Posts
It has recently come to my attention that I have a boy living in my house. A boy, who despite his small stature and diaper wearing attire and limited vocabulary, is very clearly and obviously A BOY. At this moment, he is standing in front of me with his tricycle helmet on his head, a baseball mitt on his left hand, a tee ball in his right hand, his baseball bat at his feet, and he is experimenting with pitching. He smacks his ball carefully into his mitt, as he's seen on the televised Red Sox games, lifts his right leg in his modified pitcher's stance, and tosses the ball across the room.
18 months old today, and he thinks he is a professional ball player.
Before I open my eyes every morning, the first words I hear floating over the monitor are "bay-ball". Gabe often launches into long diatribes with "bahl" and "bay-bahl" and sometimes "bat" sprinkled in. Yesterday, I was trying his bathing suit on him while I packed for Aruba, and he insisted on running around the house for over 2 hours in the swimsuit (with inflated flotation devices around his waist) with his helmet on, his mitt and ball, and sweat running down his cheeks. His hair looked as if he'd just gotten out of the pool, he was so drenched in sweat from wearing his helmet indoors.
He likes basketball, golf, football, soccer, and any other sport that has a ball. Josh watches sports in the evenings sometimes, and while we're alone at home, Gabe often begs me to turn the tv onto sports. I've tried to convince him to watch something more age-appropriate instead, like Sesame Street perhaps, but his true love is sports. Every sport. Yesterday, he watched 45 minutes of golf. Golf! What could he possibly find interesting about golf? But he exclaimed excitedly over every putt and drive, and would narrate the scene for me while he watched.
And I swore I wouldn't let my kid watch tv, and now look at us. I have to distract him with playing outside to get him to stop asking for sports on television. Parenting is such a humbling experience sometimes.
Gabe has a nervous breakdown over every bus, truck, construction vehicle, motorcycle and bicycle we pass while driving. He points every vehicle out to us, even if all we can see is a piece of an orange crane over the tops of the skyscrapers in Boston. He's seen it, even if it is 3 miles away, and he wants us to know. He has learned the names for a "diggah", "dump cruck", "fah cruck", "cah", "cah-crain (train)", and loads of other words that bear no resemblance to the actual word, except that we recognize the meaning because he always calls them the same thing when he sees them. There is construction going on in our town center, and before we are even 5 blocks away, he starts naming all the vehicles he will see. I dread the day when the construction is finally done, I'll have a devastated child on my hands.
Our neighbor gave us a whole collection of orange construction vehicles, and we have to fight with Gabe to get him to eat and sleep without them. I've selected a couple of favorites, and even though they weigh a ton, I can't imagine trying to get to Aruba without them. We'd have to find a toy store near the hotel tomorrow morning if he woke up without his "crucks". It is an obsession.
The craziest thing, though, is that we have no books about trucks and we don't talk about trucks. I don't know anything about sports, in fact, I detest watching sports and do it as little as possible. His obsession has come from some inner part of his little boy psyche that knew it loved sports. He used to walk around the house with his plastic chicken leg from his play kitchen and pretend the it was a baseball bat. He'd toss around the dogs' toys because he didn't have balls. Until yesterday, he would put one of his shoes on his hand and pretend it was a mitt. He knows he loves sports, and he's not afraid to improvise.
It isn't fair really. Now I'm totally outnumbered when I have both Josh and Gabe whining for baseball every evening. I don't care whether this baby is a boy or a girl, but it better not love trucks and sports. I'm looking for my next child to love to take walks and explore flowers, and maybe play with a little with a play kitchen. Tea anyone?
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
just looking chubby, not pregnant
I don't want to alarm you, but I think this baby might be trying to kill me.
We're 14 and a half weeks and counting and I'm STILL sick. I still spend a good chunk of every day so nauseous that I can't move, I'm so tired that I lie on the couch for hours every afternoon, I have blinding headaches at least every other day, and did I mention the nausea? The nausea is pushing me over the edge. I was feeling so much better with Gabe by this point, so there are moments that are demoralizing. My OB keeps trying to make me feel better by promising that I'll feel better by 15 weeks, but again, since this baby might be trying to kill me, I feel little confidence about her promises.
Of course, there are really great things, like some stretches of the day where I feel pretty good. That is an improvement, it used to be 24/7 nausea. Now it's more like 14/7 nausea. There are also the tiny little flutters that I feel, and those tiny little flutters feel suspiciously like baby movements. It seems far out, because I didn't think you'd be able to feel a baby so soon, but I am choosing to believe that it's more baby than gas. There's also the great news that the baby checks out as totally normal, and our big ultrasound is scheduled for July 15th. I can't wait to check out all the little bits (except for the really revealing ones, of course, although I'm so tempted).
The strangest thing of all, is that I am barely showing. With Gabe I already had a decent pooch of a belly, but these days you'd never know that I'm pregnant. Only in the last two days have I seen any kind of transformation, and I suspect part of this is the fact that I started wearing maternity shirts and pants so they at least billow out to give an impression of a belly. Even my mom was disappointed with my lack of belly when she got off the plane for her visit this week. If I hadn't seen that baby repeatedly on the ultrasound, I'd be doubtful that it was in there at all. Don't get me wrong, the appearance of lovely pregnancy induced cellulite is here. I'm bloated and my thighs and butt have started growing already. I'm just missing the telltale tummy. Sadly.
Besides that, things are good. We're planning for a last minute vacation we planned for next week. I found a fabulous timeshare rental for a condo on Craigslist in Aruba for dirt cheap. Dirt dirt dirt cheap. We booked the tickets with mileage, and since we have a kitchen, we're hoping to eat most of our meals at the discount grocery store rate. I plan to spend every waking minute at the beach and the pool, reading trashy novels, eating ice cream, and hopefully growing that nonexistent belly. We leave on Sunday, and I am counting the minutes until then. And packing bathing suits and lots of sunscreen. Oh, and hoping that I'm not too nauseous to do nothing on the beach.
We're 14 and a half weeks and counting and I'm STILL sick. I still spend a good chunk of every day so nauseous that I can't move, I'm so tired that I lie on the couch for hours every afternoon, I have blinding headaches at least every other day, and did I mention the nausea? The nausea is pushing me over the edge. I was feeling so much better with Gabe by this point, so there are moments that are demoralizing. My OB keeps trying to make me feel better by promising that I'll feel better by 15 weeks, but again, since this baby might be trying to kill me, I feel little confidence about her promises.
Of course, there are really great things, like some stretches of the day where I feel pretty good. That is an improvement, it used to be 24/7 nausea. Now it's more like 14/7 nausea. There are also the tiny little flutters that I feel, and those tiny little flutters feel suspiciously like baby movements. It seems far out, because I didn't think you'd be able to feel a baby so soon, but I am choosing to believe that it's more baby than gas. There's also the great news that the baby checks out as totally normal, and our big ultrasound is scheduled for July 15th. I can't wait to check out all the little bits (except for the really revealing ones, of course, although I'm so tempted).
The strangest thing of all, is that I am barely showing. With Gabe I already had a decent pooch of a belly, but these days you'd never know that I'm pregnant. Only in the last two days have I seen any kind of transformation, and I suspect part of this is the fact that I started wearing maternity shirts and pants so they at least billow out to give an impression of a belly. Even my mom was disappointed with my lack of belly when she got off the plane for her visit this week. If I hadn't seen that baby repeatedly on the ultrasound, I'd be doubtful that it was in there at all. Don't get me wrong, the appearance of lovely pregnancy induced cellulite is here. I'm bloated and my thighs and butt have started growing already. I'm just missing the telltale tummy. Sadly.
Besides that, things are good. We're planning for a last minute vacation we planned for next week. I found a fabulous timeshare rental for a condo on Craigslist in Aruba for dirt cheap. Dirt dirt dirt cheap. We booked the tickets with mileage, and since we have a kitchen, we're hoping to eat most of our meals at the discount grocery store rate. I plan to spend every waking minute at the beach and the pool, reading trashy novels, eating ice cream, and hopefully growing that nonexistent belly. We leave on Sunday, and I am counting the minutes until then. And packing bathing suits and lots of sunscreen. Oh, and hoping that I'm not too nauseous to do nothing on the beach.
Monday, June 16, 2008
to test or not to test
When the OB explained the Ultrascreen test to me, the prenatal test that measures your odds of having a baby with a chromosomal defect, she went into great detail about what the test measured. She carefully explained what different areas were examined through the ultrasound, what the blood test looked for, what the results meant.
When I asked what happened if something came back 'bad', she responded that it wouldn't. "I know," I said, "but what if it does?" "Well, it won't. Your odds are low, only slightly higher than when you were pregnant with Gabe." I nodded, but pressed ahead, "But what if it does? What happens then?" She seemed slightly bothered by my question, "We might advise an amniocentesis, but you wouldn't have that until 16 weeks." I was surprised by this, imagining what it would be like to live with the possibility of heartbreaking news for a month before I could have any kind of confirmation. We talked about an amnio and it's risks, and then moved on. I didn't realize until later that she hadn't really answered my question. In fact, she'd appeared to be purposefully resisting answering the question, even when I insisted.
This bothers me. It bothers me that she would offer a medical test, but then not have the guts to talk about your options if that test comes back with a devastating result. I can't imagine what I would do if such a thing came to pass, in fact, I pretty much push the possibility out of my mind whenever it arises. But I'd expected her to explain the medical side of everything, to describe the options or lack of options you have when you get the results of tests like these.
I am a "need to know" kind of person. I have loads of friends who have refused such tests, because they know in their hearts that they would keep their baby no matter what happens. I need to know. It doesn't matter what the answer is, I want to know as much as I can (except the sex, of course, which seems a little random, doesn't it?).
We had the test last week, and everything looks great, although we're still waiting for the results of the blood test. I dropped the subject with her at the actual testing appointment of what we would do if something came back with high odds of a chromosomal defect, because she was so positive about the ultrasound and said that the ultrasound made up 3/4 of the actual test. Still, it surprised me, especially at a major teaching hospital in Boston.
Maybe I'm totally mistaken about the way she was acting, but it seemed clear to both Josh and I that she was avoiding answering, and that concerns me. If you're faced with a terrible decision, I would hope that your doctor would be supportive and open about helping you through those decisions. In the meantime, I'll be keeping fingers and toes crossed that all my tests come back normal.
When I asked what happened if something came back 'bad', she responded that it wouldn't. "I know," I said, "but what if it does?" "Well, it won't. Your odds are low, only slightly higher than when you were pregnant with Gabe." I nodded, but pressed ahead, "But what if it does? What happens then?" She seemed slightly bothered by my question, "We might advise an amniocentesis, but you wouldn't have that until 16 weeks." I was surprised by this, imagining what it would be like to live with the possibility of heartbreaking news for a month before I could have any kind of confirmation. We talked about an amnio and it's risks, and then moved on. I didn't realize until later that she hadn't really answered my question. In fact, she'd appeared to be purposefully resisting answering the question, even when I insisted.
This bothers me. It bothers me that she would offer a medical test, but then not have the guts to talk about your options if that test comes back with a devastating result. I can't imagine what I would do if such a thing came to pass, in fact, I pretty much push the possibility out of my mind whenever it arises. But I'd expected her to explain the medical side of everything, to describe the options or lack of options you have when you get the results of tests like these.
I am a "need to know" kind of person. I have loads of friends who have refused such tests, because they know in their hearts that they would keep their baby no matter what happens. I need to know. It doesn't matter what the answer is, I want to know as much as I can (except the sex, of course, which seems a little random, doesn't it?).
We had the test last week, and everything looks great, although we're still waiting for the results of the blood test. I dropped the subject with her at the actual testing appointment of what we would do if something came back with high odds of a chromosomal defect, because she was so positive about the ultrasound and said that the ultrasound made up 3/4 of the actual test. Still, it surprised me, especially at a major teaching hospital in Boston.
Maybe I'm totally mistaken about the way she was acting, but it seemed clear to both Josh and I that she was avoiding answering, and that concerns me. If you're faced with a terrible decision, I would hope that your doctor would be supportive and open about helping you through those decisions. In the meantime, I'll be keeping fingers and toes crossed that all my tests come back normal.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
someone should have mentioned this parenting thing was hard sometimes
The other day, my mom asked me if I would do anything differently with a second child than I'd done with Gabe.
It's funny, because I realized in that moment that having a second child is an opportunity to fix some of the mistakes you made with your first- and make some new ones along the way too! It is hard for me to say at this point what I'd do differently, because let's be honest, I've only had 17 months of parenting. I have a feeling mistakes will come to the surface a little later on, but after careful consideration, these are what I think I will do differently.
1. I'll stress less about breastfeeding.
I was a breastfeeding nazi, but only to myself. I was super champion to all my bottle-feeding friends, and I would beg some of my uber-stressed out friends to let go of some of the stress when they were killing themselves with difficult breastfeeding situations. But for some reason, I couldn't cut myself the same break. I think this is my ultra-perfectionist side shining through. Thankfully, my first six months of breastfeeding were relatively easy and my milk production issues didn't show up until around 9 months, but those last few months were tough. I pumped CONSTANTLY, sometimes 5 or 6 or 7 times per day, sometimes I'd sit in the kitchen in tears until 1 am, shutting the breast pump on and off and on and off. I even got up at 3 or 4am at times, just to stimulate production. It was craziness. All in an effort to avoid formula. Craziness, I tell you.
2. I'm going to leave my children once in a while.
I'm almost ashamed to admit this, but I've never left Gabe overnight. Not once, not yet. I've never had a non-family babysitter, which wouldn't be an issue if I had family close by, but I don't. This means that Josh and I have been out alone maybe 3-4 times? Maybe. We haven't gone to the movies or out for coffee or for walks alone, because our babysitters are so rare, and those same babysitters are generally in town to visit us so we can't very well ditch them when they visit. The non-family babysitter has half-way to do with anxiety, and a lot to do with finances, so I can't totally berate myself, but still. With baby #2, we are definitely going to have to find a way to budget some help. Even if it is 2 hours a week, I think it'll do me good to have a tiny bit of "me" time.
3. Josh is going to have to help more.
Don't get me wrong, Josh helps a lot, but I have fallen into that silly trap of showing that I can do it all. This first trimester awfulness has shown me that I have to make a change. He has to step up and take a bigger chunk of childcare and house operations. Period.
4. I won't always assume this baby is hungry when he/she gets up at night.
When I was still breastfeeding, I assumed Gabe was hungry every time he woke up, even though the books and the pediatrician said he probably wasn't. I know he wasn't getting a ton of milk every time he fed, so I thought quantity was important and I'd feed him in the middle of the night even when we were approaching a year old. Once I'd stopped breastfeeding, he generally stopped getting up at night, but occasionally during trips away from home or when he was sick, he'd wake up and I'd give him a sippy cup. It was so easy, because he'd drink the milk and fall right to sleep. But sometimes, even after a trip or an illness, the waking up would linger and he'd be getting up for a week straight, often just a few hours after dinnertime and asking for milk. So one day, about a month ago, I just stopped. He woke up, I soothed him back to sleep. He got up again and asked for milk and I told him there was none, so he went to sleep. And STOPPED WAKING UP. I wish that when I cut out the nighttime nursing sessions, I'd never started with the sippy cups because I have a feeling we were waking up for much longer than we needed to. Hopefully I'll remember this in another year and a half.
5. I'll print some pictures out, maybe complete a baby book or two.
I still have no baby book completed, and although I have 5000+ pictures, I never print them out. This has to change, or my children will disown me in the future.
6. I'll email out more pictures too.
My poor mom has taken to paying me $5 a picture, if I'll just send her some.
7. I'll treasure the babydom more.
Now I know just HOW fast it really passes. I am treasuring my toddlerdom these days. I want to burn images into my mind- like Gabe standing at the coffee table with a car in his hand, vroom vrooming around the glass top, or singing to him last night in his rocker and the way he turns his face to look at me, watch me sing and give me the sweetest little half smile, or the way he comes over unsolicited and gives me hugs and kisses. Oh, the heartbreaking cuteness.
8. I'll be more patient.
This one will be the hardest, I suspect. Between the baby and the two dogs, patience runs short these days.
9. I'll cut myself some slack.
Or maybe this one will be the hardest, actually. I'm trying, though. A few days ago, I put the dogs in the kitchen, Gabe in his crib, and took a nap when I couldn't see straight from first trimester exhaustion. And I didn't even feel guilty about it. Everybody hits their breaking point sometimes.
What about you? What would you do differently? What advice can you give me? I'm more than a little nervous about this whole two kids under two thing. I have a feeling this winter is going to be a tough one!
It's funny, because I realized in that moment that having a second child is an opportunity to fix some of the mistakes you made with your first- and make some new ones along the way too! It is hard for me to say at this point what I'd do differently, because let's be honest, I've only had 17 months of parenting. I have a feeling mistakes will come to the surface a little later on, but after careful consideration, these are what I think I will do differently.
1. I'll stress less about breastfeeding.
I was a breastfeeding nazi, but only to myself. I was super champion to all my bottle-feeding friends, and I would beg some of my uber-stressed out friends to let go of some of the stress when they were killing themselves with difficult breastfeeding situations. But for some reason, I couldn't cut myself the same break. I think this is my ultra-perfectionist side shining through. Thankfully, my first six months of breastfeeding were relatively easy and my milk production issues didn't show up until around 9 months, but those last few months were tough. I pumped CONSTANTLY, sometimes 5 or 6 or 7 times per day, sometimes I'd sit in the kitchen in tears until 1 am, shutting the breast pump on and off and on and off. I even got up at 3 or 4am at times, just to stimulate production. It was craziness. All in an effort to avoid formula. Craziness, I tell you.
2. I'm going to leave my children once in a while.
I'm almost ashamed to admit this, but I've never left Gabe overnight. Not once, not yet. I've never had a non-family babysitter, which wouldn't be an issue if I had family close by, but I don't. This means that Josh and I have been out alone maybe 3-4 times? Maybe. We haven't gone to the movies or out for coffee or for walks alone, because our babysitters are so rare, and those same babysitters are generally in town to visit us so we can't very well ditch them when they visit. The non-family babysitter has half-way to do with anxiety, and a lot to do with finances, so I can't totally berate myself, but still. With baby #2, we are definitely going to have to find a way to budget some help. Even if it is 2 hours a week, I think it'll do me good to have a tiny bit of "me" time.
3. Josh is going to have to help more.
Don't get me wrong, Josh helps a lot, but I have fallen into that silly trap of showing that I can do it all. This first trimester awfulness has shown me that I have to make a change. He has to step up and take a bigger chunk of childcare and house operations. Period.
4. I won't always assume this baby is hungry when he/she gets up at night.
When I was still breastfeeding, I assumed Gabe was hungry every time he woke up, even though the books and the pediatrician said he probably wasn't. I know he wasn't getting a ton of milk every time he fed, so I thought quantity was important and I'd feed him in the middle of the night even when we were approaching a year old. Once I'd stopped breastfeeding, he generally stopped getting up at night, but occasionally during trips away from home or when he was sick, he'd wake up and I'd give him a sippy cup. It was so easy, because he'd drink the milk and fall right to sleep. But sometimes, even after a trip or an illness, the waking up would linger and he'd be getting up for a week straight, often just a few hours after dinnertime and asking for milk. So one day, about a month ago, I just stopped. He woke up, I soothed him back to sleep. He got up again and asked for milk and I told him there was none, so he went to sleep. And STOPPED WAKING UP. I wish that when I cut out the nighttime nursing sessions, I'd never started with the sippy cups because I have a feeling we were waking up for much longer than we needed to. Hopefully I'll remember this in another year and a half.
5. I'll print some pictures out, maybe complete a baby book or two.
I still have no baby book completed, and although I have 5000+ pictures, I never print them out. This has to change, or my children will disown me in the future.
6. I'll email out more pictures too.
My poor mom has taken to paying me $5 a picture, if I'll just send her some.
7. I'll treasure the babydom more.
Now I know just HOW fast it really passes. I am treasuring my toddlerdom these days. I want to burn images into my mind- like Gabe standing at the coffee table with a car in his hand, vroom vrooming around the glass top, or singing to him last night in his rocker and the way he turns his face to look at me, watch me sing and give me the sweetest little half smile, or the way he comes over unsolicited and gives me hugs and kisses. Oh, the heartbreaking cuteness.
8. I'll be more patient.
This one will be the hardest, I suspect. Between the baby and the two dogs, patience runs short these days.
9. I'll cut myself some slack.
Or maybe this one will be the hardest, actually. I'm trying, though. A few days ago, I put the dogs in the kitchen, Gabe in his crib, and took a nap when I couldn't see straight from first trimester exhaustion. And I didn't even feel guilty about it. Everybody hits their breaking point sometimes.
What about you? What would you do differently? What advice can you give me? I'm more than a little nervous about this whole two kids under two thing. I have a feeling this winter is going to be a tough one!
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
insanity
We lost our minds last week and decided to take Gabe to Chuck E. Cheese. It's been ages (read: decades) since I've seen the lovable giant mouse, and I was anticipating lots of loud noise, an overwhelmed child, definite over-stimulation, and lousy food.
We were, to say the least, pleasantly surprised. I'd gone on the website beforehand and scored some great coupons, so for $25, we had a large pizza with multiple toppings, 4 sodas, 1 milk, one salad bar, and 40 tokens. All of the games were 1 token each, so 40 tokens went a long way. The pizza was shockingly good! Thick crust, lots of cheese and veggies, Gabe gave his thumbs up approval. The salad bar was super fresh and yummy, and we each found tons to eat on it. The staff was pleasant and kind and responded to every request quickly, including running over with a high chair and a complimentary bib, converting a soda to a kid's milk at no additional charge, and letting Gabe pick out a mylar balloon even though he was 40 tickets short.
Gabe loved the characters singing on stage, although he was careful to keep a safe distance from them. He enjoyed all of the ride-on mechanical toys and kept running away with our skee balls while Josh and I were trying to play. He was a little too young for the jungle gym area, but he loved exploring all the different areas. The beauty of taking a 17 month old to a video game place, is that he didn't understand the whole tokens thing, so there was no begging but lots of clapping and laughing while he watched the games do their thing. Shamefully, he actually did better than I did on a particular game just by smacking his hands down on the buttons while I tried to use actual skill.
Anyway, it was cute and fun and we'll definitely be back. Maybe next time with some friends, now that we know that we can survive it with a toddler. In the meantime, we'll enjoy some pretty cute pictures!
Geez, I love that kid!
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
it's a good thing he is so cute
Gabriel is a really great baby. He is incredibly sweet and generous with hugs and kisses. He plays by himself without a problem for short periods of time during the day and doesn't throw many tantrums. He sits in his high chair for up to an hour at dinnertime, happily eating all different types of foods, including meat, vegetables, pasta, fish, fruit, plain yogurt, jars of leftover baby food, chicken, cereal, and whatever random food I put in front of him. He sleeps 13-14 hours a night and takes a 2 and a half to 3 hour nap in the afternoons. He is easygoing and curious and kind to other children. He is gorgeous and wonderful and I love him to death. He's really amazing- I am very lucky.
But oh my GOD, he is so crazy, ridiculously, absurdly, busy. He never ever ever NEVER stops. I know lots of parents say their children are full of energy, but I swear to you, you've probably never experienced a child like Gabe. I go to the bathroom and in the 30 seconds I'm gone, he's dragged the potted plant down off of the ledge and stomped through the dirt. He's scattered the dog food around the kitchen and splashed around in the water bowl. He's dragged a chair away from the table and climbed onto the dining room table and thrown everything off of it. He pulls his play table across the room, climbs onto the table to reach the high shelves, and flings books off the bookshelf gleefully. He opens dresser drawers and pulls all the clothes out. He empties the pantry of all its food in no time at all. He's learned to open doors. He's working on outsmarting the child locks. He can destroy a room in 27.6 seconds.
At play dates, he refuses to be confined by the toys in a playroom. Instead, he'll sneak into the hallway to open all your desk drawers, or take everything out of your kitchen cabinets. He'll find all of your non-toy implements and endeavor to discover totally inappropriate ways to use them. At the playground, he puts other children to shame in the number of times he can go down a slide, run around the play structure and climb back up, all while other kids are still climbing up the stairs. While other children sit quietly in music class, he climbs under the tables and behind the barricades to reach the shelves where he can climb. He spends half the class trying to climb over the baby gate. If he can get into the bathroom, he'll open the toilet and throw things inside of it and flush it faster than you can run across the room. At the park, he will determinedly run away from me and never look back. I have watched him get a full football field's length away without ever checking to see if I am coming. He is daring and brave and very independent. It also doesn't help that at almost 17 months, Gabe is impressively coordinated (although clearly not from my side of the family). He kicks balls, throws over and underhanded, climbs up everything skillfully and easily, runs up and down hills without stumbling. His pediatrician said that at 15 months, he probably had the gross motor skills of a 2 year old. What that really means for me, though, is that he has the ability to get in even more trouble, even faster.
He is exhausting. My in-laws, who would never utter a negative word against any of their grandchildren describe him as relentless. My father in law thinks that Gabe is Josh's revenge for how bad Josh was in his childhood. My parents cautioned me never to take my eyes off of him, because he can accomplish a great deal in a second. My friends admit that he is nonstop action, although they're quick to follow up with other kind words about him. I think he must sleep so well at night and during naps because he wears himself out the rest of the time.
I wouldn't trade him for the world, but there are days when I wish he would sit quietly for 5 minutes. There are days when I wish he was just a little less curious, maybe a little less active. At the same time, though, he is outrageously cute. I've never laughed more in a day than I do now, as I watch him flit from activity to activity, putting buckets on his head, and daddy's shoes on his feet, and chasing the dogs to feed them his play kitchen food. Life is very fun these days. Busy, but very fun.
Really, though, I think I can only handle one Gabe. My one wish (besides being healthy) is that his sibling has other gifts besides having the energy of a jackrabbit. I'm buoyed by hearing people's stories about how different their children are, and I hope this next one is equally amazing, just a tiny bit less crazy. I can hope, right? Please tell me there's hope. My sanity needs it.
Ignore her... Is this the face of a troublemaker?
But oh my GOD, he is so crazy, ridiculously, absurdly, busy. He never ever ever NEVER stops. I know lots of parents say their children are full of energy, but I swear to you, you've probably never experienced a child like Gabe. I go to the bathroom and in the 30 seconds I'm gone, he's dragged the potted plant down off of the ledge and stomped through the dirt. He's scattered the dog food around the kitchen and splashed around in the water bowl. He's dragged a chair away from the table and climbed onto the dining room table and thrown everything off of it. He pulls his play table across the room, climbs onto the table to reach the high shelves, and flings books off the bookshelf gleefully. He opens dresser drawers and pulls all the clothes out. He empties the pantry of all its food in no time at all. He's learned to open doors. He's working on outsmarting the child locks. He can destroy a room in 27.6 seconds.
At play dates, he refuses to be confined by the toys in a playroom. Instead, he'll sneak into the hallway to open all your desk drawers, or take everything out of your kitchen cabinets. He'll find all of your non-toy implements and endeavor to discover totally inappropriate ways to use them. At the playground, he puts other children to shame in the number of times he can go down a slide, run around the play structure and climb back up, all while other kids are still climbing up the stairs. While other children sit quietly in music class, he climbs under the tables and behind the barricades to reach the shelves where he can climb. He spends half the class trying to climb over the baby gate. If he can get into the bathroom, he'll open the toilet and throw things inside of it and flush it faster than you can run across the room. At the park, he will determinedly run away from me and never look back. I have watched him get a full football field's length away without ever checking to see if I am coming. He is daring and brave and very independent. It also doesn't help that at almost 17 months, Gabe is impressively coordinated (although clearly not from my side of the family). He kicks balls, throws over and underhanded, climbs up everything skillfully and easily, runs up and down hills without stumbling. His pediatrician said that at 15 months, he probably had the gross motor skills of a 2 year old. What that really means for me, though, is that he has the ability to get in even more trouble, even faster.
He is exhausting. My in-laws, who would never utter a negative word against any of their grandchildren describe him as relentless. My father in law thinks that Gabe is Josh's revenge for how bad Josh was in his childhood. My parents cautioned me never to take my eyes off of him, because he can accomplish a great deal in a second. My friends admit that he is nonstop action, although they're quick to follow up with other kind words about him. I think he must sleep so well at night and during naps because he wears himself out the rest of the time.
I wouldn't trade him for the world, but there are days when I wish he would sit quietly for 5 minutes. There are days when I wish he was just a little less curious, maybe a little less active. At the same time, though, he is outrageously cute. I've never laughed more in a day than I do now, as I watch him flit from activity to activity, putting buckets on his head, and daddy's shoes on his feet, and chasing the dogs to feed them his play kitchen food. Life is very fun these days. Busy, but very fun.
Really, though, I think I can only handle one Gabe. My one wish (besides being healthy) is that his sibling has other gifts besides having the energy of a jackrabbit. I'm buoyed by hearing people's stories about how different their children are, and I hope this next one is equally amazing, just a tiny bit less crazy. I can hope, right? Please tell me there's hope. My sanity needs it.
Ignore her... Is this the face of a troublemaker?
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
maybe I'll make it after all
I woke up today and felt... human.
For the first time in many many weeks.
I'm still queasy, but queasy is nothing compared to what I've been for quite some time. I would be freaking out about it, but we just had an ultrasound yesterday and a scan with the doppler, and 002 is in there, waving his or her little arms and legs at me. The heartbeat was 190, nice and strong, and much faster than Gabe's has ever been. Who knows what that means, but the OB said it sounded like a girl's heartbeat to her. I say those are all old wives' tales. I guess we'll find out in December!
We've pretty much decided that we won't be finding out what the sex of this baby is until the birth. The real reason is that we just don't care whether this is a girl or a boy, and we loved not knowing with Gabe, so we figure we'll keep the tradition. I'm excited for either option. It would be great to have a girl, just because I'd love to have a daughter, but it would also be great to have another boy because they'll be close in age. I think Gabe would love a brother, plus, I have SO MANY cute baby boy clothes that I desperately want to use again. We'd love to have a third child, as long as this one isn't any more of a hellion than Gabriel, so I'm not that worried either way.
I've been feeling pretty guilty lately, and I hate to even write this down for 002 to read one day, but being this sick all the time has made it hard for me to be very excited about this pregnancy. There have been so many days when I can't even get up off the bathroom floor or pick myself up off the couch without wanting to cry. I've felt so sick, that when I went into this week's doctor's appointment, I was convinced something would be wrong. I kept imagining what I would do when I found out that the vomiting had been a sign of something terrible, and thinking those thoughts definitely does not make the all-the-freaking-time-sickness any easier to bear.
I felt sick with Gabe, but it wasn't this kind of all-encompassing, wanting to gouge my eyes out, sobbing against the toilet, type of sickness. I was tired of being sick, but I could still feel so much excitement for our first pregnancy. This time, I'm so frustrated and exhausted from the nausea, I have moments where I'm convinced that there isn't a baby in there, but instead a parasite that is killing me slowly.
I feel terrible writing this down, because I don't want to seem ungrateful. I am grateful. I am excited. I keep picking up my ultrasound pictures with the bean with the gigantic head and the little arms and legs and I think I finally believe that there is a baby. I can't believe there might be another baby as amazing as Gabe in my life in a few short months. Josh and I can't wait. It's just hard. Some days are harder than others, and today, waking up to a world with no gagging has allowed me to admit that it is surprisingly harder than I'd imagined.
For the first time in many many weeks.
I'm still queasy, but queasy is nothing compared to what I've been for quite some time. I would be freaking out about it, but we just had an ultrasound yesterday and a scan with the doppler, and 002 is in there, waving his or her little arms and legs at me. The heartbeat was 190, nice and strong, and much faster than Gabe's has ever been. Who knows what that means, but the OB said it sounded like a girl's heartbeat to her. I say those are all old wives' tales. I guess we'll find out in December!
We've pretty much decided that we won't be finding out what the sex of this baby is until the birth. The real reason is that we just don't care whether this is a girl or a boy, and we loved not knowing with Gabe, so we figure we'll keep the tradition. I'm excited for either option. It would be great to have a girl, just because I'd love to have a daughter, but it would also be great to have another boy because they'll be close in age. I think Gabe would love a brother, plus, I have SO MANY cute baby boy clothes that I desperately want to use again. We'd love to have a third child, as long as this one isn't any more of a hellion than Gabriel, so I'm not that worried either way.
I've been feeling pretty guilty lately, and I hate to even write this down for 002 to read one day, but being this sick all the time has made it hard for me to be very excited about this pregnancy. There have been so many days when I can't even get up off the bathroom floor or pick myself up off the couch without wanting to cry. I've felt so sick, that when I went into this week's doctor's appointment, I was convinced something would be wrong. I kept imagining what I would do when I found out that the vomiting had been a sign of something terrible, and thinking those thoughts definitely does not make the all-the-freaking-time-sickness any easier to bear.
I felt sick with Gabe, but it wasn't this kind of all-encompassing, wanting to gouge my eyes out, sobbing against the toilet, type of sickness. I was tired of being sick, but I could still feel so much excitement for our first pregnancy. This time, I'm so frustrated and exhausted from the nausea, I have moments where I'm convinced that there isn't a baby in there, but instead a parasite that is killing me slowly.
I feel terrible writing this down, because I don't want to seem ungrateful. I am grateful. I am excited. I keep picking up my ultrasound pictures with the bean with the gigantic head and the little arms and legs and I think I finally believe that there is a baby. I can't believe there might be another baby as amazing as Gabe in my life in a few short months. Josh and I can't wait. It's just hard. Some days are harder than others, and today, waking up to a world with no gagging has allowed me to admit that it is surprisingly harder than I'd imagined.
Friday, May 16, 2008
makes you wonder about our home's construction, huh?
I came home tonight, at 8:15 pm, which is pretty close to Gabe's bedtime, to discover that I was locked out of the house.
You see, I left this afternoon through the garage because the stroller was in the garage and I needed to put it in the car. I checked and double checked that I had the front door key before I closed the garage door and snuck out underneath, because, come on, I'm no idiot. I failed to check, however, that I'd removed the FREAKING CHAIN from the front door.
So I get home late, laden with bags, and a cranky child, and dogs barking crazily inside, and horrific morning sickness, and crazy pregnancy hormones, and discover that we're locked out because the safety chain lock thing is keeping us out. The garage door opener is sitting in Josh's locked car at the Boston airport, while Josh is in Seattle with the keys to his car.
What to do? With my cranky toddler in tow, I find a stick in the backyard to see if I can somehow fashion a hook to push the inside chain off the track to let us in. Shockingly, my stick idea doesn't work although I made a valiant attempt and skinned half of my hand off while trying. Then, I try my keys in the side and back doors, even though I KNOW they don't open those doors because we specifically fashioned the door locks that way. I look around for an open window, even though I don't have a ladder to access the windows, but whatever, I'm not thinking straight at this point. I called Josh in Seattle, but another big shock, he can't really help from 3,000 miles away. In fact, he told me he was busy in a meeting but would "try to brainstorm in the meantime". Gee, thanks.
I return to the front door, examine the situation again, and decide on the most logical thing my pregnant brain can come up with. I'll kick down the door. KICK DOWN THE DOOR. And do you know what? I actually did it. I kicked our front door hard enough and long enough that I took the entire molding off the door, where the chain was attached, off the wall. Yup.
And then I calmly took the rather large piece of molding, with chain still attached, and large nails sticking out, and placed it on the dining room table for Josh to deal with. I vacuumed up the chunks of paint and wall that littered my entryway, dressed my child for bed, put him down, and ate a cupcake, because damn it, I needed one.
Never in this whole situation did it occur to me to ask the neighbor for a bolt cutter to cut through the chain, or even to go to the hardware store to buy a bolt cutter to cut through the chain. Nope. The logical thing to me was to kick down the door. Not call a locksmith, or the fire department, or whomever you call in situations like these. I kick down doors. With toddlers watching, because I like to set good examples.
It is any wonder that he keeps kicking the dogs? Also, please send more cupcakes. I'm going to need them tomorrow when Josh sees the front door.
You see, I left this afternoon through the garage because the stroller was in the garage and I needed to put it in the car. I checked and double checked that I had the front door key before I closed the garage door and snuck out underneath, because, come on, I'm no idiot. I failed to check, however, that I'd removed the FREAKING CHAIN from the front door.
So I get home late, laden with bags, and a cranky child, and dogs barking crazily inside, and horrific morning sickness, and crazy pregnancy hormones, and discover that we're locked out because the safety chain lock thing is keeping us out. The garage door opener is sitting in Josh's locked car at the Boston airport, while Josh is in Seattle with the keys to his car.
What to do? With my cranky toddler in tow, I find a stick in the backyard to see if I can somehow fashion a hook to push the inside chain off the track to let us in. Shockingly, my stick idea doesn't work although I made a valiant attempt and skinned half of my hand off while trying. Then, I try my keys in the side and back doors, even though I KNOW they don't open those doors because we specifically fashioned the door locks that way. I look around for an open window, even though I don't have a ladder to access the windows, but whatever, I'm not thinking straight at this point. I called Josh in Seattle, but another big shock, he can't really help from 3,000 miles away. In fact, he told me he was busy in a meeting but would "try to brainstorm in the meantime". Gee, thanks.
I return to the front door, examine the situation again, and decide on the most logical thing my pregnant brain can come up with. I'll kick down the door. KICK DOWN THE DOOR. And do you know what? I actually did it. I kicked our front door hard enough and long enough that I took the entire molding off the door, where the chain was attached, off the wall. Yup.
And then I calmly took the rather large piece of molding, with chain still attached, and large nails sticking out, and placed it on the dining room table for Josh to deal with. I vacuumed up the chunks of paint and wall that littered my entryway, dressed my child for bed, put him down, and ate a cupcake, because damn it, I needed one.
Never in this whole situation did it occur to me to ask the neighbor for a bolt cutter to cut through the chain, or even to go to the hardware store to buy a bolt cutter to cut through the chain. Nope. The logical thing to me was to kick down the door. Not call a locksmith, or the fire department, or whomever you call in situations like these. I kick down doors. With toddlers watching, because I like to set good examples.
It is any wonder that he keeps kicking the dogs? Also, please send more cupcakes. I'm going to need them tomorrow when Josh sees the front door.
tao of fertility
On the baby-making bandwagon? Thinking about it in the near future? Check out the Pumpkin Products blog for information about The Tao of Fertility, a book about Chinese medicine and infertility.
Plus, I'm giving away a free copy!
Plus, I'm giving away a free copy!
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
I throw up in the downstairs bathroom, just in case
A few weeks ago, we had a warm day and after the endless winter we've been enduring around here, we opened the windows to enjoy the fresh air during the night. In the morning, I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face and encountered these beasts roaming around my bathroom:
4 were running around in the tub and tile around the shower, 3 were running around the rest of the bathroom, and one on the ceiling. As I was doing a final sweep of the room, I saw the piece de resistance. The MOTHER OF ALL ANTS was lounging about, of all places, on my towel. The towel with which I dry my body. The towel with which I was about to wipe my face. MY CLEAN FLUFFY WHITE TOWEL.
These ants were huge. Large, very very large. I'd say the length of my thumb nail. And they weren't bashful. Even when I turned on the shower to flush them down the drain, even when I approached them with a wad of toilet paper to smoosh them, they didn't back down. Now, we don't have ants like these in California, or at least I've never seen them. We have small, respectable little ants that eat your food or break into your house in teams to steal your sugar, but we don't have these monstrosities.
I took immediate action. We closed all the windows, taped off the bathroom vent with saran wrap to make sure they weren't coming in another way, and I searched the rest of the house to see if we had any intruders. We had a few. Two in the downstairs bathroom that were huddling near the sink, one hanging out near the coffee maker, one running around on the ceiling of the kitchen, and one brave sucker on the couch where I enjoy my breakfast. Thank goodness I saw him before he came too close to me, or we'd have had some serious pesticide bombings in that living room.
Closing the windows and saran wrapping the vent made a big difference. We didn't have any invasions that even closely resembled that day when the whole family came in at once. I've decided, however, that these ants are engaged in intimidation tactics. I'm not joking.
The ants are coming in one by one, through some secret entrances that I haven't discovered yet. They appear out of the blue in the middle of my shower, hanging out on Gabe's body wash. One comes running out of my medicine cabinet in the middle of my nightly routine. Worst of all, yesterday, one was hanging out on the toilet paper. I repeat, the toilet paper, with which I wipe my girly bits. Now tell me what that is, if it isn't intimidation.
I initially panicked, thinking these were carpenter ants that were consuming our house shingle by shingle, but according to my neighbors, these ants have been around for 30 years, breaking into the houses every Spring and slowly trickling away as the Summer begins. I forced Josh to go buy a tree cutter and remove every branch that was within ant jumping distance of the house, and we're sleeping with windows shut until we come to some sort of truce. I'm reluctant to put out ant poison, although I did break down and buy it, because of the many small people in this house who I'd like to protect from unnecessary poisons.
So for now, I'm checking the toilet paper 3 times before I use it, I keep my towels in our bedroom, and I find myself creeping around our bathroom terrified of running into another one of those guys. I know they can't hurt me, but there is something about their enormous beady bodies that creeps me the frick out. Really. I'm not normally a person prone to running screaming from a bug, and I've been known to kill spiders more often than my husband (especially after the whole bullet ant incident*), but I have serious issues with these ants.
I wonder if I can come up with some form of warning system. Maybe I should leave a pile of their murdered compatriots to encourage them to find another home?
_______________________________________________
*By the way, that entry still makes me laugh out loud, 3 years later.
4 were running around in the tub and tile around the shower, 3 were running around the rest of the bathroom, and one on the ceiling. As I was doing a final sweep of the room, I saw the piece de resistance. The MOTHER OF ALL ANTS was lounging about, of all places, on my towel. The towel with which I dry my body. The towel with which I was about to wipe my face. MY CLEAN FLUFFY WHITE TOWEL.
These ants were huge. Large, very very large. I'd say the length of my thumb nail. And they weren't bashful. Even when I turned on the shower to flush them down the drain, even when I approached them with a wad of toilet paper to smoosh them, they didn't back down. Now, we don't have ants like these in California, or at least I've never seen them. We have small, respectable little ants that eat your food or break into your house in teams to steal your sugar, but we don't have these monstrosities.
I took immediate action. We closed all the windows, taped off the bathroom vent with saran wrap to make sure they weren't coming in another way, and I searched the rest of the house to see if we had any intruders. We had a few. Two in the downstairs bathroom that were huddling near the sink, one hanging out near the coffee maker, one running around on the ceiling of the kitchen, and one brave sucker on the couch where I enjoy my breakfast. Thank goodness I saw him before he came too close to me, or we'd have had some serious pesticide bombings in that living room.
Closing the windows and saran wrapping the vent made a big difference. We didn't have any invasions that even closely resembled that day when the whole family came in at once. I've decided, however, that these ants are engaged in intimidation tactics. I'm not joking.
The ants are coming in one by one, through some secret entrances that I haven't discovered yet. They appear out of the blue in the middle of my shower, hanging out on Gabe's body wash. One comes running out of my medicine cabinet in the middle of my nightly routine. Worst of all, yesterday, one was hanging out on the toilet paper. I repeat, the toilet paper, with which I wipe my girly bits. Now tell me what that is, if it isn't intimidation.
I initially panicked, thinking these were carpenter ants that were consuming our house shingle by shingle, but according to my neighbors, these ants have been around for 30 years, breaking into the houses every Spring and slowly trickling away as the Summer begins. I forced Josh to go buy a tree cutter and remove every branch that was within ant jumping distance of the house, and we're sleeping with windows shut until we come to some sort of truce. I'm reluctant to put out ant poison, although I did break down and buy it, because of the many small people in this house who I'd like to protect from unnecessary poisons.
So for now, I'm checking the toilet paper 3 times before I use it, I keep my towels in our bedroom, and I find myself creeping around our bathroom terrified of running into another one of those guys. I know they can't hurt me, but there is something about their enormous beady bodies that creeps me the frick out. Really. I'm not normally a person prone to running screaming from a bug, and I've been known to kill spiders more often than my husband (especially after the whole bullet ant incident*), but I have serious issues with these ants.
I wonder if I can come up with some form of warning system. Maybe I should leave a pile of their murdered compatriots to encourage them to find another home?
_______________________________________________
*By the way, that entry still makes me laugh out loud, 3 years later.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
the gauntlet has been thrown
The grandparents have expressed concerns that when 002 arrives, I'll be even worse at sharing photos with the family than I already am. I'm pleased to report, however, that I may have discovered a solution to my laziness!
Check out the review blog, Kinzin or Parent Bloggers to find out how I can continue being disorganized and put in no effort, but still meet the needs of all the grandparents!
Check out the review blog, Kinzin or Parent Bloggers to find out how I can continue being disorganized and put in no effort, but still meet the needs of all the grandparents!
Monday, May 05, 2008
002
Thanks for the congrats! We're still reeling from the news over here. Or at least, I am. Josh seems to have taken it in stride, even though I'm completely in shock.
The nausea has taken a turn for the worst over here, and last night I started actually throwing up. Gabe is sick with a cold, and he woke up at 2am crying for us. I made it down the stairs and into the kitchen to put together a cup of milk for him, and as I pulled the gallon of milk from the fridge, I realized that I was going to throw up right that instant. I had to scream for Josh from my huddled position on the bathroom floor, so he could take over with Gabe. It was pretty bad. Up until then, I've been crippled with a nausea that keeps me prone on the couch, but no actual throwing up. Not anymore, I guess.
I'm trying anything and everything, wrist bands, vitamin B6, vitamin B12, lemonade, chips, ice cubes, water with lemon (gag), juice, sports drinks, cereal, milk, popsicles, ice cream, but nothing works. Nothing. I guess I'd forgotten just how awful morning sickness is, not to mention that this time around just seems to be substantially more vicious than it was with Gabe. Sleeping is the only time when I'm not nauseous, so I find myself wanting to linger in bed for as long as possible every day.
The due date for 002 (get it? because it snuck in?) is December 19th, so the babes will be almost exactly 2 years apart. I may just end up with a Christmas baby this time around, since I was late with Gabe and I don't have high hopes for this one coming any earlier. First things first, though, I'm just trying to survive this first trimester and hoping the nausea will pass soon. I'm praying the nausea will pass soon, because I can barely take care of myself these days, much less Gabe too.
Thank goodness Gabe is especially cute these days. It makes it easier to keep smiling.
The nausea has taken a turn for the worst over here, and last night I started actually throwing up. Gabe is sick with a cold, and he woke up at 2am crying for us. I made it down the stairs and into the kitchen to put together a cup of milk for him, and as I pulled the gallon of milk from the fridge, I realized that I was going to throw up right that instant. I had to scream for Josh from my huddled position on the bathroom floor, so he could take over with Gabe. It was pretty bad. Up until then, I've been crippled with a nausea that keeps me prone on the couch, but no actual throwing up. Not anymore, I guess.
I'm trying anything and everything, wrist bands, vitamin B6, vitamin B12, lemonade, chips, ice cubes, water with lemon (gag), juice, sports drinks, cereal, milk, popsicles, ice cream, but nothing works. Nothing. I guess I'd forgotten just how awful morning sickness is, not to mention that this time around just seems to be substantially more vicious than it was with Gabe. Sleeping is the only time when I'm not nauseous, so I find myself wanting to linger in bed for as long as possible every day.
The due date for 002 (get it? because it snuck in?) is December 19th, so the babes will be almost exactly 2 years apart. I may just end up with a Christmas baby this time around, since I was late with Gabe and I don't have high hopes for this one coming any earlier. First things first, though, I'm just trying to survive this first trimester and hoping the nausea will pass soon. I'm praying the nausea will pass soon, because I can barely take care of myself these days, much less Gabe too.
Thank goodness Gabe is especially cute these days. It makes it easier to keep smiling.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
even the computer smells funny
When I got into my top choice for law school, I was shocked. Really, really shocked. The acceptance letter came in a thin envelope, and everyone knows what that means. Applying to the school had been such a stretch that I wasn't even particularly stunned about the thin envelope, and as I sat in the campus mail room, I considered throwing it away without even opening the envelope, to spare myself that additional twinge of seeing the actual words written out. I settled on sliding open the envelope over the gray trash barrel, and I barely slid the letter out, opened the top flap, and almost lost my lunch as I read "We are pleased to inform you..." I spent the next two hours blubbering into the phone as I read the letter to my mom, and Josh, and his parents.
When Josh proposed, I was also shocked. We'd been dating only 2 years, and had just entered the foray of long-distance dating when I moved to Connecticut and he remained in Boston. I'd come up for the long weekend after my first semester finals, and he woke me early on a Sunday morning and began professing his love to me. A proposal was the furthest thing from my mind, and I was terribly annoyed that he was waking me up so early to state the obvious. I rolled over to give him a dirty look, and then I saw it, the look on his face, the box in his hands. So I made him start all over again because I missed the proposal the first time through. I was seriously surprised, and seriously wasn't expecting to even talk about married for another year at least. He definitely succeeded in blowing me out of the water.
Over the years, I've had many other moments of surprise. When I got a job offer I wasn't expecting, when I got a high or low grade in a class, when Gabe said "mama" for the first time, when my car broke down on the highway in rush hour traffic, when a childhood friend finds me on Facebook after 20 years of not talking.
This, though, this takes the cake. I spent a week thinking I had some horrid form of the flu. Some vicious flu that made you weak and lightheaded and achy and nauseous. A virus that made it difficult for me to even sit through Gabe's music class because dancing in a sitting position was too much exertion for me. Turns out, I didn't catch the flu. I caught the pregnant bug.
I'm totally pregnant.
And it was very much a surprise, a surprise that had my heart pounding in a way I have never experienced, and had Josh staring at me dumbfounded when I blurted it out to him. Don't get me wrong, we're excited and happy and anxious, but we were definitively holding off on trying for another 3-6 months, at least. We were actively preventing. Turns out the best laid plans, blah blah blah.
It's early, I'm about 6 and a half weeks, almost 7, and we saw the wee little flicker of a heartbeat yesterday on the ultrasound after I called my doctor to tell her the unbelievable news. I'm also horribly, terribly, disgustingly nauseous and dizzy and sick in a way I wasn't with Gabe. I am barely making it through the day, and nothing seems to help. Not crackers, not nausea reducing wristbands, not eating throughout the day, not drinking water or juice or flat soda, not lying still, not walking around, not special prenatals that claim to reduce morning sickness, not anything. I was sick with Gabe, but it started much later than this has, and if you have any crazy advice that worked for you, I beg you to share it, even if it sounds totally wacky. I'm willing to try anything at this point.
Despite the nausea, we're really excited, and yesterday I looked at Gabe from my position on the couch and wondered if it is even possible for us to make another as amazing as he is. It isn't, right? It can't be possible. I have to wonder about the timing of all this, too, given all the drama going on with my parents. I almost feel as if this is an imposed distraction, something to take me away from my place in the middle of all the problems. We're definitely lucky, that's for sure. In the meantime, we'll be keeping all fingers and toes crossed for a healthy pregnancy.
Now if only I could stop gagging, everything would be perfect.
When Josh proposed, I was also shocked. We'd been dating only 2 years, and had just entered the foray of long-distance dating when I moved to Connecticut and he remained in Boston. I'd come up for the long weekend after my first semester finals, and he woke me early on a Sunday morning and began professing his love to me. A proposal was the furthest thing from my mind, and I was terribly annoyed that he was waking me up so early to state the obvious. I rolled over to give him a dirty look, and then I saw it, the look on his face, the box in his hands. So I made him start all over again because I missed the proposal the first time through. I was seriously surprised, and seriously wasn't expecting to even talk about married for another year at least. He definitely succeeded in blowing me out of the water.
Over the years, I've had many other moments of surprise. When I got a job offer I wasn't expecting, when I got a high or low grade in a class, when Gabe said "mama" for the first time, when my car broke down on the highway in rush hour traffic, when a childhood friend finds me on Facebook after 20 years of not talking.
This, though, this takes the cake. I spent a week thinking I had some horrid form of the flu. Some vicious flu that made you weak and lightheaded and achy and nauseous. A virus that made it difficult for me to even sit through Gabe's music class because dancing in a sitting position was too much exertion for me. Turns out, I didn't catch the flu. I caught the pregnant bug.
I'm totally pregnant.
And it was very much a surprise, a surprise that had my heart pounding in a way I have never experienced, and had Josh staring at me dumbfounded when I blurted it out to him. Don't get me wrong, we're excited and happy and anxious, but we were definitively holding off on trying for another 3-6 months, at least. We were actively preventing. Turns out the best laid plans, blah blah blah.
It's early, I'm about 6 and a half weeks, almost 7, and we saw the wee little flicker of a heartbeat yesterday on the ultrasound after I called my doctor to tell her the unbelievable news. I'm also horribly, terribly, disgustingly nauseous and dizzy and sick in a way I wasn't with Gabe. I am barely making it through the day, and nothing seems to help. Not crackers, not nausea reducing wristbands, not eating throughout the day, not drinking water or juice or flat soda, not lying still, not walking around, not special prenatals that claim to reduce morning sickness, not anything. I was sick with Gabe, but it started much later than this has, and if you have any crazy advice that worked for you, I beg you to share it, even if it sounds totally wacky. I'm willing to try anything at this point.
Despite the nausea, we're really excited, and yesterday I looked at Gabe from my position on the couch and wondered if it is even possible for us to make another as amazing as he is. It isn't, right? It can't be possible. I have to wonder about the timing of all this, too, given all the drama going on with my parents. I almost feel as if this is an imposed distraction, something to take me away from my place in the middle of all the problems. We're definitely lucky, that's for sure. In the meantime, we'll be keeping all fingers and toes crossed for a healthy pregnancy.
Now if only I could stop gagging, everything would be perfect.
Monday, April 07, 2008
the travel never ends
Gabe and I arrived late last night from another trip to California, where we've been for the last 10 days. It was a looooonnggg trip, and both of us are relieved to be home. I could tell by the way Gabe kissed each of his toys as he pulled them out of his toy basket, and the squeals of glee when he saw the dogs. I could tell how relieved I was by the way I threw myself at Josh when we got off the elevator at baggage claim. What can I say? It was a long trip, followed by a long flight with Gabe on my lap the whole time. I'm shuddering just thinking about it.
We were in California dealing with some family issues, and also attending the wedding of a law school friend. The wedding was this past weekend, and I had the best time I've had in quite some time. My law school girlfriends and I met up at the wedding locale and went out on Friday and Saturday nights until the wee hours of the morning. My mom took care of Gabe while I lived it up at restaurants and tourist spots and karaoke bars. Why did no one tell me how fun karaoke is? I don't think I've laughed that hard in months. I spent most of the time during karaoke doubled over in tears from all that laughing.
I really needed the release, because the truth is that things on the home front aren't great. My parents appear to be in the process of separating, and there are painful, raw emotions running all over the place. I don't want to talk about it much, because it is complicated and difficult and I'm very sad about it, but that is what is going on.
Gabe, as seems to be the norm around here, is sick again. He has been up coughing for the last few nights and was running a low-grade fever for several days. Tomorrow we have his 15 month visit, and I'm hoping they can shed some light on what is going on with him. Besides this sickness, though, he is cuter than ever. Now I understand how you can stand to see your baby grow up, because the person they turn into is just as adorable as the wee babe they were! He is scrumptious.
He is running around like a maniac, climbing on everything, jabbering nonsensically in the cutest possible way. When he wants you to sing him a song, he moves his fingers as if he were singing the "Itsy Bitsy Spider". He does that sign ALL THE TIME. Once I've shown him a trick once, he almost always remembers how to do it the next time. He can throw things in the garbage, put toys away, give hugs and kisses on command, go up and down stairs, feed himself with a fork (somewhat), open and close doors, retrieve things by name, throw a ball and kick a ball, share a bite of food with you, and the list grows constantly. It is a lot like living with a tiny monkey that learns things instantly, a little like a sponge. And it is so much fun.
So despite all the sadness, life is still really great. We are still really lucky. In the meantime, I'll be enjoying life at home while the three of us are together. At least until we have to leave again for Florida next Tuesday. Ugh, someone shoot me now.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
my split personality
So... It went well. I'm totally conflicted about this situation, so it's hard to get very enthused about a potential job, but I'd say it went about as well as it could have gone.
Apparently there are a few different options at different law firms that might work, but most of them want me to come into the office, rather than work out of the home. This leads to the always present problem of working out the economics of having to hire a babysitter or finding a daycare. The starting pay for contract attorneys isn't that high, although they assured me that the rates go up as you go along. Josh and I need to work the numbers, because it is possible that tutoring in the evenings and on weekends might even pay more than doing legal work because I wouldn't need childcare. How crazy is that?
My headhunter did make one comment that introduced a whole new idea into the mix. She has tons of contract work that requires a full-time commitment, but they are short projects. One week, maybe two, tops. It is conceivable that I could go in for one intense week per month, or two intense weeks over a couple of months, rather than a smaller amount every week. I don't know why, but that resonated with me. I might find it easier to leave Gabe for 40 hours in one week, knowing that I wouldn't have to leave him again for another 3 or 4 weeks. Is that nuts?
Basically, I'm waiting to hear the final word back from the headhunter, and in the meantime, I'm scouring my own brain to see if this is what I want. Do I want to take a break from law and jump somewhere totally new and fun? Or am I not ready to make that decision? Should I do contract work just to keep law on my resume and figure it out as I go along?
Ugh, decisions, decisions. For now, I'm taking a break from thinking about it and snuggling this adorable boy on the floor while he points at everything in the room and calls it a "cahhhhrrr". Maybe a babysitter could teach him some new words?
Apparently there are a few different options at different law firms that might work, but most of them want me to come into the office, rather than work out of the home. This leads to the always present problem of working out the economics of having to hire a babysitter or finding a daycare. The starting pay for contract attorneys isn't that high, although they assured me that the rates go up as you go along. Josh and I need to work the numbers, because it is possible that tutoring in the evenings and on weekends might even pay more than doing legal work because I wouldn't need childcare. How crazy is that?
My headhunter did make one comment that introduced a whole new idea into the mix. She has tons of contract work that requires a full-time commitment, but they are short projects. One week, maybe two, tops. It is conceivable that I could go in for one intense week per month, or two intense weeks over a couple of months, rather than a smaller amount every week. I don't know why, but that resonated with me. I might find it easier to leave Gabe for 40 hours in one week, knowing that I wouldn't have to leave him again for another 3 or 4 weeks. Is that nuts?
Basically, I'm waiting to hear the final word back from the headhunter, and in the meantime, I'm scouring my own brain to see if this is what I want. Do I want to take a break from law and jump somewhere totally new and fun? Or am I not ready to make that decision? Should I do contract work just to keep law on my resume and figure it out as I go along?
Ugh, decisions, decisions. For now, I'm taking a break from thinking about it and snuggling this adorable boy on the floor while he points at everything in the room and calls it a "cahhhhrrr". Maybe a babysitter could teach him some new words?
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
let's hope those skillz are impressive
Well, I finally did it. I revised my resume and sent it into a couple of places, and I have an interview tomorrow afternoon for some legal contract work.
I am intermittently excited and depressed about this. We need the money, and frankly, I'll be relieved to stop worrying about money for a bit. This could turn out to be a great situation, because allegedly all of the projects we are going to discuss could eventually turn into a working from home gig. I'll need to come into the office in the beginning, at least, so that the employer can see that I am a qualified and capable attorney. But the hope is that I can continue working from home once I show my "skillz".
On the other hand, I'm still going to have to leave Gabe, even if it is just for a little while. I wish there were parts of being at home that I hated, just so I could feel relief at leaving for a while, but there just aren't. I really never thought I'd love this pace so much, and I certainly never thought I'd love hanging around with a 14 month old as much as I do. He isn't the best conversationalist, and he doesn't have the best table manners, and he sometimes exhibits some crazy grumpy behavior, but I would never want to spend my days with anyone but him. His kisses and smiles make my whole day worth it.
I have a new mantra- it isn't forever. It isn't forever. Maybe it'll be great, and if it isn't, well, we'll figure something out. But wish me luck, anyway.
I am intermittently excited and depressed about this. We need the money, and frankly, I'll be relieved to stop worrying about money for a bit. This could turn out to be a great situation, because allegedly all of the projects we are going to discuss could eventually turn into a working from home gig. I'll need to come into the office in the beginning, at least, so that the employer can see that I am a qualified and capable attorney. But the hope is that I can continue working from home once I show my "skillz".
On the other hand, I'm still going to have to leave Gabe, even if it is just for a little while. I wish there were parts of being at home that I hated, just so I could feel relief at leaving for a while, but there just aren't. I really never thought I'd love this pace so much, and I certainly never thought I'd love hanging around with a 14 month old as much as I do. He isn't the best conversationalist, and he doesn't have the best table manners, and he sometimes exhibits some crazy grumpy behavior, but I would never want to spend my days with anyone but him. His kisses and smiles make my whole day worth it.
I have a new mantra- it isn't forever. It isn't forever. Maybe it'll be great, and if it isn't, well, we'll figure something out. But wish me luck, anyway.
Monday, March 17, 2008
now we need to address the leftover cellulite
I have two goals to accomplish before I am ready for us to start "trying" for baby number 2.
The first was to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight. I cannot believe I gave birth 14 months ago and there is still pregnancy weight lingering around. I dropped most of the weight within just a few months, but couldn't shake those final 5-8 pounds, and I cannot believe what a difference 5 pounds makes in the fit of my clothes.
The second goal is to have 6 months in which I am neither housing a child, nor nourishing a child, with my body. I just feel like I need a tiny bit of space for my own mental sanity, and I want to give my body a chance to recover from any kind of nutritional deficiencies. I stopped breastfeeding Gabe right around his first birthday (a story for another post), so six months from then is around July.
I am happy to report that yesterday was a monumental day around here, because as of 10am, I am one pound below my pre-pregnancy weight. Hurray! One goal down!
I was rather surprised by this turn of events, because a few weeks ago, I'd accepted the fact that maybe I wasn't ever going to get back to that weight. I thought maybe my body had changed and this was my new "normal" weight. And to tell you the truth, I was okay with that. Having Gabe has changed my life for the better in a million different ways, and if a few extra pounds is all I have to sacrifice, I'm happy to do it. Plus, pregnancy and labor and motherhood have given me so much confidence in myself, I've noticed that I place much less emphasis on the physical side.
As I came to this realization, though, I decided to make a few "spring resolutions" that I thought might improve my life in general, rather than focusing on the number of the scale.
My new resolutions are:
1. Watch less television. I am ashamed to admit that I tend to turn on the television first thing in the morning to watch the news, and then leave it on all day long as background noise. I don't let Gabe watch any television, but I still hate that he is going to get used to seeing the television on all the time, even if he doesn't pay much attention to it.
2. Have some form of exercise 2-3 times per week. We joined a gym in January, but getting Gabe dressed and out the door, over to the gym, and then back in time for nap time was proving impossible, so I was going to the gym less than I'd hoped. In the afternoons, Gabe wakes up late and there is barely enough time to work out and get dinner on the table. I end up feeling harried more than anything else when I find the motivation to get over there. When I couldn't make it to the gym, rather than feeling motivated to try some exercise around the house, I would feel defeated and just sit around for the rest of the afternoon. With this new resolution, I have made an effort to throw Gabe in the stroller most days and take a walk around the neighborhood. I figure, even 15 minutes is something.
3. At the risk of sharing too much information, have sex at least 2-3 times per week. I think I don't need to elaborate on this one.
4. Go to bed by 11pm during the week. This one will have a direct impact on Goal #3, I think. I am a night owl, and love to stay up late watching movies or recorded television shows, but it really impacts Josh and my time together. I stay up late, then I wake up late in the morning, and we end of being on totally different schedules. If I can get myself to go to bed early during the week, then I'll save up the staying up late for Friday or Saturday nights, and both of us will be happy.
I made my resolutions a couple of weeks ago, and I really think the walking during the week and turning off the television during the day were what pushed me to lose the final few pounds. So I guess that old saying of 9 months on, 9 months off, doesn't really apply to me. 9 months on and 14 months off is more like it. I'll take it, though. I'm happy to have accepted my weight for what it was, but I'm also selfishly happy to fit into a few more outfits in my closet.
The first was to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight. I cannot believe I gave birth 14 months ago and there is still pregnancy weight lingering around. I dropped most of the weight within just a few months, but couldn't shake those final 5-8 pounds, and I cannot believe what a difference 5 pounds makes in the fit of my clothes.
The second goal is to have 6 months in which I am neither housing a child, nor nourishing a child, with my body. I just feel like I need a tiny bit of space for my own mental sanity, and I want to give my body a chance to recover from any kind of nutritional deficiencies. I stopped breastfeeding Gabe right around his first birthday (a story for another post), so six months from then is around July.
I am happy to report that yesterday was a monumental day around here, because as of 10am, I am one pound below my pre-pregnancy weight. Hurray! One goal down!
I was rather surprised by this turn of events, because a few weeks ago, I'd accepted the fact that maybe I wasn't ever going to get back to that weight. I thought maybe my body had changed and this was my new "normal" weight. And to tell you the truth, I was okay with that. Having Gabe has changed my life for the better in a million different ways, and if a few extra pounds is all I have to sacrifice, I'm happy to do it. Plus, pregnancy and labor and motherhood have given me so much confidence in myself, I've noticed that I place much less emphasis on the physical side.
As I came to this realization, though, I decided to make a few "spring resolutions" that I thought might improve my life in general, rather than focusing on the number of the scale.
My new resolutions are:
1. Watch less television. I am ashamed to admit that I tend to turn on the television first thing in the morning to watch the news, and then leave it on all day long as background noise. I don't let Gabe watch any television, but I still hate that he is going to get used to seeing the television on all the time, even if he doesn't pay much attention to it.
2. Have some form of exercise 2-3 times per week. We joined a gym in January, but getting Gabe dressed and out the door, over to the gym, and then back in time for nap time was proving impossible, so I was going to the gym less than I'd hoped. In the afternoons, Gabe wakes up late and there is barely enough time to work out and get dinner on the table. I end up feeling harried more than anything else when I find the motivation to get over there. When I couldn't make it to the gym, rather than feeling motivated to try some exercise around the house, I would feel defeated and just sit around for the rest of the afternoon. With this new resolution, I have made an effort to throw Gabe in the stroller most days and take a walk around the neighborhood. I figure, even 15 minutes is something.
3. At the risk of sharing too much information, have sex at least 2-3 times per week. I think I don't need to elaborate on this one.
4. Go to bed by 11pm during the week. This one will have a direct impact on Goal #3, I think. I am a night owl, and love to stay up late watching movies or recorded television shows, but it really impacts Josh and my time together. I stay up late, then I wake up late in the morning, and we end of being on totally different schedules. If I can get myself to go to bed early during the week, then I'll save up the staying up late for Friday or Saturday nights, and both of us will be happy.
I made my resolutions a couple of weeks ago, and I really think the walking during the week and turning off the television during the day were what pushed me to lose the final few pounds. So I guess that old saying of 9 months on, 9 months off, doesn't really apply to me. 9 months on and 14 months off is more like it. I'll take it, though. I'm happy to have accepted my weight for what it was, but I'm also selfishly happy to fit into a few more outfits in my closet.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
a round of naps for everyone
I am clawing my way to the surface amidst piles of snotty tissues and Infant Tylenol bottles and dirty diapers.
Yes, yes, Gabe is sick AGAIN. This is coming on the heels of a cold while we were in California. It is starting to feel like he really is sick all the time, and it makes me crazy because he isn't even around that many other kids! He isn't in daycare, he doesn't have daily play dates, he doesn't run around outside licking sick people. He does take a music class every Friday, and another developmental class on Mondays, but we didn't even attend this week because he was so sick.
He is moaning and groaning around the house with nose running and huge unhappy sounding coughs. He doesn't want to sleep during nap time and he doesn't want to go to bed at night. He is perfectly content to play downstairs indefinitely, but once we hit the bedroom and get near the crib, the screaming starts. Last night he stayed up until 11:45pm, refusing to sleep. I was desperate and exhausted after a loooong day of no napping and lots of whining, and when he refused to sleep at bedtime, I was close to tears.
I sat up in his room rocking him in his rocker, singing song after song, but he wouldn't calm down and just kept gesturing toward the door and throwing his pacifier back at the crib in a show of "take me out of this room now!" I finally put him down and walked out, amidst hysterical screams, and a few minutes later the screaming stopped and he lay down and slept until 10am this morning. I felt horribly guilty for walking away from a sick baby, but I didn't know how to help him give in to the sleep. He was sad and overtired and couldn't seem to let himself relax.
This morning we headed into the pediatrician's because I wanted some confirmation that he was fine, and OF COURSE, it turns out he has an ear infection. We're not going to jump in with antibiotics just yet. I'd rather treat the pain and see if maybe he can get rid of it on his own. We'll be doing another ear check on Monday, and in the meantime, I'll be hoping for some relief for all of us.
As the day has continued, I've started acquiring an aching body, a sore throat, and a general feeling of ickiness. Now at least I have an inkling of how poor Gabe feels. I hope Josh feels good when he gets home from work, because it looks like he has 2 patients to take care of tonight.
Yes, yes, Gabe is sick AGAIN. This is coming on the heels of a cold while we were in California. It is starting to feel like he really is sick all the time, and it makes me crazy because he isn't even around that many other kids! He isn't in daycare, he doesn't have daily play dates, he doesn't run around outside licking sick people. He does take a music class every Friday, and another developmental class on Mondays, but we didn't even attend this week because he was so sick.
He is moaning and groaning around the house with nose running and huge unhappy sounding coughs. He doesn't want to sleep during nap time and he doesn't want to go to bed at night. He is perfectly content to play downstairs indefinitely, but once we hit the bedroom and get near the crib, the screaming starts. Last night he stayed up until 11:45pm, refusing to sleep. I was desperate and exhausted after a loooong day of no napping and lots of whining, and when he refused to sleep at bedtime, I was close to tears.
I sat up in his room rocking him in his rocker, singing song after song, but he wouldn't calm down and just kept gesturing toward the door and throwing his pacifier back at the crib in a show of "take me out of this room now!" I finally put him down and walked out, amidst hysterical screams, and a few minutes later the screaming stopped and he lay down and slept until 10am this morning. I felt horribly guilty for walking away from a sick baby, but I didn't know how to help him give in to the sleep. He was sad and overtired and couldn't seem to let himself relax.
This morning we headed into the pediatrician's because I wanted some confirmation that he was fine, and OF COURSE, it turns out he has an ear infection. We're not going to jump in with antibiotics just yet. I'd rather treat the pain and see if maybe he can get rid of it on his own. We'll be doing another ear check on Monday, and in the meantime, I'll be hoping for some relief for all of us.
As the day has continued, I've started acquiring an aching body, a sore throat, and a general feeling of ickiness. Now at least I have an inkling of how poor Gabe feels. I hope Josh feels good when he gets home from work, because it looks like he has 2 patients to take care of tonight.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
pants on fire
Is it just Gabe, or do all kids make liars out of their mothers? It seems like every time I make a statement about him, whether it be what he likes to eat, or what he does, or what tricks he can accomplish, or words he says, he turns around and does the opposite of what I said.
Evidence #1:
Gabe knows how to moo like a cow and woof like a dog. If I ask him in front of people, though, he'll just look at me blankly.
Evidence #2:
I told my mother in law that he didn't like broccoli. That night for dinner, he scarfed down all the little chunks of broccoli we put in front of him.
Evidence #3:
I told friends at dinner the other night that Gabe likes almost everything except pasta. Of course, when a friend offered him some penne alfredo, he ate it happily and then begged for more throughout the rest of the meal.
Evidence #4:
Josh went into the bathroom today, and clear as a bell, Gabe ran toward the closed door and called out "Dyosh!" I was cracking up and told Josh the story when he came back out, so we tried to get him to say it again, but he kept sweetly looking at us and saying "Da da".
Evidence #5:
When we're not paying attention to him and music comes on, Gabe boogies down to the beat. He bends his knees up and down, shakes his booty from side to side and bobs his head. If you put on music to show people his rhythm, though, he acts like he's never heard music before.
Evidence #6:
Gabe naps every day, Monday through Friday, like clockwork, for three and a half to four hours. When Josh is around on the weekends, though, and we could use some time to do things around the house, he'll nap for an hour, tops. Josh thinks I'm the hugest exaggerator ever, but I think it is all part of the conspiracy against me.
Evidence #7:
Gabe's vocabulary is skyrocketing by the minute. On most days, he'll surprise me by repeating words I've said to him earlier, but never in front of Josh or his grandparents. The other day, I finished getting him dressed and told him in a teasing voice, "Oh Gabe, you look so pretty!" He smiled at me and said "dyat dyoo" (thank you). It was the cutest thing ever, but he won't do it for anyone else.
Is Gabe particularly gifted at making me look like I tell tall tales? Or is this a regular occurrence among children? Maybe it is the same gene that tells him to stop doing whatever cute thing he was doing as soon as the camera comes out. He has a special gift for that too.
Evidence #1:
Gabe knows how to moo like a cow and woof like a dog. If I ask him in front of people, though, he'll just look at me blankly.
Evidence #2:
I told my mother in law that he didn't like broccoli. That night for dinner, he scarfed down all the little chunks of broccoli we put in front of him.
Evidence #3:
I told friends at dinner the other night that Gabe likes almost everything except pasta. Of course, when a friend offered him some penne alfredo, he ate it happily and then begged for more throughout the rest of the meal.
Evidence #4:
Josh went into the bathroom today, and clear as a bell, Gabe ran toward the closed door and called out "Dyosh!" I was cracking up and told Josh the story when he came back out, so we tried to get him to say it again, but he kept sweetly looking at us and saying "Da da".
Evidence #5:
When we're not paying attention to him and music comes on, Gabe boogies down to the beat. He bends his knees up and down, shakes his booty from side to side and bobs his head. If you put on music to show people his rhythm, though, he acts like he's never heard music before.
Evidence #6:
Gabe naps every day, Monday through Friday, like clockwork, for three and a half to four hours. When Josh is around on the weekends, though, and we could use some time to do things around the house, he'll nap for an hour, tops. Josh thinks I'm the hugest exaggerator ever, but I think it is all part of the conspiracy against me.
Evidence #7:
Gabe's vocabulary is skyrocketing by the minute. On most days, he'll surprise me by repeating words I've said to him earlier, but never in front of Josh or his grandparents. The other day, I finished getting him dressed and told him in a teasing voice, "Oh Gabe, you look so pretty!" He smiled at me and said "dyat dyoo" (thank you). It was the cutest thing ever, but he won't do it for anyone else.
Is Gabe particularly gifted at making me look like I tell tall tales? Or is this a regular occurrence among children? Maybe it is the same gene that tells him to stop doing whatever cute thing he was doing as soon as the camera comes out. He has a special gift for that too.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
nightmares about work is a step too far
On Sunday and Monday nights, after the last post, I spent hours tossing and turning in bed. I was up until the wee hours of the morning with insomnia, most likely attributed to my anxiety about the employment and money situation. It is getting a little ridiculous, I'm starting to wonder if I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from work or something crazy like that. I know it sounds silly, but I can't explain why I have such extreme anxiety every time the topic of work comes up.
Thank you for all the advice. I'm still not sure what to do, and one of the questions I'm wrestling with is whether I should jump right into something serious, like starting my own practice, as some of you suggested, or start simple. I've been tossing around the idea of tutoring, or even working part-time at a local Spanish program for kids. If I started with something very temporary, I'd be able to better decide whether I want to take the plunge into something more.
Starting a practice out of my home, or looking for clients of my own, is a hefty undertaking. I would need some kind of insurance, and I'd have to create a special account required by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts in which to hold client funds. Not to mention that my chosen fields, international financial transactions, securities, venture funds and private equity, don't necessarily lend themselves to working out of the home. Still, people have suggested real estate closings or wills and trusts as an easier choice, and I could certainly find a way to get trained from someone and then go out on my own. These are all great ideas.
I guess what I really need to do is embrace the anxiety and take the leap. Maybe if I update my resume and start sending out feelers, my fear will lessen and I'll start to worry less about working. Or maybe once I start working, I'll finally calm down. Who knows, but I need to do something because I can't keep feeling like this. It is way too stressful for me, and it is way too stressful for Josh to listen to me complaining about the stress. Wish me luck!
Thank you for all the advice. I'm still not sure what to do, and one of the questions I'm wrestling with is whether I should jump right into something serious, like starting my own practice, as some of you suggested, or start simple. I've been tossing around the idea of tutoring, or even working part-time at a local Spanish program for kids. If I started with something very temporary, I'd be able to better decide whether I want to take the plunge into something more.
Starting a practice out of my home, or looking for clients of my own, is a hefty undertaking. I would need some kind of insurance, and I'd have to create a special account required by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts in which to hold client funds. Not to mention that my chosen fields, international financial transactions, securities, venture funds and private equity, don't necessarily lend themselves to working out of the home. Still, people have suggested real estate closings or wills and trusts as an easier choice, and I could certainly find a way to get trained from someone and then go out on my own. These are all great ideas.
I guess what I really need to do is embrace the anxiety and take the leap. Maybe if I update my resume and start sending out feelers, my fear will lessen and I'll start to worry less about working. Or maybe once I start working, I'll finally calm down. Who knows, but I need to do something because I can't keep feeling like this. It is way too stressful for me, and it is way too stressful for Josh to listen to me complaining about the stress. Wish me luck!
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