CSI: Mommy

Boo Boo had an ear infection this week and the Augmentin antibiotic he is taking makes him poop 7 or 8 times a day. On Sunday morning, we wanted to sleep in and brought Boo Boo to our bed around 6:30 am. He didn’t go back to sleep though, and babbled at a couple of toys and rolled around between me and R until about 7:15 am when I got up. I went to brush my teeth and when I came back I was greeted with this very suspicious stain on my bed:

The crime scene investigators sniffed around to find the culprit:

The forensics team hadn’t made much progress when Dostoevsky’s adage came true: the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.

Initially, there was outcry from the public, demanding swift justice (and clean up).

And then laundry was done and Boo Boo had his first oatmeal. I’ve read that it can sometimes constipate a baby. Right now, I’d be okay with a little constipation. Of course, oatmeal does have a lot of fiber.

Baby I'm the Lucky One

R went out of town for work from Monday morning to Wednesday night, so I was on single-mom baby duty. I have such a respect for single moms because I can’t even begin to fathom how they do it day after day. On Monday, when I picked Boo Boo up from day care, five or six different ladies, including 3 that were not even Boo Boo’s teachers, asked me how R was holding up being away from Boo Boo. So much praise for him! “He is the most dedicated father we’ve seen!” “A lot of moms come in at lunch to visit but he’s the only father in the 12 years I have worked here that comes regularly to check on the baby.” “You are so lucky to have such a supportive husband who helps you parent.” That was nice to hear. I picked him up, and went on home.

Tuesday morning, I go to drop Boo Boo off, and the morning shift ladies tell me the same thing. “Oh, your husband must be missing Boo Boo, suffering withdrawal, he is the most involved Dad!” So now I’m beginning to think, yes, he’s great, but a mother would miss her kid on a business trip too, but would she get all this praise for being so dedicated? It’s great that R drops by to play with Boo Boo at lunch, but its seen as something super special when a father does it and its so normal when a mother does. Anyway, I drop him off. I get a call that afternoon that Boo Boo has a fever. I quickly finish some discovery and race down to the daycare. This is the part that I hate about working downtown and having Boo Boo in a daycare in the suburbs. It takes me forever to get there. But it doesn't usually matter because R works 2 minutes awayI make an appointment with our pediatrician on my cell phone on the way down there. I call a colleague to let her know I probably won’t be in tomorrow and to follow up on something I sent out today. Traffic is already bad at 3.30 pm. When I get to the daycare, they seem annoyed it has taken me an hour. Or maybe they are exhausted after dealing with a fussy Boo Boo all day. “Oh, that’s right, they say, you work far away.” This makes me feel bad, but I take my little feverish guy home, give him some Tylenol and love.

It turns out he has an ear infection, and although he is listless, he is happy scrunching the paper on the exam room table at the pediatrician’s office, and takes his first three actual crawling steps in front of the doctor. (Woo hoo! And also, Scary! Mobile at seven months!). I stay home with him that day, start antibiotics, and change some horrendous diapers. R gets home and takes the night shift with Boo Boo. We decide to keep him home another day because he seems to be a bit congested and he still has a fever without Tylenol. R stays with him so I can go to work.

Friday I drop him off at daycare, and tell them about Boo Boo’s diagnosis, and explain that I stayed home with him on Wednesday, and R stayed home with him on Thursday. “Oh, wow,” they say. “How fabulous that dad would do that.” Something inside me snaps and I say politely, “Yes, I’m very lucky. R is a great dad and helps with Boo Boo 50/50. I know a lot of dads don’t, but R is just doing what he should be doing. Wouldn’t it be nice if all dads were like that?” And the lady just nods, and says yes.

It's too hard to have a child and work full-time without a supportive spouse. I'm lucky I have one. Boo Boo is lucky to have an involved dad. Not everyone is so lucky. But they should be.

Memory Like an Elephant

Once, about five years ago, I voted in the Republican primary. The judge I was working for had a primary opponent and I wanted him to be reelected so could keep my job. Once. Five years ago. But the Republican Party hasn't stopped sending me direct mail and calling at election time. I get annoyingly precise voter guides, posed photographs of George and Laura smiling on the lawn, and staticky, irritating phone calls from Ricky Perry asking me to support his people in the election. But the worst are the solicitation letters from think tanks and other groups wanting money. They paint these extreme scenarios about the liberals taking over our schools and say that they know they can count on me for support. Actually guys, when I hear about the doomsday scenarios you paint, I'm usually all, "oh, I'm so glad Sesame Street is showing Zoe has two mommies," or whatever it is. Leave me alone.

Practical Beauty Find #2

Unless it's a special occasion, I don't usually blowdry my hair. Too much of a hassle in the mornings! But if I ever want to do something to my hair other than put it in a ponytail, Tresemme's Curl Care Bouncy Curls Gel works wonders. Squirt some gel in your hands, finger scrunch into wet hair, and let air-dry. In 30 seconds, I can turn wavy, limp hair into bouncy, spiral curls with body. Fabulous find for $2.99 at Target.

This and that

Probably the one of the best $30 we spent on Boo Boo has been on this Fisher Price Booster seat. We can go out to restuarants, strap it on to a chair, and have an adult conversation while he plays with the toys on the tray. And he's not quite ready for finger foods, but when he is, he can eat on it too. It's really cute to see him sitting at the table with us. It also works as a portable high chair and the tray goes in the dishwasher. Rock!

My cousin got married this weekend. She looked lovely at all the events and her husband was charming. My favorite part of the wedding were the toasts--the stories their friends told about them were sweet and funny at the same time. Congratulations, L & S.

I'm a single mom for a few days while R travels for business. As I was helping him pack late last night, I was amazed at how new his black shoes looked. He had polished them with shoe polish since they were scuffed in the front. I don't think I've ever polished shoes. I just buy a new pair when they are old. But I guess that's the difference between men and women. R has a two pairs of sneakers, (one to run in and one to wear on the weekends), three pairs of black shoes (dress shoes, work shoes, and a pair of black shoes that I made him buy from Kenneth Cole that are nice enough to wear out on a date night but hip and young enough so that they don't quite work for a formal event requiring a suit), a pair of summer slip on sandals, and that's it. And he tells me all the time how he didn't need the Kenneth Coles. I have at least 8 pairs of black shoes, if not more, so I don't have to polish since I wear them out slower, and by the time they are looking worse for the wear, its time to throw them out. R is amazed at how many black shoes I have; in fact, he thinks HE has too many shoes. But an informal survey of my friends tells me I've got an average number of shoes. I may even be on the low end. And I don't usually spend a lot of money on my shoes unless they are runing shoes. See, I'm not a Shoe Person like Carrie Bradshaw or those DSW addicts. I have empirical data that Shoe People do exist,* but I am not not one of them. I might have a tendency to be a Purse Person though.

* When I was in high school, each person in my Algebra II class had to ask 100 people a question that had a numerical answer, and then calculate the mean, median, mode, standard deviation and some other stuff with the data. Now that I think about it, that's a pretty easy project for JUNIOR. My good friend asked "How many TV's do you have in your house?" Almost all her answers were 1, 2, or maybe 3, and people could answer her survey question fast. I learned something from her about the art of survey taking. Because I chose to ask "How many pairs of shoes do you have?" My answers varied greatly between boys and girls, and although I didn't mind the assignment, it took forever for the girls to answer the questions. I'll never forget the way they would close their eyes, visualize their closet, and start couting by jabbing their fingers in the air. 34, 35, 36, 37... It took forever to complete the survey. :)

Tom Cruise's Culinary Choices

The problem with jumping up and down on Oprah's couch and recommending vitamins for post-partum depression is that no one knows if stories like this one, where Tom Cruise purportedly said he wanted to EAT the placenta after Katie gave birth are true.

What happened to quality control?

Shannon over at Shanntastic has already written about the weird difference between Pampers Swaddlers size 1s, size 2s, and size 1, 2s (which are a sort of 1.5 size). It made me so happy to read her post and realize that I was not the only one contemplating such things. In the past, I've bought two packages of Size 2 Swaddlers from Target on the same day. Open 'em up and one will have yellow tabs, will smell like baby powder, and be soft and fluffy. The other will have white tabs, will be thin, and scent-free. But the packaging on the supreme and spartan versions are the same, I tell you!

I now have documentary proof of yet another anomaly. Two packages of size two Pampers Swaddlers. Same cushiony softness, same sweet smell. Two VERY different sizes.




As long as I keep getting these giant size 2s, Boo Boo won't have to move up to size 3. BUT THERE'S NO WAY TO TELL ON THE PACKAGE.

(Aside No. 1: when my sister worked at the Gap, she would tell customers to try on all the size 8 low-rise boot cut jeans because they were all cut slightly differently. The assembly line would stack up five pieces of denim and the electric cutter would cut them, but if something shifted, there might be a little more room in the thigh or leg in one of them. But at least you could try them on to decide which pair had a little more space for the junk in your trunk. Unfortunately, you can't rip open a package of diapers at Target and measure. Although I might have sniffed the package for a clue as to whether they were the good smelling kind. Maybe. I can neither confirm nor deny at this time.)

(Aside No. 2: anyone who thinks that Starbucks started the CHOICES thing by letting you order an extra hot, venti, half-caf, nonfat mocha latte or whatever you crazy coffee drinkers order is wrong. It all started with the Gap: boot cut, flare leg, button fly, stone washed, pebble washed, low rise, slim fit, ankle ... right?!)

Book Review No. 1

My thoughts on the books I have read recently:

1. Jennifer Government--This is one of the most interesting books I've read all year. It's set in the future, a sort of Brave New World meets The Handmaid's Tale. Everything has been outsourced, and people now take the last name of the company they work for. I think this could easily be turned into a movie that would do very well. I don't want to give too much of the story away, but the plot is simple enough to follow easily. The brilliance is in the way the future is imagined. And we aren't really all that far away from some of the ideas. The end gets a little predictable, but I highly recommend it.
2. Angels and Demons--I really enjoyed The Da Vinci Code and wanted to read another Robert Langdon adventure. Angels and Demons was good, but I could tell it was Dan Brown's first novel. It felt like Brown was making things up about Langdon's past as needed, and didn't really know his character that well. I loved the cerebral parts of his writing--the map clues and the sculpture riddles were fascinating--but thought he took some things too far. A professor jumping out of a helicopter? Come on, this isn't James Bond. I liked the more bookish Langdon in The Da Vinci Code better. But I really enjoyed the science v. religion premise. Antimatter and a scientifc proof that Genesis could have happened was more fascinating to me than the alternate history of Christ.
3. The Broker--This was your basic John Grisham, read-in-2-hours on a plane novel. I haven't been enjoying Grisham as much lately. I liked his legal thrillers for the most part (although it did seem like he thought you couldn't practice law ethically unless you were a college professor--he criticized defense attorneys and plaintiff's attorneys alike). This was only tangentially about a lawyer. Basically a wanted Washington lobbyist is pardoned from his crimes and is whisked away to Italy by the CIA who are just watching to see who is going to kill him. Grisham explains in painstaking detail how the broker learns Italian and how much he enjoys Bologna. I think Grisham just wanted to write off his Italian vacation as a business expense and worked his experiences into this book. But at least he's back to thrillers. The Painted House and Skipping Christmas were not his finest work and he should just stick to what he does best. Stop whining about wanting to explore other genres, Grisham.
4. The Ivy Chronicles-- Mommy/chick lit. Not as good as other chick lit I've read. I loved I Don't Know How She Does It (well, all except the last 10 pages, how could you settle, Kate Reddy? I related to you so until the end!!!) and have enjoyed the girly reads like The Devil Wears Prada and the Nanny Diaries but this wasn't that good. I know these books aren't supposed to be real but some truly bizarre things happen in this novel. Ivy sets up a business where she charges rich clients a fee to help get their kids accepted into good private kindergardens, the baby-Ivy Leagues. There is an intense pressure involving waiting lists, testing, and applications for private schools and this part was interesting to read about. But making a little girl pretend she's half black to get in based on diversity? I don't know, maybe that happens, but it just seemed too bizarre. Not a big fan.
5. The Secret Life of Bees-- Sue Monk Kidd did a good job on her first novel, and I enjoyed this book. But I wanted to enjoy it more. Lily runs away from her abusive father with her African American nanny and gets taken in by a trio of beekeeping sisters as she looks for clues about her mother's death. I loved the story and was moved as Lily learns about her past and figures out what is important in life. But parts of the book were frustrating. Lily keeps a secret and I wanted to just yell at her to tell the truth. I also think the nanny was a bit of an archetype--the classic mammy and I would have liked to see her be painted as more multi-dimensional. Still, I recommend it.
6. The Kite Runner--I loved this book. I highly recommend it. It's the story of young privileged boy named Amir in Afghanistan who grows up playing with a servant's son. The two are best friends, but Amir is weak and betrays his friend. Later, he and his father escape to San Francisco as the Russians invade Afghanistan. Amir is haunted by his betrayal and years later, returns to Kabul while the Taliban are in power to right some old wrongs. The novel humanizes the politics of Afghanistan, but is also a twist on the classic immigrant experience story. The images were haunting and beautiful. I literally was reading this in line waiting to order a Subway sandwich, I just couldn't put it down. HIGHLY recommended.

Me and Boo Boo ...

... enjoying the day off for Good Friday. I never wear my contacts so when I do, its picture time!

Yay Me!

So I had to go shopping for some new clothes last week, which I hate to do in this size. Can't I just buy shoes, purses and cute baby clothes? I know those will all fit! Unfortunately, the rigid excercise routine I had planned on fitting in at 5 am before the baby awoke hasn't really become a reality. After I had Boo Boo I realized that I would have to work out in the evenings after he went to bed. But after cleaning the kitchen, making bottles for the next day, checking work email, it's 10:30 and I'm exhausted. So the post partum flab remains. Actually, I weighed less post partum than I do now. When I was on maternity leave, I was 20 lbs lighter--why am I adding weight now? Maybe it has something to do with those pre-packed quarts of Baskin-Robbins Peanut Butter n' Chocolate icecream consumed at night? Nah. But anyway, I hate buying clothes for this in between size because its just a temporary body. The real me, the lean one that was swimming, running, and biking 18 months ago is just dormant.

When I had the flu thing last week I lost 6 lbs in 4 days. So I thought, if I just eat right after I get better, maybe I can keep it off. Well I have kept it off, and I even got on my elliptical machine for 30 minutes yesterday! We've got to celebrate the little things, folks! Now if I can only manage not to order something with the word "cream" in the title when I have lunch at La Strada today...

Phobias

So I had a crazy strain of the flu that put my temperature on Monday at 105 degrees. The doctor was concerned about my fever being that high, but luckily, it was just the flu and exhaustion, not meningitis or something terrible. I am better now. (Boo Boo is not—he has the crud).

But the whole time I was at the doctor’s office with an ice pack, I kept thinking about going blind. I don’t get scared on roller coasters. I don’t scream when I see a wasp, a lizard or snake-like patterns. I don’t get dizzy when I look down from the top of a high building. But I’m always scared that one day I might go blind. For some reason, I always worry about that, and just can’t imagine how I would live my life if it happened. I do wear glasses, and I do read and write for a living, but there is no rational reason for me to have this fear. Still, it’s there, and always comes out when I have a fever. Maybe I read too much Little House on the Prarie when I was little. I always remind myself that modern medicine has come a long way since when Mary went blind because of a fever. Still, everyone is scared about some weird thing that will probably never happen, right? It’s not just me?

PS. Roller coasters, wasps, lizards, heights: these are all real fears of different people in my family.

An English major confesses in two parts

Part the First: This is the kind of boring one. I was talking to a friend this weekend about the excellent James Blunt CD that I have been listening to lately. On the CD, there is a track called Tears and Rain that mentions Dorian Gray, from the book by Oscar Wilde. I'd heard of The Picture of Dorian Gray, of course, but confessed I'd never read it. I've been meaning to look up the reference, and finally did so today. If you are interested in the reference, here is a short synopsis of the book. Confession part the first over.

Part the Second: this part has nothing to do with being an English major, but its related in that it's another confession about things I don't know. More precisely, things I don't know how to do. I live in Houston. We have many freeways running through our city, and the 610 loop that makes a circle (kind of more like a square, but I think of it as a circle, and its my confession) around the city. Then there is another wider circle around the city called Beltway 8. I live near the Beltway in northwest Houston, and my inlaws and several live near the Beltway in southwest Houston, so I thought I understood this loop. Clearly I don't, although I do know how the parts relevant to me work. Also, I take 610 each day to go to downtown where I work, lived near 610 when I was in law school, and pretty much have been driving in Houston for the last 12 years. But here's the confession: I don't get it. Like Tom Hanks didn't get it in Big, but worse, because I'm not actually 10 years old. 610 always confuses me, sparks frantic phone calls to R, and I hate it because it makes me feel stupid. But I just don't get it.

I don't understand how when I take the exit marked 610 North, I'm actually going East. I don't know how to find a building with the address 12450 West Loop South. If I'm at the University of Houston and I'm trying to get the Galleria, I never know with 100% certainty which 610 to take. And I can't begin to understand why, if when I go 610 North to get to the party, I cannot reverse the directions and take 610 South to get home from the party.

Mapquest directions don't help; they make things worse by lulling me into a false sense of security. I had to go to a party in LaPorte this weekend, which I've almost decided is too far to go ever again by myself with a baby. According to Mapquest, I was supposed to take 610 East from 290. But on the road, the only options were 610 North and South. HOW am I supposed to know what to do? (Maybe I'm supposed to, but that part of my brain just doesn't work. I was fine in geometry until we got to the z axis, and then my brain just went to mush.). I call R. What do I do? Go 610 North he says. You'll go north for like a 1/4 mile and then it will turn into 610 East. How does he know these things?

He has tried to draw the city out for me with my landmarks: UH, the Galleria, Sugarland, IKEA, home, the Airport. I always twist the paper, try to go into the map like Joey on Friends did in London, and never EVER come up with the right answers to his questions when he quizzes me on how to get from x to y. I though the compass in my old car would help. It didn't.

Now I have a GPS system. You'd think that would help. Uh, no. Sometimes it gives me longer routes and weird ways so I don't know when to believe the GPS gods and when to ignore them. I shouldn't ignore them, I have learned. I got lost coming home from LaPorte. I will spare you the details. Lets just say that a lot of the streets I hear about on the traffic reports in the morning that I've never been to before, like John Ralston and Federal, I've now seen. The funny thing is, I can drive with written directions or a map in a new city even as long as I don't have to mess with a loop. And as long as the directions are of the "go right past Kroger" variety and not "go north down Kirby." Landmarks are my friend. I like rights and left. Screw having to figure out north and south.

I've decided not to try anymore. We all have our strengths. From now on, R is checking my mapquest directions or the GPS route calculator and making them FFF friendly if I'm going to a new place on a loop. After that confession, you'd never guess the way R and I started hanging out and then eventually dating: I was his calculus tutor. Like I said, we all have our strengths.

With apologies to George Michael

When I was younger, I had a big crush on George Michael and thought I Want Your Sex Part III was the sexiest song ever. Now, my life has changed and I share amended lyrics to fit my life. I'm not a poet so no complaints about my lack of iambic pentameter or whatever--I'm sleep deprived, people. Here goes. Dedicated to my son, and not a lover:

It's late
Time for bed
so I sit and I wait
for your eyes to get heavy
and the drop in your head

I know
Ferber's a controversial way
but its the only one that I know
to get my evenings back
and an end to my day

You know
I'm still full of mama love
But even so
There's only so much a mama can stand

Sleep for me
Oh sleep for me tonight

Hello, Texas

For the last 10 years or so, I've been compiling a mental list of funny little phrases I've noticed that seem to be unique to Texas, or maybe to the South in general. I'll add to the list as I think of more, but here are a couple off the top of my head. Feel free to play along in the comments.

1. "Thank you much." (What happened to the word very?)
2. "Bless her heart." (You can pretty much add any insult to the end of this phrase and it instantly becomes well-meaning, and not malicious. Bless her heart, she's so homely she'll never catch a man. Bless her heart, she's just not all there).
3. Adding a little short, one syllable nickname to the end of your name as a term of endearment. (All Boo Boo's teachers add "Lou" to the end of his name. And my friend Jamie adds "Jo" to the end of our friend Nancy's name just because).

Now I'm fixin' to get back to work, ya'll. Save me some of that cream gravy.

ZZZZZZ

Not to squash the breezy tone of this blog but WHY is Boo Boo regressing and waking up each hour requiring us to pat him to go back to sleep?

Maps

Here's a world map of where I have travelled.

There's hardly any red in the Carribean. Perhaps a vacation is in order this summer? Create your own map
here.

Dressing Up Baby

How cute are these? Boo Boo wore them this weekend. He is going to crawl any day now, but for now, he just does push ups and move back and forth on all fours like a little frogger. As a mama of a little boy, shoes and hats are about the only accessories I can dress up my baby with. Its amazing how much more you have to think about with a girl. I babysat for my friend's 2 years old daughter on Saturday, and she had a clip in her hair, a purse on her arm, and cute frilly socks. When Limited Too and Gap Kids first opened at our mall, I remember thinking "Noooooo!" I just think kids need to be kids for a little while. In middle school, there is enough obsession over the right jeans and the designer purses. Do we need to start them so early on the Gap v. Carters debate? But now I realize the evil marketing ploys--kids don't care what you put them in. It's the mamas who want their babies to look cute and match! I'm guilty of it too, but I cannot buy a $26 shirt from Gymboree even if it does have the cutest monkeys or surboards on it. I hit the sale racks and wait till they are marked down to $7.99. Of course I make up for it in Cheer Free. Boo Boo never spits up unless its a nicer outfit. Keep him in a Carter's onesie all day, and he's fine. But put him in the baby Gap sweatshirt and Gymboree jeans and in five minutes there will be drool all over the shirt and some kind of giant stain on the pants.