The Baby Bean Blog

Moved: Update Your Links and Bookmarks

2006-06-18T21:27:00.000-04:00

This blog has been relocated to here,
i.e. http://blog.ozzilynbean.com

Like many before me, I've jumped ship and gone to Wordpress. Come on over and check out the new place!

It's very exciting over there. For instance, there are pictures of... ME.

Ten Month Letter

2006-06-17T22:32:00.000-04:00

Dear Ella,

You are ten months old now. It occurred to me this month that you have now been outside of my tummy longer than you were inside it. That makes you more…real…in some odd way. You seem more grown up, more independent, more your own person.

This past month you took your first steps by yourself. You still much prefer to hold onto our fingers while you walk, and who can blame you? It’s easier, as long as we go along with wherever you want to go. And if we dare to resist your leading, you become angry.

That’s another thing you’ve really developed this past month—getting angry. Just the other day, you were screaming in anger. Not crying, but yelling, pissed. I was startled, and I have to admit that I was a bit amused as well. You’re very cute when you’re angry. I promise not to ever say that to you. I know I never liked/like it when someone laughs at me when I’m angry. But it’s the truth of the matter in this instance, and hopefully when you’re reading this, you’re not angry, so it’s okay for me to admit it.

Another thing I’ve noticed this past month is that you’ve become less something that I bring along with me—like a backpack—and more like someone who I am going somewhere to hang out with. We have fun together, shopping, or at the zoo, or at the park. Speaking of the park, about two days ago, I put you in a swing for the first time, and you had the time of your life! We also got on a little see-saw, and that might have been even better than the swing. Whenever you are presented with a new thing or a new experience, you smile in happiness.

Except for food, of course. With that, you grimace and look at me as if to say, “What is this? Why have you given this to me? I reject it! Unless it is a pickle. A pickle, I would enjoy a great deal.” I find your love of pickles to be odd. They basically taste like vinegar and salt. Aren’t babies supposed to like sweet things? Apparently, not you. Heaven forbid we give you applesauce. Then you gag and spit it out like we’d just fed you poison.

One thing that has been fun about your advancing age is that you are getting more and more cuddly. When you are feeling tired or shy, you rest your head on my shoulder and often grab my shirt with your hand and pull yourself in close to my body. My heart melts everytime.

I don’t know what you have in store for me this coming month, but I can’t wait to find out.

Love,
Mommy

Falling, or Not So Much

2006-06-12T14:26:00.000-04:00

Ella is getting better and better at this walking unassisted thing, which is great except... The girl does not have a lot of experience falling. You see, I'm always there. Always. I catch her. She doesn't fall. I'm there so much, so close, that one of my friends thinks that Ella's first words will be, "Back off, Mom."

This being so close thing hasn't really been an issue up until now. But now I'm a little worried. If she had learned how to fall earlier, from lower heights, maybe she would be better equipped for falls from higher heights and faster speeds. In addition, if I wasn't so (okay I'll say it) enabling of her walking while holding onto our fingers, she would not go nearly as fast. She's also used to leaning forward on our fingers, so when she walks on her own, she's always leaning forward.

Well, I guess all of this is to say that I'm certain there are some nasty falls in her future. When I imagine other kids learning how to walk, they certainly fall, but they fall onto their bottoms, or they know how to hold out their hands to break their fall, or something like this. Ella looks like she's about to go crashing face first into the ground--or the corner of a table--before I catch her.

If you have kids and you remember this time--learning to walk--what do you think? Am I being paranoid? Or do I have a point?

Eight Months Down, One to Go

2006-06-08T08:08:00.000-04:00

My partner is now 36 weeks pregnant. It's the homestretch if you will.

She never particularly relished being pregnant they way that some women do, but it was not too difficult for her. But now here, at the end, it's getting harder: she's more tired and more uncomfortable. Ella still has this cold/virus thing, and that means that none of us are sleeping well at night. I'm sure that doesn't help matters any.

We met with our doula again yesterday. Have I ever mentioned that we decided to hire a doula for my partner's labor and birth? I can't remember, so if I'm repeating myself, I apologize. We decided to hire one because we felt like there was one of me and two people who might need me at the same time: my partner and Ella.

I have mentioned Ella's food issues, which basically means that at least 95% of what she consumes in a day is breastmilk. Another of her issues is refusal to take a bottle. Those two things together mean that she needs me to be around.

My partner, ideally, would like me to be around, too, but she can understand why I might not be able to whereas Ella cannot. So we hired a doula.

The plan is for all of us to go to the birth center together. As long as Ella is happy playing with the doula, I will be with my paartner. When Ella needs to eat--or just needs a little Mommy time--the doula will be with my partner. Since we're doing this at a birth center, it's a home-like environment, and we can all be together in the bedroom/birthing room or Ella can go to the family room or kitchen area if/when things are too intense in the bedroom. Hopefully, this will work out for the best for both my partner and Ella, and I can be there for both of them when they need me.

There is another upside of hiring a doula--one I had not anticiapated. We've had two lengthy prenatal appointments with Jessica (the doula), including yesterday, and one of the things that's been great about these meetings is that they really give us some time to concentrate on my partner's pregnancy. In general, Ella is the focus of our lives (you're shocked, I know), so having that time with the doula to be about my partner's pregnancy and birth has been really valuable.

Our meeting yesterday was also a reminder of where we are in this pregnancy--close to the end! It's exciting. Perhaps because of yesterday's meeting, last night I had a very vivid dream about the Expected One's birth. It was a boy!

First Steps, or Holy Crap

2006-06-06T04:56:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, Ella took her first, unassisted steps. I'm excited and proud, and I'm also terrified because life as I know it will now come crashing down all around me, and I mean that literally because I still haven't anchored the bookcases to the walls yet.

She certainly didn't walk across the room or anything. It was just two or three steps on her own. However, I heard recently that once they start taking steps, it's only a couple of weeks until they are competent walkers.

Now I'll tell you how it happened, for posterity's sake. She had been tearing around the house with her walking apparatus, i.e. me. She's quite demanding about it these days. She holds her hands out, clearly waiting for me to put forth my fingers, which she uses like handlebars. If I don't do it quickly enough, she narrows her eyes and grunts as if to say, "Come on, woman! Give me your fingers. Do it. DO IT!"

I walk behind her as she cruises from here to there. And she's gotten quite fast. Really, the kid is practically running. Oftentimes these days, she tries to go so fast that she outpaces her feet and would fall down face first except that I'm right there, holding onto her little hands, and I drag her back up to verticle.

So we were doing this yesterday, and she was just going, going, going, no particular destination, just on the move. And eventually, I got tired. Finally, I sat down on the floor and said, "The walking apparatus is tired, little one." She was okay with that for a few minutes, and then she held out her hands and grunted at me. I gave her my hands so that she could pull up, but then I remained sitting. Our coffee table was just about two feet from where we were, and it looks like this:

From Ikea, of course.

All of those cubbies used to be full of my crap, but now they are full of Ella's toys.

So there it was, two feet away. Ella stood there, looking at it. And then it happened. She bounced up and down, bending at her knees. She shook off my one hand that I had offered to her for balance while she stood. Then she did it. First, she lifted up her left foot and plopped it down. After a second or two, she did the same with her right foot. Next, the left foot went back into action and then.... the leaning tower of Ella started to fall, but I grabbed her and set her upright again.

The table was stiill a little ways away, so she took two more steps and then started to fall. I could have repeated this process once more, but I kept having these visions of her falling into the table, and with the table being so close at this point, I might not be able to grab her in time, and then she would of course hit the table right at her mouth, and all those teeth would slice through her lip, leaving her scarred for life and it would be all my fault.

I set her close enough to the table to get whatever toy she wanted.

And that's how it happened. First steps. We'll have to see how quickly this progresses.

And I better keep cracking on that baby-proofing thing.

Gay Nanny!

2006-06-05T12:09:00.000-04:00

I got an email with the subject line "Gay Nanny!" about a week ago. Since I have become terrified of having two infants to take care of, a little help seemed like a good idea. This girl was looking for fulltime work, and my partner and I do not have the resources for that, but it seems like there's a "nanny-share" trend going on, so I emailed her to see if she would consider splitting her time, and if she would, we would be interested in some of it. As it turns out. she was already talking to another woman about working 30 hours a week, leaving 10 hours available. Perfect! Well, perhaps not for my sanity, but for our budget.

She's moving to Philadelphia in the fall, so the gig wouldn't start until then, but that should be just fine as my partner will be home until then on maternity leave. The Lesbian Nanny (let's call her that, shall we?) was in Philadelphia this weekend, however, so we set up a time to meet.

She took the regional rail out to our place, and I met her at the train stop. I'd sent her some links to pictures of us so that she would know what we looked like. Not that the local train stop was hopping at 9:30am on a Saturday morning, but I thought she might like a peak at us. I didn't know what she looked like, though, so as I sat at the train stop and waited, I wondered. How butch? How femme? In other words, what kind of lesbian were we dealing with here?

The train arrived, and people filed off. Mostly middle-aged, very clearly straight people. One 50-ish heterosexual couple even blatantly flaunted their sexuality by walking arm and arm. The nerve! And then she arrived, and I knew exactly what kind of lesbian we were dealing with: Punk Lesbian.

She had dark brown hair that had been dyed platinum blonde at some point because about an inch of the tips remained that color. And I think she might have been sporting a mohawk at that time, because the top and back of her hair was longer than the sides, and that was also the part that was blonde. Besides her hair, she also had a nose piercing and a lip piercing.

In other words, her entire persona screamed one word: NANNY.

I walked her back to our house, and we spent a good deal of time together (with Ella and my partner of course). Lesbian Nanny seems like a nice person and has been taking care of kids for quite some time now. She's also an artist (naturally). And like most people (in my experience) who seem odd on the outside, she came across as a "normal", middle class, suburbia-raised person.

So we're going to offer her the gig. I think that our kids deserve a gay, punk nanny, don't you?

Paying Now for Happy and Quiet

2006-05-31T17:16:00.000-04:00

Well, Ella is sick again. What fun! She's not feverish or incredibly miserable. Just that fussiness that seems to go on and on and on. The biggest problem is that she's super congested, and that means that being horizontal is a no-no, and that means that sleeping for any length of time is a no-no. Lucky me! Now she's having diarrhea. And here I was about to switch to cloth diapers. Thank God that order was delayed.

Ella certainly isn't sick all the time, but she's sick enough to annoy me. I thought that by breastfeeding her and keeping her at home (i.e. not at daycare where germs supposedly abound), she would be relatively illness free. But no such luck. She's been sick three times in nine months.

I looked at her yesterday, and I said, "Okay, enough is enough." I explained the breastfeeding/no daycare situation to her, and then I asked her to account for these illnesses she's had. She refused to answer. Stubborn! I was left to ponder this conundrum without any input from her. I went to sleep last night, no closer to the answer.

Then today I was on the train, heading into the city. She was sitting beside me, and then she lunged forward towards the arm rest, lowered her head, and wrapped her entire mouth around it. She sat there, leaning sharply over, sucking on the arm rest. I saw this and thought about the incomprehensible number of hands that had touched that arm rest and how I could probably count on one hand the number of times said arm rest had been cleaned in the last 20 years. As soon as these thoughts entered my mind, they were quickly brushed aside by my observation of the fact that Ella was happy and quiet. I sat back and let her suck on the arm rest.

HAPPY AND QUIET ALWAYS WINS.

But as I sat back, a curious thing happened. Images began flashing through my mind.

Ella, at Lowes, sucking on the shopping cart bar.

Ella, at Target, sucking on the shopping cart bar.

Ella, at a restuarant--actually, several different restuarants--sucking on the edge of the table.

Suddenly, where she was picking up all these germs was no longer such a mystery.

Giving In to Pink

2006-05-28T20:45:00.000-04:00

I've been opposed to pink right from the beginning. I insisted on completely neutral outfits for Ella. At first, it was pretty easy. Since we didn't know her gender from ultrasound, people who bought us things prior to her birth had no choice but to go neutral. After her birth, anyone who asked us what we wanted or what size she was were told unequivocally that I wanted nothing pink. For the most part, people went along with what I asked. Those who did not ask us what we wanted, without fail, gave us something entirely pink. Those items were never used.

I don't know what, exactly, I was doing. I guess it had to do with labeling Ella a "little girl." I don't mean that in the sense that she was small and female. I mean all that society imposes--that she be sweet, and quiet, and nice, and clean in her frilly, perfect dresses. Actually, I wasn't so much trying to avoid the things she "should be" as I was trying to make sure she could be all the things that a "little girl" should not be: brave, loud, boisterous, strong, and dirty. I wanted her to have all the options.

So there was no pink, and there were no girly things period. Then, on the day my partner adopted Ella, I decided to go ahead and put her in a dress that my partner's cousin had given her. A denim dress with little dogs embroidered on it. It was a dress, but it wasn't pink. So I put her in it, and when I did, I couldn't believe how cute she looked. She was my little girl, in all the best ways those two words together can mean.

And since that time, slowly, very slowly, girlier things started to enter her wardrobe. Not too much. I still overwhelmingly bought gender-neutral things, at this point largely because I saw every purchase as not just Ella's, but also Little Two's, and since we couldn't find out his/her gender, that meant buying neutral. But still, a few girly things entered the wardrobe. And then, a few pink girly things entered the wardrobe. And I had to admit that Ella looked cute in those pink things.

Well, as of yesterday, I think the campaign against pink is officially over. We decided to get a new carseat for her. We got the Britax Marathon. Not only did we get the Marathon, but we got the Marathon in pink with little flowers. That's right. PINK WITH LITTLE FLOWERS. I could have gotten green, or gray, or something else very neutral. But I didn't. I got this:

What can I say? It's over. Pink wins.

Human Food? Oh No. Dog Bone? Oh YES!

2006-05-26T09:46:00.000-04:00

Comedy of Bananas

2006-05-23T21:55:00.000-04:00

So, excited about the new approach of offering Ella finger foods, I ran out to the grocery store to get appropriate food items for her. I got some new stuff that she hadn't had before, but I also got some foods that she had liked in the past. One of them was bananas, which she had never been crazy about, but which she had eaten. The pears would need time to ripen, and the prunes would still have to be stewed and pureed. So bananas it was to be.

I wanted the pieces to be of a size that she could pick up with her fingers. I also wanted them to be smallish, because Ella is obsessed with picking up small things right now. Nothing makes her happier than to sit on our carpet and pluck out the lint. This I like, because it validates my desire not to vacuum more often. So bite-sized banana pieces it was.

I cut the banana into fairly thin slices, about the thickness of a nickel, more or less. Then I cut them into quarters. I did all of this right on the highchair tray because I'm really big on not using more dishes than strictly necessary.

I snapped the tray into place in front of Ella, and then I put the knife in the sink and pulled a chair around to sit in front of her. She was busy pushing the banana pieces around the tray, which was not at all surprising to me. She was having fun. Or was she?

I sat down opposite her, and I went to pick up a banana piece to eat, because I was making this a shared meal so she'd get the idea that we, as humans, eat things other than the liquid which is squirted out of Mommy's nipples. I identified a banana piece, put my index finger on one side of it, and my thumb on the other. Then I tried to pick it up. Notice I said "tried." As I quickly found out, this was almost an impossible task.

I had no idea that picking a banana piece up off of a plastic tray could be like that scene in the Karate Kid where the old guy is trying to catch a fly with chopsticks. Except in my version, I never got to be like Ralph Macchio and catch one of the damn things.

Those banana pieces were little, frickin' Houdinis! You tried to pick one up, and they just squished right out. Although your fingers could not get any traction on them whatsoever, they were like glue on the plastic highchair tray, except it was some kind of glue that allowed them to slide all over the place. It was really quite funny.

I couldn't even pick one up, and here this was supposed to entice Ella to eat. It was kind of like, "Here, doesn't this look good? Don't you want one? Just kidding! Ha ha!"

I finally forced the banana bits onto a butter knife and ate them. Ella watched suspiciously and then demanded to be taken out of the highchair. Can't say I blamed her.

All About Food

2006-05-22T09:45:00.000-04:00

Last week was one of those crazy weeks where I felt sick the entire time, and my partner was out of town, and the baby refused to sleep, and it was just madness, I tell you. Madness! But now it's a new week, and it's time to re-dedicate myself to this blog. On top of that, I'm going to assign a theme to this week, and the theme is food.

I've been meaning to write about food for a while, because it's become something of an issue. Ella seemed really into her first meal. I thought that she was going to just chow down from there on out and not stop. I was actually afraid that she might wean from breastfeeding, and the reason that scared me a bit was because I also intend to breastfeed the Expected One, but that is premised on the fact that I'll still have milk. So the idea that I might be dried up before the Expected One got here was concerning to me. (I'm not going to go into the whole thing about breastfeeding Little Two because that's a post to itself. Basically, both my partner and I will both breastfeed him/her, and this will keep me from having to make bottles all day long and my partner from having to pump at work.)

Well, I need not have worried. Ella is far, far from weaning. In fact, she barely eats anything other than breastmilk. She seems to have no interest whatsoever in the food we offer her. We've managed to go through about ten different foods, and her favorites are prunes and pears. But even those, she'll reject as soon as eat.

At her nine month check-up last week, I talked to the nurse practitioner (who we saw because our regular doctor is out on maternity leave) about what's been going on with food. She said we can move onto finger foods, and I think that Ella might prefer them. She likes to do things on her own as opposed to having things happen to her, like having clothes put on her, or her diaper changed, or food being put in her mouth.

Then I read an article that basically said to let your baby feed him/herself from your plate. (Obviously, it's more involved than that, and if you are interested in the details, by all means, read the article.) So I'm going to do that. The big problem with this method is that I eat a lot of crap, and I would never let Ella eat the kind of sugary/salty/processed junk that I eat. So now I've got to eat better, too. Damn kids.

Nine Month Letter

2006-05-16T18:21:00.000-04:00

Dear Ella,

You are nine months old now, and more fun and more determined than you’ve ever been before. Just the other day, I heard you burst out laughing in the back room, where you were with Ima. You were laughing so hard that I had to call back and find out what was going on. Apparently, Chester was asking for water by pushing his empty bowl around with his nose, and you found that hysterical. I love the ease of your laugh and the ease of your smile.

As far as your determination, I am now more convinced than ever that you will skip crawling. You show absolutely no interest in it whatsoever, and now you can walk with competence while holding onto our fingers. You can stand completely on your own, and you’ve made some efforts to walk on your own, except that when you do that, you don’t move your feet at all. Instead, you lead with your head, and that means that you are not moving forward unless you consider a head-dive to be a forward movement. Of course, we’re always right there to catch you, so the head-dive never completes itself. This is often a scary moment for anyone who happens to be watching. For instance, yesterday we were at the doctor’s office for your nine month check-up, and I said, “She can stand on her own,” and then you stood on your own and the nurse was very impressed. As you stood there, it became clear that you wanted to move, so she said, “She might take her first step. How exciting!” Then you moved your head in the direction you wanted to go, your feet firmly planted, so of course you fell forward towards the hard, tiled surface of the office floor. The nurse gasped as I reached around you and snatched you up, safe from harm. I’ve been successful thus far, but I have to admit that I’m afraid for the day I won’t be there when you do that, because I have very little doubt that day will come. I just hope it comes when there is a nice, deep, soft carpet for you to land on.

One other very noticeable thing that you’ve been up to this past month is growing hair. Every day, it seems like there is more and more of it. It is thicker and longer, and that development could not have come at a better time because you have also figured out how to remove your hat, and now that you know that, it is your mission never to wear a hat again. It is warm enough, most days, for you to go hatless, but I worry about you getting a sunburn on your head. So grow, hair, grow! Fill in and protect your cute scalp from the sun.

We get out most days and enjoy the world around us. You have a tan on your cheeks and nose, and if someone didn’t know better, they might think you were a little farm baby instead of a city girl. Now that we are getting into short-sleeve weather, you will certainly have an official farmer’s tan sooner rather than later. I can’t wait to spend all those days in the sunshine with you.

Love,
Mommy

Basically, My First Mother's Day Annoyed Me

2006-05-14T23:15:00.000-04:00

I wrote very recently that my aunt made the mistake of saying that this Mother's Day was "almost" my partner's first, the almost being because she hasn't given birth to Little Two yet. My aunt had not thought of my partner as being a mother to Ella. I was aggravated by that. No, that's not fair. I was pissed. How could she be so unthinking? So inconsiderate? So ignorant? I mean, how complicated was this? There is a baby with two parents. The two parents are women. Women who are parents are called mothers. Hence, Mother's Day applies to both. Is this rocket science? You, my straight readers, could you have come up with this realization on your own? Or would the thought never have occurred to you that my partner is a mother and therefore entitled to Mother's Day?

So my aunt pissed me off because I thought that the above logic was pretty obvious. But now I'm thinking, maybe I shouldn't have been so angry with her. My partner's own parents didn't think she qualified for Mother's Day! I was shocked. I mean, I can see how someone might not think about my partner if they were "my" people, i.e. my family and friends. But her own family? Not to think this through? Not to realize her role with Ella? I was shocked. These people are completely, 100% okay with the fact that their daughter is gay. They have always been more than welcoming and never been anything less than supportive of our relationship and our little nuclear family. So it's not about that. They're not in some kind of denial.

So rather than basking in the glow of another day on the calendar when I get presents (yippee!), I was rudely interupted several times with stupid people. I would answer the phone, and the person on the other end--my partner's mother or father (who were divorced a long time ago, so these are two totally separate conversations)--would wish me a happy Mother's Day. After some chit-chat, I would get ready to hand the phone over and say something like, "Now you can wish the same to your daughter," and they'd say, "Well, next year." Then I would be forced to correct them, and I was as polite as I could be, but believe me, I wanted to say, "Stop being an imbecil and think for a second!" To top it all off, I think her father actually expects the kids to call one of us Dad! I can't even wrap my head around that one!

I wonder if this is extra confusing to people because my partner is pregnant right now. If she weren't, would people be making this deliniation between who's a mother and who is not? I think maybe not. But maybe they would anyway.

Imbecils!

So, as I said, I spent the vast majority of Mother's Day being annoyed. And in addition to that, I spent the evening lying in bed with a fever and throwing up my dinner. In other words, Mother's Day sucked the big one. Except that I did get a very cool present from my partner, and I also gave her a great one too.

Presents help.

Swimming With the Fishies

2006-05-13T12:51:00.000-04:00

Now that it is the weekend and there is increased staffing at Chez Oz, I am able to tell of the harrowing experience I had this past Thursday.

It all started a couple of weeks ago. One of moms in my moms group, Tracy, is in training to be a doula. Before you can be certified as a doula, you have to go to a training and then have at least 15 hours of experience with at least three different women in active labor. One of Tracy's friends was pregnant and due on May 5, and Tracy was going to go to the birth and assist in her doula-in-training capacity. Sounds good, right?

But here's the thing. Tracy is in my moms group because.... she's a mom! Of a baby the same age as Ella, a boy named Aaron. So what to do with him? Ask Oz to watch him, of course! And for some unknown reason, when she asked me to do this a couple of weeks ago, I said yes. Sure. Why not? And you know what Tracy did? She took me seriously!

On Thursday, at 6:30am, our phone rings. Time to watch Aaron. Not even, time to watch him in half an hour while we come over there so that you can mentally process this fact through your sleepy, dazed thoughts. Time to watch him NOW. Tracy was already with the birthing woman. Her husband (who had to go to work) was sitting outside of our house with Aaron.

I opened the door, Aaron was dropped off. And then there were two babies. My mind started to implode. WHAT HAD I BEEN THINKING? There were two babies. Initially, it seemed okay because there were two of us adults there too. My partner doesn't go to work until 8am. But my mind kept racing forward to the time when it would be just me (i.e. one) and them (i.e. two). At that point, my brain froze in place and I could not think at all.

I'd been supposed to have lunch with my mother that day, and to do that, I had told my moms group that I wouldn't be there (we meet on Thursdays). As I thought of the logistics of getting two infants on a train, downtown, to a restaurant, and back home, I quickly changed my mind. The idea of being surrounded by five other moms (also a familiar environment to Aaron) seemed like a much better option. I'd do that, which would take up a few hours, but what about the rest of the day?

I convinced my partner to go into work half an hour late, which meant she would be home until 8:30am. As that time got closer, it became clear that Ella wanted to go to sleep, but she couldn't because the presense of Aaron was too exciting. As for Aaron, he was also getting sleepy, and honestly, I had no idea how to get him to go to sleep. That's when an amazingly brilliant thought (if I do say so myself) occured to me: Put them both in the car and drive, drive, DRIVE.

Quickly, I installed Aaron's carseat in our car, then we loaded them in, and I gave my partner a ride into work just to have a destination. I also put everything in the car that we could possibly need for the day, because I realized we might not come back to the house until after the group met. Luckily, both babies fell asleep in the car (big sigh of relief). After dropping my partner off, I decided to head to the King of Prussia Mall. Babies love malls. Lots to look at, no time to be miserable. Sounded like a good solution to kill time before the moms group met up at noon.

I pulled into the mall parking lot at 10:00am. Both babies had woken up, and I was gritting my teeth and getting ready to make a go of it. I put Aaron in our stroller and was about ready to strap Ella into the Ergo when my cell phone rang. It was Tracy! Hallelujah!

Her friend had already given birth. I had to run into the mall to grab a present for my mother, but as I knew exactly what and where it was, Tracy and I made plans to meet within half an hour at a cafe near the birth center where her friend had delivered.

So in the end, I never really had two babies all by myself. My partner was with me until they fell asleep, and the short, short time I had them in the mall didn't amount to much.

Earlier, when I had called my mother to cancel our lunch plans, she'd said to me, "This will be good practice for you, having two babies to take care of." And while it is true that we're going to have two babies here, it's not really the same thing. A newborn and a pre-toddler who have grown up together and know their surroundings, the people who are taking care of them, and how things work in a household is quite a different thing from two pre-toddlers who aren't on the same schedule, etc., etc.

So that experience really didn't seem like practice. Unless by practice, you mean something like rowing out to the middle of a lake, throwing someone over who doesn't know how to swim, and saying, "This will be good swimming practice for you."

Destiny's Shoes

2006-05-12T08:55:00.000-04:00

I actually have a very interesting post to write, but I don't have any time to do it. Oh well, too bad for you.

In other news, I recently found a pair of baby shoes online, and now I wonder if I must buy them. After all, they were named after me.

See Kai Run: Oz

Rolly Baby

2006-05-09T01:11:00.000-04:00

First of all, is it "rolly" or "rollie"? Well, whichever it is, she's doing it, and she does it mostly at night. This is, perhaps, because it is the only opportunity she has to do it. All day long, she's upright working on that walking nonsense. And much like I assume I will feel when she starts walking on her own, I'm starting to wonder if encouraging her to roll over was a good idea after all.

Since we co-sleep, I now find myself, more often than not, feeling the rat-tat-tat of her little hands and feet against me. She used to get me every now and then, but as long as I stayed out of her arm-span, I was safe. Now the concept of "arm-span" is a mute point. She rolls this way; she rolls that way; and before you know it, she's right up against me, rat-tat-tat. And I guess the deal with being the Mommy means that I get all this attention. My partner gets off scot free! Lucky ~~bitch~~ girl.

The good news is that I finally ordered the twin bed to go alongside our queen and thereby increase the sleeping space. In co-sleeping circles, we have entered into the realm of the "super-bed." I like to think that this means I'll be able to get some sleeping space, but I'm very afraid that the little tike is just going to keep rolling after me....

A Sense of Direction

2006-05-07T20:24:00.000-04:00

Ella can stand independently now. It was no fluke two weeks ago. But now that she can do it, she doesn't see much point in it. I mean, what's more boring than just standing still somewhere? Especially when there's an entire world out there to explore and discover and to put into your mouth? So usually when I get her to stand on her own, she'll do so for a short time, and then she'll smile at me and fall face forward into my body. So much for that she says.

Walking, on the other hand, shows more promise. She's not doing that on her own yet, and I am thankful--SO THANKFUL--for that. We are not in any way ready for her to move around of her own volition. But, nonetheless, we cannot deny the fact that independent walking is coming sooner rather than later.

She's been practicing walking for quite some time now. I know I've mentioned many times before that (assisted) standing and walking are her favorite activities. It used to be that she just wanted to walk. We'd give her our fingers, and she'd walk towards us. Slowly, we'd scoot back on our behinds to give her another foot or so to work with. And that was the way it went, from one side of the room to the other, Point A to Point B. Then we'd turn her around, face her back where she came from, and she'd return to Point A and then start the entire process over again. The destination was not the objective. It was getting there that mattered.

Not anymore.

Now she wants to go there. She wants to get to that thing. And she wants to get there quickly, too. No more scooting on our asses. Uh-uh. We are walking backwards in front of her or walking behind her with our fingers out front. Have I mentioned that I have a bad back, and this isn't helping anything? And my partner is 7 months pregnant, and hunching over isn't exactly on the top of her list of things to do?

To top it all off, Ella is not understanding or appreciative of the sacrifices (read: our backs) we are making for her. She has the nerve to get frustrated when either of us does not understand her cues and therefore does not put our fingers/walking apparatus in the right direction. Or, heaven forbid, we actually prevent her from going towards the object of her desire--an open can of paint, for instance. Let's just say that she's not 2 years old yet, but I think we're getting a sneak preview.

Since Ella has figured out that she can play with more things that those things that are within 18 inches of her, it's a whole new ballgame. She wants TO MOVE. She has an agenda. And we, her faithful servants, had better get cracking on this baby-proofing thing.

Eight Teeth

2006-05-05T10:17:00.000-04:00

Back on track. Eight months old, and eight teeth. She's only got 10 days left of being eight months old, so she got this tooth in under the wire. Whew!

In all seriousness, I'm a little bit nervous about what comes next: molars. Babies are supposed to like them even less than the front teeth, and the front teeth coming in hasn't exactly been a picnic. The books say that they get about four teeth every four months once they start. Ella has gotten eight teeth in five months. I'm afraid. Very afraid.

Who's Who

2006-05-04T01:34:00.000-04:00

We've been asked several times what names Ella will call us. Heck, that's a question that we ask our procreating lesbian friends, too. It's fun to hear what people are coming up with and why. So I certainly don't mind the question. It seems like most lesbians out there are using Mom/Mommy for one mother and Mama for the other. More power to 'em. We didn't go that route because those two names are too close, in my opinion. We wanted to use Mom/Mommy, and for the other name, we decided to go with something that doesn't start with the letter M, and that's how we ended up with Ima.

Ima is actually the Hebrew word for "mother," which is funny because we thought of the name before we knew that. I was playing around with the name Mommy and tried reversing the sounds. Instead of Mom - Y, I tried Y - Ma. We liked it, and then later we found out that Ima was a word for mother, and that finalized it for us.

So I'm used to the questions, "What does Ella call you? What does she call your partner?" What surprises me a little is the question we've heard lately, which is, "What with the new baby call you? What will he or she call your partner?" When I say that he or she will call us the same thing that Ella does, i.e. I will be Mommy and my partner with be Ima, people seem surprised. It's as if they expect "my partner's baby" to call her Mommy and then call me Ima. Only, the new baby is not my partner's baby. S/he is our baby, just the same way that Ella is. They are not different. Ella is not "mine," and the new baby will not be "my partner's." They are ours.

It's sort of along the lines of a comment my aunt made recently when she wrote in an email that this year would be my first Mother's Day and "almost" my partner's, the implication being that since my partner hasn't given birth yet, she's not quite a mother. I found the comment extremely insulting, and what surprises me about it the most is that my aunt's husband is not the biological father of their son. He adopted my cousin after my cousin became an adult, and he's been his only father since he was around six years old. If anyone should understand that biology does not make you into a parent--but rather being a parent makes you into a parent--it should be this aunt of mine.

But, apparently, she also has it in her mind that these two children of ours are not the same. For her, I suppose Ella is more my daughter than my partner's, and Little Two will be more my partner's than mine. And if the fact that she sees my family that way didn't make me so angry, I would feel sorry for her that she can't see who we really are and how we love each other and our children.

At Last, It's All Working Out According to Plan

2006-05-02T09:09:00.000-04:00

Before she was born, I didn't have a lot of expectations of what Ella would look like. I had hoped for a few things, like blue eyes. But I didn't expect much. Except for one thing. Blonde hair. I expected her to have blonde hair. Partly because I have blonde hair, although it's quite dark now and might be crossing that line to brown. But mostly I expected it because most white children have blonde hair when they are very young. Even my partner, who has very dark brown hair had blonde hair until she was about 4 or 5 years old. Not every white baby has blonde hair, but most of them do, and so I expected Ella to have blonde hair for a few years too.

So when she came out with hair like this, I was surprised.

Ella, four days old, our first day home from the hospital

And I mean really surprised. It wasn't until I saw that dark hair that I realized just how much I had been counting on blonde hair. My surprise was so profound that part of me, deep inside, actually questioned for the briefest of moments if she was really mine. It feels weird to admit that, but it's the truth.

Several people told me that her hair might change color, that this dark hair might fall out to be replaced by hair of a different color. I looked at baby pictures of other babies, now blonde who'd had dark hair as newborns. I was even startled to look at my own newborn pictures and see that my hair was actually quite dark when I was born. So maybe, maybe, I'd still end up with the blonde baby after all.

Now, I think I can officially say, she's blonde. Her newborn hair has fallen out and is steadily being replace with "real" hair, and the real hair looks blonde.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

See? Blonde hair, just like I ordered.

Something So Small

2006-04-30T20:16:00.000-04:00

I've been buying a few clothes, here and there, for the Expected One that I can't resist. I say it that way because we already have everything we need. Little Two will be born in the summer, just like Little One, so we've got the right size in the right season. And since we did not know Ella's gender before she was born, we've got just about everything in neutral colors (my dislike of pink also contributes to that). Ella was only about 10 weeks old when we found out that my partner was pregnant, so as I've continued to buy things for Ella, I've stayed pretty neutral, gender-wise, so that we would not need to re-buy clothes if the new baby is a boy. The point of all this is that we've got an entire wardrobe for a baby 0-12 months, no matter the gender. But even so, I've still bought a few new onesies and the such.

I haven't seen Ella's 0-3 month onesies for quite some time. She'd outgrown them easily by the time she was two months old (at two months, she already weighed 16 pounds!). I packed them away to make room for the new size(s), and I haven't seen them since. So a week ago, when I bought two new 0-3 month onesies, I was taken aback by how small they are. And we will have a baby that small in just a couple of months. Holding one of those onesies up to Ella, I can't believe she ever fit into them (no matter how briefly).

Standing On Her Own Two Feet

2006-04-27T22:00:00.000-04:00

Today, Ella stood on her own, without my assistance, for 15 seconds or so. It was quite impressive. She was kind enough to do it in a room full of people so that everyone could have the opportunity to bask in her glory. A couple of the other babies in my moms group are already crawling around. "Ha! Crawling! Watch me STAND!" she seemed to say.

Well, actually, she seemed to have very little interest in their crawling except that the crawling babies inevitably came over to where she was and took the toy she was playing with and then crawled away with it. She wasn't distraught. More like, "Wait, what just happened?"

And then there was the aforementioned standing. She sort of looked like she was on a surfboard or something. Arms outstretched, hips jerking back and forth a bit. After about 10 seconds, she was clearly pleased with herself and started to thwack her arms up and down, which she does when she's very excited. Shortly after the thwacking (which perhaps unbalanced her a bit), she started to head dive into the floor, but her hovering mother grabbed her with about six inches to spare and saved that beautiful face.

Speaking of beautiful faces, have I mentioned that her favorite food is prunes?

30 Weeks

2006-04-26T18:05:00.000-04:00

Somewhere around now, my partner is 30 weeks pregnant. I preface it that was because the week counting system is flawed and not because I don't know when she got knocked up. After all, I did it. Anyway, a human pregnancy is supposed to last (give or take) 40 weeks. Those of you who are very astute might have taken note of the fact that the insemination took place on a Tuesday. So one would think that the weeks would change on Tuesdays, yes? But for some reason, the pregnancy wheel puts her weeks ending on Thursdays. I really, really don't get it. So I sort of think of Wednesday as the compromise day, and that means that she's 30 weeks pregnant.

But I digress.

This is quite cool. 30 weeks really sounds like you're on the downslope of the pregnancy, closing in on the end. She's 3/4ths of the way through. Only 10 weeks to go. The baby is coming, and sooner rather than later.

That was enough euphemisms to last you for most of your life probably.

The point is that I will be meeting my second child soon. I'm quite excited.

She Rolled Over Again

2006-04-25T08:48:00.000-04:00

That makes two times now, with about a month long pause between rolling episodes. It's good to take a break, you know, to catch your breath. This roll was the same as the first roll--tummy to back, same direction, same coaxing from yours truly. But I think she might be getting ready to roll on her own simply because she wants to and not because I'm maniacly shaking a rattle over her head and she flips over to see what all the racket is about. Now, when lying on her back, she rolls onto her side all the time with absolutely no provocation from me. So, I assume, one of these days, she'll actually roll over onto her tummy.

In other news, she's getting more and more competent at standing and walking--always with our help, of course. But it's clear that she's seriously thinking about ditching us because she now realizes that all we are is dead weight. I've actually wondered if she will walk on her own before she becomes a competent roller.

Okay, This Has Nothing to Do With Babies

2006-04-23T20:19:00.000-04:00

But as a side note to my previous post, are these not the coolest bookcases you've ever seen in your life?

This image is from an architecture book called 10x10_2. This book was "recommended" to me by Amazon.com because I recently bought a book of the work of an Japanese architect named Tadao Ando who mostly designs buildings using concrete. Peter, Ella's biological father/sperm donor, dreams of building a house made of concrete, which seemed absurd to me and also ugly. But then I heard of this Ando guy, and I decided to check out what concrete was capable of. Still haven't looked at it, so I can't give you my final opinion, but that's how 10x10_2 came into my life, and via that, the above bookcases, which are frickin' cool. I would almost buy that book just to have a closer look at those bookcases except that the damn thing costs $47.25.

Hey, I even sort of managed to make this a little bit about Ella with the Peter reference. Clever, aren't I?