 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, but Warren absolutely dotes on Margaret.  In the above picture she is seen wearing her new dress for the first time, one that her beloved Daddy had specially made just for her. Yep, not even 1.5 years old and her father is already buying her custom clothing. She has him so wrapped around her little finger it is not even funny, not that I’m in a good position to talk here… Warren can’t really be blamed, I just fear for what she might ask for (and receive) when she is sixteen. In case you can’t see the little clip in her hair, here is a shot that better shows our vast leap in baby hair styling.  I found these baby-sized hair clips at the drug store and got them with the thought of indoctrinating her into the world of hair accessories before it became a necessity. Her hair is not yet long enough that she needs something to keep it out of her eyes, but in another couple of months we’ll be there. I think that bangs probably aren’t the best look for her, so until we get to the point where her hair is long enough to tuck behind her ears we’re going to need a little something. Getting her to wear the clips was actually far easier than I imagined. If I put them in while she can see herself in the mirror she knows what it is and won’t pull it out. If she can’t see herself when I put it in, about half the time she’ll wonder what it is and pull it out to look at it. She sometimes even requests the clips now, so I think we are good for the anticipated awkward hair length stage. Well, as good as we can be. Margaret has very fine hair like mine, and while she will leave the clips in, left to their own devices the clips don’t stay in all that well on an active girl. Since I am not prepared to use dance-competition grade hair gel on my baby my options for dealing with this are limited. Once she gets a bit older and her hair a bit longer she is in for some totally awesome hairdos if she’s willing to sit still for me.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I’ve been terrible about posting, I had my 28 week checkup nearly a week ago and haven’t given an update until now. Really there is not so much to say. I had my sickly sweet orange drink, and apparently am fine in the glucose tolerance department because I’m sure they would have said something by now if I weren’t. The drink really is vile. If I think something is too sweet, you may be sure that it really is way too sweet. I also got my H1N1 vaccine and my Rhogram shot (which they nearly forgot, which caused and annoying delay, but I got it). I suppose I should call and get the H1N1 for Margaret, since we apparently have vaccine now, but I’ve been feeling lazy, and she’s going to need two doses a month apart on account of her young age. That’s going to be a bit of a pain. If you’re wondering what the Rhogram is, it’s to keep me from developing antibodies to my baby’s blood. I’m A-, and the baby is most likely A+ and so I get Rhogram shots in my third trimester and at the birth so that neither this baby nor any future sibling I might badger my body into conceiving needs a transfusion at birth. The pregnancy itself continues to go well. I’ve been having some noticeable Braxton-Hicks contractions, which I never had with Margaret. (I mean, I’m sure there were some Braxton-Hicks because there are supposed to be, but I never felt a thing.) It’s mildly troubling to me because it’s different and because they are actually more uncomfortable than my early labor contractions from last time. Last time around I GMed through two hours of contractions at 5 minutes apart because the contractions were so very mild that it didn’t make sense to call the game off. It’s pretty clear that I’m am getting the noticeable Braxton-Hicks contractions this time around because I am exerting myself more. I have this toddler, you see. She is convinced that Mommy has superhuman strength and endurance, and is essentially indestructible, and it’s really no use trying to tell her differently. Margaret also thinks that my belly makes a good bouncy cushion, and while I try to dissuade her she sometimes catches me by surprise. We still don’t have a name for the little boy. Margaret was clearly a Margaret from very early on. We wanted to see her first before it was completely a done deal, especially since we weren’t 100% certain of her gender beforehand, but there really wasn’t much controversy or even much discussion needed on that decision. Boy names are harder. Warren and I both like William and Alexander, but both of those names are perennially in the top ten list on the [ Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<a [...] http://www.ssa.gov/oact/babynames/”>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.] I’ve been terrible about posting, I had my 28 week checkup nearly a week ago and haven’t given an update until now. Really there is not so much to say. I had my sickly sweet orange drink, and apparently am fine in the glucose tolerance department because I’m sure they would have said something by now if I weren’t. The drink really is vile. If I think something is too sweet, you may be sure that it really is way too sweet. I also got my H1N1 vaccine and my Rhogram shot (which they nearly forgot, which caused and annoying delay, but I got it). I suppose I should call and get the H1N1 for Margaret, since we apparently have vaccine now, but I’ve been feeling lazy, and she’s going to need two doses a month apart on account of her young age. That’s going to be a bit of a pain. If you’re wondering what the Rhogram is, it’s to keep me from developing antibodies to my baby’s blood. I’m A-, and the baby is most likely A+ and so I get Rhogram shots in my third trimester and at the birth so that neither this baby nor any future sibling I might badger my body into conceiving needs a transfusion at birth. The pregnancy itself continues to go well. I’ve been having some noticeable Braxton-Hicks contractions, which I never had with Margaret. (I mean, I’m sure there were some Braxton-Hicks because there are supposed to be, but I never felt a thing.) It’s mildly troubling to me because it’s different and because they are actually more uncomfortable than my early labor contractions from last time. Last time around I GMed through two hours of contractions at 5 minutes apart because the contractions were so very mild that it didn’t make sense to call the game off. It’s pretty clear that I’m am getting the noticeable Braxton-Hicks contractions this time around because I am exerting myself more. I have this toddler, you see. She is convinced that Mommy has superhuman strength and endurance, and is essentially indestructible, and it’s really no use trying to tell her differently. Margaret also thinks that my belly makes a good bouncy cushion, and while I try to dissuade her she sometimes catches me by surprise. We still don’t have a name for the little boy. Margaret was clearly a Margaret from very early on. We wanted to see her first before it was completely a done deal, especially since we weren’t 100% certain of her gender beforehand, but there really wasn’t much controversy or even much discussion needed on that decision. Boy names are harder. Warren and I both like William and Alexander, but both of those names are perennially in the top ten list on the <a href=” http://www.ssa.gov/OACT/babynames/”>SSA site</a>, and we are reluctant to give a child a name that is too common. They’re also iffy on the nickname front; I had to resort to threatening bodily harm to prevent some people from calling me “Liz” and I doubt a child of mine will take kindly to having to constantly battle against “Bill” and might not like being abbreviated to “Alex” either. We could go for namespace confusion symmetry and name him George, which is neither too popular nor too nickname-prone, but while we’re both exceedingly fond of Warren’s brother we’re not so sure we love the name as much as we love the man. I’ve been through the entire list of popular baby names, and there are no clear winners. We may have to just compile a short list of those we can live with and take it to the hospital with us. I’m hoping that actually seeing the boy might clarify what we should name him. At least we can guarantee him a name that is less weird than any of his cousins to date. Last weekend's visit to <lj user=chenoameg>'s reassured me that Margaret will probably be OK with a younger sibling. I got to hold Meg's baby while Meg folded laundry, and Margaret was not only fine with that, she seemed to be instinctively much gentler with the newborn than she was with me. We had all had a rousing game of make funny noises while holding the clear plastic container over your face, which I promise you is more fun than it sounds. I'm not sure how well Margaret will take to a newborn that we take home and keep instead of just visiting for half an hour, but it was certainly a positive indicator. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A lot of parenting blogs tend to not be good advertisements for the joys of having a child. It’s the exceptional incidents like illness or huge meltdowns that make for good stories, while the day-to-day love and cuteness don’t make for gripping narrative. I try not to play up the poop explosions and such, but even I fall victim to this. Much as people are more likely to repeat the story about the woman who got pregnant spontaneously after giving up treatment than the story of the woman who never had a child or the birth story that involved a week of labor and an emergency C-section over the one of the woman who checked into the hospital at midnight and had an uncomplicated delivery around breakfast time, people are more apt to talk about the night they were up ten times in ten hours instead of the three week stretch of their child sleeping soundly. The outliers just seem to make for better stories, and the good stuff really is better experienced than described.
This morning Margaret and I played for half an hour with a stuffed animal. It was incredibly cute and rewarding, especially the part where she put him in the swing and pushed him while saying “wheeeee!” I can tell you this, but you really had to be there to appreciate it. Margaret regularly requests that we sing Itsy Bitsy Spider by miming a spider crawling up her arm and declaring “Do this!” It needs to be seen first hand to be appreciated though, and I expect people who are not related to Margaret may not find it quite as precious. This morning while I was drying off from my shower Margaret requested a tissue, used it to blow her nose (not particularly effectively, but hey, you could tell what she was going for), and then tossed it in trash and requested another tissues. This went through at least a dozen iterations. I’m afraid you’ll just have to trust me that it was insanely cute, because really, you had to be there.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Last week the company where Warren had been working as a contractor for three years before they got rid of all their contractors due to economic pressures decided that they wanted him back ASAP. Since today was his first day back at work he had to be there at 9am, which means he left the house at 8:20, before me and before Jomkwan came upstairs to get Margaret.
Mondays are always problematic when it comes to the whole childcare transfer thing. Over the weekend Margaret gets very used to spending time with us. There are long trips to the park and other outings. I’m with her more or less constantly and Daddy is always there when we’re home. I’ve gotten used to leaving to the sound of crying on Monday mornings. By Friday she’s pretty indifferent to my departure, and not necessarily ready for her all-day play date with Jomkwan to end when I get home. What Margaret had gotten used to over the past three months is the idea that Daddy does not leave the house without her. Warren has been spending his days mostly at home managing his investments and dealing with the huge backlog of stuff we weren’t getting to over the past three years when we both had day jobs, such as a long list of home improvements and buying life insurance. As far as Margaret knows her Daddy never left the house without her.
In light of this you can imagine the sense of betrayal when this morning Daddy put on his shoes and hat and coat and left the house without her. He wasn’t taking her out for a drive in his sports car or for a walk, he was just going and leaving her at home with a pajama-clad Mommy. She stood on the second floor landing and cried for a good solid fifteen minutes. I know it can be tough for Dads. Like most kids her age Margaret prefers that I do most of the childcare tasks and is not at all shy about expressing a preference. While it was upsetting to see her so very very upset, it was gratifying to see the proof that she cared so very deeply that her Daddy was leaving without her. I’m pretty used to seeing the beginnings of such a demonstration when I leave on Mondays (and sure enough, once 9:00 came and I had to leave the tears started again), so I knew she’d get over it. No doubt starting tomorrow we’ll go back to a more normal schedule of me leaving first followed by a transfer to Jomkwan. Of course that will only last a few months until Baby Brother arrives to shatter her view of the universe once and for all.
In other news, I finally set up my screen saver of my current computer to randomly cycle through the folder containing all the pictures of Margaret. This was the first time Margaret had really noticed pictures of herself and she kept saying “baby” with each new picture. (She often says ‘baby’ when we come across a small kid at the playground or on the bike path, which I find hilarious when the baby in question is clearly older than she is.) I have no idea if she recognizes herself or not. She certainly is my baby and will always be my baby no matter how big she gets or however many other babies I manage to have.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It’s a good thing that Margaret is so darn sweet, or at least has me so thoroughly mind-controlled, because I fear that she is two before her time.
We have (and have had for several months) tantrums. They aren’t frequent, but there is the back-arching refusal to get into the stroller when she would prefer to walk. Normally I am willing to let her walk, but we do live in a city with some “interesting” driving on the part of many motorists, and there are times when her normal walking speed just won’t get us where we need to be on time. I’m not sure how Warren and Jomkwan manage when she puts all her strength into resisting being put in the stroller, but I use the brute-force method, and let me tell you, you’d be amazed at how difficult it is to get an actively resisting 23 pound toddler into an umbrella stroller.
There is also the no thing. She’s been saying it more and more often now, probably because we do respond to it. Normally when she says no, we honor that choice. Sometimes, though, she says it when “no” is not an option. I feel bad, especially because she is so cute when she says it. It sounds like “nu”, and is accompanied by head shaking and a tone of deep regret. It’s as if she’s saying, “I’m terribly sorry Mommy, but I’m afraid you simply can not change me out of my pajamas.” Unfortunately for her she gets changed anyway when the pajamas in question are covered in yogurt and I need to get her dressed before I head off to work.
I’m really enjoying this part of her childhood more than I expected I would. She is asserting her independence and making her will known, but she is also more actively showing us signs of affection. I get spontaneous hugs and kisses and cuddles, and it is just wonderful. She may well be entering into the phase where she expects the world to bend to her every whim, but at least she seems to be using charm to make it easier on the rest of us. I’m guessing world domination is just around the corner.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
greyautumnrain's journal
Previous
