in a playgroup until her mother learns to control her." She said kids of this age bite because they're frustrated in trying to communicate or they're being territorial.
Mistah A was a trooper for his blood tests. This is an amazing kid. He sat patiently through the first vial and started to yell and cry on the second, probably because he was pinned against my chest in a massive medical bear hug. She took the needle out and he stopped crying. Then he downright enjoyed a trip to the grocery store to get his scrip filled. He was in and out of the car a lot today with relatively few complaints.
C is feeding him now and I'm so very, very tired. I am almost first-trimester tired, that's how tired I am. My (other) credit card was stolen (but thankfully, all the charges were denied since my account's on alert) so now I'm going through the credit card gobbedlygook again. This is getting old hat here. I know it sounds like I'm posting my credit card numbers on the 'net but I'm really not.
We got in to see the doctor today, the last one in the office we haven't met. (For you baby weight watchers, he's 21 pounds, 9 ounces today.) She was of grandmotherly age and was probably about as peeved as I imagine A's grandmother would be that someone bit him. A's now on antibiotics for ten days since the cut's infected. Plus we had to go for blood tests: HIV and HepA acute. It would be great if the biter could get the same blood tests done and send the results to our pediatrician's office. The doctor even went and found my doctor for a consult before recommending all the blood tests.
I was gobsmacked. Then she asked, "How well do you know this kid?" Well, since before she was born so somewhat well. But her mother's not doing all the vaccines, or not on schedule, and oh my God fine, let's get the blood tests done just to be safe. And somehow I will have what will be a very uncomfortable conversation where I ask someone to get her kid blood tests because it would make my health care professionals (and me) feel better about my kid's health because her kid bit my kid.
And the blood tests all need to be done again in six months.
So I asked this grandmotherly type doctor what I should do about a biter. "Nothing you can do," she said. "Her mother needs to do it. Her mother needs to put her in time-out. And if she keeps biting, she shouldn't be in a playgroup until her mother learns to control her." She said kids of this age bite because they're frustrated in trying to communicate or they're being territorial.
Mistah A was a trooper for his blood tests. This is an amazing kid. He sat patiently through the first vial and started to yell and cry on the second, probably because he was pinned against my chest in a massive medical bear hug. She took the needle out and he stopped crying. Then he downright enjoyed a trip to the grocery store to get his scrip filled. He was in and out of the car a lot today with relatively few complaints.
C is feeding him now and I'm so very, very tired. I am almost first-trimester tired, that's how tired I am. My (other) credit card was stolen (but thankfully, all the charges were denied since my account's on alert) so now I'm going through the credit card gobbedlygook again. This is getting old hat here. I know it sounds like I'm posting my credit card numbers on the 'net but I'm really not.
The Biter
We've got swim class today, but I have to call the doctor. A got bit (again) last week at playdate - twice. I didn't think she had broken the skin, but on Friday he most definitely had a scab. It's looked irritated all weekend. Today it's still raised, red and puffy, so I'm calling the doctor to make sure we don't have to bring him in. He doesn't have a fever, but he's been having Tylenol for teething pain (the sixth tooth broke through yesterday, finally, but there are signs of number seven and eight making their way through now).
I'm annoyed, to say the least.
I don't know if a one-year-old is old enough to be biting for attention or not. I don't know why a one-year-old bites. There are some people who claim it's teething and some who claim it's attention-getting. I've done enough reading to know that I'm not supposed to say, "You horrible, horrible monster, you bit my angel," and I give all of my attention to A anyway. After a cuddle, he bounces back quickly. He's a trooper.
The first time she bit him, I really wasn't too rattled. The second time, I was unhappy. The third time, I thought, what is wrong with your kid? That's about as judgmental as you can get with someone's else's kid. The mother is embarrassed about it but I'm getting to the point where I want her to have her hands on her kid at all times, which is difficult, but I'm not the one with the biter. I'm going to have to lay my hands on A at all times during playdate, which will annoy both me and him. Part of playdate for me is teaching him to feel comfortable being not-in-my-lap in a non-home space.
And now I'm wondering how in the world I teach A to defend himself. Do I want him to run away or punch her or push her away?
I'm annoyed, to say the least.
I don't know if a one-year-old is old enough to be biting for attention or not. I don't know why a one-year-old bites. There are some people who claim it's teething and some who claim it's attention-getting. I've done enough reading to know that I'm not supposed to say, "You horrible, horrible monster, you bit my angel," and I give all of my attention to A anyway. After a cuddle, he bounces back quickly. He's a trooper.
The first time she bit him, I really wasn't too rattled. The second time, I was unhappy. The third time, I thought, what is wrong with your kid? That's about as judgmental as you can get with someone's else's kid. The mother is embarrassed about it but I'm getting to the point where I want her to have her hands on her kid at all times, which is difficult, but I'm not the one with the biter. I'm going to have to lay my hands on A at all times during playdate, which will annoy both me and him. Part of playdate for me is teaching him to feel comfortable being not-in-my-lap in a non-home space.
And now I'm wondering how in the world I teach A to defend himself. Do I want him to run away or punch her or push her away?
Friday, July 06, 2007
Drive-in movies
C and I (and A, asleep in the back) went to the movies. This is huge, people.
A friend of ours from birth class mentioned that she had gone to the drive-in with her baby. I thought, "Oh my God, we have wasted so much freaking time not seeing movies."
The last movie I think C and I saw was the second Pirates movie, although that sounds wrong to me. We kept trying to see Cars but the world conspired against us seeing it.
We went to the drive-in, parked in the wrong lot and had to get a new (less than optimal) position for the movie, but A slept through most of Ratatouille and all of Pirates. And we stayed awake until 1:30AM watching these stupid films, which was even more amazing. We were so tired on the 4th, but boy, it was fun to see a movie. We should have discovered the drive-in earlier. Maybe we'll actually get to see the latest Harry Potter. Ratatouille is super, btw. Very sweet.
Oh, speaking of Harry, I know you're all re-reading, so I wanted to postulate. Does anyone else think Harry's scar might be the last horcrux? Is this just patently obvious to everyone?
A friend of ours from birth class mentioned that she had gone to the drive-in with her baby. I thought, "Oh my God, we have wasted so much freaking time not seeing movies."
The last movie I think C and I saw was the second Pirates movie, although that sounds wrong to me. We kept trying to see Cars but the world conspired against us seeing it.
We went to the drive-in, parked in the wrong lot and had to get a new (less than optimal) position for the movie, but A slept through most of Ratatouille and all of Pirates. And we stayed awake until 1:30AM watching these stupid films, which was even more amazing. We were so tired on the 4th, but boy, it was fun to see a movie. We should have discovered the drive-in earlier. Maybe we'll actually get to see the latest Harry Potter. Ratatouille is super, btw. Very sweet.
Oh, speaking of Harry, I know you're all re-reading, so I wanted to postulate. Does anyone else think Harry's scar might be the last horcrux? Is this just patently obvious to everyone?
Drywall dreck
Yesterday the drywall guy was a no-show. He was even a no-call.
Today he called at 7:30 to say he'd pick up the other guy (who is the guy he blamed the crappy drywall job on last week) at 10-ish and be by at 10:30 or 11.
At 11:43, the other guy calls and says he's leaving the beach right now and will be over soon.
He got here around 12:45.
He painted the bathroom (no, you can't dismantle my broom to use the pole for your roller, thanks for asking) then asked, "Is there anything else we can do or is this good?" Translation: are you going to keep asking me to fix this crap or are we done?
I said, "We'll take pictures once it's dry and email them to the landlord, and then he'll say."
The kicker? This guy blames the other guy for the crappy drywall job. Personally, I think you both suck because you both walked away from it looking like crap. And I'm thinking about posting the pictures somewhere to prove it, if they'll let me. So there.
On his way out, he asked if there was any other work we needed done. No! No! This crap has been going on since freaking May and I wouldn't ask you guys to do it if you were the only people on earth. I could have started my own drywall business by now.
Today he called at 7:30 to say he'd pick up the other guy (who is the guy he blamed the crappy drywall job on last week) at 10-ish and be by at 10:30 or 11.
At 11:43, the other guy calls and says he's leaving the beach right now and will be over soon.
He got here around 12:45.
He painted the bathroom (no, you can't dismantle my broom to use the pole for your roller, thanks for asking) then asked, "Is there anything else we can do or is this good?" Translation: are you going to keep asking me to fix this crap or are we done?
I said, "We'll take pictures once it's dry and email them to the landlord, and then he'll say."
The kicker? This guy blames the other guy for the crappy drywall job. Personally, I think you both suck because you both walked away from it looking like crap. And I'm thinking about posting the pictures somewhere to prove it, if they'll let me. So there.
On his way out, he asked if there was any other work we needed done. No! No! This crap has been going on since freaking May and I wouldn't ask you guys to do it if you were the only people on earth. I could have started my own drywall business by now.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Classes and drywall and more
I know we're on the verge of a holiday (how can it be July?).
Saturday I went to part 2 of a "how to get published" class so now I'm raring to go. Need to write, need to get things done, yup. I've got one story to polish and send out as soon as the latest Writer's Market gets here and two more stories to finish and send out. And then there's that damned novel that probably needs the first six chapters chopped off, but I have to gear myself up for that.
Sigh.
While I was at class, A and C went to swim class. C learned to submerge A, which is great, and A had a good time but looked for his mom, which warmed my little mommy heart.
I realize I haven't given a food update in a while. This is what he eats now: apples, apricots, bananas, carrots, sweet potatoes, peas, peaches, winter squash, plums, chicken, turkey (although the turkey veggie dinner is not his favorite), avocado, rice noodles, rice, lentils, O cereal, oatmeal, barley, raisins, yogurt, pears, and the latest, mozzarella cheese. He now claps after we introduce a food that he likes.
We think he can say "Mom" and "more" and I'm pretty sure he's added "banana" to his signing vocabulary. He just refuses to do any of it on cue so we could jump up and down and say, "Yay, he's doing it."
Drywall: the drywall is a mess. You can see the seams and the space behind the wall through the tape in one place. The drywall guy is supposedly coming to fix it today between 9:30 and 10AM...yes, it's about twenty minutes after that. At least it's not our house or our money that's paying for this crap.
Saturday I went to part 2 of a "how to get published" class so now I'm raring to go. Need to write, need to get things done, yup. I've got one story to polish and send out as soon as the latest Writer's Market gets here and two more stories to finish and send out. And then there's that damned novel that probably needs the first six chapters chopped off, but I have to gear myself up for that.
Sigh.
While I was at class, A and C went to swim class. C learned to submerge A, which is great, and A had a good time but looked for his mom, which warmed my little mommy heart.
I realize I haven't given a food update in a while. This is what he eats now: apples, apricots, bananas, carrots, sweet potatoes, peas, peaches, winter squash, plums, chicken, turkey (although the turkey veggie dinner is not his favorite), avocado, rice noodles, rice, lentils, O cereal, oatmeal, barley, raisins, yogurt, pears, and the latest, mozzarella cheese. He now claps after we introduce a food that he likes.
We think he can say "Mom" and "more" and I'm pretty sure he's added "banana" to his signing vocabulary. He just refuses to do any of it on cue so we could jump up and down and say, "Yay, he's doing it."
Drywall: the drywall is a mess. You can see the seams and the space behind the wall through the tape in one place. The drywall guy is supposedly coming to fix it today between 9:30 and 10AM...yes, it's about twenty minutes after that. At least it's not our house or our money that's paying for this crap.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Swimming update
For the first time today, A floated on his own. This is a huge deal. The other babies in class can't stand to back float, but A always has a fine old time. Our instructor took her hand away and for maybe 15-30 seconds, he floated on his own. Then he wriggled and started to go under, so she put her hand under his head again.
So he floated. Wow.
So he floated. Wow.
Whew.
Got an email in response to my critique saying that I have some valid points and that he's thinking of alternatives now. It was not the "oh you MORON" email I was fearing. So now I'm not wincing any time an email comes into the critique group folder in my inbox.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Vegas baby!
Oh, I completely spaced the biggest news. C has to go to Vegas for a work thing (I hesitate to call it a conference since it's more like a sci-fi con than any business conference type of event) and so we're going to go with him.
Yes, we're taking the baby to Vegas. We took him to Italy; we can take him anywhere. This will be just after A's first birthday. Vegas isn't my most favorite place in the universe but C is my most favorite person. A and I can take walks and spend time poolside.
Yes, we're taking the baby to Vegas. We took him to Italy; we can take him anywhere. This will be just after A's first birthday. Vegas isn't my most favorite place in the universe but C is my most favorite person. A and I can take walks and spend time poolside.
Got no title
Got no topic. We're random here today.
It was Free Tuesday in Balboa Park today. A and I went to the free museums. We hadn't been to any of them before. Note to other non-sports people: having the museum be free doesn't make the sports museum more interesting. It is interesting to see the high schoolers who came over to intimidate me out of a table jump and run when they realized I was breastfeeding. That was downright funny.
I called in C for a sci-fi consult on the story. Unfortunately, he confirmed what I originally thought, which was that the story did stink. Instead of having his interest piqued by some of the sci-fi geek word details, which is what I was hoping I could praise the story for, C said the words were used incorrectly. Oy. I talked to Miss Julie about my critique conundrum, and she refocused my efforts, which was good. I sent him a critique this afternoon that only scraped the surface of what was wrong with the story but also included disclaimers stating that I am not a sci-fi person. It was a good compromise for me between being helpful and being honest.
I have surveyed ScriptFrenzy and realized I'm not going to make it. I'm at 6,000 words and I need to come up with another 14,000 by Saturday. It's not going to happen. I'm trying not to beat myself up about it.
It was Free Tuesday in Balboa Park today. A and I went to the free museums. We hadn't been to any of them before. Note to other non-sports people: having the museum be free doesn't make the sports museum more interesting. It is interesting to see the high schoolers who came over to intimidate me out of a table jump and run when they realized I was breastfeeding. That was downright funny.
I called in C for a sci-fi consult on the story. Unfortunately, he confirmed what I originally thought, which was that the story did stink. Instead of having his interest piqued by some of the sci-fi geek word details, which is what I was hoping I could praise the story for, C said the words were used incorrectly. Oy. I talked to Miss Julie about my critique conundrum, and she refocused my efforts, which was good. I sent him a critique this afternoon that only scraped the surface of what was wrong with the story but also included disclaimers stating that I am not a sci-fi person. It was a good compromise for me between being helpful and being honest.
I have surveyed ScriptFrenzy and realized I'm not going to make it. I'm at 6,000 words and I need to come up with another 14,000 by Saturday. It's not going to happen. I'm trying not to beat myself up about it.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Monday morning and where's my weekend?
This was a busy weekend, holy cow. Saturday we had Mr. L's birthday party, which was fun. Two of the babies are standing; A is still crawling fast when he needs to go somewhere. A missed his morning nap (more or less) so we drove around SD after L's party so he could sleep.
Sunday morning we hosted brunch for our friends who are moving away. We had waffles: lots and lots of waffles. Oh, and red beans and rice, which C and I will be eating for a week now. We went to our local coffee shop to get a carton of coffee (since not having coffee for brunch can be a mortal sin but we don't drink coffee) and our friendly barista loaned us one of their carafes, which was lovely. And the coffee was good according to the people who drank it, so that's great.
C triaged the massive number of dishes so that the kitchen wouldn't become kitty-licking-heaven while we were gone, and then we were out again to Miss M's birthday party (different Miss M than Thursday). This was a huge bash out on Coronado. This is the baby from our class born prematurely and boy howdy were they celebrating their very tough first year. I don't know how many people were there but it was probably at least fifty or so. They had a lot of things set up for the kids; A found a tiny inflatable ball pit and thought that was the best thing ever. Two of the other moms commented to me that A's very focused; he finds one thing he likes playing with and plays with it. This was at least true about the ball pit.
We walked to the beach and put A's feet in the Pacific for the first time. He loved it. We were lucky he can't walk yet or he would have walked right into the ocean. That kid loves water; we're going to have to explain water in a pool versus the water in the ocean.
I'm up and writing since nobody's awake, but I think I hear a baby. C and I are so tired; it was fun but we need a weekend to recover from our weekend.
Sunday morning we hosted brunch for our friends who are moving away. We had waffles: lots and lots of waffles. Oh, and red beans and rice, which C and I will be eating for a week now. We went to our local coffee shop to get a carton of coffee (since not having coffee for brunch can be a mortal sin but we don't drink coffee) and our friendly barista loaned us one of their carafes, which was lovely. And the coffee was good according to the people who drank it, so that's great.
C triaged the massive number of dishes so that the kitchen wouldn't become kitty-licking-heaven while we were gone, and then we were out again to Miss M's birthday party (different Miss M than Thursday). This was a huge bash out on Coronado. This is the baby from our class born prematurely and boy howdy were they celebrating their very tough first year. I don't know how many people were there but it was probably at least fifty or so. They had a lot of things set up for the kids; A found a tiny inflatable ball pit and thought that was the best thing ever. Two of the other moms commented to me that A's very focused; he finds one thing he likes playing with and plays with it. This was at least true about the ball pit.
We walked to the beach and put A's feet in the Pacific for the first time. He loved it. We were lucky he can't walk yet or he would have walked right into the ocean. That kid loves water; we're going to have to explain water in a pool versus the water in the ocean.
I'm up and writing since nobody's awake, but I think I hear a baby. C and I are so tired; it was fun but we need a weekend to recover from our weekend.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Critique vs. criticism
I've got a boy in my lap who's tired but happy to be held, so we'll try typing around him and see what happens.
In my past life as a technical writer, I was subjected to criticism on my work, well, daily. I realized this week that it's inoculated me against criticism masquerading as critique. Critique is specific, kind, and meant to help. Criticism is vague and not helpful.
There's a writer in our group who I referred to earlier in this blog as a prat. After I read my story, he began his comments with, "Well, this first paragraph needs a lot of work." He said it with the tone of a contractor surveying fire damage, so sorry to tell you, it's worse than you think and it will cost a bundle. Weaker souls than me would have cried.
On reading the paragraph aloud, I realized I had an ambivalent pronoun (that other people in the group had already discussed), but as far as paragraphs go, the paragraph was pretty tight. My writing (not on a blog) is terse.
I turned to him and asked: "Could you be more specific?"
He hemmed and hawed. "Well, no, sorry. You've got four characters introduced here, and well, okay, four sentences, and this pronoun's confusing..." The other people in the group had a problem with the last sentence since it was delicately worded and had to read it twice, but I'm okay with that. The writers I love often make me read a sentence twice to figure it out and I'm happy to be in their company, or in their anteroom, anyway.
I looked at him, and not with my evil glare of death. This was my editorial, I'm happy to do anything you ask but if you can't ask I can't possibly help you look. It's pretty friendly. "Anything else?"
Nope. "Alrighty then." Then he went through a laundry list of things, one of which was actually good and the rest were kind of blah. And I realized: there is serious power in being able to say, is that all? Anything else? You've offered your harshest criticism and I'm not even blinking, in fact, I want more details about how much I suck and why. No? Okay, who else wants a go at me?
Anyway, after he read his story, I realized he's probably a sci-fi computer geek like many others I know who doesn't have social graces and is used to being the best writer in the room. I think he's only used to sharing his stories with adoring audiences. I have my own adoring audience too, but I also know they're not necessarily good for the unvarnished truth.
There were many aspects of his story that we asked clarifying questions about that he would answer with, "Do you want me to tell you or do you just want to read the story?" This is a response I've had, but I think he used it because he didn't fully understand what we were asking some of the time. There are questions about story and questions about technique, and sometimes you can answer a technique question with a story answer, but that doesn't help identify the technique issue.
He sent the story last night. Full disclosure: I read very little sci-fi on my own. I'll read anything that comes into this house, but past Dune and the Orwell/Huxley dystopia canon, there's not a lot of sci-fi on my own shelves. So maybe I'm not the audience. But the story doesn't actually seem to have a story. There's no character arc, the conflict was unbelievable and not that bad in terms of conflict, the "redemption" of who I can only guess is the protagonist is really silly, there's no come-uppance for the "villain" who I identified most with in the end anyway. Add in so many, many cliches and I don't know how to comment on this story.
Now I struggle with what to say in an email. He requested general feedback and no "pickys" whatever the hell a picky is. A typo, maybe? I read it again this morning to see if it made more sense and it didn't. I might call in a consult with my in-house sci-fi expert.
But the rest of the group was fabulous, supportive but insightful and kind. I'm looking at this email as part of training the sci-fi guy to be less "I am super writer, tremble before my insights!" and more like someone who gives good critique.
In my past life as a technical writer, I was subjected to criticism on my work, well, daily. I realized this week that it's inoculated me against criticism masquerading as critique. Critique is specific, kind, and meant to help. Criticism is vague and not helpful.
There's a writer in our group who I referred to earlier in this blog as a prat. After I read my story, he began his comments with, "Well, this first paragraph needs a lot of work." He said it with the tone of a contractor surveying fire damage, so sorry to tell you, it's worse than you think and it will cost a bundle. Weaker souls than me would have cried.
On reading the paragraph aloud, I realized I had an ambivalent pronoun (that other people in the group had already discussed), but as far as paragraphs go, the paragraph was pretty tight. My writing (not on a blog) is terse.
I turned to him and asked: "Could you be more specific?"
He hemmed and hawed. "Well, no, sorry. You've got four characters introduced here, and well, okay, four sentences, and this pronoun's confusing..." The other people in the group had a problem with the last sentence since it was delicately worded and had to read it twice, but I'm okay with that. The writers I love often make me read a sentence twice to figure it out and I'm happy to be in their company, or in their anteroom, anyway.
I looked at him, and not with my evil glare of death. This was my editorial, I'm happy to do anything you ask but if you can't ask I can't possibly help you look. It's pretty friendly. "Anything else?"
Nope. "Alrighty then." Then he went through a laundry list of things, one of which was actually good and the rest were kind of blah. And I realized: there is serious power in being able to say, is that all? Anything else? You've offered your harshest criticism and I'm not even blinking, in fact, I want more details about how much I suck and why. No? Okay, who else wants a go at me?
Anyway, after he read his story, I realized he's probably a sci-fi computer geek like many others I know who doesn't have social graces and is used to being the best writer in the room. I think he's only used to sharing his stories with adoring audiences. I have my own adoring audience too, but I also know they're not necessarily good for the unvarnished truth.
There were many aspects of his story that we asked clarifying questions about that he would answer with, "Do you want me to tell you or do you just want to read the story?" This is a response I've had, but I think he used it because he didn't fully understand what we were asking some of the time. There are questions about story and questions about technique, and sometimes you can answer a technique question with a story answer, but that doesn't help identify the technique issue.
He sent the story last night. Full disclosure: I read very little sci-fi on my own. I'll read anything that comes into this house, but past Dune and the Orwell/Huxley dystopia canon, there's not a lot of sci-fi on my own shelves. So maybe I'm not the audience. But the story doesn't actually seem to have a story. There's no character arc, the conflict was unbelievable and not that bad in terms of conflict, the "redemption" of who I can only guess is the protagonist is really silly, there's no come-uppance for the "villain" who I identified most with in the end anyway. Add in so many, many cliches and I don't know how to comment on this story.
Now I struggle with what to say in an email. He requested general feedback and no "pickys" whatever the hell a picky is. A typo, maybe? I read it again this morning to see if it made more sense and it didn't. I might call in a consult with my in-house sci-fi expert.
But the rest of the group was fabulous, supportive but insightful and kind. I'm looking at this email as part of training the sci-fi guy to be less "I am super writer, tremble before my insights!" and more like someone who gives good critique.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Birthday Party #1: The Divine Miss M
We went to our first official baby birthday party today. The birthday girl's birthday is still a couple weeks away, but she's moving and all of us SD moms were getting robbed of the joy of her birthday. So her mom threw a party during playdate.
There were eight babies there. It was chaos, babies strewn everywhere, crawling, chewing, and one running around. We had cupcakes (deliciously if accidentally almond flavored, yum) and munchie food and it was good.
I did have a couple WTF moments. First and primary example, the kid only got three presents and a card. It's a kid's birthday party. You need to bring a present or at least a card. There are only two types of parties where presents are required, showers and kid's birthday parties. One of the presents was hijacked by a husband who took the wrong car to work, but that's still a couple clueless wonders left. One person had the gall to say to the hostess: "I thought you wouldn't want a present since you're moving and you'd have to pack it." Beeeeeactch. How much room does a kid's book take up in a box?
Here's my other WTF moment: This bitchy person, who I have blogged about before as happy naked mom, left the place where we have swim lessons to go to another place for swim lessons. "It's cheaper and they keep the pool at 92°F!" I didn't go. I think the place we're in has logic and goals behind its lessons, the instructor is a gem, and the pool is 84°F, which isn't balmy but is more like what he'll actually encounter in pools. I didn't want a hothouse swimmer baby.
Today she asks me if I'm still having lessons at the old place. "Have they taught him anything new? Have they progressed any in what they're doing?" This ticked me off. The lessons are structured so that there's a repetition in every class that I know A likes, because he knows that after the welcome song comes the "kids in the pool" song, followed by "all around the cobbler's bench" and submersions, yadda yadda. He knows what to expect and while it varies from time to time in small ways, he's used to the routine.
But within the boundaries of repetition, there's room for each kid to do what he or she is able to do. So while my boy's doing six or more submersions in a class, the two-year-old who's scared of the water is still practicing putting his body in the water. And the instructors do a good job of not making it judgmental or competitive, which is honestly refreshing after you've had any conversation with a baby scorekeeper: "Is your son walking yet? My son was walking at ten months. Is he talking? My son recited Henry V's St. Crispen's Day speech at his first birthday party." Bleack.
But I digress.
I told this mom that since A had improved, they were giving him more complicated things to do but that it was same as it ever was, based on the ability level of the individual kids. She doesn't like the new place because (I kid you not) "the pool is 92°." Okay..................
But the WTFs were few and far between. It was the first time all the moms from birth class were together since our reunion in November. The one baby born prematurely looks great (her party's Sunday). I talked to moms with bigger hearts than mine who are adopting babies from Africa soon. I had a cupcake. I took pictures. The birthday girl's dad came home and I only wish I'd gotten a picture of him entering his completely trashed living room and scanning the eight babies that were there. He was goggle-eyed.
Coming soon: a post on my read and critique group, although I can't right now because I read a story from a person in the group and it wasn't good. It just...wasn't...good. This person had some mildly snarky commentary for me on my story so...Oh, next post, I promise.
There were eight babies there. It was chaos, babies strewn everywhere, crawling, chewing, and one running around. We had cupcakes (deliciously if accidentally almond flavored, yum) and munchie food and it was good.
I did have a couple WTF moments. First and primary example, the kid only got three presents and a card. It's a kid's birthday party. You need to bring a present or at least a card. There are only two types of parties where presents are required, showers and kid's birthday parties. One of the presents was hijacked by a husband who took the wrong car to work, but that's still a couple clueless wonders left. One person had the gall to say to the hostess: "I thought you wouldn't want a present since you're moving and you'd have to pack it." Beeeeeactch. How much room does a kid's book take up in a box?
Here's my other WTF moment: This bitchy person, who I have blogged about before as happy naked mom, left the place where we have swim lessons to go to another place for swim lessons. "It's cheaper and they keep the pool at 92°F!" I didn't go. I think the place we're in has logic and goals behind its lessons, the instructor is a gem, and the pool is 84°F, which isn't balmy but is more like what he'll actually encounter in pools. I didn't want a hothouse swimmer baby.
Today she asks me if I'm still having lessons at the old place. "Have they taught him anything new? Have they progressed any in what they're doing?" This ticked me off. The lessons are structured so that there's a repetition in every class that I know A likes, because he knows that after the welcome song comes the "kids in the pool" song, followed by "all around the cobbler's bench" and submersions, yadda yadda. He knows what to expect and while it varies from time to time in small ways, he's used to the routine.
But within the boundaries of repetition, there's room for each kid to do what he or she is able to do. So while my boy's doing six or more submersions in a class, the two-year-old who's scared of the water is still practicing putting his body in the water. And the instructors do a good job of not making it judgmental or competitive, which is honestly refreshing after you've had any conversation with a baby scorekeeper: "Is your son walking yet? My son was walking at ten months. Is he talking? My son recited Henry V's St. Crispen's Day speech at his first birthday party." Bleack.
But I digress.
I told this mom that since A had improved, they were giving him more complicated things to do but that it was same as it ever was, based on the ability level of the individual kids. She doesn't like the new place because (I kid you not) "the pool is 92°." Okay..................
But the WTFs were few and far between. It was the first time all the moms from birth class were together since our reunion in November. The one baby born prematurely looks great (her party's Sunday). I talked to moms with bigger hearts than mine who are adopting babies from Africa soon. I had a cupcake. I took pictures. The birthday girl's dad came home and I only wish I'd gotten a picture of him entering his completely trashed living room and scanning the eight babies that were there. He was goggle-eyed.
Coming soon: a post on my read and critique group, although I can't right now because I read a story from a person in the group and it wasn't good. It just...wasn't...good. This person had some mildly snarky commentary for me on my story so...Oh, next post, I promise.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
I am a super writer.
Right now, I think the biggest compliment you can get in a read and critique group is that they forgot they were supposed to be critiquing and were just waiting to see what happened next. But this might be because this was the compliment I got tonight at read and critique group.
It's so nice to eat a tart without having to make sure my wee little one is amused, or watching to make sure he doesn't choke, or trying to make sure he's not eating something disgusting like the grime-covered high chair strap or the edge of the table. Relaxing used to be the spa in Hawaii. Now it's eating a tart.
It's so nice to eat a tart without having to make sure my wee little one is amused, or watching to make sure he doesn't choke, or trying to make sure he's not eating something disgusting like the grime-covered high chair strap or the edge of the table. Relaxing used to be the spa in Hawaii. Now it's eating a tart.
Wednesday blahs
I've been up since four AM so I'm probably cranky. The drywall saga is still on-going. No drywall guy yesterday, although he came by after we'd gone out (and called his partner to mention that the drywall wasn't done yet) and left a melodramatic note saying he'd be back and stay for as long as it takes to finish it. Whatever. I know what he's got left to do (install drywall, tape and texture, plus paint) and there's no way to do it in one day.
Monday we had swim class and it was super, just one other kid (18 months old) and us. It was bilingual all-star swim class. We did a lot of submersions where we let the babies swim on their own for a couple seconds. With the goggles on, I can see that A's got his mouth closed underwater and his eyes open. He's started trying to jump off the wall on a 1-2-3 count, which is neat.
We also do what we call "balloon faces" where we're trying to get the kids to hold their breath. A hasn't really wanted to do this, but when I showed him that I could make a balloon face and then put half of my face in the water, he perked up like, "Really? Why didn't you mention this was relevant? I thought you were just batty!" and started doing balloon faces. He's funny. Don't bother him with new information unless it's relevant, cha chas.
I've got a writing group meeting tonight, which means I spent the last hour writing something so I wouldn't look like a big goober with nothing to have to share. I'm not sure what the critique value will be on something scribbled for the purpose of not looking like a goober, but that's okay. I'm showing up. I'm way behind on ScriptFrenzy but I am not throwing in the towel yet.
Monday we had swim class and it was super, just one other kid (18 months old) and us. It was bilingual all-star swim class. We did a lot of submersions where we let the babies swim on their own for a couple seconds. With the goggles on, I can see that A's got his mouth closed underwater and his eyes open. He's started trying to jump off the wall on a 1-2-3 count, which is neat.
We also do what we call "balloon faces" where we're trying to get the kids to hold their breath. A hasn't really wanted to do this, but when I showed him that I could make a balloon face and then put half of my face in the water, he perked up like, "Really? Why didn't you mention this was relevant? I thought you were just batty!" and started doing balloon faces. He's funny. Don't bother him with new information unless it's relevant, cha chas.
I've got a writing group meeting tonight, which means I spent the last hour writing something so I wouldn't look like a big goober with nothing to have to share. I'm not sure what the critique value will be on something scribbled for the purpose of not looking like a goober, but that's okay. I'm showing up. I'm way behind on ScriptFrenzy but I am not throwing in the towel yet.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Two more things
- The other day, I meant to write about how super Mistah C is and I didn't. But he's super. He's just amazing and I'm so grateful to have him in my life. I'm just so pleased A has such a wonderful role model; it will make raising a boy a lot easier than if I'd married a sexist pig dog.
- A has added another baby sign to his repertoire, more. In A's version, he raises two fists parallel to each other. I filmed him doing it while eating Trader Joe's Os and it's up on YouTube for your enjoyment.
Father's Day
We've had a busy week. We're currently (still) in the flux of drywall installation. I'm partially convinced our drywall guy is on meth, but he may also just be incredibly flaky. He seems to do good work, so maybe it's early in his addiction cycle. (This thought occurred to me while I gave him unsupervised access to our house, so this may just be my insidious paranoia. Nothing was missing, so let's assume he's just flaky.)
So the toilet and sink are in the garage, the bathroom has insulation and copper green, and now all it needs is drywall and paint.
A had swimming last week, which was super although I was late. We left the house early to avoid entanglement with the drywall guy, which meant I realized in OB that I didn't have the swim bag. Oops. Home and back again in record time and we made it into the pool during the welcome song. A's doing great in swim class. After swim class, one of the other mommies and I rode the Giant Dipper, which was super great fun. I haven't been on a roller coaster since, oh, Space Mountain before we had A.
It was Father's Day and that was mellow and low-key. A's been having sleeping troubles so there wasn't much sleeping in for C. But we had a lovely day nevertheless. A's sleeping troubles are currently attributed to:
We have a bonus swim class today that we're making up from Italy. I had a class myself this weekend on queries for articles and short works, so now I have to go get published somewhere. This week is birthday party week: Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday.
So the toilet and sink are in the garage, the bathroom has insulation and copper green, and now all it needs is drywall and paint.
A had swimming last week, which was super although I was late. We left the house early to avoid entanglement with the drywall guy, which meant I realized in OB that I didn't have the swim bag. Oops. Home and back again in record time and we made it into the pool during the welcome song. A's doing great in swim class. After swim class, one of the other mommies and I rode the Giant Dipper, which was super great fun. I haven't been on a roller coaster since, oh, Space Mountain before we had A.
It was Father's Day and that was mellow and low-key. A's been having sleeping troubles so there wasn't much sleeping in for C. But we had a lovely day nevertheless. A's sleeping troubles are currently attributed to:
- Teething - that sixth tooth is bulging out of his gum
- Growth spurt - some of his borderline jammies are verging into too tight
- Learning - he's had a couple, non-duplicable standing incidents
We have a bonus swim class today that we're making up from Italy. I had a class myself this weekend on queries for articles and short works, so now I have to go get published somewhere. This week is birthday party week: Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Superduper Mister C
Right now, the drywall guys are banging away in the powder room, removing two walls' worth of drywall and insulation. A's in the office with me, coughing his poor little head off. He's got a cold and didn't sleep well last night. He's still got that darned sixth tooth bulging through his gum but it actually hasn't come through yet. So he's a little cranky. He didn't have any good naps yesterday and he's only had a tiny one (between the gardeners and the drywall guys) today.
He's so tired. I would write more but he's just crawled across the room to me to be picked up and cuddled. So off we go for a diaper change, a feed, and maybe (cross your fingers) a nap.
He's so tired. I would write more but he's just crawled across the room to me to be picked up and cuddled. So off we go for a diaper change, a feed, and maybe (cross your fingers) a nap.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Sandbox!
We got a sandbox from the consignment baby store yesterday. I washed it this morning and once it's dry , we'll fill it up with sand and see how it goes. I've spent the last weekend and this week cleaning up the balcony/patio outside our bedroom. We figure we'll put the sandbox up there. The sandbox has a lid, but it's always best to take whatever precautions you can against the neighborhood cats with a sandbox, don't you think?
Swimming on Friday was super. We're now putting on goggles to see what they're doing underwater. A keeps his eyes and mouth closed and flaps his arms. We thought the two-year-old in class might actually go underwater this week, but no dice. I think continuous swim classes are a good thing, or continuous access to water, at least. We got him a little surf shirt at Target so that he can go in our pool once it gets warmer.
Swimming on Friday was super. We're now putting on goggles to see what they're doing underwater. A keeps his eyes and mouth closed and flaps his arms. We thought the two-year-old in class might actually go underwater this week, but no dice. I think continuous swim classes are a good thing, or continuous access to water, at least. We got him a little surf shirt at Target so that he can go in our pool once it gets warmer.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Blond and biting
In the last few days, many different people have commented to me on how blond A looks, including but not limited to Miss Julie, the other playgroup moms, and everyone at the dentist's (where I finished my cleaning with A sitting on my belly, staring into my mouth in fascination--he did a happy 45 minutes in the stroller before deciding he needed some attention). He still doesn't have much hair, but his latest hairs do seem blonder.
I'm currently styling myself as a strawberry blond, which might make people who don't know us more inclined to think he's blond, but there are enough people who've commented who know my hair color has more to do with chemicals and no relation to A's hair color. C was blond as a child and my brother's strikingly blond, so there are some possible genetics for blond. Oh my. I spent my childhood in envy of my blond haired, blue eyed brother and now I might be the mother of a blond haired, blue eyed boy. Scary.
Also scary: A got bit at playgroup yesterday by a girl three weeks older than him. They all mouth each other from time to time, but all of a sudden, chomp, there she clamped down on his arm and little fat wrist with her four teeth. Ouch. She didn't break the skin, but he's still got a red mark today. He was surprised, then howled. Her mother was horrified and embarrassed. I reassured her that he was fine after making sure she didn't break the skin. I don't know why that was the dealbreaker for me, but as long as she didn't break his skin (and grabbed her child and kept a close eye on her after that), I wasn't in terrible lioness mother mode.
Today's agenda: swimming. He's currently napping so I'm trying to figure out if I can get a shower in before class. That may not happen. Sigh.
I'm currently styling myself as a strawberry blond, which might make people who don't know us more inclined to think he's blond, but there are enough people who've commented who know my hair color has more to do with chemicals and no relation to A's hair color. C was blond as a child and my brother's strikingly blond, so there are some possible genetics for blond. Oh my. I spent my childhood in envy of my blond haired, blue eyed brother and now I might be the mother of a blond haired, blue eyed boy. Scary.
Also scary: A got bit at playgroup yesterday by a girl three weeks older than him. They all mouth each other from time to time, but all of a sudden, chomp, there she clamped down on his arm and little fat wrist with her four teeth. Ouch. She didn't break the skin, but he's still got a red mark today. He was surprised, then howled. Her mother was horrified and embarrassed. I reassured her that he was fine after making sure she didn't break the skin. I don't know why that was the dealbreaker for me, but as long as she didn't break his skin (and grabbed her child and kept a close eye on her after that), I wasn't in terrible lioness mother mode.
Today's agenda: swimming. He's currently napping so I'm trying to figure out if I can get a shower in before class. That may not happen. Sigh.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Eating and learning
That's what we're doing here. A is up to three meals a day and boy howdy does he like O cereal. He's cruising around everywhere but hasn't gotten to the standing alone stage yet.
What have we done? We got a baby gate installed at the top of the stairs, which makes everyone feel better. We hosted playdate here last week and everyone admired the baby gate. All the babies want to hang on the bars of the baby gate, which makes everyone nervous. A and I were noticed for signing; I made the "nurse" sign at him from across the room and he came to me to eat. I didn't think this was that big a deal, but the other mommies noticed so it must be.
We had swimming on Friday. A rocks. We practiced backfloating and he is the king of the back float. He's getting really good at paddling and kicking. We got to meet our swim class instructor's mother, which was nice since our instructor's so sweet. "She's been like that since preschool. She met everyone at the door and greeted everyone as they came in."
Now if we could get him to stop grinding his teeth together...
What have we done? We got a baby gate installed at the top of the stairs, which makes everyone feel better. We hosted playdate here last week and everyone admired the baby gate. All the babies want to hang on the bars of the baby gate, which makes everyone nervous. A and I were noticed for signing; I made the "nurse" sign at him from across the room and he came to me to eat. I didn't think this was that big a deal, but the other mommies noticed so it must be.
We had swimming on Friday. A rocks. We practiced backfloating and he is the king of the back float. He's getting really good at paddling and kicking. We got to meet our swim class instructor's mother, which was nice since our instructor's so sweet. "She's been like that since preschool. She met everyone at the door and greeted everyone as they came in."
Now if we could get him to stop grinding his teeth together...
Friday, May 25, 2007
Swimming breakthrough
In swim class, we give the kids a one-two-three count before we do anything like jumping in the pool or going under water. Today, I was jumping A off the "island" in the middle of the pool back into the water. On three, he lit up and splashed his hands and kicked. He knew he was going back into the water and he was happy about it. (And maybe, just maybe, he understood that he needed to paddle his hands and kick?)
He was great at kicking and paddling today. He floats on his back really well; I'm holding him up with three fingers behind his head. I tried to take my fingers away today (gently, tentatively, under the instructor's supervision with big eyes) and his head sunk. So he's not quite ready to solo back float, but he's not crying like the other babies.
He was great at kicking and paddling today. He floats on his back really well; I'm holding him up with three fingers behind his head. I tried to take my fingers away today (gently, tentatively, under the instructor's supervision with big eyes) and his head sunk. So he's not quite ready to solo back float, but he's not crying like the other babies.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Nannies
We live in sunny San Diego here. A and I went to the Zoo with one of our mom friends this morning, and I have to address the nanny issue.
I first noticed this when we went to the La Jolla library. La Jolla is a swanky place, beautiful beaches, lots of money, mansions everywhere. I was hanging out in the library with A and overheard a conversation. Two women were sitting with two kids reading books to them. The kids were maybe three or four(?). I can't tell until A's been that age and then I still can't tell.
Anyway, these two women were hired caretakers, one was an au pair and one was a nanny. They had a lovely cheerful chat about where they spend time with the kids and where the kids live.
So then I started wondering how many other nanny pairs I'm strolling by with A in my stroller. Now that I've started looking, I think it's more than I originally thought in my altruistic, pluralist way. I'm keen on adoption, blended families, biracial blends, and all the other wonderful manifestations of society. But the woman at the zoo pushing a toddler I saw today--they weren't related. No way. And I hate making the judgment because I'm making it on appearance (skin color and disparity of consumer goods). No mom who's pushing a kid dressed in Juicy Couture in a Bugaboo Chameleon would be seen in Walmart sweats with knock-off Keds sneakers.
I know; maybe it's Grandma. Maybe.
Changing after swim class one day, one of my least favorite moms had a wailing infant. Sobbing, yelling, tears. Sound really reverberates off the damn tile in there. If you don't have kids and are wondering if parenting inoculates you to the sound of babies crying, wonder no more: it doesn't. If the parent's working on it, then I feel more empathy since I've been there, done that, but if the parent is blithely letting the child cry, then I'm ready to jump down their throat and say, "Why have the child if you weren't going to help him?"
There's a swim class for older ladies at the same time as our class, so there's an older woman sitting next to me. She says to me, "I hate hearing babies cry," and I nod as agreeably as I can while getting dressed. She goes over and talks to the mom.
This mom is one of my least favorite moms. (Said it once before but it bears repeating.) This older woman tried to coo to the baby to get him to stop and this mom basically said can it, Grandma, he doesn't like strangers. Lady, he doesn't look like he likes you. (I have never seen this child not screaming.) One of the other moms suggested that maybe he was hungry. Oh yes, she says, he is. He's on a new feeding schedule and he has to wait another two hours to eat, plus a new nap schedule so he has to stay awake.
This might make sense, you formula-feeding parents out there are saying. No, he's breastfed, and they eat when they want to. Also, swim class is like my bankable nap of the week. If I had to bet all the money in my pockets to say when during the week A would be taking a nap, I'd tell you right after swim class, after he eats. This new schedule sounds like the road to insanity.
The older woman sits down next to me and tells me again how much she doesn't like to hear babies crying. I agree. She looks over at A, who is his sweet darling observant self, and she says how beautiful he is, how sweet. I thank her.
She tells me she never let her babies cry. I tell her I try not to let mine cry like that. I ask her how many children she has. She explains that she raised five children, all grown now. She wasn't their mother, but she raised them. She did a good job; they are all sweet, smart, and still remember her.
I tell her that's wonderful, but I'm thinking how sad, they still remember you and that's the marker of a good job? She tells me that she has no children now and she wants to have new children to look after, that she likes having nice children to look after.
And I think, oh, have I been conducting a job interview for a nanny without knowing it?
So I try to not-too-obviously state that looking after children is quite a job and I consider myself so lucky to be looking after my own son. And she agrees and leaves.
I don't know why I didn't expect to see that many nannies; I just didn't expect to see them in the locker room. Or the zoo.
I first noticed this when we went to the La Jolla library. La Jolla is a swanky place, beautiful beaches, lots of money, mansions everywhere. I was hanging out in the library with A and overheard a conversation. Two women were sitting with two kids reading books to them. The kids were maybe three or four(?). I can't tell until A's been that age and then I still can't tell.
Anyway, these two women were hired caretakers, one was an au pair and one was a nanny. They had a lovely cheerful chat about where they spend time with the kids and where the kids live.
So then I started wondering how many other nanny pairs I'm strolling by with A in my stroller. Now that I've started looking, I think it's more than I originally thought in my altruistic, pluralist way. I'm keen on adoption, blended families, biracial blends, and all the other wonderful manifestations of society. But the woman at the zoo pushing a toddler I saw today--they weren't related. No way. And I hate making the judgment because I'm making it on appearance (skin color and disparity of consumer goods). No mom who's pushing a kid dressed in Juicy Couture in a Bugaboo Chameleon would be seen in Walmart sweats with knock-off Keds sneakers.
I know; maybe it's Grandma. Maybe.
Changing after swim class one day, one of my least favorite moms had a wailing infant. Sobbing, yelling, tears. Sound really reverberates off the damn tile in there. If you don't have kids and are wondering if parenting inoculates you to the sound of babies crying, wonder no more: it doesn't. If the parent's working on it, then I feel more empathy since I've been there, done that, but if the parent is blithely letting the child cry, then I'm ready to jump down their throat and say, "Why have the child if you weren't going to help him?"
There's a swim class for older ladies at the same time as our class, so there's an older woman sitting next to me. She says to me, "I hate hearing babies cry," and I nod as agreeably as I can while getting dressed. She goes over and talks to the mom.
This mom is one of my least favorite moms. (Said it once before but it bears repeating.) This older woman tried to coo to the baby to get him to stop and this mom basically said can it, Grandma, he doesn't like strangers. Lady, he doesn't look like he likes you. (I have never seen this child not screaming.) One of the other moms suggested that maybe he was hungry. Oh yes, she says, he is. He's on a new feeding schedule and he has to wait another two hours to eat, plus a new nap schedule so he has to stay awake.
This might make sense, you formula-feeding parents out there are saying. No, he's breastfed, and they eat when they want to. Also, swim class is like my bankable nap of the week. If I had to bet all the money in my pockets to say when during the week A would be taking a nap, I'd tell you right after swim class, after he eats. This new schedule sounds like the road to insanity.
The older woman sits down next to me and tells me again how much she doesn't like to hear babies crying. I agree. She looks over at A, who is his sweet darling observant self, and she says how beautiful he is, how sweet. I thank her.
She tells me she never let her babies cry. I tell her I try not to let mine cry like that. I ask her how many children she has. She explains that she raised five children, all grown now. She wasn't their mother, but she raised them. She did a good job; they are all sweet, smart, and still remember her.
I tell her that's wonderful, but I'm thinking how sad, they still remember you and that's the marker of a good job? She tells me that she has no children now and she wants to have new children to look after, that she likes having nice children to look after.
And I think, oh, have I been conducting a job interview for a nanny without knowing it?
So I try to not-too-obviously state that looking after children is quite a job and I consider myself so lucky to be looking after my own son. And she agrees and leaves.
I don't know why I didn't expect to see that many nannies; I just didn't expect to see them in the locker room. Or the zoo.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Post 200
How's our boy doing? Well, he and I just crawled up the stairs together. He laughed uproariously the whole way. We were chasing Jake.
We had our nine-month-checkup yesterday that had been rescheduled twice. He's 20 pounds, 11 ounces and 28 inches long, which makes him average for weight and short. The pediatrician says not to worry about it; he's fine and right on track. He had to have a hemoglobin test (which was fine) and the last of his Hep B vaccine. He didn't cry for either. It was amazing.
He's also now up to three solid food meals a day and starting to eat real people food. We fed him a mushy, cut up banana this morning and he thought we were loony. He looked horrified by the texture. This is what he eats: Sweet potatoes, bananas, pears, apples, carrots, winter squash, and yes, even peas. They're not his favorite but he's becoming reconciled. The doctor says we're okay to introduce other foods that don't have us hopping about allergy fears: wheat-free/corn-free O-cereal, yogurt, cheese, meat, tofu. The wheat and corn we can discuss at the one-year visit; nuts, shellfish, berries, and citrus are off the table until two without further discussion with the doctor.
The nurse goes through a series of questions when we walk in, and one of them was, "Does he respond to his name and 'No'?" Well, yes, he laughs hysterically when we say "No." That is a response. Consistency, consistency, consistency.
Other notes: I had a visit to grown-up land. The surly (and I mean surly) office worker who checked me out told me there was absolutely no appointment first thing in the morning for the month surrounding his birthday for his one-year visit. "Is that okay?"
Well, I'd like something first thing in the morning because then my husband can accompany me.
Don't have anything. Okay. She hands me a card and it's for 8/22, which is three months from yesterday and much closer to his 13 month than 12 month.
"Could I have something closer to his birthday?" I asked.
She hemmed and hawed. "Well, see, it's pretty full, and it is three months from today."
I went out into the hall and pushed the elevator button and thought about how annoyed I was that they had rescheduled this visit twice and how much I would be pissed off if they rescheduled his 12 month for two or three weeks later. So I went back in and said, "Actually, I'm sorry, but I would really like an appointment closer to his birthday." I didn't yell; I didn't scream; I didn't get bitchy. I asked nicely for an appointment and I got one. Now if I'm smart, I'll call ahead to schedule the next visit for first-thing in the morning.
We had our nine-month-checkup yesterday that had been rescheduled twice. He's 20 pounds, 11 ounces and 28 inches long, which makes him average for weight and short. The pediatrician says not to worry about it; he's fine and right on track. He had to have a hemoglobin test (which was fine) and the last of his Hep B vaccine. He didn't cry for either. It was amazing.
He's also now up to three solid food meals a day and starting to eat real people food. We fed him a mushy, cut up banana this morning and he thought we were loony. He looked horrified by the texture. This is what he eats: Sweet potatoes, bananas, pears, apples, carrots, winter squash, and yes, even peas. They're not his favorite but he's becoming reconciled. The doctor says we're okay to introduce other foods that don't have us hopping about allergy fears: wheat-free/corn-free O-cereal, yogurt, cheese, meat, tofu. The wheat and corn we can discuss at the one-year visit; nuts, shellfish, berries, and citrus are off the table until two without further discussion with the doctor.
The nurse goes through a series of questions when we walk in, and one of them was, "Does he respond to his name and 'No'?" Well, yes, he laughs hysterically when we say "No." That is a response. Consistency, consistency, consistency.
Other notes: I had a visit to grown-up land. The surly (and I mean surly) office worker who checked me out told me there was absolutely no appointment first thing in the morning for the month surrounding his birthday for his one-year visit. "Is that okay?"
Well, I'd like something first thing in the morning because then my husband can accompany me.
Don't have anything. Okay. She hands me a card and it's for 8/22, which is three months from yesterday and much closer to his 13 month than 12 month.
"Could I have something closer to his birthday?" I asked.
She hemmed and hawed. "Well, see, it's pretty full, and it is three months from today."
I went out into the hall and pushed the elevator button and thought about how annoyed I was that they had rescheduled this visit twice and how much I would be pissed off if they rescheduled his 12 month for two or three weeks later. So I went back in and said, "Actually, I'm sorry, but I would really like an appointment closer to his birthday." I didn't yell; I didn't scream; I didn't get bitchy. I asked nicely for an appointment and I got one. Now if I'm smart, I'll call ahead to schedule the next visit for first-thing in the morning.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Look at me, whining whining whining
Since this blog is ostensibly about the boychik, I should have blogged about Mother's Day.
Mother's Day here was grand. I didn't sleep in, but C and A went on a grand tour for the morning that included the grocery store, the French bakery, the coffee shop, and the beautiful open-air flower stand up the street. During this time, I took a nap on the couch with both cats. I had an almond croissant and a chai latte for breakfast, followed by a day of hanging out and idly looking at open houses in the OB/Point Loma area (none of which we would buy or consider buying just because they weren't...us), and then we had goat cheese with goat cheese and garlic bread for dinner. It was a fabulous day.
There's a story about two Jews who meet (I think it's a Hasidic story) and ask how it's going. The first one says, "Oh, it's terrible. My kids are sick, my wife is mean, my job is a mess, my life is awful." And God's watching and says, "Awful? I'll show you awful."
So the second one says, "Well, my life is great. Everyone's healthy, everyone's happy, I can't imagine my life more wonderful than it is right now." And God's still watching and says, "Wonderful? I'll show you wonderful."
Mother's Day here was grand. I didn't sleep in, but C and A went on a grand tour for the morning that included the grocery store, the French bakery, the coffee shop, and the beautiful open-air flower stand up the street. During this time, I took a nap on the couch with both cats. I had an almond croissant and a chai latte for breakfast, followed by a day of hanging out and idly looking at open houses in the OB/Point Loma area (none of which we would buy or consider buying just because they weren't...us), and then we had goat cheese with goat cheese and garlic bread for dinner. It was a fabulous day.
There's a story about two Jews who meet (I think it's a Hasidic story) and ask how it's going. The first one says, "Oh, it's terrible. My kids are sick, my wife is mean, my job is a mess, my life is awful." And God's watching and says, "Awful? I'll show you awful."
So the second one says, "Well, my life is great. Everyone's healthy, everyone's happy, I can't imagine my life more wonderful than it is right now." And God's still watching and says, "Wonderful? I'll show you wonderful."
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Drywall not dry
We had a leak in our showerhead joint that caused rain in our downstairs bathroom. The nice (super nice, actually) plumbers came and fixed it yesterday, and today the drywall guy came. But the drywall guy pointed out to me that there was:
- at least one soggy wall, mushy enough to sink my thumb into
- a mildew, moldy smell
- both green and black mold
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Peas and swimming
Well, our food loving ways stopped with peas. Yup, peas. A was game for a couple bites, then tried to scrape off his tongue. So we went back to sweet potatoes, bananas, and pears.
The kid doesn't like green veggies. He is my boy, that's for sure.
We're not force-feeding him, learning from my in-laws who force-fed C when he was a wee thing and then C threw up in his dad's bucket seat.
We went to our new swim class, which only has one other person, an 18-month-old named Rachel. Rachel is (obviously) walking and waving and things like that, but in terms of actual swimming prowess, she's not doing much more than A. She's jumping in the pool, sometimes not when she's supposed to jump in the pool. So I was relieved that A suddenly wasn't going to be in a class where he's completely outpaced by someone 9 months older. He did not have a rockin' time, though; less kids means more submersions and he was unprepared for all the submersions. But he did well.
Oh, and it rained in our downstairs bathroom yesterday. Yes, in the bathroom.
The kid doesn't like green veggies. He is my boy, that's for sure.
We're not force-feeding him, learning from my in-laws who force-fed C when he was a wee thing and then C threw up in his dad's bucket seat.
We went to our new swim class, which only has one other person, an 18-month-old named Rachel. Rachel is (obviously) walking and waving and things like that, but in terms of actual swimming prowess, she's not doing much more than A. She's jumping in the pool, sometimes not when she's supposed to jump in the pool. So I was relieved that A suddenly wasn't going to be in a class where he's completely outpaced by someone 9 months older. He did not have a rockin' time, though; less kids means more submersions and he was unprepared for all the submersions. But he did well.
Oh, and it rained in our downstairs bathroom yesterday. Yes, in the bathroom.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Random playdate
We had a random playdate today, which was good. One of our moms is going to Arkansas this weekend, so we rescheduled for her.
A is eating food now like it's going out of style. He's been averaging a small jar and a half of food per meal, a pretty good leap from nothing but nursing in Italy. I had to do a Whole Foods run this afternoon to get more food. C taught him how to get the hang of eating off a spoon. I don't know how, but he did. So feeding is suddenly a lot less messy.
So far, he's had sweet potatoes, bananas, and pears. The next thing we'll probably introduce: peas. He hasn't disliked anything so far, although he disliked sweet potatoes after bananas. But he seems to really like bananas.
A is eating food now like it's going out of style. He's been averaging a small jar and a half of food per meal, a pretty good leap from nothing but nursing in Italy. I had to do a Whole Foods run this afternoon to get more food. C taught him how to get the hang of eating off a spoon. I don't know how, but he did. So feeding is suddenly a lot less messy.
So far, he's had sweet potatoes, bananas, and pears. The next thing we'll probably introduce: peas. He hasn't disliked anything so far, although he disliked sweet potatoes after bananas. But he seems to really like bananas.
Monday, May 07, 2007
In the category of you knew it was going to happen...
Today's the day A discovered a box of tissues and emptied about half of it before I could turn around and say, "Hey there, sport."
Yesterday was the day we fed A sweet potatoes after bananas and he decided he no longer liked sweet potatoes. He made a Calvin face that would have made Terry very proud (Terry having the best Calvin face I know of, in an pseudo-adult, anyway). That was a rookie mistake of our first meal with mixed foods. Next time, fruit last.
Yesterday was the day we fed A sweet potatoes after bananas and he decided he no longer liked sweet potatoes. He made a Calvin face that would have made Terry very proud (Terry having the best Calvin face I know of, in an pseudo-adult, anyway). That was a rookie mistake of our first meal with mixed foods. Next time, fruit last.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
9 o'clock and all is well
Mostly, anyway. C is trying to rock A back to sleep as part of ongoing efforts to get A to sleep without Mommy. I'm still getting over my ick but I'm improved.
We went baby gate shopping this weekend. The baby superstore is frightening, but they had the best gates, unfortunately. I got winded somewhere on our walk. I hate being sick.
We'll be at loose ends tomorrow since we switched swimming days and now our class is on Fridays instead of Mondays. But I'm still feeling pretty crappy so I don't think that's a bad thing this week.
We went baby gate shopping this weekend. The baby superstore is frightening, but they had the best gates, unfortunately. I got winded somewhere on our walk. I hate being sick.
We'll be at loose ends tomorrow since we switched swimming days and now our class is on Fridays instead of Mondays. But I'm still feeling pretty crappy so I don't think that's a bad thing this week.
Friday, May 04, 2007
My doctor's visit
I'm doing better. I've got bronchitis. I haven't had it long enough yet for my doctor to prescribe antibiotics, and since I'm still breastfeeding my drugs are limited to certain OTCs and an inhaler, just like when I got bronchitis when I was preggo.
Anyway, I got a lot of sleep last night. C did an amazing job of taking care of A quickly when A woke up so that I only had to wake up to feed A. And then I was only half-awake. I think he even took A away quickly after he'd eaten, which doesn't always happen and sometimes we just all drift back to sleep.
A is terribly interested in books today. He has now gone through all the books we keep for him in a basket on the floor and is now trying to fit into the basket.
Anyway, I got a lot of sleep last night. C did an amazing job of taking care of A quickly when A woke up so that I only had to wake up to feed A. And then I was only half-awake. I think he even took A away quickly after he'd eaten, which doesn't always happen and sometimes we just all drift back to sleep.
A is terribly interested in books today. He has now gone through all the books we keep for him in a basket on the floor and is now trying to fit into the basket.
No doctor's visit today
The stupid office people at the pediatrician's drive me nutso.
We didn't get a confirmation call yesterday, so this morning I called to confirm our appointment this morning. Oh, no, the pediatrician's not here today. Did you need an appointment? Well, yes, I had an appointment for this morning.
Oh, no, she's not here. Let me see when I can get you in. This is his nine month check-up?
Yes.
When will he be nine months?
Last week.
Okay. Well, the earliest I can get you in is two weeks from now, since well care appointments need to be made two to three months in advance.
Let me jump through the phone and throttle you. Yes, I know that, woman; that's why I made the appointment at the end of January for today, which apparently was a bad day or became a bad day and nobody bothered to reschedule us. So just make the damn appointment for whenever the hell we can get in because I know we're at the mercy of the all-mighty scheduling book.
This meant that C could go to "work." Today "work" is in quotes because "work" today consists of the first screening of a certain blockbuster movie opening today and a Cinco de Mayo party. Gotta love his job.
We didn't get a confirmation call yesterday, so this morning I called to confirm our appointment this morning. Oh, no, the pediatrician's not here today. Did you need an appointment? Well, yes, I had an appointment for this morning.
Oh, no, she's not here. Let me see when I can get you in. This is his nine month check-up?
Yes.
When will he be nine months?
Last week.
Okay. Well, the earliest I can get you in is two weeks from now, since well care appointments need to be made two to three months in advance.
Let me jump through the phone and throttle you. Yes, I know that, woman; that's why I made the appointment at the end of January for today, which apparently was a bad day or became a bad day and nobody bothered to reschedule us. So just make the damn appointment for whenever the hell we can get in because I know we're at the mercy of the all-mighty scheduling book.
This meant that C could go to "work." Today "work" is in quotes because "work" today consists of the first screening of a certain blockbuster movie opening today and a Cinco de Mayo party. Gotta love his job.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Cranky cranky cranky
I am sick. Nose running like a faucet, coughing like I've been smoking three packs of the Devil's cigarettes, and a headache to boot. When I called the doctor to make an appointment, she said, "My goodness, it sounds like you've got a whistle caught in your throat." But she couldn't get me in until today.
Yesterday C stayed home with me since I was sick. Last night, I couldn't sleep due to a combination of coughing and non-drowsy drugs. I got an hour and a half at one point, broken when A needed to eat.
These are the days when I don't feel like a mom but a teenage vagrant who mysteriously has a baby. I don't want to be the typical fabulous selfless mom who slaps on some lipstick and goes about her daily routine cheerily. I want to climb back into bed with a cat or two and give the baby to anyone willing to keep him quiet for a couple hours. This is, in short, a bad mom day.
Also on an extended note, Master A's started banging his head when he's tired, against my collarbone or C's shoulder. This is a possible sign of autism and has me slightly worried. Thankfully, we have our nine month visit tomorrow and the doctor can reassure me. All the Googling in the universe tells me that it's not uncommon for babies, particularly boys, to develop head banging behaviors in the second half of the first year for self-soothing. God knows this week we've had sleep adjustments up the wazoo with nine hours of time zones.
But still, I'll feel better when I've talked to our pediatrician about it. Growing up with my sister, we had the mantra of "early detection, early intervention," drummed into our brains about any kind of disorder or disability. So if he's got something, I want to know sooner rather than later. This is when I need to go to the grocery store to reassure myself that he's still a sociable little being. Every time we go to the store, people stop me to tell me what a smiley baby I have. "He still seems engaged with people, right?" I ask C, who looks at me like I have three heads. Yes, he says. Look at him smile at you. Look at him laugh. He's okay.
Yesterday C stayed home with me since I was sick. Last night, I couldn't sleep due to a combination of coughing and non-drowsy drugs. I got an hour and a half at one point, broken when A needed to eat.
These are the days when I don't feel like a mom but a teenage vagrant who mysteriously has a baby. I don't want to be the typical fabulous selfless mom who slaps on some lipstick and goes about her daily routine cheerily. I want to climb back into bed with a cat or two and give the baby to anyone willing to keep him quiet for a couple hours. This is, in short, a bad mom day.
Also on an extended note, Master A's started banging his head when he's tired, against my collarbone or C's shoulder. This is a possible sign of autism and has me slightly worried. Thankfully, we have our nine month visit tomorrow and the doctor can reassure me. All the Googling in the universe tells me that it's not uncommon for babies, particularly boys, to develop head banging behaviors in the second half of the first year for self-soothing. God knows this week we've had sleep adjustments up the wazoo with nine hours of time zones.
But still, I'll feel better when I've talked to our pediatrician about it. Growing up with my sister, we had the mantra of "early detection, early intervention," drummed into our brains about any kind of disorder or disability. So if he's got something, I want to know sooner rather than later. This is when I need to go to the grocery store to reassure myself that he's still a sociable little being. Every time we go to the store, people stop me to tell me what a smiley baby I have. "He still seems engaged with people, right?" I ask C, who looks at me like I have three heads. Yes, he says. Look at him smile at you. Look at him laugh. He's okay.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Jet lag
Jet lag is just no fun for anyone. We'd been moving to increasingly later bedtimes until C came home last night and found A and I asleep on the couch together. He put A to bed and when I woke up, I went to bed too. Then we all got up at 3 or 4 this morning and drove aimlessly trying to put the boy to sleep.
So we're tired. But I found quizzes.
So we're tired. But I found quizzes.
| Your Birthdate |
 You're a dynamic, charismatic person who's possibly headed for fame. You tend to charm strangers easily. And you usually can get what you want from them. Verbally talented, you tend to persuade people with your speaking and writing. You are affectionate and loving, but it's hard for you to commit to any one relationship. Your strength: Your charm Your weakness: Your extreme manipulation tactics Your power color: Indigo Your power symbol: Four leaf clover Your power month: December |
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Italy: an overview
I just started trying to write a trip report and it's just going to take too long. So I thought I'd write a brief summary of where we went and hope that would satisfy people for now.
Places we went:
In Italy, it was like everyone was related to us. Everyone (with one exception in the entire country) was thrilled to see him. He yelled in museums and churches and people still cooed and called him beautiful, asked about his weight, his teething. In Italy, they expected babies to be babies and didn't care when he made noise. It was amazing how much that added to my enjoyment of life. I'm not suggesting the US goes baby-crazy, but it was certainly a refreshing two weeks.
Places we went:
- Florence - Duomo, the Duomo Museum, the Bapistry, the Accademia, Santa Croce, the Uffizi Gallery, the Ponte Vecchio, the Medici Chapels, the Straw Market, the Piazza dei Signorina, the Uffizi Loggia, and our own Piazza dei Annunziata.
- Vernazza in the Cinque Terre
- Pisa - the Field of Miracles, but we just looked at the outsides of the Leaning Tower and the Duomo before skedaddling. We didn't like Pisa.
- Tuscany: San Giminano, Siena, Monteriggiano, Pienza, Volterra. We went into the Duomos of most places.
- Rome: the Campo dei Fiori, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, the Piazza Novena, the Colosseum, the Forum, Palentine Hill, the Borghese Gallery, St. Peter's, and the Vatican Museum, including the Sistine Chapel.
- Italians love babies. They passionately love babies. They shower babies with affection. A ate it up.
- Carrying your baby gets you special treatment. Places with ridiculous amounts of stairs sent us to the elevator; we were waved through security checkpoints and X-ray machines. I was tapped firmly on the shoulder at the Sistine Chapel and told to follow a security guard. I thought I was in trouble. He walked me over to a bench (most of the Sistine is standing room only aside from benches in one corner), unseated a man, and sat me down.
- Most Italians have not seen a baby carried in a wrap and so they're fascinated by it and thrilled to talk to the baby face-to-face. A now smiles when you say, "Ciao, bambino!" to him.
- Packing light is a wonderful thing. We had two carry-on sized bags and a day bag, plus the car seat. That was grand for traveling. I wore a shirt/skirt combo or a dress every day and that was fine.
- Those mesh packing cubes that seem like an incredible waste of money are fabulous. Everyone had a cube for their clothes: me, C, A. When you're going from town to town pretty regularly, it keeps you organized and makes the repacking easier. We had some other things in ordinary Ziplock plastic bags, and they were too slippery to make for good packing.
- At some point, you have to stop swabbing everything your baby touches with an antibacterial wipe.
In Italy, it was like everyone was related to us. Everyone (with one exception in the entire country) was thrilled to see him. He yelled in museums and churches and people still cooed and called him beautiful, asked about his weight, his teething. In Italy, they expected babies to be babies and didn't care when he made noise. It was amazing how much that added to my enjoyment of life. I'm not suggesting the US goes baby-crazy, but it was certainly a refreshing two weeks.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Bellisimo piccolino!
We are home and currently suffering from sleeplessness. This is what happens when you go across nine time zones.
Everything was fabulous; Italians love, love, love babies and they loved, loved, loved A. I felt like royalty: crowds parted, people cooed and waved, people on buses hopped up like they'd been stuck with pins to give me and A a seat, guards ushered us to private elevators and seats in every museum we went to.
I've gone from thinking you must be crazy to take a baby to Italy to thinking you absolutely must take a baby to Italy to experience Italy at its best. Trip report will follow once I've downloaded pictures; my 4 gig card was insufficient and we had to buy another gig for Rome.
Everything was fabulous; Italians love, love, love babies and they loved, loved, loved A. I felt like royalty: crowds parted, people cooed and waved, people on buses hopped up like they'd been stuck with pins to give me and A a seat, guards ushered us to private elevators and seats in every museum we went to.
I've gone from thinking you must be crazy to take a baby to Italy to thinking you absolutely must take a baby to Italy to experience Italy at its best. Trip report will follow once I've downloaded pictures; my 4 gig card was insufficient and we had to buy another gig for Rome.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Packing packing packing
I am pleased to report that we are mostly (90%) packed for Italy and we don't leave until Wednesday morning. The luggage count still stands at two carry-on bags and a small backpack, plus car seat. Please compare to the luggage count for Christmas to be awed by the improvement in our mad packing skills.
Saturday I had a pedicure, then we ran around doing last-minute trip stuff, like getting a couple new toys for A for the plane and getting a self-stuffing jacket for C.
Easter was low-key with J&T but surprisingly good: ham, mashed potatoes, broiled pineapple with brown sugar. Sunday morning, A woke us up horribly: pulling on hair, crying, yelling. Then he waved at us for the first time. That kid knows how to ladle out a little sugar with his crankiness to keep us from BBQ-ing him.
Today's plan: swim class and last-minute errands like getting a key made for the pet sitter, picking up minor things, and stopping our mail service. If we can just finish our taxes before we leave the country, we'll be set.
Saturday I had a pedicure, then we ran around doing last-minute trip stuff, like getting a couple new toys for A for the plane and getting a self-stuffing jacket for C.
Easter was low-key with J&T but surprisingly good: ham, mashed potatoes, broiled pineapple with brown sugar. Sunday morning, A woke us up horribly: pulling on hair, crying, yelling. Then he waved at us for the first time. That kid knows how to ladle out a little sugar with his crankiness to keep us from BBQ-ing him.
Today's plan: swim class and last-minute errands like getting a key made for the pet sitter, picking up minor things, and stopping our mail service. If we can just finish our taxes before we leave the country, we'll be set.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
The Poop Post
You've been warned.
We met a pet sitter, went to the Zoo, had a happy morning, yadda yadda. A is particularly smiley and happy today.
Then A pooped more than I think he's ever pooped. It was not contained by the diaper or the onesie (Hanna freaking Andersson, of course, because he only has blow-outs in Hanna freaking Andersson, not the cheap stuff) and was barely contained by the pants. It was the first time he's been so filthy that I just put him in the bathtub instead of trying to wipe him up.
We had a bath, cleaned him up, and fifteen minutes later we have another poop blow-out (in Old Navy, not Hanna).
Fine. I wipe him up, get him dressed in outfit number 3 (resale, so we're safe, right?), and we play. He's standing and teething on everything and is happy. We play Superman, where I hold him over my head horizontally and cheer him on. He's laughing and giggling and boy is the world a fabulous place when he's laughing.
He spits up all over my face.
We met a pet sitter, went to the Zoo, had a happy morning, yadda yadda. A is particularly smiley and happy today.
Then A pooped more than I think he's ever pooped. It was not contained by the diaper or the onesie (Hanna freaking Andersson, of course, because he only has blow-outs in Hanna freaking Andersson, not the cheap stuff) and was barely contained by the pants. It was the first time he's been so filthy that I just put him in the bathtub instead of trying to wipe him up.
We had a bath, cleaned him up, and fifteen minutes later we have another poop blow-out (in Old Navy, not Hanna).
Fine. I wipe him up, get him dressed in outfit number 3 (resale, so we're safe, right?), and we play. He's standing and teething on everything and is happy. We play Superman, where I hold him over my head horizontally and cheer him on. He's laughing and giggling and boy is the world a fabulous place when he's laughing.
He spits up all over my face.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Travel Crib and Sleep Deprivation
Happy April! There's nothing like April to make you say, "Wow, we're leaving the country in less than two weeks; we better get a move on."
We actually completed a dry-run of packing this weekend. At this time, it looks like we'll be traveling with two carry-on bags and a day bag (and no more). Well, the car seat, but we think we can hook that over our rolling bag.
Most of our clothes and toiletries are all within one bag, if you can believe that. The other bag is mostly consumed by the travel crib. We've used the travel crib with middling success when we went to Denver last month and began having the debate about its usefulness Saturday.
"Let's try it out," C said, and I said okey-dokey, knowing full well that A has been sleepless this week and it's about the worst time to try a sleep experiment.
Except that he slept brilliantly in the travel crib.
So we tried it again last night, and again, he slept soundly and peacefully in the travel crib.
Now the travel crib is definitely going.
We actually completed a dry-run of packing this weekend. At this time, it looks like we'll be traveling with two carry-on bags and a day bag (and no more). Well, the car seat, but we think we can hook that over our rolling bag.
Most of our clothes and toiletries are all within one bag, if you can believe that. The other bag is mostly consumed by the travel crib. We've used the travel crib with middling success when we went to Denver last month and began having the debate about its usefulness Saturday.
"Let's try it out," C said, and I said okey-dokey, knowing full well that A has been sleepless this week and it's about the worst time to try a sleep experiment.
Except that he slept brilliantly in the travel crib.
So we tried it again last night, and again, he slept soundly and peacefully in the travel crib.
Now the travel crib is definitely going.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Eight months old
Young Master A has been around for eight months. Amazing, no?
This has been a long hard week of teething. We got one night of good sleep in the middle and then poof, no sleep the rest of the week. Last night wasn't too bad. We've been dosing him with Tylenol, which he likes, happily.
Monday we had swim class, where A did super, as always. He likes to drink the pool water (bad) but he is starting to close his mouth when we cue him that he's going into the water (great). There's no class next week for spring break.
Also on Monday, A decided he knew how to scale things. One day, he's completely horizontal and the next day, poof, he's vertical. He's moving somewhat from side to side, but he's now looking to get over things, like the side of the crib or the bins I set up as barricades. I'm trying to teach him how to get off the couch safely (feet first) but he still wants to go head first. All the other babies we hang out with do that too; I don't know why.
He decided he knew how to crawl. After months and months of crawling with the one, two, inchworm rhythm, he started cross-crawling on Monday. Now he's wicked fast. We need some baby gates.
We had a baby playdate yesterday. Half the moms I know are moving within the next year or two. That's sad for me; I really like them. Hopefully, we'll all keep in touch. It's been fun to watch the babies grow in all their different ways together.
Now if A could get those teeth through so we can all get some sleep...
This has been a long hard week of teething. We got one night of good sleep in the middle and then poof, no sleep the rest of the week. Last night wasn't too bad. We've been dosing him with Tylenol, which he likes, happily.
Monday we had swim class, where A did super, as always. He likes to drink the pool water (bad) but he is starting to close his mouth when we cue him that he's going into the water (great). There's no class next week for spring break.
Also on Monday, A decided he knew how to scale things. One day, he's completely horizontal and the next day, poof, he's vertical. He's moving somewhat from side to side, but he's now looking to get over things, like the side of the crib or the bins I set up as barricades. I'm trying to teach him how to get off the couch safely (feet first) but he still wants to go head first. All the other babies we hang out with do that too; I don't know why.
He decided he knew how to crawl. After months and months of crawling with the one, two, inchworm rhythm, he started cross-crawling on Monday. Now he's wicked fast. We need some baby gates.
We had a baby playdate yesterday. Half the moms I know are moving within the next year or two. That's sad for me; I really like them. Hopefully, we'll all keep in touch. It's been fun to watch the babies grow in all their different ways together.
Now if A could get those teeth through so we can all get some sleep...
Monday, March 26, 2007
Writing Class, Workshop Style
Writing class means every week we read one or two people's work (the euphemism for "don't know what the hell it is yet but I had to have some text to come to class") and then we talk about some other aspect of writing, like character development or plot or style or dialogue.
This class is a "breaking into fiction" class. It's for people who haven't written much before. I am not sure that I am the target audience for this class, but it's also good for me to be able to moderate the level of the challenge for class myself. Like this week, we're supposed to write a scene in the style of our favorite author. First, I have a hard time picking a favorite author, so I'll just pick from the ones I like the most. I could do Roald Dahl pretty easily, but I've opted to try Wodehouse instead. I'm not worthy of attempting, say, Toni Morrison. See? Self-moderated challenge. (By the way, the Wodehouse went okay but not great. Wodehouse is hard. Funny is hard.)
My fiction class has the same old people who are in everyone's fiction class. We've got the people who are weathered and grizzly and taking this class to write about their own lives. We've got the fan girl who follows this teacher from class to class. We've got the girl from the Peace Corps who has many interesting stories to tell and wants to tell them. We have the mommy who's taking the class to have something adult to do (that's me). And we have the prat.
In my past life, I ended up becoming a pretty decent (and harsh) copyeditor. I hack and slash with the best of them. I didn't realize how technical I had become about good writing until I started doing serious editing. But what I learned is that nobody (except the serious writers) wants every detail the editor has to offer. It's too much for most people.
I turn off my copyeditor brain when I read stories for class. I'm not talking about punctuation or typos, although I do mark the random typo from time to time. I'm talking about basic Elements of Style stuff. Why? Because Elements of Style is so simple that nobody does it all well, at least not in a "Breaking into Fiction" class.
This gets us back to the prat. The prat is the person who introduced himself at the first class as "specializing in sci-fi/fantasy, currently shopping my novel around to agents." Whoop de freaking do, sir. Get back to me when you sell the damn thing. The prat, having a novel that he's "marketing," feels the need to comment on all the Elementsof Style stuff, plus typos, plus ripping whatever story is there to shreds because, hey, that's how you learn, right?
I think it's crappy, especially when I don't see any signs of brilliance in his edits. Being a good writer does not make you a good editor.
Anyway, I submitted a short story (but only five pages, since, you know, people don't have time to read 15 pages) and I didn't get much feedback at all, which I don't know if that's a good sign. It was raining and I believe most people in SoCal turn their brains off when it's raining and they have to drive; maybe they didn't turn their brains back on. Maybe they didn't have any places for hack-and-slash improvement. I don't know. I used the word "genitalia" at one point in the story and someone commented that I shouldn't use the euphemism, which just made me laugh. I think anyone who knows me would have a hard time accusing me of holding back on a vulgar or obscene word out of shyness or prissiness.
There you go. Taking the class makes me think I need to do something to keep my editorial brain primed. We've got one left this week and that will be it. I'm not seeing anything that I'm terribly interested in for the next round (at least, not that I won't miss significant sections of for Bella Italia), but I'll definitely try a class again on some other level. Maybe not so much the workshopping.
This class is a "breaking into fiction" class. It's for people who haven't written much before. I am not sure that I am the target audience for this class, but it's also good for me to be able to moderate the level of the challenge for class myself. Like this week, we're supposed to write a scene in the style of our favorite author. First, I have a hard time picking a favorite author, so I'll just pick from the ones I like the most. I could do Roald Dahl pretty easily, but I've opted to try Wodehouse instead. I'm not worthy of attempting, say, Toni Morrison. See? Self-moderated challenge. (By the way, the Wodehouse went okay but not great. Wodehouse is hard. Funny is hard.)
My fiction class has the same old people who are in everyone's fiction class. We've got the people who are weathered and grizzly and taking this class to write about their own lives. We've got the fan girl who follows this teacher from class to class. We've got the girl from the Peace Corps who has many interesting stories to tell and wants to tell them. We have the mommy who's taking the class to have something adult to do (that's me). And we have the prat.
In my past life, I ended up becoming a pretty decent (and harsh) copyeditor. I hack and slash with the best of them. I didn't realize how technical I had become about good writing until I started doing serious editing. But what I learned is that nobody (except the serious writers) wants every detail the editor has to offer. It's too much for most people.
I turn off my copyeditor brain when I read stories for class. I'm not talking about punctuation or typos, although I do mark the random typo from time to time. I'm talking about basic Elements of Style stuff. Why? Because Elements of Style is so simple that nobody does it all well, at least not in a "Breaking into Fiction" class.
This gets us back to the prat. The prat is the person who introduced himself at the first class as "specializing in sci-fi/fantasy, currently shopping my novel around to agents." Whoop de freaking do, sir. Get back to me when you sell the damn thing. The prat, having a novel that he's "marketing," feels the need to comment on all the Elementsof Style stuff, plus typos, plus ripping whatever story is there to shreds because, hey, that's how you learn, right?
I think it's crappy, especially when I don't see any signs of brilliance in his edits. Being a good writer does not make you a good editor.
Anyway, I submitted a short story (but only five pages, since, you know, people don't have time to read 15 pages) and I didn't get much feedback at all, which I don't know if that's a good sign. It was raining and I believe most people in SoCal turn their brains off when it's raining and they have to drive; maybe they didn't turn their brains back on. Maybe they didn't have any places for hack-and-slash improvement. I don't know. I used the word "genitalia" at one point in the story and someone commented that I shouldn't use the euphemism, which just made me laugh. I think anyone who knows me would have a hard time accusing me of holding back on a vulgar or obscene word out of shyness or prissiness.
There you go. Taking the class makes me think I need to do something to keep my editorial brain primed. We've got one left this week and that will be it. I'm not seeing anything that I'm terribly interested in for the next round (at least, not that I won't miss significant sections of for Bella Italia), but I'll definitely try a class again on some other level. Maybe not so much the workshopping.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
The TV Experiment
As some of you may or may not know, due to interpretation of a pain-in-the-ass HOA as a possible sign from the greater things on heaven and earth that we may dream of, we jettisoned our TV service at the beginning of this month No, we're not going to carve a sofa out of wood or start making our own clothes out of hemp. Yes, I know all HOAs are a pain in the ass.
I was really worried that I would be jonesing for a TV fix, if not Heroes or House (sigh, House), then at least an Oprah snack every once in a while. But it's been surprisingly easy to live without TV. It feels like we have much more time. We're getting Netflix movies and we watch those from time to time; I've been watching our West Wing collection while A and I go to recuperative nurse/nap mode. I've read about three times the number of books I normally do in a week. So far, the experiment's going well.
I was really worried that I would be jonesing for a TV fix, if not Heroes or House (sigh, House), then at least an Oprah snack every once in a while. But it's been surprisingly easy to live without TV. It feels like we have much more time. We're getting Netflix movies and we watch those from time to time; I've been watching our West Wing collection while A and I go to recuperative nurse/nap mode. I've read about three times the number of books I normally do in a week. So far, the experiment's going well.
I have three blog entires going...
...and I'm going to ignore them all and start this one.
We haven't fallen off the face of the earth. A has been teething, a fact confirmed this week when C and I noticed at least one and possibly two teeth making their way through A's upper gum. He has been cranky and not sleeping well. The teething has been making A's gums hurt, which then makes him latch funny during breastfeeding, which means we've all been cranky here. There was a day last week when I heard myself say, "Oh, you're going to be weaned today if this keeps up." He's been nursing back on the 2-3 hour schedule for most of this week, which makes me cranky (and sore, right now--I had to dig out my tube of lanolin in your TMI moment of the blog).
We've been cranky, but still going through our normal routines. Swim class is super; A is really enjoying it. We've spent a lot of time walking through both the Zoo and Balboa Park in anticipation of our upcoming trip to Italy. I must look like a raving lunatic since I'm talking to myself with my Italian lessons in my ear. "D'ove il museo nazionale? E veccino? No, e ladro." (They are tapes, people, not books, so the Italian is completely as I hear it and wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.)
We've had playdates, one at Miss M's and one here. Of course, we vacuumed and prepared upstairs and everyone wanted to be downstairs. Why? I have no idea. I need to ask someone if the litter box really drove them out. We try not to be the "oh, you have cats" people but the cats do need to go.
A played with his first flashlight this week (part of mommy babyproofing the computer) and has started standing up next to things. His crawl isn't more than it ever was; I'm wondering if he's going to move straight to walking.
For those of you concerned about the state of the Mommy, I've been having grown-up time: my first pedicure since A made his appearance (lovely, going back there in two weeks), writing class (another blog entry, languishing in the draft box), and the plumeria society (which is having a cutting sale in another two weeks). The Daddy had a great review (he's modest, but I'm going to check my sources to confirm that he's understating the coolness of his review) at his kick-ass job and if he gets some sleep he'll be doing great.
We haven't fallen off the face of the earth. A has been teething, a fact confirmed this week when C and I noticed at least one and possibly two teeth making their way through A's upper gum. He has been cranky and not sleeping well. The teething has been making A's gums hurt, which then makes him latch funny during breastfeeding, which means we've all been cranky here. There was a day last week when I heard myself say, "Oh, you're going to be weaned today if this keeps up." He's been nursing back on the 2-3 hour schedule for most of this week, which makes me cranky (and sore, right now--I had to dig out my tube of lanolin in your TMI moment of the blog).
We've been cranky, but still going through our normal routines. Swim class is super; A is really enjoying it. We've spent a lot of time walking through both the Zoo and Balboa Park in anticipation of our upcoming trip to Italy. I must look like a raving lunatic since I'm talking to myself with my Italian lessons in my ear. "D'ove il museo nazionale? E veccino? No, e ladro." (They are tapes, people, not books, so the Italian is completely as I hear it and wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.)
We've had playdates, one at Miss M's and one here. Of course, we vacuumed and prepared upstairs and everyone wanted to be downstairs. Why? I have no idea. I need to ask someone if the litter box really drove them out. We try not to be the "oh, you have cats" people but the cats do need to go.
A played with his first flashlight this week (part of mommy babyproofing the computer) and has started standing up next to things. His crawl isn't more than it ever was; I'm wondering if he's going to move straight to walking.
For those of you concerned about the state of the Mommy, I've been having grown-up time: my first pedicure since A made his appearance (lovely, going back there in two weeks), writing class (another blog entry, languishing in the draft box), and the plumeria society (which is having a cutting sale in another two weeks). The Daddy had a great review (he's modest, but I'm going to check my sources to confirm that he's understating the coolness of his review) at his kick-ass job and if he gets some sleep he'll be doing great.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Development of Mischieviousness
I was in my office looking for tax paperwork while I watched A crawl around the floor. He crawled out of the office and into the hallway, then into the storage room. I came around the corner to pick him up (knowing he can't go far) and he is laughing. He's delighted to be somewhere he's never been before.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
So much time, so little blogging
Lots has happened. We've had our new swim class session start, a visit from A's grandparents (who left today, sniff), meals with friends from CO and our Navy pilot (aviator, I am told), and a trip to the post office to get A's passport. It's busy busy busy here. We spent a full day at the Zoo with the grandparents. That was a lot of fun. We saw a panda and a koala eating, which was amazing since those two animals usually sit like lumps.
A spent most of the 'rents' visit fighting sleep so he could be doted upon royally, but he did sleep for something like ten hours last night and he's gone to sleep at a more normal bedtime tonight, so life is returning to normal. Grandpa can make him laugh and Grandma can sing him to sleep. We spent a lot of time driving around in the car because A was napping and we didn't want to wake him up. Grandma and Grandpa got to go to swim class, very exciting, and see my sorry attempts at submerging A. But they did see what a super swimmer A is. I was amazed by how much that boy can fight sleep. He needed a lot more sleep than he had.
This is a sad attempt at a blog update, but I will work on it more in the coming days as life returns more to normal. Really!
A spent most of the 'rents' visit fighting sleep so he could be doted upon royally, but he did sleep for something like ten hours last night and he's gone to sleep at a more normal bedtime tonight, so life is returning to normal. Grandpa can make him laugh and Grandma can sing him to sleep. We spent a lot of time driving around in the car because A was napping and we didn't want to wake him up. Grandma and Grandpa got to go to swim class, very exciting, and see my sorry attempts at submerging A. But they did see what a super swimmer A is. I was amazed by how much that boy can fight sleep. He needed a lot more sleep than he had.
This is a sad attempt at a blog update, but I will work on it more in the coming days as life returns more to normal. Really!
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Development of Humor
Today is a watermark day, people. Today's the day A first found something funny on his own, without prompting.
Our sweet white cat Niles has been neglected recently, so we've been making an effort to play with him more often. This morning I found one of his cat toys and starting throwing it up in the air to Niles. Niles would jump up and catch it in both paws. (He's brilliant, this cat.) I had A standing up against me, looking away from me towards Niles. All I'm saying throughout this is, "Niles, ready? Go get it!"
After two tosses, once Niles started getting really into it and jumping higher, A started laughing, fully belly laughs. There wasn't anything else going on, so I tossed the toy to Niles again and once Niles caught it, A laughed. Every time Niles caught the toy, A laughed. He laughs when we tickle him, make faces, or talk silly to him and laugh with him, but this is the first time he's spontaneously burst into laughter on his own cognition. It's pretty amazing.
Of course, Niles was nonplussed by the drooling unpredictable flesh lump making loud laughing noises at him, so he stopped once A got really revved up. But I'm sure he'll adapt.
Other news: A has figured out how to blow raspberries, so everything's now misted in baby spit.
Our sweet white cat Niles has been neglected recently, so we've been making an effort to play with him more often. This morning I found one of his cat toys and starting throwing it up in the air to Niles. Niles would jump up and catch it in both paws. (He's brilliant, this cat.) I had A standing up against me, looking away from me towards Niles. All I'm saying throughout this is, "Niles, ready? Go get it!"
After two tosses, once Niles started getting really into it and jumping higher, A started laughing, fully belly laughs. There wasn't anything else going on, so I tossed the toy to Niles again and once Niles caught it, A laughed. Every time Niles caught the toy, A laughed. He laughs when we tickle him, make faces, or talk silly to him and laugh with him, but this is the first time he's spontaneously burst into laughter on his own cognition. It's pretty amazing.
Of course, Niles was nonplussed by the drooling unpredictable flesh lump making loud laughing noises at him, so he stopped once A got really revved up. But I'm sure he'll adapt.
Other news: A has figured out how to blow raspberries, so everything's now misted in baby spit.
Whirlwind tours
Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana. We had a whirlwind visit to CO last week to the lovely Casa de Bump. I must say, visiting friends or family makes me remember that people's homes can be beautiful places. This is not an ideal we're chasing here in the rental. We didn't do much of anything (aside from an art show--it's amazing when poof, one of your friends is an artist and a good one to boot) but we had a grand time. Colorado is cold compared to SD right now. It was just a day trip but so nice and felt so much longer than that, really.
How did our boy do? He's a champ. We had four flights (SD to Vegas, Vegas to Denver with no change in planes, then Denver to Vegas with a plane change). A cried from the time he was buckled into the seat until the plane began moving on the first flight and didn't wake up until Denver. The second set of flights was more harried, but that was not A's fault.
We met those people: mom who looked like Barbie in her skin-tight Lucky brand jeans and blue suede and shearling knee-high boots, dad who was dragged along against his will and spent most of the time playing with his phone, and their two screaming children, maybe six and ten (?), a girl and a boy. Mom left the boy in the gift shop by himself, the girl ran around taking off her shirt, and dad claimed "he couldn't watch both the bags and her [the girl]." These children did not look 5 and under, but they pre-boarded and sat right behind us.
So the girl is screaming for most of the flight, the boy is yelling about how he wants to sit next to a window and sit next to mom, and dad is pretending he doesn't know them. Mom is delaying the flight by getting the girl her Garfield book during taxiing. There was so much movement and noise from between the seats behind us (which A is facing in his car seat) that he didn't sleep until I threw a blanket over our seats to hide the horrible family. Then he slept the whole way.
On descent, the flight attendants say to C and me, "How old is your baby?" Seven months. "I haven't heard a peep out of him the whole flight." No, he's a good traveler. "I bet you guys are thinking, 'Never, never, never." This was a flat-out reference to the horrible family behind us. I said that saying 'Never' is the best way to ensure that's what you get, and they laughed, but they complimented us again on how super A is.
A slept through descent, disembarking, and the whole next flight. Our connection in Vegas was cut short because the plane arrived early, which meant I left a sleeping A and all our bags in the watch of a woman in a wheelchair and her family while I went sprinting to Burger King to get C so we could board the plane. C and I decided we really need to have a plane with seat assignments; it wasn't bad with a baby to pre-board (bulkhead 3 out of 4 flights) but it just wigs us out to find seats on the plane. But they certainly load those planes quickly.
Anyway, this trip was a good test of our travel abilities and new gear:
How did our boy do? He's a champ. We had four flights (SD to Vegas, Vegas to Denver with no change in planes, then Denver to Vegas with a plane change). A cried from the time he was buckled into the seat until the plane began moving on the first flight and didn't wake up until Denver. The second set of flights was more harried, but that was not A's fault.
We met those people: mom who looked like Barbie in her skin-tight Lucky brand jeans and blue suede and shearling knee-high boots, dad who was dragged along against his will and spent most of the time playing with his phone, and their two screaming children, maybe six and ten (?), a girl and a boy. Mom left the boy in the gift shop by himself, the girl ran around taking off her shirt, and dad claimed "he couldn't watch both the bags and her [the girl]." These children did not look 5 and under, but they pre-boarded and sat right behind us.
So the girl is screaming for most of the flight, the boy is yelling about how he wants to sit next to a window and sit next to mom, and dad is pretending he doesn't know them. Mom is delaying the flight by getting the girl her Garfield book during taxiing. There was so much movement and noise from between the seats behind us (which A is facing in his car seat) that he didn't sleep until I threw a blanket over our seats to hide the horrible family. Then he slept the whole way.
On descent, the flight attendants say to C and me, "How old is your baby?" Seven months. "I haven't heard a peep out of him the whole flight." No, he's a good traveler. "I bet you guys are thinking, 'Never, never, never." This was a flat-out reference to the horrible family behind us. I said that saying 'Never' is the best way to ensure that's what you get, and they laughed, but they complimented us again on how super A is.
A slept through descent, disembarking, and the whole next flight. Our connection in Vegas was cut short because the plane arrived early, which meant I left a sleeping A and all our bags in the watch of a woman in a wheelchair and her family while I went sprinting to Burger King to get C so we could board the plane. C and I decided we really need to have a plane with seat assignments; it wasn't bad with a baby to pre-board (bulkhead 3 out of 4 flights) but it just wigs us out to find seats on the plane. But they certainly load those planes quickly.
Anyway, this trip was a good test of our travel abilities and new gear:
- Travel crib - okay, but we need to spend more time getting A comfy in it. Quite light and inflates quickly.
- New backpack-converting carry-on bag - great! C had nothing but good things to say about the design of the bag and pronounced it "well-engineered," which is high praise. We need to figure out how to pack a soft-sided bag again.
- Vacuum-packing bags that suck all the air out of your clothes and compress them - very cool, although they seemed to do the best with Polarfleece.
- 3 ounce bag rule - Fine except for contact lens solution, which stupid manufacturers aren't making in 3 ounce sizes I've seen yet. Nobody made me throw out my (gasp) 4 ounce bottle on the way back, however.
- Freebie tote bag - still not great for much other than our swim class bag. We need a different lightweight tote.
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