Monday, July 30, 2007

the unthinkable has happened

Got into my office this morning and did the routine- change shoes, check email, list tasks, close door, pull out pump stuff WHERE IS THE PLUG? HERE? NO, HERE?

Nope. Thankfully my (insanely expensive, see below) daycare is in the same building so it is possible for me to feed the boy myself. Thing is, I make a lot more milk in the morning than he eats. So now I'm going downstairs every hour or so and pleading with the ladies to CALL ME if he shows any sign of hunger- because my pump-happy boobs are not too happy right now.

Unfortunately, this probably is not the end of the drama. My brother moved back into his house this weekend (we've rented it from him for the last year and will now live upstairs for a month or two in order to come a little closer to affording daycare), meaning a thousand boxes are now in our house and the plug could be anywhere. But I'll find it- or else the boobs will rise in protest and smother me in my sleep (yes, they could probably reach that far).

Monday, July 23, 2007

moving monday

ah, monday-- time to get crackin'. There's the move upstairs so we can become the idiots in my brother's attic, which is mostly done except for the mountains and mountains of random crap we've deposited throughout the house over the last year that i need to box and move upstairs so that my brother and his family will have room to deposit THEIR random crap. Which will take a while. I was kind of sad about the move this weekend, even though it means the return of my beloved niece E. (um, and K. and J.- I do love them all, she's just got that youngest-cute thing going on). While B. is still a baby, this is a transition from his newborn days and our days as brand-new parents-- we moved out of the room we brought him home to and out of his purple nursery with the beautiful quilts. So I mourned a bit on Saturday, went to bed, and seriously bummed out my husband G. Like toothbrushes, toxic tired moods are not to be shared. But now we are both just focused on getting it DONE.
Then there is the pouch. I am at least 15 lbs too heavy- I'm 172 at 5'8". And it shows- I am a chubby girl these days. I can't complain- I've been eating whatever I want and not exercising (except for me and B's walk to the Metro). And that made sense for a while-I 've been way too tired to exercise or eat anything other than what was in front of me. But that time is over. Going to the gym last week was, if humiliating, also pretty quick- I can do a solid weight-training circuit and be back upstairs in 30 minutes. So there is no excuse not to. Food will be harder, as we are not cooking shit right now (and I'm packing up our pots and pans tonight). So maybe I'll start with the exercise and wean myself off of my breakfasts of Dots (yup, Saturday) a little later.
And here at the palace of excellent lighting? It's all about getting my head chock-full of my new case so I can beat back the poor work habits and general sloppiness that have characterized my post-partnum work. Thankfully no one seems to have noticed but I know I can be better. And now I'm going to do it.

Friday, July 20, 2007

i crack myself up

my favorite joke to myself, as B. makes baby noises around my nipple in between eatings-
B to boob: You, you understand me. Not like HER. Let's run away together, just you and me. We can be in Mexico by morning...
OK, not as funny when written down. But if you saw B's face when this was said, you'd know Chris Rock has nothing on me.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

my modest opinion

This is not related to raising my wee one under the fluorescence, but hey, it's my blog and no one actually reads it, so here are my thoughts on modesty maven Wendy Shalit.
What Shalit is highlighting is the undeniable fact that many women sleep with men or dress provocatively out of insecurity or weakness, doing so because it’s what the guy wants rather than having anything to do with what the woman wants. This process sucks- it's dehumanizing and can be profoundly exploitative. But it’s the weakness and insecurity that’s the problem, and really causes the pain and damage, not the sleeping around or the low-cut dresses. Plenty of women have multiple partners or a high number because it's what they want; it is part of their healthy and secure lives. When a woman choose out of weakness, however, whatever the choice, the outcome isn’t likely to make her happy- whether this choice is to dress in a tight skirt and give a guy sex because she feels it’s the only way a guy will pay attention to her or not pushing for sex in a relationship when she wants it, not sleeping with other people, or agreeing to marriage when she’s not ready because it's what her boyfriend wants and she’s afraid what others might think of her. Both of these ideological spectrum of choices are about pleasing men, not herself- and that’s the patriarchy. We need to raise our girls to be strong so that they can say no without regret to boys’ (fairly incessant) demands for sex if it’s not what they want AND say yes to sex (even, horrors! with multiple people!) if it IS what they want- and we need to raise them to be self-aware enough to know what it is they actually desire.
This is not easy, its much more fun to talk about long skirts v. minis, like Shalit and her ilk do. I'm embarrassed to admit it's one of the reasons I was relieved when I found out I was having a boy. I'm not sure I know how to teach a girl to be this strong-minded and self-aware by her teens -- I had a really hard time with all of this myself. But it’s clearly the answer- and the whole modesty v. everything else debate is just two straw men fighting. Making women strong enough so that they can make their choices regarding sexuality based upon their own desires, rather than those of their partners or peer groups, is essential to creating a world where women are happier and not men's pawns.

Monday, July 2, 2007

a fraudulent mommy

the boy's daycare has special keycard access- you stand and wait for the light to glow green and the door unlocks. but every once in a while it doesn't work, and i get a big red light instead. and my first thought is one of guilt and shame- they found out something wrong about me (perhaps that i was quite the fibber in elementary school?) and are now denying me access. isn't that fucked? thankfully, it's followed by a more appropriate mother-bear reaction- hey MY KID is in there! Let me in!
But it highlights two things. one i still feel like a bit of a fraud about this whole mother-thing. which is understandable- it's only been 3.5 months. and, two, and more seriously, my guilt and shame for the unforgivable act of being ME are still, at the age of 31, off the hook. i hope someday soon my mother-bear reaction will trump because really, who needs the other crap? i think it handicaps me as a mom- it's important to follow your gut with this mom thing, but to do that i've got to tune out these other destructive and useless messages of fear and doubt.
in other news, the boy is nursing in my lap, all curled up. a yellow jelly bean today. and oh, those feet.