Poop.

Yesterday we went to Dutch's swim lesson, and left early* in order to catch the bus downtown to go to a meeting with a staffperson for one of our senators. It had been set up by a politically active mom, and there were quite a few of us there, including a number of kids. On the way there, Skipper pooped. Skipper doesn't poop very often, so when she poops, it's not in a small way. We were just barely on time, so I wasn't able to change her, and figured I'd just let her stew in her own juices until after the meeting. When I took her out of the wrap in the meeting room, it became clear that she had soiled her pants and onesie, and the wrap. (Not my shirt, fortunately.) We sat there quietly and odorifically, and posed for photos (with the big poop stains turned away from the camera) and I said my piece about the public option.

I'm glad we went, for me, but also for Dutch. I explained the concept of healthcare reform for what seemed like hours to Dutch, but she doesn't really get it (because, hey, she's FOUR). Nor does she understand anything about the whole elected legislator thing. But I'm glad I took her, regardless. It was an unusual opportunity for her to peek into the legislative machinery. I'm not sure what she took away from it - probably nothing. Mostly, she was impressed by how fancy the office was (not that it was all that fancy - geez, they didn't even have diaper-changing facilities). She was kind of intimidated. But she really likes the reward she earned for being quiet and polite during the meeting.**


* I suggested that she just skip the lesson, given that she'd miss a third of it anyway, but she was adamant about going.
** Sparkly plastic hairclips shaped like butterflies. Of course.

Morning, last week-ish.

This one really is just for grandparents, to see what Skipper's up to these days. Mostly, as I said, drooling.

Pieces of Eight

This was filmed this morning in our kitchen, as we all listened to Dutch's new CD, and Dutch tried to figure out how a recorded album works.

Skipper likes pirate music, too. The movie may make you feel a little seasick, as the kid can now make her bouncy chair bounce like crazy. For the information of the grandparents among you, she can now roll front to back and back to side. She also drools.

Carfree buccaneers

I know I complain and brag about our carfree status more than anybody wants to hear. Feel free to skip this post!

Because the kids are out of daycare (and therefore do not need to be transported to and from downtown) and I am out of the school for the summer (and thus have no reduced-price bus pass), we've been riding the bus a lot less. This means a lot of walking.

Yesterday I had the kids on my own from 8 AM until 9 PM. We left at 8:10, and walked to the pool for Dutch's swim lesson. Our current transportation system is to take the stroller and the wrap, usually switching Skipper back and forth between the two. (She sometimes gets pretty pissed off when she's awake and alert in the wrap, since it interferes with her current favorite activity, Vigorous Kicking of the Legs.) On the way home, I nursed Skipper while standing up on a corner in a quiet residential neighborhood, while Dutch sat on the curb and quietly told herself a story. We passed our usual landmarks - the Library, then the Home of the Scary Yapping Chihuahuas, aka The Bad Dogs, who on Tuesday terrorized Dutch pretty badly. Then the House With the Plum Trees (today the residents, Don and Holly, were harvesting their plums when we passed by, and they gave us a big bag). Then the House with the Chicken Figurines in the Garden. Then The Gelato Place. Then The Post Office. Then The Grocery Store. Then Dairy Queen. Then the Bar Across the Street Where People Park Their Electric Wheelchairs Outside The Door and Things Get Very Loud at Two AM. Then home!

We stayed home for a while, and left again in the mid-afternoon. We went to the farmers market and bought lots of beautiful produce and a delicious berry crepe. Then we proceeded to the library, to pick up some books I had on hold, use the bathroom, and look at magazines. Then we went to the park and joined a whole bunch of other people who were there for a performance by Captain Bogg and Salty.* This is a local phenomenon- a bunch of guys who assume pirate personas and play music for kids. They are very popular - everybody there seemed to be dressed as pirates, know all the songs, AND know the Captain Bogg and Salty secret handshake, which is to make a hook with your index finger and wave it in the air. Dutch had a really great time. We bought a CD. We ate our picnic dinner (cheese-and-pickle sandwiches, cherry tomatoes, carrots, and brownies). We watched a short movie at the park, and walked home in the dark. Dutch, who had begged to stay for the movie and sworn she wouldn't whine at all, didn't whine at all.

It was a very nice day. The weather was fantastic, and the kids were pretty nice. We did fun stuff, and we were outside for more than ten hours of the day.

Here are some of the challenging effects of car-free-ness on our day. We toted all of our stuff - diapers, meals, produce, blanket, extra clothes, library books, etc. - everywhere we went. We couldn't bring an elaborate picnic dinner or spiffy waterproof blanket to the park, like everyone else, because we didn't have room. We had to allocate much more time to everything we did than car-full people do. (It's a safe bet that everyone else who left the park at the same time as we did go to their homes at least 15 minutes before we got to ours.) All the nursing and diaper-changing had to happen in public. We had to plan our bathroom trips carefully. We had to plan EVERYTHING. I researched our summer activities thoughtfully, looking for events that were easy for us to get to - yesterday's fun was a lucky combination of attractive, free, and conveniently located.

The good effects? We walked five miles.** We enjoyed experiencing, at a human speed, all the interesting sights and smells and sounds along the way. (The frog symphony at night!) We appreciated the novelty of walking home in the dark, and seeing our usual daytime environment transformed. We were unable to overschedule ourselves, because everything takes so long. Dutch and I had some nice conversation*** that we couldn't have had if we weren't walking together so much. We're getting to know our neighborhood really well, in a nice, slow, repetitive, organic way. There's lots of good to be gotten out of it. We can't cram as much into our lives as we could if we had a car, but we can eke more out of what we CAN fit.


*It turns out Dutch is woefully underexposed to live music, and her mind was practically exploding over the fact that they actually played, RIGHT IN FRONT OF US, the VERY SAME songs that we had heard on the CD we checked out of the library and listened to nine billion times on a road trip a year ago.

**Fortunately, Dutch accepts walks as a matter of normal daily living, and is unfazed by the prospect of a one-mile trip to the library or a 2.5-mile round trip for swim lessons.

***and some make-my-brain-trickle-out-my-ears conversation - here's a sample:
Dutch: Mom, is that other movie playing now?
Me: Yes.
D: What is happening in the movie?
M: I don't know. I've never seen it. I don't know the story.
D: Is it just the same as what happens in the book?
M: I don't know if there is a book related to that movie.
D: Mom, if there is a book, have you read it?

Snappy little messages to tweet.

It's human nature to focus on what's immediate to us. The world is small for all of us, and we use cellphones, facebook, and other filtering tools to keep it limited to what we want to experience. I stepped out of my bubble long enough to call my senator's office the other day (finally) to express my opinion about healthcare reform. Afterward, I felt pleased with myself, and somewhat surprised to find that my intervention didn't immediately fix the situation. It's the same way with big things that upset me, like... wars. I decide that I disapprove of them and they are terrible, and that's that. My disapproval somehow should mean they just stop.

Unfortunately, it turns out that they don't.

Sunday evening at the madhouse.

The scene: Our living room. Cook has just showered after playing frisbee and cooking dinner, and is working on the computer, Dutch is playing some sort of demented game on the couch, and I'm trying to finish up the newest book by my favorite trashy-book author.

Cook (waving a tiny object): Look at this weird thing I found in my ear! What do you think it is?

Me (totally disinterested, barely glancing at it): Um. A bug?

Dutch: What is it? Can I see? What is it? Where did you find it? You found it in your ear? Is it really a bug?

Cook: It's not really like earwax. More like... crystals!

Me: Hm.

Dutch: Wow! Crystals! Why do you have crystals in your ear?

Cook: It's almost like... a little piece of garlic.

Dutch: Why is there garlic in your ear? Is it really garlic? Is it a garlic crystal?

Me: (ignoring them both, since I've only got FIVE PAGES LEFT)

Cook (gingerly smelling the tiny object): Hey! It IS garlic!

Dutch: There was garlic in your NOSE?! Why was there garlic in your nose?

No news is good news, I guess.

I spent some time last night writing a great blog post in my head. It was great! It was witty and pithy and stuff. I've totally forgotten it, and no amount of staring at the screen will bring it back, apparently.

Anyway, I just cut my hair. Skipper keeps pulling it, and I hated the length it was at. I have super-fine hair,* and when it gets long, it gets really flat and nasty and I look like a balding hippie of the unsavory, unwashed, unphotogenic variety. Now it's shorter, and I feel lighter of heart, even though now I look like an unsavory hippie whose hair has been gnawed by rats. I always cut my hair when I'm feeling a little insane, which I am definitely feeling at the moment.

In the non-insane news, Dutch just began her last session of swim lessons, at the glorious Otter level. This means that summer is winding down. The kids start daycare at the end of September, and I am trying to write a letter, as requested by Skipper's teachers-to-be, describing her. It's pretty hard, trying to describe a 4-month-old child's personality. Cook was stumped when I told him about the assignment. "Um... she's kind of squeaky? She eats? And sleeps? And... poops?" I find myself writing things like "she really enjoys kicking her legs," which is just pointless, as I'm pretty sure that they weren't planning to bind her legs or anything. The letter will also be seriously outdated by the time she gets to daycare - she'll have lived 25% longer, and will be different in most ways. Maybe leg-kicking will go the way of the sleepy songs and the long nighttime sleeps.

Also, we'll be moving soon, to a different part of Portland. I'll tell you all about it later.







*One of Cook's physical attributes that I deeply envy is his thick, luxuriant hair. The other is his ridiculously lush eyelashes, that would be totally appropriate for a small cartoon animal of the adorable variety. Dutch inherited them, though Skipper seems to have missed that particular genetic boat.

Dirty words

I forgot to report that Dutch recently, during a heated game of Candyland (sounds sticky!), said "Oh, fuck!"

Then I had a little chat with her about appropriate words. My position on this is kind of unenthusiastic because it really doesn't bother me to hear people use bad words, and hey, they're actually pretty useful! But I don't want her using them in front of other people, lest they not take her seriously.

Yesterday I told her cheerfully during yet another game* that she was "kicking ass and taking names," and then I had second thoughts and told her she shouldn't really say that in front of other people, but it was okay to say it at home with just us. (I TOLD you my position was unenthusiastic!) A few minutes later, she said "I'm beating butts and forgetting names!"

So I guess I don't have to worry too much about it.

* She's REALLY into board and card games right now, thanks to Auntie V. She can beat me at Memory about half the time. Not so much other games. She's become a much better sport over the last few weeks, mostly since it quickly became clear to her that nobody would ever play with her if she kept throwing tantrums whenever she lost. And hey, Auntie V., she announced to me that the word "weird" is a secret word that you and she share. "It's special for me and V." she said.

Book report

I think everybody who reads this blog knows how much I love to read. I started reading really early, and read lots of Good Books for many years. Then I got pregnant and used the hormones as an excuse to read every bodice-ripper I could find at the library. I never stopped. I occasionally read a Better Book, and sometimes a Good Book, but mostly I just read brainless crap that I forget as soon as I read it. Which is fine with me; I have no feeling of obligation to read Good stuff. Cook reads enough of that for the both of us. But I truly love reading, and the escape it provides me.

Dutch seems to share my passion. She loves old-fashioned books, especially. Now she's reading the Marguerite Henry books I loved as a kid - they're all about horses. Cook hates them ("Oh my GOD this is boring!" he whines to me after she goes to sleep), but he stoically plods through them without letting Dutch know his feelings. I'm reading the Grimm fairy tales to her, in order. Oh my GOD, they're boring. Also misogynistic and violent and creepy. Whee! At some point in each story, she looks at me with a wrinkled-up face and says "Why did they do that?" and I say "Because it's Grimm!"
I found this great blog about children's books - the author provides recommendations and discusses books, and she totally likes the same books I do. If you're looking for book ideas, check it out.

Skipper's side of the story

According to Cook, this is more or less how Skipper experienced our first prolonged separation:

10 AM: Mmm, that was a nice wrap nap. I'm hungry! What's this? It has milk in it, but it smells wrong, it looks wrong, it feels wrong. Take it away! Horrible thing! Where is my beloved Breasts-with-Head-Attached?! Where is it!? I haven't seen it in a while! Oh no!!!!! I'm going to DIIIIIEEEE!!!!! BRING ME THE BREASTS-WITH-HEAD-ATTACHED!!!!

10:30 AM: So the Breasts-with-Head-Attached really doesn't seem to be available. Okay, bring the horrible thing with milk in it back again. I'm really hungry.

1:30 PM: Oh my god THERE IT IS!!!!!!!! MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

3:30 PM: AGH! SHOTS!!

4:30 PM: I'm hungry, I guess. I don't feel that great. I'll take some sips from the horrible thing.

6:00PM: Oh my god THERE IT IS!!!!!!!! MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM! (repeated for 90 minutes)

7:30 PM: I'm so sleepy, and I'm so happy to have the BWHA back again! Cuddle me!

How to spend your first day away from your baby when she's 4 months old

1. Every night for three weeks before the big day, pump the 1-2 ounces of breastmilk you can squeeze out after the kids are asleep, before you wash the dishes and go to sleep. Freeze lots of very small portions.

2. Make a plan for pumping and storing breastmilk while you're at the conference. Assemble your equipment.

3. When the day comes, leave home at 8:15, in a hurry to catch the bus, and then deeply regret that you didn't take the time to give her a kiss goodbye.

4. Run into an acquaintance onthe bus, and talk to her very rapidly about how happy you are to be away from your kids and how much you miss them. When she gets off (mysteriously a few stops earlier than you thought she was planning to get off), say "BYE!" really loudly and then feel like an insane person.

5. Think about the baby a lot all day. Get sweaty every time you think about her.

6. Tell everybody who comes near you how crazy weird it is to pump breastmilk. Wonder if this may hurt your chances of getting a job from anybody attending this conference.

7. Spend your breaks finding a bathroom with an outlet and chairs and then setting up your pump. These bathrooms will be the most crowded ones. Pump as much breastmilk as you can as quickly as possible without missing too much of the sessions, while ignoring the people staring at you and the conversations they have about you subsequently as they go out the door (really). Try to smile at them and remember that you are NOT DOING ANYTHING INAPPROPRIATE. Smile extra big at the nervous-looking pregnant women. Appreciate your interactions with the four women, all older, who stop briefly or lengthily to say things like "Good for you!" and "I remember doing that! Gosh, it hasn't gotten any easier since then, has it!" and, memorably, "Namaste!"

8. Be very very happy to see your entire family when they stop by during the lunch break so that the baby can visit your breasts. Enjoy your baby's radiant smiles and murmurs of appreciation as she nurses. Kiss her many times and smell her head. Don't forget to also kiss your older daughter's sticky cheek and tell her how happy you are to see her (which you are, but your hormones are way more concerned about the little one).

9. Talk to adults, think about interesting things not related to your family or home life, learn stuff.

10. Enjoy being able to get through your day without having to care for anyone. Except for those pumping sessions.

11. Discover when you go home that the baby turns her head toward you and tries to gnaw through your shirt to your breasts every time you pick her up for the 1.5 hours between your arrival home and her falling asleep. Nurse her about six times during that period.

12. Wash the pump and bottles, and pack up your equipment for day two.