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prego saucy: December 30 - February 1 2007
December 30 2006
The knockoff Uggs are ridiculously warm and comfortable. They've even reduced the swelling in my cankles by way of some miraculous sheepskin therapy. Sheepish thumbs up for the Uggs.
(Man, I'll never get to play with the cool kids now.)
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December 31 2006
For some reason, as we were driving back from the snow up on Mt Lemmon yesterday I mentioned the salty snack food Hickory Sticks to JB. Again with the random thoughts popping into my head…
He'd never heard of them and I deduced that it must be a Canadian thing. I then asked if Americans eat gravy on their fries, and apparently that's just an east coast preference; I've certainly never seen fries and gravy served in the Bay Area or in Tucson.
Later that evening, since Netflix failed to deliver, we went to Evil Corporate Video Place and rented a boy movie triumvirate of Caddyshack (which I saw for the first time, and man do a lot of people rip off Carl), Diner, and The Blues Brothers. We watched Diner this afternoon, and what with everyone ordering fries and gravy (!) in the movie, I announced to JB upon its completion that I was going to have to partake in some fries with gravy. So, we were off to Grill since it was the only restaurant I could think of that had both fries and gravy on the menu. Not the glistening, slick, smooth UPS brown gravy, but lumpy, wild mushroom gravy…mmmm.
I don't think I've had overly strong cravings during my pregnancy, but I have been mighty mighty suggestible.
January 1 2007
I have a weird sense of humour, and I rarely hear or come across something that's laugh-out-loud funny. This is hilarious, though. (The names people come up with for their kiddos is just sad, but the editorial comments are very funny.) Found via the only parenting website I like so far: DaddyTypes.
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I laundered a load of Scooter's clothing this weekend. It's all so little!
January 2, 2007
Scooter's kickings and jumpings are increasingly vigourous and frequent.
I am now able to discern fists and heels through my tummy. Occasionally the smooth dome of my tummy will be interrupted by a little potato-shaped protrusion. Last night I think she purposely kept her leg extended as I rubbed her little foot through my skin. There it was, sticking out of my tummy – a little foot. How could I not rub it? If I could feel her foot, certainly she could feel me feeling her foot?
I've said it before, and I say it again, still amazed: There's a little person in my tummy! Truly, truly a weird concept.
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My entire tummy – from right above my pubis to about 4 inches above my bellybutton feels like one big pulled muscle.
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Mmmmmmmm, yuba.
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It occurred to me that there's no point in buying the kiddo toys that I think are stupid, because who's going to be playing with them too? ME.
January 3 2007
Nice piece on scheduling your day with a kiddo, from Baby Roadies.
For whatever reason, I'm much more interested in the dad blogs than the mom blogs – in general, they have more gear and practical advice. I really don't care about some stranger's feelings (or their overly personal and intimate details about their kids – give the kid a little privacy already) -- I want to know how they get things done. Like napping.
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Good advice found on Ask Moxie (a mom blog; I'm not totally sexist)
"At this age it's completely natural for a baby to want to be held a lot, and to cry when he isn't. This idea that a 6-month-old is supposed to be able to entertain himself comes from someplace deep in the toy manufacturers' pockets, and is just plain false. Babies this age need constant human interaction."
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I just did the BBC Brain Sex quiz and scored zero – I guess meaning I'm perfectly balanced between male and female. I scored very highly on both the spatial and empathy tests…this leads me to believe I'm going to be an ok parent.
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Stu has some great parenting advice:
When I have a problem that concerns one of my kids (meaning: When I want them to do something that they refuse to do), I see that I have a choice. I could visualize my child standing on the other side of a line, next to "The Problem", with me yelling across the line, "Hey, you better solve "The Problem." Instead, I get myself to stand next to my child, with "The Problem" alone on the other side of the line, with me putting an arm around my child, saying "Hey, you and me, we're gonna defeat "The Problem" together." I find that this attitude seems to make my kids feel better about themselves. It minimizes/eliminates shame.
…and:
Kids are no different than you or me, save two things: they're shorter than you and have less experience. Otherwise, they are people, just like you and me.
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Today I am 7 months pregnant, more or less.
The rundown: no varicose veins, no stretch marks, no hemorrhoids, no moodiness, no heartburn, no constipation, no backaches, my feet are swollen, my belly button is still an innie, my boobs are still more or less the same size, and I can still sleep on my back some of the time with the proper pillow buttressings.
The verdict: I feel great, this is a totally mindblowingly cool experience and I'd do it again in a second!
(Of course I may change my mind in week 42 of pregnancy or after birthing an 11-pounder.)
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Bad public school memory:
In second grade, we went to the Toronto Zoo for a field trip and the next day back in class were asked to paint a picture of our favourite animal. I decided to paint the orangutan, and proceeded to put him in a jungle setting. I painted a big yellow sun in the sky, with red and orange rays coming from it, through the trees, and onto the smiling ape.
When Mrs. Smith looked at the painting, she scolded me not only for the rays coming out of the sun ("suns don't look like that") but for putting the sun in the painting in the first place.
I bet she never had spinach salad before.
January 4 2007
More links:
Parenting manifestos at RebelDad.
I love Thingamababy! AJ and his wife have raised their almost three-year-old daughter without tv, Elmo, Dora, or Disney Princesses…but with lots of pretend, dress-up, silliness, and books. So far it seems like they have one smart little cookie and a very fun household.
Great product reviews, relevant parenting advice, humourous anecdotes that still respect his family's privacy, and Domo-kun: this is my gold standard of parent blogs.
January 8 2007
On Saturday, we went to the Folk Shop, where I had purchased JB's Happy Holidays banjo, and as I anticipated after my initial visit, he was like a kid in a candy shop.
We bought a small buffalo drum (the full size sounded incredible; we may go back), an Istanbul darbuka drum, castanets, a Peruvian gourd noisemaker thingie, a tambourine, rhythm sticks, a slide whistle, a harmonica, several sets of (my balls feel like a pair of) maracas…some other stuff. Everything fit in a big lidded basket we found discounted at Cost Plus.
We spent a good hour on Saturday night playing everything and freaking out the dog with the slide whistle. JB said that a tickle trunk full of crazy instruments for a kiddo had long been a dream of his. I think he's going to be a great dad. Silly hats and costumes are next…and I need to get a new sewing machine so I can make puppets.
We also decided on jungle animals for the kiddo's crib bedding and mobile – not too babyish, and not too girlie. All this stuff comes in sets, of course – like bed in a bag – and it was hard to find just a plain bumper, plain coverlet, plain sheets that matched yet didn't look…institutional. A blast of baby pastel or primaries in the corner of our velvety burgundy paisley dark wood grown up bedroom would look really weird, so I think it's a good compromise (considering I haven't found Domokun baby gear yet, heh, heh).
January 9 2007
Neal Pollack article on his parents' insistence that he circumcise his son. Cringe inducing, mucho letter to the editor producing.
Before we learned that Scooter is a girl, I told JB I would not allow Scooter to circumcised if he turned out to be a boy. I don't care if he doesn't look like you, I said, we'll explain to him why.
Fortunately (for Peanut, if there is a Peanut, and Peanut turns out to be a boy) JB agrees with me.
But then, I'm all for bucking tradition – especially if it holds no meaning for you.
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Good checkup yesterday: gained 5 pounds since last month, baby has good heartbeat, blood pressure is 117/72. Scoot's lying in me sideways, like in a hammock.
Also learned that 50% of the Birth Center pregnant ladies end up giving birth at the hospital for whatever reason. I hope I'm in the other 50%.
January 10 2007
Wow, Dr. Sears is a relatively right on guy. Ok, well, he still underestimates dads, encouraging them to do dishes and take an active role in parenting (um, I wouldn't be carrying the guy's baby if he wasn't a kickass partner, Dr. Sears) but the following advice is sound: respond to your baby's needs, avoid the crush of plastic toys and parenting magazines, don't listen people who tell you to put the kiddo on a schedule and ignore baby's cries, and keep yourself happy (and groomed and adorned!).
January 11 2007
Looking for baby stuff is really frustrating. Especially when all the spiffiest stuff is available in Europe (Holland) only:
American baby stuff is way too big, loud, plastic, and obsessed with convenience. (Gee, what a surprise.) The American baby stuff that isn't ugly is rare and incredibly expensive (hello coveted OrbitBaby!).
Since I'm planning on slinging the kiddo, I may forgo the whole stroller concept and go with the giant and ugly but safest American carseat I can get ( Baby Trend Flex Loc ); however considering we have big travel planned in May (fly to New York, drive from Connecticut to Ontario back to New York), and again in October (SiliCon convention in San Jose, north to SF or south to SC, maybe likely both) I may cave to the appeal of the Orbit…
Necessary gear:
Crib (purchased)
changing table (purchased)
co-sleeper (used?)
2 slings – one for big ol' JB, one for l'il ol' me
diaper bag
Jolly Jumper (after 6 mos.)
carseat
stroller? If yes, stroller carseat combo?
January 12 2007
The guy selling the co-sleeper on Craigslist creeped me out when I spoke with him on the phone.
OK, first it's a guy selling baby stuff – call me sexist, but that's one red flag; then he tells me the dodgy neighbourhood he lives in – call me classist, but that's another red flag. So I bailed on him like a flake. Didn't confirm a time, didn't return his call. I'm a lame-o. But alive!
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I could rub Scooter's head through my tummy forever. It's so sweet when her head pops out of the side of my tummy and I slowly massage it and it sinks back inside and then I feel her little feets kicking and tickling me…
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Screw it; I am going to wait to get a stroller. I'll get the ugly but safe carseat for $90 (1/10th the cost of the Orbit), leave it in the car, and sling the kiddo. That's my decision. For today.
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I'm thinking a pram might be safer than a stroller at knee and dangling cigarette level, anyway. And I would look much cuter driving it. And that's what having a baby is all about – opportunities to accessorize.
January 15 2007
Mr. Thingamababy is so right on . Bonding without toys.
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The non-girlie, non-babyish crib (which turns into a toddler bed, then big girl bed) and changing table have been installed in the bedroom; the monkey mobile is on order. It all looks very adult and elegant while still charming and cozy; I'm quite pleased.
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Recipe for a Baby Mellow Mixtape #1 (pop)
Fade Into You :: 4:55 :: Mazzy Star
One :: 4:36 :: U2
(Are You) The One I've Been Waiting For? :: 4:05 :: Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
Out of the Blue :: 3:24 :: The Band
Claire :: 4:09 :: Rheostatics
Sweet Jane (1969 live) :: 4:04 :: The Velvet Underground
After The Gold Rush :: 4:00 :: k.d. lang
Studebaker :: 3:29 :: Jordan Zevon
This One's For You :: 4:49 :: Ed Harcourt
Every Breath You Take :: 4:15 :: The Police
Silent Sigh :: 4:44 :: Badly Drawn Boy
Calendar Girl :: 4:07 :: Stars
California Stars :: 4:58 :: Wilco & Billy Bragg
I'm Your Man :: 4:25 :: Leonard Cohen
Wish You Were Here :: 5:34 :: Pink Floyd
Girls Say Yes :: 6:08 :: The Jazz Butcher
Goodnight Moon :: 4:04 :: Shivaree
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1:15:46 total time
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January 16 2007
Recipe for Baby Mellow Mixtape #2 (pop)
MLK :: 2:32 :: U2
Death Of A Train :: 5:47 :: Daniel Lanois
I Am Trying To Break Your Heart :: 6:58 :: Wilco
Alice & Interiors :: 4:43 :: The Manchester Orchestra
Thrown It All Away :: 3:47 :: Brandi Carlile
Desperado :: 3:33 :: The Eagles
Revelator :: 6:22 :: Gillian Welch
Kentucky Avenue :: 4:49 :: Tom Waits
Sunday Morning :: 2:56 :: The Velvet Underground
Cruel & Gentle Things :: 3:20 :: Charlie Sexton
Try :: 4:05 :: Blue Rodeo
Amazona :: 4:10 :: Chocolate Genius Inc
Strange Magic :: 4:29 :: Electric Light Orchestra
I Dont Blame You :: 3:05 :: Cat Power
Galaxies :: 3:37 :: Laura Veirs
Lonely Lights :: 2:03 :: Tarnation
Tres Avisos :: 5:13 :: Calexico
Twisted Hair :: 3:23 :: Robbie Robertson & The Red Road Ensemble
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1:14:52 total time
January 17, 2007
Top Two Fears Post Partum:
1. That my life will be overrun by giant ugly plastic baby crap.
2. That I will have a post partum depression (only because I've been happiest I've ever been in my life during this pregnancy and I fear that what goes up must come down…)
I think that's it.
January 18 2007
For next year, gift ideas from Ask Moxie and Sweet Juniper .
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Tunes for all ages .
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I keep forgetting: Trust No One. Consumer Reports just recalled their baby seat study. Although the fact that the Babylock (no, wait…that's a serger…) withstands a 70mph side impact remains impressive nonetheless. I'm still sold on it. (As are the half million other people who purchased one in the last two weeks...)
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January 26 2007
Yes, I'm a fuddy duddy and I agree with Birth of the Cool: Alternadad and the culture of hipster parenting by Andre Mayer.
The writer pretty much sums up my feelings about overly personal and intimate alterna-parenting blogs and Babble.com. I attempted to read babble several times, wasn't captivated (or was annoyed) and haven't gone back. Oh, elusive elusive relevancy...grrrr.
There is thankfully little chance of me being a hipster parent, what with the Uggs I've been willingly wearing (yay, I have ankles and veiny feet again!) and my sarcasm allergy.
So, yes, while I am narcissistically jabbering away about how I'm feeling during my pregnancy I'm guessing no one is reading this since I've had two people comment on it (either y'all follow direction -- from the get go I say these chatterings are of no interest to anyone -- or I've ignored my website for so long that no one visits anymore [much more likely]).
Anyway, I hereby promise that I will not write about the kiddo once she comes along. It's no one's business, and it's completely disrespectful to the kid. By maintaining a website, what you write is an invitation to criticism and comment. Now, I don't care if people find my drawings offensive, don't care for me, or think I'm doing women, men, or all of humanity a disservice; but I have no desire to expose my kid or my (lack of) parenting methods to that level of scrutiny and criticism.
My dad would occasionally write about my brother and me in his columns when we were older children, and I felt happy and honoured -- since he wrote respectfully and with pride about us. I never felt embarrassed or betrayed by his grumblings about intimate details of my life. I like a good train wreck as much as the next person, so there are parenting blogs I peek at occasionally -- and I always end up feeling a little guilty for doing so, hoping that Google's cache self destructs before those kids are old enough to read all about their own toileting, biting, or misbehaving issues...
January 29 2007
Needless to say, there will be no Baby Einstein at my house. I believe I'll rather play with the kiddo myself.
Also, there will be no goldfish crackers (blech), cheerios (they always gave me gas), and no tater tots in our home.
NYT article about toddler foodies. I won't go as far as some of these parents but I am convinced that completely separate food for the kiddos is silly. Kids in Japan eat tater tots? No. Kids in Mexico eat goldfish crackers? Doubtful. The kiddos can eat with us at the table as much as possible, eating what we're eating...
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Again, apologies in advance to you Scooter for:
1. bringing you into the world in the first place (as your poppa said, "this gift of life business is really a double edged sword") (still, I think you'll do just fine)
2. giving you a name that is not Emma, Madison, or Kaitlyn
(Although I unwittingly gave the dog the 18th most popular name of 2006 -- but, hey, she's a sweet, silly dog and Chloe fits her...I just can't call out her name at the park or 3 little girls come running, too...)
3. making you eat the food we eat when it's time for you to begin eating food
4. not letting you watch tv until you're three
5. no Baby Einstein (Einstein did without) or big garish plastic toys
6. no lounging in the car seat outside of the car (I don't want to lug the blasted thing everywhere...plagiocephaly be damned)
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Oh, hey! In response to my google query: what do babies eat around the world?
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Oh, hey again! Checking in at mothering.com for the first time in months I come across Car Seats are for Cars .
...and, a link to an older article about African women rejecting the stroller. Wonder if it's holding true?
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So, the little red raspberry rash on my tummy that popped up about 10 days ago that I thought might be athlete's foot of the tummy ("ringworm" is just too icky sounding) could be disseminated valley fever. Egad!
My sample is being sent up to Feenicks for testing...meanwhile, I'll keep using the clotrimazole (which seems to be working) and hope it truly is just athlete's foot of the tummy. Or jock itch. Yes, I have jock itch on my tummy...
February 1 2006
My "I'm glad that worked for you" stony rebuff thankfully resulted in minimal unsolicited pregnancy advice (and I suppose my own comments about midwives and birth tubs and Waldorf schools convinced many they were barking up the wrong tree) but lately I've been inundated with unsolicited full disclosure of bodily functions and descriptions of excruciating pain during delivery.
I do not care to hear that your water broke at the grocery store or you pooped all over everywhere during labour and delivery and bled like a stuck pig for a week afterward and it was the most painful thing you've ever experienced and *I* definitely need to get an epidural? No, thank you.
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I will flash the ASL for T M I the next time someone launches into their delivery story -- excepting of course the I was a goddess, my partner was a rock, and I kicked ass delivery stories. I like those.
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