Theo is one month old today, and I can’t believe how fast it’s flown by. So different from my previous experience with the newborn phase. (I’ve been known to say that the first 4 weeks of Phoebe’s life were the longest 6 months of my life.)
But I admit it. I’m going a little stir crazy. Having a newborn is very isolating.
I actually wrote up some longer whining, but it was too whiny. Life is good. I just miss adult conversation. And the ease of electronic communication afforded by having two hands available for typing. And unfettered leisure time that can be measured in increments of longer than 5 minutes. Okay, I’m getting whiny again. Sorry.
But I do like having an excuse to post some Joy Division.
It’s been one of those weeks. Nothing major has happened, just a lot of little things that make me realize I can’t quite keep all of my balls up in the air.
I’ve had a lot of demands from work this week that I wasn’t expecting. There’s another deadline at the end of the month, and seeing as I don’t expect to be terribly available then, I feel particularly compelled to contribute as much as I can now. It turned out that a lot of the new data we were adding to the pool for this particular study needed a lot of cleaning up (as well as some of the old data), and I was the one in the best position to clean it up. So I’ve been putting in a lot of hours, including late night hours, this week. I’ve been quite productive, and yet since it was work I hadn’t anticipated, I don’t get the satisfaction of feeling that I’ve made progress. (Especially since this has left me virtually no time to work on my own research projects, and every time I have a pause in the progress there, it takes me a while to get my momentum back.)
Then Phoebe came down with a stomach bug that had been looming at daycare. I had toyed with the idea of keeping Phoebe home, but for one thing, I needed the work time. And for another, it was probable that Phoebe had already been exposed to the bug by the time we learned of the menace. So keeping her home wouldn’t have likely made much difference.
Phoebe is largely okay, though there have been some rough stretches. (This was actually the first time she’d ever vomited, aside from one flukey time when she was a very young baby. She was pretty freaked out by it. And can I just say that I’m lucky I didn’t lose my laptop to the inaugural event, which happened on the couch?) She was pretty chipper by this evening, so hopefully we can put this behind us. (And can I also say that I really, really don’t want to catch a stomach bug right now?)
I am so, so not ready for the new kid to arrive. The guest room still needs to be readied for my mother’s arrival (or for the contingency plan), the infant carseat installed, and there’s some form I’m supposed to send to the hospital that I haven’t even looked at. I haven’t even visited the hospital to find out where to go, where to park, etc., when the time comes. I’m told I’m supposed to have packed a bag by now, but that feels too much like admitting that I may need to use such a bag soon.
When people ask about “decorating the nursery,” I can only laugh. As far as nesting goes, I’ll be lucky if I can find the time and energy to clear out whatever lifeforms are currently nesting in my fridge.
So if you’ll excuse me, I have a few balls to chase around.
I don’t have much time tonight, as it’s 10:30, and I’ve got some work to do before a meeting tomorrow. However, I feel compelled to give an update.¹
Pregnancy seems to have finally caught up with me. After feeling strangely spry for the first 2 months of the 3rd trimester, my body apparently caught sight of the calendar. Suddenly, the heartburn has kicked in stronger. I’ve started having joint pains. Gravity is now exerting a greater than normal force on me, causing me to be more strongly adhered whatever surface I happen to be sitting on. And most irritatingly, the sausage feet that visited me occasionally have not only returned, but apparently camped in for the long haul. I feel like I am walking around with a 5 pound weight strapped to each of my feet, and I can barely shove my feet into the pair of sandals that had previously fit just fine. When I take my sandals off, I get a couple of big stripes of puffiness and dents that would make the Michelin man proud. Attractive as this may sound, there is a downside. My feet hurt, dammit.
I’ve been trying to keep my feet up when I can, but this is not as often as one might expect when one is tending to a toddler. While Phoebe has gotten quite capable at many tasks, showing amazing fine motor skills in her paper-folding abilities, she has not yet mastered the art of cookery. Letting her have a go with the cooking knives did not go well, and she struggles with even the most rudimentary recipes. (This should not surprise me, considering previous research.)
Then there’s the potty training, which continues to be the bane of my existence. We are on our third chart now, each glimmering with sparkly stickers of victory. 28 stickers on each completed chart. And not a single potty usage at daycare. (The child, who apparently has some sort of will of her own, has announced her intentions of using her diaper at daycare. She can do well keeping her big-girl underwear clean and dry at home, but if she is wearing a diaper, she tends to use it. And the daycare provider is not comfortable with kids wearing underwear until they have demonstrated an ability to use a potty for a couple of weeks.)
I had an ultrasound today, as the new kiddo was stubbornly keeping his head up at my last appointment. Happily, he is now facing the general direction of the exit. Also, he appears to be growing well. (I actually had an ultrasound 4 weeks ago, too, to check on growth. My external measurements were not increasing over a whole month, which was a bit unsettling. We’ve both caught up, though.)
I also had my last violin lesson for some indeterminate amount of time, which should at least make my schedule feel slightly lighter as I continue to grow heavier. Which is good, since I am feeling the pressure of time bearing down on me. I still have work/school goals I haven’t yet abandoned, and there is some chance I can get some of them done.²
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¹ I’m apparently still addicted enough to this blogging business that I will take a break from my other methods of procrastination in order to blather on.
² Assuming I stop procrastinating.³
³ I’m still also working on finishing up writing about our experiences with Early Intervention. I’ve also got some pants on the backburner. (And I say Phoebe has trouble with cooking?) So, as soon as I have a chance to catch up….
Phoebe's progress charts. Note the evidence that Phoebe is our child: she picked black for the background of the most recent chart.
Okay, so I’m cranky tonight. It was a long day. Generally it should have been a good day. We went blueberry picking in the morning, and then went out for pizza and ice cream in the morning.
But this potty training business? It’s a royal pain. And frustrating as all hell. That chart I showed off recently? We’re still working on filling it with stickers. There is one spot left. One freakin’ little spot.
It was recommended to me by a developmental specialist¹ that we give some sort of additional reward after getting a certain number of stickers for successful potty training. For more motivation.² So I thought, sure, let’s do that. So I said we could go and buy a new toy once Phoebe had filled in the whole chart. As of last night, there were 3 slots left. I was sure, sure, we’d manage to accomplish the goal by the end of today. Here it is Saturday. We were going to be at or near home all day. Then we could swing by some place in the afternoon to get a toy. By naptime, we had added two more stickers. I was already planning out our excursion. We’d go for a toy, and pick up some dinner at Wholefoods.
But it was not to be. Phoebe kept her big girl underwear clean and dry, holding out for the time when we would next put on a diaper. Which we finally did when we decided to go out for pizza and ice cream after 7:00, when it was clear that we weren’t going to get to go toy shopping.
It’s rough, because Phoebe was at daycare all week, which led to a bit of a setback. I had her go 4 days instead of the usual 3, so that I could make some progress with my own research project. But the daycare provider doesn’t have time to sit with her in the bathroom, or follow her around watching for “signs”. And the trick we’ve used at home of having Phoebe wear underwear also isn’t fair for daycare, as it does involve a certain amount of extra cleanup. And vigilance.
And lest that stunning sticker chart makes it look easy to motivate with stickers, let me explain that each and every one of those stickers involved an investment of time and energy. There was a lot of coaxing and cajoling. Sitting and holding hands. Sitting and comforting. Running to the bathroom for false alarms. Sitting and singing. Cleaning up. Changing underwear and clothing. Not to mention lots and lots of forced cheerfulness when I’ve wanted to just say “screw it,” and let her wear diapers as long as she wants. Even if that means till she’s 12.
I do have to remind myself that we’ve made some great progress. As much work as it’s been, it does seem to be working. Phoebe has used the potty successfully every day for the past 8 days, whereas previously we’d had weeks at a time without output.
And then having this face to look at helps a lot:
Phoebe has blueberry eyes.
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¹ I saw her during Phoebe’s recent assessment for early intervention services. I’ll hopefully write about that soon. The short story (so as not to leave you hanging) is she has been receiving services, but no longer qualifies.
² Also known as bribery.
Okay, I was all set to whine again. I came down with the flu a few days ago, and spent many of the last 24 hours feverish and miserable. But it got me thinking about fevers. Now, suddenly, I’m feeling much better. My fever is all gone. But I still have this fever list I came down with, or came up with for ThThTh.
A Few Feverish Bits
feed a cold, starve a fever (or is it feed a fever, starve a cold?) an expression about folk remedies. Said to be based in part on an idea written in 1574: “Fasting is a great remedie of feuer.” Of course, they probably would have set leeches on you then, too.
the brainfever bird, a nickname for the common hawk-cuckoo inspired by its repetive song, which sounds to some like the bird is saying “brain fever.”
the origins of the fahrenheit scale. I remember a story my high school chemistry teacher told about how Fahrenheit made his temperature scale. According to this story, Fahrenheit wanted 100 degrees to be human body temperature. So he took his wife’s temperature to use. It turned out she had a lowgrade fever. (This tale is likely apocryphal, as people have offered up various otherstories.)
Fever is used quite a bit metaphorically to mean “high levels” of some thing: eg. fever of activity, fever of enthusiasm, fever of interest, fever of work. (Mind you, Google showed me no hits for either “fever of pants” nor “fever of bananas.”)
cabin fever: an expression describing the feeling that one has been stuck inside for too long. Also the title of a movie
jungle fever: A slang term for interracial relationships. Also a movie directed by Spike Lee
fever pitch: intense levels of excitement or other emotions, often said in reference to crowds or other masses of people. Also the title of a book by Nick Hornby, and a movie based on the same.
Saturday Night Fever (1977). John Travolta’s famous disco dancing movie. I don’t believe he actually had a fever in that movie.
But speaking of fevers and dancing movies, did you ever hear that Gene Kelly had a high fever (103° f) during the famous scene where he dances (and sings) in the rain in the movie Singin’ in the Rain?
Fever, or the metaphorical hotness it invokes, has also been the inspiration for lots of songs, such as Suzanne Vega’s “99.9 F°“, a lowgrade fever, and also the album title. (Video on YouTube.) And here are a few more from our iTunes library: Fever Few, Throwing Muses Fever Moon, Mission of Burma Fevered, The Stills Stray Cats Fever and Electric Beach Fever, Puffy AmiYumi
Of course, any feverish list couldn’t be complete without Fever, the song made famous by Peggy Lee, and which has been stuck in my head much of the day:
There’s also this version performed by Rita Moreno, as accompanied by Animal. Because many things are improved with the addition of muppets.
Okay, I admit it. I’m feeling a tad burned out. What with the trip for the conference, the conference itself, the prep for the conference, the hard drive failure, and the various illnesses of the past couple of weeks, I feel like I’m due for a break. But sadly, I’ve got to get cranking on the next poster for the conference in Brazil, which is now (most startlingly) less than 3 weeks away.
And not that you wanted to know this, but I am now plagued by heartburn. I had this problem when I was pregnant before, especially as I got huge. I thought things might be better this time around, but either the timing was coincidental, or the stomach bug I got pushed me out of the comfort zone, and into the fire.
Hello zantac, my old friend,
I’ve come to look to you again,
Because the acids softly creeping,
Left my stomach while I was sleeping,
And the fire that was planted in my throat
Really blows
Giving the burn of reflux.
Anyhow, I owe a ThThTh list, but I’m not feeling sufficiently fired up to do a thorough job. But here are a burning bits to toast your marshmallows. (Please feel free to fuel the fire, too.)
Phoenix, a mythical bird who burns and is reborn out of the ashes
Quest for Fire, a 1981 movie base on a 1911 French novel. About prehistoric people. Who, um, want fire or something like that.
Out of the the frying pan and into the fire, an idiom meaning “leave a bad situation for a worse one.”
Firestarter. A 1984 movie starrying Drew Barrymore as a pyrokinetic kid. Based on a Stephen King novel.
The Human Torch, a comic book character. Who gets all fiery.
Flame war or flaming: “the hostile and insulting interaction between Internet users”
And here, how about a whole bunch of songs I like with a fiery theme.
Burning down the house, Talking Heads Beds are Burning, Midnight Oil Fire on Babylon, Sinead O’Connor London’s Burning, The Clash Firestarter, Prodigy Light My Fire, The Doors Ring of Fire, Johnny Cash (also Social Distortion) Who by Fire, Leonard Cohen Dig for Fire, Pixies It’s a Fire, Portishead Into the Fire, Sarah MacLachlan Keeper of the Flame, Nina Simone
Phoebe has finally understood the menacing force that threatens her.
And what might this monstrous being be? Let me give you a description. Brace yourself: this is not for the weak of heart.
Height: about 29 inches of terror Weight: a crushing 20 pounds Mobility: 4 limbs, used for slithering and/or crawling Distinguing traits: Smiles a lot. Some propensity for drooling.
Evil, thy name is K!
K, you see, is an eleven-month-old little boy at daycare. Who has been going there since he was only a few months old. He is one of two baby boys that started around the same time. He’s not a terribly demanding baby. He smiles a lot. And he is apparently threatening to destroy Phoebe’s happiness. (Oddly, the slightly older other baby boy, J, is the one that cries a lot and demand more attention. But he is not a threat.)
Here are K’s terrifying modes of attack:
1) Touching toys that Phoebe is playing with: “K touch cookies! Waaah!”
2) Touching toys that Phoebe might want to play with: “K touch beads! Waaaaaah!”
3) Touching other things. Let me give you the blow by blow of the worst transgression. You see, I usually sit down and play with Phoebe for a couple of minutes when I pick her up at daycare, to help ease the transition. So one afternoon, I sat on the floor next to Phoebe to see what she was doing. And then it happened. Horror of horrors, K crawled over and touched…my jacket. That I was wearing. And he smiled at me. The reaction, as befits such horrific trauma, was immediate and vocal. “K touch Mommy. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! K TOUCH MOMMY!!!! WAAAAAH!”
I’ve mentioned before that Phoebe has been crying more, which has been a bit trying. If we wanted to do so, we could get her to cry with the merest suggestion that she play with K. She sometimes talks about the traumatic experiences she has had, late at night, or while playing at home. “K touch the cookies! I cry! K touch Mommy. [Dramatic sob.]”
This battle of wills has evolved to the point where Phoebe will burst into tears as soon as K arrives at daycare, smiling that horrible smile.
And who knows what dastardly plans that little tot will devise next?
I have to say, it’s been a rough week. Not the worst of my life, by any means. But I have encountered more than a typical amount of suckiness.
Work stuff has been keeping me crazy busy such that I felt like I couldn’t possibly find enough time to do everything before various deadlines. And then there was my hard drive failure of last week. Leading to lost work and lost productive hours. And then Phoebe had her fever and stomach bug, leading to more loss of productive hours. And then I got sick, too, dammit. It was only for about 24 hours of full-blown stomach bugginess. But more loss of productive hours, because I was totally drained and worn out.
The timing of all of this has not been ideal. This conference is very important to me, and the poster needs to be done in time to print it. What did I do to bring down computer trauma and illness upon myself and my household right now? Is this some sort of punishment?
And yet, none of it is all that major. I mean, I was able to recover almost all of my work. (Or John was able to do so for me.) Phoebe was not majorly ill. I was not majorly ill. My life, home and loved ones are intact. It’s even looking like I’ll be able to get at least the most key work things done or redone, and the various issues aren’t compromising my ability to go to the conference. Plus, when I got sick, John was here and able to get Phoebe’s dinner together when I felt the most I could manage was to lay down on the couch. And by Sunday, I felt well enough that I could kick back into work mode, time and Phoebe permitting, without even having the urge to lay down on the floor and groan.
It was pretty moderate punishment, all things considered. As if I’ve been working off some sort of minor karmic debt.
So, what might my moderate transgressions have been? Was it something I did the week before, or something from a past life? Did I cut someone off in traffic? Or did I non-fatally stab someone in a bar fight in the 1920s? Is it my shameful carbon footprint? Or did I just step on somebody’s toes?
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And speaking of debt, I’m sorry to all of you who haven’t gotten comments from me lately, haven’t gotten replies on comments, or haven’t gotten replies to emails from me. I haven’t forgotten you, I’ve just been swamped. I still manage a bit of blog reading here and there, but commenting seems to be beyond me right now. And as for posting…well…I still don’t expect to have a lot of time till this conference is over. And till I’m recovered from the trip. Which is a shame, ’cause there’s a bunch of things I’ve been wanting to write about. Many of them not even about pants.
It’s a bright, beautiful sunny day here. John, Phoebe and I got to spend some time together this morning hanging out and playing with toys. This had not actually been the plan for the day.
In spite of me joking around yesterday about sleep deprivation from goofing off online, what I’ve actually been busy with is work. I have a conference next week, and there is still lots to be done. (Admittedly, I did also spend some time socializing this weekend, with live-bodied people, a rare treat that perhaps used up more time than I had.)
Yesterday, I had a very productive day while Phoebe was off at daycare. I even managed to do a bit of work after Phoebe got home, while she played, which I don’t often manage. Then once she was in bed, I settled in for a long evening of more work, with big plans of productivity for the evening. I smugly sent off a report to the professors I work with, listing my accomplishments and my goals for the night, and offering to send spreadsheets and poster drafts.
Then some time around 10:00 p.m., my hard drive failed.
Sadly, the diagnosis was the dreaded Click of Death. (I’ll let you guess the prognosis.)
Happily, I had backed up only yesterday morning.
Sadly, I had largely lost my whole day of work, with less than a week before we’ll need to print a poster.
Happily, John was able to set aside his own work to try to recover and restore my data.
Sadly, John got no sleep, after only getting 4 hours the night before.
Happily, I did get some sleep, if fitful and haunted by dreams of lost data.
Sadly, Phoebe had a fever when she woke up, so couldn’t go to daycare, and leading to me cancelling my meeting with my advisor.
Happily, Phoebe seems generally okay, if a bit listless.
Sadly, it may turn out to be a stomach bug that was going around daycare.
Happily, John is also an expert at functioning without sleep, and could stay with Phoebe while I went out to get a new hard drive.
Sadly, the people at Best Buy were incompetent (not to mention rude), and gave me the wrong drive when I went to pick up what we’d ordered online for in-store pick-up.
Happily, after John made another trip, we now have the right drive, and the restore process is going on now.
Sadly, I still have a lot of work to do once I can get back to it. I not only lost most of yesterday’s progress, but today’s work time. And what feels worse, I’ve lost my momentum.
Hopefully, in the next hour or so, I’ll have enough of the data and software at my fingertips to get back to work. And hopefully, John will be able to get some good sleep, as he’s now been up for 32 hours. And hopefully this queasiness I’m feeling is just due to stress, tiredness and pregnancy…
Theo is one month old today, and I can’t believe how fast it’s flown by. So different from my previous experience with the newborn phase. (I’ve been known to say that the first 4 weeks of Phoebe’s life were the longest 6 months of my life.) 
collecting tokens 