Category Archives: Regional

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 Bean. 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 Bean. 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, Bean 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.

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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 Bean’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 Bean 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?

Madres

I took a walk yesterday with Bean. As we walked, I talked to her, describing and naming the visible things and the sounds. A woman walking her tiny dog approached from the opposite direction. As she neared us, she said, “You have the most loving, beautiful expression on your face.” How sweet! I stopped and chatted for a moment, introducing her to Bean. She oohed and aahed over Pixie, telling me how beautiful she is. After a couple of minutes of this, we wished each other a happy day and went on our way. That encounter added a sparkle to my day.

Last night there were about 11 women gathered for the potluck. This was a group of mellow, warm women. I felt immediately at home. It was also really nice to talk with contemporaries who share similar growing-up reference points, and who could relate to the challenge of the mental shift required of older, independent women who become mothers for the first time.

The interesting thing (to me) is how much cheering I received for getting myself out of the house to attend. It felt heartening. I’d even showered before I went, so I was, like, all put together (or at least not stinky and covered in spilled milk). I received the requisite encouragement that the schedule starts to settle more around 3-4 months, and so on. We also got to share and compare birth war stories.

Oh! Another neat tidbit: one of the women at the potluck is someone I met in 2004, just after I moved here. She and I trained to be volunteer grief counselors in October/November at The Centre for Living With Dying. However, I didn’t continue after the training, as my father-in-law’s cancer had returned, and he was dying. I had my own living with dying to deal with and nothing to spare for another grieving person. Anyhow, I felt such pleasure running into her. I know I’m home when I finally begin running into acquaintances in ordinary places like the grocery store, other gatherings, and so on. In Austin it began to happen about three or four years after I arrived; until then, it was surreal sometimes to do ordinary life tasks but feel like a stranger moving through a foreign world.

I’m really glad I went. I got home around 10:00, and I’m so gonna need a nap. Regardless of how tired I am, I always become conscious at about 3:30 a.m. and try to relax back to sleep. Usually it’s a light doze, if that, until 5 a.m. when I decide it’s pointless and make coffee. I never used to wake up at 3 a.m. — instead, I was often awake at that time because I couldn’t fall asleep in the first place. Back then I could sleep until I was refreshed and woke naturally. Not anymore! What’s the saying? I’ll sleep when I’m dead — or when I can catch a nap.

Also, new photos of Pixie for friends and family are up at Flickr.

Art Every Day Month – Day 8

Wednesday was a very hard day with Bean (for me) — it started out with her cheerful. But her erratic eating, overstimulation, inability to sleep, more colicky crying late in the day put her over the top with exhaustion, but she could not find a way to sleep (despite all the usual that we do). Every day is variable. Keeps me on my toes. On days like this (and the past couple have been a little choppy) I feel anxiety. Just when I start feeling competent, things change. I guess this is parenting!

My art:

art everyday month 07 - day 8 - california dreaming

California Dreaming

Aftershock

I just felt another quake. And a second before it happened I my skin “heard” it… a pre-vibration. Or something.

I do not like this! I know that’s the risk we take living here, and there’s risk everywhere. But…

Tuesday’s earthquake was the largest to hit the area since the Loma Prieta quake of 1989. One of the reasons I worry about this 5.6 temblor being a prelude rather than a stress reliever, is that I remember this: On August 8, 1989 we were awakened at 1:00 am to a 5.4 earthquake. It shook long enough for Roger and me to run downstairs and head out into the street. We had a dear friend staying with us. She was in one of the downstairs bedrooms, and she met us in the street. Because Loma Prieta happened two months later, this smaller quake seems to be all but forgotten. Perhaps it occurred on another fault. I’ll have to look that up.

—New Dharma Bums

Update: It was a 3.7.

Shaken, Not Stirred

I was in the kitchen getting a glass of water when the room began to shimmy, and the refrigerator actually wobbled, and it went on for much longer than I expected. The house rumbled and creaked. Dishes rattled in the cupboards. The only thing that fell was my Chapstick, which rolled off the bookcase.

The quake was 5.6. The strongest I’ve ever experienced. The epicenter was 12 miles away from us in Alum Rock. Iā€™ve hiked there.

Did not like! I filed a report with the USGS. On the Modified Mercalli Intensity Scale, it calculated my rating as a V (Moderate).

This reminded me that we need to get more water for our at-home and go-bag emergency kits, now that we have Pixie.

Vulnerable

Husband came to bed at 3:30 a.m.; I awoke, and he told me he’d hurt his back. It’s the same muscle that I’ve been dealing with, the Latissimus dorsi. (That daughter of ours is gaining weight, and she requires many hours of holding and jiggling.) My back has been mildly better, but yesterday I carried Bean in the Infantino sling while doing housework, and when we got to the pediatrician’s office I sat down and the muscle spasmed again. It hurt like hell. I used ibuprofen, Icy Hot, and the heating pad all day.

Now Husband is hurt. He couldn’t get comfortable and was still awake when I arose at 5:30 this morning. He’s been doing all the lifting I could not, so what will we do? And I’m worried about him too. I don’t want him to be in pain.
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Daunting responsibility + new baby + inexperience + two tired and physically compromised parents – local family – established close community = SCARED AND LONELY
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Although we have friends here who are willing to help us, I commented last night to Husband that I feel lonely and vulnerable out here. Now that he’s hurt, I feel more so. There is something about family that feels more secure — if they live nearby. With friends it’s equally difficult to get beyond the feeling we are imposing. With family, there is an assumption that imposition is acceptable (whether that’s proper to assume, or realistic, is up for debate). I have the idea that local family assistance is easier because it is one unit, and members tend to communicate and collaborate. We have lots of friends locally, but they don’t know each other, and it’s up to us to speak up and coordinate assistance. When we barely know what day it is, that’s hard.

Also, local family means that they have their own homes and routines. Visiting family is lovely, yet it’s also stressful for everyone, because they are away from their own spaces and routines, and their 24/7 presence in our home is disruptive too. They also are unfamiliar with the city and have limited or no transportation, whereas if they lived here that would be one less concern (and one more way in which they could help by running errands). It’s also costly for family members to travel; we’re mindful of this effort on their part. It’s just that local family equals shared history and familiarity with geography that provides a valuable infrastructure to life. (This is an argument to join a religious community and become really involved, I suppose. That would be the Unitarian Universalists for us. But we need the support now, and it takes time to cultivate intentional family.)

I know we have resources. I know we are better off than many. Yet I feel, in this moment, rather sad. The nearest blood relative (to one or the other of us) lives 875 miles away — my mother-in-law, and she’s in China at the moment. (She’s willing to visit us anytime we ask once she’s back. Yet again, see above paragraph.) My sister-in-law from Austin is visiting in early November. We very much look forward to that. Now we just need to live through each day and it’s challenges until then. No self-pity party for us. I’m acknowledging the situation and my feelings about it — now it’s time for chin-up, stiff upper lip, positive thinking, and finding solutions.

Any Day Now…

I started the day with more vigor than I have in the past five, though I’m fading now and am fighting the desire to sleep.

Day three of the roofing. Yesterday I felt too unwell to go anywhere. I stayed home and bathed in my own sweat while the mercury rose to 93F and the closed windows made the the house feel like a sarcophagus. The roofers did not leave until 7:00 p.m. To cope, I took a couple of cold showers, though the relief was temporary.

Last night Husband and I made a foray to Whole Foods (a rare visit) to purchase eucalyptus oil to dab on my temples and neck for congestion relief. We also bought red raspberry leaf tea, which is reputed to help “tone the uterus” — it doesn’t start labor, but supposedly it makes the Braxton Hicks contractions more efficient. According to what I’ve read, it can act as an abortifacent if taken too much and too early in pregnancy, but after 37 weeks it’s considered helpful. Will it work? Who knows? But it’s not a teratogen, and so there’s no harm in it.

I did manage to get five hours of straight sleep last night by propping myself on pillows in bed. It’s the only comfortable position for my belly anymore, and it allows me to breathe.

When the roofers came today, I felt well enough to push myself out the door. I filled the gas tank and got the car washed. I made a deposit and withdrawal at the bank. I bought stamps at the post office. Each of these places had air conditioning, and I blasted it in my car. I went to Unamas! for lunch (guess what? they have air conditioning!); I have to remind myself to eat since I can smell and taste nothing. I only know I’m hungry when I get lightheaded and my stomach growls vigorously. The symptoms do seem to be lessening, finally.

I stopped by Purlescence to visit Sandi and Nathania. Nathania, who will assist my labor, invited me to her home (air conditioned living room!) for a massage this afternoon. So right now I’m ensconced in the library pushing myself to stay alert so I can meet her at 5:00. I can’t go home; the heat is at its peak, and the roofers certainly aren’t done. (They only started putting on shingles today.) I don’t expect them to completely finish until next Tuesday; meanwhile we have three lovely days of quiet and open windows ahead.

Nathania mentioned that Lowe’s has a sale on air conditioning units. Typically, September is one of the hottest months here, and it can even be warm into mid-October. So finally, finally, I am giving in and asking Husband to see if we can get one. He’s been suggesting it for months. Friends, family, and readers have been suggesting this. I’ve resisted because of the expense, and because we rent, and because our windows don’t open vertically (which would hold a normal window unit). I’ve resisted because pregnancy is temporary, and the hot season isn’t long; only a handful of days are near intolerable, and open windows do help. But now I say “Uncle!” and hope that we can find one. So often we have the “California shopping experience,” which is a fruitless scavenger hunt for an item that whatever stores you visit don’t have in stock.

I keep telling myself, any day now…