- persimmon
- covert
- trousers
- indigo
- chuckle
- gossamer
- sea
- onomatopoeia
- rosy
- crud
- delight
- cascade
- ache
- riverbed
- stagger
- daffodil
- ombudsman
- silver
- bitterness
- bougainvillea
- sunset
- hobo
- curve
- arabesque
- mourning
- olive
Friday, January 25, 2008
Words I like
Sentimental
A few days ago, walking through the Stanford campus, I inhaled the scent of the eucalyptus trees, and was suddenly surprised by a memory of a night nearly exactly seven years ago. My mother had just died, and Brian and I had returned to Santa Cruz. We were invited to the home of some friends, and I reluctantly consented to go: I knew I needed to get out of the house, and most of our friends didn't know yet, so I wouldn't receive too much sympathy that I wasn't prepared to handle. No one said anything to me about my mom that night, which was something of a relief, but our host walked us out to the car and gave me a rib-crushing hug. Imprinted in my mind now are the intermingled sensations of the cold, coastal night air, the scent of the eucalyptus trees along Western Drive, and the almost-painful embrace of someone who understood.
This morning I sat at the kitchen table while the baby napped, sipping hot chocolate and watching the rain. The image that came to mind was my first day in Madrid in May 2001. A bright, refreshing morning had given way to a gloomy and wet afternoon, and Brian and I wandered through the narrow, winding streets, which are bronzed in my memory by the rain of that day and the time since then. Lost and wet, but still having a good time because it was the beginning of our trip and everything was exciting, we took refuge in a crowded cafe where I ordered a cup of the rich, thick Spanish hot chocolate, and immediately fell completely in love with it. I don't remember the rest of the day at all.
This morning I sat at the kitchen table while the baby napped, sipping hot chocolate and watching the rain. The image that came to mind was my first day in Madrid in May 2001. A bright, refreshing morning had given way to a gloomy and wet afternoon, and Brian and I wandered through the narrow, winding streets, which are bronzed in my memory by the rain of that day and the time since then. Lost and wet, but still having a good time because it was the beginning of our trip and everything was exciting, we took refuge in a crowded cafe where I ordered a cup of the rich, thick Spanish hot chocolate, and immediately fell completely in love with it. I don't remember the rest of the day at all.
Pet peeve
I hate it when people whose first language is so obviously not French talking to someone whose first language is so obviously not French insists on pronouncing "croissant" in the French way. What is the point? Other than to make me have a fingernails-on-the-chalkboard cringe when I hear you order your coffee and cwah-sahhhh?
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
The Runner's High
I am here to profess my true love for a shoe store.
Six years ago I signed up to walk a marathon. At the beginning of the training, I bought a new pair of running shoes, some Nikes that I liked the feel of. But on the very first walk on which I wore them I was left with a painful blister on my little toe on each foot. I tried again on the next weekend's training walk, and once again was hobbling by the time I'd gone five miles. I sucked it up and bought myself a new pair of shoes, and gave the almost-new Nikes to Goodwill.
A couple of weeks ago I realized that my Asics were losing their support--probably because I've been walking around in them since before I was pregnant with Adriana. They were my third pair of the same shoes--once I had found a pair I liked, I would just walk into The Running Company in Georgetown on the way home from work and say, "I need a new pair of these." Now that The Running Company isn't on my way anywhere anymore, I looked for a good athletic shoe store recommendation online and decided to try out The Runner's High in Menlo Park. I picked out a pair of Brooks, and as I paid for them, the saleswoman told me about the store's return policy: I could return the shoes in ten days for a full refund or in thirty days for store credit, even if I'd worn them outside. On Friday I walked five miles at Crystal Springs with Mary and found that the shoes came up too high in back so that they were rubbing the skin on the back of my ankle raw. That night I told Brian about the return policy and we speculated whether they really meant it: would they give me all my money back if I tried returning a pair of running shoes with a bloodstain on the back?
Turns out the answer is yes. I walked into the store today, handed over the shoes and my receipt, and explained what had happened. I told the guy who was helping me about my old Asics, and he brought me out a pair. I put them on, and they felt just right. He had processed the exchange and placed the shoes in the basket under Adriana's stroller by the time I had finished tying my chucks back on.
Six years ago I signed up to walk a marathon. At the beginning of the training, I bought a new pair of running shoes, some Nikes that I liked the feel of. But on the very first walk on which I wore them I was left with a painful blister on my little toe on each foot. I tried again on the next weekend's training walk, and once again was hobbling by the time I'd gone five miles. I sucked it up and bought myself a new pair of shoes, and gave the almost-new Nikes to Goodwill.
A couple of weeks ago I realized that my Asics were losing their support--probably because I've been walking around in them since before I was pregnant with Adriana. They were my third pair of the same shoes--once I had found a pair I liked, I would just walk into The Running Company in Georgetown on the way home from work and say, "I need a new pair of these." Now that The Running Company isn't on my way anywhere anymore, I looked for a good athletic shoe store recommendation online and decided to try out The Runner's High in Menlo Park. I picked out a pair of Brooks, and as I paid for them, the saleswoman told me about the store's return policy: I could return the shoes in ten days for a full refund or in thirty days for store credit, even if I'd worn them outside. On Friday I walked five miles at Crystal Springs with Mary and found that the shoes came up too high in back so that they were rubbing the skin on the back of my ankle raw. That night I told Brian about the return policy and we speculated whether they really meant it: would they give me all my money back if I tried returning a pair of running shoes with a bloodstain on the back?
Turns out the answer is yes. I walked into the store today, handed over the shoes and my receipt, and explained what had happened. I told the guy who was helping me about my old Asics, and he brought me out a pair. I put them on, and they felt just right. He had processed the exchange and placed the shoes in the basket under Adriana's stroller by the time I had finished tying my chucks back on.
Friday, January 18, 2008
WYDSILSMOTDKA*, Part II: Carriers for bigger babies
Steph! Clara! I'm so glad you asked.
By the time Adriana was four months old, the one-shouldered baby carriers that I'd loved were causing me a lot of pain, and I'd never really gotten the hang of the Moby, so I was down to just one carrier--my meitai. I was considering purchasing another one in a different color, because really, how can you have only one baby carrier to choose from, but I was sometimes frustrated by the readjusting I had to do with the meitai, so I started looking at other carriers. In the fall, we ended up with two new ones.
Beco
At a Bay Area Babywearers (formerly NINO) meeting, I tried on an assortment of "soft structured carriers"--an Ergo, a Beco, a Sutemi, and a Patypum, and maybe another one. I didn't completely fall in love with the fit of any one of them over the others--they all seemed pretty similar to me--so I went with the Beco because it was the prettiest, and I am a sucker for a pretty baby carrier (I have the "cocoa butterfly" pattern--approved by me for being pretty but not too loud, and approved by Brian for being not so girly that he won't wear it, although I actually think it's more girly than the green dragonflies of the meitai that he objects to, but what do I know?). That carrier has become my default. The Beco is more bulky than a meitai, so I can't shove it into a diaper bag as easily and it somehow doesn't feel as snuggly. The bulkiness is partly because of the big waist strap, which I think helps distribute more of the baby's weight to my hips. I like that I don't have to tighten the straps up after I've had it on for a while, and in the wetter weather, I don't have to worry about long straps dragging on the ground when I'm putting it on outdoors.
At first I used the Beco just as I had the meitai, with Adriana strapped to my front. I found quickly that the sternum strap, which goes across the back for a front carry, doesn't shorten quite enough to make this comfortable for a long haul; the shoulder straps would start to slip relatively quickly. Still, it was good for getting the baby and groceries up to the apartment, and for longer carries, I could lengthen the shoulder straps and wear them crossed over my back. That gave me more support, and made the shoulder straps unable to slip. (If you do this carry with it, take the sternum strap off and place it in the pocket so you don't lose it!) Where this carrier has been invaluable, though, is in getting Adriana onto my back. Someone at the Babywearers meeting had helped me figure out a way to do a back carry in the meitai, but I was never sure that I had Adriana securely in there. The Beco, with its clip closures, made me more confident that I had things right. Now I rarely carry her on my front, and she travels around town on my back and often spends time there in the evenings while I am fixing dinner.
Deuter KidComfort II
Shortly after the Beco arrived, Brian decided that he really wanted a frame backpack carrier for hiking with Adriana. We went to REI and tried out everyone they had, which included the Deuter, a couple of Kelty carriers, and the REI one. It figures that the most expensive one is the one we both liked the best. It seemed easiest to adjust, which is important when there is a 10-inch height difference between you and your spouse, and the seat seemed the most comfortable for Adriana. I also liked that it had a good-sized pocket/backpack underneath the seat.
Adriana loves riding in this carrier. We use it for the farmer's market every weekend, and she really seems to enjoy being up high and able to see what's going on. (In the Beco, she can see to the sides but not over my shoulder, as she rides so low that sometimes people don't notice at first that it's not just a backpack that I've got on.) Brian is the one who carries her in it, and he seems fine with the fit. I did carry her home in it once, and it didn't feel quite right, but I don't think I'd really taken the time to adjust it properly. We've only used it on a couple real hikes so far, although I am hoping to use it more this spring. He was able to do a fair amount of maneuvering in it. I was worried at first about whether Adriana would be able to fall asleep in the backpack, but although it takes her longer (for a while we were taking the stroller to the farmer's market, and we would time the walk there with her morning nap, which was perfect), she does manage; it doesn't seem as though her head is quite as comfy as in the Beco when she sleeps because she's not pressed right against us, but she can just lean her head forward slightly and rest it on the padding. After our failed attempt to see Body Worlds, Brian and I both wished that we'd had this carrier with us. Perhaps if she'd been up high and able to see everything, she wouldn't have objected so strenuously to the fact that we weren't letting her run around.
I'll try to update this post with pictures later, but naptime is ending soon, and I need a snack. A nursing mother needs her calories, you know.
*Original review of carriers here.
By the time Adriana was four months old, the one-shouldered baby carriers that I'd loved were causing me a lot of pain, and I'd never really gotten the hang of the Moby, so I was down to just one carrier--my meitai. I was considering purchasing another one in a different color, because really, how can you have only one baby carrier to choose from, but I was sometimes frustrated by the readjusting I had to do with the meitai, so I started looking at other carriers. In the fall, we ended up with two new ones.
Beco
At a Bay Area Babywearers (formerly NINO) meeting, I tried on an assortment of "soft structured carriers"--an Ergo, a Beco, a Sutemi, and a Patypum, and maybe another one. I didn't completely fall in love with the fit of any one of them over the others--they all seemed pretty similar to me--so I went with the Beco because it was the prettiest, and I am a sucker for a pretty baby carrier (I have the "cocoa butterfly" pattern--approved by me for being pretty but not too loud, and approved by Brian for being not so girly that he won't wear it, although I actually think it's more girly than the green dragonflies of the meitai that he objects to, but what do I know?). That carrier has become my default. The Beco is more bulky than a meitai, so I can't shove it into a diaper bag as easily and it somehow doesn't feel as snuggly. The bulkiness is partly because of the big waist strap, which I think helps distribute more of the baby's weight to my hips. I like that I don't have to tighten the straps up after I've had it on for a while, and in the wetter weather, I don't have to worry about long straps dragging on the ground when I'm putting it on outdoors.
At first I used the Beco just as I had the meitai, with Adriana strapped to my front. I found quickly that the sternum strap, which goes across the back for a front carry, doesn't shorten quite enough to make this comfortable for a long haul; the shoulder straps would start to slip relatively quickly. Still, it was good for getting the baby and groceries up to the apartment, and for longer carries, I could lengthen the shoulder straps and wear them crossed over my back. That gave me more support, and made the shoulder straps unable to slip. (If you do this carry with it, take the sternum strap off and place it in the pocket so you don't lose it!) Where this carrier has been invaluable, though, is in getting Adriana onto my back. Someone at the Babywearers meeting had helped me figure out a way to do a back carry in the meitai, but I was never sure that I had Adriana securely in there. The Beco, with its clip closures, made me more confident that I had things right. Now I rarely carry her on my front, and she travels around town on my back and often spends time there in the evenings while I am fixing dinner.
Deuter KidComfort II
Shortly after the Beco arrived, Brian decided that he really wanted a frame backpack carrier for hiking with Adriana. We went to REI and tried out everyone they had, which included the Deuter, a couple of Kelty carriers, and the REI one. It figures that the most expensive one is the one we both liked the best. It seemed easiest to adjust, which is important when there is a 10-inch height difference between you and your spouse, and the seat seemed the most comfortable for Adriana. I also liked that it had a good-sized pocket/backpack underneath the seat.
Adriana loves riding in this carrier. We use it for the farmer's market every weekend, and she really seems to enjoy being up high and able to see what's going on. (In the Beco, she can see to the sides but not over my shoulder, as she rides so low that sometimes people don't notice at first that it's not just a backpack that I've got on.) Brian is the one who carries her in it, and he seems fine with the fit. I did carry her home in it once, and it didn't feel quite right, but I don't think I'd really taken the time to adjust it properly. We've only used it on a couple real hikes so far, although I am hoping to use it more this spring. He was able to do a fair amount of maneuvering in it. I was worried at first about whether Adriana would be able to fall asleep in the backpack, but although it takes her longer (for a while we were taking the stroller to the farmer's market, and we would time the walk there with her morning nap, which was perfect), she does manage; it doesn't seem as though her head is quite as comfy as in the Beco when she sleeps because she's not pressed right against us, but she can just lean her head forward slightly and rest it on the padding. After our failed attempt to see Body Worlds, Brian and I both wished that we'd had this carrier with us. Perhaps if she'd been up high and able to see everything, she wouldn't have objected so strenuously to the fact that we weren't letting her run around.
I'll try to update this post with pictures later, but naptime is ending soon, and I need a snack. A nursing mother needs her calories, you know.
*Original review of carriers here.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Ah, the trials and tribulations of a white, upper-middle class liberal
On Tuesday I turned on KQED for All Things Considered, and after listening to the pledge drive spiel a couple of times, I went online and made my pledge. Then I kept listening to the program and kept having the news interrupted by the pledge drive spiel. When Brian came home, I complained, as I always do, that it doesn't seem fair that after I've handed over my credit card number I have to keep listening to them asking me for money. But you know what makes it worse? When they add cooler gifts further on in the pledge drive. Next time I am totally waiting to pledge until I hear them name off a gift that I want.
Twelve-month stats
We saw Adriana's pediatrician on Tuesday. She (Adriana, not the pediatrician) was 22 pounds 2 ounces (68th percentile) and 30 inches tall (78th percentile). One more inch and she'll be half my height! They say (and by "they" I mean a few of my girlfriends) that if you double a child's height at her second birthday you'll know how tall she's going to be as an adult, so Adriana should definitely get to be taller than I am. Oh, and her head circumference was 18 inches (93rd percentile). It's amazing to me that she has grown so much in the past year--her weight has more than doubled (some babies triple their weight in the first year, but since she started out big she hasn't), she's grown eight inches, and her head has grown by four inches.
Adriana also got three immunizations--the measles, mumps, and rubella vaccine, the Hepatitis A vaccine, and then the booster for the haemophilus influenzae type b. She screamed her head off from the time of the first shot to when the nurse finally left the room, but then she had a pretty quick recovery and hasn't had a fever or any other reactions. The chicken pox vaccine was also offered, but we've decided to delay it for the time being; the doctor said we can do it whenever we want or not at all, but if Adriana doesn't get chicken pox by the time she's eleven years old or so, we should probably consider going ahead with it. I'm thinking we'll probably do it before then, but I hate for her to get too many shots at once.
One thing that was revealed by Adriana's vocal dislike of having her hips examined was four swollen spots on her gums--the poor baby is working on four molars at once. I had been a little upset by her sleep patterns and was considering night weaning, but now that I know what's behind the wakings, I have more sympathy for her and will try to give her what she needs (which is to say, Tylenol before bed and milk whenever she wants it).
Adriana also got three immunizations--the measles, mumps, and rubella vaccine, the Hepatitis A vaccine, and then the booster for the haemophilus influenzae type b. She screamed her head off from the time of the first shot to when the nurse finally left the room, but then she had a pretty quick recovery and hasn't had a fever or any other reactions. The chicken pox vaccine was also offered, but we've decided to delay it for the time being; the doctor said we can do it whenever we want or not at all, but if Adriana doesn't get chicken pox by the time she's eleven years old or so, we should probably consider going ahead with it. I'm thinking we'll probably do it before then, but I hate for her to get too many shots at once.
One thing that was revealed by Adriana's vocal dislike of having her hips examined was four swollen spots on her gums--the poor baby is working on four molars at once. I had been a little upset by her sleep patterns and was considering night weaning, but now that I know what's behind the wakings, I have more sympathy for her and will try to give her what she needs (which is to say, Tylenol before bed and milk whenever she wants it).
Definitely back in California
Yesterday in Palo Alto, an older man saw me and exclaimed, "You have a baby on your back!" It's a reaction I get often, and I usually just nod and smile. (Brian thinks I should say, "Shit! How'd that get there?" or something to that effect.) This man stopped me, though. "What do you call this contraption?" He studied it carefully and asked me a couple of questions about it. Then: "My stepson and his husband are adopting a baby this year. I'll have to let them know about this."
Friday, January 11, 2008
12 months
It's much easier to say "twelve months" than to say "one year." I guess I am in some sort of denial when it comes to acknowledging that my baby is becoming a toddler. Although, in spite of the fact that I am finding parenting a toddler to be more challenging that parenting a baby, I am enjoying this age just as much as I've enjoyed every other one.
Over the past month Adriana has started signing for milk. It's funny how such a little thing is such an amazing change around here. She fusses and signs and I know exactly what she wants. Or sometimes she just fusses and I ask her, "do you want milk?" Sometimes she makes the sign in reply and I know that she wants to nurse. I am thrilled by this communication, although she has been making other sorts of signs for a while now--raising her arms to be picked up and pointing at things she wants. We are trying some other signs with her, and while she seems to understand some of them (Brian signed for "ball" the other night without saying it out loud, and she went and picked up the ball), she isn't attempting to make them herself.
She walks fairly well now, without reaching for my finger to hold most of the time, and her skill at and willingness to walk increases noticeably every day. Last Friday I set her down on the floor when we arrived at yoga, and she got to her hands and knees and crawled over to the ball she wanted. On Wednesday when we got there and I set her down, she immediately toddled over to the toy she wanted. She still falls down a lot, but now she can pick herself up off the floor without pulling up on anything. In some ways it's nice--trips to the park are more fun--but it's also made her slightly less portable. We tried to see the Body Worlds exhibit in San Jose last weekend but had to make a hasty exit because the stroller and the carrier were both unacceptable to her, and I wasn't prepared to let her walk by herself in a crowd.
And of course there is the climbing. It started with a ride-on toy that her Grandpa Ted gave her for Christmas. At first I thought the toy was obnoxious because of all the stupid songs it would play at the press of a button, but it kept Adriana busy while I fixed dinner or (gasp) went to the bathroom ALL BY MYSELF. But then I discovered her standing on the toy in the middle of the room. She squealed and waved at me. She quickly learned that she could push it over to the bookcases to get to things that were formerly out of her reach, or to climb onto the couch, where she leans back against the cushions looking mighty pleased with herself. And then came her discovery that she could squirm her way onto other furniture without a stepping stool, so that one day I could leave her alone in a room for a few minutes, and the next I was fearful that within two minutes she would have climbed onto the chair and from there onto the chest where she could hurl CDs to the floor and open and close the stereo. So right now our projects are teaching the baby how to turn around carefully and slide off the furniture safely, and figuring out a way to keep the electronics in this house safe from curious little baby hands.
I am comforted when other women I meet say that their children didn't really get going on solids until 18 months, because Adriana is still going back and forth. There was a week or so when she greedily ate breakfast and lunch with me. Now, she has a few bites and is finished, and she must feed herself those bites--having me spoon-feed her is once again unacceptable. But she is eating more food at dinner with us now (another reason to appreciate the later bedtime is that I don't have to fix her dinner at 5 or 6 and then make a real dinner for Brian and me after he gets home from work), gobbling up black beans, carrots, enchiladas, and pretty much anything else I put on the highchair tray.
She is sleeping better at night (although still not through the night) than she was a few weeks ago, but she did not get the memo that all the other babies got about going to bed by 7 or 8, and instead prefers to be up until 9:30 or 10. For a while that was bothering me, but then I figured out that if I stopped trying to get her down to bed at 8, I would stop being frustrated by her refusal to sleep at that hour. I am fairly sure that the late bedtime is the result of her tendency to nap later in the afternoon than she used to, but because she is still taking two naps a day and is sleeping in an hour later than she used to, I am trying not to complain.
And it is hard to complain when we snuggle up to nurse down for the night, and after she finishes eating she rolls away and lies there in the dark, just looking at me. Then she pats my cheek and comes back for just a little more milk before drifting off.
Over the past month Adriana has started signing for milk. It's funny how such a little thing is such an amazing change around here. She fusses and signs and I know exactly what she wants. Or sometimes she just fusses and I ask her, "do you want milk?" Sometimes she makes the sign in reply and I know that she wants to nurse. I am thrilled by this communication, although she has been making other sorts of signs for a while now--raising her arms to be picked up and pointing at things she wants. We are trying some other signs with her, and while she seems to understand some of them (Brian signed for "ball" the other night without saying it out loud, and she went and picked up the ball), she isn't attempting to make them herself.
She walks fairly well now, without reaching for my finger to hold most of the time, and her skill at and willingness to walk increases noticeably every day. Last Friday I set her down on the floor when we arrived at yoga, and she got to her hands and knees and crawled over to the ball she wanted. On Wednesday when we got there and I set her down, she immediately toddled over to the toy she wanted. She still falls down a lot, but now she can pick herself up off the floor without pulling up on anything. In some ways it's nice--trips to the park are more fun--but it's also made her slightly less portable. We tried to see the Body Worlds exhibit in San Jose last weekend but had to make a hasty exit because the stroller and the carrier were both unacceptable to her, and I wasn't prepared to let her walk by herself in a crowd.
And of course there is the climbing. It started with a ride-on toy that her Grandpa Ted gave her for Christmas. At first I thought the toy was obnoxious because of all the stupid songs it would play at the press of a button, but it kept Adriana busy while I fixed dinner or (gasp) went to the bathroom ALL BY MYSELF. But then I discovered her standing on the toy in the middle of the room. She squealed and waved at me. She quickly learned that she could push it over to the bookcases to get to things that were formerly out of her reach, or to climb onto the couch, where she leans back against the cushions looking mighty pleased with herself. And then came her discovery that she could squirm her way onto other furniture without a stepping stool, so that one day I could leave her alone in a room for a few minutes, and the next I was fearful that within two minutes she would have climbed onto the chair and from there onto the chest where she could hurl CDs to the floor and open and close the stereo. So right now our projects are teaching the baby how to turn around carefully and slide off the furniture safely, and figuring out a way to keep the electronics in this house safe from curious little baby hands.
I am comforted when other women I meet say that their children didn't really get going on solids until 18 months, because Adriana is still going back and forth. There was a week or so when she greedily ate breakfast and lunch with me. Now, she has a few bites and is finished, and she must feed herself those bites--having me spoon-feed her is once again unacceptable. But she is eating more food at dinner with us now (another reason to appreciate the later bedtime is that I don't have to fix her dinner at 5 or 6 and then make a real dinner for Brian and me after he gets home from work), gobbling up black beans, carrots, enchiladas, and pretty much anything else I put on the highchair tray.
She is sleeping better at night (although still not through the night) than she was a few weeks ago, but she did not get the memo that all the other babies got about going to bed by 7 or 8, and instead prefers to be up until 9:30 or 10. For a while that was bothering me, but then I figured out that if I stopped trying to get her down to bed at 8, I would stop being frustrated by her refusal to sleep at that hour. I am fairly sure that the late bedtime is the result of her tendency to nap later in the afternoon than she used to, but because she is still taking two naps a day and is sleeping in an hour later than she used to, I am trying not to complain.
And it is hard to complain when we snuggle up to nurse down for the night, and after she finishes eating she rolls away and lies there in the dark, just looking at me. Then she pats my cheek and comes back for just a little more milk before drifting off.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
My job just got 5,784,998 times harder
I mean, look, now I'm going to have to pay attention to the child:
After mastering walking (well, "mastering" is used fairly loosely here), she's decided the next step is climbing the furniture, apparently. Unfortunately she hasn't yet figured out how to climb down safely. Or that mama doesn't like it when she pushes all the buttons on the stereo and throws CDs on the floor.
After mastering walking (well, "mastering" is used fairly loosely here), she's decided the next step is climbing the furniture, apparently. Unfortunately she hasn't yet figured out how to climb down safely. Or that mama doesn't like it when she pushes all the buttons on the stereo and throws CDs on the floor.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
With my whole heart
I read somewhere, maybe in one of Madeleine L'Engle's books, that there are essentially two prayers: "Please?" and "Thank you!" I told a friend earlier this week that the insanity of the winter holidays was starting to get to me, and I needed to see the ocean to give myself perspective. So today, even though there is stuff to be done around the house and errands to run before Christmas, I finally took the time to drive down to Santa Cruz. As I drove over the summit on Highway 17 this morning and caught my first glimpse over the tops of the trees of the low-lying clouds over the bay, it was that second prayer, the prayer of thanksgiving, thanks for the beautiful world, for being here, in this life, with all that has been given to me, that sprang to my lips.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
A suburban housewife for one year
A year ago today, I woke up with nothing in particular to do. It was the first day after I'd quit my job to be a stay-at-home mom. I tried writing about the strangeness of it that day, and again a week later, judging by the dates of unfinished files in my Google Docs folder. I was exhausted at that point, so every time I wrote a sentence I needed a nap, which wasn't conducive to getting much writing done. And what was there to say? It wasn't a very exciting thing to write about:
So it wasn't particularly interesting, although no longer being required to show up for work was a relief, even if I had had an easy desk job. It was nice to not have to commute up to Glover Park from Alexandria each morning. When I got tired during the day, I could lie down and nap for an hour. I tried to get something done around the house each day, and I tried to get out for a walk every day, but other than that, my only task was growing the baby. It was strange to become "a stay-at-home mom with no kids," although apparently, according to what I wrote last year, one of my friends had noted when I described myself that way that the Bush Administration would probably just call me a stay-at-home-mom, and even give my fetus Medicaid. (I have no recollection of that conversation, but I know exactly which friend would have been the one to say that.) I ended up with three weeks off before Adriana's arrival--three weeks to rest up, to allow myself time for the quiet contemplation of the end of pregnancy, the strange turning inward that seems to happen for most women. That was a huge blessing.
Then Adriana arrived and everything changed. Moments for quiet contemplation seemed few and far between, even with our easy-going little girl. IN the early days, when I wasn't busy with her, I was too exhausted to think. But there wasn't that scary end-of-maternity leave date looming six- or twelve-weeks ahead on the horizon. I found it comforting that for the time being, my sole job was to nurture my baby.
Before we were ever married, Brian and I talked abstractly about kids ("our subjunctive children," we referred to them), and I recall him saying that he assumed that if we had children I would continue to work afterwards. I was thinking along the same lines at that point, but as we began to talk about starting a family more seriously, I realized that it was important to me to be able to stay home with our baby, and Brian agreed with me. I feel incredibly lucky that we were able to afford to give up my salary. That means it's important for us to stay a one-car family, and that it will take longer for us to get to a position where we can buy a house. Most of the people around us were very supportive of our choice, although there were a few comments that annoyed me because they made me feel defensive ("Your brain will turn to mush!") and others that made me want to jump to the defense of families where both parents work ("It's really the best thing for the baby."). For the most part I haven't felt the need to proclaim that "Of course I work!" or that "Adriana is my job!" when people ask me if I work, although when couple of (childless) friends have commented that they wished they didn't have to do anything Brian has had to listen to me bitch about them that night.
There are days when I have my doubts, days when Adriana and I are both sleep deprived and cranky, days when I wish someone else were dealing with her refusals to nap and the constant fussing. Then I think that trying to do another job on so little sleep wouldn't be fun, either, and I'd really only get to spend time with Adriana at the end of the day, which is not her finest time. There are those days. But most days we play together and I use her naps to take some time for myself or get things done around the house. She holds my finger and leads me around and around the apartment on her wobbly legs, stopping to laugh at the cat or investigate a magazine that was left on the couch, and I am completely aware of how good life is, how lucky I am.
In one of the posts I began last December, I wrote, "I spent most of my final commute home wondering if I'd made the right decision. All that time and money spent on grad school to become a stay-at-home mom? Would I go absolutely crazy in the first three months of being home alone with the baby? Should I have at least kept working right up until when the baby came?" A year later, I do feel that it was the right decision. That's a nice feeling to have.
This morning when the alarm went off, I stayed in bed. Brian got up, turned it off, and went downstairs, while the cat curled back up beside me. About half an hour later I wandered downstairs for some orange juice, just as Brian was heading back up to get ready for work. I did the Sudoku and puttered around a bit. When Brian left for work, I wandered around the house aimlessly for a little bit. I had told Brian that on my first day at home, I wasn't going to set any goals for accomplishing things. I was going to eat and sleep, and just enjoy not doing anything. Getting things done could wait until Thursday. But after I checked my email, I started a load of laundry, made the bed, wrapped some presents, and tried to clear out the slow-running bathroom sink with baking soda, vinegar, and boiling water (which totally failed, but did make cool noises).
So it wasn't particularly interesting, although no longer being required to show up for work was a relief, even if I had had an easy desk job. It was nice to not have to commute up to Glover Park from Alexandria each morning. When I got tired during the day, I could lie down and nap for an hour. I tried to get something done around the house each day, and I tried to get out for a walk every day, but other than that, my only task was growing the baby. It was strange to become "a stay-at-home mom with no kids," although apparently, according to what I wrote last year, one of my friends had noted when I described myself that way that the Bush Administration would probably just call me a stay-at-home-mom, and even give my fetus Medicaid. (I have no recollection of that conversation, but I know exactly which friend would have been the one to say that.) I ended up with three weeks off before Adriana's arrival--three weeks to rest up, to allow myself time for the quiet contemplation of the end of pregnancy, the strange turning inward that seems to happen for most women. That was a huge blessing.
Then Adriana arrived and everything changed. Moments for quiet contemplation seemed few and far between, even with our easy-going little girl. IN the early days, when I wasn't busy with her, I was too exhausted to think. But there wasn't that scary end-of-maternity leave date looming six- or twelve-weeks ahead on the horizon. I found it comforting that for the time being, my sole job was to nurture my baby.
Before we were ever married, Brian and I talked abstractly about kids ("our subjunctive children," we referred to them), and I recall him saying that he assumed that if we had children I would continue to work afterwards. I was thinking along the same lines at that point, but as we began to talk about starting a family more seriously, I realized that it was important to me to be able to stay home with our baby, and Brian agreed with me. I feel incredibly lucky that we were able to afford to give up my salary. That means it's important for us to stay a one-car family, and that it will take longer for us to get to a position where we can buy a house. Most of the people around us were very supportive of our choice, although there were a few comments that annoyed me because they made me feel defensive ("Your brain will turn to mush!") and others that made me want to jump to the defense of families where both parents work ("It's really the best thing for the baby."). For the most part I haven't felt the need to proclaim that "Of course I work!" or that "Adriana is my job!" when people ask me if I work, although when couple of (childless) friends have commented that they wished they didn't have to do anything Brian has had to listen to me bitch about them that night.
There are days when I have my doubts, days when Adriana and I are both sleep deprived and cranky, days when I wish someone else were dealing with her refusals to nap and the constant fussing. Then I think that trying to do another job on so little sleep wouldn't be fun, either, and I'd really only get to spend time with Adriana at the end of the day, which is not her finest time. There are those days. But most days we play together and I use her naps to take some time for myself or get things done around the house. She holds my finger and leads me around and around the apartment on her wobbly legs, stopping to laugh at the cat or investigate a magazine that was left on the couch, and I am completely aware of how good life is, how lucky I am.
In one of the posts I began last December, I wrote, "I spent most of my final commute home wondering if I'd made the right decision. All that time and money spent on grad school to become a stay-at-home mom? Would I go absolutely crazy in the first three months of being home alone with the baby? Should I have at least kept working right up until when the baby came?" A year later, I do feel that it was the right decision. That's a nice feeling to have.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Best husband I ever had, part 2
Last night we ordered pizza so that we wouldn't have to cook or do dishes, and after the baby was in bed we divided up some of the housework that needed to be done.
"I just don't know how the kitchen got so messy all of a sudden," Brian said as he emptied the dishwasher and cleaned off the kitchen counters.
"I haven't done the daily straightening up I do in here the past couple of days," I told him.
"Were you trying to make a point?"
I explained that, no, it was just that the baby had been a handful the past couple of days (that's what I get for gloating about the fact that she hasn't been teething--I think she is again), and since we had planned to go out on Wednesday night anyhow, I just hadn't done the normal clean-ups I do before I cook dinner. And then said something along the lines of being impressed that I can cope with the baby all day and still manage to do even minimal tidying up, and how sometimes on the weekends the amount of time he gets with the baby seems like a lot. Basically I don't remember exactly what he said, just that it warmed my housewifely heart.
"I just don't know how the kitchen got so messy all of a sudden," Brian said as he emptied the dishwasher and cleaned off the kitchen counters.
"I haven't done the daily straightening up I do in here the past couple of days," I told him.
"Were you trying to make a point?"
I explained that, no, it was just that the baby had been a handful the past couple of days (that's what I get for gloating about the fact that she hasn't been teething--I think she is again), and since we had planned to go out on Wednesday night anyhow, I just hadn't done the normal clean-ups I do before I cook dinner. And then said something along the lines of being impressed that I can cope with the baby all day and still manage to do even minimal tidying up, and how sometimes on the weekends the amount of time he gets with the baby seems like a lot. Basically I don't remember exactly what he said, just that it warmed my housewifely heart.
No other sight spreads cheer so well
Last year I realized for the first time that people really do have themes for their Christmas trees. One friend's tree was all done up in blue and silver. We went over to someone else's house and their tree was decorated all in red and white. I was surprised by both trees, because in my world Christmas trees are covered in multicolored lights and a variety of ornaments of all colors that have been made and collected over the years. These themed trees were absolutely perfect, though.
I thought about those perfect trees last weekend as Brian and I decorated our Christmas tree, a tree that we both agreed on immediately, and then got home and discovered it was too fat to fit where we'd planned to put it. We passed the long string of lights around and around getting them just right--and then discovered that we'd done the strand the wrong way, so we didn't have the plug end when we got to the bottom of the tree, and we wound them back around the piece of plastic, and started over again. We dug out ornaments that I've been collecting since we first moved in together, including a bunch I made out of plastic yogurt lids, photographs, and glitter glue that first year when we didn't have any ornaments. Now we have a bunch of glittery ornaments that I bought at the Crate and Barrel outlet last year, pretty glass globes that I've picked up in various places, delicate outlines of rose windows from Cathedrals we've visited, a ceramic giraffe that says "Baby's first Christmas" and is personalized with Adriana's name and the year, and of course my photo ornaments--Brian and me at our college commencement (I miss those hot pink leopard print sunglasses), the two of us sunburned in Hawaii, his parents kissing under some mistletoe, our friend Jeff rolling his eyes, my mom and me in San Diego. We put all these treasures up on the tree--with none lower than about three feet--settled a sock monkey at the top, and stood back to admire our work and eat some warm gingerbread. It's its own kind of perfect.
Last night I sat in the dark and rested my cheek on Adriana's head. I could smell the Christmas tree behind us, and I thought about the huge trees we had when I was growing up and how exciting it was to find our favorite ornaments as we dug through the decorations every year; about decorating our first tree together, even though we weren't going to be home for Christmas that year; about sitting in a room that was dark except for the lights of the tree last year and feeling Adriana kick at my ribs; and about how someday Adriana is going to be as excited about Christmas as I am. And then I stopped myself and thought about how Christmases past and future were less important in that moment than the simple fact that I was rocking my baby and smelling the Christmas tree right then.
I thought about those perfect trees last weekend as Brian and I decorated our Christmas tree, a tree that we both agreed on immediately, and then got home and discovered it was too fat to fit where we'd planned to put it. We passed the long string of lights around and around getting them just right--and then discovered that we'd done the strand the wrong way, so we didn't have the plug end when we got to the bottom of the tree, and we wound them back around the piece of plastic, and started over again. We dug out ornaments that I've been collecting since we first moved in together, including a bunch I made out of plastic yogurt lids, photographs, and glitter glue that first year when we didn't have any ornaments. Now we have a bunch of glittery ornaments that I bought at the Crate and Barrel outlet last year, pretty glass globes that I've picked up in various places, delicate outlines of rose windows from Cathedrals we've visited, a ceramic giraffe that says "Baby's first Christmas" and is personalized with Adriana's name and the year, and of course my photo ornaments--Brian and me at our college commencement (I miss those hot pink leopard print sunglasses), the two of us sunburned in Hawaii, his parents kissing under some mistletoe, our friend Jeff rolling his eyes, my mom and me in San Diego. We put all these treasures up on the tree--with none lower than about three feet--settled a sock monkey at the top, and stood back to admire our work and eat some warm gingerbread. It's its own kind of perfect.
***
Last night I sat in the dark and rested my cheek on Adriana's head. I could smell the Christmas tree behind us, and I thought about the huge trees we had when I was growing up and how exciting it was to find our favorite ornaments as we dug through the decorations every year; about decorating our first tree together, even though we weren't going to be home for Christmas that year; about sitting in a room that was dark except for the lights of the tree last year and feeling Adriana kick at my ribs; and about how someday Adriana is going to be as excited about Christmas as I am. And then I stopped myself and thought about how Christmases past and future were less important in that moment than the simple fact that I was rocking my baby and smelling the Christmas tree right then.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Maybe writing this down will help me remember sooner next time
Why is it so hard for me to remember that the days where leaving the house with Adriana seem the most daunting are the days that it is most important for me to do so? This morning Adriana slept for half an hour, about an hour after I expected her to take a nap, and upon awakening went immediately back to seeming cranky. It seemed that if I was holding her she was wiggling away, but every time I put her down she was fussing for me to pick her up. At 2 this afternoon, I realized that we were both still in our pajamas, and I hadn't even brushed my teeth. Taking a fussy baby out of the house is always somehow a terrifying thought, but eventually I remember that staying in with her when she's like that is worse. So I got us both ready to go and by 2:30 we were out the door. Immediately I felt better. We walked downtown, where I picked up a few Christmas presents and got a hot chocolate, and stopped at the park to play on the swings on the way back to the house. When we got home, Adriana was getting fussy again, but I was somehow more prepared to deal with her mood.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Eleven months
I hate telling people that Adriana is eleven months old. Whenever I do they always remind me that she is nearly a year old (because, what? I might not have noticed?), and I'm not sure I'm ready for that.
I say that, and I do sort of miss Adriana being a tiny (tiny! ha!) baby, but I'm also finding that I love and will miss every stage she goes through. Right now, she is playing with us more and can communicate with us, to a certain extent, and is just a lot of fun. Which is what I say every month. I should probably just write, "My baby is growing up! So I am sad! But she is more fun to play with now and learning lots of things! Because that's what babies do!" And then I could copy and paste that every month and save us all some time.
That would be nice, but it's not what you'd expect from the woman with the 10,000-word birth story, now is it? So:
There are some days when I wonder if this is what eleven months is like, how on earth am I going to deal with a two-year-old? That's usually when Adriana is fussing to be picked up, and then fussing to get down as soon as she's up, and then arching her back and screaming when I put her back down. But then she takes a nap (we still get two a day out of her; ssshhhhhhh) and after an hour or so we are all much happier.
Right now Adriana seems to be between bouts of teething, and it's heavenly. We still aren't sleeping through the night, but I can handle waking up only once or twice. We've talked about the possibility of moving her to her own bed, or even her own room, but she does seem to sleep for longer spells when she's snuggled up with us, and I am content to have her warm, cuddly body beside me this winter. She still not a big eater, but now that there are a few things she'll eat regularly and she seems more willing to try the new things we offer, I feel okay about it. I know she's getting what she needs nutritionally from me, and that at this age "real food" just lets her experiment with different tastes and textures.
I am constantly forgetting how high she can reach. Things set near the edge of the kitchen table are easily within her reach, and I have been surprised at how far back things need to be. We have a couple of little poofs we bought in Spain that she climbs on top of to reach things on shelves that used to be safe from her little fingers; I'm in trouble when she figures out that the kitchen chairs can serve the same purpose. She is closer and closer to walking. Over Thanksgiving weekend she pushed herself to a stand for the first time without pulling up on anything. When I set her down on the floor, she stands for a second on her own, before slowly lowering herself the rest of the way to the ground. She "cruises" easily around the furniture, and when I am in the kitchen she often pulls up on my leg, and I walk around slowly as I do dishes or put away groceries so that she can "follow" me. I get a kick out of letting her hold one of my fingers while we walk, as if we are holding hands and going for a stroll. She giggles and shrieks with excitement as she takes her pigeon-toed bow-legged steps on her fat little feet. On Saturday she took her first unaided steps. Of course, she promptly fell over and has only done it twice more since.
She loves music, and will stand in front of the stereo bouncing in time with the music. Sometimes when a song ends, she applauds. She waves bye-bye when we say to, if she feels like it. She gives hugs to her stuffed monkey, her grandparents' dogs, other children her age, and would even hug the cat if the cat would tolerate it.
She is very much a mimic. I comb her hair after giving her a bath and then hand her the comb so she can try to comb it herself. If I give her the bottle of baby lotion to play with as I am rubbing the lotion into her skin, she tries to dab on more lotion from the closed bottle. Unless she is too busy trying to fit the bottle into her mouth---she is, after all, a baby. She watches the way we feed ourselves and tries to mimic with her own little spoon.
There was a song we used to sing at camp when I was little:
Late last night while we were all in bed
Old Lady Leary left the lantern in the shed
And when the cow kicked it over she winked her eye and said
"It's gonna be a hot time in the old town tonight."
Fire fire fire!
Water water water!
Jump, lady, jump!
Ahhhhhhhhh....splat!
Adriana likes to shriek and will copy us when we do so, so I sing the song to her and she copies me when I shriek at the end. Now when I just start singing the song she begins her shrieking. It's kind of cute. And also probably a trick I am going to regret encouraging. I should have just stuck with singing "ba ba ba" instead of "na na na" for the chorus of "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" so that she could "sing along" with me on that one. Well, live and learn.
I say that, and I do sort of miss Adriana being a tiny (tiny! ha!) baby, but I'm also finding that I love and will miss every stage she goes through. Right now, she is playing with us more and can communicate with us, to a certain extent, and is just a lot of fun. Which is what I say every month. I should probably just write, "My baby is growing up! So I am sad! But she is more fun to play with now and learning lots of things! Because that's what babies do!" And then I could copy and paste that every month and save us all some time.
That would be nice, but it's not what you'd expect from the woman with the 10,000-word birth story, now is it? So:
There are some days when I wonder if this is what eleven months is like, how on earth am I going to deal with a two-year-old? That's usually when Adriana is fussing to be picked up, and then fussing to get down as soon as she's up, and then arching her back and screaming when I put her back down. But then she takes a nap (we still get two a day out of her; ssshhhhhhh) and after an hour or so we are all much happier.
Right now Adriana seems to be between bouts of teething, and it's heavenly. We still aren't sleeping through the night, but I can handle waking up only once or twice. We've talked about the possibility of moving her to her own bed, or even her own room, but she does seem to sleep for longer spells when she's snuggled up with us, and I am content to have her warm, cuddly body beside me this winter. She still not a big eater, but now that there are a few things she'll eat regularly and she seems more willing to try the new things we offer, I feel okay about it. I know she's getting what she needs nutritionally from me, and that at this age "real food" just lets her experiment with different tastes and textures.
I am constantly forgetting how high she can reach. Things set near the edge of the kitchen table are easily within her reach, and I have been surprised at how far back things need to be. We have a couple of little poofs we bought in Spain that she climbs on top of to reach things on shelves that used to be safe from her little fingers; I'm in trouble when she figures out that the kitchen chairs can serve the same purpose. She is closer and closer to walking. Over Thanksgiving weekend she pushed herself to a stand for the first time without pulling up on anything. When I set her down on the floor, she stands for a second on her own, before slowly lowering herself the rest of the way to the ground. She "cruises" easily around the furniture, and when I am in the kitchen she often pulls up on my leg, and I walk around slowly as I do dishes or put away groceries so that she can "follow" me. I get a kick out of letting her hold one of my fingers while we walk, as if we are holding hands and going for a stroll. She giggles and shrieks with excitement as she takes her pigeon-toed bow-legged steps on her fat little feet. On Saturday she took her first unaided steps. Of course, she promptly fell over and has only done it twice more since.
She loves music, and will stand in front of the stereo bouncing in time with the music. Sometimes when a song ends, she applauds. She waves bye-bye when we say to, if she feels like it. She gives hugs to her stuffed monkey, her grandparents' dogs, other children her age, and would even hug the cat if the cat would tolerate it.
She is very much a mimic. I comb her hair after giving her a bath and then hand her the comb so she can try to comb it herself. If I give her the bottle of baby lotion to play with as I am rubbing the lotion into her skin, she tries to dab on more lotion from the closed bottle. Unless she is too busy trying to fit the bottle into her mouth---she is, after all, a baby. She watches the way we feed ourselves and tries to mimic with her own little spoon.
There was a song we used to sing at camp when I was little:
Late last night while we were all in bed
Old Lady Leary left the lantern in the shed
And when the cow kicked it over she winked her eye and said
"It's gonna be a hot time in the old town tonight."
Fire fire fire!
Water water water!
Jump, lady, jump!
Ahhhhhhhhh....splat!
Adriana likes to shriek and will copy us when we do so, so I sing the song to her and she copies me when I shriek at the end. Now when I just start singing the song she begins her shrieking. It's kind of cute. And also probably a trick I am going to regret encouraging. I should have just stuck with singing "ba ba ba" instead of "na na na" for the chorus of "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" so that she could "sing along" with me on that one. Well, live and learn.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Book review: The Latke Who Couldn't Stop Screaming
Lemony Snicket's The Latke Who Couldn't Stop Screaming: A Christmas Story is awesome. It made me laugh a lot. You should read it.
Friday, December 07, 2007
December in California
I still have the Washington Post set as my homepage, and I am still registered with a metro-area zipcode, so when I opened my browser the other day I saw that it was snowing in DC, and I was a little sad. I did love the (rare) snow that we got when we lived there. It wasn't until that afternoon when I took the baby to the park to play on the swings that I realized that it's probably best to not have snow days anymore.
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