Oatmeal

I keep packets of instant oatmeal in my desk. I skipped lunch and I'm hungry.

But I don't FEEL like eating oatmeal.

But if I'm that hungry, then I'm hungry enough to eat oatmeal.

I hate it when things I repeat to K in my mommy voice come back to bite me.

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Drying up

My milk supply has plummeted lately. I've never been an efficient pumper -- in twenty minutes I typically produce under four ounces. Lately it's more like two.

I've been using the weekends to nurse X frequently and get my supply back up. But since he's been sick and congested for a few weeks now, he hasn't had that much of an appetite and it's been hard for him to breathe and nurse at the same time. For the past few days he's refused nursing altogether. If I offer him the breast, he either looks away or bites me. (With his tooth!)

I could try to pump even more, but I don't think I'm up for it. I'm so tired all the time as it is, and swamped at work. (And I'll be honest, I hate pumping.) He's already on formula -- we were doing about 2/3 milk and 1/3 formula when I started working, then we slipped to half and half, and we're now approaching 1/3 milk and 2/3 formula. I think I'm going to throw in the towel.

One reason I wanted to stay home with X for so long was that I was committed to nursing him, and was hoping to go past the 8 months that K lasted before he self-weaned. I thought my supply would stay up for longer after I got back to work, since for six months I breastfed almost exclusively (the last few weeks, he started eating solids and getting one bottle of formula a day so we could introduce it before daycare). But just like last time, as soon as I stopped nursing throughout the day, my milk production started to shut down.   

I feel like I should be happy to be free from the pump, but I'm a little sad that this part of my relationship with X is ending.

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It looks nice but it is itchy

Staying at the office all night is no fun.

You know what's worse? Staying so late you have to pump in your office in the middle of the night.

You know what's worse than that? Staying at the office all night and having to pump at midnight while wearing an itchy sweater.

It wouldn't have been so bad except for the itchy sweater. I didn't anticipate wearing it for so long.

The good news is, X's breathing has improved, and all the itchy sweaters and midnight office pumping sessions are no big deal compared to my baby getting better.

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A partial list of emotions

(I didn't remember writing this, but found it in my Drafts folder from over a year ago, when I was recruited for another job that I was considering taking. I didn't publish it at the time for obvious reasons. But I was feeling very conflicted for the reasons below, plus a big one I didn't include in this list: Wanted to get pregnant soon.)

Flattered that someone wanted me

Unwilling to start over somewhere new, when I'm finally getting my feet under me

Disloyal to The Firm, especially my mentor who I feel has invested in me

Worried about what people in The Firm would think

Intrigued by the idea of experiencing a new place, especially one that seems more aligned with my interests

Excited once I found out about the type of work they want me to do

Ecstatic at the thought of not having to do any more routine administrative corporate work

Annoyed and resentful that the thought of a new opportunity made me start acknowledging any dissatisfaction with my current job

Unmotivated to make any long- or even medium-term commitment at work

Worried that I'm passing up valuable opportunities at work because I'm anticipating something that might not happen

Questioning whether a new job would be taking a step in the right direction, and what that direction even is

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Inaugural trip to the ER

X started coughing nearly two weeks ago. At first we thought it was a little cold. K had a runny nose and was coughing a little too. But X didn't get better.

This week he started wheezing. The pediatrician said he had a bronchial infection and prescribed antibiotics. But after several days, X still didn't get better.

This weekend he was upset and didn't want to be put down. His wheezing and coughing got worse. He rejected my efforts to nurse him and bit me several times when I tried. (By the way, he got his first tooth!) After I wrote yesterday's post about how he is so independent and doesn't want to be held or picked up at night, he spent the entire night sleeping on top of me and periodically waking up screaming. We haven't done that since he was a newborn.

I called our pediatrician again and he told me to take X to Children's Hospital. He said X would need an inhalation treatment. I tried not to panic, but I've never been to the ER for any reason, or set foot in Children's Hospital. To me, going to the ER means you're dying, and going to Children's means your kid is dying. It's the best pediatric hospital in the country and people whose children are seriously ill fly to Boston to take their kids there. I called my brother, the ER doctor (or, to be medically correct, the ED physician). He reassured me that my pediatrician had said to go to Children's because they would have the necessary expertise and equipment to deal with babies, and said that since X's illness hadn't responded to antibiotics it was probably viral and would have to run its course. He said X would probably benefit from an albuterol nebulizer to loosen up his airways (similar to an asthma inhaler) and if that didn't work, they might be able to try a steroid injection.

Our experience at Children's was surprisingly pleasant. It's obvious they put a lot of thought into making the experience as clear, smooth, and comfortable as possible. I expected to be waiting for hours in a room full of crying children, but we were shown to our own exam room right away. We did wait a while and stayed a total of about five hours, but people kept coming in and out to look at X and talk to us, and I felt they were moving his treatment along. In the end, what my brother said was spot on -- they concluded it was viral bronchiolitis and they couldn't treat it, but did the nebulizer and sent us home with an inhaler. They also did a chest X-ray and confirmed that it looked fine.

I talked to my brother again in the evening. When I mentioned the X-ray, he said that he almost advised me against it in advance, because it was unlikely X had bacterial pneumonia and if the X-ray had looked bad they would have admitted him and pumped him full of antibiotics just in case. He asked why I sounded worried and I said it was because X seemed to be getting worse and worse. "He'll get better, right?" I asked. "Of course," he replied, sounding surprised. "Bronchiolitis is not permanent. It'll clear up eventually." That made me feel better. We all just have to get through this.

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Brothers

People always ask me whether X and K have different personalities. For whatever reason, they like hearing that the answer is yes. X has a personality to match his executive look. K is more sensitive and more active.

K wants to hold my hand while we eat dinner, and often comes over mid-meal for a hug. Before I got pregnant, he was constantly asking to be picked up and carried, and he still likes to be carried when he can get away with it. He says "I love you" every five minutes. X doesn't mind snuggles, but mostly he likes being carried around for mobility purposes. The second I sit down, he's outta there. Probably more as a function of his age that his personality, while he likes us, he doesn't seem to care that much whether we're around.

When K was a baby, I would spend long nights holding him and pacing up and down with him to calm him down. X does not like to be picked up when he's sleepy. It actually makes him cry more.

When K was a baby, it took him a very long time to realize that he wouldn't starve if I did not feed him the second he got hungry. He'd start crying while I was fumbling with my nursing clothes, and I'd have to calm him down before feeding him. If X sees that I'm taking some steps toward feeding him, like walking upstairs, he waits and only complains if it seems like I've forgotten about him. In general, X gives ample warning before he gets really upset.

K does not like to play by himself, and if you suggest it, he protests, "But then I will be LONELY."  X can play independently for long stretches.

K likes me to do things for him, like put on his shoes or feed him the last few spoonfuls of soup. When K used to lose his pacifier at night, he would yell, "PAFA" or later, "PACIFIO!" until JW or I eventually got annoyed enough to come give it back to him. At 7 months, X likes to hold his own bottle and can recover his own pacifier and get it back in his mouth. I anticipate a lot of "Do it myself!" as he gets older.

K asks for help. X perseveres on his own. He will keep reaching for something until he falls flat on his face.

K was always wiggly. As a baby he was always practicing his next motor skill, and as a little kid he's always running around and climbing on everything. X is not nearly as active. He is content to sit in one place for long periods. When he does make a leap in motor skills, it seems very intentional, even though this may be unlikely given his age. For instance, K would roll over and over until he rolled out the door. X can roll, but rarely does, preferring to be upright. K would try over and over to stand up and to pull himself up until he was eventually able to do it on his own. X is now starting to get interested in standing up. But he doesn't make the same efforts K did. He just refuses to bend his legs when I try to put him down.

K is cautious. I never had to worry about him getting into dangerous situations that he wouldn't be able to get out of, and I can give him free rein when we're outside. I don't know yet what X will be like on this front, but I suspect he may be a little more reckless than his big brother. I can see him being so focused on doing something that he doesn't stop to consider whether it will get him in trouble. But we'll have to wait and see about that.

I love K for his sweetness, silliness, and energy, and I love X for his independence, calmness, and patience. And I hope that the words "Why can't you be more like your brother?" will never escape my lips.

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Fall

(A poem by K)

Leaves fall from the trees,
Rabies is a disease.

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Columbus Day 2011

My third Columbus Day holiday ever. The last two were serene, golden days spent walking hand in hand with K, kicking leaves, and listening to street musicians play. This one was... not.

X is still sick and is sprouting his first tooth. He was in a good mood about half the time and spent the other half yelling and hitting me.

K has been extra-demanding lately, and to add insult to injury, after I spent the entire day running after him and playing with him until I literally passed out, his account of his day when Daddy came home was, ""Watched a video, then ate breakfast... played with my friend... and that's it."

I got an hour of respite when K went next door to play. X napped for part of the time, and then I had a little alone time with him. A friend called for parenting advice the second I put X down for his nap. (I love giving any kind of advice, but I'm not sure why she thinks my advice will be any good. Hopefully she has other advisers too.)

We had some nice moments, like when we played hide and seek. I started making noises to help K find us, and X laughed and gave us away. Then K and I kept trying to make him laugh with funny noises. The magic of baby laughter works even on 4-year olds. We had fun at the playground together in the morning, and went out for ice cream in the afternoon. But there were also plenty of times when I caught myself thinking, "Is it Tuesday yet? When do I get to go back to work?" Thank goodness I'm not a stay-at-home mom.

Sometimes I think K needs more one-on-one attention. But then when I try to give it to him, he can never get enough. He sucks up all my energy. I feel so annoyed when I just spent an hour playing with him and the second I go to do something else, he starts in with, "MOMMY. HEY. MOMMY. PLAY with me."  I don't know if it's him or me, or both. Maybe I am just grumpier than usual. I'm tired all the time. Maybe he's just going through a phase. Maybe it's X. He never complains when I need to go care for X, but maybe he feels like when he does have my attention, he needs to latch on to me and never let go.

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In the past few weeks

Work has gotten crazy. I closed a deal for one of our largest clients today, and started diligence for their next deal. And the circle of billing continues. I'm still enjoying it, except for the late nights. I don't have the physical stamina that I used to, since I'm still nursing and X is not consistently sleeping through the night (and the nights he does, K gets up).

The boys have both developed colds, plus conjunctivitis for K. Luckily they both managed to stay in school all week, thanks to a well-timed prescription from my doctor brother.

We traveled to NY for X's mukhebhat. This is a Bengali ceremony that is supposed to be the first time the baby eats solid food. (In practice, not really.) "Mukh" means "mouth" and "bhat" means "rice". A tray of different types of food is set in front of the baby, and the uncle feeds the baby rice. Then the baby gets to choose from another tray an item that is supposed to represent his future calling. Traditionally this tray holds a pen (representing learning), a book (religion), dirt (agriculture), and money (money), plus whatever else the family wants to add. We had a magnifying glass, a calculator, and my mom took off her gold necklace and tossed it on the tray at the last minute. X immediately grabbed the gold coins and necklace, and was startled at the resounding cheer. Now we know which one we should be nice to, so he'll take care of us in our old age. K picked the dirt and the pen, so he'll be of no use to us.

JW has begun campaign season. Politics is his passion, and every year from September through November he has nonstop strategy meetings and campaign events. He's been plotting a way to try to do it full-time.

My parents came for the weekend and took care of the kids while JW and I went on our annual getaway. We had planned to go the weekend of our actual anniversary in August, but we got hurricaned out. It was supposed to rain all weekend on Cape Cod, but we got lucky with just a few drizzles. We walked on the beach out to the lighthouse, hiked in the beech forest, visited art galleries and bought a painting for K's room, had a cocktail in a window-walled bar at sunset, and ate delicious South African food while slightly drunk. (And returned to our room at the B&B in between these activities to pump.) It was lovely to be together without the kids for 24 hours.

The kids got their school pictures taken. Most are similar to all the other pictures of the two of them: photogenic K looks like he could be a child model, while X looks skeptical and a little confused. But there is one picture where X is actually smiling! We are getting so many copies of that one.

K started soccer. It's going well. He likes the drills more than the scrimmage. Two of the kids are much bigger and more experienced than the others, and they each score six goals while all the other four-year olds are hopelessly chasing after the ball and running off the field for hugs and snacks.

(I would provide illustrations for each of these anecdotes, except our photos are all on JW's computer. Don't you think in this day and age, it should be brainless to access our pictures from anywhere?)

We have had so many plumbing issues over the past few months that I joined our plumber's "Gold Club." They came out today to look at a leak, and they're coming back next week to put in a new faucet. I knew the clawfoot tub would be trouble.

Partly because of the plumbing issues, I ended up working from home for a few days this week. It was kind of awesome. We're not really supposed to work from home during normal working hours, but I forwarded my phone and nobody even noticed. I got to skip the commute, wear sweats, and watch TV while I pumped, and I still billed plenty of hours. I'm more efficient at home. I think it's because I'm so conscious of all the other things I could be doing that I want to finish my work as quickly as possible. At work I feel like I'm stuck in my office no matter what, so it doesn't matter as much whether I'm being industrious or procrastinating. It's not like if I finish early I can go home.

And now we're preparing for the three-day weekend. For the past couple of years, Columbus Day has been a beautiful respite from work and a chance to bond with K. We'll see what it's like this year with both kids.

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