So I'm technically on vacation this week (and the next 5 weeks to come).
But don't start hating cuz it's not awesome at all.
"Vacation" does NOT mean relaxation, going to a fun destination, eating some amazing meals, or even getting a little bit pampered with a mani/pedi.
"Vacation" means packing up years of accumulated crap in boxes, wrangling endlessy with a 'strong willed' toddler, and dealing with contractors who are walking all over my naturally accommodating and compliant disposition. Man do I hate conflict. So much so that I may have been known to let contractors charge me an extra $500 for stuff that clearly, according to the contract, they should not.
We are moving into the new house in T-8 days and it is FAR from fun.
Vacation schmacation.
Friday, November 09, 2012
Monday, November 05, 2012
But Daddy Say No
I'm finding out more about myself than ever before now that I'm trying to parent Judah.
For one, I realize he is a strong-willed child (a la the best-selling book, Setting Limits With Your Strong-Willed Child).
And I, as it turns out, am a weak-willed, naturally compliant doormat.
Very bad combo, this.
Basically, Judah steam-rolls right over my gentle 'suggestions' every time. Unless he really is asking to risk his life (for example, wanting to use the butcher knife), I usually cave. At the first sign of his crumpled up face and his high-pitchy wail, I give in.
Okay, okay, you can bring your toy car out (even though I know it's going to be a disaster when you misplace it and cry bloody murder because you can't find it the next day).
Okay, okay, you can play another 15 minutes in the car (even though we're way behind schedule).
You get the idea. Judah leads, I follow...reluctantly.
Which is why, more and more, I've defaulted to saying, "Why don't you ask daddy?" Obviously Judah gets his strong-will from the spouse and I'll let the two of them duke it out. Pretty much 100% of the time, Judah ends up crying and wailing "Daddy say no to me!"
Ah, sweet victory...by proxy.
For one, I realize he is a strong-willed child (a la the best-selling book, Setting Limits With Your Strong-Willed Child).
And I, as it turns out, am a weak-willed, naturally compliant doormat.
Very bad combo, this.
Basically, Judah steam-rolls right over my gentle 'suggestions' every time. Unless he really is asking to risk his life (for example, wanting to use the butcher knife), I usually cave. At the first sign of his crumpled up face and his high-pitchy wail, I give in.
Okay, okay, you can bring your toy car out (even though I know it's going to be a disaster when you misplace it and cry bloody murder because you can't find it the next day).
Okay, okay, you can play another 15 minutes in the car (even though we're way behind schedule).
You get the idea. Judah leads, I follow...reluctantly.
Which is why, more and more, I've defaulted to saying, "Why don't you ask daddy?" Obviously Judah gets his strong-will from the spouse and I'll let the two of them duke it out. Pretty much 100% of the time, Judah ends up crying and wailing "Daddy say no to me!"
Ah, sweet victory...by proxy.
Friday, November 02, 2012
The Ghost of Halloween Past
O Judah, you lucky lucky boy. (I know, I keep saying that!)
You had your first real trick-or-treating experience this year, complete with fancy store-bought costume! I hate to keep harping on this, but when I was a kid, I NEVER got to go trick-or-treating (except once in 3rd grade) and I certainly NEVER got to have a store-bought costume.
(Side note--I realize these posts are making it sound like I grew up in some kind of Dickensian poverty. Let me just state for the record--that was totally not the case. We were solidly upper middle-class, nice suburb, great school districts, green lawns and minivans, etc. It's just that my parents had a certain parenting philosophy...that...well, let's just leave it at that.)
I was that sad kid at the back of the Halloween Parade at school that teachers felt sorry for. Bless Mrs. Cole's heart. In 2nd Grade she let me hold the tail of her dragon costume so I could participate without looking quite so...pathetic.
But the truth is, I did have a costume that year. I woke up that morning and there was a costume waiting for me in the living room. It was a brown grocery bag with arm-holes and a neck-hole cut out and aluminum foil balls stuck all over it. It was home-made and I decided I'd rather not have a costume than wear that 'thing' and possibly die of embarassment.
Next to my home-made costume was one exactly like it, sized a little bigger, for my brother. He had stayed up that night to make them for us. I always feel a pang of guilt thinking back on how disdainful I was of his really generous and thoughtful handiwork. In my defense, I was 7! I wanted to be something pink and purple and lovely!
"What is this?" I remember saying "Am I supposed to be a garbage can?!"
"It's a robot," my brother said.
I said something sarcastic and disparaging and trudged off to school without my 'robot' costume.
Oh how I treasure the memory of that sad costume now.
I guess I was a lucky lucky kid too, in my own way.
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| My nurturing little cop with his new favorite toy--his baby stroller! |
You had your first real trick-or-treating experience this year, complete with fancy store-bought costume! I hate to keep harping on this, but when I was a kid, I NEVER got to go trick-or-treating (except once in 3rd grade) and I certainly NEVER got to have a store-bought costume.
(Side note--I realize these posts are making it sound like I grew up in some kind of Dickensian poverty. Let me just state for the record--that was totally not the case. We were solidly upper middle-class, nice suburb, great school districts, green lawns and minivans, etc. It's just that my parents had a certain parenting philosophy...that...well, let's just leave it at that.)
I was that sad kid at the back of the Halloween Parade at school that teachers felt sorry for. Bless Mrs. Cole's heart. In 2nd Grade she let me hold the tail of her dragon costume so I could participate without looking quite so...pathetic.
But the truth is, I did have a costume that year. I woke up that morning and there was a costume waiting for me in the living room. It was a brown grocery bag with arm-holes and a neck-hole cut out and aluminum foil balls stuck all over it. It was home-made and I decided I'd rather not have a costume than wear that 'thing' and possibly die of embarassment.
 |
| Trick-or-treating with our lovely little ladybug neighbor. |
Next to my home-made costume was one exactly like it, sized a little bigger, for my brother. He had stayed up that night to make them for us. I always feel a pang of guilt thinking back on how disdainful I was of his really generous and thoughtful handiwork. In my defense, I was 7! I wanted to be something pink and purple and lovely!
"What is this?" I remember saying "Am I supposed to be a garbage can?!"
"It's a robot," my brother said.
I said something sarcastic and disparaging and trudged off to school without my 'robot' costume.
 |
| Argh, looks like this cop lost his cop belt, billy-club and badge along the way. Oh well. |
Oh how I treasure the memory of that sad costume now.
 |
| What a cute couple...but what's with the Oliver Twist face? Please sir, can I have some more...candy? |
I guess I was a lucky lucky kid too, in my own way.
Monday, October 29, 2012
The Zoo and Other Privileges
O Judah, you lucky lucky boy. We recently bought you a year's membership to the Oakland Zoo.
When I was a kid, my parents never took me to the zoo. I think I literally went once. ONCE. In my entire life, until this past year.
Gosh, I sound like one of those parents that recount how, when they were kids, they had to walk a mile to school, in the snow, WITH NO SHOES!
But seriously, you have it so much better than me in so many ways. Don't even get me started on how many books and toys we buy you constantly. You know, when I was kid, I NEVER got toys except once a year, for Christmas--I got ONE toy. And you know what I got on my birthday? Not toys--pajamas.
Man, I hope we're not creating a privileged, entitled monster.
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| Judah loves spotting little black bears. He exclaims "So cute!" |
When I was a kid, my parents never took me to the zoo. I think I literally went once. ONCE. In my entire life, until this past year.
 |
| We looked at those bears for a really loooooooooooooong time. |
Gosh, I sound like one of those parents that recount how, when they were kids, they had to walk a mile to school, in the snow, WITH NO SHOES!
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| For the first time ever, Judah actually REQUESTED that we take his photo here, in front of the otters. |
But seriously, you have it so much better than me in so many ways. Don't even get me started on how many books and toys we buy you constantly. You know, when I was kid, I NEVER got toys except once a year, for Christmas--I got ONE toy. And you know what I got on my birthday? Not toys--pajamas.
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| Judah is terrified of the monkeys. Somehow I find that hilariously delicious. |
Man, I hope we're not creating a privileged, entitled monster.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
He, Me and You
One of the funnest and trippy-est (yes, Ms. English, I know those are not words) things about having a kid is seeing parts of you and the spouse in him.
Everyone is always so quick to point out that Judah looks EXACTLY like his dad--long face, skinny and tall, gravity-defying hair, etc. Seriously, we get stopped by total strangers in the grocery store all the time saying (mostly to the spouse)--Yep, definitely yours! Can't deny that one! He looks just like his dad!
We live in an urban ghetto area and even had HOMELESS people stop us on the street and comment that Judah looks "Just like his dad!" Ok, I get it. The resemblance is obvious.
But you know what? I think Judah looks a lot like me when he smiles.
But even more than physical resemblance, I think Judah takes after me in a lot of crucial ways.
First, he loves music, loves dancing, singing and drawing. These are things the spouse has never cared for a day in his life. Seriously, I've known my spouse for 15 years and NEVER, not ONCE have I seen him bust a move. Ever. For any reason. Judah, meanwhile, has been shaking his booty to the beat since, well, since he could stand on 2 feet.
Second, Judah is a total extrovert, loves socializing and has more empathy in his little pinky than my spouse has in his entire body. He's a people person. I first realized this when Judah was barely 1 and started to wince in sympathy anytime my spouse or I clumsily hurt ourselves. Seeing others in pain makes Judah feel awful.
Once the spouse was trying to pop a really deep zit and wincing in pain. And Judah kept saying "No, no, no, Daddy, no more!" He just couldn't handle it. Sweet boy.
As I was making these mental notes, I realized...hmmmm...I'm only noting the "good" traits that Judah supposedly resembles of me. I wonder what bad traits of mine he picked up?
And because I'm a selfish, delusional, conceited person, I couldn't think of any. Ha!
But of course I could think of lots of bad traits he picked up from my spouse!
But to show some measure of self-criticism and objectivity, I'll say this. Judah can sometimes be quite selfish and possessive. He loves to grab his toys and say "Mine! Es mio!" Even when no one is challenging him and it's just me and him.
Dude, I BOUGHT you that toy. Technically it's MINE.
And sadly, I'm pretty sure Judah got that trait from me. I've always known the spouse to be a generous person, but I can be kinda grabby. A little catty. A little possessive. A little jealous.
But isn't every girl?
Ugh, it was so much funner (yes, I know that's also not a real word!) pointing out the 'good' traits.
Everyone is always so quick to point out that Judah looks EXACTLY like his dad--long face, skinny and tall, gravity-defying hair, etc. Seriously, we get stopped by total strangers in the grocery store all the time saying (mostly to the spouse)--Yep, definitely yours! Can't deny that one! He looks just like his dad!
We live in an urban ghetto area and even had HOMELESS people stop us on the street and comment that Judah looks "Just like his dad!" Ok, I get it. The resemblance is obvious.
But you know what? I think Judah looks a lot like me when he smiles.
 |
| Me, not sure when but definitely before I turned 2. |
 |
| Judah, right before he turned 1. |
First, he loves music, loves dancing, singing and drawing. These are things the spouse has never cared for a day in his life. Seriously, I've known my spouse for 15 years and NEVER, not ONCE have I seen him bust a move. Ever. For any reason. Judah, meanwhile, has been shaking his booty to the beat since, well, since he could stand on 2 feet.
Second, Judah is a total extrovert, loves socializing and has more empathy in his little pinky than my spouse has in his entire body. He's a people person. I first realized this when Judah was barely 1 and started to wince in sympathy anytime my spouse or I clumsily hurt ourselves. Seeing others in pain makes Judah feel awful.
Once the spouse was trying to pop a really deep zit and wincing in pain. And Judah kept saying "No, no, no, Daddy, no more!" He just couldn't handle it. Sweet boy.
As I was making these mental notes, I realized...hmmmm...I'm only noting the "good" traits that Judah supposedly resembles of me. I wonder what bad traits of mine he picked up?
And because I'm a selfish, delusional, conceited person, I couldn't think of any. Ha!
But of course I could think of lots of bad traits he picked up from my spouse!
But to show some measure of self-criticism and objectivity, I'll say this. Judah can sometimes be quite selfish and possessive. He loves to grab his toys and say "Mine! Es mio!" Even when no one is challenging him and it's just me and him.
Dude, I BOUGHT you that toy. Technically it's MINE.
And sadly, I'm pretty sure Judah got that trait from me. I've always known the spouse to be a generous person, but I can be kinda grabby. A little catty. A little possessive. A little jealous.
But isn't every girl?
Ugh, it was so much funner (yes, I know that's also not a real word!) pointing out the 'good' traits.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Cut Me Out. Now.
Ugh. This is the second time this month I want someone to cut me out of my pants.
Even though I'm wearing maternity pants with an elastic waist, it's so freaking uncomfortable when I sit down! Not so bad when I leave for work in the morning--vertical. But after sitting a while at my desk I feel like I'm seeing spots due to my circulation being cut off around my waist.
I'm such a huge whale.
The last time this happened I literally took a pair of scissors and cut my pants waist-band. Off. All the way.
Worked great when I sat at my desk. In my office. By myself.
Not so great stepping out into the hallway. Where people can see you. And your weird cut-off pants.
I'm making a vow.
From this point on, I'm only wearing soft yoga pants or leggings. I'm so over 'real' clothing.
Now, excuse me while I try to find a pair of scissors to cut me out.
Even though I'm wearing maternity pants with an elastic waist, it's so freaking uncomfortable when I sit down! Not so bad when I leave for work in the morning--vertical. But after sitting a while at my desk I feel like I'm seeing spots due to my circulation being cut off around my waist.
I'm such a huge whale.
The last time this happened I literally took a pair of scissors and cut my pants waist-band. Off. All the way.
Worked great when I sat at my desk. In my office. By myself.
Not so great stepping out into the hallway. Where people can see you. And your weird cut-off pants.
I'm making a vow.
From this point on, I'm only wearing soft yoga pants or leggings. I'm so over 'real' clothing.
Now, excuse me while I try to find a pair of scissors to cut me out.
Monday, October 22, 2012
When Toddlers Dress Themselves
I only have one problem with the outfit Judah picked for himself:
(And no, it's not because he looks like a total insane weirdo.)
It's that, as a product of TWO Cal grads, his outfit is offensively sympathetic to Stanford. Apparently he loves that stupid red hat (that his nanny bought him), even though a lovely friend recently got him an awesome Cal cap (thanks Priscilla!).
I mean, it's like another fresh wound coming on the heels of Cal losing the Big Game this weekend. Betrayed by my own baby. Ouch, Brutus, ouch.
(And no, it's not because he looks like a total insane weirdo.)
It's that, as a product of TWO Cal grads, his outfit is offensively sympathetic to Stanford. Apparently he loves that stupid red hat (that his nanny bought him), even though a lovely friend recently got him an awesome Cal cap (thanks Priscilla!).
I mean, it's like another fresh wound coming on the heels of Cal losing the Big Game this weekend. Betrayed by my own baby. Ouch, Brutus, ouch.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Signing Our Lives Away
Why, what's this giant packet of documents on my couch you ask?
Oh nothing, just the signing documents to OUR NEW HOUSE!!!!
That's right, we are 80% through the whole home purchase process and by the end of this week, should be getting the keys, eek!
To be honest, I was never the home-owning aspiring type. In fact, I was never the have-a-kid (or 2) type either. Okay, as long as I'm coming clean, neither was I the marrying type!
Growing up I never fantasized about weddings and suburbs. I always thought I'd live some kind of Indiana Jones/Boho/Broadway musical/country cowgirl kind of life. Or live in Africa.
So maybe I was a little all over the place--but one place I NEVER thought about ending up was the suburbs. Married. With 2.5 kids.
So what the heck happened?
Ah, another time, another post...
For now, I have a suburban home to remodel, furnish, and move into! Pinterest, Home Depot, Ikea, Crate and Barrel, Overstock.com and Benjamin Moore--here I come!
Oh nothing, just the signing documents to OUR NEW HOUSE!!!!
That's right, we are 80% through the whole home purchase process and by the end of this week, should be getting the keys, eek!
To be honest, I was never the home-owning aspiring type. In fact, I was never the have-a-kid (or 2) type either. Okay, as long as I'm coming clean, neither was I the marrying type!
Growing up I never fantasized about weddings and suburbs. I always thought I'd live some kind of Indiana Jones/Boho/Broadway musical/country cowgirl kind of life. Or live in Africa.
So maybe I was a little all over the place--but one place I NEVER thought about ending up was the suburbs. Married. With 2.5 kids.
So what the heck happened?
Ah, another time, another post...
For now, I have a suburban home to remodel, furnish, and move into! Pinterest, Home Depot, Ikea, Crate and Barrel, Overstock.com and Benjamin Moore--here I come!
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
Judah By Proxy
Judah has an alter ego. His name is Brian.
I kid you not.
It all started about 6 months ago. I was trying to help Judah wind-down for his bedtime, giving him a bottle of milk in a darkened room (while cradling him in my arms because he HAS to be in that position) but the dude was squirmy as heck, playing with his bottle, dripping milk everywhere.
Wracking my brain in frustration for a way to distract him and keep him calm, I hit upon the brilliant idea of...yes people, shocking patent-pending innovation...telling him a story!
I know that doesn't sound earth-shattering, but up until then I've only told him stories in books (which is really the only way to keep him from squirming for any meaningful length of time). But I decided, hey, he understands a lot of words, maybe I can tell him a story without pictures! Cognitive paradigm-shift for this little dude...maybe it blew his mind a little.
So I started making stuff up about a boy named Brian. And because I was limited by the world that Judah knows, I pretty much made Brian do everything that Judah loves to do.
Brian went to the park (just like we had done that day). Brian climbed up the ladder and went down the slide. Brian played with his ball and threw it to mommy. Brian had mashed potatos and mac n' cheese for dinner (and not-so-coincidentally so did Judah).
Judah was quiet and mesmerized. It worked! I gave myself a genius-mom award.
And then forevermore Judah asked for Brian stories everyday. Multiple times a day. I took back my genius award cause it's kind of annoying to constantly have to make up some story about Brian. But on the other hand it's become quite a helfpul teaching tool.
I now make Brian go through things that I want to prep Judah for. Lately, half the Brian stories are about how Brian is using the potty and doesn't need diapers anymore. He's a big boy! To which Judah always pipes in, "I big boy! Grande! I no baby. Baby diaper." Yes, the goal is to potty-train Judah before baby #2 comes. Eek.
The other half of the Brian stories is about him getting a new baby and how to handle a baby. And moving to a new house.
For a while, Brian stories were about Brian doing bad things and getting time-outs. And sometimes, right in the middle of a melt-down, a story about Brian melting down about the exact same thing will help Judah calm down and accept not getting what he wants. Sometimes.
I wonder when Judah will finally catch on that Brian is Judah. I kind of think he already knows. It's just a little wierd when we actually meet people named Brian. Judah gets a puzzled look on his face.
Ah, mysteries of the toddler mind.
I kid you not.
It all started about 6 months ago. I was trying to help Judah wind-down for his bedtime, giving him a bottle of milk in a darkened room (while cradling him in my arms because he HAS to be in that position) but the dude was squirmy as heck, playing with his bottle, dripping milk everywhere.
Wracking my brain in frustration for a way to distract him and keep him calm, I hit upon the brilliant idea of...yes people, shocking patent-pending innovation...telling him a story!
I know that doesn't sound earth-shattering, but up until then I've only told him stories in books (which is really the only way to keep him from squirming for any meaningful length of time). But I decided, hey, he understands a lot of words, maybe I can tell him a story without pictures! Cognitive paradigm-shift for this little dude...maybe it blew his mind a little.
So I started making stuff up about a boy named Brian. And because I was limited by the world that Judah knows, I pretty much made Brian do everything that Judah loves to do.
Brian went to the park (just like we had done that day). Brian climbed up the ladder and went down the slide. Brian played with his ball and threw it to mommy. Brian had mashed potatos and mac n' cheese for dinner (and not-so-coincidentally so did Judah).
Judah was quiet and mesmerized. It worked! I gave myself a genius-mom award.
And then forevermore Judah asked for Brian stories everyday. Multiple times a day. I took back my genius award cause it's kind of annoying to constantly have to make up some story about Brian. But on the other hand it's become quite a helfpul teaching tool.
 |
| Exploring the world, one Brian story at a time. |
I now make Brian go through things that I want to prep Judah for. Lately, half the Brian stories are about how Brian is using the potty and doesn't need diapers anymore. He's a big boy! To which Judah always pipes in, "I big boy! Grande! I no baby. Baby diaper." Yes, the goal is to potty-train Judah before baby #2 comes. Eek.
The other half of the Brian stories is about him getting a new baby and how to handle a baby. And moving to a new house.
For a while, Brian stories were about Brian doing bad things and getting time-outs. And sometimes, right in the middle of a melt-down, a story about Brian melting down about the exact same thing will help Judah calm down and accept not getting what he wants. Sometimes.
I wonder when Judah will finally catch on that Brian is Judah. I kind of think he already knows. It's just a little wierd when we actually meet people named Brian. Judah gets a puzzled look on his face.
Ah, mysteries of the toddler mind.
Monday, October 08, 2012
Living with Rain Man
Remember this awesome movie from the 80's?
I won't give it away, but it's basically about Tom Cruise trying to handle his autistic brother (Dustin Hoffman) on a cross-country road trip.
The spouse and I randomly caught it on the tube this weekend and as soon as Hoffman's character started acting up, we both looked at each other and said "That's Judah!"
And furthermore, when we saw Cruise's exasperated and exhausted expressions, we said "That's me!"
Let me explain.
Hoffman's character has a lot of irrational demands.
He HAS to watch The People's Court every day. He HAS to buy boxer shorts from KMART ONLY. He refuses to travel by plane. He refuses to leave the house if it's raining. He HAS to eat only specific foods and then only with toothpicks. Etc, etc, etc.
Judah is pretty much the same.
He HAS to wear his WHITE flip-flops (not the brown ones that actually stay on) when we go out (which I forbid because they are literally 2 sizes too big and keep falling off his feet--which always precipitates a meltdown).
He HAS to have a LITTLE bottle of milk (not the 8 oz bottles, the small 5 oz bottles ONLY) when he wakes up, a story in his rocking chair, and a stroll around the housing complex after his nap with mommy (only mommy, NOT daddy) holding him in her arms (NOT in a stroller!) (otherwise he has a total meltdown).
He will ONLY wear certain pants or shirts (or have a total meltdown).
He HAS to sit in the driver's seat for at least 10 minutes every time we get home and HAS to get an Altoid and pop in a CD (or he has a total meltdown).
He HAS to drink out of a cup with no lid, which causes a total mess (or has a total meltdown). Etc, etc, etc.
But it seems that Judah has kicked up his, how should I put this...annoying, irrational, non-compliant behavior yet another notch or two over this past week. There were several times this last weekend that I honestly was one-thousandth of a hairs' breadth away from straight up screaming in frustration...like a crazy woman.
The only thing holding me back was remembering how much mom guilt I felt the last time I straight up lost it and screamed at him. (That scene in Rain Man where Tom Cruise stops the car, gets out and screams and rants at Dustin Hoffman? YES! That's me in my head!)
But there was a new twist--this time he kept saying "I do myself!!" Oh sweet toddler independence.
While mommy would love for you to pour your own juice, use the knife and cook your own food, there's no way I'll be letting you do these things by yourself for a very long time.
And, cue the meltdown.
I don't know how stay-at-home moms do it. I really don't.
After about 2 hours with the dude, I'm done. I'm just straight up burnt toast done.
So what do over-educated, real-world naive and helpless, amateur parents do? We buy books! Which is why we raided the parenting section at Amazon and bought the top 6 books on handling toddlerdom.
Probably should buy some books on deep-breathing and how to have the patience of the Dalai Lama too while we're at it.
The spouse and I randomly caught it on the tube this weekend and as soon as Hoffman's character started acting up, we both looked at each other and said "That's Judah!"
And furthermore, when we saw Cruise's exasperated and exhausted expressions, we said "That's me!"
Let me explain.
Hoffman's character has a lot of irrational demands.
He HAS to watch The People's Court every day. He HAS to buy boxer shorts from KMART ONLY. He refuses to travel by plane. He refuses to leave the house if it's raining. He HAS to eat only specific foods and then only with toothpicks. Etc, etc, etc.
Judah is pretty much the same.
He HAS to wear his WHITE flip-flops (not the brown ones that actually stay on) when we go out (which I forbid because they are literally 2 sizes too big and keep falling off his feet--which always precipitates a meltdown).
He HAS to have a LITTLE bottle of milk (not the 8 oz bottles, the small 5 oz bottles ONLY) when he wakes up, a story in his rocking chair, and a stroll around the housing complex after his nap with mommy (only mommy, NOT daddy) holding him in her arms (NOT in a stroller!) (otherwise he has a total meltdown).
He will ONLY wear certain pants or shirts (or have a total meltdown).
He HAS to sit in the driver's seat for at least 10 minutes every time we get home and HAS to get an Altoid and pop in a CD (or he has a total meltdown).
He HAS to drink out of a cup with no lid, which causes a total mess (or has a total meltdown). Etc, etc, etc.
 |
| An all too familiar scene from this weekend. |
The only thing holding me back was remembering how much mom guilt I felt the last time I straight up lost it and screamed at him. (That scene in Rain Man where Tom Cruise stops the car, gets out and screams and rants at Dustin Hoffman? YES! That's me in my head!)
But there was a new twist--this time he kept saying "I do myself!!" Oh sweet toddler independence.
While mommy would love for you to pour your own juice, use the knife and cook your own food, there's no way I'll be letting you do these things by yourself for a very long time.
And, cue the meltdown.
I don't know how stay-at-home moms do it. I really don't.
After about 2 hours with the dude, I'm done. I'm just straight up burnt toast done.
So what do over-educated, real-world naive and helpless, amateur parents do? We buy books! Which is why we raided the parenting section at Amazon and bought the top 6 books on handling toddlerdom.
 |
| Save us Amazon! You are our only hope. |
Friday, October 05, 2012
Yeah, I Said It.
Last week, I literally emailed this to my partner:
"I have serious concerns about this timeline. I don't want to sound melodramatic, but I think it just might kill me. Would it be possible to find another associate to help with this?"
I hesitated before hitting the send button.
It sounded so whiny, so complaining, so...wimpy. Honestly it was a manageable workload. It would've just required me to bill 12-15 hours a day which is totally doable if I were full-time. But I'm a part-time worker dang it! I shouldn't have to kill myself like that and miss out on yet another week with my kid (this has been the 6th or so bad week in a string of bad weeks).
So, with my stomach churning, I hit the send button.
She replied right away and told me she'll try to figure out how to relieve some of my stress, but honestly, everyone else is really jammed up right now too. And ended with this message: "Just keep calm and carry on, as they say."
On one hand I'm really glad we have the kind of relationship that allows me to question her staffing decisions. On the other hand, my blood pressure was through the roof for the most part of this week and I'm exhausted from early calls and late night drafting.
She did come through later on and found another associate to take over halfway on Wednesday. I wanted to give her a big hug for that...but we're not THAT close.
"I have serious concerns about this timeline. I don't want to sound melodramatic, but I think it just might kill me. Would it be possible to find another associate to help with this?"
I hesitated before hitting the send button.
It sounded so whiny, so complaining, so...wimpy. Honestly it was a manageable workload. It would've just required me to bill 12-15 hours a day which is totally doable if I were full-time. But I'm a part-time worker dang it! I shouldn't have to kill myself like that and miss out on yet another week with my kid (this has been the 6th or so bad week in a string of bad weeks).
So, with my stomach churning, I hit the send button.
She replied right away and told me she'll try to figure out how to relieve some of my stress, but honestly, everyone else is really jammed up right now too. And ended with this message: "Just keep calm and carry on, as they say."
On one hand I'm really glad we have the kind of relationship that allows me to question her staffing decisions. On the other hand, my blood pressure was through the roof for the most part of this week and I'm exhausted from early calls and late night drafting.
She did come through later on and found another associate to take over halfway on Wednesday. I wanted to give her a big hug for that...but we're not THAT close.
Wednesday, October 03, 2012
I'll Have What She's Having
Can I just say one more thing before I dig back into my Giant Pile of Work Docs? (The more I work, the more I procrastinate on the interwebz!)
This girl does NOT age.
Check her out--Ms. J. Alba is 31 and looks 18 in this recent pic!
I'm no Alba fan--the girl can not act to save her life. But I'll give her respect for one thing--genes that defy time.
Forever-young snaps girl!
This girl does NOT age.
Check her out--Ms. J. Alba is 31 and looks 18 in this recent pic!
I'm no Alba fan--the girl can not act to save her life. But I'll give her respect for one thing--genes that defy time.
Forever-young snaps girl!
Inspections (and bonus random thought)
Great news, the inspections went swimmingly! (And thank you Brits for giving us such an awesome way to say 'well'). The only real issue was an old heater that should be under a thousand bucks to fix. Phew!
Next hurdle--the appraisal. There's a very real possibility that the appraisal will come up 20k short, which would pose a huge problem for us. Fingers crossed again!
Lastly, a random thought to tickle your brain--riddle me this--why do men cheat with unattractive-looking women?
I was reading a recent Newsweek article about the Arnold Schwarzzeneger (yeah I'm not going to try to spell that correctly) scandal--remember that one? He cheated on Maria with their dour-looking, frumpy housekeeper and fathered a kid with said frumpy housekeeper? Yeah, that one.
Newsweek published a photo of the housekeeper and honestly, I don't get it. She looks...well, like your average latina Walmart shopper. Arnold is a celebrity of mega-proportions. He can have any (insecure and immature) hottie he wants and I'm sure he's had plenty. But why also have an affair with the frumpy housekeeper?
The author of the article said "...because the same reason why [some other dude] climbed Mt. Everest. Because she was there." That's it.
What?! I don't get that at all.
But then again, I don't want to climb Mt. Everest either.
Can someone explain?
Next hurdle--the appraisal. There's a very real possibility that the appraisal will come up 20k short, which would pose a huge problem for us. Fingers crossed again!
Lastly, a random thought to tickle your brain--riddle me this--why do men cheat with unattractive-looking women?
I was reading a recent Newsweek article about the Arnold Schwarzzeneger (yeah I'm not going to try to spell that correctly) scandal--remember that one? He cheated on Maria with their dour-looking, frumpy housekeeper and fathered a kid with said frumpy housekeeper? Yeah, that one.
Newsweek published a photo of the housekeeper and honestly, I don't get it. She looks...well, like your average latina Walmart shopper. Arnold is a celebrity of mega-proportions. He can have any (insecure and immature) hottie he wants and I'm sure he's had plenty. But why also have an affair with the frumpy housekeeper?
The author of the article said "...because the same reason why [some other dude] climbed Mt. Everest. Because she was there." That's it.
What?! I don't get that at all.
But then again, I don't want to climb Mt. Everest either.
Can someone explain?
Tuesday, October 02, 2012
Inspections!
Today is inspection day on the house. I have total butterflies since I know it might not turn out well--this was a foreclosed flipper home after all, let's be real.
And yes, more details to come on the house soon--pictures! Lotsa lotsa pictures!
But, like everything else in my life, will have to be on hold until after this awful work week is done.
And yes, more details to come on the house soon--pictures! Lotsa lotsa pictures!
But, like everything else in my life, will have to be on hold until after this awful work week is done.
Monday, October 01, 2012
House Hunters Part IV: Waiting to Exhale
Just a quick note to say...
We're in contract for the house!
We actually put in an offer before even seeing it because we had such a strong feeling about it. And we really wanted to avoid a bidding war. It worked! They accepted under the strict condition (among other things) that we close in 25 days--eek!
We finally saw the home yesterday and it did NOT disappoint. Hope everything goes well up to closing day. The biggest hurdle--the appraisal. Home prices have been skyrocketing in this area in the last 3 months but appraisals might not have picked up on that yet. Darn lag!
Anyway, I can't even think about all the millions of things to do to close since I'm completely snowed under at work. All the house stuff (and childcare) this week will fall on the poor spouse. Sorry honey!
We're in contract for the house!
We actually put in an offer before even seeing it because we had such a strong feeling about it. And we really wanted to avoid a bidding war. It worked! They accepted under the strict condition (among other things) that we close in 25 days--eek!
We finally saw the home yesterday and it did NOT disappoint. Hope everything goes well up to closing day. The biggest hurdle--the appraisal. Home prices have been skyrocketing in this area in the last 3 months but appraisals might not have picked up on that yet. Darn lag!
Anyway, I can't even think about all the millions of things to do to close since I'm completely snowed under at work. All the house stuff (and childcare) this week will fall on the poor spouse. Sorry honey!
Friday, September 28, 2012
House Hunters Part III, et. al.
Home just popped on the market yesterday and we are in FULL ON BID WAR MODE. BRING IT!
This house has EVERYTHING we want (well, everything major)...
--Good floorplan
--Updated everything--kitchen, bath, etc (flipper house)
--Just a 5-minute WALK to our top choice of elementary school
--Great, simple backyard
Fingers crossed again!
In other news, the next few weeks are going to be horrible. My work project has taken over every inch of life. 5:30 am conference calls, drafting until 1 or 2 am at night, all day all weekend drudge.
Just shoot me now.
And you'd think by now I would not miss Judah so much when I go to work. But everyday I pine away for him in my office (even though when I actually see him, I'm super annoyed at all his antics and constant willful disobedience).
And in other other news, I'm totally hooked on The Voice.
I've never seen this show until last week, but it's AWESOME. Still haven't figured out what happens after all the judges finish picking their teams, but I imagine it's going to be like American Idol?
And I'm not going to lie, I tear-up in every contestant back-story involving a loving parent and child. Ack! Parenthood has turned me into such an easily exploitable sap!
This house has EVERYTHING we want (well, everything major)...
--Good floorplan
--Updated everything--kitchen, bath, etc (flipper house)
--Just a 5-minute WALK to our top choice of elementary school
--Great, simple backyard
Fingers crossed again!
In other news, the next few weeks are going to be horrible. My work project has taken over every inch of life. 5:30 am conference calls, drafting until 1 or 2 am at night, all day all weekend drudge.
Just shoot me now.
And you'd think by now I would not miss Judah so much when I go to work. But everyday I pine away for him in my office (even though when I actually see him, I'm super annoyed at all his antics and constant willful disobedience).
And in other other news, I'm totally hooked on The Voice.
I've never seen this show until last week, but it's AWESOME. Still haven't figured out what happens after all the judges finish picking their teams, but I imagine it's going to be like American Idol?
And I'm not going to lie, I tear-up in every contestant back-story involving a loving parent and child. Ack! Parenthood has turned me into such an easily exploitable sap!
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
House Hunters Part II
We are in a bidding war. And we are going to lose.
The verdict will be passed in T-3 hours and I already know we're going to lose.
Why? Because we just don't love it enough to bid high enough to win it.
I guess it's back to the ol' drawing board, as they say.
The verdict will be passed in T-3 hours and I already know we're going to lose.
Why? Because we just don't love it enough to bid high enough to win it.
I guess it's back to the ol' drawing board, as they say.
Monday, September 24, 2012
House Hunters
We've been looking to buy a new home for the last year or so and have found something wrong with everything.
Too small, too big, too pricey, too close to electrical wires, bad backyard, noisy neighbros, bad floorplan, bad flow, narrow hallways, etc, etc, etc.
But now it's crunch time. The baby is coming (or as I like to call it--Babemaggedon--since I absolutely dread the chaos and sleep-deprivation that is bound to occur). So we need to get settled. Now! My spidey-mom nesting instincts are tingling like crazy.
So we put our picky preferences aside and bit the bullet--we put in an offer yesterday. We're competing against 2 other bidders and I'm biting my nails, hoping, hoping, hoping they'll choose us.
By the end of today, I'll either be celebrating with a bowl of icecream, or comforting myself with that same bowl.
I guess that's kind of a win-win.
Too small, too big, too pricey, too close to electrical wires, bad backyard, noisy neighbros, bad floorplan, bad flow, narrow hallways, etc, etc, etc.
But now it's crunch time. The baby is coming (or as I like to call it--Babemaggedon--since I absolutely dread the chaos and sleep-deprivation that is bound to occur). So we need to get settled. Now! My spidey-mom nesting instincts are tingling like crazy.
So we put our picky preferences aside and bit the bullet--we put in an offer yesterday. We're competing against 2 other bidders and I'm biting my nails, hoping, hoping, hoping they'll choose us.
By the end of today, I'll either be celebrating with a bowl of icecream, or comforting myself with that same bowl.
I guess that's kind of a win-win.
Friday, September 21, 2012
The Bump
Yesterday I had a short conversation with a coworker I haven't seen in a while...
She: Wow, you're pregnant! When are you due?
Me: In January!
She: Wow, that's still a ways off. You're huge! Are you having twins?
Me: [What I wanted to say] Wow, that's incredibly rude! You're soooo old and ancient-looking, you should know better. What are you, 75? 80? (In reality, she's probably just 60.)
Me: [What I actually said] Um, nope, just one baby!
But kinda makes me wonder, do I really look that big? You be the judge...
She: Wow, you're pregnant! When are you due?
Me: In January!
She: Wow, that's still a ways off. You're huge! Are you having twins?
Me: [What I wanted to say] Wow, that's incredibly rude! You're soooo old and ancient-looking, you should know better. What are you, 75? 80? (In reality, she's probably just 60.)
Me: [What I actually said] Um, nope, just one baby!
But kinda makes me wonder, do I really look that big? You be the judge...
 |
| Me and my giant middle. |
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Judah's Prayers
Me: Do you want to pray Judah?
Judah: Yeah! Pray!
Me: Close your eyes and fold your hands. Dear God...
Judah: Dear God...
Me: Thank you for my toys...
Judah: Thank you for my toys...
Me: and my choo-choos...
Judah: and my choo-choos...
Me: In Jesus' name
Judah: In Jesus' name
Me: Amen.
Judah: Amen!
Judah: Again!
Me: Okay...Dear God...
Judah: Dear God...
Me: Thank you for daddy
Judah: Thank you for daddy...and mommy, and Delia, and Naty, and Cello...
[Trust me, these are real people, long story.]
Me: In Jesus' name...
Judah: Amen!
Judah: Again!
Me: Okay, last time...Dear God...
Judah: Dear God...
Me: Help me...
Judah: Help me...
Me: Be a good boy.
Judah: *total silence*
Me: So, you don't want to be a good boy huh?
Judah: Yeah! Pray!
Me: Close your eyes and fold your hands. Dear God...
Judah: Dear God...
Me: Thank you for my toys...
Judah: Thank you for my toys...
Me: and my choo-choos...
Judah: and my choo-choos...
Me: In Jesus' name
Judah: In Jesus' name
Me: Amen.
Judah: Amen!
Judah: Again!
Me: Okay...Dear God...
Judah: Dear God...
Me: Thank you for daddy
Judah: Thank you for daddy...and mommy, and Delia, and Naty, and Cello...
[Trust me, these are real people, long story.]
Me: In Jesus' name...
Judah: Amen!
Judah: Again!
Me: Okay, last time...Dear God...
Judah: Dear God...
Me: Help me...
Judah: Help me...
Me: Be a good boy.
Judah: *total silence*
Me: So, you don't want to be a good boy huh?
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Be Nice
Hi! It's me, just real quick. I'm buried under piles and piles of work. But I just HAVE to get some things down. Cuz if I don't I'll explode, or rather, I'll just keep thinking about how much I want to blog about you and be completely distracted and inefficent at work.
Last Sunday you were a cranky screaming banshee. You started an epic meltdown 90 minutes before your usual bedtime and I took that as a sign that you were pretty darn ready to go to bed right that minute! You screamed and wailed no matter how I tried to soothe you so I decided I should just put you in your crib, close the door and walk out.
As you saw me turning to leave, you turned up your meltdown to high-terror-alert RED (which I've never seen before and definitely scared the crap out of me). Your voice got 50 decibals louder and you started jumping up and down like a frantic lunatic. So of course I stayed in your room and tried to calm you down.
And as you laid in bed wailing, you said "Mommy, no leave. Mommy, be nice. Be nice."
That took my breath away. You've always begged me to stay, but you've never asked me to 'be nice' before. It seems you've graduated to another level of cognition--not just asking for physical acts, but appealing to my psychological motivations--asking me to find it in my heart to be kind and stay with you. Unbelievable.
Lately, in general, you've just been so much more expressive about what you're feeling too. You've gone from merely describing things like "This is apple. This is blue," to actually talking about how you feel about them. Now you'll exclaim "I love it! I love it!" or "This is yummy! I like it!" or "This is fun!"
Or my favorite, which you'll say at random times "Mommy, I so happy." Awwww, I'm happy too baby.
You are quite the little communicator!
I guess it's no surprise as your dad is one of the MOST talkative people I've ever met, heck he does it for a living. And your mom ain't a quiet person either!
Last Sunday you were a cranky screaming banshee. You started an epic meltdown 90 minutes before your usual bedtime and I took that as a sign that you were pretty darn ready to go to bed right that minute! You screamed and wailed no matter how I tried to soothe you so I decided I should just put you in your crib, close the door and walk out.
As you saw me turning to leave, you turned up your meltdown to high-terror-alert RED (which I've never seen before and definitely scared the crap out of me). Your voice got 50 decibals louder and you started jumping up and down like a frantic lunatic. So of course I stayed in your room and tried to calm you down.
And as you laid in bed wailing, you said "Mommy, no leave. Mommy, be nice. Be nice."
That took my breath away. You've always begged me to stay, but you've never asked me to 'be nice' before. It seems you've graduated to another level of cognition--not just asking for physical acts, but appealing to my psychological motivations--asking me to find it in my heart to be kind and stay with you. Unbelievable.
Lately, in general, you've just been so much more expressive about what you're feeling too. You've gone from merely describing things like "This is apple. This is blue," to actually talking about how you feel about them. Now you'll exclaim "I love it! I love it!" or "This is yummy! I like it!" or "This is fun!"
Or my favorite, which you'll say at random times "Mommy, I so happy." Awwww, I'm happy too baby.
You are quite the little communicator!
I guess it's no surprise as your dad is one of the MOST talkative people I've ever met, heck he does it for a living. And your mom ain't a quiet person either!
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
I Gone Cry
Sometimes I feel such overwhelming mom guilt.
Yesterday I was trying to get Judah ready for bed and he once again acted up and refused to cooperate. He wiggled around and absolutely refused to let me put his overnight diapers on. Diaper creams, powders, flailing toddler kicks--it was a total mess. And then it was another WWF wrestling match to get his pajamas on.
Then when it came time to brush his teeth he would not open his mouth. Or he would open it and chomp down on the toothbrush sucking out all the delicious sweet toothpaste and very deftly avoided having the brush touch any tooth surface. Such a talented kid.
Throughout each of these struggles, I'd tell him he needs to be a good boy or else he's going to get a time out. And do you know how he responded? By repeating "I a bad boy! I bad boy! I want timeout!"
At the peak of this rebellion I just lost it. I yelled at him--JUDAH, OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND GIVE ME THE TOOTHBRUSH. NOWWWWWW!!!!!!
Something in my tone must've startled him (or maybe it was the sheer volume) because his eyes instantly welled up with tears. But instead of crying he just looked at me with his eyes brimming.
If he had just cried and wailed I wouldn't have felt so bad. It would've been just a normal reflexive reaction to the yelling.
But instead he looked at me and did something I never saw him do before. He said, "Mommy, I gone cry."
Why was he telling me this? Why not just cry?
It felt like he was asking for permission. Like he wanted to cry but was afraid that I'd get upset if he did. Like he was trying to be brave and not upset me but he wanted me to know that I hurt his feelings.
The pitifulness of it all just broke my heart. All night long as I was drifting to sleep I ruminated and replayed his little voice saying--Mommy, I gone cry.
It's so funny how parents know when it's ok for their child to be crying and when it's not. When I'm calmly dishing out discipline to Judah and he cries his head off, I feel nothing but rightness about the situation. I told you the consequence, you chose to disobey and now you are suffering the pain of those consequences.
And then there are times I feel nothing but guilt. The rage, the blown fuse, the completely frayed last nerve standing.
Nothing makes me understand like a whirling dervish toddler that, indeed, patience is a virtue...of which I have so little.
Yesterday I was trying to get Judah ready for bed and he once again acted up and refused to cooperate. He wiggled around and absolutely refused to let me put his overnight diapers on. Diaper creams, powders, flailing toddler kicks--it was a total mess. And then it was another WWF wrestling match to get his pajamas on.
Then when it came time to brush his teeth he would not open his mouth. Or he would open it and chomp down on the toothbrush sucking out all the delicious sweet toothpaste and very deftly avoided having the brush touch any tooth surface. Such a talented kid.
Throughout each of these struggles, I'd tell him he needs to be a good boy or else he's going to get a time out. And do you know how he responded? By repeating "I a bad boy! I bad boy! I want timeout!"
At the peak of this rebellion I just lost it. I yelled at him--JUDAH, OPEN YOUR MOUTH AND GIVE ME THE TOOTHBRUSH. NOWWWWWW!!!!!!
Something in my tone must've startled him (or maybe it was the sheer volume) because his eyes instantly welled up with tears. But instead of crying he just looked at me with his eyes brimming.
If he had just cried and wailed I wouldn't have felt so bad. It would've been just a normal reflexive reaction to the yelling.
But instead he looked at me and did something I never saw him do before. He said, "Mommy, I gone cry."
Why was he telling me this? Why not just cry?
It felt like he was asking for permission. Like he wanted to cry but was afraid that I'd get upset if he did. Like he was trying to be brave and not upset me but he wanted me to know that I hurt his feelings.
The pitifulness of it all just broke my heart. All night long as I was drifting to sleep I ruminated and replayed his little voice saying--Mommy, I gone cry.
It's so funny how parents know when it's ok for their child to be crying and when it's not. When I'm calmly dishing out discipline to Judah and he cries his head off, I feel nothing but rightness about the situation. I told you the consequence, you chose to disobey and now you are suffering the pain of those consequences.
And then there are times I feel nothing but guilt. The rage, the blown fuse, the completely frayed last nerve standing.
Nothing makes me understand like a whirling dervish toddler that, indeed, patience is a virtue...of which I have so little.
Friday, September 07, 2012
Cuzzies
It's so great to have Judah's cousin, Manfred, living nearby.
Manfred recently turned 1 this summer and the two of them are interacting a lot more now that Manfred can walk on his own and is generally more 'aware' of things around him.
I feel like they have similar facial features, but in very different face-shapes. Kinda like Mr. Potato-heads where one face is long and the other is round.
I hope they'll always live close by and have some great boyhood adventures together! I can only imagine the mischief these two silly-billies will get into left to their own devices!
 |
| We're just a coupla innocent kids left at the laundromat. Can we come home with you? |
Manfred recently turned 1 this summer and the two of them are interacting a lot more now that Manfred can walk on his own and is generally more 'aware' of things around him.
 |
| Just kidding! We are hilarious! |
I feel like they have similar facial features, but in very different face-shapes. Kinda like Mr. Potato-heads where one face is long and the other is round.
 |
| If I lean forward and he leans backward we won't tip over! |
I hope they'll always live close by and have some great boyhood adventures together! I can only imagine the mischief these two silly-billies will get into left to their own devices!
 |
| Did I mention that we're hilarious? |
Thursday, September 06, 2012
You at Two
Finally, the 3 week sh*tstorm of work has let up a little and I can write a little snapshot of you at the ripe old age of 2!
But what can I say about my sweet baby boy? How can I possibly describe all the wonderful ways you make me smile every time I think of you?
Sometimes I forget that you just turned 2 cuz you act like you understand everything I’m saying. You are so incredibly responsive and talkative and you continually shock me with your level of comprehension.
Here’s some of my favorite conversations with you:
You: Mommy, where my train?
Me: Um, I think it’s behind the couch.
(You walk behind the couch and spot your train)
You: Oh! Thank you!
We literally have this conversation 10 times a day. It’s that little “Oh!” that gets me every time. So adult sounding.
**********************
You: Mommy, where my truck?
Me: I don’t know Judah. You throw your toys everywhere.
You: Oh…don’t worry, I find it later.
**********************
You (while doing something dangerous): Mommy, look, look, look, look Mommy, look, look, Mommy, look,…
(But it sounds like: Mommy, luke, luke, luke...)
**********************
You (while doing something that makes me burst out laughing): I funny boy.
**********************
Me: Judah, you have to sit in your car seat. PLEASE! (after you resists for the 50th time)
You (magically, out of the thin blue air): Ok, I good boy! (and you give up all struggle and sit nicely in your seat).
Needless to say I LOVE when you decide to be a ‘good boy’.
***********************
Me: Ow! (after clumsily inflicting injury on myself somehow)
You: Mommy are you ok? Ok? Mommy?
Me: Yeah, I’m fine.
You: Massage, massage (while massaging me). Feel better?
***********************
Me (panicked because I've lost sight of you): Judah! Where are you?! Judah?!
You: I right here!
(But it sounds like: I rah hah!)
Your favorite activities are:
--Reading. You can literally sit and have us read you books until Jesus comes back. Sometimes you want the same story 5 times. You don’t seem to care what story it is but some favorites are The Lorax, Stop That Ball! (which you call Ball Tuba cuz there’s a scene where the ball gets stuck in a tuba), Sam and the Firefly, and any Curious George.
--Playing with Trains. A generous friend lent us a huge box full of Thomas trains and tracks and you’ve literally played with it every single day since you’ve gotten them 2 months ago. Every. Single. Day. You say “Mommy, I want play choo-choos. First build the track. Then choo-choo go round the track!”
--Driving. Every time we park the car in the driveway…EVERY. Single. Time. You always say “Judah drive, little bit, little bit. And then go home.” So if I want to avoid a total meltdown, I’ll put you in the driver’s seat as you proceed to push every button possible. The emergency lights, the interior car lights, the wipers. But most annoying is when you force feed me Altoids from the tin we keep in front. Maybe you’re just politely trying to tell me my breath stinks. But regardless, it’s annoying. And you always want to turn on the radio, “Music, no too loud” you always say.
--Playing with Nenes (that’s little kids in Spanish). You love playing with kids of all ages--1 to 91. You make me troll around the neighborhood with you looking for playmates. “Mommy, where the nenes?” you always ask. Playing with other toddlers usually entails just copying what they’re doing. Running around, flapping your arms, jumping up and down. It’s weird what passes for socialization at your age.
Your favorite foods are:
--Spicy chips! Specifically, Salsa Picante chips from Tias. They are seriously adult-spicy. You MUST dip them in sour cream and sip milk to wash down the spice.
--Strawberries. I love how you call them strawbay-bays. You’re also pretty fond of blackberries and raspberries although you strangely won’t tolerate blueberries.
--Watermelon (Wa-wa-melon)
--Cantaloupe (Camolope)
--Apples (which you always have to inform me is: manzanas)
--Peanuts (no nut allergies here thankfully!)
As you can tell, you basically only like fruit and snack foods. You’re not at all into ‘real’ food and NEVER eat whatever we’re eating. Much to my consternation, you won’t try all the regular ‘kid foods’ like pizza, hot dogs, chicken nuggets, fish sticks, or hamburgers. But the ONE thing you’ll eat is mac n’ cheese. Ugh. You drive us crazy worrying about how to fix you food that you’ll actually eat.
Well, those are the basics for now. At the beginning of age 2 your big personality has blossomed in a major way--outgoing, empathetic, social, oppositional, picky, and oh so talkative.
I call you my big boy and you say “Mommy, I big boy” all the time. But when I look at you lying perfectly still in your crib, asleep, I see a chubby cheeked baby boy with tiny hands and tiny feet, swallowed up in a child-sized blanket.
My sweet baby. My big boy. How do I keep you with me?
But what can I say about my sweet baby boy? How can I possibly describe all the wonderful ways you make me smile every time I think of you?
Sometimes I forget that you just turned 2 cuz you act like you understand everything I’m saying. You are so incredibly responsive and talkative and you continually shock me with your level of comprehension.
Here’s some of my favorite conversations with you:
You: Mommy, where my train?
Me: Um, I think it’s behind the couch.
(You walk behind the couch and spot your train)
You: Oh! Thank you!
We literally have this conversation 10 times a day. It’s that little “Oh!” that gets me every time. So adult sounding.
**********************
You: Mommy, where my truck?
Me: I don’t know Judah. You throw your toys everywhere.
You: Oh…don’t worry, I find it later.
**********************
You (while doing something dangerous): Mommy, look, look, look, look Mommy, look, look, Mommy, look,…
(But it sounds like: Mommy, luke, luke, luke...)
**********************
You (while doing something that makes me burst out laughing): I funny boy.
**********************
Me: Judah, you have to sit in your car seat. PLEASE! (after you resists for the 50th time)
You (magically, out of the thin blue air): Ok, I good boy! (and you give up all struggle and sit nicely in your seat).
Needless to say I LOVE when you decide to be a ‘good boy’.
***********************
Me: Ow! (after clumsily inflicting injury on myself somehow)
You: Mommy are you ok? Ok? Mommy?
Me: Yeah, I’m fine.
You: Massage, massage (while massaging me). Feel better?
***********************
Me (panicked because I've lost sight of you): Judah! Where are you?! Judah?!
You: I right here!
(But it sounds like: I rah hah!)
Your favorite activities are:
--Reading. You can literally sit and have us read you books until Jesus comes back. Sometimes you want the same story 5 times. You don’t seem to care what story it is but some favorites are The Lorax, Stop That Ball! (which you call Ball Tuba cuz there’s a scene where the ball gets stuck in a tuba), Sam and the Firefly, and any Curious George.
--Playing with Trains. A generous friend lent us a huge box full of Thomas trains and tracks and you’ve literally played with it every single day since you’ve gotten them 2 months ago. Every. Single. Day. You say “Mommy, I want play choo-choos. First build the track. Then choo-choo go round the track!”
--Driving. Every time we park the car in the driveway…EVERY. Single. Time. You always say “Judah drive, little bit, little bit. And then go home.” So if I want to avoid a total meltdown, I’ll put you in the driver’s seat as you proceed to push every button possible. The emergency lights, the interior car lights, the wipers. But most annoying is when you force feed me Altoids from the tin we keep in front. Maybe you’re just politely trying to tell me my breath stinks. But regardless, it’s annoying. And you always want to turn on the radio, “Music, no too loud” you always say.
--Playing with Nenes (that’s little kids in Spanish). You love playing with kids of all ages--1 to 91. You make me troll around the neighborhood with you looking for playmates. “Mommy, where the nenes?” you always ask. Playing with other toddlers usually entails just copying what they’re doing. Running around, flapping your arms, jumping up and down. It’s weird what passes for socialization at your age.
Your favorite foods are:
--Spicy chips! Specifically, Salsa Picante chips from Tias. They are seriously adult-spicy. You MUST dip them in sour cream and sip milk to wash down the spice.
--Strawberries. I love how you call them strawbay-bays. You’re also pretty fond of blackberries and raspberries although you strangely won’t tolerate blueberries.
--Watermelon (Wa-wa-melon)
--Cantaloupe (Camolope)
--Apples (which you always have to inform me is: manzanas)
--Peanuts (no nut allergies here thankfully!)
As you can tell, you basically only like fruit and snack foods. You’re not at all into ‘real’ food and NEVER eat whatever we’re eating. Much to my consternation, you won’t try all the regular ‘kid foods’ like pizza, hot dogs, chicken nuggets, fish sticks, or hamburgers. But the ONE thing you’ll eat is mac n’ cheese. Ugh. You drive us crazy worrying about how to fix you food that you’ll actually eat.
Well, those are the basics for now. At the beginning of age 2 your big personality has blossomed in a major way--outgoing, empathetic, social, oppositional, picky, and oh so talkative.
I call you my big boy and you say “Mommy, I big boy” all the time. But when I look at you lying perfectly still in your crib, asleep, I see a chubby cheeked baby boy with tiny hands and tiny feet, swallowed up in a child-sized blanket.
My sweet baby. My big boy. How do I keep you with me?
Tuesday, September 04, 2012
Trying and Failing
I've wanted to blog for a long time on the unhappy topic of infertility.
It seems like such a plague for my generation. I've known so many friends who've tried and failed and tried and failed and went through months or years of heart-aching inability to conceive and/or carry to term.
No one tells you that trying to get pregnant in your 30's is hard. No one tells you that fertility peaks around 20-24 and it's a long, slow but ever steady decline from there. And if anyone ever were to say these things, they would be pilloried by the media as oppressively misogynistic--trying to keep women barefoot and pregnant and out of the circle of power.
Society tells us to be independent women. To compete with the boys. To go to college and grad school. And then to throw ourselves into brilliant careers because, what the heck was all that schooling for after all?
And then our hearts tell us to make families. And our bodies try and fail us.
Eventually, most of us do have kids. But it wasn't/isn't an easy, straightforward path. Facebook status updates are full of success announcements, but show none of the failures.
For every update that says--there's a bun in the oven! There are hundreds of unwritten updates that should say--Year 2 of trying, still no bun! And for every birth announcement, sadly, there are many and more unwritten miscarriage announcements.
And sometimes the first baby is not so hard to come by, but subsequent ones may be much much harder. I was totally caught off guard when it took 5x longer to conceive this 2nd baby than the first. I'd never heard of second child infertility until I started googling around for answers. You always hear that once the fertility spigot has been opened, so to speak, it just keeps comin'! But if you google that phrase, you'll see that's far from the truth.
Just yesterday a friend told me her 4-year old son is dying to have a sibling and she's been trying forever to get him just that. My heart totally went out to her. I could see the conflicted look of pain in her eyes as she noted my belly bump. A look I know all too well. I no longer joke with people about their plans for having 2nd kids because you never know how hard or how long they've been trying...and failing.
I hate writing about this topic. I hate bumping up against the hard realities of natural laws. And I hate the sour, bitter taste of trying and failing. But I feel like it's a major diservice to women not to let them know. To not say something. Our society already does a heckuva job covering up these hard truths.
May you never be too soon old and too late wise.
P.S. This is a great, but sadly too rare article on a personal fertility crisis from the WSJ.
It seems like such a plague for my generation. I've known so many friends who've tried and failed and tried and failed and went through months or years of heart-aching inability to conceive and/or carry to term.
No one tells you that trying to get pregnant in your 30's is hard. No one tells you that fertility peaks around 20-24 and it's a long, slow but ever steady decline from there. And if anyone ever were to say these things, they would be pilloried by the media as oppressively misogynistic--trying to keep women barefoot and pregnant and out of the circle of power.
Society tells us to be independent women. To compete with the boys. To go to college and grad school. And then to throw ourselves into brilliant careers because, what the heck was all that schooling for after all?
And then our hearts tell us to make families. And our bodies try and fail us.
Eventually, most of us do have kids. But it wasn't/isn't an easy, straightforward path. Facebook status updates are full of success announcements, but show none of the failures.
For every update that says--there's a bun in the oven! There are hundreds of unwritten updates that should say--Year 2 of trying, still no bun! And for every birth announcement, sadly, there are many and more unwritten miscarriage announcements.
And sometimes the first baby is not so hard to come by, but subsequent ones may be much much harder. I was totally caught off guard when it took 5x longer to conceive this 2nd baby than the first. I'd never heard of second child infertility until I started googling around for answers. You always hear that once the fertility spigot has been opened, so to speak, it just keeps comin'! But if you google that phrase, you'll see that's far from the truth.
Just yesterday a friend told me her 4-year old son is dying to have a sibling and she's been trying forever to get him just that. My heart totally went out to her. I could see the conflicted look of pain in her eyes as she noted my belly bump. A look I know all too well. I no longer joke with people about their plans for having 2nd kids because you never know how hard or how long they've been trying...and failing.
I hate writing about this topic. I hate bumping up against the hard realities of natural laws. And I hate the sour, bitter taste of trying and failing. But I feel like it's a major diservice to women not to let them know. To not say something. Our society already does a heckuva job covering up these hard truths.
May you never be too soon old and too late wise.
P.S. This is a great, but sadly too rare article on a personal fertility crisis from the WSJ.
Sunday, September 02, 2012
Why?
This has been another doozy of a week. Most days I worked 12-15 hours and slept at 1 or 2 am. But instead of catching some extra zzzzz's I just HAVE to blog about you a little bit. It's like scratching an itch. Sigh, the insanity of parenthood.
But I just have to commemorate 2 things you did this week that really surprised me.
First, you went up to your auntie as she was reading a magazine and told her, "I lonely," to indicate that you wanted her to play with you. What?! That blows my mind.
How the heck did you ever learn that concept or that word? I've never ever heard you say the word lonely before (nor do I remember using that word in your presence). I think maybe your dad uses that word when you cry and says stuff like "Are you sad? Are you lonely for mommy?"
But even so, I'm so impressed that you could figure out what that abstract concept meant in one context and translate it to another one completely.
Second, you've started to ask "Why?" Before you always asked "Who that mommy?" (and you used 'who' to indicate the pronouns 'who' and 'what'). Or "How that work mommy?" Or "Where daddy?" But a couple days ago you started to get on that never-ending train of asking "Why?"
Just today you asked about the man next door.
"Who that mommy?"
"Our neighbor."
"Why?"
"Because he lives next to us."
"Why?"
"Umm....he...just does."
I was hoping we could avoid the endless strings of 'why' until you were 4 or 5, but nope. That train has left the station. Frankly I don't mind explaining things ad absurdum, but how the heck am I supposed to explain something as complicated as 3-4 levels of causality or reasoning to a 2 year old?!
"The sky is blue."
"Why mommy?"
"Because...molecules in the air scatter blue light from the sun more than they scatter red light."
Yeah, that's not going to fly.
But I just have to commemorate 2 things you did this week that really surprised me.
First, you went up to your auntie as she was reading a magazine and told her, "I lonely," to indicate that you wanted her to play with you. What?! That blows my mind.
How the heck did you ever learn that concept or that word? I've never ever heard you say the word lonely before (nor do I remember using that word in your presence). I think maybe your dad uses that word when you cry and says stuff like "Are you sad? Are you lonely for mommy?"
But even so, I'm so impressed that you could figure out what that abstract concept meant in one context and translate it to another one completely.
Second, you've started to ask "Why?" Before you always asked "Who that mommy?" (and you used 'who' to indicate the pronouns 'who' and 'what'). Or "How that work mommy?" Or "Where daddy?" But a couple days ago you started to get on that never-ending train of asking "Why?"
Just today you asked about the man next door.
"Who that mommy?"
"Our neighbor."
"Why?"
"Because he lives next to us."
"Why?"
"Umm....he...just does."
I was hoping we could avoid the endless strings of 'why' until you were 4 or 5, but nope. That train has left the station. Frankly I don't mind explaining things ad absurdum, but how the heck am I supposed to explain something as complicated as 3-4 levels of causality or reasoning to a 2 year old?!
"The sky is blue."
"Why mommy?"
"Because...molecules in the air scatter blue light from the sun more than they scatter red light."
Yeah, that's not going to fly.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
It's a...
I was carrying lower this time around.
I had much more severe morning sickness and nausea this time.
I did not have an explosion of acne all over me this time.
And I just had this feeling...this one is different...
But, you can't argue with the very prominant penis on the ultrasound screen!
It's another boy!!!!!!
I'm not going to lie, when I saw that boy part pop up on the screen, something in me wilted. I instantly thought...maybe we should try again...hmmm...
If this is our last one, I'll never get to brush someone's long hair and put her in pretty little dresses, and revel in all those sweet little girl things.
But having another boy is good too, especially for Judah. I'm excited for him to have a best bud for life (at least I hope they'll get along swimmingly). And we'll save a ton of money on clothes and toys. This second guy is going to live in a world of hand-me-downs. Sorry dude.
I thought the spouse would be really disappointed (more like totally crushed) since he's been wanting a girl ever since the first baby. But he actually took it very well and was comforting me in the end.
"Look at it this way," he said, "having a boy is great because it negates a major risk..."
"What risk?" I asked completely confused. Was there some terrible genetic history I don't know about?
"That we'd end up with a girl that looks like me!"
Ha ha ha ha ha. Yes. That would be very bad. Very very bad. Bless his heart, my husband looks fine as a dude, but my husband in a wig?
Now that's a tough pill to swallow.
I had much more severe morning sickness and nausea this time.
I did not have an explosion of acne all over me this time.
And I just had this feeling...this one is different...
But, you can't argue with the very prominant penis on the ultrasound screen!
It's another boy!!!!!!
I'm not going to lie, when I saw that boy part pop up on the screen, something in me wilted. I instantly thought...maybe we should try again...hmmm...
If this is our last one, I'll never get to brush someone's long hair and put her in pretty little dresses, and revel in all those sweet little girl things.
But having another boy is good too, especially for Judah. I'm excited for him to have a best bud for life (at least I hope they'll get along swimmingly). And we'll save a ton of money on clothes and toys. This second guy is going to live in a world of hand-me-downs. Sorry dude.
I thought the spouse would be really disappointed (more like totally crushed) since he's been wanting a girl ever since the first baby. But he actually took it very well and was comforting me in the end.
"Look at it this way," he said, "having a boy is great because it negates a major risk..."
"What risk?" I asked completely confused. Was there some terrible genetic history I don't know about?
"That we'd end up with a girl that looks like me!"
Ha ha ha ha ha. Yes. That would be very bad. Very very bad. Bless his heart, my husband looks fine as a dude, but my husband in a wig?
Now that's a tough pill to swallow.
Please Make it Stop
Pounding headache.
So so so tired.
For the last 10 days I've been working a grueling schedule--waking up at 4 or 5 am for East Coast conference calls and sleeping at 10 or 11 pm drafting agreements.
This was interrupted by 2 days in the mountains on a retreat. And while it was awesome, it sucked in terms of rest. The toddler did not adjust well to being in a new place. He wanted ONLY mommy to pat him on the back all through the night to help him sleep. And there was a hunger strike involved.
At the end of the 2 days, Judah was a MONSTER. Crying and whining about everything all the time. And of course wanting mommy ONLY.
And from that pleasant scene, I jumped back into the fire of work. Yesterday I got to the office at 7am and finally put down my pencil at 2am. Oh my aching head. And today promises to be another near all-nighter. AAARGGGHGHHH.
I try to leave the office at a decent time to spend at least 1-2 hours with Judah before his bedtime, but it's clear that he misses me and has turned up his clingy-ness to an all-time epic level.
When it's just the spouse watching him, he is constantly crying and whining for mommy. He never wakes up after we put him to bed, but he woke up 3 times last night, crying out for mommy. When I AM around, he insists that I'm holding him constantly. Poor guy.
I don't know how women can work much more grueling hours than I do. I feel so bad for Judah and there's no way I can "parent" him properly because I don't want our precious time together to involve tears and conflict.
So I let him eat crap for dinner--chips and gummy bears! And I let him throw his toys and crayons everywhere, only half-heartedly suggesting that we clean it up. And yes, I'll do an extra long bedtime routine although this can lead to nothing good down the road in terms of his expectations for the future.
Judah used to have at least 2 or 3 'timeouts' during the day. He hasn't had a 'timeout' for almost 2 weeks. And it's NOT because he suddenly sprouted angel wings.
But there is one highlight to my hectic days.
Judah and the spouse call me every evening around 6 pm to ask when I'll be coming home. And he shouts over the phone loud and clear--I love you mommy!
I love you baby!
So so so tired.
For the last 10 days I've been working a grueling schedule--waking up at 4 or 5 am for East Coast conference calls and sleeping at 10 or 11 pm drafting agreements.
This was interrupted by 2 days in the mountains on a retreat. And while it was awesome, it sucked in terms of rest. The toddler did not adjust well to being in a new place. He wanted ONLY mommy to pat him on the back all through the night to help him sleep. And there was a hunger strike involved.
At the end of the 2 days, Judah was a MONSTER. Crying and whining about everything all the time. And of course wanting mommy ONLY.
And from that pleasant scene, I jumped back into the fire of work. Yesterday I got to the office at 7am and finally put down my pencil at 2am. Oh my aching head. And today promises to be another near all-nighter. AAARGGGHGHHH.
I try to leave the office at a decent time to spend at least 1-2 hours with Judah before his bedtime, but it's clear that he misses me and has turned up his clingy-ness to an all-time epic level.
When it's just the spouse watching him, he is constantly crying and whining for mommy. He never wakes up after we put him to bed, but he woke up 3 times last night, crying out for mommy. When I AM around, he insists that I'm holding him constantly. Poor guy.
I don't know how women can work much more grueling hours than I do. I feel so bad for Judah and there's no way I can "parent" him properly because I don't want our precious time together to involve tears and conflict.
So I let him eat crap for dinner--chips and gummy bears! And I let him throw his toys and crayons everywhere, only half-heartedly suggesting that we clean it up. And yes, I'll do an extra long bedtime routine although this can lead to nothing good down the road in terms of his expectations for the future.
Judah used to have at least 2 or 3 'timeouts' during the day. He hasn't had a 'timeout' for almost 2 weeks. And it's NOT because he suddenly sprouted angel wings.
But there is one highlight to my hectic days.
Judah and the spouse call me every evening around 6 pm to ask when I'll be coming home. And he shouts over the phone loud and clear--I love you mommy!
I love you baby!
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
The Secret
Remember that think-positive 'religion' that Oprah was touting a few years back--the Secret?
You're supposed to send out positive thought vibrations into the universe and the 'laws of attraction' will make the universe respond by giving you what you want!
Well, I think that's pretty illogical and pure wishful thinking--literally I suppose, ha ha.
But today, I can't help but send out some GIRL vibes. I've got GIRL on the brain cuz tomorrow morning I get to find out whether we're having a GIRL or not. I hope it's a GIRL. I hope it's a GIRL. I hope it's a GIRL.
GIRL, GIRL, GIRL, GIRL, GIRL.
That word looks really wierd to me now.
GIRL, GIRL, GIRL, GIRLY, GIRL.
Wow, Girl looks a lot like Grill.
Reminds me of the time the spouse was in 3rd grade and made bookmarks to sell to his classmates. He decided he needed to 'market' to the girls and made one that was supposed to say "Girls Rule!"
But he actually wrote "Grils Rule!"
Ha ha ha ha ha.
Wait, I don't want to confuse the universe with this line of thought. Please don't send me a grill. I want a GIRL. GIRL. GIRL.
Shoot, now I can't stop thinking of grills. Crap.
You're supposed to send out positive thought vibrations into the universe and the 'laws of attraction' will make the universe respond by giving you what you want!
Well, I think that's pretty illogical and pure wishful thinking--literally I suppose, ha ha.
But today, I can't help but send out some GIRL vibes. I've got GIRL on the brain cuz tomorrow morning I get to find out whether we're having a GIRL or not. I hope it's a GIRL. I hope it's a GIRL. I hope it's a GIRL.
GIRL, GIRL, GIRL, GIRL, GIRL.
That word looks really wierd to me now.
GIRL, GIRL, GIRL, GIRLY, GIRL.
Wow, Girl looks a lot like Grill.
Reminds me of the time the spouse was in 3rd grade and made bookmarks to sell to his classmates. He decided he needed to 'market' to the girls and made one that was supposed to say "Girls Rule!"
But he actually wrote "Grils Rule!"
Ha ha ha ha ha.
Wait, I don't want to confuse the universe with this line of thought. Please don't send me a grill. I want a GIRL. GIRL. GIRL.
Shoot, now I can't stop thinking of grills. Crap.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Overwhelmed
Life, be not proud.
For you can end at any moment.
At 20-odd weeks, without any signs of warning.
I'm thinking of you, brave friend, as I enter the period of your sudden tragedy.
Thank you for trusting us with your dark hour.
But death, be not proud.
For the perishable will be clothed with the imperishable, and
The mortal with immortality, and
The saying that is written HAS come true:
Death has been swallowed up
Overwhelmed
In victory.
Disclaimer--Sorry for the scare everyone. This post is not about me, but a friend.
For you can end at any moment.
At 20-odd weeks, without any signs of warning.
I'm thinking of you, brave friend, as I enter the period of your sudden tragedy.
Thank you for trusting us with your dark hour.
But death, be not proud.
For the perishable will be clothed with the imperishable, and
The mortal with immortality, and
The saying that is written HAS come true:
Death has been swallowed up
Overwhelmed
In victory.
Disclaimer--Sorry for the scare everyone. This post is not about me, but a friend.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Oh yeah, did I mention...?
This is a little awkward.
So I'll just come out and say it.
Happy news--I'm pregnant!
I'm not sure why I haven't mentioned it on my blog yet but now that I'm almost done with month 5 it seems like high time for it to make an appearance.
Part of not saying anything is that pregnancy is kinda boring. Yeah, there's the awful nausea (which was 10x WORSE this time around than with Judah) and the exhaustion. But other than that...watcha gonna say?
But around month 5 things get reeeeeeeaaaaaaal interesting cuz we get to find out the gender next week! I'm not going to lie--we really really really really REALLY hope its going to be a girl this time. The spouse has ALWAYS wanted a girl and I've always wanted one of each and we're both NOT a fan of having more than 2 kids. So this is kinda it. Our last shot at a sweet baby girl.
How does Judah feel about a baby on the way?
At first I'm not sure he understood what was going on, but lately he's been exhibiting some interesting signs of comprehension.
He often tells people "Baby tummy" and points to my stomach. And he'll often plop down on the couch and say "I tired! Baby tummy." Which is a pretty accurate imitation of what I did when I was explaining why I was too tired to get up off the couch during my entire first trimester.
But last night takes the cake.
I was cuddling with him before bedtime and he said "I want see baby." So I lifted up my shirt and he giggled and said "Hug baby! I love you, baby!" and proceeded to plant kisses on my belly. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
And then he said "Baby bottle" and pretended to give a bottle to my belly and "Baby, massage" and started massaging my belly. Awwwwwwwwwwwwww.
But then the very next morning Mr. Hyde announces "NO BABY! I don't want baby!" and starts to kick furiously in the direction of my tummy.
Complicated feelings, this one.
So I'll just come out and say it.
Happy news--I'm pregnant!
I'm not sure why I haven't mentioned it on my blog yet but now that I'm almost done with month 5 it seems like high time for it to make an appearance.
Part of not saying anything is that pregnancy is kinda boring. Yeah, there's the awful nausea (which was 10x WORSE this time around than with Judah) and the exhaustion. But other than that...watcha gonna say?
But around month 5 things get reeeeeeeaaaaaaal interesting cuz we get to find out the gender next week! I'm not going to lie--we really really really really REALLY hope its going to be a girl this time. The spouse has ALWAYS wanted a girl and I've always wanted one of each and we're both NOT a fan of having more than 2 kids. So this is kinda it. Our last shot at a sweet baby girl.
How does Judah feel about a baby on the way?
At first I'm not sure he understood what was going on, but lately he's been exhibiting some interesting signs of comprehension.
He often tells people "Baby tummy" and points to my stomach. And he'll often plop down on the couch and say "I tired! Baby tummy." Which is a pretty accurate imitation of what I did when I was explaining why I was too tired to get up off the couch during my entire first trimester.
But last night takes the cake.
I was cuddling with him before bedtime and he said "I want see baby." So I lifted up my shirt and he giggled and said "Hug baby! I love you, baby!" and proceeded to plant kisses on my belly. Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
And then he said "Baby bottle" and pretended to give a bottle to my belly and "Baby, massage" and started massaging my belly. Awwwwwwwwwwwwww.
But then the very next morning Mr. Hyde announces "NO BABY! I don't want baby!" and starts to kick furiously in the direction of my tummy.
Complicated feelings, this one.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Birthday Photo Dump
I am so camera/photo-editing-dumb it's embarassing. But this is the best I can do with the rest of the pics we have of your birthday.
Actually we're lucky to even have these pics as my good ol' point and shoot decided to malfunction that day. What the heck?! But thank goodness for friends with iphones! Smart phones, I salute you.
At least we have one lovely high-res photo for the ol' digital scrapbook thanks to our friend with a fancy camera. I gotta get me one of those babies--look at the amazing photo quality!
Actually we're lucky to even have these pics as my good ol' point and shoot decided to malfunction that day. What the heck?! But thank goodness for friends with iphones! Smart phones, I salute you.
At least we have one lovely high-res photo for the ol' digital scrapbook thanks to our friend with a fancy camera. I gotta get me one of those babies--look at the amazing photo quality!
Monday, August 13, 2012
Two!
Happy 2nd Birthday Little Man!
Mommy's stuck in a 7+ hour conference call so it's a good thing we celebrated yesterday.
Incidentally some businessman on the call keeps saying "I'm just going to speak out loud..." when I know he means he's just going to THINK out loud. To say he's speaking out loud is completely redundant. So irksome. Anywho...
I can't wait to be done with this crazy deal so I can write a monstrous post about you at 2. You are such a big boy now!
Mommy's stuck in a 7+ hour conference call so it's a good thing we celebrated yesterday.
 |
| Birthday boy, church nursery buddies, balloons, and cupcakes! |
I can't wait to be done with this crazy deal so I can write a monstrous post about you at 2. You are such a big boy now!
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
The So-Called Life of a Working Mom
I posted a link to this entry a few months back but thought I should actually put it on my blog as a backup. If anyone wonders why being a corporate biglaw firm working mom sucks, here you go. (And keep in mind I probably have one of the cushiest corporate biglaw jobs ever--70% part-time and a very understanding boss.)
The So-Called Life of a Working Mom
So a lot of people have asked me what it’s like to be a working mom.
Actually, that’s not true. No one has asked me that.
But you know, I bet people are somewhat curious. Because when I was considering whether to go back to work after maternity leave, I desperately wanted to know.
What is it like to leave your baby for hours at a time in a stranger’s care? Will you feel sad for missing all the ‘firsts’? Will it weaken the bond between the two of you? Will you be replaced as the most important person in your baby’s eyes?
I especially wanted to know what it would be like for a corporate attorney working mom. My job is notoriously un-plannable. We are on-call 24-7, 365, resulting in many cancelled vacations and telling my family every year--I might have to miss Christmas, start without me! When a deal is on, it is ON and you work night and day like kids in a sweatshop until the deal is done. If you need to fly out to another coast 3 weekends in a row to bash it out, you do it. Heck, if you need to fly to another continent to bash it out, you do that too.
How could I possibly be a somewhat present mom with a job like that?! On top of it all, I was a nursing Nazi. For some reason, I was fervently attached to the idea that my baby MUST DRINK MY MILK for at least one year. Anything less would feel utterly demoralizing. But let’s just say that high-stress and lactation do not mix. Making milk requires as much psychological conditioning as anything else. And who is going to let you take a pump-break in the middle of a 7 hour client meeting?!
The more I considered these obstacles looming ahead of me, the more I wanted to just throw in the towel and not go back to work. But the ever level-headed spouse reminded me that we really needed my income and it just might not be so bad. Why don’t we give it a try? If it’s really all that bad, I can quit. Anytime.
I looked at my $300 breast pump and thought, that’s going to be the dumbest investment I ever made. I’ll use it for 2 weeks and then quit. Well, it’s been more than a year since I’ve returned to work from maternity leave, so shut my mouth and color me surprised!
So what has it been like?
In a word: exhausting.
If ever in my life I have felt tested and stretched, it was laughably ridiculous compared to the unrelenting strain of working a high-stress corporate job and trying to be as present as possible with a high-need insatiably curious baby.
Being a working mom is like having 2 jobs. No, it IS having 2 jobs. You work all day with the stress and pressures of various project deadlines and then you come home and instead of winding down with a bowl of ice-cream and some Netflix, you jump right into the fire of your second job.
In my second job, the client was much more demanding and unreasonable than any in my corporate job. This client would scream and wail every time I tried to change his diapers, leaving trails of his poop everywhere as he wriggled and writhed. He refused to eat the nutritious food I slaved to make and screamed for crackers and chips. He threw his food on the floor repeatedly. He wanted you to carry his 23 lb body on long walks and screamed and wailed if you so much as hinted that you were going to drop him in a stroller. In fact he wanted to be carried all the time. Hoisted up so he could see the world from a different vantage point. And gesture that he wanted this and that PRONTO.
And finally, after you’ve engaged this little client in an epic bedtime battle and WON, you don’t even get to relish that sweet victory with some ice-cream and Netflix. Nope. You tiptoe out of his room and right to your desk and continue grinding out the mind-numbing draft for your other job. After working the night away, you brush your teeth and hop into bed, hoping and praying that insomnia does not rear its ugly head tonight.
What about the weekends? You don’t get weekends as a corporate lawyer.
So where in this narrative is exercise? Where is meeting up with friends? Where is going out with your hubby? Where are your hobbies? Where is your freaking bowl of ice-cream and next episode of Big Love?
It’s as poignantly absent as your sanity.
After living this kind of “so-called” life for a while, I had an epiphany--a beam of sunlight amidst the foggy clouds. Why don’t I just hire a babysitter and give myself some ME time? It’s worth spending a little cash to get back a little sanity.
And you know what? I can’t.
When I need a break the most, that’s the time I can’t do it the most.
I can’t spend any more time away from my baby.
Maybe everyone has a different equilibrium point after which they are happy to spend time away from their kid. In a given week, I don’t want to spend any more than 30 hours away from my baby. That’s why I work a 70% schedule.
But if work is killing me that week and making me put in 50+ hours, there’s no way in heck I’m going to take precious baby time away and do something for myself.
But I want so desperately to have some me time.
So there you have it. The catch-22 of working moms. Damned (by guilt) if you do make time for yourself. And damned if you don’t. Eventually I start to feel like a rubber band getting stretched way too thin. It seems like only a matter of time before the inevitable snap.
Of course not every working mom is going to feel this beleaguered. Hopefully your job is not as hellacious and/or your child is not so demanding. And I imagine it’s probably a lot easier if you’re one of the lucky gals with loving parents in the vicinity.
But that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it…for now anyway.
The So-Called Life of a Working Mom
So a lot of people have asked me what it’s like to be a working mom.
Actually, that’s not true. No one has asked me that.
But you know, I bet people are somewhat curious. Because when I was considering whether to go back to work after maternity leave, I desperately wanted to know.
What is it like to leave your baby for hours at a time in a stranger’s care? Will you feel sad for missing all the ‘firsts’? Will it weaken the bond between the two of you? Will you be replaced as the most important person in your baby’s eyes?
I especially wanted to know what it would be like for a corporate attorney working mom. My job is notoriously un-plannable. We are on-call 24-7, 365, resulting in many cancelled vacations and telling my family every year--I might have to miss Christmas, start without me! When a deal is on, it is ON and you work night and day like kids in a sweatshop until the deal is done. If you need to fly out to another coast 3 weekends in a row to bash it out, you do it. Heck, if you need to fly to another continent to bash it out, you do that too.
How could I possibly be a somewhat present mom with a job like that?! On top of it all, I was a nursing Nazi. For some reason, I was fervently attached to the idea that my baby MUST DRINK MY MILK for at least one year. Anything less would feel utterly demoralizing. But let’s just say that high-stress and lactation do not mix. Making milk requires as much psychological conditioning as anything else. And who is going to let you take a pump-break in the middle of a 7 hour client meeting?!
The more I considered these obstacles looming ahead of me, the more I wanted to just throw in the towel and not go back to work. But the ever level-headed spouse reminded me that we really needed my income and it just might not be so bad. Why don’t we give it a try? If it’s really all that bad, I can quit. Anytime.
I looked at my $300 breast pump and thought, that’s going to be the dumbest investment I ever made. I’ll use it for 2 weeks and then quit. Well, it’s been more than a year since I’ve returned to work from maternity leave, so shut my mouth and color me surprised!
So what has it been like?
In a word: exhausting.
If ever in my life I have felt tested and stretched, it was laughably ridiculous compared to the unrelenting strain of working a high-stress corporate job and trying to be as present as possible with a high-need insatiably curious baby.
Being a working mom is like having 2 jobs. No, it IS having 2 jobs. You work all day with the stress and pressures of various project deadlines and then you come home and instead of winding down with a bowl of ice-cream and some Netflix, you jump right into the fire of your second job.
In my second job, the client was much more demanding and unreasonable than any in my corporate job. This client would scream and wail every time I tried to change his diapers, leaving trails of his poop everywhere as he wriggled and writhed. He refused to eat the nutritious food I slaved to make and screamed for crackers and chips. He threw his food on the floor repeatedly. He wanted you to carry his 23 lb body on long walks and screamed and wailed if you so much as hinted that you were going to drop him in a stroller. In fact he wanted to be carried all the time. Hoisted up so he could see the world from a different vantage point. And gesture that he wanted this and that PRONTO.
And finally, after you’ve engaged this little client in an epic bedtime battle and WON, you don’t even get to relish that sweet victory with some ice-cream and Netflix. Nope. You tiptoe out of his room and right to your desk and continue grinding out the mind-numbing draft for your other job. After working the night away, you brush your teeth and hop into bed, hoping and praying that insomnia does not rear its ugly head tonight.
What about the weekends? You don’t get weekends as a corporate lawyer.
So where in this narrative is exercise? Where is meeting up with friends? Where is going out with your hubby? Where are your hobbies? Where is your freaking bowl of ice-cream and next episode of Big Love?
It’s as poignantly absent as your sanity.
After living this kind of “so-called” life for a while, I had an epiphany--a beam of sunlight amidst the foggy clouds. Why don’t I just hire a babysitter and give myself some ME time? It’s worth spending a little cash to get back a little sanity.
And you know what? I can’t.
When I need a break the most, that’s the time I can’t do it the most.
I can’t spend any more time away from my baby.
Maybe everyone has a different equilibrium point after which they are happy to spend time away from their kid. In a given week, I don’t want to spend any more than 30 hours away from my baby. That’s why I work a 70% schedule.
But if work is killing me that week and making me put in 50+ hours, there’s no way in heck I’m going to take precious baby time away and do something for myself.
But I want so desperately to have some me time.
So there you have it. The catch-22 of working moms. Damned (by guilt) if you do make time for yourself. And damned if you don’t. Eventually I start to feel like a rubber band getting stretched way too thin. It seems like only a matter of time before the inevitable snap.
Of course not every working mom is going to feel this beleaguered. Hopefully your job is not as hellacious and/or your child is not so demanding. And I imagine it’s probably a lot easier if you’re one of the lucky gals with loving parents in the vicinity.
But that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it…for now anyway.
 |
| We're still hangin' in there...barely... |
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Simba Happy?
One of the best things about parenting is watching your little helpless lump emerge into a human being with his very own personality.
And oh what a personality!
One of Judah's strongest traits is his interest in other people's emotions.
Whenever we read books, he's always pointing at various characters and asking if they're happy. Sometimes they are. But other times they clearly aren't.
There's a scene in the Lion King where Simba is clearly distraught because his dad just died saving his life. Judah ALWAYS flips to that page and asks "Simba happy?" And I tell him for the 300th time, "No Judah, Simba is sad because his daddy died." I know, heavy stuff for a 1 year old! What were you thinking Disney?
But the funny thing is Judah LOVES maudlin books. His favorite books and illustrations are the ones with extremely sad emotions. He even tears up sometimes when we get to the most dramatic parts.
I'll never forget the first time we read Llama Llama Red Pajama and the momma llama and baby llama re-unite after a traumatizing absence. I looked at my baby's eyes filling with tears and I thought "Oh my sweet precious boy."
But it doesn't stop me from manipulating his sensitive little soul.
Often times the easiest way to get Judah to comply is to act like I'm really sad. For example, Judah hates eating. And after cajoling him proves fruitless yet again, I'll put on a very sad face and say "Judah, mommy sad because you don't eat. Mommy sad. Boohoo!"
And sure enough, Judah opens his mouth for a bite and says "Mommy happy?"
Feels kinda wrong, but hey, the kid's gotta eat!
And oh what a personality!
One of Judah's strongest traits is his interest in other people's emotions.
 |
| Judah loves people, especially his nanny's daughter. |
 |
| Judah happy? Heck yes! |
But the funny thing is Judah LOVES maudlin books. His favorite books and illustrations are the ones with extremely sad emotions. He even tears up sometimes when we get to the most dramatic parts.
I'll never forget the first time we read Llama Llama Red Pajama and the momma llama and baby llama re-unite after a traumatizing absence. I looked at my baby's eyes filling with tears and I thought "Oh my sweet precious boy."
But it doesn't stop me from manipulating his sensitive little soul.
Often times the easiest way to get Judah to comply is to act like I'm really sad. For example, Judah hates eating. And after cajoling him proves fruitless yet again, I'll put on a very sad face and say "Judah, mommy sad because you don't eat. Mommy sad. Boohoo!"
And sure enough, Judah opens his mouth for a bite and says "Mommy happy?"
Feels kinda wrong, but hey, the kid's gotta eat!
Monday, August 06, 2012
Exhausted
Judah is constantly learning/picking things up from watching me.
One thing he's learned quite well is this:
He'll lie down on the couch or floor and exclaim "I tired!" or even better sometimes "Exhausted!"
Proud mommy moment--my 1 year old knows the word "exhausted"!
Sad mommy moment--my 1 year old knows the word "exhausted" because I'm constantly modeling a lack of energy in front of him. Ugh.
What can I say? Most days I AM tired and exhausted!
One thing he's learned quite well is this:
He'll lie down on the couch or floor and exclaim "I tired!" or even better sometimes "Exhausted!"
Proud mommy moment--my 1 year old knows the word "exhausted"!
Sad mommy moment--my 1 year old knows the word "exhausted" because I'm constantly modeling a lack of energy in front of him. Ugh.
 |
| Oh Judah, if only you'd lie down for more than 0.25 seconds. |
What can I say? Most days I AM tired and exhausted!
Friday, August 03, 2012
Debbie Downer
This post is kinda depressing. There. You've been warned.
Ugh, I'm so depressed.
I just saw a posting on FB about a 2 year old girl who suddenly died this week.
She ran up to her dad while he was turning around and he tripped over her, causing her to fall backwards and get a major concussion, lots of internal bleeding, and she died a few hours later.
Ugh.
I know another incident of a 2 year old dying. She was playing outside in her yard and a delivery truck just ran over her because she was in the truck driver's blindspot. Her mom was on the front porch and watched it all unfold (probably in sickening slow motion).
She ran to pick up her little girl's broken body and cradled her in a blood-soaked blanket until she finally passed away a few minutes later.
I probably know a dozen more stories of babies dying. In utero, in labor, in the first few months of life, in childhood. Of diseases and accidents and plain old stupid coincidence.
And like some sick movie director--in the place of each of these kids--I cast my own child and imagine him going through the same things they did. And I put myself in the role of the grief-stricken mother.
I have a vivid imagine. And I'm an eternal pessimist.
It's a very depressing combination.
It's my own quiet daily self-torture.
I wonder if I'm the only one that thinks this way?
And to end on a positive note--it's Friday, yay! Have a great weekend everyone!
Ugh, I'm so depressed.
I just saw a posting on FB about a 2 year old girl who suddenly died this week.
She ran up to her dad while he was turning around and he tripped over her, causing her to fall backwards and get a major concussion, lots of internal bleeding, and she died a few hours later.
Ugh.
I know another incident of a 2 year old dying. She was playing outside in her yard and a delivery truck just ran over her because she was in the truck driver's blindspot. Her mom was on the front porch and watched it all unfold (probably in sickening slow motion).
She ran to pick up her little girl's broken body and cradled her in a blood-soaked blanket until she finally passed away a few minutes later.
I probably know a dozen more stories of babies dying. In utero, in labor, in the first few months of life, in childhood. Of diseases and accidents and plain old stupid coincidence.
 |
| Please out-live me Judah! |
And like some sick movie director--in the place of each of these kids--I cast my own child and imagine him going through the same things they did. And I put myself in the role of the grief-stricken mother.
I have a vivid imagine. And I'm an eternal pessimist.
It's a very depressing combination.
It's my own quiet daily self-torture.
I wonder if I'm the only one that thinks this way?
And to end on a positive note--it's Friday, yay! Have a great weekend everyone!
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