Wednesday, February 23, 2005

The hazards of late-night blogging: I forget what I really wanted to write about, and end up spouting tripe about "celebrity" skanks.
What the Midnight Editor forgot yesterday is the joys of learning to sleep through the night; me, that is, re-learning this important skill. You see, we finally have the baby sleeping in her crib in her own room. She spent most of the first three and a half months with us, for ease of nighttime feedings and so on. There are equal factions who would tell me that I'm some sort of socialist pathological weirdo for having the baby in our room, inhibiting her sense of independence and blah blah blah OR that I'm banishing my tender impressionable child to a cell down the hall, inhibiting attachment and bonding and thus condemning her to a future as a socialist pathological weirdo blah blah blah. I don't care who's right; I care that my husband gets enough sleep to function at work, especially as he is the lone paycheck right now.
But I'm having a hard time sleeping without the baby close by. There's something to be said for the attachment parenting/shared sleep philosophy. Mainly, though, I'm taking twice as long to fall asleep (who'd have thought that would be a problem?) because I'm in a constant state of hyperalert vigilance. Every time I wake up -- at the slightest twitch -- it takes me half an hour to reassure my deepest primordial brain that my daughter isn't about to get stomped on by a mammoth.
On the plus side, I have an added incentive to keep both our bedrooms free of clutter, so I don't break my neck on the way to a midnight snack. And now that the baby is actually using the crib, I feel more justified in having spent the money on the cutesy John Lennon design linens.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Just what I need, an anti-role-model for my daughter. If ever there were a person in need of a lifetime subscription to Sit Down and Shut The #@*& Up, it's Paris Hilton. I will not dignify her latest headline with a link; indeed, I will never mention her again if I can possibly help it. She has done one useful thing in her life: inspired a truly vicious episode of South Park. At this point she could cure cancer and I'd still want her to retreat to a cave somewhere next door to Osama bin Laden for the rest of her unnatural life.
Days like this I'm sure my brother kicks himself for retiring his blog. In his honor, I note the passing of Hunter S. Thompson. Ave atque vale, and may your Valhalla be free of hypocrisy and full of quality chemical recreation.

Thursday, February 17, 2005

My Lucy Ricardo moment du jour: Gigi woke up from her nap, fussy and cranky but unwilling to go back to sleep. A fresh diaper usually perks her up, so I took her to the changing table and started to unsnap her onesie. I noticed that she felt a little more "well padded" than usual, but didn't figure out why until I started plucking at the tape tabs... when I redressed her at her last change, I hadn't gotten the old diaper out of the way. I'd snapped her outfit shut with the clean, dry diaper on top of the folded wet one. No wonder she took longer than usual to go down for that nap. I'd be cranky too, if someone made me sleep with an extra pair of damp undies crammed into my pajamas.
My karmic payback? Her last wakeful cycle consisted of a major gas attack (mid-nursing, too, what fun) and a spell of teething. Oh yes, we're getting warmed up for the teething.
I still can't believe I gave up drinking for Lent.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Ten Pounds! Baby "Gigi" is over ten pounds now, by my unscientific method. I made the appointment for her four-month (!!!!!) well baby visit today. March 1 she will go in for a checkup and the next round of vaccinations.
Oh, and we're trying to get her to sleep through the night in her own room now. I shouldn't have given up drinking for Lent.
Well, this answers one of my earlier questions: I was wondering why Alanis felt compelled to stick her nose into the U.S. elections last fall.
Speaking of contentious cross-border issues, word is that Canadian MPs are getting irate phone calls from U.S. Bible-Belters about proposed "gay marriage" legislation. I always thought it was the purview of tinpot dictators and foreign aid recipients to squeal about the Americans "meddling in internal affairs" (diplo-speak for "of course we know we're doing awful things; mind your own damn business"). Bewildered Ottawa denizens can now add their voices to the chorus.
Seriously you guys, Canada is a foreign country. It is not the "51st state". You want to oppress ten percent of your population, get cracking on your own constitutional amendment. Everyone on the northern side of the border will be busy playing hockey, drinking beer, and committing unspeakable crimes against nature, and you'll just have to get over it, eh?

Thursday, February 10, 2005

I went to visit another new mom earlier this week: bless her heart, she's nursing twins. I don't know if I'd be able to keep up with multiples; sometimes I feel lucky to be able to make it through the day without dropping Gigi on her head or accidentally burning the house down. And I'm not even going to work.
Not going to work still hasn't fully sunk in; I can't get past the feeling that I'm playing hooky or something. I used to feel a certain guilty pleasure sitting in a coffee joint in the middle of the day. The pleasure is still there, and the guilt is dissipating. However, I have to pick my coffee joints carefully.
A few days ago I was at this place I used to haunt with girlfriends. It took me a while to realize I was one of the only customers without a notebook computer, and I was the only one with a stroller. If they were checking credentials, I could have shown them a cellphone, I guess. But seriously, I think I was the only one there who wasn't in the throes of left-leaning academia and/or artistic angst. I didn't want to breathe too deeply, for fear of choking on a lungful of earnestness. It's not that I felt unwelcome in my old stomping grounds, I just felt like I didn't belong there anymore. It's like putting on a pair of old shoes, well-worn and lovingly broken in, and finding out that they're giving you blisters.
I finished my coffee, put my baby in the Volvo station wagon with its radio stations preset to public radio channels, and drove back to my single-family dwelling in the suburbs. I'm starting to feel that demographic shift sinking in.
Hi, remember me? Yeah, been feeling a little under the weather the past few days. Nothing major, I will spare you the gory details, let it suffice to say that I'd rather be sitting in a warm bath than in a computer chair for long periods of time. (But then, who wouldn't?)

News from "Gigi": she is now over nine and a half pounds. Word of this gets out too far and professional athletes will be offering serious money for my milk, in lieu of steroids.

Thursday, February 03, 2005

Baby celebrated her grandpa's birthday today with another milestone: she held her bottle all by herself!!! Okay, I was spotting her the whole time, but she had a grip on that bottle like G.I. Joe's kung fu. On Saturday she will have dinner with Grandpa and show off for him. Can't wait.

Wednesday, February 02, 2005

My baby is three months old. Life is beautiful and so is she.