Sick puppy

So, I feel like I've been in a dream world since about February 1st.  That was the day that we got the referral for Zi and I saw her picture for the first time.  Since then, some really cool things have happened.  I ran a half marathon.  I got accepted and attended an amazing workshop (I'll try to write a longer post on this one) with Marge Piercy in Cape Cod.  We spent two weeks in China and adopted the beautiful, happy, healthy, and sweet Zi.  I moved to Georgia.  I got a job in Georgia.

But alas.  We found out today that Phoenix probably has cancer.  Lung cancer, no less.  They are running a few tests to rule out a couple of other things that it might be, but the doctor has a "hunch" that it is cancer.  And if so, there is no treatment.  He is 8.5 years old.  He is really my first child.

So I am devastated.  We will know more in a few days.

Movies

I'm finally downloading video to my computer.  Here is one I shot today.  Notice the teeth (number four is breaking through the gums now).

Bad Mother

The best book that I read before going to get Zi in China was Bad Mother by Ayelet Waldman.  The subtitle is:  A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace.

I really enjoyed it when I was reading it, and now that I am taking care of Zi, it is proving to be the very best parenting book that I read.  As you could probably tell, the last few days were pretty tough.  To add to my misery, my workaholic husband has not been able to get home in time for me to go to yoga either.  Most of the world knows how badly I need my yoga classes...but I digress.

The worst thing that happened yesterday was that Zi fell off the bed (which, of course, I put her on and then turned away to grab something out of a drawer).  She doesn't seem to have any permanent damage (not even a bruise really) and there was no blood.  She just cried really hard and I felt like I was in contention for worst mom of the year.  Amazingly, several of my friends and family emailed me or called me and told me their own horror stories.  This is what Waldman does in her book too...she talks about the horror stories.  We all have moments when we dump the stroller onto the sidewalk, throw the baby in the play yard and walk away, make a drink too early in the afternoon, or, as I did, let a baby fall four feet from the bed to the ground.

Waldman's thesis is that in our contemporary over nurturing culture (Nurture Shock is another excellent book and is about the harm we do to our children when we put them in bubbles), we have set mothers up as either sinners or saints (think about reality tv shows, the buzz over Britney Spears mothering, or just simply the pressure to be the perfect parent).  She talks about public reaction to her comment while on Oprah that she loves her husband more than her kids (she was repeatedly called bad/unfit/irresponsible).  She argues that we can love our spouses more (after all, we are stuck with them after the kids leave) and that we need to stop pretending that we don't make mistakes.  We do.  Sometimes, we walk away from a bed with a baby in it.  Sometimes we blog when letting her play by herself (as I am doing now).

To achieve this, she claims, we need to stop calling ourselves and other mothers (again, read Spears driving with her kid in her lap) "BAD MOTHERS" when they make mistakes.  We need to recognize that everyone is doing the best that they can.

I need to recognize that in myself.

Here is Zi's reaction to my attempt to blog (this was taken by the computer camera -- watch her hand at the beginning trying to pry mine off of her so that she can get to the computer):

Long Day

Today has been long and hard.  Thank goodness she is cute and sometimes looks up and me and smiles.  Otherwise, I might not make it through a day like today.  I can't even get in touch with C to see if I can go to yoga tonight.  And, boy, do I need it.

Still, I took pictures of her.  I think if you've been looking at a lot of her pictures, you'll see the crankiness in her in these, although, she still photographs well, even when she is mad at the world.  The crankiness is probably from the vaccinations she got yesterday; I sure hope so.  I hope she is better tomorrow.

So, when I'm in need of some peace and zen, I like to cook/chop veggies.  So, tonight will be a from scratch (except the gluten free pasta, which I don't attempt) eggplant lasagna and a roasted chicken  (French   recipe).  Both new recipes for me.  I tasted the lasagna and it was good.  We'll see about the chicken.

Zi was not happy about my chopping.  But, she survived.

My friend Cara says to lower my expectations.  When I say we both survived the day, that, she says, is saying thar we had a good day.  I like this approach to judging my parenting skills.

I'm really not complaining...

I'm not, I love every moment with my daughter.  But there are some things that I've noticed that bother me. Mostly, those things boil down to the difference between what people tell you and reality.  Let's start with this one:

Do things when she does them:  eat when she eats, sleep when she sleeps, ...

Okay, so I can't really take a "crap" (I'm cleaning this up for the web version) when she does, now can I?  And, when does she have a glass of wine, or blog, or wash clothes, or do yoga, or work, or write, or check her email, or ... you get the idea.  If it is okay with me that my life be reduced to the life of an eleven-month old, then this advice is fine.  But, if I choose that life, someone will have to come take care of me too.  So, STOP TELLING ME THIS.  It just doesn't quite work that way.

This is 2010, no one will even notice that she's Asian and you're not.

Really?  What world do you live in?  You are only correct in one way:  no one actually says anything, that's the way racism works in the South.  But people look and look again.  They want to say something (even if it is just to comment positively) and that is different from the reactions of people to children who look like their parents.  Now, I'm not suggesting that we aren't a conspicuous family now, in fact, I'm suggesting that we are conspicuous and to tell me that no one notices is ridiculous.  She is Asian, I am white.  We look different from other families.  People DO notice.  Sometimes they even say things about it.  And as she grows up, people will say things TO HER about it.  They will call her names, they will shun her, make fun of her, and sometimes favor her for it.  To pretend otherwise is to bury our heads in the sand.


On the other hand, there is this. And OH, how I love this:

  

Somebody get me a neck brace!

We are teething (well, Zi is, which means I'm dealing with the repercussions of those little boogers!).  This means yesterday was a tough one.  By the time I passed her off to Charles and went running to yoga, I was sure that I was not cut out to be a parent.  Yoga helps everything.  In addition, when I got home, Charles was frustrated too, so at that point I knew it wasn't just me:  she was being difficult.  So, that was yesterday.  You can't tell from yesterday's photos, of course, that there was any problem:

Today, I went to visit a potential day care, and it made me a little sad.  I might have whiplash from how fast my moods change.  Hers change even more rapidly.

Trying to lose my own neuroses...

...while parenting, sometimes makes me laugh at myself.  It is either laugh or make another appointment with my therapist.

So, because my child is Velcro right now (and I'm that easy-to-cling-to stuff), I took her with me to the bathroom this morning.  To keep her entertained while I did my business, I pulled out two Rolling Stone magazines and handed one to her while I looked through the other.  Nice photographs of Robert Downey, Jr., I was thinking when she reached up and started looking at mine instead of hers.  Now, probably because of the thoughts I was having, I thought, wait a minute, I shouldn't be letting her look at Rolling Stone!

Then I had to stop myself.  I'm proud that all of the televisions in our house have been off when she is awake, that I stay away from the computer when she's with me, and that I trying hard to watch my language around her (I'm not always successful on this one).  But, really?  Isn't this thought about a magazine going too far?  She can't enjoy a photograph of Robert Downey, Jr. too?  I don't want to "put her in a bubble" (this is Charles' metaphor for 90% of the currently in-vogue parenting where people all but wrap their children in bubble wrap to protect them from EVERYTHING).  I want her to explore her world.  The REAL world.

Yet, when Charles let her play on the stairs this weekend, I must admit, I was very upset.  It seems too easy for him when he only keeps her alone a few hours (tops) alone each day to "play" on the stairs while I'm alone with her all day, and I don't really want her to see the stairs as "fun" just yet.  But, isn't this reaction, just like the one with the Rolling Stone a bit over-dramatic?

I think so.  I am trying to relax because I really don't want to raise a neurotic child.  I want her to enjoy exploring and all that exploring includes (and that means quite a few falls, downs on the other side of every up, and, I hope, less fear of the world --or at least realistic fears instead of supercharged fears).  I'm not worried about germs, and I watch the horrified looks on the faces around me when I pick up her washcloths from the floor and let her put them in her mouth.  The world is a dirty place.  She lives in the world.

But I watch and listen to other parents (in Babies R Us, on Facebook, wherever I run into them), and I think that I HAVE to lighten up.  I don't want to raise THAT kind of child.  So what if she thinks Downey is hot?  I do.  So what if she wants to play on the stairs (well, I'll try to keep that from happening a few more years--I mean, she isn't even walking yet), I did when I was little.  So what if a toy from the floor goes into her mouth.  She will build anti-bodies.

But, it isn't always easy.  My initial reactions are sometimes strong and go against this philosophy.  And, really, when it gets down to the heart of this question, I'll bet she didn't even notice Downey at all.  I'll bet she thought...what a pretty blue color on his shirt.

Cuss this is hard!

Okay, so I love this child more than I thought humanly possible, but parenting is NOT for sissies!  Jebbo says that it takes one day for every hour of time difference to adjust when traveling (I don't want to even think about how I lived in two time zones for 8 years and why that was so exhausting), so that means it should take us 12 days to adjust to getting home from China.  And, when I think about it -- look back at my posts for proof -- that is about how long it took me to start sleeping through the night when we were there.

So, today is day 6, by next Thursday, we should be back on our sleep schedule.

That will not be a moment too soon.  Last night she slept from 10-4 (I slept from 12-4) and then again this morning from 8-11:30 (I slept from 9-11:30).  She's asleep again now, 3-4:30 (I'm not sleeping).  That still leaves her with a 2 hour deficit (me too), which partly explains why she needs me to not only hold her at every moment, but to move around.  It isn't good enough for me to sit and hold her.  And, I tell you, her 20 pounds is nothing to scoff at!

So, I'm tired.  But, I took a yoga class last night, and that helped me to sleep soundly.  I'm taking another one tonight.  Then tomorrow, Ang is coming to visit, so I'll let her carry the 20 pounds for a while.  :)

I'm glad to be getting 6 hours of sleep.  Running on 2-3 hours those first few days was not only hard, but probably not safe ... there were several moments when I thought I might nod off while holding her on couches or other places she could fall from.  But, getting back to 8 hours will be nice.  The interesting thing has been how well I have been functioning on such little sleep.  It's like my body hit some kind of hormonal overdrive.  Weird stuff.

Anyway.  The weekend is almost here, so Charles and Ang can help me out over the weekend, maybe I can get a little extra sleep.

In the mean time, I am surviving, and enjoying watching her open up to us.  She is teething too.  Her first bottom tooth (on her right) is through the gum and the top left one is peeking through today.  This probably adds to her discomfort.  Poor baby.

More soon.

How about something...nice

I like to rant.  It makes me feel better.  If I sit back too often and soak in the beauty of things, I feel like I'm getting comfortable, lazy,  complacent, and compliant.  But, I must, for a moment look at the beautiful.

I've never been so happy in my life.

I mean, really, look at my life!

I reached my education and career goals.  I married an amazing man who loves me most of the time.  I'm relatively rich, I have an amazing dog, a great house, I'm debt free (except for the great house), I'm healthy, and look in the room across the hall:  there sleeps a beautiful baby girl.

Is this MY life?

In creeps the thoughts of the people starving and diseased all over the world -- and, let's be honest, all around me here in this part of the world too.

But, let me push that thought aside for one night to offer my gratitude to not only the universe, but to the people in my life who helped me get here.  This list is not even close to exhausted:

Thank you to:
My parents for slipping up and creating me, then choosing to parent me.  For shaping me, feeding me, changing my diapers, listening to me scream, and then all the rest that followed ...

My brother for suffering your childhood with me, and for surviving it.

My childhood friends who taught me (in sometimes painful ways) what the world is like outside my home.

My extended family for offering beds, love, food, fun, and positive examples of all sorts of different family lives.

My friends who helped me survive all these years of school and work and the roller coaster that is my life.  I'm particularly thankful for the change of long distance telephone service in the past 15 years.  Without it, I may have lost many of my best friends.

My Perry cousins.  For long talks, great travel, CONSTANT support, love, laughs, drunks, sobers, educations, book discussions, tv show discussions, music concerts, long drives, parenting advice, marital counseling, friendship, friendship, love.

My husband who seems to know me better than I know myself.  Who wanted a baby and was willing to wait until I wanted one too.  Who balances me, parents my child, works too hard to give us most of our material stuff, let's me be the risk taker, and loves me.

And Zi.  Thank you for letting me in.  For all the years to come, and for existing.

Thanks, universe, for letting me make it this far to see all of this.