Control

C is embracing his new domestic role. On one level, it's great. He made breakfast this morning, put dinner in the crockpot, and washed 4 loads of laundry. This week alone he cleaned, took care of Bear, and reorganized the kitchen now that he's got all the cabinets installed. I'm feeling a bit out of sorts about all of this, however. This morning he informed me I was putting something in the wrong place in the kitchen, and I had no idea what to say about that. For various reasons, the kitchen has always been my domain. I do the majority of the cooking, so I have always organized the kitchen. I feel like I'm no longer in control of my home, which I know isn't accurate and is a response to going back to work. I'm going to have to remind myself that C can do things just as well as I can, and that there is nothing wrong with how he does things. Except, of course, that my way is better.

Dr. M

I just realized that I am teaching for the first time as "Dr. M." That has made my day just a bit easier.

So it begins

Today is my first long day away from Bear. After dropping Wild Man off at school a bit later than usual (my Thursday teaching schedule necessitates that I'm on campus until 4:30 meaning I won't be able to pick Wild Man up until 5:00 so we decided that I would drop him off a bit later than usual on Thursdays), I am now in C's office hiding out. Why am I in C's office? Well, I currently have access to three offices in various locations on CU's campus. However, I share every single one of them. I have no desire to try to figure out how to pump in offices that I share with a minimum of three other people--one office is, in fact, a desk in the Writing office. I share that space with about 12 people at any given time. C has his own office, so I'll be using his office to pump.

Right now I'm doing last minute things before trekking over to the English department to make copies and then to Women Studies to check on some other things. I want nothing more than to go home and snuggle with Bear. He was napping in his crib when I left, so here's hoping he had a good nap and that he and C will have a good day. It'll be a long 6 hours until I'm home again. And given his current response to the bottle I fully expect to spend the afternoon and evening nursing him.

Header update

I finally got around to updating my header. Let me know what you think.

Seriously, this is enough home improvement

Usually I love having a handy husband. I love that when something breaks C can usually fix it and fairly quickly. He is not the sort of person who puts off home repair. Things get done fast. But right now our office is a disaster as is our kitchen. Why? Because this week he's decided he has to finish all the projects he started before Bear was born. So last week he put another coat of paint on the downstairs hallway and decided to prime the office. Today he finished installing the kitchen cabinets. Now we have to purchase countertops and have them installed. He also have to finish painting the office so I'm no longer working on job materials and planning lessons at the kitchen table. I told him a little while ago that he cannot take on so many home improvement projects at one time ever again. Seriously, this is a bit ridiculous.

Blehh

I'm completing the last of my syllabi while C works on the kitchen and Bear naps. I'm still feeling rather "Blehh" about going back to teaching, but I'll deal. I'm trying to work out office hours so that I'll be away from home the minimum amount of time, but right now it's looking like I'll be gone Mondays and Fridays from about 8:15 until 12:45 or 1:00. Tuesdays I'll leave the house around 8:45 and be home around 1:00. Thursdays I'll go in later, around 9:30, but I won't be home until at least 5:00. Wednesdays I'm not planning to go in at all, except for the occasional meeting. I'm trying to squeeze in office hours on the days I'll be on campus, but I know I'll have to be there longer some days. I'm feeling a bit sick to my stomach by all of this, but there isn't much I can do. I have to teach. I have to stay visible in order to stay in the good graces of the powers that be if we're going to make a case for partner placement this year, which is the ultimate goal. Oh, and on top of all this teaching, I have to work on job materials and revise a chapter to submit for publication. Blehh.

Reading lists

I've been working on my reading list for the lit course I'm teaching this fall. It is a special topics course on Women's Lit. Since I fairly short notice for this course, I designed around the themes in my dissertation. Unfortunately the reading list for the course is much, much longer. You see, Canadian universities run courses for the entire year, and this is one such course. I'm here to tell you trying to figure out reading assignments 6 months in advance is weird--and tricky.

Something else

A few moments ago, as I was snuggling Bear through an afternoon nap (he was napping while on the boppy after nursing as I read for classes next week), I suddenly had a flashback to Wild Man's first day of day care. C was teaching that day, and as I recall he taught at 8 am that semester. Thus, I got Wild Man ready and dropped him off myself. He had no idea what was going on, but as he was happy in the arms of his caregiver I essentially dropped him off and fled as quickly as I could. I drove to campus, parked my car, and promptly walked to the office of one of my best friends, Supadiscomama. I then proceeded to cry for the next 15 minutes or so while she rubbed my back--she'd gone through the same experience a few months earlier with her own son. Being in her office and knowing she (and my other friends Sarah and L) knew how I felt helped me get through that day and the next few that followed until it got easier to drop Wild Man off.

When Wild Man and I leave Bear with C next week at 8:30 or so and don't return until after 4, I will drop Wild Man off at school and then go to my office--the one I share with 4 other people, none of whom I know (or like) all that well. I don't have any place or any one to go to who will rub my back while I cry. I know I can call any or all of these wonderful friends the minute I get to my office, but I also know that won't be quite the same. That makes this whole experience just a little bit harder.

Ambivalent

Today's title reflects how I'm feeling about returning to teaching next week. I have been off since April 10th or so when the Winter term ended (yes, in CU-speak, the terms are Fall, Winter, and Summer; there's no Spring term here). In that time I defended, revised, and filed my dissertation. I spent lots of time with C and Wild Man. I gave birth to Bear. I graduated. I helped C redo the kitchen (which is still a work in progress). And I've done remarkably little in terms of work. I have managed to plan my Fall courses and start revising a chapter to submit for publication. I have also pulled all of my job materials together and started thinking about how to revise.

Usually the beginning of the semester brings a certain level of excitement to our house. But this semester C will be staying home with Bear while I go back to teaching. C is appropriately excited not to be teaching for the first fall in about 7 years, but he is, admittedly, uncertain how he will handle being the primary caregiver to our 10-week-old (it seems unreal that Bear is already 10 weeks old). He has a list of things he wants to get done around the house before the weather turns cold as well as some writing and research he wants to get done. I keep telling him to be prepared to get nothing done some days and very little on others. I'm not sure he is listening, though. As for me, I want to stay home. I am experiencing a lot of the same feelings I experienced when we put Wild Man in day care. I said this to C, and he was a bit hurt, I think. After all, Bear isn't going to day care. He is staying home with his dad. But I will still be leaving him for a significant amount of time each day. I will still have to return to the daily task of getting work done at home while caring for him. I will still have to figure out how to find time to pump during my office hours. I will still be away from Bear.

I've spent a lot of time the last few days thinking about why this bothers me so much, and I think I've finally pinpointed the primary source of my anxiety. Aside from feeling all the "normal" going-back-to-work-and-leaving-my-infant feelings, I also feel like I'm leaving Bear just as we've really started to bond. If I'm being 100% honest, I've found it harder to bond with Bear than I did with Wild Man. I predicted this a few months ago, but I didn't anticipate how guilty it would make me feel. I've found it hard, almost brutally hard, to balance the needs of both my children, and in the first few weeks of Bear's life, I found myself passing Bear off to C quite a lot to attend to Wild Man's needs. I rationalized this to myself by saying, "Bear is an easy infant. He nurses, and he sleeps. He is rarely fussy, and he needs to bond with C as much with me." In contrast, Wild Man is so vocal and verbal. He can express his needs, and he struggled a bit with Bear's arrival. He seemed to love his brother instantly, but he didn't like sharing me. Thus, I found myself feeling a bit disconnected from Bear. That began to change when Bear had his stint in the hospital. I stayed with him in the hospital, and I was the one holding him as he got poked and prodded. I was the one asking the doctors the hard questions, and I was the one talking to the nurses. C took care of Wild Man and things at home (with some help from Pita and my sister, who needs an equally descriptive nickname), and I took care of Bear. I figured out lots of little things about my youngest son, and I really started to get to know him then. Since then I've made a conscious effort to spend more time alone with Bear as well as encouraging Wild Man to get more involved with Bear's daily care. I'm amazed how different they are, yet they are similar in so many ways. I'm also loving seeing them interact, although that is a little heartbreaking as well (I need to write a separate post on the love a younger sibling has for an older sibling). Suffice to say, I don't want to go back to work. Right now, I'd love nothing more than to stay home for foreseeable future, but that isn't in the cards for a variety of reasons. So I will enjoy my final full week at home with my littlest guy.

Jealousy

In about three weeks, my summer at home with Bear ends. I begin teaching again, and I also start the arduous task of going on the job market and revising a chapter to publish as an article. I will be on campus 4 days a week, as I am teaching 3 classes in 3 different departments. I will have to pump and store breast milk, and I will be away from Bear for at least 3 hours a day 3 days a week and 8 hours a day one day a week. I will begin each day by dropping Wild Man off at school and follow most days with office hours and then teaching. In the evenings I will have to squeeze in time with the boys along with grading and class prep and preparing job letters and other materials.

C, on the other hand, will be staying home with Bear. While he has a list of work related things he wants to accomplish while on parental leave, he will focus primarily on childcare and the house. He will be a stay-at-home-dad, at least until January. If he doesn't get anything work related accomplished, that's ok. I've never wanted to be a SAHM, but I'm more than a little jealous of the time he will get to devote to Bear. The fall semester is going to be much harder than I anticipated.

Graduate

Here is a rare photo of me. C took this picture of me with Wild Man and Bear the morning of graduation. I rarely feel like a photo captures exactly how I feel in a given moment, but this one does. It was a wonderful, wonderful day. And it feels pretty damn good to be Dr. M.

*This photo has disappeared.

Home

After a week filled with friends and graduation activities, we're home. I have lots to say about our visit, but right now, I'm still processing the visit to Southwest College Town and our return to CU Land. It seems impossible to think we've been here a year. In many ways it seems like we just arrived yesterday, but in others, it feels like we've been here forever. I've always been a firm believer that home isn't a specific location; rather it is the place where you are with those that you love. CU Land has slowly become a home of sorts. Southwest College Town will always be very, very special to me, but it doesn't feel like home anymore. Home is where my boys--all three of them--are.

Hard to believe

We're currently in Southwest College Town enjoying some time with our good friends Oxymoron, Oxy-Toddler, and Mrs. Oxy. Tomorrow I graduate. It is very, very hard to believe. I don't think it will sink in that I am Dr. M until my adviser hoods me tomorrow morning. . .

Bear

We had professional pictures taken a few weeks ago, and here is one of my favorites of Bear.

6 weeks

Bear is officially 6 weeks old. He weighs 12 pounds 4 ounces and is 24 inches long. As my midwife said at our final appointment with her today, he is growing very fast. He is smiling and starting to coo. He is also putting himself on a schedule of sorts, which means I'm getting some work done during his naps and getting a fair amount of sleep myself. Wild Man is adapting. Some days are good, some are not so good. It is clear, however, that he loves Bear.

*This picture will disappear in a few days.

Random Thoughts

Here are some random things I've been thinking.

• My sister, who is a 5 hour drive away, came to help us with Wild Man while Bear was in the hospital. She was helpful to a degree, but she was also inconsistent with Wild Man and overly critical of my house. Honestly, it wasn't helpful to be told my house is cluttered and disorganized. I also didn't enjoy being told I don't have any taste.
• Pita was here last week to meet Bear, and we had a great visit. This visit reaffirms my belief that she is much easier to get a long with when she isn't with her mother, but that is a separate issue altogether.
• Bear's birth certificate finally arrived, which means we can travel out of Canada with him. We're finalizing plans for our trip to Southwest College Town.
• Wild Man moves up to a preschool room on Tuesday. He's spent the past two weeks transitioning to his new room. Some days he is excited to go, and others he would rather be in his old room.
• Bear slowly seems to be settling into a routine of sorts. He is taking lots of little naps and one long nap of about 2 hours during the day. I'm going my best to make the most of this nap by trying to get some work done on my fall classes. He is also ready to go down around 8:30 for the night, so I generally follow soon after. So far he sleeps for about 4 hours the first stretch and then wakes up about every 2 1/2 hours after that until 7:30 or so when he is up for the day. He is easier to get to sleep than Wild Man was and generally goes right back to sleep after nursing, so I'm averaging about 7 to 8 hours of sleep a night, although it is interrupted. C and I are taking turns sleeping in with Bear on the mornings he sleeps until 8 or 8:30. This gives us both a chance to hang out with Wild Man one on one.
  
• C and I are trying to find some time for us when we can. Generally this means when Bear and Wild Man are napping or after both boys have gone to sleep. It isn't ideal, but it is better than nothing.
• Wild Man is becoming more accepting of Bear's presence. He was really upset last weekend when Bear was at the hospital; in fact, he was more bothered by Bear's absence than by mine. He is still very dependent on me, but he has figured out that I can hug him while I'm nursing Bear, which is a big plus.
• Bear loves Wild Man. At almost 6 weeks, Bear completely lights up whenever he hears Wild Man. He smiles so big for Wild Man, and that makes me melt every time.
• Life with two children is harder than I expected, but it is also easier in some ways. I think I think it is easier because we know what to expect this time. I know Bear will be ok if I have to let him cry for a minute while I get Wild Man some milk. C knows that he will generally have to finish making dinner if Bear decides to nurse while I'm cooking. I've learned that my house can be a bit cluttered and disorganized and it isn't the end of the world (despite what my sister may think).
• Next week, I need to get more reading done for my fall courses and I have to start revising my job letter, which I drafted over a year ago. I don't want to get behind this fall, so I'm going to try to get as much done as possible.
• I also want to start organizing for our trip. This is the first time we'll be traveling with both boys, and I'm a bit daunted at all the stuff we have to take with us.
  

Tired

Bear and I have spent the last two nights in the hospital, and we're beginning night number three. Luckily, we're going into tonight with good news, but I'll start at the beginning.

Last Friday, Wild Man wasn't feeling well and had a slight fever. It was around 100 before dinner, so we gave him some Motrin. It went down, and he felt better within an hour. During the night it back up to 102. C gave him some more Motrin, and again, it went down. He was a little off throughout Saturday morning, but by the afternoon, he was back to himself. On Tuesday evening, I had a headache, which wouldn't go away. I had it throughout Wednesday and had decided to call the doctor by Thursday afternoon if it hadn't gone away. Starting around 10:00 or so on Thursday, we noticed Bear wasn't acting like himself. He had woken up around 7 to nurse, and he had immediately gone back to sleep. Ordinarily he would wake up in an hour or 2 and be awake for a while before going back to sleep. He slept until ten, and when he woke up, he wanted to nurse, but went right back to sleep. He was also more cranky than usual--and for him that means just crying a bit as he is a very calm baby. By 3 I was feeling bad, and I decided to take my temperature. It was 100.8. I then decided to take Bear's; his was 99.9. I called my midwife and talked to her. As we were talking, I took it again, and it had dropped to 99, which is within normal range for a newborn. She suggested we keep an eye on him, but that if it went up again we should take him straight to the emergency room. I went to lie down with Bear, and when we woke up, around 6, he still felt warm. I took his temperature again, and it was up to 100.2. C and I packed up some things, called our midwife, and headed to the ER. Our midwife informed us that we'd probably be kept at least overnight; she told us that it is just routine to keep an infant who has a fever. So we were prepared to stay.

Fast forward to today, we were admitted, and Bear has had every test imaginable. He's been poked and prodded and seen by every resident in the hospital. We got the initial results of his blood work today, and so far, everything is negative. Assuming that his tests results are still negative by tomorrow morning, we will be able to go home. The chief pediatrician met with us early this afternoon (after making us wait all morning), and he thinks Bear likely had the same virus that Wild Man and I had. He hasn't had a fever since yesterday afternoon, and today he acted very much more like himself.

It has been a rough few days. I'm happy to say that Pita was here visiting to meet Bear, and that she was wonderful. She kept Wild Man occupied and distracted all day yesterday. My sister drove up last night, and she took care of Wild Man today, as Pita had to fly home today.

So far, both boys have been in the hospital within the first year of life. I hope this means we won't have any more scares for a long, long time.

Brothers

Wild Man is still getting used to Bear's presence in our lives. For the most part, he is doing well. I wouldn't go so far to say that he is in love with Bear, but Wild Man certainly likes him. He has had a few jealous moments, most of which have occurred when he wants to snuggle with me and I'm nursing Bear. Yesterday afternoon, after he misbehaved in the bookstore and was unceremoniously carried out kicking and screaming by me, Wild Man had a bit of a meltdown. He cried the entire way home, and he was accompanied by Bear who was crying because Wild Man was crying. When we got home I told Wild Man to sit in his quiet spot until he calmed down, and I then began nursing Bear. C checked on Wild Man several times, but he didn't want anything to do with his dad. When he finally calmed down, he came over to me and said, "Mommy, I don't want Bear. Send him away. I need you." I tried really hard not to get upset, but it's hard. I feel like Wild Man resents Bear's presence and the time I have to devote to him. Then I also feel like I'm not able to give Bear the attention I gave to Wild Man when he was an infant because my attention is always split. Parenting two is definitely hard.

But then, Wild Man asks to hold Bear or asks to "nurse" him, and I realize that he does like his brother.

*This photo will disappear in a few days.

Bear

We've recently given Z a nickname, which I will be using on my blog from now on. Z has officially become Bear. Why do you ask? Well, he snorts, snuffles, grunts, and growls. He is generally mellow, but when he wants something he wants it immediately, sort of like I imagine a bear to be. C actually suggested the name based on the various noises that Bear makes. He had been calling him Squeaky, until Wild Man informed him that was not acceptable. Apparently Wild Man approves of Bear, so Bear it is.

Z's room

Here are some photos of Z's room. Please keep in mind the fact that he is a boy will necessitate some redecorating, but only in terms of bedding. For now, we're leaving the daisy quilt up because I really like it. Plus, Z's sleeping in our room, and he couldn't care less about bedding.

So not fun. . .

Um, yes, shopping for a graduation dress/outfit 3 weeks after having a baby is so not fun.

Wild Man's school

Wild Man will be moving up to a preschool room at the first of the month, and he'll begin visiting his new room next week. We found this out yesterday, and C and I are both very relieved. To make things even better, Wild Man will be moving into the same room as both T and D, and his teacher will be Michelle, who used to be his teacher in his current room. He loves Michelle, and he still goes out of his way to talk to her whenever he sees her. This will make the transition much easier on him. After talking with the directors, it seems their concerns were different than ours. They felt Wild Man was ready to move up, but they didn't want to add extra stress on him with Z just having arrived. I pointed out that Wild Man seemed a bit out of sorts without his best buddies; leaving him in a toddler room may be as stressful as moving him up. Thus far, he is adjusting well to his friends' absences, and he is even playing really well with the younger children, which makes me feel better. So it worked out for the best!

Relieved

As I type this, Z is taking his first official bottle of expressed breast milk, and he is taking it fairly easily. I've been dreading this day for a number of reasons. First, Wild Man never took to the bottle. We gave him his first bottle when he was a month old, and he took them easily for about a month. Then he just refused. By the time he started going to daycare part time at 4 months old, he would grudgingly take just enough breast milk from a bottle to stave off his hunger. Many days, I'd pick him up to be told that he'd refused to take a bottle at all. I'd nurse him as soon as we got home, and he'd often nurse for an hour to get his fill. Second, given my fall teaching schedule, I need Z to be ok with taking a bottle, at least one a day. On Thursdays, when I teach 2 classes, he may need to take 2 or 3. I'd prefer knowing he'll take a bottle easily. So far, it seems like Z likes the bottle, and I can tell from the look on C's face that he's clearly enjoying feeding our son. So now begins the cycle of pumping and storing milk, and from here out, Z will get a bottle every other day. Here's hoping he continues to take it as easily.

Z's birth story: A comedy

At 3:15 on June 22, 2009, 5 days past my due date, I had an appointment with my midwife for my 41-week check up. My midwife and I had talked in advance, and she had agreed to do a “stretch and sweep,” which is a fairly non-invasive intervention that can induce labor. Essentially a “stretch and sweep” involves a vaginal exam in which the midwife stretches her fingers in the patient’s cervix as far as possible and then runs a finger between the cervix and the bag of waters. My midwife did this twice, and at that time, I was about 3 centimeters dilated and was easily stretching to 5 centimeters. In the event that this didn’t work, we had planned an induction for June 28th, which would have put me at 41 weeks 5 days gestation with Z. I really didn’t want to wait that long for a number of reasons. I did not want to be induced, but I couldn’t bear being pregnant any longer. On top of that, my mom was scheduled to leave that day, and it was going to cost her about $400 to extend her ticket (thanks to the international fair), which neither she nor I could afford.

After my midwife appointment, C and I went home and picked up Wild Man and my mom. It was hot and humid that day, and although the temperature was much milder than anything we’d ever experienced in Southwest College Town, I was uncomfortable. We decided to take Wild Man over to the local bookstore for a while so I could rest in the air conditioning and he could play with the train sets. While C looked at the home improvement section and my mom shopped for books for Wild Man, Wild Man and I played with the trains and read books. It was nice to have some time just for the two of us. After about an hour or so, we headed home as Wild Man was getting hungry. C took Wild Man to the car while my mom and I stood in line to pay for the books she got Wild Man (as an aside, I highly recommend Margaret Atwood’s children’s books; Wild Man loves them!). As Mom paid, she looked at me and asked if I was ok. I said, “Oh, just another contraction, but this one was a bit more painful than the ones I’ve been having for the last month or so.” We left and got in the car. It was about 5 minutes after 5:00 pm then. We drove home, and Mom started reading to Wild Man while C got dinner ready. I went to the bathroom and had another strong contraction. I asked C for his ipod to keep track of the contractions (he had downloaded a labor application a few weeks earlier for us to use), and I distinctly remember thinking that I was glad I’d put chili in the crock pot earlier in the day.

For the next 20 minutes or so, I kept having strong contractions, which lasted about 90 seconds and were 5 minutes apart. Around 5:40 I told C he needed to get my bag ready and that he needed to eat dinner. At that point, I noticed he and my mom exchanged a look. I tried lying on the couch to manage the pain on my own while C tried to eat and Mom fed Wild Man. I vaguely remember C taking stuff to the car, and then I started calling for him to help me manage the pain. He rubbed my shoulders, and then I told him I had to move around. I went from the couch to the bathroom, where I sat on the toilet for a few contractions. On my way there, I stopped in the dining room to reassure Wild Man who was getting a bit concerned for me. He kept calling for me and asking what was wrong. I wasn’t in a position to talk to him, so my mom and C tried to explain things best they could. Around 5:50, I told C that he needed to call our midwife. This was a bit complicated. Our midwife is currently working with a student midwife who is finishing up her clinical rotation. Since C and I are both teachers we had no problem working with the student, whom I’ll call L. We’d be instructed to page L first so she could get practice assessing women in labor. At the time, I really just wanted to bypass L and call my midwife directly because I knew labor was progressing very quickly, but we followed my midwife’s instructions. We called L and waited 10 minutes; when she didn’t call back C asked me if I wanted him to try her again. I said, “Absolutely not! Call my midwife.” By now it was around 6, and the contractions were getting really strong. As we waited for the midwife to call back, I did something really stupid. I went up stairs to the master bathroom to brush my teeth. I got up the stairs in between contractions without C’s help, and I don’t even think he realized I was upstairs until I called for him. Why did I go upstairs (putting me on the third floor of our house)? Well at the bookstore, I had shared a frozen strawberry drink from Starbucks with Wild Man, and I could still taste it in my mouth. I remember thinking, “I cannot have this taste in my mouth the entire time I’m in labor.” Not the smartest decision on my part, but it is what I did.

I managed to brush my teeth and then went to our bedroom to make sure we had everything. At that point I was hit with a really strong contraction and I called for C. He found me leaning over our bed and demanded to know why I’d come upstairs. I looked him straight in the face and said, “I don’t care what I’ve said for the last 9 months; I want the epidural this time. Make sure you tell L and our midwife that.” He didn’t say anything, but later he told me he knew I was entering transition at that point. C managed to help me downstairs to the main floor and just as we got there my midwife called back. C explained what was going on, and he asked me if I could talk to her. I was in the middle of another contraction and trying to hug Wild Man at the time, so I think I said something not very kind to either one of them. C told her that he thought we needed to get me to the hospital quickly. She said she’d call over to the birthing center and make sure they were ready for us and then call back. She called back in about 2 minutes and said we could head over; she then asked if I wanted her to come to the house and check me there. C passed this along to me, and I said “No, I’m going to the hospital now if I have to drive myself.” I then started heading downstairs. C later told me that B, our midwife, found this amusing; she apparently laughed and said she’d meet us there.

By now it was about 6:20. The contractions were coming really quickly, and C kept telling me to keep track on the ipod. I finally told what he could do with his ipod. Wild Man followed me down the stairs and was really upset at this point. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he knew I was hurting and that bothered him. He didn’t want to leave me, and my mom realized he was going to have a major meltdown. She didn’t want him upset and she didn’t want me upset. She looked at me very quickly and said, “M, I’m going to do something you’re not going to like to distract Wild Man. I’m sorry.” She then said to Wild Man, “Let’s go have some ice cream. Would you like to have some ice cream with Nana before we take a bath?” Ordinarily I would have been displeased with using food as a bribe, but given the circumstances I didn’t care. And it worked. Wild Man kissed me and scampered upstairs. My mom kissed me good-bye, told me not to worry about Wild Man, and very sternly instructed C to take care of me. C then helped me to the car. He tried to put me in the front seat, but I went in the back so I could lean over the driver’s seat. He then told me to put my seatbelt on, and I told him to shut up and drive. Luckily we’re only 5 minutes from the hospital.

As luck would have it, C couldn’t find a close parking space, and being stubborn and in a lot of pain, I did not want him to drop me off. I told him, “I don’t care if you have to carry me; you’re not leaving me by myself.” He found a space as close as he could and we started walking to the hospital. He stuck his ticket for the lot in his pocket; we had arrived at the parking lot at 6:32 pm.

To get to the hospital from this lot, you have to walk over a sky bridge that spans the lower parking lot. As soon as we entered the sky bridge, C grabbed a wheelchair and put me in it. The floor on the sky bridge is very bumpy though, and it was not remotely comfortable. Half way across I got out of the wheelchair and walked, stopping every 30 feet or so for a contraction. We finally got to the elevators, and suddenly my labor turned into a comedy of errors. The elevators in this hospital are notoriously slow, so we waited through at least 2 contractions until one arrived that was going down. Somehow C got me on the elevator in the middle of a contraction, and we pushed our way to the back so I could lean against the wall. Now, we were surrounded by 3 nurses and at least 4 doctors. C was so focused on helping me manage the pain that he never asked for a floor, but he said he thought to himself, surely they will push 2 for the birthing center. When the elevator doors opened everyone got out, including us. We headed in the direction of the birthing center, and C said, “Oh, M. I’m so sorry. This is the first floor. We have to get back on the elevator and go up one floor.” I turned toward the elevator and literally pushed a doctor out of my way so I could lean on the wall to get through another contraction. C said the doctor didn’t even seem to notice, and by now, C was getting a bit aggravated that no one was being particularly helpful. As we waited for the elevator, an off-duty nurse saw us and brought us a wheelchair. Being me I refused again to get in it—it literally hurt to sit down at that point. Standing up was the only way I was managing the pain at all. Given that we weren’t able to sit down or even stand still, we weren’t using any relaxation techniques at all. C was trying to get me to the birthing center as quickly as possible, and I wasn’t being particularly cooperative. But as I’ve reminded him, I was in labor!

The elevator finally arrived and we were on the second floor. C demanded I get in the wheelchair, and when I told him no, he literally pushed me down by my shoulders and moved so quickly I couldn’t get out. We got to the birthing center, and he started checking me in. I got up out of the wheelchair, announced that I had to pee, and went into the bathroom. He ended up throwing my wallet at the receptionist and pulled me out of the bathroom. He was concerned I was going to start pushing, but I really just had to pee. I know now that my bag of waters was so low that it was compressing my bladder, making me feel like I had to pee. A nurse showed up then and agreed to take me to the bathroom. C gave what he thought was my health card to the receptionist, but it turned out to be Wild Man’s. So until after Z was born, Wild Man was the one who had been admitted to the hospital. Once the nurse got me to the bathroom, I took my shorts off to go to the bathroom, and then I told her I needed C. She hollered for him, and then she determined that I shouldn’t go to the bathroom. She led me to an exam room, telling C on the way there that a birthing suite was all ready for me. I refused to put my shorts back on, so she and C wrapped a gown around me and we hobbled to the exam rom. She told me to lie down on the bed. The nurse said she’d check me and then get me a gown to change into. As soon as I opened my knees for her to check me, I knew I had to push. She said the words that are the most irritating thing for a woman in labor, “Don’t push.” I squeezed C’s hand as hard as I could and somehow managed not to push. She checked me and announced, “Oh yeah, she’s ten centimeters. Do you have a doctor or a midwife?” C answered, “A midwife, and she’s on her way.” The nurse then said, “I don’t think she’s going to make it in time.” I looked at the clock on the wall and noticed it was 6:55. It had taken us almost 30 minutes to get from the car to the birthing center. Then my midwife walked in.

I started freaking out a bit at that point because the contractions felt drastically different from what I experienced with Wild Man. They were one on top of the other and coming very, very fast. I told C I was scared, and he and B were great at calming me down. The second midwife, who was there to take care of Z once he was born, showed up, and I could finally start pushing. Pushing was such a relief. Instead of being high up on a hospital bed, on my back with my legs in stirrups like I was with Wild Man, I was on a low bed, and I was able to change positions as I wanted to. The room had dim lights, and the only people there were C, the two midwives, and me. I wasn’t hooked up to any monitors, and I didn’t have an IV (although, since I had tested Strep B positive 4 weeks earlier, I was supposed to have IV antibiotics). In between pushes, S, the second midwife, checked Z’s heart rate with her portable fetal monitor, the same kind doctors use to check babies’ heart rates during office visits. For the next 35 minutes I pushed while lying on my side, with one leg stretched out and the other pulled up. I changed positions once, and ultimately I was lying on my left side, holding C’s hand while I pushed. There was no counting this time. C and B encouraged me, but B let me push as many or as few times in a row as I wanted to. I pushed between 3 and 5 times during each contraction, and the 3rd push was always the strongest. After about 20 minutes of pushing my water broke while I was pushing, which was a strange sensation. It wasn’t the big gush I remembered from when Wild Man was born and my water was broken. Instead it was a small gush and then more gushes every time I pushed after that.

By this point, I was tired and ready for the baby to be born. B told me the baby was crowning, and I pushed really hard. When she told me the head was out and to stop pushing, I just looked straight into C’s eyes to have something to focus on. C told me to look down, and because of the position I was in, I was able to see Z being born. As soon as the baby was born, B put him on my chest, and S helped C and I start cleaning him up. I saw his penis right away and looked over at C, who was looking right at me. We were both quiet for a moment, and I then I said, “Well, I guess his name will be Z.” This was the only boy’s name we both liked, and ironically, it was the only name we had agreed to before I’d gone into labor. We’d gone into the delivery room with C preferring one girl’s name and me preferring another. It seems everything turned out for the best! Still, C was a bit taken aback, and said, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” He quickly agreed that we’d name him Z though. At that point, B was so focused on me that she didn’t even realize Z was a boy, and I noticed she gave us a funny look. After she delivered my placenta, she came to the head of the bed and gave Z a good look. She said, “Oh, that’s why you named him Z. I was thinking that was an odd choice for a girl.” We all laughed, and at that moment L, whose pager had not been working properly, arrived. Remember we’d arrived at the hospital, according to the parking meter, at 6:32 pm; Z was born at 7:36 pm. He weighed 8 pounds, 5.9 ounces, and was 22 ½ inches long. He was a full pound and a half heavier and 3 inches longer than Wild Man when he was born.

In the end, I had a first degree tear, which required two stitches, and I had been in labor for about 2 ½ hours. We spent the night in the hospital and went home around 3 the next afternoon. As surprising as it was to take home a little boy, we’re thrilled with our two boys, and Wild Man, who proceeded to call Z his “baby sister” for the next week, seemed very pleased with Z.

Annoyed

C and I are both a bit annoyed with Wild Man's school today. We love everything about this school (well, except maybe the tendency to serve sugary snacks in the afternoon), so for us to have a complaint is unusual. But we have one, and C was so annoyed that he emailed the director to follow-up on the conversation he had with her this morning when he dropped Wild Man off.

A bit of background: following the Canadian system, toddler rooms (which is what Wild Man is in) have children from age 18 months to 2 1/2 years. The reason for this is that most children don't start daycare until they are 12 months old (thanks to the Canadian practice of allowing caregivers to take up to 12 months maternity leave assuming they qualify). When Wild Man started, he was one of the younger kids in his class, and although this concerned us a bit, he quickly acclimated and made some good friends. Now he is one of the oldest kids. In fact, we were told a few weeks ago that he was the next child on the schedule to move up to a pre-school class. We were excited about this for Wild Man as we knew one of his good friends was going to be moving up soon; in fact, we requested that he be moved up with another of his good friends who is only 4 days younger than he is. The director said that this shouldn't be a problem, so we didn't think too much about it.

Well, last week we learned that Wild Man's best buddy, D, was moving up this week, and we knew that was going to stress him out a bit. We talked about it this weekend and he seemed ok. We reassured him that his other good friend, T, would still be with him, although she had been out on vacation last week. This morning, C dropped Wild Man off and realized that not only was D gone, but so was T. C asked Wild Man's teachers, who explained that both T and D had moved up today. C said Wild Man looked around the room for his friends and turned to C and asked, "Daddy, where are my friends?" Wild Man can (and will) play with the other children, but they are all 3 months or more younger than he is. None of them are as verbal as he is, and none of them are quite as rambunctious as he is. C said when he left, he could tell that Wild Man was stressed out. Given all the other changes that Wild Man is dealing with, C was concerned--and a bit angry. He stopped by the director's office to ask when Wild Man would be moving up. It seems they are having a hard time finding a spot for Wild Man this summer given his "part-time" schedule. So Wild Man, who turned 2 1/2 in April, isn't being moved up because he only goes 4 days a week instead of 5. That made me angry. I understand the intricacies of the schedule and all of that, but it seems like in the 5 pre-school rooms this school has, there would be one that would work with his schedule. The director told C it would be easier to find Wild Man a spot in a pre-school room if he went full-time.

Now we're discussing sending Wild Man full-time if only to ensure that he is stimulated and happy at school. I'm really, really unhappy about this, but I'm not sure what else to do.

Random Stuff

Both Z and Wild Man are napping, and C and his mom are grocery shopping. I should be napping too, but I can't seem to turn my brain off. A lot has happened in the past two weeks, and I'm not certain I've begun to process it all. My emotions are all over the place, so I thought writing might help.

• Wild Man is doing well adjusting to his brother's presence. He's not doing so well sharing me. Saturday morning he had his first major meltdown. Z had cluster fed throughout the night, which meant I was up about every 2 hours. On top of that Wild Man had a rough night himself. He woke up once and took about 30 minutes to go back to sleep, and then he woke up for the day at 6, which is about an hour earlier than he usually wakes up. So C and I were both exhausted. When Wild Man woke up, C woke up his mom, and she watched a movie with Wild Man, so C and I could go back to sleep. At 8, Z woke up, and Wild Man heard him. He came right up the stairs to see me, and he wanted a hug. I was trying to nurse Z, so I told Wild Man to sit on the bed with us and I'd hug him while I nursed Z. Not ideal, I know, but I thought it would make Wild Man happy. I was wrong, and Wild Man had a total global meltdown. He wanted me right at that moment, and I couldn't hold him the way he wanted to be held. I felt horrible. I had to feed Z, but I really wanted to take care of Wild Man, who was clearly not feeling like himself and was exhausted. C, who is inifintely patient with newborns, has little patience for toddlers' temper tantrums, and he wasn't as helpful as he could have been. Really, Wild Man just needed to cry, but going on lack of sleep, C put him in time out. That made things worse. Thankfully Z is already an effiecient nurser, and he was done in about 15 minutes. I was able to give Z to C and comfort Wild Man, but even then it took him about 15 more minutes to calm down. He was off for the rest of the day (which, frankly, wasn't helped by the fact that Yetta insisted on having an elaborate lunch for the 4th and we didn't eat until 1:00, which means Wild Man had been up for 7 hours by the time he went down for a nap.).
• I'm tired, which seems obvious, but it isn't the same tired to the bone I experienced with Wild Man. Thus far, Z is a calmer baby than Wild Man was. He is routinely up for 2 hours in the middle of the night, but as he isn't fussy, he is easier to deal with. In fact, last night was his first real fussy night, and he was having a hard time pooping. Once he relaxed and pooped, he nursed and went right to sleep.
• I have a million things to do to get ready for the semester, and I don't want to do any of them.
• I'm anxiously waiting for Z's birth certificate to come in so we can get him a Canadian passport. Since we couldn't get an appointment at the U.S. Consulate until the end of the month, we weren't sure his U.S. passport would come in by the time of our trip to Southwest College Town in August. Thus, we've decided to get him a Canadian passport. I've been told this will only take about 3 weeks once we get the paper work in, but since the Canadian post is notoriously slow, I'm still worried.
• We have to get the car registered, which will likely be a tedious process.
• C has started installing our new kitchen cabinets (I swear the man must be occupied at all times). They look great, but frankly, I'm tired of talking about home improvement.
• Yetta is wonderful, but she isn't my mom. I miss my mom.
• Yetta hates hanging out around the house, and I'm not really feeling like getting out right now. C, however, wants to make sure his mom has a good visit, so he is giving in to her. I don't want to eat out, I don't want to go shopping, and I really don't want to leave my house except to take Wild Man to the park (which is too far for Yetta to walk to even though it is only 2 blocks away). I told C last night that I need him to remember that I just had a baby, and I'd like to lay low for a few more weeks.
• My sister is being an ass to our mom. I don't want to elaborated at this point, but I will say that my sister is using her recent diagnosis of bi-polar 2 as a means to blame every horrible thing that happened in our childhood (and for the record, we had a pretty good childhood) on our mom.
• C's sister, Pita, has made several comments about Z being a boy. C says they come across as jokes, but she is expressing her disappointment at having another nephew. So far she hasn't said anything to me, and I have already warned both Yetta and C that if she does say anything to me about Z's sex I will not be kind.
  
• I had no idea that having a second child would make me love my oldest child so much more. Despite his clinginess to me, Wild Man clearly loves his baby brother. He constantly kisses Z and tells him how much he loves him. He hates for him to cry, and he gets very upset if we let Z cry for a minute longer than Wild Man thinks is necessary.
• I still need to type up Z's birth story (which, in retrospect, was quite comedic), but I haven't managed to do that yet.
• I have a bunch of corrections to do to my dissertation, per the ubiquitous thesis office, and I have to finish those this week.
• I'm actually looking forward to this coming weekend. Yetta leaves on Wednesday, and it will be the four of us until the end of the month, when Pita comes for a visit. It will be stressful in some ways, but I also think it will be good for us to be on our own so we can start to figure these things out for ourselves.
• I want to give Z a bottle sometime this week. He's nursing great, and I don't want to wait much longer. With my teaching schedule this fall (I'll be on campus 4 days a week), I need him to take a bottle easily. Wild Man never really took the bottle, but I really need Z to be comfortable getting breast milk from a bottle.
• I figure I have another 30 minutes before Wild Man wakes up, so I'm going to try to get through some of those revisions now.
  

Yetta

Yetta got her on Wednesday night, and I'm already struck by how different our mothers are. I'll blog about it at some point, but for now I'll just say that Yetta prefers to shop for us while my mom preferred to clean for us. And I don't think she's stopped talking since she got here. . .

My mom

My mom leaves Sunday, and that makes me really sad. My mom has been here for 2 weeks, and she's been great. She's done all the stuff around the house that she could since she's been here so I could focus on Wild Man before Z's arrival and both boys after Z's arrival. She kept Wild Man calm the evening I went into labor, and she's taken Z every morning so I could go back to sleep and C could get Wild Man ready for school. On top of all of that, we had a week together before Z's birth, and we talked about a lot of stuff that has happened in the past few years. I feel like we understand each other a lot better now. I understand a bit more how hard it was for her when she was first diagnosed with bi-polar and she undersands a bit more how hard it was for me to deal with her diagnosis. I really wish she didn't have to go, and she wanted to extend her ticket. Doing so cost more than either one of us could afford right now, unfortunately. She may come back in August, and she'll definitely be here for Wild Man's birthday in October. In addition to giving birth to a wonderful baby, I also feel like I've gotten my mom back.

Ugh

Due to a mistake on the part of the rep in Human Resources and my ignorance about the Canadian system, it turns out that I do not qualify for maternity leave benefits. I'm feeling a little sick to my stomach right now as that affects our income for the summer, although not drastically. C will still begin leave in a few weeks, and thanks to his full-time position at the university, he is assured of benefits.

There are some positive things to remember, which I'm trying to focus on rather than having an all out break down, which I'm sure would be fueled by my post-partum state of mind. We have enough in savings to see us through till the fall when I will be getting paid again. I recently found out that I will be teaching 3 courses in as many departments this year (well, 3 in the fall term, and 2 in the spring term), which will significantly improve our income and mean that we'll be able to replenish our savings fairly quickly. We also got a sizable amount back in income taxes which will help see us through. But knowing that this is due to the fact that someone forgot to check something soon enough and that I didn't know to ask the right questions is very, very upsetting.

Z

Big Brother

Wild Man is handling Z's (at some point I'll come up with another pseudonym for him, but for now we'll stick with Z) arrival really well. There has been some minor jealousy, mostly connected with me, but considering he has his Nana's attention, Wild Man is doing fairly well. In fact, whenever he hears Z cry he says, "Mommy, Z is crying. Don't hurt my brother. You be careful." He has helped C change Z's diapers several times and is eager to play with him. So far the transition has been fairly easy, although I got upset yesterday when Wild Man was crying for me to give him a bath and I couldn't because I was nursing Z. We're taking it one day at a time, but it is good to know that Wild Man likes his brother.

Baby Z's birth announcement

Baby Z was born yesterday evening at 7:36 pm after 2 hours of labor. He weighs 8 pounds 6 ounces and is 22 inches long. And yes, you read that correctly: Baby Z is, indeed, a boy! It seems our little guy confounded the ultrasound tech who had predicted he would be a she. So now we're trying to figure out what to do with all the pink clothes people have given us! I'll write more later, including a birth story. For now, I'm happy to be home with all my boys!

Scheduled

I spoke with my midwife this morning and scheduled an induction for June 28th. Scheduling an induction means that I will have to be transferred out of my midwife's care into that of an ob/gyn. My midwife encouraged me to wait one more day because the doctor on call on the 28th is a doctor whom she has worked with before and who is willing to allow her to be a part of the induction process. Not all ob/gyns are willing to include midwives in the process. My midwife also seems to think that this doctor would be willing to try just breaking my water rather than giving me pitocin or other drugs first. When I had an emergency induction with Wild Man, my then ob/gyn only had to break my water. 4 1/2 hours later Wild Man was born. This suggests my body will go into labor on its own with this single intervention. I'd really like to go this route as I may not have to deal with pitocin and will be able to have an unmedicated birth. I'm not sure what will happen if I have pitocin. I also have a series of appointments scheduled for next week in the event that I do have to be induced. This is making for some crazy conversations and contigency plans.

I do have to say though that it has been really nice to have this time with my mom. We've been shopping, she's helped me hem curtains, we've organized Z's closet, and we've been out to lunch several times. On top of that, she's done all my laundry, done the dishes every day, and played with Wild Man until he's collapsed on the floor in giggles. We also had a long conversation about my expectations once the baby gets here, and before I could even say much she told me she thinks it is more important for her to focus on Wild Man so I can focus on the baby. Since she isn't comfortable driving around a new city, she said she thinks it will be better if C handles errands and things like that. This is precisely what I had in mind anyway, so it all works out very well. It seems a lot of my worrying about her was unfounded. She isn't as energetic as the mom I grew up with, but she is definitely more together and present than she was right after Wild Man was born. Even if she is only here for a few days after Z is born, I will not feel like this was a wasted visit sine we've already had such a good time together.

An induction

Since I'm still pregnant and Z shows no signs of making an appearance, we have decided to schedule an induction. My midwife, who is not at all concerned about the baby or me, will not even consider an induction until I'm 41 weeks and 3 days, which is about 10 days from now. Her reasoning for this is that with any intervention I'm more likely to have more interventions, and I totally agree. I am somewhat frustrated though. I fully realize these are circumstances that are beyond my control, and I'm mostly ok with that. I want the baby to come in her own time as that means she's ready. That said, our good friends, who had driven to CU Land from New York, had to leave today, and their primary purpose in coming was so that my friend could be my doula, something she did for me when Wild Man was born. My mom also got here on Saturday, and she's very nervous that she won't be able to be here much after the baby is born if Z doesn't show up until the induction date. Granted, Mom will be here for about 11 more days (and for the record, the "together" Mom showed up!), but if I have to be induced, Mom will have to take more time off of work and extend her ticket. Her visit will also overlap with C's mom's, which isn't ideal for any of us.

Needless to say, both C and I are a bit stressed out. Neither one of us wants to have an induction, but I don't know that I'm mentally prepared to be pregnant for another 2 or 3 weeks. Right now the plan is to schedule an induction for June 27; in the meantime, we'll hope Z decides to come on her own. If she hasn't come by next Tuesday, my midwife will send me to have a stress test, and a few days after that she'll send me for another stress test and an ultrasound. Oddly enough, everyone is more worried than C, my mom (who went to today's appointment with us), and me. As I said to C a little while ago, I know what it is like to have a doctor look at me and be worried. After the scare we had with Wild Man's delivery, I know the look that medical personnel get when they think something is going wrong with my pregnancy. My midwife, whom I like a lot and really trust, does not seem at all concerned, so I'm not concerned--at least not about my health or the baby's. I'm just a little sad that our friends had to leave before the baby arrived and that my mom might not get to spend a lot of time with us after the baby does arrive.

*Edited to add: Yetta and Pita, both of whom are prone to assume the absolute worst, are freaked out. They are sure something will go wrong and were very upset when C told them that he isn't really worried and that he'd prefer not to have me induced.

Submitted!

So this morning C pointed out that I had instructed Baby Z not to make an appearance until I was completely finished with my dissertation. As of this morning, I only had to complete the abstract and the table of contents. I then needed C's help to convert all the various supplementary materials into a pdf before I could submit it to the thesis office. I spent the afternoon doing that, and C finished helping me convert it to a pdf. I just submitted it to the thesis office. My adviser will send the signature page over to the thesis office tomorrow, as well as a few copyright forms. My dissertation is now submitted. I hope this means that Z will now decide she can show up without making her mother's life more stressful!

I am. . .

still waiting for Z to make an appearance. I'm 39 weeks and 3 days pregnant. I have finished all of my dissertation revisions. Our good friends are in town visiting; Solon is here to help take care of Wild Man, and Megs is here to be my doula. My mom got into town today. I feel like a watched pot that will never boil.

According to my midwife, Z's head is engaged, which explains why it hurts to walk. I've had serious contractions the last two nights, but they've stopped around midnight. I'm ready, C is ready, Wild Man is even ready. Apparently Z is not ready. So we wait.

Princess Fever

Gender is always on my mind, it seems. It is a big concern of my research, and I think I probably pay more attention to issues of gender than the average parent (no doubt, as do most of my readers many of whom are also academic moms). Since giving birth to Wild Man, I've thought a lot about gender roles and how they will affect my son. At 2 1/2 Wild Man is slowly becoming aware of gender and sex. He knows, for example, that he has a penis and that I do not. He knows that I wear a bra but that C does not. As he has found various feminine products in our bathroom cabinet the closer we get to Z's arrival, he is also starting to understand that certain things are for "ladies." Per our pediatrician's instructions, we're focusing on providing simple answers to his questions and offering more information when he asks for more. Mostly though, Wild Man is satisfied with simple answers about the differences between his body and my body. We have recently had some trouble answering questions that are clearly related to gender.

C and I recently took Wild Man shoe shopping. He is now at the age where he offers an opinion, and we're learning how to validate his opinion while buying clothes and shoes that we think are appropriate. On this particular shopping trip, we explained to Wild Man that he needed new sneakers, nothing else. My kid likes shoes (can you blame him? So do I!), so it was important that he know we were only buying sneakers. Well, at the shoe store, Wild Man was drawn immediately to a pair of pink sparkly sneakers. He looked up at me and said, "Mommy, I please have these?" The pair he had chosen were reasonably price, were well made, and were a brand that I know will last. Moreover, they were designed in a way that would easily accommodate my son's wide foot. I figured, what the heck? They weren't obnoxiously pink and only the velcro straps were sparkly. But C took one look at them and said, "I don't think we should let him have pink shoes." I raised my eyebrows, and he then said, "I know we're trying to be progressive parents, but I really don't want to have to deal with all the comments we'll get about letting him wear pink shoes. I'll compromise. We can go buy him some pink, glittery play shoes at the toy store when we're done here." To be totally honest, I think C's reasoning is a bit of a cop out. Wild Man likes pink, plain and simple. But he also likes trucks, tractors, and dirt. I understand that we'd probably get a few odd looks about his shoes, but whatever, right? I mean, pink shoes are the least of my worries. That said, I wasn't in the mood to have a long drawn out debate about gender in the shoe store. C was able to suggest a pair of navy blue sneakers with red and silver trim that Wild Man liked. They fit so we bought them. We never made it to the toy store for dress up shoes, but he still wears my heels around the house. All is well in our house.

Then I ran across this article on Princess Fever this morning. I freely admit this is my biggest fear about having a daugther: that she will come out of my womb loving all things pink, glittery, sparkly, and princess-y. All things that I really don't like. In fact, part of the reason we haven't bought Wild Man dress up play shoes is that I can't find any that aren't connected to the Disney Princesses. I think I'm pretty good a negotiating gender choices for my son because I'm trying to seek a balance. Ideally we'll be able to provide a similar balance for Z, but after reading this article I am now imagining us in the same shoe store arguing with her about pink sparkly sneakers emblazoned with princesses and trying to steer her toward the navy blue ones. Is it possible in 2009 to raise a daughter who is not enamored by princesses?

Belly shot

A few weeks ago, we had a photographer come to the house and take some family pictures of the three of us and some maternity shots of me. Wild Man was not as cooperative as I'd hoped, but the photos still turned out great, mainly because the photographer was determined to get some great pictures. She got some really nice ones of C and me, which makes me very happy since we haven't had a professional picture taken of just the two of us since our wedding, almost 9 years ago. This is one of my favorites.

Seriously?

So Thursday morning I woke up with a cold. I thought, "Seriously, a cold at 38 weeks pregnant? Who did I piss off?" I was hoping it would be a minor cold. No such luck. It has turned into a major cold, with a cough, watery eyes, and lots of sneezing. So far Wild Man hasn't caught it, but C has. Colds always affect us differently. I've already gone through a box of tissues. C has yet to sneeze or need to blow his nose, but he looks exhausted and clearly feels awful. I actually told him that as tired as I am of being pregnant I really hope I don't go into labor tonight as I don't think either one of us is up for a long night of labor. Here's hoping we'll both feel better soon, and that Z makes her appearance soon after that. I think Wild Man is even ready for her to be here. He asked me today, "Mommy, when sister come home?"

Birthday Update

Yesterday was my birthday, and I really thought that Z would make an appearance yesterday. I was born on my grandfather's birthday, so I have thought for some time now that Z might show up on our birthday to give us something extra to celebrate. Apparently she wants to keep us guessing, so we're still waiting.

Despite still being pregnant, I had a lovely birthday. Wild Man woke me up by singing "Happy Birthday" to me, and he and C made me breakfast--toast, cereal, and sliced strawberries. After we dropped Wild Man off at school, C and I went to price kitchen cabinets. I know this isn't particularly exciting to most people, but the chain home improvement store in town is discontinuing a nice line of cabinets. Thus, we can replace the cabinets in our house for around $700. The problem is that since the line is discontinued we have to make do with whatever is in stock. We spent over an hour figuring out what they have and don't have and trying to locate the missing pieces at another store, which is in a town about an hour away.

After leaving the land of kitchen cabinets, we ran some other errands and then had a lovely lunch at a Thai restaurant I've been wanting to try for a while. We opted not to have a family dinner because I wanted to go to a nicer restaurant. We also opted not to hire a babysitter and to go out for the evening because I'm just not up for late nights right now. In the end, this restaurant, which was a bit upscale, was a good compromise. We had a lovely grown-up lunch, lingering over appetizers and entrees and talking for over an hour and a half. Now if we don't get to celebrate our anniversary in any significant way, I don't think either of us will feel cheated.

After lunch, C dropped me off at a nearby Starbucks, where I read and worked for awhile, and he returned to the home improvement store to purchase the cabinets we needed and they had in stock. Then he picked me up, and we went to a midwife appointment. We learned that Z is still quite low (which I knew), but that her head is not yet engaged. The midwife warned me this may not happen until I'm in labor. I find it hard to believe her head isn't engaged since I'm experiencing so much pressure in my pelvis, but whatever. Then we picked up Wild Man and went to the park for a while. We got home around 5, made pasta for dinner, and had yummy ice cream cake for dessert. After Wild Man went to bed, C and I watched a movie and snuggled on the couch. All in all, it was a low-key birthday, which is exactly what I wanted. And we have over 3/4 of the ice cream cake left, so I get to celebrate for quite a few more days!

Weepy

I'm feeling a bit weepy today. Truth be told, I've been feeling a bit weepy for the past few days. Lots of things make me want to cry, especially things connected to Wild Man. In the past month or so, it has really hit home how much he has grown up.

He is almost completely potty-trained. He always pees on the toilet, and he poops on it about 85% of the time. While a lot of this is due to mine and C's effort to make sure he goes, he is getting much better about telling us when he has to do. He can dress himself, aside from buttoning buttons and zipping zippers. He can even get his shoes on himself, although he still confuses which feet they go on regularly. And in the milestone we've been working toward for so long: he consistently sleeps through the night and puts himself to sleep. This is a big accomplishment in our household. All of these things are great, and I'm very proud of my little guy. But he is definitely not a baby anymore. He's lost most of his baby chub with his most recent growth spurt. He is about 35 inches tall and weighs about 33 pounds. He constantly tells me, "Mommy, I do it myself." He has never been much of a snuggler, and he is even less of one now. He is very free with hugs and kisses, but he won't sit on my lap (or what is left of it) for any length of time. As if all of that weren't enough, he is fascinated by C. Whereas he used to want to be with me all the time (and yes, I remember complaining about it), now he follows C around and does everything he sees his father doing. I'm quite happy that he is attaching himself to C, as it will definitely make the transition easier once Baby Z arrives, but it makes part of me a little sad.

On top of missing my baby boy, I'm also feeling some guilt about having a second child. On some level, I feel like we're doing Wild Man a huge disservice by having a second child, at least financially. If we were a family a three, we'd be able to give him a lot more--in terms of education, of travel, of life experience. Being a family of four, those things are necessarily going to be harder. C's reassures me that this won't necessarily be the case. After all, given our professions and his particular field of study, our kids will have a lot of life experiences we didn't have as children. But financially things will be harder, at least a bit. And then I feel guilty for thinking maybe we shouldn't have decided to have a second child. It's this horrible cycle, which I'm hoping will end once I meet Z and hold her for the first time. But I keep thinking, what if all I can think about when the midwife gives her to me for the first time is Wild Man? What if I don't have the immediate love for her that I had for him? What if I like him better? And I want to cry again.

I'm really hoping all of this is just pregnancy hormones and that all of these doubts and fears will go away once Z arrives.

Insurance aggravation

So last week, C and I finally got our Canadian driver's licenses. We had been putting it off for a variety of reasons, but finally, we (or I) determined we just had to do it. Getting our driver's licenses was the easy part. It literally took under a half an hour, which we both found really surprising. Getting Canadian car insurance is proving to be a bit more difficult, however.

First of all, car insurance is much more expensive here--as, it seems to us, is everything else. Second, it honestly never occurred to either C or me to keep a copy of our Southwestern State driver's licenses, which is proving to be a problem as we don't have driver's license numbers. Third, it seems that the Canadian system and the American system don't "speak" to one another, so all the paper work that the Canadian insurance company needs I'm having to find and locate on my own. That said, the insurance agent I've been working with regarding forms and the like since March has neglected to tell me what all I need to get the best rate possible. The entire process is getting a bit frustrating--and that frustration is only complicated by the fact that C has absolutely no patience for anything like this at all.

So after 4 phone calls to various companies and various states I think I finally have all the forms that I need so we can get Canadian car insurance. But something tells me I'm probably wrong.

Baby Preparations

I should be working on course prep for the fall so I am not so overwhelmed come August, but I'm not. Instead I'm marveling at all we've done in the past 2 weeks to get prepared for Z's arrival. Here's a rundown of some of the things we've done.

• Washed and organized all baby clothes.
• Organized coat closet.
  
• Replaced the heater in her room with a more energy efficient model (the one drawback of our townhome is that it uses baseboard heaters that are about 20 years old. Given the makeup of the house, installing a furnace or central heat isn't an option, so we're slowly replacing the old heaters with more energy efficient ones.)
• Purchased bottles, bath products, changing pad, wipes, and nursing pads.
• Pulled breast pump and all related items, pack n'play, infant car seat, and infant bath tub out of storage.
• Disinfected everything that needs to be disinfected.
• Put infant car seat in car.
• Set up pack n'play in living room, where Z will nap and we will change her (rather than walking upstairs every time she needs to be changed).
• Purchased used Baby Bjorn (the one with back support).
• Packed Z's diaper bag and put it in the car.
• Begun packing my bag for hospital.
• Made arrangements for Wild Man for when I go into labor.
• Cooked and frozen about 12 meals.

C has done a lot of home improvement projects that aren't necessarily related to Z's arrival, but they are projects that needed to be done before she got here (or else they wouldn't get done until who knows when.)

• Replaced floor trim in bathroom.
• Painted upstairs hallway.
• Replaced floor trim in upstairs hallway.
• Painted all bedroom and closet doors.
• Replaced doorknobs on all bedroom and closet doors.
• Painted downstairs hallway.

We've done all of these things while C has been working on an article and I've been completing the revisions mandated by my committee (which, I freely admit, I'm completing at a snail's pace). We're also making a concerted effort to do some special things with Wild Man, including going to the Farmer's Market (he loves the Farmer's Market!), getting ice cream (ok, this is more about me than him, but I never met a 2-year-old who turned down ice cream), planting flowers, and going to the park. He has even helped C paint and helped me put Z's clothes away. I honestly feel like I could go into labor now without worrying about anything. And that, of course, means that Z will be a week late.

Naming Z

I'm 37 weeks pregnant today, which makes me officially full term. And we still don't have a name for Z. We have a list, but if she were born today, I have no idea what we would name her. To make things more difficult, C recently announced he didn't like the middle name we had agreed upon months ago, which is the feminine version of his name. I was sort of flabbergasted because I had become invested in this particular name for lots of reasons. It is simple, classic, and goes with every name on our list. As a bonus, if we end up naming Z one of the more outlandish names on our list (at least one is fairly unusual, by my standards), this middle name would be perfectly suitable as a first name, should she ever want to use it as such. Apparently, C feels that I just picked the name without consulting him all that much, and he would prefer not to give the baby any version of his name at all. As he reminded me, he is the first man in his family not to name his first born son after himself in, oh, about 6 generations; so why would he want to give his daughter the feminine version of his name? Ok, I get this, and to be totally honest, I only pointed out that this was the feminine version of his name because I like it so much and I thought telling him that would sell him on it. I guess I was wrong. It seems Z's middle name will be in honor of C's grandmother. To be completely honest again, this isn't a name I particularly like (and the fact that C's mother has been lobbying for its use since before I was pregnant with Wild Man probably doesn't help my opinion of it). That said, Wild Man is named after my grandfather, so I don't think I can tell C, "Um, nope, don't want to name our daughter after your grandmother!"

I think C's decision about Z's middle name is what has thrown me for a loop. Prior to that, I had one name on our list that I really loved, but now, with the new middle name, I don't like it so much. I'm hoping that we will look at her and know what her name is, but something is telling me this little one might not have a name for a while.

**Edited to add: I actually proposed using my preferred middle name as Z's first name combined with C's grandmother's name for Z's middle name. He nixed that idea immediately.

My Birthday

My birthday is less than 2 weeks away. Yesterday C asked me what I wanted to do. He offered to hire a babysitter for Wild Man so that we can also celebrate our 9th wedding anniversary, which is on June 24, about a week after Z's due date. But I truly have no idea what I want to do. I mean, a romantic evening would be really nice, but honestly, at 38 weeks pregnant (which is what I'll be on my birthday), I doubt I'll be feeling very romantic. . .

I guess I better come up with something so C isn't disappointed.

Job update

I got word yesterday that I will, in fact, be teaching a full year course for the English Department this coming year. That means I will be gainfully employed for both the fall and spring semesters next year. This is a big relief, financially. But more to the point, I'm thrilled to be teaching for the English Department at CU. I feel like this is a much better department fit for me, and now I can begin getting to know the people in the department. This is the department I'd prefer to be hired in to if we're able to negotiate a tenure-track job for me. And bonus: I get to teach as Dr. M for the first time ever!!

36 weeks

I am officially 36 weeks pregnant today. 1 more week and Z will be considered full term. I suppose I ought to think about throwing some stuff in a bag for the hospital . . .

Z's Dual Citizenship

I've been doing some research on how to secure Z's dual citizenship, and it seems that the process will be much more complicated than either C or I had anticipated. I mistakenly assumed that since C and I are both U.S. citizens we would only have to fill out some lengthy form to apply for Z's U.S. citizenship. Nope, not so. It turns out we will have to make at least one (and quite possibly two) trips to the nearest U.S. consulate to apply for Z's U.S. citizenship. The first appointment will take a minimum of 2 hours and will require us to load both kids in the car for a 2 hour drive. Z will be fairly easy to manage, but I can't imagine Wild Man will enjoy such a day--2 hours in the car, followed by a 2 hour appointment in which he will expected to be quiet, and then another 2 hours in the car. Oh, yes, I see Wild Man really enjoying that day. To complicate matters somewhat, we'll need to do this fairly soon after Z's birth as we're traveling to Southwest College Town in August to attend my graduation. We will need apply for her citizenship and her U.S. passport at the same time to ensure her passport comes through. We could just get her a Canadian passport, but it seems to make more sense to go ahead and get her a U.S. passport.

One more thing to figure out. . .

Nesting

I have a lot to get done in the next 2 weeks or so, and a lot of it involves nesting. I need to pull out all of Wild Man's baby things and get them organized. I also need to organize the massive amounts of clothes Z already has. Between C's mom, my sister, and our very generous friends, this girl has a lot of clothes. On top of that I need to figure out what essentials we still need to purchase so we have everything ready when she arrives. Given the number of Braxton-Hicks contractions I've been having, I decided to go ahead and pack her bag for the hospital, so that is one thing that is done. I do, however, need to throw some things in a bag for me.

On top of that, I want to get a few more meals in the freezer. My sister came to visit this weekend, and we spent a good portion of yesterday and today cooking. We've made some headway there. C has also been wrapping up lots of little home improvement projects, including installing new shelving in Z's closet. We're slowly getting there, but I have to admit I don't really believe in nesting. I'm doing all of this because it has to be done, not because I feel some overwhelming urge to do it. In fact, I'd be quite happy if none of this had to be done at all! I know lots of women who feel the urge to nest, but I'm just not one of them. I'd honestly rather sit on the couch with a glass of lemonade and a good book right now.

Wild Man and Baby Z

We've been talking a lot about Baby Z's impending arrival these days, and I think Wild Man is starting to understand that we will have a baby in the house soon. We've put up the bedding and hung curtains in Z's room, something that didn't make him very happy. In fact, the day C did all this Wild Man announced that the crib is his bed and that the baby will have to sleep elsewhere. He and I talked about sleeping arrangements yesterday, and it seems that C will be taking the brunt of Wild Man's frustrations. Wild Man has determined that Z will sleep in her "basket" (we bought a moses basket on a rocker for her to use while she sleeps in our room), C will sleep in the crib, I will sleep in mine and C's bed, and Wild Man will either sleep in his bed or in "Mommy's bed." When I asked him if he thought his dad would fit in the crib, he reconsidered and grudgingly said, "Daddy sleep with Mommy."

Yesterday at dinner Wild Man asked if Z will nurse at my nu-nus (his word for breasts, which he came up with all on his own). C decided to handle this one, and said yes, Z will nurse just like you did. Wild Man pondered this and then asked "Will the baby chew Mommy's nu-nus?" I tried desperately not to laugh, but I barely managed to avoid spitting my water all over C. C explained that babies don't have teeth, so they just nurse, either their mommys' breasts or from a bottle. Wild Man then declared, "Baby Z eat my nu-nus." I think we're making progress, but I'm not 100% sure.

This weekend we're going to show him the pictures of the three of us at the hospital following his birth. We're hoping this will make him understand a little better what's going on. C also told him that our good friends Megs and Solon with their girls Jeezy and Lion Cub will be coming for a visit around the time Z is scheduled to arrive. This news ended all serious conversations about Z as Wild Man couldn't stop talking about Jeezy and Solon. So, Megs, if you're reading this, you better prepare Jeezy: Wild Man is going to show her how to dig for worms in our backyard. He said he can't show Lion Cub because she's too little.

35 weeks and counting

I'm officially 35 weeks pregnant today. 2 more weeks and I'll be considered full term. Baby Z is very active, kicking and rolling a lot. I'm also starting to feel a lot of pressure in my hips and pelvis. Last night, I had to turn over bedtime duty to C so that I could go lie down in an attempt to stop all the Braxton-Hicks contractions I was having. C is betting that Z will not make it to her due date; in fact, he's certain she won't wait until June. As for me, my mommy intuition is telling me she'll be a bit early, but I'm not counting on that. C has predicted she'll be early so many times that I think she may just decide to hang out to prove her father wrong. I certainly hope she waits two more weeks, at which point she'll be considered full term. Beyond that, I know she'll come when she's ready.

Visitors, or Why I'm not sure I want my mom to visit

Now that I have defended (and should be completing my fairly minor revisions), I feel like I can think about Z's arrival, which is about 5 weeks away, give or take. I'm getting a bit stressed out, and I'm not sure how to combat or even to deal with that stress. I'm not worried about having a second child. Ok, let me try that again. I feel like C and I know what to do with a newborn. As I've blogged countless times, Wild Man was a difficult newborn. His inablity to sleep more than 45 minutes a time for 2 months combined with his colic and with the fact that C's dad died less than 24 hours after Wild Man was born made his first few months incredibly stressful. Given that experience, I feel like we will be up for the challenge of a newborn in a few weeks. C and I have already talked about handling the workload and how we will divide responsibilities, especially night duty. Since I'll be nursing, I'll take the night shift, which means he'll have to get up with Wild Man so that Z and I can sleep in a bit. We're hoping Wild Man's schedule won't get disrupted too much, but we've talked about things enough that I feel fairly confident that we'll be able to manage.

We're expecting quite a few visitors in the weeks following Z's birth, and I'm not altogether certain how I feel about visitors. My mom will come first, and she'll stay with us for 2 weeks. Now, I don't blog about my mom a lot for a variety of reasons, the primary being that my feelings about my mother are so conflicted that it is just easier to complain about C's mom than it is to confront my feelings about my mom. How's that one for honest? If I had had Z and Wild Man 10 years ago, I would not have been stressed at all about my mom's visit. 10 years ago I could have told her to take over cooking and entertaining Wild Man, and I would have been confident in her abilities to do so. But my mom has changed drastically in the past 10 years. She has always struggled with depression, and about 5 years ago she was diagnosed as bi-polar 2. This means that she has the highs and lows associated with bi-polar, but that her mood fluctuations are easier to predict and they don't require her to be hospitalized. It took me a long time to come to terms with this diagnosis, and it took me even longer to come to terms with my mom's way of coping. She has avoided therapy in favor of a traditional psychiatrist, whom she sees once a month. She is on a number of medications, and they change quite frequently. In the first 3 years following her diagnosis (which included the year Wild Man was born), my mom also believed she suffered from panic attacks.

Rather than try to determine what caused the panic attacks and figure out how to cope with them without medication, my mom elected to take medication. Some days she would take as many as 4 pills in her attempt to get her panic attacks to stop. She was open about this and never understood why I (and my sister) was totally aghast at this. Well, I've suffered from panic attacks, and I was on an anti-anxiety medication for about 6 months while I learned, with the help of a therapist, how to manage my anxiety. I learned what sorts of things would trigger a panic attack and I developed ways of dealing with the anxiety that did not include medication. When I saw my mom pop 4 pills in the span of an hour, I was seriously disturbed. As a result of all the medication she was taking my mom became rather like a zombie. She was listless, inattentive, constantly tired, and not really present. This was in stark contrast to the mom I grew up with, who was constantly on the go, talkative, empathetic, and very present. My mom on anti-anxiety medication was not my mom, and I really mourned the loss of this person. About a year and a half ago, after my dad, my brother, my sister, and I had had many conversations about Mom's mental health and I argued that she needed to consult a new psychiatrist because I truly believed she was overmedicated or self-medicating, my dad observed my mom in the throes of what she called a panic attack. She said her chest hurt, but she wasn't distressed in any other way. My dad and I had recently had a lenghthy conversation about the symptoms I suffered from while I was having a panic attack--shortness of breath, inability to sit still, tightness in my chest and arms, among other tings--and he noticed she wasn't having any of these symptoms. When she asked him to bring him her medicine, he instead brought her seltzer water. He told her to drink as much as she could in 2 minutes and see what happened. He said if she didn't start feeling better then he'd get her pills. Amazingly my mom did as he asked; after she chugged the soda, she let out this amazing burp and said she felt better. The next day my dad drug my mom to her GP, who ran some tests. Her panic attacks were, in fact, a tear in her esophagus; my mom had severe heartburn. Her psychiatrist took away her anti-axiety meds, and slowly my mom started to come back. She is not the same as she was when I was younger, but she is certainly more present. She continues to have her good days and her bad days, but mostly she has good days.

I shared all this for a few reasons. First, I'm still trying to come to terms with my mom's diagnosis. Second, Wild Man was born in the midst of all this, about 9 months before my dad figured out my mom didn't have panic attacks, but that she was abusing her anti-axiety meds. She stayed with us for 2 weeks then, with the result being that I was caring for 2 infants. Mom would cry at the drop of a hat, or she'd sit on the couch and stare off into space for an hour at a time. Needless to say, she wasn't much help, and I was glad when she left. Her behavior was so disturbing to C that he refused to leave Wild Man alone in her care, and I found that I couldn't really argue with him given her level of awareness at the time.

Since then I feel like my mom has come back, at least mostly. She is still slow (literally, physically slow), and she still does things very methodically. It takes her a long time to complete the most ordinary tasks, like folding laundry or making dinner. She has no awareness of the outside world, as she prefers to watch reruns of "Law and Order" over the news. She is still not the take charge woman who mothered me. Instead when she visits, which is rare, she asks for instruction on everything--how to make Wild Man's breakfast, what clothes he should wear, what games he likes to play. While some of these questions are understandable, my mom doesn't ask them just once, but every time I ask her to do something for Wild Man. I'm concerned she will be no help after Z's birth and that I will find myself resenting her presence and trying to control my anger toward her--unsuccessfully. The truth of the matter is that I desperately miss my mother, or the person that I remember my mother to be. And that is the person that I want to show up after Z is born: the woman who did things without asking, the woman who was in charge and whom no one questioned, the woman who took care of me. Instead, I'm afraid this new mother will show up, the one I don't really know how to deal with, the one that I end up parenting. I'm afraid this visit will go very much like the visit following Wild Man's birth, where I found myself crying in the bathroom while I held my newborn. I wasn't crying out of depression or exhaustion; I was crying because I missed my mom, even though she was just downstairs. I know that I will have less patience with this visit because this time, I have two children to care for. My mom's ostensible purpose during this visist is to care for Wild Man, to play with him, and to keep him entertained while I care for Z and C takes care of the house. As excited as I was when she made her reservations, I am now deeply regretting asking her to stay for 2 weeks.

Home

I got home yesterday, although I left Southwest College Town on Saturday. C surprised me by reserving a hotel room for us on Saturday night, which meant we didn't have to drive back to CU Land on Saturday night. The three of us had a nice dinner and hung out in the hotel room. Then yesterday we went shopping and had a nice lunch before driving back to CU Land. It was a quiet, relaxing day, which is exactly what the three of us needed after being apart for almost a week. I have to say, seeing Wild Man run to me from across the airport was just as wonderful as hearing my adviser say I'd passed my defense. He proudly presented me with a Mother's Day present--a very pretty bead bracelet that he'd made himself at school. As wonderful as it was to be with all of my friends and to defend, it was more wonderful to be back with my boys again. Wild Man and I are spending the day together, and then tomorrow, I get back to work. I'm giving myself 2 weeks to finish all my revisions, although I'm hoping it will take less time. Then C and I begin the arduous task of organizing closets and making other final preparations for Z's arrival. Only 5 1/2 weeks to go. . .

I passed!

That sums it up for now. I have lots of thoughts on the defense itself, but for now, I'm exhausted, literally and mentally--although I'm also oddly energized mentally. I received lots of great feedback at the defense, and I am excited to put a lot of the suggestions into my dissertation. Luckily none of the revisions are major, at least not for the dissertation. I got lots of great suggestions for "the book," and overall, the defense itself went much smoother than I ever could have anticipated.

Everyone warned me that it would feel oddly anti-climatic, but I have to say, it feels pretty good.

By 4:30 this afternoon. . .

I will have defended my dissertation.

It feels very weird to be having this experience, and it feels doubly weird to have it while C and Wild Man are in CU Land. They are the ones I most want to see at 4:30. I will have to settle for dinner out with my adviser at a fairly swanky restaurant, followed by a small party of some of my best friends tomorrow--including a dear friend who is defending this morning. C has dropped enough hints for me to know he has something planned for my return, but not enough that I have been able to figure it out. . .

Annoying children

I wrote this yesterday, but I didn't get a chance to post it until today.

Ok, so I’m a mom, and I have taken Wild Man on many, many plane rides. I understand how difficult it can be to keep an infant quiet or to keep a toddler occupied. Generally, I’m sympathetic to the kids and parents, especially when the parent is traveling alone on a long flight with his or her child. But if the little girl behind me kicks my seat one more time, I think I’m going to rip her foot off. I’ve been trying to work on my defense presentation for the duration of the flight, and on more than one occasion I’ve found myself typing snippets of the very loud conversation that mother and daughter are having. I’m getting increasingly annoyed, and I really want to turn around and ask them to use their “inside voices.” This little girl is about four, so she should know what an inside voice is. And her mother, who has had her Chanel sunglasses on for the entire flight, should definitely know how an inside voice is. . .