Obsessively Lazy Parenting

Rollercoaster of Love

2009-01-03T11:45:00.002-06:00

Yesterday I got a phone call at work. It was Smitty, and I could tell when I answered that I was on speakerphone. I heard the unmistakable sounds of a zzrrrbt, and then the amazing sound of Sylvie laughing, over and over and over again. It was the best day.

Pi challenges me. I can only try my best to rise up to it. I fail often. He is stubborn, willful, defiant, and I am impatient and see only my own parenting faults in his acting out. I know that we will crack the code, and I keep repeating the age-old mantra, "This too shall pass", but it is difficult. I see the difference that meeting him with positivity makes - he is so verbal and brilliant, and I hope that he will soon develop some emotional vocabulary to help us through this, before I take the next relative who says "I could just take him home with me" at her word.

We Wish You a Merry Christmas

2008-12-25T08:26:00.003-06:00

Life is good. Sylvie is beautiful. Pi had a challenging year with an aborted attempt at private pre-school due to Sensory Processing Disorder, but we are encouraged by the efficiency and compassion of our public school district and are working to get him placed in the right situation. I feel that it will happen and that he will be all right - my amazing boy. He can spell Cookie, Cake, Pie (sensing a theme here) Cart, Cat, and his name.

Sylvie smiles all the time, some very sweet and small, and others that take up her entire face with their radiant beams (those are mostly for Daddy), but she doesn't laugh very much. You have got to bring your Baby Comedy or Baby Tickling A-Game to the table to get a laugh out of her, but it is the sweetest music to our ears.

We are so blessed to be celebrating Sylvie's first Christmas, Pi's third, together as a family amongst all this bounty and beauty. Feeling the tiny snowflake presence of those who could not be here with us. Feeling so much love.

Sylvie

2008-08-22T17:04:00.003-05:00

DOB - 8/19/08 at 10:19am.
Weight - 8lb, 12oz.
Length - 20in.
Hair - brown.
Eyes - blue.
Other attributes - small, cute, squeaky.

Overdue

2008-08-15T09:05:00.002-05:00

Yep, still waiting.

On August 11th, I had contractions that were regular, about 6-7 minutes apart, for almost 10 hours, and although they were uncomfortable, I wouldn't say that they were exceptionally painful or took all my attention. I was able to walk, breathe, putter around and eventually fall asleep.

By the morning of August 12th (my due date), the contractions were essentially gone and I had a major emotional meltdown. My wonderful doula, who is also a dear friend, came over and stayed all day, just to help me get over the disappointment of a stalled labor. I had a non-stress test at 8:15 that morning, and the baby did just fine. On August 13th, I had an ultrasound to check amniotic fluid, and that was also just fine, and the baby's heart was still beating away. Then I had a cervical check with my back-up OB, who didn't feel that my cervix was favorable for induction - even after all those contractions...sigh...

I have a doc appointment with my regular doctor on Wednesday - she's been on vacation since August 8th. I've decided that if my cervix looks good, we'll go for induction on August 22nd, and if it doesn't look good, we'll go for c-section on August 22nd. I'm not happy about submitting to further surgery, but it makes me really nervous to go too far post-dates. Pi was nine days late, and if Daffodil's birthday is August 22nd, that'll be 10 days. I think I've given her plenty of time to choose her birthday for herself.

I really just need to have an end point identified, especially after that long stretch of prodromal labor. I told my doula that it felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to take a dive that would surely be frightening, but also exhilarating and fun. So I'm just standing there, ready to take this great leap, processing all the emotions that go along with it, but the decision to actually jump is not mine to make. I have to wait for some outside cosmic force to propel me off the cliff and into my new adventure. I just can't teeter on this edge indefinitely.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

2008-08-07T08:42:00.003-05:00

Not even at my due date yet and I'm already going out of my tree. Pi was nine days late, so you'd think I'd be used to the waiting...not so much.

I'm just anxious to see her, to know for sure that she's OK, to hold her for myself and feel her breathing and her heartbeat. And I don't understand what on earth my body is doing right now.

With Pi, I lost my plug at 4:00 AM on a Saturday morning and went pretty immediately into regular, strong contractions that actually made me puke. I was at the hospital by 3:30 PM on Saturday and had him at 7:00 AM on Sunday.

Daffodil's plug came out at 2:00 AM on Saturday morning. August 2. Five days ago. Contractions are happening, and actually got kind of regular on Saturday, but petered out and haven't really come back with any strength or regularity since. Because I am "scary VBAC girl", the docs are nervous about letting me go past my due date, so we're probably looking at an induction on August 11th, which in one sense makes me relieved, but also makes the dream of the VBAC a bit more distant. It's definitely a lesson that every child is different, every labor and birth is different, but I'm already past marveling in the learning and am mired in the impatience and frustration stage.

I'm taking evening primrose oil, having acupuncture, getting my membranes swept (yowch) - I'm doing everything I can do to help this along. Smitty is being really great - encouraging, understanding, sweet. It's just really hard to be smacked in the face with the fact that this is truly not up to me, and I feel bad about forcing her to come out on Monday if she's obviously not ready yet. I have trouble just letting things go and be.

Full-Term & Change

2008-07-26T09:06:00.003-05:00

Wow, this pregnancy just flew by. Our little Daffodil (Pi's chosen name for her) is now just over full-term and could make her debut any day! I'm 1.5 cm dilated and softening, but no effacement yet. I'm having about 10-20 contractions a day, depending on my activity level, and although they are not settling into a rhythm or feeling painful at all, they're definitely on a different scale than regular ol' Braxton-Hicks. The dates that keep popping into my head are July 28th and August 8th, so we'll see if either of those turns out to be Li'l Girl's birthday!

When we found out about the pregnancy, I was dreading these later weeks in the dog days of summer, but someone up there is smiling on us for living through last winter, and we have had a beautiful, moderate, temperate summer, which has been just perfect for me and I am truly thankful. Now if only I could blink my eyes and have all my work projects wrapped up and be able to take my leave RIGHT NOW!

Pi is doing well - some sense of the big event that's about to happen, but pretty much blissfully unaware of how his whole world will change - poor kid. Trying to make some happy summer memories - he's seen his first play and movie this summer (Lyle, Lyle Crocodile and WALL-E), seen some great fireworks, and gone out for ice cream a lot. He's also doing great in his swim class - after a bit of trepidation, he's adjusting well to being in the pool without Mommy, and swimming with his teachers. Good prep for pre-school starting this fall. Potty training remains challenging - one step forward, two steps back - but I'm really trying hard not to stress about it (in front of him, anyway; poor Smitty gets the full brunt of my potty-training angst) and just be up-front and honest with his progress to the pre-school teachers. My hope is that he can stay dry and clean during the mornings so that they won't really have to deal with anything too much. It's only a three-hour program, three days a week - we should be OK when the time comes.

Three and Sixty

2008-05-22T16:02:00.003-05:00

Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday to Pi and his Pop-Pop...

Happy Birthday to you!

Another Little Girl

2008-04-26T09:08:00.002-05:00

Remembering my sweet Delilah today, on the anniversary of the procedure that separated her from me in body.

There will always be a part of us that remains together, baby girl. I wish you were here today.

Sisters and Brothers

2008-04-26T08:50:00.003-05:00

Yes, it is true, if all continues to go well, Pi will be having a baby sister. I've already started reading Siblings Without Rivalry.

The sum total of Pi's interactions with the baby:

At the end of February, we went to visit my folks, so Smitty and I told Pi about the baby because it was sure to be the topic of conversation amongst my family and we didn't want Pi to be blindsided. I told him that there was a baby growing in Mommy's belly and that pretty soon (hopefully) it would come home to live with us, and he would be a big brother! He said, "Like in Just Like a Baby!", which we had been reading a lot lately. He then went on his merry way.

When my belly started to get pretty big, probably mid-March or so, I said, "Look how big Mommy's belly is! That's the baby growing in there! Would you like to say 'hello' to the baby, Pi?" He touched my belly and said, "Hello, baby", and then he poked his index finger into my belly button and said, "What are you doing in that hole?"

On March 26th, we found out that this baby is a girl, and we told Pi shortly thereafter that this baby would be his little sister. A few weeks later, I asked Pi what we should call his baby sister. He did his thinking face (index finger to corner of mouth, slight head tilt) and said, "Hmmm...I'm thinking of a yellow flower." I said, "Well, since spring is finally here, the daffodils are coming up - daffodils are a yellow flower." He said, "Yes! Daffodil!", so we've been calling the baby Daffodil while in utero. I told Pi that when she comes out, we may want to pick another name, but I hope they have the kind of relationship that will allow him to use "Daffodil" as his special nickname for her.

Yesterday, Smitty really felt her kicking from the outside - he'd felt smaller kicking events before, but this one was unequivocal. Smitty asked Pi if he wanted to feel the baby move, and Pi ran away, saying, "No! I don't want to feel the baby move! Close up Mommy's belly!"

...and so it begins...

The State of '08

2008-02-17T08:45:00.002-06:00

"Let's talk about stress, bay-bee, let's talk about you and me, let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be..."

Yeah. It's been a while since we talked. Difficult times first:

Major work stress. Travel, overnight shifts (which are done now, thank GAWD), and preparing for four new store openings over the summer (two of which I will miss because of maternity leave, but I'm getting ahead of myself).

Illness - Colds, kidney stones, fevers, impending surgery - you name it, we've had it.

Weather - winter has been very tedious this year - every other day it snows another 2-4 inches. Driving sucks, and walking to the train isn't much better.

Typing it out in such brief, it really doesn't sound so bad, but it's all complicated by the Good Times:

Our second baby is due August 12th. Now, this is wonderful of course, but due to our complicated reproductive history, December of '07 and January of '08 were replete with not only intense nausea and crushing fatigue, but the emotional and psychological rollercoaster of wondering if this one would actually survive. So far it has, and is moving along very well. Our 14-week appointment yielded very low risk of the major trisomies and a heartbeat that sounded like galloping horses - very strong and very reassuring. I'm even starting to feel the little tickling and bubbling on the inside.

Pi continues to delight us - at almost three he is still using bottles, has no interest in potty training, and still sleeps in a crib, but his imagination and vocabulary are amazing. He makes up stories about his trains as he's playing with them - a constant monologue of "Today, on the island of Sodor...", "Bust my buffers!", and "James applied the brakes, but it was TOOOO LATE!"

Recent Pi gems include:

"Mommy, Daddy, I need your help! It's an emergency!" (Said while we were all playing on the bed together - no one injured, nothing on fire.)

"I will make soap soup! Soap is so delicious, Mommy!"

And we are finally getting some unsolicited "I love you"s - the other day, when he woke up, he wanted to play a game with one rule: I had to kiss him over and over again. It's my favorite game ever.

He insists on helping with every household project, especially making peanut butter &
jelly sandwiches and pancakes, and feeding the cats. Everything is very methodical and ritualized, including knocking on cabinet doors to see if the ingredients for our meal are indeed at home, and skipping a step causes much angst.

He's an intelligent, energetic, joyful person, and we are so lucky he's part of our family. Here's hoping lightning strikes twice!

Good vs Evil

2007-11-18T09:10:00.000-06:00

It's so hard to keep up with everything that could potentially damage your child. I'm always doing something "wrong".

Recent things that I have done that have been called out by someone, somewhere, as being "bad":

1. Told my son he's smart (too much pressure!).
2. Told my son I'm proud of him (see above!).
3. Allowed my son to eat candy.
4. Allowed my son to watch television.
5. Enjoyed singing "Wheels on the Bus" (children should not be silenced by their parents).
6. Rocked my 2.5-year-old son to sleep after he has consumed milk from a polycarbonate plastic bottle.

I have been very surprised by the world of judgment that opens up as soon as you become a parent, which I'm sure has always been there, but is significantly amplified by the Internet. Being someone who cares too much about what other people think has obviously not prepared me well for this aspect of motherhood. I have tried to listen to my gut, which has gotten much better at communicating with me, but there's still quite a bit of simply crossing your fingers and hoping everything works out in spite of what you're doing. I suspect that in the end, I will continue to espouse the philosophy of the title of my blog; continuous obsession and worry over every little thing, while ultimately kicking back on the couch with a novel while my son plays with his Thomas Trains (evil-made-in-China-licensed-character-consumer-crap).

Perspective

2007-11-11T07:59:00.000-06:00

My name is Cheek and I am a worrier. Worrying is both art and science for me, and I think I actually may be addicted to the brain alchemy that worry causes. Thus, how perfect for someone like me to end up with a child; something to worry about endlessly for the rest of my life! Yay!

One of the best parts of motherhood is looking back on a given time in my baby's development and saying to myself, "I can't believe I was so worried about ____." Distance provides perspective. When Pi was about 14 months old, I was worried that he would be speech-delayed. He was saying a few words, but he wasn't saying "Mama" or following a speech path that I thought I expected.

This past week, Smitty was watching Sunrise Earth, a peaceful nature show that looks badass on our still-new-and-exciting HD TV. The scene for this episode's sunrises was an idyllic farm in Vermont. Pi was checking out the cows and other farm animals, and then said, "Daddy, I see a barn in the ditz-tenantz." I don't remember ever teaching him that word or reading it in a book, and suddenly he busts it out in context.

I may have to find somewhere else to get my adrenalin fix.

Delilah's Day

2007-11-04T07:38:00.000-06:00

We have a busy day today. We're going to an open house at a potential pre-school for Pi, and then tonight, Smitty and I are going to see Wicked (the tickets were my birthday present). There will not be much time in the day for reflection, but I'll know that today is the day my daughter should have been welcomed to our world.

I miss you, sweet girl. I wish you were here today.

Books and Music

2007-10-07T08:39:00.000-05:00

Life just rolls along. The new car is very nice and I'm feeling a little better about driving it. We've celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary and my 36th birthday. It's incredibly weird to watch the leaves turning and falling when it's 88 million degrees with the humidity index at "Beastly".

When we had Pi, I wondered how his interests would develop as he grew. I hoped that he would like the things that Smitty and I liked, but of course would support any interest he had, even if it was the roller derby or the Young Republicans or something equally alien to us. Anything but Scientology; I just don't know if I could feign any kind of interest or support in that.

Thankfully, as is Pi's wont, he has given us no cause for concern (yet) in this area. Two of my passions are reading and singing, and so far Pi seems to love both of those. He loves to go to the library and find new books, and he memorizes books very quickly. No skipping pages allowed! We checked Silly Sally by Audrey Wood out of the library, read it ten times in a row at every sitting for a few days ("a-guine!, a-guine!"), and then put it in the diaper bag for a trip where it stayed for about two weeks. When he pulled it out again, he opened the book to the first page and recited it word for word, while I gaped at him with tears filling my eyes.

I used to sing the same songs night after night at bedtime, and now Pi is expressing his musical tastes rather than submitting completely to mine. His current favorite is Harry Belafonte - we sing "The Banana Boat Song" and "Turn the World Around" every night. My most perfect family moment so far occurred the other night at dinner, when he was singing "Turn the World Around", and in the middle of it, shouted out "Sing together!"

Now, Smitty has a great ear and a nice voice, but does not like to sing. He once got in trouble at kindergarten for not singing "Happy Birthday" to a classmate - his mom found him crying in the corner while everyone else was eating cake. It makes me very sad to think that this teacher pretty much killed any chance that little Smitty might ever grow comfortable expressing his musical side. But when Pi asked, Daddy answered, and for a few brief moments, all our voices rose up together in joy and family love...

"Whoa-ho! So is life! A-ha! So is life!"

Love Me Tender

2007-09-16T08:16:00.001-05:00

Last weekend, Pi and I were walking home from the grocery store, stroller laden with purchases (we bought a new car yesterday, hooray!). After two+ years of riding in the same stroller, he finally discovered that it has a little window in the top of the canopy that could serve to entertain him. He started squirming in his seat to look at me through the little window, playing peek-a-boo from side to side and just having a grand old time.

The continuous side-to-side motion, though, caused his sun hat to creep forward over his eyes. I leaned into the stroller and asked if he wanted me to hold onto his hat for him. He peeled off the hat, handed it to me, and said, with perfect inflection:

"Thank you, Mommy. Thank you very much."

iNeptitude

2007-09-06T22:50:00.000-05:00

I need iPod lessons.

For obvious reasons, I've been riding the train to work a lot more often lately, and I am in awe of the people who can plant their earbuds, stick the iPod in their bag or briefcase or pocket, and enjoy their tunes with no drama all the way downtown.

I think my ears are too small for the buds or something, because I'm constantly futzing with them when they fall out, or hurt, which they do quite often. I try to finagle them into a good position, but if the cord moves one millimeter (and it always does, because I can never find the optimal place to rest the actual iPod), they are tugged unceremoniously from my ears and we have to start all over again.

I think that the answer is in the accessories (isn't that the answer to everything?). Do they make smaller earbuds? Should I get one of those belt clip thingies so that it always has a place to rest? Would it be just too infinitely embarrassing to saunter up to the Apple Genius Bar and ask them to show me how to walk and wear an iPod at the same time?

My iPod is lovely (it was a very inspired gift from Smitty for our last anniversary - four years, for which one of the traditional gifts is fruit), but I am still an outsider in the cool iClub, and will be until I get different earbuds. Or ear enhancement surgery.

Maybe a Reason?

2007-09-03T16:08:00.001-05:00

As many women who have lost children will tell you, "Everything happens for a reason" is one of the least comforting platitudes that can be offered in The Consolation Conversation. It simply begs the question, "What? What is the reason?"

There isn't a good reason why a much-wanted, already-loved child does not make it to term and come home with her family.

All that said, I shudder to think what could have happened if I'd been seven months pregnant when two cars collided with my vehicle a week ago.

Poorly, but strangely comforting.

I'm just ready for this year to be over.

The Accident

2007-09-01T08:54:00.000-05:00

I woke up Monday morning feeling similar to a marathon runner at Mile 25 - physically beat, emotionally drained, but full of the adrenalin that comes with knowing the end's in sight. Work has been so intense this summer, especially the last five weeks, and our final project was due for completion on August 29th. We were almost there.

I showered, dressed, left my sleeping son and husband and got in the car to head to our offsite project location. I was listening to NPR's 2nd anniversary coverage of Hurricane Katrina, thinking about whether I'd have time to stop at the bank before work, cursorily going through the motions at the numerous 4-way stop signs on a tree-lined residential street.

At the first major intersection, the traffic on my left did not have a stop sign - a fact that completely left my mind as I pulled directly into the flow and was immediately plowed by an oncoming car. The force of the first impact spun me 180 degrees and I was then hit head on by a service van.

"Are you OK?" asked the girl in the first car who hit me.

"Yes, are you OK?" Why is she so blurry? Why can't I see her - her driver's side window is inches from mine.

"Let's try to pull off the main road."

"OK." I manuevered back onto the cross-street, still wondering why I couldn't see the northbound drivers (no doubt counting their blessings that they had to wait a couple more seconds for their change at Starbucks this morning), who were waving me across the road. Why can't I see? What the hell is going on? I have to look for my insurance card, I have to...oh, my glasses are on the floor.

Our car is totaled. I have totaled a car. The reality of that situation and the red tape that accompanies it have occupied me this past week, but the fact that I'm here to deal with it is a gift and a blessing.

I held it together pretty well at the accident scene - I was the only driver in the triad who actually had my driver's license on me and proof of insurance - until the tow truck came to take my car away and the guy asked me if I needed to get anything out of the car. Pulling Pi's carseat out was what broke me. What if he had been in this car? I was driving in a completely zoned-out, stressed-out state, and it had almost cost me my life - what if I had endangered my child's life as well?

It's hard for me not to beat myself up about this - I just need to make sure that it affects my behavior in a positive way. I have been given an opportunity to spend more time on this earth with the ones I love - I can't squander it any more.

Golden Pig

2007-08-26T08:50:00.000-05:00

Well, that was an adventure. We are just coming off of almost 48 hours with no power after a crazy storm on Thursday. I always feel like a total diva when the power goes out, demanding my white M&Ms on my white couch with white roses on my dressing table. I know that things could be a whole lot worse, and in the grand scheme of things we are very lucky to have everything we have, but I do enjoy flicking a switch and having the light come on, or pressing a button to get my dishes washed, or twisting a dial to clean my clothes. Pi's presence did make the outage a lot more fun, though - every time we lit the candles he started singing "Happy Birthday" and asking for cake, and he thought that Daddy turning the hand-crank on the emergency radio was the height of hilarity. Anyway, the power came back on at about 1:00 PM yesterday, and we are very pleased, although now the cable's out. I think someone is trying to tell us that we watch too much TV.

In other news, the rash of office pregnancies that were announced a few weeks before I found out about mine have started to bear their sweet fruit. A close co-worker of mine had her baby girl on August 10th, another has left for maternity leave with a due date of September 9, and yet another has confirmed a baby girl for October. When I found out about Delilah, I read that in the Chinese Zodiac, this year is a Golden Pig year, a very auspicious and lucky year for babies to be born. I wasn't ready to announce my pregnancy when my co-workers did, but when they were all together in the same room I secretly counted myself among them, and thought how excited they'd be when I was ready to "come out". All girls, born in the Year of the Golden Pig.

I was supposed to have one, too.

The Big One

2007-08-18T09:56:00.001-05:00

Happy 40th Birthday, honey. I'm so happy that the little baby boy born 40 years ago today became my sweet husband and Pi's wonderful father. We love you so much!

Just Your Garden Variety Update

2007-08-16T17:44:00.000-05:00

Pi's a thriving, happy, healthy two-year-old. We are very, very lucky to have him and are so enjoying watching him grow up.

One of his favorite games now is "Daddy Tickle". He asks me to pick him up and then screams "Daddy Tickle!" which is my signal to run through the house at top speed to find a place to "hide" from Daddy, who of course eventually finds us and tickles the bejeezus out of Pi.

He plays for hours with his Thomas trains, and narrates all of their adventures on the coffee table. "'Be careful!' cried Mavis, 'Look out!' chuffed Gordon, Duncan on suspension bridge, pull freight cars, 'Well done!' said Thomas." He also mixes Thomas characters into his new favorite song, as in: "On top of spaghetti, all covered with Rhenaeus and Duncan and Skarloey, I lost my poor meatball, when somebody sneezed."

I love how he says that "sn" sound - he blows it right through his nose and just pushes the word out - I can't even really replicate it phonetically. I should try to post a little audio clip of it - it's too cute.

He also loves to sing "Let it Be", which made me cry the first time I heard those lyrics come out of his mouth.

There are so many more cute anecdotes and stories that I can't even remember now, so I'm really going to try to get better about this blog so that all of these wonderful moments don't get lost in the deep chasms of my memory.

Pi learned to swim this summer! We took him for lessons at the Y last year, when he was just over a year old, and there's really not much you can do at that age besides blow bubbles and refine your "Wheels on the Bus" techniques for the aqueous environment, but I decided to blow the $100 bucks again this year anyway. After just three lessons, the whole "reach and pull" and "kick your feet" thing just clicked for Pi. He swam right out of my arms and never looked back. Of course, he's still wearing a floaty belt. I tried to see how he would do without it, and he dropped like a rock, so I figured he'd better keep it on, but he's got the moves down!

Also, going to sleep before midnight is for chumps, apparently. He's had a lot of trouble settling down at night for the past few weeks. He turns his light on, plays in his crib, and talks to himself for well over an hour after I put him down. He always was a night owl (he usually goes to sleep at 9:30 or so), but this is getting crazy. He never cries, just has his own private hootenanny until he feels like falling asleep with the overhead light on. I don't know - I hope this is just a phase.

Mad as a...Cicada?

2007-07-29T08:14:00.001-05:00

Last weekend, I had one of those Mother of the Year days with Pi. We went to the coffee shop ("Mommy cuppa COF-fee!") and then to the bakery where we shared a blueberry scone at one of their little cafe tables and watched the people and their doggies go by the window. Then we took a bit of a longer walk to a very cool and fun park that we don't usually frequent. This park is pretty rockin' - they have a separate toddler play structure that sits in the center of a sand pit, and then they have a mega-gym for bigger kids. Pi went right for the sand pit, where some large winged bugs were flying around. There were about thirty of them.

"Oh, look at the cicadas, Pi", I said as he merrily chased them about and crouched low to get a really good look at them when they hovered in the air near his face. "Wow, there really are a lot of cicadas here, aren't there - I wonder why there are so many!"

"KAY-das! KAY-das!" he crowed.

Then one of them landed on the slide and I checked it out.

"Uh, Pi, let's not play over here, OK, these bugs are actually gigantic freaking HORNETS, and they could really hurt you. These are dangerous bugs."

"Kayda HOR-nets! Kayda HOR-nets!"

"Yes, let's just leave them to their partying and go swing for a while."

I allowed my child to frolic amongst gigantic hornets. Mother of the Year, indeed.

Fever All Through the Night

2007-06-10T00:29:00.000-05:00

Pi's had three colds in just over two years of life. He takes probiotics regularly, was breastfed for a year, and through the luck of the genetic draw, appears to have a rock solid immune system, which is advantageous when one's diet is occasionally supplemented with sandbox sand, boogers, and dessicated bits of shredded cheese extracted from the crevices of the high chair.

Many of the T-cells are apparently in Niagara Falls this weekend, but the ones that stuck around are putting up a fight against whatever infection made its way into Pi. His fever was 101.5 at bedtime last night and 102.6 at 3:30 AM (the first time we've all seen the wee small hours in many moons). We dosed him with Tylenol and applied cold compresses. This morning it was down, but at around 7:00 PM he spiked at 104.5, and for only the second time in Pi's life I availed myself of the services of the doctor on call. Through a fog of disdain for the hysterical mother, the ped hurriedly advised Motrin and a tepid bath. Luckily, the ibuprofen in the Motrin was strong enough to penetrate the artificial sweeteners, preservatives, and FD&C colors, and the meds and bath brought his fever down to 100.9 before bedtime tonight. He may spike again tomorrow, or even later tonight, but for now he's resting comfortably.

It's just a fever, which means his body is doing what it should to ward off infection, and certainly a drop in the bucket of his life's illnesses, but seeing that thermometer shoot up over 104 was really scary for both Smitty and me. It's alarming when the ambient heat from your child causes you to break a sweat when rocking him to sleep.

I have one thing to say to Whatever Higher Power is out there: if it turns out that Pi is the only kid I get to have, keep your mitts off him. Even if he's not my only, even if I do get lucky enough to have more, you can't have him. Seriously, you touch one hair on his gorgeous curly red head, and I'll arrange a personal audience with you for the sole purpose of Kicking. Your. Omniscient. Ass.

Missing

2007-06-04T07:24:00.000-05:00

We had a big event at work on Friday, one that we've been planning for a few months. When I envisioned it while we were planning, I smiled secretly as I thought of how far along I'd be by then, how much I'd be showing, how much fun it would be to share my second pregnancy with all of our offsite co-workers and invited guests at the event.

It didn't happen the way I envisioned.

I miss you, baby girl.

The Sharing Paradox

2007-06-03T08:22:00.001-05:00

We spend so much time on sharing these days - negotiating who plays with which toy, which toys are community and don't belong to anybody, whose turn is it, etc. Pi was a pretty good sharer when he was younger and didn't really understand what was going on. He would just hand things over when asked, with a bit of a lingering look, but would easily move on to something else. Now, however, he understands all the detail that's involved with relinquishing a toy, and he's really not that into it. He's become one of those hoarders, you know, like "I have all six of the sandbox shovels, and even though only one of them is mine, and even though I can't even physically hold them all, let alone dig with all of them, no one else may approach the Shovel Stronghold." I know that all of this is age-appropriate, and that we'll work through all the sharing politics with experience and more interaction with kids, but I got to thinking...

All the time we spend sharing as children; how does that really translate to our adult lives? The playground social norm is "Share and share alike", and parents bend themselves in half trying to keep that very delicate pH balanced. Then, when we're older, the prevailing attitude becomes, "Get, keep, and hold onto what's yours". This is MY parking spot, this is MY property line, this is the money that I earned, and with it I buy things for ME, etc. There are certainly exceptions to this, but truly shared housing communities are the minority, and everybody always talks about wanting to volunteer and share their time for a good cause (including me), but how many people can make that a reality (definitely not me)?

I was riding public transportation once when I was in college, eating a bag of Cheetos, and a high school girl came up to me and said, "Can I have some?" Not a homeless person, not someone who outwardly looked hungry or poor - she just wanted what I had and asked for it. I gave her a few Cheetos, but I was stunned at the audacity she displayed by walking up to a total stranger and asking for food. Now, as a parent, when an unknown child walks up to Pi and says "Can I play with that?", I move heaven and earth to make sure that all these people we don't know get a piece of what's Pi's. Adults who don't share are protecting their own, but full community is expected of kids.

Is sharing like geometry, one of those things you learn as a kid that doesn't have any bearing on real life? Or am I just telling myself that to help me feel better about Pi's role in ShovelGate yesterday?

Number Two...and Fifty-Nine

2007-05-22T07:28:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday, Dearest, Sweetest, Most Wonderful Pi...
I can't believe you're TWO!

Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday, Dear Pop-Pop...
Oh, how we love you.

Our Little One

2007-05-18T23:40:00.000-05:00

Another little soul has tiptoed in and out of our lives, and I wanted to take a moment to honor her.

We carried her, physically in my body and the hope of her life in our hearts, for almost thirteen weeks. It seems her little heart stopped beating at almost ten weeks. The testing we requested shows a chromosomally normal girl. We will never be able to answer the question of why she couldn't stay with us.

The light of her life went out on Thursday, April 26, 2007. She was Delilah. We will always love her and wonder what else she might have been.

NaBloNoNo

2006-12-10T07:19:00.000-06:00

While the rest of blogland was busily posting once a day, OLP became officially known as OLB. Maybe I'll try NaBloPoMo next year.

Everything is fab in the house of Pi. The first Christmas tree that he is mobile enough to "enjoy" (read: destroy) is up with lights, but we are still working out our ornament strategy. Pi and I had a very nice conversation last night about gentle touch on the tree, only touching the tree when Mama and Daddy are nearby, and not pulling on the lights. Retention quiz upon wake-up this AM.

Tantrums abound as he realizes that we control most of his daily activities and he lacks the full communication ability to negotiate. Diaper changes, where once fairly pleasant, now resemble the tenth circle of hell. There have been some memorable Hat and Coat Battles (both putting on and taking off), but the absolute worst tantrums come when he is forced to go inside the house. We had our first snow of the season recently, and we took him out in 15-degree weather to experience it for the first time. He was completely bundled up, but it was really too cold to be out for any length of time. After thoroughly investigating the snow - he scooped it up onto his mittens and then shook it off vigorously, saying "uck! uck!" - we decided that he was turning into a popsicle and it was time to come inside. Suffice it to say that frostbite and hypothermia would have been preferable to Pi.

Pi says about 30 words now (and I have once again earned a Worry-Lympics medal in the Unnecessary Freakout category), including "snow", which is one of my favorites - the way he says it is just too cute, and a brand-new one that he busted out on me yesterday when we were watching Caillou (my least favorite of the PBS Sprout shows - so annoying). Caillou and his grandpa were at an apple orchard, and as they picked apples from the tree, Pi pulled his bottle out of his mouth long enough to declare "App-po!" We have a picture book with a green apple in it, but I never thought he'd actually say the word for the first time while looking at red animated apples. The connections in his little brain never cease to amaze me. Of course, we had "App-pos" for every meal yesterday, because he asked for them by name!

The other day he started rythmically banging on the couch with his little hammer and screwdriver, over and over and over again, and then he would turn away, bend at the waist, and then collapse forward onto the couch. Lather, rinse, repeat. Of course, after I freaked out about repetitive movements = behavioral disorder (God, I'm such a dork), Smitty solved the mystery. We have these Time Life DVDs of the old Muppet Show (yes, we watch a lot of television, and yes, I freak out about that from time to time too) and Pi loves the episode that Harry Belafonte hosts. Turns out he was imitating the drum duel between Harry Belafonte and Animal - Harry plays a big kettle drum and Animal has his Electric Mayhem kit, and they spar with increasing intensity until finally they play a cool jam together with a big finish. Harry turns to the audience, bows, and then he and Animal both collapse forward onto their drums.

After a bit of nasal congestion that flummoxed Pi when he tried to suck his thumb and made both of us quite sleep-deprived, we seem to be fully mended. I realized after over eight glorious hours of sleep this morning that I hadn't heard a peep out of Pi all night, which is unusual even when he's completely well. He sleeps through the night about 90% of the time, but moans and groans and flips around in his sleep, and our bedroom is right next to his so we can hear everything. After a completely silent night, I (sing it with me now) freaked out, went to check on him, and of course he's happily snoozing away, thumb firmly ensconced in mouth. He's such a dear, my Pi.

Few and Far Between

2006-10-29T07:42:00.000-06:00

Yikes. Two posts a month. Even the "easy" way out is hard for me. Now we see why I chose this method instead of the paper baby books - I think Pi's has maybe two completed pages.

So, anyway, lots to tell - we had professional photos taken of Pi last week and I've been watching the photographer's slide show on a continuous loop with the sappy music on full blast and treating myself to a good old-fashioned weepfest. He is, as the little song I've composed for him says, the sweetest little man in the whole wide world, and the pictures of him with his daddy are too much for my heart to bear.

Pi is saying "cat" and "duck" completely without prompting now, and is repeating new and fabulous words like "dirty" and "poop". I'm tempted to make one of those word clouds with Pi's current vocabulary and hang it on his wall.

He marches over to our little CD player in the kitchen and demands "La La", and when we put the music on he dances like Jennifer Beals' dance double did when "Maniac" was playing in "Flashdance". He is also aces now at the Hokey Pokey, and when we say "somersault" he puts his head on the couch, bed or floor between his feet and waits for us to flip him all the way over.

We've also had our first few earth-shattering tantrums. He was trying to put his shoes on by himself one rare day when I was home alone with him, and when I tried to help, he freaked completely out and screamed with anger and frustration for about 20 minutes. Nothing I did helped, and in fact, all my attempts to approach him made it worse. Finally, I just took off all his clothes and plopped him into the bathtub in the middle of the day, which seemed to calm him down, kind of like in the movies when they drag hysterical people into a cold shower and their woes magically disappear. My Pi does love his bath (which was warm, not cold).

He's going through a little bit of separation anxiety, too. Yesterday when Smitty woke up I got in the shower and Pi was not pleased. He usually sleeps right through my getting-ready-to-go-to work routine on the weekdays, but on the rare days when he wakes up early enough to see me in the morning, he's starting to recognize when I'm leaving and doesn't like it too much. I don't like to see him so sad, but the dark part of my soul is totally happy that he doesn't want me to leave.

And speaking of the dark part of my soul, I had a very interesting experience with a brand-new mom when I was in Baltimore traveling for work. Her husband is a colleague of mine in a different region of the company, and they had driven from Boston to Baltimore with their four-week-old so that the family could be together.

Now, a little background: when Smitty and I first started trying to have kids, I got a lot of lovely supportive feedback about what a great mom I was going to be, yadda yadda yadda. I had always wanted to have kids and had always looked forward to it. Then we lost my first pregnancy and I allowed myself to dwell on what life might be like if we couldn't have kids. I painted a pretty bleak existence for myself, so we kept on trying and of course, eventually had Pi. Now we had not only the "you'll be such great parents" foundation, but the "long-awaited baby" first floor in the building of our little family. I was going to nurse, babywear, co-sleep, and be the crunchiest-granola, most blissfully happy earth-mama you ever did see.

Except it was so freaking hard. I don't think I ever had full-blown PPD, but there were quite a few moments when I worried that we had made a huge mistake, that I wasn't up to this, that I would completely scar this new little person for life, that I was doing everything wrong, and that everybody in the world was a better parent than me. It helped me to talk to my girlfriends about their struggles, to commiserate about the early newborn stages and how hard they were, so that I could see that I wasn't alone. Now, of course, things are so much better, but I'll never forget how knocked flat I was by new motherhood.

So, back to the Boston mama - after cooing over the baby, I asked her how she was doing. After getting the typical sunshine-and-roses answer (which I always gave too, until someone asked, "no really, how are you doing?"), I said something like, "It's a big adjustment, isn't it?", to which she replied, "Oh no, I feel like I've been doing this my whole life - I can't believe my little baby's four weeks old already - it's gone by so fast!" Everything I asked about was going perfectly well - she loved getting up in the middle of the night to have her "special time" with him, she had a home-water-birth with no tearing after which her son latched on perfectly, his poop smelled like a freshly mown field of lavender, etc. For a while, I was able to indulge the generous part of my soul and celebrate the good time she was having, but eventually the dark side took over and I ended up wanting to punch her lights out.

I just wish that we women could talk to each other more about how hard mothering truly is. Who knows, maybe the Boston mama had her own support system and didn't feel comfortable opening up to a total stranger. Maybe she really was perfectly fine and didn't want someone like me trying to rain on her parade. But maybe she really was struggling, really battling to keep it together, but felt like she couldn't be honest about how hard it is because Moms are supposed to be perfectly happy and content with all things baby.

Well, this has veered so far from the original posting path that I think I need to thumb a ride back to the main Pi highway. He's beautiful, he's wonderful, time really is flying by as he discovers more and more about his world, but his poop definitely does not smell like lavender.

The Voice of Pi

2006-10-01T14:41:00.000-05:00

My boy is finding his voice, and I am enthralled by the sound.

Whenever we go to the park, surrounding ourselves with state-of-the-art equipment that stimulates both the brain and body, my boy eschews all in favor of hunting and gathering sticks. The best toys for Pi are those found in nature...and Hokey-Pokey Elmo, of course.

Yesterday we had a semi-successful stick-gathering session, but we always say "bye-bye sticks" before getting back in the car or the stroller. While we were walking back to the car, Pi said something that sounded like "stick", and obliged again and again when I asked him to repeat it. Later on at dinner, when I warned him of the high temperature of the sticky rice he wanted, he performed his Buster Poindexter impression, sayin' "Hot! Hot! Hot!"

He does say "Mama" and "Dada" when prompted, but asks specifically for "Bub" - his Bob the Builder toolbox with screwdriver, wrench, hammer and saw board books that Mama and Dada read in sequence eighty-six bazillion times a day. I swear I've awoken in the midst of reciting "Today is a busy day for Bob! What will he need to do the job?"

Along with the physical formation of words, I see so much going on behind his eyes now. He was so happy to get such a response from me when he said "Stick", and he has such an opinion and will about the way his world should be organized. I have to go away for work tomorrow for five days, and I would rather sharpen Pi's playground scavengings and plunge them into my ocular cavities than miss anything that happens during such a crucial time in his development. Thank Whatever that Smitty is so quick and adept with our digital camera and computer.

2006-09-23T11:08:00.000-05:00

TV Shows

I love to watch Lost, The Sopranos, Monk, and quite a few other shows. I don't think I've ever been as entertained by a video clip as I've been by this one. I'm on a business trip this weekend and Smitty sent this to me last night. I've watched it 7500 times.

Pi by Numbers

2006-09-16T08:51:00.000-05:00

479 - days on the planet.

2 - home addresses, but both in the same city and state.

4 - plane rides he's enjoyed (he's a wonderful traveler, my Pi) to see Grandmom & Grandpop on Mom's side.

2 - road trips he's taken to see Grandma and Grandpa on Dad's side.

1 - wedding attended - Smitty's cousin.

1 - funeral attended - Mommy's Grandpop, Pi's Great-Grandpop, died of Alzheimer's 1/15/06.

24 - ounces of milk a day, still in bottles. He likes them, and will only drink a little milk from a sippy cup before turning it into a rocket ship or other projectile. If he's to get any nutrition at all, we need to keep the bottles around.

6 - days since he's had a decent solid-food meal. Love that assertion of independence.

2 - bites of each food before it ends up on the floor.

4 - stories at bedtime - current rotation: Go, Dog, Go; Kitten's First Full Moon, Time for Bed, The Greedy Python.

4 - songs at bedtime - current rotation: The Rainbow Connection, It's in Every One of Us, You've Got a Friend, Baby Mine (the Bonnie Raitt version).

10.5 - current hours of sleep - he's been sleeping like a teenager lately, up at 9:00 am or later. Lovin' it!

1 - birthday so far.

1 - Halloween so far - he was an octopus. Not sure what his costume's going to be this year - Smitty really likes this Green Lantern costume, but we're having trouble finding it in his size.

2 - September 11th's so far - it hit me really hard this year. Last year I was too hormonal and sleep-deprived and covered in excrement to deal with the anniversary in any kind of meditative or respectful way. I have been very depressed that my son will never know a world in which this event didn't happen, and have been remembering all the lives and families destroyed by a single act of hatred. I am praying, praying that we get our collective poo in our diapers so that he can still be proud of his America.

The Worry-Lympics

2006-08-26T08:02:00.000-05:00

I once read a post on another blog about The Pain Olympics.

It was a terrific post, breaking down emotional pain into point systems and categories based on length of time in pain, severity of incident, etc, and eventually concluding that everyone's pain is unique and valid, and simply could not be compared quantitatively.

I'm going to demonstrate my superior skills in reading comprehension and miss the point entirely to declare that thanks to Whatever Almighty, I would not even medal in the Pain Olympics. I've had one early first-trimester pregnancy loss, which was indeed painful, but in the grand scheme of things, I am the Eric Moussambani of the Pain Olympics, with zero aspiration to become Michael Phelps.

The Worry-Lympics, on the other hand, are my kind of games. I am the Jenny Thompson of the Worry-Lympics, and have none other than my little Pi to thank for being the source and inspiration of all my astonishing accomplishments on this global stage. To wit:

August 2004 - May 2005 - The Games of the Pregnancy Worr-lympiad

Bronze Medal - Food Police - "OMG I ate a chocolate from that Whitman's sampler that had RUM in it - I spit it out immediately, but I'm sure my baby's brain-damaged now."

Silver Medal - High Maintenance Patient - "Hi Midwife Kathy, umm listen, I noticed that my left breast feels much less sore today at 2:00 pm than it did yesterday at 8:00 am. My right breast is still sore, but I'm still kind of anxious - do you think I could come in this afternoon for a quick ultrasound check?"

Gold Medal - Self-Fulfilling Prophecy - "OK, Kathy said at my 38-week appointment that if I went past 40 weeks the baby would probably be too big and we'd have to do a c-section. That's it, I'm getting cut."

May 22, 2005 - September 2005 - The Games of the Newborn Worr-Lympiad

Bronze Medal - Sleep - "OK, so that book said that if I don't get him into bed by the time he yawns three times, the naptime will be completely jacked. I know he just woke up, but I think that was a yawn - that's one. Wait, was that another one? OK, here we go, back to naptime. Why is he screaming?"

Silver Medal - Food - "He only nursed for five minutes on this breast and then ten minutes on the other one. He's pooped seven times today, and shot pee onto the window blinds every time I've changed a poopy diaper, but I don't think he's getting enough."

Gold Medal - Development - "Dr M, three-month-old Pi kicks his legs repeatedly every time he lays down on his back - do you think that's an early sign of autism?"

May 22, 2006 - Present - The Games of the Toddler Worr-Lympiad

Bronze Medal - Teeth - "He's 15 months old - why is he not getting his molars? Everyone else all over the world with babies the same age has talked about molars! Where are his molars, for Pete's sake?" Note - he got his first one three days after I spewed this medal-winning worry onto my poor, unsuspecting office friend. At 3:00 am on the third day of cutting this tooth, the sound of me kicking my own behind for wishing this upon myself could be heard 'round the world.

Silver Medal - Walking - "He's been standing and cruising since he was seven months old. He's almost a year now - why isn't he walking? Does he have inner ear problems? Can he not balance himself? His pinky toe on the left curls under his foot - could that be why he won't walk?" Note - again, one week after this crazed tirade, Pi toddled away from me and hasn't looked back. And again, I can't believe I wished for this.

Gold Medal - Talking - "Why doesn't he talk? He kind of repeats things we say, but there's no consistency, and I can count on one hand the number of times he's asked for things by name. I know that language he's using means something to him, but I simply cannot figure it out. Aren't mothers supposed to be fluent in their own Toddler-ese? OK, the countdown is on - if he isn't using words I can understand by 18 months, we're going to early intervention." Note: if the above patterns continue, I'm in for it big time in a week or so. Listen for the sound of my foot meeting my ass, over and over and over again.

So there it is - my Worry-Lympics box score. This is my life now. More stunning feats of worry prowess to come in the upcoming Pre-School, Driver's Ed, and College Application Games.

A Red Letter Day

2006-08-18T17:26:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday to my Daddy,
Happy Birthday to you!

There's cake, and I get to eat some...this is the best day EVER!

Love,
Pi

The Land of Milk and Honey

2006-08-12T14:30:00.000-05:00

I've been meaning to post about this, and with the recent brouhaha, it seems especially timely.

I loved nursing. Absolutely loved it. Pi was great at it from day one, and we had a great postpartum nurse, Laura, who stayed with us for over an hour while he fed and made sure our mechanics were right. Even though I worried incessantly (of course) about my supply, his latch, his weight gain, the length of time he spent on each boob, etc, etc, etc, deep down I knew it was the only thing that was going according to plan. I loved the time that it gave us together, I loved that my body was able to nourish a little human - it was a wonderful experience.

If you're getting a sense of how much I loved nursing, amplify that sense by about 86 bazillion, and reverse it into pure, unadulterated hate. That's how I felt about pumping. Even though I knew it was for a good cause, and I had it so easy with the 100% support of my employer, it was a godawful chore and I hated it. I was never really able to pump enough to sustain Pi on a boob-juice-only diet. He had a couple of bottles of formula a week from about 7 months on, and about one a day when I went back to traveling for work. In March, I was away for five nights, and even though I flagellated myself with that confounded medieval torture device the whole time, my supply never recovered. Our last nursing session was the morning before his first birthday, and then we weaned cold turkey. We didn't wean because he was ready, we weaned because I just didn't feel like I could keep it going. To his credit and true to his easygoing style, Pi took it like a champ. He was mainly a nutrition nurser, and rarely nursed for comfort alone, so I don't think it affected our bond or made him feel unsteady. I just wish he could have rejected me outright in his own time.

Ah, well, I can "woulda coulda shoulda" myself into a rubber room, but the fact is that my boy loves his cow's milk, is healthy and thriving, and seems none the worse for wear in the absence of nip. I wanted to breastfeed, I was lucky enough to have a relatively easy time of it, and I did what I could for almost a year. I'm sure there are a million things that'll haunt me about my parenting decisions with Pi, I'm going to try not to let this be one of them.

This whole kerfuffle about the magazine cover, though - gah! I never thought twice about nursing in public, and no one said boo to me or even threw a dirty look my way. The only issue I had was when my father-in-law and his wife (Smitty's stepmother) came to visit while we were still in the hospital, during Pi's first crucial days of learning to latch. He definitely got an eyeful, but I wasn't going to compromise my kid's mealtimes just because someone might witness a nip-slip. I thought nothing of it until Smitty's stepmother covered me during a session. Luckily, I didn't allow myself to dwell too heavily on it and kept focusing on Pi.

Whenever I think we've come a long way as a society, something like this magazine craziness happens and I'm abruptly reminded that there are still many miles to go.

Jellicles

2006-08-05T11:22:00.000-05:00

Pi adores our kitties, Emmet and Jasper. They tolerate him as well as cats can be expected to tolerate someone who screams in their ears, chases them all over the house, bats at their tails, and buries his heavy head into their hindquarters in the name of lurve.

He's not quite as enamored of dogs. He is remarkably good-natured about their slobbery kisses, being knocked over with their exuberant love, and their constant desire to play, but it seems like every time he starts enjoying a dog, the fun is ruined by a sharp bark which reduces Pi to blubbery rubble. Pi is not a fan of the loud, unexpected noises, and the dogs just can't help it - it's what they're supposed to do. Hopefully we can reach some sort of detente with the canines soon, because I really like dogs and would like to get one someday. Yes, it has become my mission to create sworn enemies of my poor cats. I can't imagine what they'd do to me if I threw a puppy into this crazy mix. Maybe it's good that Pi's scared of dogs.

In keeping with the title of this blog, we let Pi watch TV sometimes. He really loves Puss in Boots from Shrek 2, the one cat who doesn't cringe in fear at his grubby, drooly approach. Puss coughs up a hairball at one point, which sends Pi into paroxysms of glee every time. He enjoys it when Smitty and I perform our renditions of the hairball expulsion, and the other night we were regaling him at dinner, when he busted out with a version of his own. He flattened his tongue against his bottom teeth, curled his lips, and gasped out something that sounded like "hhhhhheeeessssshhhh, hhhhheeeeesshhhhh, hhhhheeeeeeessssshhh", before leaning over the side of his high chair and pretending to vomit. Perhaps we should put the kibosh on public dining for a while. Notice how the obvious solution of limiting the TV is completely glossed over - I haven't laughed so hard at dinner in months.

Pi Stats

2006-08-05T11:16:00.000-05:00

Every good baby book has that stats page, right?

Here's Pi's:

Born - 5/22/05 at 7:06 am

Doctors: started with midwife Kathy and ended up with Dr. CP performing c-section (after 19 hours of labor, GAH!)

Length - 21 inches

Weight - 8 lb 10 oz

Left hospital on 5/26/05, did great in car seat, promptly peed all over his going-home outfit and we realized just how unprepared we were. We had no separate hamper for the baby's dirty clothes, didn't really have the changing table set up with everything at our fingertips, didn't have his clothes organized the way we should have. His first diaper change at home was quite the comedy of errors. At least that's how I view it now - when it was happening it was some seriously high drama. The first of many unseemly freak-outs from Mama.

Word Up

2006-07-22T13:10:00.000-05:00

So far, the child care arrangement we have has worked out pretty well - it's been challenging for both Smitty and I to get used our new roles, but the fact that Pi has spent his first 14 months (today - happy month-day, Pi!) of life under the care of a parent is invaluable to us. I feel very lucky that we even have this as an option.

I will admit, however, to feeling a bit of a pang when the arrangement first began. When I went back to work and Smitty started full-time child care, I imagined a time in the future when my heart would break because Pi would choose Daddy over me when he got hurt, or a big developmental event that I would miss because of work.

I have to say that so far, none of those fears have come to pass. When Pi gets hurt, he doesn't want to be comforted by ANYONE. He just wants to scream it out and find something else to do immediately. And thanks to the technological advances of the age, I get up-to-the-minute reports and video of all of Pi's adorableness during the day.

The one thing I hadn't counted on, however, is that we would get to 14 months without a "mama". He has never, not once, deliberately referred to me as Mama. Smitty walks in the room, or smiles at Pi, or clears his throat at the other end of the house, and Pi busts into choruses of "Dada! Dada!" Pi says "book", "cat", and something that kinda sounds like "bottle". He babbles non-stop, has good consonant sounds, and knows a couple of signs. But "mama" remains elusive, the Holy Grail of development, something that would make this WOTH mom feel a hell of a lot better about her choices.

Forty Winks

2006-07-16T11:22:00.000-05:00

Few things have shaken me to my very core as the early months of parenting. Now that we're firmly entrenched in The Life of Pi, I cringe a bit at how completely rocked and rattled I was by every. little. thing, but what really threw me for the biggest loop was, of course, the sleeping.

A brief history of Pi's slumbering habits, and how ineptly I handled them:

The first few nights at home, he nursed from 1:00 am - 4:00 am, non-stop. The only way I could get him to sleep was by swaddling him, propping him in a Boppy (horrified gasp) on the couch (double horrified gasp) and sitting up next to him with my head lolled on my arm, jerking myself awake every five minutes. Bad scene.

For the first few months he slept, well, like a baby. Very unpredictable, sometimes napping for three hours, sometimes for 20 minutes, awake every two hours during the night. Why does the "sleeping like a baby" cliche mean exactly the opposite of reality? Aren't cliches supposed to evolve from universal truths? I read all the books about how much sleep he was supposed to be getting and freaked right out. Someone should have locked all my books in a strongbox and buried them under Lake Michigan until I was able to think rationally. Those stupid books made me doubt, even more, every little thing I was doing, and convinced me that I was scarring him for life if I allowed him to fall asleep nursing, or rocking, or bouncing, or within 60 feet of the sound of my voice.

We finally got into a sort of routine - he had two naps during the day, always on my chest, and would sleep for almost two hours at each nap. At three months, he slept 10 hours straight through the night, and this utter bliss continued for exactly three weeks, and didn't return until he was 11 months old.

When I went back to work and Smitty took over as primary caregiver, Pi learned how to take naps in his crib. We co-slept at night, but we would put him down in the crib for the first evening stretch, and then bring him into bed after his first wake-up. Between three and 11 months, he usually only woke up once or twice a night, except when he was teething or when the stars were misaligned.

Now, he has one nap during the day, usually two - three hours, goes to bed at around 9:30 and sleeps till about 7:30. He hardly ever goes down for naps or nighttime when he's drowsy - we rock him and sing to him until he's asleep, and then we put him in the crib.

I just had to get all of this out of the way, because, like it or not, this is the conversation I had most often as a new mom. How is he sleeping? What about the sleeping? Are you getting any sleep? Is he a good sleeper? I try so hard not to bombard new parents with any of these ridiculous questions, but our American high-achievement instant-gratification lives are so consumed with this topic - it's so ingrained. All we have to do is look around at all of our adult friends to realize that no one needs to be rocked to sleep in their mother's arms anymore, and they are all perfectly capable of deciding for themselves that they are tired and need to go to bed, but new parents manage to convince themselves (and let everyone else's judgments and assvice convince them) that this will never happen for their children because of all the "bad habits" they've encouraged. I bought all of it hook, line, and sinker, and let myself get way too frustrated with Pi when he wouldn't go to sleep. Every time my worry got to an absolute fever pitch, when I was convinced that things would never change and he would always be taking naps on my chest or waking up at 2:00 am, he made a transition and things got better. He showed me.

I just put him down for his nap, rocking and singing his naptime lullabies, and when he wiggles into his comfortable position, and Velcroes his head into the nook between my shoulder and breast, sucking his thumb and holding his blankie, there is absolutely nothing sweeter. His baby smell (which is already changing from that just-baked, heady aroma he had when he was newborn), his cute little sleepy smiles, his playing with my hair and lips as we rocked - it just moved me to tears this morning. I wished it all away in the early months, and now I know that one day it will be gone and I'll yearn for it back.

Librarian or Arctic Animal Research Specialist?

2006-07-14T11:46:00.000-05:00

Pi has a favorite book called “Bathtime Peekaboo” – we used to read it every night, but it hasn’t been part of the regular bedtime rotation for about two months. Smitty (aka DH, aka Daddy) started reading it to him during the day this past week.

There’s a line in there about a cuddly penguin – “can you flap like the penguins do?” Today, after breakfast, Smitty said to Pi, “can you flap like the penguins do?”, and Pi went to his bookshelf, pulled out the Bathtime Peekaboo book, and opened directly to the page with the penguins.

Our son is a genius.

Pix of Pi

2006-07-09T12:15:00.000-05:00

What a difference a year makes. I've just noticed, in Pi's newborn picture, how hard they must have scrubbed him during his first bath. He has really sensitive skin.

And Away We Go...

2006-07-09T11:31:00.000-05:00

I've resisted the siren call of the blogosphere for a while. There are so many people who do this, and so many that do it better than I could ever hope to. But this is a completely selfish adventure. My son, Pi, is 13 months old and has no baby book. Well, he has one - a few, actually - I just can't get it together to write in any of them. These electronic ruminations will have to take the place of poring through lovingly organized mementos and excruciatingly detailed descriptions of his first word, first steps, first food he flung at us, etc. I've got to get something committed to writing before it all just flies right out of my head.

Because that lie that everyone tells you? That lie that you find completely impossible to believe in those first crazy months when your life is consumed by nursing, crying, trying unsuccessfully to get the baby to sleep, feed, stop that horrible noise already, watching the clock and counting the never-ending minutes till that guy who got you into this mess (hell, it could be any guy at that point, just so I can have two seconds to pee) gets the hell home? That completely bullshit story that "it all goes by so fast"? Turns out that lie, that bullshit story - it's all true.