Even though I'm a grown woman, the unmitigated gall of some people bewilders me. The tacky, thoughtless, ignorant things people will say or do just floor me, leaving me with a dumb look of utter disbelief while I stutter to make sense of why the hell they just said what they did.
Case in point: one of Roger's (and my) coworkers has a daughter who happened to give birth to said coworker's granddaughter on the same day Delaney was born. This coworker ran into Roger in the break room at work yesterday and asked him if Delaney was walking yet, because her granddaughter sure is! He replied that no, Delaney isn't walking yet, to which she responded with a furrowed brow and a look of concern. Roger then mentioned that Delaney's perfected her art of crawling, though, and he told her how much we love Delaney's little crab crawl. The coworker's concern appeared to deepen and she said to him, "She's not walking yet? And, she's crawling funny? You'd better get her to a doctor or some specialist. Something may be very wrong with her."
Now, had I been the one on the receiving end of her comment, I likely would have flung myself at her and begun clawing her eyes out while shrieking obscenities. However, as I was not there to experience her bold pronouncement of our child's developmental delay, I was able to laugh about it (and her) when Roger told me the story.
Look. I'm a first-time mother. If this woman only knew how many baby reference books I own and have poured over, reading about normal ranges of development for all ages from infancy through toddler hood, she'd blush (or, at the very least, snicker worriedly behind my back). My knowledge of what's normal and not rivals that of Dr. Sears. This biatch better not even try to tangle with me.
Of course Roger and I aren't worried that Delaney isn't walking yet. We're actually relieved because it buys us more time to thoroughly baby proof and, let's be honest, it allows us a few more weeks or months of sitting languidly on our butts instead of frantically chasing our babe around the house. If nothing else, this little incident served to remind me that people are strange and others, well, they're just plain rude.
I've got a meeting at the office today, my first in months. I used to go in for weekly meetings, but several months back, when Delaney became more mobile and it was harder for me to find a babysitter during the weekdays for her, I asked my boss if we could change our schedule to once a month meetings with phone conferences making up the difference. Luckily, he agreed. But, sometimes things would get busy for both of us and the montly meeting would get put off and next thing we knew, two or three months had passed.
So it's been a while since I've been there and I'm glad we're finally meeting today. It's strange, but I generally look forward to these meetings. It's not even the meetings or their content that I look forward to so much, but the chance to get out of the house and just be in an office setting for a few hours. I can visit with my coworkers, whom I never get to see, and by just being present I can get a vibe for what's happening, what's new and what's got everyone excited.
Now, don't misunderstand me. I am VERY happy to be working from home and wouldn't change that for the world. I'm incredibly lucky that my company has made that option available to me. But, every once in a while, it's nice to don something other than my mommy uniform of khakis and a black Tshirt, stop by Starbuck's for a latte on the way and then head to the office for discussions with adults that don't involve mentions of diapers, naptime and whether or not Delaney is walking yet. It's a welcome respite in my otherwise baby-centric days.
My only problem? If I don't wear khakis and a black T-shirt what on earth will I wear?
The hair, it is a-growin'. Her daddy and I think it'd be cool if it becomes curly like mine. It did start to turn up at the ends a bit today (it was awfully humid...thanks Global Warming!).
In other news,I thought the weaning process was in full swing, but I was mistaken. We did have a bit of a setback when Delaney got sick and nursing was one of the only ways she could get any liquids or nutrition. So now, instead of nursing less, she's banging on my chest and demanding it more than ever. The bright spot is that we've stopped the before-bed nursing session and Delaney doesn't seem to miss it. For the last week, Roger's been putting her to bed. So, now I nurse her either right before or right after her dinner. Next, she gets a bath and has some playtime and then Roger reads her a story, brushes her teeth and puts her to bed. It was a hard habit for me to give up because I nursed her, brushed her teeth and put her to bed every single night of her life up until recently. Delaney, on the other hand, is taking it like a champ. She hasn't put up a fuss once or acted like she misses it one bit. She's so easy-going and adaptable. I will admit that there are benefits for me. I can finish my chores or take a bath and sip a glass of wine or sit and read while Roger handles bedtime. And, he gets the benefit of spending more time with Delaney and reading to her and bonding with her before she goes to sleep.
Although we've dropped this one nursing session, I'm torn about whether and when to drop others and whether or not to wean now altogether. Roger's expressed an interest in me weaning her now because he thinks she's gotten the major benefits from nursing that we hoped she'd get. He wants to be able to be the one to give her breakfast in the morning so I can sleep in. And, he wants me to be able to eat lobster and crawfish with him again (I avoid high-allergy foods, such as shellfish, just in case Delaney would have problems with them). I'll admit, these are all great reasons.
But, I just don't know if I'm ready or if she's ready. Our nursing relationship is one that I deeply enjoy. Once it's over, it's over. So, I want to pick when it should be over very carefully. On the other hand, I've heard that the closer kids get to two years of age, the less flexible they are (God, help me!) and the harder it is to wean. I don't want weaning to be a battle of wills in the months ahead. Maybe I should start the process now. The only feeding that I think Delaney will really miss is the morning one. When she wakes up, Roger gets her and changes her diaper and brings her to me in bed. I nurse her there for about a half hour while the three of us drift in and out of sleep. It's a peaceful, wonderful, lovely time of the day. Delaney's very attached to this time and would miss it and I really would too.
Until I can figure out when and how to wean her, I'm going to continue with business as usual and feed her when she wants it. I think the answer to the if and the when will come naturally and if it doesn't and I develop a strong feeling that it's time to wean, I'll follow that gut instinct. No matter what, it will be a bittersweet time and I'm pretty sure nothing can prepare me for it. It's something she and I will experience together and something that I'll always remember.
Yesterday was great, especially as compared to the virus-filled Friday before. Delaney and I got up and had a leisurely morning and then went to yoga at the gym. Well, I went to yoga. Delaney went to the kids' club and proceeded to bite the toe of a small, supposedly defenseless baby who couldn't even hold his head up yet. The caregiver reported this to me when I picked Delaney up and told me that it was so unlike Delaney; that she just crawled over to this baby, bit his toe and crawled off. It did sound out of character for her so I explained to the woman that the baby must have provoked Delaney in some way, flipped her off or something. I mean, I'm sure my girl didn't up and bite for no reason. She's my baby--an angel, to be sure. OK. That was my inside voice and I didn't tell that to the woman. But, I sure thought it.
After the gym, Delaney took a two-hour nap and I took a shower, did some work and ate lunch. After her nap and her lunch, Delaney and I went to the mall to buy a baby shower gift for a friend who's having her second baby, a girl, in about a month. Her first baby, a boy, is only one month older than Delaney. Because I fear greatly for my friend's sanity, having two in the house under two years of age, we bought her some really adorable, girly clothes for the new baby that will hopefully take her mind off of the craziness threatening to take over her life.
We spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready to attend an evening party in our neighborhood. April is festival time in our fair city and each year our neighborhood throws a big, family-friendly shindig with music, drinks and food provided by area restaurants. As long as we'd lived here, we'd never attended before, but thought it would be fun to go with some friends and take Delaney for her first spring festival experience. We arrived right after it opened and took advantage of the light crowds to stroll along and decide which foods to sample. We drank beer (something Roger and I rarely do anymore...we're mostly wine people), ate fair-style food and people-watched. Our house is located on the outskirts of this neighborhood, which is one of the wealthier in our city. Along with great wealth, apparently, comes a great number of plasic surgery devotees. Our little group decided that "PS" was the code word for everyone to look whenever a particularly obvious fan of going-under-the-knife wandered by. Cruel? Maybe. Fun? Definitely.
After a couple of hours, when we'd had our fill of gyros, shishkabobs, beer, cheesecake, homemade potato chips and tacos and when the crowds were starting to get thicker, we decided to head home. You could tell that as the families with kids were leaving, the real party was just getting started (Flashback to me about six years ago when I would have been one of those all-night partiers, drinking way more than two beers and also smoking about 1/2 a pack of cigarettes. Seems like a lifetime ago.).
Delaney had a ball at her first festival. She was in her stroller part of the time, but Roger also carried her a lot so she could get a good view of all that was going on around her. She seemed fascinated by the people, the colors, the music, the smells. We got her home and tucked into bed only about an hour past her normal bedtime. A few hours later, Roger and I went to bed too--at 10:30! Yeah, I can safely say my partying days are looooong over. And, I couldn't be happier.
In Delaney news, both prior to and during her various illnesses, she's continued to amaze her parents with new and adorable feats, all of which are worth mentioning here:
She's learned to say no, both verbally and by shaking her head vigorously. Currently a cute parlor trick, I can see how it may one day (very soon?) start to wear thin with me, as it is quickly becoming her response to not only my questions by also my statements.
As I've mentioned before, she loves Cookie Monster and she also loves her Fig Newman cookies. When referring to either, she exclaims, "Koooo-kay!" It melts my heart each and every time she says it. We recently bought her a Finding Nemo switchplate for her bedroom (She loves fish and says, "Sish!" whenever she sees one so we thought this new item would be fun as it's on the wall above her changing table.). Now, when she sees it, she does say, "Sish!" and points at Nemo but she says, "Koooo-kay!" when she sees Dorrie because she thinks Dorrie is Cookie Monster (I guess because they're both blue and have googly eyes?). A-dorable.
When we ask her to give us some love, she hugs us and burries her head in our chests. She did this with her daddy first and I think she prefers playing that game more with him than she does with me.
She's feeding herself quite successfully with a spoon. Sometimes I talk her through it ("Put the spoon in the food. Good! Now, put the spoon in your mouth...") and she can totally follow my directions.
She can point to her eyes, ears, hair, head, nose, mouth, teeth, chin, fingers, hands, toes and feet and ours too when asked.
In addition to Cookie Monster, she's also developed quite a love for the Count on Sesame Street. She goes around laughing like him ("Ah, Ah, Ah!") and it cracks me and Roger up.
In Roger and me news, we finally had a date a few Saturdays ago before we got sick. At the last minute we decided to do it up fancy and check out an upscale steakhouse that's new in town. We sipped (several) cocktails, had meaningful adult conversation, flirted (with each other!), and enjoyed a five-star meal (He had bone-in New York Strip. I had Escolar. We shared a chocolate lava cake for dessert. OK. That's a lie. I ate it all, but gave him one bite.). It was a perfect evening save for being over way too quickly. I hope we can find a way to go on dates once every month or two instead of every three months. Our time together at home is always great, but date nights are special and something I really look forward to.
As I posted my last blog entry just minutes ago with a sigh of relief that our disgusting ordeal was over and that we're all healthy again, I heard a strange noise on the monitor. I checked on Delaney and she'd thrown up again (first time in 36 hours). After feeding her an exceedingly light and bland diet for the last few days, we'd made the mistake of offering her peas and rice for dinner tonight. She gobbled it up, but I guess she's not ready for anything quite that exotic yet. It's back to the BRAT diet tomorrow.
In other bad news, the laundry basket is filling up and Roger's started coughing and thinks he's caught another cold.
And, finally, my last post belied the feelings I've had about how awful our recent situation has been. I know things are not as bad as they could be, but even so, I've experienced a lot of stress about Delaney's illness and caring for her while being sick myself and not having Roger be healthy enough to help me out. I nearly cracked a few times this weekend (especially during the trip to the emergency room) but I kept telling myself that I had to hold it together, that I had to be the mother. "Just BE the mother," I kept saying to myself over and over on the drive to the hospital. Somehow, I was able to do that and be strong for Delaney. But, while I was summoning that strength, I called my own mother and asked her to come and sit with us. Just having her there, having her support, made all the difference in the world. I guess even mothers need their mommies sometimes.
Things have been icky and hellish at the DD household for a while. As a result, blogging fell to an all-time low on the priority list. We've got a lot of catching up to do!
The pox upon our house began when Roger became sick with a bad cough about two weeks ago. About a week later, Delaney started coughing too, although it only happened at night and so at first we thought she just had allergies. Her coughing got progressively worse and after two sleepless nights during which she coughed practically non-stop, I took her to the ped who diagnosed her with...you got it: a virus! His prescription? "Not much you can do for a virus like that. Wait it out and try to make her comfortable in the meantime!" Just as she finally started to get better, I caught her cold and woke up with a nasty stomach flu and fever on the same day. If I had only known then about the shitstorm (no pun intended) that was about to hit after I got well, I would have been happier to get both illnesses over with at once.
Delaney caught my stomach virus and was terribly sick for four days, during which time Roger caught the bug from her and he proceeded to suffer horribly. Good Friday was really very bad and Saturday was no picnic either. On Saturday morning, I took Delaney to the emergency room (by myself...Roger was too sick to get out of bed) to have her checked for dehydration (she appeared to be feeling better, but had gone way too long without any wet diapers). The ER doc said she was, "a little dry," so they hooked her up to an IV for a few hours. It was amazing what a little moisture did for our baby girl. She perked up quickly, although she and I were both pretty battleworn at that point and were in need of serious naps.
I'm sure you're wondering what the silver lining is on this cloud. Thankfully we were all well enough to enjoy a lovely Easter with family. And, quite possibly, the best part of all? After doing about 23 loads of laundry, I'm starting the week with an empty laundry basket!
Before heading out to buy a new pair of sneakers this afternoon, I went online to balance my checking account. I'd gotten paid recently and knew there would be a nice little sum there with which I could purchase some happenin' New Balance tennies. Imagine my dismay, nay shock, when my account showed I was overdrawn by $6 and that a purchase for over $400 had been made earlier today. I hadn't used my account since Friday so I knew something was way up. I started to shake and a chill ran up my spine as I combed through my account only to find debit after debit from a company out of Bangkok, Thailand. Now, I'm as international as the next girl (and possibly more so, in fact. I was born in a foreign country.), but I don't generally go around the Far East making purchases. At least not while I've still got a toddler attached to my boob.
In a panic, I called the bank and spoke to a considerate officer who, upon hearing my story, told me that they had just discovered this was a bank-wide issue affecting many members and that they were researching it. He told me not to worry, that all of my money would be returned to my account without any penalties. Wow. How kind of them to not penalize me because someone stole MY money.
I went to a branch immediately to submit a form of dispute and request that all monies be returned to my account (and damn quickly since I was now officially broke. Oh, except for that sugar daddy I've got at home. Props to Roger, My Love.).
Tonight I'm sitting here drinking some wine, thinking about how I've been violated and wondering what kind of cheap thrills some a**hole got at my expense. I mean, Thailand's not known for its finer arts, now is it?*
*I'm just kidding about Thailand. I'm sure it's a lovely place to visit with rich culture and beautiful beaches. But, be honest. You know you've heard the stories about what some ladies there can do with golf balls...