...plus one

Ow

2012-02-08T20:41:00.003-06:00

We are having a rough week at Casa Plus One.

Part and parcel of having a toddler is having the toddler do things you don't like. My toddler is highly opinionated-- not unusual for a toddler, I know, but she is in the unfortunate position toddlers get into of having more opinions than she has words to express them. This leads to some undesirable behavior. Meltdowns. Getting pushy with other kids when they don't bend to her will.

I know that lots of this is typical toddler behavior, and it's been going on for a while. But she did such a Jekyll to Hyde thing as of Monday morning-- suddenly, it was like usual toddler behavior, squared. Then cubed, and tossed with a healthy dose of restless sleeping and separation anxiety.

The sitter wondered if perhaps her ear infection (finished antibiotics last week) wasn't entirely gone. She's a bossy little thing, but there's a big difference between my willful, sunny toddler and the entity that's taken over her body since Monday. So I made a doc appointment. It's worth a copay to make sure the ear infection is well and truly gone.

It's not her ears, fortunately. I don't want to keep putting her on antibiotics. It's her teeth-- all four of her eyeteeth are coming in at once. Hell, I'd be crabby too! The pediatrican was pretty clear that I should use Tylen0l as needed, even during the daytime.

Teething is barbaric, when you think about it. We just need to get through it. If nothing else, I'm glad to have a reason why my sweet girl is... not so sweet right now.

She'll be back.

Expressing her individuality

2012-02-03T21:00:00.004-06:00

I say this without sarcasm: it has to be hard work to be a toddler. Really! You understand a lot but can't use it-- you can't talk about it fully, you can't reach things, you can't get places without help or you can't get there fast enough. Other people run your life, and all you want in the entire world is to run your own life. Right now.

(This sounds a lot like teenagers, doesn't it?)

Elle's in a phase where getting changed/dressed is, apparently, similar to being waterb0arded. Seriously. She loses her mind. I can distract her-- sometimes with a sock, or a toy, or turning on the TV-- but not always; often she's running away or rolling around the bed like she's trying to escape from a vicious torturer, howling all the time.

I have tried giving her the option to pick her clothes out; that really doesn't go anywhere yet. Basically, I have to hold her down to get her clothed or unclothed, and from the sound of it my neighbors are going to be calling the cops on me. Girlfriend has excellent lungs.

***

Her Elm0 love continues to grow. I had a return for Targe.t this weekend-- clothes she received for Christmas that are too big for her, and too warm for her to wear this coming summer when she grows into them. I used part of the credit to get her two Elm0 DVDs, and we watched part of one on Sunday night.

She was transfixed. She danced when he danced, never taking her eyes off the screen. Elm0 is hot stuff, man. HOT STUFF.

Now, whenever we're coming downstairs, she looks at me and says plaintively "Emmo?" Since we usually have about five minutes to spare before we need to leave the house, I usually reply "We can watch Elm0 later, honey," and she's fine. But when she's babbling to herself (as she does all the time), I often hear "Emmo" as part of her talking.

She's all about the Emmo. The rest of Sesame Stre.et is just fine, but not nearly as compelling as anything and everything to do with Emmo.

Fortunately, I don't find him annoying. He's not a character from my childhood-- I'm old school! Mr. Hooper rules!-- but I've always thought he was cute.

There's this female fairy character that I find annoying as heck, though-- they do lots of CGI stuff with her, and she just feels like a purely marketing-driven character. Fortunately, so far Elle has little interest in her. All Emmo, all the time.

Milestones

2012-02-01T21:49:00.001-06:00

We've reached another phase where Elle is clearly working on all kinds of developmental milestones. This results in all KINDS of fun behavior, sleeping disturbances, etc. yadda yadda.

At 18 (almost 19) months, she's probably going through the expected "language explosion" (though arguably that happened a couple of months ago). Also, given her late walking, she's just discovered climbing and that is ALL she wants to do. Combine that with what I'm pretty sure are more teeth (canines) wanting to come through, AND the usual toddler mood swings, and you have a baby who will love on you one moment and lose her tiny little mind the next. Very loudly.

She wants to stand on something all the time; she'll stand on a little step stool in front of an ottoman, and play with toys on the ottoman, which is hysterical. She'll stand on her washcloth (!) in the tub. It's all about standing on... anything, apparently. This does not work so well on stuffed animals, but that doesn't seem to deter her.

One thing I've never had to worry about is her being clingy. She's one of the least clingy kids I've met; she's outgoing and social and so interested in everything going on. Sunday at church was actually the first time I couldn't just leave her in the nursery and take off (I don't always leave her there, but it's nice to be able to once in a while). We had a meeting going on that I wanted to attend, but I realized pretty quickly it wouldn't be possible. Every time I left her, after about ten minutes she melted down and one of the teens in the nursery had to come find me. She was fine playing in the nursery (so many toys! so many other kids!) but I had to be there, or it just didn't work. Eventually I gave up on the meeting, hung out with her for a while in the nursery, and headed home to grab some lunch.

(After which I got a three hour nap. I DO NOT GET THREE HOUR NAPS. Ever. You know something's not right when I do! And I had to waste a big chunk of it on her car seat, which is a separate entry entirely.)

In other news, unsurprisingly, she adores her music class. Loves it. She does her own thing most of the time, dancing around, checking out what the other kids are doing. As you'd expect for a toddler her age, she has all the focus of a gnat on speed. I even asked the instructor if it was OK for her to be wandering around so much, and she said it was perfectly normal-- that it was unusual that Elle was the only one doing so in this particular class. Apparently, usually it's most of the kids.

She has a good sense of rhythm already, and is really working on singing along/duplicating what the instructor asks of the kids, rather than just nattering along to her own internal tune. She's brilliant, of course. Brilliant.

And I'm probably projecting, but I swear Elle knows what I mean when I say "We have music tonight!" (or tomorrow, or whatever.) She gets so excited.

Gravy

2012-01-17T20:00:00.000-06:00

I am blessed with a good night sleeper (for the most part). Once I put her down, I generally have somewhere between 10 and 12 hours to myself. Of course, most of those hours are when I get MY sleep, and usually at least an hour of that is cleanup from the day/prep for the next day, but I generally have at least a little bit of reliable spare time.

(I know single moms with kids that don't sleep well. HOW DO THEY DO IT?)

On very long days, I confess that I look forward to Elle's bedtime. That's bad, isn't it? To eagerly anticipate seeing her on the monitor, sound asleep, all tousled and rosy so that I can do something meaningful like watch bad TV? Shouldn't I want to spend Every Single Minute with her?

Whoops.

On one of the single mom message boards I read, there's a thread where women are sharing their birth stories. I love this; I'm a total sucker for it, and I love seeing how different everyone's path was. But there have been a few women who've said "Oh, I wouldn't let the baby out of my sight! I wouldn't let them take her to the nursery!" "I wouldn't let them bathe her-- I didn't want to miss her first bath!" etc., variations on that.

I remember being thrilled when they took Elle and bathed her, and having no problem when they had to take her to the nursery for various tests and things. You could look at this a couple of different ways, I guess.

How I look at it is that, regardless of whether I was (or am) with her every single minute of every single day, I have always been and will be her mother, and I love her. Did she take a few of her early steps at her babysitter's? Sure, and I don't mind a bit. I'm just glad she was walking. I know there are parents that don't want caregivers to tell them these things, so that they (the parents) can believe they're witnessing all the "firsts" themselves.

It may be unsentimental, but I'm just thrilled when Elle has a "first." If I'm the second person to see it, so be it-- I could be a stay-at-home mom and STILL be the second (or third or fourth) person to see a "first."

I'm her mother. I will always be her mother. No one else can ever say that. If I didn't watch her first bath, I'm pretty sure it didn't make our bonding more difficult. If I enjoy the time I have to myself after she goes to bed, it doesn't mean I don't love the time I do have with her.

I am her mother, I love her, and all else is gravy, as my grandmother used to say.

Ouch

2012-01-15T20:53:00.000-06:00

We had Elle's 18 month checkup recently (I'm still getting over the fact that this little person has been around for a year and a half!). All is well. She's a little late on some of her gross motor development, but given what a late walker she was, the doctor isn't worried.

She had to have a couple of shots at the end, including that DTaP one that always gives her a fever. (Yay Tyl.enol!) I've never been too bothered by Elle's shots before; they are done quickly, and she generally only cries briefly.

This time, she cried a little longer, but the worst part? Her sobbing consisted of "Mama mama mama mama! Mama!" interspersed with the gasping sobs.

It killed me, people. It was awful.

She's fine, of course. She got Tyle.nol before bed that night and slept like a rock, then woke up the next morning happy as can be. All is well.

But the sobbing "Mamas" were the worst. The WORST.

Healthy living

2012-01-14T08:48:00.000-06:00

There are many wonderful things about being a parent, but "ability to get to the gym" is not one of them. At least not for a single parent.

I am a short person, and I've never been mistaken for a model. About 11-12 years ago, I lost 30 pounds, and kept it off. While this weight loss never got me to what the charts tell me I should weigh, I was at a place where I was healthy, where clothes fit well, and where I was pretty happy with my body. I'd gain a few pounds here or there, sure, but I was always able to pull it back. I think the most I ever gained was nine pounds, so I never really got out of hand. I was able to do this largely because I worked out. I like food-- I'm never going to be someone who picks at her food, or forgets to eat-- so you have to make up for it with activity.

I didn't gain a ton of weight during my pregnancy-- again, because I exercised. I was going to the gym until a week or two before Elle was born, I think. My workouts changed, sure, but I was still exercising. There were many benefits to the exercising besides the weight control-- I really didn't like the feeling that I had lost control over my body, so working out calmed that anxiety as well.

In the 18 months since Elle joined the world, though, there has been no gym. I dropped my Y membership; didn't make sense financially. I get to yoga once in a blue moon-- I can't afford a sitter every time I want to go to a class, and while there's a weekly lunchtime yoga near my office, I can't get there every week. I am using the exercise bike in my basement when I can, but it's not the same as a good, intense half-hour on the elliptical.

I have gained back 25 pounds. That is completely unacceptable. Also, I can't afford a whole new wardrobe, thanks.

So I'm back on the healthy eating train. Last time I did it through that national chain (named with two words, both of which start with W and the second word is "watchers") and found it pretty straightforward. So I rejoined. "Rejoined," for me, now means I went, "signed up," bought the reference materials I'm going to need, and won't go back. Weekly meetings are nice, but see above re: yoga-- not going to hire a sitter, can't go during work. I also can't afford the weekly fees right now.

This is actually OK for me. When I'm motivated, I'm motivated. Weekly meetings don't do anything to help me in either direction. The weekly weighing in is, actually, helpful, but I'll manage.

I've been on it just over a week now, and so far so good. It's a straightforward plan: eat whole foods, eat lots of fruit and veggies and lean proteins, and make sure you eat enough healthy fats to keep things right. (It's counterintuitive, but if you don't eat any fat at all, it's not good for you AND it slows down your weight loss.) There have been a number of changes since I was on the plan all those years ago, so it's definitely an adjustment. For instance, what do you MEAN I can have all the fruit I want? Do you know how many bananas I can (theoretically) eat in one day?

Really, you can have anything you want; you just have to fit it into your day. Do I want that bag of chips, or can I have a banana AND peanut butter AND some crackers? I'm going to choose volume over specific foods, usually, which is why this works for me. And at least one day I've actually had trouble meeting that minimum food target. Nice problem to have. (I had a few graham crackers and they were heavenly.)

I do have to be careful not to eat Elle's leftovers (a bad habit that was probably responsible for at least a few of the 25 pounds) and it's not like the old days where I could just keep tempting foods out of the house entirely; there's another little person around who likes a graham cracker after dinner once in a while. But again, if I'm motivated, it doesn't seem to be a big issue. And I'm motivated. Elle deserves a mom who feels good about herself and is healthy. I deserve to be healthy and feel good about myself. And I know I can do it-- I did it before.

I'm also applying for additional life insurance (Note: I do have a good amount of life insurance already, through work, but I want a term policy that's independent of my job, and big enough that my total coverage is sufficient to take care of Elle if, God forbid, it's necessary) and it's cheaper the less you weigh.

So happy new year! May it be healthy and happy and wonderful for you and yours. I'm going to go have some popcorn now, because I can.

Toddler Language

2012-01-12T20:45:00.002-06:00

Some of Elle's recent words:

Bra
Sure
Shit
Box
Boot

You can probably understand that I'm less than thrilled about "shit," but face it, it's going to happen. I'm just glad it's not the F word.

She has an enormous vocabulary-- whether she understands all the words, I can't entirely say, but she has a LOT of them. Rough estimate she has over 30 that she uses appropriately, and many more that are somewhat random. She also understands most of what I say and will follow directions (when she wants to, anyway) appropriately, even when I'm using pretty complex sentence structure.

Between talking and singing (she sings all the time!), it's pretty noisy around here. It's awesome.

Reading around

2011-12-30T09:00:00.000-06:00

I read a lot of blogs. Some are linked over to the right in my sidebar. Many are not. I read them for a wide variety of reasons-- they're interesting, or entertaining, or infuriating, or eye-opening, or or or. There are lots of reasons to read blogs.

I've mentioned one of them before. There's the blog with the mother who's a fabulous and gifted photographer, but she goes far over the top with what she does for her kids. She doesn't do anything simple; everything's beribboned to the point of (my) exhaustion.

I should say here that it's absolutely her right to do whatever the hell she wants for her children. If she wants to make homemade labels for the bottles of root beer at her daughter's birthday party, more power to her. They were adorable. But I'll be the one throwing cans of pop in a giant garbage can full of ice, thanks.

She's been blogging lately about how she is admittedly obsessed with making amazing holiday memories for her kids. She's done this in a variety of ways, most up at the level of the homemade root beer labels above. Some of the ideas are charming. Others I just don't get. It's her family, so she's choosing how she wants to create the holidays for them; it brings her joy, and that's fantastic.

Someday, though, I hope her kids don't feel like they're failing if they can't achieve that level of heavily-ornamented, highly engineered holiday shenananigans for their own families. (And I bet you a dollar that most of the moms in her 'hood want to bop her over the head with one of her crafty gifts.)

I have wonderful memories of holidays in my own family. Thinking about them, my memories primarily revolve around being with family and friends, and having a sparkly Christmas tree. That's pretty basic. Those are things I can do for Elle-- I've been doing them already, for both of her first two Christmases.

What does it boil down to? We all parent in our own way, and we parent in the way that is right for us. Elle doesn't need glitter on her driveway to know that Christmas is special, and that she is loved.

Whatever works for that mom, great. Whatever works for me, great. I just have to remember not to judge myself against someone else's standard.

And-- maybe even more importantly-- I have to remember not to judge her for the choices she makes, either.

Classy

2011-12-28T21:16:00.001-06:00

We're taking a break from swimming lessons in January-- somehow, the logistics of wet toddler-wrangling in the middle of a Midwestern winter seemed like too much. We'll resume in the spring.

But I really liked having that one night a week where we didn't do our usual routine. (home/dinner/bath/stories/bed.) I liked having a more structured activity with Elle.

So, since at this age children are stuck with activities that reflect their parents' interests, I've found a local place that does music classes for kids and parents. They have age-appropriate classes that sound fantastic, and even segue into actual instrument lessons when the kids are older. There's a toddler class that sounds so right up my alley I could just pop.

Now, I know perfectly well how to turn on music and dance around with my daughter. We do it frequently. But I like the idea of a more structured process, with the bonus of interacting with other kids her age.

It's tough to find after-work classes. The time window is so narrow for toddlers-- the class has to pretty much be at 5:30 or 6:00, and that's it. In the little suburb I live in, there are thousands of daytime opportunities for the SAHMs. Great for them, not for me. So I was thrilled to find this class and am really looking forward to it.

So Elle will now have had classes in swimming and music, decided upon by her former swimming and currently singing mom. If she gets into soccer, I'm in big trouble.

Holiday cheer

2011-12-18T11:53:00.003-06:00

People keep asking what I'm getting Elle for Christmas. Hello? She's 17 months old. I could give her a plastic-wrapped disposable spoon and she'd probably go mental with joy.

That said, I do have a few small things under there for her to unwrap, and I suspect my parents will show up with a U-Haul full of plastic toys that make noise. (They think it's funny. Having asked them multiple times to look for toys that require more than pushing a button, I don't find it quite as hilarious.) I did give them a list for her, trying to guide them a bit, so we'll see how that goes. Some books, mostly, and maybe a little chair that's sized for her. She spends a lot of time sitting on the bottom step, looking cool, so I think a chair would suit her well now.

(I feel like she's still a bit young for a kid-sized table and chairs set. That's for sometime in the coming year.)

Depending on how much they show up with, I am planning to tuck a few things away for long winter weekends when someone needs a little distraction!

My parents will be here for a week. There's a lot to do in that week, so I'm not as bothered by their presence in my small house as I might be otherwise. We're actually taking Elle to daycare one day that I'm off work and going out as adults-- as much as we all adore our resident toddler, it's possible to have a much more relaxing outing without her once in a while. We're having a friend to dinner one night, I'm taking Elle to the choir Christmas party one night-- for a while, anyway-- and we're even having Elle's sitter over for dessert on Christmas day.

It's a busy week. I guess I should get my house decorated!

I feel a little odd going to the choir Christmas party-- I've only made it to one rehearsal since the season started this fall, and haven't sung a single Sunday. I still see many people at church in general, and the choir director knows that for Elle's first couple of years I won't be around much, so I guess I shouldn't feel that weird.

When she's a little older, I'll just take her to rehearsal with me. A number of people do that; there's an anteroom where kids play while grownups practice. I hope there will be other kids around her age then-- at the moment, there's a whole mess of them in the 5-10 age range, but Elle's alone in the younger set. That may, and probably will, change.

I double-checked that a toddler would be welcome at the party, and got the response that it would be completely unacceptable if I didn't bring her. "After all, she's OUR choir baby," said the hostess indignantly.

***

Thursday night Elle stayed over at her sitter's so I could go to my work holiday party. I didn't get home from the city until 8:30, people! Crazy!

Of course, I came home and did laundry. Wild, that's me.

I could say that I didn't sleep well with Elle not there and try to impress you with what an awesome sentimental mom I am. Sorry-- I actually slept like the proverbial log, then made all kinds of noise the next morning when I could get up and shower without worrying about disturbing her. (The day where Elle's old enough to leave unattended while I shower will be a very good day.) Part of the joy of having a sitter I trust and a daughter who seems to be remarkably adaptable (except for the carseat) is that I really don't have to worry much unless I want to.

It was good to see her Friday night and listen to her babbling about her day, but if I know she's safe and loved, I'm apparently fine. If my parents lived closer, I know I'd be fine with her staying over periodically. I'd love to have her do that with them.

***

Online time is likely to be minimal at best in the next week or two, so if you celebrate Christmas, merry Christmas! If you celebrate Hanukkah, happy Hanukkah! If you celebrate Kwanzaa, happy Kwanzaa! And if you don't celebrate anything but just enjoy having a bit of time off work, enjoy your time off work.

S times 2

2011-12-13T21:58:00.004-06:00

I was just thinking the other night about two friends—they share the same first name, but they are very different. Yet they were both critical influences in my path to single parenthood.

The first S (we’ll call her S1) is a friend through work. She’s actually one of our vendors; she’s been in the business for years and I’ve worked with her for ages. We’ve always gotten along and chat about almost everything but business when we’re together. We’ve compared dating woes and lamented single life (and celebrated it, more than once).

S1 has a beautiful daughter, now 5, who she adopted from Viet Nam as an infant. She did this as a single parent. When S1’s daughter was about a year and a half old, we went to lunch. I was honest: I wanted to pick her brain about being a single parent. She was so excited to share her experiences.

At that point, I was planning to adopt. I even went to an orientation at the agency she used. At this lunch, S1 talked candidly about surviving the first year of her daughter’s life (and make no mistake—the first year as a single mom is primarily a test to see if you can keep your child alive and not lose your mind. But that’s another blog post, I think). She talked about how her life had changed, for better and for worse. She talked about her daughter. She answered any question I posed to her honestly.

It was enormously helpful.

I remember in particular one thing. I asked S1 how she knew she was ready to take that step. Because, let’s face it: When you choose that path, you’re tacitly admitting that another path isn’t possible at the moment. Sure, many single moms end up dating and marrying and even having more children. But it’s not likely to happen for at least a little while, simply due to logistics. When you choose single motherhood, you’re de facto delaying other choices.

S1 said she just knew. And she looked at me and said “When you’re ready, you’ll know it too.” We talked about how, then, I wasn’t ready.

Fast forward to New Year’s Eve 2008. Out to dinner with friends to ring in the New Year, my friend S2 mentioned that, in 2009, she was going to talk to her doctor to find out how to move forward with getting pregnant. We were with other friends, and all of us were excited for her, and we talked a little bit about it, and moved on.

At that point I’d attended a couple of adoption orientation sessions and had researched international adoption possibilities. I had also learned that I would not be receiving a sum of money I’d been expecting. That was the money I had planned to use for adoption expenses, and it would have covered the large majority of them. With that money out of the picture, I was looking at draining my savings in what was an increasingly more risky economy.

So when S2 mentioned getting pregnant, I though “Huh. I should really look at what my insurance covers. It wouldn’t hurt to ask about it, would it?”

And here I am.

For the record, S2 never made it past the starting gate on getting pregnant. That’s fine. Everyone does different things and takes different paths. But I might not have looked into it without S2 bringing it up. Or I might have waited too long-- those of you who've been reading for a while might remember that due to my company being acquired and insurance changing, I lost coverage for fertility treatments at the end of 2009. Three months after I conceived Elle. If I hadn't looked into it when I did, I might have run out of time and money.

It's a funny world.

Our lives are a series of events, of choices, of steps and missteps. Funny how things work out. Both my S friends had a part inthe life I have today, along with a dozen or a hundred other people, a dozen or a hundred other choices.

It's a funny world.

2011-12-11T15:09:00.004-06:00

My posting vacation has not been due to anything other than normal life craziness. All continues to be well.

Elle is a full-fledged toddler now, with all that entails. I shouldn't find tantrums so entertaining, but (usually) I do. Does that make me a bad person?

I haven't seen this yet, but according to her sitter, when she does into FULL-blown tantrum mode, this is how she does it:

Lowers herself carefully to the floor.
Rolls onto her stomach.
Has a tantrum.
Looks up periodically to make sure you're paying attention.

That's my girl-- no flinging herself down randomly for Elle! You might get hurt if you do that, after all.

We went to a single mom holiday brunch today which was so, so much fun. The hostess has multiple floors, so she set up the kids on the first floor with babysitters, then the moms (and babies, and toddlers that refused the basement) on the second floor. I left Elle down there a little tentatively... and she stayed the whole time. (Which only ended up being about an hour and change, since it was midday and I needed to get her home for a nap at some point.)

Other moms coming up and down let me know she was fine. Eventually I went down, and she was very happy to see me, came over and gave me multiple hugs (this is my favorite thing ever, by the way), and then sat in my lap so I could read her a book. ("Reading" right now involves her pointing at things and telling you an involved story, none of which makes any sense. Fine by me.) The sitters who were watching the kids (and man, they should get hazard pay) said Elle was so good-- friendly with the other kids, happy, laughing, adaptable.

She's fabulous. Not that I'm biased, or anything.

Giving thanks ( a little early)

2011-11-19T12:55:00.004-06:00

While Elle's napping on this grey, chilly afternoon, I thought I'd pop in and update. Apologies for the lack of regular updates-- it's been an incredibly busy few weeks, with colds, coughs, and developmental changes. Blogging isn't just taking a back seat; it's dragging behind the car hanging onto a rope for dear life.

We have walking (unsteadily), we have even more talking, we have desperately wanting to see what Mama is doing in the kitchen AT ALL TIMES. We have the increased clinginess/neediness/whining that comes with major developmental changes. We also have the amazing leaps in growth and comprehension that make the clinginess/neediness/whining easier to bear-- her receptive language comprehension grows exponentially every day, and her spoken vocabulary continues to develop. Maybe I should say it continues to become more comprehensible? I feel like she's been saying many of these things/phrases forever, but just hasn't been articulating them to the level where I can understand them. Mama is slow sometimes.

Elle is a joy, every day, even when I'm tired and sneezy and wish I could crawl into bed without obligations, like I did before I became a parent.

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my amazing daughter. I am thankful my tiny family is healthy, barring colds and sneezy. I am thankful for our friends, who continue to be in my life despite how my life has changed. I'm thankful for my good job and my excellent health insurance. I am thankful for the roof over our heads, the food on our table (even when it gets flung to the floor), and the clothes on our backs. We have been given so many blessings; I don't want to take a single one for granted.

If you celebrate it this week, happy Thanksgiving. If you don't, have a great week.

Danger! Danger!

2011-11-06T20:12:00.003-06:00

I'm told that the toddler aversion to trying new foods is actually a protective measure that's built in-- it stops them from eating potentially dangerous/toxic foods. I guess if you're living in a cave, it's good to have instincts that stop you from eating whatever random things you find growing on a bush, hm?

Given that Elle is not exactly finding random food in random places, the look of deep suspicion she gives to new foods I put on her high chair tray makes me laugh. One would think that avocado is made of green toxic alien brains, for instance. She almost took a bite of it tonight, then thought better of it, flung it back on her tray, and rubbed the remaining bits of it all over her face. (This must be how people discovered avocado facial masks! Ha!)

I keep putting new food on there, periodically, with the idea that it will eventually work. It did at lunch today, shockingly-- she willingly ate several slices of mandarin oranges, which has expanded her group of "fruit she'll eat without it being hidden in applesauce" exponentially. I've been putting it in front of her off and on for weeks now; she's eaten a piece or two, here and there. Today was the first time she ate it with purpose and enjoyment.

I'm glad-- she needs all the vitamin C she can get, as do I.

**

We had our first playdate yesterday at our house-- it was complete and total chaos but fun, and smart to have it the night before we fell back for daylight savings time. Elle was so pooped that she woke up at pretty much her normal time on the clock this morning, though of course it was an hour later than her usual waking. Naps were borked today and she was asleep within minutes of me putting her down-- and I put her down early, which I will probably regret. But baby girl was tired.

**

In other news, with Halloween over, candy corn will not be easily available in the stores. THANK GOD. I, and my butt, are grateful.

So close

2011-11-02T20:09:00.001-05:00

I've been reading the Tumblr for the 99%-- I can't possibly keep up with every posting, but I scan them periodically. What strikes me most is that these are (generally) not people living stupid lives; they're people who've done what middle-class people have been doing in this country for generations, and now have no way out, no help, no health insurance. The middle class of our parents' generation is fast becoming a memory.

There are some that hurt more than others to see. There are a good number of veterans on there, barely surviving. There are parents not knowing how they will pay for clothing for their babies. There are parents who eat one meal a day so their kids can eat three. There are people who can't afford medications and/or treatment for conditions that are easily helped with one or both of those things.

It's common for Americans to scoff at people like this. It's their fault. They made bad choices.

I don't think it's that simple any more.

I'm by no means the 1%, but I feel like I was one of the last generations that got to grow up with health insurance (thanks to my father's job), go to college, and have my loans paid off within a (somewhat) reasonable time period of finishing school. I even had much of my grad school paid for by companies I worked for, which is also going the way of the dodo. I bought a home that, while it's not worth nearly what it was, at least isn't underwater; if I had to sell, I'd come out OK.

I am very lucky. I wish other people were so lucky.

I am also acutely conscious of how little it would take to put me in the category of the unemployed, the uninsured, the foreclosed, the repossessed, the terrified over how to make ends meet.

Anyone who thinks they're safe, that somehow it couldn't happen to them-- well, it could. It can.

Unless you're part of the 1%, it could always happen to you. At any time. And as a single parent, this is even scarier than it is for those who have another income (or at least the potential for another income) to rely on.

I look at Elle's curls, at her rosy cheeks, and know I'd do anything for her. So would any parent for their child-- well, almost any parent, I guess. I try to imagine how it would feel not to be able to meet her basic needs. It is an absolutely terrifying thought.

** **

I lost a co-worker (and friend) this week. It was a terrible accident. We'd just talked the evening before it happened, laughing over some silly situation in her office. The next morning, I sent off several e-mails to her, not knowing that she was already gone.

If we're talking about absolutely terrifying thoughts, let me add this to the list: not living long enough to take care of Elle. Not living long enough for her to remember me.

Rest in peace, my friend. Rest in peace. Your daughter is in my prayers.

Toddlerhood

2011-10-24T20:48:00.002-05:00

Rhetorical question of the day:

How is it possible to love someone so much, yet want nothing more than a few hours away from them?

(I know it's possible; I've felt that with some of my relationships in the past. "I love you! I want to smooch you! Then leave me alone!" This is one of the many, many reasons I'm single.)

I have a friend coming over Saturday to hang with Elle, and I've got two hours to myself. I'm not going to do anything particularly thrilling, but it will be nice to have some much-needed time away.

I need to get on finding a weekend sitter. No luck so far. It will be easier when Elle is slightly older-- I'll be fine with a high school kid-- but when she's this small and (relatively) non-verbal, I want a sitter with a bit more maturity.

With the exception of actually walking (she's sooo close), Elle is now a full-fledged actual toddler, moods and all. This is apparently the time where they're figuring out that they're a separate person from mom, and realizing they can exert their own will over things/situations. Elle being Elle, she figured that out a while ago-- long before she'll figure out how to walk. My girl has a very strong personality, and very definite ideas of her own.

I've had to stop making eating any kind of a battle, for instance. If dinner is a saltine and three bites of cheese, that's dinner-- and she doesn't seem to be waking up in the middle of the night hungry, so clearly she's getting what she needs.

Sunday night dinner was about eight blueberries, five or six yogurt puffs and around 14-16 ounces of milk. (No, I'm not exaggerating. Literally, close to three sippy cups full, and they're six ounces each.) I think she had some American cheese, as well. Apparently she's craving calcium? She didn't want water, she didn't want food. She wanted milk.

So, anyway. I send a wide variety of nutritious foods with her to day care, she eats well there, and I can't kill myself over it beyond that. She will rarely try new foods right now, and I remind myself that's normal. Toddlers will eat when they're hungry, and it's been proven that they get the nutritional variety they need. Eventually.

When she will deign to acknowledge some new food that's been placed on her tray, her new method for testing it out is to squish it with the tip of her finger. She did this to a lima bean this past weekend and laughed delightedly when the outside of the lima bean came off, like a snakeskin. She eventually tried the lima bean and ate maybe one more; I'll keep trying.

One suggestion on a mom website was a bit of garlic salt-- they like the salty flavor and it gets them to try something new. Unfortunately, another toddler suggestion is to let them dip their food-- i.e. dip their bread into hummus, or their fruit into yogurt. This gets them nutrition, as well as gives them control over how they're eating. Sadly, Elle doesn't like combining foods. She doesn't even much like butter on her bread. She's a purist at the moment.

She did dip a saltine into applesauce tonight. Hm. Baby steps? Weird baby steps, anyway.

Elle has never been the most snuggly or affectionate baby. She's always been so busy doing other things and/or keeping an eye on the world; cuddling is time away from what matters. This means that when she is loving, I treasure it all the more.

This weekend I was sitting on the floor, slouched over (bad habit), and she scooted up behind me and hugged my back, resting her cheek on me for just a moment. She did it again a few minutes later.

Those are the moments that make it all worth it.

15 months

2011-10-18T21:06:00.002-05:00

Dear Elle:

You are 15 months old. That doesn't seem right. I saw a baby today at work who was about six or seven months old, and that seems like the right number. 15 months feels too far along.

You are right on the brink of so many things: your one-year molars (two down, two to go), walking, complete sentences. There is not a moment where you aren't looking around for something to get into. You are a nonstop blur of activity; in fact, I'm having trouble getting clear pictures of you these days, even on the good camera. You have Things To Do.

These Things To Do are often hard on you. Molars are painful, and you don't understand why your mouth hurts. You are so good, really, even though you hurt. Walking is still something of a mystery to you, though you're figuring it out more each day. Language-- well, I'm not worried about that. Your vocabulary and receptive language are both exceptional. I don't understand all of your babbling, of course, and feel bad about that-- you sometimes look at me as if you're thinking "Lady, could I be more clear? Why don't you know what I'm saying?"

Sometimes, I feel like I'm just in your way. You have never been the snuggliest of babies and that has continued into toddlerhood. You are so alert and interested and independent; taking time to nestle into my shoulder probably seems like energy that would best be spent planning on how to destroy the dining room. So the rare moments when you wrap your hand around mine, or lean against me, or rest your head on my shoulder, are moments I treasure. It's also one of the ways I can tell when you're truly tired-- if you rest your head on my shoulder, I know you're really ready for bed.

We've started saying prayers at bedtime, as part of the routine. Nothing fancy-- we sit in the rocker and ask God to bless the people we love, ask for good dreams and a good night. Sometimes we'll say a more formal prayer, but it's usually just a few words before our last lullabye. You seem oddly attentive during this time; I think you recognize some of the names I list off, and maybe this short addition to the bedtime routine is already familiar and comforting.

I don't want to underestimate the power and importance of routine to you. Routine, especially for children, gives you something to hang on to. It's a structure that's part of your world. That lullabye (which has been the same since you were born), no matter where we are when I sing it to you, is always the same lullabye. All these tiny things, woven into your life in different ways, are things I can do to reassure you how much you are loved, and that you are safe.

You may only have one parent, but I will always try hard to be the best parent I can be. Sometimes that will mean getting out of your way. Sometimes that will mean holding your hand in mine as you toddle awkwardly across the floor. Sometimes it will mean holding you as you scream for no reason at all. Always, it will mean loving you.

Love,
Your mom

If it's October, shouldn't I be able to pack away my shorts?

2011-10-09T15:46:00.003-05:00

We are having strangely summer-like weather here in the middle of the country. I can't even call it a proper Indian summer-- it's summer, plain and simple.

I know it's probably related to global warming and doom, but it's kind of nice.

Elle's sound asleep right now; on the video monitor I can see her sprawled on her back, her little polkadot skirt all up around her waist, her hair tousled, her cheeks rosy. (It's a black and white monitor, but I know they're rosy.) Seriously, she's adorable. And I'm not at all biased.

When she gets up we are going out. OUT. Well, there will probably be a snack first (she's not eating much this weekend, again) but then we are going out to drink in every bit of this beautiful day. There will probably be a visit to the park in there somewhere, as well. You can't waste a day like today, after all.

No big updates, really. At the end of it, life-- whether you're single, married, a parent, or childless-- isn't always about the big updates. It's the little day-to-day things, good and bad, that make up the fabric of your life. Right now, they're mostly good things, and I count my blessings every single day.

City living

2011-10-03T21:04:00.005-05:00

An unexpected day off today (my sitter was sick) ended up being a (mostly) lovely day. We're having sunny beautiful weather here in the middle; if you['re going to have an unplanned day off, might as well be able to get out.

Someone didn't want a morning nap, so we headed out to the library story hour, which is followed by open play. It's geared towards babies up to 15 months, so it's a nice time, and there were clearly a lot of moms who knew each other. There were a few I recognized, too, which made me feel good.

(One is a woman I go to church with; her girls were baptized the same day as Elle. She never seems to recognize me, though we've met more than twice, and doesn't make eye contact. Since she seemed not to make eye contact with anyone there, I'll say it's because she's shy, not because she hates me. But she probably hates me. Heh.)

Finally got Elle settled in for an afternoon nap, and was able to sit in on a conference call for work. As the call was winding down, about an hour later, I started hearing noise out behind my place. Sawing, of some kind. A quick glance at the video monitor told me that Elle wasn't moving; thank goodness. She needed that nap. She's a good solid sleeper; some sawing isn't going to bug her.

Within a few minutes, any hope of the nap going longer than an hour was gone. Because they started using jackhammers. Literally right under Elle's window.

She woke up crying and disoriented, and I gave up hope on both the nap and on getting any more work done and got us the hell out of there. The noise was so loud that there just wasn't anywhere to go in my house to get away from it, so we escaped entirely.

Again, thank goodness for the beautiful day-- long walk, a bit of window shopping, playing in the park (oh, we love the swings, yes we do). Really lovely end-of-summer day, and Elle was remarkably sunny all the way to bedtime, given her sleep deficit. She was out within about two minutes of hitting her crib. My poor girl.

She'll probably sleep most of the day at her sitter's tomorrow!

This is such a great age for her. I want to freeze her here, but I don't. I just have to enjoy every minute as much as I can. One of the hardest things about parenting is being truly present when you're worried about other things (bills, taxes, what's for dinner).

That stuff doesn't matter, really. What matters is your little girl holding a book up to you with an expectant look on her face, and dropping whatever you're doing to read it to her. That's what's important.

Free Time

2011-09-29T20:32:00.003-05:00

I e-mailed someone (who had posted to a local list saying she wanted babysitting jobs) about possibly babysitting; no response. How is it so hard to respond to my e-mail and say "Sorry, not interested"? Young people these days. Get off my lawn!

Getting exercise into my schedule is (as I've mentioned before) not as easy as it used to be. Sure, I could still go to the Y, but I leave Elle for 11-12 hours a day, five days a week, and I'm really not in the mood to add several hours a week on top of that. So I've gotten more creative. I use my much-loathed exercise bike, I've started the 200 situps challenge, and there's a yoga class once a week near my office. (I don't get to the class every week, not by a long shot, but an occasional yoga class is better than no yoga at all.)

The problem is-- and there's always a problem, isn't there?-- that the only time I reliably have to myself is after Elle goes to bed. Most of the time she's a good, sound sleeper, so when she falls asleep by 8 p.m.-ish, I have the evening.

Which sounds luxurious, doesn't it? No other kids to wrangle, no spouse to talk to. Just me.

Except it's me and all the dinner dishes, and then getting food ready for the next day. It's me and the bills. It's me and checking my e-mail. It's me and work I brought home. It's me and exercise.

Given that I should really be IN bed and on the way to sleep by 10 p.m. at the very latest, which therefore includes pre-bedtime ablutions, that's really not much time.

And it doesn't exactly work in any down time.

I was feeling really whiny about this the other day-- I need "me time," and always have. Being a parent, though, means that "me time" is last on a long list of things that matter. My time away from work, right now, is important as it relates to parenting Elle-- not as it relates to me having time to laze about on the sofa eating Cheetos and watching Law and Order reruns.

But sometimes, couch time is really appealing, and much-missed. Gym time, too. (I really loved the gym.)

I've been turning this over in my head the past few days, and what it's really come down to is that yeah, right now I have little or no time to myself. But given how quickly Elle's first year of life has gone (and it has gone so quickly that I can hardly believe it), the next 17 or whatever years will probably go by just as fast, if not more quickly. (And once she's older, even when she's still living at home, my time will of course be more flexible.)

In other words, the fact that right now I can't be as lazy as I'd like to be is just not a big deal. It's the blink of an eye, and she'll be out of the house before I know it, and I'll desperately miss the days where I was necessary. I'm pretty confident bad TV will still be around in 20 years, after all.

I think the same thing, really, about the various difficult developmental phases we've gone through-- yeah, it's awful for a day or a week or even, in some cases, a month. But then it ends and they're on to the next thing.

(NOT looking forward to the seemingly endless resentful teenager phase, but I'll cross that bridge when I have to.)

So yeah. By the time I finish up my nightly tasks and exercise it's well after 9. If I only get twenty minutes or so to myself, whatever. It's more than nothing, right? And my little girl is upstairs sleeping, and I can see her little dark head on the video monitor any time I want to. She is safe and sound, and her food for the next day is waiting for her, and her mom is in the basement hoping that an annoying exercise bike will keep her healthy enough to be around for many years to come.

My whiny need for down time is a first world problem, indeed. And I wouldn't trade Elle for all the bad cable TV in the world.

Now, if you'll excuse me, the exercise bike is calling.

Toddler Haiku

2011-09-19T20:35:00.001-05:00

Why do you oppress
Me with your vegetables?
I want a cookie.

Sometimes I think you
Have fun while I am napping.
That is not allowed!

Why can't I pull all
The pots out of the cupboard?
On the floor is best.

If I throw myself
Off the sofa, I know that
You will catch me. Whee!

Slog

2011-09-18T19:52:00.004-05:00

I may have said this here before (I'm too beat to check) but a friend told me, back when I was pregnant, that as a parent time flies-- but sometimes days feel like they go on for years.

It didn't make sense to me until, eventually, it did. Today was one of those days.

I just keep repeating to myself "Something big is coming up developmentally. Something big is coming up developmentally." Whenever there's upheaval in sleep, eating, and temperament, something's coming down the pike. It could be more teeth. It could be more words; even at her tender age she's already so frustrated that she can't tell me what she wants. It could be walking-- she's trying so hard to stand; she pulls up on things and cruises OK now, but she's trying hard to stand up from the ground and can't quite get it. I also think she's starting to transition to one nap.

Whatever the hell it is, please let it happen quickly. I am tired.

Even with today being rough, it was actually a good weekend. Elle is a terrific toddler, really. She's still fascinated with books and (when she's not half-dead with exhaustion) can entertain herself for a good fifteen minutes with her various board books, paging through them, putting them on and off the shelf, etc. I don't have a lot to compare her to, obviously, but she seems to already be a pretty self-sufficient little one who can entertain herself pretty well. This, of course, is awesome.

I think she's finally asleep now. Thank goodness. My little muffin really needs a good night's sleep; let's hope she gets one. Let's hope I do too!

Not my call, truly

2011-09-11T20:37:00.003-05:00

The single mom gathering today was nice. I didn't know anyone there but if you're in a group of moms and you all have young children, you usually find something to talk about. Even if it's diapers. (Still not interested in cloth diapers, thanks.)

The single mom group I've been part of since before Elle was born, however, is made up of different people than this one. The group I've been in for ages is made up entirely of women who actively chose to become mothers, whether through artificial insemination (anonymous or known donor) or through adoption. It was a proactive choice.

With the group today, while I didn't find out how everyone became a mother (I'm not going to ask, after all; if it comes up, it comes up), the people I did find out about had all been involved with their child's father and the father left when he found out the woman was pregnant. In some cases, the father is involved (to widely varying degrees) in the child's life. In some cases, not.

I got to thinking on the way home, and later as I put together dinner (BTW, the pot roast was a complete failure. Boo! I've made this recipe a dozen times and never had it turn out this poorly)-- what is better? What is worse? Is it better to know who your father is but know that he has little or no interest in being in your life? Or is it better that you don't have a father, but you have a donor, who has no option for involvement?

I mulled this over quite a bit today. As I was cleaning up after Elle went to bed, I realized: I can't answer the question. The answer is probably different for every child.

And the child is the only person that can answer it for themselves.

I can do this

2011-09-11T10:19:00.003-05:00

There are days when parenting feels impossible. Overwhelming.

And there are days where it feels OK. Like today. There's a pot roast in the crock pot (whether Elle will eat it or not, who knows). The mess in the house is at a manageable level. The laundry is done. Not put away, but done. We've read a couple of books together and played and had a pretty good breakfast (FYI, today strawberries are EVIL. Despite the fact that she'll eat them at the sitter's house. Whatever). We have a single mom picnic later today, and it's local-- I don't have to schlep into the city, even. The sun is out and maybe we'll take a nice long walk later. She's winding up her morning nap now.

I am blessed. Tired, but blessed. On this day, especially, I give thanks.

My little bookworm

2011-09-09T21:00:00.000-05:00

Elle's new favorite thing: she likes to "read" to you. Great long unintelligible strings of consonants and vowels, with inflection and pauses and emphasis, and even checking for understanding. She turns the pages, and the story she's telling you changes with each page.

This can go on for 20+ minutes. Per book, and she likes to read multiple books.

It is ridiculously, ridiculously adorable. I need to get it on video (although she spots the camera and whoosh, short attention span theatre!).

Clearly, she's a genius.

I just love the age/stage Elle's at right now. Verbal, inquisitive, friendly-- she's just a treat every single day. But I looked at a very recent picture of her and thought "Holy crap, she's a full-fledged toddler." There's no baby in there any more, at all.

Twice a year, there's a consignment sale that benefits a local charity. I sold some of Elle's things there last spring and am planning to sell stuff this fall, as well. You don't make a ton of money, but it's something, and it goes straight into Elle's tiny savings account.

They sell stuff on a seasonal basis, so last night I pulled out Elle's outgrown clothes from last winter so I could start tagging them. Oh, my goodness. Oh. Those little six-month sleepers; I doubt she could even get one of her legs into them now. How is it even possible? How does it go so quickly?

This morning she was standing up in her crib, smiling and talking to me a mile a minute, and I just had to go over and kiss the top of her head over and over, breathing her in.

Don't grow up too fast, baby girl. Give me just a few minutes to drink you in as you are today, before you go off changing into someone new.

Whoop de doo

2011-09-08T20:24:00.001-05:00

Last week, a friend (not someone who reads this) posted on Facebo0k about how she made it to a store with her baby all by herself, and the baby was good the whole time. Apparently, going to the store alone with an infant is something to be celebrated.

(To be fair, she was also celebrating having found something on sale*, but the feel of the status update was definitely more "ooh, I did the store all by myself with the baby and no husband!")

Well, welcome to my life.

I love when friends want to go shopping with us, but 95% of the time, it's me plus an increasingly squirmy toddler strapped into the cart, moving as fast as we can. Elle likes shopping, sure, but the toddler attention span is (in)famous and not to be messed with. Our regular checker at the Tar.get knows to quickly scan whatever item she's entertaining herself with and GET IT BACK TO HER, in order to avoid Drama.

Being a single parent means many things, including getting things done with a little one in tow. You just... do it.

I guess when you don't have to "just do it," it's something to celebrate?

2011-09-03T19:00:00.001-05:00

One of the best parts of being a parent is seeing the world through their eyes. Elle is absolutely delighted by so many things-- things that are completely ordinary to those of us who've been around a while.

Here are just a few of the things that make her incredibly happy:

- Me, coming into her room in the morning when it's time to get up. Somehow, I birthed a morning person.

- Putting on socks. (She's already trying to put them on herself. Clearly, she's brilliant.)

- Asking her "do you want to brush your teeth?" She loves this. I think it's because she uses the kid toothpaste and it tastes like bubble gum, but it still cracks me up when she breaks into a huge smile after you ask the question. I should really get it on video.

- Fabric. She finds something-- a cloth napkin, a t-shirt that missed the hamper, anything-- and whips it around. Puts it on her head. Wraps it around her neck. She just loves playing with it; the drawer with napkins and a table runner in it is way more fun than 85% of her toys. This makes folding and putting away laundry a very non-straightforward process, but I've discovered I don't really care. She has so much fun-- I can put the laundry in neat piles later.

Simple pleasures. But watching how much fun life in general is for my girl, it's not so simple after all.

Shake that booty

2011-09-01T15:00:00.000-05:00

I'm about two years late to the party, but Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" is one heck of a fun song. I have no interest in her or her persona. I just like to dance around every now and then.

Elle will shake her booty, too, depending on the song. It's so cute. Once she's walking (still not, though she's standing and pulling herself up, so she's on the way) I hope it continues.

I have a terrible weakness for Bollywood movies and music, as well. In our house, the item song "Sheila Ki Jawani" is cause for lots of laughter and booty-shaking. I don't need to know what the singer is actually saying; I'm all about the beat. And Elle thinks it is HILARIOUS; the chorus, in particular. Probably because I ham it up.

When I have some spare time (ha! ha ha ha HA!) I need to sit down and put together a dancing playlist on my IPod. I will love it so much if we are a dancin' kind of family, and I'd like to encourage it however I can.

I'm thinking Abba, maybe some Michael Jackson. Bollywood. Lady Gaga. I'll have to look through what I have. Suggestions welcome!

2011-08-28T22:00:00.000-05:00

It's funny. I really need a break. I need time to myself. I have always needed this; I recharge best alone.

But when I get a break, I spend most of the time thinking about getting back to Elle.

Everything changes, indeed.

(And I still need a break.)

No

2011-08-26T20:32:00.001-05:00

Elle is not great at sharing. Yet. I believe this is typical for just-over-one-year-old toddlers.

Apparently this week at the sitter's, the sitter gave another little girl a cracker. Elle leaned over, smacked the little girl's hand, said "No," and took her cracker.

"Where did she learn that?" the sitter asked me.

Um.

Well, she learned that from me. Except for the stealing the cracker part.

Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. (Gratuitous Princess Bride references always welcome in my house.)

Elle has a tendency to hit at my face-- not hard, but more flail-y kind of hitting. 99% of the time I take her hand, enfold it in mine, and say sternly "No. We do not hit Mama. We are nice." And then I take her hand and demonstrate "nice" face touching. Which she thinks is hilarious. I have no idea if she's actually learning anything from this, but it's how I respond almost every time.

A couple of times, though, I have tapped my fingers firmly on the back of her hand, said the same thing, and shook my head. It is not by any stretch of the imagination hitting her, but it is physical contact.

But she has clearly retained what happened and is duplicating it in her own social interactions. Something that has happened to her only a very few times-- and she's doing it herself. There are probably a zillion other things that have happened to her, and she's not duplicating them; this clearly made an impression on her.

I do not plan on using any kind of corporal punishment. (I am pretty sure, however, that I'll slip up and there will be the occasional swat on the butt.) No face slapping, no spanking, etc. It's not what I want to teach Elle. I was spanked and turned out fine, but those memories are not ones I want to duplicate with my daughter. I think every family needs to make their own choices, but I just don't think corporal punishment is necessary for mine.

It would be a stretch to say that Elle's memory of a back-of-the-hand tap is damaging or unpleasant for her, but again, it clearly made an impression. These little things that we don't even think about are soaking into children's brains and coming out in what they say, do, and think.

We are their role models, for better or for worse. Getting that lesson this early is sobering and (to be honest) scary.

She learned that from me. May the next time I see that happen, it be something better and more positive.

Visitors

2011-08-25T20:40:00.001-05:00

My parents visited this past weekend. They adore Elle. She adores them. She will have precious little (blood) family as she grows up, so I want her to spend as much time as possible with her grandparents for as long as she can. My parents are not young, so all these moments are precious.

They don’t live in the area, unfortunately. I never thought I would want my parents nearby, but now I do-- for Elle, not for me. While they are still healthy, I’d love for them to be able to spend time with her. They talk about moving but just haven’t done what they need to do; some of that is because of the economy, and some of that is that I think they are in a bit of denial about the fact that, if they want to really know Elle, they will need to live in a major metro area that they (well, my dad, at least) doesn’t much care for. I'm not leaving anytime soon. This is where my support network is, and barring some kind of relocation relative to work, this is where I’ll be for a while.

(Someday, I’ll be in Colorado. But that’s a long way away, and my parents will be gone by then.)

What is funny is that when I talk to one of them about it, they each blame the other. And they believe it. Heh.

So they come, and they adore Elle (in their own ways, anyway; my confusion with how my mother interacts with her is a topic for another post). And I end up doing all the heavy lifting to enable them to spend time with her.

I guess that’s my role, maybe? I guess I don’t feel like they’re guests, exactly; they’re family, and I’m used to pitching in when I’m a guest in their home. That same thing doesn’t happen here, although my mother will usually cook at least one meal, which is nice.

I do wish I'd had a child when I was younger. I wasn't ready, though. And if I'd done this five years ago, I wouldn't have Elle; there's a reason for everything. Another advantage of younger parenthood is that my own parents would have been younger, around for more of Elle's life, and probably able to do more with her.

Regrets are natural, but a waste of time in the long run. You can't go back. I don't want to, anyway.

I would give you the moon

2011-08-19T21:00:00.002-05:00

We’ve been taking swimming lessons at the local Y. (“Swimming lessons” consists, at this age, of splashing around singing. Elle loves it, and so do I.) I’ve enrolled us in both summer sessions, and just went to enroll in the fall session.

The price for fall went up by about thirty bucks. Thirty bucks. That's half again as much as it was. The session’s a couple of weeks longer, yes, but not that much longer.

I am not poor by any means, but I hate the way I feel when something like this comes along: there’s a moment of “oh, crap” and I have to think quickly about whether or not I can swing it. This is important to me, so I make it work.

But I wish I didn’t have to think about it. I wish thirty bucks wasn’t a big deal. I wish I could give Elle everything and anything, because she deserves it.

Quality parenting does not equal "giving the kid everything they want." I know that. But I also know that kids are smart, and if their parent(s) is constantly worrying about money, they figure that out early. I wish Elle wasn't going to have to figure that one out.

Will you be my friend?

2011-08-17T19:00:00.000-05:00

I am on Facebo.ok, along with half the universe. I post the bare minimum of personal information on there. I don’t even post pictures, because I don’t trust it. (I have been told by someone in the know that while they call themselves a social networking site, all they are really there for is to gather your personal information whenever they can and then turn around and use it to sell you to marketers. I believe this, and nothing that they have done throughout all the various privacy issues has caused me to revise this opinion.)

Anyway, I enjoy it for keeping up with other people’s lives. It’s kind of like people who post pics of their kids on the internet—I don’t do it myself, but I get a huge kick out of OTHER people doing it. Double Standards R Us! I’ve reconnected with some people from my distant youth, and am able to keep in touch much better even with some of my local friends. It definitely has value, especially if you’re careful how you use it.

One thing that consistently causes me agitas is the whole friend request thing. If you were my sworn enemy in high school, why the heck do you want to friend me now? If we had a bitter, painful breakup, why in the world would I want to keep up with your life? If we barely knew each other, you are trying to friend me... why?

Now, some people collect friends like they’re going to get a prize for the highest number. That’s totally fine. Me, I try to have people on my friends list that I actually like, and would like to keep in semi-regular contact with. After the early days of my FB involvement (where I friended at least a couple of people I regret friending), I adopted what I call my no guilt policy: if I don’t want to friend someone, I hit “ignore” and feel no guilt. No "obligation" friending, thanks.

I had someone from college send me a friend request this week. This was someone I always liked and wanted to be friends with, but she was much cooler than I could ever be. So we were mostly friends by association-- through another person, D. D and I are no longer friends and haven’t been for ages, so seeing the friend request from this third party felt a little odd. We weren’t really friends, after all.

I thought about friending her, then hit ignore. I probably take the whole thing too seriously, but I figure as long as I’m consistent, it all works out OK in the end.

I must admit I’m glad I grew up in the days before FB and e-mail and all that. It’s never easy to be a kid, but it was certainly simpler before you had to be “friends” with everyone in your high school class. Oy. I suspect having a no-guilt policy is difficult, if not impossible, when you’re 15.

Scenes from a life

2011-08-16T20:39:00.003-05:00

Elle, sitting in front of the gate that’s over the stairs to the basement, each hand gripping a bar and shaking with great force and intensity. All she needed was a tin cup, really, and you’d have one heck of a prison movie.

The other evening, she didn’t want to leave the playground, so she howled all the way home. And it’s a considerable way home. Of course, if she saw a dog or people, she stopped yelling long enough to check them out, then resumed the noise once they’d passed on by.

While it may have sounded like I was torturing her with a hot poker, periodic checks over the sun hood of the stroller made it clear that she was absolutely fine. She was being a Drama Mama.

Girlfriend has very definite opinions, and if she’s not getting what she wants (already!), she lets the whole world know about it. Ditto this morning, when I wouldn’t leave the pantry door open so she could pull everything off the bottom shelf and fling it across the kitchen floor.

I am SO MEAN. She needs to get used to that. Hee.
Monday, no afternoon nap at the sitter’s meant by the time we got home Elle’s eyes were little more than bruises in her face, and everything that happened was trauma. She got a second wind after dinner and a bath, but wouldn’t drink much of her before-bed bottle even though her dinner wasn’t much (as usual).

She crashed hard a few minutes before her regular bedtime, and I heard her wake up at least once in the early evening (rare these days). About 10:30, she woke up, and her crying wasn’t that angry come-get-me-now crying so much as it was a pathetic, things-are-not-right crying.

She doesn’t wake up often, and when she does, I generally don’t go in unless I’m worried something is wrong; she'll fuss herself back to sleep. But something about her crying last night was different, so I got up and pulled her bottle out of the fridge.

She was warm and soft and sleepy. She was also hungry, and after a few ounces of milk, some cuddling with mama, and a diaper change, she went back into her crib and fell asleep for the night without another peep. My sweet girl.

I’m fine with cry it out. Sometimes, though, it’s nice to hold your baby in the night, when she’s a warm, barely-moving weight on your chest, and her hair is soft against your cheek.

(And yes, she still has a bottle before bed. I don’t put it in the crib with her, ever. We brush her teeth after the bottle and before bed. She puts herself to sleep just fine; goes into her crib awake and plays until she falls asleep, and the only thing she reaches for as she goes to sleep is her dolly. She drinks from a sippy cup or a regular cup during the day, not a bottle. She doesn’t use a pacifier.

It’s another case where “they” tell you there should be no bottle after one year. I’m so tired of “them” telling me about my baby. She still needs that evening milk. Eventually, she won't.)

If I add vegetables to the Easy Mac, does that make it OK?

2011-08-15T15:56:00.000-05:00

Feeding toddlers: a total nightmare, or a total nightmare? YES.

Today, I'll eat blueberries! Tomorrow, I'll act like blueberries were sent straight from Satan and smell like dirty feet. I will whip them off of my tray as fast as you put them on it, so don't even TRY.

Today, I think chicken is disgusting. Tomorrow, when you don't make any for me, I'll eat all your chicken off your plate and whine when there's no more.

VEGETABLES BOOOOOOOOOO.

Processed crap YAAAAAAAY.

I used to get all judgey towards parents who gave their children lots of processed food. Now I know why they do it: they can get the kids to eat it, and at least they're taking SOME nutrition into their bodies. It may be swimming in fat, nitrates, and preservatives, but at least there are some calories and perhaps a vitamin or two.

When Elle was about six months old and venturing into solids, two mom friends both shook their heads and told me the same thing: the first year is so easy. You throw a jar in your diaper bag and poof, that's lunch. You don't have to do much outside of finding jarred food your baby likes.

(I'm aware that there are lots of moms who make baby food from scratch. Good for them, and I mean that. I did it sometimes, but not consistently. My mantra as a parent is "no one gives you an award for doing X," and that applies to everything from cloth diapering to making baby food. If buying a jar of healthy baby food saved me time in the kitchen, yay. If I had time that day to make and freeze sweet potatos, yay. Whatever works for you as a parent. If you're looking for judgey, there are plenty of other blogs out there that will give you judgey.)

At a year, magically the baby is supposed to give up bottles, and get all their calories from food they feed themselves. As usual, Elle is taking her own sweet time with all of these milestones, and I'm fine with that. She's always had a good appetite, but it's less predictably good now. "They" say you have to introduce new food to a toddler many, many times before they'll accept it, and I'm here to say: yes.

I thought I was all set because Elle was willing to eat anything I put in front of her, but I didn't realize that just because she was willing to eat it once, that didn't guarantee she'd eat it twice. Or ever again. My fridge is a graveyard of leftovers, some of which have no chance in hell of ever being consumed by this toddler. My dinners have often become whatever bits of food Elle doesn't eat (which is not contributing positively to the size of my ass, that's for sure).

The biggest challenge is getting vegetables into her. Fortunately, I'm not the only parent who's had this challenge, so there are lots of helpful hints out there. This is why I'm still buying baby food and using it. The other night, I stirred squash into her macaroni and cheese. She thinks it's funny to eat from those squeezy pouches, so I buy the Happy Tot pouches that are fruits + vegetables-- there's one that's pears/peas/green beans, and another that's apple/carrot/sweet potato. Having tasted them, I can say they're pretty darn yummy. And she will EAT IT, giggling as it gets squeezed into her mouth. It’s hilarious, I guess.

Sweet potatoes in general are pretty OK with Elle, and they're healthy. This week, she's willingly eaten butternut squash as well; I found one of those microwave steam pouches that was butternut squash in a cinnamon sauce, so I'm pretty sure she thinks it's dessert. I do not care. She ate it.

Carrots (unless cooked to mush in red sauce), green beans, broccoli, corn, cauliflower, tomatoes-- none have yet met with her approval. But I'm giving it time, because she's a toddler, and she's going to do what she wants to do whether I like it or not. I do need to try feeding her some veggies I don't like. Just because I dislike lima beans and brussel sprouts doesn't mean she will too-- after all, she likes mac and cheese, and I think it's gross. (I know, I'm weird.)

Fruit can be iffy, but she'll almost always eat that freeze-dried fruit you can get in pouches. It's not the most cost-effective fruit out there, but for now, it'll do.

Those toddler meals they sell are pretty disgusting, I think, but I have a few on hand as backup. And I have some frozen meals as well, for nights when I'm in a hurry. But I am trying, when I can, to give Elle relatively simple, fresh, healthy options to choose from.

She eats better with her sitter (she'll eat what the other kids are eating), and I can almost always get her to eat yogurt, cheese, crackers, freeze-dried fruit, Cheerios, Goldfish, pizza, and oatmeal (and I stir fruit into the oatmeal). That's not a bad array for this age. I can think of at least one SMC whose daughter barely eats anything due to severe feeding issues, and I'm sure she'd be ridiculously happy if she could say her daughter ate even half the things on Elle's list. So I shouldn't be too crabby about it, I guess.

As a friend told me: don't think of balanced meals. Think of balanced days. Sometimes, think of balanced weeks.

Hard to do, when it seems like an entire day has gone by and your toddler is subsisting on milk, two slices of banana, and a handful of Cheerios.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go look for crock pot recipes that might feature vegetables hidden in some kind of Elle-approved sauce.

There is nothing wrong with you

2011-08-13T18:00:00.000-05:00

Since becoming a mom over a year ago, I’ve been regularly surprised by the things that you don’t know, regardless of how much you read or how much you talk to other parents. I was luckier than some—I knew that breastfe.eding wasn’t always a walk in the park, for instance. I had a pretty good idea of some of the common challenges.

But one of the things that’s represented in nearly every movie and television show I’ve ever seen, and is certainly something my own mother told me over and over, is how the minute a baby is born, you (the mother) are transported away by a love that’s nothing like you’ve ever known. It’s magical! Nothing matters! You forget the pain of labor! Blah blah sparkles coming out of your eyes! Every moment is perfection!

I know that may be the case for many women. I'm so glad for those who get that. However, if it isn’t the case for you, please know: there’s nothing wrong with you. You are not a bad mother, nor are you a bad person, if you are not transported by ecstasy the moment you give birth.

I’m not talking postpartum depression here. For a frank, helpful discussion of PPD and how one woman is dealing with it, visit Erin’s blog. I’m talking about those of us that certainly love our baby (or babies) right away, but are waiting for the Hollywood soundtrack to start playing and... it doesn’t.

34+ hours of labor and a failing epidural meant that by the time they had to take Elle, I was absolutely toast. And she was born in the morning, so there were a lot of hours to go before I could rest. And if you’re bfeeding, they leave the baby in-room with you overnight-- which I understand and totally agree with, but as a single parent with no one else to take Elle and let me get some sleep, I maybe should have asked them to put her in the nursery that first night.

(Also, when you go into labor, TAKE A SHOWER. Immediately. This is my advice. I didn’t do this right when my water broke, and ended up not being able to take a real shower for one hell of a long time. It was gross. My postpartum photos are not exactly attractive—I know they aren’t always, but had I been a little cleaner, it couldn’t have hurt. Also, eat something. There. That’s my advice for women about to have a baby: shower and eat. I’m nothing if not practical.)

We parents don’t do anyone any favors by being less than honest about the parenting experience. My mother may have been ecstatic every moment of her mommyhood—but I doubt it, and conveniently “forgetting” the tough patches means I feel less than when she says something that invalidates a rough patch I’m going through.

And that’s why I’m being honest here, and I’ll refer back to an old entry in this very blog: I loved Elle from the moment she was born. It took me a while longer to fall in love with her.

There’s nothing wrong with you if you don’t bond instantaneously. Some women do. Some women bond on the second or the fourth or the twentieth day. I know one mom who’s very honest that she really didn’t feel bonded to her son until he was six or seven months old. It probably happens even later than that for some people.

THAT IS OKAY. It is all okay. It’s going to be different for all of us. There’s no template for mother love. Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is full of it. Each path is different; let yours unfold however it unfolds, don’t compare yourself to anyone, and take it day by day (or hour by hour) if you need to.

I still don’t hear that Hollywood soundtrack. That’s OK. That’s not how I’m wired. But I feel a powerful, protective, often overwhelming love for my daughter, and I would do anything—anything—for her. I think she's awesome.

I’m pretty sure that’s the point.

Downward what?

2011-08-12T19:30:00.001-05:00

When I went back to work after my leave, I was skinnier than I'd been in years. I was still kind of strung out in terms of lack of consistent, predictable sleep, and was still breastfe.eding; I could eat pretty much anything, any time, and it didn't matter. Nervous energy and providing food for Elle-- however minimal my production was-- apparently took care of my weight issues.

Right about 12 weeks, when I went back to work, was when Elle's sleep schedule normalized (mostly) and when I stopped breastfe.eding (not by my choice; the girls just gave up the ghost, and I wasn't in a position to work hard at upping my supply). And my weight issue holiday was over.

Let's just say that I am no longer skinnier than I've been in years.

I'm not at my heaviest weight ever, but... I'm far closer to that than I'd like, and a good 15 pounds heavier than my usual resting point has been. A desk job + stress eating + no longer able to get to the gym have all combined to put me at a weight where I'm simply not comfortable any more. Not to mention I'm going to need to buy new clothes if I don't lose weight now, and that's just not in my budget.

I realized I've become really out of touch with my body. Pre-Elle, and even during pregnancy, I was far from a gym rat. But I was at the gym at least a couple of times a week, regularly, and I liked it. During pregnancy, I was a regular at my weekly prenatal yoga. I walked regularly with my little Vertigo Dog for many years, summer and winter. So while I'd never make the cover of Shape, I was certainly healthy and active.

Now, even when the weather's good, I have so little time when I get home from work that I don't necessarily want to spend it strapping Elle into a stroller. I do sometimes, but in the 1.5 - 2 hours I have when we get home at night before Elle's bedtime, she needs dinner and a bath, and we both need a little time to decompress. (And play. Always play.) And then when she goes to bed, I have another 1.5 - 2 hours in which to do all the things around the house I need to do, including cooking and cleaning up the kitchen. Plus, Mama needs a little time to screw around on the internet, go through her mail, and maybe (SHOCK!) read a book or watch a movie.

There's precious little time in there to exercise.

I did mention that I have an exercise bike now, and I am trying to use it. I just don't like the bike very much, so it's not motivating. (If it was an elliptical, now...) I can watch a movie while I cycle, so that's something.

The other night I decided to pull out an old yoga tape. Yes, tape. Not even a DVD! After ten minutes, I was completely exhausted, and went upstairs feeling like a complete failure.

My goal now is to up the yoga time by ten minutes each practice until I can do the entire tape (which I believe is about 40 minutes). Once I can do the entire tape, my goal (of course) is to simply improve in my practice each time. Hopefully, if I alternate the bike and yoga, I'll help both my heart and my flexibility... not to mention my state of mind.

Ten minutes. Seriously. Pathetic.

Baby's first vacation

2011-08-11T20:31:00.001-05:00

My sitter had a few days off, so rather than get someone else to cover, I took the time off as well. It was a treat! For three of those days (two nights) last weekend, we went with friends to a little beach town about an hour and a half away, not far over the border to a certain mitten-shaped state that we're close to.

It was lovely. My budget doesn't allow for a lot of vacations, but this was ideal-- not a long drive (Elle HATES car rides at the moment), a nice casual town (i.e. not upscale and pricey), and a BEACH.

Because baby girl is still on two naps a day-- and hoo boy, she still needs both of those naps-- it definitely made the schedule more awkward, but we had a good time regardless. We wandered around the town, hung out at the beach, and lazed around on the porches at the lovely B&B.

The B&B was ideal for several reasons. It was right in town, had the aforementioned porches, and best of all the room I was in had a little separate room, with a door, for Elle's pack and play. This was terrific, because it meant we didn't all have to go to bed when Elle went to bed. The first night, after Elle went down, we hung out on the front porch (attached to the room, so within hearing distance) drinking whiskey lemonades and talking. Quietly, but talking.

The second night, my friend's husband stayed with Elle while the girls went out for a drink. We were still in bed by ten-- beach living is tiring, man. Also, I'm old.

Elle loved the beach. Loved it. When I put her down at the edge of the water, and the waves rolled in, she immediately started scooting towards the waves, even when they were big and splashed her. That's my girl.

We spent a lot of time under a little canopy, playing in the sand (I managed to forget her hat, so no matter how much sunscreen I lathered on her, I wanted to limit her amount of time in direct sunlight), which was also big fun. She dug in the sand with her sand shovel, and especially liked it when her bucket was filled with water and she could splash in it. Also, dump the water out. Over and over. And over. The only thing she didn't like was when sand got stuck on her wet hands-- she'd hold them up and look at me and whine. Cause and effect, sweetheart. Cause and effect.

We're definitely going back. One of the friends who went on the trip is already researching places to stay and houses to rent.

I should also note that I feel very lucky that I have friends who not only don't mind going on vacation with a toddler, but who really enjoy said toddler. At this age, there's almost no way I could do this kind of trip solo. The gear alone is more than one person can really handle. And, until Elle is better in the car, it was nice that one of my friends sat in the back seat with her for the latter half of the drive home. (On the drive there, she just lost her mind for the last 25 minutes or so, and I grimly drove as fast as I safely could. NOT FUN.)

I've lost some friends since becoming a parent, absolutely. But the people who've stuck with me are amazing. You really do learn who your friends are when you set out on the single mother journey, and I couldn't be more blessed.

Kids are smart

2011-08-06T20:40:00.001-05:00

When Elle came along, I’d been alone and single for fortymumble years. All of a sudden I had a roommate with poor communication skills who didn’t contribute a dime towards the rent or the (considerably increased) utilities, who left her stuff all over the place, and who didn’t care much about what time it was when she wanted to make some noise.

My daughter is fabulous, but like it or not: it’s an adjustment.

There are many reasons why it’s better to be a partnered parent than a single one. One big reason is that, theoretically, with a partner, there’s someone to pick up the occasional slack. If you’re sick, or in a terrible mood, or just don’t feel like you want to engage with that noisy little roommate at the moment, you can (hopefully) look at your partner and ask him/her to take that on.

Not much of an option when it’s just you.

By the time Friday night comes around, sometimes the last thing I really want to do is have to entertain a toddler for a few hours before she goes to bed. (Hopefully, she goes to bed.) And there’s no way to punt that to someone else.

If anyone wants to post “Honey, you signed up for this, so don’t complain,” feel free. But you know what? Just because I signed up for this—and I did—doesn’t mean I have abdicated my right to whine occasionally.

What struck me the other day was the thought that I hope Elle never feels like she’s a burden. I hope my tired face at the end of the week doesn’t somehow communicate to her that I’d just rather not engage, or that she’s anything but a blessing. I’m not much of a poker player, and children are far smarter and more perceptive than we often give them credit for.

“Tired on a Friday night” does not equal “too tired for you” or, God forbid, "tired because of you." It just means that as she gets older, maybe Friday night we watch movies and have pizza, and it’s a way to be together that’s lower-maintenance.

Travel, not leisure

2011-08-03T20:38:00.001-05:00

I was out of town on business last week. It was my first time away from Elle overnight, and I went two full days without seeing her; I left for the airport before she got up on day one, and I got home after she went to bed on day two. I had great support from friends on the front and back end, and she stayed overnight with her regular sitter.

For her, really, it probably didn't feel all that different. When I came into her room the morning after I got home, she was as happy to see me as she usually is in the morning-- no more, no less.

She is a happy, adaptable little thing, who is clearly secure in the fact that she's loved and well-cared-for. That's exactly what I want her to be, so I ignore the intermittent pangs that I would like her to be slightly more dramatically attached to me. That's just feeding my ego; that's not what's best for Elle.

At the end of the day, I'm her mom. And it's far more important that I raise a happy, social, well-adjusted child than it is to raise one that feeds some occasional need for validation.

**

While I was out of town, I was able to use the little hotel gym. It was decently set up, and featured my favorite exercise machine of all time: the elliptical.

I can't possibly explain how much I love the elliptical. I love it so much that I should be skinny and muscled. Sadly, I can no longer get to the Y (yes, they have childcare, but I leave Elle for 11+ hours each day; I'm not going to get her home and turn around and leave her with yet another sitter several times a week), and there's nowhere in my house that has high enough ceilings to accommodate an elliptical.

I did recently get a used exercise bike, and have been doing at least a few miles on that 4-5 times a week. This is significantly better than nothing at all, but not nearly as much fun as the dearly beloved elliptical. (And I'm watching season three of Slings and Arrows while I'm on the bike, a Canadian series that has not gotten nearly the attention it deserves. Highly recommended if you like theatre, Shakespeare, or Shakespeare and theatre.) So getting to exercise at the hotel was, believe it or not, a huge treat-- I even gave up additional sleep to go exercise that second morning, before I showered and checked out of the hotel.

It felt wonderful.

There are two questions I get, fairly often, as a single parent. One is if this is what I expected, or if it's easier or harder. The other (often from other single women) is asking what I miss about my single non-parent days.

I answer, honestly, that there's very little I miss. The two things do I miss are:

1. Being able to go to the gym
and
2. Being able to stay in my pajamas all day and sit on the couch and watch movies and be lazylazylazy.

That's not really much to miss, is it?

The nice part about it is that both those activities can return one day. Someday, Elle and I will do pajama days together (I hope we have the same taste in bad movies!). And someday, I'll get back to the gym on a regular basis.

Meanwhile, there’s plenty of other stuff to do.

Blog Envy

2011-07-31T15:25:00.003-05:00

I read a lot of blogs (only some of which are linked on the sidebar). Some single mom blogs, some mom blogs, some dad blogs, some blogs that have nothing at all to do with children, some blogs that are just photography, some food blogs. I may have issues with some things about the internet, but I am and have always been a nosy chicken, so blogs are just a way for me to look into other people's windows. So to speak.

I have to be very careful, however, to just read the blogs... not to take anything in them to heart, in either direction.

I shouldn't feel superior to anyone else because of something they say that I disagree with. On the flip side, I shouldn't let other people's lives make me feel less than. Someone lives in a fabulous house with a pool? Good for them. Someone spends thirty hours a week teaching their child to (insert skill here)? Wow, that's awesome. Someone has a ginormous birthday party for their daughter and even has personalized labels on the root beer bottles? Damn, that's cool.

That last example, by the way, is for real. At the time I was still planning Elle's first birthday party, and I truly had a couple of days of completely feeling like some kind of derelict parent because I was planning a potluck picnic at a park, rather than a party with cleverly-named food, personalized party labels on the root beer, elaborate goody bags, and a pony. I truly thought, for a little while, that clearly I should not be a parent. A pony! Why the hell was I not having a pony?

(Because a pony is overkill for a one-year-old, that's why. Arguably, it may be overkill for a four-year-old, but that's not my call to make.)

So I was feeling like roadkill about how my daughter's first party was going to be crap on a stick, and I shared that particular blog entry with a friend. The friend shot me an e=mail, the gist of which was "Holy crap, that's cute. But seriously, who has that kind of time? Please."

And I felt better.

It was a really good lesson. I'm going to be the parent I'm going to be. I'm going to be better than some parents, worse than others. Richer than some, poorer than others.

It's not a contest.

But I still reserve the right to be dreadfully jealous of the gorgeous, gorgeous photography over at Peonies and Polaroids. I wish they lived just a touch closer than Scotland. Also that I could afford to have them take pics of Elle.

By the way, Elle's first birthday party was terrific. There was a huge crowd of people who love her. Everyone enjoyed all the food and the cake and the playground and the sunny day.

And not a single person asked why there weren't custom labels on the soda.

365 days, plus a few

2011-07-19T20:37:00.002-05:00

My little Elle is now a year old. That seems completely impossible, but it's true. This time last year I had an infant and was in the throes of figuring out sleeping, eating, and bathing (for me, not the baby!) Now I have a one-year-old with chubby arms and legs, wispy curls at the end of her hair, and very, very Definite Opinions on many things. She has a mind of her own, that's for sure, and I love it.

She's still not walking, but she scoots around like a pro. I'm a little concerned that she's still not pulling up, nor can she get into a sitting position from lying down (she gets the concept, and tries hard, but can't do it without help), but her pediatrician says give it a few more weeks before we are officially worried. I know kids develop at different paces, and her overall health and disposition are so good that I try to take it easy. (Unless my parents start harping in on it and get me wound up. I try hard to not let them wind me up.) She just needs to find a compelling reason to walk, I think. Why walk when you get what you need from scooting?

Her scooting is fast enough that I've finally babyproofed and installed a good, strong gate at the top of the stairs. No more leaving her on the bed and walking away; she's moved to the floor, where she does her best to get into everything she shouldn't.

She doesn't have much of a vocabulary yet, but her receptive language seems to be on track and she babbles all the time with a wide variety of consonants (unless she's around people she doesn't know; she gets quiet then). She can identify specific toys, and when you ask her to give some love to Dolly, she'll squish Dolly to her face and love on her. She knows her own name for sure. She knows "no" and REALLY doesn't like hearing it (see above re: mind of her own)-- she'll do this little scrunchy face thing when you tell her no, which is hysterical. Several times lately I'm pretty sure she's repeated a word after I've said it; her enunciation isn't great, so for a while I thought I was imagining things. I wasn't!

She loves her Dolly. She loves stacking things and knocking them down. She adores books (that's my girl). She likes things that make noise. She turns into a zombie if the TV is on (again, that's my girl). She's fascinated with handles on drawers, and especially likes the handles that swing up and down and make a clanking noise when you pull them up and let them drop. She likes to open and shut drawers, over and over and over. She has a tendency to go after shoes to play with them, which I'm trying to discourage. She likes the swimming pool and isn't bothered by being splashed, and has even started kicking. She enjoys baths.

When she goes scooting off on one of her little adventures, she always takes a toy along with her (once, it was a mini box of Raisin Bran; clearly, she's not picky). Often, she'll take the toy, throw it out in front of her, then scoot to catch up with it. Repeat as needed. She talks to herself along the way-- she has a whole narrative going on-- and it's obvious that she has Very Important Things to Do. We just don't understand what those things are, you see.

She feeds herself, though I'm still giving her some baby food as well. She loves blueberries, bread, cheese, yogurt, bananas, graham crackers, cherries, hummous (on bread), and pasta. We're still working on finding veggies she likes outside of purees-- that's part of the reason I'm giving her baby food. It's the only way to get vegetables into her, so far. She's not big on meat, outside of purees, though she'll eat a bit. She doesn't care for peas, strawberries, or tomatoes (though she's fine with all three if they're pureed!). She'll try anything you put in front of her, though she'll always go for the cheese and blueberries first. She's OK with eggs. I'll probably also give fish sticks a shot, since those are a quick and reasonably healthy dinner.

After many years of single eating, the contents of my pantry, fridge, and freezer have undergone a radical transformation, that's for sure. And I need to remember the cardinal rule of feeding kids: the parent decides what food will be offered and when it will be offered; the child decides whether they'll eat and, if so, how much. If her dinner consists of three bites of chicken, four pieces of rotini, and two cherries... well, that's her dinner.

She uses a sippy cup, although she sometimes doesn't remember you have to tilt it up to get the actual liquid, and she'll slurp away at it looking very confused. She has no interest in holding her bottle, and we're phasing that out over the next little while anyway. I think her night bottle will probably be the last to go.

She's incredibly curious-- her head and most of her body are on a swivel when you're out in public with her. She loves people and faces and conversation, and is happiest when she's playing in the midst of a group of people talking. She's fine if they're not talking to her; she just likes the company. She doesn't miss a thing.

She is not a cuddly toddler. But then, she wasn't a cuddly baby, either; she hasn't fallen asleep on me since she was a couple of months old. When she's very tired, or doesn't feel good, she'll tuck her head down on my shoulder. Sometimes, if I ask her to give mommy a kiss, she'll press her head to mine-- she knows how to give a kiss with her mouth, but her current means of showing affection seems to be the press of the head.

She is a happy, healthy, even-tempered baby. Sorry-- she is a happy, healthy, even-tempered toddler. I am blessed beyond words with this beautiful little girl. When I'm tired, or when I (unfairly) compare her to other little ones her age and wonder why she's not doing X yet, or when I just want some alone time, I look at her face smiling at me from around a corner and realize I don't even remember what I did with my life before she was part of it.

Happy birthday, baby girl.

Still here

2011-07-15T22:00:00.003-05:00

Apologies for my absence of late. It's not because my life is dull and I have nothing to say... more like I need to find time to say all the things.

(shoutout to Hyperbole and a Half, which if you haven't read, you totally should. Try "The God of Cake" first. Or any of her dog posts.)

Anyway, I have a post about Elle turning one. But it's on my work computer. I promise to track it down and post it Monday. Or possibly Tuesday.

FYI, Elle is now one whole year old. There's too much to say about that, truly, so I'll just say it and then toddle off to bed. See y'all next week.

Practically Perfect

2011-06-19T20:17:00.005-05:00

It was one of those weekends where (almost) everything comes together well-- time with Elle, time to myself, time with good friends. The few bumps in the road were minor and not really a problem.

I even got out the invites for Elle's first birthday bash.

Yup. Her first birthday. I'm not entirely sure when that happened. It's amazing to me how quickly it has gone, and continues to go. It is also, to be honest, terrifying-- if the next 17 years go this quickly, she's going to be in college (hopefully) in about a week and a half. Or at least it will feel that way.

When we're having a rough patch, I remind myself of this. It won't last. It isn't forever. I have her with me for such a very short time, in the scheme of things; I need to savor every moment. Even the rough ones.

Here. Have a baby foot picture. I'm not exactly a great photographer, but baby feet are darling no matter what. And they fit right in with "No way am I showing my daughter's face in public, thanks" mantra.

From ...plus one

She's pretty cute, for an old almost one-year-old. I think I'll keep her.

Go ahead. You can tell me I'm crazy.

2011-06-15T20:34:00.004-05:00

One of the things I try hard not to regret is that I waited so long to start trying to become a mom. It doesn't do any good to regret it-- I wasn't ready for a hundred reasons. And if I'd started earlier, I wouldn't have Elle, and clearly Elle was meant to be here.

But sometimes, regret breaks through. It's doing so now because, had I done this sooner (and presumably had similar luck in terms of conception), there would be some chance of being able to have another child.

I know! The very thought is crazy. Insane. But with Elle nearly a year old, the knowledge that she is an only child with a practically nonexistent family feels like a weight on my chest. It's not news, of course, but I can still wish it was different.

Of course, it's impossible. At my next birthday I'll be 45; conceiving Elle at 43 was a miracle in itself. Even if I wanted to give it a shot, I no longer have the insurance coverage that made my IVF possible. And if by some miracle I had another child, the daycare costs would kill me. (Not to mention I have no desire to ever be pregnant again.)

If I had embryos on ice, I just might say what the hell and give it a shot-- why not try a FET, if you've got them? But I don't. I was on massive quantities of drugs and only produced five eggs, and all four that fertilized were transferred. One of them is my beautiful Elle; there were no spares. That's probably a good indication that now, getting on to two years later, the likelihood of viable eggs is pretty low.

So I have all these rational reasons why it's just not possible. Right now, though, there's a part of me that doesn't care.

I guess I'm just mourning the possibilities.

Oh, FFS

2011-06-08T20:29:00.001-05:00

Why the hell am I still subscribed to anything from babycenter.com? (And no, I'm not mangling the name, because if anyone wants to find this post through Google, they're welcome to do so.)

Seriously, why?

Last Friday's email header was something like "Are other parents just like you?"

Let me parse that one. In detail.

1. Jeebus, I hope not.
2. What?
3. Are all parents supposed to be exactly alike?
4. If all parents are supposed to be exactly alike, why didn't anyone tell me this before now? Man, I'm way behind.
5. If I'm "different," what does that mean? Is my daughter doomed to be a serial ax murderer, rampaging through the country slaughtering innocents?

Seriously. "Are other parents just like you?" Are they kidding? Are they morons? I'm guessing the answers to those questions are "No" and "Yes."

This is not the first e-mail I've gotten from them that has a subject line that makes me scratch my head. And I know perfectly well the e-mails are crafted to get you to click through to their website, where they can count you as a visit and sell more ads.

But trying to generate ad revenue through parental competition is crazy. Why not generate visits through interesting, thought-provoking topics? I'm far more likely to click through to find out something new, interesting, or informative than I am to click through to find ways to worry that I'm screwing up at mothering my child.

Isn't there enough competition already? It seems never-ending, sometimes. My baby did thus-and-so at X months. I only feed organic, and I make every bite of food my baby consumes. I even grind the wheat myself! I read to my baby for seven hours a day. I have thrown out all the televisions in my home. I sew all my baby's clothes from sustainably grown organic cotton fabric that I hand-loomed and wove. I've never even thought about using crib bumpers/letting my child sleep in a swing/using a binky/insert whatever here.

Seriously, we don't need help from babycenter.com. Most of us beat ourselves up quite enough already, thanks.

I am a judgmental person, no doubt about it. But I have become much less judgmental since becoming a mom, because when it boils down to it, whatever is legal and safe and works for you and your family is absolutely fine by me. Binkys? Go for it, if that's what works for your baby. Your 16-month-old still wants her bottle? I am not going to lecture you on that one.

It all works itself out in the end, most of the time.

Until then, babycenter.com: shut up.

2011-06-01T20:18:00.001-05:00

You can't really say "Happy Memorial Day," so I'll just say that if you're a US-ian, I hope you had a good holiday, and spent at least a moment remembering those who have died in our defense.

So many new things lately-- we have clapping, a couple of (inconsistently used) words, feeding herself (as long as it's not cold, wet, slimy, or any combination thereof), and she will now pull herself up to a sitting position by holding on to your hand(s). It's just a matter of time until she figures out she can pull herself up on inanimate objects.

Still no crawling or walking, and little interest in standing, but I did get her evaluated (yeah, I'm paranoid) and the therapist wasn't particularly worried. She thinks it's more a function of lack of interest than it is a physical issue. Given that Elle is a little late on every curve, no one's particularly concerned yet. I keep working with her, and am pretty sure I'll soon regret the day I wished she was mobile.

We went to our first parade on Memorial Day. It was a gorgeous day, and we found a spot of shade to settle in on a beach towel, with sippy cups and Cheeri0s.

It was a big, big hit. Anything with lots of people and music and noise? Sign Elle right up. I was a little worried about the sirens from the police and fire vehicles, but she didn't even blink. She adored the marching bands (she booty-danced along with them), clapped occasionally, chewed on a paper fan that one of the floats threw out, and waved a little flag with more skill and enthusiasm than I expected. (And she didn't try to eat the flag, so that's a definite win.) She's so social and, frankly, nosy that this was an event practically tailored to her interests.

When you think of it, parades are really meant for the kids, and my kid was a happy target audience.

My parents were in town for the holiday, which was nice for a number of reasons. Elle loves the company, and I like the flexibility to be able to do things without having to worry quite as much about what I'll do with the baby. I even got to go to a barbecue-- which was fun, but honestly? I missed Elle.

I know! Time to do grown-up stuff like drink delicious gin and tonics and munch on spicy guac, and I kind of wished I could go home and play with Elle instead. (I did get home in time to take her for a nice walk.)

There's been a bit of a dust-up on one of my single mom discussion lists relative to messages on how tiring it is to be a single parent. And it is. It's exhausting. It's terrifying most of the time, too, even if you have a baby without any major sleeping/feeding issues. I'm sure it's terrifying in entirely different ways as the child(ren) get older. (The dust-up, FYI, is someone essentially accusing someone else of lying because she sounds remarkably productive. I don't think the productive person is a liar; I am just flat-out envious.)

Women who are considering becoming single parents ("thinkers") will often analyze information with great intensity. I was one of those women-- I went through the numbers and the information and read, carefully, information on women who'd become single moms and how they were handling it. I don't think anyone (at least not anyone that I paid attention to) said anything other than how it is hard.

They also said that it was the hardest, best thing they'd ever done.

I don't know. Regardless of your status (single or partnered), there's just no way to know how it is to be a parent until you're actually a parent. No amount of research can possibly help you understand how it feels to be up at three in the morning with an infant who has been screaming since, seemingly, the dawn of time. No Excel spreadsheet can quantify how it feels the first time your child presses an open-mouthed kiss on your cheek.

To some degree, you just have to do it or not do it. Leap or not. Yeah, it's going to suck sometimes. It IS tiring. It's scary as hell. Regardless of what you choose, you'll probably have second thoughts, and that's fine too.

If you become a parent, one day you'll realize you don't really remember what your life looked like before that child entered your world. And your gin and tonic will be delicious, but you'll want to be somewhere else. And that? That's your life, now.

Sitting

2011-05-26T20:20:00.003-05:00

I'm currently looking to add to my tiny list of "approved" babysitters for Elle. By "approved," I mean "I will only check my phone a hundred times per hour when I leave her with you, rather than a few hundred times an hour and then come home far ahead of schedule in a sheer frenzied panic."

I currently have two sitters. The woman who watches her while I'm at work will occasionally do nighttime gigs. I trust her completely, but I kind of like the idea that Elle will know more people than just Mama and her sitter. Also, Elle's weekday sitter, while wonderful, likes her TV. I'd really like someone who doesn't even think to turn it on, thanks.

I have a second sitter for every couple of weeks when I go to rehearsal. B is terrific-- incredibly good with kids, extremely intelligent, and has an air of calm competency about her. If I could afford to hire her as a full-time nanny for Elle, I'd do it in a heartbeat. B can sit occasionally on other nights as well, but she has a couple of other jobs (and a social life-- she's young and totally adorable) so is not always available.

So I've put out the word and talked to the first young woman tonight. I'm talking to at least one more next week.

I'm a big believer in gut instinct. With both Elle's weekday sitter and with B, I knew pretty quickly that I could trust them. I didn't know exactly how they'd interact with Elle, but I at least had a sense that they weren't ax-murdering ped0philes or anything.

The young woman I talked to tonight was intelligent and seemed kind, but something about how she interacted with Elle just didn't sit quite right. I don't mean that in an ax-murdering ped0phile way, of course. Just... Maybe she's not quite as comfortable with kids Elle's age as she thinks she is, or maybe it's been a while since she's worked with them so young. I don't know. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I'm going to listen to the part of me that thinks something's not what I want it to be.

I'll keep talking to people. Every time I ignore my gut, I regret it.

Milestones

2011-05-21T20:24:00.003-05:00

Everyone out there has information to share with you on what your baby should be doing at any given time. All the baby websites, all the blogs, all the books. Your baby should be doing this now, or that now.

And there's a subtle (and often not-so-subtle) competition that goes on between moms. "Oh, my (NAME) did (ACTIVITY) when he was (AT LEAST SEVERAL MONTHS YOUNGER THAN YOUR BABY IS)." I even see this on blogs.

I freely admit that I let myself get sucked into all of this. And even when the website/blogger/mom is just stating a fact, not comparing, I find myself anxiously looking at Elle and thinking "Well, X baby did X at nine months, and you're ten, and you still don't do X. Why not?"

I need to stop.

It's not fair to Elle. Elle is a good-natured, alert, friendly, inquisitive, healthy baby-- who happens to be on the late side, so far, for nearly all of her milestones. Not so late that her ped is worried something's wrong, but as a friend said, "When there's a curve, someone's got to be on the back side of it."

Elle's on the back side of the curve.

This doesn't mean she's going to grow up to a bright future of asking "Would you like fries with that?" until she retires. It means she's a late bloomer, physically. (I should note that I'm not the least bit worried about her verbal development. For those readers who know me in real life, you're not at all surprised by that.) I was a late bloomer as well, so she's taking after me, poor muffin.

I need to take a breath, and not worry about what other babies are doing. They're doing their own thing, and probably their mothers worry about milestones too. Worry is the price of motherhood, I think.

I'm blessed with a fantastic little girl, who will do things in her own way and in her own time, and she'll get there like everyone else. That needs to be my mantra.

***

Complete non-sequitur: I seem to have chipped one of my front teeth, and I've no idea how. It's not a big chip, but big enough that it's rough on my tongue or my lip, which of course means I can't stop feeling my tooth.

I so love going to the dentist. Oh, well.

Holidays, weddings, and chicken

2011-05-16T20:41:00.004-05:00

I bought a little two-quart Crock Pot. Tonight when I came home, I had chicken in a red sauce with onions, potatoes and mushrooms waiting for me. Total prep time, including peeling/slicing the taters and onions: less than ten minutes.

As Elle starts eating more and more people food, this is going to be very handy. You can throw almost anything in there with enough liquid, and you have dinner. The only stuff you have to watch out for is veggies. Most meat, though, is fine. And the two quart size is perfect-- two big entrees, or one big, one small, and one lunch.

***

It was a lovely first Mother's Day here at casa Plus One. Well, once you got past the 6 a.m. screaming bloody murder wakeup, that is. (She never wakes up crying. Seriously, never, and Mother's Day it was zero to OMG SOMEONE IS KILLING MEEEEEE.)

One heck of a way to wake up the morning after I actually went out and didn't get to bed until v. late.

The rest of the day-- weather was nice, so we took a walk. Later, dinner with a friend. I do like that she takes two naps, but at the same time you're really bound by that schedule. And I'm not one of those "oh, it doesn't matter if s/he takes a nap!" kinds of people-- I do not mess with her naps any more. I do not mess with bedtime, either, although I have about a 20 minute window I'll play with if needed.

Cardinal rule: You Do Not Mess With Baby's Sleep Patterns, For If You Do, You Will Regret It.

Funny moment of the day: at dinner, in the middle of it, Elle decided it was important to share with me her babbly happy opinion on... something. Not sure what. But I have nothing to worry about in terms of her lungs and her ability to project, because the entire restaurant, I think, clearly heard her pronouncement, and she looked quite pleased with her bellowing self-- so pleased that she followed it up with another announcement. Possibly two.

The fact that the adults at the table were laughing hysterically probably didn't motivate her to turn down the volume...

This past weekend, then, Elle went to her first wedding. Just to the ceremony, and this was of course with full permission from the happy couple-- I never assume my little bundle of joy is anyone else's! She was very good and the photographer got a ton of pictures of her-- can't wait to see them. Elle was flirting shamelessly with the photographer, which helped. That's my girl.

The morning after the wedding, unlike Mother's Day, Miss Elle slept until 6:45. Heaven, heaven, heaven.

***

We are teething, big time, and in the middle of trying to get more of her bedtime bottle into her tonight I realized she was just plumb exhausted, and it was time to get her to bed. She may wake up in the middle of the night starving, but sleep at that point was more important than anything else.

It's a lot of work, getting big.

Happy Mother's Day!

2011-05-08T20:33:00.003-05:00

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there. And the moms-to-be, and the godmothers, and anyone who acts in a mom-ish way to someone. You are all important and loved.

It is the hardest job I have ever had, and the stakes are higher than I ever imagined. I wouldn't trade a moment of it.

Never Forget

2011-05-02T20:55:00.004-05:00

This past weekend was Holocaust Remembrance Day, or Yom HaShoah. I read several blogs by Jewish bloggers (what? I'm Episcopalian, but I can't be interested in other faiths?) who wrote eloquently of what this means to them.

Through the readings I ended up on the Yad Vashem site-- a thorough and utterly heartbreaking site that seeks to name each victim of the Holocaust, and collects photos and other archive information.

The photos are overwhelming. So many stories, most of them terrible. As I was paging through one section, I stopped short at a photo of a young child-- perhaps three years old or so-- standing amidst a group of people in a field. The child looks like a little girl (it can be hard to tell at that age) and she's looking at the camera with large, dark, direct eyes and a very serious expression.

Elle could look just like that little girl in a couple of years.

People tell you that once you have kids you can't watch the news any more, especially when the stories have to do with children. They're right. And it's not like I didn't already know that countless children died in the Holocaust. But this photo, with her eyes so much like my daughter's, just brought it home that much harder.

I suppose it is a blessing that I cannot possibly wrap my mind around how anyone could slaughter six million people and, apparently, think it was just fine to do so. So many people did so many things to contribute to these deaths-- from actually pulling the trigger or pouring the crystals, to simply watching as they walked towards the gas chambers. All are guilty. Every death was a horrific crime.

But someone took a picture of that little dark-eyed girl, probably moments before she trustingly put her little hand into someone else's and was escorted to her death. Someone took a picture, and did nothing to save her. And she was only one of thousands upon thousands of children.

Sars wrote today about Bin Laden's death, about how he should have to face those he killed, about how perhaps he does go to heaven but it's not his heaven; he's only there to have to listen to the victims of 9/11 telling him about their deaths.

Monsters should have to face what they've done, if there is any justice.

So for the person who took the picture of that little girl, then let her die? Perhaps his Hell will be having to hold the chubby, warm, slightly sticky hand of his own beloved child and walk that child into a gas chamber. Over and over and over again, for all eternity.

Never forget.

Opportunity Cost

2011-04-30T15:32:00.002-05:00

I like advice columns. Always have. Sometimes I like them because I can disagree with them, but most often I admire advice-givers who are able to see through the slobbery mess that someone puts out there and hone in on the real issues, then give guidance. (Not tell someone exactly what to do-- in many cases, that's not helpful. Guidance is better, unless you need to be really direct in situations like "call the suicide hotline," "call children's services," "move into a shelter NOW" or something along those lines.)

One of my long-time favorites has been Sars at Tomato Nation's The Vine. Some of the letters she gets are hilarious, some are heartbreaking, but Sars has a way of seeing what matters. She seems to tackle less significant topics lately, and the focus of the site has subtly (or not-so-subtly) shifted, which is a shame. But I'll still dig through old Vines sometimes, for inspiration or encouragement or common sense.

A more recent discovery has been Dear Sugar. She's just as practical as Sars, although you can tell she's a writer rather than a journalist; her flowery style isn't for everyone. But under the style, the advice she dispenses is excellent and deeply thoughtful. Her most recent column (#71) hit home.

My great-grandmother (Elle's namesake) would every so often take her prayer book, let it fall open, and read the prayer that appeared there; she believed that accidental page was something meant for her to know that day.

I kind of feel the same way about Sugar's most recent column-- it appeared just when I needed to hear it. (Maybe you should go read it as well, or the rest of this won't make as much sense. The comments on the entry are fascinating as well.)

The state of Colorado has been running tourism commercials locally. I love the mountains in Colorado with an intensity that is probably not entirely healthy. I don’t think of myself as a particularly brave or fearless person, but I’ve taken seven-hour hikes in the backcountry entirely alone, simply because the hike needed to be done. I pore over trail maps. I take copious notes of each hike. I can sit by a Colorado river (or the Colorado River) for hours and not notice time passing. High on a mountain, sweaty and hot, wearing my beloved hiking boots and carrying a half-ton of water in my pack, I feel closer to God than almost anywhere else I’ve ever been.

(Completely illogical, given my Midwestern roots. But there it is.)

I was stopped in my track by one of the Colorado tourism ads the other day, just before I read that Sugar advice column. I had the strangest feeling, watching it. I brushed it off.

Now I know what I was feeling-- that sister life, that life that is no longer mine, brushed past me as I watched.

If there's anyone out there who doesn't feel they have a "sister life" running alongside of the life they actually live, I probably don't want to know them. And that doesn't necessarily mean the sister life is one they prefer.

But I think that part of being a self-actualized adult is recognizing that all your choices, even the small ones, set you on a path that is different from the path you might have otherwise taken. There's a reason that so many people enjoy stories of alternate universes-- the movie Sliding Doors is one that comes to mind (underrated, I think), or the classic Groundhog Day. And just about every science fiction television series has at least one episode along those lines.

We all wonder, sometimes, where different choices would have led us.

Becoming a parent is not a small change, obviously. Anyone who has become a parent understands how dramatically everything shifts-- everything. As I was a non-parent for far longer than I've been a parent, I can say with absolute confidence that there's no way that a non-parent can truly understand how immense the change is. I'm not making a value judgment there, or saying non-parents are somehow less, because that's not the case.

But people without children do not, cannot understand the magnitude of the change that occurs when someone hands another life over to you. It doesn't matter whether you give birth, or adopt, or become a stepparent, or a foster parent; the how doesn't matter at all. It's that it happens, and you cannot be the same person once it does.

(Some people don’t seem to change much, and that’s a topic for another day. That’s not what I’m focusing on here.)

Sugar's column made me think about that. About choices that aren't mine any more. About new choices I have to make, every day.

I do not, for a moment, regret becoming a mother. If that's what you, the reader, take from this blog entry, I'm doin' it entirely wrong.

But I think I had a moment where I turned a corner from my old life, and moved fully into my new one. You might have thought that would happen during childbirth, or when I held Elle for the first time, or the first night we were up all night walking the floor, or any one of a thousand other things that have made up her first ten months of life. Apparently, you'd be wrong.

For me, it was a commercial for Colorado.

There's nothing to do but salute it from the shore.

Thanks, Sugar.

The universe steps in (sometimes)

2011-04-27T21:00:00.002-05:00

You get lots and lots of adorable baby clothes when you're having a little girl. (You get too many, actually. One of the few pieces of advice I give to people I know who are about to be first-time parents is that you do not need anywhere NEAR the amount of clothes you think you're going to need, unless you have a spit-uppy baby or do not have in-house laundry. You can take many of those clothes back and get credit for the future, when it's three days to payday and you're short and that Target gift card gets you the diapers you need.)

I should have done far more of that-- I can't tell you how many things Elle wore only once or not at all, and the credit at Target or Babies R Us or Kohl's would have done me a lot more good, financially speaking, than another cute romper she just didn't need.

Despite the overabundance of clothes, though, every time Elle starts going up a size I worry there won't be enough. This is silly, but I can't help myself. And there is some validity to the worry now: the clothes I got as gifts when she was born are now running out. People buy you clothes up through about the 9/12 month mark, and after that (as a friend said to me) your kid's gonna be naked.

We had a big consignment sale at a local charity recently, and I was able to get some cute summer clothes for her at a fraction of what I'd have paid new... yet I still worry.

I shouldn't, I guess; the universe seems to step in and provide. I had lunch with a friend the weekend before Easter, and she brought two bags of hand-me-down clothes for Elle from someone she works with. This same person gave me a bag of maternity clothes back when I was pregnant, and is now passing on clothes for Elle. She's never even met me. Then yesterday on Face.book, a single mom friend offered hand-me-downs from 18M through 2T. And for Easter, my mom showed up with a stack of adorable summer clothes she found at an outlet mall, on sale.

I've written before about how amazingly generous people can be. This is another reminder. Elle is now set through fall, with the inevitable fill-in purchases here and there.

I am trying to continue the tradition. I did sell some baby clothes in the consignment sale I mentioned, but I've also been giving clothes to friends who just had a baby a couple of weeks ago. They'll probably benefit from Elle's sharp dressing for several years to come, assuming their daughter doesn't grow at a rate far out of step with Elle, and I'm glad there's someone who can take advantage of it. (And it gets them out of my house. Double bonus.)

Some days it feels like there's so little we can do to make things better in this world. And some days, passing on a stack of onesies is enough to make it a better day.

***

Elle's first Easter was a lovely celebration of what is my favorite (church) holiday. Our church does a whole procession with streamers and everything, and she was transfixed. The church was also more crowded than usual, and the choir was extra loud, so she was pretty enthralled throughout.

Very serious-faced, though, even with all the people coming up to us and wishing her happy Easter and commenting on her Easter getup. (She looked ridiculously adorable, really.) She just gazes at people with her big dark eyes, sizing them up. If she knows you, she smiles. If you're new or new-ish, she just checks you out. It's pretty funny.

I even cooked dinner (my mother took care of Elle) which I really enjoyed. I love to cook, as much as that's just not practical right now. I didn't make anything especially difficult or complicated, but it all turned out well and tasted delicious. And I now have leftovers. Mmm, leftovers.

Elle probably thought it was just another day, but it was a special first Easter for our little family.

***

I am going to try and include some photography here and there, FYI (note the new header picture, which is the wrong size because I can't find anything that tells me what size to make it and I'm not able/willing to keep resizing it until it fits-- I do not have TIME), but I am not someone who's comfortable putting pictures of my kid(s) on the internet. I'm just not.

It's really not fair, since I get so much pleasure out of the pictures of other people's children online. Some of my favorite blogs (many linked in my sidebar) often feature pics of the blogger's child/children, and I've gotten so much pleasure out of their kids and out of watching them grow. That's just not me, though. Which is a shame, because Elle is adorable. (Not that I'm biased, or anything.)

So there will be silhouettes and backs and fingers and toes, because I do think photography adds to a blog. But my ingrained intarwebs paranoia wins the day on this one.

In her Easter bonnet

2011-04-21T20:13:00.003-05:00

I really wanted to find Elle a pretty Easter dress for her first Easter. I'm a pretty practical mom; I don't put her in a ton of fancy clothes or giant headbands or anything.

But Easter is different. Easter is when you doll up for church. It's also my fave religious holiday of the year, so when I say "rejoice," I want to rejoice.

Surprisingly, though, it was tough to find an Easter dress. Oh, there are tons of dresses out there-- but they look more like pretty dresses, not Easter dresses. At least in my mind.

Apparently, I had a specific mental image of what a child's Easter dress should look like. Who knew? It needs to be pastel, of course. Eyelet is good but not required. A crinoline is nice. It should not look like the child is about to head off to prom, a christening where they are the featured guest, a quinceañera, or their own wedding.

These requirements were surprisingly hard to meet.

I ended up finding a dress at the last place I looked. It's a sunny yellow that will look darling with Elle's dark hair and eyes. It has a little crinoline. It has a ribbon around the waist with a bow in front. She's going to look like a little Peep, and I couldn't be happier.

What am I wearing? Who knows.

We all know who rates in this house. :)

Jewelry and reflections

2011-04-11T20:44:00.004-05:00

I ordered a mother's necklace from a seller on Etsy. I've been looking at them for a while, but they all seemed so very similar and processed. I finally found a designer that made them small, simple, and affordable, and am looking forward to having it around my neck.

Among other things, it will have a little disk stamped with a sun, because Elle is my sunshine.

(I love that I already have a "jewelry" tag. At least I'm consistent.)

***

Tooth number two is on its merry way, so let's just say last night was less than restful. And when I wake up from a dead sleep in the middle of the night because of a baby that's screaming as if she's being tortured with hot pokers, let's just say I didn't have the presence of mind to remember that Tyl.enol would probably have helped.

Tonight, should I need to remember, I will remember.

***

Being a parent is this vast amazing thing, and at the same time it's so very tiny. It's small things like how your daughter's cheek feels against your lips, how she'll rest her face against yours and you can feel her smiling, how her neck smells. And it's big enormous things like wondering who she'll be someday, who she's becoming. Realizing that so much of who she is is already there, coded into her genes, like the little wispy curls her hair is turning into.

2011-04-08T20:29:00.003-05:00

I talked to a friend tonight and though we originally talked about some sad news, we ended up chatting about many other topics-- far more pleasant ones. When we hung up, I realized how nice it had been to talk to someone on the phone that didn't have to do with work.

I don't know about you, but most of my friends now communicate via e-mail and text. I see people live and in person all the time, but phone calls have become rarer and rarer. And by the time I get home, get Elle fed and bathed and put to bed, wash bottles, and have something to eat, I'm usually too tired to do anything but check e-mail, maybe watch something on the DVR and collapse into bed.

It was good to just talk to a friend.

***

Elle was very tired tonight. I have to remember that the week takes a lot out of her, just as it takes a lot out of me, and we need to make sure we do some recharging over the weekend. The coming weekend is very booked, and... I need to not do that.

Our little family needs to not be on the go every moment of every day.

Kisses and dancing, oh my

2011-03-23T21:20:00.002-05:00

We have so much going on at Chez Plus One these days. While crawling is still apparently of absolutely no interest whatsoever, it's never boring around here.

- Baby kisses! This week saw the arrival of the first baby kisses from Elle. Big, open-mouthed, wet, slobbery kisses.

The first time it happened I thought she was trying to eat my nose, but then she did the same thing again, aimed at my cheek-- very deliberately, and with a very serious face, her eyes enormous. I realized, then, that it was her version of a kiss.

I can't help laughing when she does it, because my face ends up covered in slobber, but it is so sweet and gentle.

- Baby dancing! She has figured out how to get several of her toys to make noise, including one that plays the ABC song. When the ABC song starts, she starts wiggling her tush and moving her arms around, and sometimes her little head starts bobbing as well. It's ridiculously adorable. I do need to catch it on video.

She can't crawl, has little interest in rolling over (she can, but why bother?), and could care less about putting weight on her legs-- but she's got rhythm.

That's my girl.

I am blessed with a baby that, in general, is a happy, inquisitive, funny little bundle of babyness. She wants your undivided attention ALL the time, and if she doesn't get what she wants she's pretty loud about it (common for babies, I think), but overall she's a happy, good baby. I clearly got a great pick in the baby lottery, and I give thanks for that every day.

My parents were in last weekend, and it continues to be an interesting experience. They adore Elle, but she tires them out quickly (I'm an older mother, thus they are older grandparents). I sometimes think they like the idea of her as much, or more, than they actually like her-- they like having a granddaughter, showing off pictures of her, and talking about the cute things she does. The actual work involved in her, they don't like so much.

I think that's probably fairly typical of grandparents.

But it highlights, again, the fact that when you're a single parent, there's no real respite-- not even with family. I'm OK with that. I just have to remember that and not have other expectations. I am the only person driving this bus, and that's how it is.

They also stay with me when they visit, in my very small house. A friend came over for dinner with them one evening, and commented later that it seems like I spend all my time waiting on them when they visit. Now, my parents would laugh at that, but to some degree my friend is right. We've even had conversations that they don't understand why I'm not cooking dinner for them.

"You just don't think about dinners when we're here, do you?" my mother said.

I looked at her. "I don't think about dinners," I responded. "In general."

When she starts eating a regular dinner, I'll start thinking about cooking. At this age, though, it doesn't make any sense. I'll pop in a frozen dinner or reheat leftovers, and often eat them while she has her evening meal of veggies and cereal, but anything more complicated than that doesn't make sense right now. And if you come visit me and there's a dinner involved, we'll be going out, ordering in, or making something extremely simple (something frozen, or something involving pasta).

They can't afford to stay at a hotel (and that's another post entirely: your lifestyle should reflect your income. If it doesn't, there's a problem), so they stay with me. I want Elle to know them for as long as possible, and to be close to them. But they stay with me and then complain about my house.

If my house is not comfortable, stay elsewhere. If you're staying here, shut up.

I need to find a nicer way to say that.

Eight months

2011-03-11T20:12:00.004-06:00

Elle is over eight months old now (eight months! wha?) and part of me wishes I could just freeze her right at this age, and keep her just as she is.

But by the time I'd finish wishing I could freeze her, she'd have moved onto something else. Seriously, it's that fast.

***

Did you know the Sou.th Park dudes wrote a musical about the Morm.ons? They did.

I can't make this stuff up.

***

Work has been intense. I've accepted a new role with the same company, and this month I'm doing my new job and my old job. I'm doing this in a situation where I have almost no flexibility, schedule-wise-- I'm already leaving Elle with the sitter for as long as the sitter's schedule allows, and by the time I get her to bed I have about an hour and a half to clean up, have something for dinner, think about what to wear the next day to work, and collapse. So at the moment, it's not like I have any time outside the eight-to-five to get these massive amounts of work accomplished.

Yeah, I'm whining. Sorry. I should probably suck it up and work until 10 or 11 at night and collapse into bed after that, but if I lose sleep, I get sick. I can't afford that.

Of course, I also can't afford to risk my job. It's never a good thing to lose a job, of course. But now I have this little apple-cheeked ball of curiosity dependent upon me, and-- I hate to say it-- there's a low level of terror that if I'm unemployed, she suffers.

That's possibly one of the hardest things about being a single parent, honestly. Unless I win the lottery (and I'd have to play to win, heh), there's always going to be that drumbeat in the back of my mind, that fear about What If.

I'm so behind I'm almost caught up with myself

2011-03-06T19:58:00.003-06:00

I really do think about updating this all the time. But as we all know, thinking is not doing.

A lot has gone on since Valentine's Day, when I last posted. Elle is sitting up by herself-- well, mostly. If she spots something she wants she lurches over to grab it and usually ends up on her face, which I find hilarious (I'm a terrible mother!) and she finds soooooo traumatic. (She's also becoming a Drama Mama, which is hysterical.) She's still babbling a lot, but with few consonants; I wouldn't be me if I wasn't worried and projecting out into the future assuming that there's something horribly wrong and I need to get an evaluation and and and.

(I know perfectly well she'll do everything in her own time. But I worry. I can't help it!)

She's been fighting a horrible cold-- bad enough that I took her to the ped on Friday to make sure her lungs/ears were clear. They were, thank goodness. This was complicated by the fact that she's been teething on and off for ages, and right in the middle of her bad cold, the teething switch went back to "on." Saturday was full of excellent naps, thanks to Tyle.nol and the trusty vaporizer. She seems better today.

I marvel, often, at how lucky I am. She's a happy, inquisitive, good natured little baby. She's already able to entertain herself for short stretches (though she likes me nearby), and she finds other people and their activities endlessly entertaining. I mean, I'm actually able to get to church most weeks, because she loves the lights and music and people. Also, my church has a little area on the side for kids with a rug and toys, so we go over there and we hang out, sometimes playing, sometimes watching other kids play (big fun), and sometimes having her bottle.

I feel like I'm getting my feet under me, mostly. And while I know the entire definition of parenthood is that the ground shifts constantly (usually when you least expect it), I think our little family is pretty wonderful. I can't wait to see what's ahead.

Happy Valentine's Day

2011-02-14T20:37:00.003-06:00

Dear Elle:

Happy first Valentine's Day! They can call this a Hall.mark holiday all they want, but if you look at it as a celebration of love and connection, you've made it my best Valentine's Day ever.

February is my least favorite month of the year, in general. It's cold and dark. There are no holidays from work. Winter is usually beating the crap out of us, and while the month is the shortest of the year, it always feels like the longest.

This time last year, I was pregnant. I was just starting to believe that yes, this pregnancy was 1) real and 2) was going to stick. When you're over 40 (by a couple of years ::ahem::) and pregnant the statistics are terrible. TERRIBLE. You're basically just waiting for something to inevitably go wrong, and it was hard for me to believe that I (and you) was a statistical improbability.

(I still don't believe it sometimes, to be honest.)

Some women-- and many single moms, I've noticed-- are much more excited during their pregnancy than I was. Please never take that as an indication that I wanted you any less, or that I wasn't impatient to meet you. It was the simple fact that I just couldn't believe it, couldn't believe you-- right up until I saw your face for the first time, all red and bright-eyed and taking everything in.

So you're here for your first Valentine's Day, and while I've had some nice Valentine's Days in the past, this one wins. Hands down.

Our Valentine's breakfast ended with you spitting cereal into your hands and mushing them together with great joy. You were so proud of yourself-- after all, a few minutes earlier you didn't even know you could do that. Our Valentine's dinner ended with you flinging your spare spoons on the floor (as always) and looking incredibly pleased with the noise.

And later, I sang to you as you struggled against sleep, rubbing your head under my chin.

I didn't even know you a year ago, but I'm so glad you're here. Happy Valentine's Day to my wonderful, tiny valentine. I love you.

Love,
Your Mom

What do you mean it's February?

2011-02-12T21:03:00.004-06:00

Seriously, it's been too long since I've updated. Sorry about that. Not that my life is all that riveting, of course, but I hte it when blogs go quiet and you don't know what happened.

(Looking at the dates, it's been exactly one month since I updated. I had no idea I was so precise.)

I'm too tired tonight to do much of an update, even though a thousand things have happened-- all very small things, yes, but a thousand. Elle is seven months old and every day she's more interesting. Babies are great because they're tiny and sweet, but I have to be honest: older babies are just plain more interesting. To me, anyway.

So I have many things to say about my beautiful daughter. I also have many things to say about being a single mom, and what I learn every day (and what I'll probably never figure out). And I think all those things will have to wait until I'm way more awake.

So we're here, we're happy and busy, and more to come.

Dignity. Always dignity.

2011-01-12T20:08:00.003-06:00

Elle is very, very busy these days with two things:

1. Sitting up.
2. Finding her voice.

The fact that she can't really do #1 doesn't stop her from trying one bit. She wants to be UP! UP UP UP! She isn't even rolling over (she can; she just doesn't) but darn it, if she's not sitting up, you are MEEEEEAN.

Girl's gonna have some nice abs.

She's a chatty little thing, as well, so #2 is a lot of fun. She'll talk to just about anyone and, often, anything.

In church this past week, she was chatty. My favorite moment, though, was in the middle of a very quiet moment when she let out a belch that was likely heard far and wide.

That's my girl.

Happy 2011

2011-01-01T09:19:00.004-06:00

Happy New Year! I hope 2011 brings happiness and health to you, wherever you may be.

I know someone in one of my groups who has had a long and difficult road towards motherhood, and is now waiting to be matched for adoption. You can feel the yearning for motherhood just pouring off every word she speaks; it's defining her life-- her existence-- in ways it never defined mine. I get the impression, too, that it always has, but the difficulty of her journey has intensified it (for obvious reasons).

I wanted to be a mother, yes, but it never consumed me like it does her.

For some reason I was thinking back over all of this, and realized again how unusual (lucky) I have been. At my advanced age, I had my first visit with a RE (reproductive endocrinologist) in May 2009, and after a little cleaning up of things, was pregnant on my first IVF attempt in October of that year. Healthy daughter born in 2010.

That's still just... bizarre to me.

Now, the fact that I went straight to IVF was certainly a factor. If I'd played around with IUI at my age, I might have been dealing with a tiny/narrow window that ended up closing before I was successful. If there's one thing that's clear from my experiences and the experiences of other women I know (single OR married, it makes no difference), it's that you can be perfectly fertile one month, and fall off the cliff the next. (Especially when you're over 40.) I know so many couples and singles that had no trouble catching pregnant with their first child (or two), but after that simply weren't able to be successful without intervention. And sometimes they weren't successful even with intervention.

Fertility is such a gamble. Heck, there are 28 year olds who don't have viable eggs. You never know.

I was sure I wasn't going to get pregnant and would move to adoption, so I was ready for my IVF journey to end badly. And, if you read back, my insurance would not have covered further attempts, so I was pretty much going to be done at one. I might have tried a few IUIs, but I don't even know about that. I also never had any interest in donor egg/embryo, so that wasn't an option. For me, it was IVF -> possibly an IUI or two -> adoption.

So I was pretty matter-of-fact about the whole thing. I had always felt called to adoption (I still do, honestly, and if the universe plopped 40K in my lap, I'd start trying to adopt #2, however crazy that may sound), so I thought that's where the universe was going to lead me. I tried IVF because I wanted to rule it out so I didn't look back and wonder someday.

I guess I don't have to look back and wonder, hm? ;)

Anyway. It strikes me, sometimes, as unfair that my journey was so... concise. Straightforward. (I will not say easy, because there were points that were definitely not easy.) But it was a fairly straight line from A to B(aby)... for someone who never wanted it with the intensity and urgency that this other woman does.

Shouldn't she be a mother, she who wants it with every cell in her body? I know that has nothing to do with anything, but it still seems off. And I understand why I haven't seen this woman in person at gatherings for a long time; it must be incredibly painful for her to be in a roomful of people who have everything she's ever wanted, and often got their wish with little, if any, suffering involved.

I'd like to think her road has been long because, when she's finally matched for adoption, that baby is the baby that's meant to be with her, and the universe simply wouldn't accept anything less. I hope that's the case.

And part of my mind wonders if any baby is going to be able to fill that great longing within her. Because motherhood, while amazing and terrifying and spectacular, cannot in any way fix what's broken, or fill all of our empty spaces.

this I know is true

2010-12-21T21:02:00.001-06:00

I loved my daughter from the moment she was born.

I fell in love with her a little bit later, I think.

Everything moves so fast

2010-12-14T20:26:00.002-06:00

The danger of being the parent of a baby is just trying to keep up. Stopping to look around, to take a breather? Seems like a crazy idea. After all, even when you have a spare half hour, there are three hundred things you could (should) be doing. You could be cleaning or paying bills or washing dishes or doing laundry or or or...

And sometimes you just want to take a nap.

I was off today-- I switched my usual day off because the sitter had a conflict. Normally I'm off Fridays, and the long three-day weekends are busy and full of things to do. Being off on a random day in the middle of the week meant that there wasn't anything we had to do, and it was a really nice day full of nothing particularly important. It was good not to have to go anywhere (we did run an errand, but that was it) and to just spend some time with my daughter, who gets funnier and more interesting every day.

(I've always liked babies just fine, but I definitely like them more as they get older. I know my life as I know it will be over when she's mobile, but I am FINE with that.)

Taking the time to just be, to be present-- that's a good holiday gift.

Speaking of holiday gifts, I am not done with my holiday shopping, and I glare at anyone who is. I'm taking some time off this Friday while Elle is at the sitter and, come hell or high water, I'm finishing my shopping.

I have finally, however, ordered my holiday cards. They are freaking adorable. It helps, of course, that they're mostly made up of a picture of Elle's face. And she's pretty freaking cute.

Giving Thanks

2010-11-23T20:11:00.002-06:00

I head out tomorrow to visit family for the Turkey Day weekend. I've basically put my foot down and said that I will not travel at Christmas (sorry, not risking a potentially snowy, nasty drive with an infant); that's an unpopular decision, so going to visit for Thanksgiving is my olive branch.

It's a terrible time to take three days off work, but it is what it is. And Elle will enjoy a few days with people who dote on her. As will I.

It's been a hard year for many people I know. It's been a hard year for me, in many ways. It would be wrong, though, not to stop and give thanks at this time of year for my healthy, sassy daughter, who is doing something new every day. She's discovering rice cereal, is thisclose to rolling over, holds on to toys (and sticks them in her mouth), and is interested in everything going on around her. She's getting more hair, is chubby, and seems to get longer if I look away from her for a moment. She likes her babysitter, does not like naps, and responds very well to prune juice should it be necessary.

I am very thankful for her. And for my friends reading this, as well.

Life

2010-11-16T20:12:00.002-06:00

These days, life is made up of simple things.

Getting the laundry done. Then getting it folded.

Elle's rosy cheek soft against mine.

Thinking of things I should be doing, and ignoring them to take a few minutes for myself.

Loading my IPod with songs from Broadway musicals that I want to relearn, so I can sing them to my baby.

Working so hard all day that I barely have time to breathe, and kind of enjoying the intensity.

Running to catch the train home.

Having a reason to run.

Friday

2010-11-12T19:49:00.004-06:00

Dear Elle,

We had a good day. I didn't have to work (I'm still on shorter weeks), and while we have plans tomorrow and Sunday, today was wide open. It was nice not to have to be anywhere but with you today.

You were up early (you have been ever since daylight savings time changed back), and all smiles. You were smiley all day, in fact, despite your truly horrifying lack of naps-- a four month old infant should not be able to stay up from 6 a.m. to 7 p.m. with only one 35 minute morning nap, 10 minutes sleeping in the car, and 20 minutes sleeping in the stroller. That's IT. Seriously. Crazy.

Despite that, though, you were a happy girl. You loved going out and doing errands; even the grocery store is fun for you. You were happy to get not one, but two walks, courtesy of the unseasonably warm day. Walks are so good for both of us. (I confess I am a little worried about winter days where we truly can't get out of the house, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.) You liked hanging out while I did stuff in my room, and you enjoyed just being on your blanket surrounded by toys.

You worked very hard at getting the various toys into your mouth. Right now it is ALL about the mouth-- everything must. go. in. the. mouth. NOW. Sometimes you aren't quite sure how to get the toy to your mouth, and it ends up around your ear, but you figure it out eventually.

You spent much of the day just watching me with those big, gorgeous eyes. What do you see when you stare at me? A woman at the store said "Oh, look at her. She's just looking at you like she's thinking 'that's my mom.' " I don't know if that's what you're thinking with that little intent face. I guess I won't ever know.

When it was time for bed, you went down without a peep; you just snuggled your head into my neck as I sang to you, then went into your crib, kicked off any attempt at a blanket cover, and found your thumb. Now you're hopefully upstairs making up for all the napping you didn't do today.

Sweet dreams, my beautiful happy girl.

It doesn't take much

2010-11-07T19:54:00.001-06:00

Apparently, if I fake a coughing fit in an over-the-top melodramatic fashion, Elle thinks it is absolutely hilarious.

Who knew?

Four months

2010-11-05T20:55:00.003-05:00

Elle is four months old. That seems completely impossible, but it's true.

A while ago, someone said something to me about motherhood that rings very true now. She said the individual minutes seem to take years-- but the time goes by so fast it's unbelievable. Yes. This.

She's alert and chatty. She likes being around people. She has an excellent appetite and thus the most adorable fat thighs you've ever seen-- rolls upon rolls on those thighs, each one pink and soft and hilarious. She does not like changing clothes. She still likes the ceiling fan. She-- unfortunately-- also likes TV. Fortunately, she's starting to look at books when I read to her, and often seems to enjoy them. She doesn't mind tummy time so much; it's like it's a whole new perspective, and that's big fun. She's grabbing at things reliably now, though she doesn't quite know what to do with them once she has them. She has excellent head control. She can't roll over on her own yet, but let her wrap her hand around your finger and give a pretty mild tug and she'll whip over like a pro (and once she gets there, still doesn't quite know what to do with the arms that are now underneath her). She sleeps at least 10 or 10 1/2 hours per night most nights, straight through, but still doesn't nap reliably for me during the day. She likes her babysitter, and adores her babysitter's teenaged son. She does not like wearing hats. She's not in love with being in the car, but she'll put up with it if she has to. She likes looking at the sparkle of jewelry. She likes being sung to. She laughs and laughs when you stretch her toes up to her face, or when you make noise and kiss her in her neck folds, or when you "fly" her around over your head. She is very serious after about 4:00 in the afternoon. She is not at all serious in the mornings; when I get her out of her crib she greets me with a smile and, often, a little chirpy laugh that I can't describe.

Four months? It seems like four years, and four minutes, all at once.

Advice and consent

2010-10-27T21:03:00.001-05:00

People who know me have, more than once, told me that I am ridiculously independent. I have trouble asking for help, for one thing. This is something I have gotten better at out of sheer necessity since I became pregnant, and even more so now that I'm a parent (and a single parent, at that-— help is essential), but I'm still not great at it. I probably never will be.

I'm better at listening to, and taking, advice. While I will stand in the middle of a melting chunk of ice and insist that I AM FINE AND DO NOT NEED HELP, I am the first to admit that I don't know everything, and I like hearing other people's opinions and ideas on things. (So offer me advice how I should get off the ice. Don't offer, God forbid, to help!)

Except, apparently, from my mother.

Some of it is in the delivery, and other people who've heard my mother give advice to me have agreed with me that her delivery is... not necessarily helpful, or easy to accept. (Validation! I love me some validation.) Her incessantly negative opinions of, and advice relative to, bre.astfeeding in the first few weeks following Elle's birth was exhausting and frustrating. I'm still angry about it, to be honest, and rightly or wrongly I attribute some of my difficulties with bfeeding to the stress it caused.

However, that said, I'm sure she has plenty of good information to offer. She did a pretty good job raising me, after all. But for whatever reason, the hair on the back of my neck just goes right up and I can feel myself digging in whenever she starts offering her thoughts on anything to do with Elle.

(Sample: She called smack in the middle of one time when Elle screamed for 2.5 hours for no apparent reason. Mom: “What's wrong?” Me, exhausted: “I don't know. She's just screaming her head off.” Mom: “Is she wet?” Why, thank GOD you asked, mother! My baby daughter has been inconsolable for over an hour and I never even thought to check her diaper! Thank goodness you called with your wise counsel! Seriously, I just looked at the phone and didn't know how to respond.)

It's a shame, because if I was more open to her counsel, I'm sure I'd benefit from it. I'm just not.

My babysitter L, on the other hand, can say pretty much the same thing—- but I listen to her. She's got a son in college and has been watching kids for 15+ years, so she has a good base of experience to draw from. Her advice has been very practical and down-to-earth. I'm also reassured that she notices things about Elle and mentions them to me, so she's clearly paying attention and engaged, which I like a lot.

So I don’t have trouble with accepting advice from motherly figures. Just my mother.

Good to know.

Sunday mornings are made for updates

2010-10-24T09:59:00.005-05:00

I think there's a trend-- Elle is going down for her nap just when I should be leaving for pre-church choir rehearsal. And she really needs to go down for her nap; there's no cheering her up or hoping she'll fall asleep once we get to church.

Next Sunday is her christening. I think I'll have to get her up earlier (yuck) in order for her to nap a bit before we have to get her out of the house... It should be interesting. At least there will be other people there to babywrangle, what with my parents in town, and the various godparents and friends present.

So today, I've already finished ironing clothes for the week, written a thank-you note, washed the only dirty bottle, and decided not to dust. Thus, I'm messing around on the intarwebs, and hoping Elle wakes up in time to make at least part of the church service. We also have a baptism informational meeting afterwards, which (if nothing else) we should be able to make.

I've worked out how to make choir rehearsals on a semi-regular basis. But getting to actually sing... that's going to be a challenge.

Elle made her first trip to Ikea yesterday. She was angelic, which I am taking to mean that she's a fan of Swedish design. Also of Swedish food, because she was perfectly behaved while a friend and I grabbed a cheap lunch in their cafeteria.

They've redesigned the traffic flow/interior of my favorite Ikea, and made it much less open and much more difficult to maneuver. Bleah. You used to be able to wander around in fairly open aisles, and now you feel herded like a sheep. I understand that they want you to have less freedom to roam because theoretically then you'll buy more-- but for me, I'll buy less when I feel claustrophobic. And I'll be grumpy.

Of course, I still managed to buy. I got a small bookcase for Elle's room, as well as some more fabric collapsible storage boxes that are perfect for toys. They have a cute toy box, but the little fabric boxes are more portable and flexible.

Did I get anything for me, you might ask? Yes. A soap dish. We all know who rates in the Plus One household.

One note-- I needed the bookcase for a good reason. A friend who works at a library in the area got me a stack of children's books from when her library was reorganizing its children's collection. Literally, we're talking about a stack of books at least a foot high-- probably higher than that! They are fabulous-- I'm going to wipe off the covers, just because, but it's a wonderful stash of books that hopefully Elle will love.

You can never, ever have too many books.

Hairy issues

2010-10-20T20:26:00.001-05:00

Postpartum hair loss: OY. I have always had TONS and TONS of hair, but now... I swear, where I part my hair, it looks like I’m going bald.

Doesn’t help that I need my hair colored, too, so you see the grey roots at the part. But SERIOUSLY. I know it'll stop and that I’m not likely to go bald or anything, but I'm not used to this thin hair crap. And I’m not happy about it.

No wonder my hair looked so good immediately post-baby; it was probably about twice as thick as it is now. Oh, well. I’d rather have thin hair (and my daughter) than still be pregnant.

Also, note to self: Self, you can’t continue eating like you’re brea.stfeeding. You’re not any more.

***

I was at a get-together of single moms this past weekend, and someone was asking me how it was going back to work. I admitted, honestly, that it hadn’t been as hard as I thought it would be. One of the other moms there nodded. "Yeah. Because work is way easier than taking care of a baby."

You know, she's right. I can't even tell you how much respect I have for stay at home moms now. For IT IS HARD. That doesn’t mean it’s not fun or rewarding, of course. But it’s hard, and I don’t think I could do it. I’m really glad to get home and see her, but when I get to work in the morning, I’m also happy to be there.

It helps that I like my work. I don't love my job, but it's the right job for me, right now, what with the new-single-momhood and all. I'm extremely lucky, because I've been at my job for a number of years and there's no question I have more flexibility because of the goodwill I've built up there.

Some women are wired to be home with their kids. I think I had Elle late enough in my life that I got wired differently.

But I sure do love coming home to her, and I'm glad I'm on a four-day week right now.

Sunday sniffles

2010-10-17T09:11:00.004-05:00

We may not make it to church today... little Miss Elle woke up, had her bottle, and was down for a nap only a little more than an hour later, which is not her norm. I think she might be starting on her first cold. No temp, fortunately, but she sounds stuffy to me, and-- TMI alert-- she had a pretty loose BM this morning, which is another sign of a cold (apparently).

This is why I have six people reading this blog: FASCINATING DETAILS OF POO.

It's hard to watch a little one not feel 100%. Just like when she was feeling poorly after her first shots, I just feel helpless. I'm glad she's sleeping now, since (just like with us grown-ups) sleeping helps her little body. I'm also going to dig out my little humidifier and set it up in her room, and I have the suction bulb ready to go. Hot times in the old town tonight!

I do need to get some saline drops. Let's see if we can get out to the store today or not, but I'm not waking her up to take her to church. If she needs to sleep, she needs to sleep. And we may make it to church itself; I just may not sing.

There's a single mom's group meeting this afternoon. If she's still not herself when she gets up, though, we may need to stay close to home.

Friends came over last night to meet Elle, and the husband cooked dinner for us as well. "Us" as in his wife and me, of course; as much as Elle might like to try enchiladas with a poblano spinach cream sauce, I think that would be a recipe for disaster, don't you? They were deeeeelicious. He's an amazing cook.

Before he started cooking (in my tiny kitchen, which is not made for his level of cookery!), we hung out and caught up, and Elle was perfectly content to hang out on the husband's lap. Basically, she adored him, and he's really comfortable with babies. They don't have children-- never wanted them-- but are terrific to their niece and nephew, and like kids; that comes through. Elle was happy as a clam. She's such a social little peanut.

She was then so wired, of course, that it took her a while to get to sleep. :) Which may also be part of her tiredness today, I wonder?

Anyway, I'm reminded again how lucky I am to have such good friends. Whatever I did in my previous lives, it clearly wasn't all bad; whatever it was that led me to having such wonderful people in my life, I'm happy it did.

I know some friends will fall away now that I'm a parent, too, and even the ones who stick around will interact differently with me/us than in the past. I've seen some of that already. But I've also seen such amazing generosity and affection. It's humbling, and amazing, and I am so grateful.

Rambling thoughts on books and television and babies

2010-10-11T19:59:00.004-05:00

I’ve always liked television. I’m a definite child of the boob tube, although when I was growing up the selection of programs for kids was far more limited than it is now. We never had cable, and even if we had, I doubt I’d have been allowed to sit in front of Nick Jr or Nickel.odeon or the Dis.ney Channel for more than a little while. Back in the day (as I smack my dentures), Saturday morning cartoons were the big show, and really all that was available. I didn’t know otherwise, so I enjoyed my TV when I could get it.

Books were my main source of information and entertainment, however, and I read everything I could get my hands on. Literally. I remember sneaking into the adult section of my hometown library. What was I sneaking up there to find? Books on English history. I'm pretty sure this is why the librarians never stopped me. If I'd been going up there for the bodice rippers, I might have been gently guided back to the kids' section. Heh.

I'm still a reader, but my love of TV has also continued into my adult life. If I have time, I’ll watch almost anything—from home decorating shows, to documentaries (I love documentaries, even about obscure subjects), to cooking shows, to cop shows, to dramas. I like shows that make me think, or make me laugh, or teach me things. So, basically, what I’m saying is that I like TV. It’s fun.

Of course, nationally, TV viewership has exploded since I was a wee sproglet. Circa 2009, the average American now watches more than 151 hours of TV a month—that’s about five hours a day. That number blows my mind. I have to say even in my sluggiest winter couch-lazing, I’m not sure I ever made it up to that number. And that number isn't even counting online viewing.

A slightly older survey found that the average child watches 1,680 minutes of TV a week—versus 3.5 minutes per week that parents spend in meaningful conversation with their children. And by the time an average child finishes elementary school, they’ll have seen 8,000 murders on TV. 8,000!! You can’t tell me that doesn’t have some kind of impact.

Elle hasn’t even rolled over yet (she’s trying, and it’s hilarious), but if I have the TV on in my bedroom while we’re getting ready, I can see her little eyes gravitate towards it. Even though I just have on the news, it’s shiny and bright, with colors and lights—tailor-made for baby eyes, and waaay more interesting than Mom’s face. But passive interaction with the tube doesn’t give her anything that helps her learn or grow. I read somewhere that they did some kind of analysis between a baby looking at a real dog, and a baby looking at a dog on TV, and the difference in how the baby’s brain was engaged was astronomical.

I’m not a saint. I’ll be using TV as a babysitter occasionally, and I’m not going to worry about it too much. I’ll try to limit it to PBS fare for as long as I can; I’m more comfortable with programs that at least pretend to be educational and aren’t peppered with commercials. But I know that can’t last forever.

I hope it lasts long enough, though, to plant in her a love of reading over TV. I’ve seen in my goddaughter that if you don’t learn to love books when you’re young, you’re never going to love them. You may end up liking them a lot, but you won’t love them. I want Elle to feel that books are magical, and that libraries are places of wonder. That finding a new book by a favorite author is like finding a gift meant just for you. That being deep in a good book means you hardly hear anything going on around you, because you’re off in some far-away (or make-believe) land, miles from your chair. That sometimes the way a book smells stays in your memory—I know, that sounds weird. But if you love books, you understand.

At this point, I’m just thrilled when she focuses on an object and smiles. But I know how quickly this roller coaster goes, and I don’t want to miss the window. I’m sure she’ll like TV, just like her mommy. But I also hope she loves books just as much as I do, because that’s the kind of love that leads somewhere.

My deep love for cop shows hasn’t really benefited me in any measurable way, as fun as they are. But reading? That’s paid off a thousand times over, and always will.

Soup, naps, and once in a century happenings

2010-10-09T20:17:00.006-05:00

Completely random thought: hot and sour soup is awesome.

By posting this I may be jinxing myself forever, but Elle seems-- seems-- to be settling into being a better napper. I know! It's amazing! I wondered if going to the babysitter's might lead in this direction, and it has. For now.

I'm getting a morning nap and two shorter afternoon naps. This is apparently pretty normal for her age, and I couldn't be more thrilled. She's getting the sleep she needs, and I have a few times during the day where I can get stuff done around the house. Or sit and ponder eternity. Or read trashy magazines. Anything!

What no one ever tells you is that, no matter how much you adore your child, if you have a baby that's up for hours and hours at a stretch, you can just plain run out of things to do. Elle can entertain herself for short periods of time, but she's social and likes interaction. If she's up for ten hours straight, not only is she a crabbypants because she needs sleep, she's increasingly difficult to keep occupied. I'm just not that inventive, apparently.

Which leads to last Saturday evening's 2+ hour screaming marathon. Tired babies are nobody's friend. Tired moms are nobody's friend, either.

So we had a great day today, including naps, and a visit to the Garfield Park Conservatory with a friend. GPC is one of Chicago's hidden treasures, I believe, and I get out there a few times a year. (In the middle of a Chicago winter, it restores your faith that yes, someday, you will see green again!) It doesn't take all that long to go through, but it was a nice break.

Elle loves looking up at trees and leaves and the play of light on leaves, so the GPC was fascinating for her. As usual, she looked very thoughtful and a little bit worried as she watches what's going on over her head, but her concentration never wavered. And I got to have a good catch-up with a friend.

Part of the reason we went today was that the Conservatory's agave plant is flowering-- which, in the plant's 100 year lifespan, generally happens only once. It's so tall they've even taken out a pane of glass in the top of the conservatory. It was kind of cool. Yes, I'm a geek. I own it!

In the past I've gone and taken lots of pictures; today I didn't even pull out the camera. I'll have to do so next time.

And now, because my little girl is (hopefully) sound asleep, I'm going to treat myself to an hour of TV before falling into bed.

Saturday night in the fast lane, people. Try to keep up.

In search of the elusive nap

2010-10-02T12:24:00.004-05:00

I may have mentioned that my baby doesn't nap. Well, after her first week at day care and my first week back at work, I need to amend that statement.

My baby doesn't nap for me.

She naps like a dream for the babysitter. Several hours in the morning, and at least a little while between each subsequent feeding. She'll nap in either the swing or the pac.k and play-- basically she naps. Anywhere. Beautifully. As she needs to do-- her little body needs to sleep to grow.

FYI, even with all that daytime sleeping, she's still sleeping well at night. She comes home from the babysitter in a great mood because of all her terrific napping. This is, of course, excellent.

So, how's the napping going back at home with Mom? Let's just say: not well.

Yesterday: nothing outside of naps in the stroller while we walked. That's her usual, with me. Then, I got a swing. She hates it-- screams, sobs, and this morning spit up on herself twice in protest. I ended up taking her out of it, changing her clothes (we can go through five sleepers in a day around here), and putting her in her crib. I did get about 45 minutes of sleep out of her then, and counted it as a win.

Right now she's up in her crib again, because she could barely keep her tiny eyes open. Is she sleeping? She is NOT. She's not howling nonstop, but she's crying intermittently and thus not sleeping. I'm going to hang on as long as I can and try not to pull her out, but I'm not sure that crying it out for naps is something I want to do. I'd have no hesitation on doing it at night-- if her excellent nighttime sleeping changes, I'll do it in a heartbeat-- but it feels vaguely like overkill for naps.

On the other hand, she needs to nap. It's not healthy for her to be up for 12 hours straight with just little catnaps. I know it happens, and I have multiple friends that have told me their children never did anything else, but I've got to at least try. If nothing else, this is getting her used to the idea that she goes into her crib during the day for some quiet time.

I haven't heard fussing on the monitor for a few minutes. We'll see.

In other news, the first week back at work went well. She's in good hands with her sitter, and I'm back out in the world. It's strange to be able to eat lunch without anticipating an interruption... other than the people I work with, of course.

Still no fussing. Cross your fingers for me.

The end, and a beginning

2010-09-23T21:11:00.003-05:00

I'm in my last week of leave; I start back to work on Monday. I took Elle into the office this week to show her around, which was fun. It was a little surreal to sit in my office and feed her. Talk about worlds colliding.

It's amazing how quickly the twelve weeks have passed. The first six weeks or so truly were a blur, and I still feel like each day moves at lightning speed... yet crawls at the same time.

I have good day care for Elle, and I'm going back on a reduced schedule which will give me some flexibility. (Also, less money-- with my reduced schedule, unfortunately, comes reduced pay. We'll see how long I can afford it.) I'm very lucky on all counts. In addition, my workplace is being fabulously accommodating about just about everything-- it helps to have tenure, and to have both your bosses think you do good work.

Everyone's asking how I feel about going back to work. I'm probably not going to really know until I'm actually back at work. But honestly? I think I'm going to be OK. I don't think I'm cut out to stay home full time with an infant. I know many women are, and I think that's amazing.

But many of those women also have spouses/partners. I don't. So being at home is completely consuming, and there's no one to hand her off to. There is literally no time for anything but taking care of Elle, every day. And remember-- she doesn't nap. Hardly ever. The little bit of time I get when she's gone to sleep at night is mostly filled with washing bottles, making bottles for the next day, folding laundry... and when I'm back at work, I'll have to also do things like pack lunch, figure out what to wear, yadda yadda. (I steal time on the internet once she's in bed, but I should really be going to bed myself. Which I'm going to do as soon as I finish this post.)

The past week or so, she's been very hard to entertain-- she's been fussy and generally high-maintenance. Which is new, because other than her non-napping self, she's a really happy baby. I was telling a friend at lunch today that I think this personality change was designed to make it easy for me to put her in day care! (I actually think it's a combination of residual effects from the immuniz.ations she got last week-- poor baby-- and a three-month growth spurt.)

All of this combined makes me think that I am probably going to be a better mom to her when I'm back at work. And truly, I think she's going to love day care-- she's such a social little pumpkin that I think having other kids around is going to be the BEST THING EVER for her little self. It will give her the stimulation that you don't really get from a single parent/one child household.

And then we'll both come home and the time together will be that much more precious.

Along the lines of going back to work, I'm also taking the advice of some of the other single moms I know and making sure I have people (other than my amazing, amazing friends) in place so that I get some "me" time that's not work. The daughter of a friend is going to do some mother's helper type stuff for me occasionally-- just having her help with the baby so I can do things around the house is going to be incredibly helpful (and again, Elle will love it-- a new face!). I've put feelers out for a babysitter so that I don't have to automatically turn down every invitation I get that's not baby-appropriate. My tight budget means that babysitting will not be a frequent treat, but at least I'll have someone in line for whenever it is possible.

I'm sure there are those who will say I'm a bad parent because I'm not spending every single waking moment with my daughter-- and I don't want to spend every single waking moment with my daughter. They're entitled to their opinion, and I'm entitled to disagree.

What I want to do is to be the best possible mom for my daughter, and I firmly believe that I'll be a better mom if I have some balance to my life. It's all too easy as a single parent to let your child consume every single molecule of your existence; I'm already a ridiculously boring conversationalist because I want to talk about her all the time! So I need to make sure that I'm still Me, and not just Elle's Mom.

So yeah, I don't expect next week to be easy, and I'm going to miss that little face and her fantastic chubby cheeks. But... I think it's going to be OK.

I hope.

2010-09-17T21:59:00.003-05:00

I'm going to bed as soon as I hit "publish post" on this, so please forgive me if it's a brief update!

Visiting the family out-of-state went well. Elle was ridiculously well-behaved, which served the dual purpose of helping my parents worry about me a little less... but they worry about me a little less because they think she's a perfect angel.

She's pretty awesome, but she's no angel. ;)

Got home Tuesday. Wednesday, she had her two month pediatrician visit. This included her first round of vacc.inations. It's now Friday, and my good little snuggly baby has been a raging, screaming hellhound of DOOM ever since.

That is perhaps an overstatement. But not a big one.

She ran a temp Thursday; that's gone today (Friday) but the overall fussiness level remains at Code Red. She was up extra early this morning, too (hey, at least I got a shower in, just in time). She barely napped yesterday, which didn't help how poorly she felt, so today we took three fairly long walks, and on two of them she got at least a half hour nap each. (She will reliably sleep on walks.) That's not much for many babies, but for Elle the non-napper, it helps.

Add in the two other short naps she had at home, and today was at least a day where I wasn't considering breaking out the baby Benad.ryl just to give her poor little body some rest.

I'm hoping she's back to her usual sunny self tomorrow. I'll call the doc if she isn't.

She fell asleep in my arms tonight-- no doubt completely exhausted from screaming her lungs out (I'm sure my neighbors are ready to call child protective services)-- and I looked down at her tiny little face and thought I grew you. You didn't even exist a year ago, and here you are. You're a whole little person, right here. She's amazing.

Now, if she could just get back to herself again. How in the world do mothers (single moms, especially) of colicky babies do it? Seriously, how?

To bed. Hopefully, for the night.

Time flies

2010-09-01T08:57:00.002-05:00

Seriously. My baby is eight weeks old already. When the heck did that happen? Really, when?

Elle's still not on much of a schedule, but is at least a little bit predictable-- to the point where I can do a bit of advance prep in terms of preparing bottles, or knowing about what time to head upstairs to start the going-to-bed routine. It helps.

When she's awake, she's almost always happy. I am so lucky. She likes going out and seeing the world (easier when it's not 0ver 90 degrees and humid), she likes new faces and people talking to her, and she likes light/windows/shiny things. She interacts with the ceiling fan in my bedroom-- coos and warbles and chirps, as if telling the ceiling fan how awesome he is. (What gender is a ceiling fan, anyway?) She doesn't quite yet see well enough to find mirrors fascinating, although they're definitely more interesting than they were even a week ago.

In other words, she's a pretty typical baby: just wants to be loved and interacted with. Oh, and fed on a very regular basis.

She's napping right now-- woke up early and hungry, snarfed down several ounces, and passed right out. My friend E-- who was my fabulous acupuncturist-- handed me down a rocker thingy (this one), and Elle is much more willing to nap in this than she is in her pac.k and play or her crib, so she's in that and I've had a chance to do some exciting things like start some laundry, wash a bottle... you know, that fun stuff.

E also gave me a ton of clothes and probably $100 worth of diapers that her daughter had grown out of. I'm reminded, again, of the generosity that's out there. Not just generosity of stuff (though diapers are so, so welcome), but generosity of spirit. It's scary being a single mother, and sometime I'll do a post about that. But the support and friendship and love I've gotten from everyone has been humbing and amazing. From the friend who comes over every Tuesday after work, just to help, to people who call to check in, to diapers...

It's hard and scary, especially in this economy, to be a single parent. But I think we'll be OK.

Someone's waking up (and sadly, it's not me) so I'm off. And truly off-- I'm headed out of town at the end of the week to visit family, so they can show Elle off. My plans include naps and getting some sun, since the grandparents will be more than happy to take Miss Elle and spoil her rotten. (And probably do a variety of things I'd rather they not do, including feeding her rice cereal; but that's another post.)

See you mid-September!

Still here, still busy, still in awe

2010-08-22T08:36:00.004-05:00

Apologies-- I haven't updated in a while. I think about it, and then get caught up in stuff. I got a funny, dear, alert, cuddly, wonderful daughter in the baby lottery, but I did not get a baby that naps. She sleeps well at night (mostly), which is a blessing, but by the time she goes to sleep at night the last thing I think of is updating a blog-- I have to do the ten thousand things I can't get done during the day before I fall into bed!

Baby carriers, FYI, are great inventions. I can do a fair bit of stuff with her snuggled against my chest. She generally falls asleep-- until I try to take her out of the carrier. And then-- WOE! I CANNOT SLEEP IN MY CRIB! WHY MUST YOU MAKE ME?

Or something along those lines. (And she's fine in her crib at night, fortunately.)

Elle is seven weeks old this coming week, and it's hard to believe it's only been seven weeks because so much has changed. Sometimes I look at her and it still feels like I'm on the world's longest babysitting assignment-- like at any moment life will go back to what it was, and this little girl will go back go someone more worthy to be her mom than me. But life will never be the same again, and that's as it should be.

I had a friend over yesterday who ended up hanging out for most of the day, much as we would have BB (Before Baby). And it was so nice to hang out with Elle and my friend, and to see the way my daughter has not just changed my life, but also how well she fits into it, and how she is making her own place in the world. People that matter to me are going to matter to her, and she'll have her own relationships with them. And my horizons will expand, too. They already have.

Speaking of Elle, I believe she's finally getting up; I should go get her so that we can maybe make it to church today. We had a late night last night, so it's good she slept in a bit. Sweet, snuggly babies who don't nap need a good night's sleep!

Different

2010-08-05T14:11:00.004-05:00

A friend just visited-- another single mom. Her daughter is just over two years old, and a very busy bundle of curls and curiosity. It was good to catch up with her, and she got in her baby-holding quota. (No one wants to put a sleeping baby in their crib except their parent! Everyone else wants to hold them. It's hilarious.)

She asked me a question that's gotten me thinking: how is being a parent different than I expected?

I tend to be fairly verbal, but I didn't have a quick answer for this. My reply, eventually, was that right now it's pretty much what I thought it would be. I always expected the first six weeks or so to be fairly overwhelming full-time infant care. I expected to enjoy it, mostly. I expected to love kissing my daughter's head, or to get a kick out of giving her a bath. I expected to feel a little cut off from reality. I expected all of this, and it came true.

I guess what I didn't expect was that I'd find tiny little things absolutely fascinating and endearing-- how her eyebrows raise in surprise when she finds a food source, how her hands constantly move around like little butterfly wings, how she is not fond of loud noises or direct sunlight. These are not particularly revolutionary things, yet I note and remember them as if they're the most important facts ever. They are, in a way.

I also didn't believe how enormous this experience would be. You know intellectually that everything changes when you become a parent; it's different when it's no longer an intellectual exercise.

It's entirely, overwhelmingly different.

Maintenance and quick update

2010-08-03T18:37:00.002-05:00

Alert readers may note I've added a tag: "Elle." That is not my daughter's name, FYI, but it's what I'll call her here, and how I'll tag posts involving her. And alert readers who know me in RL may figure out why I chose that as her online name. :)

Miss Elle is napping at the moment; I'm going to go wake her up as soon as I hit post. It's after 6:30, after all, and if she sleeps much longer it will be a loooong night. And while she's had some catnaps today, her mother has not, and will need whatever sleep she (I) can get.

She's such a joy-- today was, largely, a very smile-y day for her. She's still not smiling at me, really, but when you look at a little month-old smiling face it doesn't really matter that she has gas. It's just a total delight to see her smile. On a face that tiny, the smile takes up most of the real estate, and I just want to kiss her little cheeks.

Of course, when she's not smiling, she's struggling with gas. Poor baby girl. You spend a lot of time worried about bodily functions with kids, I've realized, and watching her turn bright red in order to burp just breaks my heart. Her pediatrician visit is next week and while I'm fairly sure this is normal and not reflux, I'm going to make sure I talk with the ped about it to see if it is reflux, or if there's anything we can do to help. (I'm already feeding her while she's upright, burping her frequently and feeding smaller quantities at one time, keeping her upright after feedings-- all the stuff the intarwebs tell you to do.)

Tiny smiling babies shouldn't have to be in pain. I'm just sayin'.

Life with you

2010-07-29T09:04:00.003-05:00

Taking care of a newborn is simultaneously one of the most fascinating and most boring things on the entire planet.

It's fascinating because she's this whole, complete, amazing little person who already has very definite opinions about a variety of high-level topics (window blinds, ceiling fans, blankets, diapers, etc.) and has her own unique personality. She makes hysterical noises when she's waking up (I swear she even barks sometimes), she hums while she's eating, she has the most gorgeous feet in the world, and she's started smiling randomly-- not really in response to specific things, but they're amazing smiles nonetheless.

So really, I could bore you for hours with stories of her fabulosity.

On the other hand, she's a newborn. Even though she's awake far more than most (who got the "sleeps up to 20 hours a day" newborn? Because IT WASN'T ME-- I'm lucky to get two naps from her a day! Which means no napping for me-- so much for "sleeping when the baby sleeps"), she's generally eating, staring at the above-mentioned window blinds/ceiling fan/other shiny object, or fussing because she has gas. As amazing and wonderful as she is, you do start looking around a bit during the fifth feeding of the day. You can only gaze at her beautiful, funny face for so long.

God bless Net.flix, is all I'm saying.

Eleven days old

2010-07-16T10:17:00.003-05:00

My daughter is asleep in her pac.k and play. She's eleven days old, and each day is a new adventure.

She makes the funniest expressions-- her yawns are as big as her entire face, she looks extremely suspicious when she first starts eating (seriously, it's like she's thinking every time "What is this? What is this? I don't under... ah, there, I get it now..."), and she apparently finds the light in my dining room more compelling than just about anything on the planet.

She is eating up a storm (ten day growth spurt, perhaps?) and sleeping for at least a few consecutive hours each night; it's amazing what you can do if you're getting at least a little sleep. I'm br.east and bottle feeding; I'm just not producing enough, and she's hungry. (Any br.eastfeeding crusaders, please take your guilt trips somewhere else-- I'll do what I need to do to keep her fed. The lactati.on consultant at the hospital acted like formula was the Devil; I feel it's a necessary evil in some cases.)

She has incredibly long fingers and toes-- those are not from me, that's for sure-- and big eyes that haven't yet decided if they'll be brown or hazel. She also, unsurprisingly, has a full head of hair. That, she gets from me. ;)

She's a happy baby all day, but gets fussy in the evenings and there's not much you can do to make it better. If you want to visit, come midday (unless you don't mind a fussybudget baby)!

It's scary and fun and amazing, and she's wonderful. I'm a mom. It's a whole new world.

Hey there

2010-07-09T20:20:00.002-05:00

Guess what? There's a new baby in the house!

She's incredible-- happy, healthy, and beautiful. And, therefore, posting will be light here.

I'll try to pick up posting once my parents leave. (They're here to help. Mostly, they're doing so.)

Still here

2010-06-30T18:14:00.003-05:00

A very, very quick post to say hello! Still here! Still pregnant! Unfortunately, also-- still no internet at home!

DSL think it's the landline, landline thinks it's the DSL. We'll see. I even have a backup meet-the-technician person scheduled, just in case I go into labor before the tech arrives.

Of course, I don't think that's going to happen. This baby is pretty darn comfortable, and I don't think she's going anywhere in the next few days.

If she does, at least the hospital has wifi, so I can post. :)

Not-so-brilliant ideas

2010-06-20T18:08:00.003-05:00

...trying to put together a pac.k and pl.ay at 10-something on a Saturday night, when you're tired and ready to go to bed.

(It's not the playpen part that's hard. It's the changing table attachment. The instructions could not possibly be less clear... especially to a tired pregnant woman who should have been heading up to bed. Oy.)

Left to do:

- get the glider in and set up (that's tomorrow, after work)
- hamper for the baby's room
- diaper pail or no diaper pail?
- install the car seat (I have it. Need to install it.)

I got all dressed for the gym today, and ended up just taking off my gym clothes and staying home. Anyone who wants to call me lazy, go right ahead. I'm 38 weeks tomorrow, and I think a little lazy is OK at this point.

Waiting (in several different ways)

2010-06-19T08:20:00.004-05:00

I'm stuck at home this beautiful Saturday morning, waiting for the meter reader (and when they say "between 8 and noon," I'm expecting him at 11:58), so I'm using the time to putter around the house. And, apparently, blog.

Quick thoughts before moving on to some articles that have appeared recently...

The last few weeks of pregnancy appear designed to:

1. Make you long to go into labor.
2. Make you not really care exactly how they get this baby out of you. C-section? Bring it on! Right now! Don't even wait for anaesthesia, doctor!
3. Make you appreciate your pre-third-trimester bladder capacity, however tiny it might have been at the time.

Enough said.

***

There have been a rash of articles lately about donor conception, based on a study done by the Commission for Parenthood's Future. The survey has concluded some very negative things about donor-conceived children, including confusion, depression, and other problems. (They also find an increased amount of issues with adopted children.)

There are problems with the survey. The organization that did the survey is a conservative group (including being anti-same sex marriage, and thinking climate change is bunk), so the possibility of survey bias is certainly there. People on one of my discussion lists have pointed out numerous issues with the survey itself, including how the survey sample was chosen (self-selected, rather than random), no control group used, the structure of the questions themselves, etc. Even to a stats amateur such as myself, there seems to be smoke and mirrors going on there.

After all, facts are stubborn things, but statistics are more pliable.

Even if you write off the survey organization themselves as hacks, though, it's worth considering the information, and the effect your choices have on your offspring. Do I think it's ideal to raise my daughter as a single mother? I do not. And, for the record, I have not given up the hope of finding a partner to share my life with, and to hopefully be a father figure for my child. (I don't think I'll give up on hoping for a partner even if I'm old and toothless in a nursing home, thanks.)

But for now, it's her and me. I hope I can rear her to be smart and confident, and to understand that however she was conceived, it was with a whole lot of love. I'm also going to make sure she meets other kids in similar family situations; I'm trying to stay active in my local single mom group for that reason. (It's also good support for me!) Families are all different shapes and sizes, and just like I want her growing up knowing people of all genders, races, ages, etc. and thinking that's completely normal, I want her growing up seeing that "family" is not a one size fits all definition.

Now, I'm using an "open ID donor," so I've made a choice that will allow my daughter to initiate contact with her donor once she's 18. I don't expect that this will make everything perfect, of course, but she'll know that I didn't close that door for her. (And, unlike one of the authors of the study, I will always be honest with my child about the circumstances of her conception. The truth will always out, whether it be donors or adoption, and secrets destroy. You just can't lie to kids.)

I'd love to see a rigorously conducted and peer-reviewed study on donor-conceived children of single parents (along the lines of the recent survey that showed children of lesbian parents have done extremely well-- look at the construction of that research vs. the CPF survey). (Note-- this link also provides info on the donor conception survey I'm discussing.) I'd like this very much.

But until we get that, I'm going to read the less-rigorous surveys for the information, but take them with a very large, and very crunchy, grain of salt.

Three weeks left

2010-06-15T21:25:00.004-05:00

So much for keeping people posted with my blog, hm?

I’m still pregnant. 37 weeks, which means she can come any time and be just fine, medically speaking. But I’d like about another week and a half, to be honest— there are a few things I’d like to get done. (And if she hangs on past the weekend of the 26thth, I have a party and then a zoo outing I wouldn’t mind attending—though being not pregnant sounds awfully appealing.)

What’s great, though, is that there’s nothing overly critical that needs to happen. If she decides to make an appearance early, I have clothes, a place for her to sleep, bottles/formula (I am planning to bfeed, but you never know), diapers, and wipes. Anything else can be ordered online, or brought over by the kindness of friends.

It’s weird to know that, at pretty much any time, all my plans and schedules could go entirely out the window. As a planner, it’s kind of exciting yet crazy-making at the same time. Will I get all the baby clothes washed before she shows up? Will the glider come in? (Seriously, I ordered that dang glider when I was about five minutes pregnant. Oy. Bu.y Bu.y Baby, you are ON NOTICE.)

And speaking of baby clothes, this baby has a MOUNTAIN of them. Sadly, many of them are newborn or 0-3 months, which she may grow out of in the first five minutes of her life. I’m doing some judicious returns and getting larger sizes, where I can (note for future reference: always give a gift receipt; you don’t know what the new parent/s already have!). I don’t want her to be suddenly nekkid at six months, you know.

I’ve also been the very lucky beneficiary of some terrific hand-me-downs. This is, seriously, why I have so much stuff. I’ve gotten things at the showers, yes, but I’ve also gotten bags and boxes of wonderful, lovingly used clothes—some from people I don’t even know, but who heard through friends that I was pregnant and sent them along. The kindness that’s out there amazes me.

Although, as one friend told me, it’s a little bit of kindness and a whole lot of “Oh, yay! I can get these clothes out of my house and free up space!” ;)

I look forward to passing the clothes on, as well. For both reasons.

I do need to do a belly picture. I’m definitely visibly pregnant—no question any more—but keep being told that I do not look three weeks away from my due date. As one friend at work said, “You don’t look like you’re about to have a baby. You look like you had a big lunch.” While I think she is mostly just being kind, it’s nice not to be huge. Hello, I’m uncomfortable enough at this size!

But I’m still making it to the gym on weekends, and was at yoga tonight. That’s something.

And so it goes. I'm ready; I'm looking forward to meeting my daughter.

Getting along

2010-05-30T21:43:00.004-05:00

...Wow. I haven't updated in a while. Sorry about that; this month has quickly gotten away from me. Work has been busy (and generally fulfilling, which is a nice change), I've been fairly active on weekends, and blogging has fallen by the wayside.

Still pregnant. I'm at 35 weeks tomorrow. In two weeks, I'll be at the point where they will consider the sproglet full-term, and not worry if I go into labor. Even if I go into labor right now (ack-- God forbid!) her medical problems should be minor and short-term. Everything's formed; she's just gaining weight and putting the finishing touches on her lungs.

So, at this point, I'm basically a slow cooker. Even if, on hot days like today, I feel like a convection oven!

I've reached the point where I'm definitely visibly pregnant (though apparently, I'm still small for how far along I am), and where I'm definitely uncomfortable. So, little Miss Sproglet, stay in there two more weeks and after that, any time. Please.

Had lunch with a friend yesterday who told me that her late mother (who I knew and liked very much) had a knack for predicting when people would deliver, and she belives she inherited a touch of it. She thinks I'll be early. I do too, actually-- the baby's already head down and very (verrrrry) low, and I myself was two weeks early.

I'm going to basically start treating every day at work as my possible last day, after this week. This week, I'm going to clean stuff up (more than I already have).

I had the friends-of-mom shower a couple of weekends ago. This coming weekend is the friends shower, then the weekend after that is the last friends shower that I have objected to strenuously but was overruled on.

(The shower this coming weekend had an invite list of about 15 people-- and if I had expanded it to the next level out of friends, it would have approached 40. And that's totally not fair to the two good friends hosting it. So the last friends shower is a casual potluck BBQ in a park, where people can bring kids and hang out, and my mother is not invited. I still object, because I don't like the fuss at all, but at least it's casual.)

Oh, and this week is also my church choir shower, which I also objected to, and was told in no uncertain terms that they would have it whether I was there or not.

Don't mess with Episcopalians and a party. That's all I'm saying.

Sunshiny

2010-05-14T10:00:00.003-05:00

The last two posts were grumpy and/or sad and/or blue, and as I head out of town for a couple of days I hate to leave that at the top of the blog.

I'm sitting on the sofa net surfing while a guy resurfaces my upstairs bathtub, after which I'll throw my suitcase in the car and go back to visit my hometown for my first baby shower. (This is strategy at its finest-- get away from the fumes, and by the time I'm back on Sunday afternoon, no fumes! I'll still need to shower at the Y for a few days next week, but that's OK. A little yucky, but OK.)

So, on this sunshiny Friday morning, a few good things:

- I threw some box hair coloring on last night, and it looks good. Nice red highlights without the Bozo brassiness of the color I used last time (which they've discontinued, possibly because of the Bozo factor...). I did miss my temples, as I was wearing my glasses, but with my hair down you can't tell. And it's the temp kind, so I can fix shortly.

- It is a beautiful day. Absolutely beautiful. Perfect crisp blue sky, temps under 70... couldn't be nicer.

- I have wingmen for the shower in my hometown-- G is coming with, and my friend K is coming as well. K's husband is from the same area, so she's combining visiting her mother-in-law with the shower. It will be good to have them around as backup. They both know some of my recent struggles and, I think, will be a nice bumper.

As I said to another friend yesterday, though, I have to work to be the better person on this stuff: know my boundaries, set them with a smile, and let the other stuff roll off me. Easier said than done with family, I know. But that's what my goal needs to be. Making myself crazy over this does no one any good, and I cannot change how they act. I can only change how I react.

- The sproglet continues to be just fine: measuring absolutely normally, normal heartbeat, etc. She's also already head-down and has been for a couple of weeks. I'm hoping she stays that way-- she's an active but not overly-active fetus, so hopefully there's no flipping around at the last minute.

Also, my blood pressure, sugar, and weight continue to track right in the center of the "normal" range. Excellent. I'm always happy to be boringly normal on this kind of stuff.

I know that this couldn't possibly be a less exciting post, but at least it's not gloomy doomy. Have a great weekend, all.

Blue

2010-05-11T21:50:00.002-05:00

I had a really good morning, then this afternoon got hit with the blues. A big case of the blues.

I'm going to blame it on hormones-- I get to do that now-- but it wasn't just that. For some reason, I was really missing my little Vertigo Dog today. I can't believe she's been gone for ten months. I still come home, and part of me expects to see her face there, those fabulous ears up, tail wagging. There's nothing like coming home to the best dog in the world, and coming home without her there still feels all wrong.

I think it will feel wrong for a long time.

Then, at work, someone who I used to call a friend is leaving, and I had to do some of the stuff related to his departure. It was all perfectly cordial, but nothing more than that. This is someone I used to joke with, laugh with-- he was a work friend. I thought he was a good work friend.

I was wrong. Our friendship changed a long time ago, he decided I was something I'm not without ever talking to me about it, and now he's part of a group of people that simply don't like me. And we aren't friends any more.

This all happened a while ago, and I've been OK with it. Today, though, just brought a lot of it back, and made me sad again.

So while I'm blaming the hormones, it's not just that.

I think Jon St.ewart will cheer me up now.

Not your typical Mother's Day post

2010-05-07T20:14:00.005-05:00

I hate clicking on a link to a blog-- that's linked at an aggregation site, so theoretically they want to be found-- and it's 100% password protected. Hey, I have no problem with wanting privacy. But then perhaps you should have that link taken down.

**

Childbirth class is over. Now I just need to practice the relaxation techniques. The instructor says to practice every day. I'm going to be very, very happy if I practice five times a week!

**

At lunch with a friend last weekend, we were talking about my impending parenthood, and our parents. This friend has a somewhat troubled relationship with her mom, so one of our topics when we get together one-on-one is often our dynamics with our mothers.

My mom and I have had a fairly stable and generally good relationship for years, but my pregnancy has definitely upset that particular apple cart. She's thrilled about the baby, which is wonderful. But her excitement has led to what I can only describe as something that looks a lot like mania: she wants to talk, all the time, about everything. Everything, anything. Constantly. In monologue format; there's very little actual conversation. No detail is too small to obsess over.

They live out of town, so in the past we've talked on the phone once a week; maybe twice if something specific comes up. She's now calling me far more than that-- not every day, but close. And after me being in the workforce for more years than I'd rather count, she still doesn't understand that when I'm at work, I don't have 20 minutes to talk about where everyone will be sitting at the shower. (And even if I did have 20 minutes, I don't care, though I'll be polite.) Despite conversations repeatedly over many years about how I'm at work, she still gets insulted that I keep the conversations short.

She also calls in the evenings, when the last thing I want to do is talk on the phone after a full day of... talking on the phone for my job. And if she calls and leaves a message and doesn't hear back quickly, I get multiple messages in That Tone Of Voice. (All you daughters know the Tone I mean.)

So it's a whole thing. I've been trying hard to approach this with empathy: she's thrilled. She's just got me, and had more or less given up any hope of a grandchild, and here one comes. I'm so happy she's happy. I'm lucky she's happy and supportive. But I am what I am.

Long story short, I was talking with my friend about this. I didn't realize, I told her, how this was going to change my life. And not in the way I expected-- obviously, being a parent is a massive, massive change I probably can't even imagine.

What I didn't realize was how my parenthood was going to open my life up to my family. And not always in ways I like, or am comfortable with.

I'm already changing my life for my daughter, and I am ready and willing and excited about it. But I don't think I can change for my parents-- at least not in the way I think they want me to.

This baby is not going to turn me into the daughter of my mother's dreams.

I'm still going to be the vaguely crabby, flamingly liberal, not Catholic any more single daughter who just isn't like all the other daughters of her friends. I'm not likely to suddenly start living in a four-bedroom house with a two car garage, 2.5 kids and a membership to the local country club.

And I'm not going to ever be the daughter who calls her mother every day.

For the record, I hope my daughter isn't either when she's my age. I hope her life is full and rich. I also hope that she thinks of me-- and calls me every so often. For a conversation.

Because she wants to.

Pillow Talk

2010-05-01T08:39:00.004-05:00

In general, when you're pregnant, sleeping becomes more challenging.

(Many people say it's putting you in training for when there's an actual baby onsite, who may or may not have any idea what "middle of the night" means.)

You can't sleep on your stomach, because your stomach is sticking out in front of you-- ow. You generally can't sleep on your back (according to the American Pregnancy Association, which I've never heard of but found through the magic of Google, "This can cause problems with backaches, breathing, digestive system, hemorrhoids, low blood pressure and decrease in circulation to your heart and your baby. This is a result of your abdomen resting on your intestines and major blood vessels (the aorta and vena cava).")

Under normal circumstances, guess which positions I sleep in 90% of the time?

So I'm now an unwilling side-sleeper. And along with me for the ride on this is an elaborate pillow setup. Currently, there are three pillows involved in settling in for the night:

1. A nice pillow under my head.
2. A long pillow on my left side, which is the optimal side to sleep on. (Here's why.)
3. Another, shorter pillow on my right side.

(This is going to be interesting when it gets into the hot weather, when I don't like anything touching me...)

I try to fall asleep on my left side, with the pillow against me and the bottom part of the pillow between my knees. Over the course of the night, I'll wake up in a variety of positions, of course, and I'll try to reposition myself.

The pillows are key to this. They are partially designed to keep me from rollling on my back like a beached whale, and partially so I can fling one arm over a pillow on either side and feel more supported. It's all very complicated. When I get up to use the washroom and then come back to bed, I have to go through the whole pillow-positioning routine again. And then again.

Thank goodness I have extra pillows in the first case.

And, for the record? I know perfectly well I may have a baby that thinks the middle of the night is the perfect time to exercise her lungs for her future opera career. However, in the few moments she allows me to get some shuteye, at least I'll be able to get that sleep on my stomach or flat on my back.

That sounds pretty great to me.

**

I finally talked to a friend yesterday who didn't know about the baby-- we'd traded a bunch of phone calls earlier in the year, but between my work schedule and her extremely busy mom-of-three schedule (and her youngest is special needs), we didn't connect and it fell off both our radars. Now the news is getting out at work (seriously, it's about time), she heard something at a party last weekend, and shot me an e-mail that basically said "Call me, or I'll hunt you down like a rabid dog." (It didn't say that, of course, because she's a kind and lovely person. But it was Stern; had a definite mom-vibe to it. In a good way.)

I was a little worried about her reaction. She's an extremely conservative Christi.n. But I should have known better-- she's the only conservative Christi.n I've ever met who doesn't judge others on her standards. And, if she loves you, that trumps everything.

She was thrilled, and it was so good to talk to her. I'm not sharing details widely (except in my blog, which all the world can see, of course-- heh), but I trust her and it was just nice to chat.

She sent an e-mail later, after our call, and it teared me up. Her last line was "You were made for this."

I hope she's right. Whether or not she is, I'm incredibly lucky to have the support and love of so many amazing people in my life.

And now, before the hormones again turn me into Weepy McSobberson, I'm heading out to Tar.get. I'd make a joke about my boring weekend, but it's not going to be boring at all-- tonight is ROLLER DERBY.

Ha! I can't wait.

Musical taste, or lack thereof

2010-04-29T20:14:00.001-05:00

I have an ancient IPod at work—it’s probably one of the second or third generation originals, which I bought secondhand from a friend. It still works, and if someone did want to swipe it I wouldn’t mind much at this point... which is why it’s the one I leave at the office.

There’s a mix of songs on this that are inherited from my friend, and many that I put on there. I don’t tend to buy a lot of music online, so it’s largely rips of CDs I already own or borrow from the library. A while ago, though, I got it into my head to look for a song that I used to listen to back in college, and through the joys of ITunes I found and purchased it.

I’m not even going to tell you what it is; it’s a terrible 80s song that probably no one but me even remembers. But what I do remember is that, freshman year, that song would come on the cassette player (yes! Cassette player! Perhaps you’ve heard of them?) and my roommate and I would bounce around the room like jumping beans. On the beds, off the beds, spinning around, laughing so hard we probably scared our neighbors.

We were randomly assigned roommates, and didn’t get along all that well. I take complete responsibility for that. I’d never had a roommate, and was a horrible person to live with. Also, in hindsight, she was struggling with her own sexuality and what was most likely her first relationship, and because I’m completely oblivious (and was even more oblivious back then), I was probably the worst roommate she could possibly have gotten.

But that song, for some reason, flipped a switch in both of us. And all I remember when I hear it is unbridled silliness, and laughing until we couldn't catch our breath.

That’s a good memory to have.

Rainy days and Sundays

2010-04-25T18:03:00.004-05:00

It's always hard to motivate when it's gloomy and spitting rain, off and on. It's the kind of day where sitting inside, curled up with a blanket and a good book, sounds ideal. I suppose I should take advantage of those opportunities now, hm?

Despite the gloom, I did make it to church, to the produce market, and to the gym. Also managed to do a menu plan for the week and throw together some salads for easy lunch-packing. This is the last week of the childbirth class (we meet twice, with one as a make-up session) so I'm pretty much not home until Friday. I've learned the hard way that if I don't take a few minutes to think about meals, I end up eating out, spending money I shouldn't spend, and eating food that's not as healthy as it would be if I packed it myself.

(I'm still eating stuff I shouldn't, of course. Just less of it. Hold on a moment while I eat another vanilla wafer, please...)

**

(Warning: Musical theatre geekery ahead.)

Last night, I went to a production of Chess at a small cabaret-style theatre on the north side of the city. I've gone there once before for their production of Evita and enjoyed it very much. Evita is, in my mind, a big show, and they did an excellent job of mounting the production in an incredibly tight space. (It's also a show I can sing from start to finish with few errors, so I'm picky.)

The book for Chess is, at best, terrible; as one of my friends said last night, "Who thought it would be a good idea in the 80s to write a musical about chess matches?" But looking past some of the truly dreadful plotting the music is gorgeous, and I have a soft spot for the show. It's not staged often, and once again this company did a good job with the show in a limited space.

In particular, the actor playing Freddie (Courtney Crouse) was excellent. I normally have limited interest in Freddie as a character, but last night he was the one I really focused on throughout the show; his "Pity the Child" was incredible (and definitive, for me at least). It's difficult to play that kind of assholish character and give him any kind of layers, but Crouse does it beautifully. I'll be looking for him in future productions around the city, and assuming I'm ever able to actually leave the house post-baby, I'll attend productions simply because he's in them. Yes, he impressed me that much.

Jeremy Trager as Anatoly has a beautiful voice (I could listen to him sing all day) and throws himself into the role with dedication; he was good, but he was a better Peron. Maggie Portman as Florence also has a stellar voice (she was Evita for the same theatre company), but she never really gelled as Florence for me. She's not bad. I'm not sure she's capable of being bad; she's too talented. But Florence has moments of real, wrenching vulnerability, and Portman has trouble backing away enough to truly sell that vulnerability. (Also, she kept scrunching up her face. That's not acting, that's scrunching up your face. All of us who attended commented on it, actually; it became distracting.)

Overall, it was a good evening, and a production well worth seeing.

Next Saturday, for a change of pace, I'm going to the ROLLER DERBY. No, I'm not kidding.

I can't wait.

What does a seven-months-pregnant woman (who's finally popped, by the way) wear to the ROLLER DERBY? I have no idea. But it will be a lot of fun figuring it out...

One boring life, in bullets

2010-04-21T21:10:00.004-05:00

Blogging has been light around here-- even lighter than usual. Sorry about that. Until the childbirth class is over next week, I'm hardly home during the week, which means weekends are spent running around even more than usual. And blogging about the dullness of my life isn't exactly number one with a bullet when I'm either busy or exhausted, or busy and exhausted.

A few things in short format:

- Had a long lovely lunch with P last weekend. The chicken salad was good, but the company was much better. I love how you can not see a friend for a while, but you just pick right up where you left off. I feel very lucky.

- I do not have a dress for the shower(s) yet. Grr. I'm going shopping weekend after next with a friend who has excellent fashion karma, and I'm hoping it will rub off. I did order this dress, because it looks flattering and is a terrific color. (I'll need to shorten it, I'm guessing.) With a cardigan and cute shoes, it may end up being my shower dress. We'll see.

On a side note, maternity clothes, tops in particular, are ugly. Trying to find decent tops I can wear to work-- that aren't ridiculously priced-- is hard. I'll probably spend the last month in Target dresses.

- I also do not have a crib yet. It's a long story, and it's not pretty. I just want it ordered and on the way-- I don't need it here. I need to know it's coming.

(That, by the way, seems to be my particular pregnancy hormonal kink-- if I get something on my mental list of What Must Be Done, it becomes a pretty serious mental issue if it isn't getting done. As in, near-hysteria. Things like dishes or laundry aren't on the list-- which may be for the best-- but the bigger house stuff? That's all on the list, and I get very, very worked up if I'm not making progress on the list. I guess there are worse hormonal kinks I could be stuck with, but this one isn't exactly restful-- especially when I have to depend on others for much of what needs to be done. Argh.)

- I went to the theatre last weekend and saw an... interesting production of Cabaret. (Well-done, yes. But some disconcerting changes, including a subversive female MC.) I'm taking advantage of getting out when I can, pre-baby (seeing another show this weekend)-- but I have to say, the sproglet apparently enjoyed it. She was pretty feisty throughout, which cracked me up (she's not normally an evening fetus).

- People at work STILL have not figured out I'm pregnant. I'm 29 weeks, people, and have a visible belly! I've told people! It's just not getting around. Most people are probably going to realize it next week, when I am teaching a class. Heh.

I hope the people who know don't think I'm ashamed. Would I rather be married (or heck, even partnered) and expecting? Absolutely, for a thousand reasons. But I'm not. Congratulations welcomed regardless. :)

Oy. To sleep I go. Happy Wednesday.

Back to school

2010-04-13T20:17:00.004-05:00

First birthing class last night. I'm doing one that incorporates self-hypnosis. And, as all these classes do, there's a lot of what my parents would call "hippy dippy" stuff-- which I don't mind at all.

I am very clear that I don't mind drugs during labor. But given how I overreact (physically) to drugs in general, I'm also fine looking for ways to avoid them. :)

I may write in more detail when I'm not completely exhausted (I even skipped yoga tonight, which I love love love, because I'm that tired), but one of the most entertaining things about the class was the couple who sat through the entire class looking absolutely, completely petrified. Sheer, unadulterated terror-- not just during the video of waterbirths, but the entire time.

Little too late to panic now, methinks...