Seeing all the best-of lists and retrospectives inspired me to make one of my year. It's not going to be pretty; it's been Not A Good Year around here. But I am compelled to make the list anyway, to reflect, see how things went wrong, and fervently hope for a better 2009.
January
We started the year off with a trip to Texas, during which I was reminded why one does not take vacations the first week of the new year. I ended up working an annoying amount during the week. I also watched Georgia be insulted by being matched up against Hawaii in the Sugar Bowl- a great bowl, lousy matchup, as Georgia mopped the floor with the Rainbow Warriors.
The end of the month found me in New York, where I helped close a deal and pitched the idea of a transfer to the firm's NYC office. The idea was met with great enthusiasm by the NY personnel, with whom I had a great relationship. There was nothing to do but wait for the transfer to be approved.
February
In early February, the firm told me It's Just Not That Into Me, as the department denied my transfer. I still don't really understand the reasoning, though I have been told several things and have my own suspicions. I took it hard, like a romantic breakup, and embarrassed myself in June when I saw my NY colleagues again, had a drink or two too many, and spent too long going on about how unfair it was.
March
We had been kicking the second baby question around for awhile, and in the wake of the disappointment from the denied transfer, we decided to go ahead and go for it. I was hoping to take a longer maternity leave this time, and with no career speedbumps in the way, now seemed as good a time as any.
April
We spent a week in the Outer Banks for the second year in a row. The house we rented was great, except for that whole porch swing incident that caused my mother-in-law's already fragile back to go out again. The weather was awful, gray and cold, but it was nice to get away. Except that I couldn't get away, and once again, ended up working on vacation. I also started actively losing weight with Weight Watchers in April, and ended up dumping 15 pounds before getting pregnant.
May
May might have been the best month of the year for us. Reading back over the blog posts, all I see are good times at the Renaissance Festival, out of town in the mountains, hiking and gardening and watching the baby grow into a little kid. We did a lot of walking for errands; it soon after that got too hot to walk around in the evenings. Bruce also had a birthday at the end of May, turning a respectable 36.
June
June found me in NY again on business (where I embarrassed myself as I mentioned above) and pregnant! Woo-hoo, El Segundo! June was also the last time I had a busy month at work.
July
July saw us at the top of the world in Alaska. We had a wonderful vacation with Caetlin, despite the distance and the time change and everything. She did great, we had a great time, my occasional morning sickness notwithstanding (it made some parts of our wildlife cruise pretty miserable), we saw some amazing things like a glacier and whales and the Arctic Ocean. We also saw my good friend Devon (now blogging here), whom I had not laid eyes on in nearly ten years. How's that for crazy? She was my best friend in college and we lost touch when she moved out west, and I Google stalked her for years before tracking her down (thank goodness her current employer posts pictures on its website!). I can't tell you how much it meant to me that we got to reunite, and it was wonderful, and her husband is great, and her baby is adorable, and she's having another baby the same time as me! She's hilarious as ever, and the main thing I hate is that she's in Alaska which is a seriously great place but much too far away for convenient visits.
August
In August, Caetlin turned the big 2, and my family made their semi-annual visit to our house. My in-laws came along as well, from Texas. There was cookie cake and burgers on the grill, and I think we all had fun.
Also, it was hot, and I had nothing to do at work.
September
In September, I turned the big 3-2, which my sister forgot for the second year in a row. We also had a scare with our first trimester screen of El Segundo, which showed a 20% chance that Segundo could have Down Syndrome. We underwent an invasive CVS, which is a procedure in which a small amount of tissue is taken from the placenta to be tested. The results showed that Segundo was normal and also that El Segundo was actually La Segunda- we are having our second girl. Bruce immediately began practicing calling his ladies to him: "Wimmenfolk! Come here!"
October
In October, I resorted to writing blog posts at work to keep myself awake, and we discovered I had a low-lying placenta after I had some second-trimester spotting. This turned out to be less serious than first imagined, and probably will clear itself up in time for a normal delivery. October was also the month that Bruce was approached about a possible position with one of our firm's Japanese clients. For awhile, it looked like a done deal; we would be moving to Tokyo. Then the economy collapsed there as well as here, and the need for people like Bruce apparently collapsed with it. It was yet another professional disappointment.
Also, Caetlin was a lion for Halloween. And the Georgia Bulldogs broke my heart, not just losing but embarrassing themselves against the Florida Gators. They would go on to match up against Michigan State in the Capital One Bowl on January 1, 2009.
November
In November Bruce and I celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary, and I actually had work to do for once! I kept myself pretty busy working and being pregnant, and November is when the Tokyo thing really fell apart. For Thanksgiving, we visited my friend Kelley in the town I grew up in, and Caetlin vomited for perhaps the second time ever. Bruce was involved in maybe the worst deal ever at work, which maybe should have been a harbinger or something. I entered the 3rd trimester of my pregnancy.
December
Well, in December, I worked my pregnant tuchus off, and we tried getting ready for Christmas. I got into a (still-running) feud with my sister and dad. I spoke about some things I've been angry about for years, and my dad's response was to be angry and deny that I have a right to feel the way I do, and my sister's response was to be hurt and deny that I have a right to feel the way I do. Also, she blamed my anger on my pregnancy, for which I may never forgive her. Now I've apparently been downgraded to a High Holy Day Relative, in which they do not contact me except on Christmas. Presumably that will also include the usual holidays- Thanksgiving, Easter. Not sure about second tier holidays like Memorial Day or July 4th. It may or may not include birthdays (see September of this year). Who knows? It's a brave new world of family relationships for me.
And finally, the crowning glory of the year- the job loss. As I mentioned before, the details are unclear. Also unclear is what the laid-off one will do instead. They are considering an industry change entirely. There is one last Hail Mary to be had at the firm, and we will be trying that next week, as well as getting the likely separation details.
And there was Christmas. I cooked, and we had a lovely quiet four days with Caetlin. This week is shaping up to be similarly quiet.
So there you have it. The 2008 year in review. It's kind of depressing, but all we can do is look to the future. We kick off 2009 with a far-too-short visit from Devon and her son, and a longer visit from Bruce's newly-retired parents. Also an ultrasound next week, and a baby girl in March. And most likely firing the nanny, starting Caetlin in day care, and a job search. More frugality, less security. The Steelers in the playoffs. A little bad, a little good. Hopefully the good will outweigh the bad this year. It's hard to see how it couldn't be an improvement on 2008.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!
As of yesterday afternoon, we had a mostly-undecorated Christmas tree sitting in our living room. Bruce had gone out and gotten it two weeks ago, and it's lovely, a blue spruce from North Carolina. We put lights on it fairly quickly, but have been putting off adding the other decorations. I've been working a lot, so I'm usually tired, and I had it in my head that it would be easier to decorate without Caetlin around to break stuff and generally get underfoot. When we put her to bed in the evenings or for a nap, if I didn't have to work, I wanted to just sit down. And stay seated. And then lately we haven't exactly been feeling the Christmas spirit anyway.
So the tree remained undecorated, looking a little sad in the corner of the living room as it quietly shed needles and was plugged in every so often. We even mulled some wine a few days ago, in anticipation of drinking it while decorating the tree, and the mulled wine sat in our refrigerator. It just hasn't been happening, for a variety of reasons, most of which I'm sure you can guess at fairly accurately.
Yesterday while Caetlin napped, I worked, and I managed to get all my work done for the day while she was down. I was so excited about having the evening free that I was up for it when Bruce said, "Hey, let's get the rest of the egg nog and decorate the tree with Caetlin this afternoon."
Caetlin, who is a girl after her mommy's own heart, will down a quart of (non-alcoholic, pasteurized) egg nog all by herself if we let her. We didn't have much left, but she drank her share and Mommy's share too. She's super cute when she asks for more because she pronounces egg nog very carefully: "More egggg nnoggg please." She was fascinated with a wooden Santa we have that I think ultimately didn't make it on the tree because she was playing with it. She played with the glass balls and the green and amber beads that we have, and she even put a couple on the tree with us. We have an inordinate number of birds for our tree, and she helped put a couple of those on as well.
We had Christmas carols playing on the TV, and cookies in the oven, and Bruce and I talked to Caetlin about Santa, and presents, and where our ornaments came from, and how glad we were to be decorating the tree together right then. Bruce made the comment that he had not felt like Christmas until that afternoon, and I wholeheartedly agreed with him. Maybe we weren't meant to decorate the tree sooner, because we needed a boost right then. Because we wouldn't have been able to feel that boost before Sunday afternoon, three days after finding out that one of us will be losing our job.
All I can say is that we loaded up the tree with all the cheap Target ornaments that we have, and the many that we have received from his parents, and the ones we have bought for each other. I tried to make sure the back of the tree wasn't neglected. Bruce worked to make sure Caetlin didn't break anything or get ahold of any hooks or anything that might hurt her. She was surprisingly very good about everything, and it wasn't onerous to watch her. And for a few minutes, I was able to stop worrying about our finances, about the job search for the laid off one, about the things from our lives before the job loss that I am grieving about losing. About the growing rift between myself and my family (will we ever speak again? Unclear at this point). About what we will do when Segunda comes. About work undone and finishing Christmas errands and everything else that has weighed us down for the last couple of weeks.
For a few minutes, we were able to be a family and be happy together, and our hearts were light. That might be the best Christmas present I could have received.
So the tree remained undecorated, looking a little sad in the corner of the living room as it quietly shed needles and was plugged in every so often. We even mulled some wine a few days ago, in anticipation of drinking it while decorating the tree, and the mulled wine sat in our refrigerator. It just hasn't been happening, for a variety of reasons, most of which I'm sure you can guess at fairly accurately.
Yesterday while Caetlin napped, I worked, and I managed to get all my work done for the day while she was down. I was so excited about having the evening free that I was up for it when Bruce said, "Hey, let's get the rest of the egg nog and decorate the tree with Caetlin this afternoon."
Caetlin, who is a girl after her mommy's own heart, will down a quart of (non-alcoholic, pasteurized) egg nog all by herself if we let her. We didn't have much left, but she drank her share and Mommy's share too. She's super cute when she asks for more because she pronounces egg nog very carefully: "More egggg nnoggg please." She was fascinated with a wooden Santa we have that I think ultimately didn't make it on the tree because she was playing with it. She played with the glass balls and the green and amber beads that we have, and she even put a couple on the tree with us. We have an inordinate number of birds for our tree, and she helped put a couple of those on as well.
We had Christmas carols playing on the TV, and cookies in the oven, and Bruce and I talked to Caetlin about Santa, and presents, and where our ornaments came from, and how glad we were to be decorating the tree together right then. Bruce made the comment that he had not felt like Christmas until that afternoon, and I wholeheartedly agreed with him. Maybe we weren't meant to decorate the tree sooner, because we needed a boost right then. Because we wouldn't have been able to feel that boost before Sunday afternoon, three days after finding out that one of us will be losing our job.
All I can say is that we loaded up the tree with all the cheap Target ornaments that we have, and the many that we have received from his parents, and the ones we have bought for each other. I tried to make sure the back of the tree wasn't neglected. Bruce worked to make sure Caetlin didn't break anything or get ahold of any hooks or anything that might hurt her. She was surprisingly very good about everything, and it wasn't onerous to watch her. And for a few minutes, I was able to stop worrying about our finances, about the job search for the laid off one, about the things from our lives before the job loss that I am grieving about losing. About the growing rift between myself and my family (will we ever speak again? Unclear at this point). About what we will do when Segunda comes. About work undone and finishing Christmas errands and everything else that has weighed us down for the last couple of weeks.
For a few minutes, we were able to be a family and be happy together, and our hearts were light. That might be the best Christmas present I could have received.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
AWKwaaard
So, the laid-off among us went to work yesterday as normal, because they still actually have work to do, and was on the phone discussing said work with the partner who had unofficially spilled the beans about the impending axe, when the partner made some idle chit chat and asked how the laid-off one was doing.
"Oh, I'm okay, I guess. Have to go home and fire a nanny."
"Why, is she doing a bad job?"
*facepalm*
"No, it's because soon I will be unable to afford her."
*Crickets chirping*
Some people are so clueless. And if you can't laugh at a time like this, you have to cry. So I laugh at you, Clueless Partner. Ha ha ha.
"Oh, I'm okay, I guess. Have to go home and fire a nanny."
"Why, is she doing a bad job?"
*facepalm*
"No, it's because soon I will be unable to afford her."
*Crickets chirping*
Some people are so clueless. And if you can't laugh at a time like this, you have to cry. So I laugh at you, Clueless Partner. Ha ha ha.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
"Aaaand the Hits Just Keep On Coming...
...so keep that dial tuned to WATL and our sister station WSUX! Next up, all the headlines that matter!"
So, I should have known I was tempting fate. When you write things like this, "We're both employed at a good salary, and look to continue being so employed for the time being" and post them in public, you really are leaving yourself open to a great cosmic beat down.
It's not official. Yet. That won't happen until shortly after the new year, and the terms aren't entirely clear at this point. But the unofficial word is that one of us will not be employed for too terribly much longer. I don't want to say more, because if there is severance offered, I don't want to jeopardize it by being too blabby now. But that's the word from above. The way it appears to be working is that the let-go person is going to be staying on for some period of time, during which time they'll be encouraged to find other employment.
I guess my nanny dilemma has been solved, hasn't it? I didn't even have to get your weigh-in on whether to keep her on or not (bottom line: we didn't feel we were getting the value for the large amount of money we were paying, and we thought Caetlin would do well and be more challenged in a day care setting, but we didn't want to let the nanny go in such a crappy economy, knowing what we know about how her job sustains her family). I just hate to cut her loose into this economy, but that choice is completely out of my hands at this point.
We don't have a huge amount of fat in our budget to cut, though the largest expense that we can cut back is food, mostly because we eat out or takeout way too often. We'll be cooking much more very soon. We already have Caetlin into a day care, though it's not terribly convenient- it's a number of miles in the wrong direction. They at least have room for her. And if other employment isn't found, maybe we won't need day care at all. Being a stay at home parent has been discussed often around here lately, as one possible contingency plan.
Anyway, pray for us that the Charlotte house rents. If it rents even at a lower price than we might like, we'll still probably be okay on one income.
I'm scared. I wanted change, and I can see a lot of ways that this will be for the better for us, and I will be able to look to the future and those positive changes soon, but right now I'm just scared of what will happen to us. There is no market. For anything, really, but certainly not for what we do. I'm scared to make a go of it on one income, mostly because we have the Charlotte house to worry about. If I'm honest, we still have a lot of ways to cut back (cable, we could move someplace cheaper, etc.) without really sacrificing our quality of life all that much. And we have lots and lots of ways to cut back by sacrificing our quality of life, if it comes to that. Our credit will be fine, we will have food on the table and a roof over our heads.
It's just a lot to take in, combined with the emotions that come with this kind of news. Change is being foisted upon us, which is never preferred. I would have liked to have change come on my terms, thank you very much.
It's kind of like that old video game, Punch Out. Did anyone play that, or see/hear it in an arcade? I remember the announcer, when someone got on a particularly good streak, "Body blow! Body blow! Body blow!"
Yeah, it's kind of like that around here lately.
So, I should have known I was tempting fate. When you write things like this, "We're both employed at a good salary, and look to continue being so employed for the time being" and post them in public, you really are leaving yourself open to a great cosmic beat down.
It's not official. Yet. That won't happen until shortly after the new year, and the terms aren't entirely clear at this point. But the unofficial word is that one of us will not be employed for too terribly much longer. I don't want to say more, because if there is severance offered, I don't want to jeopardize it by being too blabby now. But that's the word from above. The way it appears to be working is that the let-go person is going to be staying on for some period of time, during which time they'll be encouraged to find other employment.
I guess my nanny dilemma has been solved, hasn't it? I didn't even have to get your weigh-in on whether to keep her on or not (bottom line: we didn't feel we were getting the value for the large amount of money we were paying, and we thought Caetlin would do well and be more challenged in a day care setting, but we didn't want to let the nanny go in such a crappy economy, knowing what we know about how her job sustains her family). I just hate to cut her loose into this economy, but that choice is completely out of my hands at this point.
We don't have a huge amount of fat in our budget to cut, though the largest expense that we can cut back is food, mostly because we eat out or takeout way too often. We'll be cooking much more very soon. We already have Caetlin into a day care, though it's not terribly convenient- it's a number of miles in the wrong direction. They at least have room for her. And if other employment isn't found, maybe we won't need day care at all. Being a stay at home parent has been discussed often around here lately, as one possible contingency plan.
Anyway, pray for us that the Charlotte house rents. If it rents even at a lower price than we might like, we'll still probably be okay on one income.
I'm scared. I wanted change, and I can see a lot of ways that this will be for the better for us, and I will be able to look to the future and those positive changes soon, but right now I'm just scared of what will happen to us. There is no market. For anything, really, but certainly not for what we do. I'm scared to make a go of it on one income, mostly because we have the Charlotte house to worry about. If I'm honest, we still have a lot of ways to cut back (cable, we could move someplace cheaper, etc.) without really sacrificing our quality of life all that much. And we have lots and lots of ways to cut back by sacrificing our quality of life, if it comes to that. Our credit will be fine, we will have food on the table and a roof over our heads.
It's just a lot to take in, combined with the emotions that come with this kind of news. Change is being foisted upon us, which is never preferred. I would have liked to have change come on my terms, thank you very much.
It's kind of like that old video game, Punch Out. Did anyone play that, or see/hear it in an arcade? I remember the announcer, when someone got on a particularly good streak, "Body blow! Body blow! Body blow!"
Yeah, it's kind of like that around here lately.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
...is where I would like to be going at about this point. Or Los Angeles. Or Texas. Or New York, or Tokyo. Or heck, even the frozen wastelands of Anchorage or Minneapolis.
It's been a rough couple of days. Work has sucked both in quantity and quality. There has been family drama, and I'm ever more convinced that the way out of being perpetually angry with my family is to move far, far away. I haven't seen enough of Caetlin, and she manages to stab me in the heart with a butter knife every morning when she cries after me, that she wants to go with me. She's also been working on her manipulation, and just today she broke out the trusty, "Why Mommy left?" with the pooched out lower lip and pitiful voice. That's lemon and salt in the butter-knife wound, let me tell you, even when I know she's not serious.
The Animals had it right, I think. We've got to get out of this place/if it's the last thing we ever do/We've got to get out of this place/Girl there's a better life for me and you. I know it's a protest song, but work with me here.
I have to post the obligatory disclaimer: my problems are peanuts compared to everyone else's. We're both employed at a good salary, and look to continue being so employed for the time being. We have our health, and can afford good child care for our healthy daughter. We don't have to worry about transportation or housing or insurance or food or clothing. We've got those basics covered.
In a way, that's almost the problem. My problems will never be serious, because in the grand scheme of things, we have so many other things going our way. It's tough to be a working mom with a small child and another on the way, but it would be tougher if I had to work for minimum wage, so what am I complaining about? It's challenging and exhausting raising a toddler, but it's not like we have to worry about or try to parent a drug-addicted teenager or severely disabled child, so what's my problem? I work long hours, but at least I have a very small commute, so suck it up! I have just as much need to cram my whole life into those two weekend days each week as everyone else, but because we can afford to have someone come in and clean the toilets twice a month and because we have advanced our nanny ridiculous sums of money that she's working off by babysitting at every opportunity, I need to shut up. So many others have it so much harder.
Yes, they do. No doubt about it. But I really resent the "Poor little rich girl" mentality. Money can't buy community. Money can't buy supportive, helpful friends and family. Money can't buy respectful colleagues. And money can't buy time.
You know what else I resent? Having any of this discontent blamed on my pregnancy. I hated this place long before I was pregnant. I'll probably continue hating it long after Segunda is born. I've been lonely, and alienated, and disappointed in the way the great ATL experiment has worked out, for much longer than the 29 weeks I've been gestating.
I don't know if I have a point here. I can say that we remain frantic in our desire and search for getting out of here. The market seems to be keeping us here for the time being, however. Can I bring a false imprisonment charge against the economy? Because I am surely being held here against my will.
It's been a rough couple of days. Work has sucked both in quantity and quality. There has been family drama, and I'm ever more convinced that the way out of being perpetually angry with my family is to move far, far away. I haven't seen enough of Caetlin, and she manages to stab me in the heart with a butter knife every morning when she cries after me, that she wants to go with me. She's also been working on her manipulation, and just today she broke out the trusty, "Why Mommy left?" with the pooched out lower lip and pitiful voice. That's lemon and salt in the butter-knife wound, let me tell you, even when I know she's not serious.
The Animals had it right, I think. We've got to get out of this place/if it's the last thing we ever do/We've got to get out of this place/Girl there's a better life for me and you. I know it's a protest song, but work with me here.
I have to post the obligatory disclaimer: my problems are peanuts compared to everyone else's. We're both employed at a good salary, and look to continue being so employed for the time being. We have our health, and can afford good child care for our healthy daughter. We don't have to worry about transportation or housing or insurance or food or clothing. We've got those basics covered.
In a way, that's almost the problem. My problems will never be serious, because in the grand scheme of things, we have so many other things going our way. It's tough to be a working mom with a small child and another on the way, but it would be tougher if I had to work for minimum wage, so what am I complaining about? It's challenging and exhausting raising a toddler, but it's not like we have to worry about or try to parent a drug-addicted teenager or severely disabled child, so what's my problem? I work long hours, but at least I have a very small commute, so suck it up! I have just as much need to cram my whole life into those two weekend days each week as everyone else, but because we can afford to have someone come in and clean the toilets twice a month and because we have advanced our nanny ridiculous sums of money that she's working off by babysitting at every opportunity, I need to shut up. So many others have it so much harder.
Yes, they do. No doubt about it. But I really resent the "Poor little rich girl" mentality. Money can't buy community. Money can't buy supportive, helpful friends and family. Money can't buy respectful colleagues. And money can't buy time.
You know what else I resent? Having any of this discontent blamed on my pregnancy. I hated this place long before I was pregnant. I'll probably continue hating it long after Segunda is born. I've been lonely, and alienated, and disappointed in the way the great ATL experiment has worked out, for much longer than the 29 weeks I've been gestating.
I don't know if I have a point here. I can say that we remain frantic in our desire and search for getting out of here. The market seems to be keeping us here for the time being, however. Can I bring a false imprisonment charge against the economy? Because I am surely being held here against my will.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
From the Mouths of Babes
This morning we were all having a snuggle in bed before breakfast, watching a tiny bit of TV. Caetlin is half watching, half just chatting with Mommy and Daddy, and out of nowhere she turns to us and proclaims, "Mommy's crazy. Daddy's not."
Whatever you say, kid.
Whatever you say, kid.
Friday, December 12, 2008
A Follow Up Post
After reading and re-reading my last post, and reading mkpt's comment to it, I thought I needed to post a little more on the issue of our nanny's grandson. Both because I'm not sure I was clear enough and because the act of writing about and reading about him has made me think about him and the way I feel about him even more over these last few days.
First, I want to clarify that I feel really guilty for not liking him. My whole point in including the bit about how his family doesn't appear to talk to him much was not to illustrate that I think the behaviors that annoy me are caused by that. It was to illustrate that I feel bad for him. I think he craves adult attention. And to grown ups, he is a very sweet little boy. (Less so to Caetlin, as I mentioned, with the toy swiping, etc.)
Maybe the behaviors that both perplex and annoy me do so because I don't understand them. I mean, at all. This morning I was sitting in the den watching him and Caetlin play, and he was sitting on top of this little music table that we have. Both kids have kind of outgrown it, but they both still play with it, so we haven't put it away yet. Anyway, it's not really meant to be sat on, and it's a measure of how big they both are that they can both basically sit down on it without much trouble. So he was sitting on it, and our nanny told him to get off of it. She had to bodily lift him off, and when she did, he went straight to throwing the thing over. In anger at not being able to sit on it, I guess? She told him no, at the same time I asked him not to turn it over as well, and she had a standoff with him, where he was clearly waiting until her back was turned to promptly turn the table over, and she wasn't going to take her eyes off him until he was doing something else. It eventually ended with him trying anyway, and she physically blocking him from doing so and moving the table across the room.
I have to admit, this entire exchange baffles me. It is so outside my experience in dealing with Caetlin. Immediately after this little incident, Caetlin went over to the table and started to sit on it, in imitation. I said, "Caetlin, no ma'am. We don't sit on the table," in my Mom Voice, and she got up and went back to what she had been doing. She clearly wasn't that invested in sitting on the table, but even if she had been, me telling her no likely wouldn't have meant that she tried to inflict violence on the toy.
Maybe most of the difference is due, as mkpt suggests, to the difference between girl and boy toddlers. Maybe that is part of it, and some of it is upbringing and some of it is developmental. I don't know (hence my last post). All I do know is that I don't understand him. And I'm not around enough boy toddlers to recognize whether he is a developmentally normal 3 year old boy or a horrible brat or something in between. I also know that not every boy toddler is like that (I can't speak for mkpt's Luke, since they moved to the Frozen Tundra of Minneapolis, but I remember her Noah as a three-year-old and he was a delightful boy), but that doesn't necessarily make our nanny's grandson a problem child.
The one thing I can say for sure is that I don't much care for him. And that makes me sad and ashamed of myself. I wish I could like him. I wish he didn't make me want to stay huddled in my room every morning when I hear him come in, yelling, playing with every toy in our house that makes noise, jumping around. I wish he didn't feel like such an intrusion. But he does.
And I've been thinking about why that is. I think it has to do with a couple things. First, he's in our house a lot. I don't think I can name a child other than my own that I really want to see as much as I see this kid. I think we're all tired of each other, frankly. And he's always in our house, so he's always breaking our stuff, and tearing our books, and making a mess on our floors. It starts to feel a bit invasive, which has only to do with the circumstances, and not him at all.
I think the invasive feeling also may have something to do with my hormones. I'm nesting, and I do wonder if those feelings aren't partially responsible for wanting to circle the wagons around the family unit, and keep out those who my monkey brain doesn't recognize as pack. That's also not his fault, but oh my God, most mornings I am just screaming "GET OUT!" in my head to both our nanny and her grandson. I feel like I can't move around freely in my own house, like I'm intruding if I end up in the kitchen in the morning, like I'm an interloper if I want to eat breakfast at the dining room table at the same time as the kids are having breakfast. I feel like I'm in the way and cluttering things up. And I hate that feeling. I hate feeling like I have no control over what goes on in my own home.
That actually leads me to another reason I believe I've developed this intense dislike for this child. I have absolutely no say in what he does or does not do in my house. It's not like I can enforce the house rules or otherwise discipline the boy without stepping on my nanny's toes. And that even extends to when he's mean or physical with Caetlin, since I always feel like if the nanny is there, that I'm not allowed to discipline or otherwise really care for my daughter, lest I undermine her authority. But as it relates to Caetlin and her grandson, I think the line is especially blurry about what role, if any, I have, since he's, you know, related to her and all, the fact that they are in my house notwithstanding. I hate this feeling of helplessness. I'm sure it's mostly my own fault; I need to grow some balls and interact with my kid the way I want to, and with her kid too, and if she doesn't like it, she can find different day care for him.
But I just feel powerless to affect anything when it comes to him, even when it negatively affects my daughter. Now let's be clear- if he were hitting her, or doing anything to hurt her at all, I would take steps. These are minor things we're talking about. And generally when the nanny sees her grandson act up, she reprimands him the same way I would have anyway. It's mostly the powerlessness, I think, not necessarily the ultimate outcome, that makes it so hard for me to deal with the kid. It sort of feeds into that feeling of being intruded upon.
Anyway, I don't have any answers. I try to be patient with him. I still hug and kiss him every day. I talk to him when he's around. I do my best not to hear it when he's screaming for the umpteenth time that day. Or to see it when he breaks something that belongs to Caetlin. I also continue to feel guilty for not liking him and wish I did.
As so much of my dilemma about whether to continue to employ our nanny is wrapped up in this boy, I find he remains in my thoughts a lot. We have decided to ask our nanny to find alternate care arrangements for him after the first of the year. Mostly it has to do with Segunda, since the room he naps in will be her room, and frankly, I don't really want him around so much when she's born. Logistically, it will be unmanageable for him to be here with her, beyond potential safety and germ issues. Yes, I know Caetlin will bring in many germs and trying to keep Segunda healthy is a losing battle, but I see no reason why I should stack the deck against her right at the beginning.
So maybe he won't prey on my mind so much soon. In the meantime, I'm trying to keep my emotions in check around him, and grin and bear it and continue being nice to him. Wish me luck.
First, I want to clarify that I feel really guilty for not liking him. My whole point in including the bit about how his family doesn't appear to talk to him much was not to illustrate that I think the behaviors that annoy me are caused by that. It was to illustrate that I feel bad for him. I think he craves adult attention. And to grown ups, he is a very sweet little boy. (Less so to Caetlin, as I mentioned, with the toy swiping, etc.)
Maybe the behaviors that both perplex and annoy me do so because I don't understand them. I mean, at all. This morning I was sitting in the den watching him and Caetlin play, and he was sitting on top of this little music table that we have. Both kids have kind of outgrown it, but they both still play with it, so we haven't put it away yet. Anyway, it's not really meant to be sat on, and it's a measure of how big they both are that they can both basically sit down on it without much trouble. So he was sitting on it, and our nanny told him to get off of it. She had to bodily lift him off, and when she did, he went straight to throwing the thing over. In anger at not being able to sit on it, I guess? She told him no, at the same time I asked him not to turn it over as well, and she had a standoff with him, where he was clearly waiting until her back was turned to promptly turn the table over, and she wasn't going to take her eyes off him until he was doing something else. It eventually ended with him trying anyway, and she physically blocking him from doing so and moving the table across the room.
I have to admit, this entire exchange baffles me. It is so outside my experience in dealing with Caetlin. Immediately after this little incident, Caetlin went over to the table and started to sit on it, in imitation. I said, "Caetlin, no ma'am. We don't sit on the table," in my Mom Voice, and she got up and went back to what she had been doing. She clearly wasn't that invested in sitting on the table, but even if she had been, me telling her no likely wouldn't have meant that she tried to inflict violence on the toy.
Maybe most of the difference is due, as mkpt suggests, to the difference between girl and boy toddlers. Maybe that is part of it, and some of it is upbringing and some of it is developmental. I don't know (hence my last post). All I do know is that I don't understand him. And I'm not around enough boy toddlers to recognize whether he is a developmentally normal 3 year old boy or a horrible brat or something in between. I also know that not every boy toddler is like that (I can't speak for mkpt's Luke, since they moved to the Frozen Tundra of Minneapolis, but I remember her Noah as a three-year-old and he was a delightful boy), but that doesn't necessarily make our nanny's grandson a problem child.
The one thing I can say for sure is that I don't much care for him. And that makes me sad and ashamed of myself. I wish I could like him. I wish he didn't make me want to stay huddled in my room every morning when I hear him come in, yelling, playing with every toy in our house that makes noise, jumping around. I wish he didn't feel like such an intrusion. But he does.
And I've been thinking about why that is. I think it has to do with a couple things. First, he's in our house a lot. I don't think I can name a child other than my own that I really want to see as much as I see this kid. I think we're all tired of each other, frankly. And he's always in our house, so he's always breaking our stuff, and tearing our books, and making a mess on our floors. It starts to feel a bit invasive, which has only to do with the circumstances, and not him at all.
I think the invasive feeling also may have something to do with my hormones. I'm nesting, and I do wonder if those feelings aren't partially responsible for wanting to circle the wagons around the family unit, and keep out those who my monkey brain doesn't recognize as pack. That's also not his fault, but oh my God, most mornings I am just screaming "GET OUT!" in my head to both our nanny and her grandson. I feel like I can't move around freely in my own house, like I'm intruding if I end up in the kitchen in the morning, like I'm an interloper if I want to eat breakfast at the dining room table at the same time as the kids are having breakfast. I feel like I'm in the way and cluttering things up. And I hate that feeling. I hate feeling like I have no control over what goes on in my own home.
That actually leads me to another reason I believe I've developed this intense dislike for this child. I have absolutely no say in what he does or does not do in my house. It's not like I can enforce the house rules or otherwise discipline the boy without stepping on my nanny's toes. And that even extends to when he's mean or physical with Caetlin, since I always feel like if the nanny is there, that I'm not allowed to discipline or otherwise really care for my daughter, lest I undermine her authority. But as it relates to Caetlin and her grandson, I think the line is especially blurry about what role, if any, I have, since he's, you know, related to her and all, the fact that they are in my house notwithstanding. I hate this feeling of helplessness. I'm sure it's mostly my own fault; I need to grow some balls and interact with my kid the way I want to, and with her kid too, and if she doesn't like it, she can find different day care for him.
But I just feel powerless to affect anything when it comes to him, even when it negatively affects my daughter. Now let's be clear- if he were hitting her, or doing anything to hurt her at all, I would take steps. These are minor things we're talking about. And generally when the nanny sees her grandson act up, she reprimands him the same way I would have anyway. It's mostly the powerlessness, I think, not necessarily the ultimate outcome, that makes it so hard for me to deal with the kid. It sort of feeds into that feeling of being intruded upon.
Anyway, I don't have any answers. I try to be patient with him. I still hug and kiss him every day. I talk to him when he's around. I do my best not to hear it when he's screaming for the umpteenth time that day. Or to see it when he breaks something that belongs to Caetlin. I also continue to feel guilty for not liking him and wish I did.
As so much of my dilemma about whether to continue to employ our nanny is wrapped up in this boy, I find he remains in my thoughts a lot. We have decided to ask our nanny to find alternate care arrangements for him after the first of the year. Mostly it has to do with Segunda, since the room he naps in will be her room, and frankly, I don't really want him around so much when she's born. Logistically, it will be unmanageable for him to be here with her, beyond potential safety and germ issues. Yes, I know Caetlin will bring in many germs and trying to keep Segunda healthy is a losing battle, but I see no reason why I should stack the deck against her right at the beginning.
So maybe he won't prey on my mind so much soon. In the meantime, I'm trying to keep my emotions in check around him, and grin and bear it and continue being nice to him. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Help Me Out Here
Okay, I have a confession to make: I don't like my nanny's grandson.
He'll be three in January, and he's been coming to "day care" with Caetlin for about 6 months or so. We offered it to our nanny in lieu of a raise, back when we wanted to give her a raise and couldn't afford it, especially with a required raise coming when Segunda is born (if she's still employed with us by then, which is a whole other post. I'm struggling with my conscience about what to do with her, and I'll post my back and forth soon on that and solicit advice).
Anyway, we thought a companion for Caetlin would be a good thing, and it is a significant monetary benefit to her and her family, with almost nothing out of our pockets. I say almost because we pay for him to attend the same classes as Caetlin, and we pay his admission to whatever other activities they do, as well as Caetlin's. We often feed him, and the boy will eat us out of house and home if house and home consisted entirely of bananas. He's also mostly potty trained, which means we go through toilet paper like there is no tomorrow. But these are small expenses compared to what an hourly raise would cost us.
Unfortunately, six months on, both Bruce and I really can't stand this kid.
He is seriously grabby and will try to take what ever Caetlin is playing with, just because she's playing with it. She's a pretty easygoing kid and will often give him what he's asking for, and immediately when she picks something else up, he starts crying for that thing. Frequently he'll try to just rip it out of her hands, if he can get away with that without a grown up heading him off at the pass. He's also terribly destructive. I know that kids generally are destructive, mostly (at this age) without meaning to be, but good gracious, we have exponentially more broken toys and books with torn pages now than we did before he came along.
He is ridiculously stubborn- both Bruce and I have stubborn streaks, but this kid takes the cake. He's going through a phase right now where he will put food in his mouth and just hold it, sometimes for a really long time (>30 minutes). He won't swallow. He won't chew. If he's allowed to run around with it in his mouth, eventually he will spit it out at some random time and place.
He is the world's worst crybaby (okay, maybe that's hyperbole, but he cries a lot). Any time he doesn't get his way, which, being almost-three, happens all the time, he cries. And not just a little whining either- we're talking full on tantrum, sometimes complete with collapsing flat on the floor. Big tears. Snot. Sobbing. And it's not quiet, as you may imagine. (Nothing the child does is quiet.) Over the smallest thing- putting his hood up on his jacket. Having his orange (that he won't eat but will merely hold in his mouth) taken away. Having to give back whatever item he's swiped from Caetlin. Screams of agony. Stamping feet on the floor. You get the (unpleasant) picture. This happens multiple times per day. And I only see him for half an hour or so in the morning and maybe 15 minutes in the evening. I cannot imagine what his day is like if those times are representative.
Beyond the fact that he makes both of us have to hold onto our patience with both hands, there are some other unpleasant side effects of Caetlin hanging out with him (some of which make up the dilemma surrounding whether to continue to employ our nanny). Like, he is somewhat speech delayed, and she has picked up some of his bad articulation habits. I feel like such a neurotic mom when it bugs me that she will often say "hee" or "tee" instead of "please," especially when she articulated most of the sounds in the word please very well before he came along. I know that she will grow out of these bad habits. I know that she will not go to kindergarten saying "tee" for "please." She is far too verbal, and we model it for her correctly constantly, and kids grow out of that stuff anyway. But it puts my teeth on edge every time I hear it come out of her mouth. That's not the only lazy verbal habit she's picked up either. I might be able to relax about it if it were, but it's not.
The sad thing is that he clearly doesn't get enough attention at home. He comes running to me every single morning when he hears me moving around, so I will give him a hug and kiss. He's a very affectionate child. It's clear to me that the adults in his life don't talk to him much, if at all, certainly not at all the way we talk to Caetlin as a matter of course. For example, we have tons of animal toys around, and it's part of what I do to ask Caetlin what the animal she happens to be holding is, and what sound does it make. Caetlin has been able to identify that cows moo for a very long time now, I would venture almost a year, and that pigs oink almost as long. Her nanny's grandson either doesn't know this information, or isn't used to conversational give and take and doesn't answer the question. Either way, it seems to me that people don't talk to him enough (maybe the source of some or all of his speech delay?). It's been interesting from a sociological standpoint to see the differences in the way we are raising Caetlin in terms of enrichment, versus the way our nanny and her daughter are raising this boy.
Aaanyway, here's what I need help with. I don't mean to make us out as super parents (viz. my Thanksgiving meltdown right along with my daughter). We're just people trying to do the best we can for our daughter and ourselves. That said, it seems like we rarely see these kinds of behaviors out of Caetlin. She's pretty easygoing, as I mentioned, and she can be redirected fairly easily. Not that she forgets whatever it was she wanted, but she will often accept a substitute. She can also be bargained with. She gets the concept of the deal. We'll ask her to make choices, like between night night and stories, when she's really insistent that she be allowed to play when it's time for bed. That seems to work pretty well. And I can say, "Eat this tomato and then you can have goldfish," and she gets it and will eat the tomato first. I don't want to jinx us, but we rarely have the kinds of meltdowns with her that we see with her nanny's grandson on a daily basis. (Usually with Caetlin they come when she's tired or, ironically, when we're in public and can't control her environment as well, i.e., she really likes that street musician and they have to take a break.)
So my question is this: is our nanny's grandson what Three is like? So far with Caetlin, Two hasn't been nearly as Terrible as I'd been led to believe. Is it lying in wait for us? Is she going to morph over the next 8 months into a screaming, grabbing, just plain bratty child? How much of these behaviors is developmental and how much is temperamental? How much does upbringing factor into it? Caetlin has always been an easy child (*frantically looks for wood to knock*); is that doomed to disappear over the next months?
And how much of our dislike for this boy is misplaced in dislike for him and/or the way his mother and grandmother and great-grandmother (they all live together) raise him, and instead should be directed at his developmental phase and "This too shall pass"? Because I've been saying that about him for 6 months, but maybe I haven't given it long enough?
Friends and family who have or have been exposed to older toddlers: what say you? Are this kid's annoying behaviors developmental, environmental, temperamental, or some other -mental that I haven't thought of?
He'll be three in January, and he's been coming to "day care" with Caetlin for about 6 months or so. We offered it to our nanny in lieu of a raise, back when we wanted to give her a raise and couldn't afford it, especially with a required raise coming when Segunda is born (if she's still employed with us by then, which is a whole other post. I'm struggling with my conscience about what to do with her, and I'll post my back and forth soon on that and solicit advice).
Anyway, we thought a companion for Caetlin would be a good thing, and it is a significant monetary benefit to her and her family, with almost nothing out of our pockets. I say almost because we pay for him to attend the same classes as Caetlin, and we pay his admission to whatever other activities they do, as well as Caetlin's. We often feed him, and the boy will eat us out of house and home if house and home consisted entirely of bananas. He's also mostly potty trained, which means we go through toilet paper like there is no tomorrow. But these are small expenses compared to what an hourly raise would cost us.
Unfortunately, six months on, both Bruce and I really can't stand this kid.
He is seriously grabby and will try to take what ever Caetlin is playing with, just because she's playing with it. She's a pretty easygoing kid and will often give him what he's asking for, and immediately when she picks something else up, he starts crying for that thing. Frequently he'll try to just rip it out of her hands, if he can get away with that without a grown up heading him off at the pass. He's also terribly destructive. I know that kids generally are destructive, mostly (at this age) without meaning to be, but good gracious, we have exponentially more broken toys and books with torn pages now than we did before he came along.
He is ridiculously stubborn- both Bruce and I have stubborn streaks, but this kid takes the cake. He's going through a phase right now where he will put food in his mouth and just hold it, sometimes for a really long time (>30 minutes). He won't swallow. He won't chew. If he's allowed to run around with it in his mouth, eventually he will spit it out at some random time and place.
He is the world's worst crybaby (okay, maybe that's hyperbole, but he cries a lot). Any time he doesn't get his way, which, being almost-three, happens all the time, he cries. And not just a little whining either- we're talking full on tantrum, sometimes complete with collapsing flat on the floor. Big tears. Snot. Sobbing. And it's not quiet, as you may imagine. (Nothing the child does is quiet.) Over the smallest thing- putting his hood up on his jacket. Having his orange (that he won't eat but will merely hold in his mouth) taken away. Having to give back whatever item he's swiped from Caetlin. Screams of agony. Stamping feet on the floor. You get the (unpleasant) picture. This happens multiple times per day. And I only see him for half an hour or so in the morning and maybe 15 minutes in the evening. I cannot imagine what his day is like if those times are representative.
Beyond the fact that he makes both of us have to hold onto our patience with both hands, there are some other unpleasant side effects of Caetlin hanging out with him (some of which make up the dilemma surrounding whether to continue to employ our nanny). Like, he is somewhat speech delayed, and she has picked up some of his bad articulation habits. I feel like such a neurotic mom when it bugs me that she will often say "hee" or "tee" instead of "please," especially when she articulated most of the sounds in the word please very well before he came along. I know that she will grow out of these bad habits. I know that she will not go to kindergarten saying "tee" for "please." She is far too verbal, and we model it for her correctly constantly, and kids grow out of that stuff anyway. But it puts my teeth on edge every time I hear it come out of her mouth. That's not the only lazy verbal habit she's picked up either. I might be able to relax about it if it were, but it's not.
The sad thing is that he clearly doesn't get enough attention at home. He comes running to me every single morning when he hears me moving around, so I will give him a hug and kiss. He's a very affectionate child. It's clear to me that the adults in his life don't talk to him much, if at all, certainly not at all the way we talk to Caetlin as a matter of course. For example, we have tons of animal toys around, and it's part of what I do to ask Caetlin what the animal she happens to be holding is, and what sound does it make. Caetlin has been able to identify that cows moo for a very long time now, I would venture almost a year, and that pigs oink almost as long. Her nanny's grandson either doesn't know this information, or isn't used to conversational give and take and doesn't answer the question. Either way, it seems to me that people don't talk to him enough (maybe the source of some or all of his speech delay?). It's been interesting from a sociological standpoint to see the differences in the way we are raising Caetlin in terms of enrichment, versus the way our nanny and her daughter are raising this boy.
Aaanyway, here's what I need help with. I don't mean to make us out as super parents (viz. my Thanksgiving meltdown right along with my daughter). We're just people trying to do the best we can for our daughter and ourselves. That said, it seems like we rarely see these kinds of behaviors out of Caetlin. She's pretty easygoing, as I mentioned, and she can be redirected fairly easily. Not that she forgets whatever it was she wanted, but she will often accept a substitute. She can also be bargained with. She gets the concept of the deal. We'll ask her to make choices, like between night night and stories, when she's really insistent that she be allowed to play when it's time for bed. That seems to work pretty well. And I can say, "Eat this tomato and then you can have goldfish," and she gets it and will eat the tomato first. I don't want to jinx us, but we rarely have the kinds of meltdowns with her that we see with her nanny's grandson on a daily basis. (Usually with Caetlin they come when she's tired or, ironically, when we're in public and can't control her environment as well, i.e., she really likes that street musician and they have to take a break.)
So my question is this: is our nanny's grandson what Three is like? So far with Caetlin, Two hasn't been nearly as Terrible as I'd been led to believe. Is it lying in wait for us? Is she going to morph over the next 8 months into a screaming, grabbing, just plain bratty child? How much of these behaviors is developmental and how much is temperamental? How much does upbringing factor into it? Caetlin has always been an easy child (*frantically looks for wood to knock*); is that doomed to disappear over the next months?
And how much of our dislike for this boy is misplaced in dislike for him and/or the way his mother and grandmother and great-grandmother (they all live together) raise him, and instead should be directed at his developmental phase and "This too shall pass"? Because I've been saying that about him for 6 months, but maybe I haven't given it long enough?
Friends and family who have or have been exposed to older toddlers: what say you? Are this kid's annoying behaviors developmental, environmental, temperamental, or some other -mental that I haven't thought of?
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Picture Dump
I've been entirely remiss in posting pictures of Caetlin. I realized recently that I have a ton of pictures on my camera that I needed to port over to the computer, and in doing so, I discovered a number of really great pics of Caetlin that I wanted to share. I'll be doing this over the next little while. These are random pictures from late summer and fall.
For instance, we spent a weekend with my grandmother and extended family in August. This is Caetlin and her great grandmother. I can't tell you how pleased I am to have these pictures.
And we spent a beautiful day in October at the duck pond near our house. In among several apartment buildings and corporate campuses, there is a large park with a pond filled with ducks and geese. Lots of green space, tables, walking trails- it's just lovely. I took lots of pictures that day, so you'll see a bunch from this series in the coming days (weeks? Don't want to overpromise).
Caetlin and Daddy.
She's my big girl.
With the ducks.
How could you resist that face?
Okay, that should be enough red meat for the base for now. More later.
For instance, we spent a weekend with my grandmother and extended family in August. This is Caetlin and her great grandmother. I can't tell you how pleased I am to have these pictures.
And we spent a beautiful day in October at the duck pond near our house. In among several apartment buildings and corporate campuses, there is a large park with a pond filled with ducks and geese. Lots of green space, tables, walking trails- it's just lovely. I took lots of pictures that day, so you'll see a bunch from this series in the coming days (weeks? Don't want to overpromise).
Caetlin and Daddy.
She's my big girl.
With the ducks.
How could you resist that face?
Okay, that should be enough red meat for the base for now. More later.
27 Weeks
I had my 27 week appointment this week, where they did my glucose screening test, which I passed easily. I also got my Rhogam shot, which is something to do with the Rh factor- I am A negative blood type, and if Bruce has a positive blood type, Segunda could possibly be positive as well, which could cause problems between her body and mine. We've not bothered to find out Bruce's blood type to rule out whether we need the shot or not. It's just one shot at 27 weeks, and I'll need more after delivery if Segunda is positive. Caetlin was not positive, so I didn't have it after delivery with her.
I'm told that is the last bloodwork to be done for the rest of the pregnancy- woo-hoo! I don't mind needles but one does feel a bit like a pincushion after awhile. Segunda is measuring right on schedule, maybe a day or two behind, but nothing that would call my due date, which is an approximation anyway, into question. She's also apparently turned head down, which makes me happy happy happy. Not because she should be head down, which she should at some point, but because she- well, she had a tendency to kick me along my pelvic floor. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Ladies, think of the parts that are in your pelvic floor. Now imagine being kicked in them- from the inside. Yep, not fun. Extremely uncomfortable. Now I have her hooking her feet around my ribs. I'll take the ribs.
13 weeks to go. That feels simultaneously really long and really short. Anyway, I thought I'd try my hand at a belly picture or two. You can see that my belly button is almost flat by now. I have enough of an innie that it never pops out, but it does flatten out.
I'm told that is the last bloodwork to be done for the rest of the pregnancy- woo-hoo! I don't mind needles but one does feel a bit like a pincushion after awhile. Segunda is measuring right on schedule, maybe a day or two behind, but nothing that would call my due date, which is an approximation anyway, into question. She's also apparently turned head down, which makes me happy happy happy. Not because she should be head down, which she should at some point, but because she- well, she had a tendency to kick me along my pelvic floor. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Ladies, think of the parts that are in your pelvic floor. Now imagine being kicked in them- from the inside. Yep, not fun. Extremely uncomfortable. Now I have her hooking her feet around my ribs. I'll take the ribs.
13 weeks to go. That feels simultaneously really long and really short. Anyway, I thought I'd try my hand at a belly picture or two. You can see that my belly button is almost flat by now. I have enough of an innie that it never pops out, but it does flatten out.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Thanksgiving - A Mixed Bag
Well, we went out of town for Thanksgiving, to my oldest friend's house in the town I grew up in, located in deepest, flattest, sandiest south Georgia. I'll write more about that later (last year at Thanksgiving was the first time I had been back to that town in right about 10 years, and it raises a welter of thoughts and emotions for me to go back there. My relationship with that town is a strange and troubled one). But I wanted to observe first that traveling around the Thanksgiving holiday sucks the big one. Always. It's impossible to have a smooth travel experience at Thanksgiving, at least for my family.
We left early on Thursday morning. I had to work all day Wednesday, and we have long learned that Wednesday traffic is rarely, if ever, worth the extra time at one's destination, so we decided to go on Thursday. We thought we would leave super early on Thursday, hoping that spending time on the road while it was still dark would allow Caetlin to go back to sleep in the car- she hasn't slept in the car in many months. We didn't get up early enough, so the sun was just starting to come up as we got on the road. Caetlin stayed pretty mellow, though not asleep, through the first few hours of the trip, including when we stopped for breakfast.
It was the last hour that really tried my- our- patience. She was bored, tired of riding in the car, ready to be moving around. We didn't want to stop, as we were so close to being there and on a deadline, since dinner was scheduled for 1. She started throwing things around the car and asking for them, and as I am always the passenger, it's my job to fetch the things she throws and otherwise keep her happy. I hate this job. It's frustrating, and uncomfortable, as often the seat belt cuts into my neck, and sometimes I get car sick from having to turn around and find things, and she cries when I can't find the exact thing she wants. Unfortunately, about 25 minutes away (yes, seriously, only 25 minutes), she lost it, and I lost it with her. She started crying, tears rolling down her face, and throwing some of the what seemed like dozens of toys that she had in her car seat. I was so frustrated, with my inability to make her happy, with her inability to just relax for another 25 minutes, with her inability to allow me to just sit and face forward for a few ever-loving minutes, that I started throwing toys too. (Not at her, of course.) Yes, it was tough to distinguish the adult from the two-year-old at that point. No, it was not my finest parenting moment.
Anyway, things did get better. We all managed to pull ourselves together and pulled up to our friends' house and had some Thanksgiving. We had a lovely time at Thanksgiving dinner and though Caetlin didn't nap, she still had a good time. The next day we were kind of on our own, so Caetlin spent a good amount of time at the playground. I had to leave her and Bruce there and work back at the hotel. She cried when I drove away. Yeah, THAT sucked.
I picked them back up after a couple of hours of work and we went to one of the two casual dining chains in town for lunch. Waiting for our drinks, Caetlin started crying and screaming to change her diaper, which is not like her at all, and before we could do anything like get her out of the highchair and out to the car to change her diaper, all of her breakfast started pouring out of her. She vomited, four huge spews all over the table, the highchair, herself, the floor.
Apparently, it's not Thanksgiving unless Caetlin is sick.
The wonderful waitstaff (minus our pansy waiter, who told us he has a weak stomach and had to hand us off to someone else) cleaned up the mess, while Bruce cleaned up Caetlin. Caetlin managed rally enough to have a couple of crackers and then we took her back to the hotel for a nap. She was off her feed and running a slight temperature the whole rest of the weekend, and still appears to be fighting off the bug, whatever it is. It didn't help that we'd jacked with her schedule so badly, though she's coming out of it by now.
We whiled away another day (we went over to the beach, and a couple pics from that day will be posted shortly), and decided to leave Saturday night to miss the Sunday traffic and hopefully have Caetlin sleep in the car most of the way home. A long, late nap and heavy rain foiled our plans; she stayed awake and cranky for the first two hours or so of the 4 hour trip. My heartburn started up about the time she fell asleep, cutting off any possibility of pulling over to find my antacids. The rain continued unabated, heavy, scary, big trucks roaring by splashing big sheets of water onto the windshield. Every so often I could feel the car shimmy over deep standing water in the road. I tried to sleep and couldn't really, because I was cold and because of my stomach. But I couldn't really stay awake either.
We pulled into home at about 1:30 a.m., and Caetlin went back down without too much fuss. I climbed into bed, exhausted, but had a hard time falling asleep. Thinking about how tired I was, and how I had to work Sunday and how I'm tired of working (I logged in all 4 days this holiday weekend, even though it hasn't been for very long each time).
In short, the time with our friends was wonderful, but the travel and the barfing and the working- not so much. It wasn't as restful a trip as I hoped it would be. It's funny- it's like the more I need a particular time to be restful, the more guaranteed it is that I won't be allowed to relax.
Anyway, home again, home again, as the old nursery rhyme goes. On the downhill slope to Christmas.
We left early on Thursday morning. I had to work all day Wednesday, and we have long learned that Wednesday traffic is rarely, if ever, worth the extra time at one's destination, so we decided to go on Thursday. We thought we would leave super early on Thursday, hoping that spending time on the road while it was still dark would allow Caetlin to go back to sleep in the car- she hasn't slept in the car in many months. We didn't get up early enough, so the sun was just starting to come up as we got on the road. Caetlin stayed pretty mellow, though not asleep, through the first few hours of the trip, including when we stopped for breakfast.
It was the last hour that really tried my- our- patience. She was bored, tired of riding in the car, ready to be moving around. We didn't want to stop, as we were so close to being there and on a deadline, since dinner was scheduled for 1. She started throwing things around the car and asking for them, and as I am always the passenger, it's my job to fetch the things she throws and otherwise keep her happy. I hate this job. It's frustrating, and uncomfortable, as often the seat belt cuts into my neck, and sometimes I get car sick from having to turn around and find things, and she cries when I can't find the exact thing she wants. Unfortunately, about 25 minutes away (yes, seriously, only 25 minutes), she lost it, and I lost it with her. She started crying, tears rolling down her face, and throwing some of the what seemed like dozens of toys that she had in her car seat. I was so frustrated, with my inability to make her happy, with her inability to just relax for another 25 minutes, with her inability to allow me to just sit and face forward for a few ever-loving minutes, that I started throwing toys too. (Not at her, of course.) Yes, it was tough to distinguish the adult from the two-year-old at that point. No, it was not my finest parenting moment.
Anyway, things did get better. We all managed to pull ourselves together and pulled up to our friends' house and had some Thanksgiving. We had a lovely time at Thanksgiving dinner and though Caetlin didn't nap, she still had a good time. The next day we were kind of on our own, so Caetlin spent a good amount of time at the playground. I had to leave her and Bruce there and work back at the hotel. She cried when I drove away. Yeah, THAT sucked.
I picked them back up after a couple of hours of work and we went to one of the two casual dining chains in town for lunch. Waiting for our drinks, Caetlin started crying and screaming to change her diaper, which is not like her at all, and before we could do anything like get her out of the highchair and out to the car to change her diaper, all of her breakfast started pouring out of her. She vomited, four huge spews all over the table, the highchair, herself, the floor.
Apparently, it's not Thanksgiving unless Caetlin is sick.
The wonderful waitstaff (minus our pansy waiter, who told us he has a weak stomach and had to hand us off to someone else) cleaned up the mess, while Bruce cleaned up Caetlin. Caetlin managed rally enough to have a couple of crackers and then we took her back to the hotel for a nap. She was off her feed and running a slight temperature the whole rest of the weekend, and still appears to be fighting off the bug, whatever it is. It didn't help that we'd jacked with her schedule so badly, though she's coming out of it by now.
We whiled away another day (we went over to the beach, and a couple pics from that day will be posted shortly), and decided to leave Saturday night to miss the Sunday traffic and hopefully have Caetlin sleep in the car most of the way home. A long, late nap and heavy rain foiled our plans; she stayed awake and cranky for the first two hours or so of the 4 hour trip. My heartburn started up about the time she fell asleep, cutting off any possibility of pulling over to find my antacids. The rain continued unabated, heavy, scary, big trucks roaring by splashing big sheets of water onto the windshield. Every so often I could feel the car shimmy over deep standing water in the road. I tried to sleep and couldn't really, because I was cold and because of my stomach. But I couldn't really stay awake either.
We pulled into home at about 1:30 a.m., and Caetlin went back down without too much fuss. I climbed into bed, exhausted, but had a hard time falling asleep. Thinking about how tired I was, and how I had to work Sunday and how I'm tired of working (I logged in all 4 days this holiday weekend, even though it hasn't been for very long each time).
In short, the time with our friends was wonderful, but the travel and the barfing and the working- not so much. It wasn't as restful a trip as I hoped it would be. It's funny- it's like the more I need a particular time to be restful, the more guaranteed it is that I won't be allowed to relax.
Anyway, home again, home again, as the old nursery rhyme goes. On the downhill slope to Christmas.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Also Amusing
Yesterday, Caetlin ended up going down for her "nap" at 5:00 p.m., and because she hadn't had a nap the day before and because she had eaten like a champ all day and would therefore be okay without dinner, we let her sleep through into the night. She woke us up chattering at about midnight, so we got up with her to change her diaper, put her into jammies, and at her demand, read her a story or two.
What I thought was really funny about the situation was what she was babbling about into the monitor when she woke me up. She was saying over and over, "Pretty Caetlin. Cute Caetlin. Yeah. Cute Caetlin. Pretty Caetlin."
Maybe we tell her how adorable she is a little too often. But she is!
What I thought was really funny about the situation was what she was babbling about into the monitor when she woke me up. She was saying over and over, "Pretty Caetlin. Cute Caetlin. Yeah. Cute Caetlin. Pretty Caetlin."
Maybe we tell her how adorable she is a little too often. But she is!
Feet From Beyond the Grave
Bear with me; this is probably going to be a "You had to be there" story, but I wanted to share in case any of you get a chuckle out of it.
The other evening I had been working late, and came home from the office and basically went straight to bed. Bruce was still up so we decided to watch a little TV before sleeping. I should mention that it's been pretty chilly here this week, and despite being pregnant enough to be warmer than I otherwise would be, my feet remain cold most of the time. So that evening, I climbed into bed with small ice blocks attached to my ankles, and moved them near - but not touching- my husband.
After a few (unsuccessful) minutes of trying to warm my feet up like that, I mentioned oh-so-casually to Bruce that I had a foot temperature problem, and would he be a wonderful husband who loves me so much and help me with it? He knows what that means, too- my own personal Antarctica placed carefully on or under the global warming zone of his legs.
He grumbled but assented, and when I attacked him with my feet-cicles, he cried out. "Aaagghh! Are your feet undead? Is this the cold of the grave?? Are your feet vampire feet?"
I started giggling, and burrowed my toes ever further under him.
"Aaaggh! Back, Nosfera-TOES!"
I lost it. He continued to incant against my otherworldly feet, but Nosferatoes will probably live on in the family lore for awhile.
My husband still makes me laugh.
The other evening I had been working late, and came home from the office and basically went straight to bed. Bruce was still up so we decided to watch a little TV before sleeping. I should mention that it's been pretty chilly here this week, and despite being pregnant enough to be warmer than I otherwise would be, my feet remain cold most of the time. So that evening, I climbed into bed with small ice blocks attached to my ankles, and moved them near - but not touching- my husband.
After a few (unsuccessful) minutes of trying to warm my feet up like that, I mentioned oh-so-casually to Bruce that I had a foot temperature problem, and would he be a wonderful husband who loves me so much and help me with it? He knows what that means, too- my own personal Antarctica placed carefully on or under the global warming zone of his legs.
He grumbled but assented, and when I attacked him with my feet-cicles, he cried out. "Aaagghh! Are your feet undead? Is this the cold of the grave?? Are your feet vampire feet?"
I started giggling, and burrowed my toes ever further under him.
"Aaaggh! Back, Nosfera-TOES!"
I lost it. He continued to incant against my otherworldly feet, but Nosferatoes will probably live on in the family lore for awhile.
My husband still makes me laugh.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Conversations with Caetlin
Tonight, while I was changing her diaper before stories and bedtime:
[I unzip her sleeper and pull it off her feet. She frantically gropes for her belly button, missing it by a couple of inches.]
C: Uhh, uhh, belly button! [Whine.]
Me: It's right here, silly! [I guide her hand to her belly button.]
C: Hee, belly button. [Self-satisfied smile.]
Me: [Unsure what else to say] Yes, that's your belly button.
C: Big belly button.
Me: It's not a big belly button! It's a little belly button.
C: Daddy's big belly button.
Me: Yes, Daddy has a big belly button.
C: Daddy's big belly button. Caetlin's little belly button.
Me: That's right. Mommy's belly button is somewhere in between.
C: Baby [Segunda] grow behind Mommy's belly button.
Me: [delighted, because she might be starting to understand Segunda a little] That's right! Baby [Segunda] is growing in Mommy's belly!
C: Clean hands, please! [In a complete non sequitur to alert me to the fact that she's been picking her nose and is grossed out by the results.]
I envision Conversations with Caetlin to be a regular feature of the blog. It's so random talking to a toddler. Very free form. But I loved the bit about the belly buttons.
[I unzip her sleeper and pull it off her feet. She frantically gropes for her belly button, missing it by a couple of inches.]
C: Uhh, uhh, belly button! [Whine.]
Me: It's right here, silly! [I guide her hand to her belly button.]
C: Hee, belly button. [Self-satisfied smile.]
Me: [Unsure what else to say] Yes, that's your belly button.
C: Big belly button.
Me: It's not a big belly button! It's a little belly button.
C: Daddy's big belly button.
Me: Yes, Daddy has a big belly button.
C: Daddy's big belly button. Caetlin's little belly button.
Me: That's right. Mommy's belly button is somewhere in between.
C: Baby [Segunda] grow behind Mommy's belly button.
Me: [delighted, because she might be starting to understand Segunda a little] That's right! Baby [Segunda] is growing in Mommy's belly!
C: Clean hands, please! [In a complete non sequitur to alert me to the fact that she's been picking her nose and is grossed out by the results.]
I envision Conversations with Caetlin to be a regular feature of the blog. It's so random talking to a toddler. Very free form. But I loved the bit about the belly buttons.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Halloween Pics
I've been slack about pictures lately, so please let me remedy that with a couple from Halloween. Caetlin was our little lion, complete with roaring (she's roaring, not crying in the first pic below, as befits the cutest lion ever).
Sorry about the annoying bad date- the pics were taken with our old point and shoot, and I'm the only one who remembers to re-set the date after changing the batteries. I didn't take these, therefore, 2003 dating.
Sorry about the annoying bad date- the pics were taken with our old point and shoot, and I'm the only one who remembers to re-set the date after changing the batteries. I didn't take these, therefore, 2003 dating.
(She's a lion with a lollipop. Dr. Seuss fans among you will recognize this allusion. And isn't she the cutest lion ever??)
Of All the Law Schools In All the World...
Eight and a half years ago (how can that be right??) I had a message on my answering machine in my apartment. Some guy, wanting my help with some law school thing. I called him back.
And that was how it started.
Somehow, after the first date, which came sometime after the law school thing, after the party where we realized we wanted to know each other better, we ended up inseparable. I remember the afternoon I was on the floor in his living room, listening with sharpened ears as he referred to me as his girlfriend on the phone with his mom.
Then it was long distance in Los Angeles, then very long distance in Scotland, then just long distance again in Los Angeles. Then cohabitation, in the cute apartment in the cute LA neighborhood. Our first house, in the bad neighborhood that wasn't as bad as it could have been because it was a cul-de-sac and the gangbangers went elsewhere to make their mischief.
I knew we were meant to be long before he sat with me outside our brand new house, in the park overlooking the lights of the downtown highrises and asked me to marry him.
We've been through job changes and job loss, cross-country moves, career left turns, bought three houses, rented two apartments and a house, taken 2 bar exams, moved twice to cities where we knew almost no one. We've had four cats and two dogs (now down to only 2 cats). In August 2006, we managed to join ourselves together far more permanently than we could have ever believed, and made a baby. We're working on another one of those right now. Basically, we've been through thick and thin (physically and metaphorically). It hasn't always been fun, but it has always been better because we were together. No matter what comes in our lives, we can get through it because we will be together. I have absolute faith in that.
November 13, 2004 is only the halfway point of our story from when we met until now. But in some ways, it was just the beginning.
Four whole years! (Feels like forever.) Love you, sweetie. You were, are and always will be the best thing that's ever happened to me.
And that was how it started.
Somehow, after the first date, which came sometime after the law school thing, after the party where we realized we wanted to know each other better, we ended up inseparable. I remember the afternoon I was on the floor in his living room, listening with sharpened ears as he referred to me as his girlfriend on the phone with his mom.
Then it was long distance in Los Angeles, then very long distance in Scotland, then just long distance again in Los Angeles. Then cohabitation, in the cute apartment in the cute LA neighborhood. Our first house, in the bad neighborhood that wasn't as bad as it could have been because it was a cul-de-sac and the gangbangers went elsewhere to make their mischief.
I knew we were meant to be long before he sat with me outside our brand new house, in the park overlooking the lights of the downtown highrises and asked me to marry him.
We've been through job changes and job loss, cross-country moves, career left turns, bought three houses, rented two apartments and a house, taken 2 bar exams, moved twice to cities where we knew almost no one. We've had four cats and two dogs (now down to only 2 cats). In August 2006, we managed to join ourselves together far more permanently than we could have ever believed, and made a baby. We're working on another one of those right now. Basically, we've been through thick and thin (physically and metaphorically). It hasn't always been fun, but it has always been better because we were together. No matter what comes in our lives, we can get through it because we will be together. I have absolute faith in that.
November 13, 2004 is only the halfway point of our story from when we met until now. But in some ways, it was just the beginning.
Four whole years! (Feels like forever.) Love you, sweetie. You were, are and always will be the best thing that's ever happened to me.
Friday, November 7, 2008
23 Weeks
I know I haven't posted much, and I do actually have plenty of unimportant drivel to throw out there. But as I mentioned to a friend recently, nothing much has been happening, and that's been keeping me away from the computer. Like, I'd rather read, as I've been into some good books lately, or watch fall TV (Bruce and I are horrible TV junkies and our fall schedule this year is actually manageable, so I'm thrilled we're actually keeping up with our TiVo). Or sleep. Or hang out with Caetlin. Work has also gotten in the way, in the sense that it is always feast or famine, and when it's feast, it's not exactly respectful of the whole leaving-at-6-p.m. thing.
But! I went to the doctor on Wednesday, and I'm off light duty and can resume normal activities! Yay! I can pick Caetlin up again, although that's starting to get tough anyway, hauling her around with my belly. The doctor told me that I should avoid violent sports, so that football league I was planning to join is out. But, you know, we all make sacrifices, right?
Apparently my placenta will only grow one way, which is away from the cervix, so it will either get sufficiently out of the way in time for Segunda to be delivered the usual way, or it won't and I'll have to have a C-section. But it is VERY likely that it will get out of the way, as there is still quite a bit of time to go until that becomes an issue. And there is no chance that it will grow back over the cervix. He'll look at it again some time in the third trimester, but for now all systems are go. Segunda's heartbeat is strong, and I can feel her moving around pretty much constantly now. I've also apparently only gained 11 pounds so far, which is a shock to me and a pleasant surprise.
I go back in 4 weeks and have the blood sugar test where they make me drink the nasty orange sugar water and wait an hour, and then after that I'll start seeing the doctor every 2 weeks. Which would be appropriate because I'll be in my third trimester at that point. It seems very strange to think that this pregnancy is going by so quickly. It makes me kind of panic because there is only a very small amount of work to be done to prepare for Segunda's arrival, at least as compared to Caetlin, but we pretty much haven't done any of it. My nesting instinct is starting to nag at me. I was too busy to really nest when I was pregnant with Caetlin, so I have to nest double this time.
Anyway, 23 weeks and all is well.
But! I went to the doctor on Wednesday, and I'm off light duty and can resume normal activities! Yay! I can pick Caetlin up again, although that's starting to get tough anyway, hauling her around with my belly. The doctor told me that I should avoid violent sports, so that football league I was planning to join is out. But, you know, we all make sacrifices, right?
Apparently my placenta will only grow one way, which is away from the cervix, so it will either get sufficiently out of the way in time for Segunda to be delivered the usual way, or it won't and I'll have to have a C-section. But it is VERY likely that it will get out of the way, as there is still quite a bit of time to go until that becomes an issue. And there is no chance that it will grow back over the cervix. He'll look at it again some time in the third trimester, but for now all systems are go. Segunda's heartbeat is strong, and I can feel her moving around pretty much constantly now. I've also apparently only gained 11 pounds so far, which is a shock to me and a pleasant surprise.
I go back in 4 weeks and have the blood sugar test where they make me drink the nasty orange sugar water and wait an hour, and then after that I'll start seeing the doctor every 2 weeks. Which would be appropriate because I'll be in my third trimester at that point. It seems very strange to think that this pregnancy is going by so quickly. It makes me kind of panic because there is only a very small amount of work to be done to prepare for Segunda's arrival, at least as compared to Caetlin, but we pretty much haven't done any of it. My nesting instinct is starting to nag at me. I was too busy to really nest when I was pregnant with Caetlin, so I have to nest double this time.
Anyway, 23 weeks and all is well.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Noticed While Waiting for the Shower to Heat Up This Afternoon
(Yes, I did write "this afternoon" in relationship to my shower today. When you have nowhere to go and no one around to talk to or who really cares how you smell, motivation does tend to go out the window. Don't judge. I showered eventually.)
I saw my first stretch marks of this pregnancy. I'm kind of surprised by them, since I didn't see any with Caetlin until 7 months or so. These happened to catch the light when I was standing in profile to the mirror. I can't see them head on. They are small, located above my flattening belly button (as it gets shallower, Caetlin still pokes it but it hurts quite a bit, since she's poking the relatively more exposed bottom with the same vigor). They are invisible from the front, but a delicate lavender color from the side.
After I saw those new ones, I looked the rest of my belly over. I saw the faint white lines from Caetlin but no other new purple ones yet.
These might dismay some people, but not me, though I do remember going to some lengths to try to ward off stretch marks with Caetlin- maybe that's why I've got them sooner this time. (It makes me laugh to think of having that kind of time, now.) I've never had the flattest tummy and I stopped wearing bikinis maybe 6 or 7 years ago. Maybe even longer ago than that. It's no hardship for me to have stretch marks. They remind me of Segunda (as if I could ever forget her!) and what is (hopefully) to come over the next months.
I saw my first stretch marks of this pregnancy. I'm kind of surprised by them, since I didn't see any with Caetlin until 7 months or so. These happened to catch the light when I was standing in profile to the mirror. I can't see them head on. They are small, located above my flattening belly button (as it gets shallower, Caetlin still pokes it but it hurts quite a bit, since she's poking the relatively more exposed bottom with the same vigor). They are invisible from the front, but a delicate lavender color from the side.
After I saw those new ones, I looked the rest of my belly over. I saw the faint white lines from Caetlin but no other new purple ones yet.
These might dismay some people, but not me, though I do remember going to some lengths to try to ward off stretch marks with Caetlin- maybe that's why I've got them sooner this time. (It makes me laugh to think of having that kind of time, now.) I've never had the flattest tummy and I stopped wearing bikinis maybe 6 or 7 years ago. Maybe even longer ago than that. It's no hardship for me to have stretch marks. They remind me of Segunda (as if I could ever forget her!) and what is (hopefully) to come over the next months.
Brown Is My Least Favorite Color
It's Saturday morning. Caetlin's Kindermusik class just started ten minutes ago. Obviously, I am not at that class. I'm at home, in bed, bored with the internet and TV. College football hasn't started yet. None of my books interest me and the house is too quiet.
I wish I were there with Bruce and Caetlin.
It all started with a very small brown smudge on the paper when I went to the toilet on awakening yesterday morning.
I realize how ominous that sounds, so I'm going to break the tension right away now: I'm still pregnant. Segunda still does her little ballet across my bladder every hour or so.
But there was the brown smudge.
With Caetlin, I had spotting a couple of times, but only in my first trimester. Nothing in the second or third trimesters. I haven't had any spotting with Segunda at all so far, so the smudge was of some concern to me. I tried to shake it off- it's got to be nothing- but I called the doctor anyway.
The nurse was sympathetic, but clearly thought the same thing: it's likely nothing. She offered to let me come in, if I wanted to, for peace of mind before the weekend. If it had been a different weekday, I'm not sure I would have gone in, but I didn't relish the thought of wondering and worrying all weekend.
They squeezed me in late in the day yesterday. First thing was hearing Segunda's heart; I had felt her moving all day and wasn't terribly worried that the worst had yet happened, but it was nice to hear it anyway. Then the pelvic exam. The doctor confirmed there was not much visible in there except for some more brown smudge, and the brown was actually a good sign. It meant it was older, had already dried and was just being flushed away.
The concern was where had it come from in the first place.
The doctor wheeled in an ultrasound machine, and when he turned out the lights, it became very dark in the room, as it was almost 5 p.m. on a rainy dreary day. He turned the machine on and Segunda flooded the screen, busily kicking and squirming. He didn't focus on the baby, once he ascertained her heart was beating and her cord was pulsing. After that, he looked at the placenta. The resolution was grainy, not good, but he pointed out how very close the placenta was, possibly still covering the cervix. That had been noted in an earlier ultrasound, with the expectation that the placenta would grow away from the cervix. At my 20 week ultrasound last week, done by the perinatal group that did the CVS, I had specifically asked about this. They had assured me that it had grown away, but here was my doctor expressing doubt about that point. He also identified what looked to him like a pocket of blood in the vicinity of the placenta.
He left the room to find a trained sonogram technician, and at first we thought I would have to come back in on Monday to confirm, since it looked like all the techs had gone home. At the last minute, he found one and I was walked over to a different room with a different machine.
She briefly looked at the baby and then also focused on the placenta. Took some pictures, and we chit-chatted, and then I got dressed. We stood in the hall together waiting for my doctor, and she told him it was not covering the cervix, but is very, very close.
The condition is called placenta previa. It can cause bleeding, sometimes heavy bleeding. The previa can be partial, where it partially covers the cervix, or it can be total. What I have is not technically placenta previa, but is actually just a low-lying placenta, where it is very near the cervix. This is almost as bad, because the risk for bleeding is still pretty high. In cases where previa or low lying placenta persists until late stages of pregnancy, a C-section is necessary. However, most previa, and especially low lying placenta conditions, resolve on their own through the pregnancy.
You can read more about it here. There is some freaky stuff here, like placenta accreta and what not, but I don't think that is my situation at this time. I think there is some higher concern that I have had bleeding this early in the pregnancy, but it still remains nothing but brown smudge, probably less than a teaspoonful at this point.
But I'm on bed rest for the weekend. If nothing dramatic happens over these couple of days, I can, in my doctor's words, "Tiptoe into work on Monday." He wouldn't have approved that if I did anything except sit on my butt all day for work. And no sex, heavy lifting or strenuous exercise for the rest of my pregnancy, or at least until ultrasounds confirm the placenta has grown away from the cervix.
No heavy lifting means no lifting Caetlin. I cried over that last night. Not that I- or my back- like lifting Miss Moose. But, especially in the throes of my fears last night about being on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy (which I now think is unlikely in the cold clear light of day), I mourned the loss of closeness with her. I worried she will think I don't love her. I have 16 weeks until the baby is full term, and that's a long time to be without holding my girl.
I hate being so helpless. I hate not being able to help Bruce more. I hate how quiet it is with no one here. Any other day I would revel in it. It's something about being told, "You can't" that makes it very difficult.
So I have my computer here and I feel like I might have read everything there is to read on the internet. I have a stack of unread books here next to me that I would have jumped at the chance to read last week. Now they don't interest me. I might go blind playing Mystery Case Files. And Caetlin and Daddy are out having fun at Kindermusik and will be off to the park afterward. There might be a hay ride and bonfire tonight for her. I think they are going to be gone all day.
I just stew here, lonely, worried, obsessively checking to feel Segunda moving. I'm sure I'm overreacting. I'm not good at bed rest, I don't think.
Stupid brown smudge.
I wish I were there with Bruce and Caetlin.
It all started with a very small brown smudge on the paper when I went to the toilet on awakening yesterday morning.
I realize how ominous that sounds, so I'm going to break the tension right away now: I'm still pregnant. Segunda still does her little ballet across my bladder every hour or so.
But there was the brown smudge.
With Caetlin, I had spotting a couple of times, but only in my first trimester. Nothing in the second or third trimesters. I haven't had any spotting with Segunda at all so far, so the smudge was of some concern to me. I tried to shake it off- it's got to be nothing- but I called the doctor anyway.
The nurse was sympathetic, but clearly thought the same thing: it's likely nothing. She offered to let me come in, if I wanted to, for peace of mind before the weekend. If it had been a different weekday, I'm not sure I would have gone in, but I didn't relish the thought of wondering and worrying all weekend.
They squeezed me in late in the day yesterday. First thing was hearing Segunda's heart; I had felt her moving all day and wasn't terribly worried that the worst had yet happened, but it was nice to hear it anyway. Then the pelvic exam. The doctor confirmed there was not much visible in there except for some more brown smudge, and the brown was actually a good sign. It meant it was older, had already dried and was just being flushed away.
The concern was where had it come from in the first place.
The doctor wheeled in an ultrasound machine, and when he turned out the lights, it became very dark in the room, as it was almost 5 p.m. on a rainy dreary day. He turned the machine on and Segunda flooded the screen, busily kicking and squirming. He didn't focus on the baby, once he ascertained her heart was beating and her cord was pulsing. After that, he looked at the placenta. The resolution was grainy, not good, but he pointed out how very close the placenta was, possibly still covering the cervix. That had been noted in an earlier ultrasound, with the expectation that the placenta would grow away from the cervix. At my 20 week ultrasound last week, done by the perinatal group that did the CVS, I had specifically asked about this. They had assured me that it had grown away, but here was my doctor expressing doubt about that point. He also identified what looked to him like a pocket of blood in the vicinity of the placenta.
He left the room to find a trained sonogram technician, and at first we thought I would have to come back in on Monday to confirm, since it looked like all the techs had gone home. At the last minute, he found one and I was walked over to a different room with a different machine.
She briefly looked at the baby and then also focused on the placenta. Took some pictures, and we chit-chatted, and then I got dressed. We stood in the hall together waiting for my doctor, and she told him it was not covering the cervix, but is very, very close.
The condition is called placenta previa. It can cause bleeding, sometimes heavy bleeding. The previa can be partial, where it partially covers the cervix, or it can be total. What I have is not technically placenta previa, but is actually just a low-lying placenta, where it is very near the cervix. This is almost as bad, because the risk for bleeding is still pretty high. In cases where previa or low lying placenta persists until late stages of pregnancy, a C-section is necessary. However, most previa, and especially low lying placenta conditions, resolve on their own through the pregnancy.
You can read more about it here. There is some freaky stuff here, like placenta accreta and what not, but I don't think that is my situation at this time. I think there is some higher concern that I have had bleeding this early in the pregnancy, but it still remains nothing but brown smudge, probably less than a teaspoonful at this point.
But I'm on bed rest for the weekend. If nothing dramatic happens over these couple of days, I can, in my doctor's words, "Tiptoe into work on Monday." He wouldn't have approved that if I did anything except sit on my butt all day for work. And no sex, heavy lifting or strenuous exercise for the rest of my pregnancy, or at least until ultrasounds confirm the placenta has grown away from the cervix.
No heavy lifting means no lifting Caetlin. I cried over that last night. Not that I- or my back- like lifting Miss Moose. But, especially in the throes of my fears last night about being on bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy (which I now think is unlikely in the cold clear light of day), I mourned the loss of closeness with her. I worried she will think I don't love her. I have 16 weeks until the baby is full term, and that's a long time to be without holding my girl.
I hate being so helpless. I hate not being able to help Bruce more. I hate how quiet it is with no one here. Any other day I would revel in it. It's something about being told, "You can't" that makes it very difficult.
So I have my computer here and I feel like I might have read everything there is to read on the internet. I have a stack of unread books here next to me that I would have jumped at the chance to read last week. Now they don't interest me. I might go blind playing Mystery Case Files. And Caetlin and Daddy are out having fun at Kindermusik and will be off to the park afterward. There might be a hay ride and bonfire tonight for her. I think they are going to be gone all day.
I just stew here, lonely, worried, obsessively checking to feel Segunda moving. I'm sure I'm overreacting. I'm not good at bed rest, I don't think.
Stupid brown smudge.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
A Fall Complaint
So, it's finally fall down here in the land of 2.5 seasons (we have summer, spring and fall which are generally so similar as to be one season, and half a season that approximates winter). The nights are finally getting cooler, there is a definite nip in the 70+ degree air, and the leaves are falling off those trees that do that each year.
The leaves are falling.
Gah!
Do not get me wrong; I love watching the leaves change colors. And I love seeing the carpets of pretty colored leaves on bright green grass, or lining the street getting stirred up by passing cars, etc. I love the smell of burning bonfires which truly says fall to me (admittedly less common here in the middle of the city than it was when I was growing up in the sticks). I even love how they look in the cold rain that comes in November, all shiny and slick and sad at the passing of the year. I love deciduous trees, okay?
But the thing that I cannot stand, the thing that drives me batshit crazy, the absolute worst thing about fall, also comes along with the falling leaves.
Leaf blowers.
They drive me out of my ever-loving mind.
I think they are wildly unnecessary (if you want your yard leaf free, get out there and rake it like we did when we were kids). I also think the piles of debris they create are far, far uglier than the leaves, pine straw, etc. where they originally fell, and that they are ridiculous on their face- what, you'll blow the leaves to...where, exactly? Just...where no one objects to them piling up?? It doesn't get rid of them, or use them for any useful purpose, just...moves them. Next door. Or where ever. I swear, we saw someone blowing leaves down the turn lane of the road we live next to this morning. We had to be careful not to run the man over on the way to work this morning. Why would anyone care that that particular section of turn lane would be leaf free, for crying out loud? But the main reason I hate them, beyond all of that, beyond the gas that is inevitably wasted on these infernal machines and the nasty fumes that they spill in the crisp fall air, is the noise. Oh, God, the noise. I swear to you, we have someone in the immediate vicinity of our house blowing leaves every single day of the week. It does not matter which day. I hear leaf blowers nearly every day when I am home at lunch. This morning, it started up right outside our house at 8 a.m. on the button. I'm sorry, that is too early for leaf blowing! (I'm sorry to say it may have been the people who care for our yard. These folks are engaged and paid by the landlord, so we have no say whatsoever in what implements they use or what time they use them.) If I am trying to have a restful afternoon at home, invariably the minute I turn off the TV and computer and snuggle under the covers for an illicit afternoon nap, someone starts a leaf blower.
And it's not just the amount of noise pollution these things create. It's the quality. That start-stop intermittent noise that burrows into my skull and makes it impossible for me to sleep through it, or ignore it in any way. Rrrrrrrr. Rrrrrrrr. Rrrr-RRRRRRRRR. RRRRRRRRRRRR. Rrrrr-rrr-rrrrrrrrrrr.
I know I'm fighting a losing battle here. I will never convince people to let the leaves be, or at least go back to rake and lawn & leaf bags or bonfires. People, at least in my neighborhood, seem to want the beauty of large trees but think their waste products are bothersome and must be dealt with in the least (visually) obtrusive way possible. Most of my neighbors take immaculate care of their lawns and landscaping and surely would not stand for any of that hard work to be covered by or- gasp!- even killed by an accumulation of leaves. We must control nature! By paying other people to do it while we're working!
I've said it before- I'm no nature-obsessed hippie. I don't live a particularly green life, and while I love the outdoors, I don't commune with it terribly regularly. My irritation here is far more selfish than planet-centered, but it does seem as if our needs align this once. The planet needs for us to stop wasting gas and venting nasty fumes in the ridiculous vain pursuit of taming the falling leaves. I just need some peace and quiet.
The leaves are falling.
Gah!
Do not get me wrong; I love watching the leaves change colors. And I love seeing the carpets of pretty colored leaves on bright green grass, or lining the street getting stirred up by passing cars, etc. I love the smell of burning bonfires which truly says fall to me (admittedly less common here in the middle of the city than it was when I was growing up in the sticks). I even love how they look in the cold rain that comes in November, all shiny and slick and sad at the passing of the year. I love deciduous trees, okay?
But the thing that I cannot stand, the thing that drives me batshit crazy, the absolute worst thing about fall, also comes along with the falling leaves.
Leaf blowers.
They drive me out of my ever-loving mind.
I think they are wildly unnecessary (if you want your yard leaf free, get out there and rake it like we did when we were kids). I also think the piles of debris they create are far, far uglier than the leaves, pine straw, etc. where they originally fell, and that they are ridiculous on their face- what, you'll blow the leaves to...where, exactly? Just...where no one objects to them piling up?? It doesn't get rid of them, or use them for any useful purpose, just...moves them. Next door. Or where ever. I swear, we saw someone blowing leaves down the turn lane of the road we live next to this morning. We had to be careful not to run the man over on the way to work this morning. Why would anyone care that that particular section of turn lane would be leaf free, for crying out loud? But the main reason I hate them, beyond all of that, beyond the gas that is inevitably wasted on these infernal machines and the nasty fumes that they spill in the crisp fall air, is the noise. Oh, God, the noise. I swear to you, we have someone in the immediate vicinity of our house blowing leaves every single day of the week. It does not matter which day. I hear leaf blowers nearly every day when I am home at lunch. This morning, it started up right outside our house at 8 a.m. on the button. I'm sorry, that is too early for leaf blowing! (I'm sorry to say it may have been the people who care for our yard. These folks are engaged and paid by the landlord, so we have no say whatsoever in what implements they use or what time they use them.) If I am trying to have a restful afternoon at home, invariably the minute I turn off the TV and computer and snuggle under the covers for an illicit afternoon nap, someone starts a leaf blower.
And it's not just the amount of noise pollution these things create. It's the quality. That start-stop intermittent noise that burrows into my skull and makes it impossible for me to sleep through it, or ignore it in any way. Rrrrrrrr. Rrrrrrrr. Rrrr-RRRRRRRRR. RRRRRRRRRRRR. Rrrrr-rrr-rrrrrrrrrrr.
I know I'm fighting a losing battle here. I will never convince people to let the leaves be, or at least go back to rake and lawn & leaf bags or bonfires. People, at least in my neighborhood, seem to want the beauty of large trees but think their waste products are bothersome and must be dealt with in the least (visually) obtrusive way possible. Most of my neighbors take immaculate care of their lawns and landscaping and surely would not stand for any of that hard work to be covered by or- gasp!- even killed by an accumulation of leaves. We must control nature! By paying other people to do it while we're working!
I've said it before- I'm no nature-obsessed hippie. I don't live a particularly green life, and while I love the outdoors, I don't commune with it terribly regularly. My irritation here is far more selfish than planet-centered, but it does seem as if our needs align this once. The planet needs for us to stop wasting gas and venting nasty fumes in the ridiculous vain pursuit of taming the falling leaves. I just need some peace and quiet.
Embarrassing
You know what's embarrassing? Going to the bathroom at 2 p.m. for the first time since getting dressed that day and realizing that your maternity pants have been unzipped the whole day.
You know what's even more embarrassing? Realizing that your pants have been unzipped for a good 5 or so hours and not having your first reaction be, "Oh no!" but instead "Eh. My maternity shirt was long enough to cover it. Plus I'm wearing dark colored underwear. We're good."
You know what's even more embarrassing? Realizing that your pants have been unzipped for a good 5 or so hours and not having your first reaction be, "Oh no!" but instead "Eh. My maternity shirt was long enough to cover it. Plus I'm wearing dark colored underwear. We're good."
How Things Have Been Around Here Lately
At work: s-l-o-w. I even managed to finish a library book the other day- one of the short term in-demand new releases too!- thanks to the generous "free" time I have at work. I'm there, I show up, I put in 8 "hours" a day. I usually manage to bill something every day; I think there has only been one day this month that I didn't bill anything. But making it to 7.5 is a pipe dream. Usually I don't finish my to-do list on purpose, just so I'll have something to do the next day.
At home: Caetlin is awesome, and wearying. I know, I know, she's two, she's supposed to be energetic, but she wears me out. She's decided lately that she doesn't want to sleep or do anything associated with going to nap or bed. So naptime is traumatic. Bathtime is traumatic (because it comes before bedtime). Storytime is traumatic (because she's rather be playing). We have, fortunately, taught her the magic words, "Would you rather have story time or night nght?" She learned quickly that asking for door no. 3, "Play, please," doesn't get much traction. It's cut some of the trauma out of storytime. Only some, though.
In the closet: My rapidly expanding size is also the reason why Caetlin wears me out so much. I have a very small- by comparison, anyway- baby belly, but it's enough to crowd my digestive system and my lungs, and to make hauling a 30+ pounder around tough, especially over the crib railing. It also means I have officially grown out of non-maternity clothes. Thanks goodness for Liz Lange maternity for Target. It's not the height of fashion, but it's serviceable, and very reasonably priced. I wish I had known about it when I was pregnant with Caetlin. I probably spent, no joke, $600 on crappy maternity stuff from Mimi Maternity. I had to do more shopping this time because I needed maternity wear through the spring and summer last time. Those skirts and sleeveless tops aren't going to cut it, even here where it doesn't get that cold.
In the uterus: Segunda continues to grow (see above, although some of that is due to my complete lack of discipline around food in the last month or so) and kick. I can feel her moving around pretty regularly now, even at work or if I'm not paying attention. I'll be glad when Caetlin can feel her moving, since I hope that will help explain to Caetlin that she has a baby sister on the way. So far, it really doesn't seem as though that idea is taking any root in Caetlin's mind. We talk about it daily, and she has several books on the subject that she likes, but I just don't get the feeling that she understands. I'm not sure why she would, though, at this point. Abstraction isn't her strong point yet.
On the educational front: We've decided to start making a concerted effort to teach Caetlin how to read. She seems to want to be able to read by herself, taking books and "reading" them out loud to herself, yanking them away when one of us offers to read it to her. We bought some phonics flashcards and right now are working on her recognition of lowercase letters and her awareness that each letter makes a sound. I don't have super high expectations regarding how fast she'll be able to read, but she enjoys the cards, and it at least gives us some focus. I learned to read when I was three, so it can be done, and she has a great memory- she knows all the uppercase letters, numbers through ten reliably and twenty intermittently, and many colors. I know, it seems like we're pushing her on this, but I don't have any real expectations for it. I don't personally care whether she reads early or not. She just seems like she wants it and it makes a fun addition to night time reading.
At home: Caetlin is awesome, and wearying. I know, I know, she's two, she's supposed to be energetic, but she wears me out. She's decided lately that she doesn't want to sleep or do anything associated with going to nap or bed. So naptime is traumatic. Bathtime is traumatic (because it comes before bedtime). Storytime is traumatic (because she's rather be playing). We have, fortunately, taught her the magic words, "Would you rather have story time or night nght?" She learned quickly that asking for door no. 3, "Play, please," doesn't get much traction. It's cut some of the trauma out of storytime. Only some, though.
In the closet: My rapidly expanding size is also the reason why Caetlin wears me out so much. I have a very small- by comparison, anyway- baby belly, but it's enough to crowd my digestive system and my lungs, and to make hauling a 30+ pounder around tough, especially over the crib railing. It also means I have officially grown out of non-maternity clothes. Thanks goodness for Liz Lange maternity for Target. It's not the height of fashion, but it's serviceable, and very reasonably priced. I wish I had known about it when I was pregnant with Caetlin. I probably spent, no joke, $600 on crappy maternity stuff from Mimi Maternity. I had to do more shopping this time because I needed maternity wear through the spring and summer last time. Those skirts and sleeveless tops aren't going to cut it, even here where it doesn't get that cold.
In the uterus: Segunda continues to grow (see above, although some of that is due to my complete lack of discipline around food in the last month or so) and kick. I can feel her moving around pretty regularly now, even at work or if I'm not paying attention. I'll be glad when Caetlin can feel her moving, since I hope that will help explain to Caetlin that she has a baby sister on the way. So far, it really doesn't seem as though that idea is taking any root in Caetlin's mind. We talk about it daily, and she has several books on the subject that she likes, but I just don't get the feeling that she understands. I'm not sure why she would, though, at this point. Abstraction isn't her strong point yet.
On the educational front: We've decided to start making a concerted effort to teach Caetlin how to read. She seems to want to be able to read by herself, taking books and "reading" them out loud to herself, yanking them away when one of us offers to read it to her. We bought some phonics flashcards and right now are working on her recognition of lowercase letters and her awareness that each letter makes a sound. I don't have super high expectations regarding how fast she'll be able to read, but she enjoys the cards, and it at least gives us some focus. I learned to read when I was three, so it can be done, and she has a great memory- she knows all the uppercase letters, numbers through ten reliably and twenty intermittently, and many colors. I know, it seems like we're pushing her on this, but I don't have any real expectations for it. I don't personally care whether she reads early or not. She just seems like she wants it and it makes a fun addition to night time reading.
Friday, October 10, 2008
More Video, This Time With 39% More Hilarity
So, despite the lack of comments left on the blog, I have heard through back channels that the video in the last post was very popular. It not being much of anything except Caetlin desperately trying to get the camera from me, I thought I might try again. So tonight Caetlin and Bruce were having some post-bath, pre-bed fun and I pulled out the trusty Flip. Caetlin managed to ignore it this time.
I titled the video "Caetlin Bosses Daddy" because the entire video consists of her ordering Bruce around. She tells him to sit on the couch and gets upset when he doesn't sit where she tells him to. She orders him to put his fingers on the arm of the couch so she can drive over them with the car. When she tires of that, she emphatically and repeatedly orders him off the couch- "Daddy get out, please!" Then she turns the lights out on all of us, and refuses to turn them back on. Good times.
She's already got Daddy wrapped around her little finger, I think. Anyway, you can hear from my chuckles that I found this all fairly amusing. Forgive the poor camera work- I had a lonely cat frantically making out with my camera hand.
Enjoy!
I titled the video "Caetlin Bosses Daddy" because the entire video consists of her ordering Bruce around. She tells him to sit on the couch and gets upset when he doesn't sit where she tells him to. She orders him to put his fingers on the arm of the couch so she can drive over them with the car. When she tires of that, she emphatically and repeatedly orders him off the couch- "Daddy get out, please!" Then she turns the lights out on all of us, and refuses to turn them back on. Good times.
She's already got Daddy wrapped around her little finger, I think. Anyway, you can hear from my chuckles that I found this all fairly amusing. Forgive the poor camera work- I had a lonely cat frantically making out with my camera hand.
Enjoy!
Friday, October 3, 2008
I Know How to Pander
Yes, despite the fact that the VP debate was last night, this post and its title have nothing to do with politics. But I do know how to pander. I know my core audience, see. And I know what they want. I know why (most) of my readers come back here.
And so, because it has been awhile, I give you...a video of Caetlin.
Little background here- I took this with our Flip camera. When we were in Alaska, we took a few movies of her being her, not doing anything special, and used them as Caetlin crack to help her stay calm and quiet during the many times she was strapped into her car seat. The girl LOVES watching herself. So this entire video is her attempt to get the camera. She's asking for "Smile, please" because in the most-watched video during our time in Alaska, Caetlin herself was saying, "Smile! Say cheese!" So the camera is officially "Smile." You can see about halfway through she wonders if I don't understand her and switches to asking for "Caetlin" which is kind of more accurate.
The camera work is shaky because I was trying to move away from her so I could keep her in the picture, which involved moving from furniture to floor, etc.
Anyway, enjoy! See what a big girl she is!
And so, because it has been awhile, I give you...a video of Caetlin.
Little background here- I took this with our Flip camera. When we were in Alaska, we took a few movies of her being her, not doing anything special, and used them as Caetlin crack to help her stay calm and quiet during the many times she was strapped into her car seat. The girl LOVES watching herself. So this entire video is her attempt to get the camera. She's asking for "Smile, please" because in the most-watched video during our time in Alaska, Caetlin herself was saying, "Smile! Say cheese!" So the camera is officially "Smile." You can see about halfway through she wonders if I don't understand her and switches to asking for "Caetlin" which is kind of more accurate.
The camera work is shaky because I was trying to move away from her so I could keep her in the picture, which involved moving from furniture to floor, etc.
Anyway, enjoy! See what a big girl she is!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
On New Motherhood
A good friend had a baby a little over a week ago. I visited her and her beautiful brand new girl in the hospital last week, and I emailed a bit with her over the weekend. Our visit at the hospital went fine; she looked a little frustrated with her attempts to breastfeed, but otherwise seemed calm and composed.
I remember those days in the hospital. I probably seemed really with it those first couple of days after Caetlin was born too. The thing about the hospital is that it is a haven of safety. No one will let your baby die in the hospital, at least not as a result of your ignorance. You are not left working without a net, alone, charged entirely with this beautiful fragile thing's well-being. You are surrounded by people who have seen it all and done it all a thousand times, who never panic when the baby cries because she's hungry or frustrated.
The email I received from her over the weekend brought a shock of recognition for me. I could sense the underlying desperation in the email, her disorientation in the new world of endlessly crying babies and pain and sleep deprivation. The feeling of not knowing which way was up, of being completely disconnected from anything other than recovery from childbirth and the all-consuming care of the infant. One forgets what it is like to be among other adults, to think about politics or pop culture or work or friends. One becomes a creature of the body, instead of the mind, descending into a milky physicality that is everything. The absence of the relief you thought you'd feel at her physical separation from you is part of the confusion, because it doesn't happen like that. She is not separate from you yet, despite being outside instead of in. Whether she is literally attached to you- to breast or shoulder or tummy- or not, you and she are still one in a way that is utterly unexpected and baffling.
Her email had that feeling of scatteredness about it. Maybe I am reading too much between the lines, and maybe it's just hard to write a good email on a Blackberry. But it seemed to me that she is in that place where she feels like she is underwater and doesn't know which way is the air. That place where there is pain in places that have never really hurt before, not like this. Where every small thing is magnified beyond belief, where being unable to breastfeed is the scariest thing in the world, where one must obsessively chart feedings and wet diapers and bowel movements, lest the baby fail to survive because of your inability to pay attention to these things. Where finding the right bottle is of paramount importance, because otherwise how will she eat? Thoughts that have a tinge of hysteria around the edges. Minutiae that don't matter in the slightest once you can get a little distance from them, but seem so huge and important right then. Like the baby herself, they are little yet they are everything.
I don't mean to suggest that she is wrong to feel these things so keenly. I did with Caetlin, and I expect to with Segunda, though I hope with a little less flailing. I only write these words with so much sympathy. I wish I could offer her the hand she needs to pull her up and find the air. I'm afraid that only time will allow her to kick to the surface, though, time and the ability to get to know her baby a little bit. It turns out that knowing the baby from the inside is so much different than knowing her on the outside, and that is something that none of the books or parenting websites ever conveyed to me.
My friend will manage and will muddle through for days that will turn into weeks, and then months, and one day...it won't be as hard. Something will be easier. She might still only be sleeping in 90 minute shifts, she might still be changing 14 diapers and running at least one load of laundry a day. She might still be facing the witching hour of 6 p.m., when the baby just cries and cries and cries and nothing seems to help. But something will be easier. Maybe it will be the random middle-of-the-day trip to Target that made her feel as though she rejoined the human race, only with a baby in tow this time. Maybe it will be the one miracle night she sleeps 5 hours in a row. Maybe just a walk around the neighborhood in some cool autumn air with the smell of burning leaves around the edges will do it. Maybe it will be the first feeding that doesn't hurt.
And it will continue to get easier for her. I so wish I could convey this to her. I wish I could download this truth into her heart and help her know that it will be okay. That we're all like this in the beginning. That it gets easier. She'll move on to different challenges, no question- but it will never be like it is at the very beginning, ever again.
I can't give her that understanding, though, at least not in her heart. Her head, I'm sure, intellectually understands this. For now, all I can do is try to offer what advice and support I can. Be there for her if I can do anything, even just listen. Pray for her and her family.
And I have to add that I'm sure that this is not exactly a ringing endorsement for children. The thing is, this is all you'll ever see if you don't want children. I believe strongly that the downsides to having kids are so much more easily perceived than the upsides. The downsides are completely obvious- the sleep deprivation, the lack of a social life, the inability to continue caring for oneself first. The upsides, at least of those first months and years, are harder to see until you've taken the jump off the cliff and decided to bring a new being into the world. There is something about the dependence of a newborn, the way her head turns to your voice, the way only you or her daddy can make her quiet when she's unhappy, that makes it worth it. There is something about seeing your husband's nose or eyes on the face of this tiny creature, about imagining her future and realizing that she is half you. There is something that is probably hormonally driven to an extent and can't rightly be called love, but is a fierce protective instinct. You would give your life for hers, even when she's only a few days old and cannot give but can only take.
By the time the upsides start to become more evident- the smiles, the laughter, the milestones, the emerging personality- you are already so ensnared. Unfortunately, I can't convey it to my childless friends any better than that. It's such a cliche to tell childless people they just don't know what they are missing, as if that gives us parents some kind of moral superiority. I don't agree with the superior part at all, but the first part, the can't know part- I think that's probably true. It's not like anything else. And it makes all the hellishness that my friend is going through worth it.
She- they- will be just fine. We mostly all get through it, and she's a smart and caring woman with family and friends who love her. I hope she can see through to the other side soon. I hope she can kick to the surface and get that first deep breath of air, that one that will give her strength and help her understand, in the most fundamental way, why she's going through all this.
I remember those days in the hospital. I probably seemed really with it those first couple of days after Caetlin was born too. The thing about the hospital is that it is a haven of safety. No one will let your baby die in the hospital, at least not as a result of your ignorance. You are not left working without a net, alone, charged entirely with this beautiful fragile thing's well-being. You are surrounded by people who have seen it all and done it all a thousand times, who never panic when the baby cries because she's hungry or frustrated.
The email I received from her over the weekend brought a shock of recognition for me. I could sense the underlying desperation in the email, her disorientation in the new world of endlessly crying babies and pain and sleep deprivation. The feeling of not knowing which way was up, of being completely disconnected from anything other than recovery from childbirth and the all-consuming care of the infant. One forgets what it is like to be among other adults, to think about politics or pop culture or work or friends. One becomes a creature of the body, instead of the mind, descending into a milky physicality that is everything. The absence of the relief you thought you'd feel at her physical separation from you is part of the confusion, because it doesn't happen like that. She is not separate from you yet, despite being outside instead of in. Whether she is literally attached to you- to breast or shoulder or tummy- or not, you and she are still one in a way that is utterly unexpected and baffling.
Her email had that feeling of scatteredness about it. Maybe I am reading too much between the lines, and maybe it's just hard to write a good email on a Blackberry. But it seemed to me that she is in that place where she feels like she is underwater and doesn't know which way is the air. That place where there is pain in places that have never really hurt before, not like this. Where every small thing is magnified beyond belief, where being unable to breastfeed is the scariest thing in the world, where one must obsessively chart feedings and wet diapers and bowel movements, lest the baby fail to survive because of your inability to pay attention to these things. Where finding the right bottle is of paramount importance, because otherwise how will she eat? Thoughts that have a tinge of hysteria around the edges. Minutiae that don't matter in the slightest once you can get a little distance from them, but seem so huge and important right then. Like the baby herself, they are little yet they are everything.
I don't mean to suggest that she is wrong to feel these things so keenly. I did with Caetlin, and I expect to with Segunda, though I hope with a little less flailing. I only write these words with so much sympathy. I wish I could offer her the hand she needs to pull her up and find the air. I'm afraid that only time will allow her to kick to the surface, though, time and the ability to get to know her baby a little bit. It turns out that knowing the baby from the inside is so much different than knowing her on the outside, and that is something that none of the books or parenting websites ever conveyed to me.
My friend will manage and will muddle through for days that will turn into weeks, and then months, and one day...it won't be as hard. Something will be easier. She might still only be sleeping in 90 minute shifts, she might still be changing 14 diapers and running at least one load of laundry a day. She might still be facing the witching hour of 6 p.m., when the baby just cries and cries and cries and nothing seems to help. But something will be easier. Maybe it will be the random middle-of-the-day trip to Target that made her feel as though she rejoined the human race, only with a baby in tow this time. Maybe it will be the one miracle night she sleeps 5 hours in a row. Maybe just a walk around the neighborhood in some cool autumn air with the smell of burning leaves around the edges will do it. Maybe it will be the first feeding that doesn't hurt.
And it will continue to get easier for her. I so wish I could convey this to her. I wish I could download this truth into her heart and help her know that it will be okay. That we're all like this in the beginning. That it gets easier. She'll move on to different challenges, no question- but it will never be like it is at the very beginning, ever again.
I can't give her that understanding, though, at least not in her heart. Her head, I'm sure, intellectually understands this. For now, all I can do is try to offer what advice and support I can. Be there for her if I can do anything, even just listen. Pray for her and her family.
And I have to add that I'm sure that this is not exactly a ringing endorsement for children. The thing is, this is all you'll ever see if you don't want children. I believe strongly that the downsides to having kids are so much more easily perceived than the upsides. The downsides are completely obvious- the sleep deprivation, the lack of a social life, the inability to continue caring for oneself first. The upsides, at least of those first months and years, are harder to see until you've taken the jump off the cliff and decided to bring a new being into the world. There is something about the dependence of a newborn, the way her head turns to your voice, the way only you or her daddy can make her quiet when she's unhappy, that makes it worth it. There is something about seeing your husband's nose or eyes on the face of this tiny creature, about imagining her future and realizing that she is half you. There is something that is probably hormonally driven to an extent and can't rightly be called love, but is a fierce protective instinct. You would give your life for hers, even when she's only a few days old and cannot give but can only take.
By the time the upsides start to become more evident- the smiles, the laughter, the milestones, the emerging personality- you are already so ensnared. Unfortunately, I can't convey it to my childless friends any better than that. It's such a cliche to tell childless people they just don't know what they are missing, as if that gives us parents some kind of moral superiority. I don't agree with the superior part at all, but the first part, the can't know part- I think that's probably true. It's not like anything else. And it makes all the hellishness that my friend is going through worth it.
She- they- will be just fine. We mostly all get through it, and she's a smart and caring woman with family and friends who love her. I hope she can see through to the other side soon. I hope she can kick to the surface and get that first deep breath of air, that one that will give her strength and help her understand, in the most fundamental way, why she's going through all this.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Boring. But Pictures!
I haven't posted lately, not because of anything going on like was happening here, but genuinely because nothing much has been going on. So, either this will be about the shortest blog post ever, or I'll come up with something to natter on about.
Oh, I know! I've started feeling Segunda move regularly! She's such a wiggle worm, I'm not surprised. I don't feel her all the time yet, but definitely at least a couple times per day. I'm also really starting to look pregnant (as opposed to just fat, ugh). I'm only able to wear my "fat" clothes, and even they are getting uncomfortable. I imagine I'll move into maternity clothes next week. I think I've "popped" over this weekend, which coincides with a growth spurt of Segunda's, according to Babycenter. It's interesting- I apparently just don't show as quickly as some women. I wasn't into maternity clothes until about 20 weeks with Caetlin, and I'm 16.5 weeks with Segunda and still wearing my usual clothes, albeit not the ones I wear at my slimmest. One of my girlfriends (who is going to give birth any day now) had to switch to maternity clothes at 11 weeks, and it is her first baby. I must just be built differently.
Bleh. I'm boring myself. Maybe I'll just post some pictures instead.
Here are Caetlin and Bruce at the northernmost point in the United States, Point Barrow, just north of the main settlement in Barrow, Alaska. That's the Arctic Ocean in front of them.
Caetlin plays in a whale skull.
And picks flowers at Creamer's Field Migratory Waterfowl Refuge in Fairbanks.
Oh, I know! I've started feeling Segunda move regularly! She's such a wiggle worm, I'm not surprised. I don't feel her all the time yet, but definitely at least a couple times per day. I'm also really starting to look pregnant (as opposed to just fat, ugh). I'm only able to wear my "fat" clothes, and even they are getting uncomfortable. I imagine I'll move into maternity clothes next week. I think I've "popped" over this weekend, which coincides with a growth spurt of Segunda's, according to Babycenter. It's interesting- I apparently just don't show as quickly as some women. I wasn't into maternity clothes until about 20 weeks with Caetlin, and I'm 16.5 weeks with Segunda and still wearing my usual clothes, albeit not the ones I wear at my slimmest. One of my girlfriends (who is going to give birth any day now) had to switch to maternity clothes at 11 weeks, and it is her first baby. I must just be built differently.
Bleh. I'm boring myself. Maybe I'll just post some pictures instead.
Here are Caetlin and Bruce at the northernmost point in the United States, Point Barrow, just north of the main settlement in Barrow, Alaska. That's the Arctic Ocean in front of them.
Caetlin plays in a whale skull.
And picks flowers at Creamer's Field Migratory Waterfowl Refuge in Fairbanks.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
...And You Smell Like One Too
Today is my birthday. I'm 32. That's not terribly noteworthy, I suppose, though as I am the sole proprietor around these blog-parts, it's pretty momentous in this little electronic universe. But nevertheless, it remains merely noteworthy to me at least, and probably very little to anyone else.
I like birthdays. I like when people make a fuss over me and I don't have to be all modest and waving it off, like, no, really, you don't have to do that super nice thing you're doing for me. And I don't mean falsely modestly. For example, a friend recently gave me a very nice gift as a thank you for having helped organize her baby shower. I really meant it that her gift and her thanks and her gushing over the lovely party was not at all necessary, and a little embarrassing to me (though the gift- a snack survival kit from one pregnant lady to another- was and is fabulous). But really, I would do it all again. I like doing nice things for people. I don't do it to be thanked or gushed over.
On my birthday, though, people can make as big a fuss as they like. I like it. I've done absolutely nothing to earn it, of course, other than staying alive another year, in which I have a sort of vested interest. But I guess that's what makes it so great. People tell me happy birthday and do nice things for me just because they care about me. I always feel very loved on my birthday.
Today was no exception. Bruce took me to a nice lunch, and then turned around and surprised me with lovely dinner reservations. Afterward we went to a Barnes & Noble, where I totally indulged and bought like 6 new books (I'm trying to cut back and use the library more). When we got home, his other gift to me was waiting in a box by the door- a Slanket! It's one of those things that so fills a need in our house. I'm always cold, and trying to read or blog or work under an afghan is not easy. Now my arms can remain toasty warm and still useful!
Also waiting for me were flowers from our dearest friends in the world, as well as a gorgeous book filled with photos from our joint vacation last fall. Everything brought tears to my eyes, hormonal pregnant lady missing her friends that I am.
I also spoke to my dad and my brother today, and got a lovely card from my brother and sister-in-law yesterday. Two lovely ladies at the office are taking me out to lunch tomorrow as well.
It's been a good birthday, even though my sister has, at this writing, failed to call. That's okay. She forgot my birthday last year too. I'm okay with it. As I said, with all of these nice things happening, how can I help but feel very loved? It's a good feeling. Happy birthday to me indeed.
I like birthdays. I like when people make a fuss over me and I don't have to be all modest and waving it off, like, no, really, you don't have to do that super nice thing you're doing for me. And I don't mean falsely modestly. For example, a friend recently gave me a very nice gift as a thank you for having helped organize her baby shower. I really meant it that her gift and her thanks and her gushing over the lovely party was not at all necessary, and a little embarrassing to me (though the gift- a snack survival kit from one pregnant lady to another- was and is fabulous). But really, I would do it all again. I like doing nice things for people. I don't do it to be thanked or gushed over.
On my birthday, though, people can make as big a fuss as they like. I like it. I've done absolutely nothing to earn it, of course, other than staying alive another year, in which I have a sort of vested interest. But I guess that's what makes it so great. People tell me happy birthday and do nice things for me just because they care about me. I always feel very loved on my birthday.
Today was no exception. Bruce took me to a nice lunch, and then turned around and surprised me with lovely dinner reservations. Afterward we went to a Barnes & Noble, where I totally indulged and bought like 6 new books (I'm trying to cut back and use the library more). When we got home, his other gift to me was waiting in a box by the door- a Slanket! It's one of those things that so fills a need in our house. I'm always cold, and trying to read or blog or work under an afghan is not easy. Now my arms can remain toasty warm and still useful!
Also waiting for me were flowers from our dearest friends in the world, as well as a gorgeous book filled with photos from our joint vacation last fall. Everything brought tears to my eyes, hormonal pregnant lady missing her friends that I am.
I also spoke to my dad and my brother today, and got a lovely card from my brother and sister-in-law yesterday. Two lovely ladies at the office are taking me out to lunch tomorrow as well.
It's been a good birthday, even though my sister has, at this writing, failed to call. That's okay. She forgot my birthday last year too. I'm okay with it. As I said, with all of these nice things happening, how can I help but feel very loved? It's a good feeling. Happy birthday to me indeed.
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