September 28, 2015
I made pantry dinner twice last week. A couple other nights saw us reheating leftovers, and then we had take out.
Our lives, post-baby, still revolve around dinner and what to have, and who’ll make it happen.
Things that have to happen before we can settle down and adult for the night: walk the dog(s), feed the dog(s), feed the Inchworm, play with the Inchworm, bathe the Inchworm, feed the Inchworm again, put the Inchworm to bed.
This is after a 12-14 hour day of working and Inchworm-related activities, so, at some point, it doesn’t really matter how we make dinner happen, just that it does happen. Sometimes I’m inspired and have enough short breaks to whip it up delightful oven miracles. Sometimes PiC gets home to an explosion of toys, an Angry Inchworm, épuisé wife, and that means he should magic something out of the pantry or the crisper.
We both work, and we both have to eat, and our schedules are topsy turvy most days. I’m pretty Type A and live by my calendar but these days I’m relaxed enough to count myself happy if we both get our work done in a reasonable time and we both get nourished.
Right in this instant, I’ve only ever been more tired a couple times in my life but I’ve never been this sure that this is the best life right now. I have my baby family, we’re both working and building our careers, and we both have to compromise to make it work.
I think it’s our healthy relationship barometer. When things aren’t going well, dinner is later and sketchier and more often eaten separately and standing up. When we’ve got our bits and pieces in the right bins, we have a bit of a warm potato pass off. I might have started a side or an entree cooking, leaving the finishing touches to PiC while I wrangle the kidlet, or I might have a one pot meal finishing up when he walks in the door so he gets to walk the kids. Other nights I have exactly two brain cells still keeping each other warm in the frosty cavern of a mind and he’ll arrive with a basket of Korean fried chicken to go with the cold rice I’d made lots of the day before.
Every day there’s a compromise. He takes the early morning shift (and weekends) so I can sleep. I sleep an extra hour or two so that I can take the all day shift. We split the evening duties because we’ve both worked long days and some things are easier with four hands and a knee.
In other words: symbiosis.
Frankly the only one who’s losing out on this equation at the moment is Seamus who is nursing hurt feelings over my pushing back my dining chair and accidentally running him over a little. I’m sorry!
Actually he’s having a bit of a rough time overall: he doesn’t get our undivided attention, LB likes him too much and therefore he comes in for a share of slobbery kiss attempts he’s not much into, and he’d like to play more. But all of these things would be, minus the slobber, wishful thinking even without LB because we have to be really careful of his skin.
It’s not doggy heaven but he gets fed enough and regularly, he has three beds and more warm places to rest his grizzled muzzle than he can use, he’s well loved, gets walks three times a day and sometimes we run into his fellow doggy the Titan and they have a mighty clash-romp.
Other compromises: I still do all our tax planning and financial stuff. I love it, and I’m a control freak. He does our auto maintenance: repairs, routine checks and gassing up. I do most of the laundry, he’s got the dishes and most of the sweeping and vacuuming. Travel planning: me. Grocery shopping: him. Electronics, purchasing and fixing: me. Clothing, picking out sporting goods, fun gear: him.
Nothing’s perfect, we have our little tiffs when one or the other is flat out of patience and exhausted but they’re rare. We’re getting better at saying: I’m so tired, can you do X for me please.
Like when he ran his first road race since LB came along. He does 99% of the morning duties. This time, he mentioned that he really needed a good sleep before he went out running, so at 5 am when ze was burbling away, I dragged myself up to take care of hir for a couple hours. He was immensely grateful and made sure I had some time to rest to make up for it later. We don’t keep score, per se, we’ve just been practicing listening a lot more.
Compromise! It’s our secret sauce.
August 19, 2015
Lots of friends have kids in our area and it seems like they all participate in the Scouts.
I love the idea of certain things about the Scouts (the learning to do things, whether it be wildernessy or civilization related) but I never participated in the actual activity myself so I don’t have any fond memories of that experience. From afar, it seems like a bit of fun but also a lot of work. That said, I also have specific objections to the idea of Scouts for LB.
Time, money, energy: let’s be honest, in the Bay Area, we’ll be doing well to live in a place where ze can get a good education and eat well every day. 🙂 We likely won’t struggle like I have in the past, but unless something major changes, we are by no means going to have a ton of discretionary income for extras. And personally, selfishly, I’m a bit antisocial most of the time, I don’t want to have to be part of an activity that I have no personal interest in.
Discrimination: I know there’s a difference between the stances of the Boy Scouts (who discriminate against homosexuality) and the Girl Scouts (who maintain an anti-discrimination policy) so that may inform my decision later but for the purposes of this conversation LB could be male and I’m not ok with supporting an organization that supports any kind of discrimination for any reason. We may not be LGBT but I see very little difference between the reasons for discriminating against those who are as the reasons given for being sexist, racist or age-ist; I’ve had a cropful of justifications for racism and sexism and ultimately, discrimination and the rationale for it isn’t something I want LB to learn is an acceptable practice. It’s one thing to decide that something isn’t for you personally but a whole other thing to impose that expectation on others.
Desire: If LB is anything like me, ze would HATE having to do Scouts. If LB is more like PiC, ze would enjoy it. The only thing I know about LB right now is ze eats like a fiend and gets into everything I want hir not into.
Getting back to the point, there are things I’d love LB to learn in a Scout-like fashion (concrete steps, earning merit badges to commemorate the skills or accomplishment, etc.) and I’ve been pondering doing our own little Family Scouts.
Focusing on things that ze is not likely to learn in school, and not arranged in age-appropriate categories, PiC and I could reasonably impart the following skills to LB in the first ten to fourteen years. Most categories would probably have to be broken down into 1-3 smaller subcategories in order for LB to earn any merit badges before the age of 10, though 🙂
Financial Skills (of course!)
Balancing checkbooks. Not because I expect LB to be using a checkbook but the idea of debits and deposits are really easy to understand in checkbook format
Setting up bill payment, automated and one-time only, and when to do which one
Understanding and explaining the composition of a paycheck. Explain who/what SSI is and how that works
Navigate online banking
Personal Finance Management
Saving. Saving first, then spending from the remaining amount
Investing and compound interest: When and how to invest, and why
Needs vs. wants
Budgeting disposable income
Identifying fixed expenses and learning how to reduce them, and why
Basic tax implications
Health
Staying active regularly and enjoying it
Maintain a balanced diet with all the good stuff and the good for you stuff
Compassion – thinking of others, within reason, is good for both of you
Don’t run with scissors, aka, basic health and safety
Cleaning and bandaging wounds
Automotive
Routine: Check your fluids
Change a spark plug
Clean your brake pads
Change a tire
Jumpstart a dead battery
Change a dead battery
Drive a car (manual and auto)
Drive a truck (manual and auto)
Parallel park
Parking on a hill
Household maintenance
Keeping appliances clean, safely, and in good working order
Keeping furniture clean and organized
Sew a straight seam
Doing the laundry for humans, canines, athletes (a whole other level of stinky)
Kitchen Patrol
Handwash dishes without wasting water.
How to load a dishwasher
Kitchen Tetris: putting things away efficiently
How to clean and prep most common fruits, vegetables, and meats
Cooking basic meals
Baking a decent dessert
Make a decent cup of coffee and tea
Keeping the refrigerator sanitary
Rotate and eating the pantry
Animal Husbandry (dogs or cats)
Clean dirty ears
Trim toenails
Groom a coat
Bathe a pet
Check and brush a dog’s teeth
Check skin and bandage minor cuts and abrasions
Feeding a regular diet and picking up after them
Differentiating between normal behavior and indications of ill health
Outdoors-kid
Safely build a fire
Efficiently pack a backpack
How to use and set up any of the disaster gear in case of evacuation: flashlight, thermal sheet bivouacs, prepping emergency meals safely (choosing when to use flame versus flameless heaters in case of gas leaks), etc.
Travel
Pack for a short trip.
Pack for a long trip.
Reading a map
Using public transit
STEM
Creative problem-solving!
Libraries are great resources
Now we just have to make some cool badges!
::Did you do Scouts? I know I missed other important stuff, what would you add to the list?
::What would you think is an essential life skill?
August 5, 2015
Long before LB came along, I was getting grumpy with how we did weekends.
PiC was accustomed to getting out Saturday mornings and cranking out some miles. I’ve always had my feet up, working on the computer, until 2 pm before rolling out through town running errands. We’re such inherent opposites in energy and finances, it’s a wonder we get along.
I think we were both sort of constantly quietly exasperated that it was so complicated balancing our needs (grocery shopping, cleaning, routine repairs) and our wants (sleep, more sleep, work, getting exercise, having fun) but we failed to do anything about it. Apparently the discomfort was only enough to be a pain and not enough to motivate.
Time feels more precious now, and now that we’re actually surviving day to day in reasonable shape, things seemed to click.
A few weeks ago, we talked on Friday night: What do you want to do Saturday and Sunday? One answer per day.
PiC wanted a 4 hour time slot for his workout. I wanted a late morning lie-in and a couple hours to work. LB was going to want to be fed, fight sleep, eat again, play, avoid a nap, eat, and so on. Obviously, hir schedule was going to stay pretty much the same so we worked out which of our things could happen when, with hir schedule in mind, and made it happen. It was an epiphany. We felt productive and still had the late afternoon and evening to relax and do some shared family things like errands, cooking, and eating. Rinse and repeat.
Verdict: Awesome!
Another weekend, I acquiesced to PiC’s plan that we do a volunteer activity together, even though it meant packing up the whole family, and we fulfilled one of his hobby obligations. That many hours in the sun clean wore me out, though, and so I took the rest of Saturday off. It was Daddy-child and Daddy-dog time all day Saturday with only pinchhitting from me.
I think this is the right groove for us. We need time to do our own things separately as well as together as a family, and these does not simply happen.
Especially with my “who needs to go outside” attitude, if I don’t make a real effort or PiC doesn’t make it happen, I’d never get outside or away from the family to be alone and refresh myself. I’m not lost in my new role as a mom, this is a reversion to a more severe version of my usual niche as a domestic hermit. It conserves precious energy! But that doesn’t mean that I can, or should, hide forever.
It’s going to take deliberate communication and coordination but I think it’s worth the brainpower to look forward to weekends as a time to enjoy, rather than hoping for the best and being frustrated.
June 10, 2015
Or is it the perfect number?
I have a half dozen friends who were onlies and happy about it. Half a dozen others who wish they were onlies, and dozens more who are glad they had siblings.
PiC always wanted a crowd. I wanted none. Or rather, I was open to the idea of raising kids generally but never felt the urge to procreate. Adoption always seemed like a better way to go but, either way, having a family of humans wasn’t imperative.
It’s decidedly disconcerting to be pondering this mere months after having LB but it started as a practical question. We do have to figure out what to do with the pregnancy clothes and new baby accoutrements and with very little storage space, the question becomes even more pressing.
Now that we’re on the other side of a somewhat difficult pregnancy and survived a few months of a baby that hated sleeping, neither of us are under any illusion that having a baby is fun. There are rewarding moments, absolutely, and it is true that the first time (and pretty much all subsequent times) your child sees you and is so pleased ze grins like a loon is something else. It’s pretty awesome figuring out how to extract baby giggles, too.
But the survival of all involved is no mean feat either.
The physical demands: We’re not young anymore. All nighters were terrible when youth was on my side, they’re far worse now.
The emotional demands: We solely existed as parents in these months, there’s no time or energy to be partners and adult individuals. And that’s exhausting in a whole other way. The first time ze went to sleep and stayed asleep even after being put in bed, we had no idea what to do with ourselves. (We ended up having dinner and a conversation.)
Financially, good grief. Diapers, and wipes, and hiring help. Breastfeeding was a must for LB’s health and saving money but despite having it really easy compared to some, it was chemically difficult. When I was tired (All The Times) feeding or pumping triggered a serious dopamine drop and a wave of depression overtook me. I had to talk myself off a ledge every time. I even started a Twitter hashtag to distract myself from the awful feelings. Still I provided the bulk of hir nutrition because formula is so expensive.
This may sound coldhearted but on the point of sheer exhaustion alone, before we consider how hard the pregnancy was the first time, neither of us are inclined to do this again.
And yet, strange twist. Despite my own life experience, despite always ranking sibling fighting alongside death and taxes (all are certain, all suck), there is a part of me that wants LB to have a companion who could, for as long as they’re inclined to be around each other, be there to reminisce about childhood things that they’d not share with anyone else.
I can’t do that now because my sibling is, bluntly, a shit. He almost always has been but in 30+ years, we did have 2-3 years when we got along and shared that bond. This isn’t a glass half full thing, that made his later choices a far worse betrayal, but I can’t deny that I did get to have that relationship for a short time. Later, his mental issues complicated things further. Much like having gotten a couple good years with my parents before life fully hit the skids, it reminds me that though I loved and lost, LB isn’t necessarily doomed to the same fate. Some people do get to enjoy good relationships with their parents. Some people do get to share life with their sibling in a positive way. Knowing that, there’s a small part of me that wonders if I’d be depriving hir of one of the most important relationships ze could have.
Looked at another way: having this sibling was hugely formative. Would I be who I am today if I had had the older brother I yearned for? If he’d been someone who excelled and applied his numerous talents, someone who looked out for me and guided me professionally? Would I be half as strong if I hadn’t had to learn how to act both as my own advocate as well as kick my own butt to forge a road of my own? Life could have been so much easier if he worked alongside me to support our parents but would I have had the same fire and determination to grow my career to this point so that I’d have the freedom to live a real life, the ability to choose to put my family first? Or would the easier road have left me softer, somewhat less ambitious, more willing to accept less because there was a safety net rather than a chasm gaping at my heels?
Maybe I would have. But I suspect that I would be a much different, much less successful, much less driven person.
I was a born follower. I always wanted to follow big brother and so follow him I did, right through a morass of trouble and back to safety and, never incidentally, punishment. Every time. My heart was not adventurous, my dreams were nightmares, and rarely did it occur to me that there was more to life than the books I devoured. I needed someone to follow and, as charisma and vision were his domains, I would have trundled along after him like an ant following a chemical trail. Without his failures, without a big push, I might still just be following.
He always wanted a brother so he did his best to remake me in that image, manipulating me into doing his dirty work like killing the spiders, climbing fences and other stereotypically boy escapades. Scion of a matriarchal family, I was a born scrapper but I learned to throw a real punch fighting with him. And fight we did, physically and emotionally, for nearly all of our lives. Bullies, wanting a bit of superiority marked me, all bookwormy and solitary, as an easy target only to rapidly retreat when I gave as good as I got. In the process of making me his “little brother”, he preyed on my every weakness, teaching me that the very existence of fear was a soft underbelly you never showed people. To this day, I won’t confess aloud that anything scares me because that’s an invitation to be pounced on.
High school was the first time I had to make my own way and my 12-year-old knees trembled at the unfamiliar ahead of me. Mom scraped up the cash to send him to private school, worried that he’d fall in with the wrong crowd at the public school, but as the academic and responsible kid, I was on my own. That was the first time that distinction between us had been made so clearly and that would follow us the rest of our lives. I often wondered how much of the family joke, subverting the usual expectations assigned to birth order that I would be the successful one and he’d depend on me, was a self fulfilling prophecy and how much was merely an accurate read of our characters.
The truth is, in many ways, my sibling’s inability to cast a shadow was as influential in forming the person I am as anything my parents instilled in me. I learned from them: facts, figures, morality. But I became more by pushing away from him, from our friction, in my need to redeem our family reputation.
Many people take comfort in their siblings. I am grateful when an encounter with him doesn’t give me weeks of nightmares. So it’s perhaps strange that I seemingly credit him with some large part of who I am. But it only seems fair to say that adversity tempered me and boy howdy did he throw challenges my way.
It’s not a theorem that can be solved for the best possible outcome. Much as I abhor math, I’d be working those numbers in a heartbeat if it could be done. So many “what ifs” crowd together: What if LB is like my sibling (terrible)? What if a future second kid is that awful person? What if LB would do so much better with a sibling?
All I can do is hope we do a good job with LB and have a LOT of help if we try again.
What say you? If you had them, were your siblings a joy or a bane? If you didn’t, did you wish for them? Or are you glad you dodged a bullet? How does that inform your choice to have or not have kid(s)?
April 22, 2015
We recently experienced a little improvement in quality of life, and so decided to take on another challenge.
Since none of my family had met the newbie yet, and his family was ready to take another crack at it, we loaded up a rental and drove down the coast. Here’s how it went….
Night 1: we left an hour and a half behind schedule. I blame Enterprise. They botched pickup, they didn’t have the car at the location even after I confirmed with them two days in advance AND they didn’t have a clean car ready to go when PiC finally arrived at the 2nd location where the cars were allegedly ready. They threw us exactly 1.5 hours behind.
We rented a minivan because STUFF and we wanted to be safer w/Seamus and LB. I hate not being able to crate him for the drive but there is no way to fit a Seamus-sized crate in the car. A truck, sure, but I’m not a fan of popping the dog in the truck bed, exposed to the elements. And LB, of course, requires a car seat and numerous other accoutrements. We tried to minimize as much as possible and consider this a learning experience for future packing.
I haaate running out of diapers and paying full price so I packed nearly 100. For 5.5 days away. It’s called pooperation, alright? I also packed twice as many doggy poo bags as Seamus could use. Very little worse than being stuck in a shitty situation with no clean up available.
Surprise: LB still hates being strapped into the car seat and hates sitting still in the car but loves freeway driving. We prepared our souls for multiple stops and screaming, instead ze slept the whole first 4 hour leg.
Day 2: we made an extra stop on Leg 2, making it 2 of 3 stretches before we made it the Home Base and that 45 minute delay put us in the middle of hellish traffic. 2:30 and like a bloody spider, GPS showed traffic stretched out every direction from the body of LA. Of course. It was a quick tutorial in why we can never move back. Every trip would take at least 45 minutes, if not 2 hours, because our friends and family are scattered everywhere.
LB ran out of “sitting in a car seat, putting up with freeway” steam at the tail end of Leg 3 so we rode the rest of the way serenaded by hir increasingly ragged roars. We slept pretty well that night, when we slept. It was a parody of our routine at home: sleep til ze wakes, one stumbles to get the bottle and the other weaves over to the sofa with hir, both collapse while ze is fed and patted back down. Stay on the sofa the rest of the night.
Day 3: Most of the morning and afternoon was spent recovering from the long drive and then ze finally met part of my family that night. Ze was full of chatter and what we call “crab bubbles” and then crashed hard.
We got to visit with some friends briefly that evening, and wind down almost like regular people, except we had to keep checking on LB since we didn’t bring a monitor.
Day 4 was the most intense day. We had a morning to early afternoon engagement, a small reunion, and ze decided that since we had to be up at 715 anyway, why not get up at 620 and stay up?
Thanks to, again, SoCal traffic, we didn’t get home til after 3, and then it was back out again for a dinner. This dragged on far longer than was civilized for a tiny infant and ze passed out in the car. Blessedly, this was the night of the long sleep. Ze actually stayed asleep for 8 hours. Hadn’t happened before, hasn’t happened since. But boy did we need it.
Day 5 was one last hurrah gathering of family and arguably the best one. LB was whisked away by Grandma, only to be seen again when hungry, then whooshed off to a cuddle and feeding with Grandpa. Aunts and Great Grandma finished up the rounds of baby passing and ze fell asleep in PiC’s arms. I don’t see this branch of the family often enough and boy do I miss them. Ze was also surprised with a handful of amazingly timed baby gifts: all things ze needed and I hadn’t even thought to mention them to anyone. Psychic family, I tell ya.
Logistics!
Packing. We were pretty sure that we overpacked but didn’t want to take the risk that going too minimalist would be to my detriment. I can only handle so much manual stuff, before you factor in the stress of travel, disrupted routines, and the energy drain of socializing.
Turns out we didn’t need: the spare cozy blanket (we brought two heavy/cozy and one light blankets, 2 were used regularly); the baby carriers (we were too tired to wear hir); a picnic blanket. I could also have packed about 10 fewer diapers but let’s never skimp on packing diapers because I don’t want to pay full price or live with regrets.
Feeding the Bean. I planned to do combination pumping and formula for hir feeding so we could be flexible. Turned out we didn’t need most of our handy formula packets. When I didn’t have enough prepumped milk packed, I nursed hir, and most days I was able to get nearly 20 oz in just two pumping sessions. Really quite convenient.
Costs. The car rental was nearly $400, and of course we had to fill up about three times. We stayed at places with breakfast provided and packed enough food and drinks along in our cooler so that we only paid for takeout twice. The convenience of not having to cram everything into our smaller cars and risking things falling over on Seamus or fighting with squeezing stuff into every inch was so worth that outlay.
April 13, 2015
Is it ironic to anyone else that one of the first things you have to look for when you’re expecting, assuming you haven’t decided that one of you will stay home with the kid(s), is childcare? I mean, you’re going through all that trouble to bake and birth the child and then we have to farm out their care to some degree.
I say this with absolutely no judgment at all, I have never wanted to give up my professional career to stay at home with the kids a day in my life so I know it’s part of the cost of my choice but it sure does feel counterintuitive. I enthusiastically support the idea of Doting Dad PiC staying home if we could swing it but since we’re not quite there yet, sitters and daycare are part of our reality.
Sidebar: I have had friends who chose to stay home after looking over the finances, not because they wanted to do that more, and also SAHP friends who did want to. We have all sorts in our cohort and I respect all those choices equally. /sidebar
The minimum for your bog standard daycare here is a shade under $2000/month for full time, five days a week, maybe including a snack but usually not. They don’t come standard with: diapers and wipes, hot or full meals or snacks, or video monitoring.
You might think I’m nuts expecting that last but it is becoming more common in the LA area and that’s one thing they may be doing right. For my money and sanity, I’m not leaving my kid with strangers without some kind of oversight – I’ve read too many (horror) news stories about abuse. Just the other day there was a 2 month old killed by her sitter’s 11 year old kid. ELEVEN. I nearly threw up reading that and don’t tell me that hormones have anything to do with that reaction other than the hormone of their world will BURN if someone tries to abuse my Little Bean.
Right. Back to the point.
In the Bay Area, full time daycare is bogglingly expensive.
Our mornings are hard enough that I hate the idea and the logistics of dropping LB off at some location with strangers and no video surveillance for the day. This is further reinforced by an unexpectedly strong sense of not wanting to let hir out of my sight. We need other options at least for the first few months that I’m back to work.
We do have some flexibility here in that I can work remotely for a period of time. I initially wanted to hire a couple mother’s helpers but they’re charging nearly or just as much as experienced nannies in this area for very little experience. I’m talking about $18-25/hour for 0-2 years of experience, and $20-45/hour for 10-30 years of experience.
Indeed.com shows that full time nannies in the SF area are typically charging 35% more than the rest of the country’s average and run about $30-40K per year. Obviously, we do not have that kind of Silicon Valley/SF dot com money.
We had a frustrating trial with a mother’s helper who came highly recommended. She’s great with toddlers but had to be told four times in the same day to check LB’s diaper when ze cries on waking from a nap – my patience doesn’t extend to repeating basic instructions several times a day. In the end, we decided that it’d be worth it to try and find someone with more extensive experience. We scoured care.com, urbansitter.com, and sittercity.com for both, and they were all three kind of a crapshoot.
After we interviewed a handful of providers it appears that the people posting profiles use the listed rate ranges like a weird kind of target practice.
You’d see:
* Will take up to 3 kids
* Comfortable with pets/dogs
* Will take care of sick children
* XX years of experience
* Will drive kids to and from school and activities
* Will cook and clean, do laundry
* $15-20/hour
I’d expect that $20/hr would be for more than one kid, with lots of other work thrown in, and $15/hr would be for much less work, which is what we’re looking for. 1 kid, very minimal clean-up, feeding, diapering, and putting down to sleep.
Instead, all were charging $20/hr minimum, with paid sick leave, holidays and 2 weeks of vacation, and are horrified by Seamus. Oh and are utter Awkward Aardvarks with the baby.
If you’ve never seen someone hold a floppy necked infant for the first or second time, it goes something like this:
Here’s the baby!
*ginger or wary acceptance* They sort of stick the baby into one side with one arm, bracing as if for impact, while most of the baby remains free. Baby wiggles. Switch to the other side. Then back again. They grimace and adjust their hold. Baby, slipping, flails an arm or a leg. They adjust again. Baby squeaks and writhes indignantly. They start. Baby looks up at them, and their head suddenly flops forward. *thunk* Eyes wide, they return the baby.
It wasn’t quite that bad with the people we met but it was close.
The one touting 30+ years of experience with newborns kept asking us to show her how we hold the baby, adjusting her from one floppy position to another, insisting that my (already incredibly opportunistic) child was unhappy because ze “wants to be held the way hir parents hold hir.” The picture of grace, I managed not to laugh in her face. Yes, of course, ze knows how hir parents hold hir. That’s why ze just rejected me in favor of Grammy who cuddled, rocked AND cooed at hir for a weekend. Don’t tell me what my baby prefers. Ze’ll take the best offer going. And the best offer was NOT that nanny.
One didn’t come near the baby and told me that vitamins are a lie that doctors tell us to make them hyper. The origins or the why of this theory, we’ll never know.
I was starting to think we’d never find anyone but we took a shot with someone who looked less qualified on paper and it was well worth it. She actually holds the baby like she’s met one before and had that parentese down pat. LB was cooing at her in 90 seconds or less. It remains to be seen how well it works out on an ongoing basis but we’re doing a trial with her.
At full time employment, this carer’s rate will run just a touch below our previously very-(un)precisely budgeted allocation for childcare.
March 11, 2015
As might be expected, the first week post-birth was a blur of sleep deprivation, oddly defined shifts of baby coverage where at least one of us would be found asleep with a happy sleeping baby snoozing away on top of us, and really strange conversations.
Bonus points if you catch all the references.
Precarious Road to Recovery
How’s your new pillow? Is it big enough? I’m not calling you fat!!
Uh. It’s fine? I think… ?
My body is broken.
Dirty diapers
Here, let me help you with that.
Jayne, this is something the Captain has to do for himself.
No, no it’s not!
No, it’s not.
[trying to fend off a screaming fit] You look SO relaxed, baby, you look SOOO relaxed.
BATGIRL!
[Me, waking from a dead sleep with baby on lap] MASSIVE POO WE HAVE A MASSIVE POO INCOMING
Crying Infants
It’s like Defcon 5. I’m not even sure if that’s how it works. The more serious Defcon.
Oh just set her down. With any luck…
Our luck? You notice anything particular about our luck these past few days? Any kind of pattern?
[frustrated] I wish I had breasts!
Oh honey, you sound like your heart is breaking. Did you pee?
Seamus, we didn’t break the baby.
Seamus, the chair isn’t ALWAYS the answer to LB’s crying.
Seamus, stop herding more responsible adults to the room to fix it. This cannot be fixed.
Nursing
You have TWO choices. Right or left. There is no other option.
Hey is the Milk Bar open yet?
The Milk Bar is open.
Child, there is no sustenance to be had from your hand. Stop eating it.
Child, Auntie isn’t lactating. You’ll get no satisfaction there.
Recordkeeping
I’m seeing a lot of poo here.
Well, you’re not wrong.
Family Integration
Mmmm… I love the smell of fresh baby in the morning.
Seamus, your sibling is fine. (Did you read the letters? READ THE LETTERS)
Seamus: *sniffs the baby’s head.*points at the rocker*
Seamus, LB doesn’t need the –
Seamus: *points at the rocker emphatically*
