I have now officially begun to waddle.
That is all.
I have now officially begun to waddle.
That is all.
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We’re house hunting – have I mentioned that here? We figured that what with Hoss coming and our apartment being increasingly small even for the two of us, to say nothing of a young hatchling, it was about time for us to get a more permanent location. We’ve both wanted a house for a while, but our financial situation hasn’t been so great (bad credit scores from living off credit cards in grad school) and the housing market where we live has gone kind of insane over the last 5 years. We’re finally in a position where buying is a possibility, but not exactly a pure pleasure. Compromise is the word of the day: We can either live closer to where we work, OR we can live in a nice neighborhood. We can either have a bigger house, OR we can have a house that doesn’t need any work done on it. You know the drill. We’re both pretty handy people, so we’re OK with doing cosmetic work on a house, and we were mentally prepared to make certain sacrifices, but still it’s been hard to find the right place. Is it worth it to have a nice house if it means doubling or tripling Mr. Squab’s commute time? Is it worth it to have a short commute if we’re living in a sketchy neighborhood? Tough questions, particularly considering that I’m planning on going back to work only part time after Hoss arrives.
All this is by way of explaining why, when I’m browsing my favorite baby product sites, I’m naturally drawn to the absolutely most fricking expensive products out there. This is the case particularly when the prices aren’t posted on the initial page. Part of the problem is that both Mr. Squab and I are persnickety about design. I mean, I know most baby-related stuff is primarily functional, but does it have to be so damn ugly? Have you ever looked at the baby section of Target? The clothes are all pretty cute, sure, but most of the strollers and cribs and playpens are U.G.L.Y. They don’t have no alibi! (that was for you, Ali). They’re bulky and clunky looking and most of them are decorated in hideous baby-themed colors and patterns. Me no likey. What I do like is Scandinavian baby stuff. I dunno if its the fjords or what, but those Scandihoovians just understand how to design shit, you know? And baby stuff is no exception. Compare and contrast:
Ugly-ass American stroller:
Chic and sporty Scandinavian (ok, Dutch) stroller:
Ugly-ass American high-chair:
Super sweet Scandinavian high-chair:
So you can see what I mean. Unfortunately, the chic kid’s stuff costs on average about twelvety billion times more than the ugly stuff. (For example, that cool looking stroller runs about $895 a pop. Which I could maybe see if I were planning on having 9 children or something, but otherwise, um … no.) Of course the baby sites are all filled with comments from yuppie über-parents raving about how the cost is so totally worth it, the products are so much better, last forever, make your kid smarter, ensure their entrance into Vassar, etc. All of which I’m sure is true, only like I said, we’re still trying to figure out how to afford a house in a neighborhood where the crack dealers are at least somewhat covert in their activities. So we’ll look for cheaper American knock-offs of Scandinavian design, and see what Ikea has to offer, and the kid won’t even know the difference. But man, when I win the lottery … Ima get me some NICE. BABY. STUFF.
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Posted in gear
This was my Xmas present from Mr. Squab:
I’m blogging from it now. Isn’t it pretty? It’s an insanely extravagant present, which just shows you how well Mr. Squab knows me. And I lovey-love-love-McLoverton it; I’ve already spent hours playing with iPhoto, sorting and importing into iTunes, transferring documents from my old crummy PC laptop, etc. Damn, I love organizing my electronic files. And what with Mr. Squab being something of a techie, it’s all loaded up with awesome software and extra memory and RAM and stuff. So now I guess there’s really NO excuse for not getting some writing done.
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Posted in gear
The Carnival of Feminists V is up at scribblingwoman, and my post on The Price of Motherhood made it into the mix. Go check out all the other good reading material, and submit your stuff for the next carnival to Reappropriate!
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Posting is going to be extremely sporadic over the next 4-5 days, as I’m jaunting back and forth between various rellies and in-laws. Regular posting will resume on the 27th. So just to leave you in the proper holiday spirit, here’s one of my most favoritey-favorite Christmas poems.
Carol of the Field Mice, from The Wind in the Willows
by Kenneth Grahame
Villagers all, this frosty tide,
Let your doors swing open wide,
Though wind may follow, and snow beside,
Yet draw us in by your fire to bide;
Joy shall be yours in the morning!
Here we stand in the cold and the sleet,
Blowing fingers and stamping feet,
Come from far away you to greet—
You by the fire and we in the street—
Bidding you joy in the morning!
For ere one half of the night was gone,
Sudden a star has led us on,
Raining bliss and benison—
Bliss to-morrow and more anon,
Joy for every morning!
Goodman Joseph toiled through the snow—
Saw the star o’er a stable low;
Mary she might not further go—
Welcome thatch, and litter below!
Joy was hers in the morning!
And then they heard the angels tell
‘Who were the first to cry NOWELL?
Animals all, as it befell,
In the stable where they did dwell!
Joy shall be theirs in the morning!’
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Slow start this morning + busy, busy day = not much time for blogging. So until we get some more stuff posted, hop on over to cuteoverload.com and indulge yourself. I mean, honestly, what could put you in the holiday spirit more than this?
Answer: NOTHING, that’s what! Except, say, possibly, THIS:
There’s more where that came from. Go. Enjoy.
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My mother, who is entirely too generous, bought us a bee-yoo-tiful rocking chair for the Hossmeister the last time she was here for a visit. It got delivered a few days ago, and here it is in all its glory:
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Posted in gear
That was my sitting-up BP at the doctor’s this morning! That’s really good! Yay for lower BPs!
In other news, Hoss is apparently going to be gymnast and/or boxer. When we were trying to listen to Hoss’ heartbeat via the doppler monitor, we’d hear it for about a second, and then *crash* Hoss would punch or kick right at the microphone and do a flip and we’d have to start all over. Hoss no likey being monitored. I have a feeling I’m incubating a somewhat strong-minded child. Gulp.
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Slate recently profiled an extremely interesting new study on the financial sacrifices women make related to childbearing. The gist of the study is that for every year a woman in her 20s delays having a child, her lifetime earnings will increase by 10%. Slate explains (emphasis mine):
Part of that is because she’ll earn higher wages—about 3 percent higher—for the rest of her life; the rest is because she’ll work longer hours. For college-educated women, the effects are even bigger. For professional women, the effects are bigger yet—for these women, the wage hike is not 3 percent, but 4.7 percent.
So, if you have your first child at 24 instead of 25, you’re giving up 10 percent of your lifetime earnings. The wage hit comes in two pieces. There’s an immediate drop, followed by a slower rate of growth—right up to the day you retire. So, a 34-year-old woman with a 10-year-old child will (again on average) get smaller percentage raises on a smaller base salary than an otherwise identical woman with a 9-year-old. Each year of delayed childbirth compounds these benefits, at least for women in their 20s. Once you’re in your 30s, there’s far less reward for continued delay. Surprisingly, it appears that none of these effects are mitigated by the passage of family-leave laws.
Well, I, for one, am not at all surprised that family leave laws don’t affect the outcomes – that’s surely because we have piss-poor family leave laws, for one thing (insofar as they only guarantee unpaid leave), and also because it ain’t the amount of leave that’s the problem! The problem has to do with how we conceptualize motherhood – and for that matter parenting in general, though mothers are extraordinarily more affected – as a non-professional, non-public, non-productive activity. Yes, non-productive: not because most people wouldn’t agree that mothering is enormously important work for a variety of reasons, but because socially and culturally, we don’t see mothering/parenting as productive of capital or material goods. So, while I’m in the professional workforce, I’m seen as contributing something concrete and worthwhile to society, I get financially rewarded for that work, I spend my financial rewards on various public and private goods (housing, entertainment, health care, etc.) and the wheel spins ’round. Motherhood, on the other hand, for all that it’s hailed as the cornerstone of the family unit, is simply not seen as a capital-producing enterprise. In this sense, mother-work is not envisioned as contributing to society the way that a 9-5 desk job is, is not remunerated accordingly, and leaves mothers, qua mothers, right out of the whole capitalist cycle of earning and spending. This, of course, has no relationship whatsoever to the actual sociocultural value of mothering vs. a dayjob; it makes no difference that I will, I am sure, be contributing FAR more to society while engaged in raising my future child than I have ever done at my crappy, crappy day job. What matters is that the work I do as a mother has already been categorized as non-productive (again, in a capitalist sense), and so I will be penalized for it in the capitalist workforce.
The reason this matters more for mothers than fathers is because mothers are, still, disproportionately the ones who take time “off” of their careers when they have children, or who make other career sacrifices (working shorter hours, not driving for that big promotion, etc.) that affect their lifetime earnings. It will be interesting to see, 25-50 years down the road, what happens as more and more fathers choose to become the stay-at-home parent. I think my generation of parents is one of the first where that’s an option widely seen as viable (though of course the viability varies from region to region and class to class), and it may be that this will be some kind of turning point. Perhaps the financial losses will simply be more evenly distributed, so it will be less a gender problem than a general social problem, or maybe there will be more widespread support for sweeping changes in social policies around parenting (giving parents returning to the workforce a raise so their salary keeps pace with their non-parenting coworkers, for example). Or, shit, maybe the fathers’ earning potential won’t be affected in the same way and we’ll be stuck with the status quo.
Anyway, take a look at the article and the study and let me know what you think.
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Posted in "experts"
Or take last night, where I was sitting in calm repose next to one of my cats on the sofa. Suddenly, the entire area smelled like a zoo/aquarium. “What the hell is that smell?” I asked Mr. Squab. Mr. Squab, sitting at the other end of the sofa, did not smell anything. “Oh, my god,” I said, “it is really bad. What the hell is it?” Then I looked down, and saw that the cat was cleaning himself. The nickel dropped. I was smelling his breath. And not just smelling it; being engulfed by it. Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that cat has bad breath – but under normal circumstances it’s only apparent if you actually stick your nose within milimeters of his open mouth. Not for SuperSmellerWoman, though! You leave a bag of trash out in the hallway, its stench will pollute my dreams. You crush a clove of garlic in the house next door, I’ll start craving Italian food. It’s getting ridiculous.
In addition to my increasingly freakish sense of smell, I’m also continuing to enjoy the tyranny of my future child’s appetites. The upshot of this is that, and I’m almost crying as I write this, I can no longer sleep in. Ever. Now, to understand just how much of a tragedy this is, you need to recognize the near-worship I have for the state of sleep. I looooooooooooove sleeping. I love my bed, I love waking up and then going back to sleep, I love taking naps, I just. Love. Sleep. Added to which, as my family can firmly attest, I’m the very polar opposite of a morning person. I don’t fully wake up until about 10 am, regardless of what time I actually got up. I can – or could – easily and happily sleep for 10-11 hours EVERY NIGHT. And sleeping in is my absolute joy. It’s honestly probably what I most look forward to on the weekends: not having to get up at any particular time. I don’t usually sleep in until noon or 1pm anymore, but 10 or 11 in the morning – preferably 11 – is a great time to get up, read the paper, have a leisurely breakfast, etc.
Now before you get all up in my grille, yes, I KNOW that you don’t get to sleep in when you have a baby. I get it, really. And I was completely prepared to spend the next 10 or so years in a state of semi-sleep deprivation. But, you know, I wasn’t prepared for it to start before the baby actually made an appearance. In fact, I was really savoring every moment of sleep, in full awareness of how ephemeral that pleasure would be. But alas, such pleasures are mine no longer. What with the gestational diabetes and Hoss’ complete pissiness if he/she doesn’t eat at the same damn time, every damn day, there can be no sleeping in. I can sometimes manage an extra 30-45 minutes on weekends, but any more than that and I feel nauseated and get high blood sugar readings the entire day. And it’s not just that I have to get up at a certain time – I also have to keep my food intake at very regular intervals, else I risk the wrath of the Hoss. This morning I was maybe 1/2 hour late eating my midmorning snack, and oh, the hunger pangs! Oh, the lassitude! Hoss was all like, dammit, woman! A baby gots to EAT! One cheese stick and a lemonade vitamin water later, all was well.
So anyway, my point is: this pregancy thing is a rip off. Not only did I have to give up my precious snoozing a good 4 months too early, but I have little to no say with regard to my own food consumption. Who do I talk to about the false advertising?
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