Homework August 9, 2010

“Mommy, how come I don’t have homework,” Gatito asked as he was riding his bike the other day.

“Well, you’re four years old and it’s more important for you to be playing when you’re not in school or at camp,” I told him.

“But it’s okay, I don’t mind,” he insisted.

“You want homework?”

“Yes,” he told me, “like that time I had to count all the windows.”

“Okay, we can do something like that when we get home.”

“No,” he said, “I want a worksheet.”

So when we got home, I made him a little worksheet. Counting, simple math, writing.

“Mommy,” he whined, “Do I have to answer allllll the questions?”

“No!” I told him. “You don’t have to answer *any* of them!”

Apparently he didn’t want homework so much as the opportunity to complain about it. I swear, if getting him to do homework is anything like getting him to practice the viola, it is going to be a long thirteen years. (Though I hope they don’t start giving him homework for at least a couple more.)

Toucans July 14, 2010

Text convo with A today:

Me, sharing good work-related news: Was asked foe transition plan.

A: Oh my goodness that is fantastic!!!!! I am very very proud of toucans and happy for you!!!!!

Me, after furious googling to see whether he’s making a joke about my misspelling “for” as “foe” and finding “friends of eagles”: I think it’s eagles.

A, hours later after his plane has landed: What is eagles?

Automatic spelling correction strikes again, and hilarity ensued, but much experimentation has not revealed what series of characters, exactly, turned itself into “toucan!”

May it always be so easy to make her happy July 6, 2010

Gatito has this pillow with the head of a cow that Tata gave him a while back. It’s a square shape and you can fold it in two and secure it with Velcro and it’s big– about 1.5-2 square feet, I would say. It’s a little bit shaggy and very very soft and Ella Ioves to grab it any chance she gets, which is basically never, since Gatito keeps a close eye on his herd of cows.

I was at the mall with Ella today when I came across a stand selling these things. I handed her a duck and oh my god, you have never seen such a happy child. The thing is practically as big as she is, but she clung to it, all smiles, sometimes resting her head on it right in my arms. I kept showing her other animals, but that was the one she wanted. I could count on one hand he number of toys I’ve bought for Ella so far, but my god, that $26.50 made her so damn happy.

She’d been half asleep in my arms before that, and I’d been wondering if there was any way to get her home without falling asleep so she could nap in her crib and the duck totally re-energized her. All the way home, she chatted away more noisily than I’ve heard in a long while and made kissing noises to it.

Good lord, I love this baby.

Time June 28, 2010

Oh, time, there is just never enough of it. Work is ridiculous, although I just got out of two threatened trips– one to the heartland and one to Europe, so that is good.

My little business is plugging along. My products are in production right this very minute. I will open for business in August or possibly September. It felt like a million years away when I first came up with this scheme, but now it is almost here. I have the first units and have taken pictures for the package inserts and the web site. The pictures… could be better. But I don’t have the money for professional product shots, so I shall just have to hope for the best. I am so, so excited to tell you guys about it and hope you love it!

Last weekend, A and I managed to squeeze a bit of time for ourselves. We belong to this neighborhood swim and tennis club. Nothing fancy and relatively inexpensive. A only learned how to play tennis a couple of years ago, but he picked it up amazingly quickly. I wanted us to be able to play together on Sunday mornings, but there was the little problem of the kids. My parents actually volunteered to babysit, but I knew we’d end up paying for that with our entire day. So I asked an almost-12-year-old neighborhood girl who is also a member of the club.

I know. I’ve never left my kids with anyone except our nannies and my parents, and I even have qualms about my parents. But she’d completed a babysitting course and has been a mother’s helper and has a four-year-old sister herself, and we were 50 yards away. And her mother was good enough to stay nearby in the event of a problem. When we told Gatito about it, he said he’d just watch us play, which I was fine with, but in the end, he happily went off with the girl and her sister. They played on the playground and read the books Gatito had brought and sang songs, and when we came back, they had big plans to bring paper and crayons the next time.

And while I can’t really call it together time, since we were on opposite sides of the court, A and I got to play tennis together for the first time ever, and get some exercise outside of the gym, and it was nice. And now it’s a standing date. Yay!

It doesn’t really matter, but still June 16, 2010

Two years ago, at age 33, I consulted with an RE and found I had an FSH of 13.7. At the time, the doctor said that this was reflective of the number of eggs I had, but that their quality was related to my age. Since I was relatively young, the eggs I did have had a decent chance of being good ones. Still, he gave me a 20% chance of success with IVF. We did the IVF, as you know, and we got the sweetest, happiest baby you ever did meet. A perfect happy ending.

A few months after she was born, I emailed the RE with a question that had been nagging. I understood why my high FSH made me a poor responder to IVF, but since I was ovulating regularly, why, exactly, was I unable to get pregnant on my own?

His response:

quality is best reflected by your age, but usually some element of egg quality impairment will accompany early egg quantity depletion. Normal ovarian quality age 33: one egg out of 4 is normal. Diminished quality age 33 (your scenario): one egg out of 10 is normal. If you make more eggs per month with IVF your chance for that month is higher.

I was bothered by that response, because it so clearly contradicted what he had told me the year before. But I let it go because what was the point in trying to pin him down on that. I got my baby, and it’s not like he was going to admit to the contradiction.

Fast forward to last Friday, when I went to see my mom’s OB/GYN at a prestigious hospital. I figured I was heading for early menopause and wanted to understand the implications. He was, shall we say, skeptical of REs. He felt that it was very likely that if I had kept trying the old-fashioned way, I would eventually have gotten pregnant. I couldn’t disagree with that. I thought as I left that I bet he was right. I was ovulating, after all. It might have taken years, but I figured eventually one might have worked.

He ran some blood tests and I got the results back today. Are you ready? My FSH was 9.4 and my Estradiol was 160. I am nowhere near menopause. My hormones are exactly where they should be for this age. The physician’s assistant concluded by saying, “So Dr. B prescribed some birth control pills. I suggest you start taking them.”

I just… I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. Is there any chance I was scammed by the RE? Or that there was a mistake with my lab work? But I *saw* the ultrasound with the low antral follicle count. I *took* the highest dosage of the stims drugs and got only the five eggs.

Or is it just one of those things? Hormones fluctuate. Everyone was acting in good faith.

Does it matter? I only did IVF one time, invested very little of my own money, went through relatively little emotional angst, and got the absolute cutest baby out of it. And now there is not even any evidence that I am headed for early menopause, family history aside.

I know, really, it doesn’t matter. But it’s somehow jarring nonetheless.

Hilarity Ensued June 14, 2010

Gatito: Let’s play Run Run Run and Jump on Daddy! Who wants to be the daddy?

A: Mommy wants to be the daddy!

Gatito: No, who wants to be the daddy?

A: Mommy wants to be the daddy!

Gatito: NO, YOU ARE GOING TO BE THE DADDY! Okay, class, let’s all run run run and jump on daddy.

Running and jumping, etc…

Me: I have an idea! Let’s play Tiptoe Tiptoe Tiptoe and Sit in Mommy’s Lap and Hug Her

Gatito: Okay, class, let’s play Tiptoe Tiptoe Tiptoe and Sit in Mommy’s Lap and Hug Her

A (observing Gatito coming from behind me): I don’t think this is going to work out quite how you hoped.

Lots of stuffed animals land in my lap for a hug, but no little boy.

You can’t blame a girl for trying!!

Three Legged Race May 30, 2010

Stressed May 24, 2010

Sometimes I wish I could have ten minutes to myself between when I walk in the door from work and when I take over the parenting, or at least two minutes to change my clothes, but somehow it doesn’t work out like that. Tata is usually shooting out the door, plus I feel a combined desire and sense of obligation to embrace and engage with my children immediately, especially since there is usually little more than an hour before Ella goes to bed. But I think my nerves might be a little less jangled if I had those few minutes to myself before the chaos began, you know?

I feel unusually stressed out today, and I can’t quite figure out why, though there are a lot of candidates:

Of course, I am stressed about whether or house is going to sell in the next month or two, or whether we will instead be taking our house of the market, shelling out an obscene amount of money for private kindergarten, and starting this whole shebang again next February.

We spent the weekend stalking a 200 year old house in an awesome location and will see it on Friday. It’s a bit out of our price range… or a lot out of our range if you consider the high taxes. But I hear interest rates are going even lower this summer and it just might be our dream house. There’s another possibility that is comfortably within our price range and I worry that A and I will end up on opposite sides of this potential decision and it will cause a rift.

Also, I haven’t heard from my manufacturer in about a week (or actually it was just Friday that I last emailed her) and I am entertaining fantasies of her absconding with 500 yards of fleece and my deposit of 50% of the manufacturing costs. In addition to the financial loss, I don’t exactly have a backup manufacturer lined up, so it could spell the end of my little venture.

Tata’s last day is Wednesday, and I’m nervous about the effect it will have on Gatito. The good news is that we’ll have a five day weekend with the four of us (though he has school on Thursday and Friday) before the new nanny starts on Tuesday.  It will be an adjustment for all of us.

Anyway, I’m damn tired. I fell asleep in Gatito’s bed last night and woke up at 9:30, at which point we started watching last week’s episode of Lost before we could watch the finale, so it was a late night. Maybe that’s why I feel the way I do today. 8:30 does not seem too early to go to bed, at any rate.

The way the cookie crumbles May 20, 2010

Gatito’s school has a very wealthy base. Normally, they do these fundraising auctions where people donate things like a week at their house on the French Riviera and the like. This year, in deference to the economy, they decided not to hold the auction. In its place, they had each class decorate a cookie jar, and there was a silent auction.

I assumed that, given the extreme wealth of many of the families at that school, and given how much everyone loves the school and knows about its financial difficulties, that some kajillionnaire would step up and buy the cookie jars for $1,000.

You can see where this is going, can’t you?

A dropped Gatito off at school one day last week and placed a bid and, well, let’s just say that we are now the proud owners of a $350 cookie jar. I am glad that we are supporting a school that did such amazing things for my kid, but lordy. Please at least tell me that is tax-deductible!

Fever May 19, 2010

Last night, after I made dinner, Gatito announced that he would wait for A to get home. Turns out, A hadn’t told him that he was going to be home late last night. Gatito cried for, oh, about an hour. Literally. I was unable to effectively comfort him while I was dealing with Ella, but I got him calmed down after she was in bed.

He was freezing, by then, but still, the mommy radar did not go off. I just thought he’d made himself ill from all the crying. He ate dinner and dessert and I offered to let him skip his bath, but he wanted it. He was freezing afterward, and this kid who likes to sleep nearly naked in pajama bottoms, long sleeved t-shirt, and socks and put him to bed under two blankets. I know, I know. DUH. I’m not that quick on the mark.

At midnight, he woke up crying again and it turned out he had a fever of 102. Oops. Guess I made Dad feel extra guilty for no reason. I still hadn’t dealt with the Tylenol/Motrin recall, so pulled out three bottles and looked them up and they had all been recalled. (All, incidentally, were half-used, also. *Sigh*) So it was a midnight run to the 24 hour drugstore for generics for me.

(Side note: This reinforced, for me, the fact that I really don’t want to live in the less expensive but woodsy and remote towns near the one we are targeting, where I’d be 20 minutes vs. five from a 24 hour drug store. A 15 minute round trip would’ve been 45. UGH!!!)

I was worried because Gatito’s big music revue was today and he has been working so hard for months. The thought of him missing it was sickening. But, we dosed him up with acetaminophen and ibuprofen both and brought him in. I’m sure it wasn’t the socially responsible thing to do, and I am sorry if other kids get sick, but I just couldn’t have him miss the show! (He wasn’t coughing and was fully recovered by the afternoon, if that helps my case at all.)

The show was amazing. There were like twelve songs lasting over an hour and the kids did great. (Gatito was not a leader, as my dad had told me, but participated well.) A grandfather turned to me and said, “Better than Broadway,” and it was, because it was our kids, and we were all proud.