Was it really just a few weeks ago that I was posting about how I wished everyone would stop asking about the fusspot's sleep patterns and that I was just.fine. waking up during the night with her?
Well, I was. Until she was up every hour for 2 nights straight.
So now I solicit advice of all sorts.
To start with, we cosleep and I'm not (yet) interested in anything related to CIO (nor do I get how it works since her crib is directly next to the bed, even when she's not in bed with me). After extensive googling, I have identified the 2 best explanations for her behavior:
a. teething. Nothing to be done about that. I'm suspicious since she's allegedly been teething for 3 months now with no sign of anything. She did however chomp down on my breast twice this morning.
b. reverse feeding. Perhaps your baby just needs more snuggle time with you?, LLL says comfortingly ... and kellymom suggests that I should grin and bear it (which I was when she only woke up every 3 hours). I am worried this may be the real culprit because the fusspot has only been taking 2 bottles (8 oz total) during an 8 hour day at daycare. I am highly suspicious that they prop bottles, and this is why she's not eating there (as in, I've seen them prop bottles for the 3 month old but explicitly told them not to for the fusspot and also repeatedly asked them to try and feed her a 3rd bottle). So, my new action plan: offer boobies every single hour from when she gets home until bedtime. Screw letting her stay a bit hungry for solids, I want to get the high calorie stuff in her as much as possible in the evening. We're also starting solids at daycare next week (I innocently asked how I should pack them since I'm serving her defrosted stuff from the freezer and Ms.-American-Idol-wannabe gave me a rather puzzled look and said "We just make it here. It's not hard you know, you just put fruit or veggies in the blender." So we'll see how that goes next week - I do have to remember to try applesauce this weekend since it's a high-risk for an allergen and apparently on the menu for next week ...)
Any and all other advice on how to get a co-sleeping baby to sleep for more than 60 minutes at a time at night is much appreciated (and for the record, she does sleep plenty in total. Last night she was in bed at 8 pm and we didn't get up till 9 am except for our quick dash to move the trash at 6:59 am precisely).
Friday, July 10, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
processing
I got the e-mail tonight. The one that is as close as I am ever going to get to being an aunt. My cousin (only cousin) just had a baby. A beautiful, healthy girl and everyone is well.
And I'm thrilled for them. Thrilled because as recently as August (when we last saw them) they were still debating whether to have children. Thrilled because it was a healthy pregnancy. Thrilled that the fusspot will have a cousin her age to play with (and surprisingly also sharing her racial identity). It's just that ...
I'm never going to be an aunt. And I've always wanted to be one. JD is an only child, and my sister is infertile. And while she may be "over it," I am still mourning the loss.
Of course, even as I write this, I realize that it's quite possible to be an aunt without the biological connection. My "aunties" are aunties by choice, not because of our family ties. But I also know that friends come and go, we'll move several times in the upcoming years, and at least if I was an aunt I could be sure that I would get to see someone else's children grow up from infants to adults. And I guess I'd also have more of a relationship with my sister if we either had infertility or children still in common.
And I'm thrilled for them. Thrilled because as recently as August (when we last saw them) they were still debating whether to have children. Thrilled because it was a healthy pregnancy. Thrilled that the fusspot will have a cousin her age to play with (and surprisingly also sharing her racial identity). It's just that ...
I'm never going to be an aunt. And I've always wanted to be one. JD is an only child, and my sister is infertile. And while she may be "over it," I am still mourning the loss.
Of course, even as I write this, I realize that it's quite possible to be an aunt without the biological connection. My "aunties" are aunties by choice, not because of our family ties. But I also know that friends come and go, we'll move several times in the upcoming years, and at least if I was an aunt I could be sure that I would get to see someone else's children grow up from infants to adults. And I guess I'd also have more of a relationship with my sister if we either had infertility or children still in common.
Going to bed early tonight
Tomorrow is a BIG day around here in my little neighborhood. A big, exciting day. Tomorrow is garbage day!
Yes, I know. Allegedly the garbage is collected twice a week around here. But we have a little problem. It is illegal to put your trash out before 7 am (and I have a rather watchful, elderly landlord - although a true gentleman. He is definitely of a different generation. After we signed the lease he told me that he would have invited me over to tea in a previous year, but since his wife passed away and he's alone and JD is away, he didn't think it appropriate anymore. Very sad but charming) and the garbage truck drops by right around 7:01 am (or possibly a few minutes earlier but far be it from me to lob unsupported accusations).
Trash not allowed out before: 7 am
Collected: 7:01 am
Result: We have 3 weeks of garbage bags neatly stacked in the kitchen. Funny math, I know, since we've only been in this apartment for a week and a half. It seems that JD missed garbage collection at our temporary sublet and had to carry several full garbage bags from said apartment to our new place. A new, more mature type of "walk of shame." And despite being a cloth-diapering-recycling type family, the fusspot's daycare sends her home in a disposable everyday and ... it will be good to finally get rid of 3-week-old dirty diapers in the kitchen. I'll just put it this way: if we miss garbage collection again in the morning, I'm seriously considering moving the pile of bags to the closet.
My goal is to set alarm for 6:58 am, get up at 6:59 am, grab fussy baby (the alarm wakes her every time and there's no way I'm leaving her home alone, even if I am just walking to the end of the street) and run out the door with the trash at least every 2 weeks from now on (or at least till it gets a bit colder and things start to reek a little less ...). We aim high around here, don't we?
Yes, I know. Allegedly the garbage is collected twice a week around here. But we have a little problem. It is illegal to put your trash out before 7 am (and I have a rather watchful, elderly landlord - although a true gentleman. He is definitely of a different generation. After we signed the lease he told me that he would have invited me over to tea in a previous year, but since his wife passed away and he's alone and JD is away, he didn't think it appropriate anymore. Very sad but charming) and the garbage truck drops by right around 7:01 am (or possibly a few minutes earlier but far be it from me to lob unsupported accusations).
Trash not allowed out before: 7 am
Collected: 7:01 am
Result: We have 3 weeks of garbage bags neatly stacked in the kitchen. Funny math, I know, since we've only been in this apartment for a week and a half. It seems that JD missed garbage collection at our temporary sublet and had to carry several full garbage bags from said apartment to our new place. A new, more mature type of "walk of shame." And despite being a cloth-diapering-recycling type family, the fusspot's daycare sends her home in a disposable everyday and ... it will be good to finally get rid of 3-week-old dirty diapers in the kitchen. I'll just put it this way: if we miss garbage collection again in the morning, I'm seriously considering moving the pile of bags to the closet.
My goal is to set alarm for 6:58 am, get up at 6:59 am, grab fussy baby (the alarm wakes her every time and there's no way I'm leaving her home alone, even if I am just walking to the end of the street) and run out the door with the trash at least every 2 weeks from now on (or at least till it gets a bit colder and things start to reek a little less ...). We aim high around here, don't we?
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Oh yeah
I almost forgot.
You might be wondering exactly where I am (hi Ms. J!). I'll never say ... but you can click over to the fabulous' Kate's blog Bee in the Bonnet to find out ... and yes I've given you a link to the post where she talks about me because she says such nice things, but you must look at the photo in her most recent post ...
And for the record, I don't exactly live in the city mentioned, but in a small provincial city about a half hour away. But if you're ever in said big city, send me an e-mail. I am definitely in need of real, adult conversation. And do tell me if you'd guess somewhere else (longtime readers may remember I was in this city both last January and when I found out I was pg last year).
You might be wondering exactly where I am (hi Ms. J!). I'll never say ... but you can click over to the fabulous' Kate's blog Bee in the Bonnet to find out ... and yes I've given you a link to the post where she talks about me because she says such nice things, but you must look at the photo in her most recent post ...
And for the record, I don't exactly live in the city mentioned, but in a small provincial city about a half hour away. But if you're ever in said big city, send me an e-mail. I am definitely in need of real, adult conversation. And do tell me if you'd guess somewhere else (longtime readers may remember I was in this city both last January and when I found out I was pg last year).
Market day and drinks on the playground
Sometimes I wonder if the exchange rate is turning me into a depression-era mom. Today I rushed out of work a half hour early, basket on my arm (ok, bookstore tote, but still ...) so that I could find the best end of the day bargains on fruits and veggies. And then at 9 pm I started steaming and pureeing them ... so that by tomorrow morning I will have a freezer full of baby food (yes, full. It's not the largest freezer). I can't tell you how excited I was to find sweet potatos at market since all 4 supermarkets in walking distance don't stock them 'out of season' (does anyone happen to know when potato season is?) Thus far we have carrots, peas and brocoli in the freezer, and I can now add cauliflower and sweet potatos. Now if only I could find gallon sized ziploc bags I would be living in luxury.
The reason I was in such a rush today was that there was a meet and greet at the fusspot's daycare at 5 pm. Conveniently organized by the 'parent's association' (For the record, there are spots for 24 children total at the daycare and since several families have more than one child there we're talking about at most 15-19 families. Needless to say I have yet to join the 'parent's association.') Not surprisingly, most of the parents were not particularly friendly. Very surprisingly, there were a large number of very good looking men there. And several crates of beer and at least 10 bottles of wine (you do the math of alcohol servings per adults). And yes, both of the very-pregnant women were sipping drinks (both clearly in their 3rd trimester) as was the one other woman who I think is pumping at work (or at least still sending medela bottles to daycare). While a bit bizare to see quite so much liquor casually littered around a toddler-playground, it was exceedingly nice to see quite how relaxed the families seemed to be grabbing a drink at daycare on the way home. There was no healthy food for babies - just chips and cookies. There was no anxiety about drinking in front of toddlers or getting home to put the babies to bed on time. And at least half of the kids had both parents at the festivities. I am definitely starting to see the benefits of raising children here.
The reason I was in such a rush today was that there was a meet and greet at the fusspot's daycare at 5 pm. Conveniently organized by the 'parent's association' (For the record, there are spots for 24 children total at the daycare and since several families have more than one child there we're talking about at most 15-19 families. Needless to say I have yet to join the 'parent's association.') Not surprisingly, most of the parents were not particularly friendly. Very surprisingly, there were a large number of very good looking men there. And several crates of beer and at least 10 bottles of wine (you do the math of alcohol servings per adults). And yes, both of the very-pregnant women were sipping drinks (both clearly in their 3rd trimester) as was the one other woman who I think is pumping at work (or at least still sending medela bottles to daycare). While a bit bizare to see quite so much liquor casually littered around a toddler-playground, it was exceedingly nice to see quite how relaxed the families seemed to be grabbing a drink at daycare on the way home. There was no healthy food for babies - just chips and cookies. There was no anxiety about drinking in front of toddlers or getting home to put the babies to bed on time. And at least half of the kids had both parents at the festivities. I am definitely starting to see the benefits of raising children here.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
This is the best the NYT can do?
(So I'm fine and will be back to normal posts soon - just a bit overwhelmed with work, feeding the baby, getting enough sleep, and spending all evening talking to an almost 7-month old who occasionally responds "Gee!")
The NYT has yet another infertility article: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/07/health/07endo.html?ref=health. And while I do appreciate their attention to the issue, this article is everything I despise in infertility reporting.
It can be summed up quite simply: There's an easily treated diagnosis that some people don't know about. YOU might have it. If you do, you can be cured in no time. Here's a silly woman who spent loads of money on unsuccessful treatment all because no one ever treated her for this (in this particular case C.A.H.). Oh yeah, and Ashkenazi Jews, you have a much higher risk of having it.
And when I log in later today this article will inevitably be among the most e-mailed, as concerned mothers and friends forward this to their 'poor, infertile' friends.
Argh! Dear readers, get yourself to a good RE. If you're RE doesn't know about a disease that may affect some significant number of women (no numbers given, obviously), find a new one. And dear NYT, do not throw false home to endless women reading at home by talking this up as an easy to identify and treat condition: not only are the examples you provide non-typical presentation, the clinical diagnosis seems to have nothing to do with the blood test, the test does not indicate the severity of the disease but ... there have been no peer-reviewed good scientific articles on dexa.meth.oso.ne (suppression) since the 1960s. I know, I've looked (not because I have C.A.H., but because dexa.meth.os.one was once used to treat co.rt.is.ol issues).
And for that matter, the online op-ed about becoming a SAHM also made me mad. The article was fine albeit trite, but the comments fell into the same predictable piles:
a. "Quit work now! You don't want to miss a moment" (Ignoring all the little things like financial security and that many careers have no on-ramp. Yes, I'd love to be home this year but no, I don't want to spend my mornings home alone while the fusspot runs off to elementary school, high school and hopefully someday her own home)
b. "You can do it all, but it is so, so tough" (Working mothers, if you are so, so busy why waste your time with endless predictable comments?)
c. "I am a MAN and I want my wife at home" (subtext: But I would never consider it myself because I am a MAN)
d. a few quiet pleas for an article about how to balance work/parenting
All the usual thing were missing:
- Many (probably most) careers have no so-called on ramp. While there are other jobs out there, I've spent 9 years preparing for this career and I really don't want to become yet another super overqualified high school teacher (or sales floor supervisor)
- My husband doesn't want the responsibilty of being the sole wage-earner. He makes a lot of money, but he's also at a fairly high risk of getting laid off at some point in his career and it terrifies him that I might not have the necessary income to keep us afloat for a while.
- I want the fusspot to know that she can have a career and family. Hence, I need to do it myself. And to do it well.
Honestly, I think the reason the SAHM/working mom debate bothered me so much (and I read pages of comments while pumping) is because I am a bit disappointed in aspects of the fusspot's daycare. To be precise, they are letting her CIO at naptime, and it just makes me sad. I really feel like I haven't spent 6 months practice every aspect of attachment parenting (breastfeeding, co-sleeping, baby wearing, responinding to the baby's every cry) to have them undo it in a few short weeks.
Also, during the tour we were promised that there would also be 2 teachers in the classroom. I counted the staff and the hours they are open and was puzzled, but figured they must have a floating teacher to cover lunches and shorten the day. Nope. There are 2 teachers from 9 to 5, but the daycare is open from 8 am to 6 pm. So when I picked the fusspot up at 5:30 yesterday night there were 3 babies strapped into bouncers (I am endlessly thankful that they have no mechanical swings/bouncers/etc at the daycare), 2 toddlers strapped into their high chairs playing, and my fusspot in a (baby-safe) hammock swinging away. Needless to say, all of the babies except mine were shrieking. And yes, just one teacher. Beats me how they'd pass a fire inspection with 4 non-mobile babies, 2 toddlers and 1 teacher post-5 pm, but it is what it is.
And then I spent a while thinking about a few of the comments on the article, including one by a teacher who made some negative comment about how babies with SAHM were so used to be spoiled. While I don't necessarily believe that, when I taught religious school and summer camp, I absolutely could not tell which kids had stay at home moms. And I do remember loving daycare as a child. And JD never had time home with his mother during the day and he seems to have survived. So I just have to recognize that daycare is going to be tough until the fusspot has mobility (she gets so annoyed when she pushes her toys out of reach or wants to move), but this is a temporary phase and thereafter she will almost certainly be happier on a daily basis for the company and games and endless child-safe toys.
Sorry about the rambling, I'm pretty sure the fusspot is either sick or has already become a 'reverse feeder.' She's been taking less than 2 bottles at daycare and waking me every 2 hours to eat since JD left.
The NYT has yet another infertility article: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/07/health/07endo.html?ref=health. And while I do appreciate their attention to the issue, this article is everything I despise in infertility reporting.
It can be summed up quite simply: There's an easily treated diagnosis that some people don't know about. YOU might have it. If you do, you can be cured in no time. Here's a silly woman who spent loads of money on unsuccessful treatment all because no one ever treated her for this (in this particular case C.A.H.). Oh yeah, and Ashkenazi Jews, you have a much higher risk of having it.
And when I log in later today this article will inevitably be among the most e-mailed, as concerned mothers and friends forward this to their 'poor, infertile' friends.
Argh! Dear readers, get yourself to a good RE. If you're RE doesn't know about a disease that may affect some significant number of women (no numbers given, obviously), find a new one. And dear NYT, do not throw false home to endless women reading at home by talking this up as an easy to identify and treat condition: not only are the examples you provide non-typical presentation, the clinical diagnosis seems to have nothing to do with the blood test, the test does not indicate the severity of the disease but ... there have been no peer-reviewed good scientific articles on dexa.meth.oso.ne (suppression) since the 1960s. I know, I've looked (not because I have C.A.H., but because dexa.meth.os.one was once used to treat co.rt.is.ol issues).
And for that matter, the online op-ed about becoming a SAHM also made me mad. The article was fine albeit trite, but the comments fell into the same predictable piles:
a. "Quit work now! You don't want to miss a moment" (Ignoring all the little things like financial security and that many careers have no on-ramp. Yes, I'd love to be home this year but no, I don't want to spend my mornings home alone while the fusspot runs off to elementary school, high school and hopefully someday her own home)
b. "You can do it all, but it is so, so tough" (Working mothers, if you are so, so busy why waste your time with endless predictable comments?)
c. "I am a MAN and I want my wife at home" (subtext: But I would never consider it myself because I am a MAN)
d. a few quiet pleas for an article about how to balance work/parenting
All the usual thing were missing:
- Many (probably most) careers have no so-called on ramp. While there are other jobs out there, I've spent 9 years preparing for this career and I really don't want to become yet another super overqualified high school teacher (or sales floor supervisor)
- My husband doesn't want the responsibilty of being the sole wage-earner. He makes a lot of money, but he's also at a fairly high risk of getting laid off at some point in his career and it terrifies him that I might not have the necessary income to keep us afloat for a while.
- I want the fusspot to know that she can have a career and family. Hence, I need to do it myself. And to do it well.
Honestly, I think the reason the SAHM/working mom debate bothered me so much (and I read pages of comments while pumping) is because I am a bit disappointed in aspects of the fusspot's daycare. To be precise, they are letting her CIO at naptime, and it just makes me sad. I really feel like I haven't spent 6 months practice every aspect of attachment parenting (breastfeeding, co-sleeping, baby wearing, responinding to the baby's every cry) to have them undo it in a few short weeks.
Also, during the tour we were promised that there would also be 2 teachers in the classroom. I counted the staff and the hours they are open and was puzzled, but figured they must have a floating teacher to cover lunches and shorten the day. Nope. There are 2 teachers from 9 to 5, but the daycare is open from 8 am to 6 pm. So when I picked the fusspot up at 5:30 yesterday night there were 3 babies strapped into bouncers (I am endlessly thankful that they have no mechanical swings/bouncers/etc at the daycare), 2 toddlers strapped into their high chairs playing, and my fusspot in a (baby-safe) hammock swinging away. Needless to say, all of the babies except mine were shrieking. And yes, just one teacher. Beats me how they'd pass a fire inspection with 4 non-mobile babies, 2 toddlers and 1 teacher post-5 pm, but it is what it is.
And then I spent a while thinking about a few of the comments on the article, including one by a teacher who made some negative comment about how babies with SAHM were so used to be spoiled. While I don't necessarily believe that, when I taught religious school and summer camp, I absolutely could not tell which kids had stay at home moms. And I do remember loving daycare as a child. And JD never had time home with his mother during the day and he seems to have survived. So I just have to recognize that daycare is going to be tough until the fusspot has mobility (she gets so annoyed when she pushes her toys out of reach or wants to move), but this is a temporary phase and thereafter she will almost certainly be happier on a daily basis for the company and games and endless child-safe toys.
Sorry about the rambling, I'm pretty sure the fusspot is either sick or has already become a 'reverse feeder.' She's been taking less than 2 bottles at daycare and waking me every 2 hours to eat since JD left.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
New things
Yesterday I reminded JD to look in the laundry basket while packing ... and there was only one t-shirt of his left in the bin when I checked on his progress.
I reminded him to get his clean laundry off the rack ... and found 2 socks and his only pair of shorts still drying on the rack after he'd 'grabbed all his stuff'.
I reminded him to pack his chargers ...and only found one on the counter.
I reminded him to get his stuff out of the kitchen ... and found his believed Alaska Nalgene sitting on the counter tonight.
But of course it's too late to give him the Nalgene. My darling is home in NYC by now and I am all alone with a fusspot who woke up every hour yesterday night.
Trying, trying, trying to be a responsible single parent (and yes, there are dirty dishes in the sink as I type).
For the record, in the 6 weeks of JD's paternity leave I did not cook a single meal, go grocery shopping alone even once, or do any dishes. Or for that matter wash any pump parts [Total side note. One of the things I found most absurd about the anti-pumping article in the Atlantic was the discussion over fathers finding it gross. While the men discussed may be turned off, my guy took an ever-practical attitude: I pump, he cleans up. And we actually landed up with enough extra pump parts that I could pump up to 4 times a day and just pile all the parts in the sink for him to wash when he got home. It got to the point where he was a bit defensive that only he could really wash the parts well. One more thing I'll miss in the next year].
Yes, we've done this before. A lot. But never with an almost-7-month-old fusspot along for the ride. The one good piece of news today is that the fusspot is finally starting to notice the people smiling, waving and dancing at her in the computer. This evening we chatted online (skype and gmail chat) with my mother, my father, and a dear friend and tomorrow we have several other conversations planned. I really hope that she makes some connection between JD and the funny face in the computer.
And that she sleeps a bit more tonight.
Lots of things to blog about this week: meeting a blogger IRL (and she reveals my top secret location!), my gorgeous apartment, LLL in Europe, access to my exclusive storage closet (aka pumping at work), and a daycare 'meet and greet.' Fun times ahead, but tonight I just wish my husband was here.
I reminded him to get his clean laundry off the rack ... and found 2 socks and his only pair of shorts still drying on the rack after he'd 'grabbed all his stuff'.
I reminded him to pack his chargers ...and only found one on the counter.
I reminded him to get his stuff out of the kitchen ... and found his believed Alaska Nalgene sitting on the counter tonight.
But of course it's too late to give him the Nalgene. My darling is home in NYC by now and I am all alone with a fusspot who woke up every hour yesterday night.
Trying, trying, trying to be a responsible single parent (and yes, there are dirty dishes in the sink as I type).
For the record, in the 6 weeks of JD's paternity leave I did not cook a single meal, go grocery shopping alone even once, or do any dishes. Or for that matter wash any pump parts [Total side note. One of the things I found most absurd about the anti-pumping article in the Atlantic was the discussion over fathers finding it gross. While the men discussed may be turned off, my guy took an ever-practical attitude: I pump, he cleans up. And we actually landed up with enough extra pump parts that I could pump up to 4 times a day and just pile all the parts in the sink for him to wash when he got home. It got to the point where he was a bit defensive that only he could really wash the parts well. One more thing I'll miss in the next year].
Yes, we've done this before. A lot. But never with an almost-7-month-old fusspot along for the ride. The one good piece of news today is that the fusspot is finally starting to notice the people smiling, waving and dancing at her in the computer. This evening we chatted online (skype and gmail chat) with my mother, my father, and a dear friend and tomorrow we have several other conversations planned. I really hope that she makes some connection between JD and the funny face in the computer.
And that she sleeps a bit more tonight.
Lots of things to blog about this week: meeting a blogger IRL (and she reveals my top secret location!), my gorgeous apartment, LLL in Europe, access to my exclusive storage closet (aka pumping at work), and a daycare 'meet and greet.' Fun times ahead, but tonight I just wish my husband was here.
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