Things I am looking forward to when I can once again live with my husband:
- Having someone else to (help) clean up vomit-covered sheets
- Having access to a dryer
- Owning more than one set of sheets
Things I am grateful for tonight:
- A boarder who is happy to hold a vomit covered-baby while I strip the bed.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Giving thanks
Today I am giving thanks that my beautiful perfect little girl is fine. Fine after a terrifying fall.
I almost didn't post about it. I went to dinner directly after the fall (in fact we were enroute to dinner when the accident happened) and I didn't mention it to anybody. I of course told JD, but he was completely distracted by work and doesn't seem to understand quite how serious it was. But this is both my record of my struggle to become a mother and my little with my daughter, and I don't want to skip over the terrible, horrible things that happen.
I had a work event which ran late so I asked a daughter's high school friend to pick the fusspot up from daycare. She was still in her stroller when I got home (and was running out to meet friends), so I just headed back out the door. The bus did not pull up to the curb so I had to lean the stroller all the way back to get it up onto the bus (think big heavy bugaboo and no one ever offers to help). I've done this thousands of times without a problem. Thousands.
But it never even crossed my mind that the babysitter might not have strapped the baby into the stroller (folks, she crawls. Time to break out the seatbelts). So when I tipped the stroller, the fusspot rolled out of the stroller and fell all the way onto the street. Concrete street. A good 2-3 feet.
I of course immediately dropped my attempt to maneuveur huge, heavy stroller onto the bus and grab my child (who was neither crying nor had dropped her toy during her tumble). And of course the bus driver makes off likes he's going to drive off with my stroller and purse and yells something about schedules. While my baby is lying in the street looking confused and about to cry. Luckily some young guy got the stroller and my bag off the bus and asked if we were ok before wandering off.
She was fine. Completely fine. No scratches, no bruises (she was very well padded with a cloth diaper and thick winter coat). After nursing for five minutes she sat up and grinned at everyone walking down the street.
I feel like I'm still shaking.
I almost didn't post about it. I went to dinner directly after the fall (in fact we were enroute to dinner when the accident happened) and I didn't mention it to anybody. I of course told JD, but he was completely distracted by work and doesn't seem to understand quite how serious it was. But this is both my record of my struggle to become a mother and my little with my daughter, and I don't want to skip over the terrible, horrible things that happen.
I had a work event which ran late so I asked a daughter's high school friend to pick the fusspot up from daycare. She was still in her stroller when I got home (and was running out to meet friends), so I just headed back out the door. The bus did not pull up to the curb so I had to lean the stroller all the way back to get it up onto the bus (think big heavy bugaboo and no one ever offers to help). I've done this thousands of times without a problem. Thousands.
But it never even crossed my mind that the babysitter might not have strapped the baby into the stroller (folks, she crawls. Time to break out the seatbelts). So when I tipped the stroller, the fusspot rolled out of the stroller and fell all the way onto the street. Concrete street. A good 2-3 feet.
I of course immediately dropped my attempt to maneuveur huge, heavy stroller onto the bus and grab my child (who was neither crying nor had dropped her toy during her tumble). And of course the bus driver makes off likes he's going to drive off with my stroller and purse and yells something about schedules. While my baby is lying in the street looking confused and about to cry. Luckily some young guy got the stroller and my bag off the bus and asked if we were ok before wandering off.
She was fine. Completely fine. No scratches, no bruises (she was very well padded with a cloth diaper and thick winter coat). After nursing for five minutes she sat up and grinned at everyone walking down the street.
I feel like I'm still shaking.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Not right
Something is not right in this ad (from pre.na.tal - the largest maternity and baby store here in Lalaland):
Hint: look at the third baby from the left and the second in from the right.
I know, I know lots of people have debated this tradition here. And plenty of people claim that there's nothing at all racist about putting babies in blackface. But honestly? It is about race and it's not right.
Hint: look at the third baby from the left and the second in from the right.
I know, I know lots of people have debated this tradition here. And plenty of people claim that there's nothing at all racist about putting babies in blackface. But honestly? It is about race and it's not right.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Gorgeous day
But first, a tale from the weekend.
The fusspot is a truly well-behaved baby. She was in her second museum of the day on Sunday when she started to fuss without any warning. I immediately sat down to try and feed her (which always calms her down) and a guard rushed over and told me I wasn't allowed to sit on the floor. Great. So I went rushing through the gallery to find someplace I could feed the baby but I had never been there before and didn't know where the exit was. While obviously flustered and walking very quickly and all because I was trying to exit, I turned a corner and a woman with a headset looked at me and the now-screaming fusspot and hissed: "I can't hear." Duh.
And just saying I had responded: "Good to know your parents kept you in a box. It explains a lot." would you think that was excessive? I mean really woman, it's obvious you can't hear your headset with a screaming baby in the room. I felt it was also obvious that I was walking very quickly and trying to get out of there.
And with no segway at all, pretty photos from tonight:
The fusspot is a truly well-behaved baby. She was in her second museum of the day on Sunday when she started to fuss without any warning. I immediately sat down to try and feed her (which always calms her down) and a guard rushed over and told me I wasn't allowed to sit on the floor. Great. So I went rushing through the gallery to find someplace I could feed the baby but I had never been there before and didn't know where the exit was. While obviously flustered and walking very quickly and all because I was trying to exit, I turned a corner and a woman with a headset looked at me and the now-screaming fusspot and hissed: "I can't hear." Duh.
And just saying I had responded: "Good to know your parents kept you in a box. It explains a lot." would you think that was excessive? I mean really woman, it's obvious you can't hear your headset with a screaming baby in the room. I felt it was also obvious that I was walking very quickly and trying to get out of there.
And with no segway at all, pretty photos from tonight:
Maclaren stroller recall
Apologies to those of you still waiting for your strollers, but I hadn't heard anything about this and everyone I know in the city owns a Maclaren. There's a recall out on all of them (http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/33787728/ns/health-kids_and_parenting/)
Here's a brief 'status of the stroller' in my household:
bugaboo: broken wheel rim, out of warranty, waiting for 2nd expensive replacement part
maclaren: recalled
snap 'n go: long outgrown
jogging stroller: 2000 miles away - not very useful
and while we're tallying: ergo - covered in snot and mashed up crackers but otherwise functioning
(For new readers, I purchased all of these used on craigslist except the ergo and jogging stroller which were gifts when friends outgrew them).
Here's a brief 'status of the stroller' in my household:
bugaboo: broken wheel rim, out of warranty, waiting for 2nd expensive replacement part
maclaren: recalled
snap 'n go: long outgrown
jogging stroller: 2000 miles away - not very useful
and while we're tallying: ergo - covered in snot and mashed up crackers but otherwise functioning
(For new readers, I purchased all of these used on craigslist except the ergo and jogging stroller which were gifts when friends outgrew them).
adventures in international parenting
So this weekend I had a one-day conference a couple of hours away (albeit in a different country). I posted a note online on a message board looking for a babysitter for the fusspot, but when JD (who is not the cautious one when it comes to her) asked: "You're really going to leave our baby with someone you've never met before in a foreign country? Someone you have no reference for at all?" I realized I needed a new plan.
And I found one which was perfect for the fusspot. I offered to pay for a good friend to take her 2 kids to the zoo in this unstated little country in exchange for bringing along my fusspot. Safe, secure, convenient.
Except, of course, she couldn't get out of the house early enough to just meet us there. Fine.
So the morning of the conference the fusspot and I left the house at 6:03 am. We walked all the way to the train station because I live in a tiny enough town that the buses don't run that early. We took a train to my friend's house, dropped the fusspot, sprinted back to the train station and got myself to the conference by 10 am. At 4 pm I sprinted from the conference to a bus, took a train to another city, picked up the fusspot at the zoo entrance, train back to conference-city, bus, reception at someone's apartment, and then we went out to a fancy dinner. At 8 pm.
Where there was no high chair, of course. The fusspot by this point had been up since 6 am. I did not have time to pump at the conference so I really wanted to feed her and she really wanted to eat. And we were seated next to one of the grumpiest, important men in my field of work. In a fancy restaurant.
Sitting semi-unclad at a Pa.ris.ian bistro has nothing on a B.el.gi.an fancy (did I mention it was fancy? think $30-40 entres) restaurant next to a professor who will probably be reviewing my work in the near future. But it worked, the fusspot fell asleep and I transferred her to her stroller.
And if only that were the end of the story. But twice she was woken up by people knocking into her stroller and I had to nurse her back to sleep. And then she woke up when we left the restaurant at 11 pm (yup, 11) and sleepily smiled at everyone and they all exclaimed what a good baby she was. And I was so proud of myself on the walk to the hotel (which also had no high chair at breakfast - more on the search for high chairs in Europe later).
And then at midnight when we were safely in the quiet of our own hotel room I took the fusspot out of her stroller ... and her diaper had leaked poo all over everything. Her onesie. Her back. The blanket. The bib. The stuffed animal. And that's when I knew I was the luckiest girl in the world - because I didn't pick my baby up when we left the restaurant and thus didn't have to deal with the mess in front of a crowd of old, grumpy men. Instead I am deeply thankful that I just let her sit in her own poo for an hour ... or possibly three?
And I found one which was perfect for the fusspot. I offered to pay for a good friend to take her 2 kids to the zoo in this unstated little country in exchange for bringing along my fusspot. Safe, secure, convenient.
Except, of course, she couldn't get out of the house early enough to just meet us there. Fine.
So the morning of the conference the fusspot and I left the house at 6:03 am. We walked all the way to the train station because I live in a tiny enough town that the buses don't run that early. We took a train to my friend's house, dropped the fusspot, sprinted back to the train station and got myself to the conference by 10 am. At 4 pm I sprinted from the conference to a bus, took a train to another city, picked up the fusspot at the zoo entrance, train back to conference-city, bus, reception at someone's apartment, and then we went out to a fancy dinner. At 8 pm.
Where there was no high chair, of course. The fusspot by this point had been up since 6 am. I did not have time to pump at the conference so I really wanted to feed her and she really wanted to eat. And we were seated next to one of the grumpiest, important men in my field of work. In a fancy restaurant.
Sitting semi-unclad at a Pa.ris.ian bistro has nothing on a B.el.gi.an fancy (did I mention it was fancy? think $30-40 entres) restaurant next to a professor who will probably be reviewing my work in the near future. But it worked, the fusspot fell asleep and I transferred her to her stroller.
And if only that were the end of the story. But twice she was woken up by people knocking into her stroller and I had to nurse her back to sleep. And then she woke up when we left the restaurant at 11 pm (yup, 11) and sleepily smiled at everyone and they all exclaimed what a good baby she was. And I was so proud of myself on the walk to the hotel (which also had no high chair at breakfast - more on the search for high chairs in Europe later).
And then at midnight when we were safely in the quiet of our own hotel room I took the fusspot out of her stroller ... and her diaper had leaked poo all over everything. Her onesie. Her back. The blanket. The bib. The stuffed animal. And that's when I knew I was the luckiest girl in the world - because I didn't pick my baby up when we left the restaurant and thus didn't have to deal with the mess in front of a crowd of old, grumpy men. Instead I am deeply thankful that I just let her sit in her own poo for an hour ... or possibly three?
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Back again
from the land where they had the brilliant idea to serve rich, choclatey hot chocolate with both a cookie and a dark chocolate on the side. Quite brilliant.
ps - any guesses?
ps - any guesses?
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