When Warren and I took Margaret out to the park Friday night we discovered a small stuffed dog in her stroller that neither of us had seen before. The logical explanation seems to be that Jomkwan bought it for her. That's certainly nice, but Jomkwan also got her two toys and a pretty dress for her birthday less than one month ago. It's very sweet of her, but she certainly seems to be going above and beyond. Of course Margaret seems to have that effect on people. Yesterday Warren took her grocery shopping with him, allowing me a much-needed nap. When they returned the grocery list seems to have suddenly included a toy sword. Clearly the urge to buy her toys is a strong one. I will let Warren reveal just how much he spent on toys one month should he choose to do so. I will say that I also buy her toys, and boxes arrive regularly from the grandparents, especially Warren's mom.

In other toy related news, Margaret has finally shown an interest in stuffed animals. I'm pleased because I think having something inanimate to cuddle is a good thing.

I had my initial regular OB visit yesterday. This one was with the nurse practitioner, and I was very happy to learn that while nurse Pollyanna is still there, they have a new nurse practitioner, so I saw her instead. I like her a lot.

There's not much to report of the visit as she mostly checked me and there was no baby check. I haven't gained any weight yet, which is good seeing as how I'm only ten weeks along. Mostly we discussed my history, and scheduled the screening to make sure the baby doesn't show signs of serious issued. The screening ultrasound is on the 23rd.

I find that I am barely having any dead baby thoughts this pregnancy in spite of having rather milder first trimester symptoms. I hope this isn't hubris and is just a reflection of how well everything went with Margaret.

I did run into nurse Pollyanna on the way out and she managed to annoy me by acting all surprised that I had lost all the weight from the last pregnancy. Yeah. I didn't say anything. Not only did I lose everything I put on during the last pregnancy, but I am fifteen pounds lighter going into this one. Not having multiple failed cycles to build of the fat and not being depressed and worried about the thought of never having a child tend to make maintaining a healthy weight easier. I'd still like to lose another ten pounds, but I think it'll come off next time if I have a break between when I quit breastfeeding and when I start cycling again.

I’ve been remiss in posting a few key things about Margaret. Time to play catch-up

At her 1 year checkup her height was 28.5 inches, her weight was 18 pounds, 14 ounces, and her head circumference was 46 cm. This translates to being slightly on the small side, but with a bigger than average head. I’m not terribly concerned about her being smallish; for years I was one of the shorter girls in my class and now I’m just shy of 5’7”. I’m assuming Margaret is following a similar growth curve.

In the past week her bottom two teeth have finally broken through and are visible. At long last she has teeth. Actually, I wasn’t so concerned about their late appearance, but when she chooses to she can now take advantage of having actual teeth to improve her solid food intake. The other day she ate four half cherries. In the past she’d gum fruit but generally not ingest a noticeable amount, so this was a huge leap in solid food consumption. Of course the next day the skins of the cherries showed up intact in her diaper, but the rest seems to have been digested.

Margaret has learned how to hit single keys on her toy piano. Warren and I are insanely proud and if you don’t think this is proof that she is a musical genius we’d advise you to keep that opinion to yourself if you know what is good for you.

Margaret’s hair has grown long enough that there is now a curl at the nape of her neck. It’s just this one ringlet but it’s hard to resist playing with it. I am really looking forward to when I can start putting her hair up; I don’t think that’ll happen anytime soon.

A couple of weeks ago Warren and I were talking about parenting and such and he made a comment to the effect that readers of my blog may think that I found parenting all bliss and joy, with the fact that there is some work involved mentioned as a brief footnote. If this is your impression, I think I should perhaps correct it and mention that behind the scenes there is a whole lot of coping going on.

Babies are a lot of work. If you are surprised by this notion you have not been reading very many mommy blogs. Also, babies can’t talk very well, so communication is limited and it makes it hard to fathom what they want, even if it’s something simple. Babies are unaware of certain conventions that the rest of us take for granted, further muddying the waters. The combination can be exceedingly frustrating for both the baby and the parent. For example, I would be willing to read Goodnight Moon to Margaret a dozen times in a row. She loves the book, and she especially loves the books protagonist, the red balloon. (If you think the protagonist is the little bunny saying goodnight you are suffering from a delusion.) The problem is, after the first reading or two she clearly wants me to continue reading, but not at all in anything resembling the order the author has written the book in, and my psychic powers fail me and it can be deeply frustrating if I am low on food and/or sleep. She wants me to read to her, and I want to do it, but she is not letting me read more than a word or two at a time and not in an order that makes any sense to my poor, befuddled adult brain, and she becomes upset because I am not doing what she wants me to do, much as I’d like to.

Then there is the while night time issue. Margaret still does not sleep through the night. It has been getting better in a gradual, non-linear sort of way, and in general I am OK with that, especially since most nights when she gets up at 4am she promptly sucks down six ounces of milk and goes back to sleep. One of my personal parenting philosophies is that you feed the baby when she’s hungry, and if she’s hungry enough for what passes for a full meal for her at 4am so be it. On the other hand, the nights when something else is bugging her and she’s constantly up (usually waking me just as I was managing to drift off), are much more frustrating. Generally I find them frustrating when there is nothing obviously wrong and she doesn’t seem to be sick. There have been times (generally around 5am) when I have been on the verge or losing my cool (or just over that verge) and Warren has had to take the baby. Thankfully those times have been less frequent now that she is older, but humans clearly pair-bond to raise their young because otherwise the young might not survive those occasional really bad nights.

Even the good days can be long and draining. Recently, mjperson commented that I never wave back when I am out and about with Margaret. I told him I never saw him. He theorized that my hat was the issue, but I think a large part of it is that I go for walks when I can no longer cope with being in the house. Our house just isn’t the sort of place you can let a baby roam free in while you do other stuff, so watching the baby can be pretty intense and boring at the same time. I leave the house for a walk when I can no longer stand being cooped up in the house with the baby and the thousand things she must not touch and the furniture that she really ought not to climb on and leap off of. This generally translates to twice a day on the weekends, and by the time I get out I am well and truly fried. I am usually also hungry as it is difficult to eat around her and nigh impossible to fix myself anything around her. So, I go for walks, long walks. If I didn’t need to return to the house to pee and feed the baby it would be tempting to spend all the daylight hours of the weekend out walking or at the playground. So if you see me out walking and I utterly fail to notice you, please do not take it personally, it’s just that my brain is that the point where it barely functions.

I tend to blog about the good stuff because it’s the stuff I want to remember. Also, as individual incidents the bad stuff doesn’t make terribly interesting stories. I certainly don’t want to complain about all the work. I knew it would be terribly hard work going in, and still I pursued parenthood more aggressively than most people have to. It is worth it. It is also very tiring, and if you had the false impression that I was some sort of super-woman-parenting-goddess this will hopefully set you straight. I am the woman who takes her baby on two hour walks because it’s the only way I’ve found to keep her quiet for any length of time without losing my marbles.

Like most women I have become accustomed to the occasional spontaneous expression of desire by certain less inhibited members of the opposite sex while I am out and about alone in public. At least I assume that these occasional happenings are common to most women because last I checked I do not look like a model and I would really hate to think that there is something else about me that brings out this quality in certain men. Normally I don't bother thinking about such things much as it tends to be beneath my notice, but it has been a while since this has happened, largely because I am never out and about alone anymore, I almost always have my baby with me. In point of fact, I had my baby with me today. I will grant you that the presence of a baby does not absolutely guarantee the presence of a man in my life, but it does tend to be a strong indicator of such. While I must say that in a way I appreciate the feedback that I have not yet lost my desirability, I must say that the message loses some of it's impact when one considers that it is coming from someone desperate enough to hit on a woman pushing a baby carriage. And while I realize it's not obvious yet, I happen to be a pregnant woman who pushes a baby carriage, just so you know there was that extra loser factor in the whole incident.

Never ever complain to your RE that you are concerned because your morning sickness isn't as severe as last time. Still no puking, but ye gods, the food aversions are here in force.

Back in September 2002 when I purchased my Jetta my plan was to drive the thing until it fell apart. I pretty darn happy with the car, I like the way it drives, and I could happily keep it for a good long time.

The thing is, back when I bought it I was laboring under a couple of misconceptions. The first was that I would have a kid in a couple of years, and we know how that turned out. The second was that I could easily fit three kids in the back seat. This is also an error in judgment, though less obviously so, unless you currently have young children.

You see, when I was thinking of children and car size I was thinking back to my own early childhood. At the time my sister was born the only car the family owned was Dad's dark blue VW beetle. In my opinion at the time, it fit a family of four quite nicely. Being much shorter back then, I actually had plenty of leg room in the back, and Margaret was smaller still. My Jetta is huge in comparison to the old bug, surely it would be plenty big enough at least until we had that third child we wanted. What I failed to consider was the full impact of today's different safety standards. When Margaret was born, I remember waking in the back seat of the beetle as Dad drove to the hospital, but it took me a while to figure out where I was because my Dad had laid me down on the seat as though I was sleeping in a couch, a stunt that would no doubt earn him a fine and a stern talking to if he were caught trying it in this day and age. Also, Margaret went home from the hospital in my Mom's arms, ditto with the fine and the lecture. Today's kids ride in car seats from the time they are born until they're practically ready for puberty, and car seats are bulky.

In theory my Jetta seats five. In practice, if two of the back seat passengers are in car seats, there is no way anyone else is fitting in that back seat, not to mention the front passenger seat is pushed most of the way forward to make room for the back-facing infant seat. We could manage it that way, but then if we wanted to take our au pair with us (like we're supposed to do if we travel), then we're in trouble. Thus I am considering purchasing that ultimate vehicular symbol of motherhood, a minivan.

Timing is a question. Right now dealerships are desperate and offering good deals. We took a peak at the Honda Odyssey on Saturday. Actually it turned out to be more than a peak because the sales department had a bit of an aura of desperation about it. Also, I've received mailings from both a VW dealership and a Nissan dealership basically saying 'please trade-in your old car with us, we want your car for resale.' So, in theory if I acted in the near future I might be able to get some good deals. On the other hand Warren's current contract is likely to go away at any time. We can't really complain about that, given how very long he has been there, but it's still a cause for concern given that the president, congress, and even the federal reserve are all doing their very best to make a bad economic situation even worse. Seriously, if anyone in Washington seemed to have an ounce of sense I'd figure the current downturn would be turned around by the time the baby is due and I just wouldn't worry about it, but given that the folks in charge have such a firm track record of making the worst possible economic decision at any given point I find that my personal consumer confidence is not what it could be.

If you have any advice or thoughts on when and whether a minivan in needed and on specific models feel free to chime in.

We just got back from the second ultrasound. The embyro is doing well, measuring 7 weeks 5 days and with a heartbeat of 154. There is a slight sac separation, which our doctor doesn't think is a cause for concern, and there is still the second empty sac, ditto. I'm still a little bummed about not getting twins this time around, but I'm really happy about the good measurements. My body seems to have a one-baby-per-pregnancy rule or something. We have officially graduated to a regular OB.

Yes, they are late, but it's been a hectic weekend. Margaret is getting her very first tooth, Warren's mother is visiting, and work was crazy. Of course the birthday girl was beautiful...



... and the big present was very well received...



... so everything was fine in the end.

One year ago almost exactly to the minute I was bidding goodbye to my friends who were over for a gaming session, convinced that the mild cramps I was feeling every five minutes might be labor. Turned out I was right.

I expect that due to being terribly hosed at work I will not be able to make a proper post tomorrow on Margaret's actual birthday. I intend to at least take a bunch of pictures. How can my baby be turning one already? Looking back at the events of a year ago my frazzled brain is struck by one thought: it seems terribly appropriate that the baby of two MIT nerds was born in the morning after I first insisted on finishing my roleplaying game and then pulled an all-nighter.