I am a mother.

I've been trying to write about having a baby, and it isn't working. (Also, typing feels weird. I haven't been on my computer in days and days.) Relatively briefly, then: Chloe was born on Thursday, July 23, after 20.5 hours of labor (starting with my water breaking, which seemed to annoy the midwives inordinately--once that happens, they start worrying about infection) and a tech who asked to observe me at the hospital because she'd never seen anyone trying to do a no-drugs labor before. She was eight pounds, three ounces, supposedly 21 inches (but the pediatrician measured her at 19.75 at her four-day checkup). After the delivery, we got to see the placenta and amniotic sac, which was pretty cool, while I got stitched up; and then I was both ravenous and the sleepiest I've ever been; and then I got food and a nap, and so did Chloe.

We took her home, where we adored her and she was fussy and difficult at feeding times and developed jaundice. It and the fussiness got bad enough that we called the pediatrician, and on the next Friday they looked her over, got a bilirubin and weight check, and ended up sending us to the NICU for phototherapy for her jaundice and weight loss and dehydration. As far as we know it was caused by not feeding her enough, which was caused by a shallow latch and tongue thrust preventing her from feeding well. So I've been feeling horribly guilty. But I'm getting better, and it helps that the phototherapy cleared up the jaundice for the most part and we're now stuffing her full of food, so much so that she gained ten ounces in five days and is back to her birth weight at the two-week mark, right on schedule. The pediatrician says if this keeps up he'll have to have the obesity talk with us sooner than planned.

I enjoy her very much, but I'm still a bit ambivalent about being a mother. I hope this is normal. I'm definitely enjoying being at home, except that my parents are staying with us and my mom is getting on my nerves slightly, which hasn't happened before. (Also she's taken over my kitchen, but since this means I don't have to cook meals it's not so bad.) She's two weeks old today, and I'm starting to feel like it's time to get back to a somewhat normal schedule, rather than spending most of my time reading and napping between feedings. Being a mother definitely doesn't change my interest in my hobbies or my attitude towards housework; it just adds an extra responsibility that has to take precedence. It's weird. But I think I can make it work.

All about late pregnancy

I'm up late because we're touring a pediatrician's office tomorrow morning and I'm going in to work afterward. Actually, I'm up late because I'm often up late these days, and I'm going into work afterward hoping not to get yelled at because I didn't get a chance to ask permission to do this so I just left a message on my boss's voicemail at about nine o'clock this evening. I do not think he'll yell at me. He doesn't yell. And he's lenient about letting us come in late or leave early for medical reasons and I do not abuse this. And I'm nine months pregnant. And I probably sounded distressed on the phone and maybe he'll think something's up with the pregnancy and will be extra understanding. I think I said "I have a doctor's appointment," which is technically true, but I don't remember for sure.

Our dining room table is a mess right now, due to a box of awesomeness that arrived from M and a baby present from a coworker that both came today. Admittedly the dining room table is often a mess, because Eric's mom always used their dining table as a "put everything down here and shove it into rough piles when you need more horizontal surface area" space and I haven't broken him of the same habit--and, worse, I think I'm starting to pick it up from him. "Thank goodness you're still here!" my coworker had said, and then, when she was leaving, "Thanks for holding off until I got this to you." She was appalled to hear that my doctor will probably wait at least a week beyond my due date to suggest induction.

In other news, there's a huge beetle under a glass on my kitchen floor. I heard something knocking around down there after Eric had left for his weekly gaming night and when I went down, all I found was this gigantic beetle flopping about on its back. I considered a broom, then put the glass over it and considered cardboard to scoop it up; then I decided I would let it die and see what it was before I got rid of it. Also I didn't want to bend over again.

Summer fun

We're kicking off the summer food season tonight with tabbouleh and fresh pita bread (for dinner) and sweet pickle relish (for experimentation). I'm quite looking forward to both. I've still got a decent amount of energy (though I'm finding myself getting less and less sleep--presumably my body knows what's coming and is weaning me off of it) and this is becoming one of my favorite parts of summer, the doing-things-with-fresh-produce bit. I'm such an adult. But I guess that's better than the alternative.

Interviews

And another interview today. At least places are still hiring. This is good. We've also got an appointment with a pediatrician--we're supposed to interview them, but I really don't know what to say. "Do you have an actual degree? Can I see your diploma?"

Incidentally, one of my friends just asked me if I planned to vaccinate my child. I think it's sad that she had to ask. Apparently one of her other friends isn't--said friend citing not only the autism non-link, but also "Those diseases aren't around anymore, so why bother?" People worry me.

Waiting, waiting

Eric didn't get that job, and is waiting on the results of another interview. They were supposed to call him Wednesday or Thursday, so I'm not hopeful. He does have a very good prospect of part-time teaching at the university, so that's something, but we finally pulled the last of his teaching stuff out of his car yesterday and he got very sad at the prospect of not using it again (even if he does get this job, he probably won't have a classroom of his own). He's been sad a lot. So have I, due to stress and pregnancy hormones, though we mostly do a good job of alternating so one of us is available to handle the other. I guess that's a marriage.

I'm about two scenes away from finishing Shoelace but haven't done it, partly because I'm working on nonfiction writing and the baby bumper, partly because I just plain don't want to work on it. Even though I'm in the middle of the climax. It's very strange. But I must finish it before the baby comes so I can ignore it in good conscience; ignoring it is bothering me now. Maybe this week.

I've gotten to the hard bit of pregnancy, where I can't sleep well and my body aches and people I barely know keep asking me the same four questions (Are you excited? When are you due? Do you know if it's a boy or a girl? Do you have names picked out?--though somebody varied it the other day with "Did you really want a girl, or did you not care about the sex?" and I had to stop myself from saying "Actually, we really wanted a boy and hate the idea of a girl; we're not sure whether we're going to keep her"). I'm told this is nature's way of reconciling the new mother to a completely new life (not to mention labor) by making anything preferable to staying pregnant. I'm not sure I've reached that point yet, but I can see it coming. And of course maternity leave will be lovely, assuming the sleep deprivation doesn't send me (or Eric) into psychosis.

Gah. I'm depressing myself and I really don't mean to. I'm doing a lot of waiting lately, so I kind of feel my entire life is on hold, which is never a good feeling, but it's not that bad really. I probably need to do more and worry less--which I imagine is almost always good advice.

Job hunting

Eric has a job interview! This makes me happy. And him happier, of course. It's next Friday, so I've got plenty of time to take down the hem of the pants of his suit (he put them in the wash accidentally the last time he wore it; they seem to be okay except for being too short now, but Mom was the one who hemmed them so there's enough fabric left over to lengthen them appropriately). He's been looking for science teacher openings but only found two so far, and the other one was filled, so he was especially pleased. I admit to being ever so slightly disappointed that we won't be able to move earlier, and that we'll have to look for serious daycare. This is assuming that he gets the job, of course. I'm sure the competition for this job is more fierce than it would have been a couple of years ago. But I'm hopeful, and so is he, and that's a good thing.

Self-determination

I'm feeling very restless and dissatisfied. Partly because I took an unintended nap and therefore had less time to do things today than I intended, partly because I didn't want to do the things anyway and was therefore secretly glad for the nap, partly because how can I be secretly anything when all I'm doing is talking to myself in my head? The mind is a strange place to live.

However, we made dinner, and I dug up the part of the garden that needs digging up, and some laundry is folded, and I will get some writing done before I go to bed. Probably also some reading or quilt binding, because my feet are a bit puffy-looking and I should put them up. My new gauge for how to spend my evening is the circumference of my ankles. I'm not sure if that's better or worse than by trying to hide my perfectly audible thoughts from myself.

Demand Studios

I just signed up for Demand Studios. It's $15 an (approved) article on simple topics, no minimum quotas, so it sounds doable; we'll see how it goes in reality. Eric ordered new $400 glasses today, so extra cash sounds good to me.

In the good old summertime

Ants found in the office, which is above the kitchen: one. Ants found in the craft room, which is next to the office: one. Ants found in the nursery: one. Orkin Men cursed out because their oh-so-impressive spraying regimen is obviously totally useless: one.

We tried out the lemon ice cream for real tonight. Our conclusions: no-egg ice cream is too soft, at least the way we've made it so far. Maybe with too much cream. It could use a little more sugar. However, it's also intensely flavorful and even with its faults is a darn good dessert. I do like our work. I'm looking forward to full-on summer, I think; the ants will eventually go away (they seem to come out in the spring and fall), and we'll be making more ice cream, and the garden will improve (assuming I can ever get out to weed and to plant the last of the things I want to plant), and everything will be good.

Trying to relax

Blechh. My calves hurt (three charley horses last night--Eric said, "How is that possible when you only have two legs?") and I'm tired and there's a baby bubbling around in my internal organs. The last bit isn't so bad, except sometimes I wish I could make it stop, and the middle one is a good tired; I went out and worked in the garden and the yard a bit, and that makes me happy. Eric was going to mow the lawn, but his shoulder injury from an old car accident flared up again yesterday (possibly triggered by an irritating episode with his mother and her computer) so he's taking it easy. I'm trying to, too. We went to our first childbirth class on Thursday and I walked out of it crying because the relaxation exercise had triggered a whole bunch of unhappiness I hadn't realized I was carrying around. Eric said, "Apparently neither of us are real good at the relaxing thing," but we're giving it a try.

This weekend we intend to unload the bookcases in the office so that we can replace them with the bigger bookcases in the nursery, and make ice cream. Lemon ice cream. Yummy yummy lemon ice cream. I also intend to make another batch of chai, if there's enough cream left. I made some this past week just because I felt like it, and I think I'm getting close to a good recipe. I'd like to have someone else to get a second opinion (Eric's no good because he doesn't like chai), though I'm not sure why when it's my taste I'm trying to cater to. I think. Anyway, books and ice cream ahead. What could be more relaxing than that?

Chicago

Chicago is big and interesting and full of toll roads and taxidrivers who love to honk. Even if you're stopped because going forward means running over six or seven pedestrians. Especially then, perhaps. Our last act in Chicago was to get smoothies from Jamba Juice, and since we had our car at the time and there was no street parking available for several blocks and we weren't about to pay $19 to park in a lot for the ten minutes it would take, this involved letting me out quickly at a red light and me calling to read the menu to Eric, then ordering, then calling back when I had our drinks. I stepped outside in time to see Eric on the corner, trying to turn right on a green light but unable to because of the thick stream of pedestrians crossing, and a taxi honking steadily at him from behind. I yelled at the taxi driver, though I doubt he heard me. Then I ran after Eric because he was finally able to turn and couldn't stop, and eventually we met up in an alley halfway down the block. We are not moving to Chicago.

However, the rest of the trip was great. We went to the art museum, which was free on Friday, and laughed at the modern art section--there were a few interesting pieces, but the artistic merit in the majority of them was in the descriptions. A canvas in one or two colors with a couple of big gouges in it: "In Meanderings of my Summer Mind (or whatever), Artist X moved beyond conventional artistic envisioning by transitioning the medium outside of the two-dimensional plane using either of two alternate postmodern techniques--cutting, or [Italian word], and tearing, [other Italian word]--in order to invoke the kinetodynamic realm of motion and shape." There was what looked like the side of a garage, complete with misspelled random words, measurements, and what looked like kids' scrawls, and was described as a masterpiece of modern technique; there was a pile of wrapped hard candy that was described as representing the artist (or artist's friend?) in his struggle with AIDs or cancer; visitors were encouraged to take a piece, thereby representing the gradual eking away of the victim's life; meanwhile, the art museum would restock the candy, representing a "virtual immortality." Eric couldn't get over this one. "Pile of candy!" he would say every once in a while during the rest of our stay.

On Saturday we took a bus to the Museum of Science and Industry and overheard a man haranguing another man about...something; what I really remember is the sentence "Even mammal dinosaurs were feathered, so they're wrong, they're all wrong!" I have no idea whether the second man was a friend of the first one or was just a hapless stranger. We went to Shedd Aquarium--which was okay but not impressive, but our feet hurt so much it didn't really matter--and the Field Museum, which should by rights have taken two or three days, and the planetarium, and the Sears Tower. We walked along the beach and ate at interesting restaurants and had a good time.

And now we are having a good time being home, with our refinished bathtub and lack of need to be standing up for eight hours every day. Contrast is everything, I guess, and vacations are good, but home is very nice indeed.

Chicago bound

The garden and plants are watered. The clothes are folded. The dishes are mostly done. The snacks are packed. The bathtub is in the process of being refinished. It must be time to go to Chicago. Well, it's time to pack for Chicago. Tomorrow, we take showers at the mothers' (owing to aforementioned bathtub needing three days to dry) and drive away. I'm totally excited. We haven't had a vacation that wasn't visiting family since our honeymoon, which was not a disaster but was not exactly the ideal vacation, what with the panic attack and the severe sunburns and the lack of variety of occupations. (The food was great though.) Yay vacation!

Home comforts

I am quite tired--pleasantly so, except for the back. I spent a good four hours out in the yard today--mostly doing garden work, but also weeding around the raspberries and the one rose (which may be getting yanked; we'll see how I feel about it). Eric helped out by Round-Up-ing weeds. While we were both out we learned that the neighbors have such frequent parties (a few times a week) partly because one of them is a Pampered Chef salesperson (whatever they're called). If I'd known that before I would have inquired whether Pampered Chef has angel food pans any better than the Baker's Secret ones.

Alas, I didn't; so Eric got one from Kroger today, because we were bound and determined to have angel food cake with sugared strawberries and homemade French vanilla ice cream tonight. And so we shall. The strawberries are macerating, the ice cream is setting, the cake is cooling. We've just finished dinner, tacos. I don't mind quick meals on the weeknights, mostly, as long as it doesn't descend into "What do you want?" "I don't know, what do you want?" "I don't know. Pasta?" which it too often does. I'm sick of pasta. But I'm really liking a more work-intensive, well-rounded meal on Sundays. Followed by dessert is even better. A dessert that kicks off the ice-cream-making season is better still.

Reviews

I read Theodore Sturgeon's The Dreaming Jewels over the weekend. It's one of the books I didn't realize Eric (well, we) had but noticed when we moved books out of the nursery last week. I keep hearing that Sturgeon is a fantastic and phenomenal writer, and I've read two of his books now and I'm disappointed. It was a nice book, as was the other one (More Than Human), but they're not mind-bending and illuminating and everything that people say they are. Apparently he goes with Heinlein in my mind as a class of over-hyped writers. I wonder if this is because I'm so used to contemporary writing, or because I have a different viewpoint from the people who admire their work, or what.

We saw Star Trek on Friday (I think Eric was disappointed there was no line or anything to get in, but the theater did fill up respectably) and it's a decent movie as a movie, but not as part of Star Trek canon, according to Eric. The things that bugged him were things I didn't know (ages were off, Kirk wasn't born on a starship, etc.), but there were definitely flaws in it as a movie; there were some logical inconsistencies and not much character development except a little in Spock, and it felt like it was stuck between trying to appeal to the older Star Trek fans (especially bringing in all the main characters, who are all ridiculously young and all geniuses at their jobs despite being ridiculously young, to the ship at the same time) and to newer, young fans (too much flash and fun without logic to back it up). Also, it technically passed the Bechdel-Wallace test, but only technically, and I really didn't like that the only major female character was reduced to a love interest and nothing else, despite also being ridiculously young and a genius at her job. I did think the actor who played McCoy was fantastic, though.

I also made the sourdough onion rye bread and it's pretty good, but it needs work.

Mundanely better

Another bout of last-minute kid-watching today. "We'll make it up to you," my mother-in-law said, looking down at my burgeoning belly. "Won't we?" (I've swelled up in just the last couple of weeks or so to suddenly looking distinctly pregnant. It's weird, but I think it's better than when I just looked overweight. More overweight, anyway.) Despite that, I'm feeling quite a bit better. I talked to Eric about my resentment and worry, and I took my glucose test, and I've finally got the tomatoes out into the garden, and I'm working on the thank-you letters. The desk is still more crowded than I like--messy workspace means messy mind to me, so it makes me all scatterbrained and irritable--but I'm getting it under control.

I made bread today, plain wheat sandwich bread, but it was nice to do. And tomorrow I'm going to make sourdough onion-rye bread, which totally excites me. I might have to actually bake it Saturday, as Eric wants us to go to opening night of the Star Trek movie, but that's all right too. We're going up to see some friends Saturday, but not until the afternoon, and in the morning I planned to go to the farmer's market for salad fixings and strawberry plants anyhow, so it all works out. Now the only thing really wrong is that I've got a slight headache from eating too many Nerds.

Grumpy pregnant lady

I was a total grumpy pregnant lady last night, caused partly by wearing maternity clothes to work (they were fairly comfortable physically but not at all psychically. I have issues, I know) and exacerbated by a last-minute all-evening babysitting gig for the eleven-year-old stepsister-in-law for no good reason (and the two-year-old niece for a good reason, but only for a couple of hours and we'd agreed to that earlier) and annoying dogs at the mothers' house. I'm not a dog person anyway, and slobbery tongues and noses all over my pants and hands just as I was finally sitting down to the dinner I had to argue to be allowed to prepare even though everyone else was hungry and wanted what I suggested did not make me any more so.

Ahem. I really am slightly better this morning, though not a lot.

Today Eric has promised to mow the lawn and build a bookcase. I do not actually believe he'll get both of these things done, but I hope to be wrong. We bought three bookcases from Target a couple of weeks ago for the purpose of moving the library out of what'll now be the baby's room while still leaving a couple of small bookcases for the baby's stuff (not to mention her own books--she only has five or six at the moment, aside from the kids' books that I still consider mine, but that will change). Our dream house will have a dedicated library with built-in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. (And a secret passage.) In the meantime, we're lining the dining room with cheap bookcases. If we ever get them built. There's also a corn syrup slick in the pantry to clean up, and a mouse to poison or track down and shoot, and a whole bunch of other work to be done. Part of my grumpiness last night (and this morning) was also due to the neverending messiness and dirtiness of the kitchen and the house in general. Why are we homeowners? Arrgh.

To be honest, I think I'm disgruntled because I don't think I should have to be the one to work. Or rather, not the only one to work. Not twice in two years. Not when the house isn't any cleaner or better kept than when we were both working. Eric said on the way home from Penguicon that he was wondering whether he shouldn't just stay home with the baby next school year (and maybe teach lab part-time at the university) instead of getting a job. We need to talk more about this--it would be nice if it doesn't drive him crazy and we can afford it, but I wonder if he's really considering it because he's afraid of not finding a job, or of being dismissed a third time if he does--but I'm feeling all kinds of unattractive things when I think about it. I want to be the one to stay home. I didn't have to worry so much about money when I was unmarried. I do all this emotional caretaking already, I don't see why I have to be the sole breadwinner and the household manager too. I want someone to lean on, not someone to support. I'm a woman and a wife and I'm not supposed to have to do everything.

I hate that I feel this way. It's really not that bad; I’m just disgruntled and tired and anxious, and also the baby's hiccups resonate in my bones and I have to go take a glucose test and I still can't eat much cheese so mealtimes are difficult. (Not because I can't cook without cheese, but because our shared meals often involve it, especially in the winter, so if we want to eat something together there's a limited selection to choose from and if we decide to eat separately Eric invariably says he'll just have some chicken nuggets/a ham steak/Testosteroni/a banana and a cookie, and he's lost seven pounds since February so I really want him to eat better than that. And if I suggest making something that I won't eat he protests, like with dinner last night. I'm glad summer's coming, and that we can get to the farmer's market this Saturday.) I'm going to skip the glucose test today--I have no appointment; I just need to show up at the lab sometime this week--and go talk to Eric before I start yelling at him, which I don't want to do. And maybe bake some bread. That might make me feel better.

Penguicon 7.0

We're back from Penguicon, plus a long nap. Penguicon was fun--the hotel was large but not quite large enough, so apparently a bunch of people had to stay in neighboring hotels and the game rooms were smaller than people would have liked, but oh well. They had the consuite on the first floor, which was nice, but it wasn't as well-supplied as the Confusion one and closed before the con did, which annoyed us. And I never did get to the nitrogen ice cream. But there were interesting panels and interesting people, and a live performance of "Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog" (with a few scenes cut out, to dispense with characters, I think). The lead was fantastic--he sang well, he acted well, he interacted with the audience and rolled with technical goof-ups well. The woman who played Penny sang beautifully but didn't have any lines otherwise, and the man who played Captain Hammer did his best but didn't sing nearly as well as would have been nice. He did have the right attitude, though. Somebody in the row behind us commented about halfway through, "If this were better it wouldn't be nearly as good."

The workshop was most of what I did--nine to twelve-thirty on Saturday and ten to one-thirty on Sunday--and was interesting; I've never done an in-person writing workshop before. I now know that I need to write up my critiques differently, at least for presenting out loud--we each had about three minutes (supposedly) for talking about each piece we critiqued, and that called for a summary rather than a detailed description. I learned a lot from doing the critiques, and from hearing other people critique--especially the facilitators, Jim Hines and Catherynne Valente. I apparently have no confidence issues as a reader so it didn't bother me that my takes were different from other people's, but it was interesting to hear how we differed. I got some very useful feedback on my own story (the beginning of Shoelace), which, fortunately, doesn't seem to necessitate giving up or redoing the whole thing, which is nice since I should be very close to finishing the first draft. (Also learned that Festivus is something from Seinfeld? I used it as a name for a holiday but three or four people commented on it, so evidently I'm going to have to find something else. This is the problem with never watching TV: not knowing pop references.)

Tonight I'm unwinding (we ordered a pizza, despite an annoying bill from the OB/GYN, because I just don't have the energy to think of something to cook) and finishing up an article for the business journal I've been doing occasional freelance work for. The source for this article wouldn't do the interview unless I promised to send him the rough draft before sending it in, so I did, but he hasn't responded and it's due tomorrow, so he's out of luck.

Bread, someday

I need to make bread. It's been a long time--and my starter is looking awfully dark on top. We have some rye and a baguette in the freezer, plus a loaf of sandwich bread--sandwich bread is all I've been making lately. I'm not sure why. Too many hobbies, maybe--and the kitchen has been a constant battle against the dishes and the mice (all is quiet at the moment, but I'm not sure I believe they're vanquished yet) since the first of the year. But I'm also sick of Wheat Thins and graham crackers (my serial mainstays for snacking at work), and I miss artisan-style bread.

Unfortunately I don't think I'm doing it anytime soon--I'm leaving for Seattle on Saturday, and need to finish a quilt by then, and I wanted to finish Shoelace by Penguicon which means it needs to be nearly done by then as well. I've been doing well with my daily word count and I really am near the end, but not near enough that I'm confident I can do it. (And I've been asked to watch my stepsister-in-law tomorrow, which is when Eric goes to Ann Arbor so it's prime work-on-my-own-projects time.) So spare time is not to be had this week. Maybe late next week I'll make some good sour sourdough...or ciabatta...or garlic-rosemary bread...

Signs of spring

I do believe I'm sunburned. I spent some time in the sun today, working in the garden while Eric repaired the garage roof...and come to think of it, sitting on a bench with some friends at the farmer's market. I forget about sunburn every year (kind of like weeding), but yeah, that may well be why my arms are red and itchy. It was a gorgeous day, sunny and clear and 70 or so. I put out some plants because it's not supposed to get lower than 36 for the next week, and stay reasonably warm except for a few days of high-40s weather. It was freezing last week, so I'm very glad for the change...though as I told Eric, we don't seem to get spring here so much as schizophrenia.

Home again, home again

Back from the trip. It went pretty well, except for my getting dizzy and woozy at the airport (causing my traveling companion much concern, though once she realized I was pregnant and not sick I think she felt better, and I took better care in the other airports we visited), and I met a bunch of clients and learned how we do our sales. I was so glad to be home, though--even though I ate better while on the road than I do at home. Our last dinner was at a Ruth's Chris steakhouse, where I had a wonderful tomato-and-onion salad and potatoes Lyonnaise (?) and a chocolate cake with ice cream and caramel sauce. We had to walk around for half an hour afterward just to get comfortable enough to go back to our rooms. I'd like to go back to downtown Ft. Worth, incidentally. It looked like a nice place, and the manager of the restaurant told us about a number of fun things we could have gone and done if we'd had more time.

We visited some friends on Saturday and met their little son, and got a big bag of baby stuff that they'd had donated to them and didn't want (they also received four bathtubs between friends and showers, so we got one). Today we cleaned the house a bit and spent most of the day with Eric's family, which was nice in that our niece was being adorable but annoying in that most of the entertainment involved watching a few of us play the Wii in a room that was too small to contain everybody. Ah well. It was a nice day, overall. It's been a nice break from work; it's been nine days since I was last in the office. I peeked at my work e-mail from home and it doesn't look too bad, for as long as I've been gone, but I'm in no danger of having a slow day tomorrow.