I mean Weather Karma.
Mother nature figured out that we are several weeks overdue for a major, major snowstorm, and it's coming. Tonight. We dragged Miss M out after Shabbat to stock up on food for the week. Because tomorrow is all about watching her play in the snow--once it stops--rather than worrying about how to get the car out and down to the grocery store.
Hope all my Northeastern bloggy friends are hunkering down with their cocoa and shovels.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
Random observations
From the "I'm not sure what to make of this" department:
Miss M has taken to trotting off with whatever snack I give her in a cup or small plastic container (for convenience) and promptly dumping it onto the couch. She looks at the container, says "Eh-tee!" (Empty!), and then eats the snack from its new location.
The headscratching part is that a dog we know does something similar. After being given a treat, he retreats to the nearest rug or carpeting to eat there.
What's the attraction--the moving locations thing? Is it disturbing that I've even noticed this and made the comparison? Not sure.
From the "Bad Ema (and Abba!) in retrospect" department:
I was going through Miss M's teeny tiny clothes (0-3 months) in an attempt to figure out what we need to get for the b2b. The short answer: outfits with pants, because we really didn't dress her in all that much. Just onesies. Which makes sense, because she was born in the summer, runs hot, and most times outside she was smushed up against me in a sling.
Oh, but the bad parenting part was the fact that among all of her 0-3 month clothes there were just two pairs of socks. Which, if I recall, were constantly falling off. So did she have cold feet for the first weeks of her life? What did we do in the car? (Taxman is a BIG fan of the air conditioner.) Did we just throw a blanket over her lower half? This all goes back to my theory that babies need little neon signs that light up to tell you what's going on with them....
Miss M has taken to trotting off with whatever snack I give her in a cup or small plastic container (for convenience) and promptly dumping it onto the couch. She looks at the container, says "Eh-tee!" (Empty!), and then eats the snack from its new location.
The headscratching part is that a dog we know does something similar. After being given a treat, he retreats to the nearest rug or carpeting to eat there.
What's the attraction--the moving locations thing? Is it disturbing that I've even noticed this and made the comparison? Not sure.
From the "Bad Ema (and Abba!) in retrospect" department:
I was going through Miss M's teeny tiny clothes (0-3 months) in an attempt to figure out what we need to get for the b2b. The short answer: outfits with pants, because we really didn't dress her in all that much. Just onesies. Which makes sense, because she was born in the summer, runs hot, and most times outside she was smushed up against me in a sling.
Oh, but the bad parenting part was the fact that among all of her 0-3 month clothes there were just two pairs of socks. Which, if I recall, were constantly falling off. So did she have cold feet for the first weeks of her life? What did we do in the car? (Taxman is a BIG fan of the air conditioner.) Did we just throw a blanket over her lower half? This all goes back to my theory that babies need little neon signs that light up to tell you what's going on with them....
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Just please, please don't judge me!
I have no idea what the hell is wrong with me.
Honestly.
All I know is that I am hosting a playgroup (moms included) in a couple of hours, and I am nervous. This happens to me every time I do this, so I hate hosting.
After Miss M went down for her nap, I cleared the living room floor--and it's never clear unless it's dark outside--and vacuumed up the accumulated cracker/cereal crumbs. I reorganized the toy boxes this morning, which Miss M thought was great fun. I still have to line up the books nicely on the shelf.
All of which begs the question: WHY?
Do the toddlers care? I seriously doubt it.
Am I really worried about what these other moms think of me? For the record, one of them is a very good friend--she's seen my house in chaos and me in pajama pants, so it's not about her, clearly. But the others? What could possibly happen? Will Miss M be blackballed from the group because her mom keeps a sloppy living room and her parents don't buy her fancy toys or expensive electronic contraptions?
Maybe I am afraid I will be uncovered after all as the neighborhood parenting freak. (Oh wait, I'm still nursing, even though I am very pregnant, so I am the clear winner thus far.) We don't have any electronic toys because we find them obnoxious. Plus, I don't want to constantly be telling her that she can't play with things on Shabbat because they play music or light up. We already say no to a million things: "No, you can't crush your stacking boxes." "No hitting, please." "Please take your hand out of the trash." "No more cookies." We take a break from her beloved Signing Time videos and Laurie Berkner CDs on Shabbat by telling her (the shame!) that Alex, Leah, Rachel, and Laurie have gone on vacation. (Hey, at least someone gets a break!)
But I digress....
We have a ton of blocks, legos, stacking items, books, push toys, and shape sorters. Plus the Learning Tower (a steal at $135 + free shipping) so she can play in the sink now and eventually help with baking and cooking. She never complains! Which isn't to say that she doesn't play with the kitchens or little pianos at someone else's house, but it's certainly not enough for me to go out and buy things that won't fit into our apartment.
Why do I feel like I have to justify my Ema-ness?
I am entirely mystified. And vaguely appalled.
Update: It was entirely fine. The kids had fun because it doesn't take much to amuse them, and there was a lot of library playing going on, which was cool. I was actually able to chat more than usual--being in our house is at least relaxing in that I know Miss M's trouble spots so I don't have to be 110% attentive. I've come to the conclusion that this playgroup (our second in Miss M's young life) is a better fit for me than the first. So hopefully next time I won't have a nervous breakdown before we host it.
Honestly.
All I know is that I am hosting a playgroup (moms included) in a couple of hours, and I am nervous. This happens to me every time I do this, so I hate hosting.
After Miss M went down for her nap, I cleared the living room floor--and it's never clear unless it's dark outside--and vacuumed up the accumulated cracker/cereal crumbs. I reorganized the toy boxes this morning, which Miss M thought was great fun. I still have to line up the books nicely on the shelf.
All of which begs the question: WHY?
Do the toddlers care? I seriously doubt it.
Am I really worried about what these other moms think of me? For the record, one of them is a very good friend--she's seen my house in chaos and me in pajama pants, so it's not about her, clearly. But the others? What could possibly happen? Will Miss M be blackballed from the group because her mom keeps a sloppy living room and her parents don't buy her fancy toys or expensive electronic contraptions?
Maybe I am afraid I will be uncovered after all as the neighborhood parenting freak. (Oh wait, I'm still nursing, even though I am very pregnant, so I am the clear winner thus far.) We don't have any electronic toys because we find them obnoxious. Plus, I don't want to constantly be telling her that she can't play with things on Shabbat because they play music or light up. We already say no to a million things: "No, you can't crush your stacking boxes." "No hitting, please." "Please take your hand out of the trash." "No more cookies." We take a break from her beloved Signing Time videos and Laurie Berkner CDs on Shabbat by telling her (the shame!) that Alex, Leah, Rachel, and Laurie have gone on vacation. (Hey, at least someone gets a break!)
But I digress....
We have a ton of blocks, legos, stacking items, books, push toys, and shape sorters. Plus the Learning Tower (a steal at $135 + free shipping) so she can play in the sink now and eventually help with baking and cooking. She never complains! Which isn't to say that she doesn't play with the kitchens or little pianos at someone else's house, but it's certainly not enough for me to go out and buy things that won't fit into our apartment.
Why do I feel like I have to justify my Ema-ness?
I am entirely mystified. And vaguely appalled.
Update: It was entirely fine. The kids had fun because it doesn't take much to amuse them, and there was a lot of library playing going on, which was cool. I was actually able to chat more than usual--being in our house is at least relaxing in that I know Miss M's trouble spots so I don't have to be 110% attentive. I've come to the conclusion that this playgroup (our second in Miss M's young life) is a better fit for me than the first. So hopefully next time I won't have a nervous breakdown before we host it.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Bookish 6th graders, all grown up
If you're a reader--or were, back in the day when you had the time/energy/inclination--there have been a few great discussions over at Phantom Scribbler about books. For adults, for kids, for cooks, for first dates (worth reading the post & comments, trust me).
Some amazing memories over there. It's odd to imagine that if all of her pixies had been hanging out in the library together in 6th grade that our lives might have been changed; so much of my identity for so many years was wrapped up in the fact that I always had my nose in a book, always solitary but never really "alone"....but if I had been surrounded by a group of people who were like me, I really have to wonder how--or if--I would have been reshaped. I honestly can't say one way or another because it would have been such a different kind of life.
(Actually, a lot of books that we were talking about over there I'm sure people read before 6th grade; I just happened to choose 6th grade as the year I desperately wanted to do over in my life. Socially, it was terrible. I know it doesn't work this way for most people, but junior high school was such a relief because switching classes every hour, to a different teacher and different set of students, was a revelation. I found my geeky grind friends, and we were all dorks together; I'm still in touch with one of them--hope she's reading!)
I hope one day my kids have such fond memories and strong feelings about books. I'm really desperate to instill that, but feel kind of stymied by the fact that Miss M is inclined to rip paper when it is presented to her. (Thank goodness for board books!) I am very excited for the day when she can handle a little plot; it is coming, but awfully slowly.
Some amazing memories over there. It's odd to imagine that if all of her pixies had been hanging out in the library together in 6th grade that our lives might have been changed; so much of my identity for so many years was wrapped up in the fact that I always had my nose in a book, always solitary but never really "alone"....but if I had been surrounded by a group of people who were like me, I really have to wonder how--or if--I would have been reshaped. I honestly can't say one way or another because it would have been such a different kind of life.
(Actually, a lot of books that we were talking about over there I'm sure people read before 6th grade; I just happened to choose 6th grade as the year I desperately wanted to do over in my life. Socially, it was terrible. I know it doesn't work this way for most people, but junior high school was such a relief because switching classes every hour, to a different teacher and different set of students, was a revelation. I found my geeky grind friends, and we were all dorks together; I'm still in touch with one of them--hope she's reading!)
I hope one day my kids have such fond memories and strong feelings about books. I'm really desperate to instill that, but feel kind of stymied by the fact that Miss M is inclined to rip paper when it is presented to her. (Thank goodness for board books!) I am very excited for the day when she can handle a little plot; it is coming, but awfully slowly.
The name game
This post brought to you by Postcards from Buster.
We are not sure of the gender of the baby-to-be. We have our guesses, some more educated than others. All of this leads to an enormous problem: the name of the player-to-be-named-later.
Miss M's name was pretty much lined up from the time I was about 20. A college friend had a sister with that name, and I fell in love with it. It is pretty and fairly uncommon and is meaningful to us, but it's not strange or so unique that people have never heard it before. Taxman, luckily, was pretty easily convinced. (Although if he hadn't been, I probably would not have been above trumping his thoughts with my three-and-a-half day labor.)
If we have a girl again, there are a ton of pretty, not overly common Hebrew names that we'd be happy to use. English cognates (important to Taxman for "official purposes") are relatively easy to find.
A boy, though. This is the subject of debate. After going through two Hebrew name dictionaries, there are about 10 names (out of thousands) that neither of us hate. Or have bad associations with. And don't have weird meanings. And sound ok with our last name. And, so we've been told by my Israeli sister-in-law who knows these things, would not make him the subject of ridicule in school. Unlike about 99% of Ashkenazi Jews, I am not in favor of naming my kids after beloved, dead relatives. For me, each new person should get a fresh start, free of associations (good or bad), and go from there--this is just my opinion, please don't get insulted.
There one name in particular that Taxman really likes. I like it too; it would have been Miss M's name had she been a boy. The thing that's keeping me from signing on this time is that I feel like in the past two years, it's become a very popular name around these parts. And here is where Taxman and I diverge in opinion: I don't want to give a name where our kid is going to have the same moniker as of lots of other kids. Taxman is baffled by this argument. He agrees that a name should be meaningful to the parents (and possibly, by extension, some of the rest of the family), but who cares if there are six other boys named Adam, for example, in a class?
I can't exactly explain why I feel this way. My name is not weird or unique by any stretch--although it is commonly used as a nickname, it is my actual given name--but I never really had to share it in school, and that made me feel special, in a way. My last initial was never tacked on my paintings in first grade because there were two other girls with that name in my class.
But it's just such a gut reaction on my part that I can't defend it in a meaningful way. So Taxman thinks I am being crazy or reactionary or difficult.
Anybody in the blogosphere have any thoughts on this?
We are not sure of the gender of the baby-to-be. We have our guesses, some more educated than others. All of this leads to an enormous problem: the name of the player-to-be-named-later.
Miss M's name was pretty much lined up from the time I was about 20. A college friend had a sister with that name, and I fell in love with it. It is pretty and fairly uncommon and is meaningful to us, but it's not strange or so unique that people have never heard it before. Taxman, luckily, was pretty easily convinced. (Although if he hadn't been, I probably would not have been above trumping his thoughts with my three-and-a-half day labor.)
If we have a girl again, there are a ton of pretty, not overly common Hebrew names that we'd be happy to use. English cognates (important to Taxman for "official purposes") are relatively easy to find.
A boy, though. This is the subject of debate. After going through two Hebrew name dictionaries, there are about 10 names (out of thousands) that neither of us hate. Or have bad associations with. And don't have weird meanings. And sound ok with our last name. And, so we've been told by my Israeli sister-in-law who knows these things, would not make him the subject of ridicule in school. Unlike about 99% of Ashkenazi Jews, I am not in favor of naming my kids after beloved, dead relatives. For me, each new person should get a fresh start, free of associations (good or bad), and go from there--this is just my opinion, please don't get insulted.
There one name in particular that Taxman really likes. I like it too; it would have been Miss M's name had she been a boy. The thing that's keeping me from signing on this time is that I feel like in the past two years, it's become a very popular name around these parts. And here is where Taxman and I diverge in opinion: I don't want to give a name where our kid is going to have the same moniker as of lots of other kids. Taxman is baffled by this argument. He agrees that a name should be meaningful to the parents (and possibly, by extension, some of the rest of the family), but who cares if there are six other boys named Adam, for example, in a class?
I can't exactly explain why I feel this way. My name is not weird or unique by any stretch--although it is commonly used as a nickname, it is my actual given name--but I never really had to share it in school, and that made me feel special, in a way. My last initial was never tacked on my paintings in first grade because there were two other girls with that name in my class.
But it's just such a gut reaction on my part that I can't defend it in a meaningful way. So Taxman thinks I am being crazy or reactionary or difficult.
Anybody in the blogosphere have any thoughts on this?
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Vegas is astounded
The bookmakers are shocked (shocked, I tell you!), but not nearly as flabbergasted as One Tired Ema and Taxman.
Miss M, for all intents and purposes, slept through the night. In her own bed. One night after the terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad night. If I may borrow a phrase from Phantom, this one is definitely being submitted to the Journal of Irreproducible Results. Tonight there will be trauma from the very start because Taxman is putting Miss M to bed; I will be (exultant!) at my book club meeting.
(In equally surprising news, I did not have to use the bathroom between 11:30 and 3; but at 3 I realized that I was probably getting dehydrated, so I had a drink and was up again at 4:30 & 5:30.)
During the 3:00 potty break, I checked to make sure Miss M was breathing. All clear. At 4:30 Miss M demanded about 5 seconds of face time from me, then Taxman, and proceeded to put herself back to sleep--in her bed--without so much as a sip of water. (That was EIGHT hours from the time she fell asleep.) Until 6:30, when she trotted over and wanted to nurse. Thank goodness that kept her entertained for half an hour, because she was not going to go back to sleep!
Sadly, after the 4:30 arousal, even Taxman caught the "when is she going to wake up again" bug and claims (note: he was definitely sleeping at 5:30) he did not have quality sleep after that. But still.
A miracle in our time.
Miss M, for all intents and purposes, slept through the night. In her own bed. One night after the terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad night. If I may borrow a phrase from Phantom, this one is definitely being submitted to the Journal of Irreproducible Results. Tonight there will be trauma from the very start because Taxman is putting Miss M to bed; I will be (exultant!) at my book club meeting.
(In equally surprising news, I did not have to use the bathroom between 11:30 and 3; but at 3 I realized that I was probably getting dehydrated, so I had a drink and was up again at 4:30 & 5:30.)
During the 3:00 potty break, I checked to make sure Miss M was breathing. All clear. At 4:30 Miss M demanded about 5 seconds of face time from me, then Taxman, and proceeded to put herself back to sleep--in her bed--without so much as a sip of water. (That was EIGHT hours from the time she fell asleep.) Until 6:30, when she trotted over and wanted to nurse. Thank goodness that kept her entertained for half an hour, because she was not going to go back to sleep!
Sadly, after the 4:30 arousal, even Taxman caught the "when is she going to wake up again" bug and claims (note: he was definitely sleeping at 5:30) he did not have quality sleep after that. But still.
A miracle in our time.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
The good, the bad, and the ugly
Good...
I finally gave in to the temptation (I had been saving it for Taxman's busy season, when I will truly never have access to a decent grocery store except for late Saturday night) and ordered from Fresh Direct. Basically it is a full service grocery store without a "store"--unfortunately no kosher bakery, but a kosher butcher, produce (which I didn't order, because it was expensive and I am really picky), huge dairy section, fish counter, organic stuff. I didn't even explore the whole site because it is enormous. The first order took longer to place than I expected, but then I equated it to moving to a new town and going food shopping for the first time....as you learn your way around things go faster.
Overall, I was completely impressed. On the site they say they can only guarantee yogurt and other dairy products (other than milk) dated something like 12 days in advance, so I didn't go crazy. But all of the yogurt we got was dated 5-6 weeks off. They don't have every flavor that Stonyfield Farms makes, but they do have very competitive prices in the dairy case.
I got to choose my delivery date and time, and the order came directly to my door. It wasn't until I was unpacking the boxes--in my sweats and bare feet!--that I realized that this is truly worth every penny of the delivery charge. Had I gone to our favorite grocery store, I would have a) needed our car, which was 30 miles away, b) paid $3.50 in tolls, c) had to contend with parking on the way home, d) needed to manage to get everything and everyone upstairs to the apartment, and e) had the x-factor, Miss M. (Sometimes she is fine at the grocery store, but often about halfway through she signs and says "All done!" and wants to get down.) Oh, and you can change your order after you place it! For a Tuesday afternoon delivery, we were able to futz with the order until 11pm Monday night...and we did, because Taxman said, "Did you not remember that I don't really like the blueberry yogurts?" Alas, I had not, so at 10:57 we exchanged them for strawberry. Nifty!
We're definitely ordering from them again! Because who wants to go food shopping at 10pm? NOT ME!
Bad...
Miss M's night sleeping has gotten ridiculous. A month ago I was so excited because she was nightweaned and waking once at around 3, coming to bed with us, and falling back to sleep.
Now she has replaced requests to nurse with requests for water or just plain screaming. Multiple times. I have returned to my lovely state of not being able to fall asleep because I am anticipating her first wakeup (around 12:30am). A special kind of insomnia for the insane.
Last night she was up and crying at 12:30, 1, and 1:15. At 1:15 I really could not get out of bed again, so Taxman took it. Well, first, Miss M got out of her bed and trotted to my bedside. I hugged her and told her I loved her and that Abba was going to take her back to her bed and she should go night-night. And she proceeded to wedge herself between the bed and the night table and tried to dig her toes into the carpet; when Taxman picked her up...oh the screaming. She did settle down pretty quickly, but then Taxman took one for the team and slept on the floor right next to her, with a stuffed Eeyore as a pillow, to act as her personal bouncer.
There was another wakeup--but it was self-soothed--at 4 something, and she stayed in her bed until her morning nursing at 7.
We have no idea if this is more separation anxiety (a possibility, given her age) or what. All we know is that we feel like crap. Two schools of thought on how to deal: 1) that she should be in our bed from the start to cut out the middleman; 2) move her to her own room so she can't see us when she sits up in bed. Personally I don't think that will eliminate the screaming and will only make our neighbors repeat their year-old advice about Ferber. (No, we weren't Ferberizing incorrectly, or at all...we were allowing Miss M to cry in arms.) Or we can just continue muddling through and being exhausted beyond description.
Ugly...
What I think my weight gain will be at the OB's on Friday. I have a feeling that now, at three-quarters cooked with the b2b, I weigh as much as I did at 40 weeks with Miss M. A special shout-out to Taxman, who thinks it's fun to bring me a Krispy Kreme donut and say, "You know, you don't have to eat it." Seriously, who the hell is he kidding? (It was yummy!)
I finally gave in to the temptation (I had been saving it for Taxman's busy season, when I will truly never have access to a decent grocery store except for late Saturday night) and ordered from Fresh Direct. Basically it is a full service grocery store without a "store"--unfortunately no kosher bakery, but a kosher butcher, produce (which I didn't order, because it was expensive and I am really picky), huge dairy section, fish counter, organic stuff. I didn't even explore the whole site because it is enormous. The first order took longer to place than I expected, but then I equated it to moving to a new town and going food shopping for the first time....as you learn your way around things go faster.
Overall, I was completely impressed. On the site they say they can only guarantee yogurt and other dairy products (other than milk) dated something like 12 days in advance, so I didn't go crazy. But all of the yogurt we got was dated 5-6 weeks off. They don't have every flavor that Stonyfield Farms makes, but they do have very competitive prices in the dairy case.
I got to choose my delivery date and time, and the order came directly to my door. It wasn't until I was unpacking the boxes--in my sweats and bare feet!--that I realized that this is truly worth every penny of the delivery charge. Had I gone to our favorite grocery store, I would have a) needed our car, which was 30 miles away, b) paid $3.50 in tolls, c) had to contend with parking on the way home, d) needed to manage to get everything and everyone upstairs to the apartment, and e) had the x-factor, Miss M. (Sometimes she is fine at the grocery store, but often about halfway through she signs and says "All done!" and wants to get down.) Oh, and you can change your order after you place it! For a Tuesday afternoon delivery, we were able to futz with the order until 11pm Monday night...and we did, because Taxman said, "Did you not remember that I don't really like the blueberry yogurts?" Alas, I had not, so at 10:57 we exchanged them for strawberry. Nifty!
We're definitely ordering from them again! Because who wants to go food shopping at 10pm? NOT ME!
Bad...
Miss M's night sleeping has gotten ridiculous. A month ago I was so excited because she was nightweaned and waking once at around 3, coming to bed with us, and falling back to sleep.
Now she has replaced requests to nurse with requests for water or just plain screaming. Multiple times. I have returned to my lovely state of not being able to fall asleep because I am anticipating her first wakeup (around 12:30am). A special kind of insomnia for the insane.
Last night she was up and crying at 12:30, 1, and 1:15. At 1:15 I really could not get out of bed again, so Taxman took it. Well, first, Miss M got out of her bed and trotted to my bedside. I hugged her and told her I loved her and that Abba was going to take her back to her bed and she should go night-night. And she proceeded to wedge herself between the bed and the night table and tried to dig her toes into the carpet; when Taxman picked her up...oh the screaming. She did settle down pretty quickly, but then Taxman took one for the team and slept on the floor right next to her, with a stuffed Eeyore as a pillow, to act as her personal bouncer.
There was another wakeup--but it was self-soothed--at 4 something, and she stayed in her bed until her morning nursing at 7.
We have no idea if this is more separation anxiety (a possibility, given her age) or what. All we know is that we feel like crap. Two schools of thought on how to deal: 1) that she should be in our bed from the start to cut out the middleman; 2) move her to her own room so she can't see us when she sits up in bed. Personally I don't think that will eliminate the screaming and will only make our neighbors repeat their year-old advice about Ferber. (No, we weren't Ferberizing incorrectly, or at all...we were allowing Miss M to cry in arms.) Or we can just continue muddling through and being exhausted beyond description.
Ugly...
What I think my weight gain will be at the OB's on Friday. I have a feeling that now, at three-quarters cooked with the b2b, I weigh as much as I did at 40 weeks with Miss M. A special shout-out to Taxman, who thinks it's fun to bring me a Krispy Kreme donut and say, "You know, you don't have to eat it." Seriously, who the hell is he kidding? (It was yummy!)
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