KidKate

Time to start thinking about another baby?

As clearly no BABY lives here anymore!

It was a howl!

She started out the night as a stereotype--I mean, cheerleader (hey, it was a gift!) (and also my alma mater!) (and also adorable!):

And finished off the evening as a mouse, with stiff competition from a hairy gorilla and a righteous lady bug:

.

PS: NaBloPoMo--shit! I plum forgot this year. I participated the first time but couldn't (or didn't) last year owing to a 6-week-old baby and transatlantic move. However, this year I'd hoped to make up for my sins by posting every day in November. I'll have to think of something else. Damn.

August 10, 2007

My last day of work, five weeks before Ellie was born. I was due back at work in London no later than August 8, 2008. I thought I would never last that long on maternity leave.

Then we moved to Baltimore, where working in my field is not an option, and I realized I kind of liked staying home. Our new life here allowed us to afford it, at least for a while, and the time slipped away from me. I set a new goal at when Ellie turned 1, and that day came and went.

And then one day, in early October, I found myself dying to go back to work. To get a new (or any, really!) haircut, to wear nice(r) clothes, to feel like an adult again really. To make decisions, to write things, to--shoot me now--go to meetings.

At the same time, I felt Ellie was ready for more stimulation than I alone could provide her. She revels in her time with other children, and though we do music classes, swim lessons, and playgroup (each once a week), it's not enough really, for either of us.

I started to feel panicky by the weight of these momentous decisions and then realized that she wasn't even weaned from nursing before nap times yet. When I tried dropping both her nap time feeds at once, I got sick, like I was pregnant. So I dropped one feed and then we went on a trip and the other effortlessly fell away.

I told myself I'd start looking for jobs and childcare once she was down to one nap a day instead of two. And then her two naps started to meld into one long one, and my friends assured me that daycare would take care of her new schedule.

I thought I might wait until she is walking or talking, but she is nearing 14 months now and though full sentences are a ways off, walking is just around the corner. Besides, I think I'll be able to tell if my baby's unhappy without her telling me in so many words.

So I decided to call a daycare I'd heard good things about and try to get on their waiting list. They had an opening on November 1. Nooo, I said, I can't do that. They said they'd take her mid-month and prorate it. I said I'd look at the place but probably pass on the November slot. And then we took a look and loved it with its beautiful water views and two playgrounds (one indoor and one out) and when Ellie said, "Hi! Hi! Hi!" and excitedly clapped her hands every time the door was opened to a new classroom, the deal was sort of sealed.

Yan quickly agreed to the (prohibitively expensive) cost once I explained that she would be in a new, smaller classroom (six kids) and that this way we could ease her in a few hours at a time rather than dropping her off for 40-plus hours per week from the very first.

So, my little girl starts "school" on November 17, and I? I have to find a job during possibly the worst recession of our young lives. I've sent out seven resumes so far and gotten no response (one little nibble for an ad agency that asked to see samples and then promptly lost my number--guess they  weren't impressed). I'm hoping I can dig up some freelance work from a few of my old agencies and a friend has thrown a few small leads my way. I really need to find something full-time but if I can just make a dent in the childcare cost, we'll be in decent shape.

It's kind of amazing to think that I'm blowing up my family's stable little system just so I can indulge myself by going back to work. But I feel like I have to. My big fear is that when Ellie and her (hypothetical) sibling tromps off to college, I will have nothing left. And though I know rationally that this is not true, it is what I want. So, here we go. Jump and a net will appear, yes?

No?

On that note, anybody need a copywriter-for-hire?

A year ago today, a daughter was born

A year ago today, before the pain of my forceps delivery kicked in, oblivious to the world outside our little hospital room--the same modest room, we would later find out, where Princess Di gave birth to William--we spent the evening with our new baby girl.

A year ago today, my new baby latched onto my breast shortly after birth and never wanted to let go. She fussed all afternoon until she passed every bit of meconium in her system at once--it took five newborn diapers, which Yan kept frantically replacing under her--and then slept for six solid hours. She later woke and would only sleep next to me--nursing--all night long, earning her the nickname Missy Moo.

The following night, in desperate need of sleep, we reluctantly let ourselves be convinced by our favorite midwife, Ivy, to send her to the nursery. It was the first, best decision we made as parents. For the next two nights I slept blissfully and was awoken only once each night by the sound of the wheels of the bassinet making their way down the maternity ward corridor, followed by the urgent cries of a newborn. As soon as the midwife lifted her over the bed rails and into my arms, she stopped crying, knowing food would follow.

A year ago today, my husband brought me sushi in my hospital bed. We watched Friends and American Idol. She nursed.

A year ago today, midwives were in and out of my hospital room, asking how I was doing and repeating, "You poor thing." They had heard about my long labor and forceps delivery, and not yet feeling any pain, I was flummoxed. I would later find out what all the fuss was about (ow). She's worth it, of course.

A year ago, if the world continued to swirl around our Paddington hospital, we didn't know it. Yan changed diapers. I protested having to wait to have my catheter removed.

Hands down, it was the best night of our lives.

 

The kid, she likes to eat

Lately, I've come across Ellie more than once turning the pages of one of her books and quietly "reading" to herself ("da da da ah ah ah blah blah"). I haven't been able to catch it on film, first because I didn't want to disturb her (I had the vague idea that it would embarrass her if I interrupted her--obviously, this is not the case) and second, because whenever I get out our new Flip to try and shoot a video, she becomes so engrossed with the camera that all my films end with her crawling frantically over to me and putting her face in the camera to make a grab for it. However, at a playgroup on Sunday, Yan caught the following:

It may be a bit hard to tell but the (empty) red bucket is her "bowl" and the green maraca-like thing is her "spoon." We thought maybe it was a fluke until we watched her dip her "spoon" in the bucket and take a "bite" over and over again for about 10 minutes.

Much like her parents, it appears that reading and eating are her favorite past-times.

We're baaack

Failed family portrait, originally uploaded by KidKate.

Off to the Land of Free Babysitting

Since Ellie was born in London, she has traveled to Baltimore, Houston (twice), Newport, RI (twice come September), New York (twice come August), back to London, Bethany, DE (twice), and now ... Cape Cod. The place we like to call the Land of Free Babysitting (aka, Where My In-laws Reside). We had grand plans for this summer, oh yes. Tuscany? South Africa? Ireland? We thought we'd try to squeeze it in while she's still small enough to travel relatively easily on a plane (God love the bassinett option!) but then we thought, Eh. Two naps a day? Traveling with jars of baby food or other specially prepared food? Nah. We'll tackle that next year. This year we'd just like to try going out to dinner ... ALONE. Her grammies will love it.

Good thing she'll be asleep while we're gone, though. I find it awfully difficult to leave this face:

Alllmost

Dear Ellie

Dear Miss Eleanor Louise,

(Don't ask us why, but we seem to have changed your middle name from Frances to Louise. We have no intention of making this an official change but for some reason we started calling you that and we can't seem to stop. We even sing "Hey Louise" to you by Neil Diamond. Don't tell your grammy, though. Frances was her grandmother--your great-great-grandmother--and we were all really excited about bestowing her name on you. So for now that's just between you, me, your daddy--who incidentally thought your middle name was Kathryn, which is my middle name--and the Internet.)

My, I am a bit behind with this letter aren't I? At nearly nine months old, you are doing a spate of new things fast and furiously. You are sitting up by yourself, and when your naps are over I find you sitting cross-legged in your crib punching the buttons on your kick toy and looking pleased as punch; you have stood up in your crib twice; you are mere minutes away from crawling, which I wish would happen like YESTERDAY because you are so unbelievably frustrated that you can't figure out how to move forward; and you have even attempted to say the dog's name and Daddy's name a few times. They come out largely the same: "NAN-DE" for the dog (Mandy), and "DA-DE" for Daddy. You also have six seven teeth, with numbers seven, eight, nine, and ten just below the gumline. These new teeth mean you are biting and chewing food and looking so grown up picking food off your high chair and putting it directly into your mouth. You also want to help when I feed you--you guide the spoon and water cup into your mouth, then flush with pride at your accomplishment. It's been a busy nearly three months since I last wrote!

At your six-month pediatrician's appointment, your weight was down to the 50th percentile (and your head was up to the 50th percentile), while your height was past the 95th percentile, making you quite the little string bean. The comment I get most often about you by friends and strangers alike is how "delicate" you are (a nice word, I think, and interesting that so many different people use it to describe you), followed by how big and blue your eyes are (and how long your eyelashes are--all Daddy). I find the comments about your size a little amusing, as at six weeks you were in the 91st percentile for weight and you continue to inhale anything I put in front of you as well as nursing four times per day. Still, two weeks shy of your nine-month appointment, you are only a wee 16 pounds (and a very tall 28+ inches--I can't get you to sit still long enough to measure your height) and I am a bit concerned that they will want me to supplement breast milk with formula or some such thing. However, I am pretty sure you come by your height genetically, as my biological father is rumored to be six-foot-six, and your grammy Diane is five-foot-ten (tall for a woman). Her brother, you're great-uncle Dilly, is six-foot-seven. And if you are anything like your parents, your weight will catch up eventually.

Every three months or so, I still struggle with whether I should go back to work or not, and I am shocking myself by continuing to enjoy staying home with you so much. You are just a delight to be around, particularly as you play and grow, and I still feel just really lucky to get to hang out with you all day. I know Daddy feels the same way and is a bit envious of our time together. Don't tell him, but sometimes I feel like being home with you is like an extended vacation. But I hear that things change rapidly with mobility so check back with me in a month or two.

On the same note, I feel like while I'm home it's important to expose you to as many other children as possible, and recently we have been around the same babies and moms more and more. I love this not only for the social stimulation it provides me (and boy, do I need it!) but also because although you seem to be kind of a shy kid (much like your mother), you recognize the other moms and babies and greet them with huge grins each time you see them. Occasionally, you'll even let another mom hold you. This was one of the reasons I was interested in having you go to daycare a few times a week and although we haven't found a workable solution (the nanny we were sharing flaked out and part-time daycare is too expensive on one salary) we continue to go to playgroups on Fridays and meet up with other moms several times during the week. And this month I have joined the gym so that we can take you swimming and you can go to the daycare while I'm working out (we'll see how that goes--you will probably find me lounging in the hot tub instead!).

We are also expecting the birth of your cousin very, very soon, and I am hopeful that the two of you will be great friends. Since your dad and I moved away from New York a year and a half ago, we don't see as much of your aunt and uncle as we used to, and I like to think that getting the cousins together will be a good excuse to plan family outings between New York and Baltimore. I only hope that you don't end up wishing you were growing up in New York like your cousin is. Of course, that is always an option but for now we are firmly entrenched in Baltimore.

Someday you will want to know why after living in places like New York and London that we decided to raise you in Baltimore. And the answer to that is multi-faceted: We wanted to raise you in a city so that you could be exposed to all kinds of people and cultures, but we also wanted more space to live in and a car so that we could take long leisurely drives together out to the country together on the weekends. We could do those things in New York or London but not as easily, and if we ever decide to give you a sibling the lack of space would be increasingly difficult. And despite your being born there, London never really felt quite like home (though I do miss those lovely accents!). This became more clear after three of your grandparents had long waits to see you until after you arrived in the US. And then there was the fact that your dad's new job is based in Baltimore. He worries a lot about raising you here, actually. The schools aren't as good (yet--but they are getting there) and Baltimore still has more crime than New York. There was a (police) shooting on our street not long after we moved here and last night there was a fire in a row house across the street. And your dad's favorite show, The Wire, is based here (not exactly a ringing endorsement). However, I am loving it. I love that we're walking distance to the water, I love the eclectic row houses and stately old brick buildings, I love the edgy East Coast vibe mixed with the friendly Southern hospitality, I love that we are an easy train ride from New York and DC, and I love that we can walk everywhere we need to go in our neighborhood. I hope you will feel this way too.

In sum, my darling girl, life is good. And I can hardly imagine it getting any better. I feel so incredibly lucky to have you and your dad (and Simon and NAN-DE) in my life.

Love,
Mama

UPDATE: At your nine-month appointment, you are in the 25th percentile for weight and remain in the >95th percentile for height and 50th for head circumference. Still my little string bean but no cause to supplement.

Magic

We took Ellie to my favorite place this weekend, the place I'd thought she'd grow up: New York. As we were walking back to our hotel after a long dinner with my brother and his expecting wife arguing over whether we'd kept her out too late, she suddenly started laughing and laughing, not at us but at the city itself. The happiest, most joyous sound I've ever heard.

New York is wonderful for a baby because there's so much to see, hear, and smell: lights, traffic, Times Square, loud tourists in groups, and yes, even the sour smell of garbage in the streets. I'm so glad we could share that love of the city, if only for an instant.