The doctors, it turned out, were really great. Exactly what I hoped for: open to my many questions, aware of the risks of the d&c, able to talk about my worries and tell me about the options of just waiting or the pill. And then, once they had given all that information and answered, really, all of our questions, they were more than willing to let us talk about it and decide what we wanted. Even if it was not what they recommended.
It was exactly what I needed. And I opted to stay in hospital for the d&c.
The procedure was in the morning, in the hands of the director of gynecology, who has done many hundreds of these procedures, and whom I trusted given his demeanor the day before. He wasn't pushy. He didn't seem like he was going to be overly aggressive with the procedure. Sometimes, living in Switzerland is really a good thing.
By mid afternoon, the local anesthesia wore off, and I went home. And felt fine. And calm. Physically, mentally, emotionally.
Things had started, circled, oscillated, and settled down, and there was closure.
And I had some smoked salmon for breakfast on Sunday.
Monday, February 13, 2012
By the end of the week.
Feb 9th
Same building, same floor layout. The lounge area has a great view over the old city and the lake. The kitchen, just like downstairs, 6 floors down, where I sent my first week with A. But there are no bottles of fomula or breast milk in this kitchen, no new babies in the lounge. There are women here, in rooms with the same patterned linens as downstairs. But this is a quieter floor. Less newborn cries. Probably still tears, but quieter, from some rooms.
I keep hoping the miscarriage will start, so I don't have to make the decision, about having the surgical procedure or asking for a pill to do the work. I'm reluctant to wait for my body to "do what it does naturally" because it's been a pretty poor performer so far in these matters in the past. And because I am scared to have extreme pain and bleeding at home in the middle of the night where A might have to hear, see me cry, be rushed off to a friend place for e night. Where M might have to call the dog sitter to get the dog in the morning and me to the hospital if things don't go the way they are supposed to. Ey didn't with the first pregnancy, with the birth, with the breast feeding or with the depression. If I truly listen to my body It keeps saying "yeah, um, I'm not really sure how this is supposed to work, so you'd best get some help."
And the options, as usual, are not simple. A procedure that might damage my fertility but be over by tomorrow, or a pill that could induce a few day extremely painful miscarriage. And the latter might not be complete and I end up here again.
So here is what I've learned about a d&c. It is a bit barbaric in the sense that current practice does not involve any looking to see what is being done. No ultrasound monitoring or camera to make sure that only what is necessary is being removed. And when more is removed than necessary, this can cause scarring that can lead to infertility. More miscarriages or just no more getting pregnant.
The pill, whatever version, is painful, takes longer, messier, and possibly still requires a d&c after all the pain and difficulty if not all the placenta comes out. But so far, apart from that I'm not sure if it is the worse choice for me. It just hasn't been used that much yet to treat miscarriages, so our new Obgyn didn't know much about it.
So here I am, at the university hospital, waiting to meet some doctors and get some answers. About their practices, statistics, options.
Same building, same floor layout. The lounge area has a great view over the old city and the lake. The kitchen, just like downstairs, 6 floors down, where I sent my first week with A. But there are no bottles of fomula or breast milk in this kitchen, no new babies in the lounge. There are women here, in rooms with the same patterned linens as downstairs. But this is a quieter floor. Less newborn cries. Probably still tears, but quieter, from some rooms.
I keep hoping the miscarriage will start, so I don't have to make the decision, about having the surgical procedure or asking for a pill to do the work. I'm reluctant to wait for my body to "do what it does naturally" because it's been a pretty poor performer so far in these matters in the past. And because I am scared to have extreme pain and bleeding at home in the middle of the night where A might have to hear, see me cry, be rushed off to a friend place for e night. Where M might have to call the dog sitter to get the dog in the morning and me to the hospital if things don't go the way they are supposed to. Ey didn't with the first pregnancy, with the birth, with the breast feeding or with the depression. If I truly listen to my body It keeps saying "yeah, um, I'm not really sure how this is supposed to work, so you'd best get some help."
And the options, as usual, are not simple. A procedure that might damage my fertility but be over by tomorrow, or a pill that could induce a few day extremely painful miscarriage. And the latter might not be complete and I end up here again.
So here is what I've learned about a d&c. It is a bit barbaric in the sense that current practice does not involve any looking to see what is being done. No ultrasound monitoring or camera to make sure that only what is necessary is being removed. And when more is removed than necessary, this can cause scarring that can lead to infertility. More miscarriages or just no more getting pregnant.
The pill, whatever version, is painful, takes longer, messier, and possibly still requires a d&c after all the pain and difficulty if not all the placenta comes out. But so far, apart from that I'm not sure if it is the worse choice for me. It just hasn't been used that much yet to treat miscarriages, so our new Obgyn didn't know much about it.
So here I am, at the university hospital, waiting to meet some doctors and get some answers. About their practices, statistics, options.
Not pregnant anymore.
Most people did not know I was pregnant. But I still think it is important for people to know that things like this happen, and not rarely. So here goes.
Tuesday, Feb 7th
At first I cried. M was there with me, thank god we had decided and I had asked that he come. It would have been...just not as comforting if I had been there with a doctor I’d never met, finding out that there was no heartbeat on the ultrasound. The doctor wasn’t particularly bad at the visit, but neither was she particularly comforting. She did her best, I suppose.
But when the situation got complicated, her English skills did not keep up with the question we had. After all, her specialty is live babies.
We both cried some more when we left the office, and headed home.
I’m not sure why I cried. Yes, of course, you are expected to cry, and I was emotional. For the first minutes, on the ultrasound table, I was feeling loss. Disappointment.
Maybe it is because we already have a daughter, who gives us a run for our money every day, and so life is already very full. Maybe because, just as when I was pregnant with A, I never felt I knew the baby while still pregnant. Sure I talked to both, while pregnant with them, but I had no chosen future or role in the family for this child yet. I mean, with A, we waited a day or two after her birth to even pick her name, because I still felt I had to get to know her.
Maybe it is because, now clear why, I’d been feeling so much less exhausted and nauseous the last 3 days. I thought the pregnancy symptoms had just subsided earlier than with A. And they had. But not for the reason I thought. But feeling suddenly better, healthier, less sick, makes this time easier. That night I slept more soundly and deeply than I have in the last 10 weeks.
Maybe it is because I’ve been not pregnant before, many times. 36 times in a row when we were trying for our first child. Those disappointments, month after month, were harder because there was no child yet. I had no idea what pregnancy would be like (tiring) or what mothering would be like (hard, tiring, clinically depressing and joyful - but nothing like the mostly joyful I’d imagined before A arrived). So I mourned the lost opportunity for joy.
Maybe it is because we thought it might take another 3 years to get pregnant, and we just happened to get pregnant at the first conceivable moment that we thought we might be ready to go through it all again. We were already hitting the bottom of our reserves of energy again, and prepared to put down our heads and just barrel through, but it was knowing that things would be hard.
Now I’m disappointed that I spent 3 exhausting, nauseating weeks that will not count towards the next pregnancy, should it happen someday. I feel confused about the coming choice I have to make, given no clear best choice, given my age and how far along the pregnancy was, between waiting for my body to naturally miscarry this baby, or using medical intervention. Either option could lead to the hospital in the end. Neither is without its risks for my health or chances for conceiving again. There are some doctors I’d rather have perform a d&c than others, but I don’t know how to figure out which is which. I’d prefer a female doctor who has had this procedure herself to do it. But I’d also prefer a doctor with a realistic, not-too-cocky approach to my uterus. I want someone I can talk to about risks and choices who knows more than a few pat answers about statistics that may or may not be relevant. Someone who can say “I don’t know” when he or she doesn’t.
But then again, who of us doesn’t want that, in most of the people we interact with?
I guess I feel that, at the end of the day, of the consult, I am not willing to be told “you should really do this procedure, especially given that you are an elderly mother” (certain choices of words are, um, unfortunate, in non-native speakers), and then not be allowed to ask extra questions that are important exactly because, as an “elderly” mother, my chances of getting pregnant are getting slimmer as the months go by.
I do feel very lucky that, if I cannot ask these questions, M will be there and will be able to. Just as at A’s birth, I asked him first and foremost to be the scientist, asking “why?” and “what are the consequences of not doing that?” when I couldn’t. Some doctors must hate us. Oh well.
Tuesday, Feb 7th
At first I cried. M was there with me, thank god we had decided and I had asked that he come. It would have been...just not as comforting if I had been there with a doctor I’d never met, finding out that there was no heartbeat on the ultrasound. The doctor wasn’t particularly bad at the visit, but neither was she particularly comforting. She did her best, I suppose.
But when the situation got complicated, her English skills did not keep up with the question we had. After all, her specialty is live babies.
We both cried some more when we left the office, and headed home.
I’m not sure why I cried. Yes, of course, you are expected to cry, and I was emotional. For the first minutes, on the ultrasound table, I was feeling loss. Disappointment.
Maybe it is because we already have a daughter, who gives us a run for our money every day, and so life is already very full. Maybe because, just as when I was pregnant with A, I never felt I knew the baby while still pregnant. Sure I talked to both, while pregnant with them, but I had no chosen future or role in the family for this child yet. I mean, with A, we waited a day or two after her birth to even pick her name, because I still felt I had to get to know her.
Maybe it is because, now clear why, I’d been feeling so much less exhausted and nauseous the last 3 days. I thought the pregnancy symptoms had just subsided earlier than with A. And they had. But not for the reason I thought. But feeling suddenly better, healthier, less sick, makes this time easier. That night I slept more soundly and deeply than I have in the last 10 weeks.
Maybe it is because I’ve been not pregnant before, many times. 36 times in a row when we were trying for our first child. Those disappointments, month after month, were harder because there was no child yet. I had no idea what pregnancy would be like (tiring) or what mothering would be like (hard, tiring, clinically depressing and joyful - but nothing like the mostly joyful I’d imagined before A arrived). So I mourned the lost opportunity for joy.
Maybe it is because we thought it might take another 3 years to get pregnant, and we just happened to get pregnant at the first conceivable moment that we thought we might be ready to go through it all again. We were already hitting the bottom of our reserves of energy again, and prepared to put down our heads and just barrel through, but it was knowing that things would be hard.
Now I’m disappointed that I spent 3 exhausting, nauseating weeks that will not count towards the next pregnancy, should it happen someday. I feel confused about the coming choice I have to make, given no clear best choice, given my age and how far along the pregnancy was, between waiting for my body to naturally miscarry this baby, or using medical intervention. Either option could lead to the hospital in the end. Neither is without its risks for my health or chances for conceiving again. There are some doctors I’d rather have perform a d&c than others, but I don’t know how to figure out which is which. I’d prefer a female doctor who has had this procedure herself to do it. But I’d also prefer a doctor with a realistic, not-too-cocky approach to my uterus. I want someone I can talk to about risks and choices who knows more than a few pat answers about statistics that may or may not be relevant. Someone who can say “I don’t know” when he or she doesn’t.
But then again, who of us doesn’t want that, in most of the people we interact with?
I guess I feel that, at the end of the day, of the consult, I am not willing to be told “you should really do this procedure, especially given that you are an elderly mother” (certain choices of words are, um, unfortunate, in non-native speakers), and then not be allowed to ask extra questions that are important exactly because, as an “elderly” mother, my chances of getting pregnant are getting slimmer as the months go by.
I do feel very lucky that, if I cannot ask these questions, M will be there and will be able to. Just as at A’s birth, I asked him first and foremost to be the scientist, asking “why?” and “what are the consequences of not doing that?” when I couldn’t. Some doctors must hate us. Oh well.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Nutella and Ritz
When I was pregnant with A, and we had just moved to Zurich, my sister-in-law came for a visit, and introduced me to a comfort junk food that I had no idea even existed. And I tend to know a lot of them. She went off to the little Italian grocery store down the block from where our apartment was, and came back with Tuc crackers, the European version of Ritz, thinner, break more easily, a bit softer, and some Nutella.
I am now sitting at my desk, at home, done with all my morning procrastinating on BBC.com, NYTimes, dooce.com, let's-just-check-if-something-else-happened-on-BBC.com the 5 minutes I was browsing elsewhere, and e-mail. And there is an open packet of Tuc and an open jar of Nutella next to the keyboard. It's a good morning. This stuff goes down way too smoothly, although, due to the flakier nature of the Tuc, you actually have to dip it in the Nutella glass (and it is a glass, not a jar, and can be used as a drinking glass when the Nutella is gone later toda...this week) slowly so as to not break it into 3 pieces.
There is a photo of A, from a daycare trip last year to a pony farm, tacked to the wall near the screen. I've had it there for a few weeks now, and it is one of the few things that can temporarily snap me out of my work-induced nerves in what has been an extremely busy time. I haven't worked this hard in years, at least, not with other people, and on projects that didn't involve a diaper, a rash, or a cold. This photo breaks my heart just a little, though, each time I look at it. And it isn't even the one where she is petting a horse nose, or brushing a horse back. It is a close-up of A, little neon yellow body vest on (that all the little kids at daycares here wear on outings), mouth wide open, eating a cookie. The cookie is wide, her mouth is not, and she's doing her best to remedy the situation. Her eyes look a bit concerned, like she is concentrating. There are crumbs of the first half of the cookie on the side of her mouth. She looks so...innocent. It is a photo that almost makes me want to cry for how not-self-conscious she is. How eating is about getting the food in the pie hole, and not about elbows on a table, do I have a double chin in this photo?, or all the other stuff that gets piled on us as we become adults. It is the kind of photo of of themselves that many people cringe at later, because it isn't about posing and outward appearance. The kind that we all groan over when someone posts it of us, eating something, on their Facebook page. How unflattering! Unpost that! Everyone will see!
But the thing it, everyone already has. In their everyday interactions with you and me. And they don't really care. The people who like us and love us could care less how we eat a cracker, because they are having a great time talking over coffee or a meal. And we look our most human in the very same photos we tend to hate the most.
So there she is, completely engaged in getting that food into her body. And doing it herself, feeding herself, and what a beautiful moment to have been caught on camera. It is one of my favorite photos for the emotions it brings me. I'm trying to remember not to care so much how I look, and that this moment in A's life, preserved on film, is one of those times I realize how much I love that little person.
So who knows how lovable I look right now, eating my crackers and chocolate hazelnut spread, typing away? (One of the things I love about my husband is the smile on his face when I am seriously tucking into a plate of food).
About the only disappointing thing about this morning's snack is that I hadn't realized that the glass has Smurf designs all over it. Well, maybe this is where A start using an actual glass glass at mealtimes. And since our IKEA glasses have been saying farewell to this cruel world at the rate of one per week, I guess I'll just have to get more Nutella-in-a-glass to bring up the drinking receptacle count in the kitchen.
I am now sitting at my desk, at home, done with all my morning procrastinating on BBC.com, NYTimes, dooce.com, let's-just-check-if-something-else-happened-on-BBC.com the 5 minutes I was browsing elsewhere, and e-mail. And there is an open packet of Tuc and an open jar of Nutella next to the keyboard. It's a good morning. This stuff goes down way too smoothly, although, due to the flakier nature of the Tuc, you actually have to dip it in the Nutella glass (and it is a glass, not a jar, and can be used as a drinking glass when the Nutella is gone later toda...this week) slowly so as to not break it into 3 pieces.
There is a photo of A, from a daycare trip last year to a pony farm, tacked to the wall near the screen. I've had it there for a few weeks now, and it is one of the few things that can temporarily snap me out of my work-induced nerves in what has been an extremely busy time. I haven't worked this hard in years, at least, not with other people, and on projects that didn't involve a diaper, a rash, or a cold. This photo breaks my heart just a little, though, each time I look at it. And it isn't even the one where she is petting a horse nose, or brushing a horse back. It is a close-up of A, little neon yellow body vest on (that all the little kids at daycares here wear on outings), mouth wide open, eating a cookie. The cookie is wide, her mouth is not, and she's doing her best to remedy the situation. Her eyes look a bit concerned, like she is concentrating. There are crumbs of the first half of the cookie on the side of her mouth. She looks so...innocent. It is a photo that almost makes me want to cry for how not-self-conscious she is. How eating is about getting the food in the pie hole, and not about elbows on a table, do I have a double chin in this photo?, or all the other stuff that gets piled on us as we become adults. It is the kind of photo of of themselves that many people cringe at later, because it isn't about posing and outward appearance. The kind that we all groan over when someone posts it of us, eating something, on their Facebook page. How unflattering! Unpost that! Everyone will see!
But the thing it, everyone already has. In their everyday interactions with you and me. And they don't really care. The people who like us and love us could care less how we eat a cracker, because they are having a great time talking over coffee or a meal. And we look our most human in the very same photos we tend to hate the most.
So there she is, completely engaged in getting that food into her body. And doing it herself, feeding herself, and what a beautiful moment to have been caught on camera. It is one of my favorite photos for the emotions it brings me. I'm trying to remember not to care so much how I look, and that this moment in A's life, preserved on film, is one of those times I realize how much I love that little person.
So who knows how lovable I look right now, eating my crackers and chocolate hazelnut spread, typing away? (One of the things I love about my husband is the smile on his face when I am seriously tucking into a plate of food).
About the only disappointing thing about this morning's snack is that I hadn't realized that the glass has Smurf designs all over it. Well, maybe this is where A start using an actual glass glass at mealtimes. And since our IKEA glasses have been saying farewell to this cruel world at the rate of one per week, I guess I'll just have to get more Nutella-in-a-glass to bring up the drinking receptacle count in the kitchen.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Project management
This stuff is hard.
I have a project at work right now, with a hard deadline, and I am the manager. I had no idea how I would like it, or if I'd be any good at it, since I've never done this before. I'm usually pretty happy in the creative underclass of a project, getting to think up ideas.
It is a lot of checking in with people, and although that can be tiring, in the sense that I am checking e-mail for work reasons from the time I wake up to when I go to sleep, it also means I am interacting with a lot of people again. That latter part has been really nice. I'd forgotten how much easier it is to be creative and productive, when you can bounce ideas off of others and are not the only one responsible for coming up with things. I've had some great 3 and 4 hours sessions of brainstorming, some really productive shorter meetings, and keeping motivated has been much easier.
But the looking up details, checking with people on small questions, keeping all the info together, that I'm not so sure about. Since this is a small project I think I can keep it all together pretty much as I did before - mostly in my head with a few things written down on paper and on my computer. Deadlines and such. This is because there aren't too many overlapping deadlines, and there are not so many different companies and entities that need to be coordinated, so an illness or a travel restriction is more easily negotiated.
I don't think I'm cut out for really large scale project management, though. I just don't know how much more rewarding it would be than draining. And I've only had a glimpse of having to depend on difficult personalities to get something done, and I defaulted to being very gracious when I probably should have stopped earlier and said "no, we have a tough deadline, and I really need you to do this as quickly as possible." I can tell I have very little idea about what constitutes a "right now!" need, and what can wait. And I tend to assume people will do things in the next hour when they say "right away" and that isn't necessarily the case. I'm not great at pressing people to clarify what they mean in these cases. Makes me really nervous. Not a great place to start for management.
What I do think I can do fairly well is be okay with "good enough." Don't get me wrong, I am infinitely able to be idealistic about things, about what could be if we just had enough time, good will, money. How people should behave. What the "right" way to do something is. But, when surounded by a few other pragmatic individuals, I can totally do the realist thing, too. And that surprised me.
Anyway, it has been interesting. I will be happy when it is over. It will go on my resume.
And if this post has already put you to sleep, check out the Star Wars fan version online. The whole of Star Wars, made out of 15 second clips submitted to the project by everyday people. I watched only 6 minutes of it, but what great submissions, from a family of kids in paper towel Storm Trooper outfits, to an office of coworkers in white plastic salad bowl helmets, to animated sequences.
I have a project at work right now, with a hard deadline, and I am the manager. I had no idea how I would like it, or if I'd be any good at it, since I've never done this before. I'm usually pretty happy in the creative underclass of a project, getting to think up ideas.
It is a lot of checking in with people, and although that can be tiring, in the sense that I am checking e-mail for work reasons from the time I wake up to when I go to sleep, it also means I am interacting with a lot of people again. That latter part has been really nice. I'd forgotten how much easier it is to be creative and productive, when you can bounce ideas off of others and are not the only one responsible for coming up with things. I've had some great 3 and 4 hours sessions of brainstorming, some really productive shorter meetings, and keeping motivated has been much easier.
But the looking up details, checking with people on small questions, keeping all the info together, that I'm not so sure about. Since this is a small project I think I can keep it all together pretty much as I did before - mostly in my head with a few things written down on paper and on my computer. Deadlines and such. This is because there aren't too many overlapping deadlines, and there are not so many different companies and entities that need to be coordinated, so an illness or a travel restriction is more easily negotiated.
I don't think I'm cut out for really large scale project management, though. I just don't know how much more rewarding it would be than draining. And I've only had a glimpse of having to depend on difficult personalities to get something done, and I defaulted to being very gracious when I probably should have stopped earlier and said "no, we have a tough deadline, and I really need you to do this as quickly as possible." I can tell I have very little idea about what constitutes a "right now!" need, and what can wait. And I tend to assume people will do things in the next hour when they say "right away" and that isn't necessarily the case. I'm not great at pressing people to clarify what they mean in these cases. Makes me really nervous. Not a great place to start for management.
What I do think I can do fairly well is be okay with "good enough." Don't get me wrong, I am infinitely able to be idealistic about things, about what could be if we just had enough time, good will, money. How people should behave. What the "right" way to do something is. But, when surounded by a few other pragmatic individuals, I can totally do the realist thing, too. And that surprised me.
Anyway, it has been interesting. I will be happy when it is over. It will go on my resume.
And if this post has already put you to sleep, check out the Star Wars fan version online. The whole of Star Wars, made out of 15 second clips submitted to the project by everyday people. I watched only 6 minutes of it, but what great submissions, from a family of kids in paper towel Storm Trooper outfits, to an office of coworkers in white plastic salad bowl helmets, to animated sequences.
Monday, January 2, 2012
A new year
Im not sure what to write about today. I just wanted to write, so that this blog doesn't lapse.
The flight to Canada, with A, went fine. I had more than enough toys and distractions and low expectations that things were actually smooth. Except for that Cares Flight Harness, that we wound up investing some $200 in with express shipping,that the Air Canada attendant basically looked at and said she didn't have time to help me figure it out and had no idea why someone told me I had to buy it. In the end, A slept in her stroller sleeping bag, threaded through with the seat belt. And it took only 30 seconds for me to get thoroughly creeped out by The Wiggles on the kids videos selection on the flight.
Christmas was lovely, and A has now fuly understood the concept of a present and opening one.mShe knows what a reindeer is and that a snowman is made of snow. Granted, she may have scale issues with the snowman concept, because we could only build a 1 1/2 foot tall one in the melting Missouri snow. She likes the song Jingle Bells, and I find myself disturbed by all manner of other Christmas song lyrics. Baby It's Cold Outisde basically sounds like a date rape ballad. Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer is all about making fun of someone until he turns out to have a skill useful to others, and those let's seem to be pretty fickle giving their love away to the new team captain.
I am, however, suffering food culture shock in America. There is so much more salt and sugar than I've become used to, in everything from meatballs and wings, to casual restaurants, to even Trader Joes foods. I've cooked so much more this year, and. Mostly from scratch, that my palate is overwhelmed with processed foods. Now, this state I find myself in is a luxury, I know. Because I a not working full time, can get the bulk kf my groceries delivered and have time to then shop at the farmers market. Heck, because we have daily farmers markets and so many bakeries in Zurich. And, true to the cliche, I am now completely unused to ice in my water at restaurants.
But seeing A surrounded by family, having such a great time meeting them all again, playing, being fawned over, and even having to negotiate their personalities, has been good. She will have relationships with these people that are different than my relationships with them, and that ranges from a learning experience for all of us, to ok, to a good thing.
And after this stop in Cicago, I will go home to Zurich with another great AirBNB experience (renovated loft with wood floors, antique metal cage elevator, right in the middle of town), and after I hit that DSW store, I hope a few new pair of shoes to get me through the size 11 desert that is Switzerland.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
The holidays approach
Oh boy. I'm about to fly trans-Atlantic with a toddler. One who has recently started practicing the power of "NNNNNOOOOOO!" much more, um, forcefully. Meltdowns about not getting to carry the yogurt cup to the table are no longer surprising.
(Let's just get this straight, it was an open yogurt cup, and said toddler was in my arms, and we were already, seemingly contently, on the way to the dining room from the kitchen. About 5 feet into our 10 foot trek, I'd say. And said toddler started grabbing for said cup at the same time as whining about it. Not gonna happen, toddler. Not on my not-yet-fully-awake morning watch. And not in your already-school-clothing outfit.)
And I'm already in a mood. Or was. Or maybe it started just after her tantrum. Or just before. Tough to tell some days.
Then M went into the living room where I had just placed her on the couch, screaming "Nein!", to do something that wound up stopping the screaming, and I about lost it on him.
Anyway, I'm a bit overwhelmed with the thought of traveling on an 8 hour, daytime flight, with said toddler and her lack of napping these days. Holy shit, this could really suck. And being that I am in such a foul mood, you know what else I'm refusing to do? Give out chocolates or apologies to those sitting around us in the airplane for having a child, and for my child acting like a child. Last year I was all about the apologizing. This year, not so much. I shouldn't have to apologize that I have a kid, who is a toddler, who has tantrums. Not in the way the article which suggested said chocolates actually did the suggesting. It sets up a nasty situation where you already indicate to others that your child is not ok existing. Sure tantrums suck, and I'll be the closest adult to the center of that suck, over and over again on that flight, and the act of then apologizing to someone else about it.....well, let's just say we're all happy I'm not flying today.
I get that I was clueless before I had kids, but I never gave someone the evil eye for their kids behavior on a plane. Oh wait, ok, maybe when I was pregnant and we flew business class, and the mom put a 4 and 6 year old in seats in back of us, went to sit across the aisle, put her headphones on and mentally checked out. But then, it was the height of swine flu scare, kid was fighting with his brother and coughing towards the pregnant lady who hadn't gotten a shot yet. Yup, I was kind of pissed off then. And the kid was actually really good about covering his mouth every 30 seconds. Which is how often he coughed....the whole 7 hours. And I didn't have a lot of good will for that mom on that flight.
Now is different. On Monday I was on a super packed tight tram, around 6:30pm, from the train station, on a rainy night, and two parents got on with a 4 year old, and twin 2 year olds. No stroller, and who knows where it would have fit anyway. No one gave them a seat. The 4 year old had to stand, the 2 year olds were getting upset, and soon all three were crying. Still, no one gave the parents a seat, and only once a big stop came and people got out, could they even give the kids a place to sit. Still crying. Mom starting to just get upset with crying kids. I had no A with me at the time, and had just spent 5 hours on a work trip, in blissful silence. So I started making funny faces at one of the twins. Immediately she stopped crying. Then I included the other twin. Ditto. And up til now, no one on the tram, especially those near the family, had even smiled a "gee that sucks to be a parent right now, huh?" smile at them. And it took 5 seconds and a tiny loss of dignity to help get the kids quiet. From someone who hadn't had to deal with them the previous 5 hours. It wasn't hard. WTF, tram riders?
So, while I hope there are sympathetic parents on our flight, for when I've reached the end of my rope, blog posts about how I need to ingratiate myself to those around me just because I have a kid, make me feel pretty defiant. The business men who snore like hogs never hand out earplugs to those around them and apologize ahead of time. Neither do the people who get drunk and loud. They are just "who they are, deal with it."
Yes, I know, I may have to try to get some goodwill going on that flight, but part of me so wants to just throw wet diapers at anyone staring us down. All those people who think they know better, think I should be doing something different. Whew. Got myself all riled up.
And since this rant has not managed to calm me down that much, I'm assuming I'm just having a crappy mood day today. Huh.
(Let's just get this straight, it was an open yogurt cup, and said toddler was in my arms, and we were already, seemingly contently, on the way to the dining room from the kitchen. About 5 feet into our 10 foot trek, I'd say. And said toddler started grabbing for said cup at the same time as whining about it. Not gonna happen, toddler. Not on my not-yet-fully-awake morning watch. And not in your already-school-clothing outfit.)
And I'm already in a mood. Or was. Or maybe it started just after her tantrum. Or just before. Tough to tell some days.
Then M went into the living room where I had just placed her on the couch, screaming "Nein!", to do something that wound up stopping the screaming, and I about lost it on him.
Anyway, I'm a bit overwhelmed with the thought of traveling on an 8 hour, daytime flight, with said toddler and her lack of napping these days. Holy shit, this could really suck. And being that I am in such a foul mood, you know what else I'm refusing to do? Give out chocolates or apologies to those sitting around us in the airplane for having a child, and for my child acting like a child. Last year I was all about the apologizing. This year, not so much. I shouldn't have to apologize that I have a kid, who is a toddler, who has tantrums. Not in the way the article which suggested said chocolates actually did the suggesting. It sets up a nasty situation where you already indicate to others that your child is not ok existing. Sure tantrums suck, and I'll be the closest adult to the center of that suck, over and over again on that flight, and the act of then apologizing to someone else about it.....well, let's just say we're all happy I'm not flying today.
I get that I was clueless before I had kids, but I never gave someone the evil eye for their kids behavior on a plane. Oh wait, ok, maybe when I was pregnant and we flew business class, and the mom put a 4 and 6 year old in seats in back of us, went to sit across the aisle, put her headphones on and mentally checked out. But then, it was the height of swine flu scare, kid was fighting with his brother and coughing towards the pregnant lady who hadn't gotten a shot yet. Yup, I was kind of pissed off then. And the kid was actually really good about covering his mouth every 30 seconds. Which is how often he coughed....the whole 7 hours. And I didn't have a lot of good will for that mom on that flight.
Now is different. On Monday I was on a super packed tight tram, around 6:30pm, from the train station, on a rainy night, and two parents got on with a 4 year old, and twin 2 year olds. No stroller, and who knows where it would have fit anyway. No one gave them a seat. The 4 year old had to stand, the 2 year olds were getting upset, and soon all three were crying. Still, no one gave the parents a seat, and only once a big stop came and people got out, could they even give the kids a place to sit. Still crying. Mom starting to just get upset with crying kids. I had no A with me at the time, and had just spent 5 hours on a work trip, in blissful silence. So I started making funny faces at one of the twins. Immediately she stopped crying. Then I included the other twin. Ditto. And up til now, no one on the tram, especially those near the family, had even smiled a "gee that sucks to be a parent right now, huh?" smile at them. And it took 5 seconds and a tiny loss of dignity to help get the kids quiet. From someone who hadn't had to deal with them the previous 5 hours. It wasn't hard. WTF, tram riders?
So, while I hope there are sympathetic parents on our flight, for when I've reached the end of my rope, blog posts about how I need to ingratiate myself to those around me just because I have a kid, make me feel pretty defiant. The business men who snore like hogs never hand out earplugs to those around them and apologize ahead of time. Neither do the people who get drunk and loud. They are just "who they are, deal with it."
Yes, I know, I may have to try to get some goodwill going on that flight, but part of me so wants to just throw wet diapers at anyone staring us down. All those people who think they know better, think I should be doing something different. Whew. Got myself all riled up.
And since this rant has not managed to calm me down that much, I'm assuming I'm just having a crappy mood day today. Huh.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
