I have trouble sleeping unless I take medication to help me sleep. I'm always waiting to get woken up. This morning after a fitful night (for me), Milo woke briefly at 4:47 a.m. After that I tried and tried to fall back asleep and was still trying when Nora inexplicably woke for good at 6. Usually they sleep until about 7 or even 7:30, so I don't know what the deal was. It was a hard morning. The kids were a couple of whine balls due to being tired. Sometimes I get very angry when I'm up and I'm not supposed to be up.
In brighter news, Milo took a couple of steps today! It's only been a few days since he started standing up on his own, which Nora has been doing for weeks and weeks now, and all of the sudden he's starting to take a step or two. The best part is that he loves standing up on his own and he laughs and laughs when doing it.
Nora says "night night" now whenever it's nap or bedtime, and she has also started saying "shoe". She has also perfected the ability to hold up one finger when I ask her how old she is. The kids' receptive language is just great.
I have been reading about kids aged 1-2 and have learned that 18 months is supposedly a terrible time. The social, eager-to-please 12-month old becomes a defiant, crabby 18-month old. So I guess I'd better enjoy this age while it lasts. It's great to come home and have both kids yell out "Hi! Hi! Hi!" over and over again.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
These are the stories of parenthood
We're now banned from the family restaurant at Black River Falls.
Other than the banning incident, we had a decent holiday trip. Jake and I woke up to a sunny Christmas morning free of any snow or sleet or ice (well, except all of the stuff lying around on the ground). We packed up the kids and ourselves and headed out to the twin cities. When we got to Eau Claire, it was time for the kids to eat and we tried in vain to find something that was open. Everything was closed. We soldiered on, and eventually came to a truck stop attached to a Burger King. Sounds kind of awful, especially if you don't eat burgers, but actually it was just fine. They had high chairs! And the restroom had a changing table! And the kids ate lots of food for lunch, and I enjoyed my mid-day caffeine treat, and there were other families with babies there, cute, friendly babies. Nora and Milo had a blast. Once back in the car they slept, and we eventually made our way to Jake's brother's house.
Jake's brother and wife and parents spent about an hour with us before they took off to go to somebody else's house for dinner, leaving us all alone on Christmas. Fortunately, I had packed a dinner for us in the cooler, so after we fed the kids and put them down, Jake and I had a simple dinner than ended with a couple of clementines. We then had the rest of the night to ourselves, because his family didn't return until after we'd gone to bed (despite it being, you know, Christmas and everything). So we used that time to do something that families without televisions always do when they find themselves in the presence of a television: we watched old reruns on tv, like the Cosby Show and Star Trek.
The television, by the way, mesmerized the kids. It was on a lot when we were there and Nora and Milo sort of turned into zombies when they watched it. It was a strange thing to behold.
Anyway, the kids had a blast the next day. There were stairs to climb and toys to play with and cats to chase and a bunny to pet, and a pool table to play on. Milo loved the pool table, because it had so many balls, which is Milo's favorite word. So his grandpa set him on the pool table and Milo played with all the balls, constantly saying "Ball! Ball! Ball!" Meanwhile Nora was over in the corner playing in the cat's water dish.
Jake's brother has the kind of house where the Christmas tree is all coordinated. All of the lights on it were white, and all of the ornaments were white. No handmade ornaments from 1st grade, just pristine white balls, icycles, and snowflakes. It sat adjacent to the enormous flat-screen television that dominated the room. Under the television were many fancy electronic doodads and gizmos, and nearby was the slate coffee table (think sharp edges) with fancy glass figurines. You get the picture. It's not the kind of house for kids. I could see Jake's brother wincing every time either kid approached, well, anything. Of course, with so many buttons to push and figurines to topple over, the kids were in seventh heaven.
Today we headed on home, happy that we'd be able to stop at a place better than Burger King. Which led to our Black River Falls disgrace. We saw a sign for a "family restaurant" coming up, and figured that'd be the perfect place to stop. It's a family restaurant, that means a place for people like us, right? A place that will have high chairs and a kid's menu. A place where the wait staff won't necessarily wince when they see us come through the door. Instead we found a dilapidated building, a grungy restaurant, and a faint aroma of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. Nevertheless, we plunged forward, ordering our lunches and trying to feed two very wiggly, squirmy babies who were much more interested in watching the video slot machines behind them than, say, eating their peas and brown rice.
That's when Milo started crying out of the blue for no apparent reason. I thought "hmmm, the last time he cried like this was right before he threw up all over the kitchen floor that one time..." and that's when Milo threw up all over the carpeted restaurant floor. And his pants. And his shoes. And my pants. And my shoes. Then he threw up some more. The foursome next to us immediately got up and left. The grimacing waitress brought our to-go boxes without needing to be asked, and handed me a wet, dirty rag to try to wipe up some of the mess. I apologized profusely while attempting to clean up Milo. We threw our uneaten lunch in the boxes, paid our bill, and hightailed it out of there to change Milo on the front seat of the car, trying to shield his naked legs from the rain. At least it was 40 degrees and not 4 degrees.
At least he didn't throw up in his car seat.
We won't be returning to Black River Falls. And next year, I think we'll stay home for Christmas.
Other than the banning incident, we had a decent holiday trip. Jake and I woke up to a sunny Christmas morning free of any snow or sleet or ice (well, except all of the stuff lying around on the ground). We packed up the kids and ourselves and headed out to the twin cities. When we got to Eau Claire, it was time for the kids to eat and we tried in vain to find something that was open. Everything was closed. We soldiered on, and eventually came to a truck stop attached to a Burger King. Sounds kind of awful, especially if you don't eat burgers, but actually it was just fine. They had high chairs! And the restroom had a changing table! And the kids ate lots of food for lunch, and I enjoyed my mid-day caffeine treat, and there were other families with babies there, cute, friendly babies. Nora and Milo had a blast. Once back in the car they slept, and we eventually made our way to Jake's brother's house.
Jake's brother and wife and parents spent about an hour with us before they took off to go to somebody else's house for dinner, leaving us all alone on Christmas. Fortunately, I had packed a dinner for us in the cooler, so after we fed the kids and put them down, Jake and I had a simple dinner than ended with a couple of clementines. We then had the rest of the night to ourselves, because his family didn't return until after we'd gone to bed (despite it being, you know, Christmas and everything). So we used that time to do something that families without televisions always do when they find themselves in the presence of a television: we watched old reruns on tv, like the Cosby Show and Star Trek.
The television, by the way, mesmerized the kids. It was on a lot when we were there and Nora and Milo sort of turned into zombies when they watched it. It was a strange thing to behold.
Anyway, the kids had a blast the next day. There were stairs to climb and toys to play with and cats to chase and a bunny to pet, and a pool table to play on. Milo loved the pool table, because it had so many balls, which is Milo's favorite word. So his grandpa set him on the pool table and Milo played with all the balls, constantly saying "Ball! Ball! Ball!" Meanwhile Nora was over in the corner playing in the cat's water dish.
Jake's brother has the kind of house where the Christmas tree is all coordinated. All of the lights on it were white, and all of the ornaments were white. No handmade ornaments from 1st grade, just pristine white balls, icycles, and snowflakes. It sat adjacent to the enormous flat-screen television that dominated the room. Under the television were many fancy electronic doodads and gizmos, and nearby was the slate coffee table (think sharp edges) with fancy glass figurines. You get the picture. It's not the kind of house for kids. I could see Jake's brother wincing every time either kid approached, well, anything. Of course, with so many buttons to push and figurines to topple over, the kids were in seventh heaven.
Today we headed on home, happy that we'd be able to stop at a place better than Burger King. Which led to our Black River Falls disgrace. We saw a sign for a "family restaurant" coming up, and figured that'd be the perfect place to stop. It's a family restaurant, that means a place for people like us, right? A place that will have high chairs and a kid's menu. A place where the wait staff won't necessarily wince when they see us come through the door. Instead we found a dilapidated building, a grungy restaurant, and a faint aroma of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. Nevertheless, we plunged forward, ordering our lunches and trying to feed two very wiggly, squirmy babies who were much more interested in watching the video slot machines behind them than, say, eating their peas and brown rice.
That's when Milo started crying out of the blue for no apparent reason. I thought "hmmm, the last time he cried like this was right before he threw up all over the kitchen floor that one time..." and that's when Milo threw up all over the carpeted restaurant floor. And his pants. And his shoes. And my pants. And my shoes. Then he threw up some more. The foursome next to us immediately got up and left. The grimacing waitress brought our to-go boxes without needing to be asked, and handed me a wet, dirty rag to try to wipe up some of the mess. I apologized profusely while attempting to clean up Milo. We threw our uneaten lunch in the boxes, paid our bill, and hightailed it out of there to change Milo on the front seat of the car, trying to shield his naked legs from the rain. At least it was 40 degrees and not 4 degrees.
At least he didn't throw up in his car seat.
We won't be returning to Black River Falls. And next year, I think we'll stay home for Christmas.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Christmas Eve
We were supposed to travel to the twin cities today, but weather prevented us from going. Actually, we possibly could have made it without a problem, as the forecast improved overnight, but we weren't prepared. So we'll go on Christmas day instead. It was very stressful to go back and forth between going versus waiting versus going versus waiting, all while factoring in the likely weather on the way home, and anticipating annoying Jake's family.
Who are, by the way, annoyed by our delay. We woke up to several inches of snow and it snowed until the afternoon, and there was a winter storm watch advising people to stay off the road, but they were annoyed nonetheless. Tomorrow morning as we're getting into the car to make a very, very long drive, they're going to have coffee and cookies and open their presents. Without us. Then tomorrow afternoon when we're scheduled to arrive, they're going to go to Jake's brother's wife's parents' house. Jake's brother was annoyed that we wouldn't be going over there -- this was the first we'd heard of it -- and exclaimed "you're missing Christmas!" So, maybe we'll arrive to an empty house? I hope they'll leave it unlocked for us. I'm packing a dinner for us just in case they're not there and there is no dinner for us to eat. It'll be fine; after a long drive, the kids are going to need to crawl around and play and let loose. I'm worried about traveling on Christmas day and finding a truck stop open where we can stop for lunch. With two one-year olds, skipping lunch (or eating it in the car) is not an option.
So today we woke up to a weird sort of extra day, a day in which we didn't expect to be here, and so we had this unexpected day on our hands. And it was really lovely. All of the branches on all of the trees were covered with snow, which looked beautiful. It was also warm, in the upper twenties. I decided to make Christmas cookies and I needed butter and eggs so I strapped Nora into the baby backpack, pulled on my boots, and hoofed it over to the corner market. On the way there I ran into a neighbor I knew and we chatted for a while. Once in the store I chatted with the guy who rang us up. "Say hi to Jake, I haven't seen him in a long time!" he called as I left.
Later this afternoon, while the babies slept, I shoveled the walks and talked to another neighbor. "Weren't you supposed to take off today?", she asked. "Yeah, we were going to drive to the twin cities," I said. "Oh, definitely wait until tomorrow when the roads are cleared." A few minutes later another neighbor walked by with his dog. "Isn't it beautiful out here?", he asked. As I finished up shoveling I took some time to watch the skaters on the rink across the street from our house. People from the age of 4 to 44 were out there skating on this warm, snowy Christmas Eve.
Days like today remind me why I love living here so much, in this friendly city with sidewalks and kids out playing in the park, with neighbors who stop to chat, with folks who work in the corner store and know us by name. The friendly sense of community and the gorgeous snowfall really make it feel like Christmas.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Discipline already?
When babies are little you have to hold them and feed them and change them and play with them, but that's about it. Now that they are a little bigger, though, we are starting to run into some challenges that I find I'm woefully at a loss to handle.
My general strategy for dealing with mobile twins has been to babyproof the downstairs area as much as possible and then generally let them go at it. I can't constantly chase after two kids who are going in opposite directions, so I try to make it so that the worst that'll happen to them when I'm not right there is a bumped head. I also don't like the idea of having to say "no" and redirect them 800 times a day, so I figure it's better to just eliminate any dangers and let them explore to their heart's content.
We do, however, have this plastic on the windows that is very, very intriguing to Milo and Nora. Especially Milo.
When I put up the plastic it was mostly invisible thanks to a hair dryer and magic shrinking properties of plastic. However, if you touch it or mess with it, that destroys the seal and makes the plastic pucker and wrinkle. This not only looks bad, it ruins the insulating effects of the plastic. Now the dilemma. The kids love touching and messing with that plastic. In fact, they've even torn it off, destroying the seal. I can actually feel the cold wind rushing in through the window when the seal is broken. Yesterday it was -9 degrees outside, without the wind chill. So, it's cold. The plastic makes a huge difference in the warmth of our house.
But it doesn't make a difference if the seal is constantly broken by a couple of inquisitive babies. So now my whole method of "babyproof so I don't have to say no constantly" no longer works, because there is no way to keep the babies away from the windows. With Nora, I say "no" and she's just clueless. She doesn't really understand what that means, although she'll respond to her name in a stern voice. Physically removing her and redirecting her seems to be the only option at this point. Nora is not super interested in the windows all the time, though. She mostly only goes over there because Milo is doing it.
So Milo is the real problem when it comes to the windows. He knows what no means, and he knows that he is not supposed to touch those windows. As a result, Milo's one true desire is to touch those windows. All the time. If I see him approaching the window I'll first try to distract him with a toy or something else interesting. If that works, great. If not, I'll try the "no" approach. Half the time he'll listen when I say no, and he'll stop his approach and do something else instead, at which point I praise him effusively. The other half of the time, though, he'll deliberately look at me, and then very deliberately reach out his hand and start pounding on that plastic. (Interestingly, with Jake, I have not yet seen Milo respond to Jake's "no" even once. It's like Jake lacks that special stern tone of voice that means business). So anyway, we'll then physically remove him and redirect him to some other toy, but Milo is amazingly single-minded. He'll just crawl right back over to that window if he can. Again and again. I can put him in the exersaucer for 5 minutes and he'll play in there long enough to forget about the window, but that's about it.
Basically I don't want to spend the next 3 months having to drag the kids away from the windows 800 times a day. I don't want to have to say "no" and then have them not listen anyway, and drag them away, only to repeat the whole process 15 minutes later. So what to do? Our downstairs living room/dining room/kitchen area is where we spend all of our time. It's the only reasonable area for the kids to play during the day, for me and Jake to hang out, etc. Do I just persist and hope that they'll learn to listen to "no" eventually? Or is this the kind of thing they're not really going to listen to until they're 2?
Monday, December 22, 2008
Sleeping In
Notice I'm no longer writing every other post about sleep, or lack of it. The kids sleep more or less decently, but not great. Some nights they will sleep all the way through. Most nights at least one of them wakes up at least once. Milo is actually waking fairly often these days, which is a new development. Usually whoever wakes just needs a little reassurance, and then it's back to sleep. Unfortunately, it's not always back to sleep for me, and I might lie awake for an hour or so, willing myself to go back to sleep before dawn arrives.
So...eh. The sleep thing isn't so bad. Waking up once or twice is nothing compared to what we went through for the first 6 or 7 months of the babies' lives. I do miss, however, sleeping in.
For some reason I didn't really think about how sleeping in would basically disappear all together once I became a parent. I thought maybe the kids would sleep in too (hah). Or I thought we would trade off getting up with them, which we do actually, so on those days I can sleep in until 8 or so, at which point I'm compelled to get up and help out, feed them breakfast, get them ready to go back down for their nap, and so forth. But that's not really the same thing as sleeping in until 10. Or 11.
I've always been a night owl and when I taught high school and had to get up at 6 or something unholy like that, I suffered a lot because I couldn't manage to ever go to sleep at a decent hour. I'd be exhausted throughout the afternoon, but by 9 or so my second wind would always kick in and I'd be wide awake for several more hours. Repeat endlessly. If it weren't for the horrible hours I'd probably still be teaching high school, because it was so much fun. I think I'm just fundamentally a night owl and that doesn't seem likely to change any time soon.
And yet...sleeping in is definitely a thing of the past. By the time I'm able to do it again (when the kids are, I don't know, what, 8? 10?) I'll probably be over the whole sleeping in thing. Maybe I'll be an early bird by then. It feels weird to let go of looking forward to it, to accept that it's not going to happen anymore.
Except when I travel. I have to attend two conferences in April, which is a whole other post in itself for the guilt I feel about traveling, but anyway, I have to go, and part of me is hoping there will be an opportunity to sleep in. Knowing my luck, even if my talk isn't in the morning, I'll probably still get woken up by the elevator or loud guests guffawing in the hall or the maids vacuuming or something, but...there's always hope.
So...eh. The sleep thing isn't so bad. Waking up once or twice is nothing compared to what we went through for the first 6 or 7 months of the babies' lives. I do miss, however, sleeping in.
For some reason I didn't really think about how sleeping in would basically disappear all together once I became a parent. I thought maybe the kids would sleep in too (hah). Or I thought we would trade off getting up with them, which we do actually, so on those days I can sleep in until 8 or so, at which point I'm compelled to get up and help out, feed them breakfast, get them ready to go back down for their nap, and so forth. But that's not really the same thing as sleeping in until 10. Or 11.
I've always been a night owl and when I taught high school and had to get up at 6 or something unholy like that, I suffered a lot because I couldn't manage to ever go to sleep at a decent hour. I'd be exhausted throughout the afternoon, but by 9 or so my second wind would always kick in and I'd be wide awake for several more hours. Repeat endlessly. If it weren't for the horrible hours I'd probably still be teaching high school, because it was so much fun. I think I'm just fundamentally a night owl and that doesn't seem likely to change any time soon.
And yet...sleeping in is definitely a thing of the past. By the time I'm able to do it again (when the kids are, I don't know, what, 8? 10?) I'll probably be over the whole sleeping in thing. Maybe I'll be an early bird by then. It feels weird to let go of looking forward to it, to accept that it's not going to happen anymore.
Except when I travel. I have to attend two conferences in April, which is a whole other post in itself for the guilt I feel about traveling, but anyway, I have to go, and part of me is hoping there will be an opportunity to sleep in. Knowing my luck, even if my talk isn't in the morning, I'll probably still get woken up by the elevator or loud guests guffawing in the hall or the maids vacuuming or something, but...there's always hope.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Miscellany
I enjoyed the interesting emails I got about the name dilemma. Opinions ranged all over the place, from a) I would be in my rights to send an aggressive letter demanding the use of my legal name, to b) it's a legitimate complaint but perhaps not worth wasting my energy over, to c) my desire to be called by my correct name is analogous to a Muslim man marrying into a non-Muslim family and then demanding that all of the women cover themselves in his presence.
In the end, I think it's possible to stand up for your beliefs without getting too worked up over it. I'm not going to sit around waiting for Jake's family to change, but I can also stop accepting correspondence addressed to somebody who doesn't exist. And then forget about it.
Today we had a snow day everywhere except at the university, which stayed open and enforced the last day of the final exam schedule. Poor students who had a final today! It would have been very difficult to drive anywhere and I only got to work because I walked, and even then it took me almost twice as long to walk there as normal. Then I discovered that I was pretty much the only person who had come in, but that's okay, as it's easier to get a lot of work done when things are quiet. These days I am putting a lot of energy into really focusing on work when I am at work, and really focusing on home when I am at home. When the kids are asleep I can work for a couple of hours, but otherwise, I put it out of my mind and just focus on them. This feels like a good way to be because it gives me license to not be guilty (about leaving my kids, about not working more) and just honor where I am at any given time.
This week Nora is into having pretend conversations and Milo is into testing us. Nora will start up a conversation in nonsense words and then mimic our voices and intonations perfectly. It's hilarious. Milo has developed a love of touching (and messing up) our ugly plastic on the windows. So we're saying no and then trying to distract him with other things, but he's amazingly single-minded. Now he'll crawl towards the window, pull up, and then look at me as he deliberately reaches for it. When I say no, he is starting to listen. Nora, not so much, but one step at a time...
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Names
I got married at 25 and changed my name. I'm not sure why I changed my name at the time. It was a dumb, dumb thing to do and all I can think of is that I was extremely young and not much of a conscious feminist at the time, and I thought we would have kids and wanted everybody in the (hypothetical) family to have the same last name, so I changed mine. All stupid reasons and if I could go back and undo that mistake of changing my name, I would. I wouldn't undo the marriage, which I don't regret, but I'd undo the name changing. When I was 25 (which is generally too young to get married these days, I think) I married somebody who was kind, sweet, and generous. He is still all of those things and even though we were not right for each other, I am glad for the years that we had in each others' lives. I never would have had the confidence and courage to do the things I've done in life if it weren't for his belief in me. Anyway, so I'm fine with that marriage in my history, but I wish I hadn't changed my name at the time.
So when we got divorced I had already established a publishing record. It is a hassle to change your name when you're already publishing, and I didn't have very strong feelings about going back to my maiden name, so I kept it. I've had this name for most of my adult life and I identify with it now, and I like it. So anyway, I kept the name, which was much easier to do given the way things work in academics, and I've been publishing under it this whole time.
When I got married to Jake I didn't change my name to his name. By then so many more years had passed which means more publishing had been done under my name, and I was beginning to get recognition under my name, and changing it would have been very confusing. Not to mention, by the time we got married, changing my name to my husband's isn't something I would have done regardless of the publishing issue. Everybody has their own preferences and beliefs about this practice, and I respect other people's preferences and call them by whatever name they choose.
So of course the problem comes up in relationship to his family, who does not respect the fact that I didn't take his name. They uniformly call me Amy HisLastName, and address things like Christmas cards to Jake and Amy HisLastName. They've had a lot of opportunities to figure out that this is incorrect. First of all, I told them. (You'd think that'd do the trick). Then, they had a baby shower for me and everybody had to go to the registry, which was under my name. So they all had to learn my correct name for the baby shower. In addition, every time I send thank-you notes or cards, I include my return address which has my correct name on it. We even had to address this very explicitly with Jake's uncle, who sent a check on behalf of Jake's grandmother made out to "Jake and Amy HisLastName". The bank wouldn't let us cash it, because the "and" meant we both had to sign it, but I wasn't allowed to sign a name that wasn't actually my correct name. So we had to return the check and explain about the issue of not being allowed to cash it due to an incorrect name for me being on it. Then I discussed the issue again with Jake's mother, explaining all of these things and asking why their entire family didn't call me by my actual name. She didn't really have an answer other than the fact that I should have changed my name, and that's what people do here in the midwest, etc.
So now we're getting cards again addressed to Jake & Amy HisLastName. Today we just got a card from Jake's parents. His mother addressed the envelope to "The Jake HisLastName Family".
I think everybody's opinion about this is that I should just suck it up and let it go. That it's not worth it, and I shouldn't do something super passive aggressive like, say, returning mail that is incorrectly addressed (which I am contemplating doing, and am sorely tempted to do). Obviously being direct about it hasn't worked, and being polite about it hasn't worked, so I guess the thing I am supposed to do is be gracious and accept that people don't respect me enough to use my proper name, and deal with that for the rest of my life.
But I am having a hard time letting this go. I think that purposely calling a woman by her husband's name when it goes against her stated preferences is deliberately sexist and disrespectful. I would guess that Jake's family probably resents the fact that the name I use isn't really even "my" name at all, and it's inappropriate for me to use it when I'm married to Jake. Jake didn't want me to change my name when we got married, probably because he's proud of who I am and what I've accomplished under this name, but he's also very passive with his family and is not generally willing to stand up to them.
So what to do, what to do. Just letting it go for the rest of my life feels wrong to me because it's sending a message to everybody that this is okay, and I don't think it's okay. On the other hand, resisting it will cause trouble and I'm already too much of a troublemaker according to most folks.
So when we got divorced I had already established a publishing record. It is a hassle to change your name when you're already publishing, and I didn't have very strong feelings about going back to my maiden name, so I kept it. I've had this name for most of my adult life and I identify with it now, and I like it. So anyway, I kept the name, which was much easier to do given the way things work in academics, and I've been publishing under it this whole time.
When I got married to Jake I didn't change my name to his name. By then so many more years had passed which means more publishing had been done under my name, and I was beginning to get recognition under my name, and changing it would have been very confusing. Not to mention, by the time we got married, changing my name to my husband's isn't something I would have done regardless of the publishing issue. Everybody has their own preferences and beliefs about this practice, and I respect other people's preferences and call them by whatever name they choose.
So of course the problem comes up in relationship to his family, who does not respect the fact that I didn't take his name. They uniformly call me Amy HisLastName, and address things like Christmas cards to Jake and Amy HisLastName. They've had a lot of opportunities to figure out that this is incorrect. First of all, I told them. (You'd think that'd do the trick). Then, they had a baby shower for me and everybody had to go to the registry, which was under my name. So they all had to learn my correct name for the baby shower. In addition, every time I send thank-you notes or cards, I include my return address which has my correct name on it. We even had to address this very explicitly with Jake's uncle, who sent a check on behalf of Jake's grandmother made out to "Jake and Amy HisLastName". The bank wouldn't let us cash it, because the "and" meant we both had to sign it, but I wasn't allowed to sign a name that wasn't actually my correct name. So we had to return the check and explain about the issue of not being allowed to cash it due to an incorrect name for me being on it. Then I discussed the issue again with Jake's mother, explaining all of these things and asking why their entire family didn't call me by my actual name. She didn't really have an answer other than the fact that I should have changed my name, and that's what people do here in the midwest, etc.
So now we're getting cards again addressed to Jake & Amy HisLastName. Today we just got a card from Jake's parents. His mother addressed the envelope to "The Jake HisLastName Family".
I think everybody's opinion about this is that I should just suck it up and let it go. That it's not worth it, and I shouldn't do something super passive aggressive like, say, returning mail that is incorrectly addressed (which I am contemplating doing, and am sorely tempted to do). Obviously being direct about it hasn't worked, and being polite about it hasn't worked, so I guess the thing I am supposed to do is be gracious and accept that people don't respect me enough to use my proper name, and deal with that for the rest of my life.
But I am having a hard time letting this go. I think that purposely calling a woman by her husband's name when it goes against her stated preferences is deliberately sexist and disrespectful. I would guess that Jake's family probably resents the fact that the name I use isn't really even "my" name at all, and it's inappropriate for me to use it when I'm married to Jake. Jake didn't want me to change my name when we got married, probably because he's proud of who I am and what I've accomplished under this name, but he's also very passive with his family and is not generally willing to stand up to them.
So what to do, what to do. Just letting it go for the rest of my life feels wrong to me because it's sending a message to everybody that this is okay, and I don't think it's okay. On the other hand, resisting it will cause trouble and I'm already too much of a troublemaker according to most folks.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Some Birthday Pictures
Nora and Milo show off their fancy birthday outfits:
Nora plays with my hair:
Jake and the kids open some presents:
Milo is a little pirate:
What is this cake of which you speak?
I guess it's okay...
Well, if I must...
Nora plays with my hair:
Jake and the kids open some presents:
Milo is a little pirate:
What is this cake of which you speak?
I guess it's okay...
Well, if I must...
Sunday, December 14, 2008
First Birthday
I've been neglecting the blog lately. Nora and Milo turned 1! I'll try to put up some pictures soon. They have changed so much in just the last couple of weeks. Nora is standing up by herself all the time now, balancing for a while before needing to grab on to something. Milo can say (and recognize) doggie. Yesterday I taught Nora to show us one finger to say that she is one. Today I heard Greg ask Milo to wait and Milo did the sign for wait. Also today I told Milo to put the block on the drum and he did it. He understands on and off and in and out, and likes doing all of those things over and over again with his toys. I also saw Milo do the sign for more when I said more, and Nora has signed milk. If we weren't super lame with signing, they'd be doing a lot more. What they're doing now is just what they've mostly picked up from my mom and the twin whisperer. I need to remember to sign more with them.
If we ask the babies to pat the tray or to wave, they can do those things. Their receptive language is growing by leaps and bounds. Nora likes to shake her head no, and she also likes to dance when music is on. I've also been hearing Nora say "ball", which is still Milo's favorite word. They will also both say "night night" at bedtime. It's just amazing what they're learning every day.
The babies are developing issues with sharing now. Milo is starting to get to the point where he'll place something in your hands sometimes. He has a little walker that he absolutely loves, but when Nora approaches that walker when he's using it, he freaks out. The other day I actually saw him forcibly remove her hand from the walker. So the kids are already having to learn some hard lessons about sharing at this early age. At the same time, they're also really interacting with each other when they play. They'll chase each other around the room, and if one person does something like patting a toy, the other will mimic.
The babies seemed to have a good birthday. They had a nice dinner that included smoked salmon, which they both liked. They were actually a little cautious with their cake, not smashing it into their faces, but they liked it. I baked two cakes, a chocolate one with white frosting for Nora and a white cake with chocolate frosting for Milo. Now we have way too much cake in the house. Milo got really excited about his cake in the end, which led to an evening full of outrageous excitement. We popped open a bottle of champagne and toasted surviving the year. After a year of parenting twins we're all still here, alive, and we're even still married! I can't wait to see what next year brings.
If we ask the babies to pat the tray or to wave, they can do those things. Their receptive language is growing by leaps and bounds. Nora likes to shake her head no, and she also likes to dance when music is on. I've also been hearing Nora say "ball", which is still Milo's favorite word. They will also both say "night night" at bedtime. It's just amazing what they're learning every day.
The babies are developing issues with sharing now. Milo is starting to get to the point where he'll place something in your hands sometimes. He has a little walker that he absolutely loves, but when Nora approaches that walker when he's using it, he freaks out. The other day I actually saw him forcibly remove her hand from the walker. So the kids are already having to learn some hard lessons about sharing at this early age. At the same time, they're also really interacting with each other when they play. They'll chase each other around the room, and if one person does something like patting a toy, the other will mimic.
The babies seemed to have a good birthday. They had a nice dinner that included smoked salmon, which they both liked. They were actually a little cautious with their cake, not smashing it into their faces, but they liked it. I baked two cakes, a chocolate one with white frosting for Nora and a white cake with chocolate frosting for Milo. Now we have way too much cake in the house. Milo got really excited about his cake in the end, which led to an evening full of outrageous excitement. We popped open a bottle of champagne and toasted surviving the year. After a year of parenting twins we're all still here, alive, and we're even still married! I can't wait to see what next year brings.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Snowstorm
Pushing a stroller through several inches of fresh snow is more tiring than I would have guessed.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Once Bitten, Twice Shy
Nora and Milo were playing when suddenly Nora started crying. She hadn't fallen, so I didn't know what her problem was. I picked her up and saw bite marks on her forehead. Bite marks that matched up perfectly with Milo's four teeth. That little fucker bit her! Greeeeaat.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Her Body, My Baby
This is an interesting NYT article written by a woman who hired a surrogate to bear her child. After multiple failed IVFs and devastating miscarriages over the course of 5 years, she and her husband decided to try the option of a surrogate to carry a baby that would be genetically theirs. It worked, and the author is now the mother of a baby boy.
There are some irritating things about this article that are typical of NYT articles in general. The author is wealthy and takes for granted options that are closed to most people in the U.S. The photographs paint a more disturbing picture than what we see in the article itself; the surrogate, barefoot on a dilapidated porch; the author, prim and proper with her baby boy, standing in front of her impressive estate while her Black "baby nurse" hovers in the background; these images highlight the undiscussed issues of class and privilege that permeate most NYT articles. The author explores a scenario that most people cannot relate to because most people cannot even fathom affording more than 100K to have a biological baby.
I think I've written before that infertility gave me the gift of learning how to reserve judgment. It's hard to imagine that I would have hired a gestational surrogate, but what do I know? I was lucky and never had to face that situation. The things that I did ultimately do in order to have children, the painful shots, the carcinogenic drugs, the humiliating exams, the mounting medical bills, those are all things that I'd once sworn I would never, ever do. I would never go off the deep end like that just to have a child. It's so easy to pass judgment on people who do things like that, to swear that you'd never do those things, when you don't have to walk in those shoes. It's humbling to get yourself stuck in a hellish situation, mired in sadness and anger and jealousy, and then finally consider the kinds of things you'd previously mocked.
The comments to this piece are judgmental (and sometimes cruel). For instance:
There is no "just" about adopting. That doesn't mean it isn't a wonderful, worthwhile option to consider. It is. But it's not simple, and it's not cheap, and it's not fast. I couldn't help but notice that when Jake and I were struggling to have a family, the people who suggested that we "just adopt" hadn't actually, you know, adopted themselves. They'd had biological kids, and somehow thought that it was the job of the infertile to save the world.
The days of Little Orphan Annie are over. If somebody had told us, when we were struggling to have a family, that I could adopt a baby tomorrow, I would have done it in a heartbeat. I didn't care about DNA, I cared about having a child. I didn't do IVF because I was some selfish, narcissistic person who couldn't love a baby not genetically related to me. I did it because I looked at the options and chose the one that seemed likely to be the fastest and the cheapest. Of course, if it doesn't work the first time (or the second), that sucks and you have to reassess, as we did, but still, we took the path of least resistance.
And I was lucky, because we did have the resources to pull it off. I was also lucky because, in the end, it worked. And maybe this is selfish, but I wanted to know what it was like to carry a baby and to give birth. Okay, that is definitely selfish. In fact I've yet to hear anybody provide an unselfish reason for deciding to have a baby. It's an inherently selfish act. It's just that the people who suffer for it, who sacrifice everything to do it, are the only ones who are labeled selfish.
There are some irritating things about this article that are typical of NYT articles in general. The author is wealthy and takes for granted options that are closed to most people in the U.S. The photographs paint a more disturbing picture than what we see in the article itself; the surrogate, barefoot on a dilapidated porch; the author, prim and proper with her baby boy, standing in front of her impressive estate while her Black "baby nurse" hovers in the background; these images highlight the undiscussed issues of class and privilege that permeate most NYT articles. The author explores a scenario that most people cannot relate to because most people cannot even fathom affording more than 100K to have a biological baby.
I think I've written before that infertility gave me the gift of learning how to reserve judgment. It's hard to imagine that I would have hired a gestational surrogate, but what do I know? I was lucky and never had to face that situation. The things that I did ultimately do in order to have children, the painful shots, the carcinogenic drugs, the humiliating exams, the mounting medical bills, those are all things that I'd once sworn I would never, ever do. I would never go off the deep end like that just to have a child. It's so easy to pass judgment on people who do things like that, to swear that you'd never do those things, when you don't have to walk in those shoes. It's humbling to get yourself stuck in a hellish situation, mired in sadness and anger and jealousy, and then finally consider the kinds of things you'd previously mocked.
The comments to this piece are judgmental (and sometimes cruel). For instance:
That smug cow. If she doesn't have a big enough heart to love a baby that wasn't "genetically" hers, then she never should have been allowed custody of a child in the first place.And:
I guess there were no children who needed adoption in her state.I'd like to point out that just like IVF, most adoptions are an option only for those with generous financial resources. Adoptions run anywhere from 20K to 45K. In addition, adoptions can be time consuming. When Jake and I were considering it, the local agency let me know that the average wait time in our state is 2 years. That's after your home study is completed, after you've filled out reams of paperwork in triplicate, after you've been subjected to interviews and financial interrogations, after you've written up your profile. International adoptions can take even longer. For a woman like me, one who is super old, yo, these wait times are everything. I didn't want to be too old to be able to chase my kids around the park. (Hmm. Maybe too late. Fortunately Jake is young).
There is no "just" about adopting. That doesn't mean it isn't a wonderful, worthwhile option to consider. It is. But it's not simple, and it's not cheap, and it's not fast. I couldn't help but notice that when Jake and I were struggling to have a family, the people who suggested that we "just adopt" hadn't actually, you know, adopted themselves. They'd had biological kids, and somehow thought that it was the job of the infertile to save the world.
The days of Little Orphan Annie are over. If somebody had told us, when we were struggling to have a family, that I could adopt a baby tomorrow, I would have done it in a heartbeat. I didn't care about DNA, I cared about having a child. I didn't do IVF because I was some selfish, narcissistic person who couldn't love a baby not genetically related to me. I did it because I looked at the options and chose the one that seemed likely to be the fastest and the cheapest. Of course, if it doesn't work the first time (or the second), that sucks and you have to reassess, as we did, but still, we took the path of least resistance.
And I was lucky, because we did have the resources to pull it off. I was also lucky because, in the end, it worked. And maybe this is selfish, but I wanted to know what it was like to carry a baby and to give birth. Okay, that is definitely selfish. In fact I've yet to hear anybody provide an unselfish reason for deciding to have a baby. It's an inherently selfish act. It's just that the people who suffer for it, who sacrifice everything to do it, are the only ones who are labeled selfish.
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