Grown Ups & Downs

Moving to a swanky new address

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 18 May 2010 17:56:00 +0000

Not me, my blog. Find me here: grownupsanddowns.wordpress.com

See you there!

Four months, 16 days

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 17 May 2010 16:17:00 +0000

Today was Sam's four-month check-up. He was such a trooper - as usual. He did not cry for the first shot - I think he only realized during the second one what was going on. But he only cried for a minute and then zonked out by the time we got to the car. Staying healthy is hard work for a baby.

We got the green light from the pediatrician to start him on solid foods. I am excited about the idea, but also a bit nervous. I know he can't live on formula forever and my wallet will thank me for feeding him something else as well... But it's such a big step for the little guy - it's the end of an era! But it will be so much fun to see him experience new tastes and textures. As with everything baby-related, there are numerous schools of thought on what and how to feed the baby. If I listen to my Mom, I would be giving him chicken paprika mushed up in a blender. If I listen to the books and the pediatrician, I should be feeding him bland rice cereal for weeks on end. I am hoping to find a nice little road somewhere in the middle - we'll start with apples and go from there.

The weather has finally turned springy over the weekend, so Sam had his first picnic experience at Fort Williams Park. This also meant that I got to practice outdoor feeding and outdoor poopy diaper changing. There's a first for everything. I think Sam had a good time - he loved the bagpipes (Drew was playing with his band). The wind, not so much.

We also had a visit from Uncle Torpe and Aunt Jenny. It is always awesome to hang with my brother and I'd like to think that Sammy likes him just a tiny bit more than other people, because I like my brother more than pretty much most people. Makes sense? Right.

(And just now, Blogger pooped out and won't let me post more pics... Argh.)

Ah, here we are... So look at them, aren't they cute together?

But of course, my other favorite view at the the end of a long day is this:

Now that's the way to relax!

For the record

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 10 May 2010 23:48:00 +0000

I was reading the past few entries of this blog and realized that as an online diary, it's not a very good record of the times. This is probably for several reasons, the most immediate one being that I can't get my brain together for long enough periods of time to write coherently about everyday happenings. So I guess I sort of glaze over stuff and just give a general big picture of what's happening. I will probably regret this later.

I am already forgetting how little Sammy was when he was born, or how he cried, or how his little cat tongue curled in his mouth when he was screaming. OK, that one I haven't forgotten, but with all the cuteness coming, I am sure I will eventually.

Drew and I often wonder what we used to do before we had a baby. Watch a lot of bad TV, eat out, go shopping, hang out at home, go to the beach, take long drives. That's pretty much it. And strangely, that's still what we do, but now we have this little creature along for the ride. I mean, here we are, it's Monday evening. Drew is watching MTV (his favorite guilty pleasure), and I am sitting at the computer. The only difference is that Sammy is snoring in the background and his favorite new rattle is sitting next to my laptop.

I often catch myself at work with a strange sense of deja vu... It's not even that... I am not sure what to call it. But I'll be sitting in a meeting or walking around the office and suddenly think: "Wow, I've been here before, when I didn't have a baby. I sat in the same meetings with the same people, talking about pretty much the same topics. And now here I am again, like nothing has change. Except everything has." I don't know if this makes any sense.

So, for the everyday stuff: yesterday was mother's day. My first. It was OK. I sort of screwed myself, because we celebrated early, on Saturday, so on Sunday I felt a bit jibbed. New rule: mother's day has to be celebrated the day of, not before or after. Have to remember next year. Oh, we did get to nap together in bed in the morning, and that was heavenly.

Sam wrote me a card:

My parents posed him when he spent the afternoon with them on Saturday. I couldn't stop laughing when I saw this. He is brilliant, what can I say?

He is getting so big! He is starting to grab and pull his bottle to his mouth and also push it away when he is done. This is helpful - takes some of the guessing out of every feeding. He is also doing much better on his belly and might turn over soon. He likes to do baby crunches - when he is on the changing table, he will pull up his legs and his head and torso, like a mini sit-up. It's so funny. It also makes him spit up, which we definitely don't need more of.

We've been taking him to a little play group on Saturdays. I think he is a bit too small for it, especially because all of the other babies are older, but it's fun to see him check out the other kids and grab at the toys. He is starting to have some favorite toys, although it's hard to tell at this point. He has a little green doll/rattle thing that he likes to hold and he also likes his colorful links above his bed. But he is just as happy to play with his binky or his bib. No need for expensive toys! That's one thing the play group made me think of: how do you resist the temptation to buy $16 rattle because you believe that it will make your child smarter? I am not sure I will be good at this resistance... I haven't placed my Amazon order yet, but I am afraid I will.

Babies are expensive.

Getting the hang of it

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 26 Apr 2010 19:49:00 +0000

I've been back to work for about a month now and I think things are going well. I am pretty much caught up with work stuff - at least I managed to remember what it is that I do here. Mostly. Sammy seems to be doing great in daycare. The constant noise and action around him are both entertaining and tiring for the poor little guy, so in the afternoons he is both exhausted and happy when I pick him up. I guess that's a good combination.

I was sick about two weeks ago - with a fever and a cough. It turns out that I had bronchitis, so I tried as much as I could to stay away from Sam. I was SO afraid that he would get it. What I didn't count on was that he noticed that I wasn't holding him or snuggling with him as much as usual. So the first day I was better and he wasn't in daycare, he would not let me put him down even for a minute. He basically napped on me the entire day. Poor baby. I felt so bad for him. And for me a too, just a little.

Drew was away last weekend, so Sam and I were alone overnight for the first time. It went well - he was so tired that he slept through his bath and zonked out before he finished his bottle. We spent Saturday with Grandma and Grandpa:

There's something about seeing my parents with my baby... So strange. I don't remember how they were with my brother when he was born, and I obviously don't remember them from the time I was a baby, so it's sort of funny to see them all googly-eyed over a baby. And Sam milks it for all its worth!

This weekend it seemed like someone flipped a switch in him because he was "talking" non-stop. His funny little sounds just crack me up. He seems to be "talking" in full sentences now and I just have to wonder whether he is talking in English in Hungarian.

So, we are all getting into a good routine around here. I still feel unsettled and hormonal from time to time, but I suppose that is normal. I am also shedding like a dog and my nails are breaking, so the good pregnancy hormones must have left the building. It's only the cranky ones that crave chocolate that are sticking around. Figures.

Week One

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 08 Apr 2010 14:39:00 +0000

Whew. So we survived the first full week of daycare/work. The first day sucked - but honestly not as much as I thought it would. It felt absolutely horrible to leave Sam to fend for himself in a strange place. I managed not to cry in front of him - I didn't want him to see that I was upset. So I cried in the car and then again managed to pull myself together for work.

And by the time this week rolled around, we were doing really well. I still cried a bit on Monday when I dropped him off, but by Tuesday and Wednesday we were old pros at the morning routine and drop-off.

Sam seems to be doing well with all of this. He is happy every afternoon when I pick him up. He takes good naps, his appetite is great, and he got to go on a buggy ride yesterday with the other kids. (He slept through all of it, but still!) When he is awake, he loves to sit in a swing and check out the action around him. He loves to do that at home too - sit on my lap and just look around.

On the negative side: I am pretty sure he picked up a cold from daycare. We are at home today and the poor little guy is pretty snotty. I have my handy snot sucker at the ready and I am also using our penguin-shaped humidifier for the first time. Not much else I can do for him - except for the snuggling, of course!

I am doing OK with work. In a way it's nice to be back in some grown-up company. But I do find that nothing excites me about work like it used to. On Tuesday my colleagues took me out to lunch and to fill me in on all the happenings and while office stuff used to get my blood boiling, now I was just like "eh... who cares?" It's a weird feeling. I am somewhat jealous that almost the entire office is going to a conference in Chicago. I could have gone, but decided that I wasn't ready to be away from the McMuffin. In the end I know that no matter how much fun they will be having, I will have more fun at home with Sam. If I had gone, I would be just thinking about him all the time anyway, wishing I were home. Oy.

My new favorite pic of him:

He is getting so big! I have to buy some clothes for him this weekend, because he is wearing 9-month-old sizes! He is crazy long!

I think daycare is also making him more vocal - he doesn't cry more, but he is definitely talking more and doing it louder! The other night he was talking so much while I was changing him, that I almost fell over laughing. He is just adorable.

On a not so cheery note, I am still not healed from labor. This is discouraging in more than one way. I had to have two, extremely painful procedures to remove some scar tissue and I will hopefully get the all clear from my doctor tomorrow. Fingers crossed! And at this point, legs are crossed as well. Ugh.

You come and go, you come and go

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 23:51:00 +0000

I was just looking at some photos of Sam when he was about two weeks old. He was so tiny! And that was such a long, long time ago! He is 12 weeks today and I am heading back to work next week. Time sure does fly when you are having fun. And even when you are not.

He has changed so much over the past few weeks. I know that I am probably projecting here, but his little face is so intelligent, like he understands all of the world's troubles - including mine. Poor kid.

That's the most recent photo I have of him - and believe me, there are plenty more where that came from! Since I last wrote on this blog, he had learned to smile, shriek, play with his hands, lick his hands, and coo. His coos sound like "oh" with a British accent. It cracks me up. He is also getting pretty good about holding up his head and getting control of his arms. Not to rush time because I really enjoy him as a baby, but I can't wait for him to start playing and crawling...

I am also somewhat amazed by how much I learned about him. When we brought him home from the hospital I never thought I'd be able to distinguish between the gassy cry and the cranky cry and the mamma hold me cry. But now I seem to be the only one who can tell what's going on with him. When everyone thinks that he is just tired, I know that he is working on a poo.

At the beginning of my maternity leave, it seemed like 12 weeks would never end. I was so tired and dealing with the case of the blues, and all I wanted to do was run away - at least for a while. With the arrival of spring things have definitely improved - Sammy and I bonded over long afternoon naps on the couch and lots of staring at each other and babbling incoherently. (That's mostly me doing the babbling. He just stares at me like I am the neighborhood crazy lady.)

Fun fact about Sam: When he is gassy or cranky in the evenings, he has a little song that he likes me to sing. Don't ask me how this came about, because I really don't know. But singing his Hungarian nickname, Simi, to the tune of Karma-Chameleon by Culture Club works wonders. I really have no clue how and why I started to sing this, but it works. Really. I hold him really close to my face and quietly sing it into his ear and he calms down. I thought it was just the sound of my voice that calmed him down and that any old song would do, but no. Karma-Chameleon it is.

I definitely have mixed feelings about returning to work. I am going to miss him like crazy and I haven't quite figured out yet how I am going to explain the Simi song to the people at daycare. I think what bothers me the most is that I can't explain to him what's going on, that I will be back for him in the afternoon and that he is in a safe place with nice people who will care for him. That kills me. On the other hand, him not understanding much is also a good thing, I suppose.

I am just a tiny bit excited about spending time in some adult company again and having conversations about things other than poop. But as soon as I get too carried away by the excitement, the guilt kicks in: why am I excited to be away from my kid? Ugh. It's complicated. I went shopping last weekend for some work clothes and even after spending several hundred dollars, I didn't get the same high I used to. This is a huge problem - although it will cut down on bills. Bummer.

So, I am preparing myself for the fact that next Wednesday is going to suck royally. I feel like the anticipation is worse than the actual pain will be... At least I hope. But Sammy and I are strong and we'll get through it.

Four weeks in three-hour increments

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 18:30:00 +0000

Sam was born four weeks ago today. In some ways it feels like it happened yesterday (especially when I think about my lingering aches and pains!), but in others it feels like he's been with us forever. I am sitting here in our living room, listening to him snore (and I admit, fart), and watching his little hands flail in his dream, and I can't remember what it was like when his little noises didn't fill the house.

On a side note: What do babies dream about? Sam definitely looks like he is dreaming a lot - but it can't be about work, or relationships, or back to school... So what is he dreaming about???

He is still a quiet, peaceful baby, and I feel so peaceful around him, even when he is having a rare meltdown. His little facial expressions just make me laugh - he has his disapproving look, his "who the hell are you and what are you doing to me" look, his give me food look... I know it's all just reflexes, but it's hard not to imagine that they are real expressions of real thoughts and feelings. And we already determined that he is going to be an orchestra conductor because his long fingers are so expressive and he likes to flail and twist and wave his hands around all the time.

I've been home alone with him for the past two weeks and I would lie if I said that it hasn't been hard. I feel like I am just now emerging from the disbelief I felt about having him. The first two or three weeks have been rough - especially in the evenings for some reason. I was always weepy and just looking at him as he ate at 3 a.m. was enough to make me burst into tears. But that seems to be over now - hopefully a sign of my hormones quieting down. My body feels like it's getting back to normal too - although this is definitely going to be a new kind of normal. I've always been chubby and squishy, but now I am squishy in a whole new way. My belly is like a soft, wrinkled nest or some sort. Very strange.

But I also keep thinking about how amazing it is that not only did my body give birth to this amazing baby, but now it's also capable of bringing so much comfort to his little human. It is obvious that he recognizes me and calms down when he can nuzzle his head in my neck. For the past two afternoons we napped together on the couch - his warm little body on my chest with his tiny hand on my neck.

He breaks my heart.

This week I managed to make it out of the house with him - once to Panera to meet with Girl Chris and Ruby, and once to the newspaper office to pick up copies of the issue with his birth announcement. He slept through both trips - a good sign since Drew and I take a lot of road trips and having a baby who likes to hang out in the car seat is a definite plus! I am hoping for a mild February so that I can get out more with Sam - it's not good for either of us to be house-bound.

So, life's been good. I am one very lucky mama.

He's here!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 19:15:00 +0000

Our little Sam arrived a bit early, on New Year's Eve, five minutes after noon, during a snowstorm and a Blue Moon. How cool is that?

Labor was... how shall I put it? Ugh. I am extremely lucky, because it was very short and quick and so I didn't have time to panic (too much) or to get pain relief, for that matter. Go figure. I know that I had the labor that many of my friends who recently had babies wished for, but I have to be honest and say that I found the whole experience very violent and somewhat traumatizing. Maybe with time that feeling will fade, but for now I am just grateful that it's over.

I started to have contractions on Dec. 30, around 4 p.m. in the afternoon, right after I saw my doctor and had another ultrasound to check the amniotic fluid levels. I came home, ate some of my mom's green bean soup and started to time the contractions - they were 8 minutes apart. The doctor on call told me that they will probably peter out as the night goes on, that they just came on because of the exam earlier in the day. Right.

I was up all night with contractions - nothing too bad, but they were bad enough that I couldn't stay in bed. I spent the night on my yoga ball, then in the armchair in the living room, surrounded by pillows and a heating pad on my back. All the pain was in my back and it was very unpleasant. I also felt like I needed to build a little nest around my body - thus the pillows. It was very strange... By 6 a.m. the contractions were 5 minutes apart and I called my doc who told me to head to the hospital. I was convinced that they were going to check me and send me home, but it was not to be.

We got to the hospital at 7:45-ish and I was at 2 cm. The nurses told me to walk around a bit and after about 5 minutes of walking I had 5 or 6 of the most intense contractions. Drew was awesome - he employed all techniques we learned in our childbirth class and they really made a difference! So did my yoga classes - vocal toning kicks pain in the ass! Well, a bit at least!

So they checked me again around 9 a.m. and I was already at 6 cm. I was not going to be sent home after all! I was admitted, a fumbling nurse put an IV in my arm which still hurts, and I got a shot of Nubain to take the edge off. It did nothing for the pain, but it helped me zonk out between contractions, which was a relief.

I got wheeled to the labor and delivery room and my Mom got there too just in time. By 11 a.m. I was ready to push after the midwife broke the water. I pushed for an hour and Sammy was born at 12:05 p.m. I gotta say that pushing a baby out hurts like nothing else I have ever experienced. It's also such an overwhelming experience, because your body takes control and there is nothing you can do to stop what is happening. And even though you are in pain, you know that the only way to get out of the pain is to push really hard and thus cause yourself even more pain. It's wild. I felt like an animal.

I also have to say, that once the baby is out, the relief is HUGE. I don't remember much of what happened after Sam was born - it's all a blur. The placenta didn't want to come out, so they took Sam away to get him cleaned up while the midwife worked on me. I will spare everyone the details of the aftermath, but I was assured that at some point in my life things will feel normal again. I'll drink to that! No, really, I need a drink...

So, Sammy is two-weeks old today. It hasn't been a completely smooth ride, but I guess I wasn't expecting that anyway. He is adorable, and cute, and looks like a little elf that lives in the woods in a giant mushroom. He has a mop of blond hair and my nose (or rather I think my dad's nose!). He eats, poops, and sleeps on his own self-imposed three-hour schedule. He only cries when we change his diaper or when he is cold. I want to be really, really mad at him at 3 a.m. when he wakes up to eat, but I look at him and it's impossible to feel anything but love and wonder at the whole process.

I can't believe that Drew and I made something so beautiful.

32 weeks

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 00:04:00 +0000

Let's get this out of the way first. Here is me, with the little bug in my belly at 32 weeks:

Just a note: that is a globe behind me in front of the window, not some weird extension of my belly. :-)

I am still feeling pretty good, but the third-trimester is a bit of a trial. I am going to take Chris' lead and list the good and the not so good.

The good:
- Feeling our little boy move around more and more and watching my belly morph into various shapes

- Being done with our childbirth classes and baby care class

- Still fitting into my favorite fleece

- Thinking about the fact that by next Thanksgiving we are going to have a little munchkin crawling - maybe even running? - around the house.

- Not feeling guilty about eating... anything.

- Chocolate milk - that is my latest craving. I can't explain it. I am generally lactose intolerant, but now I can guzzle this stuff without a problem. It's heaven.

- My eczema cleared up thanks to my crazy hormones.

- More cute baby clothes.

- Imagining what Drew will look like holding our baby and listening to him talk about all the father-son stuff he will do with him.

- Shopping for baby stuff.

The not so good:

- Pelvic pain - according to my doc, it's just my ligaments stretching, but holy mother of God, it hurts.

- Granny panties

- Stretch marks. Not that I ever would wear a bikini, but still.

- Trying to turn in bed at night - it's a production.

- Trying to get informed about what's good for baby and what isn't, and at the same time tuning it all out and making up my own mind.

- Assembling baby equipment.

- Feeling completely useless because I get tired after doing a load of laundry.

So, the not so good list is really not that long and those are all minor complaints. And Drew's been awesome about doing pretty much everything around the house and hoisting me up when I want to turn or get up at night. I know it sounds stupid, but it really helps.

Eight weeks to go - if all goes well - and I can't decide whether that's a lifetime away, or whether that feels like tomorrow.

Baby room!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 19:29:00 +0000

I am 28 weeks today! Yey! Some days it seems like I have all the time in the world until our little guy arrives, and some days it seems like time just whizzes buy! Oy.

Last weekend I had an awesome baby shower! Highlights included: a fine collection of awesome women gathered in my living room, a diaper cake made by my Mom, cookies and sandwiches that were out of this world - also thanks to Mom, and some super cute gifts!

We spent this morning and afternoon preparing the baby room. I held off until now because we were expecting overnight guests and couldn't get rid of our guest bed until today. But we got a lot done today - a lot more than I thought we would! It's a bit of a relief, because the sight of all the stuff piled in there was stressing me out. It was also hard to see and know what else we need to buy - and let me just say this, that there's a lot left! Shopping! :-)

Here is the above-mentioned chaos.

And after the chaos... I am still not sure about all of the furniture placement and the wall decorations are still up for debate. But it's a good start.

I definitely love the new glider and the entire little nursing/rocking corner. Ahhh....

Mind the Gap

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 17:38:00 +0000

Today was an exciting day for me. It will not sound exciting to anyone else, but here it is: I received a large package from The Gap.

The package was for me. It wasn’t a gift for someone else, or a mistake, nor did the package contain shoes or a bag or other accessories. No: it contained actual clothes. Maternity clothes. For me.

Now, the reason why this is so exciting is because the last time a piece of clothing – namely a pair of jeans and men’s shirt – from The Gap fit me was in 1996, if I remember correctly. I was a sophomore in college. It was a long, long time ago.

Read the rest at The Nervous Breakdown!

23 weeks

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 23:05:00 +0000

Here is a brief baby inventory...

So far the baby has:

1. A couple of cute outfits

2. A kick-ass pram stroller courtesy of my parents

3. A crib

4. A changing table

5. Bathtub

6. A bib and sippy cup

7. One set of ecstatic Hungarian grandparents

8. One set of slightly freaked out but over the moon happy future parents

9. Way too many nicknames

10. A soccer ball, baseball, and football, courtesy of above-mentioned grandparents.

I can't believe I am doing this, but here is me, at 23 weeks and 2 days. I am still feeling pretty great - some aches and pains, but nothing major to complain about. Not obvious from the picture: the luscious hair, strong, beautiful nails, and smooth skin I've been enjoying. Do I have to stay permanently pregnant to keep these?

And here is the Little Guy himself, snuggling with the placenta, or whatever it is babies like to do in the womb:

Boy, oh boy!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 19:59:00 +0000

We found out yesterday (on 9/9/09, no less!) that we are having a little boy! I was secretly hoping that it would be a boy - not sure why. I would have been happy either way, but this way I am totally psyched!

The ultrasound tech took her time to measure everything from head to toe. At the end of the exam she said: "I know your baby's sex. You probably can't see it on the monitor, but I can see it and I know what it is." Well, are you going to tell us woman????? Geeez... By the way, we could see it too. Ah, technology! It's amazing!

We could see the baby move like it was going out of style - we could even see his little mouth moving. He'll be a talker - I am sure he gets that from Drew. I've been feeling him move a lot too and it's too bad that Drew can't feel it yet. Soon, soon... That doesn't stop him from keeping his hand on my belly nonstop, which is perfectly fine with me. I'll take all the tummy time I can get! It goes well with the intense clingyness I've been feeling toward Drew. It's SUPER annoying because I have never been clingy, but now I get bent out of shape when he has to work late. Ugh. Not an attractive side-effect or pregnancy!

The other surprise yesterday was that they moved my due date to 1/11/10 instead of 1/16. No biggie, really, but man, that would be another awesome date!

I can finally start shopping for baby stuff - so far the only things the kid has are a bunch of children's books, a bottle, and a sample diaper. Oh, and a HUGE bag of big boy toys from my parents, including a soccer ball, baseball, football, Matchboxes... I guess it's not a bad start, but I have an inkling that this will not be enough. We are hopefully buying a crib and changing table this weekend, along with a rug and curtains. I will also allow myself to go loose at the Carter's outlet in Freeport. Watch out! I am also secretly thrilled that this will be a winter baby. I mean, check this out...It's ridiculous, right?

On a more serious note... I've been taking a prenatal yoga class for the past couple of weeks, which has been a great way to stretch and relax. But what I love the most is the ability to chat with other pregnant ladies. During the first couple of weeks everyone's been sort of reserved, but for the past few weeks we've been more chatty about baby stuff. In turn the instructor - who is also a midwife - has been giving great advice, answering questions, etc. It's been awesome! Last week she talked about how important it was during labor to be able to say what we need - whether is quiet, or a backrub, or whatever. It turned into a long discussion about how husbands handle the situation and whether they rise to the occasion.

In the end, the midwife said that instead of worrying about whether our partners will be good enough supports, we should talk with them about what kind of parents we want to be. Labor is going take up one day - but then the real work will begin. I guess I knew that, but it was good to hear it and now I feel better about having a bit of a laissez faire attituted about the labor thing. Sure, I want a healthy baby and a healthy me, but the discussion about choices around giving birth is giving me a headache. Everyone (online or not) has an opinion and I just want to get there and see how it goes. Maybe that's naive, but how can I possibly make a decision in advance about something that I have never experienced? So I am practicing my yoga breathing and thinking past that (hopefully) one day. It's a relief, let me tell you!

A Thousand Words: Family History

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 17:18:00 +0000

Read my latest post on The Nervous Breakdown:

The stories start right after Sunday lunch.

We are all crammed around our tiny kitchen table – me, my brother, my parents, my fraternal grandmother, and my maternal grandfather. The table only fits four, so my Dad is sitting on the office chair brought out from the living room and I am sitting on a small, red leather stool that’s usually in the hallway. I am wedged between my brother, my grandfather, and the dishwasher.

Our Sunday lunches – golden chicken soup, Wiener schnitzel with potatoes and cucumber salad, brownies – start late and end quickly. Toward the end of the meal the others know what is coming and they start to scramble towards the living room right after the last bite of dessert.
It is probably my position at first – too far from the door with no obvious escape route – that makes me the perfect audience for my grandfather’s stories. Later I feel too polite and too invested to get up and leave with the others.

So I load the dishwasher and sit back on my little red stool and prepare myself for a long afternoon.

Read more...

Moving right along

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 17:34:00 +0000

Yesterday was my 16-week appointment, even though technically I will be 17-weeks on Saturday. (Side note: I always found it totally annoying when people used to say 16 weeks instead of four months. It required me to do some quick math in my head. And now here I am doing the same thing!)

I got to hear the baby's heartbeat - blupblupblupblupblup - and the doctor measured my belly. "Wow, it got big!" he exclaimed and I wanted to punch him just a little bit. First of all, it's not even that big, second of all, I still look like I am just fat.

I started a prenatal yoga class this week and I was the chubby girl amongst all the pregnant women. I had some serious belly envy. I know it's coming and I know it all depends on body type, but come on! What can I say? Patience was never one of my strengths.

The big day is 9/9/09 when we will find out the baby's gender. Can't wait! Hopefully he/she won't be shy and will show us the goods. We also started to look at daycare centers - ugh. It's a bit daunting, not to mention weird to be thinking about passing baby off somewhere before I even met him/her. The first place we saw was OK, but it was all very cluttered and dark and messy. We are going to see another one this afternoon, so I am hoping for the best. Although, what the "best" might be is still yet to be determined.

A test of patience

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 12:22:00 +0000

I think this is the longest I have ever, ever kept a secret! I SO wanted to blog about it and announce it on Facebook and Twitter and other social media outlets, but I just couldn't... But now my boss knows, my colleagues know, so I can let all three of my blog's readers know: I am pregnant!

IUI #3 on April 23 was a success. I know it sounds stupid, but I totally knew it. As soon as the doctor was done and left the room, I felt this overwhelming joy. I was laying there with my hips propped up, crying. I just knew.

I took "only" four pregnancy tests - the first was negative and the rest positive! We saw his/her little bud legs and arms on an ultrasound June 15, at 9 weeks and 2 days. I was expecting the ultrasound to be fuzzy, but as soon as it was turned on there was no doubt - it was a baby! It even wiggled its little feet.

I've been feeling great - no morning sickness or anything else too unpleasant. I had a couple of days of feeling green, but I've been keeping a supply of animal crackers and diet ginger ale on hand at all times. I haven't had any cravings either for anything specific, but every time I see something on the Food Network, or in a TV ad, I want to eat it. Subway footlong meatball sandwich - sounds good to me! Halibut seasoned with chiles on a light cucumber salad prepared by Iron Chef Mario Battali - YUM! Drew's ham and cheese sandwich - I want it! If it's food and I see it, I want it.

My next ultrasound is not until the beginning of September, when we'll find out the baby's gender... I don't think I have a preference. Drew and I always thought that we'd have a boy, but then I had a dream that we had a girl. I am not sure how good dreams are at predicting these things, so we'll see. I'd been happy either way. Although I have to say that coming up with a good, strong, non-stripper sounding girl name is not very easy. But we'll manage, I am sure!

So, here I am... I am at 15 weeks, super excited, super freaked out, super emotional (Home Depot commercials make me cry), super everything. The journey has begun!

A Roll of Cottage Cheese, Covered in Chocolate

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 28 May 2009 17:25:00 +0000

PORTLAND, ME – It is the most unique candy bar imaginable. I am not even sure I can call it a candy bar. It is a roll of sweet, lemony cottage cheese – smooth and fluffy, none of that weird, gritty, rubbery stuff – covered in a layer of crunchy milk chocolate. It’s about the size of my middle finger and it’s wrapped in a red polka-dot foil. It’s “Turo Rudi.” Literally translated: Cottage Cheese Roll. Or “rollie,” if we want to be accurate.

It is only for the Hungarian palate. I have never met an American who enjoyed it. I think you have to grow up with it to appreciate its weirdness. You have to have eaten enough to know how to open the package so that the chocolate doesn’t brake off and how to fish the last bits of chocolate crumbs out of the foil. You have to have crushed enough rollies in your backpack on hot school days to appreciate the way it tastes when it’s melted and to not be too surprised when it comes to represent your entire personal history and identity.

Because of course, it is more than just a roll of cottage cheese, covered in chocolate.

More on The Nervous Breakdown...

Spring is here

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 20 May 2009 23:39:00 +0000

It's been a while since I felt bloggy. There is plenty to write about, but somehow I've gotten out of my blogging groove. I promise to get back into it... At least for myself.

Not much new has been happening. Spring is finally here and I've been having a lot of fun watching what will sprout out of the ground. We have tons of tulips, a lilac bush, two honeysuckle bushes, wild strawberries and I also think we have a raspberry bush. Our garden went from bare and brown to lush, green, a real Garden of Eden.

We are hopefully buying some porch furniture - and a grill! - this weekend, so I am planning on moving my books and other essentials to the porch for the rest of the summer. I never realized how much I missed being outside when the weather is nice. It's sort of weird, because I grew up in an apartment and this is the first time I have a garden and I just can't help staring at it and walk around every half hour when I am working from home. Sitting outside is one of my favorite things to do - I loved it even as a child when we went to our summer house and even during huge storms I enjoyed sitting on the covered terrace, wrapped in a blanket. It gives me the chills just thinking about it.

Here are a couple of pics of what's been happening outside my window:

Leaf Management

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 13:48:00 +0000

My garden taunted me all winter long. And that’s a long time in Maine. For several weeks, the snow was so high that the small wrought-iron fences that give the garden some sort of organization and form were completely invisible. I couldn’t wait until spring to dig my hands into the soil again.

My husband always corrects me when I call the area behind our house a “garden.” “It’s a yard,” he says, and I think he is wrong. A yard, to me, is some sort of vast expanse of grass, maybe some bushes and hedges. Perhaps a flower bed. I am sure that there is a dictionary definition that would clear all this up, but frankly, I am just not that interested in the terminology.

Read the rest of the post at The Nervous Breakdown...

Cavity Gnome

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 17:33:00 +0000

Sticking Your Finger Up Someone's Nose

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 18 Mar 2009 18:03:00 +0000

Check out my new post at The Nervous Breakdown!

What our stuff says - and doesn't say

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 17:51:00 +0000

From the May 21, 2003 edition of The Christian Science Monitor

I have a lot of stuff. I realized this when my husband and I moved into our first apartment. He neatly packed his clothes, books, a few antique cameras, and a box of photos into his little white Neon. I had to make 10 trips in a Mercury Sable that was bursting at the seams.

"What is all this?" he asked, pointing at the pile of boxes and bags in the middle of our living room.
"It's my stuff," I replied. "Can't you tell?"
"Well, that's ridiculous," he said. "Every time you move, you should get rid of everything."

Obviously, I hadn't changed apartments in a while. I tried to convince Drew that my stuff was important, that it ensured my comfort and happiness in an ever-changing, crazy world. Stuff, to me, remains constant and stable.

My collection of notebooks, for instance. I have leather-bound notebooks, silky ones, notebooks with gilded pages, notebooks with and without lines. I have a notebook in every room.

I have a scarf collection from around the world. My husband claims that he first fell in love with my scarves, so he doesn't complain about them too much - even though they take up most of his drawers and jump out at him from the coat closet in the hallway.

It is hard to explain my relationship to my stuff. But in a strange way the things that surround me - just like people - represent who I am.

When I was little, my grandfather's room always seemed incredibly warm and mysterious. He believed in conserving energy, so the lights were always off, except for a small reading lamp on his computer desk. In high school, when I needed help with my math homework, I usually found him behind that computer desk, peering up at me from some complicated equation. We sat in his dark room several afternoons a week; I was not exactly a math genius. Grandpa made up little rhymes and poems to help me memorize rules and equations and hoped earnestly that I would become an engineer just like him.

I didn't.

His room was the only one in our apartment that had paintings on the wall. If I remember the story correctly, he told me once that they belonged to a great-great-uncle who once owned a movie theater and whose wife owned a stationery store. The paintings were of a young woman in a hat, a small country house, some trees, and the interior of a room. When my grandfather was away, I liked to go into his room and snoop. I don't know what I was hoping to find, but there was so much stuff everywhere I was sure he was hiding great treasures. I also liked to inhale the smell in his room: a mixture of chamomile and shaving cream.

His closets and drawers were full of mysterious tools, notebooks, his stamp collection. He believed in keeping everything: plastic bags and bottles (he was a plastics engineer), carbon paper, old envelopes, anything that could be reused.

I wasn't there when my parents cleaned out his room after his death. But I often wondered about what they would uncover, the family mementos, silly souvenirs from trips, or secret diaries. I was hoping for some stuff that represents who my grandfather was and wasn't. When my parents were done, the picture was sobering: My grandfather left behind 20 bags of trash and about $900 in a bank account.

His long life had seen him hiding from Nazis during World War II, getting married as Budapest was being bombed, finding his wife alive in the Dachau concentration camp, having successful children and grandchildren, writing books, learning to use a computer late in his life. But his room had no personal belongings that he held dear or wore every day. We couldn't point to anything and say: "That was his favorite so-and-so" or "Remember when he bought such and such?"

I was disappointed. There seemed to be so many mysteries about him, so many unanswered questions. In the half-darkness of his room I'd hoped to find answers to why he was always seemed unhappy and lonely even though his daughter and grandchildren lived with him.

I realize that one's legacy should not be measured by the amount of stuff. But I couldn't help but wonder about my own stuff: Am I just collecting trash? Will my children and grandchildren walk through my house, discarding my collections? Will my notebooks and scarves seem like the goofy habit of a crazy old woman? I hope that maybe one of my grandchildren will wrap one of my big, silky scarves around her face, inhale the scent of my perfume and say: "This used to be Grandma's."

Random Things

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 01:01:00 +0000

This past weekend was glorious. Warm, sunny, springy. So we took a little drive and went south to York, Kittery, and Portsmouth. We walked on the beach:

Saw cute things in the sand:

And now it's back to this:

Ugh. This white stuff of course is delaying our bathroom project. Hopefully things will dry out and the construction will begin on Thursday. So far, we have a bathtub in our garage. Classy.

This will be our first serious home improvement project, and I am a bit frightened by it. The amount of money, the drastic change to the entire look of the house. But oh, the comfort of walking into a bathroom from the bedroom without having to take the stairs! I can't wait! I think it will be worth it.

There are so many things we could - and should - do to this house. I can already see that the list will never end. There is the yard. The curtains. Art for the living room walls. Patio furniture. Need to get a grill. Clean the basement. Plant flowers for the spring. Lawn mowing. Ugh. I mean, it's all good 'ugh', but still.

In other news, IUI Round 2 was a no-go. I am really not surprised - I don't think the doctor knew what she was doing and my egg probably just said 'screw it' and moved to a warmer climate. I can't blame her.

Round Two

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 21 Feb 2009 16:45:00 +0000

It is Saturday morning and I am sitting at home, licking my wounds. Not literally, of course, because the wounds happen to be on my insides. Today was IUI Round #2 and boy, it was about as romantic as a root canal. Actually, a root canal hurts less I think. My body wouldn't cooperate today so the doctor had to use a clamp on my cervix. That's right. It is about as painful as it sounds. Ouch.

Whatever humor I found in driving around with sperm, etc., was gone about oh, two seconds into the procedure. Of course, if it worked then it was worth it. If it didn't work... Well, let's not think about that yet.

Note to self: I should have had that cosmo with dinner last night. Darn. I could really use one right now. I am going to spend the rest of the day on the couch and nursing Drew, who is also sick as a puppy.

On a different note... I wrote this piece on The Nervous Breakdown last week and I've been getting some interesting feedback about it. I do appreciate all the comments, but on the other hand it feels like the comments are evaluating the relationship I wrote about. I know it's not really true. But when someone writes that they would love to read more about it, or that the story left them dangling, I feel like saying "well, welcome to my world." I sure would have liked to know more and I was left dangling too.

I am not bitter, or anything. It all happened a lifetime ago and a continent away.

My brother said that he is jealous that I had this big love in my life that is worthy of writing about. True, but what does that say about all the other loves - including the current one - that I don't write about? Why is it harder to write about something that is quiet and constant and safe? Drew read the piece too and he said that he loved me and my "dark, dark past." Snort. Never thought of myself as someone with a past, but I guess I do have one.

Love in six words

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 00:55:00 +0000

I found this great article in The Washington Post today. I am not really into Valentine's Day - although this year I did get Drew a gift - but I found the challenge of distilling the story of a relationship into six words interesting.

Right away, I came up with this:

I hated you. You knew better.

I really did hate Drew when I first met him - and I don't use the word "hate" lightly. He was SO annoying. Arrogant. Cocky. Smartass. He is still all of those things, but also many, many other, good, kind, gentle things.

I also thought of: I am still not sure. Are you?

Ok, that's seven words. When we first started dating and things were getting serious, we would lay awake at night and ask each other: Are we doing the right thing? It's sort of become a joke between us since then -- we ask that every time we make a big decision. Drew's answer is always a sort of inpatient "yes, of course we are doing the right thing." But I am never that sure about anything. Not about getting married, or moving, or taking a new job, or buying a house, or picking a paint color. It's comforting that he is sure -- it somehow makes it OK for me not to be.

Come to think of it "are we doing the right thing" is six words. So there.