Category Archives: updates

Apparently my life is currently incompatible with blogging

It’s not like things haven’t been happening. The Sprout turned 3 months old, the Hatchling is coming up with new catchphrases and other awesomeness all the time, Mr. Squab and I celebrated our 7th anniversary, I finished rereading the entire Harry Potter series – I mean, the days are filled. Just not so much with the blogging. However, I know I need to post a 3 month letter for the Sprout, and we also have some lovely videos in the hopper, so, um … stay tuned!! Look! Cute pictures!

Crazy-eyed Ellie

Smiling for Mama

Sweet Sisters

Random Tidbits for the weekend

1. The Sprout has decided to try on being a fussy baby for the last two days. The mellow thing is SO last week. Apparently. This is not contributing to a positive mental state in her mama, who is finding herself really, really, really looking forward to being a mother of two girls about three years from now.*

2. It is (finally) a GORGEOUS spring day outside, and what’s more, I actually got out to enjoy it a little. Went to the plant store and got several nice perennials to put in the front yard, and a truckload of mulch. Was kicked out of the house to go on said errand by Mr. Squab on the theory that a little kid-free time amid flowers and sunshine would perk me up. And he was right, as he so often is.

3. I CANNOT BELIEVE that Adam Lambert didn’t win American Idol. WTF, America? Was it the eyeliner that put you off? Or the fact that he has more talent in his manicured pinky than you have in your whole vanilla bourgeois body? Feh.

4. I will soooooo be watching Glee this fall. Cheesy? Hell, yes, but I was a big-time choir kid in high school and it’s worth the cheese just for the trip down memory lane.

5. My 20th high school reunion is coming up this summer. How did THAT happen so fast? I keep getting requests to send my address to the organizers so they can send me the invitation. Which I guess I’ll do, since I don’t want to be anti-social, but y’all: there is NO WAY IN HELL I’m going to my 20th reunion. You don’t have to go to high school reunions if you’re still having the occasional anxiety dream about high school, right? That’s my stand and I’m sticking to it.

6. I have officially decided that I would like to travel back in time to when your average upper-middle class family had a baby nurse to help take care of the kids until they go off to school. Possibly boarding school. Depends on when you ask me. Just thought you’d want to know that it’s official.*

* It has been brought to my attention that I’ve tended, of late, to post updates that indicate a fairly stressed/depressed state of mind. Which, you’re damn right I’m stressed! But not at a worrisome level, in part because I have a blog to vent on. So not to fret.

Kids = Stress, Parenting = Anxiety

OK. So, we’re back home and starting the process of getting used to being a family of four. The good stuff: I totally missed the Hatchling (and the feeling was definitely mutual) so it’s been good to be back at home and get some snuggle time with my first baby. Baby 2.0 – let’s call her Sprout, shall we? – is (so far) an extremely mellow baby, sleeping like a champ, only cries when she’s hungry or needs her diaper changed, and is generally a very sweet little girl. The weather is getting warmer, we have lovely friends and relatives bringing us food and helping us out – I mean, objectively speaking, things are going pretty well.

So why do I feel like such a basket case? OK, some of it is post-partum hormones. Seriously, I could weep at the drop of a hat these days. It’s annoying. And some of it is cumulative lack of sleep and the whole recovering from major surgery thing. But also, Sprout is having some eating problems and it’s kind of making me want to stab my eyes out with a fork. Those of you who’ve been reading this blog since the early days will remember that the Hatchling had myriad problems on the nursing front, starting with being tongue tied and compounded by my low milk-supply and other fun. We had to supplement her with formula from the get-go and never managed to get her completely on the breast, though we did get into a decent groove with it and I nursed her until she was 14 months old. I had a lot of friends who had similar difficulties getting started with breastfeeding, and many of them had it much easier the second time around – copious milk supply, easy nursing, etc. And I had convinced myself that I’d be the same – you know, I put in my time in with the first one, this one would be easy sailing!

I should have known better. Now, Sprout isn’t tongue-tied, and she knows how to nurse. But she is also an extremely big baby, and my supply is not keeping pace with her dietary needs. So we’re supplementing again, which feels like failure. Sometimes she gets so mad that the milk isn’t coming out fast enough that she won’t even nurse. When I had to resort to putting droppers full of formula on my boobs while nursing so she’d keep sucking – something we had to do with the Hatchling – it REALLY felt like failure. Sprout had her first doctor’s appointment today, and she’s not gained any weight, so the doctor says we need to supplement even more, which at this point I’d be happy to do, only for the last day and a half she’s been so sleepy it’s hard to get her to eat anything at ALL. At a rational level (not a place I’m having an easy time getting to today) I know that this is something that we’ll work out, we’ll get past it, if I can’t nurse her it’s not the end of the world, etc., etc. But it’s driving me nuts. I’m not enjoying the really excellent baby she is because I’m feeling so bad about not being able to feed her. (Also feeling bad about: the upheaval to the Hatchling’s life; being a basket case all the time; not drinking enough water – yeah, we’ve hit absurd levels.) I HATE that I feel like a failure for the nursing not coming easily. I hate how much it will bother me if I end up not being able to nurse Sprout. I hate that I’m feeling so anxious when I really thought that the anxiety would be better this time around – when it SHOULD be better this time around. I hate that I’m already projecting that things will always suck when chances are that next week or even tomorrow I’ll probably feel much better. Argh. I also hate that I can’t write a more engaging damn blog post. OK. Sorry for the venting. Here are the positive things I’m trying to focus on when I feel fail-ey:

1. Look, she’s really damn cute, OK? I mean, she is a Very. Cute. Baby.
2. Having had feeding problems before, we’re at least prepared with all the techniques, so I have some idea what to do in response.
3. The Hatchling is being a total trouper even though all this is clearly stressing her out.
4. Mr. Squab continues to be a tower of strength.
5. This baby actually sleeps in the car, something the Hatchling never quite grasped.
6. My mother-in-law is here, cooking and taking care of us, and she brought a huge batch of my favorite molasses cookies with her, one of which I am going to go eat.

Just … remind me to focus on this list, ok?

Gah. Busy.

Relatives in town.
Prepping for Kid 2.0.
(One month left. ACK.)
Trying to catch up on teaching stuff.
Would prefer to be sleeping, eating or peeing most of the time.


I will post a cute video tomorrow, I promise.

In the meantime, is it just me, or does “the Island of Sodor” sound a lot like it should be a locale in the evil part of Middle Earth? I mean, “Sodor” is kind of a creepy name, right?

OK. I’m going to take a shower, pee, and go to bed. May your evening be equally satisfying.


I’m still #$*()#@$#&! sick. I no longer feel like death warmed over and I’ve been able to sleep a little the last two nights, but I’m sure as hell not healthy. Twice today I had a coughing fit so hard that I puked. Fun times. I’ve also had four, count ’em, FOUR doctor’s appointments this week, because the fetus hasn’t been cooperating properly with the damn monitoring. Nothing to worry about, she’s totally fine, I just have to keep going in. It’s a pain in the goddamn ass.

The Hatchling is doing better but her sleep schedule is all fubar, a usual side-effect of illness with a toddler. Today, for example, she did not take a nap. Under normal circumstances this would have pushed me right over the edge, but my resistance has been so weakened that I’ve moved beyond aggravation to resignation. We played with her new legos and I gave her a pedicure.

Hope your week has been less diseased than ours. Anyone know any non-medicinal methods for mucous eradication?

Not as rejuvenating as I would have thought

I had a lovely weekend with my chicas, doing nothing but listening to music, playing board games, eating, reading and sleeping. (Also engaging with the red squirrel who had taken up residence at the cabin and was damned if he’d leave his warm winter home just because *we* were there, but that’s another story.) I enjoyed every minute of it, especially the sleeping in part, but am feeling surprisingly un-rested now that I’m back. As in, not so much rested at all. Which is weird. And also kind of sucks a little, because tomorrow I have to start the day off with a bang getting a biophysical profile at the hospital at 7:30 am (GAH) and then jaunt off to an all-day “faculty development” seminar. This means I have to take a shower tonight and look kind of presentable tomorrow. I kind of feel like lying down and dying just thinking about all the energy the above items will take. THERE IS NOT ENOUGH COFFEE IN THE WORLD, Y’ALL.

Oh, and? It’s the coldest week of the year. With a vengeance. Have I mentioned how much I hate this stupid state in the winter?

P.S. The Hatchling remains resolutely un-potty-trained. Do they make diapers big enough for college students, do you think?

Heading Out

I’m leaving at noon today for my annual Estrogen-Weekend up north. (Mmmmm … estrogen.) We’ll have pillow fights in our skimpy baby-doll pajamas, paint each other’s nails, and engage in group massages. At least that’s what Mr. Squab would like to think. Send supportive thoughts to Mr. Squab, who has indicated that he is going to attempt to potty-train the (completely uninterested) Hatchling while I’m gone. Please, Lord, let it be so.

Have a happy weekend!

Reticence is not her problem

Yesterday the Hatchling and I went to tour a possible preschool for her for fall (because, yes, you have to start at LEAST this far in advance if you want to get your choice, which is kind of giving me hives. Not to mention figuring out how we’ll pay for it, which is also giving me hives.) It was a great place, very welcoming and kid-friendly, a really nice director, great activities, etc. – I hope we can swing it, because the Hatchling would just thrive on it and it might keep me from losing my mind. Anyhoo. We we touring with another mom and little girl and let me tell you, they were a study in contrasts. The other girl, Grace, was very nice and friendly, but she also was perfectly happy to stay close to her mommy for the duration of the tour, a concept which the Hatchling completely fails to grasp. From the Hatchling’s perspective, this was clearly a place designed with her in mind, so why would she have any qualms about, you know, just joining in? She wouldn’t! We visited one classroom where they were having story time, and I whispered to the Hatchling that she had to be very quiet in this room, because other kids were listening to the story. Riiiiiiiight. She marched right up to the back of the group, sat down on the mat next to the nearest kid, and in her usual enthusiastic voice, said, “Hi, kids! What’s goin’ on?” I went over to try and shush her, and the little kid sitting next to her asked the teacher “Why are there some kids in here who don’t belong?”

I got her out of there without too much further disruption, and in the next room we visited, they were having open playtime, with lots of different stations for the kids to choose from. It was nicely chaotic and I imagine most normal children would have opted for Grace’s strategy of watching the action safely by her mother’s side. I, however, do not have a normal kid. The Hatchling zipped right into the middle of the room where a teacher was preparing some craft supplies, took the cup of glue and paintbrush out of the teacher’s hands, and started making her own collage. She was perfectly polite about it, she just wasn’t at all shy. The teacher looked up at me and said “she seems to be right at home!” and indeed, she did. It didn’t make for the most, uh, relaxing tour of the facilities, and I think Grace was appalled, but I guess it was good to see that the Hatchling would fit right in. I’m glad that she’s so outgoing – makes it easier to make friends – but I don’t know whether to be hopeful or fearful of the inevitable time(s) her friendly overtures are rejected. I don’t want her to steamroller over the other kids, but I know her little heart will be broken if someone doesn’t want to make friends with her. Sigh.

Gestational Update

Well, it’s officially ten weeks from today that the newest member of the Squab family will make herself known. Somehow ten weeks sounds like an awfully short amount of time. Shorter even than 2 1/2 months, which also sounds really short. There is a slight undercurrent of panic running through the household – I mean, not that we didn’t know this day was coming and all, but FUCK! TWO KIDS!

On the other hand, if there were an option to have someone else handle the last ten weeks of gestation, I would so be at the front of the line to sign up for THAT. This whole peeing-every-half-hour, can’t-get-comfortable, no-sleeping, still-nauseated, back-aching, ligament-pulling CRAP was getting old like a month ago, and I will not miss it ONE. BIT.

I also had an unpleasant reminder that I’m in the high-risk category of expecting mothers at my OB check-up today. Nothing scary or dangerous, but starting this week they want me to come in twice a week for a fetal non-stress test (where they count the baby’s kicks and monitor its heart rate) and an ultrasound (where they check the baby’s movements and measure the amount of fluid in the uterus). Twice a week. And these aren’t little five-minute things, either – we’re talking a good 30-45 minutes per procedure, not including the time it takes to get to and from the hospital and wait in the waiting room. Oh, and plus I still have my regular OB visits to add in there. Gah. I had to do the same thing last time, but only once a week. When I asked if there was any especial cause for concern or reason why they wanted to see me so often this time, my doc said not really, they’re just being extra cautious because of the hyptertension and the gestational diabetes and the insulin dependency and and and and … The last time around this freaked me out, all this talk of increased risk of stillbirth and labor complications and such, and I guess maybe it should be freaking me out this time, except, you know, last time everything turned out just fine and I really feel like it will this time, too. Not that I wouldn’t rather NOT have all the complications, but it seems like this is just how my body does the gestation thing, and as long as I’m doing my part to miminize the complications, things will be OK. Which is great as a positive mental attitude, but doesn’t do squat for finding me childcare or helping me juggle my schedule to accomodate these appointments. Sigh. It will all work out – Mr. Squab will adjust his schedule some, and some friends have said they’ll watch the Hatchling whenever needed, and somehow it will get done, but – have I mentioned how this pregnancy has only confirmed our decision to quit after two kids? Yeah, you can add this whole post to the growing list of reasons why two will be PLENTY.


I swear, this pregnancy is making me a total klutz. I’m not saying that I’m the epitome of grace at the best of times, but the last two weeks my level of physical ineptitude has really gotten ridiculous. I can’t fix a meal without dropping at least three key items on the floor. I can no longer pour myself a drink without spilling at least a few drops. I drop … everything. Books, shoes, silverware, my glasses, you name it. I can’t even type as well as I used to be able to. IT IS IRRITATING. Particularly when I’m making many things for Christmas-type gifts, and the band-aids! I have used so many! I’m presently working on the theory that drops/smudges of actual human blood give gifts that handmade, one-of-a-kind essence that you just can’t buy. (And really, why would you WANT to?)

In other news, my other blog has been de-spammified, so there are new recommendations up for your yuletide reading pleasure.