We're all better here. I should say, we all are better here. We're not all better here. Damned modifiers. But we're better than we were. A's been back at school for two days, and I'm not hopped up on enough decongestant to knock out an elephant.
I hit AmVets this morning with the L-man. He's getting so big so fast that it's nice to stop in and see if I can get anything for him on the cheap. Today, I scored shirts for A with a couple rompers (hello, Hanna Andersson romper for $1.50) for L.
When I got A home, he asked me what was in the bag. "Shirts for you, a couple things for L."
"Oh, let me see," he said. And he went through the bag, trying on shirts. When he got to the one decided was his favorite, he spun around slowly with his arms flung out to each side, like Julie Andrews in the Alps. "Look, Mommy, I'm a princess! I'm doing the princess thing!"
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
I'll take my Daddy-cereal with a side of puke, please
At least, I would if I was A.
He fell asleep yesterday at 3PM in the car. We drove home to drop off groceries then were off for the calorie-laden deliciousness of In-n-Out, since their buns are dairy-free (oh, thank God).
And he slept, and slept, and slept. He slept through the drop-off of me to a reading, and he slept through the pick-up, and he slept until late this morning.
Then he sat at the table, started in on a bowl of cereal, and threw up into it. And all over the table. Oy.
He's thrown up the little bit of water he got afterwards, so now he's tucked away on the (sheet-covered) couch watching Mary Poppins, after which it will be nap time.
I just got L to go to sleep, and let me tell you, there's nothing quite like a vomiting preschooler and a two-month-old to make you break out the bleach and the Purell. I fear my hands will be crackling dry by this evening.
When you think about the joys of having two kids, you don't think about the joys of cross-contamination challenges.
He fell asleep yesterday at 3PM in the car. We drove home to drop off groceries then were off for the calorie-laden deliciousness of In-n-Out, since their buns are dairy-free (oh, thank God).
And he slept, and slept, and slept. He slept through the drop-off of me to a reading, and he slept through the pick-up, and he slept until late this morning.
Then he sat at the table, started in on a bowl of cereal, and threw up into it. And all over the table. Oy.
He's thrown up the little bit of water he got afterwards, so now he's tucked away on the (sheet-covered) couch watching Mary Poppins, after which it will be nap time.
I just got L to go to sleep, and let me tell you, there's nothing quite like a vomiting preschooler and a two-month-old to make you break out the bleach and the Purell. I fear my hands will be crackling dry by this evening.
When you think about the joys of having two kids, you don't think about the joys of cross-contamination challenges.
Monday, February 08, 2010
Nine week checkup
We're at nine weeks today for Baby L, which means it was a big bad shot visit.
First off, the check-up. He's fine, a little snorty, but fine. He's huge: 12 pounds, 12 ounces; 24+ inches long. Dairy is a common irritant and the good doctor recommends that I give up the dairy for at least a month (!), because it won't clear my system for two weeks at least. So then I need to give it another few weeks to see if the lack of dairy is actually having an effect on L. Otherwise, she says, it's a waste of effort in giving up dairy in the first place.
I don't think the woman understands how much I love dairy or how I would happily give a minor appendage for a pint of Ben & Jerry's or a really good brie. I think she didn't get how much I was looking for a, "Don't act on crazy things you read on the internet; have a big glass of milk on me," response. L does seem less gassy, so I will soldier on and remind him of my sacrifice for the next sixty years.
Second up, the shots. Oh, the shots. Five immunizations, three shots and an oral solution (rotavirus, which wasn't available when A was born and can only be given in the 2-6 month window). L gets the first shot and turns bright red. Absolutely brilliant red. He gets the second shot and begins to cry. He gets the third shot and it turns to screams, heart-rending sad screams.
"Most babies, they just sound mad when they start to scream," the nurse said as she tried to pour rotavirus immunization down his throat. "This guy, he sounds like, I don't know."
"Like his heart is breaking," I said. L can scream like he's sure nobody loves him and no one ever will. He doesn't do it very often, but when he does, it's like a cattle prod in my chest. I must get to him immediately and make it stop, whatever it is.
"Yeah," she said. "Emotional." Oh, poor baby, mine too.
First off, the check-up. He's fine, a little snorty, but fine. He's huge: 12 pounds, 12 ounces; 24+ inches long. Dairy is a common irritant and the good doctor recommends that I give up the dairy for at least a month (!), because it won't clear my system for two weeks at least. So then I need to give it another few weeks to see if the lack of dairy is actually having an effect on L. Otherwise, she says, it's a waste of effort in giving up dairy in the first place.
I don't think the woman understands how much I love dairy or how I would happily give a minor appendage for a pint of Ben & Jerry's or a really good brie. I think she didn't get how much I was looking for a, "Don't act on crazy things you read on the internet; have a big glass of milk on me," response. L does seem less gassy, so I will soldier on and remind him of my sacrifice for the next sixty years.
Second up, the shots. Oh, the shots. Five immunizations, three shots and an oral solution (rotavirus, which wasn't available when A was born and can only be given in the 2-6 month window). L gets the first shot and turns bright red. Absolutely brilliant red. He gets the second shot and begins to cry. He gets the third shot and it turns to screams, heart-rending sad screams.
"Most babies, they just sound mad when they start to scream," the nurse said as she tried to pour rotavirus immunization down his throat. "This guy, he sounds like, I don't know."
"Like his heart is breaking," I said. L can scream like he's sure nobody loves him and no one ever will. He doesn't do it very often, but when he does, it's like a cattle prod in my chest. I must get to him immediately and make it stop, whatever it is.
"Yeah," she said. "Emotional." Oh, poor baby, mine too.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Conversations with the three-year-old
A is sitting on my lap as I try to type.
A: "Look at me! Let me see your blue eyes!"
I laugh.
A: (Staring deeply into my eyes, an inch or so away) "Let me see your smile!"
I smile.
A: "Oh, what a beautiful smile!"
A: "Look at me! Let me see your blue eyes!"
I laugh.
A: (Staring deeply into my eyes, an inch or so away) "Let me see your smile!"
I smile.
A: "Oh, what a beautiful smile!"
Sunday, January 31, 2010
The Purge
We're on the cusp of eight weeks. Faced with increasing baby fussiness, I'm embarking on a 7-10 day dairy purge. This is an undertaking and I am really, really grouchy. No cheese? No milk? No ice cream?
But L seems quite gassy and irritated. Some resources say milk proteins in the breast milk cause that; some resources say a rapid milk-eject response does that and if he's coming off gasping during nursing, he's swallowing a lot of air along with his milk and thus, gas.
But. I can't throw out the breast milk (formula? you're kidding, right?) or the nursing, so out with the dairy and we'll see what happens. We're stocked now with bagels and non-dairy buttery-like spread, so I'm going to give it a week at least to see if L improves. If not, then we can say, okay, it's probably the rapid eject on milk and there's not much to be done, bring on the ice cream. We see the doctor in a week for his two-month anyway.
A has announced to preschool that babies eat mommy's milk (so sayeth his teacher). He's been walking around here nursing his dolls and animals, so I can't wait until he tries that at school.
But L seems quite gassy and irritated. Some resources say milk proteins in the breast milk cause that; some resources say a rapid milk-eject response does that and if he's coming off gasping during nursing, he's swallowing a lot of air along with his milk and thus, gas.
But. I can't throw out the breast milk (formula? you're kidding, right?) or the nursing, so out with the dairy and we'll see what happens. We're stocked now with bagels and non-dairy buttery-like spread, so I'm going to give it a week at least to see if L improves. If not, then we can say, okay, it's probably the rapid eject on milk and there's not much to be done, bring on the ice cream. We see the doctor in a week for his two-month anyway.
A has announced to preschool that babies eat mommy's milk (so sayeth his teacher). He's been walking around here nursing his dolls and animals, so I can't wait until he tries that at school.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
First outgrown sleeper
L officially has his first item of clothing that's too small, a sleeper in the 0-3 month, 8-11 lb. range that I tried to put him in this evening and his little feet strained the seams in the little sleeper feet.
Sniff.
Sniff.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Conversations with the Three-Year-Old
"Mommy, you have a big belly."
"Excuse me? I have a what?"
"You have a big belly."
"Now?"
"No."
"I had a big belly when I was pregnant with L, when L was in my belly?"
"Yes. You had a BIG belly. Your belly was bigger than Daddy's belly. But now we have L and Daddy has the big belly."
Thanks, sweetheart.
Earlier today, I made A the deal that if L took a nap upstairs in his bassinet (instead of in my arms), A and I could have cookies and tea (and milk) together. I just brought L up now and laid him down. He was fussy but got suddenly quiet. A explained to me, "I put the monkey upright," which indeed, A had stood the monkey toy in the corner right on L's eye line.
L's now asleep, and A's grabbed me in a whisper: "Mommy, we have to go downstairs and eat chocolate stars NOW because L is sleeping." You betcha, kiddo.
"Excuse me? I have a what?"
"You have a big belly."
"Now?"
"No."
"I had a big belly when I was pregnant with L, when L was in my belly?"
"Yes. You had a BIG belly. Your belly was bigger than Daddy's belly. But now we have L and Daddy has the big belly."
Thanks, sweetheart.
Earlier today, I made A the deal that if L took a nap upstairs in his bassinet (instead of in my arms), A and I could have cookies and tea (and milk) together. I just brought L up now and laid him down. He was fussy but got suddenly quiet. A explained to me, "I put the monkey upright," which indeed, A had stood the monkey toy in the corner right on L's eye line.
L's now asleep, and A's grabbed me in a whisper: "Mommy, we have to go downstairs and eat chocolate stars NOW because L is sleeping." You betcha, kiddo.
Friday, January 22, 2010
First week of school
Last weekend, our fabulous friends the Bumps came to town and met Mr. L, played with Mr. A, and a fabulous time was had by all. They brought a quilt made by Mrs. Bump (the quilter, not the runner). L has a quilt made just for him! And it's gorgeous and useful in the cold we've been having.
All our visitors have had the sucky weather. Both the Bumps and the grandparents got stuck with the cold snaps, and now we're in the middle of the deluge. Today we even had bean-bag-filler hail, so it's pretty serious for weather here. No signs of flooding for us, which is good, and no signs of ants, which is the bad part about days of rain.
It was the training-wheel week this week, where A went back to school (happy A) while C had one more week before returning to work. I've been alone with L and alone with A and L a couple times, so we'll see how next week goes. A s so thrilled to be in school again and we're thrilled to be back on a more normal schedule for life and naps.
I realized this week that the thank you notes are still sitting half-composed in piles on our bookcases. Christmas cards are a lost cause. Oy.
L is six weeks old and quite the snuggler. He's having a growth spurt, because he's been nursing a lot and is unhappy to be out of my arms for very long. He's gassier than A was (is this rude to report?). I'm starting to eliminate the obvious gassy things from my diet (onions, broccoli, etc.), but I'm a-feared that there will be a dairy-fast in the near future. I have the diet of a Northern European milkmaid: milk and cereal, cheese and bread, cheese and apples, yogurt and fruit, and more milk. I'm not sure what I will eat for protein when I don't have milk (beans? that seems contraindicated by the gassiness).
All our visitors have had the sucky weather. Both the Bumps and the grandparents got stuck with the cold snaps, and now we're in the middle of the deluge. Today we even had bean-bag-filler hail, so it's pretty serious for weather here. No signs of flooding for us, which is good, and no signs of ants, which is the bad part about days of rain.
It was the training-wheel week this week, where A went back to school (happy A) while C had one more week before returning to work. I've been alone with L and alone with A and L a couple times, so we'll see how next week goes. A s so thrilled to be in school again and we're thrilled to be back on a more normal schedule for life and naps.
I realized this week that the thank you notes are still sitting half-composed in piles on our bookcases. Christmas cards are a lost cause. Oy.
L is six weeks old and quite the snuggler. He's having a growth spurt, because he's been nursing a lot and is unhappy to be out of my arms for very long. He's gassier than A was (is this rude to report?). I'm starting to eliminate the obvious gassy things from my diet (onions, broccoli, etc.), but I'm a-feared that there will be a dairy-fast in the near future. I have the diet of a Northern European milkmaid: milk and cereal, cheese and bread, cheese and apples, yogurt and fruit, and more milk. I'm not sure what I will eat for protein when I don't have milk (beans? that seems contraindicated by the gassiness).
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Four-to-five weeks
Eyelashes start growing in at two weeks and actually arrive in full-force by five weeks.
First voluntary, reactive smiles are at four weeks. Little happy sleep smiles happen all the time before then.
First voluntary, reactive smiles are at four weeks. Little happy sleep smiles happen all the time before then.
Monday, January 11, 2010
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Saturday, January 09, 2010
One Month
Baby L is just over a month old and still sweet as pie. He's spending more time being awake and alert and he's starting to get some neck control. His eyes are starting to look seriously blue.
L had a one-month weight check this week since he hadn't regained his birth weight within two weeks (met the minimums for weight gain, but the doctor wanted to re-check to make sure he nursing alright). Within the last two weeks, he gained two pounds (!) to bring him up to a whopping ten pounds, four ounces. So I feel pretty safe in saying the nursing is going well and I think he's (we've) got the hang of it.
Big bro A is still sweet-as-pie himself. We went to a two-year-old's birthday party today and A shared away the contents of his party favor bag with all the other kids, then hugged everybody on the way out. Oh my, these are two sweet boys we've got. Just like their daddy.
L had a one-month weight check this week since he hadn't regained his birth weight within two weeks (met the minimums for weight gain, but the doctor wanted to re-check to make sure he nursing alright). Within the last two weeks, he gained two pounds (!) to bring him up to a whopping ten pounds, four ounces. So I feel pretty safe in saying the nursing is going well and I think he's (we've) got the hang of it.
Big bro A is still sweet-as-pie himself. We went to a two-year-old's birthday party today and A shared away the contents of his party favor bag with all the other kids, then hugged everybody on the way out. Oh my, these are two sweet boys we've got. Just like their daddy.
Monday, January 04, 2010
Holiday recap
In retrospect, having a baby before Christmas is super and I highly recommend it as the ultimate experiment in letting go of all your expectations.
Christmas was very low-key here. Being the Type-A personality I am, all the critical wrapping for A was done months and months ago, so we went to bed pretty normally for people with a newborn on Christmas Eve. Christmas morning we actually slept in and stayed in our PJs all day.
Grandma and Grandpa came to town the next day, which was wonderful. They had snuggle time with L (Grandma is smitten), play time with A (so many many books read so many times), and cleaned our bathroom and kitchen (which is both mortifying and fabulous). Grandma and A baked cookies, which thrilled them both; Grandpa and A took a walk together, which was great. A had his new camera, the hit present from Grandma and Grandpa, and the entire walk is documented.
How's the sleep? Well, C fell asleep playing a video game in the middle of the day. Playing a video game. That's how the sleep is.
So far (note the caution), the only things that make L cry are wet diapers, diaper changes (so cold and rude) and city driving in the car (so stop-and-go). He's been super easy-going. He's been so easy-going that I've been worried that he's dehydrated and has brain damage, but he's got tons of wet and dirty diapers, super chubby cheeks, and periods of being awake and alert, so it's not that. He's just a mellow little guy.
I'm still healing. I hit frustration at the 4-week point, where I said, okay, I should be done with the healing because I'm sick of being out of commission. It turns out I'm not done with healing. I'm still sore, dependent on meds for activity, and easily tired. But C is still on paternity leave and we're taking things extremely easy, so I'm trying to just enjoy this time and focus on L.
Baby announcements went out, which was an accomplishment. Christmas cards were in various stages of being written when L arrived, so those may or may not make it into the mail. (I'm not re-opening already-written ones to add L's name and photo to the card. I'm not.) Babies first, parents next, everything else after that. You may be getting your cards in March.
Christmas was very low-key here. Being the Type-A personality I am, all the critical wrapping for A was done months and months ago, so we went to bed pretty normally for people with a newborn on Christmas Eve. Christmas morning we actually slept in and stayed in our PJs all day.
Grandma and Grandpa came to town the next day, which was wonderful. They had snuggle time with L (Grandma is smitten), play time with A (so many many books read so many times), and cleaned our bathroom and kitchen (which is both mortifying and fabulous). Grandma and A baked cookies, which thrilled them both; Grandpa and A took a walk together, which was great. A had his new camera, the hit present from Grandma and Grandpa, and the entire walk is documented.
How's the sleep? Well, C fell asleep playing a video game in the middle of the day. Playing a video game. That's how the sleep is.
So far (note the caution), the only things that make L cry are wet diapers, diaper changes (so cold and rude) and city driving in the car (so stop-and-go). He's been super easy-going. He's been so easy-going that I've been worried that he's dehydrated and has brain damage, but he's got tons of wet and dirty diapers, super chubby cheeks, and periods of being awake and alert, so it's not that. He's just a mellow little guy.
I'm still healing. I hit frustration at the 4-week point, where I said, okay, I should be done with the healing because I'm sick of being out of commission. It turns out I'm not done with healing. I'm still sore, dependent on meds for activity, and easily tired. But C is still on paternity leave and we're taking things extremely easy, so I'm trying to just enjoy this time and focus on L.
Baby announcements went out, which was an accomplishment. Christmas cards were in various stages of being written when L arrived, so those may or may not make it into the mail. (I'm not re-opening already-written ones to add L's name and photo to the card. I'm not.) Babies first, parents next, everything else after that. You may be getting your cards in March.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Waiting to see Santa
Every year, I've taken A to have his picture taken with Santa. It looked like that wasn't going to happen this year, and that bugged me. Part of me wanted to say screw it, and part of me didn't like the fact that the family mythology would be: A got a picture every year except the year that L was born.
It bugged me enough that I made C take all of us to the mall two days before Christmas when malls are verboten around here so we wait for hours (almost) to get A's picture taken with Santa. It was worth it for the following conversation between A and Santa:
Santa: Have you thought about what you would like for Christmas?
[A nods.]
Santa: What would you like for Christmas?
A: Presents.
Santa: Presents?
A: Yes. Presents.
Santa: Oh. [pause] So you like surprises.
I know someday A might have a Christmas list a mile long with names, prices, part numbers, and specifications for whatever he wants, but I'm so pleased to have a little boy who just wants some presents and the hell with wanting something more specific than that.
We did not get L's picture taken with Santa, because the thought of all those little children touching Santa and then L touching Santa was enough to put us off before we got there and saw Santa blowing his nose between kiddos. Sick Santas don't get to hold newborns, although Santa would have been thrilled to do it. He said the youngest he's ever held for a photo is four days. Too crazy for me. I don't know who's peed on Santa.
Edited to add: C pointed out to me that after they had the present conversation, A said, "What do you want for Christmas, Santa?" Santa wants cookies and milk. But what a sweetie to ask.
It bugged me enough that I made C take all of us to the mall two days before Christmas when malls are verboten around here so we wait for hours (almost) to get A's picture taken with Santa. It was worth it for the following conversation between A and Santa:
Santa: Have you thought about what you would like for Christmas?
[A nods.]
Santa: What would you like for Christmas?
A: Presents.
Santa: Presents?
A: Yes. Presents.
Santa: Oh. [pause] So you like surprises.
I know someday A might have a Christmas list a mile long with names, prices, part numbers, and specifications for whatever he wants, but I'm so pleased to have a little boy who just wants some presents and the hell with wanting something more specific than that.
We did not get L's picture taken with Santa, because the thought of all those little children touching Santa and then L touching Santa was enough to put us off before we got there and saw Santa blowing his nose between kiddos. Sick Santas don't get to hold newborns, although Santa would have been thrilled to do it. He said the youngest he's ever held for a photo is four days. Too crazy for me. I don't know who's peed on Santa.
Edited to add: C pointed out to me that after they had the present conversation, A said, "What do you want for Christmas, Santa?" Santa wants cookies and milk. But what a sweetie to ask.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Bliss
Taking as many naps as I can.
Sleeping with a snuggly newborn, with two cats as a bonus.
A three-year-old making cookies with his dad for me.
Discovering that the Kindle allows me to read even while nursing.
Nursing my newborn while smelling a Christmas tree.
A husband who got me a pedicure a week after birth since my toenails were really, really bothering me.
The first baby card in the mail (thank you, Liz).
A new pain meds prescription to get me through one more week of healing.
Having visitors this week come to meet the new baby.
Grandparents who extend their visit another day.
Sleeping with a snuggly newborn, with two cats as a bonus.
A three-year-old making cookies with his dad for me.
Discovering that the Kindle allows me to read even while nursing.
Nursing my newborn while smelling a Christmas tree.
A husband who got me a pedicure a week after birth since my toenails were really, really bothering me.
The first baby card in the mail (thank you, Liz).
A new pain meds prescription to get me through one more week of healing.
Having visitors this week come to meet the new baby.
Grandparents who extend their visit another day.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
The labor that wasn't
This is the gory details birth story post. If you're not interested, you should skip it. But there are a lot less gory details with this one than the last one.
Sunday night almost two weeks ago, C and I are doing our normal Sunday night thing, which is us watching something on TV (Season 2 of Buffy, for the curious) while I fall asleep on the couch. Then C plays video games until he wakes me up to go to bed.
We'd also wrapped up a bunch of pre-baby tasks and were enjoying the calm: Getting the tree. Getting the tree decorated. Getting a new (Scotchguarded) slipcover on the couch, because I'd been doing a second shift of sleep on the couch practically every night and I didn't want to ruin the couch by having my water break on it.
So at 10:30PM, my water broke and I woke up, staggered to the bathroom, swearing. (The couch was fine.) I'd tested GBS-positive, which meant that I needed to be in active labor within 24 hours of my water breaking or risk serious damage to the baby. My doctor had said on my last visit that if my water broke, they'd want me to head to the hospital immediately. And since I had a C-section last time, they won't want to induce me, so I'd just be sitting in a hospital waiting for contractions to start.
I call my monitrice: water broke, no contractions, 10:30PM at night. Should I call my doctor or can I wait until morning, unless hard and fast labor comes on? She says, go to bed. Check your temperature and worry if it spikes.
The odds of a woman's water breaking before she goes into labor is about 1 in 10. The odds of labor not starting within a reasonable amount of time after her water breaks are even smaller than that. I know you all know how exceptional I am, and that's carrying through to this labor.
C and I fuss about doing things: finding new blankets for the couch, making sure the reservoir for the tree is attached and full, starting that last load of laundry that needs to get done before I go to the hospital. We go to bed. I wake up halfway, not with contractions, just with my usual midnight pregnancy insomnia, and fall asleep on the couch watching more Buffy.
We get a full night's sleep. My monitrice calls: how's the labor? No contractions. Nothing. GBS means one way or another, there will be a baby coming today or early tomorrow, so let's get A off to school and cared for. C makes some phone calls and our fabulous friends pitch in to take A on a playdate afterschool.
My monitrice comes over and checks the baby with a Doppler (doing great). We call the doctor. Doctor says, well, I have to tell you to come in to the hospital, but I obviously can't force you. (I believe there would be winking in person.) We come to a consensus that we'll all check in again four hours later but I'll stay at home for now (unless crazy things happen).
My monitrice tries some belly massage to get contractions going, and leaves once C is back from dropping off A at school, leaving us with the instructions to go to bed and fool around.
C and I have lunch. We watch TV. We make sure A's been picked up and is being taken care of. We go to bed. We fool around. We take a nap. She calls and wakes us: any contractions? Nope. Some erratic tightenings, but nothing to knock me on my butt. She's coming back over with castor oil and an enema (sounds like a party, right?), since it's 2pm-ish now and we're getting into the do-or-die stage of kicking off labor.
I ask C, "I would know what a contraction is, right? I didn't have such horrible back labor with A that a regular contraction would feel like a walk in the park?"
C says, "Well, if I've learned anything from Bill Cosby, it's that when you have a contraction, you'll make a sound like WHHOOOOOOOOOOO." The fact that I find this funny is why we're still married after all this time.
My monitrice comes back. The enema sounds much better than the castor oil (oh I so hated that castor oil, if you can't tell) but she wants to get the doctor's blessing before we proceed. The doctor's office doesn't call us back for hours, making the whole discussion moot. There's just not enough time left before the 10:30PM deadline to allow either method to work.
It's 4pm. I'm eating apples and string cheese. We're at a confluence. Previous C-section = no Pitocin induction, GBS-positive = 24 hour deadline from water breaking to active labor kicking in. This is all leading up to a repeat C-section.
"How many hours will they not want me to have eaten before a C-section?" I ask, and my monitrice says six.
"Well, it's 4pm, so let's cut it off here and we'll have the kid at ten," I say.
And that's pretty much what we did. At that point, I was resigned, but I couldn't see any way around it. Then it became a question of logistics: when should we get to the hospital (8 and not 7 due to shift change), what's A going to do, when should we call the locals, when should we call the far-off people who wanted to be notified, is my bag packed, where's the extra battery for the camera, who can we trust to get a present for A from the baby, and so on.
We stop by our friends' house where A is staying the night to drop off a backpack of stuff, only to be told that he's already been given a toothbrush, put into PJs, and put to sleep. He's doing well, we're told, although he's had no nap.
By the way, it is the "worst storm ever seen" by our kindly elderly neighbor and San Diego native: pouring rain all day, blowing wind. In the night a tree will be blown over and bash in one of our neighbor's roofs. Our children chose diametrically opposite days to be born.
Miss Julie meets us at the hospital, yay, as does our monitrice. The super-friendly doctor's on-call and will be doing the surgery, yay. He does an exam and says, to nobody's surprise, that I'm only 1.5-2 cm dilated. "Yeah, C-section," I say. And I'm bummed because it's not what I wanted, I know the recovery will suck, but we're going to have a baby and so let's get the darn surgery over with and get to the baby part.
Surgery is, well, surgery. It's not fun. I get a spinal instead of the epidural. C's not allowed in the room until I'm flat on the table and prepped, and not having any of my peeps present while I'm getting the spinal makes me more panicky than anything else (although, truth be told, seeing big needles plunged between my vertebrae is not C's strong point--which is okay, since he's not my anesthesiologist). Dr. Wonderful says, "I'll hold your hand, okay?" and he does; in fact, he hugs me and talks me through the procedure--which is someone sticking needles between all the spaces of your lower spine) to help me relax and cope.
While I was waiting for the spinal to kick in, I read a whiteboard in the OR that has my information: R C-S, the doctor's name, and then my last name, which is spelled wrong. I tell the anesthesiologist, who says that the whiteboard is not part of his domain. I tell Dr. Wonderful, who says, "Oh, come on, guys, can we spell her name right?" which made me feel so much better because you all know how batty it would make me to lie there and read it over and over again.
C comes in and says, "T's here too," which was so amazing and sweet and I was so touched, even though I was shivering and nervous about surgery and all that. (T brought a book, remembering the last labor, and debated whether or not he needed two books.)
This surgery went faster, and they were kind enough to hold the baby over the big drape so that C could tell me the gender, "A boy!" It's 9:58pm. Apgars are 8 and 9. Eight pounds, eleven ounces--this is a big baby. C counts fingers and toes and tells me the right number this time. And when the pediatric nurse is done, C sits near me and holds the baby and we discuss names, since we hadn't really gotten around to picking one. I stare and stare since this one does not, as I anticipated with either gender, look like A. There are similarities, but the differences are what strike me: this one has C's tiny cute ears instead of the huge ones A inherited from me. I check to make sure the nurses didn't just hide them under the cap.
Anyway, the discovery during surgery: L as a true knot in his umbilical cord. This happens in .6-1% of births. This means that if we'd actually had labor and/or a vaginal delivery, the odds of L dying in the process would have increased by about 400%. When I think about that, it gives me goosebumps: all the things that I resented for leading us to a C-section are suddenly all the things that kept L alive.
C left the room with L while they tied me up with lots of adhesive tape (which I would have a nasty-ass allergic reaction to, leaving me welted and red all across my very delicate regions until three or four days of Benedryl took it down). We were reunited in the same room we'd been in before the surgery, which was nice. I was surprised by how much I wanted to just hold this one all to myself after surgery. J & T came in to see him while C made phone calls. I ended up sleeping with L all night.
Anyway, after that, we were transferred to the postpartum rooms. I had three roommates in as many days. Most of them were short-term, but it was still incredibly stressful for me. All I wanted was quiet and privacy and sleep, and listening to other people's small dramas is incredibly tiring. (Especially when your new roommate shows up at 3AM after you've just gotten you and your baby to sleep.)
But they moved me to the window side of the room where I could watch hummingbirds in the tree outside the window, and the nurses (for the most part, with one glaring exception) were fine. They all agree with me that L looks like a full-term baby and not a baby with a week or so left to go. Since I thought my due date was the 9th and the ultrasound dating put it at the 16th, I feel vindicated.
Still, I was texting C at 4AM on Thursday morning: They will discharge me today or I will sign myself out AMA.
Happily, my doctor must have recognized that, because he said sure, go home, just come to the office tomorrow to get your staples out.
Now L is ten days old, and he's snuggly. As long as he gets snuggled, he's happy. He's been a good sleeper so far; nursing is going well. He has a half-smile that makes him look exactly like Indiana Jones. I'm besotted and engrossed (which is why there's no blog updates or quick responses to emails).
A's back into the swing of life with his mean mommy and daddy instead of the party life with everyone else who dotes on him, and he seems to be coming around to life as normal, which is what we're striving for. Today he gave L a kiss and a hug on the way out the door to preschool, so he's coming around to L as well.
I'm moving, still easily tired, still on painkillers, still taking it slow. We did an IKEA stop today, but slowly. C is a fantastic father and husband and is the glue holding our house together and the one who keeps us all laughing. I'm so glad I have him. I'm so glad have all of them.
Sunday night almost two weeks ago, C and I are doing our normal Sunday night thing, which is us watching something on TV (Season 2 of Buffy, for the curious) while I fall asleep on the couch. Then C plays video games until he wakes me up to go to bed.
We'd also wrapped up a bunch of pre-baby tasks and were enjoying the calm: Getting the tree. Getting the tree decorated. Getting a new (Scotchguarded) slipcover on the couch, because I'd been doing a second shift of sleep on the couch practically every night and I didn't want to ruin the couch by having my water break on it.
So at 10:30PM, my water broke and I woke up, staggered to the bathroom, swearing. (The couch was fine.) I'd tested GBS-positive, which meant that I needed to be in active labor within 24 hours of my water breaking or risk serious damage to the baby. My doctor had said on my last visit that if my water broke, they'd want me to head to the hospital immediately. And since I had a C-section last time, they won't want to induce me, so I'd just be sitting in a hospital waiting for contractions to start.
I call my monitrice: water broke, no contractions, 10:30PM at night. Should I call my doctor or can I wait until morning, unless hard and fast labor comes on? She says, go to bed. Check your temperature and worry if it spikes.
The odds of a woman's water breaking before she goes into labor is about 1 in 10. The odds of labor not starting within a reasonable amount of time after her water breaks are even smaller than that. I know you all know how exceptional I am, and that's carrying through to this labor.
C and I fuss about doing things: finding new blankets for the couch, making sure the reservoir for the tree is attached and full, starting that last load of laundry that needs to get done before I go to the hospital. We go to bed. I wake up halfway, not with contractions, just with my usual midnight pregnancy insomnia, and fall asleep on the couch watching more Buffy.
We get a full night's sleep. My monitrice calls: how's the labor? No contractions. Nothing. GBS means one way or another, there will be a baby coming today or early tomorrow, so let's get A off to school and cared for. C makes some phone calls and our fabulous friends pitch in to take A on a playdate afterschool.
My monitrice comes over and checks the baby with a Doppler (doing great). We call the doctor. Doctor says, well, I have to tell you to come in to the hospital, but I obviously can't force you. (I believe there would be winking in person.) We come to a consensus that we'll all check in again four hours later but I'll stay at home for now (unless crazy things happen).
My monitrice tries some belly massage to get contractions going, and leaves once C is back from dropping off A at school, leaving us with the instructions to go to bed and fool around.
C and I have lunch. We watch TV. We make sure A's been picked up and is being taken care of. We go to bed. We fool around. We take a nap. She calls and wakes us: any contractions? Nope. Some erratic tightenings, but nothing to knock me on my butt. She's coming back over with castor oil and an enema (sounds like a party, right?), since it's 2pm-ish now and we're getting into the do-or-die stage of kicking off labor.
I ask C, "I would know what a contraction is, right? I didn't have such horrible back labor with A that a regular contraction would feel like a walk in the park?"
C says, "Well, if I've learned anything from Bill Cosby, it's that when you have a contraction, you'll make a sound like WHHOOOOOOOOOOO." The fact that I find this funny is why we're still married after all this time.
My monitrice comes back. The enema sounds much better than the castor oil (oh I so hated that castor oil, if you can't tell) but she wants to get the doctor's blessing before we proceed. The doctor's office doesn't call us back for hours, making the whole discussion moot. There's just not enough time left before the 10:30PM deadline to allow either method to work.
It's 4pm. I'm eating apples and string cheese. We're at a confluence. Previous C-section = no Pitocin induction, GBS-positive = 24 hour deadline from water breaking to active labor kicking in. This is all leading up to a repeat C-section.
"How many hours will they not want me to have eaten before a C-section?" I ask, and my monitrice says six.
"Well, it's 4pm, so let's cut it off here and we'll have the kid at ten," I say.
And that's pretty much what we did. At that point, I was resigned, but I couldn't see any way around it. Then it became a question of logistics: when should we get to the hospital (8 and not 7 due to shift change), what's A going to do, when should we call the locals, when should we call the far-off people who wanted to be notified, is my bag packed, where's the extra battery for the camera, who can we trust to get a present for A from the baby, and so on.
We stop by our friends' house where A is staying the night to drop off a backpack of stuff, only to be told that he's already been given a toothbrush, put into PJs, and put to sleep. He's doing well, we're told, although he's had no nap.
By the way, it is the "worst storm ever seen" by our kindly elderly neighbor and San Diego native: pouring rain all day, blowing wind. In the night a tree will be blown over and bash in one of our neighbor's roofs. Our children chose diametrically opposite days to be born.
Miss Julie meets us at the hospital, yay, as does our monitrice. The super-friendly doctor's on-call and will be doing the surgery, yay. He does an exam and says, to nobody's surprise, that I'm only 1.5-2 cm dilated. "Yeah, C-section," I say. And I'm bummed because it's not what I wanted, I know the recovery will suck, but we're going to have a baby and so let's get the darn surgery over with and get to the baby part.
Surgery is, well, surgery. It's not fun. I get a spinal instead of the epidural. C's not allowed in the room until I'm flat on the table and prepped, and not having any of my peeps present while I'm getting the spinal makes me more panicky than anything else (although, truth be told, seeing big needles plunged between my vertebrae is not C's strong point--which is okay, since he's not my anesthesiologist). Dr. Wonderful says, "I'll hold your hand, okay?" and he does; in fact, he hugs me and talks me through the procedure--which is someone sticking needles between all the spaces of your lower spine) to help me relax and cope.
While I was waiting for the spinal to kick in, I read a whiteboard in the OR that has my information: R C-S, the doctor's name, and then my last name, which is spelled wrong. I tell the anesthesiologist, who says that the whiteboard is not part of his domain. I tell Dr. Wonderful, who says, "Oh, come on, guys, can we spell her name right?" which made me feel so much better because you all know how batty it would make me to lie there and read it over and over again.
C comes in and says, "T's here too," which was so amazing and sweet and I was so touched, even though I was shivering and nervous about surgery and all that. (T brought a book, remembering the last labor, and debated whether or not he needed two books.)
This surgery went faster, and they were kind enough to hold the baby over the big drape so that C could tell me the gender, "A boy!" It's 9:58pm. Apgars are 8 and 9. Eight pounds, eleven ounces--this is a big baby. C counts fingers and toes and tells me the right number this time. And when the pediatric nurse is done, C sits near me and holds the baby and we discuss names, since we hadn't really gotten around to picking one. I stare and stare since this one does not, as I anticipated with either gender, look like A. There are similarities, but the differences are what strike me: this one has C's tiny cute ears instead of the huge ones A inherited from me. I check to make sure the nurses didn't just hide them under the cap.
Anyway, the discovery during surgery: L as a true knot in his umbilical cord. This happens in .6-1% of births. This means that if we'd actually had labor and/or a vaginal delivery, the odds of L dying in the process would have increased by about 400%. When I think about that, it gives me goosebumps: all the things that I resented for leading us to a C-section are suddenly all the things that kept L alive.
C left the room with L while they tied me up with lots of adhesive tape (which I would have a nasty-ass allergic reaction to, leaving me welted and red all across my very delicate regions until three or four days of Benedryl took it down). We were reunited in the same room we'd been in before the surgery, which was nice. I was surprised by how much I wanted to just hold this one all to myself after surgery. J & T came in to see him while C made phone calls. I ended up sleeping with L all night.
Anyway, after that, we were transferred to the postpartum rooms. I had three roommates in as many days. Most of them were short-term, but it was still incredibly stressful for me. All I wanted was quiet and privacy and sleep, and listening to other people's small dramas is incredibly tiring. (Especially when your new roommate shows up at 3AM after you've just gotten you and your baby to sleep.)
But they moved me to the window side of the room where I could watch hummingbirds in the tree outside the window, and the nurses (for the most part, with one glaring exception) were fine. They all agree with me that L looks like a full-term baby and not a baby with a week or so left to go. Since I thought my due date was the 9th and the ultrasound dating put it at the 16th, I feel vindicated.
Still, I was texting C at 4AM on Thursday morning: They will discharge me today or I will sign myself out AMA.
Happily, my doctor must have recognized that, because he said sure, go home, just come to the office tomorrow to get your staples out.
Now L is ten days old, and he's snuggly. As long as he gets snuggled, he's happy. He's been a good sleeper so far; nursing is going well. He has a half-smile that makes him look exactly like Indiana Jones. I'm besotted and engrossed (which is why there's no blog updates or quick responses to emails).
A's back into the swing of life with his mean mommy and daddy instead of the party life with everyone else who dotes on him, and he seems to be coming around to life as normal, which is what we're striving for. Today he gave L a kiss and a hug on the way out the door to preschool, so he's coming around to L as well.
I'm moving, still easily tired, still on painkillers, still taking it slow. We did an IKEA stop today, but slowly. C is a fantastic father and husband and is the glue holding our house together and the one who keeps us all laughing. I'm so glad I have him. I'm so glad have all of them.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Needing a pedicure will not stave off birth.
Nor will needing to get your roots done.
Baby L made it here on Pearl Harbor Day, at a whopping 8 pounds, 11 ounces.
We came home Thursday, a day earlier than necessarily recommended for a C-sections but the hospital was Not Restful. Home is much, much better, even if it looks like our house threw up all over itself.
L and I are sleeping and nursing most of the time; A has one more week of school before he's with us full-time for four weeks of vacation; C is amazingly not insane as he cares for a newborn, a three-year-old, and me.
I will write up the birth story, but the bambino is crying and must need fed. He's really gotten the hang of this nursing thing.
Baby L made it here on Pearl Harbor Day, at a whopping 8 pounds, 11 ounces.
We came home Thursday, a day earlier than necessarily recommended for a C-sections but the hospital was Not Restful. Home is much, much better, even if it looks like our house threw up all over itself.
L and I are sleeping and nursing most of the time; A has one more week of school before he's with us full-time for four weeks of vacation; C is amazingly not insane as he cares for a newborn, a three-year-old, and me.
I will write up the birth story, but the bambino is crying and must need fed. He's really gotten the hang of this nursing thing.
Friday, December 04, 2009
Empathy and nagging
A's working on empathy now at school. This translates into a small boy saying, "Oh, Mommy, I have empathy for you," when I hurt myself in some way.
This has been the week of the nagging: the phone calls and emails from people saying, "Say, have you had that baby yet?"
No. No baby yet. Don't antagonize the pregnant woman. It's not even my due date yet. It's not even within a week of my due date. And the due date isn't going to change now.
I know there's pregnant people who go in and find out how effaced and dilated they are every week, or get ultrasounds to estimate size, but my health care providers see a lot of that as pointless for a normal pregnancy. I go in; they check my urine and blood pressure, listen to the baby's heartbeat and say, "Sounds great," and off we go. No guestimates given. (okay, ranting off.)
I'm two weeks out from the H1N1 vaccine, have suffered no side effects, and the baby's still fine. A and C are also doing well and don't seem to be suffering any side effects either.
A got a head cold a week afterward, but since none of the symptoms he had were H1N1 flu symptoms, I'm assuming it was a head cold. And it passed, although he had a couple days where we pushed the bronchiodilators since a bad head cold can trigger an asthma attack. (And I don't ever want him to get hospitalized again, but I really don't want him to be hospitalized when I could go into labor at any time. There be dragons, you know?)
Other baby news: I tested positive for GBS, which stinks because that means I have to have antibiotics via IV at the birth, but since I already had to have an IV as a VBAC mom, it's not that big a deal. I've got some muscle separation going on, which means that I've been told not to lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk. There are many things in the world heavier than a gallon of milk, including my preschooler.
But! We're on the cusp of Friday. My doctors are happy with me, as is my monitrice, and we're in the home stretch. I'm going to make it to the last 3-minute prose open mic of the year. Maybe this weekend we'll get a Christmas tree and finish the last of the small baby-related issues. Then we can start dealing with the optional things, like Christmas cards and dec-o-housing.
This has been the week of the nagging: the phone calls and emails from people saying, "Say, have you had that baby yet?"
No. No baby yet. Don't antagonize the pregnant woman. It's not even my due date yet. It's not even within a week of my due date. And the due date isn't going to change now.
I know there's pregnant people who go in and find out how effaced and dilated they are every week, or get ultrasounds to estimate size, but my health care providers see a lot of that as pointless for a normal pregnancy. I go in; they check my urine and blood pressure, listen to the baby's heartbeat and say, "Sounds great," and off we go. No guestimates given. (okay, ranting off.)
I'm two weeks out from the H1N1 vaccine, have suffered no side effects, and the baby's still fine. A and C are also doing well and don't seem to be suffering any side effects either.
A got a head cold a week afterward, but since none of the symptoms he had were H1N1 flu symptoms, I'm assuming it was a head cold. And it passed, although he had a couple days where we pushed the bronchiodilators since a bad head cold can trigger an asthma attack. (And I don't ever want him to get hospitalized again, but I really don't want him to be hospitalized when I could go into labor at any time. There be dragons, you know?)
Other baby news: I tested positive for GBS, which stinks because that means I have to have antibiotics via IV at the birth, but since I already had to have an IV as a VBAC mom, it's not that big a deal. I've got some muscle separation going on, which means that I've been told not to lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk. There are many things in the world heavier than a gallon of milk, including my preschooler.
But! We're on the cusp of Friday. My doctors are happy with me, as is my monitrice, and we're in the home stretch. I'm going to make it to the last 3-minute prose open mic of the year. Maybe this weekend we'll get a Christmas tree and finish the last of the small baby-related issues. Then we can start dealing with the optional things, like Christmas cards and dec-o-housing.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Keeping an open mind
We drove home from preschool this afternoon. A cyclist (using the term loosely to define person on bike since he had no helmet, no signaling ability, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and no sense) swerved in front of me while I turned left when he really should have been stopped on his side of the light where it was red.
"Stupid biker ASSHOLE!" I said, then realized I had the three-year-old in the back. (Again, when the kid swears, yes, it will be my fault and it will be something he learned in the car.)
"I'm sorry, A," I said. "That was a bad word and Mommy shouldn't have yelled. The biker just scared her by riding really, really badly."
"It's okay," A said, "You were expressing yourself."
I stifled the urge to laugh, and said, "Yes, but there are better words to express myself with and I could have used any of them."
"You need to express yourself. You need to have an open mind," said the zen master in the back seat.
"What's an open mind, honey?"
"An open mind is when you listen without yelling."
I'm floored. "Yes, I guess that pretty much sums it up, sweetheart."
"Stupid biker ASSHOLE!" I said, then realized I had the three-year-old in the back. (Again, when the kid swears, yes, it will be my fault and it will be something he learned in the car.)
"I'm sorry, A," I said. "That was a bad word and Mommy shouldn't have yelled. The biker just scared her by riding really, really badly."
"It's okay," A said, "You were expressing yourself."
I stifled the urge to laugh, and said, "Yes, but there are better words to express myself with and I could have used any of them."
"You need to express yourself. You need to have an open mind," said the zen master in the back seat.
"What's an open mind, honey?"
"An open mind is when you listen without yelling."
I'm floored. "Yes, I guess that pretty much sums it up, sweetheart."
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Thanksgiving & a week off
(No baby yet.)
Thanksgiving was nontraditional here: mini beef Wellingtons, roasted sweet potatoes, Guiness chocolate cake. I'm not able to eat a huge meal and we didn't want to commit to a meal that takes us longer than a couple hours to make just in case labor starts (which it didn't).
[Actually, the cake came a day or so later because we went to make the icing after dinner and discovered we had no powdered sugar. C and I used to buy powdered sugar by the 40 pound bag when we hosted the big ol' gingerbread house decorating shindigs, and so we're stuck in a mindset where we can't conceive of a house that's not stocked with pounds and pounds of powdered sugar.]
C took the week off, which was wonderful, wonderful. A also had the week off, and I know he had more fun with Daddy and Mommy than he would have had with just cranky Mommy. Because I am cranky these days, people.
We ended up getting to visit the nursery of one of my plumeria society friends, which was amazing and astonishing and beautifully full of poinsettias, literally thousands and thousands of them. He said they'd all be gone in the next ten days. He also showed me his plumerias, which were huge even if they weren't in bloom. A and C had a good time too, I think, although A's highlights were seeing the baby fishes in the lily pond planters and the banana tree.
We knocked some to-dos for the new one off our list this week: a dresser for A (finally, painted in the blues of his choice), clothes for the new one into the former drawers for A, packed most of a bag for labor (because like all other trips, there's that last minute stuff you can't pack until you're actually leaving), a bag for A to have when we're off to the hospital (or when he's off to playdate during labor), and some stuff to AmVets.
There's still more to be done, but we did get a good chunk done. We did not do Black Friday shopping. Nope nope no. I'm lacking motivation for lots of things these days, and shopping was not part of it.
Thanksgiving was nontraditional here: mini beef Wellingtons, roasted sweet potatoes, Guiness chocolate cake. I'm not able to eat a huge meal and we didn't want to commit to a meal that takes us longer than a couple hours to make just in case labor starts (which it didn't).
[Actually, the cake came a day or so later because we went to make the icing after dinner and discovered we had no powdered sugar. C and I used to buy powdered sugar by the 40 pound bag when we hosted the big ol' gingerbread house decorating shindigs, and so we're stuck in a mindset where we can't conceive of a house that's not stocked with pounds and pounds of powdered sugar.]
C took the week off, which was wonderful, wonderful. A also had the week off, and I know he had more fun with Daddy and Mommy than he would have had with just cranky Mommy. Because I am cranky these days, people.
We ended up getting to visit the nursery of one of my plumeria society friends, which was amazing and astonishing and beautifully full of poinsettias, literally thousands and thousands of them. He said they'd all be gone in the next ten days. He also showed me his plumerias, which were huge even if they weren't in bloom. A and C had a good time too, I think, although A's highlights were seeing the baby fishes in the lily pond planters and the banana tree.
We knocked some to-dos for the new one off our list this week: a dresser for A (finally, painted in the blues of his choice), clothes for the new one into the former drawers for A, packed most of a bag for labor (because like all other trips, there's that last minute stuff you can't pack until you're actually leaving), a bag for A to have when we're off to the hospital (or when he's off to playdate during labor), and some stuff to AmVets.
There's still more to be done, but we did get a good chunk done. We did not do Black Friday shopping. Nope nope no. I'm lacking motivation for lots of things these days, and shopping was not part of it.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
On the cusp
Tomorrow Baby 2.0 will officially be full-term (although still a ways from done yet, I think). Yay! I have to say, the second time around, I was much more concerned about making it to full-term than I was the first time. I think having a friend with a preemie opened my eyes to how much development is critical and crucial in those last couple weeks.
Having said that, this pregnancy has not been as much fun as the last one. I've got pain around my belly button which only gets intensified when I cough or sneeze, which means I'm doing this flailing thing every time I cough or sneeze where I clamp one hand over my mouth and the other over my belly button. I feel uncomfortably large; there's no position comfortable to sleep in. I'm still hitting the inhaler pretty often, which means I'm still shorter on breath than I want to be.
This one's not a kicker like A was. This one's a stretcher and a wriggler. C made the observation that A is still a kicker who bangs his feet or hands against things rhythmically, so we'll see how this one is. I was forever taking walks with A to make him go to sleep and stop kicking me, but this one can't be stopped from stretching or wriggling, which can get painful. Walks don't help; standbys like juice or ice cream don't help. Kid's stubborn, like its big brother and parents.
I've learned that my love of ice cream has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to with being in the third trimester. This time, I've been eating a lot of chocolate ice cream, which I normally can't stand (true--except if it has something in it like peanut butter or brownie bits).
I still have a long list of tasks that need to be accomplished before 2.0 gets here. I'm considering this whole pregnancy and birth practice in letting go and adapting to the now. Yeah.
Having said that, this pregnancy has not been as much fun as the last one. I've got pain around my belly button which only gets intensified when I cough or sneeze, which means I'm doing this flailing thing every time I cough or sneeze where I clamp one hand over my mouth and the other over my belly button. I feel uncomfortably large; there's no position comfortable to sleep in. I'm still hitting the inhaler pretty often, which means I'm still shorter on breath than I want to be.
This one's not a kicker like A was. This one's a stretcher and a wriggler. C made the observation that A is still a kicker who bangs his feet or hands against things rhythmically, so we'll see how this one is. I was forever taking walks with A to make him go to sleep and stop kicking me, but this one can't be stopped from stretching or wriggling, which can get painful. Walks don't help; standbys like juice or ice cream don't help. Kid's stubborn, like its big brother and parents.
I've learned that my love of ice cream has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to with being in the third trimester. This time, I've been eating a lot of chocolate ice cream, which I normally can't stand (true--except if it has something in it like peanut butter or brownie bits).
I still have a long list of tasks that need to be accomplished before 2.0 gets here. I'm considering this whole pregnancy and birth practice in letting go and adapting to the now. Yeah.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
"Not on the head!"
Sometimes when I pick A up from preschool, he's very tired. I've been trying to keep him from falling asleep in the car so I don't have to pick him up and carry him upstairs. One of the ways in which I do that is to engage A in ridiculous conversations on the way home, because he can (and does) wake up into outraged incredulousness.
When I picked him up today, he looked groggy. I don't remember why, but the subject of diapers came up.
"Oh, yes," I said, "you can help me put diapers on the baby's nose when the baby comes."
No response from the sleepy boy in the back.
"Because that's where you wear diapers, on the baby's head."
Again, no response. When I got him home, he was still awake and needed a snack before his nap, but no comments on the diapers.
He woke up from his nap a little while ago and was puttering around here with toys (he wakes up slow and grumpy from a nap, like his mommy). Finally, he got between me and my keyboard to announce:
"Mommy, you don't put diapers on the baby's nose or the baby's head. You put diapers on your penis."
When I picked him up today, he looked groggy. I don't remember why, but the subject of diapers came up.
"Oh, yes," I said, "you can help me put diapers on the baby's nose when the baby comes."
No response from the sleepy boy in the back.
"Because that's where you wear diapers, on the baby's head."
Again, no response. When I got him home, he was still awake and needed a snack before his nap, but no comments on the diapers.
He woke up from his nap a little while ago and was puttering around here with toys (he wakes up slow and grumpy from a nap, like his mommy). Finally, he got between me and my keyboard to announce:
"Mommy, you don't put diapers on the baby's nose or the baby's head. You put diapers on your penis."
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Vaccination achieved!
I now have H1N1 antibodies swimming around in my bloodstream, hopefully multiplying their little selves into colonies that will prevent me and mine from getting said nasty H1N1 flu and getting, say, hospitalized.
Whew. The injection site is a little sore, but no other side effects to speak of right now. I'll mention it if something comes up. A doesn't seem to have any side effects so far, but he also has to get a booster in a month.
Whew. The injection site is a little sore, but no other side effects to speak of right now. I'll mention it if something comes up. A doesn't seem to have any side effects so far, but he also has to get a booster in a month.
Monday, November 16, 2009
The doggie that almost got away
Last week, A and I went to the beach before swim class. He played in the sand. I've added his "I'm going to be a model" beach shot here so you can appreciate the kind of cuteness we're dealing with.
This was also the day of his flu shot, so he had these two little rubber-and-wire toy doggies that he was playing with in the sand. He'd bury them and tell me he was going to find some treasure, then dig them up and show me his treasure again.
Of course, he's three, so at some point he lost interest in his doggies and wandered off to make castles and dig other holes and have a good time.
This is the point where a seagull came over and took one of his doggies. Not a minute after the seagull took off, A realized what had happened and took off running after the bird.
"Hey, bird! You took my doggie! Shoo, bird! Give me back my doggie!"
The seagull took flight, touched down by the water, discovered that the toy was not actually a French fry, and left it by the water. So A got his doggie back from the bird and we were all happy. He spent the rest of his time at the beach making sure the birds didn't get too close to us by running after them. "Shoo, birdies. You don't eat my doggies."
Friday, November 13, 2009
H1N1 Success!
I've got an appointment to go get vaccinated, next Tuesday at 10:30AM. Happy day!
I should share: Yesterday, among my other annoyances with the pediatrician's office, as I was leaving, I saw a post-it taped over the receptionist's credit card machine that said, "Pregnant moms, $42.00."
I'm that person who asks. "So, can I get the H1N1 shot here?"
The receptionist looked at me like Oh God, we're so backed up, please don't ask me this now. She said, "You'd have to ask one of the doctors for permission, but we do it for a fee." A $42.00 fee.
Let me add these caveats: the Feds are providing H1N1 vaccine free to everyone. No health care providers are paying for it. Doctors' offices may charge a fee for the work of setting up an appointment, coming into their office and having your regular health care providers give you the shot, but there's no cost to them for the actual vaccine.
I'm sure the cost of getting the flu shot varies according to your insurance, but for A, in the same office with the same insurance coverage, the shot is free.
I'll keep you posted on any weird side effects. The good news is that aside from the occasional asthma-related breathlessness, I'm mostly well right now and in reasonable shape to get a vaccine.
I should share: Yesterday, among my other annoyances with the pediatrician's office, as I was leaving, I saw a post-it taped over the receptionist's credit card machine that said, "Pregnant moms, $42.00."
I'm that person who asks. "So, can I get the H1N1 shot here?"
The receptionist looked at me like Oh God, we're so backed up, please don't ask me this now. She said, "You'd have to ask one of the doctors for permission, but we do it for a fee." A $42.00 fee.
Let me add these caveats: the Feds are providing H1N1 vaccine free to everyone. No health care providers are paying for it. Doctors' offices may charge a fee for the work of setting up an appointment, coming into their office and having your regular health care providers give you the shot, but there's no cost to them for the actual vaccine.
I'm sure the cost of getting the flu shot varies according to your insurance, but for A, in the same office with the same insurance coverage, the shot is free.
I'll keep you posted on any weird side effects. The good news is that aside from the occasional asthma-related breathlessness, I'm mostly well right now and in reasonable shape to get a vaccine.
The Week of Doctors
Sometimes it feels like all I do is drive around in the car. Tuesday: A at the dentist. Wednesday morning: me at the OB with A in tow; Wednesday after noon: me at the dentist without A, thank God. Thursday morning: me at the hospital filling out pre-admittance paperwork to L&D; Thursday afternoon: A gets an H1N1 flu shot.
Let me just say that while I love the doctors in A's pediatrician office, I hate the office staff. It's like going to an office run by the Marx Brothers, but less funny.
First of all, they super-overbooked. There was no parking available and I had to park two blocks away at Bread & Cie, which made me late. There were thirty people (not including two small babies) in a waiting room that normally holds ten. That's its own little level of hell.
And gentlemen, yes, you with the penises? Stand the hell up for ladies when there aren't enough seats. That's your job. I don't care about feminism; I don't care that your wife's happy to stand while you sit. The mommy who just came in with the seven-month-old needs a place to sit while she nurses. When I'm thirty-five-weeks pregnant and seriously considering giving her my seat, that's your cue to be a man and get off your ass and on your feet.
I had to have a run-around discussion about whether or not A needed the injectable vaccine or the Flu Mist with the nurse. It's not like this is the place that told me that yes, he needed an injectable and yes, they had the injectable available when I called.
"We don't have any more big kid-sized doses of the injectable. He'd have to have two shots if you don't want him to have the inhaled because we only have the baby doses left."
"Well, he's asthmatic and has been hospitalized this year and can't have the flu mist so I guess you'd better get the two shots ready."
"It's still going to be two shots."
"Look, go get Dr. ----- or Dr. ----- and I'm sure all of them will tell you he needs the injectable. Because I'm not letting you give him the live virus Flu Mist and he's not leaving here without a vaccination. Okay?"
She brings in a tray with the two shots and sets it down within arm's reach of A on his eye level, which no nurse has ever done before and freaks him out completely, then waits for me to calm him down so she can give him the shot. She offers him two toys from the treasure chest when he's done.
Anticipation is worse than having the shots. He's wriggly and it's not like I've got a lot of lap to hold him on right now to take a shot. But she did the shots quickly and he cried more before getting the shots than after he'd gotten them.
In doctor's visit news, I'm fine. Baby's on track. The hospital looks, well, like a hospital but the people were friendly enough.
The bad news: most hospitals in San Diego, including the one I'm set to deliver in, have banned all children under 14. When I went to the hospital to do paperwork, the entrance is cordoned off and there's a security guy having people fill out a brief questionnaire: Do you have a fever, a cough that's developed in the last three days, body aches, chills, nausea/vomiting/etc., and are you here with anyone under 14 who is not here for their own appointment or treatment?
So now I'm sad because A won't be able to come visit me and meet the new baby in the hospital. I'm sure we'll of course beg for an exemption and have it not be granted. I'm really sad about it. I feel even more pressure to have a successful VBAC, just because it'll cut down on the time spent in the hospital. With a vaginal delivery, I could be home the next day; I know a C-section is a good--ahem, minimum--two or three days at least (last time, four). Grumble grumble grumble. Maybe they'll have lifted the restrictions by then, but I doubt it.
Let me just say that while I love the doctors in A's pediatrician office, I hate the office staff. It's like going to an office run by the Marx Brothers, but less funny.
First of all, they super-overbooked. There was no parking available and I had to park two blocks away at Bread & Cie, which made me late. There were thirty people (not including two small babies) in a waiting room that normally holds ten. That's its own little level of hell.
And gentlemen, yes, you with the penises? Stand the hell up for ladies when there aren't enough seats. That's your job. I don't care about feminism; I don't care that your wife's happy to stand while you sit. The mommy who just came in with the seven-month-old needs a place to sit while she nurses. When I'm thirty-five-weeks pregnant and seriously considering giving her my seat, that's your cue to be a man and get off your ass and on your feet.
I had to have a run-around discussion about whether or not A needed the injectable vaccine or the Flu Mist with the nurse. It's not like this is the place that told me that yes, he needed an injectable and yes, they had the injectable available when I called.
"We don't have any more big kid-sized doses of the injectable. He'd have to have two shots if you don't want him to have the inhaled because we only have the baby doses left."
"Well, he's asthmatic and has been hospitalized this year and can't have the flu mist so I guess you'd better get the two shots ready."
"It's still going to be two shots."
"Look, go get Dr. ----- or Dr. ----- and I'm sure all of them will tell you he needs the injectable. Because I'm not letting you give him the live virus Flu Mist and he's not leaving here without a vaccination. Okay?"
She brings in a tray with the two shots and sets it down within arm's reach of A on his eye level, which no nurse has ever done before and freaks him out completely, then waits for me to calm him down so she can give him the shot. She offers him two toys from the treasure chest when he's done.
Anticipation is worse than having the shots. He's wriggly and it's not like I've got a lot of lap to hold him on right now to take a shot. But she did the shots quickly and he cried more before getting the shots than after he'd gotten them.
In doctor's visit news, I'm fine. Baby's on track. The hospital looks, well, like a hospital but the people were friendly enough.
The bad news: most hospitals in San Diego, including the one I'm set to deliver in, have banned all children under 14. When I went to the hospital to do paperwork, the entrance is cordoned off and there's a security guy having people fill out a brief questionnaire: Do you have a fever, a cough that's developed in the last three days, body aches, chills, nausea/vomiting/etc., and are you here with anyone under 14 who is not here for their own appointment or treatment?
So now I'm sad because A won't be able to come visit me and meet the new baby in the hospital. I'm sure we'll of course beg for an exemption and have it not be granted. I'm really sad about it. I feel even more pressure to have a successful VBAC, just because it'll cut down on the time spent in the hospital. With a vaginal delivery, I could be home the next day; I know a C-section is a good--ahem, minimum--two or three days at least (last time, four). Grumble grumble grumble. Maybe they'll have lifted the restrictions by then, but I doubt it.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Dentist visit
A did great; he's got wonderfully clean and pristine teeth with only a few pits on his molars and a beautifully aligned bite. They let him run the Mr. Thirsty water-sucker-thing and the air/water gun, and he thought that was wonderful.
Our dentist's office (still) adores him. And they scheduled me for a cleaning tomorrow and assured me that I'm having a girl. But A assured them that he's getting a brother. So there we are.
On a completely random note: Is it weird to anyone else that many, many interpretations of the religious beliefs of the Founding Fathers seem to be purported by sects of Christianity that did not actually exist at the time of the Revolutionary War? And that the Founding Fathers are all claimed as forefathers to these churches that did not actually come into existence until at least a decade or so after the Constitution was written? Or am I just a bizarro preggo former history major with too much historiography in her head?
Our dentist's office (still) adores him. And they scheduled me for a cleaning tomorrow and assured me that I'm having a girl. But A assured them that he's getting a brother. So there we are.
On a completely random note: Is it weird to anyone else that many, many interpretations of the religious beliefs of the Founding Fathers seem to be purported by sects of Christianity that did not actually exist at the time of the Revolutionary War? And that the Founding Fathers are all claimed as forefathers to these churches that did not actually come into existence until at least a decade or so after the Constitution was written? Or am I just a bizarro preggo former history major with too much historiography in her head?
Thursday, November 05, 2009
H1N1 Updates
A is scheduled for his shot next Thursday, so keep your fingers crossed that he actually gets it.
I am on a wait list for a shot at my doctor's office, and am apparently ranked pretty high up there on the list. All the free clinics in San Diego are offering the nasal spray, which I can't have. My OB is not offering the shots; if I'd gone to an OB clinic instead of a doctor in private practice, I probably would have had one by now (but then I wouldn't have Dr. Wonderful, so there you go). My doctor's nurse said they expected to have supplies by the end of the month.
C is on a wait list at his PCP for his shot.
I'm actually mostly better, with an actual voice and a limited cough. I'm still on my inhaler; I'm still hitting the inhaler every four hours, which is the minimum amount of time between hits. I'm a little fatigued but still feeling much better.
I am on a wait list for a shot at my doctor's office, and am apparently ranked pretty high up there on the list. All the free clinics in San Diego are offering the nasal spray, which I can't have. My OB is not offering the shots; if I'd gone to an OB clinic instead of a doctor in private practice, I probably would have had one by now (but then I wouldn't have Dr. Wonderful, so there you go). My doctor's nurse said they expected to have supplies by the end of the month.
C is on a wait list at his PCP for his shot.
I'm actually mostly better, with an actual voice and a limited cough. I'm still on my inhaler; I'm still hitting the inhaler every four hours, which is the minimum amount of time between hits. I'm a little fatigued but still feeling much better.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Humility
Every morning, A comes in and wraps his arms around me and lovingly rubs my belly and back, which I thought was a lovely way to show his interest in the baby.
Or so I thought until yesterday, when I realized he's not lovingly rubbing me as much as lovingly tracing my ever-growing stretch marks.
Or so I thought until yesterday, when I realized he's not lovingly rubbing me as much as lovingly tracing my ever-growing stretch marks.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Dia de los Muertos
We had Halloween. A went Trick-or-Treating for the very first time with his friend H. A was a lion, H was a firefighter. We met up with a mob of kids; A and H were the littlest ones in the group, adorable. The neighborhood wasn't super, lots of houses without lights and lots of big hills, so after a reasonable number of houses (under ten), we split H and A off from the big group and doubled back, hitting the houses on the other side of the street.
But A certainly understood trick-or-treating this year. C's "What do you say?" prompts to him for a "Thank you," resulted in a "Happy Halloween!" half the time after A overheard the mob of parents saying "Happy Halloween." He's still pretty cute.
We came home and trick-or-treated at our sweet neighbor's house, where she'd baked a batch of cookies especially for him, and he took off his costume and looked like he was ready to stay the night.
He got a small stash of candy, which is larger than any stash of candy he's ever had in his life. The funny thing is: he asked for a piece on Halloween night when we got home (a Tootsie Roll, a tiny one) and he hasn't asked for one since. This may be an out of sight, out of mind thing; it may be that we had birthday cake last night. But A's candy might disappear if this keeps up. We'll see if the other kids at school today remind him that he has candy.
In sickness news, I have been still sick, pretty much mute all weekend. Today my voice has started to come back and my head's not full all the freaking time, thankfully, but I've not been the world's most functional person. Saturday I took a midday nap; yesterday I fell asleep in front of the TV around 8:30 or so after my nap efforts were thwarted by two fighting cats (thanks, guys). I started cleaning and laundering this morning, which is always a sign that I'm feeling better. Unfortunately, crankiness is one of those signs too, but I've felt that all week.
But A certainly understood trick-or-treating this year. C's "What do you say?" prompts to him for a "Thank you," resulted in a "Happy Halloween!" half the time after A overheard the mob of parents saying "Happy Halloween." He's still pretty cute.
We came home and trick-or-treated at our sweet neighbor's house, where she'd baked a batch of cookies especially for him, and he took off his costume and looked like he was ready to stay the night.
He got a small stash of candy, which is larger than any stash of candy he's ever had in his life. The funny thing is: he asked for a piece on Halloween night when we got home (a Tootsie Roll, a tiny one) and he hasn't asked for one since. This may be an out of sight, out of mind thing; it may be that we had birthday cake last night. But A's candy might disappear if this keeps up. We'll see if the other kids at school today remind him that he has candy.
In sickness news, I have been still sick, pretty much mute all weekend. Today my voice has started to come back and my head's not full all the freaking time, thankfully, but I've not been the world's most functional person. Saturday I took a midday nap; yesterday I fell asleep in front of the TV around 8:30 or so after my nap efforts were thwarted by two fighting cats (thanks, guys). I started cleaning and laundering this morning, which is always a sign that I'm feeling better. Unfortunately, crankiness is one of those signs too, but I've felt that all week.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Halloween at school
A got to wear his Halloween costume to school today, a lion costume. He's been practicing his roars and he's quite cute.
When I picked him up, he was wearing a different costume, a bright yellow bodysuit.
"Did he have an accident?" I asked.
"Oh no," his teacher said, "the lion was just too hot and we had some costumes donated, so we changed him. I hope that's okay." She hands me his lion costume and a plastic elastic-banded mask and ah, it's Pikachu.
I know A has no earthly idea who Pikachu is, but A got a glow stick at school and is happy, so whatever. We walk off together to the car.
A says, "Mommy, I'm Pikachu!"
"Yes, you are," I say.
"Mommy," A says, "what's Pikachu?"
"I don't know," I tell A, "but you're pretty cute."
We walk a little longer, and then he starts fake-sneezing: "Ah-choo! Ah-choo! Pikachu!"
"Bless you! Bless you! Does Pikachu have a cold?"
"No, Pikachu makes sneezes, Mommy," he says. Of course he does, sweetie.
When I picked him up, he was wearing a different costume, a bright yellow bodysuit.
"Did he have an accident?" I asked.
"Oh no," his teacher said, "the lion was just too hot and we had some costumes donated, so we changed him. I hope that's okay." She hands me his lion costume and a plastic elastic-banded mask and ah, it's Pikachu.
I know A has no earthly idea who Pikachu is, but A got a glow stick at school and is happy, so whatever. We walk off together to the car.
A says, "Mommy, I'm Pikachu!"
"Yes, you are," I say.
"Mommy," A says, "what's Pikachu?"
"I don't know," I tell A, "but you're pretty cute."
We walk a little longer, and then he starts fake-sneezing: "Ah-choo! Ah-choo! Pikachu!"
"Bless you! Bless you! Does Pikachu have a cold?"
"No, Pikachu makes sneezes, Mommy," he says. Of course he does, sweetie.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Classroom cuteness
We overslept this morning and were therefore running late to drop A off for school. (When we run late, we run late: A needs his meds and that's just 10-20 minutes we have to spend every morning regardless of how late we are.)
We made it before he was technically late, but the class had already started their morning activity, a circle around their teacher while they sing or read a story together.
A ran right in, right up to his teacher to say hello. She said, "Hello, A," and then turned to one of the other little boys.
"See, N, A's here; your buddy is here today."
And this other little boy gets up, plows through the other kids seated on the floor to kiss A on the cheek, and sits down next to him, making A sit down right next to him. A's got a friend who misses him when he's not there, yay!
We made it before he was technically late, but the class had already started their morning activity, a circle around their teacher while they sing or read a story together.
A ran right in, right up to his teacher to say hello. She said, "Hello, A," and then turned to one of the other little boys.
"See, N, A's here; your buddy is here today."
And this other little boy gets up, plows through the other kids seated on the floor to kiss A on the cheek, and sits down next to him, making A sit down right next to him. A's got a friend who misses him when he's not there, yay!
Am Vets: score!
[Health note: still voiceless. Didn't sleep really well last night. Am taking today very easy with soup and tea and not much activity.]
Baby 2.0 is a-coming and it's going to be a completely different time of year for us to have a newborn. A was born during the hottest summer on record, so despite all the warnings and shopping lists in baby magazines which said we'd need 6-12 sleepers at least depending on how often we wanted to do laundry because he should be dressed in whatever we wore plus a layer, he spent most of his first two months in onesies. Honestly, I spent a lot of time (any time I could get away with it) in my underwear and nursing camisole and felt like I had too many clothes on. A would have cooked in a sleeper and a blanket. He's hot like C is, anyway, and has been from the beginning.
This means we don't have a huge supply of newborn/tiny sleepers for Baby 2.0. After seeing exactly how quickly babies grow out of their newborn gear, I'm not exactly jumping up and down to spend a lot of money outfitting this one. But this kid will need something respectable and warm to wear.
Enter AmVets, thrift store extraordinaire. One of my writer friends here turned me onto the local AmVets store last March, where I found a Fisher-Price garage for A for the princely sum of $1.50.
As we've been getting closer to the end of the pregnancy, I've been stopping by AmVets maybe once a week after dropping A and C off. I've gotten a couple things here and there, but thrift store shopping is always hit or miss. Plus, this AmVets is huge and busy and it takes a certain amount of fortitude to gear up and shop there, particularly on half-price sale days. But I went yesterday and let me tell you, I did good.
Besides, we just need enough to get us through the initial period of not knowing what the gender is. Then the shopping will be much, much easier, right? Especially if it's a boy.
Baby 2.0 is a-coming and it's going to be a completely different time of year for us to have a newborn. A was born during the hottest summer on record, so despite all the warnings and shopping lists in baby magazines which said we'd need 6-12 sleepers at least depending on how often we wanted to do laundry because he should be dressed in whatever we wore plus a layer, he spent most of his first two months in onesies. Honestly, I spent a lot of time (any time I could get away with it) in my underwear and nursing camisole and felt like I had too many clothes on. A would have cooked in a sleeper and a blanket. He's hot like C is, anyway, and has been from the beginning.
This means we don't have a huge supply of newborn/tiny sleepers for Baby 2.0. After seeing exactly how quickly babies grow out of their newborn gear, I'm not exactly jumping up and down to spend a lot of money outfitting this one. But this kid will need something respectable and warm to wear.
Enter AmVets, thrift store extraordinaire. One of my writer friends here turned me onto the local AmVets store last March, where I found a Fisher-Price garage for A for the princely sum of $1.50.
As we've been getting closer to the end of the pregnancy, I've been stopping by AmVets maybe once a week after dropping A and C off. I've gotten a couple things here and there, but thrift store shopping is always hit or miss. Plus, this AmVets is huge and busy and it takes a certain amount of fortitude to gear up and shop there, particularly on half-price sale days. But I went yesterday and let me tell you, I did good.
- Six (non-gender-specific) sleepers from good manufacturers (Gap, Nordstrom's, Le Top), normally $2 each, on sale for $1 each.
- A bright yellow (read: gender neutral) fleece bunting for babies up to 15 pounds, also gender neutral, normally $3, down to $1.50. I wasn't going to get Baby 2.0 a jacket or bunting, but jeez, for $1.50, why not?
- A Christmas-patterned gender-neutral Hanna Andersson zipper in pristine condition, size 80 (too big now for Baby 2.0 and too small for A, but good for Baby 2.0 in one year if not two), $3.
Besides, we just need enough to get us through the initial period of not knowing what the gender is. Then the shopping will be much, much easier, right? Especially if it's a boy.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
More sick! Still sick!
I am just going to be sick forever, it seems.
Headed to my PCP today, and can I just say: they have their act together in that office. I check in, I pay, I go to the waiting room, they call me, I get my vitals checked, and my doctor sees me. It's amazing how fast it is.
Good (?) news: the laryngitis is a virus that's going around and I just have to live through it. No strep.
Bad news: My doctor's really unhappy that I haven't been off my inhaler since I saw her way back when. She's more worried about my lungs and gave me a nebulizer treatment when I was there.
But this led to a frenzy of: don't get the swine flu; don't get the swine flu; if you think you have the swine flu, see me immediately and don't be surprised if I want to admit you to the hospital. If you know you've been exposed, get in here immediately.
Warning signs of swine flu, according to my doctor: Fever. Body aches. Every joint in my body will hurt. I will feel like I've been hit by a truck. The good news is that the incubation period for swine flu is apparently very short, so I don't have to worry about being contagious and asymptomatic.
We wrapped up the conversation with, "If you get a fever, call me and come in. I really don't want you to get sick."
Yeah. Me either.
Headed to my PCP today, and can I just say: they have their act together in that office. I check in, I pay, I go to the waiting room, they call me, I get my vitals checked, and my doctor sees me. It's amazing how fast it is.
Good (?) news: the laryngitis is a virus that's going around and I just have to live through it. No strep.
Bad news: My doctor's really unhappy that I haven't been off my inhaler since I saw her way back when. She's more worried about my lungs and gave me a nebulizer treatment when I was there.
But this led to a frenzy of: don't get the swine flu; don't get the swine flu; if you think you have the swine flu, see me immediately and don't be surprised if I want to admit you to the hospital. If you know you've been exposed, get in here immediately.
Warning signs of swine flu, according to my doctor: Fever. Body aches. Every joint in my body will hurt. I will feel like I've been hit by a truck. The good news is that the incubation period for swine flu is apparently very short, so I don't have to worry about being contagious and asymptomatic.
We wrapped up the conversation with, "If you get a fever, call me and come in. I really don't want you to get sick."
Yeah. Me either.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Sigh.
Our friends just left. Sigh. They spun through town like a whirlwind to go to a wedding, but happily were able to make some time for a visit with us this week. It's just wonderful to see them. A adores them, particularly Mr. Bump, who was "my [A's] Mr. Bump."
I am sick. Friday night I was down for the count, took it easy Saturday, felt better Sunday, did Disney Monday, I have lost my voice as of this morning, and am heading to my (regular) doctor tomorrow.
Monday I also had some pregnancy issues that were enough to make me call my doctor and my doula. (Did I mention we were at Disneyland?) My doula said, "Let me know when you're home and I'll come over and check you." She did (a house call!), which was amazing, and everything's fine. We headed up to my doctor's today to confirm that everything was fine. He did a quick ultrasound to double-check fluid levels and everything's fine. Baby's doing well; he didn't accidentally blab the gender, so we're still okay here.
So. I'm fine (although missing our friends) but sick and taking it extremely easy.
I am sick. Friday night I was down for the count, took it easy Saturday, felt better Sunday, did Disney Monday, I have lost my voice as of this morning, and am heading to my (regular) doctor tomorrow.
Monday I also had some pregnancy issues that were enough to make me call my doctor and my doula. (Did I mention we were at Disneyland?) My doula said, "Let me know when you're home and I'll come over and check you." She did (a house call!), which was amazing, and everything's fine. We headed up to my doctor's today to confirm that everything was fine. He did a quick ultrasound to double-check fluid levels and everything's fine. Baby's doing well; he didn't accidentally blab the gender, so we're still okay here.
So. I'm fine (although missing our friends) but sick and taking it extremely easy.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Traveling with kiddos
This is random, but I've been Googling "Hawaii with kids" recently in anticipation of a potential trip next year, and what a big bunch of whiny whiners there are out there.
Look, I know traveling with kids, especially the little kids, can be a PITA. Seriously. They have so much stuff you need to take along: diapers, TSA-unfriendly creams, heavy car seats, extra clothes, blankets, snacks, wipes. People shoot you the look of evil when you get on the plane, especially as you approach their seats.
But if you can't take simple reasonable precautions to travel with your kids, then I think you should shut the hell up and stop giving advice.
For example: I just read a blog entry about a couple who took their 25-month-old to Hawaii from New York. That's a fourteen hour plane trip, same as what we spent on the plane with A going to Italy. So how did it go?
Well, not good. First of all, they lied to the ticket agents about the kid's age so he could travel as a lap child. This was to save money (I assume).
When we went to Italy, A was eight months old, twenty pounds, and would have legally qualified as a lap child. And we still ponied up the money for a seat for him. And not because we love the airlines so much that we wanted to give them lots of money.
C and I ran it by a basic litmus test: In the comfort of our home, would we be comfortable holding him (both awake and asleep) in our laps for the same duration of time? And our answer was an emphatic, "Hell no." Heck, we wanted to be able to sleep on the plane, and when you've got a baby in your arms, it's difficult to fall asleep yourself without pitching the baby on the floor. We bought the seat for him, tucked him into his car seat, and he slept most of the time.
By the same litmus test, I can't imagine holding a two-year-old in my lap for longer than fifteen minutes without an argument, let alone fourteen hours.
I know that for the next big trip, we'll have two and it'll be exponentially more difficult, but we'll just keep to the same litmus tests and proceed sanely. Heck, what I know is that traveling once the kid is mobile is a helluva lot harder than traveling when they pretty much stay put. I'm crossing my fingers that if this trip to Hawaii happens next year, it'll be before Baby 2.0 is walking. And thank God we won't have two toddlers at the same time. Yikes. Mothers of twins, I salute you.
Look, I know traveling with kids, especially the little kids, can be a PITA. Seriously. They have so much stuff you need to take along: diapers, TSA-unfriendly creams, heavy car seats, extra clothes, blankets, snacks, wipes. People shoot you the look of evil when you get on the plane, especially as you approach their seats.
But if you can't take simple reasonable precautions to travel with your kids, then I think you should shut the hell up and stop giving advice.
For example: I just read a blog entry about a couple who took their 25-month-old to Hawaii from New York. That's a fourteen hour plane trip, same as what we spent on the plane with A going to Italy. So how did it go?
Well, not good. First of all, they lied to the ticket agents about the kid's age so he could travel as a lap child. This was to save money (I assume).
When we went to Italy, A was eight months old, twenty pounds, and would have legally qualified as a lap child. And we still ponied up the money for a seat for him. And not because we love the airlines so much that we wanted to give them lots of money.
C and I ran it by a basic litmus test: In the comfort of our home, would we be comfortable holding him (both awake and asleep) in our laps for the same duration of time? And our answer was an emphatic, "Hell no." Heck, we wanted to be able to sleep on the plane, and when you've got a baby in your arms, it's difficult to fall asleep yourself without pitching the baby on the floor. We bought the seat for him, tucked him into his car seat, and he slept most of the time.
By the same litmus test, I can't imagine holding a two-year-old in my lap for longer than fifteen minutes without an argument, let alone fourteen hours.
I know that for the next big trip, we'll have two and it'll be exponentially more difficult, but we'll just keep to the same litmus tests and proceed sanely. Heck, what I know is that traveling once the kid is mobile is a helluva lot harder than traveling when they pretty much stay put. I'm crossing my fingers that if this trip to Hawaii happens next year, it'll be before Baby 2.0 is walking. And thank God we won't have two toddlers at the same time. Yikes. Mothers of twins, I salute you.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Flu shot success!
I did get my rock-star mommyness on; I got A an appointment at his doctor's for a seasonal flu shot (independent of the H1N1 vaccine), and he got it today.
He took it like a champ. The doctor's office was backed up with people getting flu shots. Crazy. But he got his injectable vaccine and I got his vaccination record updated and we're all set on seasonal flu vaccines in our household.
Next stop: H1N1 vaccines.
There's a lot of crazy out there on the tubes, as we like to call the Internet around here in honor of the former senator from Alaska, namely in the anti-vaccine movement.
Repeat after me: correlation does not equal causation. Equating correlation with causation in lieu of scientific evidence is how superstitions get started.
I'm not as hard-core about the H1N1, but the anti-vaccine rhetoric for all the standard bad diseases drives me batty. I know how long doctors went to school and that as many hours as I spend watching House, I am not a doctor. So if my doctor recommends something and the CDC, the WHO, and everyone with a medical degree under the sun seems to back her up, then yeah, vaccines are super.
I wouldn't mind it if the anti-vaccine people were only hurting themselves (I'm not so keen on them hurting their own kids, but I'm willing to take that as Darwin at work). But when someone else decides that their kid should experience the measles instead of getting the MMR vaccine because the MMR vaccine "causes" autism, they've become a public health risk to my family. Measles is communicable by air; you can get it by being in the same place an infected person was within the last two hours.
If this seems like a far-out situation, there was a measles outbreak here last year where there were contagious people in my local Trader Joe's and Whole Foods. Eleven kids got it, some of them infants who needed to be hospitalized. Some seventy kids in total ended up being quarantined, either because their parents chose not to vaccinate them or they were too young to be vaccinated. I imagine it's super fun to be stuck in your house with a kid for two weeks.
So when you're Googling vaccines to "educate" yourself, take a minute and Google the pre-vaccination mortality rates of those diseases. Google the side effects of the vaccines, and then Google the effects of the diseases.
Then the next time you see a cute little three-month-old shopping with his or her parents in Trader Joe's, think about giving those diseases to that baby, because by not vaccinating your kid, you've made a choice to give that baby that disease too.
He took it like a champ. The doctor's office was backed up with people getting flu shots. Crazy. But he got his injectable vaccine and I got his vaccination record updated and we're all set on seasonal flu vaccines in our household.
Next stop: H1N1 vaccines.
There's a lot of crazy out there on the tubes, as we like to call the Internet around here in honor of the former senator from Alaska, namely in the anti-vaccine movement.
Repeat after me: correlation does not equal causation. Equating correlation with causation in lieu of scientific evidence is how superstitions get started.
I'm not as hard-core about the H1N1, but the anti-vaccine rhetoric for all the standard bad diseases drives me batty. I know how long doctors went to school and that as many hours as I spend watching House, I am not a doctor. So if my doctor recommends something and the CDC, the WHO, and everyone with a medical degree under the sun seems to back her up, then yeah, vaccines are super.
I wouldn't mind it if the anti-vaccine people were only hurting themselves (I'm not so keen on them hurting their own kids, but I'm willing to take that as Darwin at work). But when someone else decides that their kid should experience the measles instead of getting the MMR vaccine because the MMR vaccine "causes" autism, they've become a public health risk to my family. Measles is communicable by air; you can get it by being in the same place an infected person was within the last two hours.
If this seems like a far-out situation, there was a measles outbreak here last year where there were contagious people in my local Trader Joe's and Whole Foods. Eleven kids got it, some of them infants who needed to be hospitalized. Some seventy kids in total ended up being quarantined, either because their parents chose not to vaccinate them or they were too young to be vaccinated. I imagine it's super fun to be stuck in your house with a kid for two weeks.
So when you're Googling vaccines to "educate" yourself, take a minute and Google the pre-vaccination mortality rates of those diseases. Google the side effects of the vaccines, and then Google the effects of the diseases.
Then the next time you see a cute little three-month-old shopping with his or her parents in Trader Joe's, think about giving those diseases to that baby, because by not vaccinating your kid, you've made a choice to give that baby that disease too.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Unstructured time and baby kisses
Yesterday we headed to the House of Mouse. It was jam-packed with people, crazy full. The Halloween celebration draws a lot of people; there was apparently some kind of charity walk/event where people got free tickets.
One of the things we like to do at the House of Mouse is get Mickey-shaped ice cream bars and sit in the Carnation Plaza Gardens and eat them. There's a bandstand there with a small stage; there are shows in the evening but during the day it's an out-of-the-way, quiet place to sit and rest. Once he's finished his ice cream, A can jump down and run around for a bit on the stage and burn off some energy while C and I talk.
Yesterday, A was running around the stage while C and I were finishing our ice cream when a little girl came up to him. She was probably a little older than him, but he grabbed her hands and wanted to dance and run around with her. They danced, they chased each other, they spun in circles, they hid behind the piano and the podiums from each other, and they giggled madly. A likes playing with older kids, and if I ever thought he was shy, he's certainly not now.
Eventually, the little girl had to go; her family was waiting.
"Little boy!" she called. "Little boy!" When A didn't respond, she ran up to him and said, "I have to go, goodbye," hugged him, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and ran off.
A came back over to us and pointed. "That little girl kissed me on my cheek." He had a huge smile.
One of the things we like to do at the House of Mouse is get Mickey-shaped ice cream bars and sit in the Carnation Plaza Gardens and eat them. There's a bandstand there with a small stage; there are shows in the evening but during the day it's an out-of-the-way, quiet place to sit and rest. Once he's finished his ice cream, A can jump down and run around for a bit on the stage and burn off some energy while C and I talk.
Yesterday, A was running around the stage while C and I were finishing our ice cream when a little girl came up to him. She was probably a little older than him, but he grabbed her hands and wanted to dance and run around with her. They danced, they chased each other, they spun in circles, they hid behind the piano and the podiums from each other, and they giggled madly. A likes playing with older kids, and if I ever thought he was shy, he's certainly not now.
Eventually, the little girl had to go; her family was waiting.
"Little boy!" she called. "Little boy!" When A didn't respond, she ran up to him and said, "I have to go, goodbye," hugged him, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and ran off.
A came back over to us and pointed. "That little girl kissed me on my cheek." He had a huge smile.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Just don't get out of bed
Sometimes we have those days (as I'm sure you do too) where it's apparent that none of us should have gotten out of bed.
C didn't sleep well. He's had a lot of work stress recently and sees a lot of late nights coming up this week.
We've been trying to get A a flu shot. His pediatrician's office isn't giving them until they get their H1N1 vaccine supply, because they want to give both shots at once. They had a shot clinic at the local hospital last weekend, but by the time we got there, they were out of the injectables and only had the flu mist--which is contraindicated for people with asthma like A.
Okay. The nurse says call me Friday, I'll tell you whether we have any injectables coming next week and when you should come.
So I do. And she tells me: 9:15 AM. Don't be there at 9; it'll be too swamped.
Great. We get there at 9:15AM. I realize I forgot A's vaccination record. C drops us off and goes home to get it. I go into the clinic to discover a huge long line.
They only had enough vaccine for the number of people in line when they opened at 9AM. I'm not talking injectable vs. flu mist; I'm talking all the vaccine, period. There's nothing for us. So they completely suck, as far as I'm concerned.
Then we have a bunch of errands that just spiral out of happy land into unhappy land. I try to make an all-butter pie crust while mad and discover it's near impossible. I cannot mail my foot pedal at the automated kiosk at the post office because the box isn't big enough for the automatically-generated postage sticker, so we have to wait in line behind the man who bathed in cheap cologne and Irish Spring soap this morning; the smell makes me want to retch every time I turn his way. We go to the cat food store to get a bag of cat food on special sale and they don't actually stock any that's on special sale in the store. I get a cramp/wave of sickness in Trader Joe's that sends me to the restroom. I get home and the new neighbors across the way have turned their garage into a giant speaker blaring 80s New Wave music right into my bedroom, where I am trying to take a nap until the sick feeling goes away.
I'm trying to adjust my attitude, but some days it's quite difficult, you know? Tomorrow will be another Disneyland trip and hopefully (cross your fingers) that'll be better.
Failing that, cross your fingers that I can get my rock-star mommyness on and get past the receptionist at the pediatrician's office to someone who will let me schedule my high-risk asthmatic germ vector for a seasonal flu shot ASAP.
C didn't sleep well. He's had a lot of work stress recently and sees a lot of late nights coming up this week.
We've been trying to get A a flu shot. His pediatrician's office isn't giving them until they get their H1N1 vaccine supply, because they want to give both shots at once. They had a shot clinic at the local hospital last weekend, but by the time we got there, they were out of the injectables and only had the flu mist--which is contraindicated for people with asthma like A.
Okay. The nurse says call me Friday, I'll tell you whether we have any injectables coming next week and when you should come.
So I do. And she tells me: 9:15 AM. Don't be there at 9; it'll be too swamped.
Great. We get there at 9:15AM. I realize I forgot A's vaccination record. C drops us off and goes home to get it. I go into the clinic to discover a huge long line.
They only had enough vaccine for the number of people in line when they opened at 9AM. I'm not talking injectable vs. flu mist; I'm talking all the vaccine, period. There's nothing for us. So they completely suck, as far as I'm concerned.
Then we have a bunch of errands that just spiral out of happy land into unhappy land. I try to make an all-butter pie crust while mad and discover it's near impossible. I cannot mail my foot pedal at the automated kiosk at the post office because the box isn't big enough for the automatically-generated postage sticker, so we have to wait in line behind the man who bathed in cheap cologne and Irish Spring soap this morning; the smell makes me want to retch every time I turn his way. We go to the cat food store to get a bag of cat food on special sale and they don't actually stock any that's on special sale in the store. I get a cramp/wave of sickness in Trader Joe's that sends me to the restroom. I get home and the new neighbors across the way have turned their garage into a giant speaker blaring 80s New Wave music right into my bedroom, where I am trying to take a nap until the sick feeling goes away.
I'm trying to adjust my attitude, but some days it's quite difficult, you know? Tomorrow will be another Disneyland trip and hopefully (cross your fingers) that'll be better.
Failing that, cross your fingers that I can get my rock-star mommyness on and get past the receptionist at the pediatrician's office to someone who will let me schedule my high-risk asthmatic germ vector for a seasonal flu shot ASAP.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Bad day, continued
A capped off his bad day yesterday by taking my embroidery scissors and almost completely cutting through the foot pedal cord of my (relatively) brand new sewing machine.
He's fine. I was in the bathroom. He came to me and said, "Mommy, it was really loud," so he obviously had some learning lesson about electricity that wasn't lethal.
Now I need a new foot pedal (or cord, at least). So much for all the sewing I had planned.
He's fine. I was in the bathroom. He came to me and said, "Mommy, it was really loud," so he obviously had some learning lesson about electricity that wasn't lethal.
Now I need a new foot pedal (or cord, at least). So much for all the sewing I had planned.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
31 Week Prenatal Visit
Everything's fine. I had blood tests; they actually got the results (I thought the tech was going to lose the vials of my blood) and everything was perfect. Fundal height is 31 cm, which is perfect for 31 weeks, so all the people who keep telling me that I'm not big at all and "that baby doesn't seem to be growing at all" can shove it. My doctor's happy and would like me to stop reading any activist birth literature in favor of positive, warm-fuzzy stuff, but we all know how effective it is to tell me not to read something. I understand what he's worried about.
I stopped by my doctor's new baby store and got a birth/yoga/fitness ball to sit on. It's a cute store, lots of neat stuff. He had suggested papaya extract for my terrible ongoing heartburn, but I didn't see any.
Anyway! A is having a bad day. He's been fighting some cold, so we've got him hopped up on albuterol in addition to his pulmicort. He was cranky with Daddy when he was dropped off at preschool and he was cranky with me afterwards, including having an all-out temper tantrum in the library and the library's parking lot that ended in me bodily carrying him to the car. A little old lady stopped to watch as I strapped him into the car seat while he hit, pinched, and kicked me. (Hello, preschool influences?) I left him in the car to cool down (cloudy day, but I rolled the windows down just in case) while the little old lady took down my license plate number. Now I'm just waiting for Child Protective Services to call me for being a bad mother.
He's sleeping now. I hope he perks up or it'll be a long, long afternoon.
I stopped by my doctor's new baby store and got a birth/yoga/fitness ball to sit on. It's a cute store, lots of neat stuff. He had suggested papaya extract for my terrible ongoing heartburn, but I didn't see any.
Anyway! A is having a bad day. He's been fighting some cold, so we've got him hopped up on albuterol in addition to his pulmicort. He was cranky with Daddy when he was dropped off at preschool and he was cranky with me afterwards, including having an all-out temper tantrum in the library and the library's parking lot that ended in me bodily carrying him to the car. A little old lady stopped to watch as I strapped him into the car seat while he hit, pinched, and kicked me. (Hello, preschool influences?) I left him in the car to cool down (cloudy day, but I rolled the windows down just in case) while the little old lady took down my license plate number. Now I'm just waiting for Child Protective Services to call me for being a bad mother.
He's sleeping now. I hope he perks up or it'll be a long, long afternoon.
Thursday, October 08, 2009
Competent Thursday
This week, C's been burning the midnight oil at work, which means he drops A off at preschool and then he's home late. Really late.
Usually this sends me into fits, but I've been surprised by how well A and I are coping. A's had a head cold since Monday (Sunday, really). We've been giving him the more rigorous slate of meds for his asthma, since we don't want him back in the hospital, thank you very much. But he perked up yesterday and has been perky but runny-nosed ever since. We just happened to have a three-month checkup with his asthma doctor yesterday, and A sounds clear and is on the right course of treatment. He'll be on daily meds through the winter and spring, but that's okay since he can breathe.
In my spare time, I've managed to: finish the piecing and pin a beach blanket for quilting, make two batches of frozen mac and cheese for post-baby consumption, (mostly) finish A's Christmas shopping, read a couple baby-related books (Birthing From Within) and non-baby related (After Etan, which kept me up last night), knock off a lot of The Office and 30 Rock.
Sunday we went to Disneyland (ah yes, Disneyland). We're trying to max out the value of our pass before it expires in early November, which should be just about the time I get too large to want to sit in the car that long or walk around all day.
A wanted to send a letter to Grandma, so we bought a postcard of Pooh from the Pooh store. Then we saw Pooh out meeting people, so we had to say hi to Pooh. I had my big fat pen-pencil-stylus writing implement, so I offered the pen and the postcard to Pooh to sign for Grandma. I wasn't sure he could do it--ballpoint on a postcard front, plus big fuzzy costume with reduced vision--but lo and behold, Pooh not only managed to sign his name but also drew a honey bee.
Today I have a writing organization meeting that if our sweet neighbor is already on vacation, A will have to sit through. Let's see how happy I am after that.
Usually this sends me into fits, but I've been surprised by how well A and I are coping. A's had a head cold since Monday (Sunday, really). We've been giving him the more rigorous slate of meds for his asthma, since we don't want him back in the hospital, thank you very much. But he perked up yesterday and has been perky but runny-nosed ever since. We just happened to have a three-month checkup with his asthma doctor yesterday, and A sounds clear and is on the right course of treatment. He'll be on daily meds through the winter and spring, but that's okay since he can breathe.
In my spare time, I've managed to: finish the piecing and pin a beach blanket for quilting, make two batches of frozen mac and cheese for post-baby consumption, (mostly) finish A's Christmas shopping, read a couple baby-related books (Birthing From Within) and non-baby related (After Etan, which kept me up last night), knock off a lot of The Office and 30 Rock.
Sunday we went to Disneyland (ah yes, Disneyland). We're trying to max out the value of our pass before it expires in early November, which should be just about the time I get too large to want to sit in the car that long or walk around all day.
A wanted to send a letter to Grandma, so we bought a postcard of Pooh from the Pooh store. Then we saw Pooh out meeting people, so we had to say hi to Pooh. I had my big fat pen-pencil-stylus writing implement, so I offered the pen and the postcard to Pooh to sign for Grandma. I wasn't sure he could do it--ballpoint on a postcard front, plus big fuzzy costume with reduced vision--but lo and behold, Pooh not only managed to sign his name but also drew a honey bee.
Today I have a writing organization meeting that if our sweet neighbor is already on vacation, A will have to sit through. Let's see how happy I am after that.
Monday, October 05, 2009
Changes in Weather
The weather has finally turned from hot to fall-ish here. My cold weather detector, otherwise known as Jake, woke me up at 1AM by climbing under the comforter with me and stretching out over my enormous belly. I was happy for the warmth, but by 4AM he had completely taken over my side of the bed, wedging himself inextricably between me and my body pillow. He's still in bed now, almost where he went to sleep last night.
I went down to the couch to fall asleep to Arrested Development DVDs and made two exciting discoveries: all but our lightest fleece throws had been relegated to storage upstairs and it was way too cold to be downstairs in a chemise.
This brings up a conundrum that I hadn't really considered: I'm much larger now than I was the last time I needed my cozy flannel PJs. I found an old pair of sweatpants that fit (yay baggy what-not-to-wear sweats), but I'm going to have to fix the PJ problem. But the cheapskate in me doesn't want to buy maternity PJs that will only be worn for less than three months.
I went down to the couch to fall asleep to Arrested Development DVDs and made two exciting discoveries: all but our lightest fleece throws had been relegated to storage upstairs and it was way too cold to be downstairs in a chemise.
This brings up a conundrum that I hadn't really considered: I'm much larger now than I was the last time I needed my cozy flannel PJs. I found an old pair of sweatpants that fit (yay baggy what-not-to-wear sweats), but I'm going to have to fix the PJ problem. But the cheapskate in me doesn't want to buy maternity PJs that will only be worn for less than three months.
Things A Says Now
"Another book, please, and not the last one."
"Really." As in "really good" the modifier or "really?" the question. (Okay, this could be from us.)
"Look, it's a Caldecott." You know, the ALA medal for achievement in children's picture books? He recognizes the sticker.
"What's this?" he asked me, pointing at his Dr. Seuss map book.
"Longitude," I said.
"This is latitude," he said, pointing at the next picture.
"Night is falling." No idea where this one came from.
He's also singing more now, including: the "This is Halloween" song from The Nightmare Before Christmas and "It's a Small World."
"Really." As in "really good" the modifier or "really?" the question. (Okay, this could be from us.)
"Look, it's a Caldecott." You know, the ALA medal for achievement in children's picture books? He recognizes the sticker.
"What's this?" he asked me, pointing at his Dr. Seuss map book.
"Longitude," I said.
"This is latitude," he said, pointing at the next picture.
"Night is falling." No idea where this one came from.
He's also singing more now, including: the "This is Halloween" song from The Nightmare Before Christmas and "It's a Small World."
Monday, September 28, 2009
Morning preschool
Morning preschool is so much freaking better than afternoon preschool. Instead of our day being somewhat hackneyed, it went like this:
- Drop A off at school
- Drop C off at work
- Come home for blessed quiet time on my own
- Pick up A from school
- Nap for A
- Lunch for me (and more quiet time)
- Snack, playtime, reading time, dinner for A
- Pick up C from work
- Bedtime for A
Friday, September 25, 2009
Open House and the Switch
Yesterday was Back-to-School night, where parents go to school (apparently with children in tow) and talk to their children's teachers. A mercifully passed out after school yesterday, so our neighbor watched A while I went in. C was swamped at work and could not make it, which was a pity all around. I got to talk to his teacher and his speech teacher.
His teacher is, to quote a friend, "funny and formidable." She just turned 60. She loves the kids, loves doing art with them, and loves reading to them. There are so many books in that classroom that it almost made up for the unhappy fact that preschoolers don't have library privileges at school. Almost. I'm a little sensitive to library privileges.
But she explained to me what she likes to read to the kids and what kinds of stories she looks for, and I'm happy with her tastes and selections. She doesn't like to read down to them; she likes stories that have some theme or moral or meaning. The next unit they're going to do is folklore, starting with Anasazi stories and going through stories from around the world.
They had paintings up on the wall, each captioned by the child's reflection on his/her painting. A's painting said, "I paint for Mommy and Daddy." What a sweetie.
The good news is that A's being switched to the morning class starting Monday. This is really a blessing for us. The days have been hard--A hasn't settled into any set routine for naps. Sometimes he's been exhausted and passes out at 10:30AM, which is enough time (maybe) for a good nap before school, but leaves a long afternoon. Sometimes he's been exhausted and passes out on the way home from school, which is understandable but pushes bedtime back to 8-9PM, which is approaching my bedtime these days and cuts into C and my time together. Sometimes he refuses to sleep and ends up passing out at 5:30-6PM and sleeping until morning, which bypasses our whole bath/teeth/PJs bedtime routine and leads to earlier mornings.
So starting Monday, he'll be in the morning class. Aside from juggling his swimming classes, it'll be a lot better.
His teacher is, to quote a friend, "funny and formidable." She just turned 60. She loves the kids, loves doing art with them, and loves reading to them. There are so many books in that classroom that it almost made up for the unhappy fact that preschoolers don't have library privileges at school. Almost. I'm a little sensitive to library privileges.
But she explained to me what she likes to read to the kids and what kinds of stories she looks for, and I'm happy with her tastes and selections. She doesn't like to read down to them; she likes stories that have some theme or moral or meaning. The next unit they're going to do is folklore, starting with Anasazi stories and going through stories from around the world.
They had paintings up on the wall, each captioned by the child's reflection on his/her painting. A's painting said, "I paint for Mommy and Daddy." What a sweetie.
The good news is that A's being switched to the morning class starting Monday. This is really a blessing for us. The days have been hard--A hasn't settled into any set routine for naps. Sometimes he's been exhausted and passes out at 10:30AM, which is enough time (maybe) for a good nap before school, but leaves a long afternoon. Sometimes he's been exhausted and passes out on the way home from school, which is understandable but pushes bedtime back to 8-9PM, which is approaching my bedtime these days and cuts into C and my time together. Sometimes he refuses to sleep and ends up passing out at 5:30-6PM and sleeping until morning, which bypasses our whole bath/teeth/PJs bedtime routine and leads to earlier mornings.
So starting Monday, he'll be in the morning class. Aside from juggling his swimming classes, it'll be a lot better.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Cobblers and sewing and more, oh my
We're having a baby. It's due in December.This may not have been clear previously, but I'm a wee bit Type-A sometimes, particularly about holiday preparations. I like to have my Christmas shopping done by Thanksgiving. I like my Christmas plane tickets bought by mid-August. I like schedules and order and predictability.
This whole baby in December thing throws me for a loop. I'm trying the serenity prayer and deep breaths. I can't change when Baby 2.0 shows up. I can't change the onslaught of the holidays (although I can embrace the fact that we will not be traveling this year over the always-exciting holiday season).
But I have the wisdom to produce cobbler. Lo, behold: one of two cobblers I made this weekend. The peach season is almost over here, but we had a bunch on our counter perfectly ripe, too many to eat. Our peach cobbler recipe comes from Cooks Illustrated. You bake the fruit until the juices start to extrude, then drop a sugar cookie batter on top by the spoonful and bake until it's done. Delicious, pretty simple.
Fruit went into the disposable pan, topped with parchment, frozen. Cookie batter got dropped by the ounce-ful onto parchment, then plastic bagged. When December and the baby come, we'll be able to pop the pan in the oven per instructions, drop the frozen cookie batter on top, and have summery delicious peach cobbler. As long as we remember to take the plastic bags out.
We have made this with great success with frozen fruit before, but there's something satisfying about not having to mix or measure anything. Now I'm waiting for apple season to be in full swing so I can freeze some pies.
Contrary
The word for A at three is contrary. There's a lot of not listening, a lot of testing, and a lot of outright disobedience--a "give me that" turns into throwing said object in the absolute opposite direction. Happily, he does this to both me and C, so it's not just me.
Sometimes he's so sweet and cute and adorable, and sometimes I'd happily lock him in a closet for an hour. I figure those impulses will pass--oh, maybe when he's thirty, if we're lucky.
The mantras: It's just a phase. This too shall pass. Consistency is the name of the game.
Sometimes he's so sweet and cute and adorable, and sometimes I'd happily lock him in a closet for an hour. I figure those impulses will pass--oh, maybe when he's thirty, if we're lucky.
The mantras: It's just a phase. This too shall pass. Consistency is the name of the game.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Getting Ready
I've found myself more easily irritated by the world in general in the last few weeks, and I think it's a sign that I need to be slowing down, taking it easy, and preparing for Baby 2.0.
C and I have been struggling with how to making the concept of Baby 2.0 real to Baby 1.0, and we're unfortunately both pragmatic enough to say, "Oh well, none of us have any clue what we're about to get into and it'll happen when it happens. Let's go to Disneyland instead."
We've read books; A talks to the baby and feels it move (this one's a stretcher, not a kicker, which makes it more difficult for A to tell). We talk about babies and families when we see other people with them; we talk about how babies sleep and cry and nurse. (This he remembers, at least to the point of pointing to other people feeding their little babies juice and French fries and telling them, "No juice for baby; babies drink mommy milk!" Alas, there are times where I'm happy A is not completely intelligible to others.)
One of the things we did as a family this weekend was make Baby 2.0 a play mat according to Amanda Blake Soule's Handmade Home. A picked out fabric and ribbons for it (with Mommy vetoes on the pink safari animal fabric and the snapping crocodile fabric); we all colored on the top fabric together. I assembled it yesterday and poof, it was finished. That gave me more comfort than a lot of the other things I've been doing recently have.
I'm trying to embrace more of those experiences. This means yes to finishing the family-related sewing projects like family stockings, yes to lazy time just spent reading (even the non-baby stuff), yes to freezing cobblers and pies for use later this year, and no to taking on more responsibilities with my various volunteer activities, like not volunteering to bake a hundred cupcakes for a party. Just because I can do it doesn't mean I should.
C and I have been struggling with how to making the concept of Baby 2.0 real to Baby 1.0, and we're unfortunately both pragmatic enough to say, "Oh well, none of us have any clue what we're about to get into and it'll happen when it happens. Let's go to Disneyland instead."
We've read books; A talks to the baby and feels it move (this one's a stretcher, not a kicker, which makes it more difficult for A to tell). We talk about babies and families when we see other people with them; we talk about how babies sleep and cry and nurse. (This he remembers, at least to the point of pointing to other people feeding their little babies juice and French fries and telling them, "No juice for baby; babies drink mommy milk!" Alas, there are times where I'm happy A is not completely intelligible to others.)
One of the things we did as a family this weekend was make Baby 2.0 a play mat according to Amanda Blake Soule's Handmade Home. A picked out fabric and ribbons for it (with Mommy vetoes on the pink safari animal fabric and the snapping crocodile fabric); we all colored on the top fabric together. I assembled it yesterday and poof, it was finished. That gave me more comfort than a lot of the other things I've been doing recently have.
I'm trying to embrace more of those experiences. This means yes to finishing the family-related sewing projects like family stockings, yes to lazy time just spent reading (even the non-baby stuff), yes to freezing cobblers and pies for use later this year, and no to taking on more responsibilities with my various volunteer activities, like not volunteering to bake a hundred cupcakes for a party. Just because I can do it doesn't mean I should.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Dr. Horrible
I know it might be odd, but some of you may not be familiar with Dr. Horrible or his sing-along blog. You can watch it on Hulu and I'm sure lots of other places, but it's Neil Patrick Harris.
A is not among you. He's decided he's Dr. Horrible. I just ordered him a costume through the Old Navy baby sale, but jeez, I'm tempted to try and find a baby Dr. Horrible costume.
A is not among you. He's decided he's Dr. Horrible. I just ordered him a costume through the Old Navy baby sale, but jeez, I'm tempted to try and find a baby Dr. Horrible costume.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Three-hole drilled book recommendation
While I read voraciously, I don't usually recommend books to people randomly. I read pretty quickly, so a lot times I'm not sure if the time investment a book represents to me is worth the time investment to other people.
But I read this book recently (within the last month) that seems to creep into a lot of my conversations since then, so I thought I'd put it out there. It's by Paul Tough and it's called Whatever It Takes. I heard about it on This American Life, which is a good teaser if you want a preview of what the book is about: Geoffrey Canada and the Harlem Children's Zone, which is (crediting This American Life's description) "the most ambitious and hopeful solution to urban poverty in the country."
It's the program President Obama is hoping to replicate in twenty cities around the country, just for your current event edification.
There's a lot in the book that talks about how to get kids to move up and out of lower socioeconomic levels and how difficult it is to get kids to move beyond where their parents are and how early those things are set (you know, like age three or seven or ten). If you want to go to college, there's a lot of skill sets that go into that beyond math and reading proficiency; there's the soft skills of patience, persistence and delayed gratification/long-term goal setting. Research is showing those soft skills needs to be in your makeup by ten-years-old or they're near impossible to learn. If your parents don't have those skills and thus couldn't achieve those goals, where will you learn them?
These topics have been coming up a lot in our household what with the onset of preschool.
Like yesterday. I went to Target (Tar-zhay) because we were out of toothpaste and our laundry basket died and so on and so forth. As I wandered office supplies looking for crazy glue, a woman stopped me, a normal-looking woman, just like me.
"Do you know what this is?" She showed me her shopping list, which was a school supply list, and tapped the words Three-ring spiral-bound notebook.
"Are you wondering if they mean a three-ring binder or a three-hole-drill notebook?"
She looked mystified. Absolutely mystified. So I walked with her to the notebooks and explained the differences between a three-ring binder and a spiral-bound notebook and showed her how to look for the three holes on the notebooks.
I walked away thinking, how the hell can you be a grownup and not know what a three-hole spiral notebook is? But then I thought about the child that she was buying the supplies for, and I thought about Geoffrey Canada.
There are advantages I knew A has in life: the basics of two parents who both live at home, a safe place to live, food to eat, clothes to wear, medical care, not to mention all the enrichment opportunities he gets like the zoo; parks, playgrounds, and the beaches; lots of good books and toys; swim classes; speech therapy and preschool; trips to museums, Sea World, and Disneyland. But I hadn't considered having a mom who recognized a three-hole spiral notebook an advantage until yesterday.
But I read this book recently (within the last month) that seems to creep into a lot of my conversations since then, so I thought I'd put it out there. It's by Paul Tough and it's called Whatever It Takes. I heard about it on This American Life, which is a good teaser if you want a preview of what the book is about: Geoffrey Canada and the Harlem Children's Zone, which is (crediting This American Life's description) "the most ambitious and hopeful solution to urban poverty in the country."
It's the program President Obama is hoping to replicate in twenty cities around the country, just for your current event edification.
There's a lot in the book that talks about how to get kids to move up and out of lower socioeconomic levels and how difficult it is to get kids to move beyond where their parents are and how early those things are set (you know, like age three or seven or ten). If you want to go to college, there's a lot of skill sets that go into that beyond math and reading proficiency; there's the soft skills of patience, persistence and delayed gratification/long-term goal setting. Research is showing those soft skills needs to be in your makeup by ten-years-old or they're near impossible to learn. If your parents don't have those skills and thus couldn't achieve those goals, where will you learn them?
These topics have been coming up a lot in our household what with the onset of preschool.
Like yesterday. I went to Target (Tar-zhay) because we were out of toothpaste and our laundry basket died and so on and so forth. As I wandered office supplies looking for crazy glue, a woman stopped me, a normal-looking woman, just like me.
"Do you know what this is?" She showed me her shopping list, which was a school supply list, and tapped the words Three-ring spiral-bound notebook.
"Are you wondering if they mean a three-ring binder or a three-hole-drill notebook?"
She looked mystified. Absolutely mystified. So I walked with her to the notebooks and explained the differences between a three-ring binder and a spiral-bound notebook and showed her how to look for the three holes on the notebooks.
I walked away thinking, how the hell can you be a grownup and not know what a three-hole spiral notebook is? But then I thought about the child that she was buying the supplies for, and I thought about Geoffrey Canada.
There are advantages I knew A has in life: the basics of two parents who both live at home, a safe place to live, food to eat, clothes to wear, medical care, not to mention all the enrichment opportunities he gets like the zoo; parks, playgrounds, and the beaches; lots of good books and toys; swim classes; speech therapy and preschool; trips to museums, Sea World, and Disneyland. But I hadn't considered having a mom who recognized a three-hole spiral notebook an advantage until yesterday.
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Preschool! Chocolate milk!
Wow, he's at preschool now every day.
He's in the afternoon sessions, which I don't like but apparently nobody does and the new people get stuck with afternoon classes. Yesterday he took a nap after school; this morning, he conked out two hours before school. I'm not sure how this nap pattern is going to pan out.
First day, we're there early with the other early birds. The kids run around and play on the grass; the parents chit-chat about how old the kids are and how many we have. The ages in class range from three to four, with A being one of the youngest.
Time for class comes, we all sign in our kids, off they go. One or two are crying, some walk hand-in-hand with their parents, but A runs right in without a backwards glance at me.
The parents all wander in and stand around snapping pictures while the teacher calls the class to order, has them sit on the floor around her. She goes through attendance and my motherly heart swells with pride as A is one of only two kids in this class of twenty-four who knows to raise his hand and say, "Me!" when his name is called.
After roll call, the teacher says it's time for us parents to go, and as I'm wandering out, he turns and waves at me with a big smile and says, "Bye, Mommy!" Then he blows me kisses.
It was too much for my little pregnancy-hormone-drenched heart to bear. I made it to the car before I teared up.
Anyway, the first day, he did great although he had some bathroom accidents, probably because he was just too darned excited to excuse himself to use the facilities. They get free lunch (who knew?) and all he would tell me he ate was two Pooh cookies and chocolate milk. (Damn you, school district and your chocolate milk; we were keeping him away from chocolate milk's addictive pull.)
Today we got to school and he played with the early-birds again and then gave everyone big hugs. Oh my, he's sweet. When I picked him up, he was accident-free (hurray) and cried when I said it was time to go home. The teacher reassured him that he'd be right back tomorrow.
And today's lunch? A Nemo cupcake and chocolate milk. (It was someone's birthday today, hence the cupcake.) I need to get a copy of that lunch menu.
In awkward conversation news, I called his previous preschool and explained:
The school district speech teacher and I are playing phone tag to get A set up for speech, so that should be coming along soon. Then we'll have to have tearful goodbyes with his speech therapist. Sigh.
He's in the afternoon sessions, which I don't like but apparently nobody does and the new people get stuck with afternoon classes. Yesterday he took a nap after school; this morning, he conked out two hours before school. I'm not sure how this nap pattern is going to pan out.
First day, we're there early with the other early birds. The kids run around and play on the grass; the parents chit-chat about how old the kids are and how many we have. The ages in class range from three to four, with A being one of the youngest.
Time for class comes, we all sign in our kids, off they go. One or two are crying, some walk hand-in-hand with their parents, but A runs right in without a backwards glance at me.
The parents all wander in and stand around snapping pictures while the teacher calls the class to order, has them sit on the floor around her. She goes through attendance and my motherly heart swells with pride as A is one of only two kids in this class of twenty-four who knows to raise his hand and say, "Me!" when his name is called.
After roll call, the teacher says it's time for us parents to go, and as I'm wandering out, he turns and waves at me with a big smile and says, "Bye, Mommy!" Then he blows me kisses.
It was too much for my little pregnancy-hormone-drenched heart to bear. I made it to the car before I teared up.
Anyway, the first day, he did great although he had some bathroom accidents, probably because he was just too darned excited to excuse himself to use the facilities. They get free lunch (who knew?) and all he would tell me he ate was two Pooh cookies and chocolate milk. (Damn you, school district and your chocolate milk; we were keeping him away from chocolate milk's addictive pull.)
Today we got to school and he played with the early-birds again and then gave everyone big hugs. Oh my, he's sweet. When I picked him up, he was accident-free (hurray) and cried when I said it was time to go home. The teacher reassured him that he'd be right back tomorrow.
And today's lunch? A Nemo cupcake and chocolate milk. (It was someone's birthday today, hence the cupcake.) I need to get a copy of that lunch menu.
In awkward conversation news, I called his previous preschool and explained:
- We found out last minute he'd been accepted by the school district when we thought he'd been rejected,
- he would be receiving speech therapy through the school,
- and unfortunately, it was just easier to send him to the school district's preschool.
The school district speech teacher and I are playing phone tag to get A set up for speech, so that should be coming along soon. Then we'll have to have tearful goodbyes with his speech therapist. Sigh.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Preschool drama
I got a letter, oh, a couple weeks ago saying A got turned down for public preschool.
I got a call yesterday reminding me that preschool orientation was today at 1pm.
You know, for the preschool he got turned down for.
So I went.
He got in.
He starts next week. Tuesday.
Now I have to figure out how to explain this to his current preschool.
I got a call yesterday reminding me that preschool orientation was today at 1pm.
You know, for the preschool he got turned down for.
So I went.
He got in.
He starts next week. Tuesday.
Now I have to figure out how to explain this to his current preschool.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Carrots
A's really into carrots recently. Raw, cold peeled carrots. He'll eat them instead of apples, which is the fruit of choice around here.
Today we hit our local farmers' market. We asked A if he wanted to get anything (as we ask each other, what do you want today?).
And A said, "Carrots." Of course.
Not peaches, nectarines, plums, tiny wonderful grapes, figs, avocados or cheese. Carrots.
When we finally found some carrots, C held A up so he could pick some out. And the guy gave A the carrots for free.
Today we hit our local farmers' market. We asked A if he wanted to get anything (as we ask each other, what do you want today?).
And A said, "Carrots." Of course.
Not peaches, nectarines, plums, tiny wonderful grapes, figs, avocados or cheese. Carrots.
When we finally found some carrots, C held A up so he could pick some out. And the guy gave A the carrots for free.
Friday, August 28, 2009
"Do you want a brother or a sister, A?"
"Um, a sister."
"Really? You want a little girl to come live here?"
"Um, a brother."
"Another little boy?"
"Um, maybe a dinosaur."
Yeah, I guess this is a pretty inane line of questioning. Dinosaur it is!
"Really? You want a little girl to come live here?"
"Um, a brother."
"Another little boy?"
"Um, maybe a dinosaur."
Yeah, I guess this is a pretty inane line of questioning. Dinosaur it is!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Cough cough cough doctor
The best way to get into a doctor's office the same day is to say you're a pregnant woman with shortness of breath.
Anyway, I headed to my doctor, my regular one, not the OBGYN, and she said, hmm, some asthma, definitely bronchitis. I'm getting a boatload of steroids, bronchiodialators, and antibiotics. But my lungs sound clear, so they don't need an X-ray, which is nice.
She also gave me the scary talk about getting a swine flu and regular flu vaccine: pregnant women go to the front of the line, asthmatics go to the front of the line, mothers of young children go to the front of the line. I'm a trifecta and everyone should get out of my way for the flu vaccines. When will the vaccines be ready? They have no idea. Call back in two weeks.
Anyway, I headed to my doctor, my regular one, not the OBGYN, and she said, hmm, some asthma, definitely bronchitis. I'm getting a boatload of steroids, bronchiodialators, and antibiotics. But my lungs sound clear, so they don't need an X-ray, which is nice.
She also gave me the scary talk about getting a swine flu and regular flu vaccine: pregnant women go to the front of the line, asthmatics go to the front of the line, mothers of young children go to the front of the line. I'm a trifecta and everyone should get out of my way for the flu vaccines. When will the vaccines be ready? They have no idea. Call back in two weeks.
Monday, August 24, 2009
The Name Game
I just got edition 2 of my favorite baby name book in the mail, and let me tell you, the naming this time is a puzzler. We've got to come up with male and female names, and we've got to come up usually with more than one so we can dither up until B-day about whether we like this one or that one and whether the baby looks more like name A or name B.
I'm mostly using the royal We here, because while C holds the veto power, the name finding committee is mostly me until the later months. Besides, he usually suggests "Rocket" at first chance, which gets him kicked off the naming committee.
Anyway, here's the complex mix of rules we're grappling with:
- No two-syllable names ending in "er" due to duo-syllablic -er ending of child's last name. This seems like a minor thing until you look at how many cool -er names are out there, including my sentimental favorite of Cooper, which we will have to name a cat someday since the cats get my last name. (True. Jake and Niles have my last name.)
- No "oo" (as in Cooper) sounds in the first syllable of the first name, to eliminate assonance issues.
- No H first names. I will not have alliterative first and last names.
- No first names ending in a phonetically soft A or H sounds, so no Anna. This is because I can't stand when people's names all blend together. Names should be crisp and distinct so you know, when you hear them spoken, where the first name ends and the last name begins. (There's a discussion on whether or not the first name needs to not end in S so it doesn't blend into the child's middle name, but honestly, the only times you hear your full name is when you're in trouble or graduating, so it's moot.)
- No names that can be easily given an -ie or -y nickname. Nope. I might entertain a -y ending on the full name, but those names I've liked have been few and far between.
- The name should be somewhat compatible with the ethnography of the last name, which is a pretty common American name, an Anglicized German surname. So English names get first dibs.
- The child's name must lend itself to whatever permutations of nicknaming and reforging of identity they'll go through in their tweens and teens; however, it should not be a nickname.
- No made-up names. Uh-huh. We don't do that.
- No bizarro spellings, like Khryctoffyphr. I know that's the trend, but no.
- Full names must pass the oration test, which is: say the full name aloud. If it sounds like it fits after, "Introducing the President of the United States," and "Doctor." If it doesn't, this is not the name. [I'm not saying I would wish the presidency or doctorates on my children, but I wouldn't want them to be limited by their names and I can't think of anything higher office than a president or a doctor. And before you scoff, C and I know two children--not related--who are going to be limited for the rest of their lives by the terribly hick and backwater names their parents gave them. I wouldn't dream of publishing them here, because they are sweet dear people, but those poor kids are going to have a hard time if they don't get some decent nicknames.]
Sidenote: If the name sounds perfectly fine after, "Now entering the courtroom, convicted serial killer..." this is really not the right name.
- And the gotcha one: the name must not be popular. If it is, it needs to be rising in popularity, not falling in it.
Nobody talks about how after you name your first child, the name of the first sets the tone for the name of the second. Our first child's name is not Bob or John or anything normal like that. Heavens, no. This child will never find his name on a mug or a license plate or a key chain. (Those of you who have sent personalized things are greatly appreciated.) Still, it's a great name.
So the added constraints of A's name to the name game:
- No names starting with T. Why not? Well, in shorthand, we'll have T&A. I could get over it and say A&T but I won't.
- The name has to be somewhat compatible with A's. This is a subjective rule, but it's like pornography: we know it when we see it.
- The name cannot rhyme with A's, which seems like a silly thing to note, but it's kicked a couple names out of consideration.
Any suggestions? At this point, it seems more like a logic puzzle than a joyous naming extravaganza.
I'm mostly using the royal We here, because while C holds the veto power, the name finding committee is mostly me until the later months. Besides, he usually suggests "Rocket" at first chance, which gets him kicked off the naming committee.
Anyway, here's the complex mix of rules we're grappling with:
- No two-syllable names ending in "er" due to duo-syllablic -er ending of child's last name. This seems like a minor thing until you look at how many cool -er names are out there, including my sentimental favorite of Cooper, which we will have to name a cat someday since the cats get my last name. (True. Jake and Niles have my last name.)
- No "oo" (as in Cooper) sounds in the first syllable of the first name, to eliminate assonance issues.
- No H first names. I will not have alliterative first and last names.
- No first names ending in a phonetically soft A or H sounds, so no Anna. This is because I can't stand when people's names all blend together. Names should be crisp and distinct so you know, when you hear them spoken, where the first name ends and the last name begins. (There's a discussion on whether or not the first name needs to not end in S so it doesn't blend into the child's middle name, but honestly, the only times you hear your full name is when you're in trouble or graduating, so it's moot.)
- No names that can be easily given an -ie or -y nickname. Nope. I might entertain a -y ending on the full name, but those names I've liked have been few and far between.
- The name should be somewhat compatible with the ethnography of the last name, which is a pretty common American name, an Anglicized German surname. So English names get first dibs.
- The child's name must lend itself to whatever permutations of nicknaming and reforging of identity they'll go through in their tweens and teens; however, it should not be a nickname.
- No made-up names. Uh-huh. We don't do that.
- No bizarro spellings, like Khryctoffyphr. I know that's the trend, but no.
- Full names must pass the oration test, which is: say the full name aloud. If it sounds like it fits after, "Introducing the President of the United States," and "Doctor." If it doesn't, this is not the name. [I'm not saying I would wish the presidency or doctorates on my children, but I wouldn't want them to be limited by their names and I can't think of anything higher office than a president or a doctor. And before you scoff, C and I know two children--not related--who are going to be limited for the rest of their lives by the terribly hick and backwater names their parents gave them. I wouldn't dream of publishing them here, because they are sweet dear people, but those poor kids are going to have a hard time if they don't get some decent nicknames.]
Sidenote: If the name sounds perfectly fine after, "Now entering the courtroom, convicted serial killer..." this is really not the right name.
- And the gotcha one: the name must not be popular. If it is, it needs to be rising in popularity, not falling in it.
Nobody talks about how after you name your first child, the name of the first sets the tone for the name of the second. Our first child's name is not Bob or John or anything normal like that. Heavens, no. This child will never find his name on a mug or a license plate or a key chain. (Those of you who have sent personalized things are greatly appreciated.) Still, it's a great name.
So the added constraints of A's name to the name game:
- No names starting with T. Why not? Well, in shorthand, we'll have T&A. I could get over it and say A&T but I won't.
- The name has to be somewhat compatible with A's. This is a subjective rule, but it's like pornography: we know it when we see it.
- The name cannot rhyme with A's, which seems like a silly thing to note, but it's kicked a couple names out of consideration.
Any suggestions? At this point, it seems more like a logic puzzle than a joyous naming extravaganza.
Cough cough cough
I'm down with something, a cough, shortness of breath, some body aches, but no fever. This makes me terribly cranky. We're going into Week 24 with Baby 2.0, which means I've now got a pregnancy-tight belly. During my ultrasound last week, I was surprised by how far up the kid is already (between my ribs, right below my sternum). This means when I cough, my lungs are competing for room with a baby the size of an ear of corn housed in a uterus the size of a soccer ball. Let me tell you, the baby always wins.
Unfortunately, the boy is in full-fledged contrary mode. The whole last week post-birthday-party has been very trying. A says "No!" and "Get out!" to me when asked (told) to do something. (Lots of timeouts.) Yesterday, I watched A run his father's patience ragged, which made me feel like, well, at least it's not just me. He's testing all of us.
What can I tell you that's cute? A knows about Baby 2.0, although it's still a nebulous pretend item like the dinosaurs that occasionally stalk him. I told him he could talk to the baby, and he leans over my belly and says, "Hi, baby, I'm A. I'm big brother. Don't worry, you're fine. Mommy's got you."
Unfortunately, the boy is in full-fledged contrary mode. The whole last week post-birthday-party has been very trying. A says "No!" and "Get out!" to me when asked (told) to do something. (Lots of timeouts.) Yesterday, I watched A run his father's patience ragged, which made me feel like, well, at least it's not just me. He's testing all of us.
What can I tell you that's cute? A knows about Baby 2.0, although it's still a nebulous pretend item like the dinosaurs that occasionally stalk him. I told him he could talk to the baby, and he leans over my belly and says, "Hi, baby, I'm A. I'm big brother. Don't worry, you're fine. Mommy's got you."
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Checkup update
Everything's fine with me and the babe. Just normal cramping, apparently. If there's spotting or bleeding, I should worry, but other than that, it's take it easy and go with it. The joys of pregnancy.
When I was pregnant with A, I had such a cheerful disposition, and he has such a sunny disposition. If this next one has the temperament I've had while I've been pregnant this time around, this child will be fearsome.
When I was pregnant with A, I had such a cheerful disposition, and he has such a sunny disposition. If this next one has the temperament I've had while I've been pregnant this time around, this child will be fearsome.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Birthday soiree and other weekend summaries
Saturday was A's big three party and he had a great time. One other kid, H, was able to come, and while the two of them could not be more different, they had a great time together. We're bridging the gap between A's parties being his friends and our friends. Next year, we won't be able to put the party off for two+ weeks.
A was all about the presents. People came in the door with them and he wanted to open them. Ah, well. No, first food, then cake, then presents. And pinata--a dinosaur one, not a Dora one, because Mommy couldn't find a Dora one. It was also filled with toys and fruit leather and no candy, so it was certainly a gringo pinata bash. He now has way too many presents, but he adores them all.
A had a great time with his grandparents. The weekend felt action-packed and I think all the adults were sleep-deprived. Thursday we ended up in Encinitas for the evening since I had an ultrasound at 6:30PM (more like 7, and it took an hour). But the good news is that Baby 2.0 looks great and on track for development. We found an excellent Greek restaurant up there that I'm going to be visiting again once I have another appointment, let me tell you. They had a lemon-chicken-rice soup which sounds terrible but is exactly what I want to eat the next time I'm sick.
Sunday the grandparents left, which is sad. Not enough time. A got up the next day (a normal day, with everyone back at work or home) and told me, "I don't want you. I want Daddy; I want Grandma." Sorry, kid. You're stuck.
Of course, A is sick again, somewhat, with a little head cold. We're watching his asthma meds to make sure his head cold doesn't turn into a hospital stay.
I'm taking it easy, since I'm having some cramping, which I've had since yesterday. I was supposed to get into my OBGYN's today for a checkup but of course, they canceled it--both doctors were delivering one hour before my appointment. So I'll be rolling out of bed before dawn tomorrow to get there at 8:30AM with the traffic (yuck).
A was all about the presents. People came in the door with them and he wanted to open them. Ah, well. No, first food, then cake, then presents. And pinata--a dinosaur one, not a Dora one, because Mommy couldn't find a Dora one. It was also filled with toys and fruit leather and no candy, so it was certainly a gringo pinata bash. He now has way too many presents, but he adores them all.
A had a great time with his grandparents. The weekend felt action-packed and I think all the adults were sleep-deprived. Thursday we ended up in Encinitas for the evening since I had an ultrasound at 6:30PM (more like 7, and it took an hour). But the good news is that Baby 2.0 looks great and on track for development. We found an excellent Greek restaurant up there that I'm going to be visiting again once I have another appointment, let me tell you. They had a lemon-chicken-rice soup which sounds terrible but is exactly what I want to eat the next time I'm sick.
Sunday the grandparents left, which is sad. Not enough time. A got up the next day (a normal day, with everyone back at work or home) and told me, "I don't want you. I want Daddy; I want Grandma." Sorry, kid. You're stuck.
Of course, A is sick again, somewhat, with a little head cold. We're watching his asthma meds to make sure his head cold doesn't turn into a hospital stay.
I'm taking it easy, since I'm having some cramping, which I've had since yesterday. I was supposed to get into my OBGYN's today for a checkup but of course, they canceled it--both doctors were delivering one hour before my appointment. So I'll be rolling out of bed before dawn tomorrow to get there at 8:30AM with the traffic (yuck).
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
That Day
Today was not supposed to be That Day. Today was supposed to be busy but doable. A had a playdate with H where JJ would took both boys to Balboa Park and I was alone in the house to clean. (Yay JJ! There are probably not two toddlers less alike, but they genuinely enjoy each other's comapny.)
And I cleaned: scrubbed toilets, scrubbed floors on hands and knees, once with degreaser, once with bleach, dusting, clearing clutter, laundry, and even some mild outside work. I banged out some thank you notes and the minutes from Sunday's meeting. I made vanilla gelato to chill for the ice cream machine later, plus cupcakes, plus simple syrup. Plus lunch for everyone when they returned from the park.
My domesticity just astounds you, right? And I'm good in bed too.
But somewhere between this wildly productive morning and now, things fell apart. A toilet broke. A wouldn't take a nap between lunch and speech therapy. I got out of the shower I finally had to take to find A standing in a puddle of urine in one of the clean bathrooms. And then there was a wipeout in a puddle of urine, which means he'll have lovely bruises for his birthday part. Plus, A needed a quick shower instead of a bath because his speech teacher was coming in fifteen minutes and I had already scrubbed the tub once today.
So once he was clean and dry and clothes, I scrubbed the bathroom floor (again). Scrub number two plus cleaning a urine-soaked boy meant I needed shower #2.
And then the shower door fell on me.
I'm fine. My back hurts, but that's being pregnant and scrubbing floors.
This doesn't mean that I'm happy. If I were a cat, my back would be arched, my ears flat, and my hair standing straight up.
So instead of using my speech therapy downtime to call people on various organizational-related business matters, I'm blogging, listening to This American Life, and playing Civ. That shit will all just have to wait until tomorrow because I am in no shape to be charming or gracious right now.
And I cleaned: scrubbed toilets, scrubbed floors on hands and knees, once with degreaser, once with bleach, dusting, clearing clutter, laundry, and even some mild outside work. I banged out some thank you notes and the minutes from Sunday's meeting. I made vanilla gelato to chill for the ice cream machine later, plus cupcakes, plus simple syrup. Plus lunch for everyone when they returned from the park.
My domesticity just astounds you, right? And I'm good in bed too.
But somewhere between this wildly productive morning and now, things fell apart. A toilet broke. A wouldn't take a nap between lunch and speech therapy. I got out of the shower I finally had to take to find A standing in a puddle of urine in one of the clean bathrooms. And then there was a wipeout in a puddle of urine, which means he'll have lovely bruises for his birthday part. Plus, A needed a quick shower instead of a bath because his speech teacher was coming in fifteen minutes and I had already scrubbed the tub once today.
So once he was clean and dry and clothes, I scrubbed the bathroom floor (again). Scrub number two plus cleaning a urine-soaked boy meant I needed shower #2.
And then the shower door fell on me.
I'm fine. My back hurts, but that's being pregnant and scrubbing floors.
This doesn't mean that I'm happy. If I were a cat, my back would be arched, my ears flat, and my hair standing straight up.
So instead of using my speech therapy downtime to call people on various organizational-related business matters, I'm blogging, listening to This American Life, and playing Civ. That shit will all just have to wait until tomorrow because I am in no shape to be charming or gracious right now.
Saturday, August 08, 2009
The calm before the storm
It's Saturday. C is better but not great; still sounds like he's going to cough up a lung every now and again. A and I avoided the flu, so I'm thrilled.
Today is the deep breath before the plunge of this week. Tomorrow I am going to meetings, meetings, meetings: San Diego Writers Ink, followed by the plumeria society. That'll take me from 9AM to 5PM pretty easily, if not longer. C and A are going to a Padres game. It's both of their first baseball games. A and I are doing the summer reading program at the library and for reading twenty books with Mommy, he got two tickets to the Padres. Go A! They're playing the Mets; I'm a little jealous of C.
The grandparents roll into town at Wednesday midnight, so there is shopping and cleaning that needs to happen between then and now. Wednesday my fabulous friend JJ offered to take A off my hands in the morning for a playdate so I can house clean and bake a cake, plus A has speech therapy that day. Plus the grandparents will be getting there late.
Thursday we're jam-packed with preschool and grandparents and my twenty(-two, nice scheduling there, guys) week ultrasound. Friday C's off work but I'm sure we'll be busy running around and doing party prep.
Saturday will be the official birthday party for the little boy. We are not bounce housing or petting zoo-ing or anything like that. Brunch at home, wading pool on the lawn, a pinata, and cake, of course. "A Dora pinata, Mommy," I was told this morning. Right. Dora.
And then the whole whirlwind will be over. So this time next week, I should be a lot more relaxed.
Today is the deep breath before the plunge of this week. Tomorrow I am going to meetings, meetings, meetings: San Diego Writers Ink, followed by the plumeria society. That'll take me from 9AM to 5PM pretty easily, if not longer. C and A are going to a Padres game. It's both of their first baseball games. A and I are doing the summer reading program at the library and for reading twenty books with Mommy, he got two tickets to the Padres. Go A! They're playing the Mets; I'm a little jealous of C.
The grandparents roll into town at Wednesday midnight, so there is shopping and cleaning that needs to happen between then and now. Wednesday my fabulous friend JJ offered to take A off my hands in the morning for a playdate so I can house clean and bake a cake, plus A has speech therapy that day. Plus the grandparents will be getting there late.
Thursday we're jam-packed with preschool and grandparents and my twenty(-two, nice scheduling there, guys) week ultrasound. Friday C's off work but I'm sure we'll be busy running around and doing party prep.
Saturday will be the official birthday party for the little boy. We are not bounce housing or petting zoo-ing or anything like that. Brunch at home, wading pool on the lawn, a pinata, and cake, of course. "A Dora pinata, Mommy," I was told this morning. Right. Dora.
And then the whole whirlwind will be over. So this time next week, I should be a lot more relaxed.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Sick sick sick
C is sick sick sick. It's the flu. Our doctor doesn't think it's the swine flu, which is good, because flu is bad enough with everyone in this house besides C being a high-risk group (a pregnant woman and an asthmatic toddler).
C is spending time sleeping and playing of Xbox and looking like a zombie.
A is not happy when C is sick. I tried to put A down for a nap (C was already napping) and A said, "No, I want to sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed." With Daddy, of course.
No, honey, Daddy's sick.
Protest, protest, fit, all made worse by the fact that A needed a nap.
So out we went for a drive and he fell asleep and now he's down for a nap. And I am going to have some chocolate to medicate my headache.
C is spending time sleeping and playing of Xbox and looking like a zombie.
A is not happy when C is sick. I tried to put A down for a nap (C was already napping) and A said, "No, I want to sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed." With Daddy, of course.
No, honey, Daddy's sick.
Protest, protest, fit, all made worse by the fact that A needed a nap.
So out we went for a drive and he fell asleep and now he's down for a nap. And I am going to have some chocolate to medicate my headache.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Happy birthday!
It was my sweet baby boy's (who is more boy than baby now) birthday and he had a jam-packed day. First, preschool, where they gave him a crown and had muffins (mommy-baked, peach and blueberry) and sang "Happy Birthday." His teachers gave him the run of the place for the day, so he had a good time.
Then lunch at Chick-fil-a with Mommy, always a hit, then a nap, then speech therapy. His teacher brought presents for both him and Mommy (nice!). Daddy came home early and grilled him his own pizza and then it was cake and presents and bed.
For three, a pretty full day. The party will come later when his friends are back in town and Grandma and Grandpa are here (and Mommy is not double-booked for meetings).
But he's so amazingly cute and sweet. Liz and Bill sent a box of stuff (a wonderful surprise) and A tore through it like mad as a before-dinner treat. But he's so amazingly smart. He opened a book he's never seen and said, "Oh, it's Dr. Seuss!"
We just got back from Balboa Park. I took him to the puppet show (Pirate Paul) to get a birthday surprise: a crown and a card and a little frog prince finger puppet. Then an auditorium of people sing "Happy Birthday" to him. They called his name and he just ran down (we were sitting in the very back row) to the front without one look back for Mommy. He's getting so grown-up and worldly.
Then lunch at Chick-fil-a with Mommy, always a hit, then a nap, then speech therapy. His teacher brought presents for both him and Mommy (nice!). Daddy came home early and grilled him his own pizza and then it was cake and presents and bed.
For three, a pretty full day. The party will come later when his friends are back in town and Grandma and Grandpa are here (and Mommy is not double-booked for meetings).
But he's so amazingly cute and sweet. Liz and Bill sent a box of stuff (a wonderful surprise) and A tore through it like mad as a before-dinner treat. But he's so amazingly smart. He opened a book he's never seen and said, "Oh, it's Dr. Seuss!"
We just got back from Balboa Park. I took him to the puppet show (Pirate Paul) to get a birthday surprise: a crown and a card and a little frog prince finger puppet. Then an auditorium of people sing "Happy Birthday" to him. They called his name and he just ran down (we were sitting in the very back row) to the front without one look back for Mommy. He's getting so grown-up and worldly.
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