The Family O

Photo Friday: Sun

2011-06-11T23:47:00.004-04:00

This sunset picture came out nicely, though it isn't a photographic masterpiece. You can see the colors of the sunset, streaked in the sky and across the water; the striking contrast of the foliage turned black by the evening; the small valleys in the sand.

The reason I love this photo is not the colors or composition, but because it's a special place: the beach where Co and I have vacationed since we were a family of three (Mommy, Mama, and dachshund). Dogs are allowed on this beach, and Maggie loves it.

I enjoy taking photographs, but for me the artistry is in the story behind the photo, a visual prop to my words. So I am thrilled to have Photo Friday as a crutch to ease me back into blogging. Thanks, as always, Cali.

Family History, In Chairs

2011-06-04T22:07:00.006-04:00

Here is baby Cho, 5 months old, in the so-called "H____t Throne." The Throne belonged to my great-great-uncle D.(the brother of the great-grandmother I am named for). It's now in the home of my cousin M., my great-great-uncle's grandson. M. is also named for my great-grandmother (his great-aunt).

Our family is not always close or connected, emotionally or geographically. Sometimes it takes me by surprise that there are other people who know the characters in my mother's stories. So this picture has a lot of power for me.

Here is Cho a few months later in the red rocking chair that was mine as a child.

Photo Friday: Orange

2010-10-24T20:53:00.004-04:00

Here are some orange scenes from our October:

Jo at the pumpkin farm:

The newly-opened playground, across the street from our new home:

The new playground:

Cho in the leaves:

More Healing

2010-08-01T22:29:00.004-04:00

I showed Jo my scar today.

I didn't plan to show him. Honestly, I never thought about discussing the facts of Cho's birth with Jo. I had fantasized about the ways in which he would be part of her birth story, obsessed endlessly about how much of early labor to keep him around for, dreamed of him running into our bedroom to meet his baby sister (just as I did almost 33 years ago). I've thought a lot about how to tell Cho her birth story. But I never really thought about what Jo might need to know.

He's going through a phase where he wants to be carried all the time. Even if we have his stroller, he'll demand "Carry me!" Yesterday he, Cho and I had plans to meet friends at a cafe that's a ten-minute walk from our new apartment. Jo wanted to bring his scooter, so I let him. That was a mistake: Jo rocks his scooter, but he does not always actually want to rock his scooter, and it inevitably ends up having to be carried. So half a block into our journey, Jo said -- you guessed it -- "Carry me!" As in, carry him in addition his scooter and Cho in the Ergo. I tried, but I literally couldn't do it. That much weight gave my scar an awful pulling feeling that I couldn't bear.

Jo did what any toddler worth his salt would do: he lay down spread-eagled on the pavement and refused to move. I begged and pleaded and cajoled and promised a cookie and then, finally, I said, "Jo, I really want to carry you, but I can't. Mama has a boo-boo and I can't carry you."

He looked up and said, "Where?" I pointed to my belly and he said, "See it!" I promised I would show him "inside" (you're welcome, neighborhood). Then he agreed to stand on the scooter while I pulled him.

So tonight during his bath, I showed him the scar. He cocked his head, pointed to the line and said, "Right there!" Then he tickled me.

I love that little boy.

Healing

2010-07-29T22:52:00.002-04:00

I went to parent-baby yoga today with Cho. There's a particular teacher at the Y who I really like. She gives shoulder massages at the end, sometimes with lavender oil. It's a moment of the sort of nurturing I imagined labor might bring.

She also gave me some tips about how to strengthen my abdominal muscles. When I first tried to do plank pose, seven weeks out, I felt a flash of pain and dropped to my knees in frustration at the reminder of my failure. I tried to turn that pain around: that's the scar that saved my life and my daughter's.

The pain from that slit through my middle has all but disappeared, but it jumps from the shadows at the oddest times: when I'm closing a window. Who knew you used abdominal muscles to close a window? And it itches in this heat.

When I was pregnant, no one ever gave me a seat on the subway, because all the way through the morning I delivered, I just didn't look it. Now I carry baby Cho more visibly, snuggled against my chest (so close to where she was!) and people trip over each other offering me a seat. Honestly, I don't need one now the way I needed it then. But like the lavender massage, it's a healing moment.

Photo Friday: Pets

2010-07-16T17:00:00.003-04:00

I hardly need an excuse to post pictures of Maggie, the wonder-dachshund. She is in the avatar I use when I post a comment from this account. She is my sidekick, my best buddy, my oldest child.

I adopted her from "the pound" here in the Big Apple when she was 6 months old and I was 22. 13 years later, she's living in her fourth Brooklyn apartment and putting up with being big sis to two humans. She's a trooper and I adore her.

Here she is with her new baby sister Cho.

Photo Friday: Desk

2010-05-08T22:24:00.004-04:00

I wasn't sure if I was going to participate in this one, because while I have a desk, I never sit at it. Really. Never. (Cait over at AddProb accurately I deposit piles of crap on it; I use the chair to lay out my clothes for the next day; I use the drawers for my files; but actually work at it? Never. I have had a desk since I was 8 or 9 years old and my parents presented me with my father's childhood desk. And I have always used it the same way.

We are finally moving in a few weeks (you may remember that we had an offer accepted on a bigger apartment...in October; but that's another post) and I am finally admitting that, like Cait over at AddProb, I am just not a desk person. I'm getting a drawer unit from I.kea and using the lap desk Co got me for Chrismukah.

So here, without further ado, is the place where I blog, where I am in fact sitting right now. That's my side of the futon. You can see my Mac.book in the lower right-hand corner of the photo.

Photo Friday: Blue Jeans

2010-04-23T22:13:00.004-04:00

I know, I know, feast or famine.

I was excited that Calliope resurrected Photo Friday, and I'm finally getting it together to jump in.

This photo was taken last spring, just about a year before Cho was born. Who knew where a year could take us? That's Jo in his first pair of walking shoes. (And that's me, with my head cropped off.)

Notes on Cho

2010-04-23T21:34:00.005-04:00

Our baby girl turned six weeks old yesterday. Hard to believe!

Here she is on her first restaurant outing, last week.

In the past week, she's become much more alert. We've seen her first social smiles and she has begun to vocalize. She has incredible head control, like her big brother did at her age. She also has incredible hand control, and is already reaching for the toys on her playmat and bouncy chair, much younger than Jo did.

She's rocking the tummy time, too. Co decided that she needed an 80s power woman for her anthem -- we sang Jo our version of Eye of the Tiger while he did tummy time -- and we settled on Pat Benatar's Invincible.

She looks like me, and like her brother, and she is amazing.

Recovery

2010-04-15T21:18:00.002-04:00

(I started this post on Cho's 4 week birthday -- April 8 -- and I'm finishing it on her five week birthday.)

Today is Cho's 4 week birthday. Yesterday she went to the pediatrician and was declared healthy at 7 lbs, 4 oz. and 20 inches long.

But this post is about me, and the journey I've been on over the past four (now five) weeks. I mean that metaphorically, of course; thanks to the abdominal surgery and the breastfeeding, the vast majority of my time has been spent wearing a dent in the futon and watching Gol.den Gi.rls reruns. (Did you know it's on practically all night? And when it's not, La.w & O.rder is...) I've never had any type of surgery before, so I'm surprised and frustrated that I still have mild pain, and am not back to myself in terms of walking or lifting. I've always thought of myself as a couch potato (see: G.olden Gi.rls above) but I am surprisingly frustrated by my limitations. Earlier this week I walked ten blocks to meet a friend and it turned out to be overdoing it. I hate feeling that helpless.

In the hours immediately after the C-section, I felt like I didn't know who I was. I've always been a robustly healthy person and this was my first experience with the medical establishment around my own health. (My mental health is another story, but I've always been able to rely on my physical self.) I'd never been admitted to a hospital and I wasn't even born in one. Now here I was, post-surgery, a newly minted Cesarean statistic. I didn't recognize myself in that scenario. I had the powerful sense that I had let down the natural birth community that had supported me through my pregnancy, and prepared me so lovingly for a labor I never got to experience. I tried desperately to figure out what I could have done to cause the crisis with the placenta. The nurses told me that evening that I would be getting up and walking around the next day, and I felt that I never wanted to get out of bed again. Then the next day they started talking about how I had to take a shower, and I didn't want to do that either. I stayed in the same pair of socks from Thursday through Saturday, which horrifies me now, but at the time, I just didn't want to move.

At first I cried every time I had to talk about Cho's birth: in the hospital when a nurse asked if my delivery was "normal or Cesarean," when the pediatrician and the lactation consultant asked about the delivery, when I filled out my disability form, again with the "normal or Cesarean." I thought it was cruel that the hospital had maternity and labor and delivery on the same ward, because I had to see women in good old normal labor walking the hallways. I dreaded sharing the news of the birth, especially to people like our doula and childbirth educator, because I felt so strongly that I had failed, both myself and all of them.

Then one day when Cho was a week and a half old, someone asked me about her birth, and I just said, "Well, she's here." And I didn't cry.

Now, five weeks later, I feel some peace with Cho's birth. No, it's not what I planned. I will always feel some sadness that I never experienced labor or vaginal birth. But I've been able to integrate the event with the rest of who I am. At first I felt like the moment I started bleeding, I was jolted into a different world, even a different self. I felt like my body had let us down and so all of the loving, natural, holistic plans I had were for naught. But it turned out there was more continuity than not. Our midwife still came to the house -- she took out my staples on our futon -- and checked in with me by phone every day. Our childbirth educator has offered to meet with me to help heal some of the trauma of the birth. Our doula came over for the post-natal visit and did some post-partum hours.

My body comforted me by kicking back into recognizable gear. The nurses at the hospital were impressed with my mobility, as well as how quickly I was able to perform, um, some of the post-op requirements. The midwife is pleased with rapidly the incision is healing. My milk came in fast and prodigiously, and breastfeeding has been going well. Not flawlessly but well enough. And that feels good, too; at least this part of my plan is going the way I wanted it to. I know it doesn't for everyone, and that is a trauma and scar of its own, so I am grateful that at least my body is performing as expected in this way.

It has taken me a long time to be willing to look at my scar. It's not easy for me to see -- finally, a use for the fat roll! -- and for weeks I wouldn't look at it. I made Co check for signs of infection. I never saw it with the staples, which I found very painful, and the idea of which horrified me. A few days ago I finally took a peek. It's not so bad. Parts of it are still angry and red for now, but I can already see the edges where it fades into the rest of my skin.

Cho's Birth

2010-04-02T15:18:00.002-04:00

So this isn't exactly Cho's birth story. I need to create a version of her story that will be fit for her to read and treasure. This version is my story.

I went to work on Thursday morning, March 11. My plan was for my last day of work to be Friday, March 19, which I figured would be well in advance of the birth. My due date was March 22; first babies are usually late; my sister and I were both born "late"; not that it matters, but Jo was a week past his due date.

It is important to note that I work an hour from home, and in a different state. At about 10am, while I was reading a chapter of our class novel to the seventh graders, I felt some uncomfortable cramping, like mild period cramps. At 10:30 -- I know it was 10:30 because that's my break, so I went to the bathroom -- I started bleeding; as in "stuck pig," not as in "spotting" or "bloody show."

I stumbled to the nurse's office, called the midwife and called Co. The midwife asked how much blood -- was it a tablespoon or a quarter cup? I waffled, but in retrospect the answer was definitely in the quarter-cup range. She recommended I get to the nearest E.R. (and that, folks, is how I found out that the town I work in owns one ambulance. They had to send one from another town, so two local police officers were dispatched to check on me in the meantime; they both assured me they'd delivered babies before).

From the time the blood started I was pretty sure things were going south, even at the same time as I wondered if I could get enough paper towels in my pants to make it back to the classroom. Sure enough, when I got to L & D they immediately started talking about "getting the baby out." The doctor on call told me they believed I had a placental abruption, which is when the placenta tears away from the uterine wall. It's extremely dangerous for the baby, because she could have lost access to oxygen; and for the mother, because of the bleeding (placental abruption is a major way women died in childbirth before C-sections). By the time I said okay to the section, I had lost I believe 500 cc of blood, which according to my midwife is as much as a woman should lose over the course of labor.

The baby's heart rate was stable when I arrived but then started to get higher, which kicked everyone into high gear. I asked if I could at least wait for Co to get there (she came ASAP but remember...I work an hour from home) and the doctor said the baby was in distress. I was frightened because I am educated enough to be cynical; hospitals always say that. But I spoke to the midwife and she told me a C-section was the best thing to do, and now was the time to do it.

The anesthiologist had trouble finding the right place in my spine for the epidural thingy (what the eff does it mean to curl your back like an angry cat??? I have a dachshund) and they were threatening general anesthesia, which terrified me. But she eventually got it in. Cho was born at 12:29 p.m. Co arrived minutes later, and she carried the baby over to me. (I couldn't see anything over the screen, I couldn't see Cho as she was taken out or whisked over to be "cleaned up.") Co and I both marveled at how much newborn Cho looked like newborn Jo!

Co has been having a hard time about not getting there "in time," which I totally understand, but we met our daughter together.

And Cho was absolutely fine. She screamed lustily -- much louder than Jo -- and both of her Apgars were 9. She was 6 lb, 13 oz (which in my bio family is a big baby; I was 4lb 14 oz and I was post-term).

While they were stitching me up, I did make sure they double-stitched my uterus. At least I used Ina May for something.

The hospital sucked. That's why I wanted a home birth. They accused us of "starving the baby" (because we fed her expressed breastmilk without offering her formula "to see if she wanted it" and said that they were concerned about what a "big baby" she was because the pediatrician was wrong about her gestational age (thinking she was premature; she was 38weeks 3 days). One nurse said she had "never heard a baby cry like that." Really??? I have and I only have two kids.

So Co nursed her and pumped (I pumped too and my milk did come in in before we left the hospital on Sunday), so she wouldn't lose too much weight. The nurses saw the bottles and were all impressed that my milk had come in on, like, the day of delivery. Our lactation consultant loved the story and was amused that the nurses couldn't tell the difference between Co's mature milk and my new milk. We syringe-fed her the milk (suggested by the LC with Jo) until the nurses sicced a ped. on us to say he knew we might have "read about that on the Internet" but nipple confusion is all a myth and the syringe would make the baby choke. They gave us some nipples that luckily fit on our Medela bottles (they seemed unsure if they had any bottles that weren't pre-filled with formula). Meanwhile, the hospital video about baby care included a breastfeeding section that encouraged exclusive breastfeeding and -- I couldn't make this stuff up -- syringe feeding of expressed milk to avoid nipple confusion.

Cho is three weeks old today and doing beautifully. She's nursing round the clock and gaining weight.

My own journey in the past three weeks is definitely another post, which I hope to write soon (sooner if I can get the hang of "nursing at keyboard".....).

Beautiful Daughter

2010-03-23T23:16:00.004-04:00

Our daughter was born on March 11, at 12:29 p.m. She was 6 lbs 13 oz, 19 inches long, and absolutely perfect. She screamed louder than her brother, and looked just like him at birth.

Her arrival was dramatic and I will share more in the coming days, but the important end result is that we are both fine.

Her blog name is a little complicated to explain. The rest of us (Lo, Co, Jo) simply use our initials. Our little girl's initials, however, are the same as mine. So we've settled on Cho, because the other consonant sound in her name is a "ch." I know. Confusing. (Feel free to email if you're curious about her name; I am happy to share, I just don't want it posted publicly.)

And now, what you've really been waiting for:

Looking like Jo:

Eyes open:

Siblings:

Skulking Back

2010-02-26T21:03:00.007-05:00

I've let the blog go so long that now guilt and anxiety are interfering with posting. So I am going to acknowledge that, dispense with it, and move on. Because I really want to be writing here.

Since finding out that our little Bobbie is a girl (explanation for the Bobbie nickname is in this post of Co's) we haven't had all that much big news. I hate bulleted update posts, and I hope to return often enough so that I don't have to do them, but for now:

*I went back for a second scan of Bobbie's heart, and she's fine.

*Our big plans to have executed our move to a bigger apartment by the time Bobbie was born? Ha. We're still slogging along waiting for news from the coop board. We've figured out interim plans, and plans B, C, and D for if we don't get the apartment, so we'll be okay. But there were some tense days in there, let me tell you.

*Bobbie is, we hope, going to be born at home. That wasn't the original plan -- our midwife delivers at a hospital, but she started attending home births sooner than she'd planned. I am really, really happy/relieved with this change. I adore our midwife and initially made the choice to stay with her rather than pursue a home birth, but just as I was starting to feel some anxiety about delivering in a hospital, I discovered that home birth was an option. (My sister and I were both born at home so it feels like a logical/natural choice to me.)

*And, uh, this isn't really news, since the ticker is right at the top of the page staring us all in the face, but apparently Bobbie is coming soon. I'm in some denial about that and feeling eager to finish winding up my affairs at work, and nesting at home, so that I feel ready. But I suspect you never really feel ready for number two.

*Last but never least, Jo continues to be an absolute delight. At two, he is talking and singing and climbing and doing gymnastics all over the place. Here's a quick look:

Loving the snow (today was actually one of THREE snow days my school has had so far; good thing I don't care about those extra days in June....):

Rocking out at a friend's birthday party:

Awake at midnight to welcome the new decade, oh our little party animal:

It's A...

2009-11-14T21:38:00.002-05:00

girl!
I think we were both afraid to admit how much we wanted that outcome. Not that we wouldn't have been happy with two boys -- I was convinced, from the time we found out Jo was a boy, that that's what we'd have -- but it's exciting to think we'll have a daughter.

I've come to think of myself as a "boy mom." Even though I originally couldn't imagine having a son, now having a daughter will take some getting used to.

I also think that Bobbie's profile looks like my sister. If the pictures look decent once they're scanned, I'll post them. The pix we got from my two almost-nuchals are fuzzy and nowhere near as good as all the shots we have of Jo, which is possibly due to my excess padding. Oh, well, hopefully she'll photograph well on the outside.

Also likely as a result of my extra padding, I actually have to go back for more scanning because, during the Level II/anatomy scan (that revealed the girl parts) the doctor couldn't see the heart properly. He sent me downstairs to the pediatric cardiologist, who poked around for a while and then invited me back in a week and a half. Fortunately, my midwife warned me that precisely this scenario might happen, so we're not too worried. Everything the two doctors could see looked perfectly fine.

In other news, Jo climbed out of his crib tonight. Crap. (As Co said, why did we enroll him in that gymnastics class??) Any thoughts on crib tents? Worth it or not?

Unexpected

2009-11-02T21:19:00.002-05:00

So here's what has surprised me about this version of pregnancy:

I'm very self-conscious. I always thought I would love the attention, love being "special." Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the excuse to have Co climb on the kitchen stepstool and let me sleep late. But I have found it very difficult to tell people that I'm knocked up. I couldn't wait to tell everyone when Co was pregnant; I chose the date (14 weeks) weeks in advance, wrote it in my planner, and leaked the news ahead of time to as many people as I dared. This time around I have only just finally managed to share the news with the world, at 20 weeks along.

On further consideration, it's actually characteristic that I would feel that way. As much as I often think I crave attention, I'm more of a behind-the-scenes-gal. I worked in radio production before I became a teacher, and you don't get much more behind-the-scenes than that.

Also, as I've mentioned, my body really hasn't changed, so it's easy not to mention. We have cute belly pix of Co starting at 10 weeks 5 days; I'm still not up to my first-pregnancy-appointment weight. I'd heard that redistribution is the pattern for us Large & Beautifuls, but still didn't expect it would be the case for me. I feel different -- it's not so easy to bend over, and I already have to pee a lot -- but even at the halfway point, my clothes are still loose.

In other news: we're signing the contract on our bigger, better apartment tomorrow! Then, it's on the to the coop board. Gulp.

Fertilitea: Sharing the Magic

2009-10-29T21:49:00.002-04:00

This post is perhaps the most long overdue of all.

Back in June, the fabulous Bree made me the third fertility blogger to make use of the magic Internet Fertil.itea. There's no scientific evidence that my religious use of Fertili.tea leading up to my IUI helped me conceive so quickly (and Co, ever the scientist, is skeptical). But there's no evidence it didn't help, either. So please comment here (with email so I can get in touch) if you'd like to be the next recipient. There's plenty of magic left in the Zip.loc.

Bullets From A Neglectful Blogger

2009-10-17T18:41:00.007-04:00

Alas, I don't actually know how to format bullets, so you get asterisks.

*Bobbie is fine. I had the nuchal back in the beginning of September and finally got to see the little bugger. Actually, I had two nuchals, because in my anxiety to get a look inside, I scheduled the first one just a little too early for comfort, and they couldn't get the right measurements. I was actually fine with that, because I was thinking of it as a viability scan anyway, and that it was! I didn't mind going back to check on a creature I knew was in there. Unfortunately, they couldn't get the right measurements the second time, either. No one came right out and said so but I suspected it was a fat thing (which my midwife confirmed). The doctor in charge of the testing assured me that everything looked fine, which I don't think he'd dare do if he didn't truly think so, so we have elected not to go ahead and get the quad screen. I haven't scheduled the Level II but it can be in two weeks, I think. OMG. (I'm a little worried about the fat thing and the Level II but the midwife said it shouldn't be as much of a problem because Bobbie will be bigger.)

*And on that note, everyone says Bobbie is a girl. "Everyone" being my sister and two of our friends. Before I conceived, I was convinced Jo would have a brother. Now I'm not so sure.

*Back to the fat thing: my midwife says I can gain 15 pounds from the weight I gave at my first appointment (um, I hate to tell her how much weight I can gain...). However, I am currently 8.5 pounds below that first-appointment-weight. My eating is still not back to normal (it's become pretty common for me to have mashed potatoes and salad for dinner). I am NOT complaining.

*Knock wood, spit spit, etc etc, we may have a bigger place to live! (And let me tell you, we need it.) We put an offer on a larger apartment last weekend and the lawyers are currently drawing up the contract. It's in the same neighborhood we live in now, a ten minute walk from our current place and still across the street from the park (and next door to the awesome ice cream place).

*In sad news, my mother's uncle died last week, and days later I got an email that my father's aunt has a pre-leukemic disorder. Uncle H. was 88 and Aunt A. is in her 90s. I grew up without grandparents so my great-aunts and uncles were the closest I had, and losing them is complicated.

*Jo continues to be the funniest, sweetest, smartest toddler in the world. He now takes gymnastics as well as his beloved music class, and he somersaults all over the place (he also does "seat drops" on our hardwood floors).

Here he is last weekend at his cousin Sam's birthday party:

And here he is at a Rosh Hashanah celebration in September:

Moving Along

2009-07-21T22:41:00.004-04:00

Sorry for the time between posts. We are both still kind of stunned by this news. You hope it's going to work the first time, but it never seems like a real possibility.

It feels like limbo, too, because we don't have the reassurances we had last time: no betas, no early ultrasounds. I have a midwife appointment scheduled for about 9 weeks in. But at this point, I have no symptoms except possibly increased hunger. Who knows what is going on in there??

In other news, we're on our second of two weeks staying in a house in the "country" near my mom and sister. Jo is having a blast seeing his "Gabba" (grandmother), aunt, and almost-3-year-old cousin every day. Some visuals:

Cousins at the farm:

Cousins with bear statue (these bear statues are all over my sister's town this summer):

Playing basketball at Gabba's house:

Positive

2009-07-15T09:20:00.002-04:00

So I didn't get my period, and I decided I would buy more tests if I didn't get it by Tuesday night.

Positive this morning.

I am floored. It's early, but oh my God, did I really do this???

BFN #2

2009-07-12T10:29:00.002-04:00

Still negative. I am mostly okay with this. I had decided to be Zen about TTC the second time around. We are already moms to this fabulous boy, and our goal for age range is closer to three years. I am three years one month older than my sister, so I have until April until I surpass our age difference.

As many of you know, the actual process of TTC fucks with your head in a big way. It's hard to be okay with failure. But I think I am. I'll just keep trucking.

No more testing unless blood is late (I expect it tomorrow).

BFN #1

2009-07-10T10:12:00.000-04:00

11 dpo is early to test. It could still be positive later. But I don't have a lot of hope.

Nothing To See Here....

2009-07-08T09:05:00.001-04:00

No symptoms. No nothing. I will probably test Friday, because the midwife said it's the earliest I can and I won't be able to step away from the pee stick.

Co convinced me that it can be negative on Friday and I could still be pregnant, so that's comforting.

I really, really, really hate the TWW.

IUI #1: The Swan

2009-06-29T11:35:00.009-04:00

The deed is done. Co, Jo, and I went to the midwife's office this morning. Having been through clinic IUIs with Co, I can't say enough good things about doing it with the midwife. She was gentle with the speculum (though I still have no love for that thing) and told me how great my cervix looked. Plus, it's nice to have someone you trust and like digging around down there with a headlamp and a catheter. As I've said before, we love this midwife; she was one of the first people to meet Jo (the other midwife delivered him, but she showed up at the hospital to take over within minutes of his birth), and she has a son just a few months younger than Jo.

It was nice that Co and Jo could be there, which would be impossible at the clinic, too. Jo actually stayed through the whole procedure. We'll do it again at 7:45 tonight.

Yesterday we took Jo to two attractions in the park -- the Audubon Center and the zoo. While we were at the Audubon Center and Jo was napping, Co took some amazing pictures of a swan and her two cygnets on the lake. She suggested that perhaps the swan -- with her two babies -- was a sign. Last night I was musing about what to name my tries (Co named hers after the tropical fish that swam to her fingers in the RE's fish tank; Jo was the result of Yellow Fish) and Co suggested birds, since our Jo is obsessed with "bobbies" (birdies). So, I bring you the Swan Try. Swans are, after all, a water bird.

To end, some pictures of the boy. Here's Jo hugging a giant "bobbie":

And here he is in a turtle shell at the zoo:

And Now, For The Other Eagle...

2009-06-28T20:40:00.001-04:00

Positive OPK tonight. Midwife just called. IUI #1 at 8:30 tomorrow morning.

O.M.G.

The Eagle Has Landed

2009-06-28T10:44:00.000-04:00

The title of this post was the title of the email my midwife sent when the sperm arrived at her office on Friday.

But the other eagle -- ovulation -- has not landed. It's cd14 and I will still test tonight, but I'm so nervous. Stupidly, I haven't successfully tracked my ovulation before so I have no real confidence that it happens.

Sigh.

Face.book Statuses that Didn't Make It, and An Update

2009-06-24T21:56:00.004-04:00

Lo is itching to get started.
Lo is drinking her Fertili.tea. (I received the magic Internet Fertili.tea from the newly knocked-up Bree and I've been drinking my two daily cups diligently.)
Lo's cervix says LEAVE ME ALONE! (I had a Pap smear today, more documentation for the clinic.)
Lo does not like holding her pee for four hours. (I did my first OPK of the cycle tonight.)

I am going to start this cycle, but with our midwife. I met with her today and she is happy to do as many cycles as I want to with her. I called our fuzzy lesbian sperm bank and they are going to ship two vials to arrive on Friday. Wow.

I'm actually going to do at least two cycles with the midwife, because next cycle we'll be in town around ovulation time, but not for cd2 bloodwork. Whoops.

I'm actually very happy with this turn of events. I love our midwives -- I've never been so comfortable with any health professional -- and my associations with the office are all positive and happy. I initially thought it wouldn't make sense to inseminate with them, as much as I'd prefer it, because skipping interventions would be wasteful. But Dr. Paisan suggested natural cycles, without even a trigger shot, so in fact the protocol will be identical. Except: no monitoring, no cd2 bloodwork, and did I mention the office is around the corner??

So...here we go. Back on the roller coaster.

Cycle 1?

2009-06-23T18:23:00.002-04:00

I had my HSG today. The tubes are all-clear. Hoo-boy, is that one unpleasant lesbian babymaking hoop to jump through.

The nurse made me pee in a cup for a pregnancy test before the test. Unfortunately, the Holy Spirit seems to be out of the babymaking business.

I can't do an IUI at the clinic this cycle, because the results of my genetic testing (those pesky inbreeding Ashkenazi Jews) isn't in. I suspect I will have the results by ovulation, but a cycle with the clinic starts with cd2 bloodwork and Dr. Paisan wanted "all our ducks in a row."

But while this may be my first time TTC, it is also not my first time, and I may have a way around those pesky clinic rules. I'll keep you posted.

**Note to IRL friends: We have not made our TTC news public, so please keep the information here under your collective hats until further notice.

CD1 Is Here

2009-06-15T11:31:00.002-04:00

I can conclusively say I've never been excited about it before.

The Test Is In...

2009-06-11T18:02:00.000-04:00

....and it's normal.

After 3 weeks of anxiety it's almost anti-climactic. But apparently ovarian reserve is not a concern.

I'm grateful.

Limbo

2009-06-08T20:03:00.003-04:00

Yes, it has been over two weeks since my RE appointment. I called back the following Thursday, heart in my mouth. Because I'm a teacher it's not easy for me to make phone calls during work. I waited impatiently for recess and pulled out my cell phone. But there was no nurse available to speak to me; they would call back, I was told. The nurse who called me back said, "Oops, not yet. Wait another seven days to find out if you have any chance of fulfilling your lifelong dream of pregnancy!" Well. That's not exactly what she said. A paraphrase, if you will.

So I called back this past Thursday. I was considerably less excited and actually forgot to call until recess was almost over (it's scrambling-to-write-reports season). Once again: "Oh, those tests can take THREE weeks. Surely you don't mind pondering your fertility for another seven days?"

I don't think about it every minute. I can't, with a toddler in the house and those aforementioned report cards breathing down my neck. But somehow, the longer it takes to find out my results, the more I sink into assumed infertility.

*****************************

I've started several posts here about my results only to abandon them. My feelings about this blog are in limbo, too. When we started out, it was a way to participate in a community around (largely) lesbian baby-making. But that community has morphed; we're still in contact, but more often through FB and message boards these days. Honestly, I wish it weren't so. I can't write about my fertility on FB. Can you see the status updates? Ha. And I can't write blog-length personal posts on message boards. Well, I can, and I have; but I don't like to make it a common practice. This is my place to talk about me. But I wonder about the audience, not because I want to be a famous blogger, but because I used to imagine my circle of women reading. And now I don't know quite who I'm writing to anymore.

I want to clarify that the whine here is not about lost readership or popularity, it's about change. God, do I hate change.

The RE Report

2009-05-21T20:23:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was supposed to be my whirlwind of three doctor's appointments; in the end all but one was cancelled. It was the big one that went through, though, with the clinic I suspected I would like.

The clinic is bigger than the one we used with Co -- they sent me a folder of paperwork to read in advance of the appointment, and sent me home with two more! -- but the up side of having been through all this before (by proxy) is that I didn't find it intimidating. There were a lot of straight couples there who seemed pretty intense and stressed out (some kind of educational seminar had just ended). I can imagine it must be much worse to end up in a clinic when you thought you'd be babydancing; Co and I always knew our baby's beginning would be in a lab.

Dr. Paisan (Sophia has already named him for us) was positively lovely. He was chatty and funny and sweet, a far cry from Dr. Quick, who got the job done but whose longest speech was "Sperm is going in" (to be fair, he became much more personable once Co was pregnant). He said that from his perspective, I was young and healthy with no known fertility problems and should absolutely be able to get pregnant. When I asked about weight -- I had to ask about it! -- he shrugged and said it shouldn't be a problem in an otherwise healthy woman.

I went in convinced I should start with IVF (I exaggerate, but only slightly) but he said natural cycles (as in, not even a trigger) should be just fine, again, since I am so healthy and young. It was really a twist of the kaleidoscope to hear his optimism and think of myself as someone with so much potential.

As luck would have it, yesterday was cd2, so I went right downstairs for my bloodwork. Dr. Paisan called today with the results -- he said that everything was fine with the exception of the estradiol, which was elevated. He likes to see less than 70 on cd2, and mine was (I believe) 124. He said that it probably means I have a leftover cyst from a previous cycle. In some rare cases it can mean that ovarian reserve is compromised, but he doesn't think that's likely. My MIS results will be in Thursday and that will tell us more.

I had cd3 bloods done once before and had a scare about infertility. Ultimately that doctor ended up saying everything was normal, but she too was concerned about a high estradiol level, and called me to say I had the ovaries of a menopausal woman. (Looking back at those posts, she said that estradiol had to be below 32, which seems very wrong, though she correctly called my FSH of 5.7 normal. I don't know what my FSH was this time around...didn't ask.)

So, I'm anxious. I'm trying not to be too anxious, but the kaleidoscope has turned again. I want to have a pregnancy. I've wanted it my whole remembered life and I've had intense pregnancy dreams since I was 13 years old. But I've come to be a good non-bio mom. I know how to do it. Maybe that's my lot in life. That wouldn't be the worst thing.

Yesterday I was wondering if I could get all my testing done in time to start next cycle. Now I'm thinking I'll never get to be a bio mom. But one thing's for sure: TTC with a toddler in the house is much, much less painful.

RE

2009-05-03T20:43:00.002-04:00

I have been working up to this post, and here it is: I have an appointment to see an RE on May 20. We are thinking about #2, and it's my turn.

Actually, I have three appointments on May 20. The midwife (who serves as my gyn), and then two different REs, who have been recommended by Sophia, Oneofhismoms, and several folks off the computer. (We had no problem with Co's RE, but the monitoring hours at that office won't work with my teaching schedule, so off I go.) I'm meeting with two because I am terrified that my weight will be an issue, so I'm hoping at least one of these guys will agree to work with me.

I have always believed I would bear a child, but now that I am so close to exploring this goal, I no longer believe it can happen. So many people have tried for so long -- why would it work for me?

Right now, as you can see, I'm more scared than excited. I am frightened by how much I want this. We already have Jo, can I really ask for more?

Allies

2009-04-09T17:33:00.003-04:00

This year Pesach/Passover, the holiday of liberation, comes on the heels of two amazing legislative victories: same-sex marriage is now legal in Iowa (with thanks to these ladies for their pride and bravery!) and Vermont (which means wedding bells for these ladies!).

On the two different days that Iowa's and Vermont's historic decisions were made, virtually all of my queer Face.book friends made reference to the victories in status updates. Then I noticed that a few of my straight friends also mentioned the news. And I found myself feeling a special pulse of warmth for those folks. It's another thought to add to my ever-expanding definition of "ally": to be able to participate and rejoice in a fight for justice that has no personal impact. Or perhaps the wisdom to understand that there is a personal impact: that none of us are free until all of us are.

The Streak

2009-04-08T08:47:00.003-04:00

Perhaps one of the cutest things Jo loves to do is run down the hallway naked. He only learned to walk in the last month or so, but has quickly progressed to running. So he started out by wriggling away from the bath-giving-mom, and running down the hall, giggling maniacally, to visit the mom cleaning up from dinner in the kitchen (we trade off on these two roles). He loves it so much that now we always let him do his wild run, and even if he was crying and angry before (getting one's face wiped after dinner and taking iron drops can really cramp a toddler's style), naked running always makes him laugh and smile.

Co sings "The Streak" as he runs, a wacky song from one of her Dr. Dem.ento CDs. It's often my favorite moment of the day.

The Daily Cute

2009-04-04T20:55:00.002-04:00

Here begins my attempt to blog more frequently, if less deeply. I want to try to record Jo's daily antics. I'll still be here contemplating my navel when I have time (ha ha ha).

Jo has developed a passion for bunny grahams. Last night, as Co offered them to him, she made them go "hop hop hop" on the table. Jo started not only to bounce the bunnies on the table, he echoed by saying "bop bop bop" -- his version of "hop hop hop."

Today he asked for one of his favorite books by name -- he calls it "Bobo," after the name of the monkey in the story. We were at the bank, and I had offered him a book from the diaper bag. He actually remembered a book from home and asked for it!

I'm on spring break now, so perhaps I'll even update daily. Stay tuned.

In closing, here is our snarky toddler in his rocking chair:

The Life of Jo

2009-03-29T17:13:00.005-04:00

We are not blogging enough, and have all the usual excuses. I am stealing a few minutes while Co makes her delicious tomato sauce (I highly recommend Italian wives) and Jo plays with his highchair to update you all on his world.

*He walks. We did write here about his first steps, about three weeks after his first birthday, but it took him several more months to get serious about walking. Now he walks around everywhere and almost never resorts to crawling. There is this short little person walking around our house!

*He says about fifteen words. Most of them are animal noises. (For those keeping track, he knows that a cow says "moo," a a sheep says "ba," an owl says "hoo," a duck says "quack-quack," a dog says "woof" (usually sounds more like "oof"), and of course his favorite is the lion that says "ra-ra." Co is working on cat. Currently he will tell you that a cat says "moo."

We are animal lovers, and the number of jungle and farm animals in board books is really quite astonishing (my mother bought our urban boy a book about the subway in protest). I also remembered recently that in the "long profile" the donor mentioned having a "Dr. Dolittle" gene, which was one of the reasons we chose him. Hmmmm.

*He also uses his talking to, well, communicate! He asks to nurse ("ba-ba"), to eat ("na-na," his version of "num-num") and makes sure we know every time a dog crosses or path ("oof!).

*Yesterday at the bank, Co gave him his keys to play with, and he tried to put them in the keyhole of the door! He doesn't miss a trick.

*Jo still only has five teeth (and we think he's working on a sixth). Nonetheless he's become more and more interested in food and loves to feed himself. He loves pancakes and bread made by Mommy (our little carb fiend) and has developed a passion for Annie's honey bunny grahams. Nothing is cuter than watching him tackle a whole apple or banana.

*He has developed an obsession with balls, and often says "ball!" for no apparent reason. He has three at home, and likes to hold them all at once.

*He just gets more and more fun as he develops into a little person. I am so excited about taking him to a seder in a few weeks!

Our lives continue with the usual breathless pace of working moms. The plan is for us both to take some time off this summer, and I can't wait. Hopefully you'll hear more from us then, too.

Can't sign off without a picture, so here are a few.

Here he is taking a walk in the park, in his snazzy silver shoes:

Here's the homemade Cookie Monster costume he sported for Purim (you can sort of see the eyes on the top):

Here he is playing with our mah-jongg purse (you can also see one of his beloved balls in the corner):

Welcome Bonus Ball!

2009-03-16T21:01:00.001-04:00

Jo has a transatlantic buddy!! Jay and Vee's Bonus Ball (a.k.a. Baby Boy) is here!!

Snow Day!

2009-03-02T22:06:00.001-05:00

Here's our snow angel. He tolerated the white stuff far better than I thought he would. Maybe next time (which I honestly hope is next year) we'll break out the sled!

President's Day: Inauguration Flashback

2009-02-16T19:26:00.006-05:00

I've been itching to write my post about the inauguration but been short on time. So I'm taking President's Day as an opportunity to celebrate our current President.

My school watched the Inauguration in the gym; our tech folks projected ABC's coverage onto a big screen. My 7th graders were besides themselves with excitement, as they have been since the days leading up to the election. I was pretty giddy myself and everyone in the city seemed extra-happy as well. Everyone was decked out in their Obama-wear (I wore my "Another Mama for Obama" shirt). There was pizza and black-and-white cookies for all (yes, those were ordered intentionally). Jo was downstairs with me -- he goes to daycare at my school and everyone was in the gym, including the daycare babes and their providers -- so he sat in my lap, watched Obama and ate some pizza too.

We watched coverage starting with the invocation* and through Obama's speech (which one of my kids summarized brilliantly in his journal later that week). The first time the camera flashed spontaneously to Obama the whole gym erupted in cheers. Then the picture was left on but the sound turned down, and as a community we sang "This Land Is Your Land."

It was truly the most patriotic day of my life. I come from a family with a healthy suspicion of the American flag (all the flag-waving after 9/11 made me very nervous) but for the first time, I actually wanted to stand for the national anthem. I jumped to my feet when asked to stand for the swearing in of Vice-President Biden.

No, I did not get through all this without crying, and neither did many of my students. I found myself tearing up all through the day and quite a few days afterward as the reality of this historical moment kept sinking in. At a staff meeting in a sixth grade teacher's room there on the wall was one of those Junior Scholastic charts of the presidents on the wall... and there was Obama, number 44. It is absolutely overwhelming.

And almost every day President Obama (!) does something else to make me proud to be an American. Truly words I have never written, nor thought, before this administration.

Here's Jo on Inauguaration Day (click on the photo to see notes):

--------------------------------
*I'm making this a footnote because the invocation did not ruin the proceedings for me, but oh my goodness, did it suck, and I have to comment. I've never watched an inauguration before (see previous comments about patriotism in my family) so I actually assume that nonsense is par for the course. It was just so awful: I know R.W. is a big homophobe so it was miserable to hear his remarks about inclusivity and want to shove them where the sun don't shine. But perhaps more egregious was sitting in my public school, watching a government event, and hearing the Lord's Prayer. It makes me really sad to realize that separation of church and state is a total myth. I believe in it.

Toddler Love

2009-01-24T10:51:00.003-05:00

I owe you all the obligatory tear-streaked inauguration post and trust me it's coming but here's a quickie:

I love my toddler. Of course I love my toddler; what I mean is that I love having a toddler. I've worked with kids of many ages, including babies and preschoolers all the way through high school, but somehow skipped toddlers so I never knew much about them. Jo has his moments (many of them at 3 or 4 a.m.) but generally I find toddlerhood delightful.

He is walking carefully, slowly, occasionally, definitely still a skill to be practiced -- when he actually wants to go somewhere he crawls, and fast -- but he's catching on.

I love watching him learn words. (Here is the current list, from his baby book: rah-rah [see previous post], mama, moo, hoo [as in owl], woof, night-night, yeah, no, ba-ba [nursing/bottle], bye, baby.)

I love how affectionate he is: with us, with his daycare providers, with his daycare playmates, with his stuffed animals, with the long-suffering dachshund. He has taken to climbing into our laps just to hang out. So sweet!

For the past two evenings he has been climbing out of the bathtub into my lap, to hug and cuddle. Last night I finally clued in and just climbed in the tub with him. He loved that. He also took one look at my naked chest, widened his eyes, signed "milk," and grabbed me. Adorable.

Facts, Fun & Otherwise

2009-01-18T12:49:00.005-05:00

*Jo figured out how to blow his nose. He wrinkles it up, sniffs loudly and (since he is currently and often congested) rivers of snot pour out. This is actually in the fun facts category because it is seriously helpful to be able to encourage him to blow (by pretending to do so yourself). We've been able to avoid aspirating, which he hates, a number of times since he gained this new skill on Thursday.

*We met X and his moms, who are our neighbors. X is delicious and his moms are lovely.

*We seem to have a picky eater. I hadn't been thinking of him this way, but Co pointed it out (she herself was a picky eater as a kid). And it's true that compared to lists of foods other kids his age, or even younger, will eat, he is just not that versatile. He enjoys feeding himself, but will not actually eat very many finger foods...except carbs. He is a carb fiend and happily gorges on Cheer.ios, pancakes, bread (especially challah and Mommy's homemade!). He also loves strawberries. Everything else we feed him is a puree. We constantly offer him food from our plates and intentionally prepare foods we think he might like. Our pediatrician is fine with his progress, however, so I'm not seriously worried.

*Jo has now been to two first birthday parties (besides his own) and at the latest one we gave him some cupcake. Refined sugar and all. He loved it (see above).

*In addition to saying "Rah-rah" (this is both the sound a lion makes -- roar -- and Jo's word for lion) he now also says versions of "moo" and "woof woof." He may also be trying to say "quack." Stay tuned.

Here is a video of Jo identifying a "Rah-rah" in one of his favorite books, Dear Zoo.

Visuals & Details

2009-01-11T12:32:00.009-05:00

Just in case you were morbidly curious, here is a picture of Jo's eye the day of the surgery.

His godfather says Jo should say, "You should see the other baby!"

We have no pix of the cyst itself, though the doctor did show it to us, and if I had a camera phone, I would not have been above snapping a shot. The resident said it was the largest dermoid cyst he'd ever seen. That's my boy!

The whole experience of surrendering our baby for surgery was, of course, terrifying. My mom told Co on the phone that she'd "never" be able to let someone whisk her kid off to be operated on. But I think you just don't know what you can do until you have to do it. We wanted to be in the room while they put him under, but the nurses said no, so what else was there to do?

Perhaps the worst part was denying him food and drink. It wasn't as bad as we'd anticipated, because the instructions for babies his age are that they can have breastmilk up to six hours before surgery, and then water or juice three hours before. So we woke him and "dreamfed" at about 1:30 so he could get some final ba-ba (that's his new word for nursing!!), and then I got up at 4:30 to give him some apple juice (his first time). He was cranky while we waited for surgery -- started at 8:30 -- but it would have been a lot worse without our planning, I think. It was really hard for both Jo and Co, though, because he REALLY wanted to nurse and she REALLY wanted to oblige.

We weren't thrilled with this hospital when Co gave birth there, but were assured by our trusty pediatrician that they have excellent pediatric opthalmological care. And indeed, we were pleased. Our boy was attended by a senior pediatric anesthesiologist (head of the department) along with two residents, and operated on by the doctor we met in his office to receive the diagnosis, along with an experienced resident. The nurses were attentive and lovely.

The surgery itself only took about an hour, just as predicted, so we really didn't have time to worry too much. The hospital didn't seem to have wireless (it really isn't the best place, ugh) so I actually got some productive work done. Before we knew it, we were being called to come hold our boy as he came out of the the anesthesia.

I'll admit now that it was a little scary to see him, face-down and wailing hoarsely, in his lemon yellow hospital gown and blue shower-cap head cover. He continued to wail and wail even as we held him. He's super-strong (other parents comment on it) and in just a few seconds he had yanked off the cardiac monitors and was working on the IV in his foot. The nurse said it had to stay, and it was seriously difficult to keep our angry little guy from tearing it out.

My hippie-crunchy-mama moment: as Jo raged on, I asked when we could feed him. The nurse replied, when he calms down. Um. It seemed pretty clear to me (and to Co) that only ba-ba was going to calm our boy down. After a few more minutes of carrying on, the nurse asked what we planned to feed him. Co said "breastmilk," and the nurse replied, "Oh, that's fine." Jo latched greedily and calmed immediately. I suspect we could and should have done that as soon as we had him in our arms. We're both too quick to listen to authority figures (but I had reached a point where I was going to tell Co to stick the boob in his mouth, against medical advice if I had to!).

Once he'd nursed, he fell asleep, and was transferred to the other recovery room, where we waited about another hour while he nursed and slept on and off and was finally cleared to go at about noon.

The whole experience, as I hope this post conveys, had some frightening moments, and some confusion and insecurity, but was for the most part as routine as the doctor assured us it would be. However, I feel like I had a brief, brief insight -- a veil was lifted ever so slightly -- into the life of a parent who must wrangle more frequently and intensely with the medical establishment. I had the thought: I can do this. I don't want to, and I hope to God I don't have to, but I could do what I had to do.

Thank God our Jo is on the mend.

Memory Lane (The Boy is Well!!)

2009-01-08T16:23:00.008-05:00

Most importantly: we are home with Jo, and he is just fine. Even anesthesia can't keep our boy down for long. He's currently on the floor playing with his stuffed rooster.

He was operated on at the same hospital where he was born. The hospital was still decked out for Christmas, just as it was on December 13 and 14 of last year. It was strange, to say the least, to go back there in the dark and cold, bleary with lack of sleep. This year we had to arrive at 6 a.m. for an 8 a.m. surgery; last year we were released in the evening. This year we got little sleep, since Jo perhaps sensed something and managed to stay up until 11:30 the night before the big event; last year, we were awake with little respite from the morning of December 12 through the evening of December 14.

Though by the time I wrote this post he was up and playing, he spent much of his surgery recovery day regressed to his newborn state. Co and I spent hours on the couch while Jo nursed and slept, nursed and slept, nursed and slept...and we cleared out the DVR (this is a whole other post, but I am deeply in love with our new DVR). His face was scrunched up from being sleepy, and from not being able to open the affected eye, so he even looked like my newborn boy.

Seemingly unrelated but tied together by the title:
I am always quick to post about my mom when she drives me crazy so I ought to share the nice moments, too. The night before the surgery we got two CDs in the mail from her, with a gift message that read "Happy winter": these recordings from my childhood (we had the records, of course). During our Chanukah visit to the Happy Valley, where Mom and Sister both live, I saw just those two records at my sister's house. Our agreement is that all of the childhood treasures my mother has saved -- books, toys, musical instruments, records, our old wooden high chair -- will stay at my mother's house where they can be enjoyed by both grandsons. However, an increasing number of these items have found their way to my sister's house, including those records. It makes me sad. I didn't mention my feelings to my mom, but she has always had the uncanny ability to read my mind (I used to accuse her of reading my diary because, really, how else could she *know so much*?). And this time she used her power for good.

It felt really good to dance around the house to music I remembered from childhood with my little boy, the night before his surgery.

Parent Milestones

2008-12-25T22:13:00.004-05:00

As usual, I have much to say and little time to say it. Hopefully I'll get to some of these posts in my mind over the break.

But for now:

Tonight we gave Jo his fifth Chanukah present (we've given him a little one each night -- thus far a package of socks [hey, it's a Jewish tradition], a light-up singing dreidl, a rubber ball, and a set of teething keys). It was two maracas, one red, one purple. He recognized them from his music classes, and his whole face lit up as he grabbed them and started to shake.

I want to see that look on his face, again and again and again.*

Here he is rocking his maracas.

*That's how kids get spoiled, isn't it. Oh, dear...

Jo's First Chanukah

2008-12-21T23:21:00.004-05:00

Yes, Jo is over a year old, but since Chanukah falls later on the "secular" calendar than it did last year, this is his first Chanukah. Co was wishing for a little Chanukah present last year, but Jo chose to make his appearance the day after the last night of Chanukah.

I really shouldn't be up this late posting, but there are so many milestones and amazing moments every day, and so little time to record them in any way. (Though we do take tons of pictures and that helps.) I still need to post about Jo's first birthday party, and put up the video of him roaring like a lion. He seems to have his first baby word "Ra-ra" for "lion" (roar roar).

Anyway, his first night of Chanukah was wonderful and I just have to share it. He's been sick and cranky, and he fell asleep suddenly and unexpectedly in my arms at 7, before we lit candles. I was disappointed, but mindful that you do not ever wake a sleeping baby. He woke on his own less than an hour later, however, and we lit the menorah (really a chanukiah). I am not sure whether he likes the candles, the blessings, or both, but he always breaks out in a huge smile when we light candles on Friday nights and tonight was no exception (he loved that there were three blessings!). I can't wait 'til there are more and more candles on the menorah, I think he will love it!!

Here he is with his very own menorah, a gift from his Gaba. [That's my mom: 2-year-old Nephew S. has dubbed her "Gaba." She loves it so much that we are all keeping that as her name to the point of correcting Nephew S. when he correctly pronounces "Grandma." Mom says it's like a combo of Grandma and the Yiddish "Bubba," which is what she, and later my sister and I, called her own grandmother (we were lucky enough to know two of our great-grandmothers).]

One Year

2008-12-13T08:05:00.003-05:00

The tickers say it all: our little Jo is one year old.

We've been telling each other, and Jo, his birth story since last night. ("One year ago today Mommy was drinking castor oil!")

I need to do a full post about his birthday party (which was last weekend), but for now, some one year notables:

*In the past few days, Jo has started to say "buda buda buda buda" all the time. We are not sure what it means, though yesterday I heard from the bathroom," Yes, I am washing your buda buda buda."

*In the past couple of weeks, Jo has gone from standing accidentally (taking his hands off of whatever he's holding to clap, but not noticing) to standing very intentionally and grinning at his accomplishment. He has almost taken a step a few times. Stay tuned.

*In food news, we've been wanting to take the step where we just give him whatever we're eating, but been too nervous somehow to actually do it. Last night we gave him a piece of challah, however, and he chowed down. Stay tuned here, too.

*He has become more eager to repeat words he hears; his daycare providers are delighted that he repeats "light" and "night-night" and are convinced that he repeats names, too. He definitely says "bye-bye."

*He flirts with everyone on the train -- the older Asian and Russian women probably love him the most, but the sullen teenagers, the weary middle-aged men, the well-coiffed businesswomen, they all smile at Jo. Yesterday I was sitting next to a man who by all outward appearances was a drag queen. Jo reached out, grabbed his arm, smiled charmingly, and said, "Da-da!" I don't think the man heard him (i.Pod), but he was charmed by the baby.

Here's a picture of Jo with his smash cake. More to come:

Ma-ma

2008-12-02T17:46:00.002-05:00

Jo can say "Mama," and I think he means me. It's fine if he calls us both Mama at first (Co is Mommy), because it takes longer for kids to learn to say "Mommy." But for now, he does seem to be looking at me when he says it.

We did a lot of planning and talking about what he would call us. But I was unprepared for the magic of hearing my name in his sweet little voice.

First Haircut

2008-11-29T16:46:00.006-05:00

In my genetic family, we don't generally get much hair 'til, say, kindergarten, so the first haircut is usually something that occurs in grade school. Witness my nephew at his 2nd birthday party (he's never had a haircut, except for my sister snipping off his rat tail every so often).

And here I am at three months, bald as an egg.

Jo, on the other hand, has been a hairy little creature since birth (he's four days old in the picture below). Co has trimmed his hair several times already.

His first birthday is coming up, so we decided to go professional this weekend.

Here are the before shots, from Thanksgiving:

And the back:

Here he is all ready for his haircut, in his Fire Chief seat:

The place had every manner of kiddie distraction: toys, TV screens, balloons, you name it. Here he is being distracted by bubbles (and sporting the adorable smock):

The mid-cut mohawk:

The artist at work:

And here's the "After" shot, at home with his hard-won balloon from the salon:

We got a first-haircut certificate with a lock of his hair. The standard "Certificate of Recognition" template included a quote by John F. Kenn.edy ("One person can make a difference") and while I'm not sure the occasion warrants it, it's certainly emblematic of the era of hope and change Jo gets to grow up in. Short hair and all.

A Word Person

2008-11-23T09:34:00.001-05:00

So I signed myself up for hd's online writing group, The Word People. I have always wanted to be a part of a writer's group. My mother is a professional writer (a journalist) and I grew up surrounded by the smart, funny, ambitious, and successful women in her writer's group. I always hoped I'd be part of one someday.

Writing has always been a part of my life, since long before I learned the physical act of writing. I imitated my mother by scrawling on message pads, and typing on the table. The hum and ding! of her electric typewriter were the soundtrack of my childhood. But more importantly, I spun stories in my head, an activity I called "pretend games." I spent hours outside bouncing a pink Spal.deen making up my stories. Eventually I learned to write them down, but even now, my brain moves so much more quickly than my hands. (And my hands move pretty quickly, as anyone who has heard me type can attest.) I still keep spiral notebooks on a shelf in our bedroom, one for each "story idea," some of those ideas with their roots as far back as the sixth grade. At this point in my life, I don't know that I will ever publish the fiction I write. Technically I am a published writer of some minor non-fiction work. But my heart is with my stories, and I will always write them.

I started keeping a diary when I was ten, as a place to offload my anxiety about my increasingly powerful, and increasingly numerous, crushes on girls. The following year my English teacher assigned journal entries, and I've been carrying around a battered composition book ever since. At different times I've also kept a dream journal,a book journal, and briefly in the 8th grade I had a special notebook just to write about all the spirits my friends and I contacted with our all-powerful Oui.ja board.

I started this blog not as writing practice, but as a way to join the TTC blog community. I was excited to engage with so many interesting and intelligent women who were on the same path Co and I were just beginning. But I can't deny that I love, love, loved the medium. I was excited about a blogging community not only because I could participate while sitting on my ass (though I can hardly say that's not a plus), but because writing is my preferred mode of communication. Given the choice, I would probably always prefer to interact with people in writing. I am much more facile at the written word than at human interaction, I think.

I'm not making a strict writing plan, because I really don't have time. I know that's a lame excuse but the working mom thing is kicking my butt and writing isn't the only thing that's taking the back burner. I want to do yoga at least a few times a week, and that isn't happening either. However, I do have these pockets of time -- on Wednesdays, when I have a number of free periods at work -- sometimes on Tuesday afternoons when I have no extracurricular activities -- sometimes over the weekend when the baby is sleeping. So my goal is to fill at least some of those pockets with writing.

More Firsts

2008-11-05T21:16:00.004-05:00

Today's jubilation has been tempered for us queers (and fellow travelers) by the bad news from California, Arizona, and Florida. Let's hope change comes for us, too. I can't help but be a bit hopeful, because in our state, the Senate got the Democratic majority They say is necessary for discussion of marriage in the Legislature.

You've heard from both Co and myself about this election, and even seen Jo's hearty support for Obama. Maggie's been silent on that point, however...until now.

Last night President-elect Obama (oh, I just love typing that!!!) announced an important aspect of his administration that I, for one, was not previously aware of: the introduction of the White House Puppy. I learned today that the pup will be a rescue dog.

Maggie says it's high time we had a First Dachshund in this country. (You can click here to weigh in on the topic yourself.) Doxies are loyal, persistent, "Yes, we can!" sorts of doggies. And they love children. What other pet would put up with this:

Hope

2008-11-03T21:55:00.001-05:00

I have this urgent desire to just pause the world right now. Right where we are. Where the guys singing in the train beg us to vote, and everyone is reading newspapers, even the free ones, even the trashy ones, with big pictures of Obama on the cover. And everyone seems so breathless with hope.

I've been getting literally tearful at the thought of Obama winning, when I think of him being Jo's president. My students' president. And I figured it was because I was sloppy and let my meds run out again. I always get a little overwrought and emotional after a few doses. But I've been back on the happy pills for several days and I'm still getting tearful. It turns out, I actually feel that emotional about this election.

Please, God, let this country do the right thing.

Baby's First Halloween

2008-11-01T21:23:00.004-04:00

For his first Halloween, we decided to dress Jo as a lion, because he sometimes roars for us. (Of course, he refused to roar when dressed in his lion costume, but no surprise there.)

Here he is dressed up for our neighborhood parade:

He very quickly became overstimulated by all the people, lights, and noise, however, and checked out. We call this picture The Lion Sleeps Tonight.

That afternoon, Co and I decided we wanted to dress up with him, so we threw together a tiger costume for her, a Dorothy costume for me, and brought along a stuffed bear. Get it?? The concept wasn't half bad, especially given the 15 minutes of planning.

Finally, I am excited to introduce Jo's first fridge art!! The 2 1/2 year old twins at daycare did some Halloween projects, and he likes to imitate the big kids do, so his teacher held his hand while he played with a crayon and feathers, and now we have this:

Hopefully he'll be a more active participant next Halloween, or perhaps even by Purim.

Aging

2008-11-01T21:21:00.000-04:00

So, Monday was my birthday. I'm 34. (Thanks to the working mom status, I've been working on this post since Monday.)

It's my first birthday as a mama, and that has been magical. I got to take my little guy to music class, and he gave me a present! He chose a pair of turtle socks just for me on his trip to the aquarium last week! (I spent a night away on a camping trip with my students, and Co was home with him for two days, so they went on an adventure. He also chose a stuffed shark for himself. He is truly Mommy's son.)

I'm thinking about my age, however, in terms of TTC. My deadline for motherhood, in my head, was 32, because that's how old my mom was when I was born. I was 33 when Jo was born.

I am hoping to be 34 when I begin trying to conceive a biological child. Our plan is for me to go through testing with an RE this spring, so that I can begin inseminations over the summer (when I'll be off work and it will be easier to deal with the multiple monitoring appointments). In the fall, I'll just have to deal.

I am anxious -- not to say terrified -- about my fertility. My periods have always been regular and I have no reason to worry, but I have no reason not to, either. I'm also afraid that an RE might refuse to treat me "unless I lose weight," which is unlikely to happen. Will I truly be denied biological parenthood for such a silly reason? Plenty of large women get pregnant the old-fashioned way.

I don't necessarily expect my age to be a huge problem, but I'm not 22, either.

I don't mind sharing this plan here, in this space, because I don't mind being held accountable, or explaining if our plans change. This is where we write about TTC, after all, despite our current break to revel in parenthood.

Once An Infertile...

2008-10-16T14:32:00.006-04:00

Technically speaking, I don't know that I can even take on the label I've assumed in the title. First of all, my own body is an untested quantity. Second of all, Co's fertility was never in question. Yes, we had obstacles to conceiving, but in the end we did so within six tries.

But certainly I have the mindset of an infertile, of someone who has struggled to figure out how to even go about conceiving, and had to study charts and OPKs and make decisions about medications.

We've both blogged before about the fertility tensions in our mah-jongg/friendship group. Co and her two closest friends all started trying to conceive around the same time...Co and her college roommate ended up with the same due date...and Friend #3 is still trying, and coming up against bigger and bigger obstacles. There are six of us who play MJ; the original threesome, myself, and two other friends. One of the two others started trying to conceive sometime last spring, and she announced last month that she is pregnant, due in May.

Of course I am happy for Newly Pregnant Friend. (I am going to have to use creative monikers, because everyone in mah-jongg except Co has a name that starts with J. or L.) But my first reaction was a pang for Struggling Friend (who, thank goodness, wasn't present when Newly Pregnant Friend made her announcement). NPF hasn't had an easy time of it; she's pushing 40, and was so nervous that after just a few months of trying she actually went to see an RE. She ended up finding out she was pregnant through a blood test at the RE's office! (It was our own Dr. Quick who told her.) But her journey was short compared to Struggling Friend's, who is still in the thick of it, still discovering more obstacles to success.

I feel badly that I feel so anxious about this pregnancy. Even with my beautiful son in my life, am I still so bitter that I can't be happy for others?? But I don't think that's the case. I have a cousin and two colleagues who are expecting, and I couldn't be happier for them; not to mention my many blog friends (and more on the IVP). I am just worried about Struggling Friend, because I remember being surrounded by babies and pregnancies in the midst of my own pain.

I spoke to Co's college roommate/Leo's Mom last week, and she is really worried about Struggling Friend. She told me we should be sure to check in on her regularly, because she is so depressed, and according to Leo's Mom, "lots of people have fertility issues but they don't walk around morose all the time." I have to say, I don't agree. Struggling Friend is definitely having a hard time of it, and I wish she would seek help. But I see her reaction as kind of, well, normal. Facing obstacles in creating your family is one of the worst kinds of pain there is. My impulse (Co's, too) is to try to share with her own experience, and the stories of so many brave and wise folks we know who have made their families in whatever creative ways they could. But Struggling Friend doesn't want to talk.

When Newly Pregnant Friend shared her story of TTC, and her funny pregnancy test at the RE's, she mentioned that she had difficulty with the OPK's; Leo's Mom said, "Oh, I never could get those to work, I told you, just have lots of sex!" And I felt a pang, not for us -- we never imagined that sex would lead us to a child -- but for the absent Struggling Friend, who had to give up that dream. And for us a little, sure, for anyone who has to buy more sensitive and expensive OPK's to make sure they work; not to mention needles and drugs and retrievals. I'll never see pregnancy as simple or easy (in fact, I shudder at NPF's blase assumption that she will have a babe in arms in May). But compassion is never a bad thing.

Holidays

2008-10-16T13:50:00.013-04:00

I've been composing posts in my head all along, but precious few of them have made it out onto the computer. So here's a sum-up of the past few weeks of life with Jo, and in the Family O in general.

Autumn is the Jewish holiday season, so we've been pretty busy. (And those of us with a foot in the Jewish and the American worlds find it crazy-making that the Christian/American holiday season comes right on its heels.) We spent Rosh Hashanah with family friends, and my mom and stepdad came down for Yom Kippur. (In past years, Co has made rules about my mom and I spending too much time together while we're not eating, but it actually went well.)

To be accurate, we spend the 2nd night of Rosh Hashanah with family friends. We had no plans for the 1st night, and ended up ordering Chinese food. Chinese food is never far from the spirit of Judaism, I suppose, but I was really sad. It was my own fault -- I stubbornly insisted on not rescheduling music class, since we didn't have plans anyway, and we realized as we reached home just before 7 that there was no way we had time to roast a chicken. The lack of traditional food triggered my sense of abandonment. I hate the way the term "triggered" is bandied about these days, but I do think that's exactly what happened...I have a wonderful family of my own, but I was raised with large extended family events. I've posted about this before, but to be concise: my mother has re-centered our family around my sister's in-laws, a fact made especially easy since both my mother and my sister's mother-in-law moved within ten minutes of my sister's house. Most of our friends have family in the area, so they get to go to their family for holidays. But we're building our own family now, me and Co and Jo, and we'll have our own events.

Nephew Sam's second birthday was yesterday, and my mom's birthday was Friday so after Yom Kippur we headed up north to celebrate. We've been video-chatting with Sam and my sister, and he calls myself, Co, Jo, and Maggie by name. In person he was most excited to see Maggie, of course. My cousin D. got some amazing pictures at Sam's party. Here are the cousins sitting together at a kiddie picnic bench:

Jo got his cute on practicing standing with a ride-on toy:

In case you were wondering, Maggie had a good time at the party too.

My dad and my sister's mother-in-law were both at the party, of course, which was anxiety-making but ultimately fine. My dad showered the birthday boy and his cousin with gifts, which is the role of the absent (grand)father, I suppose. Sam got an enormous stuffed Pooh -- he loooves Pooh -- and Jo got a Piglet, with a particularly tasty ear.

In other Jo news, he's continuing to practice standing on his own, and will take a few steps while we hold his hands (his interest in that is new). The pediatrician okayed finger foods at his 9 month appointment, so even without teeth, he's eating Ger.ber puffs (meltier in the mouth than Cheer.ios) and American cheese. He loooooves yogurt, and is even starting to eat some veggies willingly (albeit the sweet ones: squash, sweet potato, and carrots thus far). We can't believe he's ten months old!!

Illustration

2008-10-01T13:48:00.004-04:00

Here's Jo at the festival Co wrote about. He is playing with the most excellent type of toy: grown-up's trash!

And here he is at last night's holiday dinner. Yes, I think he poses.

Finally, that second ticker up there is an awesome alternaticker designed specially to look like Jo! The creative and indefatigable Tracy, one of our very own IVP, designed and recently launched this website. Check it out!

Our Exciting Lives

2008-09-24T14:35:00.002-04:00

So, Cali asked people what they did with their weekends. Yeah, she asked a few posts ago...

On Friday night, we did our Friday night Shabbat ritual (he loves the candle-lighting and blessings; non-traditional pic here), ate dinner, and then noticed Jo rubbing his eyes and being cranky. In our attempts to establish a set bedtime (these days he sacks out reliably around 8) we jump on his sleepy signals. So at 7:15, we took him to the bed for books, lullabies, and nursings. However, since his real bedtime seems to be around 8, he nursed for a loooong time while we lay with him between us. I wanted to go down to the basement for some 12 month clothes (our giant boychik is growing again; he wears 18 month pajamas!!) but was waiting for him to be more solidly asleep before I left Co with him.

And then I woke up at 11. We had both fallen asleep in our clothes. Ah, the life of working moms.

On Saturday we did something that really was exciting: thanks to our excellent friend in the theater industry, we had free tickets to see the new musical 13. It's the first show on Broadway with an all-teen cast, including the band, and it's wonderful! I teach 7th grade, and tutor Bar/Bat Mitzvah candidates...13 is my bread and butter...so I really enjoyed the energy and humor in this show. Go see it if you get the chance!

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

2008-09-16T14:10:00.000-04:00

Illustration

2008-09-15T19:44:00.002-04:00

Co writes great posts, but she neglects the photos. Here's Jo standing with his stroller (this was minutes after the toddler attack, so you can see he was ultimately unscathed):

And here he is reaching up to try to touch a tree:

Bonus Cruising Pic

2008-09-08T17:31:00.001-04:00

Just to show you what we mean....

Foodie

2008-08-22T19:08:00.006-04:00

Guess who ate TWO servings of peaches yesterday?
Jo seems to be warming up to food! After yesterday's success we decided to mix peach with banana, the other food he hates least, to make a "Fuzzy Nana." (Oneofhismoms turned us on to the idea of making and naming baby food; when Jo warms up to avocado, we'll try the banana-avocado mixture OOHM dubbed "Tropical Fantasy.")

Jo seemed to enjoy his Fuzzy Nana; he ate the entire serving, four baby-spoons-full, which is more than he usually eats. Co wants to try Peachy Keeny (peach and zucchini) but from the look on his face when we tried zucchini, I think we might need to wait on that.

Here he is eating plain banana, which he doesn't even hate that much. Co calls this photo, "I'd like to speak to the chef."

Next up is green beans, which we're getting from the CSA tomorrow.

Other cute new skills include crawling with objects in both hands (no picture of that yet), and kissing the baby he sees in the mirror. Here he is doing it to his fish mirror, but he also does it with the full-length mirror in the bedroom, the wall-length mirrors at the Y, and on the last page of his favorite book, Peek-A-Who.

Jo's First Beach Vacation

2008-08-19T11:06:00.019-04:00

Mommy and Mama loooove the beach, so we were hoping Jo would feel similarly. Score!! He's our little beach bum.

We stayed at our beloved B & B for the third year in a row, which was really wonderful. It's inexpensive (cheaper to stay there for a week than to rent an apartment), dog-friendly (hello, Maggie needs her beach vacation), and low stress. Plus, yummy breakfast. The 80+ year old woman who runs the place called herself Maggie's Grandmom last year, and would take Maggie out of our room to hang out with her during the day. This year, she fell madly in love with Jo and went out to get a disposable camera before we left so she could take his picture. He loved her back, giggling and asking to be held. So sweet.

I love going back to places -- I am a true creature of routine -- so I was in my glory knowing which restaurants we liked, which beaches to go to, other spots to hit (the local winery and the arcades for skee ball, though sadly we missed out on that this year).

Vacation with Jo was not as completely different as I had thought it would be. We spent long hours at the beach; we have a little beach tent for shade, and Jo was happy to play with his toys and nap in there.

He also loved playing with the sand -- to our relief, he mostly didn't try to eat it! - and playing with his various beach accessories. Of course, all the beach toys were very tasty.

He loves water -- in lakes, pools, and the bathtub -- and while he found the giant waves intimidating when not properly controlled by the mommies, he looooved sitting on the shore and being lifted up high when a big one approached. Here he is contemplating the mysteries of the sea.

And crawling on the beach -- he's cross-crawling for real now, no more tummy -- was just too cute. Here he is in action:

A neighbor suggested we bring a computer to watch DVDs, and we got some great media in while he was napping "at home." (We finished up season 4 of the Sop.ranos and watched a quirky Net.flix pick, The Last Supper.)

One of our favorite beach vacation activities is the dolphin watch. Last year, we threw superstition to the winds and bought a dolphin magnet with Jo's name on it in their gift shop (though I hid it until he was born), which makes the dolphin boat even dearer to our hearts. Because we only saw a few dolphins, and had to turn back early due to rough waters, the captain gave everyone a free pass that never expires. We love the dolphin boat! But despite the choppy waters Jo had a blast!

....and then he fell asleep.

We took him to a few restaurants, where he flirted with everyone in sight and repeatedly tested to see whether gravity works at the shore (yes, Jo, the toys fall to the ground here, too...).

Back at the B & B, Jo delighted in his new ability to pull up in the P n' P...

and helped us plan our vacation.

Of course, Maggie got her beach time, too. She did her usual: digging, wading, long walks on the beach.

Finally, here's some old school pix of Mommy and Mama as little beach bums, just for fun.

Back from the Beach

2008-08-18T14:59:00.002-04:00

We're home! A full photo-essay on Jo's first beach trip to come. Here's a preview....

We're Off To The Beach!

2008-08-09T14:31:00.002-04:00

So you won't hear from us for about a week (unless I can steal someone's wireless, that is....).

Local Food & Local Babies

2008-08-06T22:55:00.006-04:00

This summer we've gotten almost all of our produce from our CSA or the farmer's market. It's been absolutely amazing! First of all, it's delicious. Second of all, because of the CSA we always have lots of produce in the house, which has encouraged me to snack on more fruit, and to experiment with recipes and vegetables that I don't ordinarily eat. Finally, it's been an education to learn about which foods are actually in season in my neck of the woods at particular times. I'm such an urban girl, I'm usually completely out of touch with the natural world. I mean, did you know that everyone makes strawberry-rhubarb pie because those fruits are in season at the same time?? (I am sure you did...)

For his part, Jo seemed to enjoy the peaches, but turned down the zucchini outright. He's still not particularly into solids, though (which is not surprising given that he has no teeth, despite the constant teething).

This week the predicted CSA haul is corn, mesclun greens, cherry tomatoes, green peppers, lilac peppers (I've never heard of lilac peppers!), new potatoes, onions, zucchini, sage, plums, apricots, peaches. YUM!

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Last week Jo and Leo had a playdate. Jo just wants to crawl and Leo just wants to walk. Chaos ensued, but also much cuteness. Here they are plotting their escape:

Yesterday, Jo and I got to go hang out with oneofhismoms & wife, Cakie, and the newly hatched Trucker!! OOHM is amazing, doing more errands around our neighborhood than I do now with her 4 week old. And blogging about the meeting before I did, too. I can only echo her commentary about the concentrated cuteness. Trucker is just precious, an old soul with an expressive face and a beautiful shock of hair. Cakie is an excellent big brother. He gave Jo hugs and kisses, and even performed on his guitar (yes, the one in the header), to Jo's delight.

And Jo seems to be learning how to hug! He returned Cakie's hugs, and this morning in yoga class he hugged an 8 month old girl who was admiring his mad crawling skills. (At a few days shy of 8 months, Jo is about to graduate into the toddler class. Oy.) True, a few times his hugs involved grabbing her eyeballs, but he really does seem to have the idea. Too, too sweet.

Summer Slow-Down

2008-08-04T08:16:00.002-04:00

The title refers to the neglect of the blog. It's been a while and now I feel the need to write something momentous, but it's not going to happen, so here's an update.

First of all, Casey got a BFP! That's pretty momentous!

In other news....as I believe I mentioned, I am a summer SAHM. It has been quite an adventure. I am not sure I'd be too good at this full-time. I'm disappointed in myself for not being more imaginative about how to spend time with Jo, and for getting bored and cranky sometimes. However, it's just as well, because I am the member of the family least likely to ever be a SAHM....I have the job with the non-flexible hours and I carry the family health insurance.

But we'll always have summers, and we have been having fun. Jo's taking music and swimming classes, and I've been taking him to the Y for Mommy/Baby Yoga & Pilates as often as I can. (Mama Baby, in our case.) We've met up with myriad baby groups in the area. This past weekend a friend and I had a stoop sale -- Jo joined us in his exersaucer and had a blast -- and I made $68 for vacation money. (We're off to the beach next week.) Not bad!

Jo keeps growing in leaps and bounds. He is pulling up constantly and his army crawl gives way to the real thing more and more often. Here he is booking down our hallway:

Be Afraid

2008-07-22T18:12:00.003-04:00

Be very afraid.

'Cause here comes Jo.

He's crawling on his tummy (commando-crawling) and, as of yesterday, pulling himself up. Yikes.

Sleeping Like A Baby

2008-07-11T22:59:00.001-04:00

Tonight we took Jo to Times Square for the first time.
He slept through the entire trip.

Updates

2008-07-09T13:49:00.012-04:00

Here's what's going on in our neck of the woods:

*This movie has been filming around the corner from us since before July 4th. Yesterday we actually saw Nia Vardalos and John Corbett filming a scene. There's an entire fake restaurant. Crazy.
*Maggie hurt her leg chasing an 8 month old puppy on the 4th of July. We have instructions from the vet to keep her off for a week to ten days. We've been calling her Gimpy, 'cause we're P.C. like that. She doesn't mind getting carried from futon to bed and back again.
*We went up north to see my mom and my sister over the 4th of July weekend. This trip also allowed for the historic Meeting of Gus & Jo.

Here is some cute from our trip:

Jo in the highchair used for myself and my sister, playing with our toy apple (if my mother ever gets a scanner or lets me transport some pix, I will put up comparisons). He is making his Old Man With Dentures face.

An early episode of cousin rivalry (the toy they're fighting over is a wooden Fisher-Price circus set from my mother's childhood, as well as mine and my sister's):

At my sister's 4th of July picnic, Jo got to roll around with Xander, my sister's nephew on the other side (her husband's brother's son). Xander is about six weeks younger. In this picture, Jo appears to be giving advice, or perhaps telling a joke.

Cousin Sam prefers pushing his toy to riding in it.

Here's poor tired Maggie after chasing aforementioned puppy.

Jo loved meeting Gus!

My mom took us to a lake near her place so Jo could check out the water. So far he has enjoyed the bathtub, a kiddie pool, and the pool at the Y for his swimming lessons so I thought he'd like it. He was in heaven! We can't wait to take him to the ocean beach in August. (We were a little anxious about the sand-eating, though.) Here he is with his Grandmom....

and getting dried off.

Our little fishie!!

Even More Good News!

2008-07-02T08:46:00.001-04:00

Jay and Vee have finally seen the P word!!!

Good News in the Blogosphere!!

2008-06-30T08:03:00.001-04:00

Go congratulate Marci and Jen at lightcomingon on their beautiful son Cole!!!!

The Ugly

2008-06-25T22:41:00.003-04:00

So, I posted the cute pix and the fun highlights of the weekend. But with my family, there's always a dirty underbelly.

My mother didn't do anything for our first Mothers' Day. I was a little sad about that, especially since she made a big fuss for my sister's first Mother's Day last year and then told me all about it. But her brother was dying, and then he died, and I understood.

This weekend at the music festival, she whipped out Father's Day cards, one for my brother-in-law, and one for her husband that she hastily made my sister sign. (Sooo tacky; her husband has been wonderful to both boys, but he's not our father, and Grandpa Father's Day cards need to be our choice.) I was hurt that she would make a public fuss over Father's Day after ignoring Mothers' Day. I checked in with my sister, and sure enough, Mom had gotten her a belated gift.

I had it out with Mom today. She was apologetic, and explained how she'd been frenetic and impulsive because of her brother's illness and death. And, you know, I understand. I guess.

But it hurts. It hurts so deeply. Even in her impulsiveness, she thought to honor my sister and her husband. Those actions came naturally. She didn't honor us for raising our hard-won baby boy (my sister has let it be known she got pregnant on the first try). She didn't honor the motherhood that, for me, is both natural, and a daily struggle against the world; or the motherhood that Co achieved after putting her body and soul through the wringer. Parenthood is beautiful in all its forms -- my sister's motherhood, my brother-in-law's fatherhood, are no less worthy and powerful because they came by it easily or because society honors their roles on a daily basis. But if Mom had to forget somebody, why us? Why the pair who already exist outside the norms of society and the legal system?

I forgive her, but it's going to be harder to forget.

6 Month Stats & Family-Filled Weekend

2008-06-24T21:12:00.005-04:00

Today was Jo's 6 month checkup. He is hitting all his milestones, and in fact the doctor was impressed with his communication skills (he's a little chatterbox).

He weighs 19 lbs (68th percentile) and is 28 1/4 inches long (91st percentile). Since he started rolling around, he's switched from being very chubby to very tall.

He was very brave about his vaccines this time around -- he cried, of course, but cheered up pretty quickly, instead of the screamfest at 4 months. Mommies were relieved. We were also perversely pleased that, thanks to the national Hib shortage, Jo is getting a delayed vaccination schedule of a sort.

In other news, we've continued introducing solids -- thus far, sweet potato and banana -- but Jo hasn't shown a ton of interest (except in chewing on the spoon). Apparently a lot of breastfed babies just prefer their milk. But we'll continue the daily experimentation sessions.

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This past weekend, we went to this festival, which I've been attending since I was nine. (Neither of my two childhood homes nor my parents' marriage have survived the years, so tradition means a lot to me.) We got to spend time with my sister, her husband, and her son; my mom and her husband; our friend-aunties E., K., and their son; friend-auntie W.,; and more friends. Jo got to see Pete Seeger in person. Or rather I got to see Jo see Pete Seeger. Whatever, I was happy. Jo had an absolute blast rolling around on our blanket, playing with his new maracas from Grandmom, and being showered with attention. He slept until nine o'clock on Sunday morning. Awesome.

Less fun was Sunday's torrential rain of Biblical proportions, and our brave little toaster of a Saturn sedan getting stuck in the mud. I was impressed that despite all, we kept Jo dry. The festival was actually cancelled by about two o'clock, which was very sad.

Plus, this trip was his first in the big boy car seat! He could have stayed in the baby bucket (as his measurements today show) but he was spilling out of it. So Co installed our fancy Brit.ax Mara.thon I bought back during the February sale.

Here's some adorable cousin time (Jo and my sister's son, Sam):

Here's Jo wading in the Hudson River:

And for the final shot of cuteness -- be sure you're sitting down for this one, people -- here is Sam kissing his baby cousin.

The Adventures of Jo

2008-06-15T09:45:00.006-04:00

Baby Jo turned six months old, and he got his first food yesterday. After much back and forth between the moms, we settled on sweet potato (mixed liberally with breastmilk). He had a good time, and he may even have ingested some. The spoon was his favorite part.

In the last week Jo also discovered water. He's been in the water plenty of times, of course, but was never a real fan of baths. Just in time for the Northeast's oppressive heat wave, he decided the bath was a fun place to be (perhaps because he learned to splash). I am delighted, since Co and I were both water babies and still love to swim as adults. This summer, Jo will be taking swimming lessons at the Y, as well as going to the beach. Next weekend he may get a chance to swim in a river.

In addition to the baby swim class, Jo is signed up for four other classes... music, Baby Boogie, and Mom & Baby Pilates (the latter two are free for members of the Y, however, so we may drop in and out). When we added him to our family Y membership, he actually got his own i.d. card. Too cute.

He has learned to say "Da da da da"....just in time for Father'd Day. Um. Okay.

In other weekend news, we joined a CSA for the first time, and got our first pick-up: strawberries, rhubarb, garlic scapes, leeks, asparagus, two kinds of lettuce, mesclun greens, arugula, and fresh eggs. Wow.

In just four more days, I will be free for the summer to hang out with Jo and play stay-at-home-mom. I am definitely more of a working mom than a SAHM, in every way, but it will be fun to play that role.

Today's milestone: we're leaving Jo with a babysitter (my mom) for the first time while we go to a wedding. He goes to daycare, of course, but somehow this feels different. Any last minute advice is welcome...

Here's the big guy in action, having fun in the exersaucer on loan from Cousin Z.

The Zoo

2008-05-30T20:08:00.008-04:00

Last weekend we took Jo to the zoo. The trip ended up being entirely for our amusement, which maybe some of you could have told us, but it was fun nonetheless. He seemed to notice some of the animals in the barnyard-petting zoo area. (There are several varieties of sheep, a very pushy goat, two standoffish alpacas, and a cow.) I had fun feeding them, in any case. And in our defense we were not the parents shlepping the youngest infant to the zoo

He, I think, had the most playing with the grass in the park on the way to the zoo.

We were delighted to see that the kangaroo's joey -- quite the excitement at our local zoo -- is the same age as Jo!

(Click on the pictures to see larger versions -- the kanga and her baby are extremely cute up close, and you can read the text on the sign.)

Our Trip

2008-05-25T08:15:00.000-04:00

On a more cheerful note:

We made the cross-country journey for my Cousin N's Bat Mitzvah. Two springs ago, we made the same trip for her older sister's Bat Mitzvah. During that trip we tried to visit the sperm bank we planned on using, and ended up with a flat tire. This time, we had our almost-5-month-old in tow. Wow.

This cousin is on my dad's side of the family, and within his family, his dad's side. My father's Aunt E. had four children (and several stepchildren); Cousin P, the youngest, is the mother of the two Bat Mitzvah daughters. They're a large family, obviously, and they regularly has big family parties, not just for Bat Mitzvahs and weddings but birthdays and other random events, often in places like Hawaii. Aunt E. raised her kids on the East Coast, but they all live in various West Coast locations now (including Aunt E). I did not grow up going to any of these events. Family politics led to my dad allying himself with his mom's side of the family, so that's who I grew up spending holidays with. (No gatherings in Hawaii for that crew, just Thanksgiving in the New England suburbs.) When my parents divorced, he suddenly became close with his dad's family. (I don't know if this is the only reason, but they celebrated the divorce and loved my dad's new wife.)

I've been to a few of their gatherings since, and it's fun, of course. I always feel a little anxious and on the fringes, though my dad acts like he's been hanging out with them for years and his wife acts like part of the family. I'm used to feeling on the fringes with family -- because I don't have grandparents on my mom or dad's side, my sister and I were always a bit of an afterthought as the great-nieces instead of the grandkids. This group makes me feel particularly uncomfortable because of their hostility to my mom. They've been nice to both Co and me, though, and were enchanted with Jo. He's the first baby on that side since Cousin N herself was an infant (of course there is my sister's son, but she never visits so they've never met him). I was really flattered that they treated us so much like family, a twisted reaction that is indicative of my relationship to most of my relatives.

I do appreciate that at both of the girls' Bat Mitzvah's, Cousin P. gave my dad honors during the service that are generally reserved for siblings (rather than first cousins). This time he got to hold the Torah while it was dressed, and then sit up on the bimah (the altar) holding the Torah for some time. Co, Jo, and I were called up to say the blessing over the bread at the end of the service along with a bunch of other cousins, which meant that Jo's name was in the synagogue program, our new last name and all.

Jo, true to his generally mellow personality, was a great traveller. He wasn't crazy about being cooped up for six hours on the plane -- now that he can roll around, that's what he wants to do. Co was upset with the amount of crying he did, but I was relieved that he didn't scream for six hours straight.

We were concerned about baby jetlag, especially since he tended to fall asleep at his typical E.S.T. baby bedtime, meaning between 5 and 6pm Pacific. Nonetheless, he slept quite late each morning, generally until 7 or 8 am. On Mothers' Day he slept until almost ten!!

He kicked his feet in the hotel pool, and enjoyed rolling around on a blanket poolside (yes, that's a baby bathing suit).

He looked positively adorable in his dress clothes at the Bat Mitzvah. He fell asleep during the family pictures before the evening party, and slept peacefully throughout the entire party!

(Co is concerned that perhaps we damaged his hearing permanently, but so far there's no evidence to support this worry.) He woke up at the very end, just in time for a brief dance to "We Are Family."

Our first Mothers' Day was occupied by the family brunch at Cousin P's house. We traded cards and gifts once we were back home. I think if we had been more central relatives, my dad's family might have made a teensy bit of a deal about it being our first Mothers' Day, and that we chose to spend it with them. (My father's wife only mentioned four or five times that each of her sons had called her FOUR times because they REALLY WANTED to talk to her on Mother's Day.) But I'm not seriously upset about that.

All in all, a successful first airplane journey for Jo.

Life Cycles

2008-05-20T19:26:00.002-04:00

We're going to post soon about the trip, I promise. Work so gets in the way of blogging.

My uncle died today. He's had aggressive lung cancer for a year now so it's no surprise, and it is a blessing. He went peacefully and got to see his daughter, my cousin, before he went. I think he was waiting.

About a month ago, my mom's oldest friend (since high school) died of cancer as well. I hadn't known she was ill.

And now Ted Kennedy...that's enough life cycle for me for a long while, thank you very much.

We Flew Away

2008-05-13T19:55:00.003-04:00

We had the gall and the innocence to take Jo on his first airplane journey. Since the intense O Family never does anything halfway, we decided to make it cross-country.

Post(s) upcoming about:

Traveling with an almost-5-month old
Introducing Jo to his Left Coast family
Our first Mothers' Day (I'm an English teacher. Apostrophes matter.)

And oh, the adorable pictures.

However, I got to bed past 1 am last night and my profession requires a 6 am wake-up call. So, oh clamoring audience, pictures and prose will come anon...

E.T.A.: OK, just one picture. Too cute to save. Our trip was for a family Bat Mitzvah; here's Jo ready to celebrate in his dress shirt and yarmulke.

Under the Weather

2008-04-28T19:59:00.008-04:00

I guess it's not a mommy blog 'til you post about poop, so here goes. Consider yourself warned.

Jo's been having diarrhea since Saturday. When the pediatrician was talking to us early on about diarrhea as a symptom, we asked how we would know if he had diarrhea since breastmilk poop is so, um, liquidy. She said, "You'll know." She was right.

He is in good spirits (despite the photo; it's not from this weekend) and clearly hydrated. Let's just say the kid has good aim. Co spoke to a pediatrician at our practice today (Cakie's doctor, as it happens) who said not to worry, diarrhea can take a while to resolve for those on the all-liquid diet.

I have been under the weather as well, with similar difficulties (and Cali's sick too, can we pass this thing from blog to blog??). Thanks to the joys of state testing, I can't stay home any day this week, either. Fortunately, tonight Co made matzah ball soup and fresh bread. Perfect.

And another weather complaint: it's been raining all. day. and my weather widget suggests it's going to keep it up all week. I cannot take a week of indoor recess.

******************

I was a huge fan of the now-cancelled Li.fetime original Strong Medicine. The premise of the show: scrappy, smart-mouthed (and extremely hot) Lu Delgado (Rosa Blasi) runs a free women's clinic. When she is offered the chance to base her clinic out of a wealthy local hospital, she must work with former beauty queen Dana Stowe (Janine Turner) who treats rich women who want procedures like vaginal tightenings. Later in the series she gets to work with Patricia Richardson, who is an Army doctor. Comic relief characters include a male nurse who does tantric yoga and one of the twins from Sister, Sister. I do not still watch this show in reruns because of clever writing or skillful character development. I have my Buffy for that. No, Strong Medicine is for the involved, attentive, holistic medical care fantasy I developed in my 30s. Lu follows her addict patients into their drug dens, trolls the streets with a megaphone when there's a formula recall, goes to jail to protect her patients. A house call is just part of her regular day.

In our midwives, I have finally found my Lu. Co and I have both switched over to them for gyn care, so today I had my first appointment as their official patient. It was wonderful and despite tummy troubles and testing, I left the office in a much better mood than I'd been in for several days. How often can you say that about your gynecologist??

Midwife Strawberry didn't hurt me when she did the internal exam, said she didn't think my weight would have a huge impact on fertility, signed the medical form for the 2nd parent adoption (our regular doctor wanted my thyroid checked first; she doesn't believe, I guess, that I can gain weight all on my own without any assistance from my thyroid). Both midwives oohed and aahed over how gorgeous Jo is, and are excited for me to get pregnant (which will not be anytime soon). I love them.

******************

I also had a great conversation with Midwife Strawberry about this whole working mom thing. I've been doing a lot of thinking about my identity as a parent/mother, and how that meshes with other aspects of my identity. Specifically this: I like my job. I like to work. I don't like time spent away from Jo, and if I had my absolute "druthers," I would work part-time. (That is not a financial possibility, nor would I be effective in my particular position if I were part-time, I don't think.) I still need to be the rest of who I am, in addition to being a mother. Midwife S. said she thinks she'll be the same way. I know there are lots of moms out there who love their kids and their work, but I've had a lot of internal churning as I figured this out for myself. I've also had trouble finding other moms with whom to have this conversation, I'm not sure why.

**********************

I'll close with a Jo anecdote. He has a new favorite pasttime: grabbing an object with both hands and flapping it up and down. This works best with soft items, like burp cloths, diapers, and clothing, which he grabs whenever he gets the chance. We gave him a floppy stuffed bear for this purpose and he's been flapping it madly. I'll try to get some video up on flickr.

Spilling Up and Rolling Over

2008-04-23T22:25:00.003-04:00

The title of this post is a lesbian joke that indicates I was born in the wrong decade. But the real news: Jo rolled over!! First tummy to back, then back to tummy, all on Monday.

Co, because she is the best, took video so I got to see his early attempts when I got home from work. He's been flopping around ever since like...well....Flipper. (We still call him that.)

Without further ado, here's the rolling boychik.

Jo's First Passover

2008-04-20T21:28:00.008-04:00

We spent the first seder, as is our custom, with Co's "Jewish family," the B's -- the parents of her college roommate J. Co spent seders there for several years before we met. College roommate J. became Due Date Buddy, and is now mom to Leo, born four days before Jo. J. and her husband P. are also Jo's godparents ("kvaterin" in Yiddish), and we joke that the B's parents are therefore his grand-godparents.

My mom and her husband also came to the seder, the result of a sneaky yet brilliant move on my part: I asked the B's to invite them this year, thusly circumventing the knock-down drag-out fight about where Jo would spend his first Passover. (We love to go to the B's, and since my mom threw in her lot with my sister's in-laws, holidays with her/them have been tense and unpleasant at best. It's a longer story I may end up posting about next time they piss me off.) So Jo got to be with his Grandmom, we got to be with our extended B family, and everyone had a great time. I hope I can continue to be this creative with family politics. In any case, here is the sweetness of Grandmom snuggling her little guy at his first seder:

Jo looked smashing in his new bib from his Grand-Godmother:

And a bit goofy in a yarmulke:

Leo sported a yarmulke from his other grandfather (in case you can't tell, it emphasizes a certain team loyalty):

Here is Jo, reading along in his Haggadah:

And here is Leo, taking the seder very seriously (the onesie reads "Grandma's Little Matzo Ball"):

Jo also got the chance to see his other godmother Auntie A. (wife of Auntie S.), and their 3-year-old Z., on the way home from their seder. Z., in her role of "Bat Kvaterin" (Godmother's daughter) gave Jo a plastic frog to represent the flog plague. His Jewish education has begun.

As usual, Co has been using her culinary talents to keep me from matzah-related despair (and, uh, matzah-related digestion). She made the most delicious chocolate matzah to bring to the seder. And she's planned meals for the week that will be unleavened yet delicious, while providing leftovers for me to take to school for lunch. Tonight we had lemon chicken. What a wife!

Good Yontef to all who celebrate!

I'm a Winner!

2008-04-19T10:35:00.004-04:00

So first, I won the most delectable raspberry-lemonade soap scrub from the U.T.E.R.U.S. auction. It's made by Backyard Soaps and I want to eat it, it smells so good, though I have contented myself with scrubbing.

And then there's Prizey. Thanks to art-sweet, I have become somewhat obsessed with this site. I've won a stainless steel water bottle (nice, but too heavy for my everyday shlep-to-work use), a pair of C-section underpanties for a friend, and a nursing tank for Co. But today, oh look what came in the mail: a Scootababy. For ME. Well. I will let Co wear it too. But I love this carrier. It is an excellently comfortable choice for the full-figured gal. Co describes it as a cross between the Ergo and the Maya. Mine is the funky jellybean print.

Happy Pesach to all who celebrate! Jo's Grandmom is in town; here he is reading "My First Passover" with her (note Maggie's ear to the left). Pix of his first seder to come...

Mama & Son

2008-04-16T15:35:00.003-04:00

Mama & Son
Originally uploaded by familyo

Melt my heart, people.... That's my boy.

(I don't know how it happened. We made no effort to match the donor to my looks. But I admit, I love being told he looks like me.)

4 Months Old!

2008-04-13T21:33:00.010-04:00

Jo is 4 months old today (His Grandmom, sweetly, called to wish him a happy 4 month birthday. And his mommies made sure to have some cake.) This picture of him was taken a few days ago, and it's one of my new favorites. I can see in it the little boy he will become.

Some highlights of life with Jo:

*His favorite new trick is blowing raspberries. He takes a deep breath, purses his lips, sometimes pokes his tongue out slightly, and blows. It makes a very satisfying noise, and baby and mommy/mama get sprayed generously. He does this all. the. time.

*He rolls from side to side, and is trying really hard to sit up. He can almost do it by himself.

*He has stopped hating tummy time, and enjoys pushing himself up. He still doesn't like the position for prolonged periods of time, but the pushing up is new and exciting. We still sing "Eye of the Baby" and the theme from "Rocky" during Tummy Time. ("Rising up, back on the Gymini...Just a baby and his will to survive..." I'll spare you the rest.)

*He loves to play with toys, including rattles, keys, and small stuffed animals. Oh, and books. The tasty kind.

*Today we got out his highchair seat for the first time. Dr. Rightwing suggests that during the fifth month, babies might enjoy sitting in a highchair and playing with small blocks on a tray. Since we had both the highchair and the small blocks we gave it a try. He enjoyed it for about five minutes, which was long enough to get some adorable pictures. He looks like such a big boy to me when he's sitting in his highchair.

*We took him to an infant massage class yesterday, and of all the babies his age (most were younger, one was just 18 days old!) he was by far the wiggliest and most active. We are in for it, I think.

*Today I finally got out my children's music collection to share with him. It's a combination of records from my own childhood that I've put on cassette, and cassettes I've collected over the years through my work in children's radio. Co has a lot of great music she's downloaded for him, and has wonderful playlists on her computer that he really enjoys. My collection is harder to access because (I realized today) I've been tending it for twenty years, so the lion's share is on cassette rather than CD (and I don't do computer, for music, but that's another whole post). So today I pulled the relevant cassettes out of their alphabetically/chronologically organized casette holders and put them in a box by the stereo so I'll be able to grab them easily. I've already made him a section on our CD rack. (Only for my sweet Jo would I interrupt my musical organizational systems.) All of which is to say that, today, I played him songs from my childhood, and tapes I've had since I was in my twenties, and even my teens, thinking that someday, someday, I would play them for my own child. I had tears in my eyes.

*His favorite song -- he grins when you start to sing it -- is "I Had A Rooster."

Here's his four month photo with that other Flipper. This picture also marks the first time we've successfully caught a smile on camera. (The red-eye reduction light gives him the deer-in-headlights stare you see in most of our flickr photos.)

Daycare, Week 1

2008-04-06T10:33:00.005-04:00

We all survived! Jo spent two half days and, on Friday, a full day, at "school." His caregivers say he is adjusting. He has been eating plenty and napping some.

Next week he goes for two full days, and then the following week is my spring break. It's a work in progress, but so far the mommies are relieved and pleased.

And here's what a big boy Jo is! (His three-month picture was taken three weeks ago so now he's bigger still!)
[Bottom right 3 days old, bottom left 1 month old, top right 2 months old, top left 3 months old. Click on photo to see a larger view.]

Grandparents

2008-04-06T10:32:00.001-04:00

This post was sort of inspired by Calliope's beautiful testament to her Grandmother. However, while Calliope's story is bittersweet, mine is just plain bitter. I didn't want to post my story, when there are so many lovely blog posts you could be reading about grandparents. So it was really Sophia's honest posts about her own family that made me decide to air my own dysfunctional and dirty laundry.

I hope that at some point, Co will post about her grandmother (who helped to raise her) because her story, like Cali's, mixes up the bitter and the sweet and, it must be said, the raucously funny.

The short version is that I never had a grandparent relationship. As I've grown older I've been more aware of this absence; even now, at 33, I have friends with living grandparents, and friends who have lost grandparents only recently. It is simply not a connection I can imagine, which makes me feel a little awkward and embarrassed.

My father's parents died young. I am named for my father's father (his name began with an L.). His mother lived until I was 2 1/2. I might remember her, just a touch, or I might just remember the photographs and stories I grew up with. I am told she loved me and I cherish that information. I still have the stuffed toy she gave me as an infant. My sister, born when I was three, is named for her.

(My father's family of origin had plenty of dysfunction; however, my grandmother loved me.)

My mother's parents, on the other hand.... To engage in a little distance, retroactive, amateur diagnosis: I think they were both narcissistic personalities. At the very least. When my mother and her younger brother were growing up, the family moved every few years because my grandfather had trouble keeping jobs. They lived in towns where they were ostracized for being Jewish, and they lived on the grounds of a mental institution. My mother was left with her grandparents (her mother's parents) for many summers, as well as her entire kindergarten year (hence, she attended a Yiddish-speaking Socialist kindergarten). My middle name is the same as my great-grandmother's, the woman my mother saw as her mother figure. Mom continued to be parented by her grandparents until they died when she was in her 20s; her own mother would refuse to speak to her for months and even years at a time.

When my sister and I came along, my mother had fantasies that her parents would redeem themselves by being loving grandparents. However, we were just afraid of them. My grandmother screamed a lot. My grandfather told jokes, but literally turned away if we cried or asked for anything.

I have one first cousin, 4 years older, the daughter of my mother's baby brother. C. grew up in California and every summer my grandparents would pay for her to fly east to visit her father; but because they paid for these arrangements, she spent the bulk of her visit living with them (her dad lived nearby). She would come to visit us after weeks of living with our grandparents, and dealt with the experience by organizing myself and my sister into plays that re-enacted the household. She played my grandmother, I played my grandfather, and my little sister played cousin C. The usual scenario was that as our grandmother, C. wouls scream at me (our grandfather) while I sat on the couch, watched T.V., and pretended to eat Oreos. Then Grandmother/Cousin C. would turn on my sister (playing Cousin C.) and tell her she was too fat and needed new clothes. My parents were both amused and horrified.

When I was nine, my mom threw my grandmother a huge surprise party for her 65th birthday. It was a big deal with a rented restaurant room and calligraphy on the invitations. Cousin C. was flown in from California. A few days later on Thanksgiving, my mom and grandmother had a huge blow-out fight because my grandmother accused my mother of throwing the party just to show that nobody liked her. Now, this is insane troll logic. The party was HUGE, the most impressive affair my nine-year-old self had ever attended. But my grandmother did not speak to my mother ever again. Three and a half years later we got a call that she was in the hospital; my mom planned to drive down to see her that weekend, but we ended up driving down for her funeral instead.

My grandfather insisted that my grandmother died without a will, meaning, of course, that he became the sole inheritor. All of the family (my mom, her brother, my cousin, and my grandfather's sister) firmly believe that he destroyed my grandmother's will. She had some money inherited from her parents, and she would have left some to cousin C., to our cousins who immigrated from Poland to Canada, to the young woman she virtually adopted after saving her and her mother from an abusive father/husband (my grandmother, unbelievably, was a social worker by profession). She really would have. My mom and her brother tried to do some investigation about the will, but it all led to dead ends like a dead lawyer, and some "private time" my grandfather had insisted on spending in their safe deposit box.

Just one month later, my grandfather announced his plans to marry a woman my mother's age with whom he had been carrying on an affair for ten years. She was his secretary. I saw him less than a handful of times between my grandmother's shiva and his death a few years ago. Except for one random card when I was in college, he never contacted me, my sister, or cousin C. My mother spoke to him on and off; every single one of their phone calls ended with him raging about how little she appreciated him. She kept calling every so often. "Where there's life there's hope," she always said. But when my grandfather died, neither she, her brother, my grandfather's sister, nor any of his three grandchildren went to the funeral.

I don't know what went wrong with my grandparents. But my mom is healthier than her parents. And my sister, cousin C. and I are healthier still.

Daycare, Day 1

2008-04-01T18:58:00.001-04:00

Today was Jo's first day of daycare. The plan is for him to attend the staff daycare at my school (named The Village, as in, "it takes a") on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays from 8:30 to 3pm (my work hours).

I drove in today, only the second time I've ever done it. (An aside: I really love driving to work, which I didn't expect. I thought that traffic, tunnels, and parking would all be a hassle. They are not; the commute is shorter; and the sense of freedom in my car with my moonroof and my radio....well. Unfortunately it's too expensive to be a regular thing.) I had company because a colleague, who lives around the corner from me, needed help shlepping some sound equipment to work. We sang Pete Seeger and Ella Jenkins to Jo over the bridge and through the tunnel. I ran into another colleague as I was parking, who helped me ascertain that my parking place was legal (the parking rules are confusing in the town where I work) and then helped carry Jo's stuff to the building. I was a little tearful after I dropped him off -- it was hard to leave him -- but fortunately teaching is an absorbing profession so I didn't dwell on him once I got to my classroom.

We're only putting him in for half days (3.5 hours instead of a full day of 6.5 hours) for the first two days (today and Thursday). Co came to pick him up at noon, and he was in a good mood, so she brought him over to my building to visit. (Our school is in two buildings, across a small playground from each other.) So I got to show him off to my colleagues and students, which was, of course, awesome.

He got a good report from his caregivers at The Village. He only napped for ten minutes for them, but he does that to us some days too. He also willingly took a bottle.

In addition to Jo, the other residents of The Village right now are two-year-old twin boys. (The cap is five kids, with the two caregivers.) I don't think they appreciate the disruption of their routine, to be honest (they've been alone in there for over a year) but we'll all get used to it.

We lost two socks (one each from two different pairs) but that is the worst thing that happened. And now we will put him in shoes for daycare.

So, the first day is over. The mommies are breathing a big sigh of relief.

The Getting-Your-Crap-Done Meme

2008-03-23T22:01:00.003-04:00

Cali tagged us for this meme some time ago, but I am only getting my sorry ass to do it.

Here are the rules:

Step 1. Reference back to the blog that sent you.
Step 2. Make a list of 5 things that you have to get done this week, no matter how small.
Step 3. Get 2 other people off their asses to get their shit in order.

So I guess I can't list "doing this meme" as one of my things. Heh.

Here is my list:
1. Make some progress, any progress on the giant Home Study Autobiography that intimidates me, but stands in the way of my legal rights to my son.
2. Bring lots of Stuff to school for Jo's daycare (extra Pack n' Play, diapers, wipes...).
3. Drag out the test prep materials from my file cabinet since my students' state test is in about a month. Blech.
4. Decide whether we can go to California in May. Commentary on cross-country travel with a 5 month old?
5. Go the grocery store, because Co can't last too long without her seltzer.

I tag: One of His Moms and Cutest Little Babymakers.

Less Annoyed

2008-03-19T12:51:00.009-04:00

*The visit with my mom turned out to not be so bad. She apologized for being flaky about getting together in the evening. The apology degenerated pretty quickly into her whining, "But I'm a person too!" (Meaning, a person who needs to go to political conferences.) That's fine; I just wish she could be the kind of person who was a grownup, and with whom we could make reliable plans. Oh, well. She showered Jo with three-month birthday gifts, mostly books because she is my mom, but also this tasty rattle:

*The Babies R Expensive item was not broken, just poorly constructed. Ultimately, after a phone call to the company, I prevailed over the cheap plastic crap. And I do not have to go back there. Thank God.

*Last weekend was our small, local, and adorable St. Patrick's Day parade. We took Jo, all decked out in his green (he is 1/8 Irish after all!). Here's the wee lad:

The parade featured Irish setters, Irish dancers, a green trolley, and horses with shamrocks painted on their butts.

*Last night we took Jo to his first Purim services. For several years now, Purim services at our congregation have been preceded by a parade that involves a motley crew of us walking around the block with noisemakers, costumes, and decorations, including a trussed up folding chair on which we carry "Queen Esther," who is played by a rotating cast of children of both genders. Co and I play a role by ordering paraphernalia from Orient*l Tr*ding such as masks, crowns, and bubbles, to make the parade as festive as possible. This year someone called us the "Purim fairies." We only stayed for a little bit of the service because all the noise was a bit much for our little boychik. (When the story of Purim is told, you're supposed to drown out the name of the villain with noisemakers, booing, etc.) So we took him home to cuddle his boob in peace.

*I'm home today for Good Friday. Jo and I celebrated by going to a queer parent's group while Mommy got some work done. Jo enjoyed watching the big kids (the other babies were 9 months, 13 months, and 15 months), which I hope bodes well for day care, where he'll be hanging with two year old twins. After the meeting, Jo and I picked up prescriptions at the drugstore (our local pharmacist was appropriately delighted with the baby), filled the car with gas, and got the oil changed. I felt like such a mom rockstar!

Seriously: going back to work has been rocky. I love my job, and I get home most days by 4pm, so it could be a lot more traumatic than it is; but I have had days when I thought Jo preferred Co; when I ached with jealousy because she and Leo's Mom took a walk in the sunshine with the babies; whenever I have to ask Co a question about Jo's routine or habits, my heart plunges. So it really felt wonderful to be able to be his full-time mama, even for a few hours, and know he and I could handle it. I can't wait until this summer!

*A colleague gave me this handmade onesie. It's nice when people know you....

*I included some photos of Jo in this post by CCB's special request. We're flattered! I wouldn't have thought people wanted more of the little tyke. But since our public is clamoring, here's some cute stuff and some footage.

Co adores this picture:

She took several videos of our talkative little guy. In this one he rolls around on his Gymini, babbles, and eats his fingers:

Talking & Finger Chewing from L.O. on Vimeo.

Photo Friday & Annoyances

2008-03-15T21:27:00.010-04:00

Last week, I entered two pictures into Photo Friday, but I didn't get a chance to blog about them. Somehow, I feel like that is cheating. (I know that's crazy.)

So, here is this week's entry. I feel a little lame resorting to so many Jo pictures for Photo Friday, but this one really did come to mind when I saw the theme: both because he's swinging in the picture, and because he I had titled it "Man In Motion." I would like to name more of our pictures after 80s songs.

**********
"Why is Elmo blue?"
--overheard at Babies R Expensive: a mom said it to her toddler, when he showed
her a Cookie Monster rattle

I actually said aloud, "It's Cookie Monster." The woman replied, "Oh honey, I think the lady's right." Yep.

As I've said before, Babies R Expensive itself is highly annoying, but I needed to return a gift item (we got two of the same thing). Then when I got our new purchase home, it was broken. So I have to go back there again. I'm thrilled.

*******

Jo turned three months old on Thursday!! He is big, and beautiful, and delightful. My mom decided to come into town to see him in honor of his three-month birthday. I was pleased and found myself dropping it into conversation that Jo's Grandmom was coming for his 3 month birthday. Then she found a political conference going on in our city this weekend. She (and her husband) came by at noon, and left for the conference by three. She called at 7 to talk about coming back to our place for dinner and to hang out with the boy...but then she called back a few minutes later to say that they'd run into someone and her husband just had to debrief the conference over dinner. (Because she'd mentioned dinner earlier, we hadn't mobilized to feed ourselves.) But they'd only be about twenty minutes. A full two hours later, she called and said they were coming over. Co told her she was doing no such thing (I made her answer the phone; she was polite, though, 'cause that's my Co).

I am feeling neglected and bitter, but fortunately, my sweet baby doesn't know the difference. The first time she does that to him when he is aware, is the last time she sees him.

Here is the sweet 3 month old she is missing out on.

Teething??

2008-03-05T19:26:00.000-05:00

Jo will be three months on March 13. He is very, very young. But he has been physically advanced in practically every other way. (He is probably over 14 pounds by now; he has held his head up and pushed up with his hands [on his tummy or on our chests] in ways that people have told us are advanced for his age.)

And now we are wondering if our little prodigy is teething early. On Monday night he screamed and screamed and screamed for no apparent reason, for two hours. I share this story knowing that Jo is a very mellow baby, and that was the first time we've dealt with such a situation; many of you have put up with much longer, and much more frequent, screamfests. But it was very out of character for our babe.

Then we noticed: he's drooling more. Today he had some diarrhea. He has been gnawing on his hands. The drooling and the hand-gnawing are listed as things he starts doing more of at his age, but they can also be signs of teething.

I gave him one of his teething toys (which we stuck in the fridge on Monday night) and he went to town.

More experienced parents, could he really be teething?? And is there a way to tell (I mean, other than, say, a tooth appearing)?

The Book Meme

2008-02-29T18:52:00.002-05:00

Wow, we've been tagged twice, by Jenny and by Lynn. So I'll try to get Co to participate in this one too.

The rules:
1. Grab the nearest book of 123 pages or more.
2. Open it to page 123.
3.Find the first 5 sentences and write them down.
4.Then invite 5 friends to do the same.

I am actually reading The Namesake but the directions say the nearest book....and that happens to be Mama Leah's Jewish Kitchen. Co left it on the coffee table because she was thinking about baking challah tonight. (Yes, even though she was home all day working AND taking care of Jo. My wife is a goddess.)

Poached salmon wasn't anything my mother had in her shtetl! And it's very expensive today as well. But it makes a beautiful and special buffet dish that is also extremely easy to prepare. It's good hot or cold and will feed a lot of people. Ask the fish market to fillet the whole salmon, leaving on the skin and saving the head and bones for you.

I really love it that my answer to this meme referenced fish heads. Awesome.

Now to tag. I choose: Melody, S., Shelli, Sophia, and H. and L.

Benevolent Freight Train

2008-02-28T18:00:00.002-05:00

So, I'm a working mom now.

I like my job, I like my students, I enjoy being out in the world and exercising that part of myself. But ho boy, it's an adjustment. Hence the "benevolent freight train" metaphor. (And there's just one of the reasons I am not a poet...)

I miss spending the day with my boy. I have cried from overwhelm more than once this week.

And I'm EXHAUSTED, though mildly hopeful that it took me until Thursday to be quite this exhausted.

Co is still home with Jo full-time 'til April. She is adjusting to being the sole stay-at-home mom, which she will tell you about when she gets the chance.

Updating here, and staying up to date with all of you on our blogroll, are among our goals. (But don't feel too slighted, 'cause sleeping is among our goals as well, which proves that not all of the goals get met.)

Photo Friday: Tranquility

2008-02-22T09:52:00.003-05:00

What a wonderful topic!

I mulled it over for the past few days and the following two ideas popped to the forefront.

This first photo is from our 2006 honeymoon to this wonderful lesbian-owned-and-operated resort, which itself embodies tranquility. It was taken in the literal backyard of the hotel. The town in the distance is Frederiksted.

I absolutely love the natural aspects of the Caribbean -- the weather, the water, the flowers and trees, the animals -- though the human behavior in the region (colonization, slavery, the resulting poverty/tourist economy) is less than tranquil.

And here is the most tranquil sight that we get around these parts:

He is clearly as peaceful as can be. And oh, the tranquility for the mommies!!

Sweet Stuff

2008-02-19T16:27:00.002-05:00

*Jo is currently wearing/puking on a Ralph Lauren outfit. His is the only Ralph Lauren in this house; see post below about dressing my son. It's a hand-me-down. Unlike most of his sleepers (is that the right word for the ones with sleeves and footies?), it snaps in the back, not the front, which made for some impromptu tummy time on the changing table. Jo was not thrilled. It's not a surprise to me that the designer outfit looks snazzier and is far less convenient.

*I had a really wonderful encounter on the street with Jo. I was on my way home from moving the car for street cleaning, wearing Jo in the Ergo and carrying the carseat. An older man (he seemed older than my parents) standing outside one of the apartment buildings smiled broadly at me and gave me a thumbs-up. Then a few minutes later he caught up to me as I was walking (none too quickly) and told me that he used to wear his first grandson "like that," and now he has twelve granchildren, and it is the greatest blessing, "so God bless you." He had a thick Eastern-European or possibly Israeli accent. I grew up surrounded by older men with those accents and I see a lot fewer of them these days, because of both death and distance, so I teared up over this interaction.

*Maggie went to the vet today and despite some neglect in the walkie department (but she gets lots of cuddles!) she still lost .8 of a pound since her last weigh-in. At least the dog is on track.

*Chocolate Raspberry Milanos. Not sure how new they are out in the world, but I'd never seen them before. Yum (this is why it's the dog, not me, who is on track).

Working Mom

2008-02-15T23:22:00.002-05:00

We took Jo to ~~show off to~~ visit my colleagues and students today. He was a hit, of course, with everyone commenting on how big/alert/adorable/gifted he is. Someone said he had my eyes. Not ironically. (He does, right now, though we'll see if that changes.)

So, I'm not quite a working mom yet. Let's say I've been a part-time working mom, in this sense: though I've been on leave, I have the kind of job that never leaves. For those of you just tuning in, I teach 7th grade. So I've been in touch with my leave replacement, sometimes daily, about various issues with the students. I had to write the reports. Even in my time at home, with Jo, there is this other thing that lives in my head. It didn't affect my time with him negatively, by any means (well except I wish I hadn't had to do the damn reports!), it's just there.

I did go back to school once before, for a meeting in mid-January. I was stressed about having to go, about leaving Jo and Co. I was really a mess about for a few days beforehand. And then I went...and it was fun. I enjoyed being back with my colleagues, talking about our students, being in that role again. I probably stayed a little longer than I needed to, although of course my plan had been to dash in and out as quickly as I could. I called Co while I was walking to the train, to let her know I was coming home, and heard Jo in the background, and totally fell apart. I had missed hours with him, I was sure I had missed entire crucial stages of development.

This pattern has been pretty consistent; I've gone to my Hebrew tutoring job several times since he was born (that's around the corner and for an hour at a time) and I've been grim about leaving him, enjoyed the work, and then panicked that I was away.

My first day back at work is February 25, and then I'll be a full-time working mom. (Co will be home with Jo full time 'til April.) I'm scared, but I do think I can do this. It's a transition, and I hate transitions, until I establish a routine. I know there are so many moms who have gone before me, many of whom (I hope) are reading this, and I know that if they do an amazing job, I can survive.

I seem to have two compartments in my head and heart, my job/career and Jo, and I love both. I love Jo more, I don't hesitate to say that. But I enjoy my teaching too. Right now it feels very schizoid, that when I am engaged in one it is hard/painful to think about the other. It helped to bring Jo to school, that I've now changed his diaper in my classroom and introduced him to the class hamster, that everyone there has met him in the flesh.

This working mom is definitely a work in progress.

Random Stuff

2008-02-13T17:05:00.004-05:00

*We got a Valentine's Day card today from my dad, addressed to Lo, Co, and....A. Jo's middle name is indeed A. He has been at two of Jo's life cycle events, both of which emphasized the child's name. Weird.

*I went to See Vee Ess today, to pick up some items for my poor sick wife. (We have ruled out mastitis, we think, though I did pick up an antibiotics scrip just in case.) I find it very difficult to avoid impulse purchases there. Today's were limited to chocolate covered Nutter Butters, and baby wipes.

*Somebody wrote (is that the word? drew?) a manga Bible. A click is worth a thousand of my words in this case.

*We went to our childbirth class reunion, and took the requisite photo of babies lined up on the couch. Jo is second from the right, asleep on the little girl who is last in the row (also asleep; here's a close-up of the two of them).

*Jo is two months old today! That is not random, and I need to work on a real post about his development. He is just amazing. We're going to the pediatrician tomorrow and I am a little afraid to hear what he weighs. He has outgrown all but a few of his 0-3 month clothes, and I don't think he's long for size 1 diapers, no matter how many Mama may have stockpiled.

*I'll leave you with my latest favorite photo. Co is wearing him in the Maya wrap here:

Dressing My Son

2008-02-12T15:37:00.000-05:00

I am perhaps the least fashion conscious person on the planet. I do try to make sure that my clothes match. I know there is a rule about stripes and floral together. And for Co's sake I don't wear the sweat pants with the big bleach stains out of the house (beware of dishwasher detergent; who knew). Okay, maybe once in a while to walk the dog, but that's it.

But dressing Jo is the most fun I've ever had. It's like playing dolls (my dolls weren't very fashion conscious either; I never had many outfits). Jo has tons and tons of outfits, thanks to Mean Mama, other generous locals, Nephew S., and the gifts. His clothing is styling, too. I'm not so sure it would be if I picked it out, but I have only bought him one item of clothing. Really.

Not only is it fun to pick from the adorable outfits, but then there is the coordination. The socks, bib (for those spitty days), hat all have to match.

This picture is a good example (admittedly, sans bib and hat). It is also a cute example of how he is trying to roll over, and how Maggie thinks his toys are hers.

I consider it a victory if I even get dressed, but my kid is going to look good.

Diaper Disasters & Tender Moments

2008-02-08T23:17:00.001-05:00

Since I can't feed Jo (I usually tell him I "don't have boobs," causing Co to correct me, since of course I have quite ample boobs indeed), I try to do as many others things for him as I can. Diaper changes are my particular specialty.

The other day I was changing one of those generous poops that went pretty far up his back (though thankfully stayed in the diaper). In order to wipe way up his back, I lifted his legs high, toes arced over his head. He was gleefully watching his mobile and didn't mind in the slightest.

Then he peed. In his face.

I was horrified, and frantically grabbed a wipe to clean his face. He was still giggling at the mobile obliviously. While I was obsessed with his face, naturally, he pooped. By the time Co came in I was laughing hysterically.

**********************

Jo and his mobile are a match made in heaven. He can lie and watch it for hours, smiling, grinning, giggling, babbling. Too precious. I've taken several videos of him doing it. In one of them, you can hear me talking to him.

After I uploaded it, Co watched it a few times with Jo asleep on her lap. She claimed that he smiled in his sleep when he heard my voice. I was skeptical, but I came in the room, she played the video, and he really did smile when I spoke. Sweet baby knows his Mama.

Photo Friday: Organize This

2008-02-08T22:40:00.000-05:00

I am a pathologically organized person. That's why I chose this theme when I had the honor of doing so. Before I moved in with Co, my CDs, cassettes, books, and spices were all alphabetized (the books within categories, of course). Now only the cassettes (which are mine alone) remain in this pristinely organized state. Co is not messy, but she doesn't have the patience to keep things alphabetized, and I can't blame her that manifestation of sanity.

But in some things, I prevail. Here is my beloved pregnancy organizer. Co was skeptical that I was going to organize her pregnancy, but I did. This amazing little book has lists of questions for OBs/midwives, pediatricians, and doulas; space to keep track of information for prenatal and pediatrician appointments; and I'm still using it for the space to keep track of baby gifts and borrowed items.*

The boxes below were an organization feat. See how they fit so neatly in that ridiculous space between the stupidly low windowsill and inconveniently placed radiator? The left one holds Jo's linens, the right one his toys. (The puppy sitting on the top may please Jo someday, but for now, it announces its body parts for several looong minutes if we so much as breathe on it. Kinda creepy.)

Last but not least, this item is probably the organizing fetish that made Co roll her eyes the hardest, but she did buy it for me:

Yes, it's a gift wrap organizer. And I love it.

*When I went searching for a link to the pregnancy organizer to share with you all, I found this. I have already ordered it, and Co is already frightened.