Well, hey--lookee here!
I think once upon a time I wanted a revolution. Now I would settle for a good night's sleep.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Someone please shut that baby gate!
Funny how fast babies go from laboriously pulling themselves forward an inch at a time to a super fast scoot!
"The baby's headed down the hall," hollered the dude office manager yesterday. And sure enough, she was--not the hall hall, but the hall to our sink and bathroom. Which would be fine if we didn't keep all kinds of rusty nails and sharp tools under that sink.
Hence the baby gate, which has been held open with a mini bungee cord, lo, all these many months now, waiting for this moment to clang closed.
Next on the list: checking to make sure all the electrical cords are taped together so she can't pull a computer down on her fool head. Because if any baby could do that, this one will.
"The baby's headed down the hall," hollered the dude office manager yesterday. And sure enough, she was--not the hall hall, but the hall to our sink and bathroom. Which would be fine if we didn't keep all kinds of rusty nails and sharp tools under that sink.
Hence the baby gate, which has been held open with a mini bungee cord, lo, all these many months now, waiting for this moment to clang closed.
Next on the list: checking to make sure all the electrical cords are taped together so she can't pull a computer down on her fool head. Because if any baby could do that, this one will.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
And Now, For Some Early Morning Math
Last year, if you recall, I fell a little behind in the childcare/school department, and found myself totally screwed looking for someone--anyone--who would take a 2-year-old in fall. Yes, even in Pittsburgh, we have this kind of insanity, apparently; I should have signed her up at birth.
Nevertheless, after some of my women-in-law took pity and turned their formidable nagging on the director of the preschool at their shul, we found a spot, and the girl has--more or less happily--spent the year learning all about manners and how to play in groups. And how "on Shabbat we go to shul / so we can kiss the Torah." That's a real song, by the way.
(Also "Little Sammy spider / lived in a Jewish house..." Which is not; it's just the Itsy-bitsy spider made kosher. But I digress.)
Anyway, all this is fine, except maybe for the part where we're not really Jewish, and therefore headed for some pretty awkward conversations with our toddler pretty soon at this rate. And for the part where there is a much--much, much--nicer school down the road, in which we got a spot for fall. And which is even--score!--a little less expensive, which is not to say inexpensive.
Line one of the math: $848 x 12 months = $10,176.
Line two of the math is that I'm sort of thinking #2 might like a little bit of kid time. I wouldn't say she's a disaster in the office, but she's a little restless. And I'm a little crazed. More about that later.
So let's say she goes somewhere for 6 hours a day, 2 days a week next year. In fact, let's say she goes to learn about Sammy Spider--since that's the only place I could get her in, at this point. (I did make an appointment to tour the Very Nice Place people send babies, but let's face it, I would have needed to put her on the list there the moment I saw the second pink line pop up, and I didn't do that. Probably I should cancel the tour, which isn't for another month anyway.)
So, two days for six hours: $4,330 + $540 (penalty for not being Jewish) (ok, not really--penalty for not being members of the congregation. Same difference, if you ask me. Shiksas always get the short end of the stick.) = $4,870.
Total childcare/education costs for next year: $15,046.
Line 3 of the math would involve what's left over from the money I make after we pay for this, but if I shared that number with you, dear readers--some of whom I know in the real world--I would have to die of embarrassment. Let's just say that if you factor in taxes and making a contribution to my retirement fund, probably I can afford to buy myself something nice. A package of sparkly pencils from the dollar bin at Target maybe, or that latte I've been eyeing.
Nevertheless, after some of my women-in-law took pity and turned their formidable nagging on the director of the preschool at their shul, we found a spot, and the girl has--more or less happily--spent the year learning all about manners and how to play in groups. And how "on Shabbat we go to shul / so we can kiss the Torah." That's a real song, by the way.
(Also "Little Sammy spider / lived in a Jewish house..." Which is not; it's just the Itsy-bitsy spider made kosher. But I digress.)
Anyway, all this is fine, except maybe for the part where we're not really Jewish, and therefore headed for some pretty awkward conversations with our toddler pretty soon at this rate. And for the part where there is a much--much, much--nicer school down the road, in which we got a spot for fall. And which is even--score!--a little less expensive, which is not to say inexpensive.
Line one of the math: $848 x 12 months = $10,176.
Line two of the math is that I'm sort of thinking #2 might like a little bit of kid time. I wouldn't say she's a disaster in the office, but she's a little restless. And I'm a little crazed. More about that later.
So let's say she goes somewhere for 6 hours a day, 2 days a week next year. In fact, let's say she goes to learn about Sammy Spider--since that's the only place I could get her in, at this point. (I did make an appointment to tour the Very Nice Place people send babies, but let's face it, I would have needed to put her on the list there the moment I saw the second pink line pop up, and I didn't do that. Probably I should cancel the tour, which isn't for another month anyway.)
So, two days for six hours: $4,330 + $540 (penalty for not being Jewish) (ok, not really--penalty for not being members of the congregation. Same difference, if you ask me. Shiksas always get the short end of the stick.) = $4,870.
Total childcare/education costs for next year: $15,046.
Line 3 of the math would involve what's left over from the money I make after we pay for this, but if I shared that number with you, dear readers--some of whom I know in the real world--I would have to die of embarrassment. Let's just say that if you factor in taxes and making a contribution to my retirement fund, probably I can afford to buy myself something nice. A package of sparkly pencils from the dollar bin at Target maybe, or that latte I've been eyeing.
Monday, May 11, 2009
How to Tell Which Summer Intern to Hire
Yep, it's that time of the year again.
Actually, it's a little later than that time of year. But we're chronically behind. And my biggest criterion is persistence; the internship usually goes to the person who follows up the most.
Not willing to fight for a space? to keep saying, Yoo-hoo, 'member me?
Then I have no use for you anyway. You'll just get neglected, and probably sit and quietly sulk while playing around on facebook, and by the time your internship is over we'll just be waiting for you to leave, and you'll quietly hate us.
So mostly my screening system works--saves everyone a lot of trouble.
Anyway, today's candidate is hired for many reasons:
1. He drove a long distance on the Monday after his graduation from college
2. in a suit
3. with a whole portfolio of his previous work, all covered in plastic sleeves
4. and is willing to move to our city within a week
5. for a non-paying internship
6. which he's maybe willing to work at for a full year
I know. It's almost too good to be true.
And, he didn't even bat an eye when I started nursing my fussy baby to sleep in the middle of our conversation.
Yep: He's a keeper!
Actually, it's a little later than that time of year. But we're chronically behind. And my biggest criterion is persistence; the internship usually goes to the person who follows up the most.
Not willing to fight for a space? to keep saying, Yoo-hoo, 'member me?
Then I have no use for you anyway. You'll just get neglected, and probably sit and quietly sulk while playing around on facebook, and by the time your internship is over we'll just be waiting for you to leave, and you'll quietly hate us.
So mostly my screening system works--saves everyone a lot of trouble.
Anyway, today's candidate is hired for many reasons:
1. He drove a long distance on the Monday after his graduation from college
2. in a suit
3. with a whole portfolio of his previous work, all covered in plastic sleeves
4. and is willing to move to our city within a week
5. for a non-paying internship
6. which he's maybe willing to work at for a full year
I know. It's almost too good to be true.
And, he didn't even bat an eye when I started nursing my fussy baby to sleep in the middle of our conversation.
Yep: He's a keeper!
Friday, April 24, 2009
It's been 6 months already?
Happy half-birthday to #2! It's funny; in some ways it seems she's always been here (as in, in the world), and in others it seems impossible it's already been so long. In the past two or three weeks, she's officially stopped being an infant; her proportions have changed, and her general manner is so much more person-like. We've started feeding her purees (of apple and pear and squash and peas and plums) and some cereal, all of which she attacks with gusto, though getting it out the other end has sometimes been a challenge. (The Day of the Poop Shrieks was not our best day ever in the office, let's just say. Thankfully, Cute Coworker, who shares my room, was out for that one...)
She's also starting to become more mobile; can get up on her haunches and rock back and forth. Which seems early to me, though truly I've forgotten what's supposed to happen when and am too lazy and uninterested, really, even to do a quick google search. (And does it matter? Will she crawl more/less quickly if I know the general developmental timetable?)
Anyway, probably not coincidentally, six months is when many of these businesses that have, like, policies about babies at work require them to move on out and into daycare.
Though I have to say, with this one, it's not the mobility that is the danger, I don't think. Frankly, I'm hoping when she can sit up on her own, she'll be less frustrated and therefore a little more self-entertaining. (Or at least a little less squealy.) It could happen, right? Maybe?
She's also starting to become more mobile; can get up on her haunches and rock back and forth. Which seems early to me, though truly I've forgotten what's supposed to happen when and am too lazy and uninterested, really, even to do a quick google search. (And does it matter? Will she crawl more/less quickly if I know the general developmental timetable?)
Anyway, probably not coincidentally, six months is when many of these businesses that have, like, policies about babies at work require them to move on out and into daycare.
Though I have to say, with this one, it's not the mobility that is the danger, I don't think. Frankly, I'm hoping when she can sit up on her own, she'll be less frustrated and therefore a little more self-entertaining. (Or at least a little less squealy.) It could happen, right? Maybe?
Monday, April 20, 2009
Another new toy for the office
(Somewhat belatedly, since the baby is now, at almost 6 months, gearing up to crawl.)
On a recent trip to Ikea (love it, hate it, love it), I went a little nuts in the kid department. For the original W.B., at home, I got a tent to play in. And for #2, this playmat (officially, the "Leka"). Sure, I had an old quilt to throw on the filthy office floor, but this was so much cuter. It's padded, and it has a butterfly, and a little frog that squeaks (very softly), and a mirror, and a worm to grab.
The biggest difference between this baby and the last, I think, is that this one is waaaaay into toys. The other was a little more mellow, but #2 gets bored pretty quickly (I do worry about this) and puts everything straight into her mouth (I also worry about this...with the first one, I was pretty vigilant about paper clips, etc., but I also wasn't really worried she would seriously eat them. This one, I'm not so sure.)
Anyway, so the playmat takes up a fair bit of our part of the office, but it's pretty fun. And only $29.99!
ps--notice how the baby is pretty lumpy, still. Makes some noise now and then, but pretty much she stays where you put her. For a little while longer, at least...
Friday, April 10, 2009
Saturday, April 4, 2009
The Great Babies-at-Work Challenge
I'm tempted to write something snide about challenges, because it's late at night and just between us, this second time around I have many more moments when I look around (granted, not just at work) and think, this is insane! What the hell was I thinking? Challenges. Hah.
But I digress.
So here's a link to the "Great Babies-at-Work Challenge," which is from Carla and the Parenting in the Workplace Institute.
But I digress.
So here's a link to the "Great Babies-at-Work Challenge," which is from Carla and the Parenting in the Workplace Institute.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
How to Make a Mobile for Your Pack-n-Play
...if yours doesn't come with one, which mine didn't. (Even though every product description I read of it seemed to suggest it would. Same thing for the one we bought for home this time around. Go figure.)
Note: for this to work, you need a fancy pack-n-play, with a diaper-changing tray.
Ingredients:
--a toy, preferably one that comes with some sort of loop, say for attaching it to a stroller or carseat or something
--a big binder clip
Directions:
Clip the binder clip onto the edge of the diaper-changing tray. Attach the toy. Et voila!
If you're feeling daring, you can prop the baby up on your nursing pillow in the bassinet (yes, I know, they say not to do this, but you're right there next to the baby, aren't you?) so the baby can reach the toy to swat it around.
Will this play tinkly music like a "real" mobile? Well, no, of course not. But that would be annoying to your coworkers, anyway. So, in fact, this is even better than a real mobile.
See how much the baby loves it?
Note: for this to work, you need a fancy pack-n-play, with a diaper-changing tray.
Ingredients:
--a toy, preferably one that comes with some sort of loop, say for attaching it to a stroller or carseat or something
--a big binder clip
Directions:
Clip the binder clip onto the edge of the diaper-changing tray. Attach the toy. Et voila!
If you're feeling daring, you can prop the baby up on your nursing pillow in the bassinet (yes, I know, they say not to do this, but you're right there next to the baby, aren't you?) so the baby can reach the toy to swat it around.
Will this play tinkly music like a "real" mobile? Well, no, of course not. But that would be annoying to your coworkers, anyway. So, in fact, this is even better than a real mobile.
See how much the baby loves it?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
More Boobs at Work
Ok, really why do I bring my baby to work? Because it means I don't have to live like a cow. Or, at least, an agro-industrial cow. Check out Jill Lepore's New Yorker essay about the history of pumping and how we're becoming, as she concludes, "our own wet nurses."
My favorite part?
"It appears no longer within the realm of the imaginable that, instead of running water and a stack of magazines, 'breastfeeding-friendly' could mean making it possible for women and their babies to be together. Some lactation rooms even make a point of banning infants and toddlers, lest mothers smuggle them in for a quick nip. At the University of Minnesota, staff with keys can pump their milk at the Expression Connection, but the sign on the door warns: 'This room is not intended for mothers who need a space to nurse their babies.'"
Besides which, there's nowhere in my office to pump, so I'd be doing that under the poncho. Surely it's less weird just to bring the baby and feed her?
Anyway, the whole New Yorker essay is here
My favorite part?
"It appears no longer within the realm of the imaginable that, instead of running water and a stack of magazines, 'breastfeeding-friendly' could mean making it possible for women and their babies to be together. Some lactation rooms even make a point of banning infants and toddlers, lest mothers smuggle them in for a quick nip. At the University of Minnesota, staff with keys can pump their milk at the Expression Connection, but the sign on the door warns: 'This room is not intended for mothers who need a space to nurse their babies.'"
Besides which, there's nowhere in my office to pump, so I'd be doing that under the poncho. Surely it's less weird just to bring the baby and feed her?
Anyway, the whole New Yorker essay is here
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Working Baby Essentials
All kinds of things that make life safer, easier and more interesting for the working baby...
Note: some of these aren't exactly cheap, and in some cases you'll probably be duplicating gear you already have at home. But the goal is to keep the shlepping to a minimum, and remember, it's almost impossible to underestimate the amount of money you're saving by not paying for child care.
for nursing
Nursing ponchos: There are actually lots of options out there. Office Mom's taste tends toward the subdued (if not downright boring), and the products listed here all pretty much come in earth tones and a few soft pastels. If you're looking for a nursing poncho in bright, baby-friendly colors--which seems to me to defeat the main purpose of the whole thing--you'll have to do your own legwork! 1. The Under Wraps Nursing Poncho, by Victoria Laurin & Baby. This looks to be a little more stylish than the one I have--stylish is good--but also to provide ample coverage. Plus, it comes in black, and many other colors. Also has a bag. $39.99. http://www.victorialaurin.com/cat_nursing.cfm 2. The L'ovedbaby Nursing Shawl. This is soft and almost suede-like, with a subtle pattern in the stitching. Comes in six really mellow colors and has a bag. $29.95 http://www.breastmilk.com/loved_nursing_cover.htm 3. The BUNDLEUNDER. This one comes to a point at the bottom, which seems like it might leave some skin showing (on you, if not the baby). Comes in six soft, pretty colors. $35. http://www.bundleunder.com/bundleunder.htm
A nursing pillow--you'll want this at least early on; it helps support the baby and helps reduce the strain on your neck and shoulders. I can wholeheartedly recommend the Boppy, but there are other, similar products out there. I actually took a regular pillow to work for a few months, because it worked better with my desk chair. Plus, I had a Boppy for home and didn't really want to buy another one.
Plenty of burp pads--self-explanatory.
Extra clothes--for you and the baby. Because you never know quite what's going to come out of the little bugger, and most likely it'll happen right before you have to go to a meeting.
for sleeping
A pack-n-play or other portable crib: If you have the space and plan to bring the baby to work regularly, this is essential. A close-to-newborn will sleep much of the day, and while she won't weigh a lot and you can certainly get a lot done with her sleeping in your lap or over your shoulder or even in a sling, it's also helpful to have both hands free occasionally. Plus, many models have a diaper-changing tray, which is also handy not only for the advertised purpose but for storing the nursing pillow. Plus, if you think you'll be bringing the baby to work even after she outgrows the bassinette layer and the diaper tray, it's nice to have a secure place for the toddler to sleep (Working Baby #1 was a thrasher). Also, as the baby gets older, it doubles as baby jail, and every so often it's good to be able to keep the baby out of something that's going on in the office--if there's a reason to sort piles of paper on the floor or something else temporary but fragile.
Anyway, the model I have is navy-and-white, very subtle. It also has a sort of sunshade/umbrella thing that might help some babies calm down, or at least it blocks some of the light, and there's a little vibrating doohickey that connected to the bassinette, to which first Working Baby seemed mostly indifferent, though #2 quite likes it.
These look comparable:
from Graco, this model, which lacks the sunshade.
Also this model, with the sunshade.
Or, if you know you'll be limiting the baby's time at work to infancy, and space is at a premium, you might go with a Moses basket. Most of these are long and narrow and have soft but not too puffy linings. I never had a reason to have one, but I love the idea (though I think the temptation to store stuff in the basket would be overwhelming, and then it wouldn't be much use for holding the baby). For those in larger office who might have (or want) to move a sleeping baby--to a meeting down the hall, for example--a Moses basket would be ideal. Plus, talk about low-profile for the office--you could shove the kid under your desk, and no one would ever know it was there!
Here are some good options:
from babybeemine, which also sells old-timey wooden high chairs.
or, if you're trying to impress, posh tots has fabulous baskets in a variety of patterns and styles (at a variety of not-so-fabulous prices. They also sell a $75,000--yes, there are really that many zeroes in the price--bed shaped like Cinderella's carriage. Really, it's worth a visit to the site just to gasp at it.)
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Well, at least Cute Coworker's got my back
Or, Fun with Fluids, part two...
Wet puddle on my neck, this one generated not by me (well, at least not directly) but by the babe, as I was walking from one room to the other with her propped against my shoulder.
"Eew," I mutter, and run for a paper towel to try to contain the damage.
This is why I don't wear nice clothes to work. (And never did, even before I started dragging my spawn to the office with me, just for the record.)
"It's all down your back," Cute Coworker observes. "You're never going to get it all."
Sweetie that he is, he helped. Wasn't that nice?
God, I would hate working for me right about now.
Wet puddle on my neck, this one generated not by me (well, at least not directly) but by the babe, as I was walking from one room to the other with her propped against my shoulder.
"Eew," I mutter, and run for a paper towel to try to contain the damage.
This is why I don't wear nice clothes to work. (And never did, even before I started dragging my spawn to the office with me, just for the record.)
"It's all down your back," Cute Coworker observes. "You're never going to get it all."
Sweetie that he is, he helped. Wasn't that nice?
God, I would hate working for me right about now.
A Mid-day dilemma
So we're back at work--more on that later--but for now, a quiz.
When a mom is typing away at work and suddenly looks down to find she has a wet spot spreading across her sweater from over her nipple, she should:
a. hunch her shoulders so it doesn't get any bigger, and hope it dries before anyone notices
b. dump a full glass of water down her front and yell oh, shit! for good measure
c. not worry about it--perfectly natural, nothing to be ashamed of, blah blah blah
Right now I'm going with a, but I'm seriously considering b. ...
And remembering why I was supposed to have brought in some extra clothes to keep under my desk.
When a mom is typing away at work and suddenly looks down to find she has a wet spot spreading across her sweater from over her nipple, she should:
a. hunch her shoulders so it doesn't get any bigger, and hope it dries before anyone notices
b. dump a full glass of water down her front and yell oh, shit! for good measure
c. not worry about it--perfectly natural, nothing to be ashamed of, blah blah blah
Right now I'm going with a, but I'm seriously considering b. ...
And remembering why I was supposed to have brought in some extra clothes to keep under my desk.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
A Big Welcome to the New Baby Girl!
Born Oct. 24, 8 lb. 5 oz, at 1:05 p.m.--approximately 2 hours after I called Dad, Esq. from the car as I was leaving the office after picking up a pile of manuscripts to say, "I think I just had a contraction."
To those of you who might be thinking, "Wow--that's terrific! Only two hours of labor," let me say only that really it's not so much fun to start pushing in the car. (And mind you, we live pretty darn close to the hospital.) Even less fun is screaming in the hospital atrium, waiting for the elevator.
Sort of fun is watching your husband throw your insurance card at the woman at the check-in desk. Ditto watching nurses and other folks in Crocs run ahead of you down the hallway, frantically grabbing everything you'll need to deliver a baby in a part of the hospital no one ever delivers babies in.
Anyway, it all turned out well. And so far, she's way more mellow than I was expecting, based on the way she was churning around inside for the past few months.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Waiting...
Good lord, is it just me, or have I been pregnant for, like, two years now?
It feels that way, at least, at two days past the due date and counting. Not that two days is a huge thing, either way. But the waiting is killing me--and I suspect it's sort of annoying to everyone around me, too.
Last time, everything was tidy: the due date was a Friday, and I went to work that day, cleaned everything up, sent a flurry of last emails about the kinds of files that are in my left-hand bottom file cabinet drawer as opposed to in the top right, and that kind of stuff, and then went home. Finished up some yard work, cleaned the house, packed the bags. By Sunday, all that was left was to tie-dye the baby T-shirts we had bought. (Note: I don't actually recommend this. Sure, you end up with cute shirts, but you'll need to hand-wash them so they don't run in the washing machine. And let's face it: you're not going to want to do that, so you're going to end up with a pile of once-worn, adorable T-shirts in the bottom of the laundry hamper for, let's see, at least two-and-a-half years.)
So we tie-dyed through the early stages of labor, and when it got to be time to clean up, I just sort of hunched on the floor, and took a shower, and eventually we went to the hospital, and the baby was out just after midnight on Monday. Not so bad, really.
I sent the same emails last Friday, more or less, expressed my utter confidence in my staff, and waved my way out the door with promises to email any news. I'm sure they were relieved to be left alone.
I've been emailing them ever since, and today on my way back from a midwives' appointment, even stopped in to drop off some manuscripts and pick some other stuff up. This, after a "final" lunch yesterday with my boss--who was, of course, in the office today when I stopped by.
Really: how many significant departures can one fat lady make?
And it's not that I'm not doing work from home, but I feel sort of guilty for packing it in early, not working right up to the end. Even though Friday was supposed to be the end.
I know! How totally lame is that, to feel guilty?
But really, without the original W.B. for most of the day (she's either at school or at Nana's every day), and with only some general editing to do, I feel like I'm on vacation. Which is nice, I guess. It just feels sort of indulgent.
Sarah Palin wins again, I guess. (Just as long as she doesn't win on the 4th, I suppose I can live with that...)
As the original W.B. has been saying to my belly lately: Come out, baby! Come out and play with us!
It feels that way, at least, at two days past the due date and counting. Not that two days is a huge thing, either way. But the waiting is killing me--and I suspect it's sort of annoying to everyone around me, too.
Last time, everything was tidy: the due date was a Friday, and I went to work that day, cleaned everything up, sent a flurry of last emails about the kinds of files that are in my left-hand bottom file cabinet drawer as opposed to in the top right, and that kind of stuff, and then went home. Finished up some yard work, cleaned the house, packed the bags. By Sunday, all that was left was to tie-dye the baby T-shirts we had bought. (Note: I don't actually recommend this. Sure, you end up with cute shirts, but you'll need to hand-wash them so they don't run in the washing machine. And let's face it: you're not going to want to do that, so you're going to end up with a pile of once-worn, adorable T-shirts in the bottom of the laundry hamper for, let's see, at least two-and-a-half years.)
So we tie-dyed through the early stages of labor, and when it got to be time to clean up, I just sort of hunched on the floor, and took a shower, and eventually we went to the hospital, and the baby was out just after midnight on Monday. Not so bad, really.
I sent the same emails last Friday, more or less, expressed my utter confidence in my staff, and waved my way out the door with promises to email any news. I'm sure they were relieved to be left alone.
I've been emailing them ever since, and today on my way back from a midwives' appointment, even stopped in to drop off some manuscripts and pick some other stuff up. This, after a "final" lunch yesterday with my boss--who was, of course, in the office today when I stopped by.
Really: how many significant departures can one fat lady make?
And it's not that I'm not doing work from home, but I feel sort of guilty for packing it in early, not working right up to the end. Even though Friday was supposed to be the end.
I know! How totally lame is that, to feel guilty?
But really, without the original W.B. for most of the day (she's either at school or at Nana's every day), and with only some general editing to do, I feel like I'm on vacation. Which is nice, I guess. It just feels sort of indulgent.
Sarah Palin wins again, I guess. (Just as long as she doesn't win on the 4th, I suppose I can live with that...)
As the original W.B. has been saying to my belly lately: Come out, baby! Come out and play with us!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
It Gets Worse
I know: you're wondering, How could the purple toenail polish get worse?
What if I tell you my mother-in-law absolutely loves it, because IT'S THE EXACT SAME COLOR SHE JUST PAINTED HER FINGERNAILS?!
What if I tell you my mother-in-law absolutely loves it, because IT'S THE EXACT SAME COLOR SHE JUST PAINTED HER FINGERNAILS?!
WTF, Sarah Palin?
Not to pass judgment unfairly, or anything. But really--and I know I'm hardly the only one asking this question--what in the hell can Sarah Palin be thinking?
Now, I know lots of people have been talking about the three-day maternity leave. That doesn't bug me so much, though I do wonder (not to be graphic) how quickly she managed to walk into the office that first time. Maybe it gets easier by Baby 5, but I remember my shuffle down the hall to the pediatrician (that also happens on Day 3), and it was none too spry.
And--no surprise here--I'm with her on the whole bring-baby-to-work thing. The Times reported today that she has a travel crib in one office and a swing in the other (I wonder, why not both in both? I mean, if you're governor and all. Probably her offices are big enough) and that she took Trig to meetings all summer in a sling and breastfeeds during phone calls. (No word on whether she has a magic nursing poncho...)
To all that, I say, you go, girl!
But still--Vice President? Like, of a whole country? As her baby (let's be generous and ignore the whole Down syndrome part of the story, not to mention the baby her teenager is about to add to the mix) is turning into a toddler?
It may be that most of the job is attending funerals (though I've done that with the W.B., and it's not the easiest thing in the world, though you do get a nice excuse to get up and walk around, which I personally find to be a nice benefit, at a funeral). Still.
It pains me to admit this, but I'm not even trying anything so ambitious--I mean, I'm proud of what I do, and all, and I like my job, but let's be honest: the stakes are pretty low at my cute little part-time, nonprofit job--and still it's kicking my ass these last couple of months.
Today, for example, on the way to work I had the bright idea that I would take some manuscripts and get a pedicure. Of course, the first place I thought of, one of those cheapy salons, had a half-hour wait, so I passed, and then thought about how nice a foot run would be, and so stopped at a place near work, where nothing is cheap, and actually made an appointment for an hour later. That's right--I played hooky to get a foot rub. That I worked the whole way through the experience mostly took away the guilt, but not as much as you would hope. (And let's not even talk about the economics of what I earned versus what I spent for that hour...)
And, I am completely embarrassed to report, I now have purple toenails. Well, not purple, exactly, but a nice lilac, not too bright or too dark or too grape-y, as I was assured by the nice woman who did the pedicure.
Why purple?
Because I panicked--there were too many choices, and red seemed too bright, and I hate pink, and I never, ever know what color to pick, and the woman told me it was one of the new colors and really pretty. And of the four weird colors I picked to try, it was the nicest.
But mostly, I ended up with purple because I'm insane: wracked with guilt over my formerly easy-going and totally mellow toddler, who, having figured out that now I abandon her for large parts of every day, clings to me, bawling, whenever I drop her off, and wakes in the night crying; fat and clumsy and uncomfortable and tired of being kicked in the ribs and sick to goddamn death of having to pee every five minutes; stressed out about the insane amount of (low-stakes, but still) work I need to get done in the next five weeks (please, please don't come early, baby!) ...
It sounded like such a good idea. Purple--why not?
Maybe that's what Sarah Palin is thinking. Vice President--why not? Life's pretty crazy anyway.
But you know what? The purple isn't actually looking so fun, now that the foot rub is over...
Now, I know lots of people have been talking about the three-day maternity leave. That doesn't bug me so much, though I do wonder (not to be graphic) how quickly she managed to walk into the office that first time. Maybe it gets easier by Baby 5, but I remember my shuffle down the hall to the pediatrician (that also happens on Day 3), and it was none too spry.
And--no surprise here--I'm with her on the whole bring-baby-to-work thing. The Times reported today that she has a travel crib in one office and a swing in the other (I wonder, why not both in both? I mean, if you're governor and all. Probably her offices are big enough) and that she took Trig to meetings all summer in a sling and breastfeeds during phone calls. (No word on whether she has a magic nursing poncho...)
To all that, I say, you go, girl!
But still--Vice President? Like, of a whole country? As her baby (let's be generous and ignore the whole Down syndrome part of the story, not to mention the baby her teenager is about to add to the mix) is turning into a toddler?
It may be that most of the job is attending funerals (though I've done that with the W.B., and it's not the easiest thing in the world, though you do get a nice excuse to get up and walk around, which I personally find to be a nice benefit, at a funeral). Still.
It pains me to admit this, but I'm not even trying anything so ambitious--I mean, I'm proud of what I do, and all, and I like my job, but let's be honest: the stakes are pretty low at my cute little part-time, nonprofit job--and still it's kicking my ass these last couple of months.
Today, for example, on the way to work I had the bright idea that I would take some manuscripts and get a pedicure. Of course, the first place I thought of, one of those cheapy salons, had a half-hour wait, so I passed, and then thought about how nice a foot run would be, and so stopped at a place near work, where nothing is cheap, and actually made an appointment for an hour later. That's right--I played hooky to get a foot rub. That I worked the whole way through the experience mostly took away the guilt, but not as much as you would hope. (And let's not even talk about the economics of what I earned versus what I spent for that hour...)
And, I am completely embarrassed to report, I now have purple toenails. Well, not purple, exactly, but a nice lilac, not too bright or too dark or too grape-y, as I was assured by the nice woman who did the pedicure.
Why purple?
Because I panicked--there were too many choices, and red seemed too bright, and I hate pink, and I never, ever know what color to pick, and the woman told me it was one of the new colors and really pretty. And of the four weird colors I picked to try, it was the nicest.
But mostly, I ended up with purple because I'm insane: wracked with guilt over my formerly easy-going and totally mellow toddler, who, having figured out that now I abandon her for large parts of every day, clings to me, bawling, whenever I drop her off, and wakes in the night crying; fat and clumsy and uncomfortable and tired of being kicked in the ribs and sick to goddamn death of having to pee every five minutes; stressed out about the insane amount of (low-stakes, but still) work I need to get done in the next five weeks (please, please don't come early, baby!) ...
It sounded like such a good idea. Purple--why not?
Maybe that's what Sarah Palin is thinking. Vice President--why not? Life's pretty crazy anyway.
But you know what? The purple isn't actually looking so fun, now that the foot rub is over...
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Number of Days of Preschool Before the Snot Began to Flow
Two.
Coincidentally, the same number of colds the kid has had so far in her entire life.
Yep. Gotta love socialization.
Coincidentally, the same number of colds the kid has had so far in her entire life.
Yep. Gotta love socialization.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
And did I cry,
driving away from dropping the former Working Baby off at her first day of preschool?
Well, duh: of course I did.
And then I drove to work, parked, got out, walked down the street, stood in line at the coffee place, walked further down the street, climbed the stairs to the office ... all without stopping to look at dogs, walk on walls, use my knees to corral a squirming toddler against the milk/sugar station at the coffee shop while adding copious amounts of both to my coffee, check out the toy amusement parks in the window of the card shop, wait at the bottom of the stairs for while the Babe climbed "by! my! self!," looking back after each step to make sure I wasn't in violation of her "you stay at the bottom, mummy" edict.
Boring, yes. But I could get used to boring, I think.
Well, duh: of course I did.
And then I drove to work, parked, got out, walked down the street, stood in line at the coffee place, walked further down the street, climbed the stairs to the office ... all without stopping to look at dogs, walk on walls, use my knees to corral a squirming toddler against the milk/sugar station at the coffee shop while adding copious amounts of both to my coffee, check out the toy amusement parks in the window of the card shop, wait at the bottom of the stairs for while the Babe climbed "by! my! self!," looking back after each step to make sure I wasn't in violation of her "you stay at the bottom, mummy" edict.
Boring, yes. But I could get used to boring, I think.
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