Monthly Archives: August 2007

Classes

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We are now a Y family. (Well, Ingrid and I are, because it’s cheaper to do two separate than the family one for our needs.)  Ingrid will do swim lessons on Saturdays with Dave, and I had planned on doing a weight class that day, along with everydamnbody else, so maybe I’ll do the elliptical or something. Might even be easier, since the weight class is at one building, and the swim class at another a few blocks away. Anyway. I am registered for one night of Yoga/Pilates Mix, and one night of the weight class, which is actually kind of cool, that you can now sign up for individual nights instead of different times — instead of always being in the 640-740 class, for instance, I can do one night at 6:40 and one at 5:30, or mix up what I do…. all good. I’m feeling pretty good about it.

Aside from that, it’s been odd — we live in Mayberry, truly, right down to the picket fence and the friendly neighbors, but last night, a few houses down, there was a home invasion. The old couple that lives there (the ones we know as "the dog feeders" as they take dog treats on their daily walks to feed the pups they come across) went next door to give their ill neighbor some soup (seriously, MAY. BERRY.) and weren’t gone for more than a few minutes, but when they got home, they heard someone upstairs, and zoom — a guy came barrelling down the stairs and out the front door.  My parents were here last night,and when they arrived, they saw the police cars, but Ifigured it was maybe a noise complaint or baseball through a window or something, until our neighbor came by to give us the scoop and tell us to lock up tight.

We do, anyway, though now we’ve locked the deadbolt and our cars, and locked our screen door when the front one is open. Seriously, while our neighbors were getting robbed, Dave was in the backyard pushing Ing in the swing, and I was upstairs folding laundry, and the front door was wide open, with our full screen door unlocked, as it is EVERY night in summer.

Later that night, the guy maced an 82 year old woman, and he’s linked to a dozen home invasions on the West side/our neighborhood. They even had a HELICOPTER with a SEARCHLIGHT last night. I’ve NEVER seen that in this town, ever, let alone in our neighborhood. So, that’s sort of freaky.

Beyond that, we got our new oil tank installed yesterday, and we had our apple pie and cheese breakfast at work, which is a nod to the farming tradition of eating AP&C breakfast before planting the crops in spring, but as a university, we plant int he fall and harvest in the spring…. either way, it was a nice way to get ready for the return of students next week. 

Body stuff

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I’d read about the side effects of weaning, some of them good (libido!) and some of them bad (plugged ducts! mood swings!) but the big one that has reared it’s ugly head is “massive downward spiral into bodyshame.”

I’ve written before, that pregnancy and nursing was the first time I felt really, really good about my body. It was the first time I did something RIGHT, I never once embarrassed myself with the wrong moves, I didn’t get stuck on the side of some hill, I didn’t go over the handlebars of gestation into a ditch. It was really amazing to feel confident in the way my body functioned, and hell, even the way it looked — I loved my pregnant body, more than any other version of my body to date. (Not counting looking back at old pics and thinking “wait, I wasn’t fat then! Why did I think I was?”)

I wrote about the Y last week, and this weekend was really great, except for two thoughts that kept running through my head, especially after seeing pictues from Saturday, which were a) “Oh god, I cannot end up as b-roll for “America’s Obesity Epidemic!” and b) “I bet people are looking at us and wondering ‘why is HE with THAT fat fuck?'” To the point that, yeah, by Sunday night, there were tears. Luckily, I married a good, good, man, and he is very reassuring and supportive and all of that (and even kind of flattered at B, which might be some sort of twisted libido thing, in that my husband suddenly looks extra yummy with his beard and band t-shirt and the baby on his back….) but still, an unhappy end to a great weekend.

And the anxiety about the Y this time is totally new — my big thing has always been not wanting to look like a fool in front of Real Exercisers, or feeling fat, or whatever, but now — fuck, I’ve nursed all over this town, with no embarrassment — even, gasp, pride! — so I’m kind of over that — but the big anxiety is measuring out my time away from Ingrid. I hate that time is so fleeting, so limited, but I also know that if I don’t improve my fitness, I’ll not be there later on, either. And Dave made some really, really good points, in that I get her for an ‘extra’ hour each day by picking her up at 4, when he gets home at 5:15, so with going 2-3x a week after work, I’d still see her more than he does. He’s totally a coparent, too, and doing dinner and baths and all of that doesn’t at all rattle him, he even looks forward to it. So, that’s covered. As it stands now, I’m going to sign up for the weight class, and I think the yoga/pilates thing, and try to do two weeknights, and one weekend class, while Dave and Ingrid do toddler swim class.

The other thing, too, is that I’m still learning that I’m not at a teaching job, where I’m ON for my entire workday. To that end, I brought in some sneakers, and want to ‘walk the circle’ — the main road around campus is a perfect circle, one mile long — 3x a week. I did it today, and it felt good to be DOING something, on time that isn’t being taken away from Ingrid, or Dave, or whatever. And, if increasing my fitness level leads to all kinds of good things like better sleep and more energy, maybe I could even transition at some point to taking early am classes, before work, that wouldn’t take away from Ingrid nearly as much. We’ll see.

Either way, I’m feeling good about stuff, mostly, and hoping that that rolls over into regaining some sense of not-shame when it comes to my own body.

Weekend

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Really, really good weekend. We went to MDI and basically recreated our daytrip of August last year, only with a bigger Ingrid. I also managed to pick up a pair of luxury baby shoes for half off, which was very exciting, and Ingrid LOVED the ocean, sat right down in it and let the wavies wash over her. Pics at flickr, of course. I tested out my new point and shoot (Canon SD1000) which was deliciously tiny, but my memory card hasn’t arrived yet, so I was stuck with the 32mb card that came with it, and lots of editing and taking small res pics, and whatever, but oh well. It was fun! Great way to beat the humidity that was swamping us, too.

Today we went to the American Folk Festival, an annual event on the waterfront, and that was okay. Ingrid took the longest nap EVER, over two hours, and only woke up because we really wanted to get to the festival so we sort of increased the volume of walking around usptairs and such, but when she woke up, she was ALLL about walking. We parked at my MILs, and visitied for a minute, and she didn’t crawl but once, instead, walking all around. Wild. The fair itself was okay, we had lunch (always good) but the music isn’t really our scene, and we couldn’t find a good spot for Ingrid to see unless she was being worn, so it was mostly a nice walk on a nice day.

Both days, though, babywearing ruled the day, with Dave carrying her in the patapum. We were talking about the evolution of Ingrid, how last year she was on mama’s front, and pretty unaware of stuff going on, and this year she was on Daddy’s back and more aware, and next year she’ll be on her own two feet and dancing! Hopefully. Last year, too, I was poking Dave everytime I saw a parent pushing an empty stroller with one hand while balancing a baby on their hip with the other hand, and this year, it was Dave. He was totally blown away that Ingrid was the *only* baby we saw being worn. I’m pretty sure he got some longing looks from other dads (mostly the pushers of empty strollers) and he loved it, so it was cool to be out there showing that there is an alternative.

And on a totally different note, Andy sent me this youtube video, but this link includes the transcription, and oh. my. god. So fabulously awful.

http://scarletwords.com/2007/08/26/miss-teen-south-carolina-was-robbed/

And now for me…

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I’ve spent the last two years focusing on growing Ingrid (she was conceived 2 years ago, uh, today — Happy Birthday, Dave!), and now that she’s weaned, I’m feeling the need to work on ME for awhile. It’s so hard, though, to figure out the balance. I used to go to the Y, loved going when I was pregnant, but cancelled my membership just before Ingrid was born, knowing we couldn’t afford it, and I wouldn’t be able to go. Now, I’m thinking of rejoining, that damn new season flyer came, don’t you know, but I just wish I knew what the best way to do anything would be.  Working 40 hours a week takes a lot out of my time with an awake Ingrid, and figuring out which hours to sacrifice is hard, man.  I pick her up by 4:15, and she’s going to bed at 8 these days, and of course, those almost-four-hours involve dinner and baths (when applicable) and all of that.

So, these are my options (well, not all of them, but the ones that appeal to me):

4:15-5:15 Tuesday/Thursday, there’s a "Group Power" class: Group Power is your hour of power! This 60-minute barbell program
strengthens all your major muscles in an inspiring, motivating group
environment with fantastic music and awesome instructors. With simple,
athletic movements such as squats, lunges, presses and curls. Group
Power is for all ages and fitness levels.
This class would mean that Dave did pickup on those days, and we’d all get home around the same time. It also might mean that I change in my office before leaving for the day, but I’m fairly sure I could make it from work to the Y in that time.  The same class is offered M/W from 6:40-7:40; I could still do pickup, and wouldn’t feel as rushed getting there.

5:30-6:30 Monday/Wednesday, there’s "Yoga/Pilates Stretch Mix": Includes principles and exercises from the worlds of Pilates and
Yoga. Improve flexibility, core strength, and balance. Relieve stress
and gain peace of mind. Good for all levels.

This class would also probably require a Dave pickup, because it starts at about the time he gets home, unless he could squeak out 5 minutes early on those days.

5:30-6:30, Thursdays, there’s Bellydancing (not a Y class) that I was going to do, but, is it worth it just now, and see above for scheduling stuff.

I am uncoordinated as all get-out, which is why those two classes appeal, and there are early AM classes (like 5:45-6:45) but uhh, that’s early.  I’m leaning toward the first one, because I’ve always liked the weights thing. Also, that one happens on Saturday, during when the infant/toddler swim class is, and I realllly like the idea of Dave and Ingrid doin the swim thing, while I do something, too. (The caveat to that, is that the swim thing is at one location, and the exercise thing at the other.) Anyway. Thoughts?

 

Argh!

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Man, the end of summer sneaks up on everyone, doesn’t it? Anyway.

So, Dave washed his cell phone a week or so ago, basically on the heels of the overpriced Disney subscription, so it’s been an expensive summer, you know? Today, I finally called unicel to see what the cheapest replacement phone would be, knowingwe’d have to pay full price since we didn’t have insurance and the contract was only a few WEEKS old. Basically to replace his phone (a barebones Motorola) would have been 180 bucks. The cheapest one would have been 130, but the CNET reviews were basically like "the worst phone ever, wouldn’t even crap on this phone if you paid me." GRRREEAAT. Just fucking fabulous.

Again, I was annoyed. I went to the Unicel store tonight, still pissed, and walked in 10 minutes before closing to say "My husband hosed his phone, I need the cheapest full price option you have." And the guy pauses and says "well, wait… hold on." And starts digging around in his cupboard. He pulls out a box and looks at a post-it note, and says "Yeah, this guy asked me to hold it for him, but it’s been two weeks, so I can sell you this one for $80." Oh, hallelujah, an $80 solution. He flipped open the box, and it’s a freaking RAZR. Which, of course, is not like cutting edge cellular telephony these days, but it’s more of a phone than the one that got washed, more of a phone than either the 130 or 180 dollar options, and HELLO, 80 bucks. SOLD. He dropped in the SIM card, and I was on my way. WhenI got home, though, I told Dave that he can’t make fun of my sister for at least 6 months, since he just had his own moment of KateKarma.

Another goodbye

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When I was a kid, I loved playing mommy. Loved it. I had dolls lined up around my room, using my old baby clothes, in my old baby cradle. I used to flip through the big Sears and JCPenney catalog and circle all the things my pretend baby would need, and I clearly remember choosing a big padded ring sling from those pages, because it looked so snuggly.

And when I got pregnant, and had my baby, I was blessed with a snuggly, content, mellow, "easy" baby. When I was TTC, and then pregnant, I had a matrix of Things That Mattered to me when I delivered, and at the very top of that list was "BREASTFEEDING." Induction, epidural, c-section, episiotomy, whatever, birth was one day, and breastfeeding was… not. And my first anxiety as a mother (as an expectant woman with a history of miscarriage, I had plenty of anxiety about carrying the baby) was nursing, because it was so, so, so important. But, lo, I had the Nipples du Flat, and it took a little coaxing to get everything working. But really? Just a little. I pumped at my hospital bed to bring in my milk and pull out my nipples, and Dave would feed those precious drops of colostrum to Ingrid via a syringe. One of my favorite memories in the hospital was me, nursing Ingrid in the football hold, while Dave held up my super-calorie milkshake to m lips, this perfect little family unit taking care of each other.

In the hospital, when I nursed Ingrid, I could feel my uterus contracting, almost like a pump, to get back to it’s original size. The one time I sent Ingrid to the nursery, reluctantly (horrible roommate meant no Dave to help), I remember waking with a start, my body sensing it was time to feed the baby, and hearing the squeak of the bassinet coming down the hall, and being surprised, but not too, when it was MY baby coming to me to eat. It was such a primal connection.

At home, the first week was good, I no longer needed to pump, my milk came in at home, and latching on was about 5 seconds of "YOWCH!" until she settled into her rhythm. Dave restocked my Hospital Issue Water Jug with super diluted gatorade, and made sure I had pillows and a cloth diaper and all of that to help me. I would get so, so, sleepy when she nursed, as oxytocin flowed through me, and I just loved the little piggy noises that she’d make.

And then, we were good. I nursed her in public for the first time at the ice cream place out by our old apartment, after looking at the goats. Dave was getting my cone, and she was hungry, and I realized, I just have to go for it, and I did, and it was easy. I nursed her in restaurants, in bed, in the car on long drives, on the couch, with my laptop balanced on one knee, in the doctor’s office.

When I went back to work, I pumped, and she reverse-cycled, started nursing more and more at night, and that was okay. I did all of the things that help preserve the nursing relationship; only ever used newborn nipples, kept a stash at daycare, nursed on demand, when I could.  She only ever nipped me a few times, as the result of a bad or tired latch. The first few months that I was at my new job, we would get home at 4:10 or so, and I’d just tear off my shirt and collapse onto the couch, and she would nurse intently. It made going back to work easier, I think, to have that reconnection in the afternoon.

My plan with nursing was to follow Ingrid’s lead, and to reserve the right to change that plan if I found it wasn’t working for me.  At a year, I stopped pumping, and kept nursing. In the last few weeks, though, Ingrid has begun to wean. I was not ready. I’m still not. But she is, even though it seems like my anecdotal evidence is that babies who get to a year, nurse til they’re two, or are forcibly weaned. But suddenly, Ingrid dropped to once a night. One little midnight snack, basically. She went 36 hours, a few weeks ago, and the hormone crash was horrific, I was crying at work, crying at home, and then she nursed again and my ship rerighted for a bit, but I could see it coming on, fast. This week, she has basically nursed once every other night. She has a bit of a fever and runny nose today, and I offered her the breast, and she grinned like an imp, and started to bite my nipple, so I tucked it away.

Fifteen months is great. It really, really is. I went to a La Leche League World Breastfeeding Week celebration this week, and was even interviewed by the radio news (I’ve no idea if it ran or anything) about how great nursing was. And I loved it, I had an easy go, we had a great nursing relationship. Everything is happening as I want it too, at her pace, but I’m just so caught up that it’s happening so SOON. ANd I realize for many people, 15 months isn’t SOON, it’s "why are you still nursing her?" or "I couldn’t WAIT to be done nursing!" but for me, it’s soon. I wanted to be punk-rock, nursing my toddler at he Common Ground Fair in September, or to defend toddler nursing to family members who’d ask about it with the tsk-tsk barely perceptible under the question. I wanted her to "ask for it," just so I could defend a toddler "asking for it" ("She’s been ‘asking for it since she was born, she just uses words now.") And I have heard stories of nursing relationships that have become difficult, physically and emotionally, and all of that, so I am thankful that our nursing days are ending as gently as they began.  I think about how, when I go to a conference in October, I will be able to sleep all night in a hotel bed, alone, and not have to worry about expressing, or engorgement, or whether that trip was what ruined nursing. Nursing hasn’t been ruined, it’s just run it’s course.

When Ingrid was born, I cried every night for a few weeks, mourning "inside baby." I loved being pregnant, loved that intimate relationship that only I would ever know, and I could look at Ingrid on the outside, and recognize her movements as the same as Inside Baby’s, but it was almost two separate entities. With the birth of Ingrid, I said goodbye to the possible boy-baby, said goodbye to that physical connection, said goodbye to a shitload of hormones that didn’t help with the crying, I’m sure. And now, weaning feels very much like another goodbye. I’m saying goodbye to that unique intimacy that only I will ever know, that intimacy of what it means to nurse Ingrid. To grow her from two cells to walking toddler, in 2 years (she was conceived two years ago this month), that’s … amazing. And for someone who is decidedly NOT a touchy-feely person (the idea of a massage sounds luxurious to some, but to me, I’d rather have a dental cleaning), to have been so successful and content with nursing is amazing.

I’m sad, saying goodbye to Ingrid the infant, and I’m excited to move on to Ingrid the toddler, but still. It’s weird.

Yet Another IKEA Plan

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Hrm, there’s a one day conference that I’d like to go to, that would be good for my own professional development, and conveniently enough, is 7 miles from the Stoughton IKEA. I don’t know why I have this obsession with IKEA, but I do know that a one-night conference would be awesome — I could sleep! all night! in a hotel! And take out the carseat and fold down the seats and flatpack my way to eternal happiness.

Or at least get a meatball.

Weekend

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… kind of sucked. For one, Dave was sick (still is today) so we had to bag our plans to attend his work function, which was a harbor cruise on the steam ferry. (Sounds more luxe than it is; but it was free booze, on a boat, on an absolutely gorgeous night, on the river, which sounded like the coolest thing.) But, since you can’t really take your chances on "if I feel bad, we’ll duck out early" when it’s a BOAT, we cancelled the sitter and stayed home. Suck.  Sunday he felt well enough to go to the fair, so we strapped Ingrid into the Patapum for the first time and took advantage of dollar day, where it was a buck each for Dave and I (Ing was free) to get in, and we checked out the animals and stuff, and then paid a buck each to take Ingrid on the carousel. She’d gone on the one in the St Louis Zoo, and Dave had missed that first, but she liked her second trip, too. (Although the STL Zoo carousel is so freaking beautiful, I am glad that that was her first one… I know, lame.)

Ingrid and I went to say good bye to our friends Natalie and Julia; in true gretchen form, I met Natalie on the internet when she relocated here for her med school rotations (internship? I always forget the vocab on that…) and she had Julia 10 weeks before I had Ingrid, so Julia was Ing’s "first friend." She is off to Texas for residency, so we swung by for a last goodbye, and one last shot of the girls in Bangor.

Then, I spent an inordinate amount of time researching Disney World. See, the major conference in my field is EDUCAUSE’s annual one, and I’m dying to go. This year’s is in Seattle, which I’d love to attend, because I’ve always been enamored of Seattle, and yet never been, but to get there and back would make the trip almost a full week, and that is just too long for me right now. (It’s in October.) But NEXT year, it’s in Orlando, AND it’s over our anniversary. So, I’d like to take advantage of that and stretch it to a vacation (my boss is actually doing the same thing with her husband and son in March, for her Big Annual Event) but Dave thinks that’s ridiculous. Of course, I have to remind him that he married a traveler, and that he apparently loves Disney enough to pay for a completely inane subscription. (He doesn’t care about Disney.) And while right NOW, Ingrid might be oblivious to the Happiest Place on Earth, at 2.5, she would probably get SOME enjoyment out of it. Hell, even if we just went and stayed at a fun hotel, and visited friends and family (family on the east coast, friends on the west) why not? You know? Especially since my flight, and our room for so many nights, and my meals, would be covered by work?   Anyway, it was fun to research hotels and such, and to daydream about a Real Vacation for a bit.

Dave was still sick today, so I did the daycare dropoff, and at work, man, I just felt like crap. Not like Dave, but I’m getting a summer cold (the worst!) and that sucks. Tomorrow I’m leaving early, though, to pick up Ingrid and go to a La Leche League celebration at the park, for World Breastfeeding Week. I was hired so quickly back in February, that I evaporated from all of my mama-baby events, so I’m looking forward to a late afternoon get together with Ingrid and other babies.

That’s where I’m at. Yawn. (And any Orlando with a 2.5 year old tips are much appreciated, too. :))

Work is good.

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(Testing my mobile settings — tried posting this on 7/31 from work, via email, and it didn’t take… let’s see if it works now…)

Seriously, right now? I’m getting paid to drink iced coffee and figure out how to get pants on my new Second Life avatar, and the best part? It’s for WORK. I’ve been kind of takeitorleaveit wrt Second Life, but more and more tech organizations are having meetings and conferences there, and so I figured I shuold be able to take advantage of it.

I can’t believe this is my JOB.

OMFG

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So, I’ve been using Wesabe and loving it, and today I was tagging stuff from Dave’s checking, and came across something so out there, that I knew it was an error. I was so sure it was an error, I called the credit union first, to report fraud.

See, back around my birthday, when we were at the lake, Dave mentioned buying a subscription from a door-to-door salesman. Coincidentally, I had JUST read a NYT article talking about the nightmare that is door-to-door magazine sales, so I was like "NO!" But, he said, he just got some Disney Adventure magazine to help whatever (madeup, I’m sure) charity the kid was pitching. So when I saw a check that said "SIXTY-FIVE DOLLARS AND NO CENTS" I was so totally sure that the salesman had penned in a "6" and "SIXTY" that I literally called the CU first. I tried calling Dave, who was home sick today, but he never answered, and the CU needed him to verify that he hadn’t written the check. "Oh, he will, I know he wouldn’t have ordered that."

Yeah.

I was wrong.

OMMFG. Seriously. I just ordered five mag subscriptions (because I do love a good magazine) that totalled less than 40 bucks, by going through a discount service (which I’ve done before). If I’d decided that Ingrid needed a "wacky and exciting monthly magazine focuses on fun and
action-packed adventure covering the world of entertainment, real-life,
comics, sports, technology, and weird science." you know, that is for "children age seven to 14," I’d have bought it online, for $4.45. Not 3 years of Disney Advertising, sorry, ADVENTURES, for SIXTYMOTHERFUCKINGFIVE DOLLARS.  OR! I’d have bought two years of Babybug, but when I was buying the mags recently, I thought Babybug might be better next year, so I got "Wild Animal Baby" instead, since WAB is 1/3 the price of Babybug.

Evenbetter, just LAST NIGHT we were talking about money, and Dave was questioning how much I spend at Target, and I had to remind him that TARGET is where I buy our TARGET diapers, and TARGET wipes and TARGET toilet paper, etc. So, yeah, I do go to Target regularly, but it’s not like I’m buying silly shoes or something. The crow is being served on a silver platter, tonight, for sure.

I mean, I know I’m lucky that the things that have made me most angry with my husband in seven years are limited to two, and both were done with the best intentions: "Wetsanding the plaster in the hall will be quicker, and not expose my very pregnant wife to harmful dust for as long!" and "Ingrid likes books and will like a magazine and this guy is trying to earn money to go to college to help burn victims!" But still. SIXTYFIVE DOLLARS. AND, I will be very surprised if we EVER even SEE a copy of Disney Adventures, based on the pages of google results for the company he made the check out to.

Thank god it’s the weekend. I brought my pretty MBP home to play with. Yay!