We have not had a working oven since Thursday night. The lock mechanism (operated by computer) got stuck shut. We’ve used the lock since Claire began crawling to keep her from climbing in or pulling the oven down on top of herself. Two people had to come out Friday (the first one wasn’t fluent in English and his manager came out after him to work on it); a part needs to be ordered. We do have a stove that works, however. It’s a new stove, installed March 2007. Bummer. We rent, though, so we won’t pay for the repair.

Claire came down with a little cold on Sunday. Today was the worst of it, I think. Another tooth has also been emerging, so she’s been a wet, snotty, drooly mess, poor kid. We’ve been staying mostly home which gives us cabin fever.

Tomorrow she and I will go get our flu shots. Whee!

My energy has ebbed in accord with hormonal fluctuations. There must be something about the body’s preparation for conception that draws all the energy inward. Once my period starts all the energy comes rushing back. I expect to be perkier by the end of next week (and I dearly hope sooner). The earlier sunsets don’t help with this low energy.

Tomorrow a young woman will come to assist me for a couple hours and get to know Claire and our routine. She will be a regular babysitter, probably every Wednesday for a couple of hours, plus an occasional evening for Husband and me. The fee is extremely reasonable at $10 an hour. It still seems like an extravagance for me, but I remind myself that I rarely indulge in manicures, lattes, clothes, etc. And we pay about the same amount of money every month for cable television which I rarely watch, so I guess $20 a week for sanity is affordable. It’s cheaper than therapy, even if I were to hire her twice a week!

My father is a private man. I am not like him in this regard, but we share the traits of introspection, intensity, and curiosity. He is a man of his generation, which meant our relationship sometimes felt distant to me when I was younger; he was focused on providing for his family’s needs, and expressing tender emotion was not a language he knew well. His love comes out as worry and preparation against difficulty. As I grew up, he was serious and strict, and I was stubbornly resistant in subtle, and later blatant, ways. But a grandfather’s relationship with his grandchild is different by orders of magnitude. I wondered how my father would interact with Claire. What I witnessed was the unfolding of his delight and tenderness, of patience and amusement and amazement. I’m sure I was once the recipient of similar expressions, but I was too little to register them, and so it was a reward for me to observe them together. Claire brought him book after book to read, and she enjoyed playing the What’s In Grandpa’s Shirt Pocket? game. This photo of them is a gem.

My good friend Ambrosia just welcomed her little girl, Gwendolyn Rose, at 6:33 this morning. (I worked with Ambrosia at Hands On Bay Area, and she hosted my baby shower.) I’m thrilled for her and her husband and excited that Claire will have another little friend to play with.

Congratulations to Ambrosia, Spencer, and Gwendolyn!