January 14, 2015
As a veteran guest of baby showers, when our turn came around, I wasn’t excited about having one and happily, PiC agreed.
No Shower
My frequent attendance in the past was always out of love and support for the guest of honor, but I quickly came to loathe the traditional baby shower. There was always awkward mingling among (not with!) guests who don’t know each other and so only focus on the guest of honor. Then the whole affair involves fancy color coordinated food, decorations, and gifts for the games. Oh the GAMES. I haven’t met a baby shower game that I didn’t hate. There are probably a few out there that are fun but they have yet to be discovered. It’s not just too much face time for an introvert, but it’s also sort of appalling from the social ineptness point of view.
Aside from that, it felt too much like a gift grab, especially not long after we finally formally had our “wedding”, and even more so when someone made remarks to that effect (“this is how you get all the stuff you want!” Ew.). It’s kind of gross to ask people to travel again, unless we did which, frankly, the idea of flying or driving back to Southern CA again as I’ve become hugely unwieldy was completely unappealing – just to give us gifts? No, that’s ok, I’d rather save the time and spend my own adult-earned money on the things we really needed.
My feeling is that if we can’t afford the basic start up costs on LB, then we have no business having a kid. And it’s easier to keep the accumulation of stuff down to a manageable level when you’re actively being frugal about what you buy.
So we planned to skip the shower entirely and used the baby registries as shopping lists with a bonus completion discount at the end.
Oh, yes shower?
Then a good friend insisted on doing *something*, vehemently enough that I got the message: this was more for her than for me 🙂 So I graciously agreed on three conditions, while maintaining full veto power: no games, no fuss, no pants.
The no games rule was easy.
The no fuss rule meant I didn’t want anyone feeling obligated to give us gifts or do anything too out of the ordinary so no formal invitations, nothing like that.
The no pants rule is my favorite: whatever she planned, it couldn’t require people to do anything that required putting pants on to leave the house. It really had to be simple and no fuss.
She actually came through brilliantly with ideas to virtually organize a few projects that focused on friends and family and sending well wishes, allowing people to send some limited gifts if they wanted but entirely avoiding asking people to pay to outfit our newest little life adventure.
After some discussion of baby showers over at One Frugal Girl’s, she suggested that we share a registry to those who really wanted to send us something. I did end up sharing our registry with the few people who specifically actually asked for it and I don’t regret not sharing it far and wide. We’ve still been showered with plenty of unlooked for generosity.
Unexpected gifts from friends
One dear friend of mine had the registry and went hog wild. LB will be owing her quite a few thanks, as the one thank you card from me just doesn’t feel like it’s enough.
PiC’s friends kinda creep me out sometimes. He and I were just discussing a child seat thing he was interested in getting, I had made some semi-curious noises, but we had not agreed to buy it. Two days after that conversation, a box arrived at our front step. It was that seat, in the color I would have picked! I texted him, did you already buy that seat???
What seat?
The one you showed me 2 days ago.
No….
I popped open the box to discover that one of his friends with whom he had NOT discussed this with had sent us a gift. MINDREADER.
A couple of my old friends delivered boxes of used clothes. Perfect. I don’t think LB needs all that much clothing and a couple boxes jam packed with hand me downs was just the ticket. It gives me a chance to weed out too much of any one color. To the dismay of some old school relatives who cannot fathom not putting boys in blue and girls in pink, I was adamant that LB will NOT be sporting gender role colors, the wardrobe will be evenly distributed across all colors. I loathed pink as a child and it drove me bananas when I was forced into them as a kid. LB can wear whatever colors are happy-making and hide the blood (that’s why I liked black and grey), but I refuse to let stereotypes start this early.
Another group of friends pitched in to get some accessories for LB + PiC so they could go running together.
….
So PiC can take LB running, rather.
We’d agonized so long over the car seat and stroller selection that would fit our budget and work for my needs that we still hadn’t picked or bought anything after more than 5 months of discussion. Fortuitously, as it turns out. We ran into some old friends who had just the day before transitioned to new car seats and they offered us their practically new infant car seat – amazing timing as we hadn’t seen them in a year and it didn’t even occur to us their kid was ready for an upgrade! We were grateful to take that home and PiC picked up an extra seat base for cheap on Craigslist.
Gifts we gave ourselves
Permission to relax (mentally, anyway)
Formal photo sessions. I had hesitated over this but PiC and I agreed that it could be nice to have some photos of this huge change in our lives, before LB arrives, and after. I’ve always loved Maryam’s photos (of Hi+Hello Blog) and was thrilled when we unexpectedly happened into each other again and set up a photo shoot.
Gender Bender
One of PiC’s coworkers suggested that they throw him a shower, but a friend-coworker who knew we were trying to keep things low maintenance headed it off at the pass. I don’t mind that at all, I think it was lovely of him to remember what we wanted, but I do wish he hadn’t suggested that the reason he’d veto it was because they’re “mainly for women”. I think this is an area where we would do well with being co-ed, if only to get me off the hook for attending all the time! 😉
January 7, 2015
Reading Parenting with chronic pain on Slate was a huge wrenching reality check for me.
There’s nothing new in there. No surprises about how chronic pain plus the rigors of parenting go down. Nothing that I haven’t worried over and discussed to death with PiC. There were many many days where I just couldn’t see committing to parenthood because of it. But reading another chronic pain mother’s experience, after the child has arrived and is older, is a bit of a kick in the gut nonetheless.
Chronic pain has now dominated 2/3 of my life. There is no cure and very few effective ameliorating treatments for what I have other than trying not to “overdo it” (which is to say, do ANYthing that resembles having a real life) on bad days.
I have no reason to think that it’ll get any better. Parenting was always going to be a challenge but parenting with only 65% of normal function, at best, well, that’s going to be a hell of a thing.
I wonder if this is a huge mistake for LB’s sake.  My parents, in some very real ways, shattered my late teens and most of my 20s with their financial and health instability and poor decisions. Am I setting LB up for an equally difficult path?
Obviously you could argue that no one knows what tomorrow brings and that terrible things could happen to any healthy parent as well but
A) most people don’t really actually get hit by a bus so that “anything could happen” argument holds very little water here practically speaking (and anything could STILL happen but magically getting better is not likely) and
B) I already have an existing chronic and limiting condition that has only gotten progressively worse over the years. This isn’t a game of What If, it’s a When and How Badly will this deteriorate?
We’ve committed.
We are committed. There’s no turning back and I don’t think we would choose to if we could turn back time. (I don’t know. I just don’t think we would. And maybe that’s just because I’m stupid. But it’s highly likely that LB will be an only child if we don’t adopt.)
But this just reminds me that I’m not paranoid, that the sort of lurking fear that I’ll be crippled “someday” is not being dramatic given the number of days I can only just exist.
This is why I’ve always insisted that our emergency savings are UNTOUCHABLE. And our savings rate must NEVER fall below 25%. When I get too sick or broken to work, I need to know we won’t be falling back on the charity of … who exactly? No one in my family is fit as support even were they inclined to provide it, the few who might be in a financial position to help are terrible people and I’d never ever ask them for help. His family’s got their hands full already.
Simply put, we must maintain solid financial health because my physical health is at best, average, on a good day.
December 26, 2014
FYI: Not all of these LB-related posts will be in real time.
Every day in the first trimester felt like a week, not least because I couldn’t eat… we also couldn’t say anything to anyone about why I was even sicker than usual or what was going on because it still wasn’t “safe” yet. It was only made a bit easier when socializing because I’d stopped drinking a couple years ago, so it wasn’t the immediately obvious red flag.
But we survived the first trimester, huzzah!
On the first day of the 13th week, it was as if the heavens opened up and bestowed upon me the ability to eat without nausea. I can’t emphasize how much I ate for the sheer joy of being able to eat.
Now, each day just whizzes by remarkable only in whether or not we have an appointment this or next week.
Going into the 20th week, our apprehension came back. We have questionable genetics in some respects and are braced to find out that we’re going to be dealing with a repeat of history when Little Bean is here and becoming a person, but there were dozens of serious medical problems that could be detected at that so-important ultrasound. I won’t list them here but the suffice to say, the tech wanted to know if I was *sure* I wanted to hear what they were looking for.
I’m tracking specific things like the baby’s probable size and shape and development much less these months. (Almost not at all.) It seems this isn’t normal, everyone seems to feel I desperately need this or the other app to track Little Bean’s progress. But once we established that all the parts were there, my attention has really been on more practical matters: eating and drinking the right amounts, getting exercise, dealing with all the details that we’ll wish we’d taken care of before the baby arrives. I’m not uninterested by the changes, it’s just that there’s only so much grey matter to go around. All the changes are actually happening Right Here; so my attention is on doing everything I can to influence the outcome.
Occasionally I’m a touch overwhelmed by the need to be done with everything. Occasionally I’m a touch overwhelmed by the fact that I can’t quite bend over to tie my shoes or pick things up and don’t recognize myself in the mirror because WHOA. NELLY.
But it’s also pretty funny, as is the new feeling of a vaulting, spinning, gymnastic Little Bean spiralling from one side of my belly to the other. Enjoy that freedom while it lasts, kiddo, you’re going to run out of room soon.
We’ve got our last bit of travel in under the wire and I have no intentions of stirring more than a few miles from our home base until we actually do something about the new human in the house. Minimal though we may be, Little Bean is likely going to need more than one fun geeky onesie and one nerdtastic toy. I like to pretend that with the right few tools, we will maintain a certain level of order in our lives despite all the changes to come. (Cue hysterical laughter)
December 5, 2014
Food is life.
And unlike my teen years, cooking is now one of my favorite ways to unwind. Normally this is a win win and PiC benefits from the messes in the kitchen.
I don’t want to admit that I can’t keep up with everything but let’s just pretend, as an intellectual exercise and a nod to moderation, that cooking after delivering Little Bean is not super likely. I used to cook most nights, now I’m down to 1-3 nights a week. Add a potentially squalling, but definitely feeding every 2-3 hours newborn to the mix and I think we all know the real end of that equation.
But who wants to rely entirely on take-out or delivery? It’s a nice treat on occasion but I get tired of restaurant food faster than it takes to outspend the grocery budget.
Like squirrels, we’ve been stocking the cupboards with the basics: pasta, rice, quinoa, boxed broths, and KIND and Luna bars for days when I just can’t face a meal or just need an easy boost. Flour, sugar and brown sugar goes on sale a lot around the holidays so I’ll stock up on that for prep as well.
We don’t have much storage or a very big freezer unfortunately, so my plans to prep/precook some food that should be easy to throw together later have to be modest.
I’ll be:
Poaching chicken thighs and freezing them whole,
Poaching whole chickens and shredding it for use in soups, quesadillas, with rice, whatever. I tend to throw together really haphazard soups so we’ll just prep ahead whatever of the standard ingredients freezes well. I know onions do fine, but I’m not sure about carrots, potatos and celery yet. I know for darn sure I’m not going to be up to peeling and cutting up potatos, though.
Attempting premaking pizza from scratch for freezing, toppings and all, and a lasagna recipe (also intended to be frozen). I always want lasagna and rarely make it so that’ll be really nice to have a few premade.
I’ve also written up a detailed list of our local restaurants that are good for either delivery or take out, including all our usual orders so that if it’s that dire, we don’t have to make any real decisions.
We tried Munchery.com for some real food delivery as we have mostly Asian take-out around here and most don’t deliver. They do more American style foods, though in smaller portions, but it’s a reasonable cost per meal with discounts so that’s on our list of go-to food choices.
This should be helpful to out of town visitors who might be here to help with LB too, they won’t have to ask or figure out what’s good that’s also nearby. While I’m at it, I’m including grocery stores as well. That bit’s purely for convenience.
Notes: I always crave cake and most especially cakes from Nothing Bundt Cakes. Failing that, (anyone who really loves me and wants me to be stocked up on cake, take note) we’ve discovered the Super Lemony Lemon Cake Bites from Trader Joe’s and I nearly demolished the whole package in one go. They’re not the absolutely most amazing thing ever, but they are close enough for me. Yes yes, I should be eating my veggies but I also need my cake, y’all.
November 24, 2014
Parents say the worst things
Comparing notes with a good friend, we discovered that both our dads cannot resist saying things that make us livid.
When we shared the news about Little Bean, one of his few comments (this one directed to PiC) was: if there aren’t any boys in your family yet, then you should have a boy to carry on your family name.
I cannot even describe what my face did in reaction to that blase, utterly dismissive, and completely thoughtless statement.
So, having a son to carry on your name, was that worth it? Having a son who completely disrespected you most of his life, used you, manipulated you and everyone around you, continues to leech off of you in the most mundane and spectacular ways, who continues to be a trial and a misery to everyone – that’s worth telling your daughter who has carried you for eighteen years in all ways but physically hefting you on her back, and the way you smoke let’s not rule that out for our rosy future – that she should bear a son to carry on her husband’s name since she, her identity, her name, her LIFE doesn’t even bear consideration?
All those years he’s been claiming that he valued me just as much as my sibling (oh thanks, that’s nice to have reached such heights), that he appreciates everything I’ve done and sacrificed, and continue to sacrifice for them, but at the first opportunity, he suggests boys are better. Based… on….?
It’s not the first time he’s enraged me but this is one of the first times it’s been so easy to say that I’m furious with him.
This APW post reminded me of that fury all over again.
Mom had this theory: I was a really angry child because she was so angry and stressed during her pregnancy with me. She regretted not being able to breathe past her frustrations with having to deal with a toddler with no help, selfish and the opposite of helpful in-laws, and the stress of living in a new country learning a new language and building a new life.
My theory is that I’m not an idiot and I’ve had a look around me at this world we live in.
But if her theory holds, Little Bean is going to be born a living, breathing ball of incandescent rage-flame. Sorry, kid. But maybe that will turn into the ability to actually throw flame and wouldn’t that be cool?
People say the damnedest things
You know what’s really fun when you’re pregnant? Even if you’ve never met before that very moment, almost like everydamnone has advice because they know best and also you’re an idiot.
It’s a little easier to ignore strangers. Sometimes. But all people who’ve even thought about having a child feel free to expound at length, going on the assumption that I’m not me and therefore would enjoy hearing utter flipping useless speculation.
Of the WTF variety
“You should have a [boy/girl] because [outdated gender notion about why a boy or a girl is better at this time].”
Girls are better because ….
Boys are better because ….
If it’s a [boy/girl], get used to never saying no again.
Of the It’s Science, didn’t you know? variety
“Oh, if you’re having a [boy/girl] then it will feel like [fill in some old wives’ tale].”
“How far along are you? [Range of months] will be easy, it’ll get hard at [whatever was hard for them].”
“You’ll have a [boy/girl] because of those symptoms.”
Are you sure it’s a boy/girl? This (points at belly) just LOOKS like a girl/boy.*
Now (no matter when they found out) is the best time of pregnancy. It’ll get hard at Y months.
Of the “Oh you’ll HAVE to…” variety
Once the kid’s older and sees friends doing it, you can’t just have cake, you’ll have to rent out a big (museum, restaurant, something preposterous) and host huge birthday parties! How else will you keep up with the Joneses?**
My wife walked an hour a day, every day during pregnancy. You should too.
When’s the baby shower? Why wouldn’t you have one? This is how you get everything you want FOR FREE.
A special little hell on earth
It’s like every interaction is a fresh opportunity for people to treat my pregnancy like their own personal story time.
* Speaking of stories? A friend of a friend – basically a complete freakin stranger to me – was SO proud of herself for, as she tells it, praying a penis onto her friend’s expected daughter after hearing the results of the ultrasound.
“Dear God, I know you know best but if you could just add a little something to Janey’s daughter, that would be great!”
I wouldn’t have believed it if I wasn’t standing there in utter shock as she proceeded to feel me up, cackling over her success. I could have punched her in the face for touching me if I hadn’t been trying not to add stress to friend’s plate.
I don’t care if LB is a boy or a girl, I care if this child turns into a decent human being. The last time I checked, it’s possible for males AND females to be horrible or wonderful. If YOU couldn’t tell your kids no, that’s your problem, not ours. Little Bean is going to have boundaries from the first day ze can understand them. And that’s not at the age of 16. If you say one more word to me about why boys or girls are better, I swear I’ll …..
And this is just the tip of the iceberg so you’re welcome to imagine how annoyed I get with baby-centric conversation.
Maybe this is their way of relating but seriously?
** This is hard NOW. And not one bloody minute of it has been easy or better than any other minute.
Don’t get me wrong, people sharing their stories as just that, like Leah did here, I’m all for. I love hearing other experiences. But NOT in that completely presumptuous, “you need to X, you should Y, because I know better obviously” kind of way.
It’s the strangest phenomenon that the moment people know you’re pregnant there’s just no chance that, possibly, I might still be a person. My only interest in life must now be the expected child. I have transformed into nothing more than a vessel for Little Bean and there’s no higher favor they can confer but to share the universal knowledge to end all parenting because they had a kid, once.
Of course, the biggest concerns that I have have nothing to do with stretch marks or whether we have a boy or a girl, or anything mundane. There are far greater things, Horatio, the chronic health issues, financial preparation, LIFE! that will and have had a huge impact on the pregnancy and child-rearing experience.
Thankfully, not everyone has showered me with unwanted opinions. Some people are wonderful at offering support while still talking like we’re both humans who have individual experiences, kids or no.
November 20, 2014
We just paid what felt like an awful lot of money for a used crib. It was the one that PiC liked best from all the research that he did, so I had to hop online, find out what it would have cost new, and how much we would have saved for a new but less fancy crib.
Assumptions: if we bought all of this new, we’d be paying tax, but probably not shipping because paying for shipping is against my online shopping rules (unless it’s drastically cheaper even with shipping).
If we’d gone the IKEA route, we’d probably have bought the more expensive version with the drawers underneath because I’m a fan of underbed storage, and spent: basic crib, $200; mattress, $60-100; and add in a few sheet sets at say, $6-10 each.
Approx. total with tax: $330-375
The retail costs for the crib that we chose were: crib (without all the convertible options) $799; mattress, $199; 4 sets of fitted cotton sheets, $39/each; 1 set of waterproof sheets, $49; 1 bed skirt, $49?; 1 bumper (I couldn’t find the bumper that we actually got but it’s much nicer than the ones I could find online so I assume same price or more), $149+.
Total with tax: ~ $1500
I didn’t do a used-Ikea comparison because while their stuff is fine new, I don’t think it tends to hold up well after one or two cycles of kids so I wouldn’t have gone that route.
There were a few reasons that I ended up liking this crib best, over an IKEA semi-equivalent: it’s a bit smaller than the standard crib sizes which is better in our cramped living quarters; it’s really easy to move around so that means less claustrophobia AND less frustration for me. That alone is worth a bit of money. And down the line, there is some decent resale value to be had with this nicer model, even used.
What we paid: $500.
That’s no insignificant amount of money, but I’m now comfortable with paying a little over $100 more for a piece of solid furniture that fits best in our space.
November 12, 2014
As much as I hate sharing my limitations (weakness, in my mind) with other humans, there wasn’t a lot I could do about hiding the evidence of Little Bean after a time. And despite my reservations at the time, it’s been a strange, almost surreal, experience of rather positive support.
PiC’s friends
I like these people, I really do. We spend time with them together mostly but I actually like them enough that, back in the day, I enjoyed their company sans PiC, too. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that when we attended an event together recently, they were thoughtful and solicitous of my well-being, making sure that someone was always checking to make sure I was managing ok without being weird about it. They didn’t hesitate for a second to use me as an excuse to hang out in the temperature controlled room and to leave early, either. Win-win!
Chosen family
There’s family, and then there’s family. The latter are the ones I chose to make my family: long time friends I grew up with; friends who have welcomed me/us into their homes and family without hesitation and who actually listen when I talk. Friends who I’ve only gotten to know because of the blog and are more considerate than anyone I’m actually related to by blood.
They’ve been there for me during a huge stint of unemployment, coordinated thoughtful deliveries when I became a member of the Dead Parent Club, celebrated when I got the job or we tied the knot, commiserated during the hard times and mentored me when I needed wisdom. (Some of them are you. And I can’t really explain how some people who are only there virtually are more like family than blood but I think it’s just the great side of having the internet: we can find good people all over.)
These are the people who have been happy for me/us about Little Bean, helpful without trampling my boundaries, share the fun of the weird pregnancy stuff and listen without judging the ICK factors.
The Kids
There’s a group, and during one event, I was bemused to see how much these younguns, many of whom are just starting to wrap their heads around the idea of starting a career, were looking out for me. I lost track of the number of times one of them would shout: make room for Revanche to sit! Or would ask if I was sure I was ok? Did I need water, food, anything?
Most of the time I’m a grumpy “THESE KIDS THESE DAYS” sort but these kids? Pretty good kids.
PiC
Of course, he’s been a saint.
Can’t fix a meal? He’s got it.
Can’t tie my shoelaces? He’s got it.
Can’t carry luggage? Don’t be silly, I was never to carry luggage.
Have a craving, ever so slight? Why, here it is.
Too tired to walk the dog? He’s all over it.
Frustrated and having a rant? He understands.
Frustrated and feeling useless because dammit, I should be able to DO this (that or the other thing) by myself? Reminds me that I AM doing a job that he can’t so he can darn well shoulder everything else.
That’s just the stuff I can remember off the top of my head.
Doggle and Seamus
No, they’re not people. But they are/were daily companions and as such, they get some credit.
Early on, when it wasn’t obvious, Doggle would stand between me and rowdy dogs, pushing them away from me when they got too out of hand. This is a dog who was completely oblivious to most normal cues, but he always seemed to have some small innate sense about the worst health days. He literally refused to leave my side when I was extra-sick for days, long before the pregnancy, refusing food and walks until he was assured that I was still alive and kicking. Once LB came around, he was protective of my mid-section even though I doubt he actually knew why, literally shielding it with his body.
Seamus is the stolid sort and not really aware of what’s changing either but whenever I get stuck sitting down and I tell him to “Come here and help me up”, he comes and stands right next to me so I can use him for leverage. Or he’ll willingly lay however I want him to lay so that I can reach his head for petting.
Some days it’s the little things that make such a difference.
Other days, it’s the sum total realization that despite all the other dysfunction, we do have good people in our corner.