Happy Sunday

Today was good.  Really truly good.  And it was one of those proverbial "light bulb" epiphanies that what made all the difference was SLEEP.  And I'm not even talking good sleep by pre-Tiny Boy standards when, insomniac nights aside, I could rely on 8-9 hrs.  Last night I fell asleep a bit before 10:00, woke with him around 11:30 [and stayed awake for close to an hour] and then around 3:30 and that was all.  He was up for the day at 6:30, which is so much better than 5:00.  I felt rested.  I can't even imagine what I'd feel like if I got more than 3 hrs of uninterrupted sleep.

*

We had a big breakfast.  Toast, hash browns, eggs, juice, berries.  LG and I ate a ton and Tiny Boy ate potatoes mostly. 

Out the door to the neighborhood park by 9:00, home by 10:30.  I made an early lunch, put Tiny Boy down for a nap just before noon. 

I putzed around the kitchen, swept the floor, finished commenting on student writing for tomorrow...and finished The Interestings (finally!).  At 2:20 or so LG and I woke him up so we could meet a friend at the pool.

She swam with her friend while I let Tiny Boy splash.  He had a few moments of sheer terror but mostly he enjoyed himself.

We came home, I popped him in the bath to clean off the sand/chlorine/sunscreen scum, and ate dinner.

I'm not really doing it justice here...the whole day was just nice and calm, without me worrying about things or just trying to muddle through to get to the next SLEEP.  The only new glitch (this has been going on for several days now) is that Tiny Boy doesn't want to go to bed at night.  It involves crying and, generally, me going back in to console him.  Tonight I put an exhausted boy down at 7:15 and was back twice because he wouldn't stop crying.  Finally went to sleep after 8:00.

*
I don't know what else to say except, wow, what a difference a bit more sleep makes.  Please, I'd like some more.

A Moment of Normalcy

At the moment Tiny Boy is putting some baby fruit snacks on a large wooden spoon.  Occasionally he eats one.  Mostly he dumps them on the floor.

LG is at a friend's house, having spent the morning lolling about reading and then doing gymnastics.

We've done the grocery shopping (while LG was at gymnastics class; I learned last week that 90 minutes is like 85 minutes too long to ask a baby to watch his sister on the balance beam).

I've responded to some crisis work emails. 

We've got a mix of Laurie Berkner and Ingrid Michaelsen for a soundtrack.

There's too much going on for me to work in any intensive way, although I could probably comment on some in-class writing exercises my students did.

But mostly it's just nice not having to clean up vomit or restrain a baby for a breathing treatment.

On Encounters with Psychic Firefighters

We had not one but two carbon monoxide detectors fail this week.  One in the basement, one in the kitchen.

So last night I found myself paranoid enough that my sleeping children would die that I called the fire department, who came out to check.

Obviously everything was fine, but I'll be purchasing new detectors this afternoon.  (Apparently ours expires seven years from the time it is activated.  And I guess 7.5 years later they just STOP.)

But LG was completely wigged out by how the "psychic firefighters" knew her name.  Umm, maybe it's because you have a bunch of personalized stuff.  Or maybe they heard me CALL you LG.  Or maybe we're in some computer system of residents in the community.

Mom, she said, you're a genius.

Snort.

A Five Minute Post

I did one of these once (after Maddy) and it was cathartic, so I'm doing it again.  Don't expect coherence.

*

Tiny Boy bit me last night.  And no, I do not mean he nipped me.  He bit me so hard that I just screamed--I think I said make him stop, actually, and LG took that to mean I was asking her to do something, but really I just wanted him to STOP, because even after I put my finger in to his mouth to break the suction he was still clamping down.  Then he was screaming, and I was in so much pain that I almost threw up.  There are still four teeth marks on my nipple.

*

I think we slept for 5-6 hours last night, but I can't really be sure.  I think I need to videotape us while we sleep.

*

The social worker asked me how bright is bright which was rhetorical.  And no I don't think I have the smartest kid in the school or not necessarily even in her classroom, but holy shit, she does not need to sit there and do phonics when she is capable of reading Harry Potter on her own, at age 8.  This is a child who asks to talk about "economics" for fun instead of playing a game.  So we need to figure out a plan because I do not want her to hate school.  Nor do I want her to be the kid who fucks around and gives one sentence answers on tests because she thinks the test is stupid.  And you know, she would be right.

*

Timer just rang.  Pump milk.  Drink tea.  Email for work.  Yay.

Another Reason Why Eight is Great

Last night, in lieu of getting take-out (again) or having me come up with an interesting meal, LG proposed that we eat leftovers.  With a twist.  "What if, like, we were contestants on Chopped and we had to use six ingredients from the leftovers and then anything else we could find?"

Our leftover ingredients (4 of 5) were:  mango, romaine lettuce, pre-made pizza dough, barbecue chicken, and pasta shells in marinara sauce.

LG made a kid-friendly fruit salad that looked like a face and a "salad" of lettuce, chicken, pasta shells, with mozzarella and pizza "croutons" that, alas, her mother refused to eat.  I did try the fruit, which was tasty, even if she did use a large chef's knife (!!!!) without asking.

And I put together some bizarre white pizza with garlic, bleu cheese (have I mentioned dairy is IN for the moment?!) and mozzarella, and another one with the chicken.  My side dish was a salad with the lettuce, mango, the remnants of a container of blackberries, and a kiwi about to go bad.

The person not prepping her meal had the responsibility of entertaining the baby.

I think that's a dinner strategy we'll have to use again.  And again.  And again.

 

Six Months!

Tiny Boy turned six months on Saturday.  I happened to find one of his preemie onesies on LG's floor (she used it for her doll) and threw it in the laundry.  Marvelous Mother's Helper said to me did he REALLY wear this?  Umm, yeah, he did.  About 9 lbs and 7 inches ago.  According to his pediatrician, Tiny Boy is currently 14 lbs 6 oz (5th percentile) and 25.5 inches (10th percentile), which makes him both a teeny tiny guy and, well, ginormous compared to what he was at birth.

He's a kid, people.  He sits up and throws toys and screams like a banshee to get attention.  He is, according to many people, the smiliest baby they've ever seen.  In a few days we'll take another stab at "solid" food--we did rice cereal and sweet potato for a few days last month and ended up in the rocking chair with a belly ache in the middle of the night.  Right now I give him a sippy cup at dinner, because he's clearly envious of the goods on LG's plate.

Sleep?  Well, that still sucks to tell the truth.  Night sleep is slowly improving, in that we no longer have an extended wakeful period in the middle of the night, and about half the time we don't even need to do the rocking chair at 4-5 am.  He's much less restless than he was; he feeds frequently, but I'm not bothered by that.  Still, he generally wakes after the first 40 minutes (which is almost inevitably when I'm trying to get LG out of the shower or into bed), and his longest sleep stretch, if I'm lucky, is three hours toward the beginning of the night.

Day sleep is erratic.  Some days he's able to take a legitimate nap for 1.5-2.5 hrs in the afternoon (along with one or two shorter ones), but most of the time I'm lucky to get 3-4 40 minute naps out of him.  We took a 5-hour car ride this weekend to visit family, and he took two "naps" of 20 minutes and 30 minutes.  If that isn't nap resistant, I don't know what is.  He's a very light sleeper, which is a real challenge with an older (loud!!) sibling in the house.  I've tried music and all kinds of white noise and it really doesn't help.  I don't really know what to do to get him to nap, as there doesn't seem to be any reason for why he sleeps better some days than others.

All in all, it's been a crazy whirlwind of babyness for six months, and I'm both sad that it's ending and ready to get back to the other parts (the writerly, intellectual parts) of gwinne.  This mothering stuff is hard work.  But, really, as much as I wanted this baby, I don't think I adequately imagined how wonderful it would be.

At My Wits' End

Let me preface this by saying I adore my daughter.  I could not imagine having another child.  She is crazy smart.  She is hilarious.  She excels at almost everything she does (that whole bike-riding thing eludes her).  But.

If I could ship her off to live somewhere else for a week--not Siberia, maybe just her grandmother's house--I would do it.  She has absolutely no sense of how fucking loud she is.  And even though we're using school language (volume 0-1), she just can't stop producing noise.  Talking.  Singing.  Stomping.  Slamming.

These are the qualities that set me on edge when it was just the two of us.  And now my nerves are frayed from sleep deprivation.  And she's waking the baby.  Like, I can spend 40 minutes in the rocking chair with him, finally get him to sleep, and she comes bursting through the door and his eyes pop open.

I have tried rationalizing with her.  I've tried putting it in terms of her needs.  Such as:  I know it's not fun when we're doing something and Tiny Boy needs me to rock him at night and we don't get to spend as much time together...and if he can take longer naps during the day I won't need to do that so much at night.  No dice.

I really don't know what to do.  I know intellectually that he needs to learn to do a certain amount of self-soothing and sleeping through basic home noises, and I also know that I'm particularly irritable right now because of sleep deprivation.  But we're really at a crisis point here, and I'd do pretty much anything to get this baby to sleep for more than 20-40 minutes at a stretch.  We're both exhausted.

So when another single mom friend called to see if LG wanted to come over and play this afternoon, I said yes without even asking her (this is one of LG's best friends, so it's not like I was pawning her off on someone).  She's been gone for about 15 minutes, and I can't even tell you how nice it is.  I've got a sleeping baby (yes!) next to me and two sleeping cats and the lullaby playlist on endless repeat on the laptop.  We might just make it through the afternoon.

Random Bullets of Life with Kids

• I woke in the middle of the night convinced that Tiny Boy had succumbed to SIDS.  He was cold and sleeping, well, like a dead thing.  And I picked his little swaddled body up muttering oh my g-d until finally he moved.  The whole episode probably lasted 20 seconds, but wow I can't take that kind of fright.
• I took Tiny Boy with me to the dentist today.  Which sucked.  He was sleeping when we left the house and of course needed to eat when I was mid-way through my cleaning.  So I took a nursing break, which only kept us there longer, as the hygienist took a break from me to work on another patient, so then he was crying because it was naptime.  Oy.
• Despite the above, Tiny Boy managed to take a 1-hour nap and a 3-hour nap in the bed.  And--knock wood, fingers crossed--went to sleep easily at 6:30 tonight and won't wake for a while to feed.
• Because of the above, I missed an opportunity to take Tiny Boy to see Dr. Gorgeous at her outpost in my hometown.  (Apparently NOT waking the baby is more important than showing off the baby.  Good to know.)  I'll just have to catch up with her another time.
• Because of the above, I had some time in which to clean up the kitchen while LG did her homework.  And I'd be hanging out with LG now, except she prefers books to her mother's company.  Yes, she is my kid.
• Am interviewing mother's helper folks later in the week.  Having some scheduled work time is sounding good to me, as much as I'm truly enjoying watching Tiny Boy discover what he can do with his hands.
• I broke down and bought two pairs of non-maternity pants a size larger than I usually wear.  I'm really happy I did, though I suspect if I gave it another few weeks I'd be able to wear my old things.
• The house is largely a mess.  I haven't written more than 100 words at a stretch in I can't remember how long.  And I'm happy, people.*

* Crying almost daily still--post-reproductive traumatic stress disorder be damned--but happy.

Playing College

LG and I are having our special "mom and LG time" this afternoon, while my mom watches the baby.  (Who had better be asleep, but that's another story.)

I took her to the library to check out books for her second grade report on Texas.  That was an hour of library instruction and rudimentary research.  We are now sitting in the student union amongst the throngs of college students, with their laptops and ipods, eating junk food and doing our respective work.

I have to say it's really weird.  I mean, we used to do things like this frequently.  Now it requires a babysitter. Milk letting down reminds me I've got a baby at home.  And some day maybe we'll do these sorts of things with him, too.  For now, though, it's just me and my girl.

According to LG

LG came home with a huge stack of papers from "writer's workshop" at school.  Most of them ended up in the recycling bin.  I'm glad I took the time to go through them page by page.  Here's what she wrote on November 15, when her brother was 3 days old (spelling mistakes are hers!):

My brother was born.  His warm face felt good on my arm.  His blue-gray eyes made me smile.  At last he was here, and at last I was a sister.  In the hospital I often viseted the pantry to get myself some jelo or to get my mom juice.  She said to put on my shoes; but I said it was only around the corner.  She agreed.  My mom had to stay at the hospotl for 4 days.  At least that's what the nurse said.  It's fun to rome the hosbatle, every once and awhile I run into Debbie the nurse.  I like Debbie.  She's nice.  The baby was small.  The baby was sweet.  And I loved him...and I will forever and ever...I will forever and ever....

 

And Now a Few Words About LG

People keep asking how LG likes being a big sister.  The short answer: she loves it.  She reads to her brother, she holds him daily (after being hand-sanitized, of course!), and she "watches" him while I do things like put dinner on the table.

But we have what would seem to be an odd form of sibling readjustment (not rivalry, really) going on here.  As I mentioned briefly in a recent post, LG cleaned the bathroom sink and tub the other day, because I was about to do it and I guess it seemed like fun to her (just like scrubbing pots seemed fun about a month ago).  She also washed fingerprints off the walls when she saw me attacking them with a baby wipe (I'm going through some post-baby nesting or something, I guess).  Now these are helpful things, even if I need to clean up after her cleaning.  I don't want to discourage her from doing something she views as helpful.  And, to be fair, there are legitimately helpful things she does, like putting the dinner dishes in the dishwasher on occasion because, as she noted, "you're occupied" (nursing the baby, of course).  We have a reward system going through which she puts marbles in a jar and cashes them in for either rewards or actual money when the jar is full; it's something she picked up at school that works well for her.  So...all these chores she does earn marbles.  And she usually earns bonus marbles for doing unsolicited chores.

You know there's a but coming, right?  Now what would be really helpful is if she just put her freaking toys away.  And backpack.  And coat/shoes/mittens/hat.  And schoolwork.  And if she put her gum wrappers/lollipop wrappers/random scraps of paper in the trash, rather than the coffee table.  And if she put her cereal back in the cabinet and brought the stapler back to my office after she took it out.  I fold laundry and it ends up in a ball on her bedroom floor.  The result is that I am constantly reminding her to put things away.  Or doing it myself, because if I'm going to be home all day with the Boy, I need some semblance of order.  What she told me, when I confronted her about this:  Mommy, I like cleaning.  I do not like putting things away.   

Now if I were being logical about this, I'd just encourage her weird desires, get her a package of rubber gloves for Hanukkah, and re-delegate the chores in our house.  But I just want her to be a kid, who does kid things, and then puts them away.  And leaves the bathroom sink to me. 

Reason #502 That Seven Rocks

LG did the dishes tonight.  I asked her to rinse them and put them in the dishwasher, and she asked me if she could scrub the pots, too.  Ummm...yes, please.

Now if she would only put away the toys strewn all over her bedroom...

First Day of School Recap

Well, today was LG's first day of second grade.  We managed to make it to the bus stop on time (she actually had 3 minutes to spare and used them to watch commercials between PBS kids' shows), and she brought all her school supplies (which I have to say is much less fun when they are used communally) in an old messenger bag of mine that she claimed from the giveaway pile.

I did not have the yes I'm having a baby chat with the other mom at the bus stop, which I was fully expecting.  However, she had remembered I'm on leave (she's also an academic, in another department) so we talked about that and the tenure debacle.  By 8:25, LG was off to school and I was settled at my desk with tea, yogurt and fruit, and a battle plan.  I'm using my writing time to (a) generate new material on projects completely irrelevant to the book (that is, in different genres) and (b) produce at least 3 new and/or radically revised pages per day on the book m.s.  So far so good.

Then (~12:00) I made a bunch of insipid phone calls/emails, pertaining to LG's extracurricular activities and my own, and paid some bills, ate half my lunch, and walked back to the bus stop to get LG (half day).

After lunch, she ended up going with a neighbor friend on a tour of the local hospital, which bought me a few more hours to read the material I need to write about tomorrow, before taking IVF Kitten and Big Cat to the vet at 3:30.  Big Cat is smart enough that she heard the latch on IVF Kitten's carrier and bolted upstairs, where she hid under the bed.  Oh, yes, it is great fun to get a cat out from under a queen-sized bed when you are 6-months-pregnant.  This necessitated chasing her out with the broom (a.k.a. The Bat Whacker, which I have been keeping next to my bed, in case the bat reappears).  After two rounds of the Whacker--let me be clear, I did not touch her with it, but moved it in her general direction, which she really dislikes--she gave up and started howling, having figured out I was going to win and she was getting in her own carrier.

Two cats in carriers and $176 later, we have up-to-date rabies vaccines and annual exams.  And apparently IVF Kitten has grown up quite nicely; he came in at a mere 4 ounces less than Big Cat, despite the fact that the vet predicted last year that he might be a "midget cat" (yeah, don't get me started on that one) due to his rough start in life.

LG, the cats and I arrived home within minutes of each other.  She watched her 30 minutes of TV while I cooked a Thai curry, which LG was happy to eat until I (stupidly) told her that I used fish sauce.  She asked me if her brother liked it.  (Well, Thai food doesn't make me throw up, which it did when I was pregnant with LG, so I'll take that as a good sign.)

After dinner, a quick trip to the park because LG couldn't sit still, then a request for a "special dessert" (which involved sorbet, marshmallow, blueberries, and red, white and blue sprinkles--gross) because it's the first day of school, you know.

And now she is reading and I will go snuggle with her momentarily, as we have moved bedtime back by 15 minutes.  And then this wiggly boy and I will curl up with the crabby, vaccinated cats, and I will read a book I bought because (a) I got it at Border's for 2/3 off and (b) it was written by a woman I was once in competition with for a job.  "Page turners" are not usually my thing, but I've made it through several hundred pages in the past 36 hours or so.  And it's just what I need on this unseasonably cold day that makes me think that fall really truly is here, and how wonderful is that?

28 weeks

As I type this, my 7-year-old is in her bedroom with a friend, playing with Zhu Zhu pets (a.k.a. annoying chatty motorized hamsters).  An hour ago, they were outside; he was teaching her to skateboard while I vacuumed out our car.  A really nice--somewhat productive, somewhat relaxing--afternoon, I have to say.

It's a far cry from my pregnancy with LG.  In some ways, much easier (thanks, I think, to the large age spread) and in others more complicated.  If I drop something on the floor, LG is happy to pick it up for me.  But if I want to go to bed at 7:00, well, I've still got a kid to tuck into bed.

I'm sad to see this pregnancy winding down.  I spent the first trimester in a complete panic, certain that I wouldn't get past 12 weeks.  And then it wasn't until about 20 that I actually settled in to thinking the boy's heart wasn't just going to stop beating (don't get me wrong, I'm still petrified of the possibility of stillbirth, but the likelihood of that happening seems much more remote than it did).  So I've had very little time in which I've just enjoyed this experience for what it is.  Overall, I feel really good, much better than I probably should, given the long list of complications at the top of my chart.  A little heartburn.  A lot tired.  But otherwise?  Not much going on. 

As eager as I am to begin the mothering part of this experience, I'm really not ready to be not pregnant anymore.  I spent too many years being not pregnant.  And now, it seems I've got only ~12 weeks left...

Spacing

One of the things that has astonished me most on this (loooong) journey to Baby #2 is how many comments people have made about "spacing" my children's ages.  Pretty much everyone has their opinion, and with very few exceptions, that would appear to be negative.  Except, of course, for those individuals I've encountered who have 10+ years between their kids and think it's the best thing ever.

My response, when somone comments about the large age gap, has been to say honestly it's not what I planned, but it took me a long time to get pregnant.

This is when I comment on the up-side of having kids almost 8 years apart:

LG read to her brother tonight, complete with commentary and definitions because she didn't think, for example, he'd know what an animal was.  (Good call, LG, but he doesn't really know any of the other words you used either.)  All I could do was smile and rub my belly while she yammered on for a good half an hour while he wiggled and squirmed.

That's what I get, folks, for 2.5 years worth of infertility and loss.

The Week in Pictures

LG in her "workshop"

Bathing Suit with Bruises, 18w5d

IVF Kitten, Asleep

(that is, not being an asshole)

A Bit of Levity While I Can't Sleep

LG decided that she should make up a list of baby names last night.  I told her that's fine, as long as she understands that in the end I get to pick the name, and it might not come from her list.

I should have remembered that LG wanted to name our cat Blockbuster.

Some of her favorites:  Lulu, Candy, Bambi, Bob Smith (not just Bob), Wycki.  And she thinks Doodle Noodle would make a very good nickname, or Splish Splash in the Bath.

Yeah.

The Birds and the Bees and the Petri Dish

So I told LG about the baby last night.  Going in to the conversation, I had thought she had a basic understanding of (a) how her own conception went down and (b) how human reproduction occurs outside the context of a doctor's office.

LG:  "So do you know the man's name?"

"Huh?"

"You know, the man who put the seeds in your [pointing to her crotch]"

"Honey, the man donated his sperm and it came in a little jar.  The doctor put the embryo, the tiny baby, inside my body."

"Which doctor?"

"Dr. Gorgeous."

"You mean you sexed with Dr. Gorgeous?"

"No, honey, she used a long tube called a catheter."

I have a feeling I have some more 'splaining to do before she "shares" this at sharing time.  Yowza.

Small Good Things (10w0d)

1. There are days LG doesn't stop talking. There are other days LG doesn't stop reading. Here she is, in a fort, on the porch.
2. Yesterday was a nice quiet day overall.  We ran a couple errands (including 2 trips to the post office because I am a hormone-addled moron who forgot her checkbook) but otherwise LG played with friends and I read.
3. Fuck those books that say if you think you're feeling a baby at 10 weeks your dates are wrong or you have gas. Because I know what I'm feeling, and I've never felt it in a non-pregnant state. Even if I am crazy, it's the only thing that makes me think this baby might just be okay.
4. Despite the uncertainty that surrounds this pregnancy, I decided to buy a few maternity items, due to an expiring coupon for Old Navy, which is where I bought 75% of my maternity wear with LG (including 2 dresses I'm still wearing for non-maternity use 8 years later).  I figure buying the clothes can't make me miscarry, and if I don't need them, that's what returns are for.  In the meantime, I need something instead of the bella band, because that's really not a workable system.
5. I didn't think I'd be one for gratuituous belly photos, but here's one. Note the lovely Lovenox bruises, as well as the pants soaking in the sink (from a PIO injection gone awry). It might not look like much, but under non-pregnant circumstances my abdomen is perfectly flat, and in the past six weeks, I've gained 5-6 pounds of something.

 
 

Home Alone

I drove LG out to her grandmother's house on Friday and came home today without her.  (She's on spring break; I'm not.)  We've done this sort of thing before, but it's always been over the summer.  I have to say it's really weird going about my Sunday night routine without doing her Sunday night routine.  That is, it's not routine at all.

I went over to a friend's house for dinner.
I just put another batch of brownies in the oven.
When I'm done with this, I'm going to comment on some student writing.
And maybe paint my toenails.
And feed the embryo again.
And go to bed by 9:30.

Tomorrow morning I can leave the house as early as I want and get a cup of decaf and head to the office.

I miss her.  But I really needed some time alone to get my head around this baby possibility.  If my level of pukiness is any indication, Peanut's doing just fine.

 ~ 42 hours until ultrasound.