Shokufeh is... home

Hou tian minus the da

I thought that I'd written about this in the past, but I can't find it, so maybe I didn't. Anyway, one of my favorite words is da hou tian, which means the day after the day after tomorrow, in Chinese. First, I love that there is a word to describe that day. Second, I love that it is literally the big (da) day after tomorrow (hou tian). So, I like it when something is the day after the day after tomorrow, so that I can say da hou tian. But I forgot to use it yesterday. But that's okay, because that means we're actually another day closer to Sam's arrival. When I wake up in the morning, I can even say ming tian.

Thanks for sharing in my excitement, y'all!

My grimy little boy

Since the early days of his life, we've joked that MrMan likes to think he's not really a baby. He's not been a big fan of the typical infant position of being cradled on his back.... Before he could sit up, he was always trying to be upright.... Before he could stand up, he was always trying to get on his feet.... It seemed like he was constantly wanting to be one of the big kids, striving for the next challenge.

Today, I saw hard evidence that maybe my son is right, that he's not a baby, that he's a little boy - he was grubby, and I wasn't even sure where the dirt came from. I think dirty fingernails and grimy knees may be an indication that MrMan is growing up.

One week!

That's the amount of time between now and when we pick up Sam from the airport. I can't wait! Actually, it's been almost five months, so I can probably wait another measly seven days. Obviously, I'm looking forward to seeing my husband in person. But even more, I'm looking forward to seeing my husband see our son. I'm generally in awe of MrMan, but when I try to look at him through Sam's eyes, it's almost too much to absorb.

1987ish

Need some entertainment?

We were three, ten, and thirteen years old. (Or approximately, depending on when the picture was taken. I'm guessing summer.)
I like this picture because we're so very mid-80s. Look at my hair! And our shorts! Anis and I are wearing our school t-shirts. (I'm not sure how many years McMain's annual run lasted. If I still had this shirt, would it be a collector's item?) Naysan is wearing one of his multitude of OshKosh B'Gosh outfits, and looking so very much like MrMan. Or, rather, you can see how much MrMan looks like him.
I guess one of the other things I like about this shot is how our personalities come through - me, the disgruntled teen (though in my defense, I was probably squinting against the sun); Anis, the tentative boy he was until the end of high school (both of us are concealing our braces, it seems); Naysan, being himself, doing his own thing (he was a very sweet boy, but independent from a young age).

Happenings of Sunday

I think that when I was in Whole Foods yesterday, I saw someone whose blog I read. But I was too shy to just walk up and ask if he was who I thought he was. I didn't see anyone else I knew at Whole Foods. I go there all the time, usually a few times a week, and it's rare)to leave without seeing someone I know - I think it's happened only a few times, out of the 40+ times I've gone there since being back. Sometimes I see several people I know, from playgroup, from elementary school, from high school, old babysitting charges, friends of my parents.... So, maybe I was so desperate to see someone I know, that I imagined that I "knew" this guy. In retrospect, I should have asked, since it doesn't weird me out if someone thinks they know me.

In other news of yesterday, I confirmed that MrMan is not a hemophiliac. Yes, he had his first blood-letting: we were at a friend's house and he fell on the wood corner of a baluster. The corner cut under his lip and his teeth cut the inside of his lip. When we got home, I noticed an accumulation of blood in his upper gum. I felt bad because I wasn't vigilant enough, but recognize that these things happen. I just don't know how well the comforting will go once he's not breastfeeding anymore.

Cleaner, but...

I am, as I was once very fond of saying, poopered. It's the showers. They're really getting to me.

First, there's the swim lessons. Rather, the showers after the swim lessons. After Tuesday's and Thursday's lessons, MrMan and I shower at the gym. The plus is that there's great water pressure - a rarity in the city these days. The minus is that we're wet and slippery and I'd hate to drop my baby on the floor, particularly on a tiled one. So, I employ a vice grip and all goes fine. And I wake up sore with muscle fatigue the next morning. Exhausted after a baby swim class!

Then, today, I made a big mistake. We did the very thing that I decided last week we wouldn't do anymore: bathed at home in the same session. In late April/early May, I hit upon a great solution for getting us both clean - put him in his tub in the regular tub, and let him play while I shower, and then wash him. I was even able to let him continue playing in the tub while I got dried and dressed. But he's moved on from that stage. Now, he has to reach for everything in sight, stand up constantly, check the resiliency of his skull against the tub.... It's really stressful spending both my showering time and his bathing time trying to keep him upright and free of injuries. By the end, I was pretty clean but even more exhausted. The price of development. Too steep a price for feeling clean, I think.

Update on the dark movement situation

I feel that it was a cockroach.
I spent part of yesterday afraid to go in the kitchen. Which is kind of funny, since, if it had been a rodent, its four legs could carry it through the house. I finally worked up the nerve to continue a task I've been working on: deep cleaning the kitchen cabinets (removing all of the shelves, wiping down the insides with bleach and water... not a small task for the lazy susan cabinet in the corner... these are the kinds of things that still need doing after the house was uninhabited for six months and water filled the "basement" for a while). It involved my dashing out of the kitchen a few times, in fear that I couldn't proceed. But then it was okay. And I continued to see no evidence of a rodent.
If there truly had been a rodent, my rodent sense would have tingled too much for me to get that cabinet cleaned. So I was feeling pretty confident last night. The big dark cockroach being squashed was just icing on the cake.

Feeling for the truth

Right now, I'm trying to relax enough to discover the truth.

One morning, when I was in fifth grade, there was a mouse in the classroom. It had probably made its way down from the attic, its regular life disrupted by that year's renovations. It seemed to be a young mouse, not really bothering anyone, just hanging in the corner of the room. Our teacher, Mrs. Gray, told us to just let it be, to let it stay in the corner. Our lessons went on as normal. But then the mouse decided to explore a bit, and came along the wall, under the radiator, to next to my desk. Since the teacher had told us to let it stay in the corner, I thought I should send it back to the corner. So I tapped on the radiator, close to the floor, with my book, thinking that would send the mouse scurrying. I then lifted my book back up to put it on my desk. I guess I must have then felt something, because I looked down and saw the mouse on my lap. I leaped up on the desk, screaming. The mouse fell to the chair. The book bounced off the mouse and onto the floor. I still remember - as if the camera of my memory zoomed in - the mouse lying on its side, its chest heaving. Mrs. Gray comforted me. My classmates Cameron and Jacques disposed of the dying/dead mouse. Despite the traumatic experience of that day, the memory that is strongest is the one from recess - standing by myself by the big oak tree in the backyard of the playground, shuddering at the feeling of even the wind blowing on to me.

Since then, though more than twenty years has passed, I'm very afraid of rodents. I've had periods when I dealt with the fear a little better than other times. Enough to bring home my lab rat from a class I took - I kept him as a pet for a while, then gave him to the zoo to be a stud. Enough to walk down the streets of NYC before the sun came up, but not enough to walk home unaccompanied at night (thanks, Jennifer!). Enough to return to China for a second year, despite the intense rodent experiences I had there. But, the fear is still there.

Along with the fear is a sense. I'm generally very good at sensing when a rodent is present. One time, in China, we had some guests over, and we were all hanging out in the living room. I kept glancing fearfully at the door, feeling a rodent was nearby or going to appear. My roommates eventually convinced me that I was being distracted by some packing tape that was sticking out from the wall or floor - that a breeze was moving it, making a crinkling sound. But, after our guests went home, one of my roommates looked closer in the doorway and discovered a tiny mouse that had somehow gotten trapped in the area. Another time (again in China), I was up late at night and went to the kitchen for something. All was quiet, but when I left the kitchen, I was moved to tightly close the door. (We usually just left it open.) The next morning, one of my roommates could hear activity in the kitchen and went in to discover the largest rat he'd ever seen. He did battle with it. Battle! As in, the rat launched himself into the air in attack. Eventually, the rat went out the window, the same way it had come in. Another time.... Well, I guess I should stop with two past experiences, so you don't think my life is all about the rodents.

This morning, I was in the kitchen getting some breakfast. As I turned to walk toward the counter, something dark moved quickly along it, sort of amongst the various things we have on the counter. It was so fast, I couldn't see what it was. But I screamed in fear that it was a mouse. My brother and dad reported that there had been a large flying cockroach in the kitchen last night. Those don't bother me so much. So, now I'm torn as to what it was. And trying to calm down enough to let my senses guide me to the truth.

A Meme

I've been tagged by Steph:

1. The book nearest me:
Baha'i Prayer Book

2. Stretch your left arm, what do you touch?
MrMan

3. Last thing watched on television?
Wheel of Fortune, while cooking dinner

4. Without looking, what time is it?
1:45 am

5. What is the actual time?
2:14 am

6. With the exception of the computer what can you hear?
The humming of the air conditioner

7. When did you last step outside?
In the afternoon, when we came home from running errands

8. Before this survey what did you look at?
My blersian @ hotmail account

9. What are you wearing?
Tshirt and knit pajama pants

10. Did you dream last night?
Yes, and I even remember one of my dreams - in it, one of my (adult) brothers wore diapers because he'd never been potty-trained

11. When did you last laugh?
This evening (technically yesterday), with MrMan

12. What is on the walls in the room?
A hodge podge of pictures and posters from my brothers' respective times in this room and a few things I've added since returning

13. Seen anything weird lately?
Two probably-11-year-olds dressed like they were 21

14. What do you think of this quiz?
Not bad so far

15. What is the last film you saw?
In a theater - Nacho Libre (not as great as I'd hoped, but I liked how it was so obviously the Hesses meet Jack Black)
At home - Failure to Launch (disappointing, though I thought the naked room was funny, and was happy to find out the movie was filmed here in New Orleans)

16. Tell us something we don't know.
Unless you're a family member, you probably don't know that my Mom's in China - in the middle of a six week trip - since I keep neglecting to mention it here

17. If you could change one thing about the world, what would you do?
Eliminate prejudice

18. Do you like to dance?
Usually, but I often feel self-concious about it

19. George Bush?
Is our President

20. Imagine your first child is a girl...And?
It's hard to imagine a first child other than MrMan, but if he had been a girl, I would be poorer because there are a lot more cute girl clothes than there are boy ones.

21. Imagine your first child is a boy.
I don't need to - he is. I used to think I wanted my first child would be a girl (probably because I'm the oldest), but I think MrMan is the perfect first child for me.

22. Would you consider living abroad?
Not right now, unless it paid a LOT. After living in Hawaii these past few years, I'm ready to live closer to family.

23. What would God say to you when you reach the pearly gates?
I can't begin to suppose.

24. List 6 bloggers to carry on this meme.
Meisa, Anis, Lisanne, Hannah, Linda, You

Eight months old

Dear MrMan,

Time is just flying by. So fast I can hardly keep track. But, this morning marked eight months since we first met face to face. I look back and am amazed by the changes. In this month alone, you have...

Mastered crawling: On the morning of June 22, I carried you to the rug in the yellow room and put you down so that I could go brush my teeth and do other first-thing-in-the-morning things. But before I could leave the room, you crawled to the edge of the rug to more closely examine its fringe. Maman Jan and I watched in awe. Not only were you crawling for the first time, it was your first act of the day. By the end of the evening, you'd duplicated the effort several times over. Now, a few weeks later, you crawl like you've been doing it forever. Sometimes, I look for you in the last place I saw you, just a few minutes before, only to realize you've moved on to another room. Usually in the direction of some cords, with the intention of chewing on them.

Developed major pulling-up skills: If it's there, you use it to stand yourself up. Inanimate, animate, you do not discriminate. All you need is a bit of a vertical surface and you're good to go. You are still working on not doing this until you're so exhausted that you tumble and fall. I am still working on allowing you to tumble and learn. You like to make your way around the table, or the crib, holding on and moving your feet. You also like to dance - holding on, and bouncing to music.

Revealed two teeth: As of June 29, your front bottom teeth are in. Or should that be out? You have yet to use them on me, thank goodness. But today I did notice a strange scraping sound as you carried out your usual moving-your-mouth-back-and-forth-along-the-side-of-the-coffee-table routine. I offered you a teething ring, but it seems the scraping sound didn't bother you as much as it did me.

Become an Os addict: When I first introduced the Os to you, you could take them or leave them. But you have now joined the legions of young ones who flock to the Os. For them, you have started cultivating a pincer grip. For them, you will squeal with anticipation. For them, you will calmly sit in your highchair or on my lap. For this, I love the Os almost as much as you do. Your other food of choice, though not quite as addictive, is plain yogurt.

Started swimming lessons: We've had three classes so far, and they're going great. You kick your legs, splash your arms, and laugh in delight. Even more so when you have the incentive of a rubber duck in front of you. You endure having your head under the water, but only sometimes.

Asserted yourself in very obvious ways: You've been strong-willed just about as long as I've known you. Yes, your entire life. You always seem to know what you want and do a pretty good job of letting us know. Lately, you've become even better at it, particularly when it comes to things you don't want. You're not completely anti-exersaucer, but you often struggle at being put in it. I laugh a little, thinking of the way you stick out your legs to brace yourself against the tray, so that I can't get your feet into the seat. Sometimes, I give up before you do. You've also had two... temper tantrums, for lack of a better phrase. Both were while I was trying to get you out of the bathtub. I had to work hard not to lose my grip on you as you struggled and squirmed and cried out, trying to get back into the bathtub. I think being your mother will not always be easy, but I like the fact that you are not passive.

I am sorry to say that I left two major developments out of last month's letter to you. I'd jotted them down on a piece of paper, but then forgot to refer to it. You have figured out the mirror. Now almost two months ago, we were standing in front of the mirror, looking at ourselves. I was making funny faces, which you watched in the mirror. Then you turned your head and looked directly at me so you could watch the funny faces firsthand. More instances like this followed. While your realization means the mirror is not quite so magical, we still have fun with it. Also, you respond to smiles with a smile. Assuming you're in the mood for such. If I hadn't come across the piece of paper with this note, I would have forgotten that there was a time when you didn't smile in response to smiles. I'm still waiting to see you respond to a yawn with a yawn. I'd always thought that this was a reflex, but maybe there's a learned component?

You adore your Amu Naysan. He's a new addition to your life, but you would think that he's always been here, the way you've glommed onto him. I think he's some sort of baby whisperer. You like pacifiers a little more than you have in the past, but more as an entertainment, than a comfort. You like to suck and gnaw on them, and then deliberately drop them on the floor. It seems you realize they're for you, as you think it's really funny when I put one in my mouth to clean it of particulate matter, or pretend that I'm going to suck it instead of giving it to you. You also laugh when you "discover" me under a cloth diaper - it's much more entertaining for you to unveil my face than your own when we're playing peek-a-boo.

I know this letter is very focused on what you do now. It may seem like I'm glossing over the things you like. But, these days, what you like most is doing - you're always on the move, always tackling the next challenge. This new phase of activity has been challenging, as it's meant my being more active too. It's also very rewarding. I love watching you interact with the world around you. Your uncles used to ask when you were going to become fun. They don't need to ask that question anymore. MrMan, I've always loved you, even before I met you. I also love who you're becoming. Every step of the way.

Love,
Mommy

Mmmm

This weekend, I made a refreshing simple syrup - 1 cup of sugar, 1 cup of water, brought to a boil (in the microwave), with a handful of mint leaves from the garden torn and tossed in. So far, I've added it to a raspberry herbal tea. The tea itself doesn't taste very minty, but the mint adds a fresh coolness. Next on the list, adding the simple syrup to a decaf black tea with orange blossom water.

Unrelated: yesterday, a friend related part of a conversation he'd recently had in the elevator at the hotel where he's living (he's a contractor working on storm-related stuff).
"Hi, I'm Ben."
"Hi, I'm Brad."
As in Brad Pitt.

An unexpected visitor

Last night, with little fanfare, my body announced it is back in the business of dispensing eggs. Yes, the return of the period. I have mixed feelings: it is inconvenient, to some degree, but it's kind of exciting that we can have another child. Not that we plan to just yet. But mostly, I was feeling perplexed - I'd almost forgotten what to do, and wasn't sure that, even if I looked really hard among my things, I'd find the needed supplies. So, I did what any nursing mother would do, used a boob pad until I could get to the store. I felt kind of like Kimberly-Clark (you won't regret clicking on this link) meets MacGyver.

I'm hoping that the decline in milk supply that I've noticed since last week is temporary.

Scaling new weights

If my parents' bathroom scale is to be believed:

1) MrMan now weighs 20 pounds. I knew he was getting heavy... believe me, I knew... but I wasn't quite ready for him to be this big. Among other things, it is time to transition to a new carseat. I will miss the convenience of his baby one so readily snapping in and out of its base, but I guess it's time to move on, especially since carrying his weight plus the weight of the seat isn't that easy on me. (Though I'm sure I'll look back fondly once I have to deal with waking him up to get him out of the car.) I've been thinking to get him a convertible seat - one that's backfacing, then frontfacing, then a booster. Any warnings or recommendations?

2) I am back to my pre-pregnancy weight. I'm guessing that feeding, carrying, and wrangling a 20-pounder has something to do with it. My body looks very different from the old version of itself, but why shouldn't it, after gaining, and then losing 40 pounds in a relatively short space of time. I marvel at the whole process, the synergy of it, that eight months ago I was huge and now I'm not, but I have an amazing son. And a flabby pooch, bigger boobs that make me better understand those greeting cards that joke about saggy boobs reaching the waist, and a scar across my abdomen. The marvelous thing is how the amazing son sort of cancels all those other things out.

Sleep jam

I've gotten myself into a jam. A pickle. Some sort of food item. (Speaking of food items, I made trifle today. One with raspberries and peaches. Only once I was making it did I think about the fact that most kids don't like their foods mixed together. And trifle is food mixed together. My mid-making thought was spot on. Good thing I put aside some plain pudding and same plain jello for said kid guests. But I digress.)

This problem is of my own making. For the first months of MrMan's life, he slept in a mini cosleeper, attached to my side of the bed. It was a great situation. THEN, in February, I went back to work for a couple of weeks. I was more tired, and tended not to put him back in the cosleeper between his nursing sessions. And, to be honest, being apart from him all day made me want to snuggle with him more at night. THEN we came to New Orleans. Our first few nights, it seemed so cold and we thought he needed more body heat. And everything was so new, it seemed something should be familiar. So, MrMan slept between me and Sam (who stayed for a couple of nights before returning to Honolulu). THEN, it still seemed chilly, and with Sam gone there was plenty of space. And, since I was acting as a single parent, it seemed so much easier to have him next to me for nursing, than to actually sit up and lift him out of the cosleeper. THEN, it had became the habit for him to sleep with me. And, once he could sit up, and pull himself to a standing position, the cosleeper was no longer an option.

So, here we are. In many ways, I'm okay with his sleeping with me. It's comfortable and feels right. He sleeps through the night, waking only to eat, and even lets me sleep relatively late. And even though I'm writing about this, I don't feel like it's a real problem. But... he can now crawl all around the bed, so safety is becoming an issue. And the bed is full-size: once Sam comes in a month, that full will have a whole new meaning.

We've been attempting transitioning him to his crib, with limited success. It just really freaks him out. But I persevere. As I see it, I don't have many choices.
1) Put rails on my bed. Not too psyched about that, as he can stand up against them, creating another safety hazard. And we'd still have the issue of a tight squeeze once our family is reunited.
2) Buy a bigger bed. While I'd love the bed, we just don't have the money right now.
3) Put him in his crib and close the door. I know it works for some people, but I'm not one of them.
4) Continue putting him in his crib at night, soothing him through the tears, taking him out if his crying becomes hysterical or interferes with his breathing. (Tonight, he sat himself up once his nose became too stuffed from crying.) But part of what makes me perservere is that he, for the most part, is quite passive in his protesting - he sobs it up good, but doesn't usually physically struggle.
5) Order Dr. Sears' The Baby Book, in hopes that it will contain some magic nugget. I've read a couple of other parenting/sleep books, but it's hard to take advice from someone if you don't agree with their overall parenting philosophies. I suspect I (mostly) agree with his.

For now, I choose options 4 and 5. And next kid around, I'll stick with the cosleeper until it's time for the crib.

Sounds of my childhood

As I was sitting here, feeling like I should write something, but wondering which of the thoughts swirling about in my head would rise enough to the surface, the sound of toads interrupted. Or rose to the surface. Perhaps they're doing a happy dance, to celebrate the rain of the past couple of days. It won't undo the drought conditions of the past months, but it's a start. I suspect that tomorrow, we will find strings of toad eggs in the ponds. I love the sound of the toads. I don't know if it's just because it's a sound I associate with my childhood, but if it is, I'm okay with that.

Other sounds it's been nice to come home to include those of the trains and the ships. Both are sounds I associate with lying in bed. I don't know if it's because that's when rail and river traffic are at their busiest, or because that's when it's quiet enough to hear them. Until I was 16, we lived about a half mile from the river, so it was normal to hear the deep bellow of a ship's horn, or the higher pitch of a train running along the base of the river's levee. Since moving back here, I've noticed that I still hear these sounds. The train I hear is one running through town. The sound of the ship's horn carries from two miles away. I love its richness.

I'm now noticing all of these sounds are basically sounds of the night, or early morning. I'll have to play closer attention to figure out the daytime sounds of my life here, past and present.