Peter's Cross Station

Back East

We're off for the next two weeks.

In a tradition that worked well last summer, I ask that you leave your burning questions below, to be answered upon my return (or maybe sooner, depending on web access).

Happy whatever you celebrate this time of year or happy abstaining from celebration!

Stuff Returns

This is our stroller.

I am what you might call, "stroller proud." I LOVE my stroller. Now, Nat wasn't into strollers for a while. She much prefered being carried. But nowadays, she likes to stroll.

Whether or not you love this stroller will depend on what you want and/or need. But for my list of criteria it was perfect. Here's my list:

1. Lightweight. I have back troubles and the weight of the baby is enough. I didn't want the stroller to add much more. This stroller weighs less than 10 lbs.

2. Easy to fold and unfold one-handed. Check. I have folded and unfolded this sucker while holding Nat in one arm, lifted it into and out of the back of the car, opened and closed the car, etc. alone, countless times.

3. Narrow wheel base. This was key, because as I stroller-shopped, I kept thinking of all those suburbanites on the DC Metro with their minivan-esque strollers and how they seemed to gravitate to the opening doors at rush hour when people needed to get by. I did not want people thinking the thoughts about me that I have thought about such people. I wanted a stroller that could modestly scoot to the back of a subway car and take up no more space than an additional standing adult. This stroller has the narrowest wheel base I could find. That combined with the weight, cinched it.

4. As a bonus, this stroller, though an umbrella-fold style, has six-inch, rather than four-inch wheels, which makes it fairly hearty for all-terrain use. Though it's no jogging stroller, I'm no jogger, so I don't mind.

5. As another bonus, the Silver Cross Micro got a Consumer Reports "quick pick" listing as a much, much cheaper alternative to much, much higher-end strollers for similar performance. It was compared, for example, to the bug-a-boo for performance.

What this stroller does not have is the ability to recline. (The next size up, the Silver Cross Mini, can recline, but is 2 lbs heavier and it wasn't worth it to me). Thus it is recommended for babies 6 months and up. We used it starting around 3 months, by tipping it back on two wheels--not something the manufacturer would recommend in a million years, I'm sure--but at that age, Nat only wanted to ride in it for about 15 minutes at a time anyway.

And while this stroller may not be as rugged as some, it is rugged enough to last for at least another baby, I've no doubt. It has been checked four times on multi-leg flights and man-handled by baggage carriers and it has survived.

It has just enough handy storage to suit me. Again, it's no minivan, which is just the way I want it. It has a nice basket under the seat and a large pocket on the back of the sun viser. It came with a rain cover which we've never used (since we don't live in the city anymore and don't walk through much rain), and it has a carrying handle which is nice for carting it up three flights of stairs with one hand while carting the baby in the other (we live three flights up).

Plus, it's pretty.

I repeat, it may not be the stroller of your dreams, but it is definitely the stroller of mine. It is one of my all-time favorite baby things, in fact. It gets the job done with minimalist style and allows me to feel that I am still that carefree light packer of pre-baby days.

Request

Please send sticky embryo vibes this way on behalf of a friend for the next couple of weeks, folks!

ahem...

None of you will be surprised to learn that I barely scraped my way out of algebra with a C minus, I'm sure.

The more things change...

On the one hand, absolutely nothing changed when Nat's adoption decree arrived in the mail last week.

On the other hand...well, you know.

About three weeks ago I took Nat to our family doctor for the first half of her flu shot. At the receptionist's desk, I was handed a release form to allow the shot. The receptionist asked "Are you her mother?"

"Yes" I answered, and signed the form.

Now, afterwards, I thought, "I wonder if that was one of those things that happens to transracial adopters that is supposed to bug me?" Because it didn't bug me, but I did remember it later to wonder if it might not happen to white mothers of white children in the doctor's office. Then I wondered if it might not happen to straight mothers whose husbands had ne'er been seen in the doctor's office. Because Cole and I have taken Nat to the doctor enough times that maybe all those nurses and receptionists who dote over Nat and know her well don't know if maybe only one of us is her parent.

So I wondered about these things afterwards.

But at the time, I felt a twinge of panic, because at the time, I wasn't her mother, in the legal sense. I did have a slip of paper in my wallet from the adoption agency stating my right to custody of her and my right to make medical decisions for her, but I was not, technically her mother that day. And since she is insured through Cole (who was not there, but also not her mother anyway that day) I had a brief moment of anxiety that I wasn't being entirely honest. I even had a blip of wondering if I had the right to sign the form and permit the shot. (I did, but nevertheless, I had that blip.)

It was the same feeling I have when I'm asked if I'm single or married. The answer depends on why the question is being asked and how official the reason for needing to know. In the doctor's office the answer, bizarrely, is "single." Which is entirely untrue, yet, if I said "married" that would be legally untrue and well, you get the dilemma.

Monday, I took Nat back to the doctor for the second half of her flu shot. As I was driving there, I had this sudden thought that "I hope they ask me if I'm her mother again!" Not because I'd answer any differently than last time, but because I wanted to know what it felt like to declare my familial relationships in a way that is both personally and legally accurate. They didn't ask. But I'm looking forward to the first form I have to fill out that asks me to state my relationship to Nat.

I think maybe that's when the legal adoption thing will really sink in. That's when I'll feel a wave of relief and shout or cry or whatever people do. Meanwhile, I'm quietly her mother just like I was last month and the month before etc. back to the moment Emily, the social worker laid her in my arms and said "here's your daughter."

It's really quite remarkable to me to have this recognition of my family. It makes me greedy for more official-form-filling-out-style recognition of the rest of my family, too.

Recently, someone asked me about how same-sex parenting works for us in this state, and I told her that we were both equal parents, declared so at the same time in the court making Nat a legal bridge between us that can't be formed in any other way. It's too much pressure to put on a child, but Nat is the true substance of our marriage to the extent we can be said to have one. We now share the same next-of-kin, even if we can't be next-of-kin to each other.

Next to next...

It reminds me of the parabola my algebra teacher told us about in 9th grade. It keeps getting closer and closer to the edge of the graph, but will never actually touch it.

Tagged

I'm going to stop prefacing every meme I do with a claim that I don't do memes.

That's right, I'm coming out as a memer! I DO MEMES AND THAT'S OKAY WITH ME!

From Trey

Five Simple Pleasures
in order of appearance in any given 24 hour time period

1. Tea in bed...

2. ...brought by Cole

3. Nat's giggles (in bed over tea with Cole)

4. Lavender-scented soap

5. Chatting with David while cleaning the kitchen

6. Unexpected drop-in guests for tea

7. Dinner at the dining room table with the nuclear family and one or two drop-in guests

8. HBO or other guilty-pleasure television after the baby's in bed

Trey did eight, so I can too.

And I'm not tagging anyone, so take it and run, as you wish.

She's Ready for Her Closeup

Busy busy busy...

Once in college, someone asked me to describe my brain in ten words or less. I said, "busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, busy, busy."

That's how I'm feeling lately.

Sorry not much posting. My brain is just so tired these days, with work stuff (the online teaching). Nevertheless, I've been resting my brain every evening before bed by reading just for fun. For more on this strange and rare phenomenon, see the sister blog, Naptime Books.

Documentation!

Our adoption decree came in the mail yesterday and so Helen (who hangs with Nat every Wednesday afternoon) took some photos of us all with paperwork in hand. Nat isn't sure why we're having group hugs, but as you can see, she doesn't care.

In Which I Confess We Let Her CIO (sort of)

So, I mentioned that Nat was sleeping through the night.

Well. Until last Sunday night, she was not. She was waking, like perfect clockwork, every four hours and taking somewhere between 2 and 3 oz of formula, then promptly going back to sleep.

When she first came home, she took 2 oz. of formula every two hours. Then it was 2.5, every 2.5 hours. Then it was 3 oz every 3 hours. (I remember that first 3-hour night. I was so thrilled! I could go to bed at 2 and expect her to sleep at least until Cole's shift began at 4.) When she hit 4 oz every 4 hours I thought soon she'd be onto 5 oz and finally 6 and then we'd all get a decent night's sleep. I thought this would certainly happen by 6 months old, since we hit that 4 oz. mark around 4 months.

I was WRONG.

Nat settled into a schedule of eating at 6 am, 10 am, 2 pm, 6 pm, 10 pm and 2 am without fail. And she stayed there. She didn't eat more. She wouldn't take more than 4.5 oz in any given feeding no matter how I begged her to do so at 10 pm.

"Feed her solids before bed" my mother, my mother-in-law, Uncle David, Aunt Nancy, the doctor and my Indie Mom bulletin board moms all said.

But no matter how big or hearty her evening meal, no matter how close to bedtime she ate it, she wanted her bottle not just at 6 (right before her 6:15 bedtime) but again at 10. And again at 2.

Then two things happened.

1. I got sick. I tried to get better but I simply could not get over it. Even though Cole gave me four days of complete bedrest and took over baby care 24 hours a day, I couldn't get better. Even thoguh I took antibiotics which technically whipped my infection, I couldn't get better. Even though I took narcotic cough syrup and took afternoon naps while Nat slept and let the house go all to hell and made Cole order in pizza, I could not get better.

2. I started to notice that at 10 and especially at 2, Nat wasn't really taking much formula. I could barely coax her to finish 2.5 oz. I thought, "this child is not going to die for want of 2 oz of formula for the next four hours."

So I decided to try and send 2 am bottle the way of the binky using a similar technique. That is, I would get up at 2 when she cried, hold her and rock her and sing to her but not feed her.

I did that on the first night and after listening to Nat cry (albeit in my loving arms) for about 30 minutes over the baby monitor back in our bedroom, Cole got up, came into Nat's room, took her from me and gave her a bottle.

The next night, I turned off the monitor before going in.

She cried much worse with me in her room than she did before I went in. It was like she accelerated her pleading since I was right there to bargain with. But I didn't feed her. I rocked her and sang (which completely quieted her until I stopped). After about an hour, (or something--who really knows) she was calm, I put her back to bed and tip-toed out the door. I reached my own bed again, and she let out a wail.

I let her cry.

I sat and bit my nails and stared at the lights on the silenced baby monitor jump all over the place, but I didn't go back into her room for the next 30 minutes.

And she went to sleep.

The next night (we'll call it night #2, since Cole forced me to abort my plan on the original first night), Nat shockingly slept until 1 am. She voluntarily slept through the 10 o'clock bottle. I got up and went in and held her and sang and when she was quiet, I put her down and once I got back to bed, she was crying again, but this time, it was over within ten minutes.

On night #3 she slept until 6 am. She then woke up, talked and laughed in her crib until 6:30 and then cried for Cole to come get her up for the day.

That's pretty much what she's been doing since. She goes to bed between 6:15 and 6:45 (depending on our schedule and whether we went out for supper) and she wakes up around 6, but plays to herself happily for at least 30 minutes (this morning it was more like an hour) before really demanding to get up for the day. We listen to her babble and chit chat and make motor boat noises over the monitor and we laugh. So we're not sleeping, but we're not rushing around just yet, either.

And I finally feel like I'm recovering from my sickness. I'm sure the iron and vitamin c supplements are helping too, but a decent night of uninterrupted sleep can't be hurting.

I have been an insomniac as long as I can remember. When I was three years old, I would lay in bed at night, listening to my parents watch t.v., then go to bed, then talk to each other in bed before they went to sleep and then I'd lay awake, staring at the ceiling and thinking about whatever three year-olds think about until I fell asleep.

I don't know why, but I just don't have that thing other people seem to have that says "time to sleep now" in my brain. If it is nature, well, I guess that's dumb luck. But if it is nurture, I am committed to helping Nat develop it at any cost. Because sleeplessness is a terrible curse. So far, she seems like an awfully talented sleeper. Even the 4 hour bottle schedule was perfectly timed and she'd go right back to sleep right after eating. And she never woke between bottles.

Now she can go down into her crib awake and play for a few minutes before going to sleep for two naps a day and bedtime. I have high hopes that she is going to be good at sleeping in the future.

And now for the ironic catch:

When I put her down at night, I feel real sorrow that I won't see her again until morning. It's a long time--more than 12 hours before Cole will bring her to me in bed with a cup of tea and we will have our little family hour before Cole goes off to work.

I miss her!