Praise

Tonight I was out on my walk/jog (or as Erica puts it, my “wog”) and a woman getting her mail said, “I just have to tell you, I see you every day when I’m coming home from work, and I think, ‘I wish I had her determination.'”

Well, goodness. That’s pleasing, isn’t it?

It does take a certain determination to exercise FOR HEALTH, ANYWAY when the body isn’t responding with aesthetic changes, and in fact increases appetite considerably to compensate for the Worrying EXERTION. It takes a certain—and I am just going to come out with the word, even though it’s about myself—BRAVERY, to expose one’s not-aesthetically-perfect body to teenaged boys who drive by in cars yelling out the windows “YEAH, RUN FATTY RUN!!”—and to people who don’t yell it, but think it. It takes a certain deliberately-put-on-despite-not-feeling-it thickness of skin not to give up when it is made ABUNDANTLY CLEAR that it nauseates people to see fat people even WALKING ACROSS A ROOM—let alone EXERCISING, my GOD, the SWEAT and the JIGGLING, GROSS!!! Why don’t they just STARVE themselves like NORMAL people??? It does indeed take DETERMINATION to keep exercising when people are saying that if other people were being HONEST they’d be THIN. It takes a certain OOMPH to continue exercising when other people assume that if you’re fat, you never exercise and you don’t know how to eat right.

There is not a lot of positive feedback for people who exercise but do not as a result of it become thin and “fit.” The reaction at first is HIGHLY FAVORABLE (“Oh good, you’re finally working on that problem!”) but if the weight doesn’t come off, the reaction can be aptly described as “Um, points for trying, I guess?”—with the obvious assumption that the person must be eating fast food six times a day to counteract the fitness that would otherwise present itself in the form of an Awesome Bod.

I guess what I’m saying is two things:

1) I’m pissed that “rockin’ abs” is considered wayyyyy better than “determination.”

2) I’m nevertheless so pleased to get praised for “determination.”

Reader Question: What’s a Day With a Baby LIKE?

Lauren writes:

I was feeling pretty calm about this whole pregnancy thing (especially now that the barfiness has mostly passed) until I read the information packet from my midwife, wherein they recommend we check out of the hospital and go home (accompanied by the midwife) within 2-3 hours of delivery. All of a sudden I realized WE HAVE TO TAKE THIS BABY HOME. And I have no idea what life will look like after that happens. I understand that at first you’re just feeding and changing and sleeping and trying to stave off a nervous breakdown, but I have no idea what the days look like after the first weeks or months are over. I’ve asked a few friends and they’ve all said they don’t really remember. What do you DO all day long? What does a typical day look like? Is there even such a thing as a typical day? It tends to be the unknown that freaks me out, so I feel like if I can visualize this a bit, I will feel a lot better about the whole situation.

 

Back when Rob was a baby, I wrote little monthly updates on him in my journal: what he was eating, how he was sleeping, a sample day, etc. These updates were draining and boring and time-consuming to write, but it was ALL WORTH IT FOR THIS MOMENT.

So let’s see, we are looking for information about the stage AFTER the Newborn Craziness. Shall we say…3 months? (I’ll use photos of 3-month-old Henry for decoration, because I’ve got those digital already whereas Rob’s would need scanning.)

One thing you will notice right away is that I WAKE THE BABY UP in the morning. This was not because I had lost my mind, but rather because Paul and I shared a car and if I wanted the car I had to drive him to his car pool pick-up.

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6:00-6:25 a.m. wake baby up, change him, nurse him on one side

6:25-6:50 a.m. baby and I take Paul to his car pool

6:50-7:00 a.m. nurse second side

7:00-8:00 a.m. play with baby, then give him his play gym and put him on the bathroom floor while I take a shower

8:00-9:00 a.m. baby fell asleep while playing, so he naps in bouncy seat

9:00-9:15 a.m. baby wakes up with blow-out diaper and needs major change

9:15-9:40 a.m. nursing

9:40-9:45 a.m. tummy time until crankiness

9:45-10:15 a.m. ran errand; baby fell asleep in car

10:15-11:50 a.m. baby napping at home still in car seat

11:50 a.m. – 12:15 p.m. woke baby up so I could change and nurse him before baby group

12:15 – 3:30 p.m. baby group (one nursing and one changing) [note from Swistle: was baby group really THREE HOURS? That seems unlikely. It was probably 2 hours plus driving time and I forgot to write something else down, like maybe my lunch, or maybe he napped starting at 2:30 instead of 3:30 or WHO KNOWS.]

3:30 – 4:30 p.m. baby napping

4:30 – 5:30 p.m. baby changed, nursed, played with…

5:30 – 6:00 p.m. oh never mind, the day is too complicated and the summary ends up too inaccurate.

6:00 – 6:30 p.m. pick up Paul at car pool

6:30 – 7:15 p.m. take turns eating dinner and holding baby

7:15 – 7:45 p.m. baby bath

7:45 – 8:00 p.m. nursing

8:00 p.m. baby to bed

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See how I lost hope around 5:30? I remember how I’d keep trying to guess how long something had been but then that wouldn’t seem right at all and nothing added up and FORGET IT. But I’m still glad to have it, because it’s a lot closer than what I would have been able to recreate at this point. I see I tried again the next day, and I’m glad I did or I would have thought I always woke the baby up in the mornings:

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5:00 – 5:10 a.m. baby laughing and silly during diaper change

5:10 – 5:30 a.m. nursing

5:30 – 5:40 a.m. baby snuggling with Paul while I rinse diaper and scoop cat box

5:40 – 5:50 a.m. baby crying and uncooperative for tummy time

5:50 – 6:25 a.m. ?

6:25 – 6:50 a.m. taking Paul to car pool

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And that’s where I gave up that day.

In fact, that “?” at 5:50-6:25 probably sums up “a day with a baby” better than any other part. SO MUCH of the day is “getting interrupted”—like, if someone had followed me and done the documenting for me, it probably would have been stuff like:

8:45 – 8:46 a.m. fold several pieces of laundry

8:46 – 8:48 a.m. have to stop because baby is crying to be changed

8:48 – 8:49 a.m. fold several pieces of laundry

8:49 – 8:50 a.m. move baby from bouncy seat to bed where I’m folding laundry

8:50 – 8:52 a.m. search fruitlessly for baby’s binky

8:52 – 8:53 a.m. change toys on baby’s play gym

8:53 – 8:54 a.m. fold several pieces of laundry

8:54 – 8:55 a.m. pick baby up and pat him; does he need to eat yet?

8:55 – 8:56 a.m. change shirt baby spit up on

8:56 – 8:57 a.m. fold several pieces of laundry

8:57 – 8:58 a.m. find a chewing toy for baby

8:58 – 8:59 a.m. maybe binky is in the car?

8:59 – 9:00 a.m. try to nurse baby; baby not interested

9:00 – 9:01 a.m. fold several pieces of laundry

And so on. And then I would try to record that in the schedule, and it would have to be:

8:45 – 9:00 a.m. ?

More reports and opinions and rememberings, please: What’s a day with a baby (after the crazy newborn stage) LIKE, would you say?

Saturday

Oh, I am SO enjoying your input on the SIL/house situation. Each and every comment is like a soothing salve. A balm! Some sort of medicated ointment!

And it’s SO helpful to hear all the different angles laid out so clearly.

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Cat love continues:


He’s resting his head on her fluffy tail. Her back paws are getting all up in his grill, but he doesn’t mind.

 


Much different body language in this scene. Mouse’s body language communicates: “I should NOT have to share my favorite chair but DANGED if I’m going to be kept off of it.” Feather’s communicates oblivion of any political issues, but on the other hand she’s keeping her tail to herself. Possibly her paw pads are chilly.

Let Me Run Something By You

Okay, I’ve been thinking. The house Paul owns with his sister is in very poor shape. VERY poor shape. When Paul went there for the funeral, he said he was advising his sister to move out for SAFETY, and he estimates nothing’s been repaired or maintained since his dad left his mom two decades ago. Let that sink in a minute. TWO DECADES. Furthermore, it’s in an area of the country with extremely low cost-of-living, and real estate prices are very low anyway there.

So let me run something by you: Would it be CRAZY to just GIVE his sister the house? On one hand, this is wildly unfair to us. On the other hand, it is ALSO wildly unfair to have her live there year after year, possibly driving the house’s condition even further into the ground, while sending us bill after bill for half the repairs (including, for starters, REPLACING THE ROOF), and then eventually we sell it and after taxes and agency fees get enough money to mayyyyyybe make up for the money we contributed to repairs.

If we give her the house, we can cut it loose: we don’t have to worry about taxes, or repairs, or insurance, or ANYTHING. She can live there without us having to be connected to it, and she can pay for the repairs herself. We never have to think about it again. And, Paul can stop thinking of me as a Heartless Money-Hungry Fritch for suggesting his sister NOT live there rent-free while we pay half for repairs.

If the two options were (A) sell the house and split the cost, or (B) give her the house, I would obviously not even be considering Option B. But instead the two options seem to be (A) grind my teeth to nubs with frustration as she lives there for free and we PAY money into an asset we may or may not ever see half of, IN ADDITION to paying to maintain our OWN house, or (B) give her the house.

Tell me what you think. This is a good time for frankness. Paul and I have been having tense email exchanges all day, and I suspect a decision will soon be made because neither one of us wants to talk about it any more than we have to.

Tax Question

Oh, hey, can I pick the internet’s collective brain? Does anyone know the tax implications of owning half a house in another state? Because Paul’s sister is apparently just going to continue living in their mom’s house for free, but charging us half for repairs, and TRUST ME THAT I TOTALLY AGREE WITH WHATEVER YOU ARE GOING TO SAY ABOUT THAT AS LONG AS IT’S EXTREMELY NEGATIVE AND USES WORDS LIKE “CRAZY” AND “STUPID,” BUT I HAVE TRIED TO GET PAUL TO HANDLE THIS AND HE IS DECLINING TO DO SO, SO WE HAVE TO DEAL WITH THINGS AS THEY ARE RATHER THAN AS THEY SHOULD BE.

I know when I do OUR taxes, there are several house-related things, but it’s a house in our own state and we own it and we don’t share it with someone else (well, except the bank). What about this other house, which we don’t live in and share ownership of? There’s no mortgage on it.

Zazzle Deal

Doing My Best pointed out this great Groupon deal: $50 worth of Zazzle stuff for $25. I’m subscribed to Groupon but haven’t done any of the deals yet and am not quite clear how it works, but I’ve processed that you only have one day to buy the coupon, and I guess you pay up front and then redeem it later?

Anyway, I guess I will learn how to do it, because I need more stuff with my name on it. And if you’ve been thinking YOU need stuff with YOUR name on it, this is the moment.

AND there’s free shipping on $50+ through October 28st with code FREESHIPFORU. I don’t know if it works if your $50 worth of stuff costs $25, though.

Second Fret: Edward and Kindergarten

Second school-related fret (first fret here), I will tell it to you:

My first two kids went to preschool. Rob did a LOT of preschool (3-year-old preschool, 4-year-old preschool, plus Summer Preschool ages 3, 4, and 5) because he had assorted developmental things such as articulation delays, suspected Asperger’s/autism, unusual fears, poor motor skills, etc., etc., and the pediatrician AND the speech therapist AND the pediatric neurologist ALL said he’d benefit from as much peer group stuff as possible.

William did less: just 4-year-old preschool. He didn’t have any of the issues Rob had, and also he’d had a sibling his whole life, and also when he was three years old Paul was out of work and I was supporting us on $8.50/hour, so preschool was out of the question that year anyway.

The twins had no preschool. It’s $300/month for 3-morning/week preschool here. Times two, is $600/month. That’s hard to justify, or even to WANT to justify, particularly for children who have one built-in peer plus three other children in the house.

So the twins started kindergarten cold, in an area where preschool is common (and of course daycare is very common too). Elizabeth is doing great, making friends left and right. She knows everyone’s name in her class, in Edward’s class (there’s a door between the classrooms, and the two classes do some things together), and on their bus. She’s confident and having a wonderful time.

Edward got referred for speech delays AND social skill delays. I know—I KNOW—this is no big deal. He registered on a screening, that’s all. And Rob was in speech therapy for more than three years, so I know it’s not scary, and it’s even the same therapist as before so I know her.

And the social skills thing, maybe it’s kind of early for them to be leaping on it, or maybe it’s nice they’re on top of things, or really I think it’s both. Won’t hurt to get right on it, and nice to have him get a little help if he’s just a bit shy or slow to start.

Nevertheless, it feels like someone yoinked him off the production line for quality control issues. It’s like they’re saying something’s wrong with him—and that it’s something obvious, something they can see at first glance.

And I am fretful because now I’m second-guessing previous decisions: Elizabeth clearly DIDN’T need preschool, but maybe Edward DID. And this is a pointless fret, because we can’t go back and change it, nor could we have seen both outcomes ahead of time and chosen the best one. We chose what we thought was the right and sensible decision—and for all we know it WAS right. Maybe preschool wouldn’t have helped ANYWAY, and we’ve saved $6,000 that we can now set aside for later therapy. But maybe it would have been PERFECT. And round and round I go.

And we had the option to put the twins in the same classroom. We went back and forth, back and forth, and finally decided to go with the school’s default of separating twins. This has worked great for Elizabeth, but maybe Edward would have done better if there was a familiar (and bossy) face to help him out. Or maybe not, because then maybe he would have depended on Elizabeth too much, or maybe this would have made Elizabeth thrive less than she has, or maybe the teacher would have seen his introversion as even more of a “problem” in the face of Elizabeth’s extroversion. But again: we couldn’t see both outcomes ahead of time, and possibly it wouldn’t have been any better the other way anyway.

I Thought I Was Dying But I Was Dyeing

Yesterday morning in the shower I noticed the fronts of my thighs just above the knees were blue-greyish. Then I noticed there were blue-greyish patches along my hips. I mean, you’d assume a Terrible Diagnosis, wouldn’t you? Because I did. Something grim about circulation, I assumed. I’d been lying on my stomach while I slept, and didn’t I read something in a suspense novel about blood…pooling? in a corpse? I was planning to finally call my doctor for a check-up. Which indeed I should do, just for general health, but later in the day I realized the blue-grey tint was from my new jeans. I’d washed them before wearing them, but they ARE a very dark wash. Dark enough to color the handkerchief I keep in the pocket, which is how I figured it out.

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I am opposed to camouflage stuff for children. Because I’m opposed to thinking about children being in wars. I know. I KNOW. But that’s how it is: I see camouflage for children and I picture my babies in the woods with guns and NO NO NO.

And that it why it was 11.75 years before I bought anything camouflage for a child of mine, and it’s because Rob MUST have rainboots for his 6th-grade camping trip, and there were NO rainboots in big-kid sizes ANYWHERE, and then I found them FINALLY at Target, and the two choices were (1) camouflage or (2) black with skulls. I paid full-price, for something camouflage, for a child. Note it.

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I gave blood this past week. I even made an APPOINTMENT, and still waited over an hour to start the donation process. That is…discouraging, I must say. I read the entire People magazine I brought with me, and the section of newspaper I found, and then I sat there feeling anxious about how close I was to the people sitting in the chairs next to me. I don’t know if I can be discouraged altogether, like so that I would STOP donating blood, but if I MAKE AN APPOINTMENT? Doesn’t it seem like? And I asked about it, and she said it was always that busy. Well, then…I mean, if I might make a suggestion: preparing for that many people? As opposed to a longer wait-time for people who are already volunteering THE BLOOD FROM INSIDE THEIR BODIES? I don’t begrudge it, I’m GLAD to give it, I even get a nice little high from it, but if I have a 5:00 appointment I’d like to…have a 5:00 appointment. Or, like, 5:30 at worst. Not 6:10 for STARTING the part where you answer questions about whether you’ve been to Europe or dated hookers. I had to pee SO BAD by then, because I’d been so diligent about drinking extra water beforehand as instructed.

But, all that time sitting there waiting, I came up with a new idea for what I might want to do for a job once Henry is in school. Phlebotomist? I need something with a short training time.

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I dreamed last night that I cut my own hair and was very happy about it. It’s so long now, I can’t wear it in my preferred French twist but have to bun it. And it gets tangled and it hurts to comb it, and Paul hasn’t given it the attention I’d expect a guy to give long hair, so I thought I WOULD cut it: I’ve cut it myself once before, and it DID turn out fine. And then THIS MORNING Paul said admiringly, “Your hair is so shiny and multicolored!” And I said, “I’m going to cut it” and he said “Don’t change ANYTHING!”

Book Review: Love in Mid Air

I just finished reading a book I didn’t expect to like, in which I was so engrossed I forgot to even look at the author’s photo until I’d completely finished the book. It’s called Love in Mid Air, and it’s by Kim Wright.


(My scan of my plastic-protected library book is not excellent, but it is better than Amazon’s weirdly low-quality picture.)

I got the book thinking it would be about a woman who has a meet-cute affair with an impossibly ideal man. And it IS about that (is he also RICH? Why, yes he IS!). And there was more raunch than I like: I don’t need the couple to lean out of the screen so I don’t even have to see them kiss ooo icky, but I also don’t need several-page sex scenes so descriptive they include the word “cervix.”And furthermore, while reading it I was frequently reminded of my own, um, “novel” that I wrote for NaNoWriMo: there’s a certain slapdash, anything-goes feeling to the writing, which in my own case was achieved by thinking “It does not matter what happens with the plot or what the pacing is or how likely this is, I just need to get 50,000 words in 31 days, so WRITE, write like the wind, and seize upon any idea that will generate more words!”

BUT. Something about the book—and it’s something that INCLUDES that anything-goes style, which she pulled off in a way I did not—was highly appealing. I’ve read so many books over the years, sometimes I feel like I’ve already read everything. I yawn and think, “So will it be ending A, in which she finds her Ideal Man is not so ideal after all and ends up staying with her husband? Or ending B, in which she leaves her husband and we’re supposed to believe the new guy is the man she was meant to be with all along? Or perhaps ‘surprise’ ending C, in which she ends up realizing she can live on her own without a man?” Which is why QUALITY WRITING becomes so important: if there are, as my English teacher said over and over again, no new plots and no new characters, then only the WAY the story is told matters. And yet this book DID surprise me, and furthermore it surprised me REPEATEDLY.

Just the other day my family was all together and my brother mentioned the astonishing scene near the end of Serenity (I won’t spoil it if you haven’t seen it), where something happens that makes you realize this movie is not going to play by the Movie Rules, and you can’t assume ANYTHING. (There’s a similar moment in the book Passage by Connie Willis.) This book was like that for me, though on a smaller scale: there were two or three places where I thought, “Huh. I see: I can’t think in terms of option A and B for this one. And where IS she going with this??”

Anyway. I liked it. It has elements of fluff, in that it is not a heavy-going intellectual kind of book and there is a feeling of “female fantasy life” to it. And as I said, it has SEXXX. But it also has SUBSTANCE and SURPRISE, and I found I really liked the way it went.