semipseudo

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Let the Baby Bump Begin

Let's talk about the baby bump. As in, is that a baby in there or did you just eat a lot of bacon and eggs for breakfast? Little bit of both! I'm a bit of a whiner when it comes to pregnancy, which is an unfortunate quality (working on it!) but the one thing I absolutely love about being knocked up is the belly! Even at my skinniest, I have never, ever had a 'flat tummy' so having an excuse to flaunt the bump rather than perpetually finding ways to hide it in between pregnancies is such a nice breath of fresh air. I can just relax, and let it all hang out, literally!

Here I am below, just over 15 weeks.. I am already rocking the maternity shirts! If you look at the second picture, you can see my belly now is almost as big as it was when I was 20 WEEKS with Jackson.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

The Daycare Diaries

Jack has been at The Sunshine School since he was 6 months old. He's played with the same friends for three years. He's been in a serious, although sometimes rocky, relationship with his girlfriend Ruby for that entire time. He's moved from the infant room, to the wobbler room, to the big boy room for "potty-trained" toddlers.

This school has been our saving grace. For all the hectic mornings, crazy work schedules, and days we forgot diapers / shoes / milk, etc -- they always have a smile, a reassuring word, and an extra set of whatever we dropped in a puddle, peed on en-route to daycare, or happened to leave at home that day. Most days he lunges toward his favorite toy, favorite friend, favorite teacher. Laughing and engaged the minute we arrive. And for the one or two days a month when Jackson clings to me, holds onto my leg, cries and begs: "Mommy, don't go" the teachers bend down, pat his back, give him hugs and always say "Here, let me help with this transition" as I nod, fight back tears, hold him for 30 more seconds, and then stumble out of the classroom toward my car, toward my work day, toward ten more hours before I see him again.

A common joke between Brent and I (among many inside jokes since we became parents) is "Oh, did Daycare teach you that?" Which, I guess, is more of a question than a joke but we always laugh in amazement and wonder at the new words, skills, and tricks he brings home. After his first few weeks there, our 6 month old started using sign language at the dinner table for the words "milk", "more", and "all done". Fast forward a year and a half later, Jackson starting counting to ten in the car everyday, it went something like this: "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. JUST A MINUTE WE'RE NOT DONE!" (This last sentence was a line he stole from one of his favorite books. It adds a certain flare to the counting segment that I attribute to a budding appreciation for the dramatic).

He's also learned the alphabet, certain colors, how to pee standing up, and a rapid response outcome to the phrase "I'm going to count to 3" that I can only thank the teachers for instilling in him since we have absolutely not even one back bone between the two of us and neither one of us knows what the heck is supposed to happen after three. We just know it gets him to stop throwing pickle jars out of the cart during our weekly grocery shopping. (He must be putting the pieces together: Pickles + Mommy = total cliche and baby on the way! Like the flare for the dramatic, he also picks up on those psychic tendencies from me -- but we'll be going more into the whole 'I KNEW I WAS PSYCHIC!' epiphany later in this posting).

Apart from all the obvious benefits of early learning, social development, etc I just find everything about daycare very comforting. From the macaroni seasonal-themed artwork to the potty training sticker charts to the hand written notes at the end of the day:

"Jackson really enjoyed playing with the dinosaurs today! He ate all of his broccoli at lunch time! He got to sleep in the Director's office because he wouldn't stop giggling at nap time and then all the kids were giggling instead of resting! Actually that happens quite often we thought you should know!"--Ms Tina

I'm probably so grateful for the dependable yet diverse routine they offer Jack because I know that if I were to be home with him each day, there would be no schedule, no music class, no arts & crafts, no daily walk to the playground. Cause on the weekends, I'm pretty much like "Let's cuddle all day!" or "Winnie the Pooh!!!!!"

They also give great advice. And they manage to do it in a really non aggressive but firm way (with lots of teacher head nodding that I find quite affirming, actually).

"Some of the other parents are starting to potty train at home. Would you like to try that? (Head nod).

and 4 months later...

"We noticed Jack still wears diapers every day. Would you like to see what a pull up looks like? Here's an article on p-o-t-t-y t-r-a-i-n-i-n-g." (Extra long head nod).

"It's starting to rain a lot now. Because of how we live in Oregon and all. Would you like to bring a rain coat for Jack? That will help him stay d-r-y if we go outside to play."

And stuff like that. I kind of like it. They are always helping us figure out how to parent better which is super awesome because Brent and I are both the youngest of our siblings and WE HAVE NO FREAKIN IDEA what we are doing most of the time.

But now. Oh boy. We are moving. And Jack will have to say goodbye to all his little friends. (Who he probably thinks are his brothers and sisters since he's spent so much time with them his entire life). I know I'm gonna be a total hot mess on his last day, but for now I am putting those thoughts out of my head and just concentrating on finding him an equally fantastic pre-school in Eugene. He won't need to go full time, which is great, but we want him to go two days a week so that he can continue learning all that stuff that we fail to think of. And so he can still have access to crayons.

So I prepared an extensive list of daycare options to call through and first on my list, by random chance, was a Montessori school. Thanks to the huge chip on my shoulder and my constant cynicism of God-knows-what I immediately scrawled "going to be bitchy" on the form that contained their contact information. I sighed, then called anyway. The lady who answered said:

"It's a little late in the day for us to be answering questions. You need to call in the morning if you want information on our school."

"Oh, umm, okay, sorry. I was just wondering if you do part time care? Like, for a couple of days a week?"

"Oh no. Definitely not. It's very important the children have a regular school day 5 days a week."

So funny they have no time to answer pesky questions like "Do you have any openings?" but plenty of time for a phone lecture. Snap. They told me, yes they did! Oooh, I'm so scared of you Mister Montessori! Anyway, I got the chance to confirm my psychic abilities, which was cool. Proof below.

The only daycare, oddly enough, that was more than willing to answer every question I had over the phone and BE NICE TO ME was the Baptist one! The Sunshine School is also Baptist. For all my crazy politics and Catholic upbringing, who would have figured? But you know what? Those Baptists make some good daycare!

We are going on a few tours after Christmas, so perhaps I will have an update then on what we decide. I may stop by the Montessori school just for some more material.

*To dear friend Sarah -- this post is for you (and all amazing teachers out there) in tribute to the many years you spent at Head Start. Where would all us clueless moms & dads be without smart, dedicated, loving teachers who care for our kids and save our butts every day? You probably don't want one of my crazy blog postings dedicated to you. But I did it anyway.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Almost Home

We drove down to Eugene for a friend's birthday party a few weeks back. Also on the agenda was looking for our new home. As we pulled into town, I began taking pictures of the freeway in front of us. Leaning out the car window to snap photos of my home town is not something I would have done in the twenty five years I lived there. But after seven years in Portland, I felt like a tourist giddy with excitement.

Sometimes you don't know how much you've missed something until you almost have it back.

People think I'm nuts for being so sentimental about moving home. But the nice thing about getting older (I can use that expression now -- I found GREY HAIRS the other day, which is a whole other situation I need to post about later. Correction, my co-worker and dear friend actually found the grey hairs on my head and I insisted she pluck them out so I could stare in disbelief) is that I have come to accept a few things about myself. For instance, I like everything that is safe, familiar, and known.When I was little, spending the night at a friend's house seemed so exciting, but by 7pm, like clockwork, the homesickness would kick in and I'd ask the parents to drive me back. When I traveled to places like New Orleans, Los Angeles, or Mexico I usually spent the whole time sitting inside, calling home. During my pregnancy with Jack, I spent a month in Mexico at a language school. Everyday after class I went straight to my room and read until bedtime (there was no TV). I only brought four books so I read Barack Obama's autobiography three times in a row. (Thanks Mom! I feel quite connected to Obama now -- and you know, as a side note, he used to watch a lot of TV himself and where did he end up? Harvard and the White House!). Anyway, only twice did I go sightseeing -- forcing myself to sign up for day trips to the local sights and museums. My other outings consisted of walking to the Internet cafe down the street to email friends and family.

Throughout the years, after each trip I took, I would always return home and scold myself: Why can't I be more adventurous? Why don't I explore the city, make new friends? Why not embrace the change of scenery? Back then, it seemed so small minded and almost offensive to good judgement that I did not enjoy those experiences more. Over and over, I would ask myself: What am I so afraid of?

But now I'm all: Who cares? In theory, expanding your horizons is an essential component of one's life journey, blah-de-blah-de-blah and all that plus a bag of chips. But at the end of the day, I'd just as soon learn about the world through books, movies, and television. I'm a dreamer, not a doer. That's who I am. I would prefer to explore Iceland by watching a documentary rather than risk the flight. Cause that's some ocean flying right? And actually, I'm not even that curious about Iceland. And while everyone else on Facebook is doing it, I really don't want to backpack through South America, die of frost bite while climbing Mt Hood during a blizzard, or ride my bike to the Coast while enjoying Oregon's scenic highways. I just don't enjoy adventure.

What I do enjoy is the familiar. The comfort of laughing for hours in my parent's kitchen, driving past streets that carry a thousand memories, calling family friends up on the same phone number they've had for years, running into people I know at the grocery store, and most of all -- being in my own skin. Eugene is like a glove that fits perfectly. And in that town, I can merge the unfamiliar with the familiar. I've been navigating parenthood for three years now. This whole time; I've been asking myself all those same questions that twirled around in my head* after each trip. Because all those questions boiled down to just one: What am I so afraid of? (*I'm sorry, but Cain's quote is too much to resist and, to be honest, I can relate).

In Portland, I feel like a failure as a parent. Always paralyzed with anxiety over where to go and what to do. I don't know which park is the best or how to find a kid friendly restaurant for family date night. Is there a place we can go to paint pottery? I wouldn't know, so intimidated am I to even Google it on the Internet. "There's too many options, too many freeways", I whine to Brent. Should I find a kids indoor gym by my work, or near our house? I scribble out pros and cons lists in my head for the perfect library. WHICH ONE WILL BE MY SON'S CHILDHOOD LIBRARY??? The Clackamas one has more books, but the Oregon City one has a pretty brick exterior. The Portland metro area is suffocating me with eye-rolling worthy dilemmas.

At this point, I'm ready to break up with my mundane and ridiculous crazy parent inner-monologue. The hopes I hold for my children are nothing unique. Just a magical childhood. That's all. And up here, I'm beyond lost as to how we'll provide that. But in Eugene, I don't even need a map. I know every amazing, special, and awesome spot to go. For each season, there are numerous traditions from my own childhood that I can't wait to share with my kids. In Portland, being a homebody means BEING AT HOME. But in Eugene, being a homebody means BEING ANYWHERE IN THE CITY. It's my territory, and Internet searches to find a pizza place are not required.

So I continue to count down the weeks until we move. Ten! Every night I comb through Craigslist looking for the perfect 3 bedroom, 1 bath, ranch house with wood floors and an attached double-car garage (Are you writing this down, my Eugene peeps?). In my head, every Saturday is mapped out with the places we'll take Jackson. Dinner menus are planned for Sunday night gatherings with our family. (That someone else will be cooking). Maybe life won't be perfect in Eugene, but I know that it will be OUR life. So I can't wait to be almost home. No apologies for that sappy ending.


In my parent's kitchen.

Once again, I deleted a quarter of my post before putting it online. I had to make a cup-o-noodle and watch two episodes of "Brides of Beverly Hills" just to motivate myself to rewrite it. (And no, cup-o-noodle does NOT have enough sodium in it and YES it does need extra salt).

Friday, September 30, 2011

People Are Very Mad At Me (Except for Tina Fey)

I wasn't going to post about my latest shenanigans here, because I believed doing so would contaminate the innocence of this blog. But. Here I go. (LOOK AWAY, semipseudo, LOOK AWAY!)

Here at this blog, I'm nice. You're nice. Everyone's nice. And with the exception of the 'Farmer's Market' posting, I've pretty much stayed away from controversy.
Which is not without effort. I have a lot of opinions in my little brain, and they tend to manifest themselves in a very vent-y, hysterical, arm-waving way. That's why I mostly just lecture the world IN MY HEAD. And not IN PUBLIC. However, there was a little bitty line, and I sort-of-kind-of-a-tad-bit crossed it. By entering a blog contest, about pregnancy, on babycenter.com via a post on the topic of 'natural' childbirth.

Apparently, people do not respond well to aggressive honesty masked by humor. I would have added a bunch of disclaimers like "I support every woman's right to make her own independent choice when it comes to child birth" but they only gave me 350 words so I thought I should spend the majority of my word budget on, you know, inflammatory and somewhat interesting statements instead. Silly me. I have, from time to time, promised to write a post on Semipseudo about my aversion to 'natural' childbirth, but I knew it would be so involved and long winded that my lazy self just couldn't get around to it. So instead, a sub-par & abbreviated version of my argument is now on the world wide web, provoking an army of angry women who were not very impressed by what I had to say on the subject.

Let's take a peek at what some of them had to say:

"Your opening paragraph was perhaps meant to be snarky and funny but it was really annoying and offensive to me."

"If you aren’t interested in natural childbirth or feel it is not for you, then that is what it is. Good for you. But to assign words like “martyrdom” to an experience you don’t understand or share is simply ignorant."

"Is this article supposed to be funny? Or well-written? Huh."

"Can you imagine if someone turned it around and characterized medicated/c-section births as “Those too posh to push, lazy, druggy mums?” A Slice-n-Dice Delivery? No I guess we’re all too busy listening to Enya in our birthing pools to put words together. How about we all sit around and critisize each other’s births to make ourselves feel better about our own choices. Yeah, that’s a great idea."

"uh I really hope this person is not picked as the new blogger she sounds like a bit@h. I really dont get why people feel the need to be so snotty and self righteous about their choices who asked you?"

"And I’m terribly disappointed in BabyCenter for picking this as a good blog. It’s insulting, patronizing, one-sided, NOT amusing, condescending, and not particularly well-written. This is what is supposedly reflects blogging moms?"

"Do you honestly think this is witty, insightful or clever? Do you think this even makes any sense?"

"I did not find this blog funny or well written at all. Referring to women who make a different choice than you as martyrs is insulting and ignorant, no matter how much you try to sugar coat it or cove it up in a failed attempt at humor."

"Ignorant."

"There is a lot more to this than just Virgin Mary Martyrdom or whatever nonsense this author wants to call it. The medicalisation of birth is having a HUGE impact on the health and wellbeing of women, the rise and rise of PND and PTSD and the difficulty so many parents in first world countries are experiencing with bonding and conciously parenting their children. Ask yourself why we hear stories, in this day and age, of people leaving babies and toddlers unattended at home because they are worried about their careers or twisted stories of physical and sexual abuse and so on. So much rests on good beginnings, which will never be taken seriously while we have this rubbish focus on whether labour pains are warranted or not. Grow up Rebekkah Whittaker."

***

Wow. Well, first off: my name is spelled with one 'k' not two. So if you really want to slam me then why distract from your zinger with spelling errors? That just has novice written all over it.

There were also a lot of supportive, hilarious, love you forever(!) type comments. (No one actually said "I love you forever" but that was the spirit of their comments, in my opinion.) I won't quote all those women because I think the other side brought up a lot of good points. So I am giving them a forum here, on my blog, as my way of saying: "You are right. You have convinced me. Well said, people."

Actually, the reason I am quoting them here is because of a little advice my mom gave me. And moms always give the best advice right? MY MOM, who happens to be the smartest mom, told me that Tina Fey also has critics. Now, you should know that Tina Fey and I have A LOT in common. She's probably trying to call me right now. That's how almost close we are to being friends. Anyway, my incredibly brilliant mother said "Rebekah, Tina Fey does not respond to her critics. She prints their comments in her books. And then makes fun of them." (Or something like that, right mom?). I don't have a book deal yet. So I just have to print their comments in my blog that 14 of my closest friends and family read. Cause I'm poor like that.

The evening we had this discussion, it was late, but after I dropped my mother off and put my son to bed, I couldn't stop thinking about what she said. I logged onto my computer and googled the words "Tina Fey makes fun of natural childbirth" ON A WHIM. And you know what came up? YOU KNOW WHAT CAME UP, PEOPLE? This:

SNL Skit: "Birthing Class"
I kid you not, Portland is mentioned in this clip. (Click above to see the video)

I don't know if Tina, in real life, had an epi or not. But, Tina, if you are listening, I want you to vote for me so I can win this friggin' contest because now I'm all: bring it. Bring. It. On.

Click here to vote for me or to leave an educational comment. I love you all forever.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Fall Fashion Week - Wednesday

Okay, rockin' a totally boring outfit today. Sorry. But, it's super comfy & I do have a bit of flare on my back jean pockets. (Also, same issue as yesterday in that I have no husband around to take full length shots since he is working out of town) Here's what I got::