Moxilicious

Out with it

2009-09-15T10:35:00.002-04:00

After much thought, I've decided that I'm going to take a break from blogging. Not that this is a big change from the norm given the blistering pace of my posting as of late. I don't have enough to say, really. I'm pretty boring these days. And I'm finding that I'm a lot less comfortable writing about my family than I thought I would be. Mommy blogger I am not. This is my fifth year of blogging and I feel like blogging for me (or at least this blog in particular) may be winding down. I don't know yet. But I hate it when people just vanish off their blogs, so while I may be posting photos sporadically, otherwise it's going to be pretty quiet here. And if you're still reading this, thank you for reading. Seriously.

Is it that obvious?

2009-09-03T15:37:00.002-04:00

Lunchtime conversation with a cashier at Au Bon Pain:

Me: (silently places food items on counter)

Cashier: (looks at me penetratingly) Hungry? Exhausted?

Me: How did you know?

Cashier: Your eyes have that look. Go eat. Get some rest.

Me: (having read/watched too much True Blood, wondering if cashier can read thoughts) Thanks--I'll try.

Monkey mind

2009-08-21T16:07:00.001-04:00

A few of the completely random things that run through my head at bedtime, in savasana, walking home from the T, whathaveyou:

1. What I'd use my three wishes for if I ever happen to run into a genie. It changes on a daily basis. All the garbage out of the ocean? An end to animal cruelty? An environmentally sustainable society? The ability to eat fondue every day? How can I knit these things together to maximize each wish?

2. Zombie mitigation. I've watched 28 Days Later and 28 Weeks Later a few too many times. We have a lot of big windows in our house. Where could I hide myself and the baby (or just the baby) if the zombies came? What would it take to hole up and wait it out? Could I get badass with a machete? Would the water supply be contaminated?

3. The location of my imaginary future summer home. Maine? Nantucket (hello, shack)? Where is the place that speaks to us? Where is the place that my daughter will be able to say, "I've been going there since I was a baby"? How can I help create great memories for her?

4. What it will take to fit back into my pre-pregnancy clothes. I gained 49 pounds with Margot and have lost 37. The last 10-12 are hanging on so tenaciously that I am starting to understand why so many women choose to go the cosmetic surgery route. It's only been 6 months and I'm still nursing, so I try to be patient and not obsess too much, but Lunchboy would say that I obsess constantly, with expectations that are unrealistic. Still, lots of long runs? A return to 2-hour hot yoga classes? I have time for none of that. But in my imagination I can run marathons and sweat it out on the stairs. Oh, the stairs. How I long for thee.

5. Milk. How much did I pump? How much is in the freezer? How long until we reach the time of Necessary Formula Supplementation? It's a constant mental calculation.

They got the mustard out

2009-08-20T12:08:00.001-04:00

I keep waiting for life to slow down again and be less crazy. Of course, it never does. I think I need to come to terms with the fact that having a baby increased the chaos factor to way above what it had been previously, and stop expecting that anything will ever be the same again. Which is funny because before I got pregnant all we heard from our parent friends was "your life will change in every way." Since Lunchboy and I are both introverts and we were never all that into going out and being, like, social, the need to stay home with a teeny infant wasn't that big of an adjustment. But the craziness? That is an adjustment.

Not all of the crazy is baby-related. As babies go, Margot is pretty calm and low key. She had nothing to do with the fact that our central AC died in the middle of the recent heat wave. But my desperate need to make sure she stayed cool and comfortable in our progressively more humid and unpleasant house amped up what would have been a moderately stressful situation (you try getting an HVAC repairman to visit in the middle of a heat wave) and made it INCREDIBLY stressful. She also had nothing to do with our stove breaking right after the AC was fixed. Or with the stupid red tape at the dentist's office that involved one dentist saying I needed some expensive repair work and another one saying that I was fine, but many records and faxes had to go back and forth in the meantime. Or with me leaving the house without my laptop today, having to go home for said laptop, hoof it to the T in the heat, ride an un-air conditioned T to work, and arrive a sweaty mess. Or with me putting Lunchboy's cell phone through the wash accidentally, thereby sparking a huge iPhone-related undertaking that resulted in all of us being grumpy at the Apple store in the Cambridgeside Galleria for almost three hours. Such is life.

We have taken Margot swimming a few more times recently and she continues to love being in the water. I'm considering signing her up for infant swim classes so that she'll continue to get more comfortable in the water. Classes feel a little silly for a 6-month old (this is why I haven't been able to bring myself to go near Itsy Bitsy Yoga) but they would also mean that mommy gets to go swimming and I love to swim.

I am reading the Buffy graphic novels co-created by Joss Whedon and am starting to find myself thinking in Whedon-speak again.

Bottle fed

2009-08-08T21:55:00.003-04:00

I never see this. Seriously. Lunchboy has to take pictures of himself (or, in this case, my sister in law) feeding Margot because if I am anywhere in the house she will not so much as look at a bottle. He has taken some very sweet videos of Margot holding her bottle all by herself as she sucks down every last drop of milk and those videos make my heart explode because, after pumping twice a day every day at work, it makes me feel good to see my baby get her food. Usually I see the bottles go off to daycare and I see them empty again in the evening but never the actual consumption itself. So thank you, my awesome husband, for giving me a glimpse of the meals.

It's sort of a miracle that the milk thing is still a success. We've started solid food (apples, bad; pears, good) but it will be a little while before fruit replaces breast. Fruit or breast? That'll be fun to watch. Anyhoo, do you remember that anti-drug commercial from the mid-1980s, the one where a man holds up a frying pan and says "This is your brain," then breaks an egg into the pan and, as it fries, says "This is your brain on drugs?" Well, he should really say "This is your brain when you don't get any sleep." No sleep = no memory. Here are a few of the stupid nursing/pumping mistakes I've made in the past few months:

1. Forgot the horn attachments for my pump at home, resulting in extreme engorgement and an emergency trip to Isis at lunch to get a new set so I wouldn't be the first person ever to expire from excess milk.

2. Hooked up all pump parts, sat down to pump, and spent a good 5 minutes wondering why my lap was wet--I looked down to find that I'd forgotten to attach THE BOTTLES to the horns and I was pumping all over my lap.

3. Pumped a record 18 ounces on a Friday. Proudly carried my cooler home, knowing I wouldn't have to dip into the freezer stash over the weekend. Sat bolt upright in bed at 3am to the knowledge that I'd forgotten to take the cooler out of my work bag and that day's milk had gone unrefrigerated for almost 12 hours. Luckily the ice pack had taken one for the team and everything was still cool. Otherwise preparations for hari kari were imminent.

I'm a little torn about the transition from nursing to solid food, but the thought of not having to keep track of so many pump and bottle parts is kind of alluring.

Brain 2.0

2009-08-06T12:01:00.001-04:00

I've been having lots of crazy dreams lately, a development I attribute to the fact that I'm actually sleeping at night and possibly also that I'm reading "The Monster of Florence," which is probably not the best bedtime book choice I could make. At least Lunchboy is home now--I started the book when he was traveling last week and managed to scare the crap out of myself. Who reads about serial killers on the loose when they are home alone at night?? Me, apparently. Smrt.

The crazy dreams, though--they feel like my brain is catching up on all the processing it didn't get a chance to do over the past six months. There's a lot of swirling, intense imagery that strikes me as the dream-visual equivalent of backing up a hard drive. And airplanes. what's up with the airplanes? Last night, though, I dreamed about B in SF (remember him?). Nothing naughty, I just sat him down and asked him why he'd been so weird. Kind of cathartic, actually, even if it was completely random.

And, of course, as soon as I opened my big mouth about Margot sleeping through the night, she woke up three times last night and then decided it was time to start the day at 5:30am. Then she managed to grab one of the animals on her crib mobile, thereby demonstrating that the mobile's useful life has ended for the time being. Sigh. We kind of liked it when she'd kick the mobile on at 6am and we'd wake up to Mozart in the mornings.

Not what she was expecting

2009-08-06T11:47:00.003-04:00

The journey of the solid foods, it has begun. Baby: 1, Rice cereal: 0.

Smile like you mean it

2009-08-05T12:16:00.004-04:00

Last week, knowing that the weekend was going to be crazy busy with lots of visitors and at least one morning away from the house, I decided that I really needed more time with Margot. So I took Monday off to have some baby time and we had the best day! First, I have to share a piece of information that I've held back because I'm afraid of jinxing it, which is that Margot has been sleeping through the night now for almost a week. We put her down at 7pm and she generally goes through until 4:30am without waking up. So, for the first time in almost six months, we are all getting some sleep. This is key.

We went to the coffee shop for a little while in the morning, an experience that is getting more adventurous now that Margot is at the stage where she wants to grab everything (EVERYTHING) and put it in her mouth. She is also sitting up by herself (!!) and standing by herself when holding onto a table or something. This means she's now big enough for high chairs, though not necessarily that she is patient enough for high chairs. What, a child of mine who's impatient? How on earth could that possible have happened? It's a mystery. Anyway, so at the coffee shop she now grabs things, puts them in her mouth, then throws them to the floor so vehemently that it looks like the object in question has done something to mortally offend her. She likes the throwing.

After her morning nap, we packed up and headed out to Walden Pond for a baby beach day. The weather was spectacular--clear, sunny, hot but not brutal or overly humid. We met my friend S and her son, who is exactly one week younger than Margot. These two babies like each other a lot, which makes play dates a ton of fun. Miraculously, we found a good patch of dirt to plunk our towels on (the water level at Walden this year is astronomically high because of all the rain so the last stretches of actual beach are a hard-won commodity as we found). Then we changed the small fry into swimsuits and hit the water.

Margot wasn't feeling very confident about the whole thing at first, so we spent a good amount of time sitting in the sandy shallows, patting the water and discovering that sand was fun to grab and try to eat. Eventually she decided she wanted to go further out (indicated by the lurching in the general direction of the deeper water), so we went out a little more. Lo and behold, she did not freak out when her feet didn't touch the bottom. In fact, she really liked floating! This was important to me--I feel strongly about helping her have a safe, positive experience with swimming and I tried hard to be extra careful so she wouldn't associate water with being scared. But by the end of the swim, we out far enough that the water was up to my waist and she was having a ball being swished around with no pond bottom in sight. We may have a water baby on our hands! Yay!

Then we put the kids in our Ergos and walked around the pond. S's son fell fast asleep but Margot stayed stubbornly awake. She fights her naps SO HARD. God forbid she might miss seeing something interesting if she let herself sleep. I didn't care, really. It was just so great to have her close to me for a whole day with no errands to be run or work projects to stress about. She passed out cold in the car on the way home. Anyone want to pay me to stay home and hang out with my baby? Srsly.

Punk rock girl

2009-07-27T19:51:00.005-04:00

Because, you know, she's got that stripe of hair down the middle of her head that kind of looks like a mohawk. Don't you wish you had a theme song at 6 months old? I do.

We are in the midst of some impromptu sleep training and I'm a little zombie-like at the moment, so you'll pardon me if I can't put more than a few words together today. More soon!

Even Stephen

2009-07-22T21:23:00.006-04:00

This is Margot watching a (DVRed) Daily Show segment with Kristen Schaal. No, we are not evil for allowing our baby to acknowledge the existence of the television. We almost never have the TV on when she's awake or in the room, but on the few occasions when she's seen the TV she thinks it's the most amazing thing ever. Particularly if the Colbert Report is on. Stephen Colbert is her secret TV boyfriend.

Speaking of television, I have recently become addicted to baby and birth-related shows, especially the ones on Discovery Health. Deliver Me is actually a good show. It's neat to see the different pregnancy and birth experiences that women go through, and the doctors seem so connected to and invested in their patients. They do appear to do a lot of c-sections and call me weird but I find watching what they show of the surgery to be very illuminating in a deeply personal way. I am extremely pro-Western medicine when it comes to having babies and while I have zero regrets about my birth experience with Margot (though, you know, fewer hours of labor would have been nice), one of the few things I felt frustrated with at the time was that I never saw how my daughter entered the world. I felt her leave my body, a sensation I will never forget, but I never saw how it happened. Watching women give birth via c-section on Deliver Me is kind of gross but also beautiful in an "Oh, that's how it went" kind of way.

"I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant," on the other hand? That's just me sitting on the couch shrieking "HOW COULD THEY NOT KNOW THEY WERE PREGNANT???" over and over again.

It's all an adventure

2009-07-22T21:07:00.003-04:00

While we were on vacation, we introduced Margot to the toddler pool at our hotel. It was a big hit. At first she was completely nonplussed but then she proceeded to watch the water and explore how it felt in her own quiet, observant way. Though to be honest I couldn't tell how much of it was her being fascinated with the water and how much of it was her wanting to get the water in her mouth. Either way, she had a good time in the pool and seemed completely into the swimming/wading thing. I can't wait until she's old enough for swimming lessons!

For my part, I've been a little too well acquainted with getting drenched these days. I think nursing is a challenge for every mom in their own way, but I'm finding that pumping and sleep deprivation make for an adventurous combination. The generation and transportation of milk from work to home is a learning process. I'm gradually figuring out what my version of best practices is, but it hasn't been without some trial and error.

On the innocuous end of the spectrum, there was the day that my little milk cooler somehow got upended in my bag on the commute home and I ended up with a few ounces of spilled milk pooled in my bag and a big, embarrassing stain on my pants. Now I am militant about making sure the cooler stays upright, not only because I'm mess-averse but because every ounce counts. Trite but true.

Then there was the day that I forgot to put on nursing pads before I went to work. The error went unnoticed until I made the mistake of looking at the small forest of baby pictures that has sprouted next to my desk and suddenly WHOOSH, my milk came in. Still clueless, I reached for my water bottle and my arm brushed something wet. Did I spill something without realizing it? I look down and realize that what was wet was my ENTIRE SHIRT. The telltale circular pattern wasn't very subtle. I had no backup shirt, no backup bra, and no ability to go buy either until things dried out. So I slunk off my to my lactation closet, stuffed my shirt with paper towels, and spent two hours hunched at my desk, arms crossed over my chest, praying that no one would come by my cube. Thankfully, no one did and I got through until lunch with my office sweater wrapped around me.

I'll save the rest of the stupidity for tomorrow. Oh yes, there's more.

Happy baby!

2009-07-20T15:08:00.002-04:00

This could be the best excuse EVER for getting a fake bearskin rug.

Margot is all smiles these days and it makes life SO GOOD. She still isn't sleeping through the night but I don't care--her smiles, which start first thing in the morning when I go in to get her from her crib and go until we put her down for the night and she thinks bedtime is a big joke, are better than sleep. Though, to be fair, last night I passed out in the glider while nursing her at 1am and had a crazy dream about buying orange and sky blue crib bedding. Still totally comfortable (but completely confused), I opened my eyes and found Margot sleeping happily in my arms. I debated staying put but decided she'd do better in her crib, though I was so tempted to just hold her all night. When she is awake and not smiling, she is starting to blow raspberries left and right. We go back and forth with the "pphhhttt!" and we both think it's the funniest thing ever.

Could I be more in love with this kid?

Today I finally bit the bullet and brought my engagement and wedding rings in to be resized. Pregnancy didn't do anything to my shoe size but my fingers have settled about 1-1.5 ring sizes larger than they used to be, and I'm tired of not being able to wear my rings without chafing my knuckles and making my fingers look like they're being choked.

Mouth-feel

2009-07-16T15:36:00.000-04:00

Margot is at the stage where she wants to put the entire world in her mouth. If she sees it, it goes into the mouth. This includes our faces, arms, and hands, whatever we happen to be holding or wearing at any particular moment, and--drumroll please--the cats. If there is one thing that Margot could put into her mouth that might make her little head explode with joy, it would be Cringer. She is less fascinated with Griffin, but when she sees Cring, she throws herself toward the cat in a way that never fails to surprise us. Cringer has been grabbed often enough now that she sees it coming and flees, but we find it endlessly amusing (and somewhat alarming) how Margot lurches toward the cats with everything she's got. The cats are aware of the impending change in mobility and are starting to understand that their grace period is almost over. The days of sitting quietly while the baby plays on her activity mat, when there is no threat of tiny hands yanking out fistfuls of fur, grabbing and eating ears, pulling on tails? Those times are quickly coming to a close.

I've never seen a child want to crawl so badly before she's got the necessary motor skills and muscle tone. Margot pushes herself up when she's on her belly and squiggles her legs around but can't quite get the movement right. Her frustration and determination are palpable. The look on her face speaks very clearly and it is saying "Come on!! I've got places to go! There are things to check out!! I want to eat that cat!! Let's GO already!" In addition to crawling, she is working on sitting up and is very close, though there is frequently more leaning than technical sitting going on. We'll prop her up in the Boppy and when she's tired, she'll sprawl backwards, drape herself over the cushion, stick her thumb in her mouth and chill out, looking for all the world like the only thing she needs is a beer and a foot massage.

Our pediatrician is encouraging us to start Margot on rice cereal to see if it will help the aforementioned diaper issues, but I am very torn about this. She's got 3 weeks until she hits 6 months and I know she'll be fine no matter what, but I had that 6-month mark stuck in my head and all our books are adamant about it, as if feeding her rice cereal before the 6-month mark might turn her insides to cement or something. But hey--cement might not be a bad thing at the moment. Does it help them sleep better, too? If so, I might be persuaded. I love love love nursing her but I could go for a few nights of one wakeup versus three or four.

I can't think of a good title for this post

2009-07-14T21:59:00.003-04:00

I am not sure where all my motivation to blog went. Maybe out with the dirty diapers? Who knows. This working mother thing is a challenge and lots of little things that I used to prioritize are now falling to the wayside. So there you have it. I will try to do better but I can't make any promises.

We went on vacation to Cape Cod last week. The sun shone for most of it--huzzah! Lunchboy worked his charm and got us upgraded from a hotel room to a cottage, which was probably best for everyone involved because I'm sure any people lucky enough to stay on either side of a crying baby at 3am would probably prefer a different arrangement, so hooray for everyone that we had our own space. It was lovely to get out of the city, to get away from chores and all the innumerable things that must be done around the house immediately if not sooner, or so it often feels to little old OCD me.

We did, however, miss our laundry facilities very much because Margot spent the entire week pooing nonstop (and there goes my determination not to be a poo-talker). After not pooing for 10 days straight, during which time I stuffed myself with dairy in an attempt to end her poo strike and we plied her with diluted prune juice per the pediatrician, she finally let loose. While I often feel guilt over our decision to stick with disposable diapers, this past week I was nothing but glad that we were not reliant on piles of cotton that we'd have to lug back home because our child went through an entire large-size package of diapers in the space of 5 days. She also went through every outfit we brought for her. I'd change her, clean her, wash my hands, and turn around to find another stain working its way up her back. Not only did I finally cry uncle, I actually cried and begged her to stop.

On the plus side, the hotel we were staying at did something amazing--they had couches in all the places where they served food. Because Margot is not highchair-ready yet, this meant that we could take her to meals, lie her between us on the couch, and tickle her while we ate our meal together (usually we are tagging off so that one of us is eating while the other is holding the baby). This made meals a lot of fun. Margot is totally fascinated with food and drink. She watches us eat and tries to grab our hands so that she can eat what we're eating. I'm told this is a good sign for when we start her on solid foods. It's particularly amusing when Lunchboy gets his morning coffee because there is nothing in the world that she wants more. He holds it out of her reach and she looks like a greyhound chasing a mechanical bunny on a track.

What with work being crazy, me getting sick multiple times, and the crazy weather, I haven't been to yoga in almost a month. My back is yelling at me quite loudly.

A first

2009-06-25T21:32:00.003-04:00

When I was on maternity leave, many were the days on which I didn't shower or brush my teeth. It happened. I also lived in yoga pants and zip-up hoodies, so it wasn't like I was advertising myself as a sharp dresser. Thank god for deodorant and mouthwash, that's all I can say.

This morning, however, it went one step further. After waking up with a still-coughing Margot at 1am, 2:30am, and 5:30am, I took one look at my clock after Griffin woke me up at 7:15 and found myself weighing the pros and cons of showering vs. 30 more minutes of sleep. Sleep won. Off to work I went, uncleansed and unapologetic. It was totally worth it.

On a tangent

2009-06-25T21:21:00.003-04:00

TREES!

I have developed two obsessions this summer. First, Band of Brothers. I rewatched the entire miniseries over Memorial Day weekend and am now reading the book. This is not what I'd call peaceful (or dystopian for that matter). But it feels compelling right now and I can't explain why. Tom Hanks and Steven Spielberg are apparently doing an HBO movie called The Pacific. I am kind of excited. ????

Obsession #2: equally perplexing, not unlike battle -- nursery school yard sales. We have about 15 small, nonprofit (though they will happily take $10-15K of your money per year) nursery schools within a 5-mile radius of our house and they are all throwing their annual rummage fundraisers. We live, as they say, in a target-rich environment. It is insanely fun to buy high-end baby clothes that other people splashed out on for $1-3 apiece. It is also kind of fun to see the extent to which other parents will go to get their favorite items first. It can get violent and/or argumentative. Other moms: I am not afraid to scrum over Tea Collection. The gauntlet is down.

It's very clear, however, that the ratio of boy to girl babies in the greater Somerville/Cambridge area is even more skewed than I'd thought based on the fact that ALL our friends have boys. The yard sales are chock full of boy baby clothes and the girl clothes are usually relegated to a box here and there (versus giant pool-tubs full of boy things). We so need to move out of the city before Margot hits dating age. Otherwise she will have a harem of boyfriends.

I hear the mosquitos are going to be OOC

2009-06-25T21:19:00.001-04:00

So it seems that New England has decided to relocate itself to the Pacific Northwest because it has rained almost every day for a month. The rain was funny for a week or so and now it's no longer even vaguely amusing. I feel like we are living in a Ray Bradbury story. And once I started thinking about "All Summer In A Day"--the little girl's name is Margot?!?!?-- I got this incredible jones to reread all of Bradbury's short stories. Then I wanted to rewatch Amazing Stories (remember Amazing Stories??) Lunchboy wanted to know what was up with my sudden interest in dystopian fiction and I didn't have a good answer. But early last week I went on a news hiatus because the rain coupled with all the horrible things that are happening in the world was beginning to make life feel very overwhelming. Boycotting the news has helped, more than I thought it would, so perhaps the urge to revisit alternate realities via books and TV is another escape mechanism. Want to be freaked out, though? Read "The Veldt" and then get a Roomba.

Obligatory Margot picture:

Anything is peaceful from one thousand, three hundred and fifty-three feet

2009-06-25T16:19:00.007-04:00

Sixteen Candles has been on TV every night but all I can think of is that line from Ferris Bueller: "Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

It has been one of those months where it feels like life is moving at 100mph and I don't feel like I am slowing down with any grace. We rush to get ready in the morning, get Margot to daycare, get to work. I rush to get home in the evenings so I can have 15-30 minutes with her before it's bedtime. She is sleeping better but I actually relish the times when she wakes up in the middle of the night to nurse because that is extra time I get with her.

And so I have entered into that perennial state occupied by so many other working moms in which I feel like I am trying to do too much and not doing any of it particularly well. Right when I hit a point when I felt like I couldn't handle the fulltime work thing another second, Margot got sick and I needed to stay home with her for a few days. I HATED that she was sick--no one tells you how hard it is to see your baby be sick--but I loved having whole days with her that weren't punctuated by trips to Target or visits from family. I even loved the part where I got puked/pooped/peed/snotted on. There are moments when I feel completely obliterated by how much I love this child, how much I adore spending time with her, soothing her, playing with her, reading to her, just looking at her.

Tired girl

2009-06-02T16:03:00.003-04:00

This was taken while Margot was out on a walk with her aunt on a warm, sunny day. She needed a nap. That makes two of us! I was bitter to be stuck at work while Margot was home from daycare, though I love that she gets to spend time with her aunt, who dotes on her with the best of them.

We are busy these days spending as much time outside as possible. Our street is lush with gardens and flowering shrubs so there is much to explore and discover. Though I don't have a picture of it, I helped Margot smell a rose the other evening. I guess I expected her to enjoy the scent (cabbage roses--yum!) but instead she pulled away with a "ewwww!" expression on her face. Maybe it was just too intense for little noses.

We are on Day 10 of the 30-Day Shred. Both of us are noticing that our clothes fit differently--for me it means that things are looser than they were 10 days ago. But the scale remains my enemy. I am looking forward to/slightly nervous about moving on to Workout 2.

The other night we watched Taken, one of the Netflix movies that have been sitting neglected on the coffee table for a week or six. It wasn't a spectacular movie but I am hereby appointing Liam Neeson to the position of celebrity dad. If Jason Bourne ever has kids, he and Liam are going to have to battle it out.

Itsy bitsy pieces

2009-05-26T19:47:00.005-04:00

I am trying to think of something interesting to share but Margot is in the middle of another growth spurt and has been waking up every two hours at night again, so I am in a total fog. Her hungry cry is piercing and totally belies her usual happy baby self. I would appreciate the Darwinian necessity of that scream more if it didn't squeeze my heart into my throat every time, usually at 2am. Last night, however, I exercised the beauty of the bottle and got Lunchboy into the action when we hit wakeup #3.

Though most of our pictures are taken in the living room (aka baby central), we do actually leave the house, particularly now that the weather is getting so nice. Every weekend I mean to take the camera with us when we go on walks with Margot in the Bjorn. She has discovered trees and is completely mesmerized by them. Trees are for her what ceiling fans seem to be for lots of other babies--head thrown back, attention completely focused. It's amazing to watch her discover the world.

This is a photo of Margot wearing a very cute outfit that her aunt, a world-class shopper, picked up for her. She wore this outfit for approximately 3 hours and then, abiding by third rule of babies, which dictates that cute outfits be baptized by fire, proceeded to destroy it with an epic blowout. I've tried not to be one of those parents that talks about their kid's potty habits but this may be my one exception. Before I went off dairy, Margot was a on a two-a-day blowout schedule that was like clockwork. Every 12 hours, KERBLOOEY. After I cut out dairy, she dammed up like Holland and started pooing 1-2 times a week. When those 1-2 times roll around, the result is...considerable. Our daycare provider gives us a lovely rundown of Margot's day when we pick her up and today the note included the following notation: "Explosion! Then a tubby because the mess was so bad it got in her hair. She loved her bath--so cute!" So there you have it.

On a totally unrelated note, Lunchboy and I are doing the Jillian Michaels 30-Day Shred. We are on Day 4. There is a lot of pain involved. But I have suddenly developed muscle tone, so I feel like there is actually payoff.

The latest development

2009-05-19T20:58:00.001-04:00

Who, me?

Management-speak

2009-05-13T15:17:00.003-04:00

When Lunchboy and I first met a little over four years ago, we were both working for the same company. He was a consultant and I was an editor. Basically, my job was to make all the management-speak that he and the other consultants wrote sound more like regular English. The job was fun in part because it introduced me to whole new ways to shape and twist language. For instance, Lunchboy once used "whiteboard" as a verb in a meeting (there was also the whole "efficient frontier" argument). He is a man who loves his whiteboard--it was one of the very first things he bought to set up his home office when he switched jobs--and even though he mostly uses those giant, poster-sized Post-It sheets, the whiteboard is still there, just waiting for some consultant brainstorming to occur. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that a consultant came up with this so that children of consultants can also learn to whiteboard their ideas. Since we are renting our current place and are not allowed to paint anything, it will be a while before we could introduce Margot to whiteboard paint. But I have a feeling she'll love it--it's in her genes.

Genes--jeans! It's totally unrelated but I wish Tea Collection made clothes for grownups. Seriously. I heart them.

You and me, baby

2009-05-13T14:20:00.002-04:00

When you're pregnant, there are a million books and websites out there that will tell you exactly what's happening to your body and your baby at any given point in time. Hormone changes, neural tube development, hair and fingernails--you name it, the information is there. But when you HAVE the baby and suddenly you're home with this tiny person who is no longer connected to you physically and you feel like you're flying by the seat of your sweatpants, I often felt like I couldn't find out what I needed to know. What I did find was often loaded with condescension. Part of this was that I didn't have the nerve to ask about some things and didn't know to ask about others. Then, because I am late to the game on pretty much anything cool, about a week ago I discovered AlphaMom. I wish I'd known to look for them back when I was on maternity leave. Specifically, this column could have made my head stop exploding on multiple occasions. I can't tell you how many times I sat on the couch looking at Margot, frantically wondering what to do next. Was there something I was supposed to be doing with her that I didn't know about? Was she going to be scarred for life and left behind in school because I was clueless?

Sort of similarly, I went in for my annual physical yesterday and, in a totally offhand manner that implied I should know this already, my PCP told me that it takes about 6 months for all the pregnancy hormones to get flushed out of your system. "That's why your body is still probably all loosey-goosey," she said. Things that would have been helpful to know about 7 weeks ago, when I went back to yoga and wondered what alien had stolen my body and replaced it with one that was too weak to do much of anything! Frankly, however, all the residual baby hormones are keeping my anxiety at bay and I will happily trade the ability to do full kapotasana in order to continue not worrying about stupid shit.

Speaking of babies, Margot is rolling over! Want to see? Lunchboy has perfected the Cloverfield camera technique (and his superb coaching style) in order to capture the elusive roll from belly to back.

Mother's Day

2009-05-11T19:34:00.008-04:00

Our little family, on the roof deck.

Who is this guy sucking on my neck, mom??

Feet are so fascinating!

Happy baby!

Conversations with a machine

2009-05-11T12:09:00.001-04:00

OH!! So I've been pumping for about three weeks now and all the anxiety I was feeling about the process has completely vanished. I still feel slightly bovine whenever I pump but I think that just comes with the territory. It's kind of fun to see how much I can produce each day. It's like a little contest I have with myself--how much can I get/bottle/freeze?? Not exactly American Idol, I know, but it makes the process more interesting. When I am particularly tired, which is a lot of the time these days, it sounds like the pump is talking to me. No, I am not crazy. Depending on the day, the noise it makes sounds alarmingly like one of the following, uttered with EXTREME robot-like urgency:

"ONE O'CLOCK!!!!"
"MAR-GOT!!"
"LACTATE!!"

and today, "STEVE HOLT!!!"

This is what I get for watching too much Arrested Development.

My company created a lactation room for me in an unused IT closet. It's not nearly as dank as it sounds. I have a soft chair, a door that locks from the inside, and total privacy--when I'm in there no one will bother me or ask questions. The only funny thing is that the light is on a motion detector (yay for saving energy) so if I sit too long without moving the lights go out on me and I have to stand up, pump in full motion, and stick my head in front of the sensor to get the light back on. Hmmm. Dark, private, no windows. Length of time until the lactation room becomes a nap room? T-minus 1 day and counting.

...and I just realized I left my wallet in the diaper bag again. Ah, Monday.

What the what

2009-05-11T12:05:00.004-04:00

I've been back at work for a week now (one week today--pregnancy and parenthood have ingrained the whole "count by week" thing in me hardcore) and so far it's not terrible. Margot loves daycare and we think she forgets about us as soon as we drop her off in the morning. She is the only girl in the infant room because, for some reason, everyone else in Somerville seems to only produce boys. If we decide to stick around town for the long haul, our kid is doing to have her pick of boyfriends and I think this realization is driving Lunchboy to consider the suburbs with a renewed zeal. That and the fact that yesterday we went to our old condo for a quick flyby and Margot was positively mesmerized by the mature trees on our old street. More mesmerized than she is by the chandelier in our dining room. So we're thinking it might be nice for her to, you know, be around some trees at some point and Somerville doesn't have a ton of them.

We went to the old place for a bunch of reasons. One, I never really had any closure with that place or the way we left. I'm not sure I'll ever have that, partly because I never went back there after the day our things were moved out--Lunchboy was the one who made about 10 followup trips to clean and get rid of the things we weren't bringing with us. I was too pregnant and too upset, so he let me stay in the new place and nest. Two, when Scully died a few months ago, we decided it would be nice to scatter some of her ashes in our old garden because that was her very favorite place in the entire world. If she had her way, she would have been out there every day regardless of the weather (she particularly loved going out there in the rain--no idea why). We'd been waiting for the right time to do this and yesterday was not only Mother's Day, which felt appropriate, it was one of the most spectacularly beautiful spring days we've had so far--sunny, clear, dry, perfect and gorgeous. It was exactly the kind of day that Scully would have spent sprawled on the patio or taking a dirt nap under the wisteria. So we snuck over and thankfully the new owners had all the shades up and were nowhere to be seen. It didn't take long. I miss her terribly every day. I never thought it would be possible to miss a pet like this.

We also snuck a peek at what SMTT did after we left, which was construct a big new fence all the way around her part of the back patio in what was clearly her best effort to barricade herself from the other people who live in the house. The fence is lovely but the energy and the intent behind the project were so BAD. It screamed "Fuck you, get the hell away from me, who are you people to think that I want anything to do with you!!" With some snotty arrogance thrown in for good measure. I am so infinitely grateful to be away from her, and so relieved to be in our new place, that I do not have the words to articulate the feeling properly.

First day!

2009-05-05T14:21:00.004-04:00

I got through my first day back at work and no one melted down. Supahstah!

Kindercare apparently employs a team of baby whisperers because Margot took a bottle by 1pm on her first day there. It may have been hunger. But given that she also napped a grand total of 90 minutes for the entire day, I think it's clear that her stubbornness is still front and center, so I am giving the credit to her extremely well-paid caregivers. It is very strange to think that we are paying people a lot of money to do what I did while I was home, what my instincts want to continue to do. It may be time to move to Scandinavia, where the governments mandate paid maternity leave for 16 weeks to 2 years depending on the country. Not a bad deal.

No one told me that the hardest part of going back to work is discovering that you only have about two hours with your kid every day. One hour in the morning, when you're barely awake, and another hour in the evening when they're barely awake. It sucks. I feel like one of the things I wrestled with most during my maternity leave was the inability to go do the things I was used to doing when I wanted to do them--working out, using the bathroom, going to sleep, running errands, etc. Now that I'm back at work, I have all day to do my stuff and I miss being with her. I miss her terribly. I want a part-time job as a belated birthday present, thanks.

Lunchboy and I are really blessed for many reasons, one of which is that he primarily works from home, so my maternity leave was a time when the three of us got to be together as a family unit in a very protected way. In my memory, those months are something like an idyll (though they were definitely not idle). Rather than drive each other nuts by being home together for 12 weeks, that time brought us much closer and cemented our status as partners. We are good at giving each other space and safeguarding the other person's right to alone time, work time, nap time, etc. We operate as a team and that has made parenthood even more of a joy because when one of us starts feeling overwhelmed or fried, the other one steps in. So I miss Margot but I also miss Lunchboy. Work is kind of lonely.

At the moment, I am also missing my couch. It's time for the baby's afternoon nap and I am not at all adjusted to getting very little sleep and then not being able to make up for it on the couch the next day. One thing that I hadn't anticipated is that exhaustion makes life a lot simpler. Being bone tired all the time negates the capacity for tolerating BS, for dwelling on things I could have done differently, and for relaxing boundaries. Who would have thought that fatigue could be empowering? I'm reading a really amazing book that talks insightfully about this and other unexpected aspects of motherhood. I want to buy a dozen copies and gift them to all my mom and soon-to-be mom friends.

Another little piece of my heart

2009-05-03T21:15:00.008-04:00

I've been meaning to write for days but Commander Bligh and Herr Hendrik were visiting and then I've had to scramble to get everything in order before I go back to work (tomorrow--aieee!). I've also been trying to spend as much time with Margot as possible. And just in case I've forgotten, Cringer is sitting next to me on the couch, purring and reminding me that other folks in the house need love, too. This does not include Griffin, who has woken the baby up twice this week with her bratty antics in the middle of the night. Clearly Griffin does not know the first rule of Fight Club: never wake the baby. Griffin is inches away from being offered for adoption.

After 12 weeks of holding a baby all the time, I've noticed that I have developed a tendency to sway and bop whenever I am holding...pretty much anything. Things I have noticed myself bopping around with include piles of books, bags of groceries, a houseplant, bags of takeout food, the empty car seat, the cats, and various boxes containing baby products. Because, you know, God forbid the box for the Bumbo seat goes unsoothed.

The past few days have been a whirl. In addition to hunting for work clothes that will fit me until I lose the last of the baby weight (final 10lbs, I'm looking at you), I've been reading lots of books about helping babies sleep and occasionally punishing myself with the Tracy Anderson Post-Pregnancy Workout DVD, which I read about on Mighty Girl and decided to try. Tracy Anderson is the lady who trains Madonna and Gwyneth Paltrow, two people who have maybe a pound of body fat between them, and all I can say is WOW (and also ouch). I've done the workout 4 times and my abs are visibly stronger and more defined. This hasn't helped me resist the delicious chocolate our Germans friends gifted us with during their visit last week, however.

Scenes from a bottle

2009-04-23T18:11:00.006-04:00

As you can see, it's going well.

I want my $2!!

2009-04-18T10:52:00.003-04:00

I keep intending to post but as you can tell it keeps not happening. Babies are funny timesucks like that. Until recently, I often intended to take a shower or brush my teeth, but as any new mom knows, these things are often goals that fall by the wayside as the day goes on. Our solution? Margot's lovely new crib mobile, which is like baby crack. Now she will lie on her back and watch the mobile for upwards of 20 minutes, long enough for me to get clean and, now, to post for the first time in forever.

Margot is doing beautifully. She is almost 12.5lbs and is upwards of 24 inches long. At 10 weeks she is already too long for many of her 3-month clothes. She is leggy! She is sleeping in her crib at night and napping reliably during the day, though there is still not much sleep being had by her parents. We are having a lot of fun together these days and so it's bittersweet to be contemplating my return to work right when it feels like the baby and I are finally finding a good rhythm to the day. She is cooing and crowing and making ambitious moves towards rolling over. But she still wants absolutely nothing to do with a bottle, which does not bode well. This weekend we are embarking on the Bottle Introduction Initiative v.1. This involves me actually utilizing the breast pump (now unpacked and sterilized but that's as far as I got--and that was two weeks ago) and then leaving Lunchboy with her highness for 4-5 hours in order to get her nice and hungry/angry, then sticking the bottle in her mouth and seeing if she'll forget about the boob for a few minutes. We aren't optimistic, only because we tried to have a date night last night and got a call from my mother, who was babysitting, after only one hour letting us know that our child was inconsolable and what did we want her to do. I had thought that grandmas knew how to resolve these situations instinctively, but apparently I underestimated Margot.

The weather is edging toward spring and so we have been going for lots of walks lately. I have also started running again in an attempt to fit into my work clothes before I go back to work in two weeks. We'll see--I think there will still need to be a trip to the mall for clothes that will hopefully be too big in another month or two. I could go on and on about weight and body image issues post-baby but I'm tired of hearing myself on the topic so I won't subject anyone else to it. Needless to say, it's hard.

The feed

2009-03-20T12:51:00.004-04:00

There is a brown bag on the floor near the front door. It contains the breast pump I bought two weeks ago and have not yet touched. The bag and I are engaged in a staring contest and so far I can't tell who's winning.

I am of two minds about how to do the food thing when Margot goes to daycare in May. On an intellectual level I know that breast milk is the best option and given that I am producing a startling supply and she is feeding like a little raptor (at our last pediatrician's visit we found out that she'd gained 2 pounds in a week and a half), it seems like a waste to cut off the supply of boob. On the other hand, however, breastfeeding is a full-time job in itself. Pumping at work would require a commitment that I am not sure I can fulfill. It's not just the theoretical 15-20 minutes of actual pump time, it's the setup (which requires stripping from the waist up and putting on a corset-type garment that holds the pump horns in place and simultaneously destroys any and all semblance of dignity/self esteem I might have left), pumping, cleaning the pump, and refrigerating the milk. Two to three times a day during work hours. I admit, I am intimidated by the very thought of this endeavor.

Formula seems like it would be much simpler for everyone involved and it would actually allow me to do things like eat lunch, not get fired, exercise, and have my boobs to myself. But there is so much guilt involved in choosing between the two--at a very granular level there is a deep feeling that I would be a terrible mother if I chose to stop breastfeeding for what seem like purely selfish reasons. Of course she would be fine on formula but the politics, the politics. I find feeding Margot very satisfying right now and have not even been able to bring myself to deal with the bottle issue yet. And so the pump remains in the bag and every day I continue to stare at the bag warily as if it contained a giant spider that was waiting to jump out and eat me.

Scully

2009-03-17T11:42:00.005-04:00

Scully went to kitty heaven this morning. We miss her horribly.

I rescued Scully from the MSPCA 10 years ago. During those 10 years, we moved around the country, lived with various roommates, boyfriends, and one amazing husband/cat daddy, and weathered a lot of ups and downs. She was a patient, loyal, wonderful friend who was happy as long as we were together. No matter where we landed, the sound of her purr and the feel of her fur were home to me.

Scully started to decline right after we brought Margot home and at first we thought it was a stress reaction to the baby, until we saw how much weight she'd lost. After running every test the vet could think of and doing two ultrasounds, all we knew was that she probably had cancer and it was untreatable. She stopped eating or drinking and then lost the use of her hind legs, which was unbearable to watch. She made it clear that she intended to keep soldiering on but her limbs were getting weaker. We decided to let her go before things got any worse for her. It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make. I feel strongly that she may have been sick before but she fought to stay with us until the baby was here. Though the house feels achingly empty without her presence, I have to believe that she is now somewhere warm, eating grass and lying in the sun and watching the birds fly around. There is a furry white hole in our hearts. I miss my sunny girl.

It has begun

2009-03-14T13:20:00.000-04:00

The Force is strong with this one...

Working girl

2009-03-06T13:48:00.002-05:00

Today I took Margot in to my office for a little show and tell. Happily, she snoozed and smiled and charmed her way into the hearts of my coworkers and it was a good visit. One thing I have realized over the past 3 weeks is that I am feeling good about my decision to go back to work after my leave is up. Who knows, that might change once I actually have to leave Margot at daycare. But right now I feel that it's the right decision for us as a family and for me as a mom, wife, and person. This was a topic I was very torn about before Margot was born and so I am glad to have some clarity, though I still worry that I'm walking too closely in my mother's footsteps. Strangely enough, I learned yesterday that my mom was home with me for almost a year, something I hadn't known before.

Anyway, going back to work, even just for a few hours was really good. Turns out I have missed my friends at the office and missed that aspect of my life. I am glad to be home with Margot and grateful to be able to have this time with her, but also glad that things are the way they are. At least for now :)

It's all a blur

2009-03-04T21:29:00.003-05:00

So all that talk of how new parents don't get any sleep? Turns out it's true. I don't think anyone really buys it until they have a baby and then suddenly you learn the true meaning of sleep deprivation. This is actually the part of parenthood that made me the most nervous. I have always needed my sleep--I never even pulled all-nighters in college--and so the idea of being kept awake by a small, needy person felt intimidating. But c'est la vie. I am now taking the advice of all the other parents we know and trying to nap when the baby naps, which she thankfully does for chunks of the day (on a good day).

The baby continues to grow and amuse us to no end. Actually, at both ends. Because her lungs didn't get constricted by the birth canal, she's still a bit congested and so she makes the most hysterically funny honks, snorts, wheezes, whirs, and beeps. I sometimes wonder how I gave birth to a Snork, but she is the most beautiful Snork I know. Also, if projectile pooping were an Olympic event, it turns out that we'd have a future medalist on our hands. Other babies might be better sleepers or faster eaters but can they poop across the room?

So far maternity leave has been something of a surreal blur, a time that I know I need to treasure but cannot seem to hold on to. I wake up and suddenly it's 5pm and then 3am and then 1pm. The days themselves are full but not with anything that I would have classified as accomplishments prior to the baby. Now it takes planning to get up and unload the dishwasher or run the laundry. I have to strategize to get out of the house. Going for a walk is the high point of our day--if it's warm enough to leave the house, that is. Everything seems to have slowed down and speeded up simultaneously.

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

2009-02-24T15:06:00.002-05:00

Some babies love to go for a drive. Our little bear is not one of them:

This was right before our first trip to the pediatrician and we weren't sure whether the screaming had more to do with the bear suit or the car seat. Turns out, it's the car seat. Which is fine. Unfortunately, M picked up a stomach bug from some of the other kids in our building and did some high volume regurgitation all over the car seat yesterday, so now she hates it AND it smells gross. Yay!

Also, in case the whole Cringer-as-cat-nanny thing sounded hyperbolic, here is some photographic evidence:

Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow

2009-02-14T12:34:00.004-05:00

I can't remember a time when my mother wasn't giddily happy to recount how difficult her labor with me was. "Thirty-two hours and then a c-section!" she'd say. Well, now she can't do it anymore because my story is better: 72 hours and then a c-section. Woo!

We are enjoying being home from the hospital very much. Lunchboy's mom is staying with us for a week, which is amazing and for which we are super grateful. Grandmas are beautiful things. So far Margot is an excellent baby. She eats like a champ, sleeps like a log, and is about the cutest thing I have ever seen. For example:

Also:

Griffin and Cringer investigate whether the baby's cuteness surpasses their own:

So far the cats' reactions to the baby have been widely divergent. Griffin isn't sure how we could have misunderstood her dislike for children enough to bring home one of our own, but since we're that dumb she'll tolerate the baby as best she can. Scully is curious but isn't a fan of the crying. Cringer has designated herself nanny cat. When Margot cries, she comes running and start talking back to make sure everything is ok and see if there's anything she can do. She observes breastfeeding with intense interest and likes to sniff Margot's head when I'm feeding her at night. She's the only one of the three who's sleeping on the bed again. The other two mostly like to be where the baby is not. I am hoping they'll come around, but who knows.

Heart-shaped glasses

2009-02-12T20:36:00.002-05:00

Margot Lauren
Born February 8, 2009 at 6:41am
8lbs 3oz

We are all happy, healthy, and doing great. More pictures soon.

Yeah

2009-02-03T14:09:00.002-05:00

1. I woke up at 4am with a head cold and am now really, really glad the bean isn't here yet and doesn't appear to be on the way. Just...bleh.

2. My acupuncturist told me to be patient. Actually, what she said was "Patience is a good thing." I love her but she has no kids and I just want to smack her. I'm so tired of being lectured by people right now. This probably has to do with being tired, sick, and 10 MONTHS PREGNANT, so please keep the advice to yourself lady.

3. If one more person (including my mother) tells me that I can't have the kid until XX date, or that I have to have the kid immediately if not sooner because their schedule doesn't work around ambiguity, I am seriously going to scream. LOUDLY. It doesn't work like that. It's not about you. GET OVER IT.

4. The eviction notice has been served: my doctor went ahead and scheduled me for induction in like 2 weeks, so I am really hoping that something happens before then. From what I hear, Pitocin is like taking a hammer and hitting yourself in the face with it really hard for about 15 hours.

And now the venting is done.

Vamped out

2009-02-01T20:59:00.003-05:00

Over the last nine months, food has been Lunchboy's way of contributing to my pregnancy. It's been his way of making sure I and and baby are taken care of. He's relished the unpredictable donut cravings, the 11pm PB&J requests, the desperate need for cheeseburgers at completely random moments. He bought and read books about eating for a healthy pregnancy and cooked dinners even when I wasn't hungry just because he wanted to make sure I'd have good food in case I changed my mind.

So as we've started revving up for the baby's imminent arrival (though to be honest, right now I think this kid is happily camped out with no plans of leaving the premises anytime soon), Lunchboy found this meal plan online that is supposed to keep us in frozen dinners for a few weeks after we bring the baby home. Yesterday he embarked on a 9-hour food preparation and cooking spree that involved every dish in the kitchen and what seemed like a metric ton of Ziploc bags. While he cooked, he watched a couple of movies on the DVR that he'd been dying to watch but hadn't had a chance yet. For some reason half of the movies were horror movies and one of them was 30 Days of Night. Thinking that I was a grownup on the verge of becoming a parent (and parents are supposed to scare away the monsters under the bed), I made the gigantic mistake of parking myself on the couch and watching half of the movie.

Other than zombies and aliens, vampires are my great childhood fear. I can't explain it. They terrified me to the point that, when I was 10, I sprinkled garlic powder on the carpet in my bedroom. My parents had the rug cleaned but the smell never really came out and I was totally ok with that because it meant that the vampires would never make it all the way to my bed. Anyway, the problem is that even though I know they're not real, the fear sticks in my head for weeks. So last night, when I woke up at 5am as usual in need of chocolate milk, I started down the stairs and found myself face to face with a vision of the vampires from the movie, and turned right around and went back upstairs to bed. The idea of shrieking, toothy creatures lurking around every dark corner was just too much. Parking downstairs in the garage after yoga tonight? Also not good. Being home alone? I have all the lights and the TV on. I am my 13-year-old self. But at least the kitchen smells like the 40 cloves of garlic that Lunchboy used to cook his phalanx of food. That has to count for something, right?

Waiting

2009-01-28T10:45:00.002-05:00

Last night I dreamed that I was carrying the baby around in her snowsuit and another mom asked me how old she was, but I couldn't answer because I didn't know the baby's birthday. Then I dreamed I was back in college and was trying to figure out how to take classes with the baby in tow. Could I breastfeed in the back of class? It all seemed to make sense in the dream. I think.

The weekly snowstorm is raging outside and I am grateful to be cozy on the couch with no shoveling to be done. The cats are being ridiculously lazy and I cannot blame them. They are also slowly colonizing the nursery--Scully's new snoozing spot is smack in the middle of the glider that Lunchboy's mom got us for Christmas. On the crib blanket no less. After finding Griffin sleeping in the crib one too many times, we have lined the crib with tin foil and that seems to be keeping her out, but she is still stubbornly addicted to the changing table. Most spoiled cats EVER.

I'm due in 10 days and I am EXCITED. Also impatient, though I don't really have cause to be. I am having lots of contractions but they aren't going anywhere yet, so I am just walking as much as I can, taking lots of baths, eating lightly, and taking things as they come. On Monday the doctor told me that I'm 1cm dilated, which made me giggle because while it means that things are kicking into gear, it's also like passing the one mile marker when running a marathon. This part of the journey is such a lesson in letting go and nonattachment. I just can't wait to see what this little person will be like!

All in my head

2009-01-20T13:26:00.002-05:00

Last night I had a birth dream, the first baby-related dream I've had since getting knocked up. In the dream, I went into labor but could not find the doctor or the hospital or Lunchboy. I was surrounded by chaos but felt completely calm. When it was time, I found a lovely spot in an outdoor garden and gave birth admidst flowers and greenery. It felt very important to be in nature. One push (definitely a dream). She had her eyes open when she emerged and it was so amazing to meet her.

Also yesterday, I hoovered an entire bag of Gummi Savers--on the way to the dentist, no less. Could this have caused the dream? Anything is possible.

I boomerang between feeling safe assuming that I've got 3-5 weeks to go and waking up every day wondering if today will be the day. Every twinge gets me thinking. Signs that make other people think things are afoot turn out to be nothing, so I have stopped putting much stock in anything but patience. This is hard for me, as I have never been a patient person.

It doesn't help that symptoms from the first trimester are re-emerging, probably due to all the hormonal insanity going on. I have a weird taste in my mouth all the time. My appetite is reduced but I only want very specific foods (almost entirely carbs and processed sugar). I FEEL weird but assume that has more to do with the crap I'm eating than any imminent changes. I spent 7 months avoiding sugar like the plague but now cannot resist cookies/gummi bears/chocolate/anything sweet. It's gross and perplexing, but lean protein now tastes awful to me. WTF???

I was sort of hoping for an inauguration baby, but I don't think preference plays into that kind of thing. Hooray Obama!! I never want to see or hear from GWB ever, ever, ever again.

What could possibligh go wrong?

2009-01-17T15:01:00.004-05:00

Griffin's new napping spot:

37 weeks (with new kitchen, dining room, part of the living room, and a snacking Scully in the background):

Feeling much better. Not commuting seems to have stopped me from becoming a walking sponge. We hung curtains in the nursery today, and now it's all mostly in place. Griffin agrees--the changing table has actually distracted her from sitting in the crib, which had become her new favorite game. Cat thinks she is a child. What a rude awakening she's going to have...

The big heavy

2009-01-13T18:18:00.004-05:00

So last week was a tough week for me. Work was crazy and I felt progressively more and more like I was carrying an anvil around on my back. By Sunday I was on the couch and felt bad enough that I uncurled myself from my nest only long enough to take a long, hot bath at noon instead of right before bed. Lunchboy found me in the tub, lolling like a beached whale, and said "tub time already?" I was like, "I am never getting out, if you need me you know where to find me." And then I cried. Everything hurt. My hands and feet were so swollen and painful that I couldn't open the child-safe cap on the Listerine and my running shoes felt like they were squeezing the life out of me.

At my weekly doctor's appointment the next day, I found out I'd gained 5 pounds in one week. "It's all fluid," the doctor said. REALLY. But then she said the magic words: "Are you ready to be done with work? Because I'd like to get you off your feet so this fluid retention stops." And I said yes, yes I am. So now I am on modified bed rest, an ambiguous term that somehow encompasses working from home and the possibility of short term disability, depending on how the insurance company decides to handle it. All I know is I can lie down for most of the day and this is the greatest, most amazing development I can imagine. Except, you know, giving birth.

It has been very, very difficult for me to come to terms with the level of discomfort that I've felt over the past two weeks. Pregnancy is supposed to be beautiful, right? I'm supposed to be glowing and fulfilled by the creation of life in my womb at every possible moment. No one seems to gripe about the last few weeks. In my prenatal yoga class there are 4 women who are at 41+ weeks and they all talk about how fabulous they feel and how they could go on being pregnant forever. That is not me right now. I am pretty miserable and don't feel sincere about trying to put a happy face on it. Should I be stronger or at least stop whining? I often feel that way. But I am definitely feeling very positive about having this baby and taking care of her *outside*.

It's not about babies!

2009-01-09T15:59:00.000-05:00

What this week has been like:

They weren't kidding

2009-01-07T19:04:00.002-05:00

I thought I wanted to nest a few weeks ago, but what's come over me the last few days takes the concept to a whole new level. I can't stop sweeping the house. The dresser and changing table finally arrived and I'm itching to get everything put away and ready. Even though she probably won't be sleeping in it immediately, the crib bedding is washed and the crib is made up. I can't concentrate on anything other than getting organized and making sure the floor is clean clean clean. I see myself doing it and I know it's insane but I can't stop.

A couple of our friends are now placing bets on when the bean will actually make an appearance. So far we have January 23 and January 25. I'm not due for another month but apparently I am carrying really low (I can't tell). It would be really wonderful if she hung in until she's full term in another week and a half, but after that--fire away. I'm in that weird, lumbering phase where I can't move very well and nothing fits and I'm generally uncomfortable most of the time, but I otherwise feel fine. When she moves, my whole belly moves. Bathtime has turned into a series of scenes from Alien, where my torso goes through these amazing ripples and contortions.

This whole experience has been such a ride. There are moments when I get nervous about giving birth, but right now I'm in a place where I'm just so excited to meet this tiny person and see what she's like. I'm incredibly curious to see how the rest of this journey plays out and what happens when.

More than a rumor

2009-01-07T18:52:00.002-05:00

On Sunday we went to a party celebrating Lunchboy's grandparents' 70th wedding anniversary. That's 7-0. I mean, how often do you see that? It's amazing and it was such a great way to start the new year. They got married when his grandfather was 23 and his grandmother was 19, and they are both in their early 90s now. They had nine children, who have created this gigantic family of grandkids, great grandkids, cousins, in-laws, and more children than I've seen at your average daycare center. The room was filled with people laughing, hugging, crying, and watching his grandparents, who held hands the entire time, be interviewed by the evening news. I had this deep feeling of satisfaction watching the reporter ask them questions about what kept them together for so long. Maybe it's just that the news these days is usually so awful that I loved knowing there was something good going on that wouldn't get buried underneath more depressing stories. Later, his grandparents fed each other cake and drank fizzy apple juice. They were amazing to watch. When we went to say hello to them (we had to wait in line--how great is that?), his grandmother put her hand on my belly and said "We're all counting the days!"

Not too many more days to count. I'm due a month from today. The bean will be our first addition to our little family, but it just expanded my heart by a factor of 50 to know that she'll be part of this enormous family that's just waiting to meet her.

Diving in whole hog

2009-01-02T16:42:00.003-05:00

Happy new year! I am serious. I am full of hope and faith that 2009 will be all that 2008 wasn't. It feels like everyone is pretty excited to put 2008 behind them. I guess we can only have our asses handed to us so many times in the space of 12 months before we need a fresh start, a clean slate. For me, 2008 was a year of serious ups and downs and I know there will be more of those coming, so my intentions for the year are focused on stability in as much as one can ask for that. Though it sounds naive, I am optimistic about the power of staying open to growth and change, and I feel like there is a lot of that power around at the start of a new year. To me, it's like diving into a pool at the height of summer and instantly feeling cooled and cleansed. But then that may be the hormones talking. Even so, I wish this sense of optimism for all my friends and hope that 2009 will be kickass in the best possible way.

Tempting fate

2008-12-31T12:12:00.005-05:00

When you are dying to get some closure and be done with a house sale, what you don't want to have happen is for the phone ring on Christmas Eve and hear that your realtor has bungled a simple form so completely that he has put the sale of your house at risk. Want to know what else is no fun? For your real estate lawyer to vanish completely when he is most needed and to find yourself navigating a really bad situation alone, despite the fact that you are paying through the nose for these professionals to represent you and be on your team.

This was why our Christmas wasn't what I'd call relaxing.

Basically, our realtor forgot about a form that's required for the condo sale to go through, a form that had to be signed by at least two of the other owners in our condo association (but somehow he thought he only needed one signature). In the process of scrambling to get this form signed a few days before the holiday, the realtor somehow managed to piss off one of the units so badly that they refused to sign the form. He also tipped off SMTT that the house was about to be sold and she declined to sign the form. Our lawyer, the one we were paying to help us with events such as these, promptly vanished. We actually never heard from him again, except when he sent one of his minions to the closing to notarize documents.

After days of panicking and feeling completely disempowered and getting no sleep whatsoever, we finally consulted a lawyer friend, without whom I don't think the sale would have gone through. He helped us understand our rights in the situation and suggested how we could move forward, and on Sunday night we finally got the signature we needed. At the closing on Monday, the lawyer and realtor dropped the ball again and so the sale wasn't legally on record until Tuesday morning. But it's done. Closed. We deposited our check and handed over our keys. Our relationship with that condo is over.

Yet for some reason I don't feel closure. I am still grappling with so much anger, frustration, and resentment over what happened and these are feelings that I don't particularly want to be feeling. I want to be letting go and cleansing myself of all the negativity that we experienced since October. I am trying to focus on our new place, which we LOVE, how happy we are here, and how we can now focus on preparing for the bean. But mentally I'm still putting nails in SMTT's tires and upbraiding the realtor and the lawyer. I need a ritual or something to put this behind me--any suggestions?

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-25T11:00:00.007-05:00

For real! Our first Christmas with our own tree, our last as nonparents. So goddamn it, we are happy! Life is good!

A fuzzy tree shot with a curious Griffin looking for ribbons to eat:

A scrubby me, wearing one of Lunchboy's shirts because at 33/34 weeks my shirts no longer cover my belly:

That's part of the new living room, as you probably guessed. I've been unmotivated to take pictures lately but I'm working on that.

Happy holidays

2008-12-24T16:29:00.002-05:00

I kind of had a feeling something like this would happen. We moved, we signed the P&S on our condo over a month ago, and we have less than a week until the closing. I knew that SMTT was dying to know what was up with our unit because she was pestering our condo president for information that no one was giving her. Still, there was a voice in the back of my head that said, "She's not going to let you out without a fight." But did I expect her to try and block the sale of our condo, on Christmas Eve no less? No. And yet, she is. I don't even know what to say or do. We have our realtor on the phone with the lawyer trying to figure it out.

Update

2008-12-22T16:21:00.001-05:00

We've been in the new place for a week now and, with only 3 boxes left to unpack, we're feeling pretty settled. The cats agree--we really thought they would freak out at all the change that's occurred in the last week but with the exception of some momentary episodes of fear/hiding/messing up the bathmats, they are relaxed and seem happier now than they ever did in the old place. I guess they were picking up on all the weird energy there, too.

Friday was a bit scary for me. After only having a handful of Braxton-Hicks contractions over the past 6 months, I started having them that afternoon around 2pm and they kept coming every 5-15 minutes. By 11pm that night I was really uncomfortable and starting to get worried. I just didn't want her to come too early. Or during a blizzard--I could just see the stories for years to come--but though the doctor was concerned, I felt like all I needed was a good night's sleep, so we stayed home. The next morning I felt much better but noticed that the bebe was sitting much lower than she had been the previous day. Little feet that were once kicking off my ribs all day are now down around my belly button. I've had a series of dreams in which people tell me that she'll arrive before the end of January and I wonder if the dreams might be prophetic.

Saturday was a big day for us. We took our infant CPR class and then picked out our very first Christmas tree. The past three years we have gone to Florida for the holidays and we had neither the room for a tree nor the inclination to leave the cats alone with a tree for a week, so we simply enjoyed Lunchboy's mom's tree. This year, however, the year that we start our own family, we got our own tree and decorated it while the snow was falling heavily outside. Some of the ornaments were early childhood toys that were repurposed by my parents and passed down. It was really lovely. Amusingly, the cats seem less interested in the tree than they are in the ribbons on the gifts under the tree, but it was very cute to watch them be so fascinated with the strings of lights. Then Lunchboy went upstairs and put together the bean's crib. I stayed out of the way (there was crashing, swearing, and at least one beer involved) but when he was done it looked amazing.

Otherwise, though, I feel tired but good. Walking for 30 minutes feels me feel like I've done a 10-mile run, which is amusing and frustrating, so I am definitely slowing down. Winter, it seems, is a good time for that, though. There's nothing like a 3-day snowstorm for napping and avoiding the gym. The part that really makes me giggle is that for the first time ever, I'm not freezing my tuckus off despite the arctic temps. Incubating really does make you a walking space heater. I'll be walking home from the T and everyone else is all bundled up and I'm like, "Wusses! It's not that cold! I'm not even wearing a hat!" Then I go home and kick the covers off the bed all night because I'm too hot for the down comforter. Lunchboy is like, who are you and what have you done with my wife, whose feet are usually at zero degrees Kelvin this time of year?

Speechless

2008-12-16T13:22:00.001-05:00

At the risk of being crass, I hope this doesn’t portend some entrepreneur coming out with baby-shaped dildos.

Moved!

2008-12-16T13:13:00.002-05:00

We are in the new place! I don't even care that yesterday was a really long day. I don't care that we're surrounded by boxes. We lay in bed last night and it was *quiet* No stomping. No bad vibes. No feeling trapped. Just quiet and a deep sense of peace.

We'll be unpacking for a while but I'll try to take some pictures soon, especially of the bean's room. There's not much to see right now except a crib in a box (want to make a JT joke but am failing) and some stuffed animals, but it's THERE and it's sunny and ready to be prepared.

The bean seems to approve. She got the hiccups at 3am and has been super active, though that might be because I have a really hard time not lifting things when they need to be moved. It's bad, I know, but I have a hard time slowing down. Even the cable guy told me to stop but what can I say, I'm stubborn.

The cats are in heaven. After a brief freakout when they got to the new place yesterday, Scully and Cringer are busily exploring and staking out new napping spots. Griffin is still a little wary but came out of her shell for some roaster chicken last night. Territory issues begin...NOW.

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

2008-12-11T16:20:00.002-05:00

Things I would rather not have going on in the 'ville include this.

I, along with other lady friends in the Union Square area, walk alone at night all the time, so having a robber/attacker in the area who is preying on women walking alone at night is unsettling. Why are we so unsavvy as to walk alone at night, you might ask? It's called commuting. Here's hoping the Somerville police catch this winner ASAP so we can all resume going to and from work without having to fear for our health and safety.

On a more positive note, this could be the perfect holiday gift for about 90% of the people on my gift list.

Steady as she goes

2008-12-08T16:34:00.001-05:00

In the midst of packing mania this weekend, we took a break and went to our Prepared Childbirth class at the hospital where I'm delivering. Eight hours later, we emerged more informed and with a look of something resembling mild panic on our faces. I pretty much knew before the class that I wanted to have pain medication during labor but after watching the labor videos during the class my mind is now very firmly made up on the pro-drugs side of the argument. Also, during the part of the class when we toured the labor, delivery, and postpartum wards, the class was presented with a baby that had been born the day before. It was beautiful and pink and clearly brand new…and it weighed in at 12lbs. Want to freak the shizz out of a childbirth class? Present a bunch of soon-to-be-parents with a gigantic child. Even the husbands were like, "You'll TELL us if that's going to happen, right? RIGHT?????" Meanwhile, we moms were huddled in a group in the corner, rubbing our bellies and crossing our legs.

We move into the new place a week from today and boy can we not wait. We picked up the keys over the weekend and have been bringing over carloads of stuff because even though we hired movers for the actual we move, we are that impatient. Also, I don't think either of us can quite get over the amazement of realizing that this beautiful, new space? It's actually ours.

Did I mention that there's a perfect, nursery-sized room located right off the new master bedroom and it's already painted a lovely, sunny yellow? Or that there is a master bath (!!) and it contains a tub deep enough for the water to actually cover my belly?

Another event that is adding to our happiness is that we got news this weekend that a couple of great friends who had been waiting for their adoption referral got their baby on Saturday!! We could not be happier for them--they are already amazing parents, especially given that they had like 36 hours notice to prepare for their new daughter. Hearing their news felt like witnessing a true holiday miracle. Huzzah!!!!

It's here!!

2008-12-07T21:06:00.000-05:00

First snow!

What's the scoop?

2008-12-05T13:44:00.001-05:00

Something weird is going on. I'm having tons of abandonment dreams these days. Last night I dreamed that Lunchboy fell in love with the chick from Juno and left me for her after they'd been carrying on a not-so-secret affair for a while. The night before I dreamed I was married to Jon Stewart. We had three kids. Then he left me for another woman. Am I working through some deep-seated fears here or do I just need to lay off the Daily Show for a while?

Little discoveries

2008-12-01T16:05:00.001-05:00

Hola. Happy Thanksgiving! It is 55 degrees outside and I am happy as a clam--the longer it stays like this outside, the better life will be. Above 40 is my winter mantra. Because, you know, I live in a place where anyone has a right to criticize the winter weather.

The long weekend was lovely, full of naps and long, hot baths, and…packing. Yes, we are moving! More than that I cannot say for fear of jinxing things. Now we are in the midst of boxes and while we cannot wait to get into the new place, which is really a dream come true in many ways, I am realizing how in denial we are about leaving our house. It has been our first home together and it is full of love and memories and lots of happiness. We know we are doing the right thing but there is still something in my head that won't quite accept that this isn't the place that I will be bringing our baby home to. Then again, I am a giant hormonal mess at the moment, so please take all of this with a grain of salt.

Four things I wish someone had told me when I found out I was pregnant:

1. It is entirely possible that your boobs may decide to leak well before the baby is born. Like, many months earlier. This is ok.
2. Babies do not know better than to refrain from kicking you while you are using the restroom. This can be a very strange experience.
3. You are neither dying nor about to go into labor if you are walking down the street and suddenly you have to stop in your tracks because a very sharp elbow/knee/whathaveyou has found its way to your birthing region/bladder. From the inside. See above re: strange. Also, painful.
4. Telling someone "you are only going to get bigger" is never the right way to go. At any given moment I feel like I have reached maximum density, and there are still 8-10 weeks left. I have no idea how that's going to work.

Lately I find myself standing in Target or Babies R Us feeling like I'm supposed to be buying everything, yet I buy nothing because it is too overwhelming. So much depends on how big the kid actually ends up being. Nesting + ambiguity + hormones = chaos.

The Griffinator

2008-11-24T15:26:00.004-05:00

In addition to sleeping on my feet at night, head-butting my belly, stepping on my boobs as often as possible, and keeping a quiet vigil on the bathmat while I take my nightly bath, Griff is now the self-appointed guardian of the box that holds our new crib:

Mulligan

2008-11-24T10:13:00.003-05:00

Usually things like this happen to other people, people I envy a bit as I sit on the green line for 20 minutes trying to be Zen about the fact that it takes that long to get from Boylston to Arlington on a Monday morning. Someone must be looking down on us favorably, though. Today started off in a harried, stressful way--the city is doing work on our street, so I had to go running out the door half-dressed to move our car before we got a ticket, and then had to drive around for a while to find parking that wasn't affected by street cleaning. I got home and was like, is this how the day is going to be? Then I saw that I had voicemails on my cell phone. One of them was from work saying "Do not come into work." So I didn't. I've got a cat on my lap and I'm working from home. Woohoo!

Not the way to go

2008-11-21T14:24:00.001-05:00

Bronx Mowgli? REALLY? Are Ashlee Simpson and Posh Spice trying to create a little posse of borough children? What's next?

Usher is going to be a daddy for the second time! He and wife Tameka Foster are expecting son #2 on December 15. Maybe he will take after the Simpson-Wentz child and be named Staten Island Rikki-Tikki-Tavi Usher Jr.

Disparity studies

2008-11-20T15:03:00.002-05:00

I started chatting with one of the other pregnant ladies in my yoga class today. There are usually 3-4 of us who rotate in and out of the lunchtime classes. This one particular lady has, until recently, always looked like she was a month ahead of me. Then somewhere over the course of the last week, I expanded to the point where she looked like she was a month behind me. It turns out she is due almost approximately one month before me. She is tiny. She can still do koundinyasana. I cannot do koundinyasana anymore. My body has decided to be a gigantic sponge this week and I feel like I am toting around an extra X number of pounds of water weight in addition to the 30 extra pounds that is strapped to my midsection. Even chaturanga makes me grimace now. I am a water balloon.

Anyhoo, this yoga lady was chatting away in the locker room and told me that she had taken off 2.5 years after her daughter was born. "You know, I'm from Canada and it's important to me to be home with my child," she said. Her tone was one of privileged disdain for us misdirected Americans, who clearly prefer to stick their kids in daycare than to marry someone with a nice job at Nokia who can afford to let his wife stay home fulltime. While they lived in SF. Gag me.

I was irked but since the yoga studio is technically in a spa, I didn't feel like being That Person, the one who disrupts the spa ambiance to give a little smackdown. Lunchboy and I do well for ourselves but not working is not an option for me. I would very much like to have more flexibility than I do, but my company is not what I'd call family friendly when it comes to messing with days/hours. My company still frowns on telecommuting for god's sake. The bean is going to be in daycare after my maternity leave is over and I'm still on the fence in terms of how I feel about that. So I don't enjoy hearing that kind of condescenscion from someone who is lucky enough to have had the option of being job-free after the birth of her firstborn. Then again, I chose to practice at a place filled with women who are clearly not returning to the office after yoga class, so I bit my tongue. Then I toddled off to ABP, where I have been such a regular at the harvest pumpkin soup bar that one of the cashiers knows me by sight. I think this is something I should be embarassed about

Ahoy

2008-11-18T14:59:00.002-05:00

Many things have been in the works. We have a pediatrician. We ordered our stroller. We signed up for childbirth classes. We are thinking about names (anyone have recommendations on good name books?) I just had my 28-week appointment and other than the fact that it turns out my iron levels are dismal (which probably explains the overwhelming fatigue), all is well. I am feeling not-so-little feet pushing off my ribs like they are a diving board, and her highness has developed a liking for doing triple layouts at 4am. Three people have said "Wow, you are REALLY pregnant!" in the past few days. Yes, I am--because you know, I was faking it before? But really, I am quite round these days.

My mouth is shut on the housing front. We have had so many ups, downs, tears, disappointments, moments of complete panic, moments of elation, and interim periods of complete resignation that at this point it makes no sense to say anything. When there is real, solid, signed-on-the-dotted-line progress, I will let you know.

This is our future

2008-11-07T16:49:00.001-05:00

No one was kidding when they said it would go by fast

2008-11-07T15:25:00.004-05:00

I'm due exactly three months from today.

Suddenly, three months doesn't feel like a lot of time. I felt like my first trimester would not END but now time is going by so quickly. I can feel little arms and legs doing strange things in my belly. In fact, we can see the strange things--lately my stomach has been twitching, jerking, and pulsating in fascinating ways. And suddenly I'm big. It's very exciting.

Still no news on the house front (we weren't expecting a whole lot, but it would be nice to have news!) We've had five showings since the first open house, which our realtor is ecstatic about, but people are (understandably) taking their time, so no offers yet. We can't do anything with the place we'd like to move to until our condo is under agreement, so we're crossing fingers and consulting all the gods of home buying in existence to see if we can get things moving. Otherwise we will stay put and try our luck again in the spring/summer. Ideally, though, we'd be able to get the hell out before the bean makes an appearance.

The cats, in the meantime, are having all kinds of adventures. From being shoved into their cat jails and driven around while the open house went on, to hiding while a parade of strangers ogles our house, and having all their favorite things shoved into a closet every other day, it's sort of miraculous that they haven't all decided to mutiny and claw us to death in our sleep. Well, almost. Scully did pick this incredibly opportune time to develop an anal gland infection. Yes. That is all I'm going to say about that one. I was not present for the vet visit at which her little issue was addressed and while I feel badly for Lunchboy that he had to be the tree that a screaming Scully climbed, I am SO GLAD I had to be at work. We've been giving her the cat version of penicillin, which is pink and smells terrible, and every time we try to give it to her she manages to spray pink stuff in a 10-foot radius. It's actually pretty funny at this point. Little do they know that there's another open house this Sunday. Teehee.

La casa

2008-10-31T15:36:00.002-04:00

No major updates on the house front yet--but my fingers are crossed that I'll have news soon. We've had a lot of positive response to our open house, which was last weekend, and we've found a place that we really like that's only a 10-minute walk away, so we'll see how it all pans out.

I did have a small victory with SMTT on Wednesday. During the open house and the showings we've had, we've stored our coffee table and the cat boxes under a tarp behind the house in an area that is common space for all four units in the house. On Wednesday night, I came home to a catty Post-It note (I couldn't help thinking of that SATC episode) on the door saying that we needed to clear our stuff out of "her" space because she needed to put her garbage cans there. F* that noise. Spiteful wench. So Lunchboy and I went online, printed out the legal schematic of the house that says "common space" in the area we were using, highlighted that part, and taped the whole thing to her door with a remarkably civil note correcting her misconception. I wasn't home when she got the note but Lunchboy says there was a lot of stomping upstairs afterward. God, I cannot WAIT to get away from her.

Teeny yogini

2008-10-31T15:34:00.001-04:00

One of the best things I've done for myself over the past year was to treat myself to a yoga membership at Exhale. It's semi-swanky and there are a lot of Lulu-ed out people wearing enormous diamonds, but the teachers are amazing and their studio, which is 4 stories underground, is one of the most calming, retreat-like spaces I've ever practiced in. I love that place. It's been my cave, my sanctuary, the place I go to be renewed, and whenever one of my teachers asks us to think about something we're grateful for, I always find myself thinking of them and my ability to practice there. It's my one indulgence and I don't ever feel guilty for having it.

Practicing in the yoga cave has been a journey in many ways. Last winter, when I felt filled with a freezing cold blackness for months on end, I'd go there and come out feeling warm, even if it was just for a few minutes. Then I started to heal, in no small measure because of the comfort and guidance I received from the teachers there. They watched as I got back to my formerly strong self, and celebrated with me when I found out I was pregnant again. They are some of the only people who don't make me feel weird when they come up and want to touch my belly. And they don't get annoyed if I have to child's pose it or modify a lot during class (this was especially nice during my first trimester, when I felt so sick and off balance that I'd sometimes only make it through 10 minutes of class).

It has been meaningful for me that I've been able to practice for my entire pregnancy so far. I like to think that the baby will have been practicing since she was conceived, whether she grows up to enjoy yoga or not. What I do know is that she enjoys when I practice--it often feels like she's practicing inside me during class, and she likes to kick in this one particular way during savasana. I think she will be a Radiohead fan, because my teachers play Radiohead a lot, and that she will know my teachers' voices almost as well as she knows my and Lunchboy's voices.

Pregnant yoga has been an exploration all its own--poses change every day as I lose a bit more range of motion, or find it harder to make room for my growing belly in lunges, forward bends, or side stretches. I've learned to practice next to a wall because my sense of balance is all off and since the baby is now kicking all the time when I'm upright, which can make me tip over. Also, doing chaturanga and some of the other load-bearing poses is getting more and more challenging as I get heavier. My body isn't used to supporting almost 30 extra pounds. At first I got frustrated that I couldn't do poses the way I used to (hello camel--my ab muscles are already overextended, there ain't no more backbending to be had), and then I just relaxed into it. Practicing regularly has kept the worst of the back pain at bay, it's kept me sane during this whole housing experience, and it keeps me from feeling calcified and as if all the blood in my body is stuck in my legs. I always feel better after class.

Today I had a really special experience with one of my teachers, who always gets the biggest smile on her face when I come to her class. I've told her before about how the baby seems to like yoga. At the end of class, while I was blissfully draped over a bolster during savasana (I have learned to LOVE props), she came over and started to rub my feet. Right as she touched me, the baby started to kick, so I took her hand and put it on my stomach. "OH!" she said, as she got kicked a few times. For some reason it felt very important to share the sensation with her. My teachers have always seemed to have a sense about who needs to be adjusted or who might just need a few moments of human contact during class, and perhaps it was a reverse of that. But she's been such a part of this pregnancy that I wanted to share that feeling with her, even just for a second or two.

A staggering work of heartbreaking genius

2008-10-24T14:37:00.000-04:00

Last night I came home to what is arguably a beautiful sight -- my sister-in-law's boyfriend, who is a superb handyman, finishing up the paint on the new walls and closet downstairs and on the ceiling upstairs. After what feels like years of us talking about how we wanted to put these walls up, it is now 95% finished and it looks amazing. If our house does not sell within the next 8 weeks, it will be really wonderful to live with that extra room for however long we stick around. We've set the eight-week deadline so that, no matter what, we will not be moving and closing on anything new when I could conceivably be giving birth at any moment. Eight weeks is incredibly optimistic but we are being very realistic about the chances of it happening (insert mad laughter here) and are making contingency plans just in case.

So the painting and walls are lovely and the cats, all three of them, are so freaked out at this point that they are keeping each other company on the couch with minimal brattiness and taking turns giving us looks that seem to say, "WTF is going on here?????????? What are you keeping from us?????" They know something is afoot.

Given the dust that was everywhere and the concentrated paint fumes, which I could just picture doing some unearthly damage to the baby, we packed a quick bag and ended up spending the night at a Hampton Inn near Lechmere. We brought take-out from our favorite Thai place and ate on the bed while watching The Office. While I was getting ready for bed, Lunchboy flipped the channel to Comedy Central and in the middle of South Park this horrible commercial by the ASPCA came on. It was a full minute of pictures of abused animals who were clearly lonely, sad, and scared, a few of them with that heartbreaking look of desperation and resignation that comes when you know life is going to end soon and it will not be pretty. I have always been a gigantic soft-touch and an animal lover (my parents say that I was inconsolable for two hours after seeing Bambi. I say that that movie is not something any two-year-old should be subjected to. Also, there was an incident in elementary school where I had to be escorted from the auditorium during a wildlife movie in which a mother cheetah refused to let her cub back into the den. And those were just the early years). Watching this ASPCA commercial, which clearly had exactly the impact it was supposed to, my hormones and all the stress of the last few weeks took over and I burst into mad tears. I cried and cried and cried and cried. I will never understand people who abuse, neglect, or hurt animals and I hate that there is only so much one person can do in the face of thousands of animals in need of love and care. Maternal instincts, what? Even after the commercial ended and the tears stopped, I was haunted by the image of this one cat that had been found in the floorboards of a closet. A CLOSET, people. The only way I could get to sleep was to imagine how I would have nurtured and cared for that one cat and tried to make it all better.

Needless to say, Lunchboy and I are now members of the ASPCA. Who knows--if we end up buying a house in the burbs, we may have more space for other animals but do not tell him I said that. I've always wanted to volunteer at an animal shelter and the only thing that's held me back is the knowledge that I would have ended up adopting every creature that came through the door. Puppy eyes = sucker.

What not to do

2008-10-22T20:11:00.002-04:00

When trying to relax, watching hours of the bizarre birth and parenting shows on the Discovery Channel is not the way to go. Last night I watched a show about women who opted to give birth at home without any medical support. It was...frank. Then there's Jon and Kate +8, which scares the crap out of me, not just because 8 kids is overwhelming just to WATCH but because whenever they show pictures of Kate's pregnant belly I want to crawl under the bed and not come out until the bean is a good 2-3 years old. Tonight I flipped on the TV (can you tell Lunchboy is traveling for a few days?) and the first thing I saw was a belly shot of a woman pregnant with quadruplets. Transfixed with horror, I stared as the woman was examined by a doctor, who said "Wow, your uterus is up....to about your breastbone."

FLIP.

Now there's a show about a woman with three kids, a set of conjoined twins, and now she's 6 months pregnant with her sixth child.

I need a new season of Project Runway.

Bleargh

2008-10-22T15:22:00.000-04:00

It's been a while. Mostly because things have been stressful beyond belief. First I was stressed and now I'm angry. I'm an angry pregnant person and frankly I just want to tell the whole world to f*ck off right now, so if you don't want to read any more, I understand and that's totally fine.

Just a few weeks ago, I was walking home from the T and relishing the contentment that I felt. I was so content. Life was great and I was grateful and I felt right where I wanted to be. Then, SMTT reared her ugly head again and I can't even get into the nastiness of her spite and her desire to make everyone around her as miserable as possible because it makes me so angry and frustrated that my head feels like it's going to explode. I've never before been confronted by a person who is so irrational, unreasonable, and completely self-involved. In the past we've tried to work with her for the sake of peace in our home, but this time we called two lawyers. Both of them said SMTT can't legally do anything without bringing her issues before our condo board. This is kind of comforting, if only because SMTT likes to harp on the fine print of our condo docs but does not actually wish to follow the protocol necessary when one is part of a condo association. She just wants to be a bully and have people do what she wants without actually having to defend her behavior to others.

This instance was made worse by the fact that one of our neighbors told SMTT that I'm pregnant and it seems to have driven her a little ballistic. Lunchboy had firmly requested that she not contact me in any way but when she found out about the baby she went out of her way to email me some things that were so upsetting and stressful that I melted down and had to leave work early. She actually said, "[Lunchboy] asked me not to include you in my emails, but I don't think that's fair." Fair? It has nothing to do with fair, lady, it has to do with respect, a concept she doesn't understand. We can discuss fair when her behavior does not have an impact on my and my baby's health. Until then, she can eat poo.

After the email meltdown, Lunchboy and I had a serious powow. At the time, we were hunkered down at D&D's house because the thought of going home and having that woman stomp around over my head was making me feel crampy. We decided that, as much as we loathe being pushed into a decision or an action because of this horrible woman, staying in our condo just to make a point isn't worth the toll it's taking on all of us. We no longer feel comfortable in our home. Every time we hear her walk around or come in/go out of the house, we tense up. Our house in no longer a place where we can relax and it makes me so furious that this has happened. Even if we call a condo board meeting and resolve SMTT's alleged issues around the cats, she is the kind of person who will just find another problem to pick on and all I can say is if that "problem" happens to be our child, then I will not be able to be polite or constructive. I don't want to bring our baby home to a place where the energy is so bad and where we are constantly tense.

So we made the decision to sell our condo (even though you couldn't choose a worse market to do it in) and either find a house or rent something until the market gets a bit better. We've spent the past two weeks going to open houses, talking to realtors, and getting our place ready for sale. This past weekend we actually made an offer on a house we loved in Andover but it didn't work out. So now we are selling without a sense of where we are going and I am not sure how to articulate how scary and unsettling this whole thing is to me because right now I am in a place where I want to feel safe and comfortable in my home, where I want to be nesting and creating a good home for our baby, and instead we are in transition with no destination in sight. True, we could choose to stay where we are and deal with SMTT. But that just doesn't feel like a better decision right now. We are constantly second-guessing ourselves and it sucks. I want to be getting ready for this baby and instead we haven't even had time to think about names or sign up for childbirth classes. I've stopped looking at nursery websites because I can't get all excited about putting a nursery together when we're not even sure where we are going to be.

I go to yoga and I try to be present, to let all the anger go, to just go with the flow and see what happens. Maybe it's the hormones but I am not finding myself able to be that person right now. I am just so mad--mad and stressed. And then I feel like a terrible mother because my poor kid is being subjected to all this. I'm supposed to be as calm and relaxed as possible. Sadly, Ativan is not an option. So if I am late in returning calls or seem to have fallen off the face of the earth, this is why.

Cute is a four-letter word

2008-10-14T16:32:00.002-04:00

I am having a hard time knowing what to make of it when people come up to me and say "Ohhhhhh, look at your cute little belly!" What do I do in this situation? Say thank you? Mostly I just nod and smile and let the person go on to something else. Today I got "Wow, I can't believe you're due in February, you're so small!" It's a little weird. In the words of the crazy lady who performed at Kripalu last spring, I love my belly, but the whole "cute" thing is open to interpretation. Does cute mean too small? Is it a polite euphemism for "gigantic"? Also, my cute belly is outgrowing all my maternity clothes at a startling pace. Pants I bought two weeks ago are already tight. How do you keep up?

That said, I love everything about carrying this baby. I love feeling her move around like a little alien. I feel a bizarre (and slightly pained) sense of pride when she spends 15 minutes kicking the crap out of my kidneys. I love her determination to grow big and strong, as evidenced by an unending hunger that necessitates two dinners and then an 11:45pm PB&J with milk. I love watching my belly get larger by the day and I don't mind when I discover that I've gone up half a shoe size, or that lately I'm finding it hard to catch my breath at night. Like, have to prop myself up with three pillows to breathe somewhat comfortably. This doesn't feel cute. But it does feel worth it.

Brain has left the building

2008-10-10T13:01:00.002-04:00

This morning I had the biggest pregnancy brain fart thus far. To date I have a solid history of leaving my keys/wallet/cell phone/iPod wherever I am not (usually at home or in another bag). I've forgotten appointments, conversations, and locations of things. I've blanked on taking my handful of prenatal vitamins at least twice and, more embarassingly, I've forgotten to put on deodorant a handful of times, particularly on mornings when I'm rushing out the door. Doh.

Today, however, I showered, dressed, deodorized, and began blowdrying my hair--only to realize, after several confusing and strangely greasy minutes, that I'd forgotten to wash the conditioner out my hair when I'd showered a whopping 20 minutes earlier.

So much for being on time. I hastily jumped in for shower #2, got dressed AGAIN and managed to get to work without forgetting something else along the way, which is semi-miraculous.

All hail

2008-10-07T15:27:00.004-04:00

I love this site. I used to have a housemate in Chicago who communicated primarily by leaving passive-aggressive notes all over the house and I hear her voice in like every post, with the exception of today. When I read this, I could think of about 25 people in LA who would have left that kind of note. I've wiped my memory of as much cycling knowledge as possible, but there's no forgetting the cult of the Colnago.

Girls just wanna have fun?

2008-10-05T20:58:00.002-04:00

Yesterday my mom and I went on a bonding/shopping trip to Destination Maternity in Wellesley. The store is kind of genius--they carry clothes from three different maternity stores, have a spa and a yoga studio, and have cozy chairs and TV kept on ESPN for the boys. Until now, my maternity shopping has been sporadic and scattershot. During the summer, I just wore loose sundresses and made my normal clothes fit with a Bella band. But once the weather turned and I started getting big, it was clearly time to take the maternity plunge.

All the books say to try and hold off as long as possible on buying maternity clothes until the third trimester, when you're so big that nothing else will come close to fitting. I'm 22 weeks and nothing fits. It's not just the belly, it's everything. Which explains what the scale said at my last doctor's appointment (I was in shock about that one for almost a week). I bought a few pairs of pants from Gap Maternity a couple of weeks ago and they are already too small. Yes, I am supposed to be getting larger but outgrowing the maternity clothes? Ouch.

So, off to the store we went. Let me just say that if you think shopping for bathing suits in the spring is bad for the self-esteem, try shopping for preggo pants. They are not kind to the ass. Also, the little tags that say "buy your pre-pregnancy size" are full of shit. I think my mom thought shopping together would be filled with laughs and advice. Instead, after three trips to the fitting room, I was wishing I could have a drink or four. It wasn't pretty. I now own pants with elastic waists so high they come up to my boobs. There's nothing like granny pants to make you feel beautiful and sexy and feminine. Although I hear nursing bras come close.

Getting it done

2008-10-05T20:35:00.002-04:00

We were at a lake house, enjoying the very last days of summer in a small resort town filled with warm, friendly people we'd known for years. It was almost time to leave. Once October came, everyone knew that the season was over and the dark, cold times were on their way. On our last day there, I refused to be inside. All I wanted to do was to walk on the beach in the sun and soak up the last vestiges of brightness. The next day was the first day of October and then we'd have to go.

This was my dream two weeks ago. I try not to read too much into dreams, so I brushed it off. But sure enough, October rolled around and the days got noticeably shorter and cooler. While the weather is actually really nice for me, seeing as I seem to be warm all the time, I'm definitely feeling the seasonal change and am not quite sure what to do about it. I know how important it is to think positive and be happy right now, so I am fighting the washed out melancholy as hard as I can. But I've been kind of down and hence pretty quiet.

A bunch of things have been going on that we've been grappling with--family employment issues, job stress (hey, who isn't wondering if they'll still have a job in a few weeks/months), and a fresh volley of stress from SMTT. I'm trying to go with the flow and be ok in the moment no matter what. It helps that I'm literally being kicked on a regular basis--the bean is apparently planning to be a kickboxer (sport of the future!) and I'm endlessly fascinated/uplifted by the way my belly reverberates with her activities.

The cats, while still mostly clueless about the bean, have begun to pick up on the fact that my belly now has a built-in pillow. I'm waiting for the moment that one of them settles in and then the bean kicks right under them. It's only a matter of time.

Where babies come from

2008-09-30T13:46:00.001-04:00

They start like an egg. I'm not sure how the egg gets there to begin with. I think it comes from food. You eat lots of food, very healthy food, and that makes the egg. But you do have to eat very healthy food, even like 18 broccolis a week.

What goes around comes around

2008-09-19T16:27:00.001-04:00

Last night, on our way out to a late-season picnic with friends down the hill, we bumped into our other upstairs neighbors (the ones who are not SMTT). They had an interesting piece of news: they, too, are having a baby…and they are due about a week before we are. Exciting! We like them a lot and are very, very happy for them.

Catty side benefit: this mean SMTT will have a baby next door to and a baby downstairs from her unit. At almost the same time.

Everyone in the house knows and is excited about the new crop of babies, with the exception of SMTT, whom no one has told. This is because she has made no friends in the house and so no one sees the need to share personal news with her. So it will be a trip to see what happens when she does find out eventually. Will she cry? Will she sell? It remains to be seen.

I know I shouldn't feel so much glee over this, but how can I not?????? SMTT can stomp all she wants but in a few months all her passive-aggressive noise will just come back on her three-fold in the form of babies screaming and irate parents telling her to put down carpeting if she's so upset. The other day, when the power went out on our whole block, she called us immediately to see if the outage was due to something we did. So please give me a little leeway to giggle here.

Stroller derby

2008-09-17T11:31:00.000-04:00

This past weekend we went stroller shopping with some wise parent friends of ours. I was very glad they were there--not only did they keep us from getting completely overwhelmed, they let us borrow their 11-month-old to test drive a few strollers around Magic Beans.

I am still a little in shock over the whole stroller gestalt. It gives a new meaning to the term "curb appeal." Before I got pregnant, I never ever noticed strollers unless they were in my way. What's a stroller anyway except a practical means to transport little kids and their stuff without breaking a parent's back? But no. As I am now learning, strollers are complex, multilayered status symbols and they have much more to do with the parent than they do with the kid.

At Magic Beans, we encountered the Stroller Consultant, a man who asked us lots of questions about where we lived, what we'd use the stroller for (um, pushing the kid around?), and other criteria that should be very, very important to us, like storage. Did we want a stroller that came with a bassinet or not? A stroller that had car seat adaptability? Under-seat storage or rear storage? Plastic vs. rubber tires? Easy brake function vs. easy foldability? And, of course, does it look cool? All of this comes at a premium--the strollers started at $350 and just kept going up in price. The Stroller Consultant tried to up-sell us to the Bugaboo, which is like the BMW of strollers and costs $800 just for the base model. We did not bite.

Once we entered the world of strollers, I started noticing strollers--which I think is kind of like drinking the Kool-Aid. Now, when I see strollers on the street, I find myself scoping them out. What kind is it? Are the parents Bob Revolution people or Phil & Ted people? Did they go Maclaren or Quinny Buzz or UPPA Baby? Were they able to fit everything into their Mountain Buggy or does their Bumbleride look like it might topple over? And what IS the big deal about the Bugaboo, other than the conspicuous consumption factor? I seriously want to know.

I could probably ask--the other thing I recently learned is that the only thing parents love more than pushing their strollers is TALKING about their strollers. Last week I asked a mother about her stroller and, without ever exchanging names, we spoke for almost 20 minutes while her adorable, two-year-old cooed at us from ground-level. It was a new experience, the first of many I'm sure.

Palin

2008-09-16T14:56:00.002-04:00

The loathing that has coursed through me since this woman was introduced as the GOP VP candidate is something I cannot quite find the words to describe. Angry, offended, terrified, shocked, and disappointed all come into play but that doesn't really matter. There are many thousands of writers who have written reactions to Sarah Palin better than I could hope to and since I'm neither a pundit nor a scold, I'll simply say that I have had a lot of fun playing with the Sarah Palin Name Generator because it lets me vent some of this vituperative negativity in a somewhat creative way.

Also, this article, while clearly taking a stand on the side of the issue that I agree with (though I happen to not find Sarah Palin attractive in the least), makes a point that I think is very important:

Stop voting for people you want to have a beer with. Stop voting for folksy. Stop voting for people who remind you of your neighbor. Stop voting for the ideologically intransigent, the staggeringly ignorant, and the blazingly incompetent.

Vote for someone smarter than you. Vote for someone who inspires you. Vote for someone who has not only traveled the world but who has also shown a deep understanding and compassion for it. The stakes are real and they're terrifyingly high. This election matters. It matters. It really matters. Let me say that one more time. This. Really. Matters.

Think pink

2008-09-08T12:47:00.003-04:00

So much for mother's intuition--and all preselected baby names be damned--it turns out that we are having a girl!

Poor Lunchboy--he is terribly outnumbered. He has a mother, a sister, a wife, three girl cats, and now a daughter on the way. As his mother said, "He's got a harem." We will have to find the man regular infusions of testosterone so he doesn't go a little nutty.

We are really thrilled. For Lunchboy's sake a boy would have been a nice balance. Also, boys seem like they would be a little simpler when it comes to fashion, hygiene, and dealing with high school politics. But let's face it--girls rock. Our clothing is way cuter. Now we don't have to think about circumcision. And girls are not usually the ones shooting up high schools, so yay for lower rates of violence. They do, however, get married and need help with wedding costs. We will be calling our financial advisor pronto.

During the ultrasound we saw the kid doing leg presses against my uterus. This explains a lot. I think she is going to be athletic. Maybe a football fan? Her dad will need the extra moral support after watching Tom Brady go down for the season. Mr. Brady is my FF quarterback and I am kind of in denial. But now I can distract myself with lots of shopping for cute things such as this and this and this and this.

Prelude to a dirt nap

2008-09-05T16:07:00.002-04:00

My sunny girl, in the back garden:

The name game

2008-09-03T15:41:00.001-04:00

People have been asking us if we've started to think about names yet and the answer is sort of. I feel like it's early to think about names, especially since we don't know if it's a boy or a girl. Also, I tend toward the school of thought that it's better to wait until you've met the baby to bestow a name. When I adopted Scully almost 10 years ago, I had a long list of flowery names that I'd always wanted to give a cat and once I got her home I realized very quickly that none of them were going to get the job done. For those of you who have met Scully, you will probably agree that she is definitely not a Delilah or a Guinevere. Her ladylike moments are few and far between to say the least. So I was glad to get a sense of her personality before putting a name to paper.

What I DO know, however, are the names we will not be giving this kid. For example, Track. Also, Trig. Who names their child after an abbreviation for a form of mathematics??? Seriously. Other names that will not be in the pot: Strom, Tip, Dick, Jeb, Stone, Norm, Rip, Dweezil, Brick, and Cornholio.

I have thought about Seamus Finnigan, because my mother loves the Irish so very much. But right now we're going with Hans Omar Obadiah Steveholt! Simon Le Bon as a placeholder. We hope he/she will be friends with the future T'Bucky D'Brickashaw down in DC.

Priceless

2008-08-31T19:18:00.002-04:00

Standing in the dinner line at Kripalu, tray full of veggies and something made with seitan. One one side is Lunchboy, who is, I guarantee, the only person in the room wearing a T-shirt that says "Body by Nintendo." On the other side is a Swami. A real Swami. I find this out when someone across the buffet says "Hey Swami, how's your day been?" And he says, "Fine, thank you."

Unprepared

2008-08-31T10:25:00.002-04:00

We are out in the Berkshires for the long weekend and it is so lovely here. I took Lunchboy to Kripalu yesterday. We had yummy, healthy food and walked around and just being there relaxed me like it always does. Until I noticed that the trees are starting to turn. Not yet!! I am so unprepared for fall. It feels like the summer raced by and I guess it did -- I think I slept it away. Lunchboy keeps reassuring me that I'll be generating lots of extra heat this winter and that will make the cold weather more bearable but I just want summer to stay!

We're off to go laze by a lake today. Maybe we'll go back to Kripalu again later on --I really didn't want to leave. It's such a special place to me but usually I'm ready to go home after a few days because I miss my love, but when he's there I could stay for a long, long time. Though I think he'd lose his mind over the lack of meat and the restrictions on cell phone and computer use. He ate dinner happily last night but under his breath he kept muttering "so where's the Burger King? Why can't I turn on my phone?"

And a big round of applause for privacy

2008-08-27T15:25:00.002-04:00

After years of obsessing about curtains and fretting over whether our weird and nosy neighbors could see into our house, we finally pulled the trigger on some grownup window treatments for the bedroom and living room. Lunchboy had some fun with the top-down bottom-up feature. Heh.

When you come up for air

2008-08-26T18:51:00.002-04:00

I went to my first prenatal yoga class on Sunday night. This was something I'd been thinking of doing for a few weeks but usually by 7pm on Sundays I am semi-comatose on the couch and the idea of getting myself to anything other than bed is kind of a stretch. This, however, turned out to be only part of my procrastination. When I walked into the studio, it was immediately clear to me why I have been feeling ambiguous:

1. I was by far the least pregnant person in the class.

2. All the other, more-pregnant ladies were very in touch with their developing maternal selves. They talked about doulas and nurseries and feelings and such.

3. My primary motivation was that my lower back had kind of been hurting.

4. I do not have a doula.

5. I have not thought about the nursery. In fact, we are really unsure about where we are going to put the kid period.

6. Pregnancy really is a club. I used to think that, like fashion, one day you were in and the next you were out, but no this is not true. Even when you are technically in, you are not necessarily in. Or at least I felt very much like I was sitting in the audience rather than walking the runway (and now I leave that analogy alone).

In all seriousness, the class made me realize that I've been focusing almost to the point of exclusion on the physical side of this and have not allowed myself to think at all about the emotional side. This was not easy to realize because it came along with the awareness that I also have not really accepted that this is actually happening. I still feel like every day is just that--one more day, a gift, something to be experienced in the moment, but I haven't let myself plan at all. It's much easier to make fun of the planning in my head because frankly it feels like it's happening to someone else and I am simply a ravenous, exhausted observer who somehow needs maternity pants. But there I was, on my mat, surrounded by people who were so happy to be putting together their new crib and I spent the entire class on the verge of tears.

The instructor kept telling us to put our hands on our bellies and connect to the baby, but I still have trouble connecting a baby with what I feel right now. They seem like two different things. I am hoping that will change in two weeks, when we find out what we're having.

Finally!

2008-08-21T10:05:00.002-04:00

Window before:

Window after:

A post in which I do not whine about food

2008-08-14T13:25:00.000-04:00

I was about to get all hormonal and apologetic for being so whiny in my last few posts and then I read this. Now I say, whining will happen. Am I happy and grateful to be pregnant? Hell yes. Is it always comfortable? JHFC no. I will let Fluffy say the rest, as she is way funnier than me.

Also, I love watermelon.

Fooded out

2008-08-12T14:28:00.002-04:00

I am sick sick sick of food. Food is my master. It rules my day (and sometimes my night, too). I am supposed to eat what feels like a ginormous amount of food every day but am doing a poor job of it. This is partly because I am sick to death of the foods my body continues to crave. Yes, I am having an intimate and almost erotic relationship with cheese these days. But even that's starting to get old. Lunchboy jokes that we should just buy a few cows because other than peanut butter, the things I seem to want most are beef and various dairy products. Please tell me my stomach will expand its horizons because the idea of 5 more months of this? I am not sure how people stay on Atkins.

In the midst of our Olympics-watching this weekend, we caught a mini-bio of Michael Phelps that focused less on his bod than on his crazy training and diet requirements. Really, I think Bob Costas just has a huge crush on Michael Phelps. A few weeks ago, he did a pool-side interview with Phelps in which, after commenting on how Phelps swims like a fish (bet he's never heard THAT one before), he asked whether Phelps could also communicate telepathically with fish. Needless to say, that's when I lost all respect for Bob Costas.

Anyhoo. Mr. Phelps there spends 5 hours a day in the pool and says he is supposed to eat "between 8,000 and 10,000 calories a day." This was so hard to comprehend that I think it broke my head. If I had not just hoovered as much black bean beef into my mouth as possible moments earlier, this might have sent me to the kitchen, filled with renewed inspiration and determination. I do not think I could eat that much even if I was trying very consciously. Maybe if there was an In-N-Out Burger on the east coast. Mmmm, cheeseburgers. But still. Swimming schwimming. Michael Phelps is my new food hero.

It's all in the timing

2008-08-06T14:29:00.001-04:00

Kid is due two days after the Superbowl.

It's raining and I'm cranky

2008-08-06T14:28:00.000-04:00

The possibility that pegged jeans are being forced back into fashion is making me cringe. I didn't get the pegged thing even when it was big in the 80s. Not only did the cool kids peg their jeans, they knew HOW to peg their jeans and I definitely did not. I needed someone to sit me down and show me that you had to fold the cuff over itself before rolling it up. But no one ever did, so I just rolled up my cuffs and winced as they swished around my ankles. I was that out of it when it came to clothes.

It's entirely possible that I'm feeling sensitive about the pegged jeans thing because right now Facebook is bringing up all kinds of memories and baggage from the past that I am now remembering I left behind me ON PURPOSE. Hormones and high school were a bad mix then and they aren't doing me any favors now. "Join Facebook!!" everyone said. "Join my mob on Facebook!" They didn't mention that seeing the names of all those people I went to college to get away from would inspire several nights' worth of high school nightmares. Thank you, hormones. It's so much fun dreaming that the cool kids are being spare in their friend invites and very picky in the ones they accept--I love feeling inadequate because of a website. And yes, I'm just a little oversensitive!

Things I would like:

to never hear another word about Brett Favre

to fit into my pants again

to leave all those stupid freshman year hookups where they belonged--in freshman year, not in my inbox attached to a friend request.

Now I would like another grilled cheese, yespleasethankyou.

Backlog

2008-08-04T12:20:00.004-04:00

1. If you ever happen to find yourself knocked up right before a cross-country road trip? I highly, HIGHLY recommend staying home. Unless you are one of those lucky women who somehow doesn't find themselves saddled with morning sickness. I am not one of those women. As excited as we were about the drive, we discovered quickly that 24-7 exhaustion does not mesh well with long days of driving. Also, sitting in a car for 10-14 hours a day when bloated? Less than comfortable. I won't even get into the peeing thing except to say that it's hard to make progress when you're stopping roughly every 75 miles (though it does make for a scenic tour of statewide rest stops). Then there's the food thing. Morning sickness + road food = very, very interesting. I pretty much subsisted on french fries and milk shakes until we hit South Dakota, when we came across a Perkins (like the IHOP of the Midwest), which was a godsend because then I could stuff myself with pancakes and eggs for dinner as often as possible. Let me say again how much I loved Wisconsin and its plethora of Interstate cheese shops. When we finally got home I slept for two days. It was a lot.

2. You know that weird sense of guilt you get when you switch hairdressers and you feel like a total traitor? Changing OBs feels the same way, except your hairdresser doesn't get to look at your uterus. Also, hairdressers don't usually give you a line about how popular their practices are and how important it is to create a relationship with your provider. Bite me. Anyway, last Thursday I broke up with one doctor (this time we shopped around and decided on one of three really good people) and then bumped into my old hairdresser on Boylston on my way to get food. Matilda cut me hair for like 8 years but I got sick of driving to Arlington. "Where have you been??" she asks. "I've been thinking about you!" eeeep. Double guilt.

3. The eating for two thing is no joke. Though the morning sickness is mostly gone (thank god), I seem to have lost my appetite. Everyone says that your appetite gets better in the second trimester but so far I just feel full all the time. This makes eating in general, but in particular eating the voluminous quantities I am apparently supposed to be eating, kind of hard. I am basically force feeding myself on an hourly basis. On Friday I found out that eating only when you're hungry is not only wrong, it will f* you up. As in, get incoherent, faint, and feel like your blood pressure is sky high. The doctor said go home, elevate my feet, and eat as much protein as possible. Lunchboy giggles whenever the subject of protein comes up, but at the risk of TMI, I will say that when having a toothbrush pass your lips makes you hurl in the sink, putting anything else in there is only asking for something ugly to happen. So peanut butter it is. I feel like a goose with a funnel down its throat, being primed for fois gras.

Welcome to 2003

2008-07-31T14:45:00.002-04:00

Several big things happened in the last week. First and most importantly, I did what apparently everyone else in the free world did years ago and joined Facebook. Or to be more honest, I was arm-wrestled and guilt-tripped into joining Facebook after many years of resistance. I mean, how many social networking sites is it really necessary for a person to belong to? Do I really want to get back in touch with people I knew in high school? I am still not sure about this one because once I joined Facebook, the whole weird, scary, shocking, unsettling Facebook world opened up. My first grade boyfriend? There. My first kiss? There. The childhood neighbor whose moving van ran over my cat? There. Ratio of high school and college classmates who are now parents? Very, very high.

Which brings me to important thing number two (clearly my priorities are in ORDER). We are having a baby.

On Monday we went in for our 12-week appointment and heard the heartbeat on doppler, and today we had the 13-week testing ultrasound and saw the little bugger squirming around like mad. Heart's beating like it should be. All relevant parts appear to be there. Despite the unreasoning fear I've wrestled with over the past three months, the doctor said we're in the clear to tell anyone we want now. So I'm telling.

We're having a baby!

I think it's a boy. We won't know for another 6 weeks but I want it on the record. Right now we just call it the bean (original, yes) because after the first two ultrasounds (I have had five--I am the world's biggest ultrasound whore. I basically demanded a scan every two weeks til we hit 12 weeks and took no guff from any doctor about it), the kid looked like a kidney bean. With a heart beat.

So now we actually have to deal with the reality of a baby, which we are very excited about but also very unsure how to approach. The stuff to buy? The things to plan for? Names? Fear not, however. I guarantee Lunchboy will have a series of spreadsheets set up in record time so we can optimize all baby-related activities to the utmost. Have I mentioned lately how much I adore my husband?

Monsoon

2008-07-24T16:22:00.000-04:00

Today was a very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very bad day to wear a white shirt.

Lacuna

2008-07-24T16:20:00.000-04:00

I forgot to mention this and I'd say I'm not sure how that happened, but I have officially lost my brain over the past few months and it seems like I remember things a lot less frequently than I forget them these days.

Anyhoo.

SMTT is gone.

(For now)

We came back from our road trip to find two "Do not park--moving" signs taped to the trees in front of the house, which was curious because we didn't know about anyone moving in or out. Two days later, we heard her making the biggest racket, dragging something (or things) around and then crashing down the stairs. Sure enough, she was dragging two suitcases, which she handed off to the driver of one of the pretentious Prius cabs that she takes. I checked my email and there it was. The best summer gift we could have asked for. An email announcing that she was off to Africa to do research and wouldn't be back until the end of August.

Hallelujah.

We danced. I'm serious--we did an actual jig.

Life at home has been so much more pleasant and relaxed since then. We're now hoping she falls head over heels in love with someone who lives in Africa and decides never to come back. Actually, Lunchboy floated an idea involving Ebola but we decided that was too inhumane (it was funny, though). If you lived underneath SMTT, Ebola might be funny to you, too. Though I can't make any guarantees.

Waiting it out

2008-07-21T14:05:00.000-04:00

This weekend the weather alternated between oven-like heat and crazy, killer thunderstorms. Needless to say, we stayed in with our lovely air conditioners (and nice, safe walls) and were extremely lazy. We watched Dr. Horrible, which was hysterically funny, and also Recount, which was definitely NOT. I think these two have a nice correlation but that we watched them in the wrong order. Recount made me anxious, angry, and called up lots of memories. If it wasn't for the deadly lightning creating havoc around the city, I would have stormed out the door for a good long walk. Dr. Horrible, on the other hand? Who knew Doogie Howser could sing? Who knew Nathan Fillion could be a prick? Does Joss Whedon just have everyone he's ever worked with on speed dial for future projects?

See that girl

2008-07-18T13:34:00.002-04:00

I know it is sad and bad and you can mock me if you want to, but I really want to see the new Mamma Mia! movie.

I've never been a big Abba fan. I've never seen the stage show or done more than watch "Muriel's Wedding" a few too many times. But everyone in Mamma Mia just looks so happy. Even if it's insane, fake happy, it's better than doom and gloom and destruction. Plus, I love Amanda Seyfriend. She is one of the best parts of Big Love.

The new Batman is probably a way better movie, but I'm not in the mood for dark. I want some cheesy, silly singing in the Greek sunshine. Plus, Pierce Brosnan and Colin Firth don't hurt. Not at all.

A random reminiscence on past experiences with a cappella

2008-07-16T14:57:00.004-04:00

For a small, liberal arts college that (when I first arrived more than 10 years ago) still allowed on-campus liquor deliveries from the local package store, Colby was a pretty clean-cut place. It had its cliques, its drug use, and lots and lots of drinking, but then what school doesn't? But when you wanted beefcake at Colby, you didn't have to look further than concerts by the male a cappella group, the Colby 8.

Preppy, handsome, and charming, the Colby 8 always recruited members who must have spent years perfecting their class clown capabilities because their concerts were always funny and always packed with undergrad girls (including me) who watched raptly with eyes full of stars and tried to be surreptitious in wiping the drool off their chins. The 8 did concerts in the library during exam week, they popped up in the Spa and the chapel, and they were pretty much like the small college version of celebrities. Girls wanted to date them. Guys enjoyed the concerts even if they refused to admit it. It was oh so very brick-and-ivy.

I coxed a bunch of the a cappella guys on the crew team and saw them do things like try to wipe their ball sweat on each other and take pictures of each other's fruit baskets on crew trips, and yet they still somehow seemed cool. And then, after graduation, I dated one of them for almost three years. And the thing was, J was in an a cappella alumni group. They continued the fun after college, and they were proud of it. So when I read articles like this, which make it sound like most former a cappella singers are mortified to admit their melodious pasts, I giggle because the alumni group did no such thing. They reveled in the singing, the paid gigs, the ability to maintain their college camaraderie, and the uniform (white shirt, khakis, brown belt, tie). And they still perform at Colby, usually during reunions and homecoming weekend. I missed their concert at our reunion last summer, but that was ok because every time I hear the songs they sang on the radio (hello, "Semi-Charmed Kind of Life" and "The Way" by Fastball), I have to change the channel because I heard them way too many times to be nostalgic about it.

Note: I have no idea where this post came from, but I read that Slate article and somehow felt like writing. Weird. Call it therapeutic?

I sense...a hatred for Friskies

2008-07-15T15:52:00.003-04:00

Work has been insane lately, which has meant no time for anything fun, really. It also means I've been so busy that I'm not doing anything fun enough to write about. OH! Except this: last night I talked to an animal psychic to see if we can figure out why Scully is such a nervous wreck.

You might remember that last year (or the year before?), Lunchboy and I consulted an animal behavior specialist to figure out why her highness was refusing the use the litter box. The specialist's advice was really helpful and seemed to be effective until we went away on our road trip. We're still not sure what happened while we were gone, but when we came back Scully was hiding in closets and refusing to use the box again. At our wit's end, we went with a friend's referral to the animal psychic. I figured hey, what do we have to lose? She was affordable and it wouldn't hurt anything.

So last night I sat on the back porch for 45 minutes, talking to the psychic and watching our newly resident family of hawks swoop around the evening sky. The psychic was not cheesy or cliched or predictable. She said a lot of useful things about what Griffin and Cringer have apparently been doing to mess with Scully's head and suggestions for how to make the situation better. I was pleasantly surprised and really enjoyed the session, though not the part where the psychic told me that, before I adopted Scully, she had been with a family that kicked her a lot. She ran away from them but is still afraid of feet and slamming doors, which totally jibes with her behavior over the past 10 years. My poor puss! Also, poor Carmen, who came over to see if the session would make a good article and ended up sitting around listening to one half of the conversation because my speaker phone wouldn't work. Sorry!

My tiger and day lilies are blooming. So are the hostas. I gardened this weekend for the first time in ages and enjoyed pottering about, still not really sure what I was doing. I have an area of the side yard for all the plants that didn't do well where they were first planted. It's like the reject pile at a discount store, but it's somehow still green and thriving. Maybe not so pretty, but also not dead. Yet.