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*
February 4, 2015
Life with DOG!
There’s no time that watching a dog sleep isn’t funny and Seamus is no exception.
He curls up so tightly that his back legs are tucked under his chin;
sticks his tongue out while sleeping;
snores, sleep-growls and barks;
startles himself out of sleep and he glares like I did it;
is likely to be on his back with all legs waving in the air about 60% of the time.
Also, I love it when he’s on his back, rubs his face with both paws, then topples over.
Medical woes
A bit of waltz with this fella. Skin looks horrible, skin improves, skin gets bad again, skin improves. We keep experimenting to see what gives him the most relief for the longest period of time.
A Dog and Our Money
This guy eats quite a lot. Easily 30% more than Doggle did and he still acts like he’s starving before the afternoon is over. His bones aren’t showing anymore, seven or eight gained pounds later, so we’re being careful not to overfeed him since his activity levels aren’t very high. He obviously doesn’t much appreciate that.
I had some luck picking up his special grain free diet at about $1.50/lb from petflow.com with a 20% discount, but aside from those one off special deals, our best bet for this particular brand is the local PetClub store. With a minor sale or coupon, we can get pretty close to $1.50/lb from them.
In case the medications alone aren’t doing the trick for his health and we need to change his diet, we may try a Twitter recommendation of the Kirkland Signature Nature’s Domain which is apparently just a repackaging of the Taste of the Wild brand. This recommendation comes from someone who only feeds her dog the best so I’m reasonably certain that it’s a decent high-quality alternative that would be good for him.
January 12, 2015
Life with DOG!
I can’t seem to get a dog that doesn’t turn into PiC’s dog. Within days it was clear that Seamus didn’t want PiC to be the alpha, he just wanted to be Daddy’s favorite. When PiC went away for a weekend, he pulled a classic Doggle, moping his way into bed at 7 pm: life isn’t worth living, I’m just going to bed early and maybe he’ll be here when I wake up.
So I get to be alpha in that I’m the discipline parent and PiC is the beloved parent. Which means I can always get him to take his meds, cooperate with a bath, ear cleaning, or wound care, and go to bed when I say, but any time PiC might be around, he’s a much much happier dog.
Out of the blue, Seamus decided to violate the no dogs on furniture rule, nearly destroying the slipcover in the process. When he screws up, he goes big!
Medical woes
To date, we’ve spent several hundred on his surgery, and a few more hundred on additional rounds of medications to soothe his skin as we slowly start to figure out what works to keep it happy.
After a rough start involving steroids and a stressed bladder, we went months without incident.
Clever boy tried to outsmart me. Having been scolded every time we hear him licking his paws, he tried to throw me off by licking the air for a while. I was stealth- watching and the second he thought it was safe to lick his actual paw, he was clearly shocked to hear his usual scolding. I don’t want him to aggravate his skin further so we have to regulate that pretty strictly.
His back is looking pretty wonderful, though, so there IS improvement. There are no inflammation, rashes, sores or weeping wounds – hurray!
A Dog and Our Money
I had a brainstorm when the County insisted that we license him, despite his being a foster for now. I’d just paid up for Doggle’s 3-year license this year and they don’t do refunds. But glory-be, they were willing to let Seamus take over the rest of the license! And they were amazingly easy to work with, we did it all by email and it was taken care of in just a few days. I’d be impressed by the efficiency of the local government but it was probably only because the licensing has been farmed out to a company.
January 9, 2015
“You don’t tell me ‘No’, you say ‘No’ to your parents!”
When I was nine, a landlady was prescribing the weirdest diet to fix whatever she thought was wrong with me. The details I remember involved raw eggs, sounded terrible, and possibly was meant to plump me up but I distinctly remember politely hearing her out and then answering truthfully when she wound up the unsolicited diatribe with the demand: so are you going to do it?
“No.”
She nearly burst with indignation! How DARE a scrawny child say she wasn’t going to follow her sage (and totally bogus homeopathic) advice?
She followed up with a lecture on how totally inappropriate it was for me to decline to follow the instructions and how out of line it was (I stopped listening around here to ponder on why someone who was basically a stranger would tell a little kid to defy her parents or feel the right to dispense “medical knowledge” and tell her off for trusting her parents better than a stranger in matters of…. Anything.)
I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong when I looked at Mom’s bemused face. After all, there was nothing wrong in saying No. I hadn’t called the lady a quack or been rude to her. But that was also the first time I’d ever said no to an adult. I had no idea it was going to become such a habit 🙂
In my teens, a dear friend’s dad told me something about parenting that really stuck: one of the hardest moments for kids growing up is to realize that their parents are actually human too, they make mistakes. They’re not gifted with omniscience just because they’re parents. And the moment you, as a child, realize that, your relationship evolves… And that can be painful.
It’s so true.
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
In our culture, “Respect your elders” is one of the highest tenets.
To this day I still can’t call teachers who have become good friends by their first names. It’ll always be “Mr./Mrs./Ms. [X].”
Learning to manage my relationships with adults, including parents and parental fugues, required a great deal of learning to reason, to accept that we will disagree about things –fundamental life changing things– and still love and respect those who are important and disagree with me while walking my own path without their help or approval.
Heck, to this day, my dad still doesn’t know what I do for a living. It’s just completely outside the realm of normalcy in our family. They understand going into medicine (as a doctor or a nurse), engineering, and accounting. And some entrepreneurial things. But I’m the weirdo who went the Humanities route and then even further off the tracks into the professional world. I might as well be a lawyer, it’d make more sense to them 😉
By and large, I always respected my parents and what they taught me based on their life experiences.
As a first generation kid, though, there were more than a few situations in which it would have been a big mistake to follow their guidance. Oftentimes, it seemed to just be down to personality or cultural differences, and it wasn’t always clear who was right, but it was valuable learning when to trust my own instincts and seek other sources of wisdom.
When it came to functioning in the American workplace, the generational gap was the overriding factor and it became most obvious that there were ropes I’d have to learn on my own.
This isn’t a revelation, every new generation has to learn to manage adulthood without training wheels on, but even after years of standing on my own, some lessons still take time to learn. These were my two biggest though:
Don’t stand up for yourself
Then: Dad was always the pacifist in the family, the salve after Mom’s fire, and I had trouble relating to him. I was always frustrated by his lack of action or motivation to act when someone wronged him. When an employee embezzled and basically put them out of business, he felt that it was better to turn the other cheek or “take the high road”. So instead of possibly recouping some of that lost money and staying afloat, my parents had to declare bankruptcy and shut down what had been their livelihood for years. That embezzler screwed us and our long time employees over and I was outraged that Dad refused to fight.
Now: I realize I didn’t know enough about their recordkeeping to know if they could have made a case but it still bothers me that he didn’t fight.
Then: When my sibling was bullied at school, I’m pretty sure the advice was the same: take the high road. By the time it was my turn to get bullied .. Well let’s just say I never waited to get advice on the matter. Even as an 8 year old, I knew I wasn’t going to stand for being literally shoved around and hurt, especially since there were never any official consequences and he never got caught. When our class bully tried to throw me off a platform, he got the biggest punch in the gut I could muster. Years of fighting with my sibling had given me a pretty good right hook and I’m sure the kid, who had at least 30 lbs on me, didn’t have an inkling that was coming. He never laid a hand on me again. My reaction to unwelcome touching, with guys twice my size who would try and force themselves on me when it was clear I didn’t want someone hovering over and hugging me, remained the same throughout the years. No one ever had the temerity to repeat their aggressions after getting a sharp elbow in return but I could NOT understand why they thought it was OK to put their arms around me, uninvited and without permission. (Actually it was clear why they did it, it was a stunt to show off to their friends what they could get away with. Joke was on them, really.) Obviously, I’m not a natural hugger.
Now: Dad recently related an anecdote where he sharply told off his sister for advising my cousins to take the high road on some bullying situation, pointing out that if her grandchild was being pushed around and hurt, would she honestly advise turning the other cheek and keeping quiet?
Either he’s changed his stance or he only wouldn’t go to bat for his own. I don’t know what it was but he’s certainly never advocated standing up for yourself to me, he’s always tried to talk me out of it.
Trust your bosses: they mean well
Right.
Then: When my manipulative boss tried to give me cash for personal use, my parents guessed he was just trying to be nice. But my gut said there was something not kosher in being handed cash out of pocket by a married male boss with tendencies to hold unvoiced expectations over your head. He made it very clear he considered this money a personal gift, but it wasn’t so clear what he expected in return. He certainly wasn’t saying he wasn’t expecting anything nor that it was OK to decline, so from his position of authority over me, it was an incredibly awkward place to be in.
Now: I don’t know if trusting someone in a position of authority is a cultural thing or if it’s the habit of deferring to authority because they can make trouble for you (mine certainly did) but I don’t think I ever asked for their advice when it came to workplace dynamics ever again.
Are you a product of both a culture or generation gap? One or the other?
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.
