Five months. What can have happened, right?
M speaks in complete, long sentences. She jumps (sort of). She goes down the big twisty slide by herself. She sometimes nurses only once a day, and she asks for "cows' milk in a cup" of her own accord. She spontaneously thanks guests when they leave: "Bye! Hanks for swinging wif me!" She carries her own plate of food to the table and climbs into the booster seat by herself. She still loves to sit on the potty with her shirt off, and she still has yet to pee in it. She hugs and kisses my belly and says, "Hi, baby."
She sleeps! For two or three hours at naptime and for nine or more hours at night! By herself! In her crib! She goes to sleep by herself in her crib! And does not need me until morning!
And I'm sick of the pseudonym M, which only stands for Monkey, a nickname she kind of outgrew when the Moro reflex went away. Her name is Ingrid. I can go public with that without you coming to TP my dandelion field, can't I?
I am still pregnant. Ever more unwieldily pregnant, and the baby seems very pointy and hard and active. We had a scary few hours after the 20-week ultrasound in March involving some choroid plexus cysts and a full-scale freakout by both my husband and me. We have moved on from that to occasional plunges into dread of the baby's first year. On which, more later. We have been talking a lot about names, and I've taken to taping down my belly button most days. Who knew it could be such a train wreck at only 32ish weeks?
I splurged on three ridiculously expensive giant allium bulbs last fall and they are now two feet tall and blooming. What Ingrid calls "a bad bunny" ate our first zinnia, but lots more blossoms are about to pop, and the tomato plants are shooting up and the pumpkin plant is already threatening to take over, and, speaking of taking over, the dandelions and milkweed and sumac and ivy are having a banner year so far. Let's not think of those things as weeds, shall we? Let's just see them as evidence that lots of things come here to thrive.
And it feels like I am thriving for the first time in a long time. Despite the baby worries. I feel so well-rested and, if not actually focused, more attentive to the things that matter than I have been in ages. Since Ingrid was born, really. For the first time in two years, I not only feel like writing but also seem to have the mental coherence to give it a shot. So look out.
5.31.2007
1.30.2007
I am all about public service announcements.
In an effort to bring you the latest relevant news, I offer the following tidbit discovered while trying to determine whether my fancy electric toothbrush counts as a reimbursable medical expense under my employer’s cafeteria plan:
Home pregnancy tests are now a reimbursable medical expense.
The IRS doesn’t specify, as far as I can tell, the number of pregnancy tests per year (month, week, day) for which an individual is eligible to be reimbursed.
I bet they don’t know what they are in for.
Home pregnancy tests are now a reimbursable medical expense.
The IRS doesn’t specify, as far as I can tell, the number of pregnancy tests per year (month, week, day) for which an individual is eligible to be reimbursed.
I bet they don’t know what they are in for.
12.14.2006
Puketastic
M got better after a few days, then, last Sunday, got sick again. Snotty cold plus more vomiting. A new stomach bug caught back-to-back by weird coincidence? Some scary chronic digestive condition?
My worries were assuaged on Monday when my familiar first-trimester queasiness slowly crept toward all-out nausea that, by the end of the work day, had me projectile vomiting out the door of my car onto the pavement of the parking lot.
It got all three of us. Since Tuesday, we’ve done almost nothing other than puke and do laundry. Today is the first day I’ve felt almost human.
This will usher in an era of obsessive handwashing in the Pants household, I am certain. We do not want anything like this again.
I know that most of you are only here to try to sell me Viagra, but please let me give you this advice: Don't get this stomach bug. It is nasty.
My worries were assuaged on Monday when my familiar first-trimester queasiness slowly crept toward all-out nausea that, by the end of the work day, had me projectile vomiting out the door of my car onto the pavement of the parking lot.
It got all three of us. Since Tuesday, we’ve done almost nothing other than puke and do laundry. Today is the first day I’ve felt almost human.
This will usher in an era of obsessive handwashing in the Pants household, I am certain. We do not want anything like this again.
I know that most of you are only here to try to sell me Viagra, but please let me give you this advice: Don't get this stomach bug. It is nasty.
11.28.2006
Home with a Sick Monkey
M had the best night of sleep of her life last night. Then she woke up and nursed, asked for cereal, refused cereal, asked for banana, took one bite, and threw up all over the floor.
A few more pukey episodes and a long morning later, she is napping. She is wearing her snowsuit. Poor baby.
The weather today is the epitome of gray. We have already sent matchbox cars down ramps made of old wooden skis, sorted out the box full of baby outerwear, organized the front closet, drawn on big pieces of paper with purple crayons, read the "Skip to My Lou" book half a dozen times, coaxed the cat into entertaining us by chasing her orange stuffed rabbit, and spent 45 minutes locating each and every dog in the Boden catalog that arrived in the mail.
A couple of months ago I visited a friend who had one of those books of fun activities to do with your toddler. One of the items was, "Get out a box of Kleenex and let your child pull each sheet out. Then put them all in a grocery bag so you can use them later." At the time it seemed ridiculous that this was considered an "activity" at all, let alone something you would look to a book to be inspired to do ... now I'm thinking that it's not a bad idea and I could even use a few more ideas like that.
A few more pukey episodes and a long morning later, she is napping. She is wearing her snowsuit. Poor baby.
The weather today is the epitome of gray. We have already sent matchbox cars down ramps made of old wooden skis, sorted out the box full of baby outerwear, organized the front closet, drawn on big pieces of paper with purple crayons, read the "Skip to My Lou" book half a dozen times, coaxed the cat into entertaining us by chasing her orange stuffed rabbit, and spent 45 minutes locating each and every dog in the Boden catalog that arrived in the mail.
A couple of months ago I visited a friend who had one of those books of fun activities to do with your toddler. One of the items was, "Get out a box of Kleenex and let your child pull each sheet out. Then put them all in a grocery bag so you can use them later." At the time it seemed ridiculous that this was considered an "activity" at all, let alone something you would look to a book to be inspired to do ... now I'm thinking that it's not a bad idea and I could even use a few more ideas like that.
11.27.2006
Stew
Lucky. We know we want another child someday. We knew we would probably have to go through some rough times to get one (17 months to get pregnant with M!), and that it might not even be possible for me to get pregnant again. We practically willed M into existence, and now it seems someone else is headed our way pretty much unbidden, just like that. Sweet.
Sad for M. She has been at the center of our lives for her whole life. Everything is going to shift for her, and she has no control over it, and she isn’t really old enough to understand.
Terrified. M’s infancy was skull-splittingly, brain-meltingly, lie on the floor and drool HARD for me. She nursed constantly and I never figured out how to do anything but sit on the couch while I fed her. She spit up after practically every feeding and I spent months and months wearing the evidence and lacking the energy to clean up the many, many spit up spots on the floor, the furniture, the bed. She had a hard time sleeping and I did not cope well with sleep deprivation. People say you spend the first three months in a fog? I was in that fog for at least six months. Maybe nine. Maybe twelve. I am afraid of doing it again and really can’t imagine how I will get through it and also remain a decent mom to M, who will be two months past her second birthday when the baby comes.
Also, terrified. I am afraid about the period of sleep deprivation we may be entering (when M’s sleep has FINALLY become somewhat tolerable). About what this (pregnancy plus nursing, which M is still doing pretty often, at least for now) will do to my body. Our marriage. Our lives, all three of us.
Foolish. I knew I was having somewhat regular periods. Well, every 30 to 40 days, which is damn regular for someone who in the past has gone the better part of a year without bleeding. I even kind of suspected I was ovulating. But after all the months of trying to conceive before, it just seemed wrong to use birth control. So we … didn’t. We talked about it and agreed we would be happy to get pregnant “by accident,” but it just seemed so unlikely I don’t think we thought very hard about what it would really mean to get ready for a second child so soon.
Guilty. See Foolish. And Terrified.
Excited. It will be hard, but in my more clear-minded moments I kind of know it will be ok. We have a lot of time to get ourselves ready, and the hard parts will be ok, and about three years from now and maybe sooner it will be GREAT. Last night, my husband said, “I’m so excited that we get to have another baby.” I am too.
Skeptical. It still seems so unlikely, all this. The thought has crossed my mind that maybe that pregnancy test (um, I mean those three pregnancy tests) was the sort that show a “+” when you are NOT pregnant. I feel like we can’t tell anyone about it until we have some proof. Like an ultrasound. Or me no longer being able to fit into the booth at our favorite Mexican restaurant.
Worried. This is a given for me, really. Despite all my complicated feelings about this, there is the ever-present hum of “What if something goes wrong? Or already has?”
Sad for M. She has been at the center of our lives for her whole life. Everything is going to shift for her, and she has no control over it, and she isn’t really old enough to understand.
Terrified. M’s infancy was skull-splittingly, brain-meltingly, lie on the floor and drool HARD for me. She nursed constantly and I never figured out how to do anything but sit on the couch while I fed her. She spit up after practically every feeding and I spent months and months wearing the evidence and lacking the energy to clean up the many, many spit up spots on the floor, the furniture, the bed. She had a hard time sleeping and I did not cope well with sleep deprivation. People say you spend the first three months in a fog? I was in that fog for at least six months. Maybe nine. Maybe twelve. I am afraid of doing it again and really can’t imagine how I will get through it and also remain a decent mom to M, who will be two months past her second birthday when the baby comes.
Also, terrified. I am afraid about the period of sleep deprivation we may be entering (when M’s sleep has FINALLY become somewhat tolerable). About what this (pregnancy plus nursing, which M is still doing pretty often, at least for now) will do to my body. Our marriage. Our lives, all three of us.
Foolish. I knew I was having somewhat regular periods. Well, every 30 to 40 days, which is damn regular for someone who in the past has gone the better part of a year without bleeding. I even kind of suspected I was ovulating. But after all the months of trying to conceive before, it just seemed wrong to use birth control. So we … didn’t. We talked about it and agreed we would be happy to get pregnant “by accident,” but it just seemed so unlikely I don’t think we thought very hard about what it would really mean to get ready for a second child so soon.
Guilty. See Foolish. And Terrified.
Excited. It will be hard, but in my more clear-minded moments I kind of know it will be ok. We have a lot of time to get ourselves ready, and the hard parts will be ok, and about three years from now and maybe sooner it will be GREAT. Last night, my husband said, “I’m so excited that we get to have another baby.” I am too.
Skeptical. It still seems so unlikely, all this. The thought has crossed my mind that maybe that pregnancy test (um, I mean those three pregnancy tests) was the sort that show a “+” when you are NOT pregnant. I feel like we can’t tell anyone about it until we have some proof. Like an ultrasound. Or me no longer being able to fit into the booth at our favorite Mexican restaurant.
Worried. This is a given for me, really. Despite all my complicated feelings about this, there is the ever-present hum of “What if something goes wrong? Or already has?”
11.22.2006
A Second
Well, I guess it takes big news to get me to post anything these days. And I think this qualifies:
I'm not sure how to say this or what to say next but it seems as though somehow. Erm. Seems as though I am pregnant.
There it is. It is a surprise and we are terrified but how could we not also feel lucky and thrilled? To have this as a surprise. The surprise of our lives.
I'm not sure how to say this or what to say next but it seems as though somehow. Erm. Seems as though I am pregnant.
There it is. It is a surprise and we are terrified but how could we not also feel lucky and thrilled? To have this as a surprise. The surprise of our lives.
10.06.2006
Tickled
So, a poem of mine was published!
I'm too proud to remain entirely quiet about it here. I know in the grand scheme of things (you know, the riches one can eventually earn through the craft of poetry) this is not a huge deal, but it's the first time a poem of mine has made it out into the world, and I'm thrilled about it. And the fact that the other writers featured there seem to be, like, actual poets with actual respectable other publications, makes it all the more exciting.
(edited to remove link)
I'm too proud to remain entirely quiet about it here. I know in the grand scheme of things (you know, the riches one can eventually earn through the craft of poetry) this is not a huge deal, but it's the first time a poem of mine has made it out into the world, and I'm thrilled about it. And the fact that the other writers featured there seem to be, like, actual poets with actual respectable other publications, makes it all the more exciting.
(edited to remove link)
10.05.2006
Occasional Happy, Followed by Continued Grumpy
Another friend stepped in to babysit last night, a total huge and welcome favor on such short notice, and we had a lovely dinner. M was even asleep when we got home, which doesn't always happen as the bedtime routine is much harder for her without the nursing. Happy anniversary, us. Woohoo.
Then last night I dreamed that I laid an egg that had two yolks. The yolks turned into cute fuzzy ducklings that we were happy to have. We put them in the pen with our chickens and went to work for the day. By the end of the day they had grown into giant geese and had killed the chickens. We decided we had to turn them loose before they killed each other. Would it help if I mentioned here that our nice dinner last night included a discussion of our fear of having twins?
Then I dreamed I was having my picture taken for work among a big group of people, and without my permission the photographer cut my hair and gave me bangs. Uneven bangs.
Then, this morning, our Thursday babysitter announced she is quitting. A problem that can probably be solved, but annoying and sad nonetheless. Oh, also, time-consuming. See below.
Then there is the project at work that's unexpectedly kicking my ass. Why did I think I knew Illustrator? I do not know Illustrator, and everything is taking approximately 20 times longer than I thought it would.
And then there is this other project which should have been done FOUR WEEKS AGO and which I'm going to have to work on during every spare moment this weekend.
Other than that, blue skies.
Then last night I dreamed that I laid an egg that had two yolks. The yolks turned into cute fuzzy ducklings that we were happy to have. We put them in the pen with our chickens and went to work for the day. By the end of the day they had grown into giant geese and had killed the chickens. We decided we had to turn them loose before they killed each other. Would it help if I mentioned here that our nice dinner last night included a discussion of our fear of having twins?
Then I dreamed I was having my picture taken for work among a big group of people, and without my permission the photographer cut my hair and gave me bangs. Uneven bangs.
Then, this morning, our Thursday babysitter announced she is quitting. A problem that can probably be solved, but annoying and sad nonetheless. Oh, also, time-consuming. See below.
Then there is the project at work that's unexpectedly kicking my ass. Why did I think I knew Illustrator? I do not know Illustrator, and everything is taking approximately 20 times longer than I thought it would.
And then there is this other project which should have been done FOUR WEEKS AGO and which I'm going to have to work on during every spare moment this weekend.
Other than that, blue skies.
10.03.2006
Grumpy
Because tomorrow is our anniversary and our really good friends who had promised two weeks ago to babysit so we could go out apparently just forgot and scheduled a visit with other friends coming into town and now can't make it and don't really seem to see how important it was to us.
Also, because a document I modified in InDesign CS2 could not be opened in InDesign CS without an update that took almost an hour to find, download, and install, so I pretty much got no work done this evening and also didn't really have any fun.
Also, because a document I modified in InDesign CS2 could not be opened in InDesign CS without an update that took almost an hour to find, download, and install, so I pretty much got no work done this evening and also didn't really have any fun.
9.28.2006
Just Another Teenaged Mom
Some background:
Down the block from us lives a woman who is either constantly drunk or has some sort of mental illness or both. She walks up and down the block in the middle of the day. Often when I cross paths with her she has something to say, and usually it's something bizarre like a rambling joke about rocks and God. One time she told me I looked like an angel. Her name is Mary, which always makes me think of that Pearl Jam song.
More background:
I am 32 years old and am starting to notice that I, um, no longer look just like I did when I was 19.
So:
Yesterday I was returning from the park, carrying M, when we crossed paths with Mary. She stopped and staggered a little and stared up at me. You know what it is now? she said, stabbing the air in my general direction with a soda cup. I slowed down and looked at her. It's children, she said, waving the cup toward my face, conductorlike, and then, gesturing toward M, taking care of children.
I just busted out laughing. Thanks, Mary. You made my day.
Down the block from us lives a woman who is either constantly drunk or has some sort of mental illness or both. She walks up and down the block in the middle of the day. Often when I cross paths with her she has something to say, and usually it's something bizarre like a rambling joke about rocks and God. One time she told me I looked like an angel. Her name is Mary, which always makes me think of that Pearl Jam song.
More background:
I am 32 years old and am starting to notice that I, um, no longer look just like I did when I was 19.
So:
Yesterday I was returning from the park, carrying M, when we crossed paths with Mary. She stopped and staggered a little and stared up at me. You know what it is now? she said, stabbing the air in my general direction with a soda cup. I slowed down and looked at her. It's children, she said, waving the cup toward my face, conductorlike, and then, gesturing toward M, taking care of children.
I just busted out laughing. Thanks, Mary. You made my day.
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