Category Archives: Regional

When I Say It’s Right Outside Her Window, I Mean It Literally

garbage truck

This truck, as well as the recycling truck, arrive at variable times every Thursday morning and are usually responsible for ruining Claire’s morning nap. This morning, by some fluke, she got a 90 minute nap in before the first truck arrived. She needs another nap but the other one hasn’t come through yet. It’s also impossible to avoid the smell of diesel exhaust even when her window is closed. Fortunately this only happens for about 10 minutes once a week.

We’ve made it a habit to watch the garbage truck since December, and now the garbage man always looks up and waves at us and smiles. She’s fascinated by it all, though cautious about the big noises. The roar of the motor that lifts the cans is louder, even, than the truck engine.

Claire’s got the sneezies and runny nose again, plus a little cough. And a sore bottom (four poops today and all before 10 a.m.); she cried at her last changing and I used Calmoseptine. And maybe another tooth coming in, because she’s a river of drool and chewing on everything.

First

Claire’s first tooth has completely broken through, though it has a way to go before it’s fully in. It’s fun to watch her tongue twist and run over it. She’s fascinated with this thing in her mouth.

This afternoon, Claire ate her first entire 4-ounce jar of peas & brown rice. I was impressed.

This afternoon she also managed to get her butt in the air (she was on her tummy) and almost get to her hands and knees. The problem is she hasn’t coordinated how to have both her head up and her butt up. Up goes the bottom, and then her forehead lowers to the floor. Claire is getting stronger each day. It’s perceptible, this solidness and agility.

This afternoon we all went out for a walk at Memorial Park in Cupertino. It’s pretty, with a man-made pond that’s well-landscaped and populated by ducks and geese. Then we took a drive through neighborhoods we’d like to someday live (we harbor a dim hope we could afford to buy a home someday). Lastly, we all went to Great Clips so I could get a trim. She was a hit with the hairdressers and customers. Claire is a curious, cheerful, and confident child. Being with her makes me happy.

Babies Everywhere

On February 8th, our friends in upstate New York celebrated the first birthday of their son.

On February 8th, our friends who are Claire’s Emergency Backup Parents (guardians), welcomed their niece into the world (in Florida).

On February 10th, another couple (long-time friends who live locally) welcomed their daughter. We met her tonight. She is lovely, all 6 pounds and 13 ounces of her. It’s hard to believe Claire was that small not very long ago! Claire has a new playmate, though it will be a few months before either can appreciate this.

On the subject of babies, and relating to the previous post about breaking addictions since becoming a parent, I’ve released another attachment: to having bookshelves filled to the brim with books. I have two six-foot bookcases — one in the office and one in the living room. The one in the living room I have culled of all but either books I’ve not yet read (about 2 dozen) or books that are reference or have enough illustration to be interesting to little eyes someday. Onto all the other now-empty shelves will go things like the little boom box we use (on an upper shelf), random stuff like pens and paper, bibs, a page-a-day calendar, etc. that will not be able to sit close to the floor when Claire begins reaching and grabbing. We’ll also store some of her toys and books on the lower shelves. All of the culled books (the notches on my belt, you see, of my conquests) will be boxed and stored. I never re-read books. Too many new ones to read! And you know what? I’ll probably forget what’s in the boxes as soon as they are out of sight. What’s important is that I read them at some point.

Fiscal Physical Fitness

I’m middle-aged. I’m overweight. My muscle tone is weaker than it was a decade or more ago. I have a baby. My left knee still hurts from pregnancy. Hmm. I’ve got a bit of a problem.

In 2006 I joined Fitness 19; paid $200 to join and a $12 monthly fee after that. I used the facility sporadically in 2006, even less in 2007. But the monthly fee was so low, it didn’t feel like a huge waste of money. Previously I’d been a member of Curves, which at $40 a month grew too high a price for the limited access (they close part of the day and early in the evening), the limited kind of workout, and the intrusive, over-friendly staff who insisted on “engaging” women during a workout when they might just want to, you know, work out.

Well, tonight I attempted to go to Fitness 19 to work out for the first time since my late pregnancy. It’s located in a strip mall with a puny parking lot, but usually by 7:00 p.m. the place would clear out. However, tonight there were no spaces. People were illegally parked in fire lanes. And there were new signs in certain spaces that said No Fitness 19 Parking. I groaned with frustration. What the hell to do? I turned around and went home. Ooo, I was grumpy.

I was mad. Mad at the parking lot size. Mad at the stupid parking restrictions. Mad that people hadn’t gone home sooner. Irrational, I know. Mostly I felt mad about the limitations on my time. The only opportunity I have to go out alone is after 7 p.m. weekdays and on weekends. However, to be functional, I usually try to go to sleep at 9:30 p.m. daily. This doesn’t leave much time for eating dinner, cleaning up, working out, showering, socializing, or “me” time.

One of the biggest changes for me in becoming a mother has been accepting the loss of “me” time. Mothering calls for much more of me than I imagined. I don’t begrudge this; it’s simply quite an adjustment.

I’m trying to figure out how to care for my physical well-being. Someone suggested the YMCA. Membership is $100 to join and $52 a month, with reduced fees for classes, and reasonable baby sitting services. But at $52 a month, I’d need to be sure I really went; it’s a lot more money, and we’re carefully managing our expenses. The other option is to go out for walks in the evenings in the neighborhood (knee permitting).

But now, since I’m supposed to be getting sleep, I’ll close here. Maybe I’ll wake up refreshed with a solution.

Today So Far

After the last post, I felt better. Freer. My mother called back and gave me excellent motherly support. Then I made peanut butter toast and ate while talking to Claire. Then we played more, then she ate, then she was very sleepy.

So a few minutes shy of noon, I took her to her room and rocked her. By noon she was asleep. And I? I had made sure to use the bathroom before we sat down, I had eaten, and I brought the Charles Schulz biography with me. At the beginning I dozed with her (I recently bought a Bucky pillow to prevent cricks in my neck). About an hour later I became alert when the phone rang. I stirred, she opened her eyes, but she went back to sleep, still on me. I began to read. Finally after 2.5 hours it appeared she’d happily remain asleep, but I was thirsty and my butt was numb. So I rose from the chair, and she woke. She was ravenous.

The Las Madres group I’m in had a date to meet at Central Park from 1-3 p.m. I’ve been going there every day now, and although it was 3:10 by the time we arrived, I approached a young woman with an infant in a stroller. It turned out to be the nanny of one of the mothers. So we chatted and strolled awhile, after which she departed with her charge, and I strolled a bit more with Claire. At 4:00 we stopped at the store for fruit, and then we got home.

She’s in the swing right now, because she’s tired, but she’s a bit restless and whiny. We did play and dance first, so it’s her usual sleep resistance.

I also emailed the Las Madres play group members and another Las Madres support group for mothers age 40+ and shared I was having a rough day. The responses have been sweet and supportive — and I’ve never even seen most of these women. One thing I discovered from reading their responses is that I am not alone in having a child who dislikes napping in her crib, or who takes short naps, or who is assertive and not “an easy baby.” Someone made a point that when she’s mobile, she’ll want to be held less and less, and I might come to cherish the chance to cuddle and rest with her.

And now the Pixie has given in to the Sandman, and is finally asleep in the swing. She’ll wake ravenous again soon, then Daddy will be home, and it’s his turn!

Someone Please Stop Me

Please stop me from reading news reports like this from Florida:

A medical examiner found dozens of internal and external injuries on Ariana’s body. The infant had five new fractures on her ribs and more than a dozen old fractures. There was a hematoma and a cut on her spleen. Her liver was bruised, as was her jaw.

When questioned by a Polk County sheriff’s detective the day after Ariana died, Gomez-Romero said he was angry when his daughter was born because he wanted a son, reports said.

Gomez-Romero, who lives in Winter Haven, told a detective he called his daughter an “ugly girl, a prostitute and deny [sic] she was his daughter,” a Sheriff’s Office report said.

Gomez-Romero said he picked Ariana up by her hands to carry her. He said he spanked her several times out of anger because she would not stop crying.

When a detective asked Gomez-Romero what a 4-month-old could do to warrant such severe punishment, the report said he stated, “Nothing.”

“Gomez-Romero made it clear that his anger and hostility towards his daughter was due to the fact that she was a girl and he had wanted a son,” the sheriff’s report said.

Sheriff’s detectives also interviewed Ariana’s mother, Juana Rodriguez-Perez, who said Gomez-Romero would carry Ariana by her hands into the bedroom and close the door.

Shortly after, the report said, their daughter would begin to cry.

Rodriguez-Perez told the detective when she threatened to call the police on Ariana’s father, he would threaten to leave with their 2-year-old son.

Polk Dad Charged in Baby’s Death

The baby girl died Christmas Day.

Why do I read these? It doesn’t help the victim. It doesn’t help me. Is it to feed some pathetic “better than thou” insecurity in myself? Is it a voyeuristic impulse to look at a train wreck? I suppose knowing why doesn’t do much — the only way to spare myself is to simply stop reading. The world would be better served if I donated time, money, or effort to a cause that helped abused children.

Can’t Talk Now. Sleeping. (I Wish)

My darling dumpling daughter is waking around 4:15 a.m. the past few days. I’m taking those feedings. It makes for a long day, even if I get a nap, which I don’t usually.

I’m grateful my MIL is cooking or I’d starve and be much crankier. I also think my exhaustion is related to PMS (I didn’t miss that when pregnant!).

Anyhow, other than the painfully early arising, Claire is adorable. We stopped the transition to the regular formula and the next day she was cheerful again. Today I made her giggle! Every day she is more aware and awake, more amazing. She can hold her head steady now. She loves to sit with support. She devours her fingers and is already quite drooly. She can’t be teething yet! Right? Today she grabbed my nose with her hand and wriggled happily when I talked in a funny voice after.

I don’t know what she weighs now, but her 0-3 month clothing fits her just right.

—

Today and yesterday I had the California Shopping Experience while looking for three things. (This is my and Husband’s term for the fact that any item one really wants/needs to purchase is destined not to be easily found, because stores here just don’t have the warehouse space to stock things. Two days ago I had to search three stores to find a can of Claire’s formula.) I finally found two of them and a substitute for the third.

The first thing I looked for were two more Zyliss Quick-Blend Shakers. We have two, and I wanted two more — one set to be in the dishwasher at day’s end and another to have the next day’s milk. These are handy, because they fit on a blender and mix the hypoallergenic formula well. I finally found them at a Bed Bath & Beyond in South San Jose (the Santa Clara one where I got the first two didn’t have them anymore). After the second failed attempt I got smart and called a couple stores first. Is it pathetic that I searched so hard for these? Maybe. I know it’s compulsive. Maybe what is pathetic is that I am so pleased to have them.

The other two items I wanted were ingredients for making a soup my brother recently made and emailed about. The recipe calls for Sopressata and Abruzzese sausage, which he said are commonly available. Maybe in Austin, dude! I had to go to two different stores just to find Sopressata last night. Today I went to three stores for the Abruzzese, the last of which was Zanotto’s Italian grocery. I figured they’d have it. Well, they’d never heard of it. However, because it’s family-owned, they give a damn. So the staff researched it on the Internet and came back to tell me it’s a region in central Italy. Zanotto’s owners are from northern Italy (Venice), and I was told different dialects mean that the same thing may be called by several names. In the end I described what I wanted to make and they sold me Salametti, which might do the job just as well. I hope so (though I’ll have to compensate for the absence of the spiciness of Abruzzese). I simmered a chicken carcass and smoked ham shank to make the stock today. The soup itself takes two more days. I hope it’s as sublime as he promised.

Now please say goodnight and wish me sweet dreams, because I’m due to be up in about seven hours.

Backtracking

We think the formula change from hypo-allergenic to normal isn’t working. She’s been increasingly fussy the past few days. It could also be that she’s not getting enough day sleep, and Grandma is here, and the world is full of lights, and she’s just growing. But we’re switching back, for the sake of her comfort and my sanity. Husband isn’t convinced, but who’s alone with her (usually) all day long?

Meanwhile, for your paradigm-busting pleasure, and for info junkies, saunter on over to the blog Strange Maps. I’ve not dared do this yet, as I have a child to care for and she’ll starve if I do. šŸ˜‰

[Thanks (I think) to Dale for the lead to the link.]

Crossing The Rubicon

I faced a fear today.

About half a mile from my home is a large urban park with fountains, trees, green spaces, populated by geese and ducks, pigeons and seagulls. It’s close to a first-class public library. It’s a walkable distance to get there and would make a great daily walk destination. Except… to get there requires crossing a not-quite highway called an expressway. These are six-lanes (both ways) with extra lanes at intersections for turning, and with no-stop right-turn merge curves that many people hardly slow down while taking. Oh, there are crosswalks and pedestrian lights. However, the stated speed limit is 45 miles per hour, and I know people easily drive 20 miles per hour over the speed limit. I’ve crossed the road on my bike, but until today I was terrified to walk with Claire in the stroller (or even by myself). Well, terror might be an exaggeration; let’s just say prospect made me very uneasy. I mean, would you feel comfortable crossing this?

san tomas rubicon

When I started the walk I didn’t plan to go. My feet just took over. Except for the right-turn curves — where I made sure to look thrice and wait for oncoming drivers to slow down, see me, and wave me across — it was easily done. I will never attempt this at dusk, dark, or dawn, but I could see us taking walks there more frequently. I suppose I could load the stroller in the car and drive to the park, and save all the walking for the many paths, but a) it seems like a lot more effort and b) it kind of galls me to drive half a mile to take a walk. If you were me, what would you do?