11/26/12

The Ideal

When Peabody was born, that first night home was a doozy. D and I were both reeling from the lethal combination of the sleepless night before the induction, the sleepless night in the hospital, and (too much...) friend/family time. And then Peabody refused to be set down. My body hurt everywhere, and I was on a postpartum emotional roller coaster of sheer elation and sheer exhaustion. But it was ok. Because I had someone else there to hold the baby, someone else to change diapers, someone else to share the sheer burden of situation with me.  And because said someone wasn't my mom or dad, brother or sister, I didn't feel guilty about sharing that burden. I felt relieved and so very, very blessed.

I took off six weeks to be at home with my family when Peabody was born.  Those were six delightful, dreamy weeks that I was so lucky to have, and that I will remember forever as such a wonderful time. D and I spent countless long, luxurious hours staring at our baby, snapping endless pictures, exclaiming over her every expression, comparing notes on the best way to soothe her, the best way to attract her attention. We were able to take turns sleeping, showering, eating, playing with E, homeschooling, cleaning the house, doing laundry, so that nothing and no one was neglected.  We went together to doctor's visits and made the first anxiety-ridden visits to the grocery store with baby in tow. We tried out the stroller and the swing and the bouncy seat and the bassinets. We learned how to put her to sleep (that all-important goal of all parents...). We were able to figure out how this new little creature was going to fit into our lives, how we were going to handle any number of new situations. 

If we were a "traditional" family, and D had gone back to work after a week (if he had even felt comfortable taking that much time off), I can't imagine how much more we all would have suffered. Everything would have been ok, but it definitely would have been so different.

When I went back to work, one of my bosses was surprised that I looked so happy.  How could I not have been? I was well-rested, my children were safe at home, my house was clean, my pantry full, and I had spent six weeks falling even more in love with my wonderful husband, who I knew was perfectly capable of taking care of everything at home.

So the moral of the story is, if there is any way for both you and your partner to be at home with your new baby, do it. And do it for as long as possible. It's so worth it.

11/21/12

Humility

The other day after Mass, the lady in front of me turned around and said "You have a lovely voice!"
E looked up at me disingenuously and said "That hasn't happened in a while!"

11/1/12

Finally

The night before you were born,
we lay awake, unspoken anxiety
like a blaring alarm clock.
Items checked from lists before they reached
my full consciousness, my mind racing,
trapped in limbo by what was impending.
Forty weeks felt like a lifetime and yet,
and yet, the questions raised themselves.

The dawn of the day you were born
crept through the blinds,
pierced our awareness as we sat over a game,
attempting to focus on something
I could control,
trying not to watch the dips and peaks
monitoring your tolerance.
Knowledge is a heavy burden and fear
tempers it not.
Prayer is easier when you know the outcome.

The moment you were born,
your father's tears stood bright.
Relief and fierce,
fierce joy flooded my heart
as you screamed your displeasure
when cold, light, sound were foisted upon you
in this unfamiliar openness.
You are no stranger, though, not here,
not when hearts strain toward your existence,
not when love stretches to hold you.
Welcome, little one, welcome to the world.

We've been waiting

9/30/12

The Nursery!

Since I won't get the chance again, I'm going to take this time to have a little pride-fest about the nursery. Complete with before-and-after pics and everything. I'm so excited, and I know you are too!

Step one: this was the nursery before we moved in.

I don't appear to have a picture of it after we moved in and before it became the nursery. Pooh. Oh well.  It used to be my office/guest room. Mostly guest room, since I rarely did actual work in there.  Imagine it with a massive dresser against the wall where the bed is, a desk to the left, lots of plants, and a futon couch under the window, and you'll have a pretty good idea of what it looked like.  But when we moved into this house, it was with the plan that it would eventually be converted to the nursery. The other bedrooms in the house being occupied, respectively, as the master, E's room, and the Man Cave, you see. We love this room's architectural details (the ceiling), how much light comes in through that huge window (which you'll see later), and the two huge closets that are on the wall to the right.  It was pretty much already the most peaceful room in the house.

Step two: inspiration. If you're my Pinterest friend/follower (makes you sound like a disciple or something), you've seen all the nursery pictures I've posted. In actuality, I drew direct inspiration from very few of them.  In general, I just wanted to figure out what the feel of the nursery should be, not the actual look. I considered doing a theme, but all of the themes I liked seemed overdone, so I couldn't commit.

There was one thing already set in stone about the room: the dresser. It's massive and dark and it properly belongs with our master bedroom furniture, but our room was much larger when we bought the set than it is now. Hence, the dresser was relocated to the guest room/office/nursery, and it was NOT an option to move it anywhere else. So, because it is such an impressive piece, I kind of had to plan my other furniture choices around it. Luckily, another furniture piece in the room gave some guidance. The little plant table (you can see it on the very right in the finished pictures) had already been forcibly colorized a few years ago when I couldn't handle its inherent ugliness anymore and my beloved husband had obligingly spray-painted it white. Believe me, it looks much better this way. So I planned for the rest of the furniture to also be white. I had considered asking my poor husband to paint the room (and he offered to several times), but I couldn't think of any color I actually wanted more, so he dodged that bullet.

The first thing I actually purchased for the nursery was this Humpty Dumpty wall thingy. Found it at a thrift store and fell in love with its little $6 self. I guess you could say this was the real jumping off point for the entire room.  Especially with my next thrift store find: this little wooden bunny. It cost about $3, I think. I loved its simple, old-fashioned charm.


With these two items, I had a theme developing regardless of my original intentions. And it was definitely a vintage theme. Which was rather solidified by the next purchase: the curtains. I looked at every set of nursery curtains that Amazon had available and was not inspired by any of them. Luckily, at yet another thrift store visit, I came across these pink, super-frilly curtains (you can see the edge in the bunny picture).  I'd like to think they look perfect, but it was not so obvious in the cold, impersonal light of thrift-store fluorescent bulbs.  It took some serious vision to see these as nursery curtains, because I'm absolutely positive that they came out of some little old lady's best drawing room, and I can imagine the entire room down to the gold tassels on her lampshades. I'm not sure how she was able to part with them (death? How morbid...), but regardless, they landed on a thrift store rack and cost me $20 for the set. My husband was appalled by them, and wouldn't agree to their purchase, but I bought them anyway, and now he admits I was right (of course ;-)).

Next step: wall art. I already had the Humpty Dumpty canvas, but clearly the room was begging for matching art on either side of the window, and I only had one of the aforementioned canvases. Back to the thrift store I went, and found these.



The Degas print was an obvious choice (I freaking love to dance) and the other just had something nostalgic and sisterly about it that appealed to me. (My mom noted that it is reminiscent of Little Women.) The frames were not even close in size, and hideous, to boot. Again, gotta work that thrift store vision. They cost me maybe $15 for both, and I spent another $3 on this ugly thing ---->, just to get a frame that was close to the right size.  My helpful husband did some spray-paint magic on both the frames and the mats, and I did some transplant surgery, and behold (you'll have to wait for the end, and technically, you can't really see the pictures up close. You get the idea, though...)

The next project I took on was inspired by my little sister. She mentioned that she had made a lampshade out of coffee filters and waxed poetic over how beautiful it was and what an easy project it had been.  These lampshades are inherently frilly/girly, and what better place for one than a baby girl's nursery? Some Googling revealed instructions, and after purchasing a gross, stained lampshade (at...you guessed it...a thrift store) for $2 and spending another $2 on coffee filters, I spent an hour's work and this lovely confection was soon adorning my husband's very manly arm.
The actual lamp took a lot longer to find, but perseverance paid off, and this brassy beauty (at a comparatively hefty $8) eventually caught my eye. I considered painting it white, but I think it plays well into the whole vintage thing as-is. Incidentally, if you want a lampshade to experiment on, I now have an extra one lying in my craft box...

We originally needed somewhere to put said lamp, so we transported a bookcase out of the Man Cave into the nursery. It's one of those $15 bookcases from Walmart. Originally, it was honey-colored. D spray-painted it with much difficulty, since the material isn't really made to be spray-painted. Only after it was complete, and I was filling it with what child-friendly books my son wasn't interested in (and yes, we have a huge kids' library), did I realize that E has a white bookcase that is the same size in his bedroom.  We both felt rather sheepish. Regardless, it turned out okay.

Rearranging those books led me to yet another idea. I went through the house and removed the jackets from various hardcover novels and stacked them (artistically, of course) on the windowsill. The addition of some little statues that had been gifted to me at various times over the years tied in wonderfully. See that bunny picture for what I'm talking about.

Pinterest led to the next project with this little gem.  The idea of having family members contribute fabric was so great, and the look tied in so well with everything else that I just had to do it.  So I went to Hobby Lobby to look for an embroidery hoop, saw the price of $15 for the smallest one and almost had a stroke.  Ebay had better offerings, but not much. Luckily, I live in a city with a plethora of thrift stores.  It took me probably 7 or 8 trips to various places to gather all of them. The smallest was about 50 cents and the largest was $3. I also managed to find one in one of those catch-all craft bags that some thrift stores will put together, just in case you're ever looking for your own embroidery hoops. I ended up with a bunch of random buttons and thread, zippers and lace bits, but since that whole bag was $8, I count it worth it. These are two of the ugliest ones I found...













My godmother, another aunt, and my mom contributed the fabric pieces that you can see in the finished pictures, and I didn't glue any of the fabric down, so it's easily interchangeable should the need arise.   One semi-secret, here: the empty nails are for the name.  No, I'm not telling.  But we took a piece of acrylic to an awesome place here in town, and cut the name out in a font that we picked, and thanks to the generosity of friends who let us use their membership there, we only paid for the acrylic.

The biggest project overall was: the rug. I couldn't find anything that I liked that was in the right price range (read: cheap), so I turned to Pinterest and found this almost immediately. I do not recommend taking this on unless you have lots of time and an incredible amount of patience. I have neither.  Thank goodness for my wonderful mother, who devoted hours and hours of her time to finish it when I confessed myself spent when it was less than halfway done.  As far as cost breakdown, I spent about $30 on the latch-hook backing at Hobby Lobby, $20 on 2 sets of thrifted t-shirt sheets, $15 on dye and binding. It turned out beautifully, but OMG it was a lot more work than I had anticipated. I took the original pictures with our transplanted living room rug in place, so look at the later ones for the actual rug.

I originally was planning on using an oversized reclining armchair from the Man Cave in the nursery, but my mother strongly suggested I find a rocker/glider. To prevent her from just going out and buying one, I started shopping. After pricing the cheapest ones I could find on Amazon and Walmart, I shuddered with horror and turned to the used section of the Internet to find one. Nothing turned up at first, so we went a-thrifting. I was looking for a wooden one with cushions, intending to paint it white and DIY some new cushions.  D turned up his nose at the shoddy craftsmanship of the ones we found, or we both agreed that the prices were too high for something we'd basically have to completely redo. My husband also threw a wrench into the works when we went window shopping at a baby store, he test-rocked some gliders and decided we had to have the gliding stool to go with.  Thankfully, we eventually found a listing on Craigslist for a glider and stool for $25. We hotfooted our way to the seller's apartment, and not only was the glider in great shape, but the owner was a non-smoker, and gave us a bunch of other baby items for free. I considered covering the existing cushions, but as you have read, I had taken on way more than I could handle with the rug project already, and the cushions are neutral anyway.

My sister gifted me with the lovely changing table you can see in the corner. It originally lived on Craigslist, but with a little DIY magic, she and our father beat it into the gorgeous form it now has (the DIY gene runs in our family, you see).  She saved us from having to use our dresser as a changing table (which was really too tall for the purpose, but we were willing to put up with the inconvenience). We bought some Wal-Mart fabric bins for under the changing table for about $6 a pop to hold diapers and other sundry items.

The crib came from Amazon. It's beautiful, no? I was nervous about purchasing it unseen, but it's soooo much sturdier than I expected (and sturdier than E's crib, which is saying a lot, considering that crib managed to last until he outgrew it and I gave it away), was easy to put together, and shipped really quickly.  It's just so elegant, I almost can't handle it.  It's the only item in the nursery that was bought brand-new for the purpose of being in the nursery...*

The draped fabric was actually my husband's idea. I was dissatisfied with the way the crib space looked even with the embroidery hoops and he suggested the whole thing. He wanted "something princess-like" (he's spoiling her before she's even born!). The things holding the fabric to the ceiling are curtain tie-backs from Pottery Barn that I found at a consignment sale for $3. The fabric is held to the wall with Mardi Gras beads and pushpins. Seriously.

Last, but not least, the pompoms were made by one of my best friends for my baby shower. I collected them afterwards and distributed them as seen below. I love them!

So there you have it, an overly-wordy celebration of my baby girl's room. And here's the finished product:

 My phone can take panorama pics, but it didn't like the lighting...
 There's that massive dresser I was telling you about, along with the finished coffee-filter lamp!
 My comfy glider, the bookcase-we-didn't-have-to-paint, my hardcover novel vignettes.
 The finished flokati rug! Thanks, Mom! And both pictures on the wall.
The lighting in this one is so much prettier. And you can see how the fabric is attached to the wall here.



*Ah! I can't take it! I have to say that I only paid $45 for it because of a gift certificate I randomly won! I'm so cheap, I can't pay full price for anything...

9/28/12

Color Me Spoilt

I may or may not have slept all afternoon today. Regardless of whether I ACTUALLY did, as I was laying down on my bed, E came in to give me some instructions, since he and D were going to be at the park playing baseball...

E: "Mom, the back door is open because we're leaving that way. But the front door is locked. The garage door is open, but the door in from the garage is also locked."
Me: "Ok?"
E: "Remember, the back door is open because we need to get back in that way."
Me: "Ok?"
E: "But if anyone knocks on the front door, there are weapons up in my room. And a sword-stick in the stand by the front door."
Me: "Um. Thank you."
E: "Do you need me to close this door for you?"
Me: "Um. No, thank you, though."
E: "Do you need me to turn the fan on for you?"
Me: "Actually, yes, please."
E: "Ok, do you need anything else?"

I didn't do it on purpose. He is just that way.

9/12/12

Would you like some granola with that?

My cloth diapering set-up for Little Miss Peabody is now complete, with my final packages coming in today!

Something about this picture makes me want to rub my hands together and chortle like a mad scientist.  I had a BLAST learning about cloth diapers (although I will admit it can be overwhelming, all the info out there...), picking out which ones I wanted, and now actually looking at them in person. If you've been reading for any substantial length of time, you'll remember when I lost my cool over cloth diapers a while back, and once this baby was on the way, I was overjoyed at the opportunity to test the cloth diaper waters. Which sounds a little gross...

One of my best friends gifted me some cloth diaper covers last week, and a friend of hers (yes, if you're following my commas, a friend of a friend, stay with me here...) asked me why people choose to cloth diaper. For me, I'll admit the deciding factor was the expense. This chart has a great cost comparison of the different types of cloth diapering (and yes, there's more than one way to go about this) versus disposable diapers, with cloth diapers ending up cheaper than disposables over the long run.  And this isn't the only comparison, I promise, if you do some Google work, you'll find similar cost breakdowns all over the place.  It may be a bigger investment up front, depending on which method you start out with and which brands you buy. However, I spent about $200 on what you can see in that picture, most of which should still work (i.e. fit) until Peabody is 22 pounds. The prefolds will have to be replaced, since they're newborn-sized, but prefolds are the cheapest method of cloth diapering out there, so I'm not too concerned.

So, the bottom line here for me is cost. If you're cloth diapering because of cost, I'd avoid the store-bought cloth diapers and do some Internet detective work, because you can find quality stuff for about a fourth of what you'd spend in Babies R Us or similar places. To choose my brands, I read a TON of reviews, especially at All About Cloth Diapers and Diaper Pin. You have to be a little careful if you're anticipating a smallish baby (which I WAS until Peabody decided she was going to go against custom and stay unborn until she was term!), and make sure the brands you pick will work for lower weight babies...There are also tons of cloth diaper coops on Facebook, and even Ebay and Craigslist have some good stuff. Shop around.

The second reason I picked cloth was because it's, well, better for the environment.  Yes, you're using more water to wash them, but when you take into account the fact that your kiddo's used diapers are sitting in a landfill pretty much FOREVER (imagine that a la that kid from the Sandlot), it's not even a toss-up for me. Even if you use diapers that are flushable or whatever, the fact is, you're still only using them once and then you have to buy new ones (which have to be manufactured, packaged and transported to you....all waste!) Our family has been taking small steps away from disposable products ever since my mom introduced me to the idea of reusable grocery bags (which, does NO ONE ELSE IN THIS STATE USE THEIR OWN BAGS?!).  We recycle more each week than we throw away, we do all online billing so less paper comes to our mailbox, we use cloth napkins, we shop at thrift stores (yes, this is better for the environment...again, think of the manufacturing, etc.) and I'm trying to phase out paper towels by encouraging the use of our gigantic stash of old cloth rags instead. I'd start in on toilet paper and Kleenex next but that's just...no.  My next project (after the diapers, of course) is getting rid of Ziplock baggies. Yes, you can call me a hippie. And yes, what I'm doing as an individual doesn't matter that much in the big picture, as one friend was so kind as to point out several years ago. But if we all did it, how much difference would that make, SO THERE, JERK FACE! (Kidding, we're really good friends. But seriously.)

The third reason, and it's one that is just unavoidable, is that cloth diapers are so darn cute. I mean, come on, look at that zebra print up there. Adorable.

So there you have it, friends and family members. My reasons. I know you couldn't wait to read them.

Disclaimer: I am human, as is my husband, and we have a (small!) stash of disposables as well, if the whole newborn + cloth diapers thing proves to be too overwhelming at times. But I think we'll stick with it, for all those reasons above!

8/26/12

A Shower of Affection

Yesterday, I had my first pre-baby baby shower.

Yes, it demands some explanation. E was born almost exactly two months early. It's the only time in his life that he's ever been that early for something. I had baby showers post-baby, but I remember them through a somewhat hazy fog, since by that time, I had other things on my mind (like neonatal ICUs and diapers and breastfeeding and whatnot).

But this time, things were different.

My beautiful little mother offered up her house, and some of my very best friends offered up their time, and together we had a veritable sensory overload of pink, frilly, baby girl items. There were cupcakes galore, a delicious pink punch, cakes, fruits, and dips. There were pom-poms and tutus and tiny pink sneakers. My sister planned her vacation time so she could attend.  My aunt who always hated it when her mother put her in frilly clothes gave me the frilliest dress in the collection.  My sister-in-law and D's cousin both gave me huge boxes of baby clothes, lovingly picked out from their baby girls' closets. My own mother appears to have saved everything I ever wore as an infant, including the outfit my father picked out for me to wear home from the hospital. And that's just a short list of the beautiful, adorable, thoughtful gifts that everyone picked out.

It's overwhelming sometimes to realize how much people care about you.

Thank you, ladies. As wonderful as all of those gifts were, you give me something even more precious every day: your friendship and love. I can only hope my daughter will have such wonderful people in her life.

8/21/12

Small Boy Drama

A couple of weeks ago, my son went down the street to investigate what his friends were doing. He wanted to ride bikes outside. Unfortunately, they wanted to wrestle and play video games (which they were currently engaged in when he arrived). For a child who loves to play at cage fighting with his grandfather, he is surprisingly uninterested in physical altercations with children his own age (and, to be fair, the cage fighting games are highly ritualized, involving helmets and outfits and announcers and everything...), so he outright refused to participate in wrestling. And he had his heart set on bike-riding, so he didn't want to play video games either.
Unfortunately, then he made a mistake. He told an entire group of 9-year-old boys that they were boring. Obviously, they retaliated in kind and, since he was one against many, he was banished from the house and the fun.
I was sitting on the front porch to watch him go down the street, so I was also witness to his return, tears pouring down his cheeks, and disappointment writ in every line of his sad, skinny little self.
Such little dramas are usually commonplace in our neighborhood. Someone won't like what someone else is doing in a game, tempers will flare, and angry tears follow. Usually the upset is short-lived and by the next day, they have all forgiven (and probably forgotten) what came the day before.
However, this time, that didn't happen.

I'm not sure if it was because it's the tail-end of summer, and it's a million burning degrees outside, and these other children's parents are just tired of preventing their boys from playing video games 24/7, or if the insult was really that deeply felt on both sides of the argument, or if the other boys were on vacation and actually out of town. For whatever reason, our front door was shockingly un-molested for the next 2 weeks.

My proud, hard-headed son refused to seek out their company, despite his own boredom with the pace of adult life that pervades in our house. Every suggestion of "go find out what your friends are doing" was met with the disgusted rejoinder "they're not my friends any more."  One day, while helping E clean his room, I found a scrap of paper with "I hate A & N" (the two boys he's closest to) written over and over in rather hilariously disturbing fashion. I was beginning to think that the little idyllic neighborhood gang had truly fallen apart.

Then one evening, the day before school was going to start, E was complaining after dinner that he was bored. Being extremely persistent, I timidly suggested "Maybe you should go see what your friends are doing." Sure enough, as hotly as ever, he replied "They're not my friends!" But then, D said mildly, "They came looking for you this weekend."
There was a profound pause.

"Well, maybe in a little bit, I'll go see what they're doing." He threw out nonchalantly, the eagerness in his voice not at all well-hidden.

Within 5 minutes, there was a knock at our front door. E leaped off of the couch like he had been shot from a cannon, disappeared out the front door, and in no time, this is the scene that was playing out on our back patio:


All is right with the world again.

8/1/12

Something Right

I limit E's exposure to the news: he's not allowed to watch the news on TV, and I don't leave popular magazines or newspapers around where he can read them. (On the other hand, he has more exposure than he would like to medical journals...) I listen to NPR in the car with him, but change the station if they start talking about death counts or other violent things. This may be over protective of me in one way, but in another it also keeps him from being overwhelmed by the negativity that

dominates so much of world news. It also lets me discuss select events in a one-on-one manner with him, to assess his feelings and thoughts, and guide him toward his own understanding. Yesterday, while standing in line at the grocery store, he happened to catch sight of a headline about the Colorado shooting. He commented that a friend of his had told him about it. I had him tell me what he knew about it, and then carefully explained a little bit more (that's another parenting strategy: don't discuss more than he wants to learn). And when I was done, he looked thoughtful and said "I feel sorry for that man. I feel worse for all the people who died, of course, but I still feel sorry for him." That's a level of compassion that is so rare in today's society. I had just been telling my husband how disappointed I was by someone on the radio who had said the shooter was a dog who only deserved to be put down. I've also been disturbed by people who point to the amount of premeditation the shooter demonstrated as a reason why he can not be considered mentally ill, as if that would be the only thing that could help them understand what he did. I'm definitely not of the opinion that mental illness excuses actions, or that a diagnosis should be a get-out-of-jail-free card. But regardless of whether or not he has an illness, something in his brain or life malfunctioned to the extent where his actions seemed like a good idea to him. Something made him abnormal. That should make him an object of pity, if not sympathy. And my son, who's only nine, was able to express that pity. Maybe it's just a factor of how innocent and sheltered I try to keep him, but if that's what I have to do to make him a human being, that's what I'll do. And apparently I've been doing something right.

6/28/12

Baby Mania

For almost my entire life, I've found it extremely easy to go to sleep. Even through my first pregnancy, the only thing that I remember keeping me up at night was restless legs (which is NOT something to scoff at, for sure...).
BUT lately...I feel like I've been a little bit manic. Part of it is that I've been working nights, and so my sleep schedule is split: get in a few hours at work whenever possible, then go home and sleep for a few hours in the morning. But I've done this before (not to mention 30-hour shifts last year) and usually the only thing that happens is that I fall asleep more quickly.
A huge part of it now is that I'm nesting. I'll admit it readily. I spent the first trimester acting like death with the flu. I slept all the time, and still felt like I barely had the energy to get out of bed. So with the rejuvenation that the second trimester has brought, I've definitely had a rebound back to my usual perky self.  But it was controlled until that all-important 24-week mark. And then I allowed the baby fever to take over.
Don't get me wrong, I've been nuts about baby stuff this whole time. But being...cautious?...I'm not sure of the right word, maybe "superstitious?"...I didn't do anything about it until the last few weeks. And now my normal DIY tendencies have been rampaging out of control. OUT OF CONTROL.
Which, coupled with the fact that I do still have to work, sleep and eat, means I have about 20,000 projects in my head right now. Plus, it's the end of the (residency) year, so all of the credentialing, licensing, site review, new interns, graduating residents stuff is going on, too.
This equals me counting endless to-dos at night, instead of peaceful bleating sheep.

Doesn't help that someone's swimming pool is getting too small for her, so she spends a considerable amount of time testing the boundaries. Hard to go to sleep when someone is using your insides for a trampoline.

6/22/12

Carpentry

My husband labored for at least an hour in the hot sun today.
Making wooden cup holders.
So a couple of small boys could bring their water cups up into the backyard pirate ship with them.
That's love, people.

6/11/12

He's so hard to buy for...

Chat convo with the Hubs:

Me: so I am scared to buy your birthday present without your input
Me: I'm fairly certain I can do it
Me: well, I know I can, but you have certain tastes
The Hubs: Oh dear. Is it a mail order love slave?

5/18/12

Sibling Rivalry

Dear Peabody,

Today, your brother felt you kick for the first time. The look on his face was precious, priceless, and so full of awe.  Someday, when both of you have driven each other nuts and you think you hate each other, I'll remind you both of this day.  He has so much love to give you, sweet girl.

Love,

Mama

5/14/12

Role Reversal

For those of you who don't know, in our family, the woman works outside the home and the man doesn't.

You wouldn't believe how many people (and not only men, but educated, independent women who should know better), have said "but what does he DO??" with looks almost of horror on their faces when I mention that I'm the one who has a job, and D doesn't.  That would never, ever, EVER happen if I were a man and said that my wife stays home with our son. Or if it did, people would be expecting me to say that my wife scrapbooks or something useful like that. Even if people aren't surprised, I still get semi-sarcastic remarks about how I must wear the pants in our relationship. Which is so untrue it's laughable.  Few and far between are those who accept the situation at face value, and even more rarely do I hear: "Oh, we wish we could do that in our family."

I'm not sure which is the worse chauvinistic attitude: the attitude that if he's at home, he clearly does nothing worthwhile, or the attitude that I'm the woman, and therefore need him to "prove" that he can care for me financially, so that I in my turn can stay home and be much more productive than he ever could.

My husband made almost as much in his first year as an engineer as I will make in three years as a resident. And he didn't have to stack up an additional four years of debt to do it.  But he did have to be gone all the time,  leaving me with a terrible work schedule and the social calendar of a school-aged child to deal with on my own, not to mention the house and the yard and the cars and all of the other things that grown-ups have to think about.  When his company asked him to go out on the road again or else, we had to do what was best for our family, not what was best for our bank account.  

We had always planned to do this, it just happened sooner than we had anticipated. After all, my husband's job was not something he enjoyed.  And while he could see himself enjoying other jobs within the field, those jobs weren't the ones that were hiring.  Meanwhile, I love what I do. I can't imagine doing anything else. So why should he have to work just because he's the man? His ego doesn't need it, and my fragile womanhood doesn't need the reminder that he's perfectly capable of "taking care" of me.  Who would it be unfair to if he were the one working at a job that he hated, while I stayed away from a job I love?

As for wearing the pants in the relationship, there is no doubt in my mind who does. People who know us think that I do because I'm the loud, bossy, temperamental one, while he's the calm, quiet one.  But just because he spoils me by letting me act like a princess doesn't mean that I make the final decisions.  I rely on him wholeheartedly, which he enjoys because he likes to take care of me and which gives me that taken-care-of feeling, both of which we apparently need to fulfill our cultural gender roles.  We question each other's opinions almost constantly, but if one of us is asking the other for help with a decision, I can almost guarantee that it's me asking him. 

Now let's talk about that business about "what does he do all day?" Well, people, I don't know if you've ever tried taking care of A FREAKING FAMILY by yourself, but most of the people I know can't even take care of themselves very well.  And yes, I'm irritated, and therefore talking about you.  He manages our finances, cooks AND cleans, does the laundry, shuttles E to his various activities, helps with homework, mows the yard, attends school functions, gardens, does the grocery shopping, and generally keeps our life (and vehicles) running smoothly.  All of those duties that don't seem very time consuming until you realize you've been working all day and now, not only do you not have any food in your refrigerator, but you don't have gas in your car to make it to the store, and even if you did, you don't have any clean shirts to wear out of the house.

When I stopped having to worry about all of those things, my stress level decreased dramatically.  I became a better wife and mother, and probably a better person over all.  I'm more able to relax when I get home, without having to think about how the kitchen looks or whether my son has finished his spelling homework.

And obviously, the best outcome, and the one that fueled our decision to have a single-income family in the first place, has been that D has really gotten the chance to be a parent, and E has had a parent who can be there for him all the time.  When this baby girl (finally) comes along, she's going to have the same privilege. And somehow I don't think our kids will care whether they have a mom or a dad at home with them.

They'll just care that someone is there.

4/20/12

Subliminal Messages

Dear Peabody,

Your brother announced today that it's weird to think of me having another person inside of me. We then proceeded to call you an alien, a parasite and a tumor. It's true. You'll understand some day. E will explain it to you.

E is making a playlist for you. I explained to him how you will be able to hear more and more of the outside world the older you get.  So he's keeping track of all the songs he loves so he can share them with you while you're still cooking.  He became very serious at one point during our discussion of music and was obviously concentrating on something. He then said "It's weird to think of languages. Peabody can hear us, but she or he has no idea what we're saying." We decided that you'll figure it out eventually, with a little bit of help.

So listen up, Tater Tot. The world's waiting for you.

Love,

Mama


Reawakening

No, I haven't died. I'm just pregnant. First trimester woes plus a miserable rotation took me off the face of the internet world for a little while. So I'll start filling in the blanks now that I'm feeling more like a person and less like a bloated sack of nauseated heartburn. You're welcome.

4/19/12

Girls Versus Boys

So we had the big 16-week ultrasound today at my doctor's office. The nurse spent approximately 20 minutes of my 25 minute visit trying to get little Wiggle Worm-in utero to hold still and uncross his/her legs long enough for us to get a peek. After all of that maneuvering, we're fairly certain it's a....GIRL! Yay! A girl! What the heck am I gonna do with a girl?! I've only taken care of the male version of children, I don't know what to do with females!

My entire circle of family and friends were already convinced that this child was a girl. For his/her own sake, I hope the ultrasound glimpse was right, because if not, there are too many jokes already readily apparent.

My poor son was the only one (besides me) who was holding out a little bit of hope that it was a boy. Obviously boys always want brothers, and since he already has a half-sister, he thought maybe he'd get something different this time ;-).

I told him today and then, aware that he was slightly disappointed (it's ok, Peabody, your older brother adores the heck out of you regardless of whether you're a boy or a girl...), I assured him that he would get along just fine with a sister (evidence in fact: D and his 3 sisters are very close). I then reminded him that I had wanted him to be a girl, a joke that I say all the time and apparently he thought was really just a joke, because he said: "Really??" Rather horrified, he was. I said "Yep. But God told me, 'nope, you're having a boy, and you're going to name him E and he's going to be full of mischief but he'll give you the sweetest kisses."

E thought for a moment and then said "I think it's neat that God tells you how to do things. How does he do that?"  I said, "What do you mean?"  He said, "Well,  you know, God told you how to tuck me in and things."

Where would I be without you, God?


3/31/12

Quickening

Dear Peabody,

Tonight I felt you move for the first time. Some people think that babies aren't supposed to make their presence known for a while longer. I guess you're ahead of the curve, kiddo. Or maybe I'm just so eager to meet you that I'm more attuned to those tiny bubbles and flutters, because they mean you're growing and getting closer and closer to actually being here. Pretty soon I won't be the only one who can feel when you're kicking around in there. If you're anything like your brother, you will keep me awake all night stretching out and exploring the boundaries of your little world.  Have fun swimming, tiny one.

Kisses,

Mama

1/31/12

Street cred

E: I drew a horse for Kayley today, but then she ruined its reputation by coloring it with markers.

1/9/12

Ode

You gave me a golden day
I met you as the bells rang your freedom
your face at the doors was full of joy
at my unexpected presence
There were only a few steps to take
and the world was glorious
the sun had deigned to grace us 
with an autumnal glow at the heart of winter
so you and I walked instead
We might have been in Oz
you led me by such bright pathways
you dazzled me with laughter
your being demanding exuberance
and all my concentration, all my focus
on your hand in mine
We skipped along the cemented streets
where strangers could distantly observe
only the reflection of this affection
while poetry danced in every sweet angle of your face
I so easily forget the wonder you are
when I'm separate from you for a week, day, moment
and then you smile
fascinate me anew
I could spend my life reaching
for understanding of what I've been given
Your love is so far beyond
what my heart can grasp

1/5/12

So THAT'S how she does it

E and I were having a discussion about his piano teacher the other day, specifically on how he needs to speak up when he is addressing her or answering her questions, because she's (just giving a rough estimate here...) 120 years old and can't hear him when he mumbles. I explained that he also needs to give a firm answer and look at her when he speaks, both because of the hearing thing and because he needs to show her respect because she is his elder.

To which he responded, "She's not my elder. She's someone's elder, but she's not mine!"
I then had to elaborate a bit on the strict definition... "...and that means she's my elder, too.  And Noni and Poppa's."
"<gasp> She's Noni's elder, too?"
"Yes, son, Ms Piano Teacher's probably <insert not-so-highly-inflated-number> years old! How old do you think Noni is?!"
"Well, I know she's old. I just thought I kept her looking young with all our sword-fighting."

I then laughed so hard that he told me "Mom, you're laughing so loudly the eagles will hear you."
Which didn't help.

1/3/12

Talk To Me

My mother is the type of super-woman who wrangles Christmas letters every year, a gargantuan task that I cannot even contemplate. For years, I've looked forward to reading the quirky, unique things she decides to incorporate into her cards.  Every Christmas, I also enjoy reading about the lives of various friends and relatives, and exclaiming over pictures where the children always seem to be at least 5 years older than I think they can possibly be.

My mom and I had a discussion the other day about this particular mode of communication.  She mentioned that her mother, in turn, always jokes about friends who send her Christmas letters, since she says "why would I need this, I know everything that's happened in their lives because we write to each other all year!"  My nana engages in such detailed and frequent written communication that she has stayed in contact with friends over almost seven decades.  But my parents' generation lost the art of letter-writing.  They turned more to occasional phone calls and the yearly letters to keep up with the turning of seasons.

In my generation, even the Christmas letter has fallen by the wayside.  And it's because forms of social networking such as Facebook and Twitter (even MySpace, if anyone uses it any more?) have kept us in such close awareness of each others' lives.  Should we ever think: "I wonder what so-and-so has been up to lately", an instant update is available at our fingertips, in way more intimate detail than we could ever need.  For instance, I'm thinking of some recent statuses proclaiming the extent of cervical dilation ladies are experiencing as they enter the labor process.  I mean, come on, what's next, a live video feed? NO ONE NEEDS TO KNOW THAT.

Sometimes, though, the amount of closeness we achieve via the Internet inhibits us from practicing true relationships.  I know exactly what my best friend from high school was thinking last night as she watched that movie, but I don't truly know how she felt.  I know the public broadcast version of everyone's days, thoughts and dreams, and yet the secrets and depths to the actual person I am friends with are lost.  I am betrayed into laziness by the false reality of a virtual friendship, and more extensive communication seems more effort than it is worth.  And even the minuscule effort I make  (i.e. turning my search engine to a profile...) seems Herculean in comparison to actually dialing a number.

As a whole, people make the same New Year's resolutions year after year: drink less, stop smoking, lose weight, laugh more. This year, in particular, I have heard a lot of people saying they are going to make more of an effort to spend time with their family and friends, try being with them a little more frequently.  I made a similar resolution, but to simply be more involved with the day-to-day realities of my loved ones' lives.

Even if it means I have to write a letter to my Nana.
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