thoughts for thursday

We have daycare! A slot reserved, that is, beginning in March, when I go back to work. It's the Montessori place I visited last week. Steve and I went back yesterday for a second look, as well as to another daycare I'd checked out in MacGroveland which in the end gave us the willies. In the past week, I've seen four, and I definitely liked the Montessori one the best. But it was good to nail down what things we like (a low teacher-to-baby ratio, cleanliness, teachers who rock the babies to sleep if needed) and don't like (babies left crying in their cribs, teachers who snap at toddlers, babies with colds). This place feels fantastic, and it's right on the way to and from work. (Oh, and Lisa, we have to bring our own food, which is probably a good thing, even if it's less convenient.) :)

After we signed up yesterday (and forked over the money to hold our spot), I felt elated and 1,000 pounds lighter. I know Daniel will be in good hands. Yet and still, even though I only plan to have him there part time, I still feel sad to think that our baby — who is currently lying in my lap cooing up at me — will be away from us, the people he has learned to trust will take care of him no matter what. I was thinking about this as we lay crashed out on the big bed this morning, having our 9 to 11 a.m. nap. He opens his eyes, and I am there. Life as it should be. *Sniff.* Well, as some of you pointed out, this is all a work in progress. And of course, there are also moments when I feel relieved that I will get some time off to be a grownup and keep up my professional skills.

* * *
Tomorrow, we leave for a weekend in Mississippi, for a party celebrating the 50-year wedding anniversary of two dear friends in Greenville. So much yet to do and figure out before we go: laundry, charging electronic batteries, what do about a car seat, how to pack for a baby, making sure my toiletries meet the new federal standards, wondering if they will be cool with me breastfeeding on the plane or if I should bring a bottle, cancelling newspapers for the weekend. This will be our first plane trip with Daniel. And the three-hour drive from Memphis to Greenville will be the longest road trip to date, too. That drive through the Delta is long, flat and town-by-town monotonous. I just wonder where on Highway 61 we'll stop if I need to feed him.

* * *
On top of all this preparation, I have a lector workshop tonight at church. Must remember to tape Grey's Anatomy

* * *
And it is below 20 degrees, which means we may not get our walk in today. Unless we go to the mall, which is a definite maybe.

* * *
Except that it's almost 2:00, and I'm not dressed yet.

* * *
Daniel is finally showing some interest in being worn in a sling. The key is to let him sit facing outward because he loooves to look around. He does not like being confined in a swaddled position, which was our only option when he was first born. This is great! It means I can carry him around while I do laundry, etc., and have both hands free. And maybe by the time he's 3, he'll think it's fun to help me out around the house!

* * *
L.L. Bean makes some surprisingly well-fitting pants! I love that I don't have to get them hemmed.

* * *
Well, Danmaster Flash is making it so very clear that he is tired of sitting on my lap, so that's it, folks. Have good weekends!

three months old

Il bambino, circa 11 a.m.

do i stay or do i go?

This week we have been face to face with one of the big questions all new parents face: childcare and work. I've been avoiding and procrastinating for three months now (more, really), but on Monday, I started doing research; Tuesday, I made some phone calls; and Wednesday, I finally went and looked at a daycare center. It was a nice one — Montessori, a 1-to-3 teacher-child ratio, happy-looking babies in the place. I'll look at some more next week, and I'm also putting my feelers out for possible nanny/babysitter and home daycare options.

But the larger question keeps asserting itself: Do I want to go back to work? Or do I want to stay home with Daniel during these early years? If I go back to work, I only want to go part-time, and since that appears to be an option, it seems like the balance of part-time work and part-time home care is a no-brainer. But it's not such a no-brainer if I consider that I don't really want to be at my current job for the rest of my life, and if I am going to make a new start — to pursue a freelance career, for example — now seems like a good time to do it. We can afford to have me stay home, and with the cost of daycare/nannies, most of my part-time pay would be going toward childcare anyway— so really, I'd be working to pay for daycare when I could be staying home for the same amount of money. On the other hand, I could also look at it as a tradeoff that gives me some time away from 24-7 baby care — an opportunity to keep my skills up and interact with other adults — adults I happen to like a lot.

I've been at this job for more than eight years. I never expected to be there this long. There are other things I could do, other ways I could spread my wings. Yet part of me hesitates. My job is very secure. It's a sure thing, when quitting and trying something new carries risks. So do I go for the sure thing, or do I take some chances? It's a tough decision, and I go back and forth about it. That's why part-time work seems like an appealing solution for now — it could give me some time to pursue other options on the side. (Easier said than done — time is a scarce resource these days.) Steve has made it clear he will support me whichever way I decide to go.

That's my side of the issue. We also need to consider what is best for Daniel, and that brings up the very heated stay-at-home versus work debate, which I don't feel like rehashing here. Part of me wishes I could take a couple of years off and stay home with him until he goes to school. But ... do I really? Am I suited for that type of life? Even if I'm not, would I be willing to make the sacrifice? Would it be best for Daniel? Or would it be better to seek a balance? A happy baby needs happy parents. If mom is home all day but frustrated and unhappy, baby is going to be unhappy.

The clock is ticking. I need to make some decisions. Big ones — so much bigger than strollers.

thankfulness

When Daniel went back to sleep after his 7 a.m. feeding this morning, Stephen and I caught a few rare moments to lie in bed and whisper our thoughts of gratitude. It goes without saying that our bright-eyed baby boy tops our list this year. My beloved husband (and, by extension, our marriage), my friends and family (both blood and in-laws) are high up on mine, too. What a year this has been; we don't really need a special day to feel how thankful we are for all the good things we have been given. Nonetheless ... it was a good day for being with family. Even our teen-age nieces and nephews, who usually answer all the grown-ups' questions in monosyllables, seemed relaxed and chatty today. It was a good time!

The RevGals' Friday Five poll last week asked for "five things or people for which you are thankful this year." I've been sitting here trying to come up with five, but it's a tall order, so what the heck — I'm going with ten!

All the people mentioned in the first paragraph. (I get to cheat a little!)

My employer, for recognizing the importance of maternity leave and allowing me to take six months off.

This blog, for giving me a reason to write almost every day — even if it's short, and even if it's crap.

Netflix, for making the bumps and jags of early parenthood a little easier. Those red envelopes are the highlight of my day sometimes!

Garrison Keillor, for opening a new bookstore in St. Paul this fall, and for helping keep poetry alive with The Writer's Almanac.

Oprah, for using her influence to inspire others to change the world in positive ways. If she ran for president, I would vote for her.

Caribou Coffee, for being part of our afternoon stroller-and-drink ritual as we walk around the neighborhood.

Our two church communities (the one in St. Paul and the one in Minneapolis), for sustaining my spirit and providing perspective on a weekly basis.

My camera, for giving me a creative outlet and a way to capture the fleeting moments of Daniel's infancy.

Grey's Anatomy, which comes on in 15 minutes!

technical issues

Every since I switched to the new Blogger beta format, I've noticed (or heard about) some issues with compatability with the old version. I'm confused!

1. Are some you having trouble leaving comments? Susanne, you said in an e-mail that you got an "under repair" message recently. Has that resolved itself?

2. A couple of times, I've been unable to leave comments on blogs that haven't switched to the new format yet. But other times, I've had no problems.

3. To the "Elizabeth" who left comments on my last two posts: I am guessing you're Raspberry/Starbucks Liz ... but no profile shows up when I click on your name. Is this related to the above problems with posting comments, or to me being on the beta version and you not?

If someone who is more Blogger-savvy than me would like to explain it all, I'd love it.

one year ago

None of today's previous post matters much when I hold our sweet baby in my arms and feel how lucky I am that he was born, that he was even conceived at all.

It happened one year ago this weekend. That Saturday night, after eight or so days of giving myself nightly shots of hormones to stimulate my ovaries and grow a few big eggs, I gave myself one more shot — the "trigger" shot — in the bathroom of the Ordway theater, as close to 8 p.m. as I could manage, so as to force my ovulation within the next 36 hours. (Fertility treatments are precision operations.) The next morning, Steve went to the fertility clinic, shut himself in a small room with an assortment of porn, deposited his sperm in a cup, and came home. Two hours later, we both showed up, and they put a speculum in me, followed by a very skinny tube, through which they injected the sperm into my uterus. Steve held my hand, and we joked as usual about the romance of it all. I remember it hurt a bit, and Steve's sperm count was lower than usual — only 6 million, when it was usually around 30 million. The nurse told us it might not hurt to come back and do it again tomorrow morning, to double our efforts. We left and drove to a nearby church for morning Mass. It was so crowded when we got there that we had to sit in two separate pews. I stared at Steve's back, feeling dejected and depressed, wondering — after two and a half years of trying — if we were ever going to have a baby. The next morning, we went back and repeated the whole rigamarole. And this time, Steve's sperm count was 12 million. You know what they say, though: It only takes one.

That Thursday was Thanksgiving, and the glass of white wine I drank with dinner was the last I would have for more than ten months. We also caught a killer cold from Steve's dad that kept us home from work for most of the next week. The idea that I might be pregnant was the last thing on my mind. The following Saturday, Steve and I put up our Christmas tree. And then I took a pregnancy test, just to get it over with. And the rest is happy history!

Here is our beautiful, miraculous boy, photographed last weekend by Wendy of Swaddlebee Newborn Photography — a young mom who came to our house nine months pregnant and took these pictures. She really captured Daniel's spirit and budding personality. I am so happy with them!





P.S. A shout-out to Megan and Gordon on their one-year wedding anniversary. If you're reading, happy anniversary!

belly up

I brought two sizes of jeans into the fitting room with me yesterday. Size 8 and size 10. I figured one of them was probably the right fit, but in the end, I walked out with a 12. How would I know? It was an experiment in trial and error. I used to be a size 4, sometimes 6, but I haven't worn regular (i.e. non-maternity) pants since January, when I was 10 weeks pregnant. That was when my largest pair of H&M stretch cords finally got too tight and I went to Motherhood Maternity for the first time. I remember that night, how shy I felt, not quite showing a bump and feeling as if somehow I didn't deserve to be there. Roxy met me at the store, all eight months pregnant of her, like the older sister who knows the ropes, and we oohed and aahed over my round little tummy in the stretch-to-fit jeans and all the cute empire-waist tops. Shopping for clothes was fun back then. I used to tuck the little pillow they leave for you into the pants and under the tops and stand sideways in front of the dressing room mirror, dreaming about the big belly yet to come.

But yesterday I was alone. Alone with my shriveled skin; my brown, misshapen navel; my stretchmarks; the droopy pooch that still makes me look more pregnant than I did that day in January. I grew very big when I was pregnant with Daniel — and it was all in the tummy. My skin stretched like a balloon, bigger than a basketball, and when Daniel came out, it all collapsed into a jiggly mass, covering the aftermath of child-carrying: the odd shape of organs pushed aside, the abdominal muscles spread apart, not yet joined together again. The sagging skin, like an old woman's, that I can grab with my fists when I lie in the tub. The aches I still feel when I sit up too quickly or overwork myself. I didn't know. It's one of those things moms don't talk about much, those details you somehow miss along the way, like how much you will bleed after you have a baby. Two weeks after Daniel was born, I walked into a doctor's waiting room, and one of the women in the lobby asked me how far along I was. I used to smile when people asked me that question, but at that moment, I wanted to slap her. And then, when I got called back into the exam room, the nurse asked me the same thing. She did a double-take when she looked at my chart and saw I was there to have a post-partum issue checked out. "You shouldn't be that big," she said, but when I jumped down her throat, she apologized. No one told me things like that would happen.

I'm not used to this new tummy yet, and I'm not sure whether to hold out hope that in a few more months it will flatten out, smooth over, go back to the way it was when I had a size 4 dancer's body. I don't think it will, though. I might eventually fit back into my old clothes, but I think I will need to make peace with the body that having a baby has given me, to wear it like a badge of honor, to feel comfortable in it. I used to feel comfortable in my body, but (in retrospect) that was easy. Now, I feel self-conscious. When I see older women, or any women with children, I find myself glancing at their bellies to see how they shaped up in the long haul. I look at women's bellies the way other women might size up their handbags or shoes or hairstyles. I watched the TV clip of Brittany Spears walking onto the David Letterman set. She had her baby in September, and her stomach is already flat. I hate her. It's kind of pathetic, but I can't help it.

famous birthdays

According to the "Internets," Daniel shares his birthday with such celebs as Claudia Schiffer, Sean Connery, Elvis Costello, Tim Burton, Regis Philbin and Leonard Bernstein.



My husband was born on the same day as Dylan Thomas, Sylvia Plath, Emily Post, Teddy Roosevelt and John Cleese, to name a few.



My fellow Capricorns are not quite so exciting: Kate Moss, Sade, Ronnie Milsap, Harry Carey and Ethel Merman.

I think Daniel has the coolest list, and Steve's is pretty good, too! So ... who shares your birthday?

today's walk

Daniel and I strolled past the house today on our walk. It's still for sale. *Sigh.* And they've knocked the price down for something like the third time, which makes me think two things simultaneously: 1.) Maybe we can afford it now! and 2.) What's wrong with it? Steve, who follows the real estate listings more than I do, thinks it's overpriced (still) for a three-bedroom house that claims to have two bathrooms but really has one bathroom and a toilet in the basement. Anyway ... I still love it.

'pick a damn stroller'

Sometimes it takes an outspoken sister to say what needs to be said! This e-mail came from one who shall go unnamed, and if she objects, I will remove this post.

I am sorry to hear you are in such a quandry about strollers. Please...just buy one and stick to it, and don't look back or look at other strollers in stores ever again! We are both very compulsive when it comes to making decisions about what to buy. I'm that way with shoes and coats, believe me, it's not pretty. That's why I love you of course ... Seriously, though — netting or plastic? Book or square folds? Strides or axel bars? Sweet sister, you picked the zippy, so just be happy. I'm only saying this to help push your beautiful, indecisive head back into place. This will come in handy when you decide which school to sent D. to, but for now, let's consider: You might have to hold your arms and step a little differently but you will NOT find the PERFECT stroller. It will not even matter in a year from now and you will survive. Great leaders were once babies in crummy strollers, by today's standards. No lectures, just a sister trying to give loving advice on a silver platter, without you having to ask for it :-D ... Seriously, this will not be an issue when he starts walking, unless you have another kid. Pick a damn stroller.

OK, sis ... I do think there is something to be said for strides and axel bars, but you're right: I do tend to obsess about things like this when I probably would be much more at peace if I just made a decision and let it go! (Of course, we are both Ps, not Js, so this may well be impossible.) For the record, I made up my mind yesterday before I even read this: I'm keeping the Zippy. I'm keeping it for the reasons I chose it in the first place: It's well-built, folds and sets up so easily, and rides well just about everywhere — and there will be times when we use it outdoors, too. (Plus, the thought of selling it makes me sad.) I can avoid kicking the wheels if I walk a straighter line (one foot in front of the other), so I will simply cultivate the supermodel stride.

So there. I'm putting it behind me. Vive la Zippy!

stroller madness

Just when I think we have things resolved, my indecisiveness goes and rears its (I refuse to call it ugly) head! If you've been following my stroller ramblings, you know that we originally bought the Inglesina Zippy, thinking we'd use it for our main stroller, indoors and outdoors. Since then, we've bought an all-terrain BOB Revolution, with air-filled tires and a fixable front wheel that can be used for jogging. We love it. We figured we'd use it as our main outdoor stroller and the Zippy as our main indoor/mall/car stroller. But now I'm second-guessing the Zippy. I'm wondering if we should try to sell it on Craig's List (realizing we'd take a bit of a loss) and buy a less-expensive-but-feature-friendly Zooper Waltz instead. (Carrie, if you're reading, I know you looked at these two models — what were your deciding factors?)

Here are the issues on my mind ...

I'm kicking the Zippy's tires, and so is Steve. We're 5'4" and 6', respectively, so it's not just a height issue. For me, it's a stride issue — I take long steps when I walk. I thought it was just a power-walking thing, but I notice it in stores now, too. (It's because of the double wheels in the back — most stroller have only single wheels, so there's more room between them.) When we were stroller shopping, this wasn't something we anticipated. We didn't kick the tires on the store model, but we also didn't test our strides with it. I didn't kick the Waltz' tires in the store, but it does have a low axel bar that I kicked when I tested my stride. Maybe it depends on how straight I keep my arms. (On the other hand, maybe I wouldn't kick the Zippy if I walked with one foot in front of the other ...)

Both are compatible with the Graco Snugride carseat, which is important at this stage.

The Waltz' basket is accessible from the back and seems bigger, while the Zippy's is small and hard to get even my small diaper bag into. This has been a big source of irritation for me.

The Waltz feels a little lighter, which is nice. It also feels a little less sturdy than the Zippy, though.

They're both easy to fold. I do love how compact the Zippy is when folded. I don't know if the Waltz' book fold has any advantages over the Zippy's more square fold. I do wonder if the Waltz' red side-hold tab stay in place over the long haul when the stroller is closed. I've heard some issues of it popping out of place, which wouldn't be good, since this is the stroller we'd travel with on airplanes.

I like the netting on the Waltz hood - easier to see baby than the plastic "window" on the Zippy.

The Zippy definitely has better seat padding for the baby — but I like the fold-up edge of the seat (boot?) on the Waltz.

Obviously, the Waltz is much less expensive, which is definitely a consideration. I don't want to feel like we could have gotten a "better" stroller for almost $200 less. I've heard Zooper is raising the price for the 2007 models, though, so I want to make a decision while there are still 2006 ones available.

I realize most of you don't have experience with strollers. I'm mainly posting this here to get it out of my head ... and if any of you do have any words of wisdom, please don't hesitate to leave a comment!

father and child reunion

Steve got home from Scottsdale tonight! Daniel and I survived three days and nights without him and did just fine, thanks in part to the friends and in-laws who came over with dinner — or just good company — each evening. (And thanks to my HBO friends Vincent Chase, E., Johnny Drama and Turtle from Entourage, my faithful companions during late-night feedings on the couch.) It was incredibly cute to watch Daniel's reaction when Steve held him in his arms. He just stared up into his daddy's face, totally engrossed and delighted. I don't know who was happier to see the other! And needless to say, I am thrilled to have my honey home.

mind atrophy

I feel fuzzy, like I'm going soft in the head. Today, I lugged Daniel and his stroller into The Wine Thief on St. Clair and announced to the owner, "I'm here to buy some wine." He looked amused. Well, of course I was. What else do you walk into a wine store for? I felt like an idiot, plus hot and flushed under my heavy coat and hat. I laughed, and he laughed, and my mind fumbled for what to say next, but all that came was the urge to tell him everything (which I didn't): "This is the first time I have done this in almost a year. I have not bought wine since before I got pregnant, and my son is now two months old, so you do the math. Please, show me how to do this again. There are so many bottles on this wall, and I feel fuzzy, like I don't have the sharpness in my brain to sort through all these choices." In the end, I just asked him for suggestions for a good wine to go with salmon and roasted potatoes, which is what we're having when my brother- and sister-in-law come over tonight, and I left with a couple of bottles of Pinot Noir and sweaty armpits, dying to get out in the cold air again.

But it's not just choosing wine. The other night, I had some friends over — friends who work, who don't have children, who are around adults all day. Carrying on a conversation felt, at times, like being in a dream where I am trying to run but my legs are melting. I realized that after two months home with a baby, my use of language has atrophied. I had to really think about how to string together a story so it made sense. I marvelled at my friends' ability to say witty, clever things. I marvelled at their adult clothing, too. It seemed foreign and exotic to me. I spend my days wearing sweatpants and double-layer cotton nursing crewnecks, saying incomplete sentences in my sing-song voice and singing "You Are My Sunshine" and "The Teensy-Weensy Spider." The extent of my daytime conversation is along the lines of, "Who's Mommy's big boy?" "Is my baby hungry?" "What a big poopy!" Babies on the brain has evolved into baby-brain.

Getting outside for walks helps clear my head. This afternoon it was 28 degrees, but I had to get out of the house, so I bundled up Daniel and took him outside in our newest new stroller, which I now put at the top of the list of Best Strollers Ever — the BOB Revolution all-terrain jogging/walking stroller. I found a 2005 model on sale online last week, in red, and decided to splurge. (Yes, I'm obsessive.) Folks, the Revolution is ... well, revolutionary. I loved walking with it so much that I did not want to come back indoors. It handles bumps in the sidewalk like they aren't even there. It steers like a dream, even one-handed (like, when I'm holding my latte in the other hand), and I can walk as fast as I want without kicking the back wheels, which is a problem I've had with the Zippy. It's a stride issue; I don't have any problems with the Zippy when I'm not trying to power walk. So it's perfect in shops — it's compact, and it zips around the clothing racks at Macy's a lot better than the Revolution would — and I love how easily I can set it up and collapse it and throw it in the trunk of my car. It's a great indoor stroller, and the Revolution will be our great outdoor stroller. You see? I can talk about strollers all day. Yes I can!