Author Archives: metamegan

>Excuse Me Ma’am, Did You Pay For That Donut?

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As previously noted, my grocery shopping schedule is totally out of whack. Instead of going Friday with just Jack, I picked Luke up from daycare and took both boys with me after work.

I didn’t bring a snack for Luke because I figured I’d let him have one of the free cookies when we got to the grocery. We made a bee line over there, which screwed up my usual traffic pattern through the store and somehow caused us to circle the entire store about 6 times. But worse than that was the fact that the cookie section was… EMPTY. He decided he wanted a donut instead and being the good, health conscious, anti-dinner spoiling, trans-fat avoiding mom that I am, I said, “OK, but you need to share it with me.”

Luke: Just take a small bite
Mom: Mmm. Mmm. Yum.
Luke: That’s all you get. Is this free?
Mom: No, they are 3 for a dollar.
Luke: So how much are they?
Mom: 33 cents.
Luke: How will you remember how much it costs?
Mom: I have a good memory.
Luke: Will I have to give them the donut at the checkout?
Mom: No, just eat it.
Luke: How will you pay for it?
Mom: I’ll hold onto the wrapper and it will remind me to tell them that we ate a donut.
Luke: How much is it? 33 cents?
Mom: Yes.

Somewhere during the second lap around the store, I noticed he was still carrying the donut.

Mom: Eat that, or it will be too close to dinner when you finish it.
Luke: I decided I wanted to save it until we get home.
Mom: I don’t like that idea
Luke: Will I need to hand the donut to the checkout person?
Mom: No, I’ll say, “We need to pay for this donut.” And I’ll point to the donut.

–Repeat 3 more times —

When we finally arrived at the checkout I said, “We need to pay for one donut.”
The clerk said, “OK”

Then 2 seconds later I looked down at Luke and he had empty hands and donut filled chipmunk cheeks.

I guess he was really worried I would forget to pay for that donut.

>There’s a Lemon in My Jewelry Box

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There. I said it. Not much more to say, the title says it all. But since I can’t stop myself, I’ll explain. On Sunday we had dinner at our friends’ house and I thought they needed a lemon so I brought one. Turns out they didn’t need it. So I guess when I got home, I took the lemon out of my pocket before hanging up my coat in my closet. It appears that I put it in my jewelry box. That was two days ago. So when I noticed the lemon, I took a picture of it, wrote a blog post, but did not move the lemon. Stay tuned for “My Closet Smells Like Rotten Lemons.”

>Pencil Me In

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Jack is five months old tomorrow, and I am happy, so happy, ecstatic really, to announce that we are finally on a schedule.

As anyone with a new baby knows, getting on a schedule is like summiting Mount Everest. There is planning, training, Sherpas, oxygen tanks, permits, trips to Tibet, guides, altitude sickness, a high risk of death. Ok, it’s not really like summiting Mount Everest at all, it’s much more challenging.

And the worst part is that the schedule is so fragile. Just the slightest imbalance can send the whole thing into a tailspin and it may take weeks to recover. Like taking a nap too late in the day, falling asleep in the car, or something like baby’s first camping trip.

See this is our schedule: On Wednesdays we do laundry and on Fridays we shop for groceries. There, I said it. Other new moms, try not to be jealous of our awesome schedule. But we are leaving for a camping trip on Thursday so I guess I need to shop tomorrow for the groceries for the camping trip? But do I plan menus all the way through to the following Friday? Or just shop again when we get back? And then again next Friday? Do you see what I mean here? Don’t even get me started on the laundry situation.

Oh, did you think I was referring to a nap and night time sleeping schedule? Oh, no. No no no no no no no. Have you ever heard of K2? It’s like Mount Everest except it’s a little shorter and the weather is worse, and fewer people have summited and more people have died on it. So I guess it’s sort of like getting a baby to sleep through the night. Except not really. Although, attempts on Mount Everest and K2 are made in the spring, so maybe we’ll be summiting our own little mountain soon.

>I know I’ll often stop and think about them

>Luke is already getting nostalgic for his daycare days. He often waxes melancholy in the evenings and more often than not it’s a bedtime stalling technique. But last night was no act. Sob after heart wrenching sob.

“RUUUUUUUUUUUUBYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. I’ll never see her again.”

I tried to offer sympathy and solutions but they fell on deaf ears. I told a long story about the last night I spent with my high school friends before we all left for college. How we dressed up in 70’s clothes and hung out at the airport, and topped the evening off with coffee at Denny’s. And how it was sad, but if I had never left for college I wouldn’t have met Daddy. He was not impressed. Or maybe he was just embarrassed that his mom was so weird. Yes, I said WAS so weird.

Then I gave a stern, “OK, now it’s time for bed!” when he started worrying that he would never see Kobie and Kai again if they moved to Sweden. They spend the summers there, but this fall they will all be at the same kindergarten. No need to mourn for those friends.

I was thinking this picture may make Luke less nostalgic for his current daycare. Or at least make him laugh.

His reaction, “Who are those people?”

>Toe Worship

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Jack: Mom, I realize I am required to pose for the camera whenever I see it, but if it’s all the same to you, I’d really like to get back to chewing on my foot. Thanks.
Mom: Jack, seriously, I am trying to get a candid shot here. Chew away. Please stop looking right at the camera.
Jack: I’m afraid that’s impossible. Now if you would just move along, I could get back to my toes.
Mom: So sorry, carry on.

>The Dummening

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In an episode of The Simpsons, one thing after another causes Lisa to fear she is losing her intelligence. She keeps a journal of the process, which she refers to as The Dummening. In our house we use that term to describe the slow decline into madness caused by pregnancy, lack of sleep, and breast feeding. Without further ado, I give you some examples from this week:

1.) I took my pump to work, but none of the pump accessories.
2.) I spilled a bunch of breast milk
3.) While deeply engrossed in a newspaper article about sharks, Dave asked me what the weather was going to be. We had this conversation:

Me: Sharky with a chance of sharks.
Dave: What?
Me: (A little louder.) Sharky with a chance of sharks!
Dave: It’s not that I couldn’t hear you, it’s that you aren’t making any sense.
Me: Ooooooohhhhhhhh.
4.) At work I repeatedly referred to a symbolic link as a database link. Except for the word “link” they are completely different. I said, “Oh. Ha ha. I am just saying the wrong words today! Here, I have everything you need to know in this email from a month ago, I’ll forward it.” And yes, in the email I had written database link instead of symbolic link.
5.) I took a picture of Jack playing so hard in his exersaucer that his arms were blurry. I tried to send it to 3 family members with the title, “So busy!” But all they got from me was the text, no picture. Yes, family, I am so busy! Just wanted to text that to you in case you were wondering how I am doing. I’m really busy.

>Stop Making Sense

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Dad: Goodbye Luke! I love you have a nice day.

Luke: Bye Daddy!

– Door closes –

Luke: Daddy left without giving me a kiss and a hug and that makes me feel sad.

Mom: Luke, you need to say that before he leaves, not just as soon as the door closes. (This issue is not new.)

– Silence –

Luke: Mommy, if I said “Daddy left without giving me a kiss and a hug and that makes me feel sad” before he left it would not make sense.

>Periscope Up

>The subject of periscopes came up recently, as did the subject of experiments. As in, “Can we do an experiment? Why haven’t we done any experiments lately? When are we going to do that one experiment?” So I had been casually saving the necessary parts of a periscope for a rainy day, a day when there would be another sudden interest in experiments. That day was today.

I got out my mirrors and my long, skinny cardboard box that I had been saving for such an occasion and we got to work. We held the mirrors in different positions and talked about reflection and angles. (OK, I actually made no attempt to explain how the process worked, but I would be an awesome mom if I had!) Maybe my mistake was to attempt to make the periscope in such close proximity to the basketball hoop. Maybe I am just slow. If I had made the periscope in 30 seconds then I would have had Luke’s attention for the entire time. “Oh well,” I thought, “At least this gives me something to do while I watch Luke play basketball.” And, really, I had fun making a periscope all by myself. When it was finished he looked through it and said, “Cool.” I said, “Hey, let’s sneak upstairs and spy on Daddy and Jack.” Luke said, “Yeah!” So we started crawling up the stairs, quietly. So quietly. And I slithered across the floor and got the periscope in position behind the couch and whispered, “Oh, I see them, come look.” And I turned to look over my shoulder. And I realized I was alone. Alone, at the top of the stairs, on my stomach, whispering about a periscope. Alone except for Dave and Jack who were looking at me through the other end.

Luke may not be impressed now, but just wait until we incorporate the periscope into the giant cardboard box I want to turn into a pirate ship!

>Laughing Over Spilt Milk

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When I returned from work after my maternity leave with baby Luke I thought that there would be a room I could use for pumping breast milk. When I asked where the room was I was told, “Just use Jim’s office. He’s hardly ever here so he won’t know.” Um, does it lock? “No.” Determined not to spend my 15 minutes 3 x per day in a stolen room with a chair barring the door this time around, I put a little more effort into securing a room to use.

With two co-worker moms on maternity leave, and another mom-to-be on my side, I managed to get an old office turned into the new “lactation room.” I guess, in the past, other women have chosen to just pump in the bathroom. Other than Kramer with his in-shower disposal, I haven’t heard of too many people preparing meals in the bathroom. Also weird, the men seem to be jealous of our girls-only hideout. One co-worker thinks equal opportunity dictates that men should be able to nap in there. Twice I have knocked on the door to kick out male co-workers who were in there using the phone or the computer. Both times after I knock I get, “Oh, sorry. Do you need this room?” Um, yeah. I don’t even work in this building. If I am knocking on the door, it’s because I need to pump out some milk so my baby can eat at daycare tomorrow.

At IBM in Boulder one mom was stressed her first week back to work and she left a note for the other users of the former janitors-closet-turned-lactation-room. The notes back and forth eventually became a book called The Milk Memos – How Real Moms Learned to Mix Business With Babies And How You Can Too. I haven’t read it but I think the gist is that you need to get support and guidance from other moms. We have our own support system at my office. Some great advice has been posted on the walls. (See picture.) And our notes range from snarky comments about J Lo’s nursery in the latest People to the creepiness of an incredibly lifelike babydoll for the low, low price of $49.99 in Ladies Home Journal, to the fact that we can’t go a day without milk spots on our pants. And when meetings cause my pumping schedule to get all messed up, I know there is always a willing co-worker who will offer to call me on the speaker phone and pretend to cry like a baby to help with let down. (I passed on the offer once I stopped laughing.) It’s important to have a good support system of other new moms who will tell you that a printed skirt makes it impossible to notice a gigantic ripped seam. (And just this morning I was so proud of myself for being able to fit into a 10 year old skirt. A ten year old skirt that is ripped at the seams… not such a feat.)

We may not get a book out of this experience, but I know there will always be something in there to make me laugh, even when I spill 3 ounces of milk all over the desk and and myself. Three ounces of liquid gold. Three ounces of freedom, three ounces of security, three ounces of my baby’s nourishment. Oh, wait, this is about how I didn’t cry. At least I knew that the print in my skirt would make the milk spill totally invisible!

(Oh – and we all know breast milk is sterile, but I stole the Lysol Wipes from C’s desk and used them for cleanup. I attempted to clean the keyboard, but lysol is no match for those cooties!)



>What to Expect Without What to Expect

>I saved almost everything we had from Luke’s babyhood, confident it would soon get used again. Five years later, everything is back in use except the three things we donated to charity:

1.) The Baby Swing
2.) What to Expect When You Are Expecting
3.) What to Expect In The First Year

The swing was a hand me down and we didn’t have a box for it, and it’s sort of a hard thing to store without a box. We figured, hey, we may never need this thing and if we do, people are practically giving them away all the time, so we’ll just get another one. Well, I did buy another one that I found on Craigslist and it is the cleanest, fanciest, nicest swing I have ever seen, but it doesn’t work so we are forced to pretend we are a pioneer family and swing it by hand.

What to Expect When You are Expecting was easier to live without because I think the sole purpose of that book is to make sure you are worried about something during every moment of your pregnancy, and I can handle that all on my own, thanks.

That leads us to What To Expect in the First Year. With Luke, I dutifully read the chapter about Month 1 right after Luke was born and then I probably read Month 2 right away, just to plan ahead. I was very aware of every milestone and when it was supposed to happen. I remember some mildly stressful months when he insisted on not learning how to stack blocks. But he did “focus on a raisin” waaaaaay ahead of schedule.

But it is nice that the week-long vigil of Waiting for Jack to Roll Over started with us noticing that it looked like he might roll over soon and ended with him rolling over, with no book involved at all. Luke said, “If I am not the first person to see Jack roll over I am going to be SO MAD!” So I was excited for him when he ran to get me, yelling, “Jack rolled over!” I ran in* and sat down on the floor with Luke and Jack while Luke told me all about it. I saw Jack roll over the second time out of the corner of my eye while I was reaching for my camera. I caught the third event on film, which is good because he hasn’t done it since. And now the moment you have all been waiting for: (apologies again for the poor video quality. I’ll figure this out, I hope.)

http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=8612996707942795171&hl=en

It’s just so nice not to be obsessed with milestones this time. Well, maybe just a little:

(* Dave was with Luke and Jack when Jack rolled over. As I read this I imagined myself in the other room eating bonbons and reading gossip magazines while my infant son almost rolled down a flight of stairs. What I was actually doing was getting ready to go on a date with Dave for the first time in 6 months. But the children were supervised.)