Baby A is doing better.
And now I know what normal parenting tired feels like. I still don't quite get enough sleep. She's practically walking without help, and the child does...not...stop. I call her my force of nature. Every waking moment is spent upright, engaged, moving, testing, eating, pulling, screaming or babbling. So I get the tired thing.
But this tired has nothing whatsoever to say to the tired of the first 5 months. They don't talk, they don't speak the same language, and they probably have totally different life goals. That tired was hellish. It made me nauseous and still does when I think back to it. It was in-human. And it was not what "all parents go through."
And just as with many situations we find ourselves in, especially those which are not common among people but are difficult, once you've been there, you can usually tell other people who have been there, too. You start to tell them your story and very quickly get "oh my god, I know!" or "Yes, that was really hard!" Phrases like that. People who have been through some other version of that stage of life, on the other hand, seem to have a very different reaction.
It is as if they have lost faith in other people's different experiences. If they had an easy time with their baby and breastfeeding, then what are you doing stopping at 4 months? If their kid sleeps anywhere and everywhere, maybe you're just too sensitive when it comes to your kid and should stop spoiling them. And if they just solved for "x" by isolating it one one side of an equation, then what the hell are you doing having such a hard time with your "transcen"-whatever? See, in calculus, just after I got the hang of solving for "x", I met the transcendental equation. Try solving for "x" in:
x = cos(x)
Good luck with the dividing both sides by...anything. You solve it graphically, or with Newton's method. But someone who hasn't gone through it before will say very different things about an equation like that than someone who has. Just like with babies, marriage, depression, moving to another country, etc.
I know what it is like to try getting pregnant for many years. But, I have no idea what it is like to have had a miscarriage. Or to go through a divorce. And that means that I don't have the experiences of those things in context. And have no business judging someone else going through them. I know empathy is about putting yourself in someone else's shoes, but I think we've forgotten along the way that we can't actually do it.
Well, we can put ourselves as we are, with only our experiences, in those shoes. But that is completely different from actually going through those things. So we need to trust the people going through them when they say it is hard, or say something else about the process that we find hard to believe.
Can I tell you how relieved and affirmed I felt the first time I talked with another mom with a sleepless baby? About how hard it was. How depressing. We had so many experiences in common that it suddenly felt like a situation I was in and not so much like my lack of fortitude or calm. I mean, we kept saying "I know!" and "Yes, yes, yes" to each others stories, down to the every third day showers. Not "lucky if you shower by 4pm" but "negotiating which spouse showers that day based on who is leaving the house."
The context of the situations in which people suffer, great or small suffering, is everything. But we forget this, and wind up judging the people for failing to sufficiently handle a situation we have never been in. Instead of assuming that the situation is hard and that we would act almost the same way if it was us. If you can't solve for "x" by dividing or multiplying, you must not be very smart.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
It's hot. Damn hot. Like, hot hot.
Yesterday was another scorcher. Okay, it was 90 F and sort of dry, but remember, no A/C. A few little table fans. And the bad idea of having the apartment cleaned in the afternoon.
This meant that me and the beibis had to go elsewhere for 3 hours. We went down. First to our little village center to hang out in the grocery store while I returned all the PET bottles. So, actually, the supermarkets and some buses have A/C. The emergency solution is to either go food shopping for 4 hours straight, or just ride a bus back and forth along its line.
We did neither. Instead we kept heading down, to the river, and then to a fake island in the river, where big trees are planted, a baby swim area calls to little feet and bottoms of all ages, a playground, and a whole bunch of grass. Oh, and stairs. That lead into the fast flowing river. For swimmers.
We met up with a few friends, tried our best to sample all leaves, sticks and dirt within reach, took a power nap way too late in the day. And when M arrived from his day in the center of town, he and I traded off baby duty to go jump in the river a few times each.
Well, we walked down the stairs into the river and joined the floating...others (in their speedos and bikinis, board shorts, swim trunks, one-pieces). I was going to say "floating masses" but something about changing lots of diapers these last many months makes that term sound gross. We then aimed for the stairs near the rope that is meant to catch you, and climbed out. Very civilized. Even better, very cool water.
It was still pretty hot and sunny when we got home around 6pm, but the daily storm rolled in around 9pm and things cooled off nicely.
See? Sometimes we have good days.
This meant that me and the beibis had to go elsewhere for 3 hours. We went down. First to our little village center to hang out in the grocery store while I returned all the PET bottles. So, actually, the supermarkets and some buses have A/C. The emergency solution is to either go food shopping for 4 hours straight, or just ride a bus back and forth along its line.
We did neither. Instead we kept heading down, to the river, and then to a fake island in the river, where big trees are planted, a baby swim area calls to little feet and bottoms of all ages, a playground, and a whole bunch of grass. Oh, and stairs. That lead into the fast flowing river. For swimmers.
We met up with a few friends, tried our best to sample all leaves, sticks and dirt within reach, took a power nap way too late in the day. And when M arrived from his day in the center of town, he and I traded off baby duty to go jump in the river a few times each.
Well, we walked down the stairs into the river and joined the floating...others (in their speedos and bikinis, board shorts, swim trunks, one-pieces). I was going to say "floating masses" but something about changing lots of diapers these last many months makes that term sound gross. We then aimed for the stairs near the rope that is meant to catch you, and climbed out. Very civilized. Even better, very cool water.
It was still pretty hot and sunny when we got home around 6pm, but the daily storm rolled in around 9pm and things cooled off nicely.
See? Sometimes we have good days.
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Christmas egg cometh
Baby A was barely born by the time Christmas came around this year.
I managed to find the ornaments and put all the dyed eggs I've made over the years on the tree that a friend so wonderfully brought us. We were running on empty already at that point. It was amazing to have a tree, with lights and baubles no less.
The eggs I'd made special for M one year were up there. As were a few I'd kept from the year I made egg ornaments for family presents.
But no special egg for Baby A.
Easter came and went. Still, we were running on empty. I don't even know if we got around to eating some ham or anything. We definitely didn't have any new dyed eggs, and I didn't do my yearly egg decorating party.
So here is it, mid-July, and I finally made it. I got un-dated eggs from the farmer's market this weekend, and pulled out the two nicest ones to work on. I've had the design in mind for months, now. Ever since I realized I hadn't gotten to make anything for my daughter yet. It will only require one dye color (in contrast to the usual 10 I mix up from the Ukranian on-line store), black. It will be based on one of her first loves as a newborn, the IKEA pillow case we bought last year.
I already penciled in the design and even got all the wax on it. I just need to mix up a jar of black, dip it, melt off the wax, and hope the egg survives the evacuation procedure. A bit of shellac and done.
It may still take me months to do this last bit. Okay, the emptying needs to happen in the next few days. I'm talking about the finishing touches of shellac and of a string. But by next Christmas, Baby A will have her "baby's first Christmas" egg, on her second Christmas. Maybe I'll even make a second one by then.
Doubt it.
Friday, July 9, 2010
The 80s are coming, the 80s are coming!
We live in Europe. Which means we have radiators and no central cooling mechanisms of any sort in the apartment. No A/C or fan. Just two, sort of small table fans.
So when the forecast for the city is close to 90 F, it is time to open all the windows in the cool hours of the morning (thank heavens we live in a dry enough place that it does get chilly at night in summer), and then around 10am, to go around closing windows, lowering the heavy metal blinds, and the balcony umbrella. The fans will be rallying in whichever room we are in. And if we don't make it out to get a baby pool this morning, the rectangular pyrex baking dish will once again be on water splashing duty.
In most buildings, though, it really isn't the hell that it would be in the US. Especially the really old, stone buildings. Unfortunately, we do not live in one such building where it stays 70 F year round. But it is nice to have less frozen air being blown around in general. Even Starbucks feels stuffy when you walk in from the heat, but by the time you have your drink, you realize they just have the A/C on low. So maybe it is 75 F in there compared to 88 F outside. It does make a difference. And you don't need to bring a parka with you to the grocery store.
I think Baby A knows about the impending heat. She is already in her second hour of sleep for an early morning nap. Pretty uncommon. Maybe she'll grace me with another long one later, but maybe not.
I've got my lightest summer dress on.
And I'm wishing we weren't on such a high floor. I bet you those ground floor apartments are all cool and damp and dark.
Oh well, we can always just roll the crib into the cool tile foyer downstairs tonight and all sleep there. Or maybe we'll unload all the junk in the storage space BACK into the apartment and sleep THERE. Yeah. We'll survive.
So when the forecast for the city is close to 90 F, it is time to open all the windows in the cool hours of the morning (thank heavens we live in a dry enough place that it does get chilly at night in summer), and then around 10am, to go around closing windows, lowering the heavy metal blinds, and the balcony umbrella. The fans will be rallying in whichever room we are in. And if we don't make it out to get a baby pool this morning, the rectangular pyrex baking dish will once again be on water splashing duty.
In most buildings, though, it really isn't the hell that it would be in the US. Especially the really old, stone buildings. Unfortunately, we do not live in one such building where it stays 70 F year round. But it is nice to have less frozen air being blown around in general. Even Starbucks feels stuffy when you walk in from the heat, but by the time you have your drink, you realize they just have the A/C on low. So maybe it is 75 F in there compared to 88 F outside. It does make a difference. And you don't need to bring a parka with you to the grocery store.
I think Baby A knows about the impending heat. She is already in her second hour of sleep for an early morning nap. Pretty uncommon. Maybe she'll grace me with another long one later, but maybe not.
I've got my lightest summer dress on.
And I'm wishing we weren't on such a high floor. I bet you those ground floor apartments are all cool and damp and dark.
Oh well, we can always just roll the crib into the cool tile foyer downstairs tonight and all sleep there. Or maybe we'll unload all the junk in the storage space BACK into the apartment and sleep THERE. Yeah. We'll survive.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Two for one
Yes, that's right. Another blog entry on the same day. About 10 minutes after posting the previous one, actually.
Life may be ok, but I still don't get a lot of time by myself on the computer to do much other than find directions, order groceries, and the like. So here I am, on a great sleeping night for baby A, awake from 3:30am to 6am....might as well write some more.
What I didn't put in the last post, and is still on my mind, is this. That whole parent-child-misunderstanding-and-try-again dance is way more subtle that I expected. And I'm finding that the biggest problem for me comes up whenever I am in a mindset of not trusting the meerkat. (That's her new nickname because she sits up like one a lot, on her heels, to get a better look at the world. Totally adorable. That's right, I love my baby. But this kind of love took getting to know her, and her getting to like me, to sink in. So my answer to the question "When did you really fall in love with your baby?" is "at about 6 months.")
Anyway, back to trust issues. Whenever I've made the sad repeat mistake of reading pretty much anything about parenting in a magazine, book or online, I come away with these nasty ideas like "she needs to learn to soothe herself to sleep by crying, or she'll be spoiled later." Ok, first of all, that is a STUPID thing to write about parenting because it is so general and has no information whatsoever about how to apply that principle to your child. Sure, I think I shouldn't rock her to sleep if she can wiggle around a bit on her own, cry a little (quietly), and find her sleep. But that doesn't happen most of the time, and the longest I tried with the crying was horrible. 30 minutes of in and out of the room, trying to figure out what the hell to do in our particular situation where she stands up a lot, drops her binky on the floor because she's crying, etc., etc. I hated it. She hated it. She was terrified of the crib for the next nap. STUPID.
I decided two things that day. 1. I keep trusting her - to slowly get better at sleeping on her own and that if she's having a hard time there is a reason. It can just be a tough day and rocking or a bit more help from me is all she needs to sleep. Here I am wide awake for 3 hours at a horrible time, after all. Everytime I trust her like that, and trust that her screams are important, we do so so so much better. 2. To hell with worrying about spoiling. I would much rather she be a bit "spoiled" (which to me just means not always being pushed to the limit of her capabilities but being given time to be more than ready to acquire a new skill like soothing herself to sleep), than a bit feeling unloved, untrusted, or suspected.
When we go with this approach, I'm not mad at her. I'm calmer, I have more patience, I can apply all sorts of skills to soothe her if I decide to, and I find myself silently rooting for her "You go, baby A! Look at you falling asleep on your own after a bit of crying and some help from me! You did SO well!" while at the door watching, or sitting in the room with my eyes closed. It can be hard not to smile at those times.
I'm proud of her little baby self. And that makes the whole encounter so much better.
Life may be ok, but I still don't get a lot of time by myself on the computer to do much other than find directions, order groceries, and the like. So here I am, on a great sleeping night for baby A, awake from 3:30am to 6am....might as well write some more.
What I didn't put in the last post, and is still on my mind, is this. That whole parent-child-misunderstanding-and-try-again dance is way more subtle that I expected. And I'm finding that the biggest problem for me comes up whenever I am in a mindset of not trusting the meerkat. (That's her new nickname because she sits up like one a lot, on her heels, to get a better look at the world. Totally adorable. That's right, I love my baby. But this kind of love took getting to know her, and her getting to like me, to sink in. So my answer to the question "When did you really fall in love with your baby?" is "at about 6 months.")
Anyway, back to trust issues. Whenever I've made the sad repeat mistake of reading pretty much anything about parenting in a magazine, book or online, I come away with these nasty ideas like "she needs to learn to soothe herself to sleep by crying, or she'll be spoiled later." Ok, first of all, that is a STUPID thing to write about parenting because it is so general and has no information whatsoever about how to apply that principle to your child. Sure, I think I shouldn't rock her to sleep if she can wiggle around a bit on her own, cry a little (quietly), and find her sleep. But that doesn't happen most of the time, and the longest I tried with the crying was horrible. 30 minutes of in and out of the room, trying to figure out what the hell to do in our particular situation where she stands up a lot, drops her binky on the floor because she's crying, etc., etc. I hated it. She hated it. She was terrified of the crib for the next nap. STUPID.
I decided two things that day. 1. I keep trusting her - to slowly get better at sleeping on her own and that if she's having a hard time there is a reason. It can just be a tough day and rocking or a bit more help from me is all she needs to sleep. Here I am wide awake for 3 hours at a horrible time, after all. Everytime I trust her like that, and trust that her screams are important, we do so so so much better. 2. To hell with worrying about spoiling. I would much rather she be a bit "spoiled" (which to me just means not always being pushed to the limit of her capabilities but being given time to be more than ready to acquire a new skill like soothing herself to sleep), than a bit feeling unloved, untrusted, or suspected.
When we go with this approach, I'm not mad at her. I'm calmer, I have more patience, I can apply all sorts of skills to soothe her if I decide to, and I find myself silently rooting for her "You go, baby A! Look at you falling asleep on your own after a bit of crying and some help from me! You did SO well!" while at the door watching, or sitting in the room with my eyes closed. It can be hard not to smile at those times.
I'm proud of her little baby self. And that makes the whole encounter so much better.
The middle of summer
We're here. Kind of. Finally.
Baby A, for whatever reason, is only waking up 3-5 times a night now. So M and I get a lot more sleep. Long chunks of it being most important. We even took our first trip with her, at 7 months old, while our niece was visiting. All four of us survived a 3 hour train trip down to the Italian part of Switzerland and back. Glorious weather, palm trees, green mountains sloping down into a blue lake. And food. Great food. Gelato. Pasta. Sea food. Coffee with boiled milk at breakfast. And the last night, M and I stumbled on a newly opened restaurant in Locarno called Il Tartuffo where the chef took us into the kitchen to discuss the meal, explain the spices and herbs, even sent out a shot glass of the base (fish and chicken) he was using for the day's meals. Such an amazing meal.
Now, when I say stumbled, please don't get some image of us languidly walking the old city streets in search of the perfect place. We were staying up near the monastery on the hill above Locarno, and we'd already had 2 meals at one place (and were close to exhausting their fine, but small menu), and one meal at a very fancy place. We were nearing the end of the restaurant list for what was within a 10 minute walk from our hotel. Our niece was in charge of baby A after we put her down to sleep, but we weren't about to waste precious eating and sitting time on traveling down to town. We would have been more than happy to have 2 plates of pasta that night. It just turned out that our path crossed with this great place that had only been open for 3 months.
So back to now. We are sleeping more. Baby A will be starting daycare in a few months. Those first 5 months of her life still bring a sinking feeling to my stomach. But she and I are doing so much better now. I'm a mom. I see that. And feel it. Especially when my arms are the ones she wants to snuggle in when she falls and bumps her head. Which she does, a lot as she crawls and stands and couch-walks her way around her world.
I still have my moments, when I thought she was tired and she thought she was tired, but there we are with her wide awake and smiling in her crib and me trying to force a nap. Those are still the times that knock me off my balance. But I keep repeating what the one counselor at the hospital said. That parenting is not about knowing what your child wanted or needed, but trying to listen, getting it wrong half the time or more, and everyone having faith that everyone is putting in their best effort, and then trying again. That I can do. I can come back over and over. I can say "sorry, I totally misunderstood. Let's try again." I'm just working on letting myself be in that space instead of feeling embarrassed that I got it wrong in the first place.
Oh, and it is ridiculously hot right now in Zurich for an apartment that doesn't have central anything. It is us and our two fans against the hot sun. We are currently practicing the early morning open-all-the-doors-to-cool-things.
So yeah. Life is ok.
Baby A, for whatever reason, is only waking up 3-5 times a night now. So M and I get a lot more sleep. Long chunks of it being most important. We even took our first trip with her, at 7 months old, while our niece was visiting. All four of us survived a 3 hour train trip down to the Italian part of Switzerland and back. Glorious weather, palm trees, green mountains sloping down into a blue lake. And food. Great food. Gelato. Pasta. Sea food. Coffee with boiled milk at breakfast. And the last night, M and I stumbled on a newly opened restaurant in Locarno called Il Tartuffo where the chef took us into the kitchen to discuss the meal, explain the spices and herbs, even sent out a shot glass of the base (fish and chicken) he was using for the day's meals. Such an amazing meal.
Now, when I say stumbled, please don't get some image of us languidly walking the old city streets in search of the perfect place. We were staying up near the monastery on the hill above Locarno, and we'd already had 2 meals at one place (and were close to exhausting their fine, but small menu), and one meal at a very fancy place. We were nearing the end of the restaurant list for what was within a 10 minute walk from our hotel. Our niece was in charge of baby A after we put her down to sleep, but we weren't about to waste precious eating and sitting time on traveling down to town. We would have been more than happy to have 2 plates of pasta that night. It just turned out that our path crossed with this great place that had only been open for 3 months.
So back to now. We are sleeping more. Baby A will be starting daycare in a few months. Those first 5 months of her life still bring a sinking feeling to my stomach. But she and I are doing so much better now. I'm a mom. I see that. And feel it. Especially when my arms are the ones she wants to snuggle in when she falls and bumps her head. Which she does, a lot as she crawls and stands and couch-walks her way around her world.
I still have my moments, when I thought she was tired and she thought she was tired, but there we are with her wide awake and smiling in her crib and me trying to force a nap. Those are still the times that knock me off my balance. But I keep repeating what the one counselor at the hospital said. That parenting is not about knowing what your child wanted or needed, but trying to listen, getting it wrong half the time or more, and everyone having faith that everyone is putting in their best effort, and then trying again. That I can do. I can come back over and over. I can say "sorry, I totally misunderstood. Let's try again." I'm just working on letting myself be in that space instead of feeling embarrassed that I got it wrong in the first place.
Oh, and it is ridiculously hot right now in Zurich for an apartment that doesn't have central anything. It is us and our two fans against the hot sun. We are currently practicing the early morning open-all-the-doors-to-cool-things.
So yeah. Life is ok.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Inhale...cough cough cough...exhale.
Ok, so it is not your standard meditation breathing, but somehow we made it through the night. Dear god, don't make us go through that again.
I'm in the can't-stop-coughing phase of the cold, Baby A kept having a fever despite two separate drugs and crying every time she coughed, and at 1am, somehow M, with his injured knee and little sleep was still the more competent to get her through the next few hours. And when I say "more" competent, that can mean one tiny bit of energy more than me. If I had .0001 energy, he had .00011.
The day had been way too hot and so was the apartment.
Finally the fever broke again (like it has the other nights), I took over at 4am, and we've made it to another day.
Our niece arrives for a long stay today, and I just hope she doesn't turn back around and fly out once she sees the state we're in.
For her visit, we need the foyer to become a guest room. We have a sofa bed on its way, but the thing is, we need her help so much that we haven't been able to set up the foyer for her stay. Sorry! We're so behind that we need you to come help us set up your own guest room....hm.
Anyway, cool morning. Baby A is asleep for some 15 min. in her crib right now, and once again there is a bit of hope.
Wow, there was nothing funny in this post at all. Hmmm.
Oh, I know, yesterday I found myself hoarse, and trying my hardest to ask the pharmacist over the phone in Germ-glish, how we would know if the anti-fever suppository had absorbed or not since she kept pooping 10-15 min after we'd administer them. We didn't really get to a place of mutual understanding, and the connection was bad on my cell phone. He was trying to find the English word for where the suppository goes, and given that he had mostly medical English, I wound up yelling "ANUS! ANUS!" into the phone. That's kind of funny.
I'm in the can't-stop-coughing phase of the cold, Baby A kept having a fever despite two separate drugs and crying every time she coughed, and at 1am, somehow M, with his injured knee and little sleep was still the more competent to get her through the next few hours. And when I say "more" competent, that can mean one tiny bit of energy more than me. If I had .0001 energy, he had .00011.
The day had been way too hot and so was the apartment.
Finally the fever broke again (like it has the other nights), I took over at 4am, and we've made it to another day.
Our niece arrives for a long stay today, and I just hope she doesn't turn back around and fly out once she sees the state we're in.
For her visit, we need the foyer to become a guest room. We have a sofa bed on its way, but the thing is, we need her help so much that we haven't been able to set up the foyer for her stay. Sorry! We're so behind that we need you to come help us set up your own guest room....hm.
Anyway, cool morning. Baby A is asleep for some 15 min. in her crib right now, and once again there is a bit of hope.
Wow, there was nothing funny in this post at all. Hmmm.
Oh, I know, yesterday I found myself hoarse, and trying my hardest to ask the pharmacist over the phone in Germ-glish, how we would know if the anti-fever suppository had absorbed or not since she kept pooping 10-15 min after we'd administer them. We didn't really get to a place of mutual understanding, and the connection was bad on my cell phone. He was trying to find the English word for where the suppository goes, and given that he had mostly medical English, I wound up yelling "ANUS! ANUS!" into the phone. That's kind of funny.
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