We all know that classic song, The Wheels on the Bus. Some of the lyrics are standard:
The wheels on the bus go round and round
The wipers on the bus go swish swish swish
The driver on the bus goes move on back
The doors on the bus go open and shut
The money on the bus goes clink clink clink
(Personally, I think this should be changed, but to what? Tap tap tap in Boston, zing zing zing in New York City?)
The children on the bus go up and down
The baby on the bus goes wah wah wah
There are some variations. The mommy on the bus might go shh shh shh.
One musician I know says the mommy on the bus goes I love you, the daddy goes shh shh shh, and the nanny goes sit back down. I like that one.
The other night at a neighborhood sing-a-long I heard one that I'd never heard before. My former boss, the sweetest woman you will ever meet, busted out:
The parents on the bus go that's okay, that's okay, that's okay.
The mom sitting next to me and I looked at each other and I whispered, "That's not what I would say!" We had a good chuckle, then continued singing.
To each his own. It's a fun song, no matter who's riding the bus.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
The Brother
Ah, The Brother. We don't call him The Brother anymore. He has all sorts of nicknames, the current favorite being Grayson. Grayson is Theo's alter ego; the one who is awake when he's supposed to be sleeping. The one who bats the spoon away when he's supposed to be eating. The one who bites shoulders. I don't use Grayson so much--somewhere along the line, I started calling him Bup. Bup is naughty and cute at the same time. Theo should be sleeping for 2 hours, but wakes up after 45 minutes-Bup! Buppa! He's so cute, you just can't stay mad.
Little Bup is 8 months old now. Where has the time gone?
Monday, November 11, 2013
Great Idea?
Check out this cool bathroom stall--it was in an airport somewhere. California? In any case, seems like it could be a great thing for moms. Do they have them in the men's bathroom? Hopefully the baby wouldn't get freaked out (or splashed) by the automatic flusher. Hmm, maybe it's not such a good idea. Thoughts?
Monday, November 4, 2013
Nanny Ambivalence
Aurora wants to tell me how she feels, but she lets me down easy. "Alex, I like Mary Poppins and Maria (from The Sound of Music) better than...the nannies in our real lives."
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Play Therapy
Aurora was playing with her dolls, and I thought it would be great fun to set up an analyst's office. She didn't agree.
Doctor Look
We're still working through having a new brother in the house. Aurora and I often play Baby, which usually involves bringing our babies to daycare, or gym class, or taking naps. For awhile, we were going to the doctor. A lot. The treatments for a sick baby were pretty harsh.
Aurora has a plastic baby spoon that has plastic baby food in it. It's brown; I guess it can be applesauce, stewed carrots, whatever. Aurora calls it caramel. One time my baby had things on her back, I think they were called markels. The treatment for markels was to put caramel all over baby's back. It was messy, and I was cringing the whole time, but that's what the doctor ordered. Baby got better, thank goodness.
Another time, my baby needed shots. Aurora was the doctor, and I was the mom whose baby needed to see the doctor. She told me that my baby needed shots. "You have to watch," she said ominously. My poor baby got a shot in each of her eyes, her nose and her mouth. After every injection, Doctor Aurora would look at me to make sure I was watching. I cringed and made a face each time.
Baby always gets better, and our real baby has never gotten mistreated. Yay for play therapy!
Aurora has a plastic baby spoon that has plastic baby food in it. It's brown; I guess it can be applesauce, stewed carrots, whatever. Aurora calls it caramel. One time my baby had things on her back, I think they were called markels. The treatment for markels was to put caramel all over baby's back. It was messy, and I was cringing the whole time, but that's what the doctor ordered. Baby got better, thank goodness.
Another time, my baby needed shots. Aurora was the doctor, and I was the mom whose baby needed to see the doctor. She told me that my baby needed shots. "You have to watch," she said ominously. My poor baby got a shot in each of her eyes, her nose and her mouth. After every injection, Doctor Aurora would look at me to make sure I was watching. I cringed and made a face each time.
Baby always gets better, and our real baby has never gotten mistreated. Yay for play therapy!
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Moving Target
So a few weeks ago I took Theo out by myself, with him sleeping safe and snug inside the Ergo baby carrier. It was a beautiful day; I was looking forward to a leisurely walk to the center of town, maybe hit the Starbucks. I was hoping I'd run into people I know.
As soon as I stepped outside and started walking down the hill from his house, I realized this wouldn't be the relaxed walk I had been anticipating. His little head was bobbing around, so I kept my hand on it to keep it steady. I kept thinking I was going to trip, and he'd be the first thing on the sidewalk. I told myself to breathe and not panic; it was supposed to be a relaxing walk!
Then I crossed the street. A huge truck came around the corner and almost hit us. Now I had two hands on Theo in the carrier, and suddenly I felt like I was in the middle of a video game: Nanny Neighborhood Hell, rated N for Neurotic. There were obstacles everywhere, and I was the target. Someone opened a store door on my right. A bicycle sped past on my left. People and children walking way too fast passed me, and I had to dart in and out of them while protecting the baby strapped to my chest.
It was a sunny day. My goal changed from Starbucks to finding a shady spot. I couldn't believe there was no shade for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, I found a bench and collapsed onto it, sweating and checking to make sure Theo was breathing as he slept with his face into my chest. I was far from relaxed. I wanted to go back to Theo's house. I changed my route to avoid more targets, and we made it home safely. I waited about a month till I took him out in the Ergo again. I'm counting the days till he has full neck control. Won't be long now.
As soon as I stepped outside and started walking down the hill from his house, I realized this wouldn't be the relaxed walk I had been anticipating. His little head was bobbing around, so I kept my hand on it to keep it steady. I kept thinking I was going to trip, and he'd be the first thing on the sidewalk. I told myself to breathe and not panic; it was supposed to be a relaxing walk!
Then I crossed the street. A huge truck came around the corner and almost hit us. Now I had two hands on Theo in the carrier, and suddenly I felt like I was in the middle of a video game: Nanny Neighborhood Hell, rated N for Neurotic. There were obstacles everywhere, and I was the target. Someone opened a store door on my right. A bicycle sped past on my left. People and children walking way too fast passed me, and I had to dart in and out of them while protecting the baby strapped to my chest.
It was a sunny day. My goal changed from Starbucks to finding a shady spot. I couldn't believe there was no shade for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, I found a bench and collapsed onto it, sweating and checking to make sure Theo was breathing as he slept with his face into my chest. I was far from relaxed. I wanted to go back to Theo's house. I changed my route to avoid more targets, and we made it home safely. I waited about a month till I took him out in the Ergo again. I'm counting the days till he has full neck control. Won't be long now.
Monday, May 27, 2013
Crying for a Carrier
So I got rid of the Snugli, and was determined to find a baby carrier that worked. I decided to go to the local maternity store, where the staffers were supposed to be nurturing and cater to your every mommy and nanny need. The most convenient location happened to be in the vicinity of the Boston Marathon, which had been bombed about 2 weeks prior. I hadn't been to that section of town since the bombings, and I knew I'd be emotional. I gave it a go anyway, for the baby. And for me, and for all the people affected by the tragedy that day.
As soon as I got off the T and climbed up the steps to the street, I started crying. I looked to my left, and there was the Finish line, bright yellow and blue. There were police officers everywhere, and lots of people going about their business. It looked like a normal city scene, except it wasn't normal, not to me. I saw people laughing, having conversations, and walking briskly. I didn't like that. I felt that we were on sacred ground--how dare people carry on as if hundreds weren't injured just a few days ago?? I wanted people to walk slowly and silently. But of course, that's not how life is; people move on and go about their lives. I stumbled to my destination. It was strange--the same streets I had walked down for 20 years had a different look to them now. My mind kept flashing to images that I had seen on TV, and that's how I saw the streets this time. "There's the corner where the younger bomber stood after the second bomb went off. Here's the Walgreen's that was on the news again and again, the sound of the bomb going off and people screaming and running. Here's where the stands stood where that little boy was killed."
I kept my head down and tried to think of the task at hand. I wanted a carrier to put my new charge in so that we could go outside and take a pleasant walk around our quiet neighborhood. I held it together, knowing that the first person I talked to might get an earful.
And get an earful she did. I walked into the store, and a nice lady said, "Hi, can I help you?" I immediately burst into tears, and another employee got a box of tissues and thrust it at me." I stammered, "Hi, sorry, I just...it's the first time I've...(sniff sniff) been here since the Marathon, and I...(sniff) how are you guys doing?" They said they were fine, though it was hard. I finally told them what I was there for, and one of the women led me to the carrier rack with sample carriers. I tried on the lightest Ergo, which was recommended for smaller framed women like me. She put a giant baby doll in the carrier to test it out. It felt pretty good! Lightweight, comfortable...maybe this was the one. She told me that I'd need an insert for Theo, since he was so young. Since I knew we had an insert at the house, I didn't get one, but I got the carrier. Mission accomplished!
As soon as I got off the T and climbed up the steps to the street, I started crying. I looked to my left, and there was the Finish line, bright yellow and blue. There were police officers everywhere, and lots of people going about their business. It looked like a normal city scene, except it wasn't normal, not to me. I saw people laughing, having conversations, and walking briskly. I didn't like that. I felt that we were on sacred ground--how dare people carry on as if hundreds weren't injured just a few days ago?? I wanted people to walk slowly and silently. But of course, that's not how life is; people move on and go about their lives. I stumbled to my destination. It was strange--the same streets I had walked down for 20 years had a different look to them now. My mind kept flashing to images that I had seen on TV, and that's how I saw the streets this time. "There's the corner where the younger bomber stood after the second bomb went off. Here's the Walgreen's that was on the news again and again, the sound of the bomb going off and people screaming and running. Here's where the stands stood where that little boy was killed."
I kept my head down and tried to think of the task at hand. I wanted a carrier to put my new charge in so that we could go outside and take a pleasant walk around our quiet neighborhood. I held it together, knowing that the first person I talked to might get an earful.
And get an earful she did. I walked into the store, and a nice lady said, "Hi, can I help you?" I immediately burst into tears, and another employee got a box of tissues and thrust it at me." I stammered, "Hi, sorry, I just...it's the first time I've...(sniff sniff) been here since the Marathon, and I...(sniff) how are you guys doing?" They said they were fine, though it was hard. I finally told them what I was there for, and one of the women led me to the carrier rack with sample carriers. I tried on the lightest Ergo, which was recommended for smaller framed women like me. She put a giant baby doll in the carrier to test it out. It felt pretty good! Lightweight, comfortable...maybe this was the one. She told me that I'd need an insert for Theo, since he was so young. Since I knew we had an insert at the house, I didn't get one, but I got the carrier. Mission accomplished!
Monday, May 13, 2013
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
How to Swaddle a Baby, Nanny Style
1. Be a nanny who has never taken care of a baby before.
2. Watch swaddle video. Realize you're dating yourself. Correct "video" to DVD.
3. Get used to baby over a few weeks. Become confident.
4. Put content baby in bassinet so you can position giant gauze blanket in crib.
5. Position blanket perfectly.
6. Put baby on blanket. Remember DVD acronym: DUDU (down, up, down, up).
7. Do first step correctly. Put baby's arm next to his side, and pull blanket down.
8. Say, "UP." Take rest of blanket and pull it up, next to baby's shoulder. Watch baby kick his legs.
9. Say, "DOWN." Pull rest of blanket underneath baby, and mumble something about a belt, and a tuck.
10. Break a nail.
11. Tuck all remaining fabric all over baby. Look at baby, who resembles a sack of moving potatoes.
12. Try again.
13. Repeat #12 three times.
14. Decide that baby is awake so he doesn't need to be swaddled anyway, and put him in Ergo baby carrier. Baby will fall asleep immediately.
2. Watch swaddle video. Realize you're dating yourself. Correct "video" to DVD.
3. Get used to baby over a few weeks. Become confident.
4. Put content baby in bassinet so you can position giant gauze blanket in crib.
5. Position blanket perfectly.
6. Put baby on blanket. Remember DVD acronym: DUDU (down, up, down, up).
7. Do first step correctly. Put baby's arm next to his side, and pull blanket down.
8. Say, "UP." Take rest of blanket and pull it up, next to baby's shoulder. Watch baby kick his legs.
9. Say, "DOWN." Pull rest of blanket underneath baby, and mumble something about a belt, and a tuck.
10. Break a nail.
11. Tuck all remaining fabric all over baby. Look at baby, who resembles a sack of moving potatoes.
12. Try again.
13. Repeat #12 three times.
14. Decide that baby is awake so he doesn't need to be swaddled anyway, and put him in Ergo baby carrier. Baby will fall asleep immediately.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Snugli Snafu
She told me he would get like this. She warned me. I didn't believe her. Now I believe her. Mom said that one day Theo would cry and freak out and it would take a lot to soothe him. Yeah, right. Every time I picked up Theo he went right to sleep. What was she talking about? Today I found out.
Today he was freaking out; meaning, crying and not stopping. I chose this very bad moment to try and put him into the new Snugli carrier I received in the mail last week. Surely being in the Snugli would calm him down!
I had been so excited to put him in the carrier and take him for a walk. I imagined it. I'd put him in, walk down to the Starbucks, perhaps the local bookstore, and return in 30 minutes or so. Passersby would stop and coo at my little charge, and compliment me on my slick carrier, complete with a herringbone pattern and racing stripe down the middle. "It's a Snugli" I would say. "Oh, I only know about the Baby Bjorn..." they would reply, and regret buying the ubiquitous blue carrier that everyone in our neighborhood had. I would walk away smugly with my Snugli.
But that's not what happened. Picture this: I put the Snugli on, and struggle with the fasteners. I think I've got the movements down (face plastic bar away from the baby, then slide up. Squeeze here, then unlatch here). I put Theo in the carrier and he starts crying. I'm trying to fasten the fasteners, but his little arm is in the way. He's turning red. I begin to sweat. I have 3 generations watching me: Aurora, Mom, and Grandma Spokane. GS tries to help, and Mom tries not to. Aurora pays no attention (thank goodness for the iPhone!). Theo cries and cries, and I finally slide, and click, and click again. I stand up and walk. He stops crying. I think about going outside. Theo feels me thinking about going outside, and starts crying again. When I move his little arm away from his chest and out of the arm hole, he cries harder. When I move his hood so it's not obstructing his face, he continues. Then he starts kicking his feet. I may not know jack about baby carriers, but I know when someone's not happy. Theo was not happy. I decide to take the blasted Snugli off and hold him the way he likes me to, with my arms that feel and smell like a person, not like plastic. I walk with him into his room to give everyone some peace and quiet.
But I can't take the carrier off by myself. I can't hold his head and unsnap the fastener with two hands, let alone one. I calmly walk back into the living room and say to GS, "Can you come here a minute?" She, professional nurse, mother of four, jumps right up and is at the ready. She helps me unlock Theo from his decorated torture device and holds him while I fan myself from sweating profusely. She teaches me the football hold, known in England as Tiger in a Tree. I copy the hold and walk back to the living room. Theo is as happy as...well, as happy as a tiger in a tree. All is calm. We would not be going outside this day.
Tomorrow I'm going to a baby store and I'm going to try on every carrier they have. The first one with latches that don't require a pit stop team, that's the one I'm getting. I just hope Theo likes it.
Today he was freaking out; meaning, crying and not stopping. I chose this very bad moment to try and put him into the new Snugli carrier I received in the mail last week. Surely being in the Snugli would calm him down!
I had been so excited to put him in the carrier and take him for a walk. I imagined it. I'd put him in, walk down to the Starbucks, perhaps the local bookstore, and return in 30 minutes or so. Passersby would stop and coo at my little charge, and compliment me on my slick carrier, complete with a herringbone pattern and racing stripe down the middle. "It's a Snugli" I would say. "Oh, I only know about the Baby Bjorn..." they would reply, and regret buying the ubiquitous blue carrier that everyone in our neighborhood had. I would walk away smugly with my Snugli.
But that's not what happened. Picture this: I put the Snugli on, and struggle with the fasteners. I think I've got the movements down (face plastic bar away from the baby, then slide up. Squeeze here, then unlatch here). I put Theo in the carrier and he starts crying. I'm trying to fasten the fasteners, but his little arm is in the way. He's turning red. I begin to sweat. I have 3 generations watching me: Aurora, Mom, and Grandma Spokane. GS tries to help, and Mom tries not to. Aurora pays no attention (thank goodness for the iPhone!). Theo cries and cries, and I finally slide, and click, and click again. I stand up and walk. He stops crying. I think about going outside. Theo feels me thinking about going outside, and starts crying again. When I move his little arm away from his chest and out of the arm hole, he cries harder. When I move his hood so it's not obstructing his face, he continues. Then he starts kicking his feet. I may not know jack about baby carriers, but I know when someone's not happy. Theo was not happy. I decide to take the blasted Snugli off and hold him the way he likes me to, with my arms that feel and smell like a person, not like plastic. I walk with him into his room to give everyone some peace and quiet.
But I can't take the carrier off by myself. I can't hold his head and unsnap the fastener with two hands, let alone one. I calmly walk back into the living room and say to GS, "Can you come here a minute?" She, professional nurse, mother of four, jumps right up and is at the ready. She helps me unlock Theo from his decorated torture device and holds him while I fan myself from sweating profusely. She teaches me the football hold, known in England as Tiger in a Tree. I copy the hold and walk back to the living room. Theo is as happy as...well, as happy as a tiger in a tree. All is calm. We would not be going outside this day.
Tomorrow I'm going to a baby store and I'm going to try on every carrier they have. The first one with latches that don't require a pit stop team, that's the one I'm getting. I just hope Theo likes it.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Conflicted about Conflict
My girl does not like conflict. When we're watching a show and someone gets in trouble, or the music changes and you know something bad is about to happen, she starts breathing heavy and covers her ears. I always talk her through it, and she comes out fine. In shows, there's always a happy ending.
Last Monday Boston got bombed. On Tuesday I prepared to take Aurora for an outing. We live close to Boston, and in fact I had been planning on taking her into Boston before the tragedy.
I wanted to know what she knew, so, with her mom there, I asked her what she knew. She said, "You know. You know..." Her mom coached her and told me at the same time, that some bad guys were at the marathon and there was an explosion and some people got hurt. Aurora nodded. She did not want to say it herself. Why would she want to?
When we got outside, she said, "I don't want to go downtown." I assured her we wouldn't, and I wondered when we would be able to. Just a few weeks ago I had taken her for a nice long walk a block from the area that is now a crime scene. I want to take her for a nice long walk again, ending up at the Public Garden, a beautiful space to run and play.
Yesterday, a week after the bombings, there was a moment of silence in Boston at 2:50 PM, the time when the first bomb went off. We were at the pool, getting ready for her swimming lesson at 3:00. A mom and child from Aurora's class, and Aurora and I had our own little moment of silence right there in the hallway next to the pool "for the good guys who helped." It felt really good.
One day I'll take Aurora downtown again. We'll make our own happy ending.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Nanny Barbie
There's this nanny who takes her kids to story time at the library. The first time I saw her, I wasn't sure if she was the mom or the nanny; she looked young, but I didn't want to make any assumptions (the average new mom in my town is about 38).
The next time I saw her, she told me she was the nanny. This young woman appears to be between the ages of 20 and 23. She's American. She has highlighted blond hair done up in a high ponytail, and a trim little body. She is naturally beautiful, but she adds just a touch of makeup so that her beauty is enhanced. Her outfits look like they come from Ann Taylor, without stains, spit up, or stray threads. She looks like a Barbie doll. She's not a Barbie, however, because I've talked to her, so I know she's a real person. She's not from Boston, though, I can tell. Maybe from the south, but without the accent. I'll ask her where she's from next time I see her.
Nanny Barbie takes care of not one, not two, but three children! The first time I saw her, she only had one, a little boy of about three. Next time she had a baby with her, 4 months old. The baby sat quietly during story time, cooing and drinking from a bottle, not making any noise at all. The third time I saw Nanny Barbie, she had an older girl with her, about five years old. She spoke nicely to each child, asked the older one to help the younger one with the art project, all while holding the angel baby and smiling radiantly. Perhaps I should call her Stepford Nanny.
Me? I'm a nanny too. I'll be 45 this month, but look 35 (just don't look at my grey roots). I don't wear makeup, and it's a good thing, because I was just diagnosed with chronic hives, so now I have to buy all new products that have no perfumes, dyes, or attractiveness in them. I have a slight muffin top that I cleverly hide with cardigan sweaters. I wear jeans every day; they may have stains of marker, chocolate, or just plain old dirt on them at any given time. My clothes come from wherever I bought them five years ago, or from friends. I do not look like a Barbie doll. Maybe Barbie's much shorter cousin.
I take care of a girl who just turned 4 and 3/4, and her 2 1/2 week old brother. My girl sits quietly during story time and loud in the library cafe. She cheers me on when we're running late for swimming. Yesterday at the Boston University campus where she takes swimming lessons, I was pushing her stroller very quickly. She belted out, "GO Alex, GO Alex!" like one would chant on the dance floor. We laugh, wrestle in the library coat room, and belt out Sunday school tunes on the T. I'm still learning how to take care of The Brother, but today I wore him in the Baby Bjorn, changed his poopy diaper, swaddled him, and put him to sleep by shushing loudly in his ear.
Nanny Barbie ain't got nothing on me.
The next time I saw her, she told me she was the nanny. This young woman appears to be between the ages of 20 and 23. She's American. She has highlighted blond hair done up in a high ponytail, and a trim little body. She is naturally beautiful, but she adds just a touch of makeup so that her beauty is enhanced. Her outfits look like they come from Ann Taylor, without stains, spit up, or stray threads. She looks like a Barbie doll. She's not a Barbie, however, because I've talked to her, so I know she's a real person. She's not from Boston, though, I can tell. Maybe from the south, but without the accent. I'll ask her where she's from next time I see her.
Nanny Barbie takes care of not one, not two, but three children! The first time I saw her, she only had one, a little boy of about three. Next time she had a baby with her, 4 months old. The baby sat quietly during story time, cooing and drinking from a bottle, not making any noise at all. The third time I saw Nanny Barbie, she had an older girl with her, about five years old. She spoke nicely to each child, asked the older one to help the younger one with the art project, all while holding the angel baby and smiling radiantly. Perhaps I should call her Stepford Nanny.
Me? I'm a nanny too. I'll be 45 this month, but look 35 (just don't look at my grey roots). I don't wear makeup, and it's a good thing, because I was just diagnosed with chronic hives, so now I have to buy all new products that have no perfumes, dyes, or attractiveness in them. I have a slight muffin top that I cleverly hide with cardigan sweaters. I wear jeans every day; they may have stains of marker, chocolate, or just plain old dirt on them at any given time. My clothes come from wherever I bought them five years ago, or from friends. I do not look like a Barbie doll. Maybe Barbie's much shorter cousin.
I take care of a girl who just turned 4 and 3/4, and her 2 1/2 week old brother. My girl sits quietly during story time and loud in the library cafe. She cheers me on when we're running late for swimming. Yesterday at the Boston University campus where she takes swimming lessons, I was pushing her stroller very quickly. She belted out, "GO Alex, GO Alex!" like one would chant on the dance floor. We laugh, wrestle in the library coat room, and belt out Sunday school tunes on the T. I'm still learning how to take care of The Brother, but today I wore him in the Baby Bjorn, changed his poopy diaper, swaddled him, and put him to sleep by shushing loudly in his ear.
Nanny Barbie ain't got nothing on me.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Meet The Brother
We went to the hospital and met Theo hours after he was born. Hours! This is the closest I've ever been to the birth of a baby--the whole process and all that. Imagine meeting a baby hours after he was born! He was all swaddled up with a blue hat on his head. He was adorable, and I'm not just saying that because he's my charge.
Mom made me hold him--no fooling around! I sat down with a pillow propped on my lap. I posed for a picture--on my face was some sort of grimacing smile. I was panicked, but I did it. I got the stiff arm from holding him, but he didn't move at all, and slept through the whole thing. Whew!
A day after everyone was home, I held him again. When he was being swaddled in preparation for the holding, I had a panic attack. I imagined his little head actually rolling off the couch and onto the floor. I like to talk through my fears. I had to say what I was imagining, to make myself feel better, but of course I couldn't do it in front of Aurora, so I spoke in code to Mom and Dad. I sounded like I had lost my marbles. Did they really want me to take care of their newborn?
This time I actually held his head with my hand, so I could face my fear head on, so to speak. His head was soft and warm. He made little movements with his mouth, it was so cute! I think it will be like everyone says; I'll get used to it, and I'll learn quickly.
I'll see him again tomorrow. I won't wait to be asked to hold him; I'll take a deep breath and ask first. In the words of Aurora...watch me.
Mom made me hold him--no fooling around! I sat down with a pillow propped on my lap. I posed for a picture--on my face was some sort of grimacing smile. I was panicked, but I did it. I got the stiff arm from holding him, but he didn't move at all, and slept through the whole thing. Whew!
A day after everyone was home, I held him again. When he was being swaddled in preparation for the holding, I had a panic attack. I imagined his little head actually rolling off the couch and onto the floor. I like to talk through my fears. I had to say what I was imagining, to make myself feel better, but of course I couldn't do it in front of Aurora, so I spoke in code to Mom and Dad. I sounded like I had lost my marbles. Did they really want me to take care of their newborn?
This time I actually held his head with my hand, so I could face my fear head on, so to speak. His head was soft and warm. He made little movements with his mouth, it was so cute! I think it will be like everyone says; I'll get used to it, and I'll learn quickly.
I'll see him again tomorrow. I won't wait to be asked to hold him; I'll take a deep breath and ask first. In the words of Aurora...watch me.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Waiting for the Day
Mom was due on Saturday.
I got the text on Wednesday night, after watching Survivor and turning off Modern Family because it was a repeat. Good timing, Theo! I ran around like a chicken with no head, packing a bag, preparing to spend the night with Aurora while Mom and Dad went to the hospital.
When I arrived, Mom was eating pad thai and Dad was walking through the condo, calmly gathering bags. Thank goodness I was wearing layers; I had to take my sweater off because I was sweating. At least someone was worked up! After everything was packed and Mom got dressed (she looked like she was going out to a nice restaurant--professional work clothes with a light scarf around her neck and jewelry, I'm not kidding!), off they went.
The plan was that I'd sleep in Mom and Dad's bed, and in the middle of the night, Aurora would come into the bedroom like she often does to sleep on a pull out sleeper. She wouldn't try to wake me or anything, and wouldn't know that it was me in the bed, not Mom and Dad, till the morning. I went to bed and slept fitfully. Sure enough, in the middle of the night (of course I had to check my iPhone to see what time it really was--12:30 AM), Aurora came in, had a sip of water from her water bottle, and fell promptly asleep. So did I.
Around 7:00 AM, Aurora came to the side of the bed. I was sure she would freak out as soon as she saw that it was me in her parents' bed. I prepared to soothe her tears. She crawled in beside me, and we snuggled for a few minutes. Then she really woke up and looked at me. Here's our conversation:
Me: Hi, it's me!
Aurora: (smiles)
Me: Mommy went to the hospital to have the baby!
Aurora: On Thursday?
Me: (I had to think a minute) Yes. Yes, today is Thursday, yep. It's so exciting!
Aurora: It is! And he'll come home on Saturday, and then he'll be here on Sunday, and Monday, and Tuesday, and Wednesday...(she went through the days of the week a couple of times)
No tears. No freaking out. No need for soothing words. She was fine. We got texts throughout the day saying that things were progressing as they should. Around lunchtime, Grandpa drove down, and we spend the afternoon together. At 5:00, I was preparing to leave for the day, as my shift had ended. I jokingly told Grandpa, "I'm leaving so that we'll get some news." No lie--I was in the vestibule, and I got the call that Theo had been born at 4:34 PM! 9 lbs, 6 oz.; roughly four times the weight of Aurora when she was born. New plan: Go back, have dinner together, and go to the hospital to meet The Brother.
I got the text on Wednesday night, after watching Survivor and turning off Modern Family because it was a repeat. Good timing, Theo! I ran around like a chicken with no head, packing a bag, preparing to spend the night with Aurora while Mom and Dad went to the hospital.
When I arrived, Mom was eating pad thai and Dad was walking through the condo, calmly gathering bags. Thank goodness I was wearing layers; I had to take my sweater off because I was sweating. At least someone was worked up! After everything was packed and Mom got dressed (she looked like she was going out to a nice restaurant--professional work clothes with a light scarf around her neck and jewelry, I'm not kidding!), off they went.
The plan was that I'd sleep in Mom and Dad's bed, and in the middle of the night, Aurora would come into the bedroom like she often does to sleep on a pull out sleeper. She wouldn't try to wake me or anything, and wouldn't know that it was me in the bed, not Mom and Dad, till the morning. I went to bed and slept fitfully. Sure enough, in the middle of the night (of course I had to check my iPhone to see what time it really was--12:30 AM), Aurora came in, had a sip of water from her water bottle, and fell promptly asleep. So did I.
Around 7:00 AM, Aurora came to the side of the bed. I was sure she would freak out as soon as she saw that it was me in her parents' bed. I prepared to soothe her tears. She crawled in beside me, and we snuggled for a few minutes. Then she really woke up and looked at me. Here's our conversation:
Me: Hi, it's me!
Aurora: (smiles)
Me: Mommy went to the hospital to have the baby!
Aurora: On Thursday?
Me: (I had to think a minute) Yes. Yes, today is Thursday, yep. It's so exciting!
Aurora: It is! And he'll come home on Saturday, and then he'll be here on Sunday, and Monday, and Tuesday, and Wednesday...(she went through the days of the week a couple of times)
No tears. No freaking out. No need for soothing words. She was fine. We got texts throughout the day saying that things were progressing as they should. Around lunchtime, Grandpa drove down, and we spend the afternoon together. At 5:00, I was preparing to leave for the day, as my shift had ended. I jokingly told Grandpa, "I'm leaving so that we'll get some news." No lie--I was in the vestibule, and I got the call that Theo had been born at 4:34 PM! 9 lbs, 6 oz.; roughly four times the weight of Aurora when she was born. New plan: Go back, have dinner together, and go to the hospital to meet The Brother.
Friday, March 15, 2013
The Brother
Any day now, Aurora will have a baby brother. Early on, I tried to guess his name before it became public. I guessed that his name was Theo; wrong. We started calling him The Brother, which I think is a great name, but a little impersonal. His name is now public, but I'll use a pseudonym for the purposes of this blog. His pseudonym is Theo. And by the way, it's really hard to spell pseudonym.
Snack Attack
We were eating snack at the library the other day. Aurora had a full bag of Pirate's Booty that looked mighty yummy, so I asked her if I could have one. She said, "It's my snack." I said, "C'mon, you're not even gonna eat that whole thing anyway." Her reply? "Watch me."
Don't you know that child finished the whole bag.
Don't you know that child finished the whole bag.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Crafty!
Aurora has this tee pee that we use as a tent when we play Camping. The first time I saw it, I wondered where it came from. Had to be the Disney store, because it has Disney princesses all over it. Target? Anyway, it was pretty cool. It folds up, and the four poles slide out evenly to make the tee pee shape. It has a netted frill on the entrance, and the windows have jewels on them. I wondered how much it cost.And then, shock of all shocks. I found out that AURORA'S GRANDMOTHER MADE IT!!!
Check it out. This grandma also made Aurora a purple fleece bathrobe, complete with hood and attached belt. I want her to be my grandma.
Car Doc
One day Aurora's car (a toy Volkswagen Beetle) wasn't feeling well. Aurora got the doctor kit and went to work. Here's the transcript:
Let me check your knees (under her breath, "Well, cars don't have knees, but...").
She gets on the phone. "Yes, yes, well, okay, you can help us."
Oh! I need my glasses! (inspects car)
Oh. Ah ha, let me see about that. Now I'm gonna check his eyes. Oh, here's your nose. Oh, maybe I have a better idea. Oh, I have a knife. I think you have like a...rip. I have a shot. Maybe tomorrow...
I think it might change a little bit.
Okay. Good. This is better than...did you get hit by a car? You did. How do you like it?
Funny, I see a bruise. It stings? Well...the car hit you? Well, Honey...here's something to swallow.
(runs back and forth, spins car wheel)
I think that's what's happening. That's the problem! I need my tools! (gets tool kit)
Here's a saw. (saws car)
Okay. (gets screwdriver) Okay. Oh. I think you'll like...let me check the seats (screwdriver
goes up and down in the seats)
Okay, that's good. Just one more thing! I need the hammer (bangs car).
Me: Did you fix it?
Aurora: I did.
Let me check your knees (under her breath, "Well, cars don't have knees, but...").
She gets on the phone. "Yes, yes, well, okay, you can help us."
Oh! I need my glasses! (inspects car)
Oh. Ah ha, let me see about that. Now I'm gonna check his eyes. Oh, here's your nose. Oh, maybe I have a better idea. Oh, I have a knife. I think you have like a...rip. I have a shot. Maybe tomorrow...
I think it might change a little bit.
Okay. Good. This is better than...did you get hit by a car? You did. How do you like it?
Funny, I see a bruise. It stings? Well...the car hit you? Well, Honey...here's something to swallow.
(runs back and forth, spins car wheel)
I think that's what's happening. That's the problem! I need my tools! (gets tool kit)
Here's a saw. (saws car)
Okay. (gets screwdriver) Okay. Oh. I think you'll like...let me check the seats (screwdriver
goes up and down in the seats)
Okay, that's good. Just one more thing! I need the hammer (bangs car).
Me: Did you fix it?
Aurora: I did.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Swimming Stuff
The other day I took Aurora to the local pool, different than the one where we have swimming lessons. We prepared as usual, putting on our bathing suits and stuffing things into a locker. I pointed out the similarities of the two locker rooms--they both had hand dryers, toilets (this locker room had no automatic flushers, yay!), and places to get dressed.
There was one huge difference. There was a sign on the wall that said, "You Must Take a Shower Before Entering the Pool." Oh boy. I pointed out the sign to Aurora, who was scared of showers and had never taken one. I had prepped her for showers back in the fall, when we were taking swimming lessons. I showed her how other people were taking showers, I had her stand outside the stall while I was taking a shower...she knew the drill, she had just never done it herself.
Back at the local pool, she knew the day had come. She's a rule follower, and she wanted to go swimming, so there was no way around it. She started to breathe heavy like she does when she's nervous, and I told her to just relax and not to even think about it until we had to do it. She immediately relaxed. Later, as I was getting ready, I asked her if she wanted to take the shower by herself or with me. She said with me. I told her we should think of some cheer we could do when it was finished. We agreed on holding hands and saying, "We did it! We did it!"
When the time came, I turned on the water, and we remarked on how the spray went outside of the shower onto the floor, which was pretty funny. I made sure the water was the right temperature, and then I took her hand. She came with me with no hesitation. That's what I love about Aurora. When she decides to conquer her fear, she just does it, boom! We got all wet, then did our cheer. She even stood still while I grabbed my phone to capture the moment. It was a huge milestone for her; I was so proud.
The pool water was so warm it felt like a bathtub. We swam and played around for an hour twice as long as a swimming lesson, and for most of that time we were the only ones. After awhile, a mom and her two kids joined us, and as we were getting out, a school friend of Aurora's arrived with her dad. We made a plan to meet at the pool next week. We discovered that there were two showers on the pool deck, one for grownups and one for kids, which was amazing. Aurora took the second shower of her life by herself and stayed in it for almost two minutes--I had to take her out!
We went back to the locker room to change. As I was changing back into my clothes, bathing suit bottom half on, top half off, I leaned over to get my shirt. Aurora was sitting on the bench in front of me, putting her socks on. She looked at me and said, "Boobs." I replied, "That's right!" and finished dressing.
Back in the lobby, Aurora lay down on a bench while I packed up the stroller. She practiced the New York accent I taught her a few weeks ago. I thought that she hadn't been paying attention, but there she was, saying, "Coffee...CAW-fee...Coffee...CAW-fee..." First a shower, and now this? My nanny heart just burst with pride for my little charge!
Not surprisingly, Aurora fell asleep on the way home, and I sat outside with her snoring in the stroller for about 15 minutes till she woke up. It was quite an exciting afternoon, and one that neither one of us will soon forget. What could be better than a shower, boobs, and coffee?
There was one huge difference. There was a sign on the wall that said, "You Must Take a Shower Before Entering the Pool." Oh boy. I pointed out the sign to Aurora, who was scared of showers and had never taken one. I had prepped her for showers back in the fall, when we were taking swimming lessons. I showed her how other people were taking showers, I had her stand outside the stall while I was taking a shower...she knew the drill, she had just never done it herself.
Back at the local pool, she knew the day had come. She's a rule follower, and she wanted to go swimming, so there was no way around it. She started to breathe heavy like she does when she's nervous, and I told her to just relax and not to even think about it until we had to do it. She immediately relaxed. Later, as I was getting ready, I asked her if she wanted to take the shower by herself or with me. She said with me. I told her we should think of some cheer we could do when it was finished. We agreed on holding hands and saying, "We did it! We did it!"
When the time came, I turned on the water, and we remarked on how the spray went outside of the shower onto the floor, which was pretty funny. I made sure the water was the right temperature, and then I took her hand. She came with me with no hesitation. That's what I love about Aurora. When she decides to conquer her fear, she just does it, boom! We got all wet, then did our cheer. She even stood still while I grabbed my phone to capture the moment. It was a huge milestone for her; I was so proud.
The pool water was so warm it felt like a bathtub. We swam and played around for an hour twice as long as a swimming lesson, and for most of that time we were the only ones. After awhile, a mom and her two kids joined us, and as we were getting out, a school friend of Aurora's arrived with her dad. We made a plan to meet at the pool next week. We discovered that there were two showers on the pool deck, one for grownups and one for kids, which was amazing. Aurora took the second shower of her life by herself and stayed in it for almost two minutes--I had to take her out!
We went back to the locker room to change. As I was changing back into my clothes, bathing suit bottom half on, top half off, I leaned over to get my shirt. Aurora was sitting on the bench in front of me, putting her socks on. She looked at me and said, "Boobs." I replied, "That's right!" and finished dressing.
Back in the lobby, Aurora lay down on a bench while I packed up the stroller. She practiced the New York accent I taught her a few weeks ago. I thought that she hadn't been paying attention, but there she was, saying, "Coffee...CAW-fee...Coffee...CAW-fee..." First a shower, and now this? My nanny heart just burst with pride for my little charge!
Not surprisingly, Aurora fell asleep on the way home, and I sat outside with her snoring in the stroller for about 15 minutes till she woke up. It was quite an exciting afternoon, and one that neither one of us will soon forget. What could be better than a shower, boobs, and coffee?
Friday, January 25, 2013
Dream Job?
Aurora has a series of sticker books that are a modern take on paper dolls. Each page has a scene with pictures of people on it, and there are clothing and accessory stickers you can stick on the dolls. Aurora just turned 4 1/2. She loves these books.
One of her most recent sticker books is called Dream Jobs. There are 3 girls who pose in different scenarios of jobs they would like to have: Costume Designer, Professional Snowboarder, Safari Vet, etc. To my surprise and horror, one Dream Job listed is Forensic Scientist. "One of Becca's dream jobs is to become a forensic scientist." It goes on to describe studying crime scenes, dusting for fingerprints, and collecting clothing to check for hairs and blood. "This would help detectives to solve the crime."
If you look closely at the photo, it depicts a jewelry heist crime scene, complete with a work boot footprint and blood. One of the choices of clothing is a hazmat suit. The other two girls are a security guard and a police officer. Feminists unite!
Who do they think is playing with paper dolls, ten to twelve year olds?? I don't think so. Seriously, I have to explain what on earth a forensic scientist is? "What's evidence? Why is there blood? Why does she need to check the clothing for hair?" Aurora has not asked any of these questions, thank goodness; she just likes to put the stickers on the dolls.
When I was 4, I didn't know what a forensic scientist was, and to me, a dream job was being a mommy, teacher, vet, and artist. If you want to get politically correct, swap the crime scene for a construction site, and if you want blood, show a doctor dream job. To Aurora, the closest thing to a crime is when that little girl pushed her in ballet class--she still talks about it.
Let's keep our kids blissfully unaware for a few more years, folks. My dream job is being a nanny.
One of her most recent sticker books is called Dream Jobs. There are 3 girls who pose in different scenarios of jobs they would like to have: Costume Designer, Professional Snowboarder, Safari Vet, etc. To my surprise and horror, one Dream Job listed is Forensic Scientist. "One of Becca's dream jobs is to become a forensic scientist." It goes on to describe studying crime scenes, dusting for fingerprints, and collecting clothing to check for hairs and blood. "This would help detectives to solve the crime."
If you look closely at the photo, it depicts a jewelry heist crime scene, complete with a work boot footprint and blood. One of the choices of clothing is a hazmat suit. The other two girls are a security guard and a police officer. Feminists unite!
Who do they think is playing with paper dolls, ten to twelve year olds?? I don't think so. Seriously, I have to explain what on earth a forensic scientist is? "What's evidence? Why is there blood? Why does she need to check the clothing for hair?" Aurora has not asked any of these questions, thank goodness; she just likes to put the stickers on the dolls.
When I was 4, I didn't know what a forensic scientist was, and to me, a dream job was being a mommy, teacher, vet, and artist. If you want to get politically correct, swap the crime scene for a construction site, and if you want blood, show a doctor dream job. To Aurora, the closest thing to a crime is when that little girl pushed her in ballet class--she still talks about it.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Fun Quotes
Me: You sure do a lot of fun things on the weekend.
Aurora: That's 'cause I'm a fun kid!
*********************************************************************************
Me: I don't know if we have time to watch this whole show...
Aurora, putting her hand on my shoulder and looking into my eyes: Silly, you know we have time.
(We watched the whole show)
Aurora: That's 'cause I'm a fun kid!
*********************************************************************************
Me: I don't know if we have time to watch this whole show...
Aurora, putting her hand on my shoulder and looking into my eyes: Silly, you know we have time.
(We watched the whole show)
Swimming with the Fishes
In the fall, Aurora and I took a swimming class together. It was so much fun, and only 2 kids had signed up, so we got a lot of personal attention. Aurora learned how to hold on to the wall, put her face in the water, and jump into the pool while holding my hands.
One day we started doing dunking. I was instructed to have Aurora close her eyes, then dunk her and bring her up quickly. I heard the dad of the other student say to his child, "You did it! You went under water!" What did I gleefully exclaim to Aurora after her first dunk?
"You're ALIVE, see?!"
Explanation--Aurora is really into Disney princesses, a couple of whom have spells cast on them whereby they close their eyes and look like they're dead. Poor Aurora thought that when she closed her eyes in the pool, she'd be dead. Brave girl took a chance and got dunked anyway. The reward? She was alive!
We're taking a break from swimming for the winter. In the spring, she'll be swimming again. But hopefully not with the fishes.
One day we started doing dunking. I was instructed to have Aurora close her eyes, then dunk her and bring her up quickly. I heard the dad of the other student say to his child, "You did it! You went under water!" What did I gleefully exclaim to Aurora after her first dunk?
"You're ALIVE, see?!"
Explanation--Aurora is really into Disney princesses, a couple of whom have spells cast on them whereby they close their eyes and look like they're dead. Poor Aurora thought that when she closed her eyes in the pool, she'd be dead. Brave girl took a chance and got dunked anyway. The reward? She was alive!
We're taking a break from swimming for the winter. In the spring, she'll be swimming again. But hopefully not with the fishes.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)