Denise graciously offered to post some pictures of Nathaniel for me, as I can barely manage regular blog posts these days.
Here's my boy!
Sunday, November 28, 2004
Thursday, November 25, 2004
the reservation system
Another characteristic of large families that are nearby,
especially those with enthusiastic grandparents and aunties: I haven't
held Nathaniel (except for nursing and one time when I exerted maternal privilege just because) for hours. I presume my child will
be returned to me at some juncture, but in the mean time, there is some serious jostling for baby time here.
I think I should implement a reservation system for baby holding time. I could solicit pumpkin pie bribes for jumping the queue.
I think I should implement a reservation system for baby holding time. I could solicit pumpkin pie bribes for jumping the queue.
happy thanksgiving
Like last year, except even more so, I felt sort of like Maria Von Trapp every time I started to write an entry about what I am thankful for.
Besides which, I think it's pretty obvious.
I'll just leave it at this: I'm thankful for you, my readers. I've had a momentous year. Thank you for following along with me.
Besides which, I think it's pretty obvious.
I'll just leave it at this: I'm thankful for you, my readers. I've had a momentous year. Thank you for following along with me.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
the truth is out there
Approximately five years ago, my husband and I were driving down the always stunning Highway 1 when my husband exclaimed, "Happy didn't go to a farm!"
Happy had been my husband's German Shepherd mix when he was a child. Happy had come to the family as an adult adoptee with an unfortunate aversion to uniformed men. The family managed to keep her away from the police and postman, but as she aged her behavioral problems worsened.
A protective dog by nature, she instantly appointed herself guardian of my husband's baby brother when she arrived. Over time she became increasingly possessive. She started to snarl at visitors who came too close to the child.
The parents' tolerance ran out when Happy lunged, teeth bared, at my husband's mother as she picked up his brother. Happy had become unmanageable.
The parents, unwilling to devastate their two young boys, told the boys that Happy was going to go live at a farm where she could run and play with the squirrels. The boys were sad to see Happy go, but consoled themselves with stories of Happy on the farm. Happy left a few days later.
After my husband explained Happy's history, I agreed that it was unlikely that Happy had in fact gone to a farm. He called his mother and she confirmed his suspicions. Happy had gone to that big farm in the sky.
This transpired nearly thirty years prior to my husband's road trip outburst. I've had the similar realizations, where I suddenly understood that my child's understanding of the world wasn't quite complete.
It makes me wonder what Nathaniel will realize in thirty years or so. What will we protect him from, only to have him realize the true situation years later? And will he mind?
[Update: My husband points out that Happy came from a judge who didn't quite reveal the truth of Happy's nature to the adoptive family. Perhaps Happy's aversion to police officers was vocational in nature.]
Happy had been my husband's German Shepherd mix when he was a child. Happy had come to the family as an adult adoptee with an unfortunate aversion to uniformed men. The family managed to keep her away from the police and postman, but as she aged her behavioral problems worsened.
A protective dog by nature, she instantly appointed herself guardian of my husband's baby brother when she arrived. Over time she became increasingly possessive. She started to snarl at visitors who came too close to the child.
The parents' tolerance ran out when Happy lunged, teeth bared, at my husband's mother as she picked up his brother. Happy had become unmanageable.
The parents, unwilling to devastate their two young boys, told the boys that Happy was going to go live at a farm where she could run and play with the squirrels. The boys were sad to see Happy go, but consoled themselves with stories of Happy on the farm. Happy left a few days later.
After my husband explained Happy's history, I agreed that it was unlikely that Happy had in fact gone to a farm. He called his mother and she confirmed his suspicions. Happy had gone to that big farm in the sky.
This transpired nearly thirty years prior to my husband's road trip outburst. I've had the similar realizations, where I suddenly understood that my child's understanding of the world wasn't quite complete.
It makes me wonder what Nathaniel will realize in thirty years or so. What will we protect him from, only to have him realize the true situation years later? And will he mind?
[Update: My husband points out that Happy came from a judge who didn't quite reveal the truth of Happy's nature to the adoptive family. Perhaps Happy's aversion to police officers was vocational in nature.]
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
parenting in my sleep
About a month ago, I read an article describing some of the early signs of autism. Lack of eye contact or smiles in response to a parent's smile at one year was the first sign in the list.
Nathaniel was approximately one month old, and though cute as could be, was not smiling in response to our smiles. This is, of course, very normal behavior for one-month-old babies, information I knew and was quite comfortable with at the time.
A few nights later, I nursed Nathaniel and lay back down to sleep. He was sleeping soundly, but my subconscious had other plans for me. I started to drift off.
"Oh, ho ho! Your baby is not smiling at you! Your baby doesn't smile when you smile! Your baby has autism! Autism! Autism! Autism! Ho! Ho!" My subconscious is nothing if not aggressively worry-prone, and if there aren't legitimate worries on the menu for the night, will manufacture some doozies.
The rational part of my psyche is completely and utterly cowed by my subconscious when I am in that not-quite-awake state. Rather than providing the appropriate response ("You Freud-fetishizing idiot! It's one year, not one month!") to these worries, my task-focused rational brain takes the presumption provided by my subsconscious as fact and works from there.
"Okay. Autism. Check. Early intervention works best, so join the autism mailing lists to get some tips on where to start. And consider selling this place because the school district in the next town over has a better special needs program. Call D., because he practiced special education law and might have some good references." And so on.
Nathaniel finally jolted me fully awake a few hours later with a request for more milk, at which point I realized that despite my elaborate plans, it was a little early to consider switching my career path to autism law.
Nathaniel was approximately one month old, and though cute as could be, was not smiling in response to our smiles. This is, of course, very normal behavior for one-month-old babies, information I knew and was quite comfortable with at the time.
A few nights later, I nursed Nathaniel and lay back down to sleep. He was sleeping soundly, but my subconscious had other plans for me. I started to drift off.
"Oh, ho ho! Your baby is not smiling at you! Your baby doesn't smile when you smile! Your baby has autism! Autism! Autism! Autism! Ho! Ho!" My subconscious is nothing if not aggressively worry-prone, and if there aren't legitimate worries on the menu for the night, will manufacture some doozies.
The rational part of my psyche is completely and utterly cowed by my subconscious when I am in that not-quite-awake state. Rather than providing the appropriate response ("You Freud-fetishizing idiot! It's one year, not one month!") to these worries, my task-focused rational brain takes the presumption provided by my subsconscious as fact and works from there.
"Okay. Autism. Check. Early intervention works best, so join the autism mailing lists to get some tips on where to start. And consider selling this place because the school district in the next town over has a better special needs program. Call D., because he practiced special education law and might have some good references." And so on.
Nathaniel finally jolted me fully awake a few hours later with a request for more milk, at which point I realized that despite my elaborate plans, it was a little early to consider switching my career path to autism law.
Friday, November 12, 2004
a little more joy in the world
I've been feeling a little melancholy over the past few days, mostly
due to the passage of the anti-gay initiatives around the country. I
love being married and having a son. I love that my parents and four
siblings are close by, ensuring plenty of loving arms for Nathaniel and
support for me and my husband. I love the large extended family I have
here, relationships built up over decades of living in the same area. I
have family in all senses of the word: a husband, a child, in-laws,
siblings, parents, cousins and friends. I love it.
I hate that so many people would deny these same joys to gays and lesbians.
Perhaps my boy knew I was sad today. He was lying in my arms after nursing, gazing up peacefully at me with his deep blue eyes. I smiled at him. No matter how terrible the world may be, Nathaniel makes me smile.
And he smiled back, the first time he's ever smiled back. He grinned in that open-mouthed, toothless, and fiercely enthusiastic way that babies have, putting his whole little body and soul into that moment.
What a moment! I think maybe heaven opened up just a little for me.
I hate that so many people would deny these same joys to gays and lesbians.
Perhaps my boy knew I was sad today. He was lying in my arms after nursing, gazing up peacefully at me with his deep blue eyes. I smiled at him. No matter how terrible the world may be, Nathaniel makes me smile.
And he smiled back, the first time he's ever smiled back. He grinned in that open-mouthed, toothless, and fiercely enthusiastic way that babies have, putting his whole little body and soul into that moment.
What a moment! I think maybe heaven opened up just a little for me.
Thursday, November 11, 2004
that law thing
I suspect I've lost some of my law school readers, at least those that
find my short, sleep-deprived baby posts uninteresting. I'm sorry about
that. The state of my blog is a somewhat accurate reflection of the
state of my life: I'm thinking baby a lot more than I'm thinking law
these days.
But I haven't forgotten law school or that I will eventually be a lawyer. I've been in contact with my school, with the firm where I worked last summer, and with the judge for whom I externed. Baby pictures have been sent to my professors and the judge. I brought Nathaniel to the law firm where he was cooed over. Plans for this summer and next fall are slowly working out.
I'm groping my way slowly through motherhood and law. I am sorry I'm not keeping you all as up to date as I'd like, but I promise I will continue trying.
But I haven't forgotten law school or that I will eventually be a lawyer. I've been in contact with my school, with the firm where I worked last summer, and with the judge for whom I externed. Baby pictures have been sent to my professors and the judge. I brought Nathaniel to the law firm where he was cooed over. Plans for this summer and next fall are slowly working out.
I'm groping my way slowly through motherhood and law. I am sorry I'm not keeping you all as up to date as I'd like, but I promise I will continue trying.
Monday, November 8, 2004
victory
You might think that it might not be such a big deal to finish nursing
Nathaniel at 11:00 p.m. last night, go to sleep, and then wake up when
he woke up again at 5:00 a.m.
But you would be very, very wrong. That's six, count 'em, SIX hours of uninterrupted sleep for me, something I haven't experienced since August.
Sleeping through the night, for at least a minimal definition of night, has been achieved. I feel like I just won the New York City Marathon.
But you would be very, very wrong. That's six, count 'em, SIX hours of uninterrupted sleep for me, something I haven't experienced since August.
Sleeping through the night, for at least a minimal definition of night, has been achieved. I feel like I just won the New York City Marathon.
Tuesday, November 2, 2004
voting day
We took Nathaniel to the polls today. He won't be eligible to vote until 2022, but it's never too early to educate the young.
The nice voting sticker lady gave him a voting sticker which would have triggered election lawyer apoplexy if this were a swing state. The top part of the sticker read "I Voted" while the bottom read "Electronically!" (Hint: He didn't really vote, honest.)
My husband and I ripped off the bottom part of the sticker so that Nathaniel's voting sticker only said "I voted." Granted, he didn't vote either way, but that's no reason to endorse Diebold and company.
The nice voting sticker lady gave him a voting sticker which would have triggered election lawyer apoplexy if this were a swing state. The top part of the sticker read "I Voted" while the bottom read "Electronically!" (Hint: He didn't really vote, honest.)
My husband and I ripped off the bottom part of the sticker so that Nathaniel's voting sticker only said "I voted." Granted, he didn't vote either way, but that's no reason to endorse Diebold and company.
Monday, November 1, 2004
the difference a year makes
Costume last year: Scandalously (for me) short red dress, long
black cape, devil horns, shiny red heels, deep red lipstick. Carefully
applied red nail polish on both fingers and toes.
Costume this year: Flannel pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt. Baby urp-up mostly, but it must be confessed, not entirely removed from sweatshirt.
Number of Incredibly Adorable Baby Pumpkins at home last year: 0
Number of Incredibly Adorable Baby Pumpkins at home this year: 1
Number of costumes for the under-three-month set in the house last year: 0
Number of costumes for the under-three-month set in the house this year: 3 (two pumpkins, one pea-in-the-pod. Apparently my child inspires produce-related Halloweening.)
Number of teen girls reduced to incoherent coos and squeals upon seeing me last year: 0
Number of teen girls reduced to incoherent coos and squeals upon seeing me this year: At least 15 or 20. Hint to those wishing to elicit squealing attention from teen girls - carry an Incredibly Adorable Baby Pumpkin. It worked 100% of the time.
What I did at 9:30 p.m. last Halloween night: Left the house to go to a party.
What I did at 9:30 p.m. this Halloween night: Went to bed.
What I did at 4:00 a.m. last Halloween: Returned home from evening's festivities. Took Advil in hopes of avoiding hangover. Went to bed.
What I did at 4:00 a.m. this Halloween: Nursed a Hungry Pumpkin. Drank glass of milk in hopes of avoiding hunger. Went to bed.
Costume this year: Flannel pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt. Baby urp-up mostly, but it must be confessed, not entirely removed from sweatshirt.
Number of Incredibly Adorable Baby Pumpkins at home last year: 0
Number of Incredibly Adorable Baby Pumpkins at home this year: 1
Number of costumes for the under-three-month set in the house last year: 0
Number of costumes for the under-three-month set in the house this year: 3 (two pumpkins, one pea-in-the-pod. Apparently my child inspires produce-related Halloweening.)
Number of teen girls reduced to incoherent coos and squeals upon seeing me last year: 0
Number of teen girls reduced to incoherent coos and squeals upon seeing me this year: At least 15 or 20. Hint to those wishing to elicit squealing attention from teen girls - carry an Incredibly Adorable Baby Pumpkin. It worked 100% of the time.
What I did at 9:30 p.m. last Halloween night: Left the house to go to a party.
What I did at 9:30 p.m. this Halloween night: Went to bed.
What I did at 4:00 a.m. last Halloween: Returned home from evening's festivities. Took Advil in hopes of avoiding hangover. Went to bed.
What I did at 4:00 a.m. this Halloween: Nursed a Hungry Pumpkin. Drank glass of milk in hopes of avoiding hunger. Went to bed.
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