We celebrated John's birthday this evening. It's kind of strange, as all of the friends we celebrate have children now...the day's of showing up early and drinking all day until dinner are over. Now it's eat between nap and bedtime! Our friends from over the hill came over with their one-year-old. They have a hard time traveling, the little one doesn't like to sit in the car seat. I was so glad that they were able to come over today. Our other friends form down the way were a bit late because of nap time...but all in all it was such a nice time.
We made smoked prime rib and garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus and spinach apple salad for dinner...with mushroom gravy. Yum. The prime rib was wonderful, no matter what my husband may say about its overdoneness. I had a blast making the sides plus rolls and my favorite (also hubby's) chocolate cake. Brandy, cherries and chocolate all come together in a most excelent combination of flavors.
It was really nice to have a family evening. No one minded a fussy baby. No one minded a fussy one year old. No one minded a fussy almost three year old. Our friends have all been there and we will be soon. It was nice to just kind of be and drink wine and eat food and play with babies and be friends. It has seemed that the last few times we've been together it's been BIG parties and it's nice to connect with small groups on occasion.
We also killed a bottle of Zin...a bottle of port...a bottle of Bouteille Call from = Bonny Doon Vineyard. Don't ask. It's simply wonderful. My head is slightly spinning from the before wine as well. Oh well. It's December. Time to get spun.
Maia is six months now and I Have to write about that. But for now, I must ignore spell check and have another glass of wine before I tackle cleaning the kitchen.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Sunday, November 5, 2006
Month Five...and Still Counting
I have not written, directly, about the babe in a while so let me fix that right now. Miss M turned five months old two days ago and the last week has been amazing! She is becoming so physical. She has mastered rolling over from her stomach to her back...at least from right to left. She favors her right arm as her pushing arm and hasn't quite gotten the fact that she could push with her left arm and go over the other way. If she's blocked on the left side she still just gets kind of mad at the situation. But it is so cute to watch her flip over and smile as though she were saying: "See what I just did".
She is about to become a real sitter. Last Sunday John put her in the sitting position and let go and she stayed. This week she has just gotten stronger. She still mostly sits "froggy style" with her body hunched over, but she's begun to pull her torso up. She also reaches for her toys form this position and is so happy when she gets them. She's giggling and has even laughed out loud at Daddy a few times.
Being physical is more than her development. I remember, well, it was only a couple of months ago, when we were so careful with her. I was ginger and gentle with every touch and tried to limit rough play. She couldn't move very well...and I didn't like to mess with her. As she's grown my fear has subsided and now one of our favorite games involves tossing her up and down while singing The Grand Old Duke of York We tickle and dance around and jostle to William Tells Ride.... you know...ba-rump-bada-rump-bada-rump-rump-rump-rump...John will toss and swing her and she just loves it. She loves to move, to be moved, to be tickled and touched. She reaches up when she wants to be held and responds to touch in distinct ways. It is so different from even a month ago when it seemed that she just kind of put up with us. Now she knows we can be fun too.
Speaking of fun, we had a family adventure this afternoon. We took Maia up for her first ride in the Mooney. We were planning to fly over to Paso Robles in central California for lunch. It's about an hour flight with a solid destination and food! We are thinking of flying to Idaho for Christmas and need to make sure Maia can tolerate it before we embark on a three and a half hour trip.
Maia has ear gear. Ear protection is paramount when flying in a small plane. I found soft silicone earplugs, actually they're called "pillows" and cover the outer ear. They help with the pressure change as well as provide decibel buffering. She also has her small earmuffs...powder blue and oh-so-cute! I thought she was set. Well, the ear pillows have a learning curve as to how they go in best and the muffs didn't hold them in her tiny ears as I had hoped. She became uncomfortable and started to cry soon after take off. I went into stress mode trying to calm her down, the bottle wasn't helping and I couldn't pick her up and darn if that girl will still not take a pacifier. We decided to head back for the airport and not push it; after all, we want her to enjoy plane trips. As we were being directed back to the airport, Maia stopped crying and took her pacifier, alleviating some of the discomfort. We decided to toodle around for a bit...she was fine and beginning to nod off. We thought we'd head over to Half Moon Bay, a short fifteen-minute distance. While we didn't want to push our luck, we weren't ready to give up altogether. She fell asleep during the approach. Halleluiah.
Half Moon Bay was nice. We had lunch at the brewery that could have been better, but we'll just go somewhere else next time I think. We wandered by the fishing pier and had tea in an odd little cafe near the airport. Then it was time to head back home.
This time I got smart with the silicone ear pillows. I had purchased a neoprene headband designed to keep earplugs in while swimming. I really smoothed in the pillows, wrapped the headband across Maia's ears and placed the earmuffs over that. There is no such thing as too much protection for tiny ears. She seemed kind of frustrated with so much stuff on her head...but quickly settled down. I had a bottle ready to go for takeoff and she was asleep before we had leveled off. Good girl! John chose to take to scenic route home. We followed the coastline down to Santa Cruz then popped over the hills into the valley. Maia did wake up for the last part of the trip but was a happy camper...finishing her bottle and playing with her toys.
I think we're going to fly for Christmas. We're going to do a little more altitude flying with her in preparation for going over the Sierras but now that the ear/pressure kinks have been worked out I think we'll be fine. It's a great thing to be able to make these trips together. John and I love adventures and I really want our kids to be able to experience them too. And hopefully love them as well. Maia looks like she's off to a good start.
She is about to become a real sitter. Last Sunday John put her in the sitting position and let go and she stayed. This week she has just gotten stronger. She still mostly sits "froggy style" with her body hunched over, but she's begun to pull her torso up. She also reaches for her toys form this position and is so happy when she gets them. She's giggling and has even laughed out loud at Daddy a few times.
Being physical is more than her development. I remember, well, it was only a couple of months ago, when we were so careful with her. I was ginger and gentle with every touch and tried to limit rough play. She couldn't move very well...and I didn't like to mess with her. As she's grown my fear has subsided and now one of our favorite games involves tossing her up and down while singing The Grand Old Duke of York We tickle and dance around and jostle to William Tells Ride.... you know...ba-rump-bada-rump-bada-rump-rump-rump-rump...John will toss and swing her and she just loves it. She loves to move, to be moved, to be tickled and touched. She reaches up when she wants to be held and responds to touch in distinct ways. It is so different from even a month ago when it seemed that she just kind of put up with us. Now she knows we can be fun too.
Speaking of fun, we had a family adventure this afternoon. We took Maia up for her first ride in the Mooney. We were planning to fly over to Paso Robles in central California for lunch. It's about an hour flight with a solid destination and food! We are thinking of flying to Idaho for Christmas and need to make sure Maia can tolerate it before we embark on a three and a half hour trip.
Maia has ear gear. Ear protection is paramount when flying in a small plane. I found soft silicone earplugs, actually they're called "pillows" and cover the outer ear. They help with the pressure change as well as provide decibel buffering. She also has her small earmuffs...powder blue and oh-so-cute! I thought she was set. Well, the ear pillows have a learning curve as to how they go in best and the muffs didn't hold them in her tiny ears as I had hoped. She became uncomfortable and started to cry soon after take off. I went into stress mode trying to calm her down, the bottle wasn't helping and I couldn't pick her up and darn if that girl will still not take a pacifier. We decided to head back for the airport and not push it; after all, we want her to enjoy plane trips. As we were being directed back to the airport, Maia stopped crying and took her pacifier, alleviating some of the discomfort. We decided to toodle around for a bit...she was fine and beginning to nod off. We thought we'd head over to Half Moon Bay, a short fifteen-minute distance. While we didn't want to push our luck, we weren't ready to give up altogether. She fell asleep during the approach. Halleluiah.
Half Moon Bay was nice. We had lunch at the brewery that could have been better, but we'll just go somewhere else next time I think. We wandered by the fishing pier and had tea in an odd little cafe near the airport. Then it was time to head back home.
This time I got smart with the silicone ear pillows. I had purchased a neoprene headband designed to keep earplugs in while swimming. I really smoothed in the pillows, wrapped the headband across Maia's ears and placed the earmuffs over that. There is no such thing as too much protection for tiny ears. She seemed kind of frustrated with so much stuff on her head...but quickly settled down. I had a bottle ready to go for takeoff and she was asleep before we had leveled off. Good girl! John chose to take to scenic route home. We followed the coastline down to Santa Cruz then popped over the hills into the valley. Maia did wake up for the last part of the trip but was a happy camper...finishing her bottle and playing with her toys.
I think we're going to fly for Christmas. We're going to do a little more altitude flying with her in preparation for going over the Sierras but now that the ear/pressure kinks have been worked out I think we'll be fine. It's a great thing to be able to make these trips together. John and I love adventures and I really want our kids to be able to experience them too. And hopefully love them as well. Maia looks like she's off to a good start.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Housewifery
It's time for the annual Jell-O brain mold for my friend's Halloween party. This is the party where--6 years ago--John and I first met. It is very much tradition at this point.
I'm making a giant Jell-O shot this year. A Pina Colada brain stuffed with marichino cherries and garnished with crushed pineapple. Coconut rum will be substituted for some of the water and there will be a "two slice limit". I had my Jell-O flavors all picked out to mimic the drink: pineapple Jell-O stirred with whipped cream and the coconut rum for the right kick of tropical goodness. I went to the store to pick up the items and what should I see lingering on the shelf past its summertime run? Pina Colada flavored Jell-O.
(This is the fifties housewifery part)
I got giddy over the Jell-O. Giddy that there was MY FLAVOR. Ready-made goodness. I now know how our grandmothers felt about convience food and why they remain so popular. One box and your dinner or dessert creation comes to life. It's Better Living Through Science at its finest.
I'm making a giant Jell-O shot this year. A Pina Colada brain stuffed with marichino cherries and garnished with crushed pineapple. Coconut rum will be substituted for some of the water and there will be a "two slice limit". I had my Jell-O flavors all picked out to mimic the drink: pineapple Jell-O stirred with whipped cream and the coconut rum for the right kick of tropical goodness. I went to the store to pick up the items and what should I see lingering on the shelf past its summertime run? Pina Colada flavored Jell-O.
(This is the fifties housewifery part)
I got giddy over the Jell-O. Giddy that there was MY FLAVOR. Ready-made goodness. I now know how our grandmothers felt about convience food and why they remain so popular. One box and your dinner or dessert creation comes to life. It's Better Living Through Science at its finest.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Suburban Rant
I went shopping, as I often do, at Costco the other day. The store was crowded with moms, kids and retired couples...the staple shoppers of mid-weekday afternoons. We were just fine in the store thanks to our newest and most favoritest carrier the hip hammock. Love it.
The problem occurred after leaving the store and centers on lazy, inconsiderate people, i.e.: most of the parking lot population. Here I am strolling down the street on the way to my car to off load my bulky purchases, and I get to watch as some woman ditches her GIANT DOUBLE WIDE Costco shopping cart right next to the front driver's side door of my car. WTF? The cart stand is maybe 50 ft away from her parking spot and she blocks my door (which was parked across from her car so she did have to walk across the driveway and pick that spot) instead of taking her cart to the appropriate place. This just pisses me off. I came this close[-] to yelling at her...something along the line of "What do you think you're doing with that cart!!??" Unfortunately, I am not comfortable with confrontation. I just stewed.
I also, after unloading my groceries, had to push two double wide carts and balance a small child the oh-so-grueling 50 ft to the cart stand. This woman had another woman with her and two children old enough to sit in the car without special seats. There was one grown up to sit with the--older than my baby--children and one woman to take back the cart. If I had merely left her cart I would have most likely scratched my door trying to get on or completely screwed the car next to me. Granted, it was a bright yellow H2, but I like to think I'm better than that. So, I took the carts to the right place.
It seems trivial, and it is, but it is the small courtesies that make civilized life. It's letting pedestrians cross at unlighted intersections. It's holding a door for a stranger with full hands (or a stroller). It's putting shopping carts away. These are the actions that make living in a population dense area bearable.
I may not be perfect in everything, but I try to watch the small things. Small things matter, if they didn't the larger would fall away as well.
The problem occurred after leaving the store and centers on lazy, inconsiderate people, i.e.: most of the parking lot population. Here I am strolling down the street on the way to my car to off load my bulky purchases, and I get to watch as some woman ditches her GIANT DOUBLE WIDE Costco shopping cart right next to the front driver's side door of my car. WTF? The cart stand is maybe 50 ft away from her parking spot and she blocks my door (which was parked across from her car so she did have to walk across the driveway and pick that spot) instead of taking her cart to the appropriate place. This just pisses me off. I came this close[-] to yelling at her...something along the line of "What do you think you're doing with that cart!!??" Unfortunately, I am not comfortable with confrontation. I just stewed.
I also, after unloading my groceries, had to push two double wide carts and balance a small child the oh-so-grueling 50 ft to the cart stand. This woman had another woman with her and two children old enough to sit in the car without special seats. There was one grown up to sit with the--older than my baby--children and one woman to take back the cart. If I had merely left her cart I would have most likely scratched my door trying to get on or completely screwed the car next to me. Granted, it was a bright yellow H2, but I like to think I'm better than that. So, I took the carts to the right place.
It seems trivial, and it is, but it is the small courtesies that make civilized life. It's letting pedestrians cross at unlighted intersections. It's holding a door for a stranger with full hands (or a stroller). It's putting shopping carts away. These are the actions that make living in a population dense area bearable.
I may not be perfect in everything, but I try to watch the small things. Small things matter, if they didn't the larger would fall away as well.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Traffic
It's funny the thoughts that find their way into your head while sitting in traffic. I was in Half Moon Bay this morning for the annual Pumpkin Festival. Traffic on the way home is always awful...a two-lane street winds through the hills to dump hundreds of cars onto the freeways. Estimated time to travel 10 miles: 62 minutes.
I found myself thinking...spinning thoughts...my mind sparked by landmarks from my teenage days. I spent many days in and around the beaches of the area. I was facing the Rite Aid, used to be a Thrifty Drug, where my friend and I bought ice cream and the cute spider tattooed boy behind the counter said I looked like a girl he knew and weeks later he remembered me outside of the punk club in Berkeley.
I was drunk. He was straight edge. He gave me a quote for the article my mom was writing on the club scene. I was researching that night. Usually I was drunk with no purpose.
I thought of Captain Morgan and the senior trip three of us skipped to play at San Gregorio State Beach. Our own "senior moment" before we were old. We jumped off of low cliffs (or high rocks) onto the wet sand and huddled in a cave that was only exposed during very low tide cycles to smoke the green goddess.
Somehow my mind came around to the car behind whose wheel I was now sitting. I drive John's car now. I didn't always. I was staring at the rear end of a relative of my beloved car...which John now drives. Babies confuse many things, cars and drivers among them.
When John and I first began dating we were a little wild. We were having fun, we still are, but not in the same ways. After we had been dating for--oh--about a month I took him to meet my family. And I mean MEET my family. When my parents were still together we would all go Christmas caroling sometime in December. It was tradition. I took John. He must have been really into me to have gone to meet my family (brother and sisters included) and SING with them after only knowing me for a month. I had to marry him, and now you know why.
We were driving back to San Jose kind of late at night. Eleven or midnight. We decided to race home. Race. Each other. Over the freeway we sped. I was pushing 100 mph at one point and we were moving across lanes just racing for the sheer love of speed and the fun and, yes, even the danger. It was glorious.
It all came down to the last stretch of the race. We were going to my house for the night. I zigged and he zagged and he made it around the corner and snagged the parking spot first. I gambled and lost. He told me he always had it in the bag, his engine is bigger than mine. I didn't care. I just like to race.
Now I drive that same car with the bigger engine, but I wouldn't, couldn't, race it. We once read a story about a couple that was into illegal street racing. Only, they carried their very small children in the back seat. I couldn't do that. Now I have the car that won and I won't race it.
And Half Moon Bay looks different and the drug store is changed and I'm sure the place where I bought the purple shorts because my jeans were soaked is gone...I drove there without my license because no one cared if I did at that moment...I have the license now. And the car. And I was sitting in traffic letting my mind spin fine webs of memory.
I found myself thinking...spinning thoughts...my mind sparked by landmarks from my teenage days. I spent many days in and around the beaches of the area. I was facing the Rite Aid, used to be a Thrifty Drug, where my friend and I bought ice cream and the cute spider tattooed boy behind the counter said I looked like a girl he knew and weeks later he remembered me outside of the punk club in Berkeley.
I was drunk. He was straight edge. He gave me a quote for the article my mom was writing on the club scene. I was researching that night. Usually I was drunk with no purpose.
I thought of Captain Morgan and the senior trip three of us skipped to play at San Gregorio State Beach. Our own "senior moment" before we were old. We jumped off of low cliffs (or high rocks) onto the wet sand and huddled in a cave that was only exposed during very low tide cycles to smoke the green goddess.
Somehow my mind came around to the car behind whose wheel I was now sitting. I drive John's car now. I didn't always. I was staring at the rear end of a relative of my beloved car...which John now drives. Babies confuse many things, cars and drivers among them.
When John and I first began dating we were a little wild. We were having fun, we still are, but not in the same ways. After we had been dating for--oh--about a month I took him to meet my family. And I mean MEET my family. When my parents were still together we would all go Christmas caroling sometime in December. It was tradition. I took John. He must have been really into me to have gone to meet my family (brother and sisters included) and SING with them after only knowing me for a month. I had to marry him, and now you know why.
We were driving back to San Jose kind of late at night. Eleven or midnight. We decided to race home. Race. Each other. Over the freeway we sped. I was pushing 100 mph at one point and we were moving across lanes just racing for the sheer love of speed and the fun and, yes, even the danger. It was glorious.
It all came down to the last stretch of the race. We were going to my house for the night. I zigged and he zagged and he made it around the corner and snagged the parking spot first. I gambled and lost. He told me he always had it in the bag, his engine is bigger than mine. I didn't care. I just like to race.
Now I drive that same car with the bigger engine, but I wouldn't, couldn't, race it. We once read a story about a couple that was into illegal street racing. Only, they carried their very small children in the back seat. I couldn't do that. Now I have the car that won and I won't race it.
And Half Moon Bay looks different and the drug store is changed and I'm sure the place where I bought the purple shorts because my jeans were soaked is gone...I drove there without my license because no one cared if I did at that moment...I have the license now. And the car. And I was sitting in traffic letting my mind spin fine webs of memory.
Sunday, October 8, 2006
Got 'Em!
I got Maia her* Baby Legs. Pink and brown stripe. Too cute! She deserved a treat after her four month check-up, complete with shots and an unexpected blood draw--from the arm and everything. Ouch!
She's fine, she just has some dark spots under the skin on her legs that the Dr. couldn't recognize off the bat...so we did a platelet count to make sure it wasn't anything to worry about. It isn't.
She's a cool baby and far more trendily dressed than I.
*...You know that, except for the very basics, baby clothes are for the parents and by parents I mean moms...because how many dads would buy leg warmers for infants?
She's fine, she just has some dark spots under the skin on her legs that the Dr. couldn't recognize off the bat...so we did a platelet count to make sure it wasn't anything to worry about. It isn't.
She's a cool baby and far more trendily dressed than I.
*...You know that, except for the very basics, baby clothes are for the parents and by parents I mean moms...because how many dads would buy leg warmers for infants?
Sunday, October 1, 2006
Bye-Bye Summer
Even though the weather has been chilling down and the mornings have been blessed with fog, I haven't been able to say good-bye to summer. After all, the afternoons have still been freakin' hot.
Until today.
This morning started out just like yesterday, cloudy and cool, but unlike yesterday it never cleared up. Yes folks, we had our first rain of the season and Maia and I got a small taste of days to come. I went to the farmer's market in the Cats...that would be three days running visiting the snobby older sister of my neighborhood...for my weekly fruit and veggie run. Then headed to the posh baby store looking for these for Maia. Not in yet, but they'll give me a call when they are. Why don't I order them on line? I will. But I want to hold them first, and buy the first pair with king cash. Then go crazy on the Internet.
Still cloudy and cool weather-wise, which was weird considering it was almost 2 PM at this point. The clouds kept getting angrier looking as I drove to TJ's to finish shopping. Side note: I HATE TJ's on the weekend. It's a small store to begin with and on weekends everyone couple shops (except me...but I have Maia, natch) and makes it even smaller. And with the rain it was even worse...ah yes. Here is the point. We had our first rain this afternoon. I am officially saying goodbye to summer. Yeah, I know it's October. I should have said good-bye weeks ago. But here we are and here comes fall for real.
So Maia experienced her first rain shower this afternoon. Good thing she had on her thick hoodie. Her little almost-bald head was covered as we dashed for the store. I was not so lucky. No hood, no jacket, just a sweater and too long jeans. I wasn't expecting this at all. Good thing I did opt for a sweater at least. This first rain was a heavy wet rain. A good rain, not just a tease of things to come. There was an accident on the freeway, no surprise there. John enjoyed the day for different reasons. He stood outside in the wet watching rain sheet off of HIS roof. A testament to his skill as a roofer. He's been waiting for this moment. But it came none too soon as John finished the garage roof only last weekend. John even climbed into the attic to make sure there were no leaks. There weren't. He may have a new career ahead of him. I joke. It was a job well done as today proved, though.
Also on the list of firsts for the season: Maia ROLLED OVER on her own and I MISSED IT!! She rolled over for Daddy and wouldn't do it again. Little stinker. I'll try and get her to do it for me sometime this week. But we'll be able to report it to her doctor and that will be fun. She's getting big but staying cute so we still like her. *wink*. And rolling over. Geeze. What's next? Sitting up? I'm hoping she'll at least do that for me first, since we spend so much time sitting together.
It's chilly this evening and I have a new book to snuggle up to. That's a comfort and one of the best parts of the season. Tomorrow I'll make my weekly library run...another season of West Wing to acquire. Maybe they'll have Grey's Anatomy or Lost to check out. I always run seasons behind on TV, but this way I get to watch with no commercials. It's a trade off I can live with. With that last thought I’ll bid you good night my friends and “Happy Fall”.
Until today.
This morning started out just like yesterday, cloudy and cool, but unlike yesterday it never cleared up. Yes folks, we had our first rain of the season and Maia and I got a small taste of days to come. I went to the farmer's market in the Cats...that would be three days running visiting the snobby older sister of my neighborhood...for my weekly fruit and veggie run. Then headed to the posh baby store looking for these for Maia. Not in yet, but they'll give me a call when they are. Why don't I order them on line? I will. But I want to hold them first, and buy the first pair with king cash. Then go crazy on the Internet.
Still cloudy and cool weather-wise, which was weird considering it was almost 2 PM at this point. The clouds kept getting angrier looking as I drove to TJ's to finish shopping. Side note: I HATE TJ's on the weekend. It's a small store to begin with and on weekends everyone couple shops (except me...but I have Maia, natch) and makes it even smaller. And with the rain it was even worse...ah yes. Here is the point. We had our first rain this afternoon. I am officially saying goodbye to summer. Yeah, I know it's October. I should have said good-bye weeks ago. But here we are and here comes fall for real.
So Maia experienced her first rain shower this afternoon. Good thing she had on her thick hoodie. Her little almost-bald head was covered as we dashed for the store. I was not so lucky. No hood, no jacket, just a sweater and too long jeans. I wasn't expecting this at all. Good thing I did opt for a sweater at least. This first rain was a heavy wet rain. A good rain, not just a tease of things to come. There was an accident on the freeway, no surprise there. John enjoyed the day for different reasons. He stood outside in the wet watching rain sheet off of HIS roof. A testament to his skill as a roofer. He's been waiting for this moment. But it came none too soon as John finished the garage roof only last weekend. John even climbed into the attic to make sure there were no leaks. There weren't. He may have a new career ahead of him. I joke. It was a job well done as today proved, though.
Also on the list of firsts for the season: Maia ROLLED OVER on her own and I MISSED IT!! She rolled over for Daddy and wouldn't do it again. Little stinker. I'll try and get her to do it for me sometime this week. But we'll be able to report it to her doctor and that will be fun. She's getting big but staying cute so we still like her. *wink*. And rolling over. Geeze. What's next? Sitting up? I'm hoping she'll at least do that for me first, since we spend so much time sitting together.
It's chilly this evening and I have a new book to snuggle up to. That's a comfort and one of the best parts of the season. Tomorrow I'll make my weekly library run...another season of West Wing to acquire. Maybe they'll have Grey's Anatomy or Lost to check out. I always run seasons behind on TV, but this way I get to watch with no commercials. It's a trade off I can live with. With that last thought I’ll bid you good night my friends and “Happy Fall”.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Notes on the Week
What does the well-dressed baby wear to the Cats for music class? I don't know and it's going to come to a head sooner or later. Of course, in the Cats, all the moms are well dressed too. And all giving each other tips on the very expensive and exclusive gym they belong to..."Oh you're at Courtside too? Have you done the baby yoga yet? Oh, she loves it and takes a nice nap as soon as we're done...giggle giggle". What does this mommy wear? Fat rocks and chic pants with the oh so hip wedge heeled sandal. If it's me, maternity jeans and loose tops because I refuse to buy clothes until I lose some more baby weight. It sucks right now because the maternity jeans are too loose, but my regular jeans don't go over my hips or butt. Yuck and sigh.
We all know how much I hate to shop for jeans.
It's much more fun to dress Maia.
But I digress. In the beginning of a post. In any case, music class is a ton of fun...especially watching all of the parents. All the kids in the class are around Maia's age, in fact, there's only one baby who can sit up. The rest of the kids lay on blankets or are held on laps during the songs. Little legs are moved, little tummies are tickled and the parents rock out to the baby music. One number is called "Sneakin' Around the Room" and we, the grown-us, sneak, wiggle, and boogie in a circle around our darling babes. I can just see the WTF look in Maia's eyes. But then she laughs and waves her arms and kicks her legs and all is good again. After all, everyone is doing it.
So we have a good schedule going. A playgroup might be forming on Mondays; I have Mommy Group on Wednesday and Music on Friday. Plenty to keep us occupied. It's fun, but a challenge to not become completely sucked into Babyville. I think that's why the crib works for me. At night, I have alone time...or time just with John...and that's the time I need to refuel the mom battery. It's hard being "on" 24/7.
Everything else looks beautiful. Our anniversary dinner was a success. Sushi on the couch and a bottle of nice sake. I replaced the battery of John's watch and he brought me new rocks. Life is good and my ears sparkle now. So I guess I'm all right.
Busy week ahead. Maia turns four months and goes in for her next round of shots. Hello whooping cough! We’ll talk about solids. And see how much she's gained. And how much bigger she is. It's a fun check. I know she's bigger but I like to know by how much. I also have plans to see my fave author, Neil Gaiman, in Berkeley. Plus all the usual running around and merry making. We're happy happy fun girls, Maia and I.
Yawn. It's getting late and I've really said nothing of import. Just a little update to keep me in your mind. Till next time.
We all know how much I hate to shop for jeans.
It's much more fun to dress Maia.
But I digress. In the beginning of a post. In any case, music class is a ton of fun...especially watching all of the parents. All the kids in the class are around Maia's age, in fact, there's only one baby who can sit up. The rest of the kids lay on blankets or are held on laps during the songs. Little legs are moved, little tummies are tickled and the parents rock out to the baby music. One number is called "Sneakin' Around the Room" and we, the grown-us, sneak, wiggle, and boogie in a circle around our darling babes. I can just see the WTF look in Maia's eyes. But then she laughs and waves her arms and kicks her legs and all is good again. After all, everyone is doing it.
So we have a good schedule going. A playgroup might be forming on Mondays; I have Mommy Group on Wednesday and Music on Friday. Plenty to keep us occupied. It's fun, but a challenge to not become completely sucked into Babyville. I think that's why the crib works for me. At night, I have alone time...or time just with John...and that's the time I need to refuel the mom battery. It's hard being "on" 24/7.
Everything else looks beautiful. Our anniversary dinner was a success. Sushi on the couch and a bottle of nice sake. I replaced the battery of John's watch and he brought me new rocks. Life is good and my ears sparkle now. So I guess I'm all right.
Busy week ahead. Maia turns four months and goes in for her next round of shots. Hello whooping cough! We’ll talk about solids. And see how much she's gained. And how much bigger she is. It's a fun check. I know she's bigger but I like to know by how much. I also have plans to see my fave author, Neil Gaiman, in Berkeley. Plus all the usual running around and merry making. We're happy happy fun girls, Maia and I.
Yawn. It's getting late and I've really said nothing of import. Just a little update to keep me in your mind. Till next time.
Monday, September 25, 2006
September 25
It is the second anniversary of the day when John and I said, "I do". Smiles all around. I can't tell you what I have planned, though. It might ruin the surprise.
Friday, September 8, 2006
You are disciplined but tolerant; a true American.
How fascist are you? Find out here.
For fun, post your score in my comments. I want to see where my friends come in.
For fun, post your score in my comments. I want to see where my friends come in.
Good Lord...
...it's September already.
Maia will be 100 days old this Sunday. She'll be "one year" right around Wednesday or Thursday. Where has the time gone?
Maia will be 100 days old this Sunday. She'll be "one year" right around Wednesday or Thursday. Where has the time gone?
Monday, August 28, 2006
A Letter to Maia
This post was inspired by this site and a similar call on a message board to which I belong.
Dear Maia,
The day you were born was one of the greatest in my life so far. In you I saw so much from the time you opened you eyes to the time when you were bundled up and I held you so close. I always knew I wanted to breastfeed you, to give you the best I had to offer and to build a relationship like no other. This is what I believed at the time.
Three months and a struggle I didn't think would ever happen later, I know that it is not the contents of a breast that makes a mother but the contents of a heart.
In that first hour after you latched on, right after birth, I thought things would be easy. I was so sure of my body and of your ability I brushed off the kind labor nurse who wished us continued success with breastfeeding. I told her I was ready, I had read the books, been to the meetings. I knew what was going to happen next. You, Miss Maia, seemed like the "champ" I had read so many stories about. Your latch seemed good, no pain and you were there and happy attached to me still. Even after the lactation consultant visited, and helped me correct your latch and explained to me that I had to be careful with your placement because the way my nipples were shaped I was not worried. I knew my milk would come in full and voluminous and we'd both be happy.
We took you home (and I still can't believe they just let us walk on out with you!) and that's where the real struggle began. You had your days and nights confused. You would be such a sleepy baby during the day and during the night would just stay up and wail. We tried rocking, bouncing and swaddling. Nothing seemed to really calm you down. I fed and fed you but you always wanted more. We could sit and nurse for an hour and you would cry as soon as I took you off. You were losing weight...but that was to be expected. Your doctor didn't seem to be worried and I just knew everything would be all right in a day or two. I thought I felt milk coming in and was waiting for the feeling of engorgement that all new moms describe.
When you were a week old we couldn't get a wet diaper from you. You had lost so much weight the skin was loose on your little legs (so chubby and darling at birth) your dad and I knew something was really wrong. Guilt set in. I felt so strongly that something was wrong with me. My nipples are scarred and I knew that I had done something wrong and I could not feed my baby. I was devastated as I called the hospital lactation consultant and made an appointment with her that very day. It was there I learned that my milk had no come in and we needed to be feeding you fast. You were on the edge of severe dehydration. I cried as you took a bottle and gulped its contents down. I couldn't feed my baby. My body, the one that gave you life was now rebelling and causing you to suffer. I felt at that moment lower and worse than I had ever felt in my life. I had let you down.
It was there that day I learned a new phrase: Chasing the milk. That was what I set out to do.
The details are not important. I tried herbs, pumping, and drugs. Nothing worked and every new can of formula I purchased was another knife in my heart. This is not what I wanted. I envisioned a loving, carefree, breastfeeding lifestyle. I was going to take you everywhere...all you would need was a clean diaper and a breast and we'd be set. The bottle heavy, formula mixing, stress-inducing place I was in at this point was so far from my expectations. I was miserable. I kept you at the breast...you stayed there even after the bottle was introduced...but it was not the pleasurable experience of closeness I wanted but rather a task; a chore that had to be done. I dreaded feeding time even as you began to thrive.
You did thrive. You are a born eater. You gained an entire pound in the first week after we began to supplement you. There was nothing wrong with you and that was a blessing. It was simply mama who was broken.
Feeding was still a miserable time for me. I used to sit and cry over you as I fed you formula. My heart was broken. I couldn't talk about it without the tears beginning. I didn't want to take you out for fear of being judged a bad mama by strangers or friends as I prepared yet another bottle instead of putting you to the breast. It wasn't a good time and I am afraid that I missed out on some of the joy of your first months because I was angry and sad over the loss of our imagined breastfeeding relationship. Something had to change and it needed to be my attitude.
It was a dear friend of mine who put things into perspective for me, although it took me some time to be able to process and accept her words. She pointed out that while we had lost what I had dreamed about, it was up to me to take what we did have and make that special. Feeding, even bottle feeding, was still time to quietly connect, to let you know how much you were loved and to look in to your eyes and know that I was doing the best I could by you. I had the power to define my breastfeeding relationship with you.
I have set aside my guilt. We nurse the best we can. You are growing. You are happy and you smile up at me the same whether you're at the breast or at the bottle. I hold you close for both and remain connected to you. I am still sad that we don't have the relationship I dreamed about before you were YOU but I want you to know that you had a mommy who fought for you and did her best for you.
The last three months have been harder than I ever thought. I knew parenting would be a challenge, but this extra one pushed my to my limits. I didn't think I would ever be happy with how things worked out for our "breastfeeding relationship" but I am now. We have built our own special relationship. You are my darling daughter. You don't love me any less because I couldn't nurse you exclusively. In some ways, this struggle has made me realize how lucky we are. We have the luxury of finding alternative food sources; you don't have to suffer because of me. You will be able to grow and become a healthy child and adult even without the benefit of gallons of breast milk. We are blessed by options.
I am blessed by you, Maia.
always your loving...mama
Dear Maia,
The day you were born was one of the greatest in my life so far. In you I saw so much from the time you opened you eyes to the time when you were bundled up and I held you so close. I always knew I wanted to breastfeed you, to give you the best I had to offer and to build a relationship like no other. This is what I believed at the time.
Three months and a struggle I didn't think would ever happen later, I know that it is not the contents of a breast that makes a mother but the contents of a heart.
In that first hour after you latched on, right after birth, I thought things would be easy. I was so sure of my body and of your ability I brushed off the kind labor nurse who wished us continued success with breastfeeding. I told her I was ready, I had read the books, been to the meetings. I knew what was going to happen next. You, Miss Maia, seemed like the "champ" I had read so many stories about. Your latch seemed good, no pain and you were there and happy attached to me still. Even after the lactation consultant visited, and helped me correct your latch and explained to me that I had to be careful with your placement because the way my nipples were shaped I was not worried. I knew my milk would come in full and voluminous and we'd both be happy.
We took you home (and I still can't believe they just let us walk on out with you!) and that's where the real struggle began. You had your days and nights confused. You would be such a sleepy baby during the day and during the night would just stay up and wail. We tried rocking, bouncing and swaddling. Nothing seemed to really calm you down. I fed and fed you but you always wanted more. We could sit and nurse for an hour and you would cry as soon as I took you off. You were losing weight...but that was to be expected. Your doctor didn't seem to be worried and I just knew everything would be all right in a day or two. I thought I felt milk coming in and was waiting for the feeling of engorgement that all new moms describe.
When you were a week old we couldn't get a wet diaper from you. You had lost so much weight the skin was loose on your little legs (so chubby and darling at birth) your dad and I knew something was really wrong. Guilt set in. I felt so strongly that something was wrong with me. My nipples are scarred and I knew that I had done something wrong and I could not feed my baby. I was devastated as I called the hospital lactation consultant and made an appointment with her that very day. It was there I learned that my milk had no come in and we needed to be feeding you fast. You were on the edge of severe dehydration. I cried as you took a bottle and gulped its contents down. I couldn't feed my baby. My body, the one that gave you life was now rebelling and causing you to suffer. I felt at that moment lower and worse than I had ever felt in my life. I had let you down.
It was there that day I learned a new phrase: Chasing the milk. That was what I set out to do.
The details are not important. I tried herbs, pumping, and drugs. Nothing worked and every new can of formula I purchased was another knife in my heart. This is not what I wanted. I envisioned a loving, carefree, breastfeeding lifestyle. I was going to take you everywhere...all you would need was a clean diaper and a breast and we'd be set. The bottle heavy, formula mixing, stress-inducing place I was in at this point was so far from my expectations. I was miserable. I kept you at the breast...you stayed there even after the bottle was introduced...but it was not the pleasurable experience of closeness I wanted but rather a task; a chore that had to be done. I dreaded feeding time even as you began to thrive.
You did thrive. You are a born eater. You gained an entire pound in the first week after we began to supplement you. There was nothing wrong with you and that was a blessing. It was simply mama who was broken.
Feeding was still a miserable time for me. I used to sit and cry over you as I fed you formula. My heart was broken. I couldn't talk about it without the tears beginning. I didn't want to take you out for fear of being judged a bad mama by strangers or friends as I prepared yet another bottle instead of putting you to the breast. It wasn't a good time and I am afraid that I missed out on some of the joy of your first months because I was angry and sad over the loss of our imagined breastfeeding relationship. Something had to change and it needed to be my attitude.
It was a dear friend of mine who put things into perspective for me, although it took me some time to be able to process and accept her words. She pointed out that while we had lost what I had dreamed about, it was up to me to take what we did have and make that special. Feeding, even bottle feeding, was still time to quietly connect, to let you know how much you were loved and to look in to your eyes and know that I was doing the best I could by you. I had the power to define my breastfeeding relationship with you.
I have set aside my guilt. We nurse the best we can. You are growing. You are happy and you smile up at me the same whether you're at the breast or at the bottle. I hold you close for both and remain connected to you. I am still sad that we don't have the relationship I dreamed about before you were YOU but I want you to know that you had a mommy who fought for you and did her best for you.
The last three months have been harder than I ever thought. I knew parenting would be a challenge, but this extra one pushed my to my limits. I didn't think I would ever be happy with how things worked out for our "breastfeeding relationship" but I am now. We have built our own special relationship. You are my darling daughter. You don't love me any less because I couldn't nurse you exclusively. In some ways, this struggle has made me realize how lucky we are. We have the luxury of finding alternative food sources; you don't have to suffer because of me. You will be able to grow and become a healthy child and adult even without the benefit of gallons of breast milk. We are blessed by options.
I am blessed by you, Maia.
always your loving...mama
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Nothing Doing
Maia is asleep in my lap. She's too comfortable to move, and I love to let her sleep. But...laundry needs to be changed, groceries need to be bought and dishes need to be washed. Plus: I have to go to the bathroom and I HATE the show that's on the radio right now but the control is across the room.
Luckily the computer is right here.
Luckily the computer is right here.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Thursday, August 3, 2006
Comic Con...or More Geeks than you can Shake a Stick At
Comic Con was more than I could have imagined. With 100,000 visitors over the space of four days...plus the "sneak preview" evening there is enough to see without the added bonus of the booths in the dealers rooms. Every day has a full schedule of drop in conferences ranging from how-to's of the comic world to meetings with artists, writers and directors. Television stations and movie studios rollout there new offerings to see how they fly with the masses and of course, the big comic companies are there in full force to show what's new and hip in the world of four color print.
In a word: Overwhelming.
Navigating this world alone would have been hard enough but add a small infant to the mix and one might have a recipe for disaster. I came into it knowing that I wasn't going to push Maia too far...knowing that would mean that I might miss out on some of the things I wanted to do. It did. I didn't hit all the panels I was interested in or meet all the cool people who were there (most disappointing was missing Henry Rollins, but oh well, the breakfast took a bit longer than anticipated). All in all, I did get to see what was most important to me and I did have a very cool brush with greatness.
Joss Whedon held my baby. Joss, because we're on a first name basis after all, is the creator of many a cult classic from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" to the grossly underrated "Firefly". John and I are Firefly fans. We even make those who have not seen it watch it. Our DVD's have made the rounds. We might not be completely fanatical--like my sister Aribelle--but we dig it, you know? We were hanging out by the Browncoat (as card carrying members of the fan base like to be known) fan booth waiting to meet with said sister--who is so deeply involved I'm surprised she isn't tattooed--when word went out that Joss was circling the booth. Well. This was the day when Maia was wearing her Kaylee costume, from the Firefly show. Soon we spotted him. A group descended for pictures. I sat down to get a bottle ready. I waited for the crowd to disperse some. I grabbed the baby and made my move.
The conversation, as it were went something along the lines of me stating that I didn't normally accost people, but would he be so kind as to take a picture with my Kaylee baby?
Joss: Is she really a Kaylee?
Me: Her name is Maia, but she's wearing a Kaylee costume...
I thought we would pose together, but being a dad himself, he has no fears of babies so before I knew it I was handing her over to essentially a stranger for pictures she will only look at with slight embarrassment when she gets older. But, she is so cute!! I figure, these photos are really for us anyway at this point.
The best part was when Maia had her bout of baby gas as she was being held, and Joss-the-dad kicked in by mentioning that she was making a poo. Great conversation. He then decided that yes, she was the cutest thing ever and wanted to hang with her for the rest of the con...so he turned away and walked a few steps before smiling and handing her back. Very fun.
Joss with Maia
So that sums up Maia's first brush with the famous. Her other encounters that weekend were in rooms with dozens, if not hundreds of other people, but I'm glad I went and got to hear some of my favorite people speak. Ray Bradbury is still the funniest man on any panel and still sharp as a tack. His advise on writing? It should feel like sex. I can see that...I'd rather understand writing as sex than childbirth...but I think publishing is like childbirth. At least the writing is fun.
I would do Comic Con again...but next year I'm rooting for AirVenture in Oshkosh WI. John and I need to switch off big conventions and he gets his next year. Of course, there is always something for the both of us. We did end up buying art the Comic Con. German advertising lithographs from the 20's. Yeah, we have interesting taste. All in all, given all I experienced in San Diego, I still think my favorite part of the entire week was the room fairies. With that, I must go and get some more sleep.
In a word: Overwhelming.
Navigating this world alone would have been hard enough but add a small infant to the mix and one might have a recipe for disaster. I came into it knowing that I wasn't going to push Maia too far...knowing that would mean that I might miss out on some of the things I wanted to do. It did. I didn't hit all the panels I was interested in or meet all the cool people who were there (most disappointing was missing Henry Rollins, but oh well, the breakfast took a bit longer than anticipated). All in all, I did get to see what was most important to me and I did have a very cool brush with greatness.
Joss Whedon held my baby. Joss, because we're on a first name basis after all, is the creator of many a cult classic from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" to the grossly underrated "Firefly". John and I are Firefly fans. We even make those who have not seen it watch it. Our DVD's have made the rounds. We might not be completely fanatical--like my sister Aribelle--but we dig it, you know? We were hanging out by the Browncoat (as card carrying members of the fan base like to be known) fan booth waiting to meet with said sister--who is so deeply involved I'm surprised she isn't tattooed--when word went out that Joss was circling the booth. Well. This was the day when Maia was wearing her Kaylee costume, from the Firefly show. Soon we spotted him. A group descended for pictures. I sat down to get a bottle ready. I waited for the crowd to disperse some. I grabbed the baby and made my move.
The conversation, as it were went something along the lines of me stating that I didn't normally accost people, but would he be so kind as to take a picture with my Kaylee baby?
Joss: Is she really a Kaylee?
Me: Her name is Maia, but she's wearing a Kaylee costume...
I thought we would pose together, but being a dad himself, he has no fears of babies so before I knew it I was handing her over to essentially a stranger for pictures she will only look at with slight embarrassment when she gets older. But, she is so cute!! I figure, these photos are really for us anyway at this point.
The best part was when Maia had her bout of baby gas as she was being held, and Joss-the-dad kicked in by mentioning that she was making a poo. Great conversation. He then decided that yes, she was the cutest thing ever and wanted to hang with her for the rest of the con...so he turned away and walked a few steps before smiling and handing her back. Very fun.
Joss with Maia
So that sums up Maia's first brush with the famous. Her other encounters that weekend were in rooms with dozens, if not hundreds of other people, but I'm glad I went and got to hear some of my favorite people speak. Ray Bradbury is still the funniest man on any panel and still sharp as a tack. His advise on writing? It should feel like sex. I can see that...I'd rather understand writing as sex than childbirth...but I think publishing is like childbirth. At least the writing is fun.
I would do Comic Con again...but next year I'm rooting for AirVenture in Oshkosh WI. John and I need to switch off big conventions and he gets his next year. Of course, there is always something for the both of us. We did end up buying art the Comic Con. German advertising lithographs from the 20's. Yeah, we have interesting taste. All in all, given all I experienced in San Diego, I still think my favorite part of the entire week was the room fairies. With that, I must go and get some more sleep.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Vacation: Overview of a Week
Whew! Nothing like a week of fine hotel living to make you wish you had the money for your own staff. There is no feeling better to the new mom than the feeling of walking into a freshly made up room that she didn't have to make up. This was I last week. A week of living in the Hyatt Grand Manchester in, not Manchester England, but in San Diego California.
Ah San Diego. My spiritual home. "God's Naval" as my mom likes to call it. John, Maia and I went for an IEEE (read: major work related geek fest) conference and stayed for Comic Con (read: major fantasy/sci-fi/comic book geek fest). It was wonderful. While I didn't party as hard as some moms I know (well, their kids are older) I did manage one night of unabashed drinking at the best sushi joint in the state. Sake and beer to the point of singing Social Distortion along with two guys in a pick-up as I crossed the street while John strolled the baby in weird circles through a small park. That night we fed the baby a bottle, I pumped and threw out the breast milk. I even had a small hangover. In a way, it made me happy.
The days in the beginning of the week were long and filled with daytime TV. No Internet. I didn't want it. I wanted Oprah and Law and Order. I don't have television, as most people know it, so it's a treat to have a remote and watch whatever the networks put out there. And commercials. I don't miss them so much but I like how I feel slightly disturbed after watching them. I also had a cabana day by the pool. Tuesday afternoon is a good time for the pool. The cabanas were sparsely populated and Maia and I had a lovely time hanging out in a chaise lounge and ordering the pool boy around. Well, I ordered the pool boy to bring me a pineapple daiquiri. Maia just smiled and napped and ate her own food.
Wednesday Maia and I headed to one of my very favorite spots in the world, La Jolla Cove. The last time I was there I was pregnant and not far from delivery. John and I just strolled along the edge of the coast talking about the new life we were about to have. This time, I got to stroll with that new life and show her the ocean for the first time. We spent some time sitting on a large expanse of green lawn overlooking the cove that is a favorite place for divers and kayakers. I wonder if she'll remember any of that in her subconscious, and if she dreams of the ocean now?
Thursday through Saturday were spent at the convention center, and those days are entries in their own rights. Highlights? Neil Gaiman, Peter S. Beagle, Ray Bradbury and Joss Whedon. The Joss is the best story, at least for Maia. There are pictures of her first encounter with stardom up on the picture site. Too cute baby!
This week we've been settling back into the groove of things. Maia is keeping me jumping. She does everything in clusters. Today, after a week of not napping and staying up late, she's zonked out. I may pay for it tonight, but I've taken advantage of it this afternoon by doing laundry and picking up the living room...somewhat. I'll share more stories. I hope this nap thing lasts for a couple of days...but for now, my vacuum cleaner misses me.
Ah San Diego. My spiritual home. "God's Naval" as my mom likes to call it. John, Maia and I went for an IEEE (read: major work related geek fest) conference and stayed for Comic Con (read: major fantasy/sci-fi/comic book geek fest). It was wonderful. While I didn't party as hard as some moms I know (well, their kids are older) I did manage one night of unabashed drinking at the best sushi joint in the state. Sake and beer to the point of singing Social Distortion along with two guys in a pick-up as I crossed the street while John strolled the baby in weird circles through a small park. That night we fed the baby a bottle, I pumped and threw out the breast milk. I even had a small hangover. In a way, it made me happy.
The days in the beginning of the week were long and filled with daytime TV. No Internet. I didn't want it. I wanted Oprah and Law and Order. I don't have television, as most people know it, so it's a treat to have a remote and watch whatever the networks put out there. And commercials. I don't miss them so much but I like how I feel slightly disturbed after watching them. I also had a cabana day by the pool. Tuesday afternoon is a good time for the pool. The cabanas were sparsely populated and Maia and I had a lovely time hanging out in a chaise lounge and ordering the pool boy around. Well, I ordered the pool boy to bring me a pineapple daiquiri. Maia just smiled and napped and ate her own food.
Wednesday Maia and I headed to one of my very favorite spots in the world, La Jolla Cove. The last time I was there I was pregnant and not far from delivery. John and I just strolled along the edge of the coast talking about the new life we were about to have. This time, I got to stroll with that new life and show her the ocean for the first time. We spent some time sitting on a large expanse of green lawn overlooking the cove that is a favorite place for divers and kayakers. I wonder if she'll remember any of that in her subconscious, and if she dreams of the ocean now?
Thursday through Saturday were spent at the convention center, and those days are entries in their own rights. Highlights? Neil Gaiman, Peter S. Beagle, Ray Bradbury and Joss Whedon. The Joss is the best story, at least for Maia. There are pictures of her first encounter with stardom up on the picture site. Too cute baby!
This week we've been settling back into the groove of things. Maia is keeping me jumping. She does everything in clusters. Today, after a week of not napping and staying up late, she's zonked out. I may pay for it tonight, but I've taken advantage of it this afternoon by doing laundry and picking up the living room...somewhat. I'll share more stories. I hope this nap thing lasts for a couple of days...but for now, my vacuum cleaner misses me.
Tuesday, July 4, 2006
I Really Need...
...to blog more. Sorry. I hope to better perfect one-handed typing in the future.
The 4th of July is my very favorite holiday. I look forward to it like a kid looks to Christmas. The combination of food and fire just makes me happy. Today, I have a piece of pork just a few ounces smaller than my daughter on the grill and a red-white-and-blueberry star shaped Jell-O mold in the fridge. The Fourth makes me crave nostalgia food...hence the Jell-O.
Tonight, we will try to bust out the 20lbs of fireworks smuggled back from our trip to Louisiana. Did I ever mention that John and I almost rented a car to fill with fireworks for the trip home? That plan was under serious consideration...but sanity prevailed and we made due with shipping them UPS ground. Somehow they made it past the state line, so big booms here we come. I, of course, have a large stock of "girly" fireworks: ground blooming flowers, tanks that spit sparks, hen laying eggs, star balls, and sparklers. The sparklers excite me. They are the magnesium ones with metal sticks to hold on to...the ones that look like little stars are popping off when lit, not just a stream of light. The sparklers we can get here, where they are legal, are really lame. I am always disappointed with them. I hope the Louisiana sparklers are the ones from my youth. When it was OK to run around with flaming sticks and you might burn yourself if you weren't careful. "Safe and Sane" give a false sense of security in the firework world. I'd rather experience the joy of mastering the dangerous with my fire. But that's just me. Again waxing nostalgic.
Happy Fourth!
The 4th of July is my very favorite holiday. I look forward to it like a kid looks to Christmas. The combination of food and fire just makes me happy. Today, I have a piece of pork just a few ounces smaller than my daughter on the grill and a red-white-and-blueberry star shaped Jell-O mold in the fridge. The Fourth makes me crave nostalgia food...hence the Jell-O.
Tonight, we will try to bust out the 20lbs of fireworks smuggled back from our trip to Louisiana. Did I ever mention that John and I almost rented a car to fill with fireworks for the trip home? That plan was under serious consideration...but sanity prevailed and we made due with shipping them UPS ground. Somehow they made it past the state line, so big booms here we come. I, of course, have a large stock of "girly" fireworks: ground blooming flowers, tanks that spit sparks, hen laying eggs, star balls, and sparklers. The sparklers excite me. They are the magnesium ones with metal sticks to hold on to...the ones that look like little stars are popping off when lit, not just a stream of light. The sparklers we can get here, where they are legal, are really lame. I am always disappointed with them. I hope the Louisiana sparklers are the ones from my youth. When it was OK to run around with flaming sticks and you might burn yourself if you weren't careful. "Safe and Sane" give a false sense of security in the firework world. I'd rather experience the joy of mastering the dangerous with my fire. But that's just me. Again waxing nostalgic.
Happy Fourth!
Saturday, June 24, 2006
By the Way...
There are new pictures posted for those who know where they are.
E-mail me if you haven't seen them yet. At some point in time, I'll learn how to link from Blogger to other sites. Or perhaps I'll find out what Flicker is all about.
In any case, enjoy.
E-mail me if you haven't seen them yet. At some point in time, I'll learn how to link from Blogger to other sites. Or perhaps I'll find out what Flicker is all about.
In any case, enjoy.
Baby Wearer
Maia was three weeks yesterday. I have been going through phases of staying in all day with her or trying to do too much with her. For the past while, errands have meant loading her into the car seat, then either balancing the car seat on a shopping cart (a scary task for the one-handed Mom out alone!) or pulling the *light* stroller in and out of the trunk. What a hassle for short errands. I'd tried out the sling at home...but was still feeling wary about using it in public. I'm a new Mom...everything is a bit weird right now.
Wednesday I attended a "New Mommy" group at the hospital where we delivered. All the moms had the kids in their travel systems...car seats and strollers. The hall to the auditorium looked like a stroller warehouse. I was no exception. I had just settled onto the floor with Maia, having unhooked her and pulled her form the car seat, when in walks the slingin' momma. She had a beautiful pink floral ring sling wrapped around her 5-month-old girl. Both mom and baby looked great. She was casual as she unslung the baby and got set up on the floor. The baby was happy as a clam and mom had the easiest time settling in. I was watching with envy.
Later that evening at my regular La Leche League meeting one new mom in the group asked for a sling demonstration. I knew I had to get going on the slinging. I have a wonderful sling...long...full on pockets...purple to boot! I just needed a reason to get comfortable with it. All these other moms with slings, coupled with the ever-increasing desire within myself to get out more pushed me over the uncomfortable edge. I was ready to sling, or die trying.
Yesterday I needed to run three quick errands. Pharmacy. Target. Whole Foods. All in separate locations. Each stop would require a seperate car seat-stroller exchange. I didn't want to be gone for four hours to run three quick errands. It was time to break in the sling. I waited for Maia to go into her afternoon sleepy mode. I had her eat, changed her and loaded her into the car seat. I then realized that sling life would be easy if I put on the sling before I got into the car. Who would even notice the fabric while I was tucked into the car myself and it would save tons of time if I wasn't taking on and off the sling. After all...convenience is the watchword here. All slung up we went off to pick up mom's prescription. I found a parking place near the door with and empty space next to me so I would have some room to maneuver the baby into the sling. Carefully, I pulled sleepy Maia up and out and opened the sling. Something must have been in the air because she slid right in and into a perfect sling position. Her legs were crossed, her back was supported and her little head was peeking up and out but cradled by fabric. She was perfect and I was ecstatic.
The women at the pharmacy loved the sling. They thought it was very clever. Target went just as well for us. It was so nice to be able to go in and just pick up the couple of things I needed and run out again. The sling's pockets are deep and big, so I was able to put my wallet, phone, keys, and a burp cloth for Maia in them. Another bonus: No bag to lug around with the baby.
Whole Foods, which is a logistical nightmare akin to Trader Joe's as far as tight aisles and shopping carts go, was made much better by the sling and a small cart: a weird, small, cart that seems to have been made for the elderly--or moms with small children riding on their chests. Gotta love the upper-crust hippie store.
I am feeling so much more confidant with the sling. John and I are going to go out this afternoon, and I plan on slinging it again with Miss Maia. I have to finish the padded sling now; I didn't quite get to it before she was born. And I now am on the lookout for some beautiful floral print fabric of my own for a new sling...the fun never ends. It also doesn't hurt that when we got home, there was a package for Miss Maia setting on the porch. It seems that everyone wants us to sling together because inside the package was a wonderful hip carrier--for when she's a little bit bigger.
I may never put her down. :)
Wednesday I attended a "New Mommy" group at the hospital where we delivered. All the moms had the kids in their travel systems...car seats and strollers. The hall to the auditorium looked like a stroller warehouse. I was no exception. I had just settled onto the floor with Maia, having unhooked her and pulled her form the car seat, when in walks the slingin' momma. She had a beautiful pink floral ring sling wrapped around her 5-month-old girl. Both mom and baby looked great. She was casual as she unslung the baby and got set up on the floor. The baby was happy as a clam and mom had the easiest time settling in. I was watching with envy.
Later that evening at my regular La Leche League meeting one new mom in the group asked for a sling demonstration. I knew I had to get going on the slinging. I have a wonderful sling...long...full on pockets...purple to boot! I just needed a reason to get comfortable with it. All these other moms with slings, coupled with the ever-increasing desire within myself to get out more pushed me over the uncomfortable edge. I was ready to sling, or die trying.
Yesterday I needed to run three quick errands. Pharmacy. Target. Whole Foods. All in separate locations. Each stop would require a seperate car seat-stroller exchange. I didn't want to be gone for four hours to run three quick errands. It was time to break in the sling. I waited for Maia to go into her afternoon sleepy mode. I had her eat, changed her and loaded her into the car seat. I then realized that sling life would be easy if I put on the sling before I got into the car. Who would even notice the fabric while I was tucked into the car myself and it would save tons of time if I wasn't taking on and off the sling. After all...convenience is the watchword here. All slung up we went off to pick up mom's prescription. I found a parking place near the door with and empty space next to me so I would have some room to maneuver the baby into the sling. Carefully, I pulled sleepy Maia up and out and opened the sling. Something must have been in the air because she slid right in and into a perfect sling position. Her legs were crossed, her back was supported and her little head was peeking up and out but cradled by fabric. She was perfect and I was ecstatic.
The women at the pharmacy loved the sling. They thought it was very clever. Target went just as well for us. It was so nice to be able to go in and just pick up the couple of things I needed and run out again. The sling's pockets are deep and big, so I was able to put my wallet, phone, keys, and a burp cloth for Maia in them. Another bonus: No bag to lug around with the baby.
Whole Foods, which is a logistical nightmare akin to Trader Joe's as far as tight aisles and shopping carts go, was made much better by the sling and a small cart: a weird, small, cart that seems to have been made for the elderly--or moms with small children riding on their chests. Gotta love the upper-crust hippie store.
I am feeling so much more confidant with the sling. John and I are going to go out this afternoon, and I plan on slinging it again with Miss Maia. I have to finish the padded sling now; I didn't quite get to it before she was born. And I now am on the lookout for some beautiful floral print fabric of my own for a new sling...the fun never ends. It also doesn't hurt that when we got home, there was a package for Miss Maia setting on the porch. It seems that everyone wants us to sling together because inside the package was a wonderful hip carrier--for when she's a little bit bigger.
I may never put her down. :)
Saturday, June 10, 2006
I'm Still Here!
It's been almost a month now, I know. My first excuse is finals.
Finished them. Yeah! Still waiting for grades to be posted. It takes forever for the grades to be recorded to our SJSU accounts. Why can't they figure out a faster way? Let teachers post directly for their rosters? There has got to be a better way. I hate waiting for the final grade to come down the pipeline.
My second excuse is. Well. I haven't really been in a writing mood since school finished. I needed a brain break and some time to get the finishing touches done on the baby room. It's still not "perfect" but at least it's set up and workable.
Which is good for my final excuse.
Our baby girl was born on June 2, 2006 at 4:15 PM. Maia Evelyn weighed 7 lbs 14oz and was 19.5" long. She's a dear heart. And very time consuming. And well worth every moment we get to spend with her.
We've had family in and out for the past week, and we've had some bumps on the parenting road already. I'll be sharing the details...but for now, the wiggle worm wants to be changed and fed and cuddled and loved, and I am only too happy to comply.
Finished them. Yeah! Still waiting for grades to be posted. It takes forever for the grades to be recorded to our SJSU accounts. Why can't they figure out a faster way? Let teachers post directly for their rosters? There has got to be a better way. I hate waiting for the final grade to come down the pipeline.
My second excuse is. Well. I haven't really been in a writing mood since school finished. I needed a brain break and some time to get the finishing touches done on the baby room. It's still not "perfect" but at least it's set up and workable.
Which is good for my final excuse.
Our baby girl was born on June 2, 2006 at 4:15 PM. Maia Evelyn weighed 7 lbs 14oz and was 19.5" long. She's a dear heart. And very time consuming. And well worth every moment we get to spend with her.
We've had family in and out for the past week, and we've had some bumps on the parenting road already. I'll be sharing the details...but for now, the wiggle worm wants to be changed and fed and cuddled and loved, and I am only too happy to comply.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Thank You Mid-West
I awoke to overcast skies and a brisk breeze. When I left for school, it was about the same. Sometime in the late morning it sprinkled. A cool spring sprinkle. It was a perfect jeans and t-shirt day. I even wore a sweater this evening. Thank you mid-west for sending your rain out here, if that's where it came from. It has been unbearably hot in usually temperate Northern California for the past two weeks. This last week was the worst...hitting the mid 90's on Mother's Day as my mom toiled, painting the soon to be master bedroom of my house.
The weather has only been made less bearable by the large furnace residing in my mid-section. All I have to say is "Thank you Lord" for allowing me to deliver in early June. I could not handle being this big and hot any later in the summer, for sure.
In other news, I took two of my three finals today. I didn't realize how stressed I have been until I finished the last final of the day, the final I considered the toughest and the one worth a good majority of my grade in the class. I have been worrying about "making it through finals" from the beginning of the semester. I have been worried about not completing this round, and wasting these past months because I didn't get to the final. For the past couple of weeks, I have added to my stress by worrying about the actual finals...you know...doing well and getting good grades.
It had become so part of my routine, I didn't notice. Any tiredness, any mood swings, and kind of not normal feeling I have been chalking up to the end stages of pregnancy. I think I was worried about school, as much as anything else. I came to this realization as I left the classroom. I felt good. I felt good about the test, I knew what I was saying, I identified the passages, I knew the vocabulary, I wrote a decent essay. Suddenly, I realized I felt lighter. Physically lighter. I smiled, and it felt so very good. There was no tiredness left in my body. I have been recently coming home and sleeping for about two hours every afternoon. I could not be motivated to do anything. Today, I took the scenic route to light rail and simply enjoyed the walk. The air was clean, the day still cool and breezy. I was happy. I am happy.
Everything looks good right about now. I hope the cool weather stays for a bit. I have one more test on Wednesday, but I'm ready for it. Then, a couple of blissful weeks waiting for baby. Suddenly, the fact that our old roommate still has a room full of stuff here doesn't seem like a big deal. We'll get resettled when we can. It doesn't seem so scary that the house needs a good cleaning...I have some time now and energy to do it. And if not, well, that's what Mom is for after the baby comes. I am now looking forward to a summer adjusting to the demands of new parenthood. It doesn't seem as daunting as task as it did a week ago, when I absolutely melted down in a store because they didn't carry the "right" brand of baby bottles. I have just about made it through the semester. I have almost completed my goal of getting one more year of school in before baby. I am a few classes away from my bachelor’s degree...and now I feel as though I have the luxury of finishing at my leisure. I have proved that I can handle university.
It's a good feeling right now; one I hope doesn't soon go away.
The weather has only been made less bearable by the large furnace residing in my mid-section. All I have to say is "Thank you Lord" for allowing me to deliver in early June. I could not handle being this big and hot any later in the summer, for sure.
In other news, I took two of my three finals today. I didn't realize how stressed I have been until I finished the last final of the day, the final I considered the toughest and the one worth a good majority of my grade in the class. I have been worrying about "making it through finals" from the beginning of the semester. I have been worried about not completing this round, and wasting these past months because I didn't get to the final. For the past couple of weeks, I have added to my stress by worrying about the actual finals...you know...doing well and getting good grades.
It had become so part of my routine, I didn't notice. Any tiredness, any mood swings, and kind of not normal feeling I have been chalking up to the end stages of pregnancy. I think I was worried about school, as much as anything else. I came to this realization as I left the classroom. I felt good. I felt good about the test, I knew what I was saying, I identified the passages, I knew the vocabulary, I wrote a decent essay. Suddenly, I realized I felt lighter. Physically lighter. I smiled, and it felt so very good. There was no tiredness left in my body. I have been recently coming home and sleeping for about two hours every afternoon. I could not be motivated to do anything. Today, I took the scenic route to light rail and simply enjoyed the walk. The air was clean, the day still cool and breezy. I was happy. I am happy.
Everything looks good right about now. I hope the cool weather stays for a bit. I have one more test on Wednesday, but I'm ready for it. Then, a couple of blissful weeks waiting for baby. Suddenly, the fact that our old roommate still has a room full of stuff here doesn't seem like a big deal. We'll get resettled when we can. It doesn't seem so scary that the house needs a good cleaning...I have some time now and energy to do it. And if not, well, that's what Mom is for after the baby comes. I am now looking forward to a summer adjusting to the demands of new parenthood. It doesn't seem as daunting as task as it did a week ago, when I absolutely melted down in a store because they didn't carry the "right" brand of baby bottles. I have just about made it through the semester. I have almost completed my goal of getting one more year of school in before baby. I am a few classes away from my bachelor’s degree...and now I feel as though I have the luxury of finishing at my leisure. I have proved that I can handle university.
It's a good feeling right now; one I hope doesn't soon go away.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Lazy Girl
I always miss my train...by seconds, I might add...when I try and catch one from the downtown station. I have no idea why this is, but my guess is that the universe knows that I hate waiting the 15 minutes for the next train at this station. Why do I hate it so much? Well...there is no shade there and it's over 80 F out today. There is no place to sit and I'm tired. There are very smelly people all over the place. Really. Don't laugh. The street kids bother me, not personally bother me...but their presence bothers me. Too many folks hang out there and smoke. That just about covers it.
Fortune would have it that there was a train right after the one I missed...it just wasn't going where I needed to go. But, it does stop at the other station where I could comfortably sit in the shade away from smelly, smoking people. So I got on. And rode about a mile. And got off. And sat and waited for my train to arrive. I was very happy and comfortable eating my crackers in the shade.
Yes, I know that this qualifies for some kind of weirdness. I don't care. I got to sit.
Fortune would have it that there was a train right after the one I missed...it just wasn't going where I needed to go. But, it does stop at the other station where I could comfortably sit in the shade away from smelly, smoking people. So I got on. And rode about a mile. And got off. And sat and waited for my train to arrive. I was very happy and comfortable eating my crackers in the shade.
Yes, I know that this qualifies for some kind of weirdness. I don't care. I got to sit.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
A Collection of Small Things
I got to meet the latest baby to join our circle yesterday. He's Little D, the son of my former employer. He's adorable, with tons of black hair, just like his Momma. I was honored to be able to attend his Bris Milah, the traditional circumcision preformed on the eighth day after birth. While most people would cringe, it was a beautiful ceremony that connects the new son of the family with all of his male relatives, back to Abraham. Little D was well behaved, he cried a bit during the procedure, but after a good feeding he went to sleep and seemed just fine. Seeing it preformed, and seeing the reaction of a real baby, has cemented in me our decision to have our son circumcised, if and when we have a boy baby.
In other tradition news, I was showered on Sunday by my friends and family. It was lovely. While I missed those who could not make it, those who did were a wonderful collection of old family friends, Aunts, cousins and close friends. We spent most of the time just chatting and enjoying each others company...and of course eating the spread put out by Mom and Sister M (my Mom's best friend and like family to us), who hosted at her lovely home. Little Baby T received some thoughtful and adorable gifts and our playroom library has been well stocked. Just perfect for the English major's baby. I mentioned to John in passing how much fun I was going to have reading to the baby, and he gave me a look and said, "I'm going to enjoy reading to the kid just as much." He loved the big collection of fairytales from around the world we received. Our kid won't need TV at this rate...
My diapers arrived. A box filled with little cloth coverings and poly/nylon wraps. It doesn't look like a $450 box...but it is. The company included a FAQ all about washing and caring for our cloth investment, so now we're both thinking about buying new detergents just for diaper washing. And kidlette clothes washing. Our laundry room is going to fill up...good thing we got the pedestal stand underneath the new washing machine. At least we'll be able to keep it somewhat organized.
Speaking of organized, I have found the last two pieces of furniture to complete the nursery. And, they came as a set. I found a posting on Craigslist (online for sale ads that are community specific and free to post. I love Craigslist...we've purchased all of our baby furniture for pennies on the dollar from the site) for a glider rocker and a changing table. The rocker doesn't have an ottoman, but I'm cool with that, if I need foot support I'd like a small footstool. It has the big plush cushions and it's red in color. Perfect for the room. I love color, but was becoming resigned to either a denim blue (yuck) or beige (boring). The only catch is, they're located about an hour north of us. So, yes, we're driving out there on Saturday. But, it's a super deal, worth the gas. And we might even get to get an IKEA trip in. Oh joy!
John is in Fishkill, NY for the next couple of days...leaving me with my homework and not much else. Maybe, just maybe, I'll get some housework done. I have been slacking off big time on that! I should. I'd also like to get my padded sling sewn. That won't take too long, and I need to adjust my unpadded sling as well...cut some tail off and make pockets.
I have my 36-week appointment tomorrow. I'm on the weekly visit schedule now. All my teachers know I'm expecting at this point...I told the last two today. I only have to make it through to the 25th of this month then the kid is welcome at any time. Ideally, I'll get a week to rest and finish up home projects, but, as long as school is done...everything else can wait.
Speaking of schoolwork, it's time to get some homework done and then...load the dishwasher. Small things add up in the long run.
In other tradition news, I was showered on Sunday by my friends and family. It was lovely. While I missed those who could not make it, those who did were a wonderful collection of old family friends, Aunts, cousins and close friends. We spent most of the time just chatting and enjoying each others company...and of course eating the spread put out by Mom and Sister M (my Mom's best friend and like family to us), who hosted at her lovely home. Little Baby T received some thoughtful and adorable gifts and our playroom library has been well stocked. Just perfect for the English major's baby. I mentioned to John in passing how much fun I was going to have reading to the baby, and he gave me a look and said, "I'm going to enjoy reading to the kid just as much." He loved the big collection of fairytales from around the world we received. Our kid won't need TV at this rate...
My diapers arrived. A box filled with little cloth coverings and poly/nylon wraps. It doesn't look like a $450 box...but it is. The company included a FAQ all about washing and caring for our cloth investment, so now we're both thinking about buying new detergents just for diaper washing. And kidlette clothes washing. Our laundry room is going to fill up...good thing we got the pedestal stand underneath the new washing machine. At least we'll be able to keep it somewhat organized.
Speaking of organized, I have found the last two pieces of furniture to complete the nursery. And, they came as a set. I found a posting on Craigslist (online for sale ads that are community specific and free to post. I love Craigslist...we've purchased all of our baby furniture for pennies on the dollar from the site) for a glider rocker and a changing table. The rocker doesn't have an ottoman, but I'm cool with that, if I need foot support I'd like a small footstool. It has the big plush cushions and it's red in color. Perfect for the room. I love color, but was becoming resigned to either a denim blue (yuck) or beige (boring). The only catch is, they're located about an hour north of us. So, yes, we're driving out there on Saturday. But, it's a super deal, worth the gas. And we might even get to get an IKEA trip in. Oh joy!
John is in Fishkill, NY for the next couple of days...leaving me with my homework and not much else. Maybe, just maybe, I'll get some housework done. I have been slacking off big time on that! I should. I'd also like to get my padded sling sewn. That won't take too long, and I need to adjust my unpadded sling as well...cut some tail off and make pockets.
I have my 36-week appointment tomorrow. I'm on the weekly visit schedule now. All my teachers know I'm expecting at this point...I told the last two today. I only have to make it through to the 25th of this month then the kid is welcome at any time. Ideally, I'll get a week to rest and finish up home projects, but, as long as school is done...everything else can wait.
Speaking of schoolwork, it's time to get some homework done and then...load the dishwasher. Small things add up in the long run.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Dr. D Says
I went in for my regular check-up this morning with Dr. D. Everything is groovy so far. My blood pressure is good, no (extra) swelling, and even my jump in weight is nothing to worry about.
It came time to check the baby's heart rate and our little wiggler wouldn't sit still. Dr. D had a reading going, when *swoosh* the kidlette moved and she had to start over again. After Dr. D finally got her reading, 168 beats/min, she looked at me and said, "You're having a girl, right?" I just said, "I don't know..." She answered, "I think you're having a girl, this baby acts like one."
So, Dr. D has weighed in on the "Girl" side of the argument.
In other baby related news, John and I have settled on our prospective names. Girl and boy. It's been a challenge, but we're both happy with the results. You'll have to ask me in person if you want to know what they are...
It came time to check the baby's heart rate and our little wiggler wouldn't sit still. Dr. D had a reading going, when *swoosh* the kidlette moved and she had to start over again. After Dr. D finally got her reading, 168 beats/min, she looked at me and said, "You're having a girl, right?" I just said, "I don't know..." She answered, "I think you're having a girl, this baby acts like one."
So, Dr. D has weighed in on the "Girl" side of the argument.
In other baby related news, John and I have settled on our prospective names. Girl and boy. It's been a challenge, but we're both happy with the results. You'll have to ask me in person if you want to know what they are...
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Random Thoughts on a Sunny Day
Today as I walked from class to the English Society Tea I passed the following happenings:
International Student Fair--Complete with food booths ranging from fresh crepes to shish-ke-bob and a stage where Muslim rappers were performing.
Student Protest--They staged a walkout and picket line to protest fee hikes across the Cal Sate system.
Science 2 BBQ--I'm not sure who the Science 2 students are...but the BBQ sure smelled good.
I also got flashed from across the street while waiting for my train home by a woman who just didn't understand how short her skirt was as she sat, knees open, at the bus stop. That was before she dropped her cell phone and did some weird contortionist moves to pick it up from behind her seat. That gave me a view I can only describe in terms of my birth class. She was ready for the side laying one leg up pushing position...but I'm not her OB/GYN.
In other news, the shirts were off everywhere as the pasty skinned begin to work on their summer tans! It's about 77 F outside and sunny as can be. The first thing I did when I got home was to flip on the fan and trade my t-shirt for a tank top. Yikes, I hate being sweaty. I should get used to it, it's not going to get any better any time soon.
My cold has been replaced with the discomfort of allergy nose...dry then runny...and itchy eyes and a sore throat. I'll ask the doc tomorrow if there's anything I can take for it. On the "plus" side, my sense of smell has climbed up again to the level it was when I first got pregnant. It had been dormant for a while. Today in class I was so grossed out by the smell of my classmates bad coffee. Ick. It could get ugly as everyone gets sweaty.
All in all, so far, not a bad day. Even with the creeping allergies. I hope the sun decides to stick around. Things are much more appealing that way.
International Student Fair--Complete with food booths ranging from fresh crepes to shish-ke-bob and a stage where Muslim rappers were performing.
Student Protest--They staged a walkout and picket line to protest fee hikes across the Cal Sate system.
Science 2 BBQ--I'm not sure who the Science 2 students are...but the BBQ sure smelled good.
I also got flashed from across the street while waiting for my train home by a woman who just didn't understand how short her skirt was as she sat, knees open, at the bus stop. That was before she dropped her cell phone and did some weird contortionist moves to pick it up from behind her seat. That gave me a view I can only describe in terms of my birth class. She was ready for the side laying one leg up pushing position...but I'm not her OB/GYN.
In other news, the shirts were off everywhere as the pasty skinned begin to work on their summer tans! It's about 77 F outside and sunny as can be. The first thing I did when I got home was to flip on the fan and trade my t-shirt for a tank top. Yikes, I hate being sweaty. I should get used to it, it's not going to get any better any time soon.
My cold has been replaced with the discomfort of allergy nose...dry then runny...and itchy eyes and a sore throat. I'll ask the doc tomorrow if there's anything I can take for it. On the "plus" side, my sense of smell has climbed up again to the level it was when I first got pregnant. It had been dormant for a while. Today in class I was so grossed out by the smell of my classmates bad coffee. Ick. It could get ugly as everyone gets sweaty.
All in all, so far, not a bad day. Even with the creeping allergies. I hope the sun decides to stick around. Things are much more appealing that way.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
42 Days and Counting...
It's gone from 40 weeks down to about 40 days. Time flies when you're having a baby.
John and I attended our childbirth class last Saturday. We did the intensive one day eight hour session...that ended up being about nine hours. Our instructor loved the topic, has been teaching classes and acting a professional doula and is currently six months pregnant. Great combination for a class...but it was hard to condense the information.
It was a different experience than what I thought it would be. I was prepared to be frightened by everything we didn't know yet...but it turns out I should be more scared of what everyone else didn't yet know. Was I really the only woman there who already knew (and practicing) what Kegel's are? I thought, foolish me, that most people in this day and age and in this area, would have read up on the basics and would be looking for some specifics from the class. Not so. In Santa Clara County only about 10% of all expecting women attend a birthing class. I wonder what the other 90% do? I know it's an option, but I thought most people would want to know what to expect when the big D-day arrives. I do. Also, Santa Clara County has the highest rate of epidural use in the nation at 98% of births. I'm not judging, because I am so willing to accept the epidural, but I'm at least going to try other things before the feeling in my legs is taken away. That idea kind of bothers me. Laugh all you want mom's who have been there...but we all have our own ideas about labor and how we would like it go.
John and I left thinking that for most couples there that day, this was the only preparation they would do. That's fine...it's at least some preparation. We had breathing techniques explained, comfort measures practiced and some alternative labor positions presented. I like the over-the-side-of-the-bed-squat-bar position. Sounds kind of kinky doesn't it? What was reassuring was the knowledge that John and I are preparing ourselves as much as we can. I think that will make a world of difference when the time comes. It will hopefully allow us to have a sense of control over what is happening...control in that we understand what is going on and what our options are. I will say, John was the best husband there. But, I might be biased.
Six more weeks...give or take. It's getting kind of scary. Yesterday I was bone tired and not feeling very peppy. I had a classmate look at me and go..."You look like you're done with being pregnant and ready to have a baby." Yesterday I might have felt that way...but today I'm just ready to make it through to finals. Yup. I have one month of school left, and only a couple weeks of actual instruction to go. My biggest concern is: What have I learned this semester? Lot's about stars, literature, and even something about myself. It's all kind of a jumble right now mapped out in papers and projects. I'll do all right. Keep your fingers crossed for the next 42 days...
John and I attended our childbirth class last Saturday. We did the intensive one day eight hour session...that ended up being about nine hours. Our instructor loved the topic, has been teaching classes and acting a professional doula and is currently six months pregnant. Great combination for a class...but it was hard to condense the information.
It was a different experience than what I thought it would be. I was prepared to be frightened by everything we didn't know yet...but it turns out I should be more scared of what everyone else didn't yet know. Was I really the only woman there who already knew (and practicing) what Kegel's are? I thought, foolish me, that most people in this day and age and in this area, would have read up on the basics and would be looking for some specifics from the class. Not so. In Santa Clara County only about 10% of all expecting women attend a birthing class. I wonder what the other 90% do? I know it's an option, but I thought most people would want to know what to expect when the big D-day arrives. I do. Also, Santa Clara County has the highest rate of epidural use in the nation at 98% of births. I'm not judging, because I am so willing to accept the epidural, but I'm at least going to try other things before the feeling in my legs is taken away. That idea kind of bothers me. Laugh all you want mom's who have been there...but we all have our own ideas about labor and how we would like it go.
John and I left thinking that for most couples there that day, this was the only preparation they would do. That's fine...it's at least some preparation. We had breathing techniques explained, comfort measures practiced and some alternative labor positions presented. I like the over-the-side-of-the-bed-squat-bar position. Sounds kind of kinky doesn't it? What was reassuring was the knowledge that John and I are preparing ourselves as much as we can. I think that will make a world of difference when the time comes. It will hopefully allow us to have a sense of control over what is happening...control in that we understand what is going on and what our options are. I will say, John was the best husband there. But, I might be biased.
Six more weeks...give or take. It's getting kind of scary. Yesterday I was bone tired and not feeling very peppy. I had a classmate look at me and go..."You look like you're done with being pregnant and ready to have a baby." Yesterday I might have felt that way...but today I'm just ready to make it through to finals. Yup. I have one month of school left, and only a couple weeks of actual instruction to go. My biggest concern is: What have I learned this semester? Lot's about stars, literature, and even something about myself. It's all kind of a jumble right now mapped out in papers and projects. I'll do all right. Keep your fingers crossed for the next 42 days...
Thursday, April 20, 2006
James is the Best Cat Ever
I was inspired this morning to sew. I had the fabric, I had the plans and I have been thinking on this project for weeks now. I made my very first ring sling for the baby. Nothing fancy, just some nice woven fabric, bright purple brushed aluminum rings and a very long tail. I'm fairly pleased with how it turned out. So pleased in fact, I think I will attempt to make a padded sling next with the fabric I didn't end up using and the extra rings I ordered. Why not?
I needed to try on the sling. I've never worn one before, and I was wondering how it would really feel. As there is a lack of babies in the house at this very moment I wondered how I could simulate the weight of a small child across my shoulders. A-ha. I do have a 10lb cat wandering around...but the sun is out and last I saw, he was outside enjoying it. Still musing with the empty sling strapped across my back and chest, I turned as the soft click of the cat door announced the arrival of my dear, sweet victim.
James headed straight for the clean folded laundry on the bed. That was my excuse. Tightening the inner "pouch" of the sling I waltzed into the bedroom and picked up my fur baby in the cradle hold. Gently holding him in one arm and opening the sling with the other, I placed him inside. At first, I thought he was going to bolt for dear life. His little head poked out the top and he turned to face me and let out a plaintive "mew". I simply cradled his back and adjusted the sling until he was snug, but not suffocated. He relaxed. I let go of his backside and started to walk around the house. He poked his head over the side and to watch from this new angle as I walked. It was great. Very comfortable. I felt his warm little body and could tell he was very secure. He must think I'm crazy.
After about 10 minutes of jouncing around, I thought I had better not push my luck with his patience. I didn't want claw marks on my new sling, after all. I walked back to the bedroom and gently got him into my arms and out of the sling. I'm amazed at how easy it was to get a good hold on him coming in and out of the sling. I put him back on the bed and he curled right up again for a nap, no worse for the wear.
My only regret is that I don't have a picture to share of James all snug in the baby sling.
I needed to try on the sling. I've never worn one before, and I was wondering how it would really feel. As there is a lack of babies in the house at this very moment I wondered how I could simulate the weight of a small child across my shoulders. A-ha. I do have a 10lb cat wandering around...but the sun is out and last I saw, he was outside enjoying it. Still musing with the empty sling strapped across my back and chest, I turned as the soft click of the cat door announced the arrival of my dear, sweet victim.
James headed straight for the clean folded laundry on the bed. That was my excuse. Tightening the inner "pouch" of the sling I waltzed into the bedroom and picked up my fur baby in the cradle hold. Gently holding him in one arm and opening the sling with the other, I placed him inside. At first, I thought he was going to bolt for dear life. His little head poked out the top and he turned to face me and let out a plaintive "mew". I simply cradled his back and adjusted the sling until he was snug, but not suffocated. He relaxed. I let go of his backside and started to walk around the house. He poked his head over the side and to watch from this new angle as I walked. It was great. Very comfortable. I felt his warm little body and could tell he was very secure. He must think I'm crazy.
After about 10 minutes of jouncing around, I thought I had better not push my luck with his patience. I didn't want claw marks on my new sling, after all. I walked back to the bedroom and gently got him into my arms and out of the sling. I'm amazed at how easy it was to get a good hold on him coming in and out of the sling. I put him back on the bed and he curled right up again for a nap, no worse for the wear.
My only regret is that I don't have a picture to share of James all snug in the baby sling.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Conversation
Husband: (from floor) I can't get up.
Ever More Pregnant Wife: (from bed) Welcome to my world.
Ever More Pregnant Wife: (from bed) Welcome to my world.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Happy Monday!
The litany of small trials that made my morning yesterday:
Woke up on time...actually got out of bed too late.
Ants attacked the kitchen cabinets.
Went to catch my train to school. As I just reached sidewalk over crossing to the train pulled in...As I ran to the top of the stairs hollering "Wait!" the train pulled away.
It began to rain while I was sitting at the station waiting for the next train.
There were no seats for me on the train.
I had just enough time to walk-at a hustle, with a stitch in my side from running-the five city blocks to campus and get to class on time.
Deciding I needed a small chocolate pick me up for my frustrating morning, I stopped at the vending machine for some peanut M&M's...my package of M&M's got STUCK IN THE MACHINE. I just stood looking at them...hanging there...taunting me.
I spent another .75 to release the original package of M&M's from vending machine bondage.
On the plus side...I still have an uneaten package of peanut M&M's in case today doesn't go well.
Woke up on time...actually got out of bed too late.
Ants attacked the kitchen cabinets.
Went to catch my train to school. As I just reached sidewalk over crossing to the train pulled in...As I ran to the top of the stairs hollering "Wait!" the train pulled away.
It began to rain while I was sitting at the station waiting for the next train.
There were no seats for me on the train.
I had just enough time to walk-at a hustle, with a stitch in my side from running-the five city blocks to campus and get to class on time.
Deciding I needed a small chocolate pick me up for my frustrating morning, I stopped at the vending machine for some peanut M&M's...my package of M&M's got STUCK IN THE MACHINE. I just stood looking at them...hanging there...taunting me.
I spent another .75 to release the original package of M&M's from vending machine bondage.
On the plus side...I still have an uneaten package of peanut M&M's in case today doesn't go well.
Friday, April 7, 2006
Note from the kitchen...
The brownies will be out of the oven in five minutes. If you can make it here in ten, they'll still be warm.
This is what happens when I'm left alone all day and it starts to rain. Again.
This is what happens when I'm left alone all day and it starts to rain. Again.
Lost and Found
Sorry about the two-week break in writing. I've been in my head lately and needed to kind of zone in and away. And then I got sucked into My Space. But that's another story altogether.
The most important happening, and the one that has turned into a catalyst of sorts, is that I have been found. I didn't even know I was lost. In the process of being found, I have made a new friend from an old one and discovered that I might not be as alone in the world as I (sometimes) like to think I am.
Background...(It's a writer's convention that in this case must be followed. Jumping in epic style "in the middle" would just make no sense. It becomes important to the story as a whole, I promise)...I spent the first 1/3 of my life living a semi-gypsy lifestyle. My dad wasn't military; he worked for Bechtel, which is a very large engineering/construction firm. Perhaps you've heard of them? No? They were getting contracts in the Middle East before Halliburton was a household name...Fortunately; Dad worked the domestic side of things. He was a project management accountant. He would be sent to new sites across the United States to help manage the army of construction, union, and contract workers needed to build VERY LARGE THINGS.
The average time on a job was two years. About every two years, from the time I was 2 until I turned 9, my family up and moved to a new place. A new state. Somewhere in the Mid-West. I have three siblings. None of us were born in the same state. I was talking to my mom the other day, and she mentioned how annoying it was to have delivered under four different OB's...she knew what was going to happen (very fast, easy births...lucky...no wonder she had four of us) but each new doctor wouldn't believe her until the baby popped out hours ahead of when the ob said it would. But I digress...
When I was about 5 we landed in Robinson IL. I remember the house, it was one of my favorites...two stories, fireplace, big living room and a bedroom with a view of the street below. I found a ceramic miniature pig toy that the previous owner had lost. I took it to be some kind of omen and the pig was my talisman for a while. The street, in my mind's eye, was idyllic. It was the kind of dreamy, Mid-West town street with large trees and wide lanes that Hollywood would film on. I had a tricycle there...I think...it was a lovely place to be. I had a baby brother at the time. But he was 1 at the most. I ruled the roost and would begin my school career at Lincoln Elementary in the fall.
Best of all, there were playmates on our street. Right across the street lived the girl who would be my best friend for my short stay: Dea. We fell into a natural little girl friendship. She was a year younger than I, but sharp as a tack and could keep up with any and all of my mental imaginations...often beating my ideas out with her own. What I remember best are the games of dress-up we used to play and the long intricate games of "Heidi". She had the best "Clara chair" and we would argue over who got to be the bossy invalid that Heidi, the good girl, eventually saves from herself. Dea would win; by virtue that it was her chair after all...being the bossy one is always the most fun.
I ran away to live with Dea once when my mom wouldn't let me have my own way. We watched Strawberry Shortcake and by the time it was over, I was ready to go home. The shortest running away in history, but also the most fun. Speaking of Strawberry Shortcake...Dea saved the day at my 6th birthday party. She was the only girl who had the very rare "Orange Blossom" doll that would complete the table setting at my themed party. She very graciously loaned me the doll. That was the best party of my childhood. My dad even dressed up as the Purple Pie man of Porcupine Peak. I couldn't get mom to agree to dress as Sour Grapes, the female "bad guy", but having the Pie man there was treat enough.
I remember hunting fireflies in her back yard on warm summer nights.
I remember she had much older siblings, and how cool I thought that was, being that baby brothers aren't that interesting.
For some reason I also have a memory of her tied in with an eight-track player and tapes...but my memory is sketchy at best. That is my problem.
You see, I left. And part of my coping with leaving is to forget. I have only scattered memories of my early childhood...like most children. I thought I was normal in this respect. I have better memories than my siblings. Of course, I am older than they are. But over time...my pictures of Dea faded in to the other places I was. I have one photograph of us together, but I can hardly remember the little girl I was...much less the girl she was. Across the years, I would think of her. I asked mom about how to find people, if I could go back to Robinson to look for her one day. I foolishly thought I could send a letter to our old address and ask the new owners to deliver it to "Dea across the street"...I couldn't even remember her full name anymore. Our last move, from Michigan to California, all but erased my life in the Mid-West. We had to pack light, and any trace I might still have had of Dea was gone. Except for that one photograph.
It was rather a surprise when I checked my news list-group-filler e-mail box a couple of weeks ago and found a message from Reunion.com. From Dea. How many Dea's are there in the world...who would even know to look for me? Stunned, I replied that I was indeed the one and only Valerie Kesweder (maiden name folks...distinctive...yes...memorable, I didn't think so...) and how the heck was she after 20+ years?
So, the reunion of a friendship began. If by some weird chance my family had stayed in Robinson...I believe Dea and I would have stayed friends. She is still wicked sharp...funny...imaginative. She's a writer. A wife...a military wife at that. A mother of two young boys. An independent thinker. A painted and pierced lady. A home baker with a new food processor. A computer junkie. A graphic designer. A thinker. A friend. And now she is the traveling gypsy and I am the spot-bound girl. She didn't leave that same street until college...and has now lived across the US.
I am scared and thrilled by this new friendship in my life. Scared by the immediacy and the connection I am feeling across years with nothing but notes and pictures to fill the gaps. Thrilled, because connection is something I crave, but something I am only just now learning to nurture. So far, it's e-mail and My Space and the occasional on-line chat...I am happy with that. It's amazing to me to have been found by a girl I loved as a child and begin to understand, and perhaps love, the women we have both become.
The most important happening, and the one that has turned into a catalyst of sorts, is that I have been found. I didn't even know I was lost. In the process of being found, I have made a new friend from an old one and discovered that I might not be as alone in the world as I (sometimes) like to think I am.
Background...(It's a writer's convention that in this case must be followed. Jumping in epic style "in the middle" would just make no sense. It becomes important to the story as a whole, I promise)...I spent the first 1/3 of my life living a semi-gypsy lifestyle. My dad wasn't military; he worked for Bechtel, which is a very large engineering/construction firm. Perhaps you've heard of them? No? They were getting contracts in the Middle East before Halliburton was a household name...Fortunately; Dad worked the domestic side of things. He was a project management accountant. He would be sent to new sites across the United States to help manage the army of construction, union, and contract workers needed to build VERY LARGE THINGS.
The average time on a job was two years. About every two years, from the time I was 2 until I turned 9, my family up and moved to a new place. A new state. Somewhere in the Mid-West. I have three siblings. None of us were born in the same state. I was talking to my mom the other day, and she mentioned how annoying it was to have delivered under four different OB's...she knew what was going to happen (very fast, easy births...lucky...no wonder she had four of us) but each new doctor wouldn't believe her until the baby popped out hours ahead of when the ob said it would. But I digress...
When I was about 5 we landed in Robinson IL. I remember the house, it was one of my favorites...two stories, fireplace, big living room and a bedroom with a view of the street below. I found a ceramic miniature pig toy that the previous owner had lost. I took it to be some kind of omen and the pig was my talisman for a while. The street, in my mind's eye, was idyllic. It was the kind of dreamy, Mid-West town street with large trees and wide lanes that Hollywood would film on. I had a tricycle there...I think...it was a lovely place to be. I had a baby brother at the time. But he was 1 at the most. I ruled the roost and would begin my school career at Lincoln Elementary in the fall.
Best of all, there were playmates on our street. Right across the street lived the girl who would be my best friend for my short stay: Dea. We fell into a natural little girl friendship. She was a year younger than I, but sharp as a tack and could keep up with any and all of my mental imaginations...often beating my ideas out with her own. What I remember best are the games of dress-up we used to play and the long intricate games of "Heidi". She had the best "Clara chair" and we would argue over who got to be the bossy invalid that Heidi, the good girl, eventually saves from herself. Dea would win; by virtue that it was her chair after all...being the bossy one is always the most fun.
I ran away to live with Dea once when my mom wouldn't let me have my own way. We watched Strawberry Shortcake and by the time it was over, I was ready to go home. The shortest running away in history, but also the most fun. Speaking of Strawberry Shortcake...Dea saved the day at my 6th birthday party. She was the only girl who had the very rare "Orange Blossom" doll that would complete the table setting at my themed party. She very graciously loaned me the doll. That was the best party of my childhood. My dad even dressed up as the Purple Pie man of Porcupine Peak. I couldn't get mom to agree to dress as Sour Grapes, the female "bad guy", but having the Pie man there was treat enough.
I remember hunting fireflies in her back yard on warm summer nights.
I remember she had much older siblings, and how cool I thought that was, being that baby brothers aren't that interesting.
For some reason I also have a memory of her tied in with an eight-track player and tapes...but my memory is sketchy at best. That is my problem.
You see, I left. And part of my coping with leaving is to forget. I have only scattered memories of my early childhood...like most children. I thought I was normal in this respect. I have better memories than my siblings. Of course, I am older than they are. But over time...my pictures of Dea faded in to the other places I was. I have one photograph of us together, but I can hardly remember the little girl I was...much less the girl she was. Across the years, I would think of her. I asked mom about how to find people, if I could go back to Robinson to look for her one day. I foolishly thought I could send a letter to our old address and ask the new owners to deliver it to "Dea across the street"...I couldn't even remember her full name anymore. Our last move, from Michigan to California, all but erased my life in the Mid-West. We had to pack light, and any trace I might still have had of Dea was gone. Except for that one photograph.
It was rather a surprise when I checked my news list-group-filler e-mail box a couple of weeks ago and found a message from Reunion.com. From Dea. How many Dea's are there in the world...who would even know to look for me? Stunned, I replied that I was indeed the one and only Valerie Kesweder (maiden name folks...distinctive...yes...memorable, I didn't think so...) and how the heck was she after 20+ years?
So, the reunion of a friendship began. If by some weird chance my family had stayed in Robinson...I believe Dea and I would have stayed friends. She is still wicked sharp...funny...imaginative. She's a writer. A wife...a military wife at that. A mother of two young boys. An independent thinker. A painted and pierced lady. A home baker with a new food processor. A computer junkie. A graphic designer. A thinker. A friend. And now she is the traveling gypsy and I am the spot-bound girl. She didn't leave that same street until college...and has now lived across the US.
I am scared and thrilled by this new friendship in my life. Scared by the immediacy and the connection I am feeling across years with nothing but notes and pictures to fill the gaps. Thrilled, because connection is something I crave, but something I am only just now learning to nurture. So far, it's e-mail and My Space and the occasional on-line chat...I am happy with that. It's amazing to me to have been found by a girl I loved as a child and begin to understand, and perhaps love, the women we have both become.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Spring Break! Woo-Hoo?
I woke up this morning, well, it was about three AM when this realization hit me, to the fact that the sniffles I have been fighting have turned into a full-blown cold. It was bound to happen sometime. I got the kind of achy-almost sick thing back in December, but nothing came of it. Spring is usually worse for me. There are so many more hacking and coughing students packed into too hot rooms with too cold temperatures outside for it to not happen. So, here I am on the cusp of Spring Break (one week...no classes...three papers and catch up work to do...) hacking away with the stuffed up runny nose. Great. I check the "What to Expect..." pregnancy Bible and yes, what I have is progressing as a normal cold. What I can do about it? Sleep, eat healthy, drink extra fluids (I'm already drinking at least 64 oz a day!) and have some chicken soup. If it doesn't clear up within the week, call the doctor for more suggestions. Thanks.
But, it is the Friday before Spring Break...the last day of classes for me and I didn't want to ditch out (again) on yoga. So...I made poor John rush through his morning, I hustled out the door and scrambled to the gym only to find the class locked out of the yoga room. After about five minutes of waiting the PE admin announced that class was canceled. This must be some kind of Karmic payback for missing class when I really wasn't sick...just lazy.
Two hours to kill before astronomy.
Astronomy was fine...except for the sniffling and coughing on my part. Not the best frame of mind to learn about HII clouds and H2 molecules and that space is not empty. It's like the ocean...only the water that fills everything in at different temperatures and pressures is this gas and dust stuff...Inter-Stellar Matter...yes, very interesting stuff.
In any case, I'm home now and happy to be here. I need to run the dishes from last nights dinner with Miss V. That was so much fun! We hadn't had a good catch-up chat since December. She brought a divine ruhbabrd tart from the restaurant where she works...super yum. I made sea food paella and brought out the last bottle of Spanish wine. John and Miss V enjoyed that..although I admit to having half a glass with dinner...it was the last bottle! Dinners are always nice, I only wish I was feeling better.
I plan on taking the weekend slow. I already canceled some tentative plans I had with my Mom...which is sad...but my goal tomorrow is to sleep in and rest and run some small errands with John. Then sleep some more. I know, the exciting life I lead, but in the end it will make me feel a whole bunch better. So I can tackle all those papers next week.
But, it is the Friday before Spring Break...the last day of classes for me and I didn't want to ditch out (again) on yoga. So...I made poor John rush through his morning, I hustled out the door and scrambled to the gym only to find the class locked out of the yoga room. After about five minutes of waiting the PE admin announced that class was canceled. This must be some kind of Karmic payback for missing class when I really wasn't sick...just lazy.
Two hours to kill before astronomy.
Astronomy was fine...except for the sniffling and coughing on my part. Not the best frame of mind to learn about HII clouds and H2 molecules and that space is not empty. It's like the ocean...only the water that fills everything in at different temperatures and pressures is this gas and dust stuff...Inter-Stellar Matter...yes, very interesting stuff.
In any case, I'm home now and happy to be here. I need to run the dishes from last nights dinner with Miss V. That was so much fun! We hadn't had a good catch-up chat since December. She brought a divine ruhbabrd tart from the restaurant where she works...super yum. I made sea food paella and brought out the last bottle of Spanish wine. John and Miss V enjoyed that..although I admit to having half a glass with dinner...it was the last bottle! Dinners are always nice, I only wish I was feeling better.
I plan on taking the weekend slow. I already canceled some tentative plans I had with my Mom...which is sad...but my goal tomorrow is to sleep in and rest and run some small errands with John. Then sleep some more. I know, the exciting life I lead, but in the end it will make me feel a whole bunch better. So I can tackle all those papers next week.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
You've Waited so Long forThis...
Yes folks, I ran into the older brother of the infamous Boom Box Girl (check the October 05 archives as I don't know how to link ya'll there from here) from San Jose State. I was waiting at the Santa Clara Light Rail station...note: En-route to this very station yesterday the following conversation between two grad student-looking guys was overheard by yours truly-"Yeah, Santa Clara is closer to where I'm going, but I won't get off there, it's just so, you know, ghetto." It is a bit downtown if you know what I mean, but geeez, I don't have any problems walking to campus from there, and I'm six and a half months pregnant. Get a grip guys, your college is the middle of a freakin' city....where was I?
Right, waiting at the light rail station when the sound of really loud Latin pop music began to drown out the construction noise. Not a small feat, the construction is involving jack hammers right now. And yet, the Latin pop music was winning the battle of the airwaves. I had to look to see who could be making such a distinct impression upon my day. Who should appear but a very large Latino man in full leather biker gear riding a very big very, very, very, yellow (think Tweety bird yellow) three-wheeled motorcycle. The entire back side of the motorcycle over the two back wheels was one large casing for speakers. His head was well below the speaker line, making the perfect rolling sound stage. He cruised around the block at least two times before my train got there. You go biker man.
Other than that, I have a cold and am beginning to feel pretty miserable. Which figures, because Spring Break is next week. I have at least two papers to write, and if I was a good girl, I'd get four done, plus small writings I'm behind on. As it is, I hope to feel better and sew more baby stuff. I ordered rings today to make myself a simple sling carrier. If I get wacky, I may try to make a padded pouch carrier as well. Go mama.
And this is what I've made you all wait so long to read about. Ha. I love blogging.
Right, waiting at the light rail station when the sound of really loud Latin pop music began to drown out the construction noise. Not a small feat, the construction is involving jack hammers right now. And yet, the Latin pop music was winning the battle of the airwaves. I had to look to see who could be making such a distinct impression upon my day. Who should appear but a very large Latino man in full leather biker gear riding a very big very, very, very, yellow (think Tweety bird yellow) three-wheeled motorcycle. The entire back side of the motorcycle over the two back wheels was one large casing for speakers. His head was well below the speaker line, making the perfect rolling sound stage. He cruised around the block at least two times before my train got there. You go biker man.
Other than that, I have a cold and am beginning to feel pretty miserable. Which figures, because Spring Break is next week. I have at least two papers to write, and if I was a good girl, I'd get four done, plus small writings I'm behind on. As it is, I hope to feel better and sew more baby stuff. I ordered rings today to make myself a simple sling carrier. If I get wacky, I may try to make a padded pouch carrier as well. Go mama.
And this is what I've made you all wait so long to read about. Ha. I love blogging.
Tuesday, March 7, 2006
You Might Have Forgotten
I am really still in school and doing things not related to getting ready to have a child. Don't laugh, really I am. Today was a big day in school for me, I had my first mid-term and I got back my first paper in career writing. I can't complain about either, really.
It was miserable today. Weather wise. It was pouring rain when I had to leave for class which is not a great motivator. Neither was the fact that I'd been bopping around in the house in pj's all morning enjoying the quiet house. Or the fact that I had to go take a test. I always hate the first test of the semester in any class, and I really hate it when we have only two tests that count for a whole lot of grade. And of course I had to go early and buy a blue book. For some reason, the only times I've been in the student store to purchase supplies...no matter what...it's been raining. No kidding. Last semester too. Weird.
So, I get to class mildly damp and settle in for one last review of my notes. I'm glad I got there early, because it was a full house. As my teacher walked in she commented: "Boy, there must be a test or something today, because the classroom hasn't been this full since the first day." The test, all in all wasn't too bad...but we'll see if I write enough on the passages for full credit. It took me the entire period to finish. That hasn't happened in a long time. I was rushing at the end to write down the last few definitions. Note to self: I think I'll start with the definitions first next time, and spend less time reviewing the test as a whole.
Next stop was the bathroom. But you didn't need to know that.
Then on to my career writing class to pick up my paper. I didn't have to attend class today, the Newsletter team is editing, and I'm on the Writing Life team...so we were free to stay away. I did want my paper, and because my two classes are in the same building, and this one is on my way out even, it was silly not to go. Did I mention that I really wanted to see my paper?
This assignment was to interview a writer of our choosing and write a profile of them. It's been ages since I've done a formal interview. I chose to write on a fellow blogger and freelance writer: Manic Mom. Check her site out at http://www.manicmommy.blogspot.com. The interview was great fun and I enjoyed the write up. Even the peer review process was helpful. Our professor expects us to come to class having already read and commented on our group's papers. This allows us real time to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of each individual paper. It was a new experience, and one I actually learned from. I think my paper got better from the suggestions. Not perfect, but better.
When all was said and done, I got a B+ which I am very pleased with. Our professor is notorious for being a very tough grader. She made some very good points about where my paper "lost it" and if I made her corrections, it would be an even better piece. But, woo-hoo for a solid start in her class. She also suggested I write a piece for The Writing Life about freelance writing. I think I will, from my research last semester and this interview, I think I could do a pretty good job with it. Good things all around. I feel pretty good about the class so far, and if I can maintain a solid B I will feel as though I have done a good job. I have set the goal of no punctuation errors for my next piece of writing...sloppy sloppy girl that I am. ;)
Now...I really must get back to work on my paper about the subtle Christian themes that run through selected Old and Middle English works. Blah. Sometimes it's not all that much fun to be a writer.
It was miserable today. Weather wise. It was pouring rain when I had to leave for class which is not a great motivator. Neither was the fact that I'd been bopping around in the house in pj's all morning enjoying the quiet house. Or the fact that I had to go take a test. I always hate the first test of the semester in any class, and I really hate it when we have only two tests that count for a whole lot of grade. And of course I had to go early and buy a blue book. For some reason, the only times I've been in the student store to purchase supplies...no matter what...it's been raining. No kidding. Last semester too. Weird.
So, I get to class mildly damp and settle in for one last review of my notes. I'm glad I got there early, because it was a full house. As my teacher walked in she commented: "Boy, there must be a test or something today, because the classroom hasn't been this full since the first day." The test, all in all wasn't too bad...but we'll see if I write enough on the passages for full credit. It took me the entire period to finish. That hasn't happened in a long time. I was rushing at the end to write down the last few definitions. Note to self: I think I'll start with the definitions first next time, and spend less time reviewing the test as a whole.
Next stop was the bathroom. But you didn't need to know that.
Then on to my career writing class to pick up my paper. I didn't have to attend class today, the Newsletter team is editing, and I'm on the Writing Life team...so we were free to stay away. I did want my paper, and because my two classes are in the same building, and this one is on my way out even, it was silly not to go. Did I mention that I really wanted to see my paper?
This assignment was to interview a writer of our choosing and write a profile of them. It's been ages since I've done a formal interview. I chose to write on a fellow blogger and freelance writer: Manic Mom. Check her site out at http://www.manicmommy.blogspot.com. The interview was great fun and I enjoyed the write up. Even the peer review process was helpful. Our professor expects us to come to class having already read and commented on our group's papers. This allows us real time to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of each individual paper. It was a new experience, and one I actually learned from. I think my paper got better from the suggestions. Not perfect, but better.
When all was said and done, I got a B+ which I am very pleased with. Our professor is notorious for being a very tough grader. She made some very good points about where my paper "lost it" and if I made her corrections, it would be an even better piece. But, woo-hoo for a solid start in her class. She also suggested I write a piece for The Writing Life about freelance writing. I think I will, from my research last semester and this interview, I think I could do a pretty good job with it. Good things all around. I feel pretty good about the class so far, and if I can maintain a solid B I will feel as though I have done a good job. I have set the goal of no punctuation errors for my next piece of writing...sloppy sloppy girl that I am. ;)
Now...I really must get back to work on my paper about the subtle Christian themes that run through selected Old and Middle English works. Blah. Sometimes it's not all that much fun to be a writer.
Monday, March 6, 2006
Doula-Waah-Ditty-Ditty-Dum-Ditty-Doo
I just finished reading "The Official Lamaze Guide to Giving Birth with Confidence". My favorite analogy was the "new shoe blister pain aversion". I can relate to that, having worn wildly inappropriate shoes to most functions for the greater part of my life. I am nursing blisters right now from an extended no-sock excursion two weeks ago. Hmm...so labor as a painful blister you must work through, 'cause you chose to wear those lovely shoes, after all. Yeah, I can deal with that.
Somehow, I imagine labor will be slightly more painful than a blister. And those nights of wildly inappropriate shoe wearing I usually had some kind of pain killer going on: lots of drinks.
As I head into the final push (forgive my pun) of pregnancy, the labor process has been on my mind. I am not expecting to avoid pain, but I would like to avoid unnecessary discomfort. The Lamaze book (a philosophy, not just a breathing method anymore!) gave me much to think about. I had to create some serious mental filters while reading to avoid the heavy handed propaganda against the medical community, but with this accomplished I got some good advice and some real food for thought. One avenue I am going to explore that I hadn't considered before is to hire a professional labor support person, otherwise known as a doula.
The term "doula" comes from the Greeks, and was the most trusted female member of a lady's house. She was the personal support for the woman of the house, and today doulas are the personal support for a laboring woman. They offer emotional support all the way through labor and delivery, and are trained in relaxation techniques as well as various labor and birthing positions. They have attend many, many births, and know what to expect. They do not offer medical advice, but can remind you of your options, and guide you to ask questions to determine the best course of action for your birth. Women who labor with doulas often don't need medical intervention or drugs to make it through labor. While I'm not against painkillers, I would like to avoid as many interventions as possible. Just to see if I can do it.
Another reason I'm thinking of having a doula with me, is I like the idea of someone impartial being around during the birthing process. I know John will be with me, but he's going to be as emotionally attached to the situation as I am. It would be nice to have someone who can help both of us remain calm and focused. It takes the pressure off both of us to be at top performance, and I think will allow us to relax and remain a bit calmer during the storm.
The trouble I'm running into now is how to find a doula. Because I'm not willing to buck the traditional system all together, I am not in a position to easily seek a doula or two out. If I was using a midwife, or going the birth center route, I'm sure I would have one already. As it is, I am using a traditional hospital and a single practice OB as my main birthing team. I've had no luck finding doulas in this area so far, but my search has just begun. The Internet has sadly let me down on this one, unless I want to go to San Francisco or Santa Cruz to deliver this baby. Neither are my first choices, so we'll see what comes up in the good ole South Bay.
I have a few more months to figure things out. Otherwise, it'll just be me and the hubby against the contractions.
Somehow, I imagine labor will be slightly more painful than a blister. And those nights of wildly inappropriate shoe wearing I usually had some kind of pain killer going on: lots of drinks.
As I head into the final push (forgive my pun) of pregnancy, the labor process has been on my mind. I am not expecting to avoid pain, but I would like to avoid unnecessary discomfort. The Lamaze book (a philosophy, not just a breathing method anymore!) gave me much to think about. I had to create some serious mental filters while reading to avoid the heavy handed propaganda against the medical community, but with this accomplished I got some good advice and some real food for thought. One avenue I am going to explore that I hadn't considered before is to hire a professional labor support person, otherwise known as a doula.
The term "doula" comes from the Greeks, and was the most trusted female member of a lady's house. She was the personal support for the woman of the house, and today doulas are the personal support for a laboring woman. They offer emotional support all the way through labor and delivery, and are trained in relaxation techniques as well as various labor and birthing positions. They have attend many, many births, and know what to expect. They do not offer medical advice, but can remind you of your options, and guide you to ask questions to determine the best course of action for your birth. Women who labor with doulas often don't need medical intervention or drugs to make it through labor. While I'm not against painkillers, I would like to avoid as many interventions as possible. Just to see if I can do it.
Another reason I'm thinking of having a doula with me, is I like the idea of someone impartial being around during the birthing process. I know John will be with me, but he's going to be as emotionally attached to the situation as I am. It would be nice to have someone who can help both of us remain calm and focused. It takes the pressure off both of us to be at top performance, and I think will allow us to relax and remain a bit calmer during the storm.
The trouble I'm running into now is how to find a doula. Because I'm not willing to buck the traditional system all together, I am not in a position to easily seek a doula or two out. If I was using a midwife, or going the birth center route, I'm sure I would have one already. As it is, I am using a traditional hospital and a single practice OB as my main birthing team. I've had no luck finding doulas in this area so far, but my search has just begun. The Internet has sadly let me down on this one, unless I want to go to San Francisco or Santa Cruz to deliver this baby. Neither are my first choices, so we'll see what comes up in the good ole South Bay.
I have a few more months to figure things out. Otherwise, it'll just be me and the hubby against the contractions.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Day Trip
I think it was Friday morning, or perhaps the evening before, when Hubby and I decided to "do something" on Saturday. We've been kind of house bound on the weekend as of late...on Monday we had managed to take a nice little hike/walk that got us to feeling like we should do that more often...so my suggestion for the weekend: "Let's hike/walk on Saturday!" thinking we'd come to the same place. His suggestion: "Let's fly to Columbia, have breakfast and hike/walk around there all day!" The winner: His suggestion.
We've also been woefully neglecting the coolness of having a small plane to day trip in. It's not something everyone gets to do, and once the kid gets here we won't be able to pop in and zip around for a day. I don't think they make baby-sized headphones...and who knows if the baby seat will fit in the back of the plane. In any case, the last time I went up in the plane was for a camping trip right before we conceived. So, it's been about six months since I've been flying, and baby never has. ;) Well, at least not with Dad at the controls.
The day dawned beautifully. We were both worried that the Central Valley might be fogged over, and then it would have been a no-go for us. Columbia is a 49'er gold rush town that has a neat historical park with the old buildings and costumed folks and gold panning and all that jazz. The park is a short walk from the airport. Geographically, it's nestled into the Sierra Foothills, a short (less than one hour) flight from San Jose. John checked the weather from home while I cleaned myself up...all clear. He then called around looking for a breakfast spot. The recommendation he received was for a local place called Billy Whisker's. I was feeling skeptical about the name, but decided to look the place over before nixing it. After all...breakfast was the treat, and not the entire reason to go.
Off to the airport we went to get the plane ready. Well, that's John's job; I stand and try to help by untying stuff: like the wings and tail of the plane and putting other stuff away. Once we took off, we could see the air was very hazy below us. Kind of yucky and we weren't able to see much on the ground which is one of the neatest things about small plane flying. You're closer than when flying commercial and the ground looks, well...it's a bird's eye view...I really enjoy looking at the map and picking points out. I like to follow our course and see what's beneath us. The hazy conditions made that much harder.
The flight was really smooth and pleasant, despite the haze. Once we touched down in Columbia, one of four small planes jostling for landing strip space, we were ready for breakfast. It was around 10:30 or 11:00 when we started the short walk into town. Billy Whisker's turned out to be a charming, small, family run breakfast and lunch spot with a bakery. There were about 6 tables, all full, when we got there. One cleared out quickly, the lady speaking to the owner..."I'm leaving now, they can have my table"...as a regular would. Small menu, but when my omelett came out I was in heaven. Everything was fresh and tasty!
Then on to the historic old town. We walked down main street, drooled in the candy store, and then looked for a more hike kind of walk. John pointed out the "trail" to the old schoolhouse and away we went. Columbia is not the place for a serious day hiker. The "trail" was a nice wide dirt path adjacent to the road and running past people's homes. Not wild at all. But still, a nice walk. The schoolhouse has been beautifully restored to it's 1860 glory. It was the first two-story brick schoolhouse in the state. It was also attached to some seamy local politics. Graft and waste are not new to school board trustees, apparently. The building was closed in 1937 because it did not meet the new earthquake standards for school buildings in the state. Children went to school in tents for two years while a more modern school was built across town. Things really don't change much in local politics, do they?
Right next to the schoolhouse was the local cemetery. And I mean right next to. We could see the grave markers from the window behind the teacher's desk. I love old cemeteries and haven't been to one in a long while. I was sorry we didn't get to poke around any while we were in New Orleans...but the state of the city left much to be wondered about, and I didn't want to poke into old bones in a literal way...Columbia's cemetery was begun as a Mason and Odd Fellow plot, then opened to the public as the need for a larger cemetery grew. That happened right as gold prospecting and mining grew in the area. The sheer number of men aged 25-32 in the cemetery is sobering. Many came out to the the Mother Lode to make a fortune and ended up giving their lives in purist of a dream. It was a hard life, no matter how romantic it may sound now. In later years, you'll find the graves of wives who died, in child labor, most likely, and the small graves of children caught by disease. Pioneering is never easy; a fact that the old stones bear witness to.
Columbia is a source of beautiful, almost pure white, marble. That's part of its history. This cemetery has some impressively carved stone, because of the local source. Everyone has a nice marble headstone...either a simple slab or a small monument. I commented how much I loved the old stones, and if I were to have a plot, that's what I'd want to mark it. John was intrigued by the iron fences some chose to mark their resting plots with. He liked the feeling of "this space is mine" the fencing invoked. We also checked out names to see if one would jump out at us. Hearing different combinations of first-middle-last is always fun. Nothing changed our minds concerning baby names, but looking was fun.
We decided to head back into town for one last stroll and a Sarsaparilla soda. MMM...pregnancy has rekindled my love for exotic soda flavors. The Sarsaparilla was a local brew, and we felt good about that. We people watched and drank soda and chatted. It was just very nice to be out in the sunshine and enjoying each other's company. We also popped into the candy store-again-and bought horehound, clove, and sassafras flavored hard candies. Then I drooled over the production area in back. More large copper pots than I've ever seen in one place. If we moved there, I'd have to get a job in the candy store. Sugar work is so much fun!
The flight back was as smooth as the one there, but the haze was made worse by the setting sun. Oh well, it could have been a prettier day to fly, but it couldn't have been nicer. I love the mini-adventures we manage to have. Nothing beats spending time together outside of our "normal" schedules. My goal is to instill a love of mini-adventures into our kids and have loads of fun family time in the not so distant future. It shouldn't take much to have a good day.
We've also been woefully neglecting the coolness of having a small plane to day trip in. It's not something everyone gets to do, and once the kid gets here we won't be able to pop in and zip around for a day. I don't think they make baby-sized headphones...and who knows if the baby seat will fit in the back of the plane. In any case, the last time I went up in the plane was for a camping trip right before we conceived. So, it's been about six months since I've been flying, and baby never has. ;) Well, at least not with Dad at the controls.
The day dawned beautifully. We were both worried that the Central Valley might be fogged over, and then it would have been a no-go for us. Columbia is a 49'er gold rush town that has a neat historical park with the old buildings and costumed folks and gold panning and all that jazz. The park is a short walk from the airport. Geographically, it's nestled into the Sierra Foothills, a short (less than one hour) flight from San Jose. John checked the weather from home while I cleaned myself up...all clear. He then called around looking for a breakfast spot. The recommendation he received was for a local place called Billy Whisker's. I was feeling skeptical about the name, but decided to look the place over before nixing it. After all...breakfast was the treat, and not the entire reason to go.
Off to the airport we went to get the plane ready. Well, that's John's job; I stand and try to help by untying stuff: like the wings and tail of the plane and putting other stuff away. Once we took off, we could see the air was very hazy below us. Kind of yucky and we weren't able to see much on the ground which is one of the neatest things about small plane flying. You're closer than when flying commercial and the ground looks, well...it's a bird's eye view...I really enjoy looking at the map and picking points out. I like to follow our course and see what's beneath us. The hazy conditions made that much harder.
The flight was really smooth and pleasant, despite the haze. Once we touched down in Columbia, one of four small planes jostling for landing strip space, we were ready for breakfast. It was around 10:30 or 11:00 when we started the short walk into town. Billy Whisker's turned out to be a charming, small, family run breakfast and lunch spot with a bakery. There were about 6 tables, all full, when we got there. One cleared out quickly, the lady speaking to the owner..."I'm leaving now, they can have my table"...as a regular would. Small menu, but when my omelett came out I was in heaven. Everything was fresh and tasty!
Then on to the historic old town. We walked down main street, drooled in the candy store, and then looked for a more hike kind of walk. John pointed out the "trail" to the old schoolhouse and away we went. Columbia is not the place for a serious day hiker. The "trail" was a nice wide dirt path adjacent to the road and running past people's homes. Not wild at all. But still, a nice walk. The schoolhouse has been beautifully restored to it's 1860 glory. It was the first two-story brick schoolhouse in the state. It was also attached to some seamy local politics. Graft and waste are not new to school board trustees, apparently. The building was closed in 1937 because it did not meet the new earthquake standards for school buildings in the state. Children went to school in tents for two years while a more modern school was built across town. Things really don't change much in local politics, do they?
Right next to the schoolhouse was the local cemetery. And I mean right next to. We could see the grave markers from the window behind the teacher's desk. I love old cemeteries and haven't been to one in a long while. I was sorry we didn't get to poke around any while we were in New Orleans...but the state of the city left much to be wondered about, and I didn't want to poke into old bones in a literal way...Columbia's cemetery was begun as a Mason and Odd Fellow plot, then opened to the public as the need for a larger cemetery grew. That happened right as gold prospecting and mining grew in the area. The sheer number of men aged 25-32 in the cemetery is sobering. Many came out to the the Mother Lode to make a fortune and ended up giving their lives in purist of a dream. It was a hard life, no matter how romantic it may sound now. In later years, you'll find the graves of wives who died, in child labor, most likely, and the small graves of children caught by disease. Pioneering is never easy; a fact that the old stones bear witness to.
Columbia is a source of beautiful, almost pure white, marble. That's part of its history. This cemetery has some impressively carved stone, because of the local source. Everyone has a nice marble headstone...either a simple slab or a small monument. I commented how much I loved the old stones, and if I were to have a plot, that's what I'd want to mark it. John was intrigued by the iron fences some chose to mark their resting plots with. He liked the feeling of "this space is mine" the fencing invoked. We also checked out names to see if one would jump out at us. Hearing different combinations of first-middle-last is always fun. Nothing changed our minds concerning baby names, but looking was fun.
We decided to head back into town for one last stroll and a Sarsaparilla soda. MMM...pregnancy has rekindled my love for exotic soda flavors. The Sarsaparilla was a local brew, and we felt good about that. We people watched and drank soda and chatted. It was just very nice to be out in the sunshine and enjoying each other's company. We also popped into the candy store-again-and bought horehound, clove, and sassafras flavored hard candies. Then I drooled over the production area in back. More large copper pots than I've ever seen in one place. If we moved there, I'd have to get a job in the candy store. Sugar work is so much fun!
The flight back was as smooth as the one there, but the haze was made worse by the setting sun. Oh well, it could have been a prettier day to fly, but it couldn't have been nicer. I love the mini-adventures we manage to have. Nothing beats spending time together outside of our "normal" schedules. My goal is to instill a love of mini-adventures into our kids and have loads of fun family time in the not so distant future. It shouldn't take much to have a good day.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Lemon Meringue Day...
...sounds like a nice day? Nope. Tuesday was awful for everyone living in my house. Little sis had her car break down, I was late for class because of a bike race downtown, hubby had work problems. No one was happy. Small frustrations lead up to a general grumpy feeling in the house and that is never good.
My solution? Lemon meringue pie. Sometimes you just have to let go of doctors orders and live life. By ten PM we were full of soft polenta (comfort food if ever there was one) and digging into large slices of fresh pie.
Life was good again.
My solution? Lemon meringue pie. Sometimes you just have to let go of doctors orders and live life. By ten PM we were full of soft polenta (comfort food if ever there was one) and digging into large slices of fresh pie.
Life was good again.
Friday, February 17, 2006
La League of Extraordinary Women
I went on an adventure this past Wednesday evening. I attended my very first La Leche League meeting. I have been reading "The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding" and felt that it might do me some good to get out and meet real women who subscribe to the philosophy of La Leche.
I was a bit frightened by my recent reading. Like any group that is dedicated to a goal, the rhetoric used can be...umm...off-putting. I'm a convert to their camp, I believe in what they're saying but I am no evangelist and tent revivals don't do it for me. I like calm facts, studies and proven methods. I'm not very new-age when it comes to health and nutrition. Overwrought messages and a thousand plugs for their group and products make me want to dismiss them altogether. I'm guessing I might not be the totally typical reader for this book for a couple of reasons:
First off, there has never been a question on my mind of whether or not to breastfeed. I started practicing on my dolls at the age of five...'cause that's what mommies did with babies. Being little in the Mid-West in a church culture of stay-at-home-moms makes breastfeeding really normal. Everyone did it. I didn't even know there were other options until I hit high school health. So the debate portion of baby feeding has, for the most part, passed me by.
Second, all of my mommy friends in the past 2 years have chosen to breastfeed. I have a huge support group, it's very normal with all the moms I hang with. There is no fear of being looked at weird when we get together for Saturday BBQ's and the kid gets hungry. In fact, I'll be one of two currently breastfeeding moms when our little one makes the scene. Peer pressure to feed otherwise has been left out.
Or perhaps I am the correct reader, but they are also trying to attract a wider audience; attract those women who might be on the fence. Knowing that often it takes a bold statement of purpose to get to folks who otherwise wouldn't listen to the message at all, and knowing that what actually happens with real women vs. what the ideal presented in the book is, I decided that attending a meeting was a good idea for me. After all, the women at the meeting would be real moms, from the area and I could gauge what the group was actually about.
I have the list of meetings being held in the greater South Bay area and decided upon the evening meeting. The day meetings all clashed with my school schedule. I also figured that the evening meetings would bring working moms, and I thought that they might be even more practical in their approach to La Leche and breastfeeding in general. I was nervous at first. The meetings are held in someones home and I didn't call ahead or anything, I just showed up. That was fine. I was also the only one there who didn't actually have a kid breastfeeding. That was also fine. The children there that night ranged from age one month to four years. The moms were a mix across the South Bay ethnicity scale, which I thought was great, and they ranged in age across the childbearing board as well...but the mid thirties was a good median.
The first thing the leader said was that the group was not dedicated to one standard practice, and that not all methods or suggestions worked for all moms. They were there to help you in all you breastfeeding decisions, because the ultimate goal was to raise happy, healthy breastfed children. That put me at ease right away. There have been some suggestions in the book that I was not completely comfortable with, and I was wondering how much I'd have to buy into the philosophy to participate. Why go at all, the astute reader might ask. It has to do with my "learning style". I don't take advice from people I know very well, as well meaning and experienced as they are. I like to figure things out on my own, and I hate to admit ignorance. I really hate to admit ignorance and *gasp* ask questions about subjects I should just KNOW...like breastfeeding. It's a hang up, I deal with it by reading obsessively and having conversations (not inquisitions...my emphasis) with my friends. I thought that in a group of strangers I would be more comfortable sharing my lack of knowledge, and I would gain tips aimed at everyone there and not just suggestions aimed at me.
Wow. Are you guys learning a lot about me or what?
So, I ended up enjoying my experience a great deal. It was nice to hear about problems the moms of younger babies were having and the solutions offered by the group. Everyone helps out with suggestions and shares similar stories. It's nice to know that the process of bonding and feeding the baby is not always an automatic one, and that there can be problems, but those problems can be overcome. I also tend to push my self to be perfect,and if there are problems with my endeavors I crumble and want to just give up. I've gotten way better with this personality glitch over the course of the last couple of years...but my competitive side and my perfectionism side come out at the worst of times. I can just imagine what would happen if I didn't "get" breastfeeding right away. Without the knowledge I gained at that meeting, I would feel like a really bad mom.
I'm going back next month. There are usually four meetings in a series that cover a wide range of breastfeeding topics. I have about three more meetings before the little one arrives so I should be able to hit all the topics by his/her birth. Really, it was a good way to connect with some very nice, very supportive moms out in the community. I could see myself actually calling one of the leaders if problems come up, and heeding her advice.
I am also going to finish the book. Now that I have a better understanding of the women behind it, at least in my area, the tone and direction make more sense. They were all surprised when I shared that all my mommy friends breastfed. I guess it's not a common as I assumed it was. Which surprises me...I know it's good for the baby, but deep down in my darkest heart I'm really looking forward to that extra 500-600 calorie burn a day. Woo-hoo, I hope I have a hungry baby.
I was a bit frightened by my recent reading. Like any group that is dedicated to a goal, the rhetoric used can be...umm...off-putting. I'm a convert to their camp, I believe in what they're saying but I am no evangelist and tent revivals don't do it for me. I like calm facts, studies and proven methods. I'm not very new-age when it comes to health and nutrition. Overwrought messages and a thousand plugs for their group and products make me want to dismiss them altogether. I'm guessing I might not be the totally typical reader for this book for a couple of reasons:
First off, there has never been a question on my mind of whether or not to breastfeed. I started practicing on my dolls at the age of five...'cause that's what mommies did with babies. Being little in the Mid-West in a church culture of stay-at-home-moms makes breastfeeding really normal. Everyone did it. I didn't even know there were other options until I hit high school health. So the debate portion of baby feeding has, for the most part, passed me by.
Second, all of my mommy friends in the past 2 years have chosen to breastfeed. I have a huge support group, it's very normal with all the moms I hang with. There is no fear of being looked at weird when we get together for Saturday BBQ's and the kid gets hungry. In fact, I'll be one of two currently breastfeeding moms when our little one makes the scene. Peer pressure to feed otherwise has been left out.
Or perhaps I am the correct reader, but they are also trying to attract a wider audience; attract those women who might be on the fence. Knowing that often it takes a bold statement of purpose to get to folks who otherwise wouldn't listen to the message at all, and knowing that what actually happens with real women vs. what the ideal presented in the book is, I decided that attending a meeting was a good idea for me. After all, the women at the meeting would be real moms, from the area and I could gauge what the group was actually about.
I have the list of meetings being held in the greater South Bay area and decided upon the evening meeting. The day meetings all clashed with my school schedule. I also figured that the evening meetings would bring working moms, and I thought that they might be even more practical in their approach to La Leche and breastfeeding in general. I was nervous at first. The meetings are held in someones home and I didn't call ahead or anything, I just showed up. That was fine. I was also the only one there who didn't actually have a kid breastfeeding. That was also fine. The children there that night ranged from age one month to four years. The moms were a mix across the South Bay ethnicity scale, which I thought was great, and they ranged in age across the childbearing board as well...but the mid thirties was a good median.
The first thing the leader said was that the group was not dedicated to one standard practice, and that not all methods or suggestions worked for all moms. They were there to help you in all you breastfeeding decisions, because the ultimate goal was to raise happy, healthy breastfed children. That put me at ease right away. There have been some suggestions in the book that I was not completely comfortable with, and I was wondering how much I'd have to buy into the philosophy to participate. Why go at all, the astute reader might ask. It has to do with my "learning style". I don't take advice from people I know very well, as well meaning and experienced as they are. I like to figure things out on my own, and I hate to admit ignorance. I really hate to admit ignorance and *gasp* ask questions about subjects I should just KNOW...like breastfeeding. It's a hang up, I deal with it by reading obsessively and having conversations (not inquisitions...my emphasis) with my friends. I thought that in a group of strangers I would be more comfortable sharing my lack of knowledge, and I would gain tips aimed at everyone there and not just suggestions aimed at me.
Wow. Are you guys learning a lot about me or what?
So, I ended up enjoying my experience a great deal. It was nice to hear about problems the moms of younger babies were having and the solutions offered by the group. Everyone helps out with suggestions and shares similar stories. It's nice to know that the process of bonding and feeding the baby is not always an automatic one, and that there can be problems, but those problems can be overcome. I also tend to push my self to be perfect,and if there are problems with my endeavors I crumble and want to just give up. I've gotten way better with this personality glitch over the course of the last couple of years...but my competitive side and my perfectionism side come out at the worst of times. I can just imagine what would happen if I didn't "get" breastfeeding right away. Without the knowledge I gained at that meeting, I would feel like a really bad mom.
I'm going back next month. There are usually four meetings in a series that cover a wide range of breastfeeding topics. I have about three more meetings before the little one arrives so I should be able to hit all the topics by his/her birth. Really, it was a good way to connect with some very nice, very supportive moms out in the community. I could see myself actually calling one of the leaders if problems come up, and heeding her advice.
I am also going to finish the book. Now that I have a better understanding of the women behind it, at least in my area, the tone and direction make more sense. They were all surprised when I shared that all my mommy friends breastfed. I guess it's not a common as I assumed it was. Which surprises me...I know it's good for the baby, but deep down in my darkest heart I'm really looking forward to that extra 500-600 calorie burn a day. Woo-hoo, I hope I have a hungry baby.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
How Do Woking Mom's Do It?
I am tired. Bone dead, yawing in class, nodding off tired. I only have about three hours of scheduled time a day, and yet this seems like way too much. I am tired, and I can not sleep. I am tired, and I can not get housework done, I can barely keep my eyes open to read my assignments. I doze on the couch, but when bedtime rolls around, I can not get comfortable and I dream so very strangely that it is not refreshing.
Last night I was dreaming that I needed Hubby to buy a new hard drive for the Myth Box (our television/entertainment system) so that he could download more television for me, so I'd have something to watch when the baby arrives. Well, in my dream, he was on a business trip to Australia, and the only way we had to communicate was through a tele-text type of e-mail that was painfully slow and I had hard time typing on and reading. The situation was getting desperate...I had to have this hard drive. It then dawned on me that I was sleeping, and Hubby was right beside me. I just had to wake up and tell him to buy the hard drive, and all would well and I could sleep again. I woke up enough to debate whether or not I should wake up all the way and then wake up hubby to tell him about making this purchase for me. I ended up waking up all the way, and wondering why television had suddenly become so important to me, before going back to my toss-y turn-y state of "sleep". I did ask Hubby about the hard drive this morning, but the urgency was gone...and I don't think dreams translate as well for those IN them as for those EXPERIENCING them.
So, I'm tired, the dishwasher needs to be run, the living room is slowly moving toward its natural state of chaos and I...I am goofing off on the Internet. Because I can't sleep. At least I did finish my homework. That just required my computer and a bit of will power.
I really don't know how working mom's get through pregnancy. I could in no way handle a 9-5 job right now. My brain seems to miss-fire at every other moment and honestly, I don't know what's happening around me 70% of the time. If my second semester, the so called golden semester, is so trying...the next one is going to be all kinds of feet dragging. Yikes. Maybe I should worry less about going into labor during finals, and concentrate on simply being awake for them.
Yawn.
Last night I was dreaming that I needed Hubby to buy a new hard drive for the Myth Box (our television/entertainment system) so that he could download more television for me, so I'd have something to watch when the baby arrives. Well, in my dream, he was on a business trip to Australia, and the only way we had to communicate was through a tele-text type of e-mail that was painfully slow and I had hard time typing on and reading. The situation was getting desperate...I had to have this hard drive. It then dawned on me that I was sleeping, and Hubby was right beside me. I just had to wake up and tell him to buy the hard drive, and all would well and I could sleep again. I woke up enough to debate whether or not I should wake up all the way and then wake up hubby to tell him about making this purchase for me. I ended up waking up all the way, and wondering why television had suddenly become so important to me, before going back to my toss-y turn-y state of "sleep". I did ask Hubby about the hard drive this morning, but the urgency was gone...and I don't think dreams translate as well for those IN them as for those EXPERIENCING them.
So, I'm tired, the dishwasher needs to be run, the living room is slowly moving toward its natural state of chaos and I...I am goofing off on the Internet. Because I can't sleep. At least I did finish my homework. That just required my computer and a bit of will power.
I really don't know how working mom's get through pregnancy. I could in no way handle a 9-5 job right now. My brain seems to miss-fire at every other moment and honestly, I don't know what's happening around me 70% of the time. If my second semester, the so called golden semester, is so trying...the next one is going to be all kinds of feet dragging. Yikes. Maybe I should worry less about going into labor during finals, and concentrate on simply being awake for them.
Yawn.
Friday, February 10, 2006
New Discoveries
for Ari-Belle and Steph
Stepping out of the shower yesterday morning:
I noted my roadmap has changed
Faint silver streams
Long ago formed
End in new reddish rivers
And pools
My gentle slopes, my hills and my valleys
Once soft curves and flat plains
Rise up Mountain like
Bold firm and proud, newly formed
From beneath
The stars of my belly-once bright taunt
And spinning-stretch now to
The point of explosion
Across the dome of my new sky
Supernovas
Waiting for the birth of my new world
for Ari-Belle and Steph
Stepping out of the shower yesterday morning:
I noted my roadmap has changed
Faint silver streams
Long ago formed
End in new reddish rivers
And pools
My gentle slopes, my hills and my valleys
Once soft curves and flat plains
Rise up Mountain like
Bold firm and proud, newly formed
From beneath
The stars of my belly-once bright taunt
And spinning-stretch now to
The point of explosion
Across the dome of my new sky
Supernovas
Waiting for the birth of my new world
Sunday, February 5, 2006
New Obsessions
I have extracted a new promise from Hubby. He is to tell me the point I become too "baby weird"...I have the feeling that time is near. I am fluxing between cool and calm and an urgent need to GET STUFF DONE even though I have almost four more months to get said stuff done. Right now I have solved the diaper dilemma. Yes, it was a serious problem. The diaper discussions began before conception (I'm an early planner, usually about stuff that doesn't REALLY matter) when I just needed to know if we were going to go cloth or disposable. Well, it should be no surprise to those who know me that we came down on the cloth side of the equation. Cloth had many advantages: cost effectiveness for the husband and the old-fashioned buck the trend-ness for me. There was also a level of difficulty involved that intrigued me. Not to mention the skin and health benefits for the little one, who is sure to inherit the sensitive skin of both his/her parents.
The next step, and the one that has been interrupting my sleep as of late, is to decide on which cloth diapers to purchase. Yes, there are choices...all-in-ones, fitted, pre-folds with covers, pinned 'traditional' style, covers with snaps or Velcro, polyester, organic cotton, cotton flannel, fleece, wool...each with its own set of pros and cons and ardent followers. Then the sizing problem kicks in. Just how big will the baby be at birth? Do I need "newborn" size...good to 7 lbs, or should I start out with small? The brands don't help much; one brand’s small runs through another brand’s medium. Oh, and when does a kid hit the magical 35 lbs? I had to do some looking at average growth charts, guess how big the kid will be at birth and go from there.
After my size/weight research (if the baby weighs around 8 lbs at birth one can expect him/her to weigh about 16 lbs at six months with steady, predictable amounts between those two points) I have now made a chart of everything I will be buying sometime within the next two months. My chart started out in Word as a simple list and grew into a table and by the time Hubby spied it, he asked why I hadn’t done a spreadsheet in Excel. Yeah…I should have. My chart has the uses for each piece of my “system” (as cloth diaper choices are called once they are combined to the users liking), it lists the sizes, the amounts to buy and the prices from the website I have decided to order this lot from. Hopefully my list will get us through at least the first six months of life. Hopefully, because the upfront cost of cloth can be intimidating. I’m not going for the most expensive all-in-one system that is the closest to using disposables, but neither am I going for the least expensive one-giant-piece-of-cloth diapers either. I’ve chosen a happy medium combination of fitted (shaped diapers with closures, I’m going with Velcro) and pre-folds (pre-folded and sized squares of absorbent cloth to be used with a cover that has self closures) with various cover options for day, night and babysitters.
After the first six months, it should be easier to adjust for the size and shape of the baby and by then the diapers fit for a larger pound range. I am concerned now that I might not have ordered enough…but I am controlling my urge to over-shop until I know exactly what I am getting into. Plus…one of the reasons we’re going cloth is that they are washable. I shouldn’t need to have a stockpile large enough for a baby army.
Now for the first crazy part. Because newborns outgrow some cloth sizes so fast, I have decided to sew my own newborn/small diapers to save on some money. I’m going to sew my own fitted, padded and self-closing diapers. With some help from my mom, of course. I have a pattern, I have a website with suggestions and pictures, I have yards of cute flannel. I now need an afternoon to cut, serge and stitch a cache of about 20 tiny diapers. I have this need to sew diapers. It’s driving me mad. To control the itch until I can get on mom’s Serger, I am contenting myself by making deluxe baby wipes.
This is crazed mom part two. After looking at the actual diapers, it was time to look at the accessories. Why use disposable wipes if you’re using cloth diapers? They all wash together. So, I’m poking around and find the deluxe wipes. Yeah baby. One side is workhorse terry cloth and the other is soft, smooth flannel. The terry side of the wipe is for scrubbing pooh and the flannel side for smoothing the baby bum and quick pee clean-ups. Sounds good to me. Only if I purchased the recommended amount, I’d be dropping another $55.00 on wipes. That didn’t make sense. I can sew. I can sew squares. I can sew squares cheaper than $1.60 a piece. Off to the fabric store I go again to purchase two yards of terry and two of flannel. This is after I did the yield calculations to find out how many wipes I’d get from each yard of fabric. My original thought was I’d need about four yards each. I’m glad I did the numbers, because yesterday I cut 64 beautiful squares of each fabric. I’m getting 1/3 more wipes for half the price. And some work. I am now feeling a bit daunted by the large stack of squares that need to be sewn. But at this point, I am committed. I figure if I can sew 10-15 a night, I’ll be done in a week. That’s fine with me. It should, if nothing else, keep me from starting in on yet another crazed mommy project.
Or I just might find out all about the alternate meaning of “committed”.
I have extracted a new promise from Hubby. He is to tell me the point I become too "baby weird"...I have the feeling that time is near. I am fluxing between cool and calm and an urgent need to GET STUFF DONE even though I have almost four more months to get said stuff done. Right now I have solved the diaper dilemma. Yes, it was a serious problem. The diaper discussions began before conception (I'm an early planner, usually about stuff that doesn't REALLY matter) when I just needed to know if we were going to go cloth or disposable. Well, it should be no surprise to those who know me that we came down on the cloth side of the equation. Cloth had many advantages: cost effectiveness for the husband and the old-fashioned buck the trend-ness for me. There was also a level of difficulty involved that intrigued me. Not to mention the skin and health benefits for the little one, who is sure to inherit the sensitive skin of both his/her parents.
The next step, and the one that has been interrupting my sleep as of late, is to decide on which cloth diapers to purchase. Yes, there are choices...all-in-ones, fitted, pre-folds with covers, pinned 'traditional' style, covers with snaps or Velcro, polyester, organic cotton, cotton flannel, fleece, wool...each with its own set of pros and cons and ardent followers. Then the sizing problem kicks in. Just how big will the baby be at birth? Do I need "newborn" size...good to 7 lbs, or should I start out with small? The brands don't help much; one brand’s small runs through another brand’s medium. Oh, and when does a kid hit the magical 35 lbs? I had to do some looking at average growth charts, guess how big the kid will be at birth and go from there.
After my size/weight research (if the baby weighs around 8 lbs at birth one can expect him/her to weigh about 16 lbs at six months with steady, predictable amounts between those two points) I have now made a chart of everything I will be buying sometime within the next two months. My chart started out in Word as a simple list and grew into a table and by the time Hubby spied it, he asked why I hadn’t done a spreadsheet in Excel. Yeah…I should have. My chart has the uses for each piece of my “system” (as cloth diaper choices are called once they are combined to the users liking), it lists the sizes, the amounts to buy and the prices from the website I have decided to order this lot from. Hopefully my list will get us through at least the first six months of life. Hopefully, because the upfront cost of cloth can be intimidating. I’m not going for the most expensive all-in-one system that is the closest to using disposables, but neither am I going for the least expensive one-giant-piece-of-cloth diapers either. I’ve chosen a happy medium combination of fitted (shaped diapers with closures, I’m going with Velcro) and pre-folds (pre-folded and sized squares of absorbent cloth to be used with a cover that has self closures) with various cover options for day, night and babysitters.
After the first six months, it should be easier to adjust for the size and shape of the baby and by then the diapers fit for a larger pound range. I am concerned now that I might not have ordered enough…but I am controlling my urge to over-shop until I know exactly what I am getting into. Plus…one of the reasons we’re going cloth is that they are washable. I shouldn’t need to have a stockpile large enough for a baby army.
Now for the first crazy part. Because newborns outgrow some cloth sizes so fast, I have decided to sew my own newborn/small diapers to save on some money. I’m going to sew my own fitted, padded and self-closing diapers. With some help from my mom, of course. I have a pattern, I have a website with suggestions and pictures, I have yards of cute flannel. I now need an afternoon to cut, serge and stitch a cache of about 20 tiny diapers. I have this need to sew diapers. It’s driving me mad. To control the itch until I can get on mom’s Serger, I am contenting myself by making deluxe baby wipes.
This is crazed mom part two. After looking at the actual diapers, it was time to look at the accessories. Why use disposable wipes if you’re using cloth diapers? They all wash together. So, I’m poking around and find the deluxe wipes. Yeah baby. One side is workhorse terry cloth and the other is soft, smooth flannel. The terry side of the wipe is for scrubbing pooh and the flannel side for smoothing the baby bum and quick pee clean-ups. Sounds good to me. Only if I purchased the recommended amount, I’d be dropping another $55.00 on wipes. That didn’t make sense. I can sew. I can sew squares. I can sew squares cheaper than $1.60 a piece. Off to the fabric store I go again to purchase two yards of terry and two of flannel. This is after I did the yield calculations to find out how many wipes I’d get from each yard of fabric. My original thought was I’d need about four yards each. I’m glad I did the numbers, because yesterday I cut 64 beautiful squares of each fabric. I’m getting 1/3 more wipes for half the price. And some work. I am now feeling a bit daunted by the large stack of squares that need to be sewn. But at this point, I am committed. I figure if I can sew 10-15 a night, I’ll be done in a week. That’s fine with me. It should, if nothing else, keep me from starting in on yet another crazed mommy project.
Or I just might find out all about the alternate meaning of “committed”.
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