I never, ever thought I'd do it, but thus far I breastfeed my baby entirely on demand. We have yet to be apart for more than 3 hours at a time (note to self: maybe that explains why I can't get enough work done even with a babysitter ...). She also has no real sleep schedule - I just try to make sure that she's not awake for more than 2 (max 3) hours at a time. And she's a good eater and sleeper, so it seems to be working out.
Tonight she started crying when I was at my father's and he asked what was wrong. I told him she was probably poo'ing (yes, she screams. Lazy, lazy) but I'd try feeding her. And I must have said something about "Well, I feed her whenever she screams and I only feed her when she screams" because he looked very concerned and told me I was forming all the wrong associations if I only feed her when she cries ...
When she was little I could pick up her rooting cues and know she was hungry, but now she seems to switch rapidly to loud cries when she is upset about anything. I do remember years ago a friend telling me how glad she was that her babies cried when hungry "or she would never feed them" and I remember thinking the statement was a bit odd. But now I totally understand. Between keeping her clean, well-rested, warm enough, cool enough, stimulated but not over-stimulated, I just don't have the energy to focus on keeping track of how often she eats. I know she'll cry when hungry, and I know I can feel it if she goes a really long time without eating. But am I forming some awful association for her? All advice appreciated.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
And thank you for your reaction, too
I am frustrated, and I am going to whine about a dilemma which I am sure 99.5% of my readers will never have to face: finding a daycare in my little corner of Europe while living in the U.S. Yes, my long-time readers, I thought I had this all figured out. We did after all start our search in earnest a full 2 months before TS's arrival, giving us a full 8 months to find a spot. But the spot we were promised seems to have evaporated, and the agency we were working with simply does not get that my start date is non-negotiable and I need daycare 5 days a week, preferably full days.
So here it is 3 hours until March and I'm still looking ...
I know things will work out. We will find some solution. It is just too expensive for me to live in Europe and not work every day that I can, and I absolutely cannot work with TS there (she can't even come into my work building). And of course, the more I can work, the sooner she will be reunited with her father. So we will either land up with a temporary solution of a home daycare (I love them in the U.S., don't feel at all safe with the way they are run in this country) or I will lug the baby an hour to the big city to get her into a good daycare (that's an hour to drop her off, an hour back to work, an hour to go pick her up, an hour home - fun fun) and then we will wait until a daycare spot opens up in our little town ...
So here's what makes it so challenging:
1. People in Europe have long maternity leaves. As a result there are very few spots for babies under a year.
2. Even those couples where both parents work, it is quite standard to work a 4-day workweek until your child enters elementary school. Yes, even my male advisor when I was in Europe last spring took off Mondays to stay home with his 2-year-old son. TWO. And an adorable IVF baby, no less. As a result no daycare I've spoken to has been willing to offer me more than 3 days a week.
3. I want to live in the little town where I will be working. Since I will be alone with the baby, I really need to be close in case she gets sick, etc. And my schedule is flexible enough that I would have time to go breastfeed her at lunch anywhere in the little town. But because it's a little town, there are not so many daycares.
4. Commuting costs are really high in this country (I can't believe I'm even considering commuting!) I could find a decent daycare in the big city, but then I would have to add at least $300-400 per month for my commute to the little town. And if TS got sick at daycare I would be a full hour away and really worried about it. Let alone the fear of missing my train and daycare closing time.
5. Plain old fashioned stupidity. I have yet to get my residency permit, so I have yet to open a local bank account, so I can only wire money ... and the daycares have long enough waits that they just don't want to deal with these little complications. I also don't have a local address, which they flip about. Or proof of income in the local language. Or a full vaccine report for TS (because she hasn't got them all yet ... being 10 weeks and all). To give you a sense of the short-sighted stupidity, the national socialized hospital where I had my ultrasounds last spring refused to send the bill to my address in the U.S. because they weren't authorized to spend that much postage on a bill. Yup, not authorized. So, I had to have the bill mailed to a colleague (who then paid the bill) and forwarded it to me.
I know that the agency I wrote to meant to thank me for my response, but I think what they actually wrote "And thank you for your reaction" is a bit more accurate. Of course, if they actually knew my full reaction I doubt they'd have bothered to write at all.
And if you've made it this far, you deserve a real prize. More thoughts on flying tomorrow when TS and I are back in NYC.
So here it is 3 hours until March and I'm still looking ...
I know things will work out. We will find some solution. It is just too expensive for me to live in Europe and not work every day that I can, and I absolutely cannot work with TS there (she can't even come into my work building). And of course, the more I can work, the sooner she will be reunited with her father. So we will either land up with a temporary solution of a home daycare (I love them in the U.S., don't feel at all safe with the way they are run in this country) or I will lug the baby an hour to the big city to get her into a good daycare (that's an hour to drop her off, an hour back to work, an hour to go pick her up, an hour home - fun fun) and then we will wait until a daycare spot opens up in our little town ...
So here's what makes it so challenging:
1. People in Europe have long maternity leaves. As a result there are very few spots for babies under a year.
2. Even those couples where both parents work, it is quite standard to work a 4-day workweek until your child enters elementary school. Yes, even my male advisor when I was in Europe last spring took off Mondays to stay home with his 2-year-old son. TWO. And an adorable IVF baby, no less. As a result no daycare I've spoken to has been willing to offer me more than 3 days a week.
3. I want to live in the little town where I will be working. Since I will be alone with the baby, I really need to be close in case she gets sick, etc. And my schedule is flexible enough that I would have time to go breastfeed her at lunch anywhere in the little town. But because it's a little town, there are not so many daycares.
4. Commuting costs are really high in this country (I can't believe I'm even considering commuting!) I could find a decent daycare in the big city, but then I would have to add at least $300-400 per month for my commute to the little town. And if TS got sick at daycare I would be a full hour away and really worried about it. Let alone the fear of missing my train and daycare closing time.
5. Plain old fashioned stupidity. I have yet to get my residency permit, so I have yet to open a local bank account, so I can only wire money ... and the daycares have long enough waits that they just don't want to deal with these little complications. I also don't have a local address, which they flip about. Or proof of income in the local language. Or a full vaccine report for TS (because she hasn't got them all yet ... being 10 weeks and all). To give you a sense of the short-sighted stupidity, the national socialized hospital where I had my ultrasounds last spring refused to send the bill to my address in the U.S. because they weren't authorized to spend that much postage on a bill. Yup, not authorized. So, I had to have the bill mailed to a colleague (who then paid the bill) and forwarded it to me.
I know that the agency I wrote to meant to thank me for my response, but I think what they actually wrote "And thank you for your reaction" is a bit more accurate. Of course, if they actually knew my full reaction I doubt they'd have bothered to write at all.
And if you've made it this far, you deserve a real prize. More thoughts on flying tomorrow when TS and I are back in NYC.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Sun at last
I think our ten minutes of breastfeeding on the front steps this morning alone made all of the transit time yesterday worth it. I haven't been quite that bare-breasted outdoors since elementary school, and it felt great (yes, my mother lives in a condo with a lot of neighbors but it was midmorning on a weekday and there was no one in sight). And I really wanted to take advantage of the few minutes of soon because TS gets no natural Vitamin D in NYC. Did I mention that JD and I are going North for spring break (hello Canada!)?
I'll concede flying is not quite as easy as the train, but I am quite proud of myself for both managing to get four carry-ons to the gate check area without being charged (yes FOUR: that would be our duffle with clothes, laptop bag, backpack with diaper bag supplies, and food bag) plus a stroller and making it rather smoothly through security, etc. The great mistake? Barreling my way past the (older, male) flight attendant with TS's carseat and insisting I wanted it on the plane (nope, I didn't buy her a seat but it was an empty flight - thank you recession-times). It turns out that it's way too big and had to go next to the window which left me and my breasts basically hanging out into the aisle of a very small plane so that I could feed the baby ... breastfeeding in transit is such a weird experience.
Sorry if breasts on are my mind a lot tonight. Not only did I have a clogged duct last week and TS is hitting her 12-week growth spurt at exactly 11 weeks, but I have self-diagnosed a case of vaso.sp.asm. I'm really hoping it's just from awkward feeding positions when we're out and about, but I am greatly diasppointed that even having the fever break and losing the lump of last week has not ended the pain. And even at home down South with my entire family supporting my endeavor into breastfeeding, it's hard not to try to cover up the fact that I am in pain when I feed TS and directly afterwards.
I'll concede flying is not quite as easy as the train, but I am quite proud of myself for both managing to get four carry-ons to the gate check area without being charged (yes FOUR: that would be our duffle with clothes, laptop bag, backpack with diaper bag supplies, and food bag) plus a stroller and making it rather smoothly through security, etc. The great mistake? Barreling my way past the (older, male) flight attendant with TS's carseat and insisting I wanted it on the plane (nope, I didn't buy her a seat but it was an empty flight - thank you recession-times). It turns out that it's way too big and had to go next to the window which left me and my breasts basically hanging out into the aisle of a very small plane so that I could feed the baby ... breastfeeding in transit is such a weird experience.
Sorry if breasts on are my mind a lot tonight. Not only did I have a clogged duct last week and TS is hitting her 12-week growth spurt at exactly 11 weeks, but I have self-diagnosed a case of vaso.sp.asm. I'm really hoping it's just from awkward feeding positions when we're out and about, but I am greatly diasppointed that even having the fever break and losing the lump of last week has not ended the pain. And even at home down South with my entire family supporting my endeavor into breastfeeding, it's hard not to try to cover up the fact that I am in pain when I feed TS and directly afterwards.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Here we go
Baby's first flight tonight.
Did I mention I had another breast infection this past week? Most likely just a clogged duct, but painful, lumpy breasts combined with a fever make it hard to function well.
So I bought the fusspot and I a very cheap last minute ticket to visit my parents down South. I finish teaching at 5 pm and we have an 8 pm flight tonight.
Oh, and I forgot TS's passport, which I have been carrying around for weeks. I really, really hope they don't harass me about her like of id because I might just melt (I know you don't legally need an id, but we don't share the same last name and with her hat on she does not look like any relation to me at all. Take her hat off and you can see my thin, limp hair, but otherwise my baby is looking more and more like her daddy as the time passes).
At least tomorrow we can go sit in the sun.
Did I mention I had another breast infection this past week? Most likely just a clogged duct, but painful, lumpy breasts combined with a fever make it hard to function well.
So I bought the fusspot and I a very cheap last minute ticket to visit my parents down South. I finish teaching at 5 pm and we have an 8 pm flight tonight.
Oh, and I forgot TS's passport, which I have been carrying around for weeks. I really, really hope they don't harass me about her like of id because I might just melt (I know you don't legally need an id, but we don't share the same last name and with her hat on she does not look like any relation to me at all. Take her hat off and you can see my thin, limp hair, but otherwise my baby is looking more and more like her daddy as the time passes).
At least tomorrow we can go sit in the sun.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
The One Baby Wave (Or, preliminary thoughts on travel)
I love the scene in 'When Harry met Sally' where Harry is describing the demise of his marriage at a baseball game and he and his buddy are doing the wave. My baby does a one-woman wave on the train between NYC and City Y. Every time the train goes over a bump or round a sharp turn when her arms are not tucked in with a blanket she throws them up in the air and looks very surprised.
I think that if my chosen academic career does not work out, I can make a fortune writing 'The Authoritative Guide to Avoiding Stairs.' Stairs are the bane of my existence because I am using a basic Baby Trend stroller-base stroller when I commute because I occasionally need a carseat and it is incredibly hard to lift up flights of stairs. And, I always have my laptop, books for teaching, a duffel bag with a few changes of clothing for both of us and a stack of cloth diapers, extra blankets, wipes, pacifiers, and a bottle of frozen milk for the babysitter.
But, despite resigning myself to standing with a deliberately forlorn, pitiful expression at the bottom of a flight of stairs (about the equivalent of 3 stories) at least once every week, I must say commuting is going incredibly well. And in three weeks I have narrowed it down to a single flight of stairs (but that took hours of hunting. I have adjusted to taking different subway lines to get to a stop with an elevator, and I have discovered all the hidden ramps and elevators enroute). And to give you a sense of my commute: I leave my NYC-apartment at 7:10 am with JD, he carries TS's stroller down the subway stairs and we kiss good-bye, TS and I take the train to Penn Station, hop on Amtrak (4 elevator rides later - and those are the slowest elevators in the world), get off the train 4-5 hours later, hope on the subway, head to my office so I can run errands and prep for class (we leave the apartment at 7:10 am and arrive at my office between 1-1:15 pm), hope on the subway at 4:15 pm so I can drop TS off with my relatives. At their subway stop we either walk a mile, take a $10 cab, or wait for a ride, and then I turn around alone and head back into the city to teach until almost 10 pm. 2 days later we do the entire trip in reverse to return to NYC. Which is to say, we have a lot of time in transit and plenty of transfers.
So here is what I've learned thus far:
1. Changing the baby on your lap is a necessity. In my entire 6 hour commute there is a single changing table available. As a result, pack a full change for yourself. And cloth diapers last much longer without leaks than disposables. It's worth carrying around a wetbag of stinky diapers (wet bags are surprisingly effective at containing the odor) to avoid leaky diapers at inopportunte moments.
2. A very little known secret is that Am.tra.k in Penn Station allows people in wheelchairs and those with strollers to PRE-BOARD the train. This is such a secret that the conductors on the train are often surprised to see you show up before they announce the track number. But it really helps because I like to sit in the train car closest to the snack bar (this is critical when the train gets delayed and I need water, etc. to drink while breastfeeding) and a row or two away from the bathrooms (far enough not to smell the stench but close enough not to worry about carrying TS in her carseat with me to the bathroom. I then put the carseat on the handicap stall floor - not ideal, but it works).
3. NYC-subway workers will yell at you no matter what. For those of you who aren't locals, in NYC you have to catch the attention of the station attendant, swipe your card at a regular turnstile, then wait for them to buzz you in through the emergency exit when you have a stroller too heavy to lift over the turnstile. And no matter what, they will shout at you that you cannot either 1. interrupt 2. swipe your card before you get their attention. In a crowded rush hour situation they will yell at you no matter what.
4. Most people are very, very nice about a fussy baby on the subway/train/bus. If not, they will move away and that's just fine (I would have done that myself last year if I had a lot of work I needed to do). In fact, my only cringe-worthy travel interaction was the woman who almost ran TS and I over while speeding around a corner in a 25 mph zone in front of a school. Yes, we were walking in the street but that was because I could not lift the loaded stroller over the icy snowdrift blocking the sidewalk. And we were in front of a school so I thought drivers would be cautious. Having sped around the car at about 50 mph she then proceeded to slam on the brakes, reverse, and swear at me. I am so glad that TS lacks language skills and slept through it.
5. On the flip side, the traveling public feel the right to ask you every detail about your baby (age? size? gender? birthdate? type of delivery? frequency of travel? favorites?). The lovely Geohde has written about this extensively and I am just now starting to comprehend how annoying this must be with twins. They will, by the way, ask you these questions even when both you and baby are asleep or you are battling the stroller over a snowdrift or through a broken handicap turnstile in City Y. And, such polite inquiries in no way correspond to offers of help. In rank order the following groups tend to offer assistance (with stairs, getting the stroller over the train and subway gap, helping me reach things when I grab lunch enroute, with my bag, etc.): 1. young Hispanic men 2. middle aged white men. The following groups tend to ask probing questions and then wander off or stare as I battle my way through some particular obstacle: 1. middle aged women 2. younger women 3. old men. 4. creepy old men (Note the lack of overlap. And no, this is not meant to stereotype by race but I find it quite charming that so many young Hispanic men in NYC and City Y take the time to offer to help carry a stroller. Especially since in my neigborhood I have had offers of help from several young men who did not speak English).
6. It is incredibly annoying to carry a sling in your bag because it takes up a lot of room, but definitely worth it. Even though I only pull it out occasionally when in transit, it does wonders to calm down TS when she is feeling overwhelmed.
7. Everyone assumes that this is "baby's first trip" and we're off "to visit grandma." I am quite happy to explain that I am traveling for work because I both think that 1. Americans need to be aware of how entirely insufficient and pitiful our maternity leave policies are and 2. the alternative of being a SAHM does not work for everyone. [Yes, JD could probably support TS and I for a few years and we might even break even without our daycare costs, but my career is entirely unforgiving of women who take leave and I love what I do and would like to achieve as much as possible in my chosen career, so I am willing to take the sacrifice of lugging around a heavy stroller and occasionally grumpy baby to do it. Of course, I realize that I am incredibly lucky to be able to work at home and afford a part-time nanny most of the week so that I am only separated from my baby for 7-10 hours per week]. So no, please don't assume that just because I have a baby I have nothing else to do but visit relatives midweek in the middle of the regular work year.
8. The more daycare you can afford, the better. And professional childcare providers trump babysitters anyday. My relatives, who love TS dearly, cannot get her to sleep. So she is always overtired after her time with them. And my babysitter in City Y alternates weekly between failing to change her and failing to feed her (I do breastfeed her immediately before leaving). So when I leave class I can be guaranteed either a wet, leaky baby in need of a new outfit or a fussy, hungry baby. And, thus far, none of these situations bothers our little alien at all.
9. It is worth buying a cheap hand pump to carry on the road even if you own the awe-inspiringly expensive double electric breastpump. Those things are heavy and it's incredibly hard to clean the parts in public restrooms.
10. Baby gadgets are great, but not necessary. I often use the swing to take a shower in NYC. I of course have no such gadget in City Y. After a few very, very rushed showers while TS slept (my baby does not sleep alone for more than about 5 minutes) I decided to try bringing her into the bathroom with me. I put my nude baby on a towel on the floor next to the shower and watched with joy as she happily cooed at the shower curtain for a good 15 minutes. For all that she enjoys her rainforest-themed bright! happy! playmate with lights! and music! she loves the patterned shower curtain much, much more.
11. Pack many, many pacifiers. I have little ziploc bags with pacifiers in them in every coat pocket, duffel bag, purse, etc. They fall all the time, and a single trip can easily require 5 clean pacifiers, even though our alien is not particularly addicted to them. And yes, I just boil them and reuse them even when they have fallen on the floor of a public restroom, train station, gutter, etc. Thus far, no awful diseases have been contracted from this action.
So, those are my preliminary tips, combined with a healthy dose of ranting directed at my fellow travelers. I will admit that I have yet to meet another woman with a baby on either the train or my subway line in City Y, so clearly I am in the minority on my commute. But it is definitely doable. And now, when I start to panic about moving to Europe with a baby and sans husband, I can at least remind myself that I made it through one hurdle that my husband and MIL were highly dubious of (my mother of course knew I was stubborn enough to pull it off, and my father claimed not to see any obstacles at all to my plans for this spring).
I think that if my chosen academic career does not work out, I can make a fortune writing 'The Authoritative Guide to Avoiding Stairs.' Stairs are the bane of my existence because I am using a basic Baby Trend stroller-base stroller when I commute because I occasionally need a carseat and it is incredibly hard to lift up flights of stairs. And, I always have my laptop, books for teaching, a duffel bag with a few changes of clothing for both of us and a stack of cloth diapers, extra blankets, wipes, pacifiers, and a bottle of frozen milk for the babysitter.
But, despite resigning myself to standing with a deliberately forlorn, pitiful expression at the bottom of a flight of stairs (about the equivalent of 3 stories) at least once every week, I must say commuting is going incredibly well. And in three weeks I have narrowed it down to a single flight of stairs (but that took hours of hunting. I have adjusted to taking different subway lines to get to a stop with an elevator, and I have discovered all the hidden ramps and elevators enroute). And to give you a sense of my commute: I leave my NYC-apartment at 7:10 am with JD, he carries TS's stroller down the subway stairs and we kiss good-bye, TS and I take the train to Penn Station, hop on Amtrak (4 elevator rides later - and those are the slowest elevators in the world), get off the train 4-5 hours later, hope on the subway, head to my office so I can run errands and prep for class (we leave the apartment at 7:10 am and arrive at my office between 1-1:15 pm), hope on the subway at 4:15 pm so I can drop TS off with my relatives. At their subway stop we either walk a mile, take a $10 cab, or wait for a ride, and then I turn around alone and head back into the city to teach until almost 10 pm. 2 days later we do the entire trip in reverse to return to NYC. Which is to say, we have a lot of time in transit and plenty of transfers.
So here is what I've learned thus far:
1. Changing the baby on your lap is a necessity. In my entire 6 hour commute there is a single changing table available. As a result, pack a full change for yourself. And cloth diapers last much longer without leaks than disposables. It's worth carrying around a wetbag of stinky diapers (wet bags are surprisingly effective at containing the odor) to avoid leaky diapers at inopportunte moments.
2. A very little known secret is that Am.tra.k in Penn Station allows people in wheelchairs and those with strollers to PRE-BOARD the train. This is such a secret that the conductors on the train are often surprised to see you show up before they announce the track number. But it really helps because I like to sit in the train car closest to the snack bar (this is critical when the train gets delayed and I need water, etc. to drink while breastfeeding) and a row or two away from the bathrooms (far enough not to smell the stench but close enough not to worry about carrying TS in her carseat with me to the bathroom. I then put the carseat on the handicap stall floor - not ideal, but it works).
3. NYC-subway workers will yell at you no matter what. For those of you who aren't locals, in NYC you have to catch the attention of the station attendant, swipe your card at a regular turnstile, then wait for them to buzz you in through the emergency exit when you have a stroller too heavy to lift over the turnstile. And no matter what, they will shout at you that you cannot either 1. interrupt 2. swipe your card before you get their attention. In a crowded rush hour situation they will yell at you no matter what.
4. Most people are very, very nice about a fussy baby on the subway/train/bus. If not, they will move away and that's just fine (I would have done that myself last year if I had a lot of work I needed to do). In fact, my only cringe-worthy travel interaction was the woman who almost ran TS and I over while speeding around a corner in a 25 mph zone in front of a school. Yes, we were walking in the street but that was because I could not lift the loaded stroller over the icy snowdrift blocking the sidewalk. And we were in front of a school so I thought drivers would be cautious. Having sped around the car at about 50 mph she then proceeded to slam on the brakes, reverse, and swear at me. I am so glad that TS lacks language skills and slept through it.
5. On the flip side, the traveling public feel the right to ask you every detail about your baby (age? size? gender? birthdate? type of delivery? frequency of travel? favorites?). The lovely Geohde has written about this extensively and I am just now starting to comprehend how annoying this must be with twins. They will, by the way, ask you these questions even when both you and baby are asleep or you are battling the stroller over a snowdrift or through a broken handicap turnstile in City Y. And, such polite inquiries in no way correspond to offers of help. In rank order the following groups tend to offer assistance (with stairs, getting the stroller over the train and subway gap, helping me reach things when I grab lunch enroute, with my bag, etc.): 1. young Hispanic men 2. middle aged white men. The following groups tend to ask probing questions and then wander off or stare as I battle my way through some particular obstacle: 1. middle aged women 2. younger women 3. old men. 4. creepy old men (Note the lack of overlap. And no, this is not meant to stereotype by race but I find it quite charming that so many young Hispanic men in NYC and City Y take the time to offer to help carry a stroller. Especially since in my neigborhood I have had offers of help from several young men who did not speak English).
6. It is incredibly annoying to carry a sling in your bag because it takes up a lot of room, but definitely worth it. Even though I only pull it out occasionally when in transit, it does wonders to calm down TS when she is feeling overwhelmed.
7. Everyone assumes that this is "baby's first trip" and we're off "to visit grandma." I am quite happy to explain that I am traveling for work because I both think that 1. Americans need to be aware of how entirely insufficient and pitiful our maternity leave policies are and 2. the alternative of being a SAHM does not work for everyone. [Yes, JD could probably support TS and I for a few years and we might even break even without our daycare costs, but my career is entirely unforgiving of women who take leave and I love what I do and would like to achieve as much as possible in my chosen career, so I am willing to take the sacrifice of lugging around a heavy stroller and occasionally grumpy baby to do it. Of course, I realize that I am incredibly lucky to be able to work at home and afford a part-time nanny most of the week so that I am only separated from my baby for 7-10 hours per week]. So no, please don't assume that just because I have a baby I have nothing else to do but visit relatives midweek in the middle of the regular work year.
8. The more daycare you can afford, the better. And professional childcare providers trump babysitters anyday. My relatives, who love TS dearly, cannot get her to sleep. So she is always overtired after her time with them. And my babysitter in City Y alternates weekly between failing to change her and failing to feed her (I do breastfeed her immediately before leaving). So when I leave class I can be guaranteed either a wet, leaky baby in need of a new outfit or a fussy, hungry baby. And, thus far, none of these situations bothers our little alien at all.
9. It is worth buying a cheap hand pump to carry on the road even if you own the awe-inspiringly expensive double electric breastpump. Those things are heavy and it's incredibly hard to clean the parts in public restrooms.
10. Baby gadgets are great, but not necessary. I often use the swing to take a shower in NYC. I of course have no such gadget in City Y. After a few very, very rushed showers while TS slept (my baby does not sleep alone for more than about 5 minutes) I decided to try bringing her into the bathroom with me. I put my nude baby on a towel on the floor next to the shower and watched with joy as she happily cooed at the shower curtain for a good 15 minutes. For all that she enjoys her rainforest-themed bright! happy! playmate with lights! and music! she loves the patterned shower curtain much, much more.
11. Pack many, many pacifiers. I have little ziploc bags with pacifiers in them in every coat pocket, duffel bag, purse, etc. They fall all the time, and a single trip can easily require 5 clean pacifiers, even though our alien is not particularly addicted to them. And yes, I just boil them and reuse them even when they have fallen on the floor of a public restroom, train station, gutter, etc. Thus far, no awful diseases have been contracted from this action.
So, those are my preliminary tips, combined with a healthy dose of ranting directed at my fellow travelers. I will admit that I have yet to meet another woman with a baby on either the train or my subway line in City Y, so clearly I am in the minority on my commute. But it is definitely doable. And now, when I start to panic about moving to Europe with a baby and sans husband, I can at least remind myself that I made it through one hurdle that my husband and MIL were highly dubious of (my mother of course knew I was stubborn enough to pull it off, and my father claimed not to see any obstacles at all to my plans for this spring).
Friday, February 20, 2009
average at last
We did it. 50th percentile for height, weight and head circumference (ok, her head is 57th percentile, but we won't emphasize the big head jokes yet). That is up from 25th percentile at birth for her gestational age (38.5 weeks at birth). I can feel some of the guilt from starving her in utero lifting.
And why is it that the first pediatrician appointment JD can join me at, we have no wait? Or maybe JD should take the credit - he did make us noticeably late.
Everything else was fine at the appointment. The only slight glitch was scheduling her next 2 appointments. Somehow I hadn't processed that we would already be out of the country by her 6 month appointment and the office does not want to schedule it early, and I don't want to delay it by at least 3 months. Negotiations still in progress.
Wish me luck as I try to take my newly-vaccinated and slightly grumpy fusspot with me to class today (scheduling conflict for the nanny*).
* Who, by the way, won all local bets on TS's weight. Why is it that the professionals get you every time? JD had the losing bet at almost 13 lbs, but S. won with a bet of 12 lbs (she's at 11 lbs 8 oz).
And why is it that the first pediatrician appointment JD can join me at, we have no wait? Or maybe JD should take the credit - he did make us noticeably late.
Everything else was fine at the appointment. The only slight glitch was scheduling her next 2 appointments. Somehow I hadn't processed that we would already be out of the country by her 6 month appointment and the office does not want to schedule it early, and I don't want to delay it by at least 3 months. Negotiations still in progress.
Wish me luck as I try to take my newly-vaccinated and slightly grumpy fusspot with me to class today (scheduling conflict for the nanny*).
* Who, by the way, won all local bets on TS's weight. Why is it that the professionals get you every time? JD had the losing bet at almost 13 lbs, but S. won with a bet of 12 lbs (she's at 11 lbs 8 oz).
Thursday, February 19, 2009
tidbits
Good news first: my milk is back. In fact, back in force because of all the pumping I've been doing. Poor TS spent a good half hour screaming on the train because I was so engorged she couldn't eat. And of course, I did not have a pump with me (nor is there anyplace to pump there ...) so I expressed milk into her mouth. Needless to say, we were a bit messy by the time we got to Penn Station.
I do wonder if part of the stress was related to our visitor early this week. I have many, many thoughts about that but I'm not sure the internet is an appropriate place to air them. Needless to say, I yet again failed to prepare properly for the visit and snapped several times. But at least TS met her aunt this year.
I went to the Met earlier this week with TS. Since none of the bathrooms have chairs, the options to breastfeed there are the cafeteria or in a gallery. I decided to head to a very deserted, quiet gallery on the 2nd floor. Just as I'm sitting down to breastfeed, the museum guard comes hustling over. I was a bit nervous she was going to ask me not feed TS (who was by this point rather loudly protesting the delay) or tell me it was inappropriate to breastfeed in a gallery. Instead, she very kindly asked if this spot was comfortable enough and if I need anything. Really! And then later when I was done she came over to admire the fusspot. It's always nice when people are most unexpectedly kind.
I got my final bill from the hospital for TS's delivery. Over $4000 for 'room and board,' which makes me a bit peeved since, well, as I recall there was no 'board' at all, and I was hungry the entire time I was there (yes, of course I brought food to eat while in labor but I really wanted fresh food and I was starving overnight).
Speaking of food, my aunt suggested that I look as if I am working on #2 at the moment (Not a chance). Which is to say, my belly has recently returned in force. I'm hoping my self-control comes back next.
Tomorrow is our '2 month' appointment. Shots and weigh-in. I am far more nervous about the latter than the former.
I do wonder if part of the stress was related to our visitor early this week. I have many, many thoughts about that but I'm not sure the internet is an appropriate place to air them. Needless to say, I yet again failed to prepare properly for the visit and snapped several times. But at least TS met her aunt this year.
I went to the Met earlier this week with TS. Since none of the bathrooms have chairs, the options to breastfeed there are the cafeteria or in a gallery. I decided to head to a very deserted, quiet gallery on the 2nd floor. Just as I'm sitting down to breastfeed, the museum guard comes hustling over. I was a bit nervous she was going to ask me not feed TS (who was by this point rather loudly protesting the delay) or tell me it was inappropriate to breastfeed in a gallery. Instead, she very kindly asked if this spot was comfortable enough and if I need anything. Really! And then later when I was done she came over to admire the fusspot. It's always nice when people are most unexpectedly kind.
I got my final bill from the hospital for TS's delivery. Over $4000 for 'room and board,' which makes me a bit peeved since, well, as I recall there was no 'board' at all, and I was hungry the entire time I was there (yes, of course I brought food to eat while in labor but I really wanted fresh food and I was starving overnight).
Speaking of food, my aunt suggested that I look as if I am working on #2 at the moment (Not a chance). Which is to say, my belly has recently returned in force. I'm hoping my self-control comes back next.
Tomorrow is our '2 month' appointment. Shots and weigh-in. I am far more nervous about the latter than the former.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Or maybe -
maybe it's just the stress which is decreasing my milk supply. My normally cheerful baby who falls asleep with milk dribbling out of her mouth has been fusing and fussing and endlessly latching on. And I can barely get 3 ounces when I pump.
All I want to do is to crawl into bed for a few days. I don't want to teach this week. Or spend hours on a train. Or waltz my sister around NYC like her visit is my only concern in the world. Or nag my husband about booking a vacation for us before the price of plane tickets results in the inevitable 'let's just go to my parent's house.' Or take my baby to be weighed and vaccinated on the first week she's had eating issues since she was a newborn. Or think about finding housing in Europe. Or spend time shushing my baby so I don't disturb the people around us.
I just want to crawl into bed.
All I want to do is to crawl into bed for a few days. I don't want to teach this week. Or spend hours on a train. Or waltz my sister around NYC like her visit is my only concern in the world. Or nag my husband about booking a vacation for us before the price of plane tickets results in the inevitable 'let's just go to my parent's house.' Or take my baby to be weighed and vaccinated on the first week she's had eating issues since she was a newborn. Or think about finding housing in Europe. Or spend time shushing my baby so I don't disturb the people around us.
I just want to crawl into bed.
and then sometimes i apprceciate the U.S. all the more ...
I just got off the phone with a highly-recommended housing agency in my little corner of Europe. I have never used an agency before, but I thought with a baby in tow, I probably do need to just deal and pay the commission rather than run all over the city trying to find housing. And I was so looking forward to the luxury of telling an agency my wishes (um ... cheap, in the right city, no more than 3rd floor walk-up, some type of kitchen ... and in my fantasy-land laundry, but I really, really doubt it ... i.e. nothing too extravagant)
So you can understand my annoyance when 5 minutes into the conversation I mentioned that I would be coming with my daughter, but not my husband. Without the slightest pause the woman says "Oh, we don't rent to families with children. We don't like them in our buildings. Thanks for calling."
So you can understand my annoyance when 5 minutes into the conversation I mentioned that I would be coming with my daughter, but not my husband. Without the slightest pause the woman says "Oh, we don't rent to families with children. We don't like them in our buildings. Thanks for calling."
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Speechless (please advise)
I think I got my period. I really do.
I am 9 weeks post-partum.* And I have been anovulatory my entire life.
I have only had one 'natural' (i.e. uninduced) period EVER. At age 11.
So, what does this mean? Or could it still be post-partum bleeding?
* For the record, I stopped post-partum bleeding about 3 weeks ago (but honestly haven't even made it to the mikveh yet because I've been so busy ...)
Postscript: Not to help with the panic or anything, but my milk supply seems to be rapidly dropping today. I actually had to resort to a bottle (of pumped milk) for the first time ever. Me, who used to be able to pump 8 oz -after- feeding the baby. I am pumping after every feed now, and hoping that alone will up my supply quickly.
I am 9 weeks post-partum.* And I have been anovulatory my entire life.
I have only had one 'natural' (i.e. uninduced) period EVER. At age 11.
So, what does this mean? Or could it still be post-partum bleeding?
* For the record, I stopped post-partum bleeding about 3 weeks ago (but honestly haven't even made it to the mikveh yet because I've been so busy ...)
Postscript: Not to help with the panic or anything, but my milk supply seems to be rapidly dropping today. I actually had to resort to a bottle (of pumped milk) for the first time ever. Me, who used to be able to pump 8 oz -after- feeding the baby. I am pumping after every feed now, and hoping that alone will up my supply quickly.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
so i have a few little obsessions
Bugs in my apartment freak me out. My long-time readers may recall many, many nightmares about the cockroach infestation in our mini-apartment. And in the apartment before that it was mice and fleas and bed bugs ... NYC is so much fun.
I'll admit, our apartment is not exactly a model of cleanliness. I am pretty busy and happy to let a few dust bunnies here and there slid. I'll freely admit that we leave the dishes in the sink overnight at least once a week. We do do all our own laundry, including cloth diapers and JD washes and irons all his work shirts (apparently this is unheard of in his workplace in fancy-pants NYC, but I find it totally normal and now that we can coordinate a long nursing session with his hour-long ironing session it gives us a very nice family time on Sunday evenings), but other than that we don't do so much cleaning on a weekly basis. Several weeks ago I wrote "I love JD" in the dust on a bookshelf in the hall and both JD and I would crack up as we walked past it for days on end. In short, cleaning is just not a huge priority around here.
Until I am threatened with a bug infestation. And then the cleaning demon comes out and I become completely and totally obsessed, and also infuriated that -everyone- around does not share my passion for scrubbing out-of-the-way corners or bleaching the bathtub.
In this case, the culprit happens to be a hole in JD's sweater. A hole most likely left by a moth. And apparently JD had two other sweaters with holes in them, which he just now told me. I know it doesn't make sense - we have no basement or attic storage, no 'out of the way closets,' no carpets, and not a single actual bug sighting in our new apartment ... but the whole thing has thrown me into an utter PANIC.
The idea of my laziness/laxness/lack of interest in clothing resulting in the destruction of three expensive wool sweaters makes me feel incredibly guilty (who knew moths breed in dust? or that JD only owns six sweaters?) and the idea that teeny, tiny miniscule moth larvae could at this moment be eating their way through my beloved clothes gives me the creeps.
So why did JD choose tonight to do our taxes??? Can't he see that I desperately need him to help disassemble the shelving in our closet and scrub the corners (also recommended by Drs. Google - I personally have never dealt with this issue before)? And why doesn't this stuff bother him? They were after all his sweaters.
Oh yes, and we have a visitor arriving tomorrow. Not that I'm expecting her to understand the current mania chez moi.
I'll admit, our apartment is not exactly a model of cleanliness. I am pretty busy and happy to let a few dust bunnies here and there slid. I'll freely admit that we leave the dishes in the sink overnight at least once a week. We do do all our own laundry, including cloth diapers and JD washes and irons all his work shirts (apparently this is unheard of in his workplace in fancy-pants NYC, but I find it totally normal and now that we can coordinate a long nursing session with his hour-long ironing session it gives us a very nice family time on Sunday evenings), but other than that we don't do so much cleaning on a weekly basis. Several weeks ago I wrote "I love JD" in the dust on a bookshelf in the hall and both JD and I would crack up as we walked past it for days on end. In short, cleaning is just not a huge priority around here.
Until I am threatened with a bug infestation. And then the cleaning demon comes out and I become completely and totally obsessed, and also infuriated that -everyone- around does not share my passion for scrubbing out-of-the-way corners or bleaching the bathtub.
In this case, the culprit happens to be a hole in JD's sweater. A hole most likely left by a moth. And apparently JD had two other sweaters with holes in them, which he just now told me. I know it doesn't make sense - we have no basement or attic storage, no 'out of the way closets,' no carpets, and not a single actual bug sighting in our new apartment ... but the whole thing has thrown me into an utter PANIC.
The idea of my laziness/laxness/lack of interest in clothing resulting in the destruction of three expensive wool sweaters makes me feel incredibly guilty (who knew moths breed in dust? or that JD only owns six sweaters?) and the idea that teeny, tiny miniscule moth larvae could at this moment be eating their way through my beloved clothes gives me the creeps.
So why did JD choose tonight to do our taxes??? Can't he see that I desperately need him to help disassemble the shelving in our closet and scrub the corners (also recommended by Drs. Google - I personally have never dealt with this issue before)? And why doesn't this stuff bother him? They were after all his sweaters.
Oh yes, and we have a visitor arriving tomorrow. Not that I'm expecting her to understand the current mania chez moi.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Atrocious airlines
My daughter weighs somewhere between 10 and 12 pounds. Definitely less than my laptop bag with a laptop, a few work books, my nalgene ... the usual stuff.
So someone please explain why Ic.el.and.air* wants to charge me 10% of the price of my plane ticket to carry a lap-child on board? Bueller?
Oh, and if I wanted a seat for her that would be 75% of the cost of an adult ticket ...
And yes, a real post about commuting with our little alien in tow soon.
* They are one of the cheapest airlines into Europe, and even cheaper now that their entire economy has tanked. And pretty nice too. Plus, I love landing in Reykjavik - it's gorgeous and about the closest I will ever get to the experience of landing on an alien planet.
So someone please explain why Ic.el.and.air* wants to charge me 10% of the price of my plane ticket to carry a lap-child on board? Bueller?
Oh, and if I wanted a seat for her that would be 75% of the cost of an adult ticket ...
And yes, a real post about commuting with our little alien in tow soon.
* They are one of the cheapest airlines into Europe, and even cheaper now that their entire economy has tanked. And pretty nice too. Plus, I love landing in Reykjavik - it's gorgeous and about the closest I will ever get to the experience of landing on an alien planet.
Monday, February 9, 2009
My life is absurd
I just looked at my calendar and a little reminder popped up to e-mail my relatives 217 miles away and remind them to take 3 ounces of EBM out of their freezer tomorrow morning so that it's ready for our little alien at 8 pm tomorrow evening ...
Baby steps (towards a social life)
I'm a bit proud of myself. I managed to pull off hosting dinner for 8 at my apartment tonight. Dinner for 8 at 7 pm and I did not arrive home until 6:10 pm. In less than an hour I cooked dinner (ok, mac and cheese, not exactly the most sophisticated fare), set the table, hid the dirty laundry, and fed the baby.
And the dinner went off rather well in my opinion. If only I could finish my work as speedily tonight.
And the dinner went off rather well in my opinion. If only I could finish my work as speedily tonight.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
It's 3 am and I'm angry ...
[which is to say anything I say at 3 am should be taken in moderation].
I am pissed at my MIL. And then, I'm mad at myself for being so petty. After all, she came yesterday to watch the baby so I could work. And then she and JD conspired to convince me to leave the baby and go out to dinner with JD and friends, when it would have been just fine to bring the baby along ... oh wait, didn't we have the same post two weeks ago? And it was nice to go out to dinner. Of course, when the wait was 2 hours by 8 pm on a Saturday night, I ran home and breastfeed the baby (again) and then came back to the restaurant ...
But what I'm pissed about is that I explicitly told my MIL no diaper rash cream. I really do try not to micromanage, but there are people who love to smear cream on their baby's bottoms every time they change them no matter whether it's necessary. And that's totally fine. Except, when you are using the most exorbitantly expensive (and much beloved bu.mge.nius) cloth diapers. Because, see, diaper rash cream ruins these cloth diapers. Which isn't such a big problem because if the baby has bad diaper rash it's a good idea to switch to disposables for a day or two to let it clear up. But what's annoying is:
a. My baby doesn't have diaper rash
b. I specifically remembered to HIDE the diaper rash cream so it wouldn't tempting. Which means that not only did my MIL forget my instructions but she then went through TS's entire room to find the cream.
So now we're out at least $50 to replace the diapers. And JD is mad at me for criticizing his parents. And I'm annoyed at the whole situation.
Happy thoughts and photos coming tomorrow.
I am pissed at my MIL. And then, I'm mad at myself for being so petty. After all, she came yesterday to watch the baby so I could work. And then she and JD conspired to convince me to leave the baby and go out to dinner with JD and friends, when it would have been just fine to bring the baby along ... oh wait, didn't we have the same post two weeks ago? And it was nice to go out to dinner. Of course, when the wait was 2 hours by 8 pm on a Saturday night, I ran home and breastfeed the baby (again) and then came back to the restaurant ...
But what I'm pissed about is that I explicitly told my MIL no diaper rash cream. I really do try not to micromanage, but there are people who love to smear cream on their baby's bottoms every time they change them no matter whether it's necessary. And that's totally fine. Except, when you are using the most exorbitantly expensive (and much beloved bu.mge.nius) cloth diapers. Because, see, diaper rash cream ruins these cloth diapers. Which isn't such a big problem because if the baby has bad diaper rash it's a good idea to switch to disposables for a day or two to let it clear up. But what's annoying is:
a. My baby doesn't have diaper rash
b. I specifically remembered to HIDE the diaper rash cream so it wouldn't tempting. Which means that not only did my MIL forget my instructions but she then went through TS's entire room to find the cream.
So now we're out at least $50 to replace the diapers. And JD is mad at me for criticizing his parents. And I'm annoyed at the whole situation.
Happy thoughts and photos coming tomorrow.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
It's good to know we've been missed
JD had a nightmare yesterday that he couldn't recognize TS when she came home tomorrow. Of course, in the nightmare the baby I brought home was much bigger than our little alien and, according to JD, much smarter. And he panicked.
But, then I saved the day by pulling the real TS out from behind my back. Apparently in his dream I had stolen the other baby to scare him. I wonder whose dreams he was mixing up ...
And for the record, he last saw TS on Sunday evening when he boarded a bus back to NYC (Yes, we're that cheap. The alien and I take the train because it's easier with a baby, but he gets stuck on greyhound when he comes here to visit) and we'll be home by 9 pm tomorrow night.
Oh, and I survived my first week teaching.
But, then I saved the day by pulling the real TS out from behind my back. Apparently in his dream I had stolen the other baby to scare him. I wonder whose dreams he was mixing up ...
And for the record, he last saw TS on Sunday evening when he boarded a bus back to NYC (Yes, we're that cheap. The alien and I take the train because it's easier with a baby, but he gets stuck on greyhound when he comes here to visit) and we'll be home by 9 pm tomorrow night.
Oh, and I survived my first week teaching.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Good news on a snowy day
More posts coming soon on traveling with a fusspot in tow (not bad at all, but why are there so many stairs???) and living apart from my husband (blah) but in the meantime: Good News.
As I was breastfeeding and typing with one hand online with my husband this morning, he casually mentioned: "... because of the economy, the loss of business, blah, blah, blah ... [Me: Uh oh. Is he really going to tell me he got fired over gmail chat?] ... because he just started he has to accomadate everyone else's schedule, blah, blah, blah ... has to be scheduled before the end of March, blah, blah, blah ... [Wait! Did he just say they're giving him a full week's vacation? My husband, who only started work in November and is so worried about being laid off? And he works in an industry where people often don't take real vacations for their first year or two of work - gots to love NYC]
We are going on a V-Kay!!! And I have a full week's break from teaching, so ... where should we go in mid-March? We will obviously have our little alien with us (she'll be about 14 weeks) but we don't mind a long flight as long as it's cheap (and she DOES have a passport already) and will probably have already done 2 flights and about 12 train trips. My only requirement is that it has to be relaxing. Suggestions?
As I was breastfeeding and typing with one hand online with my husband this morning, he casually mentioned: "... because of the economy, the loss of business, blah, blah, blah ... [Me: Uh oh. Is he really going to tell me he got fired over gmail chat?] ... because he just started he has to accomadate everyone else's schedule, blah, blah, blah ... has to be scheduled before the end of March, blah, blah, blah ... [Wait! Did he just say they're giving him a full week's vacation? My husband, who only started work in November and is so worried about being laid off? And he works in an industry where people often don't take real vacations for their first year or two of work - gots to love NYC]
We are going on a V-Kay!!! And I have a full week's break from teaching, so ... where should we go in mid-March? We will obviously have our little alien with us (she'll be about 14 weeks) but we don't mind a long flight as long as it's cheap (and she DOES have a passport already) and will probably have already done 2 flights and about 12 train trips. My only requirement is that it has to be relaxing. Suggestions?
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