We just returned from a busy and beautiful trip to upstate New York. While I get my head back on straight and compose a brilliant travelogue of our adventures, you can watch this:
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Thursday, September 24, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
take out and delivery
When I found out I was pregnant with Auden, I was so clueless about what to do that I called Planned Parenthood. They were like, uhhh, yeah, you're going to want to find an obstetrician... we take care of the whole before-you-get-pregnant thing. This time around, I was only slightly more savvy. I called my "regular" doctor (whom I had seen just once... we're new to Milwaukee, remember), and she recommended an OB in the same hospital. So I went.
I knew even before the first visit though that I wasn't at all interested in having a baby at a hospital, and although I ended up telling the triage nurse all about my plans to look into birth centers and midwives in the area, I didn't know how to broach that subject with the doc. So when we met and she asked whether I had any questions for her, I cheerfully shrugged and said, "nope!" to which she responded with a rather quizzical look. (Honestly, though, this has always been a weird dynamic for me: I feel like I should have questions for doctors -- questions that are complex and intriguing and show how very smart I am -- but I kind of shut down and clam up in those offices) So I left the hospital feeling oddly scandalous, like an undercover agent.
I kept up the deceit through subsequent visits, and I know it's utterly ridiculous, but now feel like I'm going to have to break up with her. And I'll most likely blurt out something like, "I was just using you for your ultrasound machine!" After we go over those results of course. Which, oooh, here, have a look:
Whee! Little hands and little spine and little hip bones and little heart with four chambers!
Where was I? Oh yes: after a little research and an info-seminar on "Birthing Options," we found a great midwife and decided that we are going to have this baby at home.
We loved our experience at the birth center in San Diego, and this time we feel even more confident. As in, there's no way I'm having another 27-hour labor, and hey, anything shorter than 14 will be a comparative breeze! Plus, I really love the idea of not having to drive anywhere in February.
Jason said, "It's like take-out!"
*
I knew even before the first visit though that I wasn't at all interested in having a baby at a hospital, and although I ended up telling the triage nurse all about my plans to look into birth centers and midwives in the area, I didn't know how to broach that subject with the doc. So when we met and she asked whether I had any questions for her, I cheerfully shrugged and said, "nope!" to which she responded with a rather quizzical look. (Honestly, though, this has always been a weird dynamic for me: I feel like I should have questions for doctors -- questions that are complex and intriguing and show how very smart I am -- but I kind of shut down and clam up in those offices) So I left the hospital feeling oddly scandalous, like an undercover agent.
I kept up the deceit through subsequent visits, and I know it's utterly ridiculous, but now feel like I'm going to have to break up with her. And I'll most likely blurt out something like, "I was just using you for your ultrasound machine!" After we go over those results of course. Which, oooh, here, have a look:
Whee! Little hands and little spine and little hip bones and little heart with four chambers!
Where was I? Oh yes: after a little research and an info-seminar on "Birthing Options," we found a great midwife and decided that we are going to have this baby at home.
We loved our experience at the birth center in San Diego, and this time we feel even more confident. As in, there's no way I'm having another 27-hour labor, and hey, anything shorter than 14 will be a comparative breeze! Plus, I really love the idea of not having to drive anywhere in February.
Jason said, "It's like take-out!"
*
Friday, September 4, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
dance dance evolution
Either Auden followed that link to breakdancing baby, or he's been studying butoh behind our backs:
(Also, check out the new action word! That's "jump" in case you didn't hear it)
(Also, check out the new action word! That's "jump" in case you didn't hear it)
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
wonder of wonders
You may have guessed from the totalitarian government black-out on any and all reporting on the diaper-free front, but I have for the most part given up on that. For like, the last year.
It was so much of a pain in my ass that I didn't want to push for it anymore, but I was still reluctant to admit defeat. Oh, I had such high hopes! But I couldn't argue with a thrashing writhing screaming kid -- that message is clear enough. He Did Not Want to Sit on the Potty.
So the latest development has surprised and delighted me all the more: for the past couple of weeks, we've been letting Auden go naked-butt in the mornings and usually at some point he will stop and grab his gut or give that look of intense concentration that can't mean anything else, and we grab the potty and lo, We're In Business. Then he makes a big production of taking the poo-in-the-potty to the toilet where he dumps it in, flushes it, and we clap and cheer like happy dorks.
I'm not sure exactly how this happened, but I can tell you that it was Jason who became diligent about giving him potty chances again, because I may or may not have become entirely soured on this endeavor. Also, I got a book on construction trucks, which served as the perfect motivator and distractor.
But check it out, it gets EVEN BETTER: this morning while neither Jason nor I was paying attention, Auden sat down on his potty of his own volition and did it HIMSELF, then got up and pointed to it. Jason realized what he'd done and we repeated our enthusiastic flushing ceremony.
For some reason this only works with poo, though. And I'm sure Auden knows upwards of 30 different signs and STILL won't do the one for potty.
But nevertheless, my unwavering parenting philosophy (Take What You Can Get) applies here, and we celebrate this decisive victory in the war on dirty diapers.
*
It was so much of a pain in my ass that I didn't want to push for it anymore, but I was still reluctant to admit defeat. Oh, I had such high hopes! But I couldn't argue with a thrashing writhing screaming kid -- that message is clear enough. He Did Not Want to Sit on the Potty.
So the latest development has surprised and delighted me all the more: for the past couple of weeks, we've been letting Auden go naked-butt in the mornings and usually at some point he will stop and grab his gut or give that look of intense concentration that can't mean anything else, and we grab the potty and lo, We're In Business. Then he makes a big production of taking the poo-in-the-potty to the toilet where he dumps it in, flushes it, and we clap and cheer like happy dorks.
I'm not sure exactly how this happened, but I can tell you that it was Jason who became diligent about giving him potty chances again, because I may or may not have become entirely soured on this endeavor. Also, I got a book on construction trucks, which served as the perfect motivator and distractor.
But check it out, it gets EVEN BETTER: this morning while neither Jason nor I was paying attention, Auden sat down on his potty of his own volition and did it HIMSELF, then got up and pointed to it. Jason realized what he'd done and we repeated our enthusiastic flushing ceremony.
For some reason this only works with poo, though. And I'm sure Auden knows upwards of 30 different signs and STILL won't do the one for potty.
But nevertheless, my unwavering parenting philosophy (Take What You Can Get) applies here, and we celebrate this decisive victory in the war on dirty diapers.
*
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
dancing, of a sort
Auden may not be in the same league as, say, Breakdancing Baby, but he does like to boogie when the mood is just right. Mainly the dancing involves clapping. In this clip it kind of seems like he's paying attention to the actual instruments in the music, though, which I'm attributing to his unbridled genius.
The dancing continues in this next clip with Auden's signature move, The Lean. Also, at the end is evidence for why it's so hard to film him doing anything -- he sees the camera and runs toward it going "baby! baby!" demanding to see videos of himself.
(He also does this whenever we sit down at the computer, crowing "baby! baby!" until we watch the latest one over and over, making me fear for the unchecked narcissism of his entire generation.)
But damn he's cute!
*
The dancing continues in this next clip with Auden's signature move, The Lean. Also, at the end is evidence for why it's so hard to film him doing anything -- he sees the camera and runs toward it going "baby! baby!" demanding to see videos of himself.
(He also does this whenever we sit down at the computer, crowing "baby! baby!" until we watch the latest one over and over, making me fear for the unchecked narcissism of his entire generation.)
But damn he's cute!
*
Thursday, August 6, 2009
construction
There's a big construction project going on just up the street from our house, and it's become part of our morning routine to check it out.
Auden is totally ga-ga for trucks of all kinds, but especially the construction variety: bad-ass crawler back hoes with their big scoopers, hither and thither front-end loaders, and dump trucks full of gravel. He will sit transfixed, reverently watching the chain-smoking mustachioed workers, brrrrmmmmm-ing and beep-beep-ing along with the massive machines.
The other day we went with our neighbor's son, Jack (whom Auden ADORES, so it was doubly exciting). We all watched as they guided giant concrete pipes into the ground under the street.
When I was pregnant with Auden, and we found out he was a boy, this is the kind of stuff that I was terrified about. I know, right? Silly. But I felt so unprepared for the foreignness of boy-play -- stereotypical yet right on the money, as it turns out -- of trucks and trains and everything that GOES and DOES. I suppose guns and swords are next?
The funny thing is, now I'm really into it. It's not just that I love whatever brings him joy, which I do to a weak-kneed fault, but the more we hang out around the construction site, the more I appreciate all the engineering and apprenticing and skill and physical strength involved. This is a particularly big project -- they're ripping up the street to put in 8-ft sewage pipes -- and I marvel at the mountain of work before them, which they divide and accomplish in a hundred separate tasks, one after the other.
The trucks themselves are also marvelous: out-sized simulacra of our own limbs with hydraulic muscle; digging and filling, tamping and bracing, pumping, hauling, stacking, leveling... and I don't even see what's going on underground.
I mean, all this WORK so that we can have a functioning sewer system! Think about it next time you flush.
*
Auden is totally ga-ga for trucks of all kinds, but especially the construction variety: bad-ass crawler back hoes with their big scoopers, hither and thither front-end loaders, and dump trucks full of gravel. He will sit transfixed, reverently watching the chain-smoking mustachioed workers, brrrrmmmmm-ing and beep-beep-ing along with the massive machines.
The other day we went with our neighbor's son, Jack (whom Auden ADORES, so it was doubly exciting). We all watched as they guided giant concrete pipes into the ground under the street.
When I was pregnant with Auden, and we found out he was a boy, this is the kind of stuff that I was terrified about. I know, right? Silly. But I felt so unprepared for the foreignness of boy-play -- stereotypical yet right on the money, as it turns out -- of trucks and trains and everything that GOES and DOES. I suppose guns and swords are next?
The funny thing is, now I'm really into it. It's not just that I love whatever brings him joy, which I do to a weak-kneed fault, but the more we hang out around the construction site, the more I appreciate all the engineering and apprenticing and skill and physical strength involved. This is a particularly big project -- they're ripping up the street to put in 8-ft sewage pipes -- and I marvel at the mountain of work before them, which they divide and accomplish in a hundred separate tasks, one after the other.
The trucks themselves are also marvelous: out-sized simulacra of our own limbs with hydraulic muscle; digging and filling, tamping and bracing, pumping, hauling, stacking, leveling... and I don't even see what's going on underground.
I mean, all this WORK so that we can have a functioning sewer system! Think about it next time you flush.
*
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