Chasing A Child

Hi-ho, hi-ho ...

I went back to work last week. Our little girl was 9 weeks old. It felt like I sprinted out the door Monday morning, ran full-tilt all week, and sprinted in the door Friday night. It was a full week. FULL. The temp attorney actually did a very respectable job keeping the worst of the work under control while I was gone. There are huge stacks on my desk, of course, but it's not the chaotic mess I feared. Just a lot of work requiring me to focus every minute I'm there on the task at hand, so I can dash out the door at 4:30 to start my home shift at 5. I'm working 7.5 hour days without a lunch break, which means that I have to pack all my food for the day so I can eat at my desk.

If I could leave the house earlier in the mornings, it would be helpful, but the sleep deprivation makes that impossible for now. Since the Mister is a nightowl, he's handling the Boy's lengthy bedtime process, and I try to go to bed with the baby at 9pm. She usually sleeps solidly until midnight or 1am, then feeds for an hour or so. After that, she naps an hour here and there in between feedings. She's a loud sleeper after midnight, so even when she's asleep, I'm not able to fall fully asleep for the rest of the night. I often seem to be awake or dozing with her in the chair from 1am to 5. She'll usually toss and turn in her bassinet from 5 to 6, when she needs more food. My alarm goes off at 6:30, the Boy is up at 7:30, and we're off to the races. I can barely get out the door by 8:30 when our nanny arrives.

And then we're spending half the weekend seeing various friends -- a friend's birthday dinner Friday night, brunch/playdate this morning, dinner/playdate tonight -- and Sunday morning we're having a photographer over to do our first set of family pix. After that, I plan to pass out. In all likelihood, I'll end up paying bills instead.

My maternity leave consisted of 2 weeks of sick time, one week of vacation time, and 6 weeks of short-term disability leave (at 60% of my usual pay). It was the best we could cobble together. I'm working 4 days/week, with the 5th day being unpaid FMLA leave. I'll do that until we can't afford it anymore. I wish I could stay home with the baby for the next few years, but that will have to wait until my next life when I'm reborn in the Netherlands or some other civilized place that mandates reasonable parental leave and universal health care.

The Boy is in preschool 4 days/week and his nanny has transitioned to being our baby nanny 3 days/week (she's in college the other 2 days). For now, the Mister has both kids on Tuesdays and I stay home with the Girl on Thursdays. We're hoping to switch the Boy's schedule around so that the Mister only has the baby on Tuesdays. Not that he can't handle both kids, but he'll be able to do a little bit of income-producing work if he only has one kid, and we need his income to pay for all this childcare. Figuring out our schedules has been like a very complex game of chess. Figuring out our finances is a never-ending balancing act, performed in the spare minutes I can grab here and there. Somehow, we're making it work, but it feels a bit like a house of cards -- if one extra thing piles on (visitors, school vacations, etc.), the whole thing could come tumbling down.

*****

I'm breastfeeding the Girl as and when I can. We got off to a rocky start. She had a great latch from the first minutes after her birth (our doula called her a hoover because she had such a strong suck), and I apparently have the perfect equipment for nursing. (Never in my life did I imagine that I would have so many women complimenting my nipples as I did in the days after her birth ... nurses and lactation consultants literally oo'ed over them! Way to make a girl proud ...)

But our little Girl had severe jaundice when she was born, and spent 36 hours under the bili lights at the hospital (bringing our total hospital time to 6, count 'em, 6 days). She had to be hydrated quickly, and my milk hadn't come in, so I gave them permission to start her on formula. I went to the nursery every 3 hours to nurse her, and I'd bring as much colostrum as I could pump in between visits. But it wasn't an ideal start. Eventually my milk came in (engorgement, ouch!), but it's never been enough to fully satisfy her ravenous hunger, so we're supplementing with formula.

This is good in a way, because it gives us the flexibility to use formula when we're in a place where nursing might be awkward, and the Mister can step in at 4am when she's been nibbling on me for the past 6 hours straight so I can get some sleep and my "perfect" nipples can get a break. The lactation consultants all suggested various ways I could increase my flow, but most of those methods involved more work than I had time for. For example, they told me to pump after every feeding, which was pretty much impossible, since she was eating every 2 hours and took up a full hour to eat because she'd fall asleep as soon as she latched on. I'd wake her up, she'd suck down a few drops, and pass out again. Lather, rinse, repeat. Then I'd have an hour to clean the pump parts, deal with the 3-year-old, do laundry, eat, sleep, pay bills ... Um, yeah. So post-feeding pumping was a non-starter. I'm actually fine with it -- the situation is what it is. I nurse her in the morning when we wake up and once more before I leave for work. Then I pump twice a day at work (yay for a private office -- I can pump and work at the same time). Our nanny feeds that milk to her the next day via bottle, with generally one additional feeding of formula. I nurse her as soon as I get home and then she might have one more bottle of formula before bed. After that, it's mostly breast milk the rest of the night. Sometimes she wants an extra couple of ounces of formula towards dawn, but I've worked up to managing most of her feedings all night. Which, of course, means that I'm getting less sleep, but that's okay. The minutes may drag, but the days fly quickly, and before I know it, she'll be weaned and I'll be glad I did what I could.

Did I mention she has an enormous appetite? Seriously, our little girl went from the 12th percentile on the growth charts in the first weeks after her birth to the 75th percentile at her 2-month well baby appointment. It's truly astonishing to watch her grow. She blew through the newborn clothing in her first month and is now out of the 0-3 month clothes too. The Boy was always on the lower end of the growth charts, so I'm a bit stunned by our little Amazon. She's going to be tall.

So much to say; so little time. Must wake up the Boy and get myself and the baby ready to go out. More another day.

Post-Christmas Cheer (achoo!)

So here I sit, nursing a post-Christmas cold and finally having a few minutes to write because Nanny J is here. She's turning out to be pretty cool, by the way (thank our lucky stars, since we found her through <gasp!> the unpredictable land of craig.slist). She's good with babies but a bit more coach-like than Nanny C, who had much more of a sweet nursery school teacher demeanor. Squeaker is at a good stage for someone who will challenge him. And the best part? One of her previous tykes was more sleep-averse than Squeaker, so she's well-primed for that battle -- hallelujah! Our boy is more tired because (a) he's walking and (b) she keeps him active, and he's also more rested because he's getting regular naps. That plus our new nighttime sleep routines is meaning a more pleasant sleep experience at our house these days. Knock wood.

Achoo! Excuse me. I used to get sick for Christmas every year, to the point that it was a little bit disconcerting if I was healthy at Santa time. Something about the combination of holiday excitement and the inevitable family stress -- then, when I was in college, it was more an issue of horrible eating/sleeping (and, er, drinking) habits, plus cramming for finals, so that when the weeks-long winter break came around, my body took the opportunity to crash. This year, of course, the concept of a winter break is something to laugh about -- Me get a break? Hahahahahahaha! And ha! But I did take the opportunity to call in sick today, with a convincingly raspy Demi Moore voice and a hacking cough to make it sound particularly authentic. Not that I have more than a few days' sick time accumulated, having used all of my "paid time off" hours to supplement my unpaid family leave at the beginning of the year. Hey legislators, how about some guaranteed paid family leave? All the other developed countries seem to manage it ...

But back to the holidays. Squeaker had a very nice first Christmas, although he's still a bit young to really appreciate it. The Mister and I actually took time to shower and have a leisurely breakfast before opening gifts (as leisurely as breakfast can be with a not-quite-one-year-old broadcasting his morning cheeriness from the high chair), which I suspect will be the last year we have that luxury! I remember my dad always insisted on showering before we could open gifts on Christmas morning, which was utter hell for my siblings and me, as his version of a quick shower was 45 minutes. File that one under "creative ways to torture your kids."

We thought this would be Squeaker's favorite gift:

But this empty box has been a much bigger hit:*

*I swear, my child does have feet ... he must be on his tippy toes here.

And speaking of boxes, we threw an open house party on Boxing Day, which I thought might be a smallish gathering. Silly me didn't realize that practically everyone we invited would show up, nor did I factor in the noise/exuberance of seven kids under the age of 4. We were quite the diverse crowd -- a gay couple, a lesbian couple, a few single people, a widow, a couple who is on the waiting list with our adoption agency (she is planning to breastfeed and is already lactating, phew, we've got our fingers crossed that they'll get matched soon) ... plus all those exhausted parents with the kids -- one IVF toddler, one adopted Vietnamese toddler, two adopted Ethiopian toddlers, one adopted mixed-race toddler, the charming blonde toddler from down the street (whose conception I know absolutely nothing about, but whose dad turns out to be a drummer in a regionally famous rock band, who knew?) ... and of course our little Squeaker, who was so overwhelmed by all those people in his house and all those kids to play with that he became a weeping slobbery mess after they left and all but begged us to put him to bed, wherein he slept quickly and soundly for many hours.

Note to self: Throw More Parties.

Teething Hell

The first 4 teeth were relatively painless. The Boy didn't sleep as well (as if he ever sleeps well in the first place, ha!), but the obvious pain was not excessive. The current set of emerging teeth, however, (another 4 at once) have created a monster child. Intense drool. Whining. Congestion and runny nose. Ear-pulling. More whining. Moaning. Writhing. Complete and utter failure to sleep during the night for more than, oh, 3 minutes in a row. I kid you not.

Last night, I went to bed at 10:30. The Mister was called to the Boy's room 3 times between 10:30 and 11:45. At 11:50, he walked the dog. So when the Boy next woke at 11:52, I awoke, miserably, from a deep deep sleep. And then I spent the next hour and a half rocking, pacing, feeding, changing not just one but two diapers, pacing, rocking ... and finally, putting the screaming child in his crib and leaving the room before I became one of those parents you read about in the newspapers. After spending a few minutes deep breathing in the hallway, I was safe to re-enter the room, but soon reached breaking point and left again. Repeat several times. Finally, at 1:30, the Boy slept. I went back to bed.

Ten minutes later, there was a loud wail from the squawkbox, followed by lots of sobbing and pounding of small fists on the crib. I told the Mister that he had to take over before I broke our baby's leg. Yes, I actually said that. So, the Mister wisely took over -- then and the next 4 times until finally, after a bottle at 6:30, the Boy slept for a full hour (as did we) and I ended up late to work, yet again, even though I skipped my shower. I was so delirious that I left my perfectly full, wonderfully hot cup of coffee in the travel mug on the window ledge next to the front door. Halfway to work, I reached for my coffee and <gasp!> it wasn't there. I nearly drove off the road just to end it all right there.

So yeah -- it's hard being a lawyer under these circumstances. And I'm fresh out of legal interns -- now and for the foreseeable future. And I'm drowning in work. For some weird reason, my busiest time at work is November-February. Convenient, eh? Just in time for shorter days, long dark energy-sucking afternoons, bitter-cold mornings that make staying in bed sound like an infinitely preferable idea, and oh my lord yes, The Holidays. And we're really broke right now, due to the economy taking a big chunk out of the Mister's freelance work. And we're paying for marriage counseling out-of-pocket because our health insurance would only cover it if one of us were declared mentally defective in some way. I bet I could make a pretty good argument that we're both mentally defective right now, but then if somehow we had to change health insurance, we'd have a pre-existing condition and god knows one should avoid that at all cost.

The good news? The new nanny starts in 2 weeks. The worst thing her references found to say about her was that she spent a lot of time reading to the kids. Oh, the horror.

Thankful

I'm too tired to post anything thoughtful. Let's just say that we're struggling through sleep-deprivation, major relationship issues, lots and lots of work at our jobs (where is it all coming from?!), and to top things off, our Wonder Nanny gave us 3 weeks' notice last week. Wah!!

So today was spent interviewing nannies, all of whom had some form of tattoo (not that that matters, but we found it interesting from a statistical/societal basis). Fortunately, one of the young women seems promising ... and, most importantly, sane. I'll be checking her references tomorrow, and if no one mentions the phrase "axe murderer", she's hired.

Until I have more brain power, I'll leave you with a few photos from October and November:

Polenta is nom nom nom!

Sitting in the pumpkin patch, refusing to smile.

Thanksgiving with teeth! We do have a lot to be thankful for this year.

 

In which we betray our child and he gets his revenge

The other night, the Mister and I went on a date. For my birthday, he bought tickets to see one of my favorite musicians. Neither of us has been to a concert of this sort in longer than we care to admit, so we felt kind of ... out of practice ... and it was strange to be out and about without Squeaker. We haven't been doing the date night thing, primarily because we're so dang busy that most nights we just want to crash, and who has time to find a babysitter? Anyway, we had a great time people-watching without the distraction of getting spit up on, and the music was awesome. I've always had a huge girl-crush on this performer, and her opening boy-band was quite adorable (and talented too).

While we were out, my dear friend K stayed with Squeaker. When Squeaker realized this was going to be the arrangement, he pitched a first-class, red-faced, howling, crying fit. A veritable tantrum. An epic storm.

He is used to staying with Nanny C. He has stayed with my mom for an hour or two, but only after she'd been staying with us for several days and he was used to her being around. But this was different. This was a "stranger" (he's seen K before but her life is as busy as ours, so to his baby mind, she's a relative stranger), coming into his house, and holding him while his parents walked out the door! Oh, the betrayal! Oh, the trauma! Oh, the noise he was making as we skittered out the door!

I felt really guilty for about a half hour. More from the fact that I was leaving K with my squalling child ... I was afraid he was going to scream the entire time we gone. The way he was carrying on when we left, it was not out of the realm of possibility, and it was a lovely long concert. When we got back, we stood on the porch for a moment, listening. "I don't hear screaming," I offered, hopefully. K told us that he only cried for an hour, then took a bottle, and fell asleep. I'm guessing he fought it a bit harder than that, but either way, she's a saint and I owe her big-time.

--------------------------

This morning, Squeaker was sitting in his crib, fully recovered from his dramatic evening, happily munching on toys, while I folded laundry. I looked up from shaking the wrinkles out of a t-shirt, and was shocked to see the boy standing up, holding onto the edge of his crib.

Standing. Up. By. Himself.

And leaning slightly over the edge, as if to contemplate how he might clamber over, saunter across the room, and walk downstairs. "Mister," I yelled, "we have a  problem!"

The Mister was downstairs, assembling chairs. Back in our Big City days, we bought a restored vintage ice cream table and chairs, because they would fit in the tiny dining area of our 700 sq ft 2 bedroom apartment. We eventually got rid of the table and bought something more substantial, but kept the chairs -- partly because chairs are expensive and partly because we couldn't agree on what to replace them with. Lately, I've realized that Squeaker will be able to yank the delicate little ice cream chairs over onto his head once he's ready to start pulling himself to a standing position. And he's already indicated an interest in chewing the black paint off the wire chair backs. Yesterday, we finally found solid wood chairs we could agree on. They came in boxes, ready to assemble.

So when the Mister came upstairs and saw Squeaker standing there in the crib beaming with pride at his great accomplishment, he heaved a heavy sigh. "I'll finish the chairs and then lower his mattress," he said.

And I'll hurry up with childproofing the electrical sockets ...

Looking for some good help

Okay, so I get nominated for an award and promptly lose the ability to blog. Sigh. Probably why I'm currently in last place! Either that, or I'm among such amazing company with regard to the other nominees, that I should feel honored just to have my name listed with theirs. I've looked at these mamas' blogs -- phew! I am, indeed, humbled.

So ... what's up ....

Oh, well, because the Mister and I don't have enough going on in our lives, what with trying to hold down two full-time jobs on part-time hours while caring for an almost-8-week-old baby (whose colic is a lot better, thanks very much, and we're still exploring the possibility of food allergies and/or lactose intolerance) -- since all of that doesn't really keep us busy, even when we add caring for a strong-willed Dog and two very white Cats (and the pack of Fleas that the Dog brought home from the dog park, whee!) -- we're now Nanny Hunting and House Hunting. I'll tell you about the nanny today -- house hunting with the Mister deserves a post unto itself.

The situation is this -- I've been working 3 mornings per week at the office and "working from home" the other two half-days. Of course, the "working from home" days have turned into "trying to keep Squeaker from completely losing his shit all day long" days. Very valuable in terms of bonding with my child; not so valuable in terms of making money and keeping up with my job.

I'm planning to keep working part-time while using up my FMLA leave little by little, but for both financial and business reasons, I need to step up my hours so that I'm in the office 4 partial days per week. And we've decided that we're not comfortable having Squeaker in daycare while he's so young. Maybe later when he can talk to us about what happens there; right now it's not the best choice for us. We have friends who would like to do childcare swaps for a day here and there, which will be great if I decide to take Fridays off, but it isn't workable as a regular solution to our childcare needs. So we're looking for someone to come in when I work, preferably a student or older person who loves babies and is okay with part-time hours and a slightly-under-market wage. Since the Mister works from home, he can handle any dire emergencies if they arise, and we wouldn't need the nanny to do cooking, cleaning, or carpooling. We really just need someone to make sure Squeaker is comfortable and entertained when I'm working so that the Mister can get work done during that time. But still -- I want to find the best caregiver we can.

Of course, I have no idea whatsoever how to find such a person! I've put the word out among our friends and already received a promising lead from a co-worker. But I also signed up on what amounts to a local nanny-parent dating website. The parents and the potential nannies each fill out a profile -- age of children, experience of the nanny, hours per week, child-raising philosophies, desired wage rate -- and then the site matches you up, or you can search for yourself. Correspondence can be anonymous or you can give them all of your info, and even post a photo or two. I've had several nibbles to my post already, and will be setting up interviews this week. A friend sent us a list of interview questions, and I'm open to receiving more (hint hint). So far, so good.

But then there's the whole nanny tax thing. Holy mother of god, what in the world was the government thinking, requiring normal people to track employment and tax paperwork like we're corporations?!  Between parsing the various requirements of the IRS, Social Security folks, federal employment rules, state tax department and state employment department, I feel I'm studying for the damn bar exam again. And I'm a lawyer!! How in the world do normal people navigate this stuff?! Or do they just say "screw it" and take their chances on getting caught? Or perhaps they are just blithely unaware that the requirements exist, and I'm only being tortured with it because I'm a rule-follower who follows political scandals like they're my favorite soap operas? Anyway, I've found some helpful websites and software that seems like it will make the payroll and tax-withholding part of things go relatively easily, and our tax guy can help me file the returns. But I'm quite sure I'm missing something somewhere ... still need to spend some time with it.

Of course, I could hire through a nanny service or use a payroll service, but that's just more money that we don't have and it seems so ... well ... let's just say that the Mister and I are not high-society or chi-chi kind of folks. The very fact that I'm using the word "nanny" makes me uncomfortable, but "glorified babysitter who I expect more from than just sitting with my baby" is a bit cumbersome. I don't feel rich enough to have a nanny in the first place, and I certainly don't feel rich enough to pay someone to pay my nanny for me. So unless I put Squeaker in daycare, which I don't want to do, I have to figure all of this out.

I'm going to open this up to the working moms out there. Those of you who had to head back to work while your kids were still tiny -- how did you handle childcare? If you have hired nannies or currently have a nanny, how did you go about it? What traps should I avoid? And is the nanny tax stuff something that eventually gets easier? Any favorite tricks you used?