A dirty secret

Female attorneys out there, I apologize. Especially current or aspiring female biglaw attorneys. I am going to say something you are never, ever supposed to admit out loud, much less in writing.

Pregnancy is hard. It takes a serious physical toll on you. If you've never been pregnant, you have no idea how physically taxing it is, especially the last few months. It's not just a matter of feeling a little more tired than usual. It can be uncomfortable and often painful.

Pre-pregnancy, I didn't mind (too much) when somebody dropped work on my desk at six and said, "You can turn these documents around tonight, right?" meaning "Stay up until two in the morning so we can get these documents out." That's what I signed up for when I took this job.

But since the beginning of my pregnancy, the biglaw schedule has felt inhumane. Now when I'm lugging huge closing binders to someone's office, or I have to stay up until all hours to get a set of documents out, or I have to wait for the partner to respond to my email before I can go to bed, I no longer do it cheerfully. Sometimes I want to say, "DON'T YOU PEOPLE REALIZE I'M PREGNANT? LET ME GET SOME SLEEP." For god's sake, I have SHINGLES. A condition caused by STRESS. I don't know if it was coincidental that it started after two weeks of working nights and weekends.

I can never say that out loud at the firm, of course. Because admitting that pregnancy has made me less willing and able to do my job means that any woman who may get pregnant is now suspect. It means that the firm doesn't have to just suck up my maternity leave, but has to deal with me not performing the way I should for nine months beforehand. It means that a young married woman is a worse bet as an employee than a childless woman or a man. So everyone, including me, tries to ignore the pregnancy and I get treated exactly the same way I did before. I know in terms of women's rights and equality in the workplace, this is a good thing. But in reality? It doesn't feel like a good thing.

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Fun facts about shingles

Shingles is a reactivation of the dormant chicken pox virus that can happen when you are under stress and have a lowered immune system. It causes painful skin breakouts that stay on either the left or right side of the body but never cross over the center line.

Ask me how I know. Ah, the joys of pregnancy.

I started an antiviral medication yesterday and keep reminding myself that the pain of labor will be much worse than this. In another week I should be better. Every time I take the medication, I think of K when he washes his hands. Normally he hates washing his hands and gets angry when asked. But if I remind him about germs, he gets excited about battling the evil germs and washes his hands while shouting, "GO AWAY, GERMS! TAKE THAT! YOU WON'T MAKE ME SICK!" And sometimes he makes me pretend to be a white blood cell.

P.S. - My doctor said there should be no harm to the baby. If you think otherwise, I don't want to know about it.

P.P.S. -  Yesterday morning after washing his hands, K added, "But don't worry, germs, one day you can get in my body and make me sick. And then I'll go to the doctor and you can have a lollipop." "The germs can have a lollipop?" I asked. "Yes, because I'll eat the lollipop and then it will go all through my body and the germs can have a little piece." Maybe we've been taking this empathy thing a step too far.

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Special nude band

K walked in while I was changing this morning, and gave a little shriek at my giant belly. "Can you give me some privacy while I change, please?" I asked. (Actually, I don't care about privacy. I just didn't want the commentary.)

He went away, but returned a minute later carrying a small stool and two items from his doctor's kit. "This band is only for nude people," he announced. "Now you clap and say WOO!" After I complied, he sang a song while banging on his improvised drum. Then he instructed me to clap and yell, "Bravo!"

He ran out of the room again as I finished changing. He left the door open a little and through the crack, I could see his pajamas go flying across the hall. (He never seems to be able to take them off like a normal person. He always hurls them as far away as he can get them.) Then he returned and it was my turn to play the drums for him while he jumped on the bed. Finally I managed to get him dressed and there was no more audience for the band for nude people. I like the concept, though.

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2011 post-baby resolutions

A few weeks early, but here they are. I'm not planning to accomplish anything in 2011 until June at the earliest, other than doing the necessary setup for the baby, having the baby, and surviving the early months, so these are my post-newborn resolutions.

Get in better shape than I was in pre-baby. Have a regular exercise routine including weights, even if I need a babysitter to do it.
Revamp my wardrobe so I have decent, fitting clothes that I actually like to wear both in and out of the house. Accessories and shoes too. Consider not wearing the same shoes every day. Buy a decent bra, or several, after stopping nursing. Go shopping at least quarterly, and actually go to a mall. Resist buying clothes, shoes, or beauty products online unless I know for a fact that they will fit.
While on maternity leave, get out every day there is nice weather. And pull out the "learn piano" book and use it at least occasionally.
Plan a summer vacation. (Maybe a family summer vacation including the grandparents and siblings.)
Get professional photos taken.
Figure out daycare.
Get house in better shape: put up curtains on all windows; put up family picture wall and other decorations; organize attic and bookshelves.
Do a budget and figure out where we can increase our savings, investment, and donations. Think about using financial tracking software.
Do something town-related.
Be able to talk about sports.
Possibly try meditation.
Join a book club and/or reading website; keep track of books read.

Also, this obviously hasn't been on my priority list, but after looking at this blog post I realize I should fix my template. I didn't want to say goodbye to my dinosaur, so I just stuck him in without taking the time to make him look nice. At some point during the next year, maybe I'll fix that. But organizing my sock drawer and freezer are higher up on the list.

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Tradeoffs

I just got a call from a partner, asking if I was in the office. "Sure, I'm here," I replied.

Which made me think (while scribbling down notes about the documents he wanted me to find) about how this is the only job I've ever had where there's a good chance that, at 7:30 on a Friday night, I'll still be in the office.

Even as a law student, I used to think that once my basic needs were met, if I had a choice between money and free time, I'd almost always choose free time. Clearly I haven't made that choice. Of course, it's more complicated than just money and time. This is my career, and prior to law school I didn't have a career I cared about that much. And for the most part, I like the work I do. I'd rather be at home with my family right at this moment, but if I can't, I don't really mind being in my office surrounded by stacks of paper.

I think it's good to re-evaluate once in a while, to look around and think, "What am I doing here? Is this really worth it?" At least for now, I think it is. Maybe time will change my mind, or kid #2, or something else I can't imagine right now. (Maybe the 20-degree trudge back to the car later tonight, just in time to avoid the post-midnight extra parking fee.)

Okay, back to work.

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Friends again

Yesterday K threw a tantrum about getting dressed and I started getting upset because we were running late. He yelled at me and said he didn't like me and was going to put me in jail, and I replied (not in the gentlest of tones), "I love you, but I feel very frustrated that you won't listen." He looked like he was going to cry and I felt miserable.

I took a deep breath and said, "Let's stop fighting, and be friends again. Okay?"

He paused, then smiled and said, "Okay." We hugged and he asked, "How can I help you not be fustwated?" I told him I know he doesn't like to get ready and leave home in the morning, but that's what we do every weekday. I need him to cooperate and listen because it's important for me to get to work on time and for both of us to have a good start to our day. He agreed and got dressed.

Last night and this morning, every time we got into the slightest disagreement (he wouldn't get in the tub; he asked for cereal with milk and then didn't touch it, one of my pet peeves) he immediately said, "Let's be friends again." I had to laugh. "We are friends. I'm not mad at you. I just need you to listen to me when I tell you to do something."

I'm not always the world's greatest mom. I forget to brush his teeth in the morning and I probably let him eat too much sugar. I often feel happy to leave him at daycare and go to work so I can be an adult for the day. But I feel like JW and I are pretty good models for showing K ways to deal with stress and conflict, and that will serve him well. I guess we'll see with the next kid whether K's relative calmness comes from our parenting or his personality.

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Things that K said to me this morning

1. "Let's get under the covers and tell secrets."

2. "Do you think worms cry?"

3. "I don't like you. I only like Daddy." (Because I was making him get dressed to go to school.)

Also, I was reading through the responses to a blog post about nicknames parents had for their kids. Three parents who responded said they had babies or toddlers named Atticus. Is this a trend? (JW did suggest Boo as a name. Little Boo could team up with one of the Atticuses when he gets older.)

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Cuter every day

Lately, people (all women) have been telling me I look "cute." One person recently said, motioning to my belly, that I look "cuter every day." This means that, while I am usually small, I am now small and round. On a single day, I had two people comment on how usually I was so tiny and now I look so cute, one person make the same comment to others in the elevator right after I stepped off and the doors were closing, and a total stranger tell me that I looked way too big to only be six months pregnant.

If rotundity is the measure of cuteness, I am becoming excessively cute. I've finally grown out of all the non-maternity clothes that I had been getting away with. One day soon I need to go through my wardrobe and preassemble at least a week's worth of belly-covering outfits that are suitable for work.

I feel as large and uncomfortable as I did much later in my pregnancy with K. In particular, I feel like I am constantly being kicked in the ribs and can't stand to wear a bra. I think that once you get pregnant, you should be allowed to go to a tropical island where you can wander around nude and take naps whenever you want and people hand you fruity drinks.

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Thanksgiving

My Thanksgiving-ruining deal unexpectedly got pushed back a week. Hooray!

Since I had cleared my schedule to work on that deal, I ended up having nothing to do and leaving early for Thanksgiving as planned. We went down to my parents' house, as always. Both my in-laws and my sister-in-law's parents joined us, along with the same family friends we have every year. I made pumpkin cheesecake, browned butter chocolate chip cookies, chocolate bourbon pecan pie, sauteed green beans, and a vegetarian entree of roasted mushrooms and caramelized zucchini and onions wrapped in puff pastry. My mom was in charge of the turkey and a salad. She also roasted seven pounds of sweet potatoes the night before and then forgot to serve them. SIL made the mashed potatoes and stuffing. It being my parents' house, the rest was supplied by "Mrs. Costco." (My mother is addicted.) The kids ran around and played hide and seek. A lovely time was had by all. I am grateful for nearly everything in my life right now, but on Thanksgiving I'm always reminded of how thankful I am for my wonderful, kind, drama-free extended family including all the various in-laws and their families. Our siblings chose their spouses well and we all married into happy families.

Friday we attended an annaprashan (six-month baby ceremony) at an Indian restaurant for a family friend's daughter. Part of the ceremony is for the baby to pick an item from a tray that traditionally contains a pen, a book, some dirt, and money, along with whatever else the parents choose to add. The baby's choice is supposed to represent what they'll do in the future. The book was bright yellow and she went straight for it. Afterwards, we headed to the Bronx to see JW's grandmother, then back to the parents' house for leftovers and bed.

Saturday was a full day in the Bronx with JW's family. His aunt and uncle and their three kids had just arrived from New Zealand, and the New York/New Jersey contingent of his family all came out to see them. K hid behind me for a minute, but couldn't resist his rambunctious cousins for too long. At one point, the older kids were roughhousing and K came up and anxiously tugged on my sweater. "Mommy, they're not being nice to each other!" He's such an only child.

Sunday we spent one relaxed day at home, then packed up again and drove to JW's parents' house at night. On Friday, JW found out that one of his close friends had passed away after a long illness. The funeral was Monday. Going to a friend's funeral is an experience I hope I won't repeat for at least a few decades. It was amazing how many people showed up and how every single person talked about how eternally optimistic he was and how he never had an unkind word for anyone. I can't imagine anyone else in my life, including myself, that I could truthfully describe that way.

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The looming specter of maternity leave

A partner I work with closely said, referring to my maternity leave, "I don't know what I'll do when you're gone!" Before I got to enjoy the compliment, he mentioned that he had brought in several new clients lately. Ordinarily he'd bring me in to work on those clients with him, but he didn't because he anticipated that the work would heat up during my leave. Fair enough, although it sucks. I knew I wouldn't be staffed on certain clients or matters because of my leave. I just didn't think it would start happening so soon.

He did throw me a bone by saying he would potentially be working on some big deals and would try to staff me on them instead. Which is why I worked all weekend and can't leave for Thanksgiving when we planned. I know that as a good junior associate, I should be thrilled, but honestly? Not so much. (I'm not trying to complain too much -- I know that it's good experience, good to rack up some hours, and this is what they pay me for. It's just not a great substitution for me.)

The conversation reminded me of an ethics/harassment seminar I had to take. One of the scenarios discussed in the seminar involved a partner telling an associate not to get pregnant within the next year because he wanted to staff her on a big case. That one, to my surprise, generated lots of controversy -- people had widely differing views about whether that was appropriate. Of course, my situation is different because I've already announced that I plan on taking maternity leave next year. I understand the reality of wanting to minimize disruption for clients, and I'd rather have someone tell me to my face why they're not staffing me instead of having to wonder. But I think the leave will be a bigger deal than I thought. I'm not a litigator -- I can't just return to the office and get on a few big cases that will give me a steady stream of work. I work primarily with startups and rely on having a pipeline, since my clients are cost-sensitive and we may not hear from them for a while if they don't have major legal needs. I'll be missing out on nearly a year's worth of clients.

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Manners

While waiting on line at a local cafe popular with parents of young kids, I heard an earsplitting shriek of, "I WANT MORE! DADDY, I WANT MORE!"

I had to laugh, thinking about how this request would be received at our house -- with a raised eyebrow and an immediate revision to "I mean, could I have some more, please?"

Occasionally I worry that I'm a little too permissive with K. I can often be prevailed upon for one more book or five more minutes of playtime. But about some things, we're sticklers.

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Snails

Every day, on our walk to school, we look out for snails. The first thing we discuss when we leave the house is how many snails we might see that day, based on the weather and our recent sightings. For a while there was one yard where we'd see dozens of them. Then they moved down the street and attached themselves to a neighbor's stairs. Lately they seem to have disappeared.

Today, K paused in front of a house. "Oh, a crack in the sidewalk!" he said. "Cracks in the sidewalk are good hiding places for snails. Let's look and see if we can find any."

We looked, but we didn't find any snails.

K was disappointed, but not surprised. "I think the snails have gone away for the winter," he said. "Maybe they are -- what's that word that means sleeping, Mommy?" "Hibernating." "Yes, hibernating."

Once in a while, when we have conversations like this, all I can think of is how two years ago his speech consisted of "Bah" and "Gah".

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Indians

I dropped off K late this morning. Free play had ended and they were already doing circle time. The teacher was holding up a picture of a teepee and telling the kids about Indians. As I walked out, I heard K asking, "Did they live a long time ago?"

K knows a little about India. We have a book about it. He knows that it's so far away that you have to go on a plane for a whole day to get there. He knows we have family there and that his grandparents grew up there and recently returned from a long visit. He knows that some things in our house come from India. But I'm not sure if we've ever used the term "Indian" to describe anything or anyone.

Tonight I might just have to blow K's mind by informing him that HE is an Indian.

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Party weekend

Saturday was our housewarming party, our first major social event in the new house. It was a success! Whenever we have parties, I'm always paranoid that nobody will show up. And in fact, only a handful of our outside friends did show up. A few of them cancelled at the last minute, and a few others came unexpectedly. But lots of neighbors and friends from town came, which was great. Everyone oohed and aahed over the house, and the food that I spent all morning cooking disappeared. (Except the desserts. I'm a dessert fiend, so I always make sure to have at least three choices including at least one non-chocolate option. But it always turns out that real grown-ups would rather have real food. Anyway, no big deal -- all those mini-cheesecakes in the freezer will eventually be eaten. By me.)

Today I took K to his first friend party. A little girl in his class turned four and invited everyone to an indoor playground. I was a little surprised that he clung to my hand for a while and even after getting comfortable in the space, played by himself and didn't interact much with his classmates. During lunch he wanted me to sit next to him and mostly talked to me. Luckily, the outgoing birthday girl was right across from him and engaged him in conversation a few times. Unluckily, she kept giggling about how she was going to put cake on her butt, and K repeated that to her father. The father took it in stride. He may have been the one who started it. K had a great time and said he hoped that another one of his friends would have a birthday so he could go to their party too.

After the party, K was so worn out that he curled up on the couch with his Little Dude and his blanket, while I relaxed with a cup of coffee and a book in a comfy chair and JW typed away on his laptop a few feet away. This is my dream weekend scenario, but usually if I ignore K for more than a minute or two, he starts pointedly asking, "Who will play with me? I need someone to play with me or I will be LONELY."

Today I also organized our three worst closets. And in preparation for the housewarming party, JW assembled the futon that we inherited from his grandmother, and attached the giant mirror to the dresser, and raked the yard, and checked various other house tasks off the list. And I learned a kickass cream cheese frosting recipe (using whipped cream instead of butter! Genius!). And one of our party guests told me about a paint-matching iPhone app, so we'll be able to touch up the holes that the electricians left without repainting the whole wall. All in all, a very productive weekend even with all the parties.

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We sold our house today!

Our real estate saga is over! Mortgage #1 is paid off. Home equity loan is paid off. Mortgage #2 is refinanced. House #2 is bought. House #1 is SOLD! Leaving us with just ONE mortgage, which isn't that much more than our old mortgage, and ONE house, which god willing, we will live in until our little legs can no longer carry us up and down the stairs.

We deposited a large check today. Our financial cushion is back! No more panic when the car breaks down. No need to feel guilty about the maternity clothes I bought over the weekend at a real store instead of from some Craigslist person with three cats. No more constant refrain of, "Let's talk about that after we sell the house."

I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. All the real estate and financial transactions are done. Election day is over. We can just think about normal things and go about our normal lives for the next few months, until the baby arrives and our world is rocked again.

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Halloween weekend

We're all still a little sick. K is mostly fine but still coughing a bit. I'm the worst -- I can't sing K's bedtime song without several coughing fits. JW is hoarse and tired because he's still in full-on election mode and has been working day and night, calling and organizing people to get out the vote. Voting day is tomorrow and then I get my husband back. Hopefully I get to keep my governor too.

On Halloween, K didn't nap, refused to wear his lion costume (his second, after he refused to go anywhere near the skunk costume JW picked up), and insisted on putting on his duck costume without the duck head. He threw a tantrum when I said he had to go to the potty before trick or treating. He wouldn't pose for pictures and at the first few houses he wouldn't say a word, just sullenly grabbed the candy. (I forced him to mumble a "thank you" before I'd let him move on to the next house.) By the end he was having fun, though, and was being more polite too. Partly because I let him eat some candy on the way.

Our other Halloween activity was clearing out, and cleaning up, the old house.  JW's parents came to help out. Grandma played with K, Grandpa and JW did the heavy lifting, and I swept and scrubbed. I say this often, but I am so grateful that we still have parents who are so giving and so willing and able to run over here and take care of us when we need it. I know that in the not-too-distant future it may be the other way around.

In theory, by the end of this week, our house should be sold. We signed the deed today and appointed our attorney to do the closing without us. Our attorney, like everyone else who has had to deal with the buyers, complained about how difficult they were and how he should have charged us more. We still talk to our old neighbors, so I'm hoping the buyers are just horrible in the context of a financial transaction and will be good neighbors once they move in. We have celebratory weekend plans involving a fancy dinner and hotel in Manhattan. Fingers crossed that there will actually be something to celebrate.

K the reluctant duck:

And K rocking out (the lamp is his pretend microphone):

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Backache

I am halfway through my pregnancy and already having lower back pain, something I don't remember experiencing the first time around. I did some googling in search of remedies. Alas, while every source kindly pointed out that it's common to suffer back pain during pregnancy, they all came to the same conclusion: my posture sucks, my abs are weak, and I lead a sedentary lifestyle. Time to figure out how to fit the neglected exercise routine back into my schedule.

This morning I managed a short workout by breaking our strict one-TV-show-a-day rule and letting K watch an extra half-episode of "Chuggington". I don't want to make that a habit, though (and usually, while he's watching TV, I'm racing around getting chores done, bags and lunches packed, and breakfast made, not to mention catching up on any early-morning work emails.) My only unscheduled time is at night between K's bedtime and mine, and I'm often working from home during that time. I guess I'll either have to muster the energy for a regular evening workout, or try to get to bed by 9:30 so I can wake up early for a morning workout. Pre-pregnancy, I used to wake up at 5:30 and exercise, but I wasn't so tired all the time, and work wasn't quite as crazy, and we had a dishwasher, and blah blah excuses. I just have to make time. Somehow.

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Body image

During my pregnancy with K, I went through a period of feeling huge and fat and unattractive until I finally realized that I was being ridiculous. It wasn't like I was a bikini model. The only person who ever saw me less than fully clothed was my very accepting husband, and nobody but me noticed or cared if I gained or lost a couple of pounds. I had always thought of myself as being fairly sane about my body image, and hardly the type to eat salad for every meal and spend hours at the gym perfecting my abs. But once I stopped worrying about how my body looked, I couldn't believe how much mental energy I had been wasting. It was refreshing to look in the mirror without being so critical. I vowed to be more self-accepting after my pregnancy.

It didn't last long, of course. I gave myself a break during the postpartum period, but after reaching my pre-baby weight, I was right back to pinching my thighs and frowning when I looked in the mirror.

Now that I'm pregnant again, my only reaction to my reflection is to marvel at the changes in my body. And again, I realize how stupid and unproductive it is to obsess over something that nobody else notices. Maybe the lesson will stick this time. (Maybe. Unlikely.)

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Grandparents to the rescue!

It was a rough week or two. JW never quite recovered from being sick, partly because he's been so slammed at work that he's barely been sleeping. K, it turned out, had bronchitis. After a few feverish and cranky days, he started on antibiotics and was back to his normal, healthy, happy self within 48 hours. I had two ultrasounds AND an OB appointment, all in the middle of the day -- and two of my deals that had been on hold suddenly got scheduled to close on extremely aggressive schedules. Our car broke down too.

My mother emailed unexpectedly on Tuesday, asking how we were doing. I found out later that my brother had told on me for sending him a happy birthday email at two in the morning (I was up doing work, after having stayed home with sick K all day). I told her we were having a hard time but would manage. Next thing I knew, she and my father were on their way up I-95. They stayed for two days and cooked, cleaned, and took care of K. Hooray! We're still trying to keep our heads above water, but we're a lot closer to the surface now. I've said it before and I'll say it again: thank goodness for grandparents!

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The new neighborhood

We only moved about half a mile, but it's like living in a different town. Before the move, I used to walk down our current street and fantasize about living here... and then my little dream bubble would pop as I walked back to my own block, dodging giant trucks backing across the road, bikers revving their motorcycles, hearses parked on the sidewalk, fire trucks zooming down the narrow street with sirens blaring, and the ever-present trash that blew across our old neighborhood like tumbleweed.

The new neighborhood is quiet and green and leafy. When we see our neighbors outside, they stop and say hello and sometimes pass on neighborhood gossip. On trash day, everyone puts a lid on their trash can or securely closes up their bags!

I like our new house. But I love our new neighborhood.

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Sick

JW was sick over the weekend. Now it's K's turn. But while JW just felt tired and crappy for a few days, K seems really ill. I was home with him today and he kept crying and saying that he felt hot, he felt cold, his stomach hurt, he had a headache, his legs hurt... K is not a complainer. I'm worried. We've been giving him Tylenol and Motrin, but his fever has been taking a while to respond, and it seems like it's getting worse. He's completely lost his appetite and has barely eaten for the last two days.

He's asleep and I finally have a little time to catch up on work, but it's hard to concentrate. I can hear him breathing hard in the next room and occasionally muttering in his sleep. Twice he woke up, talking gibberish (the last time, he sat up and glared at me and said, "I WILL!" and then, "Why are you scooting?" and then he lay down and fell asleep again). He's woken up once or twice and moaned, "Mommy," and in the five seconds it takes me to dash to his bedside he's asleep again.

I think tomorrow we'll call the doctor. The usual rest and hydration doesn't seem to be working.

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Ultrasound #2

 [I wrote this part on Thursday. Friday update below.]

I'm going in for a followup ultrasound tomorrow.

At the end of last week's ultrasound, a doctor came in and said there was a white spot on the baby's heart that they were concerned about. She kept smiling and reassuring us that it could go away, and the baby was probably fine. She didn't say what she thought could be wrong and I didn't ask.

K had the same thing and he turned out fine. Of course, last time they didn't make us come in for another ultrasound. They told us that it could be an indicator of Down syndrome. When we got home, I started to cry. It just hadn't occurred to me that I could have anything other than a perfect, healthy baby. Then I pulled myself together. JW and I sat silently next to each other on the couch, each furiously typing away on our laptops. Then we both turned to each other at the same time and said, "We're going to be okay." He had been researching what that white spot could mean and had concluded that it was probably nothing. I had been reading about how to care for children with Down syndrome.

This time around, I am very aware that there are lots of possible outcomes besides a healthy baby. But I feel like there's no point in worrying about it until it happens. I was so anxious during my pregnancy with K: first trimester I worried about miscarrying, second trimester I worried about whether the baby was healthy, third trimester I worried about labor and delivery. After he was born, I felt like I never knew what he needed, and I certainly never learned to distinguish his cries and tell whether he was hungry or sleepy, like they say you're supposed to. But this time around I'm trying to sit back and deal with whatever happens.

Friday update:

It was a marathon appointment -- total waiting time about an hour and a half, total poking and prodding time another hour and a half or so. At the end I was exhausted and even a little sore. The good news is, the baby seems fine. The radiologist said he didn't see any physical problems or any other markers of Down syndrome. He said we'd see what my screening results were like and then we could decide whether to do amniocentesis. I told him I didn't want that and he assured me that it was completely up to me.

After the appointment, I was relieved, but wished I had been a less passive patient. At the end of my first ultrasound, the doctor (not my OB) had been trying so hard to reassure us, and I felt so worn down after going through the whole appointment, that I didn't question why we had to come back in, what was going to be different about the next ultrasound, or exactly what she was worried about. I knew that the spot on the heart could indicate Down syndrome and just assumed that it must be more serious than last time because no one had mentioned coming back in when I was pregnant with K. If I had realized that they didn't see or anticipate any physical problems and that my blood screen, the results of which will be in next week, would give me an idea of our risk, I would have turned down the additional ultrasound.

I told my OB with both pregnancies that we wouldn't consider termination unless there was some  life-threatening medical problem. There's no other in utero intervention for Down syndrome, so if they didn't see any of the potentially serious physical problems associated with the disease (like heart defects), what was the point of the second ultrasound? And we're on a high-deductible insurance plan, so I can only imagine what the bill will be like.

I'm not going the hypnobirthing route this time around, but I still feel the same way about unnecessary medical intervention. Anyway, at least the baby seems fine.

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Columbus Day

I think Columbus Day is becoming my favorite holiday. No travel, no presents, just a day off with no pressure to do anything productive because I'm alone with K all day. I had sort of a rough weekend, mental health-wise, and felt a little like I had a hangover all day today. But I managed to pull it together and be a functional adult.

In the morning K and I went to Wilson Farm, where we took a Haunted Hayride and looked at the fish and a bee drowned in my apple cider.

After lunch and rest time at home (I got to take a short nap, K claimed he took a nap too but during the fifteen minutes I was asleep he managed to go to the potty, attempt to clean himself up, and take out several of his books), K said that he had somehow hurt his foot while "napping." I proposed a stroller walk and amazingly, he accepted -- it can be like pulling teeth to get him to leave the house sometimes. We walked for a while, then at K's request hopped a bus to Harvard Square. I ran a few errands and then we had a snack and walked home along the Charles River, pausing for a while to throw rocks in the water and go fishing with some long sticks. K caught a HUNDRED fish! And I got more exercise than I have in weeks.

By the time we got back to our neighborhood, it was almost dark. We stopped for pizza and looked for the moon as we walked home hand in hand. Back home, we had watermelon and strawberries for dessert, took a bath, and went to bed.

I guess Columbus Day 2011 won't be quite so serene. But even though I could still use a break from being a grown-up, today was a good day.

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Baby names

For some reason, I thought I was having a girl. Maybe because I'm carrying so differently -- K was a bottom-dweller, but #2 seems to want to live in my ribcage. I had started thinking about girl names. When we heard we were having a boy, JW and I said to each other, "Oh no, we'll have to come up with another boy name!" Boy names are tough, unless you're going with something classic. There's a much wider acceptable range of feminine names.

I tried a baby name finder online, but it came up with all sorts of ridiculous names (random sampling: Blayze, Bear, Heathcliff, Cambridge). So I'm soliciting ideas here.

Guidelines:

• No names that start with A, K, O, P, S, T
• Prefer that it not be a classic American boys' name (John, Michael, James, William)
• Prefer no overly trendy names (Aiden, Caden, Jayden, Ethan)
• No explicitly religious names or non-Indian/Hindu ethnic names (no Obediah or Jafar)
• No prep-school WASPy names (Preston, Blake)
• Both sets of grandparents have to be able to pronounce it

I guess the problem with baby names for us is that since we have an American last name, I don't want the first and middle name to be entirely American too. At the same time, most Bengali boys' names are unpronounceable in English. (For instance, my cousin's husband was lobbying for his name, Angshuman.)

All suggestions are welcome!


K's suggestions: Radiator, Flash, or Shiny Frank.

I'm looking through a baby name list, trying to compile a list of names I don't object to (with JW's reaction in parentheses):
Cole ("eh")
Max (not too bad, but has become trendy)
Dexter (veto, because of the serial killer show. JW: "How about Baxter?" Me: "No, that sounds too much like a badger or beaver.")
Gage? ("Sounds like a wrestler. Shiny Frank is better.")
Ray (no, because K's name already means "ray of light")
Warren (veto, because we know someone with this name)
Cade? ("Cade?" "Yes. It means 'round or lumpy.'" "Maybe.")
Colin (actually has some overlap with Indian names)

Me (looking at baby name list): "Kale? Like the vegetable?"
JW: "I'm sorry, did you say something?"

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Crying on the bus

This morning someone elbowed me in the head on the bus. You'd be surprised how often this happens -- I'm so short that my head is right at elbow level of a tall person. One reason I hate crowds. But this time, he hit me so hard that it actually brought tears to my eyes. (In fact, it still hurts a little.)

Ordinarily, I might have sniffled a little and then recovered. But I'm pregnant. Once I started crying, I just couldn't stop. At first no one noticed, because it's the bus and people are making an effort to ignore each other. But then I had to move back so more people could squeeze in, and I ended up right next to a girl who took one look at me and offered to get up so I could sit. "No, I'm fine," I sobbed, because even though until that point I had been crying quietly, the minute someone is nice to me I start crying even harder, like a little kid who's totally fine but starts bawling when his mom comes over. She said, "No, I really think you should sit down," and got up. I thanked her, sat down, and looked as hard as I could out the window. I didn't really stop crying until after I had boarded the subway and was halfway to work. I ended up chatting with the girl during the subway ride. When she got off, I thanked her again and she said, "Anyone who wouldn't do the same is not a good person!"

I was a little embarrassed at first to be the only mess in a sea of functional adults. But it's not like I saw anyone I knew.

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It's a boy!

Full body; head and chest; foot; view from the bottom indicating that he's a boy; thumbs-up!

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K and pumpkins

Proofs of K's school pictures! I don't know how they get him to smile like that. (These are grainy because I scanned them in -- we'll have much nicer versions in a few weeks.)

Pictures of #2 tomorrow, if all goes well.

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We're neglecting his education

This morning K identified a stuffed Ewok as "something like a hodgeheg."

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Uncultured

It's sad that I had to explain to my half-Indian son that a samosa was "like an empanada."

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Growing

They say you start showing sooner with your second kid. I'm about three and a half months along, and already two people have actually asked me if I was pregnant. Well, they didn't come right out and ask. One looked surprised when she saw me, then pointed to her stomach and grinned. The other asked me pointedly if I had any NEWS I would like to SHARE. (I suppose I could have told her, "Yes, I just won the town pie-eating contest!")

I hope it's just an earlier start, and it doesn't mean I'm going to get bigger than last time. I am short and have a small frame. With K, six months in I got comments like, "You look like you're about to pop" and "Are you sure you're not having twins?"

One good thing about getting bigger is that I'm out of the awkward in-between stage for clothing. No more holding my jeans together with rubber bands and elastic belts! I started wearing maternity pants to work this week. Ah, elastic waistbands, I've missed you so. I don't know why regular pants don't all have elastic waistbands. It's like I'm secretly wearing sweatpants to work.

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Preschool

K has been at the same daycare since he was two. They take care of infants through preschool-aged kids, and have a preschool class for the older kids. K just started the preschool class. They typically have circle time in the morning with singing, reading and talking, then take a trip to the playground. After lunch they have naptime, then usually some sort of art or pre-writing activity followed by free play. A few times a week they have special programs, like Tumble Bus on Tuesdays (an old school bus retrofitted with mats, swings, and tunnels!), yoga on Wednesdays, a singer on Fridays, and on occasion "Binky Bear" -- I've never quite figured out what this is, but apparently some woman who dresses up and entertains the kids.

Once in a while I question whether he should be going somewhere else that might be, I don't know, more stimulating or challenging, or a place where there's more of a parent community and the kids tend to graduate and go to kindergarten together. But this place is very close to home, it's affordable, K likes it, and we like his current teacher and the people who run the program.

Reading back on what I just wrote, it doesn't seem like much of a dilemma. I just saw some openings in the Harvard-affiliated daycares on a parents' list that I'm on, and thought back to the expensive Montessori preschools that we toured, and wondered if we were somehow affecting K's future by not sending him to one of those places. I even googled "how much does daycare matter" (answer, according to first page results: a lot, and you should do extensive research before selecting one). But at this age, I think running around and playing, learning how to socialize with other kids, and occasionally gluing something to something else is really all he needs. We'll probably stick with the current place until he goes to kindergarten.

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Six minutes

I should have gone to bed a long time ago. It's been a very long week and I'm exhausted. Even conking out at K's bedtime last night wasn't enough to overcome the sleep deficit. But I'm giving myself six minutes for a catch-up post.

Work: I compose lots of blog posts in my head about work. They never make it up here because on the nights that I'm not actually working after K's bedtime, I don't want to sit in front of the computer and risk getting sucked in. Work is busy, except when it's not and I sit around all day but still need to be next to my phone in case somebody calls. I'm nowhere near making my hours for the year, but I think most people are in the same boat. Reviews are coming up and in the back of my head, I'm always worried about being fired. I enjoy my job. Substantively, my favorite part is a very small percentage of what I do, technology transactions and IP licensing. I also enjoy working with startups -- you get access at the highest levels of the company (often because the company consists of three guys at first) and you can really help them progress with their vision. Plus, different companies often have variations on the same problem, so you can develop some expertise quickly. The largest percentage of what I do is helping startups raise money. Frankly, this is not my passion, and neither is M&A, which is also a fairly large chunk of my work. But it's been interesting and educational to see how these deals work and what people negotiate over. Qualitatively, I like most of the people I work with and think it's a friendly, interesting, and smart group, and I like the flexibility. I hate billable hours. I know this is nothing new, but really, I would be so much more productive if I weren't constantly trying to keep track of every six minutes of my time and if I weren't always worried about my numbers.

Pregnancy: Going smoothly so far, thank goodness, because between work, K, a town commitment that I'm involved in (and have been making waves in a very polite but somewhat controversial way), the move, the refinance, and all the negotiations involved in selling our old place, I have more than enough on my mind. Will give it more thought once everything else calms down. K has been getting more excited about the idea of having a new baby -- he was never interested in babies before, but he exclaimed over the cuteness of his newborn cousin and said, while we watched a little girl toddle by, "Look at her shiny shoes! We should get a baby like that."

Oh, I finally told at work. As somebody (LL?) said to me when I asked about what this was like: "We work at a law firm. Nobody is going to say anything but 'congratulations.'" Yup. Not a big deal.

K: Is awesome. I am so impressed at his ability to regulate and talk about his emotions. Tonight he was having a bit of a meltdown right before bed, which I was more or less ignoring, and he just pulled himself together and said matter-of-factly, "Wipe my tears. I have a lot of them tonight," and then we continued with our bedtime routine. Maybe I'd prefer if I didn't hear "Mommy?" every thirty seconds, especially when I am trying to focus on anything else but him, but I know I'll miss that one day.

House: Getting there. In another two weeks or so maybe I'll be ready to have people over. Would love to have one K-less day to get house stuff done, but it's not going to happen.

Baking experiments: Profiteroles were excellent (a little deflated, I never cook my choux paste for long enough), and I loved having a cup full of chocolate ganache in the fridge, even though I developed a hot fudge sundae habit. Bouchons au thon smelled and looked repulsive to me and I have to admit I didn't even try one. I brought them to a party where they were all eaten, so apparently they were edible. I overcooked the Nutella brownies because I got distracted by a potty situation, so I can't really judge them fairly, but I think that unless company's coming and I have ten minutes to get something in the oven, I'd rather just eat Nutella out of the jar.

The end! More when I get some of that elusive free time.

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Transitions

We're settling into the new house. We've put the furniture in place, unpacked most of the boxes, made the obligatory Ikea trip, and I baked my first muffins in the new kitchen. This weekend's goal is to organize and make it feel more like a home -- pictures on the walls, clothes in drawers (I got out the fall/winter clothes last weekend but had nowhere to put them. "Mommy, you should pick up your clothes so no one steps on them," noted K helpfully while standing on the pile of clothes),  rugs on the floors.

We can finally retrieve our rugs and wall art from the old house because as of very late Thursday night, we are officially under contract after weeks of contentious negotiations. I'll spare you the excruciating details of all the crap the buyers pulled except to say that (1) we learned not to trust any verbal agreement they made until it was in a signed writing and (2) our agent said that in her 26 years in real estate, they were tied for the worst buyers she's ever dealt with (tied with people who kept trying to take advantage of an old lady). Oh, also? After everything was signed, they wanted us to give them some of our furniture, our grill, and our lawnmower. They didn't even offer to buy these things. Say it with me: WTF? Anyway, I'm about 75% certain that we will close before Thanksgiving as planned, and I'm still a little stressed because the final P&S we negotiated had some last-minute provisions added that make me uncomfortable. I'm crossing my fingers that they get the mortgage quickly. If it doesn't work out we're sort of screwed. But with the constant barrage of bad economic news and the housing market in apparent free fall, we felt like we didn't have much of a choice.

Through all this, K has been a dream. So sweet and loving, so funny and playful, so smart and curious, and so beautiful that sometimes I marvel that he came out of me. Totally smooth adjustment to the new house, his new class at school, and the idea that he's going to be a big brother in the spring, with nary a hitch in the potty training. Sabbatical Mom's recent posts about P's tantrums, and how they've been clearing up lately, have reminded me of how our kids go through these phases that seem like they'll last forever, and then one day we look around and realize things have changed. I remember a period right around K's third birthday when he was driving me crazy and spending an entire day with him took concerted effort. I hope his current angelic phase lasts a good long time.

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K progress

K is potty-trained! He still needs diapers for naps and bedtime, but other than that, it's all underpants, all the time. Hooray! The other day I caught myself sighing because I had to clean the potty, and then I realized, what am I thinking? What would I rather be wiping, a piece of plastic or somebody's butt? Next step: get him to go on the big potty.

I've been trying to teach K to stand up for himself more. Yesterday a boy at the playground kept running at him and screaming. At first K responded by laughing and running away, so I thought he was okay. But after the sixth or seventh time, when the boy ran at him and screamed, K burst into tears. Once he calmed down, I said, "Did it scare you when that boy screamed?" He nodded, sniffling. "Is there anything you could do that might help?" "Cry?" "Crying won't help you. But what if you tell him to stop screaming?" K wasn't feeling brave enough to do this himself, so we marched up to the boy together and said, "Please don't scream."  (It didn't really matter. The boy's mom screamed at him just as loudly and told him he was like a wild animal and couldn't behave and was scaring all the kids, and then dragged him off the playground. Suddenly it all made sense.)

Today at the playground, a big kid got on the seesaw opposite K and started bouncing up and down really hard. I could see K starting to look scared, but I didn't do anything (well, until one of the boys started hitting another boy, but that had nothing to do with K, that was just me interfering). The kid on the seesaw eventually got distracted by his friends and left. I talked to K again about speaking up and telling people if something was wrong. I reminded him that they didn't know if he was feeling scared or upset, and they wouldn't stop unless he told them to.

I hope it sinks in. I love how caring and polite K is, but I think we need to toughen him up a little. Right now, if he falls down, he gets right back up. But if someone pushes him down, he cries. It's hard for him to imagine that someone would be mean to him on purpose. Which is nice in a way, but won't get him very far on the playground.

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The past week

It's been kind of crazy around here lately.

Just before the move, I got food poisoning. The only thing I had eaten all day except for my daily bowl of cereal at home was some meat with a very suspect texture from the cafeteria (which I ate part of and threw out the rest), but someone called and assured me that she had investigated and the meat was cooked to the proper temperature. Somehow I doubt that they take and record the internal temperature of every item as it comes off the grill, so I don't know how she could be so confident about this particular piece of meat. Anyway, that was unpleasant. I was really disappointed that I had to skip our anniversary dinner. (8 years!)

Then there was the move itself. You've probably done it before, so I don't have to tell you what it was like. I freaked out when the movers showed us the estimate (which, it later turned out, included our earlier move into storage that we had already paid for) and spent most of the day trying not to hyperventilate about how we were voluntarily bankrupting ourselves and no one would ever buy our old house.

JW's parents came for the weekend to help us out. We spent the weekend unpacking and fixing little things around the house. JW and I got to go on a date after all -- K decided to stay home with Grandma and Grandpa, so we spent the morning wandering the aisles of Ikea by ourselves.

We couldn't get completely settled for a few days because the electricians were still working. We had to replace all the wiring to make the house insurable. The down payment left us with a little money in our bank account, but the electrician bill is going to drain us. I'm not looking forward to receiving it.

Tuesday we got an offer on our old house -- for thirty thousand less than the reduced asking price. We tried to negotiate, but the buyers wouldn't budge and frankly, we have zero leverage and need to just cut our losses and walk away at this point. Offer was signed Thursday, inspection was this morning, and if all goes well we'll sign the P&S in a little over a week.

Today we got the documentation in for our refinance, which should close in about a month.

This weekend we have no plans, other than a toddler birthday party and lots of work for JW. I wanted to get lots of house stuff done, but I'm feeling beyond exhausted. My hair has been falling out and I feel like my knees are going to buckle. I have a doctor's appointment on Tuesday and I'm hoping the bloodwork will tell me that it's something easy to fix. Meanwhile, I'll try to fit in whatever unpacking I can in between naps.

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The new house

I'm sitting on the same purple couch that I always sit on with my laptop after I wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep. But I had to make my way carefully down the stairs in the dark to get here, and navigate around the still-unpacked boxes.

I think we'll be happy here. Despite my worries about a home downgrade, after living here for two days I can see how much nicer it is than our old house. True, it doesn't have the new kitchen and we all have to share a bathroom. But in contrast to our old place, which except for our renovations seemed like it was slapped together as a weekend project, this house is solid. It's an Arts and Crafts style home built in 1917. When I poke into the nooks and crannies to clean, instead of finding crumbling plaster or nails sticking out, I find little unexpected details like the small mirrors lining the top of the built-in dining room hutch. The old house didn't have a built-in anything. (The opposite, in fact -- the original kitchen looked like it had cabinets, but when you opened them up there was basically a giant box with a couple of shelves somebody had nailed in.)

K is adjusting nicely. I set up his room first while he was at school, to make sure that when he arrived he would have a familiar-looking and comfortable place of his own, with his Little Dude on the bed, his ukelele on the shelf, a personalized room sign on his door, a few new books to read ("Look, the new house has Mr. Bump!" he exclaimed) and a special new house present, Automoblox. (Incidentally, he LOVES the Automoblox, little wooden cars that you can take apart, mix up, and reassemble. Ordinarily I'd be way too cheap to buy a toy like that -- his "new" toys that aren't gifts generally come from yard sales. But I have to admit these are awesome.) After reading Bread and Jam for Frances the night before, he had asked for spaghetti and meatballs at breakfast, so that's what we had for dinner. Frozen meatballs, jarred sauce, but we had a family meal in our very own dining room cooked on our very own stove on our first night.

The next morning, K asked, "So when are we going to sell the new house?" "We're not going to sell the new house," I said. (God forbid. Attempting to sell one house is already giving me palpitations.) "We're going to live here forever." "Forever?" "Well, I hope so. At least for a long time. This is our home now." He nodded and repeated, "We live at the new house now." "How do you feel about that?" I asked. He thought for a minute. "Pretty good!"

Getting settled and unpacked is going to be a lot of work, but I feel pretty good about the new house too.

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New house resolutions

Since we put our house on the market, our life here has felt so temporary. We haven't been working on the house on the weekends, or organizing the closets, or planting anything, or doing any of the home projects we'd normally be thinking about at this time of year. Maybe I need an outlet for my Martha Stewart impulses, and that's why I keep thinking of the new house as this magical place where I will transform into a magazine-perfect homemaker. I keep saying to JW, "In the new house, I'll..."

...plan out our weekly menu in advance, and prep in advance.
...prepare a healthy lunch for each of us every weekday, instead of scrounging in the fridge in the morning to see what I can pack for K.
...bake bread regularly.
...have an open house party and invite all the neighbors.
...keep an inventory of everything we buy, and use it to keep running shopping lists.
...make an album from all our family photos.
...spend a little time cleaning every night so the mess doesn't build up.
...organize K's old clothes into boxes by age.
...do yoga every night before bed.
...other things that I can't think of at the moment, but that pop into my head when I imagine our perfect new-house life. (Also, while doing all of the above, I'll be wearing an apron.)

At first, JW looked skeptical, but then he started to go along with it and reply, "Yes, and in the new house, I'll learn how to do my own plumbing."

(Update: He DID learn how to do the plumbing! Today he unclogged the shower drain. We now own an auger. I don't even know what that is. Does this mean I need to actually do all the things on my list?)

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Seven days of underpants

This was his reward.

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Closed

Done! We handed over the big check, signed a stack of papers, and walked out with the keys. It went smoothly, especially in comparison to our closing on the old house. (At one point, I turned to JW and said, "This is so much easier than last time." "Yes," he replied, "there's not as much yelling.") I had met other members of the seller's family, but hadn't actually met the seller before today. She told us how glad they were that a family was moving in, and mentioned that her brother, who is now sixty, was born four days after her parents moved into the house.

Next week is the big move. Since the new house is so close by, we'll probably spend the weekend shuttling things over. It's hard to believe that soon, we'll leave the house we've lived in for most of our marriage and that K has lived in all his life, and we'll start over somewhere new.

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The big check

Today we go the bank and drain our account.

Tomorrow hopefully we sign a bunch of stuff and then we own our new house. Tomorrow we also start the refinancing process, because dealing with two mortgage lenders isn't enough for us.

Wednesday the electrician starts taking out the ancient wiring and completely replacing it.

This weekend we pack.

Next week we move.

This whole process would be a little stressful but mostly exciting if we could just sell our current house. It's been on the market for three months, many dozens of people have come to see it, and we haven't received a single offer. We've reduced the price multiple times and it's currently at the lowest price I'm comfortable with (but talk to me in two months when the anxiety turns into panic). Lots of potential buyers have complained about the neighborhood, and I can't blame them. The next door neighbors have an overgrown yard and a driveway full of trash, there's an active construction site across the street, there are cars parked all over the sidewalk, and the street is so narrow that you have to pull over if a car is coming in the opposite direction. Frankly, we would probably just make do in our current house if the neighborhood were nicer. The second most common complaint is from older people looking to downsize. They don't like the stairs. Why are they looking at a split level, anyway? Then there are all the people with unique complaints -- driveway too slanty, not enough privacy on the deck, worried that the basement window will be blocked by snow (?). The common thread is that there's nothing we can do about it.

We're trying to focus on what's ahead, but it's hard when we can't quite leave the past behind.

Anyway, unless something goes horribly wrong on closing day, I promise to make this my last complaining-about-real-estate post for at least a few weeks. At least, unlike the two-hour long phone calls with that friend who's always whining about how her boyfriend won't commit, you can just skip over these repetitive worry posts.

Meanwhile, maybe I'll take K's marketing suggestion: write in chalk all over the sidewalk "BUY OUR HOUSE, PLEASE."

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Gratuitous K picture

At a playground on Nantucket in July. (Pre-haircut.)

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Moving

As we walked to school this morning, K pointed and said, "There's the new house! I'm excited to move to our new house." "You are?" I asked. "Yes," he said. "It will be an adventure. And maybe I'll have lots of friends in our new neighborhood." (He constantly asks me to tell him stories, and I had just finished telling him a story about how he was lonely at first in the new neighborhood but then found other kids to play with.)

Bless that boy. I felt so much better after hearing that. Not because I was worried that he'd be unhappy, but more because I had been feeling so pessimistic about the whole buying/selling/moving process. I've been trying to just make the best of it and not worry so much, but lately I haven't been succeeding. Hearing K get excited about moving made me start to feel a little excited too. He's right, it certainly will be an adventure.

On the way to school, we also talked about how birds fly south for the winter because they don't like the snow. He said, "I know, we can give them little bird shovels. Then they can stay here." I think our bird-shovel business will have to wait until after the move.

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Weekend cooking: Granola bars and hazelnut chocolate spread

This morning I made granola bars, partly to use up pantry ingredients in preparation for our move, and partly because K loves them. Well, he loves the kind that comes in a box. He ate one little piece and pushed his plate away. I asked him why he didn't like them and he replied that they had "too much stuff." JW and I liked them. But I don't know what we'll do with all of them. I just sent a birthday package to my father with cookies and brownies that was a big hit. Maybe I'll send a sequel package full of granola bars.

I also made this hazelnut chocolate spread to use up the leftover hazelnuts from my birthday cake. I used a little olive oil because it was the only oil we had on hand, but it worked well. Next time I wouldn't use so much confectioner's sugar. It was cheaper and healthier than Nutella, and I only made half a cup instead of having a giant jar tempting me. It was so quick and easy that I'm sure I'll make it again.

The kitchen in the new house is pretty awful, as I've mentioned before, but at least after we move, I'll be able to cook without worrying about immediately cleaning up and disposing of all the evidence.

(P.S. - I was going to write a separate house/moving post, but then I looked back at my old posts and realized it would be repetitive. Nothing's really changed, except that we got a bad deal on our mortgage and didn't do anything about it until it was too late to change. This whole moving thing is still seeming like a little bit of a financial disaster and a home downgrade, and I'm still hoping that one day it will all seem like a good idea. That day has not yet arrived.)

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More on everyday negotiation

I have had two house-related conversations lately (one with the bank, one with the moving company) that I thought would be contentious, but I didn't even have to pull out my ammunition. All I had to do was explain what I wanted and why, and they agreed.

I'm proud of myself for becoming our family's de facto negotiator. In my younger days, I was terrified to make the simplest customer service call, let alone ask for something extra. I was so timid that I wouldn't even speak up when I saw someone getting my order wrong at a store. Once I ended up with a haircut that I hated because I didn't say anything while she cut off several inches more than I had requested. I didn't say anything after the haircut, either. I just never went back. I knew I was being ridiculous and needed to be more assertive, and I did force myself to become more assertive over time -- it just caused me major anxiety. It never occurred to me until getting negotiation training in law school that there were actual skills I could learn that would help, and that it wasn't just a matter of sucking it up and getting through the anxiety. Now, I wouldn't say that calling up the bank representative and making demands is my favorite activity, but when it's time to do it I feel prepared and confident.

And, this from a friend:

I read your blog post about negotiation a while back and have thought about it a few times since (how I should really do it more often and not just when it's easy).  So today I called up our moving company and negotiated a lower cost.  One phone call = a savings of $500!  You're right, it does feel great.  So: thank you!

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Three years, four months, and change

Dear K,

You are forty-and-a-half months old. In some ways, you haven't changed at all. You've always been a playful, cuddly little boy who loves music and books and never stops moving.

Ever since we started letting you play Beatles Rock Band, you've been picking up everything you see and pretending it's a guitar. You started a near-riot over the weekend when the badminton racket "guitar" you brought to a party became the coveted toy of the under-6 crowd. Many tears were shed and tantrums thrown over that racket. In the end you all decided to be in a band together, but you got to play the guitar and yell, "One, two, three, four!" to start off the song.

You are obsessed with music almost to the exclusion of everything else lately. Tumbling, art, kicking a ball -- all of these hold your interest for a few minutes, but then you're back to your guitar. Sometimes I think I should get you to broaden your interests, but I'm too lazy and there's only so much time in your life when you get to do whatever you want.

You keep asking me for a banjolele. You don't know this, but I have a secret plan to stock the new house with presents so you'll be excited when we move. One of them will be a ukelele with a little strap, just for you. I can't wait until you see it. (The other items on the list: a kid-sized chair for your room; a riding toy to replace the one that broke at the beginning of the summer; and a shelf full of books you haven't read before.)

You are quite the little negotiator. When you and I want opposite things, you stop arguing and ask, "So how can we compromise?" And you regularly start sentences with "Tell you what..." Up at Grandma and Grandpa's house, you asked if we could feed the ducks. "We can go down to the lake, but I don't see any ducks," I said. "Tell you what," you replied. "We'll get the bread. We'll eat some of the bread. And then if we want to, we can look for ducks." You ended up sitting on the kitchen floor happily gnawing on a huge hunk of bread. That is called interest-based negotiation.

You are not yet potty-trained, sadly. If you're nude from the waist down, you will not only use the potty, but you'll even grab a stool from another room, bring it to the bathroom, put your seat on the toilet, climb up by yourself, and wipe yourself when you're done, all without saying a word to us. But you refuse to wear underpants and when you're wearing a diaper (or Pull-Ups, which are a big marketing scam as far as I'm concerned) you just don't think about it. I'm still hoping that you will start using the potty on your own without too much more parental intervention. To get you this far, we resorted to bribing you: one gummy bear for #1, and two for #2 plus Mr. Potato Head comes off the high shelf to play with you.

You had strep throat recently, the first time that you've been sick in over a year. We didn't realize for a few days -- we knew you had a high fever, but within ten minutes of taking Motrin it would disappear and you'd announce, "I'm not sick anymore!" Luckily Daddy eventually thought to check your throat. You're a pretty good sick kid. When you're actively miserable, you want lots of snuggles. When you're not, you tend to be in good spirits. And having horrible throat pain didn't stop you from singing Beatles songs at the top of your lungs the entire time you were sick.

You always want me to tell you stories lately, especially stories about you bumping your head or falling. And you always want me to make up new ones. Sometimes I ask you to tell me one, but you rarely comply.

Now that you're getting bigger, it's much harder to sum up your habits than it used to be. You're constantly surprising us. Usually in a good way.

Love,
Mommy

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The real estate saga, Part IV: Money

We were going to take out a bridge loan to help with the down payment for the new house, and pay it off once our current house sold. That would take some of the pressure off of selling our house. The bank told us it would be no problem. Today we got a call saying that the bridge loan would be half the amount we expected. Suddenly we're talking about decreasing our down payment, liquidating our investments, and scraping together every last penny.

JW pointed out that the fact that we're worried about the down payment shows what a blessing it was that the first house fell through. Very true. But it doesn't make things any better.

Before, I was trying to suppress the little voice in my head saying, Why are we doing this? and mostly succeeding. But it's harder now. We're not just losing a bathroom and a kitchen -- we're losing our financial cushion. If we don't sell before or soon after the closing, we'll be living paycheck to paycheck. We'll be paying for two mortgages, my student loans, the bridge loan, and daycare.

It's too late to back out now. Maybe one day all this will seem like a good idea.

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The real estate saga: Part III

Looking over my past blog posts, I realize that I've been spending a lot of time over the last year thinking about real estate. Unfortunately for people who read this blog, I've been writing about it a lot too. I think real estate as a blogging topic is a lot like babies: you only care about the minutiae if you're going through it too.

But it's my blog and I never bore myself, so I give you Part III. In Part I, we put an offer on an expensive house in our favorite neighborhood in town. The offer was accepted, but in Part II, it fell through after the inspection revealed some nasty issues and the sellers refused to negotiate. JW was upset -- he had already started sketching out his kitchen renovation plans. I was less upset because, being the one who talks to the real estate agent, I had seen it coming. From the beginning, it seemed like the sellers regretted accepting our offer. I was even a little relieved because I was worried that we were getting in over our heads financially.

Less than a week later, we ended up putting an offer on another house -- three doors down from the one that got away. It just so happened that even though houses in this neighborhood rarely go on sale, the family that had lived there for over sixty years was selling because the elderly father was moving to an assisted living facility and the daughter decided she couldn't afford a four-bedroom house by herself. (I knew this story, ironically, because I had seen her outside and had stopped to talk with her, introducing myself with, "Hi, I'm going to be your new neighbor!") We knew this house had the same expensive wiring and roof issues as the other house, so we offered substantially less than the purchase price and explained why in an accompanying letter. She didn't counteroffer, but accepted on the condition that we take the house as is, with no further adjustments based on the inspection. Done.

The inspection didn't turn up anything unexpected. Our inspector knocked $25 off the price and joked that the next one would be free. The mortgage approval went through. Now there's no turning back. Closing is in mid-August.

The house is similar to the one down the street: lots of wood, Arts and Crafts style, built in 1917. It has a two-car detached garage, not so easy to find in our town. There's a screened-in porch on the first floor and an indoor deck on the second floor -- no outdoor living space, but we'll see what we can do about that. The four bedrooms and bathroom are on the second floor. The walk-up attic is huge (the inspector exclaimed, "This is the biggest friggin' attic I've ever seen!") and has great bones. In the other house, they had finished the similar attic into a beautiful family room / master bedroom suite. I would love to do that here. There's a partially finished basement with a crumbling tile floor, a half bath, laundry area, and a pool table that they said we'd leave for us. We planned to turn that space into a playroom, but hey, free pool table. If we change our mind I'm sure we can get someone to take it off our hands.

The worst part is the kitchen. Forget how ugly it is, with gray plastic tile on the walls and ancient flowered wallpaper -- we can fix that. The problem is that nearly all the wall space is taken up by windows and doors. As a result, there are NO cabinets or countertops, or shelving on the wall deeper than six inches, and no way to really add any of that without major structural changes. And then there's the random staircase in one corner, the huge drywalled-over chimney that bisects the room, the sink in a separate room, and the asbestos vinyl tile on the floor. And no dishwasher, which may seem like the least of our problems but it'll be hard to go back to life without one. We had a contractor come in and give us an estimate. He said, "I hate to price myself out of this, but I want to be honest with you, and based on my experience and what I've seen here, here's my breakdown of the costs." The total came to $87,500! (To be fair, that included a half bath. There's no bathroom on the first floor, so we wanted to turn the pantry into one and move the sink into the actual kitchen.) So we no longer feel like we got such a great deal on the house. But at least the bright side is that, since we can't possibly afford to redo the kitchen now, that's one less financial obligation.

I'm getting a little nostalgic about our current house, which we love and have worked hard on for years. I am really sad to lose our open floor plan. It's so convenient when you have little kids to be able to cook dinner while watching them play in the living room. Now that K's old enough to be by himself for a little while, he'll even play in the basement while I'm upstairs. Our house is so open that I can hear every move he makes and it's easy for me to run down and check on him every few minutes. We also have huge bedrooms, central air, an attached garage, two full baths, and a lovely kitchen that we renovated about a year after we moved in -- all things that the new place doesn't have. In some ways, it feels like a downgrade.

But the new house is in our ideal neighborhood (and the neighborhood is our big problem with the current house -- in fact, we've been hearing from potential buyers that they love the house but don't like the neighborhood). It has room to expand, in either the attic or the basement. It has room for a total of four cars in the garage and driveway, which is important because our town has an overnight parking ban in winter. And JW reminded me that we've done a LOT of work on our current house to get it the way we want it. When we moved in, the kitchen was covered in pink bathroom tile and peeling Formica (and, like the bathroom, was coated in a layer of scum). There were giant hedges choking the house and leaning over the sidewalk. The basement flooded regularly, including once with sewage. There was virtually no insulation. I could go on, but you get the idea -- there will be problems with any new place, and it takes work and time to make it into the home you want. Besides, problems that seem like near-dealbreakers at the beginning can fade into the scenery over time (like the 1970s lavender bathroom in our current house, featuring a lavender tub, toilet, sink, and lavender tiles covering the entire ceiling, and a blinding light that makes you feel you've just stepped into a lavender inferno).

So, starting at the end of August, prepare for this string of real estate posts to turn into a home-improvement series. And if we don't sell our house by October, prepare for my regular posts to turn into a series of paid advertisements.

P.S. - I didn't originally list this one because it was easily removable, but for posterity I want to record my favorite horrible thing about our current house: the lavender blinds WITH ORANGE TRIM. I'm no interior designer, but lavender and orange? That goes way beyond "wacky 70s color scheme" and into crazytown.

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Men and women and making partner

Excerpt from an interview with Suzanne Graeser, a corporate partner at MoFo, on Ms. JD:

What are your thoughts on the retaining women in corporate law practice?
I am very aware of the lack of female partners in corporate law, and it has been getting progressively worse.
Recruiting and retaining more female partners is one way to help remedy the issue.  Many female associates become corporate lawyers, but they often choose to go in-house or leave the legal profession after a few years.  If the leadership had more women, more women would likely be hired and more women would stay. Seeing women in positions of power helps attorneys visualize a successful career path as a female corporate partner.

I don't disagree with this. Role models in positions of power who people can identify with are always important. I agree that if women who would otherwise become corporate partners at law firms are being deterred for some reason, it's a bad thing. And maybe, because of the lack of opportunity, role models, whatever, women don't see making partner in the corporate department of a large firm as a viable option and don't give it as much consideration as they do other career paths. I'm sure that's true for some women.

But frankly, maybe most women see what life as a corporate partner in a large law firm is like and decide they don't want that. If you're an American woman in a position to become a corporate partner, you probably have a financial choice about whether to work, and you certainly have societal approval of choosing not to work. So you choose to work, but you're conscious that you're making a trade-off against your family. As a result, you actively seek balance. Life as a corporate partner does not give you that, so you consider alternatives.

On the other hand, if you're an American man in a position to become a corporate partner, you may have a financial choice about whether to work, but you certainly don't have anyone telling you that working is a choice or that staying home is a valid choice. You may think about work-life balance, but when other people talk about balance, it's often in the context of "women's issues." Even though you may want more time with your family, your job at the large law firm doesn't permit it, and that's just the way it is.

I'm generalizing, of course. But I do think that women are more likely to pursue nontraditional paths, and specifically paths that are less likely to lead to traditional positions of power, because we see our careers as our choice. In contrast, men are more likely to see their careers as their duty and maybe even their primary purpose, so they are more focused on traditional success and power.

I have met many a male partner or senior associate who says he wishes he had more time with his kids, but it's just not possible. And I have met many a female partner or senior associate -- well, scratch that "many," because the majority of female partners and senior associates I know are childless, but let's talk about the ones with kids -- who has taken a part-time position or left law firm life to find a more flexible arrangement. Every female associate I know with kids has at least thought about part-time, while the male associates don't even consider it. I think it's because the women have permission to think about and search for work-life balance, but the men for the most part don't, at least not yet.

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Whimsy, under wraps

Dear Ana,

I've been meaning to email you back, but somehow it turned into this blog post instead.

In eighth grade, my English teacher taught us how to write. Really write. That year, I churned out creative stories, personal narratives, persuasive essays, and analytical pieces. I wrote and rewrote, and poured my heart out into my writing.

On the last day of class, this teacher (who was more than a little eccentric) said that if we raised our hands, he would tell us exactly what he thought of us. When I raised my hand, he peered at me and said, "Smarts. Tremendous smarts." I'm sure he saw it as a huge compliment. I was crushed. After reading everything I had written for a year, he saw nothing more in me than what everyone else saw.

In my mid-twenties, a coworker who had known me all of two days said to me out of the blue, "I bet you were a very good student who was well-behaved and always raised your hand." I had to laugh, but I was appalled that this (accurate) impression came across so quickly and so clearly, even after fifteen years.

So when you wrote:
You're very responsible and grown up and well-behaved and stuff, but you come across to me as having [an] artist-like personality . . .  It's not always obvious in the posts, but you do have a fair amount of whimsy and imagination and curiosity.

 you gave me a gift. It's always the "well-behaved and stuff" that people see. Thanks for reading closely and seeing more in me.

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How to ask

I was surprised to receive several responses to my three-sentence post about reducing my cable bill. Most were along the lines of, "How did you do that?"

A short and simple guide to (this kind of) negotiation:

1. Figure out what concrete actions or results you want, and what a reasonable alternative would be. Come up with both a dream outcome and an outcome that you'd accept as being better than your alternative. Don't limit your dream outcome to what you think is reasonable. You are likely to underestimate. Just think about what you want.

2. Research. Find some objective standard. Revise #1 if necessary.

(For me: I looked at my cable company's website and the competing cable company's website and checked their rates. I decided that my dream outcome would be if my company would give me their promotional rate of $75, and an acceptable outcome would be if they would keep our current rate of $100. Anything more and I'd switch to the competitor.)

3. Rationally explain the situation and directly ask for your desired outcome. Don't be emotional, don't apologize, don't beat around the bush.

4. If you don't get what you want, find different ways to ask.

5. If you get some of what you want, keep asking.

6. Continue asking until you're satisfied.

Did you notice steps #3-6 boil down to "Keep asking"? That's right.

My negotiation went something like this.
Me: "Hi, I got a letter saying that our rate was being increased by $25 a month. I'm calling to ask for a better rate."
Cable Company: "Sorry, you had a promotional rate which goes up after an initial term of 12 months."
Me: "Can you reduce it?"
CC: "Let me see what I can do... I can give you a rate of $120."
Me: "Your website says your promotional rate is $75. Can I get that rate?"
CC: "No, that's for new customers only."
Me: "Do I qualify for any promotions? I'd like to get the rate lower." (At this point if they said no, I would have mentioned that their competitor's rate was $100 a month and asked if they could match that.)
CC: "Well... I can give you a rate of $100 a month."
Me: "Is that the best rate you can give me?"
CC: "If you'll wait on hold, I'll talk to a manager... I can give you a rate of $95 a month, but it will only be good for six months and after that you'll need to call and we'll reevaluate your rate. We can't go any lower than that."
Me: "Great, thanks for your help."

You may not always get what you want, but asking can only help you. It seems scary until you get used to doing it, and then it feels great. Hearing "no" isn't nearly as daunting when you realize how much you can gain with even an occasional "yes."

I've recommended this book before and I'll recommend it again: "Ask for It" by Linda Babcock and Sarah Laschever drives this point home and has detailed steps you can take to practice asking for what you want.

I also recently found this fantastic blog, The Daily Asker. Inspired by Babcock's work, the author asked for something every day for a year and chronicled her efforts. Here's one of her summary posts, "88 Things I Discovered."   Gudnuff, if you're still wondering whether these types of skills can be taught, read this blog and wonder no more.

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K the oracle

During a playdate at a friend's house, we were asking the kids about animal noises when their daughter uttered an unfamiliar phrase: "I don't know."

The only time I hear "I don't know" come out of K's mouth is when he doesn't feel like answering questions like, "What did you do at school today?" (Which I consider to be an advanced usage of "I don't know" -- I didn't figure out how to evade annoying questions like that until I was much older.) Otherwise, if he doesn't know an answer, he confidently makes something up. Always has, from the moment he learned how to talk. If you ask him what animal goes, "Spoo, spoo," he'll look you straight in the eye and answer, "A boxicle!" I thought this was a toddler thing, but apparently not. Maybe it's genetic. My older brother is a bullshit artist extraordinaire.

I take advantage of this propensity of K's by getting him to make decisions for me. I think of this game as "K the oracle." I ask him a question he couldn't possibly understand and he will immediately give me a yes or no, or tell me which alternative to choose. And I do what he says. He's even better than a Magic 8 Ball because he never changes his mind or asks me to try again later.

So, K said we should put an offer on a different house and our inspection is this weekend. I know it'll work out this time because K the oracle told me so.

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Dig up St. Joseph

Last fall, interest rates were low, the housing tax credit was in effect, and we were talking about expanding our family. We were happy in our two-bedroom house, and thought about trying to rejigger it to be a three-bedroom, but it seemed like the real estate gods were giving us a nudge.

We decided to keep an eye out for just the right house -- four bedrooms and at least two bathrooms, in a few selected neighborhoods within our town, and of course within our budget. We spent hours poring over the listings and many a Sunday afternoon visiting open houses.

Then, walking down my favorite block in town one day a few weeks ago, I saw a For Sale sign. We saw the house the moment they would let us in, and put an offer on it a day or two after that. As I mentioned here before, it was at the very high end of our budget, but we could swing it. It was in the perfect neighborhood, where we already knew and liked many of the neighbors, and was spacious with a beautiful family room. After several counteroffers, the buyers accepted our offer, but refused any sort of contingency on selling our house. The closing was set for early August.

So we raced ahead with putting our house on the market. Both sets of parents came for the weekend to help us pack, fix, and clean up. (Thank goodness for parents. Happy Mother's Day, here's your putty scraper!) A moving van arrived Monday morning and carted away everything but the essentials we'd need for the next few months. We stayed up until 2 a.m. every night until the house was as pristine as we could manage. On Wednesday, buyers' agents came to check out our house, and a for sale sign appeared in the yard.

We also had the inspection of the new house, which revealed that the roof was nearing the end of its useful life (a $15,000-$20,000 repair) and that the house's ancient wiring would render it more or less uninsurable (a $10,000-15,000 repair). Suddenly, the house went from just barely affordable to $30,000 out of our price range. The sellers would not lift a finger and wouldn't work with us at all, not even when we offered to ignore the roof and increase the purchase price to have them fix the electrical problem, or fix it ourselves for a partial refund of closing costs. (And not even when we told them we had called their own insurance company, which had said it would refuse to insure a house that it knew had that kind of wiring and would require the owners to replace it immediately if they found out. I was tempted to rat out the sellers, but I didn't, in large part because JW told me not to.) From what both agents said, I got the impression that they thought they had lots of other interested buyers and could get more money, so every effort to negotiate on our part earned a flat-out no.

We're out a thousand dollars on the inspection and the estimate for the electrical work. We're getting our thousand-dollar earnest money back. Our house is still on the market and our open house is still scheduled for this weekend. But if we sell, we have nowhere to go.

To be continued, I guess.

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