I’m trying to cut down on my coffee consumption. Again.
I switched to decaf, but it just became a vehicle for sugar and milk — not the greatest thing when you’re trying to banish your muffin-top. Also: The jitters, because decaffeinated does not mean caffeine-free.
Behold, the only green tea that doesn’t turn my stomach upside-down:
Of course, it’s a vehicle for honey, but at least I’m not putting milk in on top of it.
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This morning around 3:30, I thought I heard a few unhappy sounds from the baby. Not full-on crying, just moaning that was on the verge of becoming something… more.
When I peeked at the video monitor I saw that Ned — dear, dear Ned who is Baboo’s most bosom bedtime buddy bear — was in corner of the crib, as far away as he could possibly be from my slightly agitated baby.
I’ve seen my son reach for Ned, and snuggle him, and halfway bite his nose off in glee, so I’m not exaggerating in the previous paragraph. Ned is the closest thing the baby has to a friend, and he provides comfort all night.
So I crept in, put Ned in my baby’s arms, and went back to bed. Overkill? Perhaps. But babyhood is fleeting, and Baboo settled down for four more hours of happy sleep. And it just wasn’t right, those two being so far apart.
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If anything is going to stand in the way of me being the best parent I can be, it’s that I’m a Virgo. Granted, there are advantages to this sign: Attention to detail, very logical, excellent at creating order from chaos, yadda-yadda. But the flip side of liking order and a certain level of cleanliness in the kitchen means I live in fear of teaching the baby to feed himself. Embarrassing, but true.
I’ve been letting him play with the spoon, and putting bits of food on it to reward him for getting the right end in his mouth. And I sit there cringing every single time, damp rag clutched in one hand, the other hand poised to shield my face from flying sweet potato. Imagine the state I’ll be in once I let him really go at it.
It’s kind of sad, actually. This should be a fun time, a happy time. But how to achieve that?
Maybe I should drape the kitchen in old sheets for a few months. Or hire a professional cleaning crew after he gets really good at it. Or just redo the kitchen.
Ah. See? Virgos really are logical!
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As I was coming back from lunch yesterday, I spotted a neighbor helping his wife up their front steps. I knew her due date was next week, so I stopped and called out, “Congratulations!” Followed quickly by, “Is everyone okay?” The answer, thankfully, was yes.
I am just itching to see their brand-new baby boy, but I remember very clearly how overwhelming those first few days and weeks were. Starting with the first trip to the pediatrician — the idea of putting that fragile little being in a big carrier and strapping him in like a teensy NASCAR driver and then putting him in the car was just so weird! Like, I’m supposed to let go of him? For longer than five minutes? And put him in that big hard thing and get those straps on him and tighten them? How barbaric!
These days, of course, it’s second nature. Going to the store, going to lunch, going to the doctor, putting him in and taking him out. No big deal, and now it’s hard to remember a time when I wasn’t doing all of that. In fact, it’s a little freaky how quickly having a baby became the new normal, how it suddenly became difficult to recall life before he arrived.
And now a new little family down the street is going through the same wonderfully crazy, bizarre, amazing time. I just hope I don’t cry when I see that itty-bitty and all my memories of my baby’s first days come flooding back.
Fat chance! Already happening!
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I made a face as I was leaving my polling place yesterday morning. I couldn’t help it. Even though I had arrived ten minutes before the doors opened and was only about 15th in line, it took a full half hour for me to get verified and ready to vote. And when I turned from the table where I’d just signed my name and initialed my signature (?!), I had to wait for someone to get up from one of about 15 seats before I could fill out my ballot.
One of the election workers saw my grimace and asked me what was wrong. I said, “I know it’s not your fault, and I appreciate your service, but it seems like the system is designed to discourage people from voting.” She was sympathetic, though obviously powerless to change things on the spot. But it got me thinking: what needs to change in order for voting to be not quite such a gigantic hassle?
Here are some ideas:
– Issue permanent voter ID cards with electronic strips carrying information about the voter, eliminating the need to wait for hours while IDs are manually checked.
– Use portable electronic voting machines and set them up at churches, schools, and community centers not just on Election Day, but well beforehand.
– Require candidates to stop campaigning a few weeks prior to the election.
– Let people vote for at least a month prior to election day.
Does this sound crazy to you? Then consider this: in India, the world’s largest democracy, with a population of over 1 billion people, that’s pretty much how it works. India, people. A Third World country.
Posted in Kvetchitude | 2 Comments »
In keeping with today’s theme of “nothing serious,” I offer you this glass.
For quite some time, this has been my bathroom glass of choice. Not long ago, I broke its mate, and I was very excited when my husband said we had another stashed in the back of a dark, high kitchen cabinet.
I like the sturdiness, the ridge at the top of the facets where my fingers can rest, and the lack of pretension about it. I also like that it reminds me of my late Aunt Antonia, who, if I remember correctly, had an entire set of these, both large and small. She was the arbiter of culinary taste in our family, a gourmet chef and professional caterer to whom great food and quality kitchen items were of paramount importance.
Whenever I visited her, I thought surely these must be the best everyday glasses there are, because they’re in her kitchen.
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Nothing complicated today. We all have enough to worry about. So how about a nice soothing cuppa?
This tea is a bit of a butt-kicker, crammed full of everything that makes chai so tasty. It’ll leave your mouth a bit numb — don’t be scared, that’s just the cloves saying hello!
That’s also how I realized why I like it so much — it tastes more or less like those godawful clove cigarettes I smoked back when I thought that was a shortcut to Coolsville. I like being reminded of those days, but Boy Howdy, I’m glad they’re over.
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When you have a baby, or are pregnant, or talking about having a baby or trying to get pregnant, people will give you advice. It just happens. Some is awful, and some is awesome, and generally, it’s best to just smile and nod. (If you are about to have a baby or thinking about getting knocked up, I advise that you start practicing the smile-and-nod now.)
Here’s some of the best advice I’ve received so far:
– Trust your instincts.
– Go with the flow.
– Get the bottle warmer.
– If he needs you, you will hear him.
– Don’t read too many books.
– Enjoy.
Here’s what I would tell someone who was about to become a parent (if in fact I told them anything at all — I am The Quiet One):
– Trust your instincts.
– Much of early parenting is trial and error. Don’t get hung up on the errors.
– Seriously? Do not get the wipe warmer.
– Everything is temporary.
– Try to remember that your partner is probably just as freaked out as you are.
– Everything is washable. If it’s not, put it away.
– Turn the monitor volume to the lowest setting at night.
– You might be scared by how much you love your baby. It’s okay. That’s just biology at work.
– Enjoy. And if you can’t, please talk to someone about that.
And hey, if I ever say some of this to you and you give me the old smile-and-nod, I’ll understand.
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Socks: Not just for feet anymore.
About a month ago I wrote about how hilarious it was that the baby was going on little voyages of discovery during diaper changes. Since then, he’s gradually increased the frequency, and now he’s doing it at every diaper change. He’ll grab, I’ll wipe his hand off, he’ll complain at me about that, and then immediately make another grab. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
It’s still adorable and funny, but it became problematic because he got faster. Also: A&D is hard to wipe out of all the bitty little crevices of a baby’s hand while holding the diaper closed to prevent spritzing. Furthermore: He uses his left hand to eat Cheerios (primarily), but The Grab has always been executed with the right. Which is also his preferred thumb-sucking hand. And finally (hope you’re not eating): Poop sometimes travels North.
The other night, after I put the wee one to bed following a full day of (fun but tiring) baby care, I decided I had to do something. As I was falling asleep, I came up with a plan I felt would work.
Friends, I have foiled the little man’s fiendish grabbing with a sock. (Don’t be weird, I put it over his right hand!) And now he explores that (little nubby rubber bits, wow!) instead of his nether regions, and he doesn’t crab about it. He actually seems to think it’s cool. And he can’t drop it. I haven’t felt so smug in weeks.
And if he starts using his left hand to go South? Socks on both hands.
Posted in Daily Life, Growth & Development | 2 Comments »
One day last week, my husband decided to play some music for the baby. People who know me well will be appalled that it took so long. (And if you don’t know me well: I majored in opera, as in singing it; I’m a songwriter; and I’ve been in half a dozen bands. Also, I wrote that last sentence just so I could bust out some semicolons.)
In my defense, two things: 1.) I sing to that baby constantly; and 2.) I’ve been busy writing this blog keeping the house spotless spending quality time with my child.
Anyway. Lately our routine has been this: After the baby’s done with his dinner, Mowgli (not his real name) holds Baboo (not his real name) while the stereo blasts Queensryche. Kidding! Motörhead.
So far, the clear favorite is Dave Brubeck. He’s okay with Mozart and the Beatles (he perked up for the opening bars of “I Feel Fine”), but he doesn’t jiggle his entire body with glee the way he does during the opening bars of Take Five. (Of course, that may have something to do with Daddy’s bare feet slapping the hardwood, something the baby now curls himself downward to look for during every listening session.)
We’ll continue to expose him to other genres and bands. Personally, I’m hoping he loves Cibo Matto.
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My journey to becoming a dietitian and other cool stuff
Living The Road Less Travelled
Mama-Come-Lately 