Repressed Memory

I have been in bed for the last 45 minutes, trying to fall asleep.  I was almost there, when suddenly, a memory which I seriously think I had been blocking out of my mind for the last four months came to surface.  I feel compelled to share it.

Four months ago, I took the kids to San Antonio, Texas, in the hopes of being present during the birth of my best friend's daughter.  She was born at a freestanding birth center run by midwives.  Unfortunately, her birthday was almost two weeks after we returned back to Switzerland.

Because I was potentially going to be present for the birth, the kids and I went with my friend Leta to one of her prenatal appointments at the birth center. 

A note on birth centers:  (I love birth centers, by the way)  They tend to be very minimalist, serene, silent, peaceful places, filled with the gentle smell of unscented candle wax moving through the three states of matter, and occasionally the sort of silence that comes right after someone stops writing on parchment with a quill.  They are a testament to the beauty and sacredness of birth. 

However, they should really have a disclaimer on the door, "Pregnant ladies:  Enjoy the minimalism, peacefullnes, serenitiy, and silence, because when you walk out of here with your baby, you will never experience these things again."

So you can imagine, taking my children into the birth center was sort of like releasing bulls in a China closet.  But we did our best, and at least 50% of my children remained calm and quiet, as usual for my kids.  During the more "intimate" parts of the exam, the kids and I stepped into the waiting area, where there was a basket of toys and children's books.  All was well and good, but... inevitably, somebody had to pee.  Ok, I admit, it was me.

Do you have small children?  So you are aware that peeing is a group activity.  The two kids and I all filed into the small bathroom in the birth center, and I tried to accomplish my task as quickly as possible.

Do you have small children?  So you are aware that obstetricians' and midwives' bathrooms always contain random cups full of other people's pee, just waiting for the appropriate member of the staff to analyze it. 

I really feel like I could end the post here, as I think you can all see where this is going, but I'll go ahead and finish it, for therapeutic reasons.

I was sitting on the potty, doing my thing.  I had a firm grip on Ivy, who was attempting to unlock the bathroom door and escape, mom's dignity be damned.  So far, par for the public bathroom course.

Normally well-behaved Eliot took a sudden interest in the neon red medical waste box hanging on the wall.  With visions of heroin laced hypodermic needles and HIV soaked cotton balls dancing in my imagination, I made a split-second decision.  I let go of Ivy to wrench his prying fingers away from the box.  There was almost certainly panicked yelling involved.

Ivy took her freedom, and, instead of making a run for it, she suddenly noticed the sample cup of some other pregnant woman's pee on a table specially provided just for sample-holding.

She grabbed the cup.  The cup began to tip.  She was knocking a cup of someone else's pee onto herself.

Time really seems to slow down in these moments, doesn't it?

I took advantage of the strange slow-time worm hole we had entered and snatched the tumbling cup from the air.  The time-space continuum snapped back into place.  A wrestling match ensued, during which Ivy and I were both copiously splashed with some random person's urine. 

Luckily, the random person in question had left a generous sample, and I was able to save a respectable quantity.  I seriously did not want to have to explain to the other woman in the waiting room why she needed to go pee again.  What is the social protocol in this situation?  Would I need to buy her a bottle of water?  Reassure her that her wonderful baby would never grow up to become a feral lab monkey like mine did?

Having some stranger's urine splashed all over you and your toddler is sort of awkward.

Having to discuss the situation with the stranger who produced the urine would be more awkward.

So I suppressed what was about to be a very high pitched scream followed by vomiting, and got to work instead.

I sterilized Ivy and I as best I could.  I think I pinned Eliot to the wall with my foot to keep him away from the medical waste box while I scrubbed Ivy and me down.  (Why don't midwives keep wire brushes in their bathrooms?)

I used about 30 paper towels to clean up all evidence, and then we tranquilly walked back into the waiting room and sat down. Personal hygiene standards were completely violated, but socially awkward crisis was averted.

And a few days later, I somehow completely blocked the entire event from my memory.

SOOTC

That is, straight out of the camera.  They haven't been lightroomed yet!  Sigh.

We are in hot, muggy Texas, awaiting the arrival of Leta and Tim's baby girl... waiting... waiting...

To keep cool and pass the time, the kids and I have been doing a whole lot of water play.

She just has to bat her little lashes...

And anyone would give her the world on a platter.

Chebran

*****************************
To: Felix
From: Ivy

R U cmng ovr?  dnt bring N.  lol

GTG nap time.  C U L8R! 
****************************

He hasn't written back.  I wonder if he's mad at me.  Am I coming on too strong?  Was it that funky diaper odor from last time?  Why doesn't he text me back?



****************************
To: Ivy
From: Felix

Sry.  Mom wdn't lv me alone.  C U after nap.
Brng anml crckrs.

****************************

What peek-a-boo looks like

Chili and Cornbread

If it were anybody else's kid, this would be so gross. 

The Sensitive One

It is hard to know, sometimes, what to do with a sensitive child in public.  I can remember reading in the What to Expect books about babies throwing tantrums and what to do, and I remember thinking, with Eliot, "Why on earth did they put this information in this chapter?  Only 2 year olds throw tantrums, not 14 month olds!"  Little did I know... 

Ivy will occasionally go into too-limp-to-pick-up-screaming-kicking fits when she doesn't get what she wants.  This is always more interesting in public.  However, in her credit, these fits are always provoked by me creating a situation which is too much for her.  Usually, this means trying to get her to be patient for just one minute when she is within 30 minutes of a regular nap time or meal time.  If I can avoid being caught outside without snacks, I can usually avert the crisis, but not always.  Somtimes she gets wound up to the point where only nursing and napping will cure her, both of which are very hard to do, for example, on the metro.

And yet, life must go on and we must occasionally venture from our secure apartment.  So if you are in the neighborhood and see an Americanish looking blond with a screaming toddler tucked under her arm fleeing...  try not to panic.  I promise I'm taking her home to nurse her to sleep, not heading to the forest to abandon her amongst the Yeti.  At least, not yet.   

"Who, me?"

Bellybutton

Ivy has recently become fascinated with that little souvenir of her life in the womb.  I'm pretty sure that Ivy thinks if she presses hard enough, she'll be able to turn the lights on and off in the apartment. 

We finally got a break in the weather today.  We went over to the fields and played cars and soccer for a long time, and Eliot and I even took our shoes off! 

Stop bothering me, I'm reading.

Another rainy day, so we did a whole lot of this today. 

It's going to rain this weekend...

But today has been a nice sunny day so far.

I hate kids.

Well, not my own.  Not even all kids, just most of them.  Actually, I'm not really sure what percentage of kids I hate, but a significant portion fall into this category. 

Let me preface this by saying kids to mean, dumb things all the time, mine included.  This is not the first or last time one of my kids has gotten knocked down on the playground, though up until now it has been by accident or in an evenly matched scuffle.  However, my kids usually have the shame to hide, lie, or apologize immediately when they pull a stunt they know is wrong and are called on it.

Today at the playground, some little four year old hellion walked up to Ivy, grabbed her by the arm, and yanked her down to the ground, then started climbing up the slide like nothing had happened. 

I was on top of that kid before I realized I had stood up. 

I had hold of him by the arm while he tried to escape, and in my best French said something like, "What the hell are you doing???"

No answer, just continued trying to escape my grasp.  I was about to give him a good hard shake when I remembered that if you shake someone else's kid, that's technically assault.  (If you shake your own kid, it's just parenting)  So I asked "WHERE IS THIS CHILD'S MOTHER?"

A woman detached herself form the group of people busy not watching thier own kids and came running over.

At this point, I do have to admit that she apologized and tried hard to get her own kid to apologize.  Instead, he called me, Ivy, and his mom various colorful names, attempted to hit his mom, and did just about everything but spit in her face trying to escape.  She then told him they were going in, and started packing their things.

Eliot was apparently totally traumatized by the events, as he would no longer leave my side to go play, so we took off on a walk. 

We passed by the playground about 20 minutes later, and I can't say I was surprised to see that the little hellion was not inside, but still playing out in the playground while his mom talked with her friends. 

I'm guessing she was saying something like "Gee, I just can't do anything with him.  He never listens to me.  I try and try to discipline him, but he's just too strong willed."

If you can't see me right now, just know that I am rolling my eyes.

Going out to the playground after Eliot's preschool is great- there are a group of wonderful kids and moms who get along well together and who watch their kids.  But when we go out in the afternoons... it's rolling the dice.  I think we'll be going on nature walks from now on. 





 

Playing with composition

I'm in trouble.

Every once in a while, Frederic gets a little out of hand.  He starts to think that this is "our" blog.  He makes irrational demands that I put certain pictures up on the blog.  Because I am a wonderful and caring person, I usually acquiesce.

But last weekend, I forgot.  I got all caught up in my bird pictures that I forgot about that day's big event:  Eliot and Ivy had their first ride on a peddle boat.  We rented a pedalo and went out on the lake for a half hour.  Eliot was enthralled... Ivy less so.  Probably because I refused to let her out of the back pack and walk off the edge of the boat.  Maybe when the water is a bit warmer...
Les voila :

 

And this is a picture of Eliot with one of the numerous log carvings along our stretch of the lake.  After a family meeting, we've decided this snake's name is Saruman.  

Down at the Fountain

A budding Intellectual

Self Portraits with a Tripod

Once again, I'm probably overdoing the "special effects" available in my software, but desaturating and tinting go a long way towards fixing skin imperfections...

These are some nursing self-portraits.  We don't get to see a lot of pictures of older babies/toddlers nursing.  There is a lot more horsing around than there is with a newborn.

Ludotheque

Eliot, Ivy, and I went on an adventure yesterday and discovered an easily-accessible ludotheque.  A ludotheque is like a toy library.  For a very nominal fee, each kid can borrow two toys for up to three weeks at a time.  I am so, so happy to have found this.  It will be nice to change things up without needing to purchase new toys and... dare I say it... waste a bunch of natural resources to make something that's only going to get played with for a couple of weeks anyway.   Thankfully, most of the toys available are wooden and don't have on/off switches! 

Bad news: they close for school holidays.  Sigh. 

What child is this?

I have always assumed that Ivy's sleep would get better.  In the long term (like, geological time frame) I held out hope that she would eventually start taking naps and sleeping through the night, and, just generally, stop being so fussy and tired all of the time.

As usual, I was right.  :-) 

Ivy has just always been, from the beginning, a baby that needed to be in the action.  She wanted to be with us, at all times, doing the things we are doing.  She still does, and now, finally, she can.  I think mastering walking is what allowed her sleep to settle into a routine.  She toddles around after us, plays the way Eliot plays, and is much, much happier.  (She even makes a vroom sound when she rolls his cars around, though she is imitating him rather than imitating an actual car noise I think)

Since our return, Ivy has been sleeping through the night 12-14 hours without interruption, and taking a 2 hour nap.  In other words, she's getting about 3-4 more hours of sleep than she used to.  Wow.  Not only that, but I am putting her down awake in her crib, she waves and says "bye bye" while snuggling her lion, and then when I get to the doorway, she rolls over and falls asleep.

What this also means is that we have gone from nursing about 6 times a day to 3 times a day over the last week, without any complaining from her or work from me.  This is a much more manageable level and helps assure me that yes, someday, she will wean.

Just not quite yet.

Ivy also had her 12 month pediatrician visit, and she has completely fallen off the chart for weight and almost fallen off for height.  I've got to bring her back in three months and as long as she has gained something, the doctor won't be concerned. 

And while I'm bragging about her, she now says "wawa" (water), "mama", and "bye-bye".  I believe I have also heard a few tentative "dada"s since getting home, but we'll give it another week to be sure. 

Here's something you don't see every day (at least not chez moi):

A well-meaning friend gave me a pacifier during my phase of desperation, hoping it might help Ivy sleep better.  Neither she nor I were particularly interested in it though, and so it just ended up in a basket on the changing table for months and months.  I gave it to her to play with yesterday while I was changing her, and suddenly Ms. Everything-plastic-makes-me-gag couldn't get enough of it.  She walked around with it for about ten minutes before Eliot stole it, and who knows where he put it.

p.s.  Doesn't Ivy look just like an owl with those big dark eyes? 

Daddy!

The kids were soooo glad to be home with daddy!  Today we went out for some fresh air and had a nice afternoon in the hazy sunshine. 

I'm working on creating a flikr account for hosting my photos, but am still trying to figure out how flikr, blogger, and facebook all come together into a system that does not require multiple hours per day to update.  Hmmmm.