Well-advised

I love snuggling with Genevieve, but she's a kid who gets warm when she naps. I don't need to brag about my bumper crop of tomatoes for you to know it's been a hot summer.

"I'm a monster!" I told Mom. "I want her to nap in her crib during the day."

After assuring me that I am *not* a monster, Mom pointed out that if I want Genevieve to nap in her crib, I need to put her in the crib to nap. Sounds simple enough, right?

A mouse at rest... will wake up sooner than expected.

I had a lot of trouble getting her from sleeping in my arms to staying asleep during the arms-to-crib transfer. This was further complicated by the necessity of lowering her crib ALL the way down, since Genevieve is (a) pulling herself to standing and (b) extra tall.

If you will recall, I am not extra tall, which was part of the problem.

I took my problem to Facebook and Twitter, clarifying that I needed help but wasn't looking for cry-it-out solutions.

My friends, readers, and podcast listeners; you all came to my aid, and for that, I am grateful. What is working for us (about 80% of the time) is nursing to sleep, then CAREFULLY moving her to the crib, shushing the whole time. If she starts to fuss as she goes in, I shush and put my hand on her belly, applying just enough pressure for her to know I'm there.

Once I'm sure she's soundly (and comfortably) asleep, I tiptoe out, close the door, and do a victory dance in the hallway.

Sure, the victory dance startles the dogs, but when Genevieve naps in the crib it's better than winning the lottery.

Still learning

It seems that parenting is - in essence - a course in perpetual continuing education. Whether you're constantly adapting to the needs of your growing child, or (re)taking a math class so that you can help with homework, it's some serious on-the-job training.

Get your bearings. I dare you.

I'm still struggling with the idea of slowing down - even moreso since Genevieve outgrew her infant carseat. That's right, my sweet DangerMouse is a DangerMoose! I love that she is robust and thriving, but the blasted booster seat doesn't clip in and out like the infant carseat did.

For those of you playing the home game, this means that if she falls asleep in the car, I have to WAKE HER UP in order to get her out of the car. The first rule of babies is NEVER WAKE A SLEEPING BABY. (We learned this the hard way.)

You see the problem, right?

[Side note: If you have a solution, I would LOVE to hear it. Seriously. Please.)

It's not all bad, really. For years and years and years, I have run myself ragged, making long lists, overfilling my days with errands, work, and social activities. Hooray for being hyper-productive!

Tired cheeks.

But. Genevieve *desperately* needs her long afternoon nap, and we discovered that she sleeps soundly (flat, not being worn), if someone is sitting next to her. We have tried swaddling, white noise, and a number of other tricks to try to let her nap solo, but ultimately, none of it has worked as well as just sitting next to her. To save my back, this is totally do-able.

Fortunately, I can read (or spin) while she sleeps in the carrier, which is how I've been so productive during the Tour de Fleece. It's all the other stuff- laundry, cooking, errands - that I occasionally stress out that I'm *not* doing.

[SIDE NOTE: Who would have ever thought there could ever be any kind of contest between doing housework and snuggling a baby? Pfft.]

Like I said before, parenting is all about continuing education, and me personally? I'm still learning how to slow down.

Lessons in motherhood

Me: I just feel crazy for worrying about Every. Little. Thing.
Mom: Welcome to Motherhood. It comes with the territory.

Blue Steel

Milestones and mimosas

It's been busy around these parts.

First, I finished DangerMouse's mini garter yoke cardigan; a smaller version of one I knit for myself out of my handspun yarn.



Unfortunately, it was just in time for a ridiculously hot week. Lest I miss my brief window of opportunity to photograph her in it, I grabbed a shot early one morning.

I have also started sewing, and I LOVELOVELOVE it! Sure, I'm only sewing baby blankets at right now, but I'm learning techniques that will translate into other projects, too.



Genevieve has been hitting milestones left and right, including rolling over and grabbing her toes!



There has also been the beginnings of teething,



Genevieve is chewing on EVERYTHING. Fingers, toys, her play gym. I may have called her a tiny termite the other day. The best/most terrifying part is how she goes in for the bite- like a shark.

When she's working on one of your fingers, it is NOT the time for kisses on her cheek. Because she'll try to chew on anything. Noses, chins; nothing is safe. Teething babies need tough, fearless parents.

I can feel the bumps under her gums when she gnaws on my fingers, and she's starting to look at our plates hungrily.



She still smiles in her sleep, which I find endlessly charming. A new development is that she will babble in her sleep, which proves that she's my daughter. (KidBrother Sam and I both talk in our sleep. I have even been known to enable in my sleep, if Meghan is to be believed.)

We celebrated my first Mother's Day with our family and some close friends. We had a delicious, decadent brunch.



And of course, mimosas.

Love in a Time of Productivity

In the last four months, I have learned that sometimes you snuggle because it's fun, sometimes you snuggle because your baby needs snuggles, and sometimes you snuggle because *you* need it. Friday was the latter.

DangerMouse had her four month checkup last week. 95th percentile for height, 90th percentile for weight, 25th percentile for head size. Fun fact: our pediatrician (who will henceforth be dubbed Dr. FTW) told us that DangerMouse looks a lot like Andrew. In her culture, that means Genevieve will be very successful.

I'll take that. Especially since she didn't tack on "... as a stripper" to the end of that sentence.

(Truth be told, while I would rather Genevieve *not* be a stripper, if she decides to go that route, I would hope she was a very successful one.)

[FUTURE GENEVIEVE: DO NOT BE A STRIPPER.]

How did this become about strippers? Quick, palate cleanser!

Sweater and hat both by DangerMouse's knitting aunties

In four months she has gone from a scrawny 6 lbs 11 oz to a robust 15 lbs and 11 oz. I'm still kvelling over this. I've also been reading  The 10 Habits of Happy Mothers, which I checked out from the library on a lark.

I'm finding it helpful, partly because it addresses a lot of the less-than-sparkly feelings that sometimes accompany new motherhood, and partly because I'm more mindful of some of the things I can actively work on. Like being frustrated that I'm not getting enough done.

Enough of what? Genevieve is fed, clean, and mostly cheerful. We talk, we sing, we play, we nap. We don't run 400 errands and do 8000 things every day; or every week even. But, I am trying to stay positive and treasure the time I have with her while she is small.

Matching hats at the Farmer's Market

Andrew says he feels it too, the feeling that he's unproductive. But it's things like the picture with their matching hats that reminds him that everything else isn't as important. He's right.

For now, I'll take the snuggles where I can get them, because like the poem says, "I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep."

Four months

Today, Genevieve is four months old. I can easily say that in the last four months, my life has done a complete 180º. Being a Mom isn't easy, and not all of my days are good days. But the good moments and good days make my heart swell with all those excellent mommy hormones that the books promised.

I love staring at her.

She's amazing, and probably the smartest, funniest, and most talented baby in the whole world. No bias here; just the facts. She's growing like a weed, and every day I have the distinct privilege of watching her world get *just* a little bit bigger every day.

I think the best thing (to date) was on St. Patrick's Day, when she realized that Mealtime Is For Talking. Our family is the kind that can make dinner last six hours; we're having a great time telling stories, jokes, and enjoying all the elements of a family meal.

"Oh, Unkie Sam. Not THIS story again!" (Picture by Laura)

At mealtime, she'll sit on someone's lap, and babble and laugh away. I'm endlessly charmed by it. Connections are being made; I put her down in her crib for a few minutes, and I heard her talking to her stuffed dinosaurs, pause, and then HYSTERICAL laughter. I can only assume she was doing stand-up for them.

She rolled over for the first time this last week, and there have been no shortage of other milestones- discovering that hands were for reaching, finding her feet, and then actually INTENTIONALLY reaching for things! And grabbing them!

In related news, I'm wearing my hair in a ponytail again.

Other fun DangerMouse facts:

- Farts are funny. It doesn't help that everyone who helps change diapers laughs when she farts. I know that we are unintentionally reinforcing this.
- We love the word "booty". Also "naked" and "squish".
- Fake sneezes will still get her mother to say "gesundheit". Which is another funny word.
- She laughs in her sleep.
- She can work a room. She's all smiles and charm when we're out and about.
- She can sleep through dogs barking, loud music, hammering, leaf blowers, and the sewing machine.
- When she stretches, she makes the Blue Steel face from Zoolander.
- Any problem can be solved through the judicious application of a fresh diaper, a boob, or some time in the baby sling. (We have loved the Moby Wrap from the start and the ERGO now that she's stable enough for it.)

The most important thing I've learned in the last four months? Everything else can wait.

Me, for the win

On Monday, I had a Parenting Win. At 11 weeks, Genevieve is 24 1/2" long, and 12 lbs, 14 oz. She is tall, like Andrew, and has some good meat on her bones. I can't find the percentiles, but I assure you, she's well above the 50% mark on both. (Fortunately, she doesn't have her father's giant head. Quoth the pediatrician.)

I'm interactive!

I am utterly delighted. For the first time, I feel like I'm really doing something right. The pediatrician told us (basically) that all of the preemie concerns were well behind us, and that we have a robust and thriving daughter.

I can't even begin to describe the relief I feel. Andrew and I were high five-ing each other all the way home after her appointment.

Success as a parent is - apparently - measured in inches and pounds.

Forty-two Squares

I've been spending a lot of my time taking pictures of Genevieve. About a month ago, I took pictures of her on the Love Blanket _TM that a few of our podcast listeners made for her.
 

Diaper cover by Zookies.com. No affiliation, just a happy customer.

I know that a month is FOREVER in baby time (Genevieve has filled out considerably since this shoot), but these are some of my favorite pictures of her. Every time we use this blanket, I think of all the well-wishes, anticipation, and love that was knit into it.

I love her duckling hairdo.

It's the perfect size for snuggling under on the couch or the glider, and because it's superwash wool, I don't have to worry about handwashing it. You know, because Things happen. And knitters plan for these sorts of Things.

The square her feet are on is a square with BABY FOOTPRINTS!

It has directionality, and because I'm me, I insist that we show off the pretty side, and right side up. (There's even a Star Trek square. This is how well our listeners know us.)

DangerMouse: 1 month, 8 days old

It's so cheerful, that it brightens up whichever room we're using it in. (Usually the living room.) Until the past couple of days, it hasn't really been cold enough to take it out of the house and show it off. Given that the high the last couple of days has been in the low 50's, that is changing. Oh boy, is it changing.

Both the blanket and the baby are super-snuggly.

Despite the fact that I only managed to finish a hat for her before she was born, Genevieve has made off with a HUGE haul of knitterly loot. Every time she wears a hat or sweater that one of her knitting aunties has made for her, I make sure to tell her how well-loved she is, and how excited we all were to have her join us.

This goes even more so for the Love Blanket _TM. I tell her that people who *have never met her* were SO excited that she was going to be born that they surprised us with a blanket - just for her. Thankfully for me, Genevieve is good about sharing it.

 For now.

Fifty percent

This last weekend, we took Genevieve out to her first Stitches West.

Three generations, picture courtesy of WonderMike

I was thinking about this picture, and what I kept coming back to is that half of me came from Mom, and that Genevieve is half me. It completely blows my mind.

Speaking of Mom, check out what a great job she did on my hair! After a lot of discussion about parenting and identity, Mom facilitated the re-pinking. It's stupid and superficial, but I just didn't feel like myself as a brunette.

After Mom did the bleach and color on my hair, we went to get it cut, and Suzy the Stylist declared that I looked like myself again, too. Nothing like a Mom to make sure you don't lose yourself, right?

Stitches was fun; it was a completely different experience with Genevieve. We did a lot more sitting and a lot less partying, but you know what? It was a much more restful weekend. And we can always party when she's older.

What I *will* say is that she LOVED staring at all the colors. She can't help it; it's in her genes.

Good advice

Waaaaaay before I was old enough to even consider having children of my own, I used to babysit for Aunt Constance's kids. She would talk about being a mom, and how she dealt with some of the challenges. Like diaper changing time.

Diaper cover by Zookies.com. No affiliation, just a happy customer.

For those who don't have kids, diaper changing is (sometimes) gross, but also can be the source of great acrimony for all parties involved. It seems that (across the board) babies HATE being wet, but they also - confusingly enough- hate the process of getting their diaper changed.

Enter Aunt Constance's sage wisdom from all those years ago. She would sing to her girls while changing their diapers to help make it a more pleasant experience. This has turned out to be completely invaluable information.

While what we're singing might not be *exactly* what my Aunt Constance may have had in mind ("Forget You" by Cee Lo Green, "I'm sexy and I know it"), it TOTALLY works. And that is really what matters.

[SIDE NOTE: I have heard Andrew sing more in the last six and a half weeks than I have in the 10 years we've been together. It's completely charming.]

Add more good advice; Nathania spread the gospel of the wipe warmer. It has made all the difference. Singing + warm wipes = awesome. (In case you're curious, we also use these wipes.) Rachael suggested a white noise app; also great advice.

Most notably, Sean told me to keep living my life the way we already do, and let the baby adapt to us (instead of the other way around.) Fantastic advice!

So, here is your chance to help a new mom. What's the best parenting advice you would give? Lay it on me.

Brought to you by Mom

Being a mom is the most demanding thing I've ever done. I adore Genevieve, but there are more than a few moments where I feel utterly incompetent and wonder what I've gotten myself into. Fortunately, I have a ridiculous amount of help and support.

Sweater made by DangerMouse's Auntie Dynasty
I have always known that my mother is amazing; now, I understand how that is a complete understatement. Every time I feel like I'm falling short on all counts (parenting-wise), she says or does something to make me feel like I haven't just gone skydiving without a parachute. She makes it all look easy. Effortless.

Which brings me to my point. Every time something appears to be effortless-a party, someone's appearance, or in this case, appearing to grow extra arms and doing Mom-Fu - it is the opposite of effortless. It takes a LOT of work.
I could be bitter and claim that I was duped by her masterful parenting, but that would be ridiculous. Instead, I'll brag.

Mom has kept a watchful eye over us. I have been dealing with a breastfeeding issue (over-production, forceful letdown), and Mom has been coaching me- and helping me get to appointments with the lactation nurses when she maxed out what she could do to help.

She reassures me when I'm certain I'm doing a terrible job; she answers my parenting questions. And oh, does she laugh when I am under fire. (Parents, you know what I'm talking about.)

When I'm exhausted, Mom comes over, changes diapers, makes coffee, tidies around the house- you name it. So that I can get a little extra sleep.

It's remarkable what a little extra sleep can do for you. Little things don't seem so overwhelming. The sun shines brighter. Laundry (that your mother did while you were sleeping) smells better. Even the coffee (that she made) seems to taste sweeter.

What I'm saying is: things are going well, courtesy of Mom.

Genevieve, enter stage left

On January 3rd at 4:07PM, I gave birth to our daughter.

Genevieve Danger, day 1:  6lbs 11 oz, 19" long

She's utterly fantastic. It's insane how much I love her. She makes the most amazing faces, and is (so far) pretty easygoing. She cries when she's hungry or wet, but that's it. Seriously.

She smells amazing, and she snuggles like it's going out of style. Also? She has crazy fantastic dimples, which I'm hoping to catch on camera. Because the cuteness will kill you.

Napping in Andrew's arms

She sleeps pretty well (about four hours at a time at night), so we have no complaints. Andrew is an amazing father; he changes (cloth!) diapers like a champ, and he's been taking fantastic care of me, too. I'm really happy that his company has such a phenomenal paternity leave arrangement.

My parents have been over the moon over Genevieve (who we've been referring to as "DangerMouse", since she yawns like a mouse), and the only issue seems to be that whoever isn't holding Genevieve thinks the person who *is* holding her is "bogarting the baby". (A term that has been bandied about quite frequently around here.)

Genevieve holding Andrew's finger

I've gotten a lot of questions about the particulars of her birth, and how Genevieve is doing, so I'm going to do my best to answer them here.

The dogs:

Niki and Elphie are adjusting nicely to Genevieve. Elphie was totally cool from the start; Niki had some ... challenges with the adjustment. It took about two days for Niki to relax and ease up on the assertive grooming.

Elphie seems to have taken a shine to Genevieve; she checks on her everytime Genevieve makes a peep, and when she comes back in from a walk, she checks on Genevieve FIRST- before getting water or having her leash taken off.

We are using the tips from Childproofing Your Dog, which have been really helpful. Andrew and I both recommend it, and we got it based on our favorite vet's recommendation.

Breastfeeding:

Genevieve latches like a piranha. I'm pretty sure that I've heard her growl as she goes in for the attack. I got really excellent lactation support at the hospital, so the first few latches were pretty awful, but we're over that particular hurdle and on to finessing the other details. You know, like being able to unhook the nursing bra one-handed, and finding the "just right" angle. All details.

Diapers:

Cloth. We're doing basics- prefolds and covers, like Mom did for me and KidBrother Sam. Cloth diaper technology has come a long way, but the favorite of the family is the bumGenius Diaper Sprayer. The thing is AWESOME!

Since Genevieve was three weeks early, we didn't have ANY diapering stuff. Thankfully, there was wi-fi at the hospital, and within two hours of Genevieve being born, I was ordering a few basics (to be delivered the same day we were discharged).  Thank heavens for Amazon Prime. Seriously.

Since I prefer to support small businesses, we did most of our diaper shopping at Tiny Tots in Campbell. I got fitted for nursing bras, got a sling tutorial, and Andrew got to ask all his cloth diapering questions- and they were cheerful about taking the time to help us. PLUS! The prices are *really* close to prices on Amazon. So, it's a win on all fronts.

I love her eyelashes.

STOP READING HERE IF YOU DON'T WANT BIRTH DETAILS. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

The birth story: 

Genevieve wasn't due for another three weeks (and one day) the day she was born. Our day started early- around 2am, when I got up for my regular 2am mosey to the bathroom. I did my thing, washed my hands, and as I went to crawl back into bed - SPLASH! My water broke. Spectacularly.

I was horrified. Not only was she not due for another three weeks, but SWEET MOTHER OF MERCY it was gross. I froze there for a minute, trying to figure out how to get back to the bathroom without making a wet mess all over our wood floors, when Andrew startled awake (let the record reflect, with a scream).

He helped me to the bathroom, we did the requisite checks of fluids/colors that you do, and then called Labor and Delivery like we had been instructed to do in case of such an event. The L&D nurse declared us "another full moon baby", and told me to have some breakfast, grab a shower, and come on in.

My contractions really kicked in about ten minutes after my water broke. I told Andrew that I just. Wasn't. Ready. I needed my three weeks. Andrew informed me that it wasn't really up to me at that point.

Mom and KidBrother Sam came over right away; Mom made me some oatmeal for breakfast, and KidBrother Sam made himself comfortable on the couch to keep the dogs' routine regular. I called my dad, who was in Los Angeles visiting family- because we had THREE WHOLE WEEKS until the baby was due. In the meantime, Andrew grabbed our mostly packed "go bags" and scrambled to get the last few things thrown in there, and loaded the car up in a flash.

My dad answered the phone with a start, and gasped out an "Is your mom okay?!" Because at that hour, the news is rarely good. I informed him that the baby was coming, and that he may want to head home a little earlier than he had originally intended. (By the way, he made it back home in RECORD time.)

We got to the hospital around 4am, got checked in (and checked) and I was 85% effaced and 1cm dilated. Andrew was a champion coach, and we used all of the tools we had learned in Bradley class. He was AMAZING, seriously. (Who knew that among all of his many talents that he was an incredible doula as well? What do you call a male doula? A dude-la?)

I made good progress, but as the hours passed, my contractions became more and more painful. There was vomiting. There were tremors. And, sweet mother of pearl, there was back labor. Yes, my friends. My precious daughter was going to be born face-up.

After 8 1/2 hours of natural labor, we had exhausted all of the coping skills we learned in class, I was in mind-numbing pain, and I was utterly knackered.  I asked for some painkillers and was able to rest for about an hour. Once the painkillers started to wear off, Andrew and I decided that it was time for an epidural- the back labor was not easing up.

The epidural was a patient controlled one, and I had it for about an hour before I was ready to push. In that hour, I went from 7 to 10cm. Booyah.

Once it was time to push, I pushed. And pushed. According to Mom, I pushed for about 30 minutes. Assisted by the midwife, Mom got to "catch" Genevieve. The cord was wrapped around Genevieve's neck, and she was as purple as the umbelical cord, but she still cried as she came out. Andrew cut the cord and she was whisked over to the warmer where they gave her some oxygen to pink her up.

Me? Second degree tear. Exhausted. Oh yeah, and my blood pressure and temperature had spiked (pre-eclampsia), so I was put on magnesium sulfate and antibiotics to make sure I didn't have a seizure or infection. It made me feel terrible, and I had to stay in bed for 24 hours. Thankfully, I had Andrew with me the whole time, and he was able to be both SuperDad and UltraHusband.

Since Genevieve was *technically* premature (a term that stings like a thousand shallow cuts and makes me feel like I failed her from the start), we got some extra help with nursing. She also had jaundice (which is normal), and her levels were low enough that we could bring her home, provided that she was on a biliblanket all the time- except when her diaper was being changed.

She was on the biliblanket for five days, total, before her bilirubin levels dropped sufficiently. We did it with skin-to-skin contact, because everyone told us it was better for Genevieve. Also? It's totally delightful to snuggle a newborn skin-to-skin.

We got tips from the nurses, and Andrew made sure to pay close attention on how to keep an eye on both of us recovering. He's been changing diapers, fetching and carrying, and making sure that on those days where I start feeling like my old self, I don't overdo it and backslide. (Who, me?)

We're almost two weeks out, and we're all doing great. It's because of our family and friends- Laura cooked us a week's worth of meals AND did the emergency shopping/laundry so that Genevieve would have luxuries like socks, diapers, and some onesies.

We've had other folks drop food off for us; my in-laws have brought dinner when they visit AND tidied the kitchen when we were done. My parents have been helping out by running errands, cooking, cleaning, and holding Genevieve while I live it up and take hot showers, or attempt to eat food while it's still warm.

Thank you all for your well-wishes and congratulations. I am so happy to be sharing my baby with all of you.

Some R & R

Last week, I was put on modified bed rest. I won't go into details because - frankly speaking - this whole pregnancy business can be pretty gross extremely magical. What this really means is I'm spending a lot of time on the couch with my feet elevated.

I've been doing some reading, and I've been watching some TV. The reading has been productive, the TV watching... not so much.

I just finished reading The Rookie Mom's Handbook, which I enjoyed enough that I thought it would be worth blogging about. I borrowed it from the library (and I'm returning it tomorrow), so nobody sent me a comp copy for review. I just thought I'd share books that I liked, since there have been quite a few that were ... not as good.

Cover picture shamelessly stolen from Amazon.com

What I liked: 

- The book is very positive, and it takes into account that you might not have your pre-partum body back 15 minutes after being discharged from the hospital. 
- Some of the suggestions were very creative, and I hadn't considered before. Also, they sounded very fun.
- At least *3* of the activities required yarn. I wholly approve.

What I didn't like:

- A lot of the suggestions include going to a mall, shopping, or other consumer-centered activities. Take this with a grain of salt: On a good day, I hate the mall.

Overall, I'd recommend this book, especially if you're worried about being short on ideas on how to maintain your identity post-partum.

Me? I'll be here on the couch, reading and catching up on my stories.

Lighting the way

The fact that we will be parents in under 2 months is starting to sink in. Proof?

Add caption

We have nightlights all over the house now. (Specifically, these ones.) It makes our house feel more like a home, which is strange, because it's never *not* felt like home.

Until this last weekend, I had forgotten how amazing night lights are. Having night lights all over means:

- I no longer have to do a shuffle step when I get up in the middle of the night to avoid stepping on either of the dogs.

- I can get a midnight snack without searing my retinas with overhead lights.

- Personal injuries (toe stubbings, knee bangings) have been greatly reduced, not just by my graceful self, either. 

- The gentle lighting is always flattering. (If for no other reason, go with this one.)

Operation Home Beautification

Andrew has gotten the nesting bug something fierce. He's had it since August, when we were listening to the PregTASTIC podcast on the way up to Uncle Andy's memorial. One of the contributors on the show mentioned that their baby was imminently due, and - GASP!- they hadn't finished the nursery yet. Even though I was only four-ish months pregnant at the time, Andrew shared the panic.

A month or so ago, Andrew, GingerMan, Bromantic Brandon, and KidBrother Sam painted SharkBean's room, the hallway, and the entryway (the areas in the house where we didn't need to move furniture). Shortly after that, her furniture showed up, and what used to be Andrew's office started to really start looking like a bedroom.

We'd find ourselves randomly in SharkBean's room, just admiring the sand-colored walls and the smell of new maple furniture. There was envy, and envy smells like old IKEA dressers.

Fortunately, Andrew and I had picked out some Real Grownup Furniture^TM, which happened to go on sale at EXACTLY the right time. Andrew ordered the furniture, and we got started on packing up the bedroom. And by "we", I mean, Andrew packed and did the heavy lifting, and I directed. Because that's where we are at this point.

As I blog, Andrew is painting our bedroom, which looks much larger when none of our furniture is in it. By next weekend, we'll (hopefully) be moved back into our bedroom, but with our fancy new furniture. Possibly with new lighting.

For now, I'll be sitting on the couch with my feet up, knitting. Because somebody needs to.

Excitement Stew

A dish of Excitement Stew for your Sunday brunch:


- The new Michael Bublé Christmas album. I got it in the mail a few days ago and *almost* broke the "no Christmas music before Black Friday" rule. Almost. (You can bet that this will be what we listen to on Black Friday when Mom and I go to the Pajama Jammie Jam at Purlescence at o'dark hundred.)

- New furniture. My IKEA dressers are giving up the ghost after seven years of hard use. Andrew might have fixed them once or ten times already before declaring them "done".

Andrew and I found furniture made out of REAL wood, made in Eugene, OR. Since I want to retire there, I'm excited to be supporting their economy. It's due to arrive at the beginning of December, so we're emptying out the bedroom, painting and having lights (and a dimmer switch!) installed in the meantime. Real wood furniture? Smells amazing.

- SharkBean. She's due to arrive in 10-14 weeks. She has already met Galina and Lily Chin. She's got a wooly future ahead of her, but for now, she seems content doing barrel rolls every time I sit down. Maybe she'll be a knitting and spinning pilot. Or a Cirque du Soleil tumbler.

In any case, that clock is ticking down at what feels like breakneck speed. I can't wait to meet this strange little person I've been growing.

Failing already

I have never been comfortable with failure. From what I have gathered (from anecdotal evidence, of course), motherhood is basically a never ending series of failures and guilt. Starting from conception.

Let me back up. When we first found out that SharkBean was on the way, I had already started reading "What to Expect When You're Expecting, 4th Edition", which is like *the* book to read, or so I've heard.

While it's incredibly helpful about pointing out What Could Go Wrong When You're Expecting, it felt more like What You're ALREADY Doing Wrong to Completely Fail Your Child. Or maybe that's my interpretation- since I read what *could* go wrong, and I tend to jump to "that WILL go wrong". That might be my personal brand of crazy, though.

I read "What to Expect" in short bursts, get well ahead of where I am, and put it down in favor of something else. Since we started Bradley classes this week, I thought I would get a jump on class by reading "Natural Childbirth the Bradley Way". I know. I'm a nerd, the sky is blue, grass is green, and all three statements are obvious. (Who else shows up to a birthing class having read the book already?! This gal.)

I got to the nutrition section, and I got hammered with Mommy Guilt. I eat a balanced diet, but I could stand to eat more leafy greens. We all could. (Except Mom. She gets a pass on excessive leafy greens. See: Vitamin K and cardiac patients.)

Since I like to share all of my crazy with her, she is lucky enough to be subjected to my Freakout of the Day(tm). She usually thinks it's funny. Today she pointed out that - while she ate nutritious food - she didn't really count servings of leafy greens or protein. "... and look at how well you and your brother turned out!"

I'll admit, it made me feel better.

Other things that I have felt like I was already failing SharkBean at:

- Talking to her. I don't, other than to say things like, "SERIOUSLY?! Could you ease up on using your elbows?!"
- Singing to her. This kid has gotten an eclectic mix of whatever I'm in the mood to listen to. Including stuff that holds an "R" rating.
- Finishing her sweaters. I can just hear her little voice now, "My mom is a process knitter."

99 days

Today, we hit 99 days to SharkBean's due date. At this point, the calendar is getting progressively busier (classes, appointments, and oh yeah, the holidays), and this whole we're-having-a-baby thing? That is getting really real.

I know. You'd think ultrasounds, the elastic-waisted pants, and the merciless kicking would have been what made it "really real", but no. SharkBean's furniture arrived this weekend (crib and dressers), and that's when it got Real.

The crib has been built. We’re calling our AMAZING electrician to install a few lights (and a dimmer switch) this week. She is officially a real person, with a real room, real furniture, and her own dimmer switch.

That's when the crazy kicked in. We're going to be parents. We're going to be 100% responsible for someone else. Everything is going to change, we just don't know how. We just know that everything is going to change.

I vacillate between being really, really excited to meet SharkBean, and being COMPLETELY terrified that we will make All of the Wrong Decisions and we'll end up on Maury Povich. Which I don't watch. (Anymore.)

We haven't been documenting The Bump as diligently as we should, but I mostly blame that on the fact that I tend to sport the Cryptkeeper look on the weekends, unless we have plans. (I'm also usually the one who takes the pictures.)

Picture one, not as the Cryptkeeper:

18 weeks, 1 day. Spike heels worn only for this photo.

A Cryptkeeper Sunday, complete with stylin' headband:

24 weeks, profile

24 weeks, from the front

The other thing I'm finding strange is the kicking. Does kicking mean she likes something, or she *doesn't* like something? USE YOUR WORDS, SHARKBEAN!

Ahem.

I'm supposed to be talking to her, but what do you discuss with a developing baby? I figure she can listen in on conversations I have with the dogs about the importance of being neighborly, discussions I have with Mom about knitting, and all of the peaceful natural birth stories I was reading out loud to Andrew from Ina May Gaskin's Guide to Natural Childbirth. (I hope if nothing else, this last one sticks with her.)

In any case, she has her whole life ahead of her for one-sided lectures. For now, I hope to provide interesting material for her to eavesdrop on.

Taking initiative

It's Banned Books Week in the United States, and I've been reading blog post after blog post about how pointless, stupid, and oh yeah- how ANTI-AMERICAN it is. You know, if you count the first amendment.

But that's not what this post is about.

When KidBrotherSam and I were growing up, Mom kept tight control over what we watched on television. If it was violent, it was out. If it showed that being disrespectful to parents is okay, it was out. Those are the two main things I remember her censoring for- and I *totally* agree on those choices, but I'm sure there were more. (She also seriously limited how much TV we watched. Something like 3 hours total per week, and only on the weekend.)

Sam and I have always been voracious readers. I don't think it's because we didn't watch TV; I think it's because our parents were readers. What my mother never censored was our reading material. In hindsight, I remember Mom reading some of the stuff we read, and as an adult I can recognize that if Mom thought a book might have objectionable content, she would read it, too. (She never let on that was *why* she was reading our books. And we never questioned it.) Afterward, we would talk about it.

It wasn't a "This isn't appropriate for a child your age" conversation; she was always taking the temperature of how I had interpreted the objectionable content in books, somehow without obviously leading the discussions. I'm sure I missed a lot of the objectionable material, but the stuff that I picked up on, we talked about.

I have to say, I'm seriously impressed with how Mom parented us. When I was 14 years old, I was reading the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series (before they got all super-smutty), and one of the books centered around snuff films. My Mom, in her SuperMom cape, instead of ripping the book out of my hands and handing me something (perhaps) more age-appropriate, had a calm discussion with me about snuff films.

Stop a moment and think about that last sentence. How many parents could have a calm discussion with their teenage daughter about snuff films? Mom was pretty unflappable as a parent. I don't even remember her making crazy eyes, quickly changing the subject, or having an uncomfortable nervous laugh, ever.

Enough bragging on my mom. The point is, instead of censoring what we read, she made sure that she was informed about what we were reading. She read it herself. She talked to us. (Novel idea, that last one.)

It wasn't until I was in college where Mom actually expressed any negative opinions about *what* I was reading. My senior seminar class was on Virginia Woolf and Toni Morrison. In case you're curious, filicide is where Mom draws the line. Not only did Mom not read any of the Morrison books, she also *did not* want to discuss any of it.

She never said, "Don't read it" or "Don't take the class", she basically said, "I just *can't* talk about this with you." I don't blame her; it was a seriously dark semester. By then, I was a GrownUp (sort of), and my choices in reading material were my own.

Books aren't dangerous. Sure, they put ideas in people's heads. But if you stay ahead of the curve, you can probably keep your kids from inciting a revolution with a few calm conversations.

Probably.

The Stay-At -Home Survival Guide: A review

I've had some questions about what I've been reading, as far as parenting books are concerned. The first book I read (and liked, nay, LOVED) was the The Stay-at-Home Survival Guide: Field-Tested Strategies for Staying Smart, Sane, and Connected While Caring for Your Kids by Melissa Stanton.

I'm not being paid to review this, Seal Press didn't send me a galley copy, and best of all? I borrowed it from my local library.

Cover, for you to enjoy

While it's true that I'm not a stay-at-home mom *yet*, that's the end goal. I was reading this book, and it was like Melissa Stanton had been following me around when it came to how other people reacted to our choice to have me stay home. True, she was a few years ahead of me (the book came out in 2008), but her powers of pre-cognition are to be commended.

But seriously.

Stanton talks about dealing with the "yes, but what do you DO" question, household finances, and how demanding being a full-time Mom can be. So it's not a parenting-parenting book, per se, but it helps parents. So it totally counts.

It took me a LONG time to figure out that most people don't respect useful life skills that they lack- like raising children, cooking, or knitting. People who don't (or can't) cook from scratch don't appreciate that skill from someone in a home environment. If you measure success and happiness in dollars and cents, any activity that doesn't make money is worthless and a waste of your time.

We know that's not true. Knitters put thousands of hours into projects every year- many of which never get finished. We knit because it brings us pleasure, because it can be challenging, because it is creatively fulfilling. Not because it is profitable- or even has the *potential* to be profitable.

[Did you just fall out of your chair laughing at the idea that hand knitting is - or could be - profitable? I did.]

Back to the book.

It also includes loads of useful advice and strategies on changing relationships (romantic and otherwise), keeping up your self-esteem, and division of labor.

Division of labor isn't really an issue in our house. Given all of the Mommy Memoirs I've been reading, Andrew is really and truly a prince among men. He doesn't expect to be waited on when he gets home from work, and doesn't assume that because I'm staying at home that I've become the maid, the cook, and the household personal assistant. I thought this was normal in a marriage, but I stand corrected. Also, horrified that it's *not* the status quo.

Not only does he contribute to household chores, but he usually also picks some sort of home improvement project every weekend (sometimes something small, sometimes something... bigger). For the record, I also try to defend his leisure time, by making sure he has plans to do something fun.

(Did I just sign my own death warrant by bragging on my husband? Let me balance all his great qualities with the fact that he snores like a buzzsaw and sometimes leaves his shoes in the living room. He also has a taste for handknit socks and wears a size 12 men's shoe. Move on, he's not so great.)

In short,  I really felt like Stanton addressed a lot of the issues that *all* parents have- not JUST stay-at-homes. I handed the book over to Andrew to read and he's finding it useful, too, for managing expectations (mostly). I've been screening the books, and handing over the ones that I particularly like to Andrew to read. (I have more time right now to sift through the chaff. Also, I read faster.)

I think this is a great book for *all* parents. Everyone has a schedule to accommodate, whether or not you work outside the home. I think the real key is that *both* parents need to read this book. (All the books, really, but this is a good place to start.)

The writing is compelling, Stanton has a personable style as a writer. I powered through this book in two days- that's how "readable" it is. Pick up a copy, you'll thank me for it.