Life in the big city ...
The fusspot has developed rather a complex about strangers touching her. It's fine and normal and not a big deal. Except, see, we live in a rather densely populated neighborhood and we take a lot of transportation. So today we took 3 buses and 1 subway car and while I truly am able to carry both my children and a stroller and a big bag onto a bus or down a flight of stairs into the subway, I am well aware that it all looks rather awkward. So people often very kindly try to help. By doing things like picking up the fusspot and setting her on a bus seat (this morning) or trying to hold her hand as she climbs off the bus (this afternoon) or trying to lift her out of a super-duper-crowded bus at rush hour as I tried to keep people from banging the dumpling's head (rush hour today, obviously) and her reaction is mostly to scream bloody murder, attempt to lie down on the floor, kick, scream. Basically everything except bite which is what I finally shrieked in exasperation at the sweet grandmother who tried to help her off the bus at 6:30 pm today (Sorry, dear, sweet old lady. She doesn't actually bite and I'm sorry that I startled you so by yelling "She bites! Don't touch") but the truth is that I couldn't think of anything else to say by that point in the day.
Suggestions? I always thank people and remind the fusspot repeatedly how very nice our friends in the neighborhood are (yes, we are saccharine sometimes) and we have never even mentioned stranger danger.
Oh, and the day started at a lovely preschool "meet and greet" (necessary to apply). And the preschool was quite adorable and I would very happily send the fusspot off there every day if it weren't for the absurd price tag. So we're exploring cheaper options (which in our neighborhood means the miracle of the public pre-K lottery or Catholic schools. Poor Mandarin-speaking-Jewish-girl sent off to learn her catechism although I was in Christian schools until college and never had a problem). I hope that we are not in the city by next fall and our daycare is always a reasonable back-up, but there is a significant part of me which will be quite sad if the fusspot never gets to spend time in a classrooms with a sandbox and dress-up clothes and blocks and my impression is that even outside of NYC most public kindergartens today are not so "play-based" and "non-academic." Still, not so sad that I am willing to spend $14,000 to fix it.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Food, Round 2
Subtitled: And now for some lighter fare.
And a disclaimer: When we had the fusspot many people remarked on how we were such relaxed parents (really, I save most of my obsessing for the internets). And when we added the dumpling people suggested that we might even be a bit too far over the edge towards hands-off parenting. So this is not to suggest that our food choices are best, or that you should consider them. We have no history of food allergies in our family and ... well ... it's been fine thus far.
Long-time readers may recall that we are a bit of food purists when it comes to babies. Or perhaps the more accurate descriptor is were, although we certainly still are obsessive in our own way. My guess is that it stems from all of the anxiety about my tiny, non-eating baby (that would be #1) and the joy of finally having my body doing one thing well (that would be breastfeeding, with work). The fusspot had her first solids at 7 months and no regular meals until 9 months. We strictly followed the "baby lead weaning approach" (no purees, all finger foods, weaning in the British sense of introducing solids, big focus on mealtime being fun which also means very messy). She ate everything until age 2. Spicy Indian food? Olive pate? Aged spoiled Chinese eggs? Sure!
And here we are with Project 2.0. Breastfeeding is fine now, he's small but not underweight, and he's a boy in a world where I have read way too many pesticides-destruction-pollution-disease-doom books. His first meal was self-fed avocado at a few days past 6 months. Then some banana and a few jars of organic baby food (at daycare). Then I found an article suggesting that early introduction of potential allergens is fine (see, you really can find anything on google) and despite the sketch source it certainly confirms with what we were looking for (and there is after all a very good study of early introduction of peanuts in my genetic peoples and low allergy rates). So this weekend our dumpling ate:
- black beans covered in spicy enchilada sauce (lovingly picked out of his sister's dinner and offered to him. We've discovered that she's verbal enough that it really matters what you call things. No way my daughter was going to try enchiladas, but hot cheesy sandwich? Sure)
- hummus offered free from a vendor downtown. Lovingly dished up with the soft metal lid to the horror of the first-time parents sitting next to us at the playground
- pancakes (eggs! milk! butter! wheat! and he's still alive), also sweetly rejected from the fusspot's plate and transferred to the dumpling
So there you have it: we have resolved that baby can eat absolutely anything except for nuts and honey. We'll try nuts this weekend and skip honey until his birthday.
And a disclaimer: When we had the fusspot many people remarked on how we were such relaxed parents (really, I save most of my obsessing for the internets). And when we added the dumpling people suggested that we might even be a bit too far over the edge towards hands-off parenting. So this is not to suggest that our food choices are best, or that you should consider them. We have no history of food allergies in our family and ... well ... it's been fine thus far.
Long-time readers may recall that we are a bit of food purists when it comes to babies. Or perhaps the more accurate descriptor is were, although we certainly still are obsessive in our own way. My guess is that it stems from all of the anxiety about my tiny, non-eating baby (that would be #1) and the joy of finally having my body doing one thing well (that would be breastfeeding, with work). The fusspot had her first solids at 7 months and no regular meals until 9 months. We strictly followed the "baby lead weaning approach" (no purees, all finger foods, weaning in the British sense of introducing solids, big focus on mealtime being fun which also means very messy). She ate everything until age 2. Spicy Indian food? Olive pate? Aged spoiled Chinese eggs? Sure!
And here we are with Project 2.0. Breastfeeding is fine now, he's small but not underweight, and he's a boy in a world where I have read way too many pesticides-destruction-pollution-disease-doom books. His first meal was self-fed avocado at a few days past 6 months. Then some banana and a few jars of organic baby food (at daycare). Then I found an article suggesting that early introduction of potential allergens is fine (see, you really can find anything on google) and despite the sketch source it certainly confirms with what we were looking for (and there is after all a very good study of early introduction of peanuts in my genetic peoples and low allergy rates). So this weekend our dumpling ate:
- black beans covered in spicy enchilada sauce (lovingly picked out of his sister's dinner and offered to him. We've discovered that she's verbal enough that it really matters what you call things. No way my daughter was going to try enchiladas, but hot cheesy sandwich? Sure)
- hummus offered free from a vendor downtown. Lovingly dished up with the soft metal lid to the horror of the first-time parents sitting next to us at the playground
- pancakes (eggs! milk! butter! wheat! and he's still alive), also sweetly rejected from the fusspot's plate and transferred to the dumpling
So there you have it: we have resolved that baby can eat absolutely anything except for nuts and honey. We'll try nuts this weekend and skip honey until his birthday.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
This stuff is hard
subtitled: stating the obvious. Again.
It's a very contemporary question, but I am always intrigued by discussions of how women "do it all." How they raise kids/work/have a loving relationship with their partner/act as good friends/serve their religious community/etc. And there's plenty of decent advice out, and an equally large pile of people who sweetly explain that they don't quite do it all ("Oh my! I missed sending an anniversary card last year!"). And it has come to my attention that lots of women struggle, and probably those who have it the worst are the ones who drop off of e-mail/blogging/relationships for months or years at a time, but it's just hard.
The solutions that seem so popular are
1. Increase your daycare. We can't and don't really want to.
2. Delegate to your partner/parents. No go when I haven't even seen my husband before midnight on a weekday evening in weeks (I read a blog of a woman who writes lovingly of her children and all the things they do together. But she also happens to work the same job as my husband, albeit with significantly less hours. And it wasn't until she posted her everyday routine that it became apparent that she spends no more than 45 minutes every day with her children when they are awake. That's combined morning and evening and she is committed enough to leave work for dinner and go back, an option my husband is not yet comfortable with. This is not a critique of her - her husband seems to do a lovely job parenting, but not exactly a model I can adopt given JD's schedule ...)
3. Skip the "extras." I wish we could do this more but now that the dumpling is mobile I really do need to clean every couple of days because he will find any smudgeon of dirt on the floor and eat it, and while I'd love to order take-out every night it's both expensive and unhealthy and I have to at least save pizza or mac and cheese for the nights I have work commitments and we have a babysitter. I don't really feel that there are that many more extras to cut.
4. Phone it in to work. I'd love to but I'm not really in a career where that is possible, especially right now. I am in an overworked, underpaid, way-too-competitive career where everyone is on e-mail at midnight (and 2 am as I learned this morning when I got 3 responses to an e-mail before 3 am). And obviously the most likely thing to give is my career, but right now JD has given me his full support to stick with it for another year or two and see what happens.
So I guess what I want to write is that I am doing it all and I haven't found any shortcuts. Here's an ordinary day:
7:30 am fusspot wakes up - push my husband out of bed to offer her breakfast while I nurse the dumpling
7:50 am in the shower, out the door by 8:20/8:30 with pump parts/lunch/supplies for the kids/my laptop/work stuff. The stroller weighs about 75-80 lbs when loaded and takes 3-4 trips to load and unload when we get home. Oh, and our building has 6 steps and our daycare has 2
8:30-8:45 jog/power walk the mile to work
8:45-9/9:15 drop the kids at daycare
9:30 at my desk. Pump
12 Pump
4 pm Pump
4:45/5 collect kids. This usually takes a half hour. I need to nurse the baby and I like to hang around so that I can spend some time with our daycare provider. However, it also makes dinner perpetually late
5-6 Walk leisurely home (1 mile) pushing 80 lb stroller. Along the way we either stop at the playground for a few minutes or pick up groceries or drop by the laundromat/drug store/coffee place (JD likes to have freshly ground coffee in the apartment. It is one of the few little sweet things that I squeeze into my week for him)
6 pm Panic about dinner, 6:30 serve some pitiful mixture of baked pasta or frozen meat or yogurt
7 pm nurse baby, start getting fusspot ready for bed
7:30/7:45 fusspot in bed, play with dumpling
8:30 put dumpling down to bed. I would put him down a bit earlier but he is woken almost every night by the fusspot as she loudly asks for water or to use the bathroom or for her light on/off or a new CD or whatever her 2-year-old mind can find to stall. I would rank this as the #1 downside of living in 600 square feet
9:15 pm BABIES ASLEEP! Do dishes, cook dinner for next night if I'm feeling responsible, wash pump parts, clean up apartment, sort and put away laundry
10 pm Pump. Relax. Send e-mails
10:30 Time to start work
12 am/1 am JD walks in the door (he often stops at the grocery store on the way home, but sometimes I run out when he gets home to do the shopping. NYC is incredible for real 24 hour stores). Talk to my husband.
1:30 Bedtime
4 am nurse baby and get ready to do it all over again
And on Thursdays and the weekends I do all of the above minus the trip in to daycare/work. Meaning that I spend all day with the kids and then try to sit down by 10 pm to put in a few hours of work. And what is most disappointing is that I am so tired that my work is floundering pitifully at the moment. But I guess it does make me feel a bit better to just put it out there: what I am doing is hard, and there are no short-cuts. My husband who is intellectually committed to co-parenting equally just isn't around right now to help. And when he does have time off on the weekends he wants to spend his evenings either out alone or with friends. And I always say yes because honestly it is worth it to have a happy husband rather than a gloomy one angrily mopping my floors on a Saturday night. Believe me, I've tried it both ways and I would take happy absentee husband over dutiful depressed co-parent any day.
My family is a total no go for help, and my in-laws have been surprisingly absent in recent months (although visiting them is always a real break for me in that they very deliberately take care of early mornings/cooking/laundry/baths). We do squeeze in 3 social activities for the fusspot beyond daycare every week - 3 different local classes - and they are all a good break for me, but the hassle of getting there can sometimes defeat the purpose (more on that in another post, but the fusspot has developed a complex about strangers touching her and it is making public transport a rather never-wracking endeavor in our neighborhood. I feel bad for her but I also feel bad for the nice old ladies who are trying to help out).
So ... when I found out very a rather obtuse e-mail this morning that I had been fired from my part-time job which is currently paying for my health insurance and childcare, well, I probably was not as tactful as I should have been in my response. It's partially the sleep deprivation, largely the headache (sexy librarian glasses coming soon!), and mostly just the frustration at this whole mess and being the unlucky one yet again, but there's a tiny part of me which says, I really don't care. I'm doing the best I can and I will fight as hard as possible to keep that job (I mean, I did sign a contract ...) but if I can't, I can't.
It's a very contemporary question, but I am always intrigued by discussions of how women "do it all." How they raise kids/work/have a loving relationship with their partner/act as good friends/serve their religious community/etc. And there's plenty of decent advice out, and an equally large pile of people who sweetly explain that they don't quite do it all ("Oh my! I missed sending an anniversary card last year!"). And it has come to my attention that lots of women struggle, and probably those who have it the worst are the ones who drop off of e-mail/blogging/relationships for months or years at a time, but it's just hard.
The solutions that seem so popular are
1. Increase your daycare. We can't and don't really want to.
2. Delegate to your partner/parents. No go when I haven't even seen my husband before midnight on a weekday evening in weeks (I read a blog of a woman who writes lovingly of her children and all the things they do together. But she also happens to work the same job as my husband, albeit with significantly less hours. And it wasn't until she posted her everyday routine that it became apparent that she spends no more than 45 minutes every day with her children when they are awake. That's combined morning and evening and she is committed enough to leave work for dinner and go back, an option my husband is not yet comfortable with. This is not a critique of her - her husband seems to do a lovely job parenting, but not exactly a model I can adopt given JD's schedule ...)
3. Skip the "extras." I wish we could do this more but now that the dumpling is mobile I really do need to clean every couple of days because he will find any smudgeon of dirt on the floor and eat it, and while I'd love to order take-out every night it's both expensive and unhealthy and I have to at least save pizza or mac and cheese for the nights I have work commitments and we have a babysitter. I don't really feel that there are that many more extras to cut.
4. Phone it in to work. I'd love to but I'm not really in a career where that is possible, especially right now. I am in an overworked, underpaid, way-too-competitive career where everyone is on e-mail at midnight (and 2 am as I learned this morning when I got 3 responses to an e-mail before 3 am). And obviously the most likely thing to give is my career, but right now JD has given me his full support to stick with it for another year or two and see what happens.
So I guess what I want to write is that I am doing it all and I haven't found any shortcuts. Here's an ordinary day:
7:30 am fusspot wakes up - push my husband out of bed to offer her breakfast while I nurse the dumpling
7:50 am in the shower, out the door by 8:20/8:30 with pump parts/lunch/supplies for the kids/my laptop/work stuff. The stroller weighs about 75-80 lbs when loaded and takes 3-4 trips to load and unload when we get home. Oh, and our building has 6 steps and our daycare has 2
8:30-8:45 jog/power walk the mile to work
8:45-9/9:15 drop the kids at daycare
9:30 at my desk. Pump
12 Pump
4 pm Pump
4:45/5 collect kids. This usually takes a half hour. I need to nurse the baby and I like to hang around so that I can spend some time with our daycare provider. However, it also makes dinner perpetually late
5-6 Walk leisurely home (1 mile) pushing 80 lb stroller. Along the way we either stop at the playground for a few minutes or pick up groceries or drop by the laundromat/drug store/coffee place (JD likes to have freshly ground coffee in the apartment. It is one of the few little sweet things that I squeeze into my week for him)
6 pm Panic about dinner, 6:30 serve some pitiful mixture of baked pasta or frozen meat or yogurt
7 pm nurse baby, start getting fusspot ready for bed
7:30/7:45 fusspot in bed, play with dumpling
8:30 put dumpling down to bed. I would put him down a bit earlier but he is woken almost every night by the fusspot as she loudly asks for water or to use the bathroom or for her light on/off or a new CD or whatever her 2-year-old mind can find to stall. I would rank this as the #1 downside of living in 600 square feet
9:15 pm BABIES ASLEEP! Do dishes, cook dinner for next night if I'm feeling responsible, wash pump parts, clean up apartment, sort and put away laundry
10 pm Pump. Relax. Send e-mails
10:30 Time to start work
12 am/1 am JD walks in the door (he often stops at the grocery store on the way home, but sometimes I run out when he gets home to do the shopping. NYC is incredible for real 24 hour stores). Talk to my husband.
1:30 Bedtime
4 am nurse baby and get ready to do it all over again
And on Thursdays and the weekends I do all of the above minus the trip in to daycare/work. Meaning that I spend all day with the kids and then try to sit down by 10 pm to put in a few hours of work. And what is most disappointing is that I am so tired that my work is floundering pitifully at the moment. But I guess it does make me feel a bit better to just put it out there: what I am doing is hard, and there are no short-cuts. My husband who is intellectually committed to co-parenting equally just isn't around right now to help. And when he does have time off on the weekends he wants to spend his evenings either out alone or with friends. And I always say yes because honestly it is worth it to have a happy husband rather than a gloomy one angrily mopping my floors on a Saturday night. Believe me, I've tried it both ways and I would take happy absentee husband over dutiful depressed co-parent any day.
My family is a total no go for help, and my in-laws have been surprisingly absent in recent months (although visiting them is always a real break for me in that they very deliberately take care of early mornings/cooking/laundry/baths). We do squeeze in 3 social activities for the fusspot beyond daycare every week - 3 different local classes - and they are all a good break for me, but the hassle of getting there can sometimes defeat the purpose (more on that in another post, but the fusspot has developed a complex about strangers touching her and it is making public transport a rather never-wracking endeavor in our neighborhood. I feel bad for her but I also feel bad for the nice old ladies who are trying to help out).
So ... when I found out very a rather obtuse e-mail this morning that I had been fired from my part-time job which is currently paying for my health insurance and childcare, well, I probably was not as tactful as I should have been in my response. It's partially the sleep deprivation, largely the headache (sexy librarian glasses coming soon!), and mostly just the frustration at this whole mess and being the unlucky one yet again, but there's a tiny part of me which says, I really don't care. I'm doing the best I can and I will fight as hard as possible to keep that job (I mean, I did sign a contract ...) but if I can't, I can't.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Headache explained
And it's not even all that bad.
I need glasses. Apparently, rather seriously need glasses. In my right eye, left eye is fine. Which also explains why the headaches were always slightly lopsided.
And now that I know I want to run out and buy glasses, but I think that the best plan is to wait until Sunday and hope that JD can come along with me.
Sigh. Not only has graduate school swallowed up my 20s but now it's stolen my vision too. At least it wasn't anything serious and I can stop chugging water every day.
I need glasses. Apparently, rather seriously need glasses. In my right eye, left eye is fine. Which also explains why the headaches were always slightly lopsided.
And now that I know I want to run out and buy glasses, but I think that the best plan is to wait until Sunday and hope that JD can come along with me.
Sigh. Not only has graduate school swallowed up my 20s but now it's stolen my vision too. At least it wasn't anything serious and I can stop chugging water every day.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
So ... allergies
Thank you again for all of your suggestions about my mysterious head woes. Several people mentioned allergies and I have to admit: I am in total denial about allergies. I don't actually think that I have seasonal allergies (or haven't in the past) and my head was much the same in the city as out if it this weekend when we traveled, but I think that I entirely failed to mention that I had an appointment with an allergist last month.
It came to my attention that I had a cold. And had had the same cold going on ... say ... 3 years. I kept thinking that it was pregnancy-related (something about the hormone relaxin) but it never cleared up after the dumpling was born. So I finally made an appointment last month and saw a doctor who I really, really liked (and that is pretty rare. He would be #3 of all of the doctors I see who instantly inspired trust. He also was entirely unrushed and sat in the office with me during the allergy test rather than delegating that job to a nurse plus he spent a good while researching my mysterious post-partum rash and reassuring me about what it might mean for the future). We ran any number of tests (excluding those to which my known allergies might be too severe and void other results. Last time I had these tests done I landed up in the ER ...) and everything was as expected.
Mild allergies to some trees, dust, etc. ... and ... wait ... impossible ... chocolate and eggs?
Apparently it is possible to develop more allergies as an adult. Even to food. We are both a bit skeptical about the results, although I certainly eat both of those items on a daily basis. His suggestion was to give both up for 2 weeks and then eat a lot all at once and see how I feel. It sounds logically and reasonable but there's a part of me that just can't quite imagine seriously giving up these 2 foods for the rest of my life. I mean, there aren't so many good substitutes for eggs (I don't eat meat out and am a bit queasy about fish while nursing, so if I want protein it's eggs or cheese) and giving up chocolate would be just sad.
Of course, it's possible these are false positives. It's also possible that I am allergic but the reaction will remain quite as mild as it is now (a low-grade cold year round). I don't think it's linked to the headaches, but any advice on coming to terms with giving up 2 of the best foods in the world would be much appreciated.
It came to my attention that I had a cold. And had had the same cold going on ... say ... 3 years. I kept thinking that it was pregnancy-related (something about the hormone relaxin) but it never cleared up after the dumpling was born. So I finally made an appointment last month and saw a doctor who I really, really liked (and that is pretty rare. He would be #3 of all of the doctors I see who instantly inspired trust. He also was entirely unrushed and sat in the office with me during the allergy test rather than delegating that job to a nurse plus he spent a good while researching my mysterious post-partum rash and reassuring me about what it might mean for the future). We ran any number of tests (excluding those to which my known allergies might be too severe and void other results. Last time I had these tests done I landed up in the ER ...) and everything was as expected.
Mild allergies to some trees, dust, etc. ... and ... wait ... impossible ... chocolate and eggs?
Apparently it is possible to develop more allergies as an adult. Even to food. We are both a bit skeptical about the results, although I certainly eat both of those items on a daily basis. His suggestion was to give both up for 2 weeks and then eat a lot all at once and see how I feel. It sounds logically and reasonable but there's a part of me that just can't quite imagine seriously giving up these 2 foods for the rest of my life. I mean, there aren't so many good substitutes for eggs (I don't eat meat out and am a bit queasy about fish while nursing, so if I want protein it's eggs or cheese) and giving up chocolate would be just sad.
Of course, it's possible these are false positives. It's also possible that I am allergic but the reaction will remain quite as mild as it is now (a low-grade cold year round). I don't think it's linked to the headaches, but any advice on coming to terms with giving up 2 of the best foods in the world would be much appreciated.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
An update on my head and my educational angst
Thank you for all of your wisdom. I did indeed go see my favorite nurse practitioner yesterday afternoon and her advice was very much in line with yours. First she asked me what I was really worried about, and I said something serious like a tumor or a virus so she ruled those out. These are the possible explanations she suggested:
- pregnancy (hahahaha and nope)
- anemia (ran bloodwork)
- need glasses (suggested eye exam)
- exhaustion (I am tired but still getting plenty of sleep every night. 6-7 hours is enough for my body)
- dehydration
- some type of weird interaction with my increase-your-bust nursing supplements. Seems highly unlikely but worth considering
And thus her firm advice was to drink more and take a power nap every afternoon. Definitely advice I can get behind. And I'll call and check the lab results and also schedule an eye exam just in case since the bulk of my job nowadays is staring at my 2 computer screens. And to come back next week if there's no improvement.
And then yesterday mid-headache I went on a playdate with a woman I met while out and about. She also had 2 kids and lives a few blocks away so I figured it was worth a try. And it just reminded me how diverse our very neighborhood is. In the span of 20 minutes she had dropped the fact that they have a chef and a cleaning lady in addition to the full-time nanny, but what really got my attention was when she mentioned being worried that her nanny would feel overwhelmed with 2 kids. That's great, I thought, concern for how your nanny is doing is an excellent start. And her solution? To hire a second nanny 2 mornings a week to take the baby to "his classes" which conflict with their daughter's classes. He's 8 weeks old and she's 2. And they go to class: music and gym for him, art, gym and music for her.
And then out of the blue this morning JD asks whether the fusspot could have started school this fall? Of course, I replied with rather a good deal of annoyance. Here I am obsessing over raising a bilingual daughter, giving her time to play but also offering her fun opportunities, future applications and my husband doesn't even know age kids start preschool in the big city. JD looks up surprised from their game of blocks and laughs and says "that would have been funny to see or tiny little girl go off to school with her big backpack on" and returns to the blocks. Yeah.
- pregnancy (hahahaha and nope)
- anemia (ran bloodwork)
- need glasses (suggested eye exam)
- exhaustion (I am tired but still getting plenty of sleep every night. 6-7 hours is enough for my body)
- dehydration
- some type of weird interaction with my increase-your-bust nursing supplements. Seems highly unlikely but worth considering
And thus her firm advice was to drink more and take a power nap every afternoon. Definitely advice I can get behind. And I'll call and check the lab results and also schedule an eye exam just in case since the bulk of my job nowadays is staring at my 2 computer screens. And to come back next week if there's no improvement.
And then yesterday mid-headache I went on a playdate with a woman I met while out and about. She also had 2 kids and lives a few blocks away so I figured it was worth a try. And it just reminded me how diverse our very neighborhood is. In the span of 20 minutes she had dropped the fact that they have a chef and a cleaning lady in addition to the full-time nanny, but what really got my attention was when she mentioned being worried that her nanny would feel overwhelmed with 2 kids. That's great, I thought, concern for how your nanny is doing is an excellent start. And her solution? To hire a second nanny 2 mornings a week to take the baby to "his classes" which conflict with their daughter's classes. He's 8 weeks old and she's 2. And they go to class: music and gym for him, art, gym and music for her.
And then out of the blue this morning JD asks whether the fusspot could have started school this fall? Of course, I replied with rather a good deal of annoyance. Here I am obsessing over raising a bilingual daughter, giving her time to play but also offering her fun opportunities, future applications and my husband doesn't even know age kids start preschool in the big city. JD looks up surprised from their game of blocks and laughs and says "that would have been funny to see or tiny little girl go off to school with her big backpack on" and returns to the blocks. Yeah.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Let's all play Dr. Google
I hear that crowd sourcing is the new thing. Or maybe it's just that my head hurts too much to think properly myself.
So here is the question of the day, my dear readers: any thoughts on what I should ask the doctor as a possible explanation for about 2 weeks of intense headaches, mostly in the late afternoon/early evening and often combined with dizzy spells. Besides the big picture things (IF, stomach problems, insulin resistance) my health has actually been rather excellent over the past year or so and so I'm more than a little nervous that I've been getting recurring headaches for the past 2 weeks.
Nothing allergy-wise going on in the big city. Definitely unrelated to my swollen foot (since that started yesterday). I was going to have them check my iron levels since I am prone to go super-anemic. Anything else I should ask about? My guess is that I will otherwise be released with the advice to take tylenol in less than 90 seconds (and that probably is the most appropriate medical advice). Suggestions? Thoughts? Anyone want to come run my life for me while I curl up in a ball in a dark room and nap?
So here is the question of the day, my dear readers: any thoughts on what I should ask the doctor as a possible explanation for about 2 weeks of intense headaches, mostly in the late afternoon/early evening and often combined with dizzy spells. Besides the big picture things (IF, stomach problems, insulin resistance) my health has actually been rather excellent over the past year or so and so I'm more than a little nervous that I've been getting recurring headaches for the past 2 weeks.
Nothing allergy-wise going on in the big city. Definitely unrelated to my swollen foot (since that started yesterday). I was going to have them check my iron levels since I am prone to go super-anemic. Anything else I should ask about? My guess is that I will otherwise be released with the advice to take tylenol in less than 90 seconds (and that probably is the most appropriate medical advice). Suggestions? Thoughts? Anyone want to come run my life for me while I curl up in a ball in a dark room and nap?
Sunday, September 11, 2011
The good news is that we're on the charts
the bad news is that we're not exactly even rocking the double digits. 5th percentile for height and miraculously 25th for weight (at 6 months). I was so deeply relieved that our little guy is still on the growth charts that I just nodded and smiled when our brand new pediatrician mentioned the dumpling, henceforth to be known as the miniature baby, needed a lot of shots.
Yup. This terrible mother did not realize that for their final screw-you moment our old pediatrician managed to send the new one an incomplete chart. So now we've double vaccinated our poor little guy for just about everything. Let me assure you that there were words with the old office but nothing to be done.
And after a lovely weekend upstate where we played pass the baby around the wedding (I really do think that the bride and groom could easily put together a whole album of "Who is holding baby now? Subtitled: Does this little guy even have a mother?" from their wedding. Mostly facilitated by a please-no-babies line that we flagrantly ignored (albeit leaving the fusspot with a friend's babysitter). I mean, the mother of the groom was seen dancing with the little guy and all three photographers confessed to me that they were missing their own babies, plus who can resist a baby in a sports coat and my miniature man did not so much as fuss through a 7 hour event ...), I was running around the apartment and bashed up my toe. Currently sitting with my whole foot in a tub of ice water trying to figure out if it's broken. I'm not exactly sure how our mile commute to daycare would work with a broken toe and I have to be someplace at 9 am tomorrow ...
Yup. This terrible mother did not realize that for their final screw-you moment our old pediatrician managed to send the new one an incomplete chart. So now we've double vaccinated our poor little guy for just about everything. Let me assure you that there were words with the old office but nothing to be done.
And after a lovely weekend upstate where we played pass the baby around the wedding (I really do think that the bride and groom could easily put together a whole album of "Who is holding baby now? Subtitled: Does this little guy even have a mother?" from their wedding. Mostly facilitated by a please-no-babies line that we flagrantly ignored (albeit leaving the fusspot with a friend's babysitter). I mean, the mother of the groom was seen dancing with the little guy and all three photographers confessed to me that they were missing their own babies, plus who can resist a baby in a sports coat and my miniature man did not so much as fuss through a 7 hour event ...), I was running around the apartment and bashed up my toe. Currently sitting with my whole foot in a tub of ice water trying to figure out if it's broken. I'm not exactly sure how our mile commute to daycare would work with a broken toe and I have to be someplace at 9 am tomorrow ...
Thursday, September 8, 2011
To push or not to push
Let's just start with the obvious: we live in a rather extreme part of the country, in a particularly extreme neighborhood. Extreme parenting, that is. And from here the view is a bit hazy as to "age appropriate" and "useful" and "all for show" and "productive." Our general stance has been entirely against pushing our children. When the fusspot had no receptive language skills at 18 months, we grudgingly agreed to a series of hearing tests and an EI evaluation, but we certainly did not push for extra services. And when we started to talk about "preschool application forms" last fall we resolved that the fusspot would stay another year in her home daycare with her little brother: coloring, going to the playground, and picking her nose for up to 20% of her waking hours (yes, we are trying to cut down the cumulative hours on that one a bit), despite the rather loud extortions from our very own daycare provider that she needed preschool (and piano! and ballet! and swimming!) if she was ever going to get into college (it really doesn't help that our daycare provider has both a young child and one just about to head off to college).
And yet, somehow our living room wall looks like this:
And by the way, I cannot tell you how much this particular combination cracks me up. First, there's the electrical tape patching up a home-made insulator for the water pipes and you can see the cracks in the wall. Then there's the delightful absurdity of hanging montessori sandpaper letters (they look quite plain on the wall because they are actually meant to be handled and textural) next to imaginative waldorf letters (the swan and tiger) next to total Americana: beautiful flower alphabet letters which would stump even a 30-year-old. I mean, can you really recognize sweetpeas on the wall? And would you expect your preschool-age kid to do so? The goal is the same but the methods are completely incongruous. And the letter choice comes from a more phonics theme (both letters are in her name).
And then there's the fact that I'll be leaving work early today to take my daughter to "preschool prep class." Ok, so I chose this class because it is: close, cheap, and incredibly designed for 2-year-olds with little siblings in tow and I was hoping to meet some moms in our new neighborhood. But preschool prep class?
On the other hand, the fusspot picked up a book that we bought last week and read it out-loud cover to cover this morning. Twice. And she got about 90% of the words correct (this is obviously pure memorization). She spends at least an hour listening to books every day. She's incredibly verbal and socially clued in and thus far seems to be rocking that delightful developmental "average" that we were so worried about earlier. And so it's easy to go a bit over the top - she's scheduled to take both preschool prep (1 hour a week, late afternoon for working moms) and dance this fall and probably also music (we have a groupon which will cover the fall but I'll drop it if it's too much). She's already immersed in a foreign-language daycare situation.
And then something happens which reminds me that the hazy, fuzzy line probably needs to be a bit brighter. Her dear daycare buddies from last year had to move from NYC to one of those flyover states. And the little boy, who is 6 and in kindergarten, calls almost every day to our daycare to complain about being bored. And I'm sure he is bored in class. I mean, the kid reads well and can do some fairly sophisticated math for someone who still needs help wiping their ass. But he's also bored because he has never had to entertain himself at home for 3 hours on a Sunday morning. He was either in daycare (pretty relaxed but plenty of stimulation and lots of other kids around) or in soccer, piano, language, or swimming class or being lugged around the city to a million exciting "enrichment classes." He's 6 and he has no idea how to play for a few hours at home alone. And if my darling fusspot at 6 can't play I feel that we will have utterly failed as parents (on the other hand, eh, we're going to fail at some point. Maybe we should get it over at this point?).
And today I had a long coffee with a dear childhood friend. A friend whose mother was one of those incredible superwoman mothers. No, she wasn't a high-powered executive who also raised 3 kids and ran a homeless shelter, she was a SAHM who had the most incredible house. I still have dress-up costumes which she sewed for me that I have given to the fusspot 25 years later. I still remember crazy cooking experiments she let us do in her kitchen. I still remember detailed theater productions we staged on the back porch. And her daughter, who is my age, has plenty of prestigious advanced degrees and a successful career and somehow her mother still dreams that she'll quit work and be a SAHM. As my friend put it, what was the point of pushing me through some of the hardest schools in the country if that's what you were really dreaming for my future?
So here we are in that weird year where my fusspot will turn 3 (!) and we somehow have to decide how much is appropriate, what friends we need to just laugh at when they try to compare their toddlers to ours, and how to still make the most of living in an incredible city.
And yet, somehow our living room wall looks like this:
And by the way, I cannot tell you how much this particular combination cracks me up. First, there's the electrical tape patching up a home-made insulator for the water pipes and you can see the cracks in the wall. Then there's the delightful absurdity of hanging montessori sandpaper letters (they look quite plain on the wall because they are actually meant to be handled and textural) next to imaginative waldorf letters (the swan and tiger) next to total Americana: beautiful flower alphabet letters which would stump even a 30-year-old. I mean, can you really recognize sweetpeas on the wall? And would you expect your preschool-age kid to do so? The goal is the same but the methods are completely incongruous. And the letter choice comes from a more phonics theme (both letters are in her name).And then there's the fact that I'll be leaving work early today to take my daughter to "preschool prep class." Ok, so I chose this class because it is: close, cheap, and incredibly designed for 2-year-olds with little siblings in tow and I was hoping to meet some moms in our new neighborhood. But preschool prep class?
On the other hand, the fusspot picked up a book that we bought last week and read it out-loud cover to cover this morning. Twice. And she got about 90% of the words correct (this is obviously pure memorization). She spends at least an hour listening to books every day. She's incredibly verbal and socially clued in and thus far seems to be rocking that delightful developmental "average" that we were so worried about earlier. And so it's easy to go a bit over the top - she's scheduled to take both preschool prep (1 hour a week, late afternoon for working moms) and dance this fall and probably also music (we have a groupon which will cover the fall but I'll drop it if it's too much). She's already immersed in a foreign-language daycare situation.
And then something happens which reminds me that the hazy, fuzzy line probably needs to be a bit brighter. Her dear daycare buddies from last year had to move from NYC to one of those flyover states. And the little boy, who is 6 and in kindergarten, calls almost every day to our daycare to complain about being bored. And I'm sure he is bored in class. I mean, the kid reads well and can do some fairly sophisticated math for someone who still needs help wiping their ass. But he's also bored because he has never had to entertain himself at home for 3 hours on a Sunday morning. He was either in daycare (pretty relaxed but plenty of stimulation and lots of other kids around) or in soccer, piano, language, or swimming class or being lugged around the city to a million exciting "enrichment classes." He's 6 and he has no idea how to play for a few hours at home alone. And if my darling fusspot at 6 can't play I feel that we will have utterly failed as parents (on the other hand, eh, we're going to fail at some point. Maybe we should get it over at this point?).
And today I had a long coffee with a dear childhood friend. A friend whose mother was one of those incredible superwoman mothers. No, she wasn't a high-powered executive who also raised 3 kids and ran a homeless shelter, she was a SAHM who had the most incredible house. I still have dress-up costumes which she sewed for me that I have given to the fusspot 25 years later. I still remember crazy cooking experiments she let us do in her kitchen. I still remember detailed theater productions we staged on the back porch. And her daughter, who is my age, has plenty of prestigious advanced degrees and a successful career and somehow her mother still dreams that she'll quit work and be a SAHM. As my friend put it, what was the point of pushing me through some of the hardest schools in the country if that's what you were really dreaming for my future?
So here we are in that weird year where my fusspot will turn 3 (!) and we somehow have to decide how much is appropriate, what friends we need to just laugh at when they try to compare their toddlers to ours, and how to still make the most of living in an incredible city.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
today
Today I cut the tags off of a brand new orange tank top and put it on.
Today I upgraded from flip-flops to flats.
Today I asked my husband if my outfit was ok.
Today he made me eggs and toast for breakfast.
Because today is twenty-six. My twenty-sixth consecutive first day of school for the new year. Twenty-six.
Please, please, please let this be my last year enrolled as a student.
Today I upgraded from flip-flops to flats.
Today I asked my husband if my outfit was ok.
Today he made me eggs and toast for breakfast.
Because today is twenty-six. My twenty-sixth consecutive first day of school for the new year. Twenty-six.
Please, please, please let this be my last year enrolled as a student.
Monday, September 5, 2011
6 months
This weekend the dumpling turned 6 months. So in his honor a few things that I love about my little guy at 6 months:
- I love how entirely social he is, how he perks up when someone smiles at him
- I love seeing his little bald head pop above the covers in the morning
- I love his obsession with finding and chewing on the laptop cord/breastpump cord/cell phone chargers/camera cord (you would be astounded by how many wires we have to move every day once he gets going)
- I love how he coos at his big sister and never complains when she bops him
- I love how he transforms into a mole-like creature after bedtime who will not open his eyes no matter. He will desperately root around licking pillows/stroller/his father but refuse to open his eyes to find me
- I love how his baldness makes his ears appear to stick straight out from his head
- I love how he grins and laughs when put on our changing pad
- I love how he will seriously try to devour his change of clothes if he can reach them
- I love how he will try to smile even through his tears when I pick him up
Things I am utterly unprepared for: feeding this baby. We have our big 6 month appointment on Friday and I am really, really, really hoping that the little guy has not fallen entirely off the growth charts. He looks fine and is fully mobile at 6 months (rolling 8-10 times in a row, army crawling all the way across our apartment, tripod sitting) and he has a few miniscule little rolls on his arms and thighs but he is hardly chunky in the way that his sister was and he just looks small next to other babies. And while I know that solids theoretically makes breastfeeding easier, I am worried about my supply dropping even more and really want to make solids as fun an experience as it was the first time.
And then there's the little issue of our daycare provider Y and solids. Y adores the dumpling and is a huge proponent of breastfeeding (you know, one of those, of course I nursed until ... my kid was 5), but she also firmly believes in budha-babies (it's a cultural thing) and thus lectures me every day that my pumped milk is not enough for a growing boy. And she somehow let it slip that she had tried to feed the dumpling bananas 2 weeks ago at which point I basically burst into tears. I know she means well, I know that I was always looking for a daycare provider who I trusted to make decisions and I am overwhelmingly thankful that she is an incredibly well-educated loving parent who has her own ideas. But then again, she fed my baby. And so last week when she let slip that she'd tried to feed the dumpling rice puree but his tongue reflex got in the way I just about had it. In my mind I have already dismissed her attempts to feed him (you know, "he didn't really get any in his mouth" inner monologue, and the output seems to corroborate my delusions) but I really want to be the one who first offers my son the incredibly fun experience of playing with food. And here's the thing: she's not going to do self-feeding. It makes her nervous, it's messy and time-consuming and she doesn't believe in it. So unlike the fusspot who basically had only breastmilk at daycare and self-fed from day one (which was at 7 months, no regular meals until 9 months) I need to get used to the idea of the dumpling being spoon-fed. My compromise is that I am going to buy organic jars of baby food and instruct Y that she is not allowed to feed him anything else without my approval (no, I don't believe in rice cereal before 12 months. Neither does LLL. Yes, I am well aware that it will do no harm but I also see no benefit so No, no rice cereal. Or honey).
Which is how I came to be standing in the grocery store this afternoon with a totally panicked look on my face and the clock ticking until I needed to be home to feed the little guy. And when a rather together-looking mother with baby in sling approached I basically grabbed her and said Help! What do I feed my 6 month old? And she sternly advised me to buy jars of peas ("start with something green") and jars of squash and carrots ("not supposed to make those at home anyway") and I exhaled at her excellent advice and nodded and resolutely grabbed all attendant jars and then muttered something about remembering the carrots and nitrate issue from my older baby. And she gave me a rather blank stare as I duly explained that I did indeed have a 2-year-old and all, but um, yeah, I can't bear to think about feeding my 6 month old solids ...
Beats me why this solids issue is so very hard for me at the moment. Maybe it's worrying about my supply, maybe it's artificially being stuck on the idea of using the same method we used the first time (it's called "baby lead weaning," weaning in the British sense of starting solids. Focus on large pieces, no purees). Maybe it's just that my little guy is 6 months old and while he could easily pass for a 3 month old his is in fact about to dive into toys and a real bedtime routine and pulling up ...
- I love how entirely social he is, how he perks up when someone smiles at him
- I love seeing his little bald head pop above the covers in the morning
- I love his obsession with finding and chewing on the laptop cord/breastpump cord/cell phone chargers/camera cord (you would be astounded by how many wires we have to move every day once he gets going)
- I love how he coos at his big sister and never complains when she bops him
- I love how he transforms into a mole-like creature after bedtime who will not open his eyes no matter. He will desperately root around licking pillows/stroller/his father but refuse to open his eyes to find me
- I love how his baldness makes his ears appear to stick straight out from his head
- I love how he grins and laughs when put on our changing pad
- I love how he will seriously try to devour his change of clothes if he can reach them
- I love how he will try to smile even through his tears when I pick him up
Things I am utterly unprepared for: feeding this baby. We have our big 6 month appointment on Friday and I am really, really, really hoping that the little guy has not fallen entirely off the growth charts. He looks fine and is fully mobile at 6 months (rolling 8-10 times in a row, army crawling all the way across our apartment, tripod sitting) and he has a few miniscule little rolls on his arms and thighs but he is hardly chunky in the way that his sister was and he just looks small next to other babies. And while I know that solids theoretically makes breastfeeding easier, I am worried about my supply dropping even more and really want to make solids as fun an experience as it was the first time.
And then there's the little issue of our daycare provider Y and solids. Y adores the dumpling and is a huge proponent of breastfeeding (you know, one of those, of course I nursed until ... my kid was 5), but she also firmly believes in budha-babies (it's a cultural thing) and thus lectures me every day that my pumped milk is not enough for a growing boy. And she somehow let it slip that she had tried to feed the dumpling bananas 2 weeks ago at which point I basically burst into tears. I know she means well, I know that I was always looking for a daycare provider who I trusted to make decisions and I am overwhelmingly thankful that she is an incredibly well-educated loving parent who has her own ideas. But then again, she fed my baby. And so last week when she let slip that she'd tried to feed the dumpling rice puree but his tongue reflex got in the way I just about had it. In my mind I have already dismissed her attempts to feed him (you know, "he didn't really get any in his mouth" inner monologue, and the output seems to corroborate my delusions) but I really want to be the one who first offers my son the incredibly fun experience of playing with food. And here's the thing: she's not going to do self-feeding. It makes her nervous, it's messy and time-consuming and she doesn't believe in it. So unlike the fusspot who basically had only breastmilk at daycare and self-fed from day one (which was at 7 months, no regular meals until 9 months) I need to get used to the idea of the dumpling being spoon-fed. My compromise is that I am going to buy organic jars of baby food and instruct Y that she is not allowed to feed him anything else without my approval (no, I don't believe in rice cereal before 12 months. Neither does LLL. Yes, I am well aware that it will do no harm but I also see no benefit so No, no rice cereal. Or honey).
Which is how I came to be standing in the grocery store this afternoon with a totally panicked look on my face and the clock ticking until I needed to be home to feed the little guy. And when a rather together-looking mother with baby in sling approached I basically grabbed her and said Help! What do I feed my 6 month old? And she sternly advised me to buy jars of peas ("start with something green") and jars of squash and carrots ("not supposed to make those at home anyway") and I exhaled at her excellent advice and nodded and resolutely grabbed all attendant jars and then muttered something about remembering the carrots and nitrate issue from my older baby. And she gave me a rather blank stare as I duly explained that I did indeed have a 2-year-old and all, but um, yeah, I can't bear to think about feeding my 6 month old solids ...
Beats me why this solids issue is so very hard for me at the moment. Maybe it's worrying about my supply, maybe it's artificially being stuck on the idea of using the same method we used the first time (it's called "baby lead weaning," weaning in the British sense of starting solids. Focus on large pieces, no purees). Maybe it's just that my little guy is 6 months old and while he could easily pass for a 3 month old his is in fact about to dive into toys and a real bedtime routine and pulling up ...
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