There are so many, wonderful incredible things in my life. My children are behaving quite delightfully and my husband is mostly recovered from whatever absurdity took hold him. And yet, I still can't quite hold it together. Hoping that I can somehow scrape by and finish this stupid degree and then figure out something decently paid and worthwhile to do with my life which does not require me to spend my days with a group of socially incompetent, empathy-lacking individuals. But anyway, a little cuteness on a Friday afternoon:
- The dumpling is a man obsessed with his toy stroller, which he wields with the grace of a nursing home resident reliant on a walker. He can get places, but it certainly doesn't look effortless. But oh, the agony when you separate him from his beloved toy! And the man has persistence. Even though he can't walk yet, he has been known to push his stroller for a half mile stroll.
- He also can blow kisses now. With gusto.
- The fusspot is terrified of getting water in her eyes so I really hadn't considered putting the dumpling in the shower. But he was trying to lunge head first in one morning, so I plopped him down and now he contentedly plays at my feet every shower. He smells better, and it's so sweet to have a little time alone with him.
- Speaking of alone time, my favorite time with the dumpling is watching him play contentedly around our bed while I slowly wake up in the morning. He likes to pat his tummy, poke his father's eyes, pull the shade open, and wrestle with the pillows. So very glad that we're still co-sleeping.
- The fusspot loves her books, and her ability to recite entire books from memory is quite astounding (and I realize temporary, it's normal toddler behavior, not a sign of any impending photographic memory skills. I apparently played chess quite well at age 2 because it's the same rote memorization skill). This morning she regaled me with the full Corduroy plus Herbert the Lion. Very adorable.
- She is also working on her vocabulary. Yesterday when I picked her up from daycare she turned to me and said "Mama, do you know how to scamper?" Why yes child, when my stress doesn't get the better of me, I do.
- The fusspot apparently heard me joking about what JD and her would do on their fusspot-dada playdate this weekend, even though we were on a loud subway train and she was busily playing with a friend, so it came rather out of the blue when she turned to JD this morning and said: "On our fusspot-Dada playdate we gonna meet new girls."
Oh, and random things which make me extraordinarily happy, my excellent craigslist source for high end boys clothes at bargain prices e-mailed and I get to pick up another garbage bag of delightfully adorable items this weekend. I love a good deal, and I love cute baby clothes.
No plans yet for next weekend and I fear my favorite holiday may be a last-minute half-hearted mess, but we're figure it out next week.
Wishing you all a relaxing weekend.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Dreams and reality
I left the house at 9 pm tonight (so early you ask. Why yes, my mother is in town visiting. JD is practically never home by 9) to head in to my office for a few hours work. I was more than slightly pissed at the usual criticism of my parenting (this time over my refusal to let the dumpling CIO but when you have a 12 month old with horrible separation anxiety and unexplained failure to thrive, it really doesn't seem like an ideal time to introduce a potentially emotional new bedtime routine. I'd rather just spend the half hour to rock him to sleep). So I was stewing and marching back to my office up the usual mile that I walk 1-4 times a day.
Except tonight was different. It's stunningly warm and instead of the usual loonies I encounter when I sneak out of my apartment at 11 pm the streets were filled with romantic couples. I walked past 3 restaurants with twinkling candles and full outdoor patios. And it really felt like a magical moment. A stroll in Paris or Brugges. Outdoor cafes, young couples, echoes of laughter spilling into the street, hints of live music from the jazz club ...
And it just made me wish that I could be part of it. One of those people who could relax on a Thursday night with a drink, or even just a long evening stroll with my husband and my double stroller.
I'm kind of at a cross-roads. My career seems to be careening towards a concrete wall and the impact is either going to be gruesome or just messy. Every morning I'm full of optimism and when I wake up with a panic attack punctually between 3 and 3:30 am every morning I can easily talk myself down with positive affirmations and detailed schedules. And then I actually get to my desk and utterly fail to write enough, to think through the problems, to send basic e-mails, to reread challenging texts (always in languages I struggle with). And I just can't figure out why. I really do want to finish this degree, I really do like my topic, I fundamentally have the skills to do it and yet, well, we're heading for a concrete wall at 100 mph. I've even convinced myself that just finishing is enough, that I can take time off after I finish and find something to do. But still, not working quickly enough. Not thinking hard enough. Not being creative enough and I can't quite figure out why.
And part of it is certainly the dread feeling that if this all fails there will be even fewer relaxing spring evenings strolling down the street. Not much to conclude here. I wish that I could be zen about the final outcome, or figure out a more effective strategy to push myself. I am now quite sure that "positive affirmations" do nothing towards the actual end output, and that I need to stop "taking care of myself" and just work. Less than a month to go and then this whole situation will be over in some form or another.
In the meantime, my husband forgot my birthday and I'm turning a year older in a couple of days. I have new shoes, and all else will have to wait.
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I guess that I just should have waited until I got home to write the conclusion. The warm spring air was still there a little after midnight, and the flowers were even more delightful in the dark, but the homeless men had taken over the ventilation grates and there were at least 10 rats frolicking merrily on our doorstep thanks to our building's uncovered trash cans. I am rather terrified of city rats, especially the kind that don't even try to hide when you stand there, so I had to wait and dash between them to get into our building. Terror, maybe I just need a bit more of it to push me farther.
Except tonight was different. It's stunningly warm and instead of the usual loonies I encounter when I sneak out of my apartment at 11 pm the streets were filled with romantic couples. I walked past 3 restaurants with twinkling candles and full outdoor patios. And it really felt like a magical moment. A stroll in Paris or Brugges. Outdoor cafes, young couples, echoes of laughter spilling into the street, hints of live music from the jazz club ...
And it just made me wish that I could be part of it. One of those people who could relax on a Thursday night with a drink, or even just a long evening stroll with my husband and my double stroller.
I'm kind of at a cross-roads. My career seems to be careening towards a concrete wall and the impact is either going to be gruesome or just messy. Every morning I'm full of optimism and when I wake up with a panic attack punctually between 3 and 3:30 am every morning I can easily talk myself down with positive affirmations and detailed schedules. And then I actually get to my desk and utterly fail to write enough, to think through the problems, to send basic e-mails, to reread challenging texts (always in languages I struggle with). And I just can't figure out why. I really do want to finish this degree, I really do like my topic, I fundamentally have the skills to do it and yet, well, we're heading for a concrete wall at 100 mph. I've even convinced myself that just finishing is enough, that I can take time off after I finish and find something to do. But still, not working quickly enough. Not thinking hard enough. Not being creative enough and I can't quite figure out why.
And part of it is certainly the dread feeling that if this all fails there will be even fewer relaxing spring evenings strolling down the street. Not much to conclude here. I wish that I could be zen about the final outcome, or figure out a more effective strategy to push myself. I am now quite sure that "positive affirmations" do nothing towards the actual end output, and that I need to stop "taking care of myself" and just work. Less than a month to go and then this whole situation will be over in some form or another.
In the meantime, my husband forgot my birthday and I'm turning a year older in a couple of days. I have new shoes, and all else will have to wait.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I guess that I just should have waited until I got home to write the conclusion. The warm spring air was still there a little after midnight, and the flowers were even more delightful in the dark, but the homeless men had taken over the ventilation grates and there were at least 10 rats frolicking merrily on our doorstep thanks to our building's uncovered trash cans. I am rather terrified of city rats, especially the kind that don't even try to hide when you stand there, so I had to wait and dash between them to get into our building. Terror, maybe I just need a bit more of it to push me farther.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
More preschool angst
I really do know that this is probably only an issue for big city dwellers in a few select neighborhoods around the U.S., but we happen to be standing still in the midst of a swirling torrent of parental anxiety and it's really hard to ignore it all.
On Monday I was angry. Really, really angry. See, after contentedly registering at our local Catholic school I started reconsidering our even more local (about 50 feet from our front door) lovely Jewish preschool. Of course, none of these preschools list their tuition online, but a few reliable blogs suggested it might be affordable. Now the application deadline was many months ago, but I dashed off a little e-mail asking if they might have a waitlist if someone unexpectedly left before the fall. And what do you know? They've got 2 spots open. 5 e-mails back and forth about age, interview times, our preferences and we were all scheduled for a visit before I even saw the tuition rates.
Turns out the blog was wrong. Not so affordable.
So off I steamed to our little music for toddlers with siblings class just pissed. Pissed that we are doing just fine financially and we still can't afford 3 day a week preschool for our daughter. Pissed that people around us are financial idiots who seem to be pouring every penny into housing/nannies/preschools. Knowing exactly what our friends are making (my husband works with 3 good friends, they all make the exact same salary down to the last bonus penny), it seems that either everyone is getting oodles of money from their parents or they are literally not saving a penny. Pissed that my mother told me to just spend the extra $3000 (note: Catholic school is 30 hours a week, Jewish school is $3000 more for a grand total of 12 hours a week minus many, many holidays). It's not like we can cut a vacation and make up the difference. Our current summer plans consist of a visit or two to see my family (cost one plane ticket, they pick up the fusspot's ticket) and a visit to see family at the beach (cost 2 Amtrak tickets). We are spending almost every penny that we get which is not already budgeted for paying off student loans, saving for a mortgage, saving for future medical expenses (loud sound of thunder and gloom), saving for future educational expenses for our kids, or life insurance (yes, I am thankful that we can set quite that much aside. See above: we are doing just fine financially right now, but it doesn't mean that there are huge extravagances every week).
So I spent a day pouting. I wrote a rather nasty note to the school saying that we'd love their program but given the cost we really see no choice but to go with Catholic school. They countered that financial aid was already assigned (and there's just no way we qualify) but that we might be able to work out a small discount. So we'll talk more.
And then I got an e-mail tonight. A super-excited e-mail from a young woman I know, a distant relative now in college. I can't write about the details but she got into a program she really wants to go on and suddenly all of my anger switched to guilt. Here is an incredible woman born into a truly awful family (yes, the courts removed her more than once) in a truly awful impoverished state without any real educational opportunities. And she still managed to get into a good school and to get decent grades. And over the years we have been trying to cover a few small expenses here and there, winter coats when she was younger, bras and a new bathing suit every summer, some school bills.
And seriously people? I may just implode at the next idiot who makes me feel guilty for not splurging on the very best local preschool when we obviously could afford it. If we can afford an extra $3000 I am going to do my very best to give that money to hard-working young woman so that she can have an experience that as a college student she will be able to understand and learn from, that hopefully will open doors for her, an experience that I certainly took for granted. It had always been our intention to help out with the expenses for this, but I'd like to do some more generously than the baseline we usually give. And if my mother or anyone else asks why my daughter is better at her Lord's Prayer than her understanding of "tikkun olam," at least I will know the answer to that.
Ok, so I should add that part of this anger stems from a series of conversations I am still processing with the parent of another toddler. A lovely sweet shy little girl who the fusspot loves who happens to come along with a loud, abrasive in-your-face-I-know-best-mother. But then again, it's hard to ignore her words for all that their delivery is obnoxious because she is a passionate, loving parent even if we disagree on many, many things. Needless to say she had some extremely harsh words for our school (and other parenting) choices and while I agree with much of what she said in theory, I am genuinely comfortable with the trade-offs we have chosen.
On Monday I was angry. Really, really angry. See, after contentedly registering at our local Catholic school I started reconsidering our even more local (about 50 feet from our front door) lovely Jewish preschool. Of course, none of these preschools list their tuition online, but a few reliable blogs suggested it might be affordable. Now the application deadline was many months ago, but I dashed off a little e-mail asking if they might have a waitlist if someone unexpectedly left before the fall. And what do you know? They've got 2 spots open. 5 e-mails back and forth about age, interview times, our preferences and we were all scheduled for a visit before I even saw the tuition rates.
Turns out the blog was wrong. Not so affordable.
So off I steamed to our little music for toddlers with siblings class just pissed. Pissed that we are doing just fine financially and we still can't afford 3 day a week preschool for our daughter. Pissed that people around us are financial idiots who seem to be pouring every penny into housing/nannies/preschools. Knowing exactly what our friends are making (my husband works with 3 good friends, they all make the exact same salary down to the last bonus penny), it seems that either everyone is getting oodles of money from their parents or they are literally not saving a penny. Pissed that my mother told me to just spend the extra $3000 (note: Catholic school is 30 hours a week, Jewish school is $3000 more for a grand total of 12 hours a week minus many, many holidays). It's not like we can cut a vacation and make up the difference. Our current summer plans consist of a visit or two to see my family (cost one plane ticket, they pick up the fusspot's ticket) and a visit to see family at the beach (cost 2 Amtrak tickets). We are spending almost every penny that we get which is not already budgeted for paying off student loans, saving for a mortgage, saving for future medical expenses (loud sound of thunder and gloom), saving for future educational expenses for our kids, or life insurance (yes, I am thankful that we can set quite that much aside. See above: we are doing just fine financially right now, but it doesn't mean that there are huge extravagances every week).
So I spent a day pouting. I wrote a rather nasty note to the school saying that we'd love their program but given the cost we really see no choice but to go with Catholic school. They countered that financial aid was already assigned (and there's just no way we qualify) but that we might be able to work out a small discount. So we'll talk more.
And then I got an e-mail tonight. A super-excited e-mail from a young woman I know, a distant relative now in college. I can't write about the details but she got into a program she really wants to go on and suddenly all of my anger switched to guilt. Here is an incredible woman born into a truly awful family (yes, the courts removed her more than once) in a truly awful impoverished state without any real educational opportunities. And she still managed to get into a good school and to get decent grades. And over the years we have been trying to cover a few small expenses here and there, winter coats when she was younger, bras and a new bathing suit every summer, some school bills.
And seriously people? I may just implode at the next idiot who makes me feel guilty for not splurging on the very best local preschool when we obviously could afford it. If we can afford an extra $3000 I am going to do my very best to give that money to hard-working young woman so that she can have an experience that as a college student she will be able to understand and learn from, that hopefully will open doors for her, an experience that I certainly took for granted. It had always been our intention to help out with the expenses for this, but I'd like to do some more generously than the baseline we usually give. And if my mother or anyone else asks why my daughter is better at her Lord's Prayer than her understanding of "tikkun olam," at least I will know the answer to that.
Ok, so I should add that part of this anger stems from a series of conversations I am still processing with the parent of another toddler. A lovely sweet shy little girl who the fusspot loves who happens to come along with a loud, abrasive in-your-face-I-know-best-mother. But then again, it's hard to ignore her words for all that their delivery is obnoxious because she is a passionate, loving parent even if we disagree on many, many things. Needless to say she had some extremely harsh words for our school (and other parenting) choices and while I agree with much of what she said in theory, I am genuinely comfortable with the trade-offs we have chosen.
Friday, March 9, 2012
We are SO that family
Yesterday was a gorgeous, sunny day here in NYC and in our neighborhood that brings all the strollers to a certain small patch of grass far from the street. Which is a nice way of saying that I saw quite a few moms I haven't seen in months as we lounged in the sun (at 8:45 am ...). Of course, the first mom I talked to is a good friend who happens to be one of those delightfully neurotic mothers who populate this particular neighborhood. And what else should we talk about but schools.
Last week when she was over for a playdate she had just put down a $4000 deposit to keep her child's spot in her current preschool but was panicked about not getting into her top choice pre-k/transition to incredibly excellent elementary school (at which point she'd lose the $4000 deposit naturally). Fast forward 2 weeks and said kid was off the waitlist and into the school, and now mom was panicked about the bill. And you would be too. $37,000 for a 9 to 3 schoolday. And in many ways, a commitment to that bill for the next 9 years because the public and private schools have different cut-offs so moving her daughter to the public school would necessitate her repeating a year. Oh, and the private schools set their deposit date just because public schools reveal admits to special programs, G & T, etc. so it's even harder to switch over.
Her solution was pretty clever: to visit the local public kindergarten to see exactly what she was comparing. And needless to say, she was not thrilled. Most of her complaints about the public school were trivial, although she did notice a few things which are genuinely scary depending on the scale (namely, overworked, stressed teachers yelling at children. I had 2 friends whose children were in genuinely emotionally abusive classrooms. I can understand bad content or wasted time, but a teacher who is so overworked that she's mean to students is not something I could handle easily). I was surprised to hear that we are districted for a school which is 75% Hispanic, only because we really don't see those kids at the playground. My guess would have been closer to 25% Hispanic, 25% African-American. She even talked about liberal parents who take pride in "slumming it," sending their kids to the grimy over-enrolled local public school when they could in fact afford a private alternative (hello dear friend, do remember who you are talking to).
Needless to say another mom I haven't seen since the fall sat down and was lauding her much cheaper private school. A school I've been meaning to register, a possible cheap "gem in the rough" in our very neighborhood. Naturally, a Catholic school.
I talked to JD about the situation last night and we basically agreed to put down the $150 deposit at this nice little Catholic school as a back-up plan. Mostly just to buy us time to figure it all out. We had a nice theoretical conversation about home schooling and the support involved parents can give to a floundering school (note: there is no public school option for us for next year. We are taking about pre-k and our district has NO universal pre-k spots. We're in the lottery in the next district over but our chances are close to nil. We very much hope to land up at a nice public school for kindergarten on).
So there I was at 9 am this morning on the school tour. And so glad to see another familiar face on the tour. In fact, there was only one other family there with me at 9 am. And who should they be? The janitor from our old building. Our non-white, non-native English speaking, kind and generous janitor. The same man who carried the fusspot home through a blizzard December 26th 2010 when I was huge as a whale and scared of falling in the snow. A friend.
We are so going to be that family.
At 10:15 am I put down a deposit and officially enrolled the fusspot for pre-k. I don't know if we'll still be in this neighborhood, I am by no means convinced that this pre-k is a better option than simply continuing our home daycare, I don't even really know if we will be able to afford the bill by the fall ($7500 for an 8:30 to 2:30 5-days a week program, as far as I can tell as cheap as it gets in the city and only because the Catholic Church is picking up the rent tab). I don't love the idea of the fusspot in a classroom of 20 with only one teacher (and a teacher's assistant without a teaching degree). I do like the play-based curriculum, the loving environment, the diversity. And I do know is that I would be thrilled to have my kid going to the same school as our neighbor. And hopefully that at least won't change.
Last week when she was over for a playdate she had just put down a $4000 deposit to keep her child's spot in her current preschool but was panicked about not getting into her top choice pre-k/transition to incredibly excellent elementary school (at which point she'd lose the $4000 deposit naturally). Fast forward 2 weeks and said kid was off the waitlist and into the school, and now mom was panicked about the bill. And you would be too. $37,000 for a 9 to 3 schoolday. And in many ways, a commitment to that bill for the next 9 years because the public and private schools have different cut-offs so moving her daughter to the public school would necessitate her repeating a year. Oh, and the private schools set their deposit date just because public schools reveal admits to special programs, G & T, etc. so it's even harder to switch over.
Her solution was pretty clever: to visit the local public kindergarten to see exactly what she was comparing. And needless to say, she was not thrilled. Most of her complaints about the public school were trivial, although she did notice a few things which are genuinely scary depending on the scale (namely, overworked, stressed teachers yelling at children. I had 2 friends whose children were in genuinely emotionally abusive classrooms. I can understand bad content or wasted time, but a teacher who is so overworked that she's mean to students is not something I could handle easily). I was surprised to hear that we are districted for a school which is 75% Hispanic, only because we really don't see those kids at the playground. My guess would have been closer to 25% Hispanic, 25% African-American. She even talked about liberal parents who take pride in "slumming it," sending their kids to the grimy over-enrolled local public school when they could in fact afford a private alternative (hello dear friend, do remember who you are talking to).
Needless to say another mom I haven't seen since the fall sat down and was lauding her much cheaper private school. A school I've been meaning to register, a possible cheap "gem in the rough" in our very neighborhood. Naturally, a Catholic school.
I talked to JD about the situation last night and we basically agreed to put down the $150 deposit at this nice little Catholic school as a back-up plan. Mostly just to buy us time to figure it all out. We had a nice theoretical conversation about home schooling and the support involved parents can give to a floundering school (note: there is no public school option for us for next year. We are taking about pre-k and our district has NO universal pre-k spots. We're in the lottery in the next district over but our chances are close to nil. We very much hope to land up at a nice public school for kindergarten on).
So there I was at 9 am this morning on the school tour. And so glad to see another familiar face on the tour. In fact, there was only one other family there with me at 9 am. And who should they be? The janitor from our old building. Our non-white, non-native English speaking, kind and generous janitor. The same man who carried the fusspot home through a blizzard December 26th 2010 when I was huge as a whale and scared of falling in the snow. A friend.
We are so going to be that family.
At 10:15 am I put down a deposit and officially enrolled the fusspot for pre-k. I don't know if we'll still be in this neighborhood, I am by no means convinced that this pre-k is a better option than simply continuing our home daycare, I don't even really know if we will be able to afford the bill by the fall ($7500 for an 8:30 to 2:30 5-days a week program, as far as I can tell as cheap as it gets in the city and only because the Catholic Church is picking up the rent tab). I don't love the idea of the fusspot in a classroom of 20 with only one teacher (and a teacher's assistant without a teaching degree). I do like the play-based curriculum, the loving environment, the diversity. And I do know is that I would be thrilled to have my kid going to the same school as our neighbor. And hopefully that at least won't change.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Boobs, and formula
Not again, right? Let's start with the positive. Some months ago I read a really love blog post by a mother about judging other parents. Her situation is quite specific, but she basically asked the other mothers who were being so judgmental "what have you done to help?" (the specifics here are a failed adoption). And it stuck with me. Because really, while I am endlessly busy (basically) single parenting 2 kids, trying to work full-time-ish, trying to hold my marriage together, the usual ... really? I still live a charmed life and it's just absurd that I have pushed all of my "do-gooding" to the future when the kids will be bigger, I'll have more time, etc.
I have also been spending some time with a foster mother I know, and while it is something that I would really like to consider in the future, the logistics of it make it truly impossible now or anytime in the next decade or so. Apparently in NYC that job is so full of travel time, busy work, scheduled appointment that it's just not possible to do while working (a small example, but all kids doctors appointments must be done at the foster clinic. Which is 1.5 hours away by public transport. And she has a sick kid who needs to go in almost weekly, plus scheduled visits with 3 different parents, also over an hour away).
Yeah, that's all a long intro to explain exactly why given all the time constraints I started the training to be a LLL leader. I needed a volunteer job that I could do with both kids in tow (check), that's not a huge time commitment (check), that is something I firmly believe in (check), and that is social (check). And guys, it's awesome. I keep reading criticism of LLL leader, and all I can say is that a few rotten apples should not characterize a very large organization. As part of my preparation I am currently attending not only the intro to breastfeeding session, but also a working moms weekend meeting (yes, I know, everyone thinks this organization is anti-working moms), and a nursing toddlers meeting and it is lovely to meet so many conscientious, attentive parents.
And the formula? I moved it from the counter to the cabinet last night. Still haven't decided what to do about it. Our adorable dumpling is now technically a "failure to thrive baby" and fortifying my breastmilk is one little thing we may do (although it will make his anemia worse, and he's already anemic). Let's look at the facts:
8 lbs 2 oz at birth
8 lbs 2 oz at 2 weeks
12 lbs at 4 weeks
17 lbs 6 oz at 9 months (about 10th percentile)
18 lbs 2 oz at 12 months (borderline 3rd percentile, but he also grew 1.5 inches)
Oh, and crawling at 5 months. Launching himself into the bathtub at 10 months. Climbing stepladders at 11 months (5 steps guys, it was pretty neat to watch).
So yeah, he gained under a pound in 3 months. He's skinny. But he's also super active. And meeting every benchmark. And the kid just doesn't want to eat. I feel like every time he opens his mouth I am either stuffing a boob or some high fat high protein food into him (although in actuality we let him self-feed at all meals. Oh, the mess).
And I really just wish our doctor would come out and say "I'm super-worried let's run lab tests and rule out weird things" or "Eh, he's small." But instead she very strongly suggested I schedule a follow-up weight check in 4 weeks. But then what? I asked her what she would do if he's gained no weight, and said "we'll see." I am very strongly tempted to ignore her (especially since I am around good baby scales so much now and can just weigh him myself).
One theme which comes up over and over again during LLL meetings is the awful, stupid, terrible advice pediatricians give about breastfeeding. 75% of the moms nursing toddlers have been told to stop ... by their pediatricians. And yesterday our ped told me that "breastmilk has less calories at night so a reverse feeding schedule may not work." Um, really? Sure it changes fat content a bit during the day but it hardly turns to water over night.
But I realized that a huge part of that misinformation is simply the fact that NYC pediatricians really can't breastfeed, or at least not for long. Our pediatrician was pregnant last time we saw her and doing a little simple math it seems that the poor woman took off exactly 6 weeks to the day. I don't know if that is financial necessity, a requirement of the office, or her choice, but needless to say no wonder she advocates so loudly for CIO and nursing/pumping on a schedule when she is working 50+ hours a week, with on call hours nights and weekends, with a 6 week old (and a toddler, or two. I'm sure this isn't baby #1). Not sure exactly where I'm going with that except to note that people should both a. ignore stupid advice b. have some notion of bounds within which most of our pediatricians have to parent.
That said, do tell me your wisdom. Stories of super-skinny (you can feel all his ribs) adorable babies formerly-nicknamed "the dumpling" who went out to win Guggenheims much appreciated. Or magic, tasty recipes to make baby foie gras (we're already coating everything with olive oil or avocado or butter or peanut butter. He eats very few carbs with a diet heavy in yogurt, grated cheese, meatballs, chicken breast ... and pomegranate, because he loves it so).
I have also been spending some time with a foster mother I know, and while it is something that I would really like to consider in the future, the logistics of it make it truly impossible now or anytime in the next decade or so. Apparently in NYC that job is so full of travel time, busy work, scheduled appointment that it's just not possible to do while working (a small example, but all kids doctors appointments must be done at the foster clinic. Which is 1.5 hours away by public transport. And she has a sick kid who needs to go in almost weekly, plus scheduled visits with 3 different parents, also over an hour away).
Yeah, that's all a long intro to explain exactly why given all the time constraints I started the training to be a LLL leader. I needed a volunteer job that I could do with both kids in tow (check), that's not a huge time commitment (check), that is something I firmly believe in (check), and that is social (check). And guys, it's awesome. I keep reading criticism of LLL leader, and all I can say is that a few rotten apples should not characterize a very large organization. As part of my preparation I am currently attending not only the intro to breastfeeding session, but also a working moms weekend meeting (yes, I know, everyone thinks this organization is anti-working moms), and a nursing toddlers meeting and it is lovely to meet so many conscientious, attentive parents.
And the formula? I moved it from the counter to the cabinet last night. Still haven't decided what to do about it. Our adorable dumpling is now technically a "failure to thrive baby" and fortifying my breastmilk is one little thing we may do (although it will make his anemia worse, and he's already anemic). Let's look at the facts:
8 lbs 2 oz at birth
8 lbs 2 oz at 2 weeks
12 lbs at 4 weeks
17 lbs 6 oz at 9 months (about 10th percentile)
18 lbs 2 oz at 12 months (borderline 3rd percentile, but he also grew 1.5 inches)
Oh, and crawling at 5 months. Launching himself into the bathtub at 10 months. Climbing stepladders at 11 months (5 steps guys, it was pretty neat to watch).
So yeah, he gained under a pound in 3 months. He's skinny. But he's also super active. And meeting every benchmark. And the kid just doesn't want to eat. I feel like every time he opens his mouth I am either stuffing a boob or some high fat high protein food into him (although in actuality we let him self-feed at all meals. Oh, the mess).
And I really just wish our doctor would come out and say "I'm super-worried let's run lab tests and rule out weird things" or "Eh, he's small." But instead she very strongly suggested I schedule a follow-up weight check in 4 weeks. But then what? I asked her what she would do if he's gained no weight, and said "we'll see." I am very strongly tempted to ignore her (especially since I am around good baby scales so much now and can just weigh him myself).
One theme which comes up over and over again during LLL meetings is the awful, stupid, terrible advice pediatricians give about breastfeeding. 75% of the moms nursing toddlers have been told to stop ... by their pediatricians. And yesterday our ped told me that "breastmilk has less calories at night so a reverse feeding schedule may not work." Um, really? Sure it changes fat content a bit during the day but it hardly turns to water over night.
But I realized that a huge part of that misinformation is simply the fact that NYC pediatricians really can't breastfeed, or at least not for long. Our pediatrician was pregnant last time we saw her and doing a little simple math it seems that the poor woman took off exactly 6 weeks to the day. I don't know if that is financial necessity, a requirement of the office, or her choice, but needless to say no wonder she advocates so loudly for CIO and nursing/pumping on a schedule when she is working 50+ hours a week, with on call hours nights and weekends, with a 6 week old (and a toddler, or two. I'm sure this isn't baby #1). Not sure exactly where I'm going with that except to note that people should both a. ignore stupid advice b. have some notion of bounds within which most of our pediatricians have to parent.
That said, do tell me your wisdom. Stories of super-skinny (you can feel all his ribs) adorable babies formerly-nicknamed "the dumpling" who went out to win Guggenheims much appreciated. Or magic, tasty recipes to make baby foie gras (we're already coating everything with olive oil or avocado or butter or peanut butter. He eats very few carbs with a diet heavy in yogurt, grated cheese, meatballs, chicken breast ... and pomegranate, because he loves it so).
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Oh right
Well, that explains all of the helicopters and delays taking the subway home (we were about 3 blocks away enroute to the subway when all of this took place): http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/uptown/harlem-shooting-leaves-injured-suspect-dead-article-1.1022561. It's actually the second time we've been surrounded by cops in the past week. The other in sight of our apartment building when a crowd of guys ran past our huge double stroller, followed by a crowd of cops. Needless to say members of both crowds tripped over our stroller, but thankfully all guns stayed firmly out of sight. Yeah, we support gun control.
But this really wasn't going to be a post about that, but rather about committing to being adventurous. I just happened to google it as I opened this page and remembered the mess yesterday (the 6 news helicopters scared the kids far more than the police. They rather like cops most of the time. I also just don't get the voyeurism of the 24-hour news cycle).
There's a new mom in one of the two classes we take weekly, and last week she asked me if I hadn't been afraid to take the dumpling with me to K.ar.achi over Christmas. The question is what I got a lot from family, friends, etc. so I started to carefully explain how we'd evaluated security, packed all of his food, when she clarified that she meant in case he saw anything disturbing. And it basically made me dead stop because I didn't have an answer (except the obvious that mini man is not yet one, and his deep thoughts on inequality are fairly limited).
Yes, it is jarring to carry your organically-fed, nursed on demand baby in a silk sling through a poor neighborhood in the developing world. But we have a homeless guy on our corner, and when he's not too drunk we often stop to talk to him. I love that the fusspot has noticed that her dear friend H., who runs the dry cleaner on our block, is always in the store. He works 7 am to 7 pm 6 days a week, and his commute is a bit over an hour. And yes, he has kids at home. And his wife works the same hours in the nail salon 2 doors down from the dry cleaner (and yes, he earned a college degree before immigrating but took this job to support his family in a new country). And the fusspot is a full participant in our frequent runs to donate items at the local goodwill. It just never crossed my mind to shield them from poverty, or inequality, or racism. To explain, to respond, to provide them scripts when they are asked questions, sure, but not to conceal. And at just 3 there are many things that the fusspot notices nowadays: that the non-white moms in our neighborhood have a much higher tendency to strike their children (oh, the self-righteous parents who explain that "they don't use corporeal punishment" and so ignore how this is largely an issue determined by race, at least in our part of the city), that some people work more than others, that some kids have more or less than they do.
But the more I read, the more I realize that's probably a bit unusual. That most people who have left the city express relief at not having to explain why there is a drunk man shouting epithets on our step when we get back to the apartment late at night (he is quite harmless), or why exactly there are quilts and blankets over the heating grate a block away from daycare. I guess that I'd rather have the fusspot grow up understanding injustice than have to break it to her all in one day. And I certainly see the economic inequality as a greater problem than the racial prejudice, even though I still get any number of less than p.c. comments about my children (any suggestions on appropriate responses when people compliment my babies' "chinky" eyes? I mean, they are cute and all ...). So maybe I hope that even as toddlers they will gain a little perspective on any challenges they may face later. And please, someday, let them have a hint of empathy. But at least I hope that they will not run from people who smell or shout or look different.
But this really wasn't going to be a post about that, but rather about committing to being adventurous. I just happened to google it as I opened this page and remembered the mess yesterday (the 6 news helicopters scared the kids far more than the police. They rather like cops most of the time. I also just don't get the voyeurism of the 24-hour news cycle).
There's a new mom in one of the two classes we take weekly, and last week she asked me if I hadn't been afraid to take the dumpling with me to K.ar.achi over Christmas. The question is what I got a lot from family, friends, etc. so I started to carefully explain how we'd evaluated security, packed all of his food, when she clarified that she meant in case he saw anything disturbing. And it basically made me dead stop because I didn't have an answer (except the obvious that mini man is not yet one, and his deep thoughts on inequality are fairly limited).
Yes, it is jarring to carry your organically-fed, nursed on demand baby in a silk sling through a poor neighborhood in the developing world. But we have a homeless guy on our corner, and when he's not too drunk we often stop to talk to him. I love that the fusspot has noticed that her dear friend H., who runs the dry cleaner on our block, is always in the store. He works 7 am to 7 pm 6 days a week, and his commute is a bit over an hour. And yes, he has kids at home. And his wife works the same hours in the nail salon 2 doors down from the dry cleaner (and yes, he earned a college degree before immigrating but took this job to support his family in a new country). And the fusspot is a full participant in our frequent runs to donate items at the local goodwill. It just never crossed my mind to shield them from poverty, or inequality, or racism. To explain, to respond, to provide them scripts when they are asked questions, sure, but not to conceal. And at just 3 there are many things that the fusspot notices nowadays: that the non-white moms in our neighborhood have a much higher tendency to strike their children (oh, the self-righteous parents who explain that "they don't use corporeal punishment" and so ignore how this is largely an issue determined by race, at least in our part of the city), that some people work more than others, that some kids have more or less than they do.
But the more I read, the more I realize that's probably a bit unusual. That most people who have left the city express relief at not having to explain why there is a drunk man shouting epithets on our step when we get back to the apartment late at night (he is quite harmless), or why exactly there are quilts and blankets over the heating grate a block away from daycare. I guess that I'd rather have the fusspot grow up understanding injustice than have to break it to her all in one day. And I certainly see the economic inequality as a greater problem than the racial prejudice, even though I still get any number of less than p.c. comments about my children (any suggestions on appropriate responses when people compliment my babies' "chinky" eyes? I mean, they are cute and all ...). So maybe I hope that even as toddlers they will gain a little perspective on any challenges they may face later. And please, someday, let them have a hint of empathy. But at least I hope that they will not run from people who smell or shout or look different.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
In no particular order
1. I had no idea that babies could grow teeth in a lopsided manner. The dumpling is currently sporting FIVE teeth. 2 top front, 2 bottom front, 1 right incisor. Tell me this is normal, please.
2. Totally adorable watching my daughter open her very-first new book in a series and appreciate that "the man just wrote this book." (The Monster Returns, for those interested. We love Jeremy Draws a Monsters although nothing else by Peter McCarthy).
3. US Airways is the worst. They are the only airline I have encountered which will not allow parents with lap children to check in online. On the way to the airport I happily checked in, took the bus, arrived late, ran by the counter and had them add my lap child and made my flight with 10 minutes to spare. On the way back the dumpling was already in the computer so I couldn't check in online, had to go wait in line, was still assigned the exit row (not allowed, obviously. I know this is why they don't give you seat assignments when you check in online with a lap child but there's a big difference between having a ticket with no seat and not being checked in), ran to the airplane, just made it ... and then everybody on the plane had to move to accommodate the fusspot, dumpling, and I dealing departure by a good 10 minutes ...
4. Oh yes, we went on a trip. The type of trip where you get a phone call, open orbitz, buy plane tickets ... and tell your toddler that instead of the playground you need to leave for the airport in 45 minutes. It was a bit hectic. There were some pleasant parts. The sun, having my high school friends rally around us and show up at 10 pm with take-out, etc. There was some craziness like not making it to the supermarket during a 3.5 day trip such that my children only ate take-out and delivery. Also, 2 toddlers in a non-baby-proofed house. The best was watching my son pry up a grate over the air vent and contentedly toss little toys down it ... needless to say it was a bit of a medical emergency (not too serious), and nobody else was available to help (ah, the joys of being overly-responsible), and it was definitively craziness. But we're back in the city and PT/nurses/food/help have all been arranged.
5. The fusspot is a city kid. She picked up gravel from my father's driveway and licked it. At least she didn't just eat it, right?
6. My son is tiny and it's kind-of freaking me out. We saw a friend's new 3 month old baby. And she weighed more than the dumpling. Bring on the peanut butter/avocado/cheese snacks. I know that we're not big people (although the fusspot was always 50% for weight), but he is really both small and skinny.
7. Any thoughts on when it is ok to start whole milk? Our pediatrician stomped her foot and said not a day before 12 months, but I'm thinking 11 will be fine. I mean, he's still nursing on demand 16 hours a day and getting pumped milk at daycare but every time we give him a drink of water it just seems like a wasted opportunity to get some calories into him. I know, I know, I know: nothing wrong with formula at all, but I'd rather not start it at 11 months and then transition him over in a month to milk.
8. Oh, also noted on our trip: my son has crazy separation anxiety at the moment. I guess I just hadn't noticed it because he's either with me or our regular daycare provider (he loves her), or our one regular evening babysitter (I have work stuff at night). But literally every time I left the room during our trip he would put his head down on the floor and sob. I just ignore this right and it goes away soon? There is nothing to be done, right? Some assurance that this is normal and about to end would be much appreciated.
2. Totally adorable watching my daughter open her very-first new book in a series and appreciate that "the man just wrote this book." (The Monster Returns, for those interested. We love Jeremy Draws a Monsters although nothing else by Peter McCarthy).
3. US Airways is the worst. They are the only airline I have encountered which will not allow parents with lap children to check in online. On the way to the airport I happily checked in, took the bus, arrived late, ran by the counter and had them add my lap child and made my flight with 10 minutes to spare. On the way back the dumpling was already in the computer so I couldn't check in online, had to go wait in line, was still assigned the exit row (not allowed, obviously. I know this is why they don't give you seat assignments when you check in online with a lap child but there's a big difference between having a ticket with no seat and not being checked in), ran to the airplane, just made it ... and then everybody on the plane had to move to accommodate the fusspot, dumpling, and I dealing departure by a good 10 minutes ...
4. Oh yes, we went on a trip. The type of trip where you get a phone call, open orbitz, buy plane tickets ... and tell your toddler that instead of the playground you need to leave for the airport in 45 minutes. It was a bit hectic. There were some pleasant parts. The sun, having my high school friends rally around us and show up at 10 pm with take-out, etc. There was some craziness like not making it to the supermarket during a 3.5 day trip such that my children only ate take-out and delivery. Also, 2 toddlers in a non-baby-proofed house. The best was watching my son pry up a grate over the air vent and contentedly toss little toys down it ... needless to say it was a bit of a medical emergency (not too serious), and nobody else was available to help (ah, the joys of being overly-responsible), and it was definitively craziness. But we're back in the city and PT/nurses/food/help have all been arranged.
5. The fusspot is a city kid. She picked up gravel from my father's driveway and licked it. At least she didn't just eat it, right?
6. My son is tiny and it's kind-of freaking me out. We saw a friend's new 3 month old baby. And she weighed more than the dumpling. Bring on the peanut butter/avocado/cheese snacks. I know that we're not big people (although the fusspot was always 50% for weight), but he is really both small and skinny.
7. Any thoughts on when it is ok to start whole milk? Our pediatrician stomped her foot and said not a day before 12 months, but I'm thinking 11 will be fine. I mean, he's still nursing on demand 16 hours a day and getting pumped milk at daycare but every time we give him a drink of water it just seems like a wasted opportunity to get some calories into him. I know, I know, I know: nothing wrong with formula at all, but I'd rather not start it at 11 months and then transition him over in a month to milk.
8. Oh, also noted on our trip: my son has crazy separation anxiety at the moment. I guess I just hadn't noticed it because he's either with me or our regular daycare provider (he loves her), or our one regular evening babysitter (I have work stuff at night). But literally every time I left the room during our trip he would put his head down on the floor and sob. I just ignore this right and it goes away soon? There is nothing to be done, right? Some assurance that this is normal and about to end would be much appreciated.
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