Another Other Mother

It's terrible

2009-02-16T20:56:00.000-08:00

The little munchkin, chronologically speaking, is not yet two years old, but developmentally she is very much there. I now understand where certain authors, such as Robert Louis Stevenson, who wrote Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and whoever the screenwriter was who wrote The Exorcist, get their material -- they had two-year-olds. Oh, the drama.

My daughter is very articulate, with a large vocabulary and her own distinct grammatical style. She has taken to making frequent proclamations about what is and isn't allowed in the world. There are many rules, and "people" must follow them. For example, "No people take milk baby's." "No people take giraffe baby's." "No people sing song ABC." This last rule only applies in the car, where no people, other than the baby, are allowed to make noise. We are not supposed to sing or play the radio, although we are allowed to talk. Did I mention that my daughter's getting kind of bossy?

She's also decided that she wants to choose her own clothes. I'll let you decide about her fashion sense. Personally, I kind of like the hat. Those pink shoes very popular of late. They've replaced the previous favorite, which were the puppy shoes.

I really like the way she is striving to control her world, even if it does mean bossiness, tantrums, appropriated possession, and death-defying climbing stunts. She is confident and forward-looking and ready to conquer the world.

I'm a failure

2009-01-11T15:29:00.000-08:00

I am a failure. Not in general, but at this parenting blog thing. I almost never seem to be able to update this blog. I let months and months go by without posting a thing.

Someday I will regret it. Someday, when I'm trying to remember exactly how old my daughter was when she stopped saying, "Oh, yes" and started instead saying "Yeah." Someday, when I'm trying to remember when it was she started understanding pronouns. ("Is this your book?" "My book." "Is this your hat?" "Mommy's hat.") Or when it was when she started calling me "Mommy" and Amy "Mama," instead of calling us (and pretty much everyone else) "Mamamamma" or "Dadadadadadada." I'll regret it when I try to remember -- When did she learn to shake her head for yes and no? How old was she when she first announced that she wanted to sit on the potty? When did she first insisting on eating with a spoon, and then with a fork? (She insists on them, but doesn't always use them.) At how many months did she start saying "danks" almost every time you gave her something? When exactly was it when she started pointing and almost everything and saying "dis" and "dat?" When did that change to just "dat" and when did the ubiquitous "dat" become rare, because she knew enough words to call almost everything by name? When did she first kiss me? When did she first hug me? When did she first go on the swings? Slide down the slide by herself?

Or maybe I won't regret it. Do I need to remember the exact day, or even the exact month, each of those things happened? Maybe I just need to remember the feeling, the experience, the timelessness of each of those moments. That's hard to forget.

Bad Blogger. Bad!

2008-11-11T20:48:00.000-08:00

My friend S. reminded me last week that I have not updated my blog since July 21st. I will now take an oath, or something, to update this blog at least once a month. If I don't, I give you all permission to say nasty things about me behind my back.

The little munchkin has been busy, learning new words, playing with trains, eating noodles and peas and ice cream, going to day care, and reading lots of books. I like to play categories, so I recently tried to come up with a word that she knows for every letter of the alphabet. X and Z are, as always, problematic, but I think I came up with something for every other letter:

A apple
B ball
C cat
D doggie
E eat
F fish
G go
H hot
I (Hmmm. I think maybe she said "in" once)
J jump
K kitty
L light
M MINE!
N no
O oh
P pee
Q quiet
R rabbit
S Sweet Pea
T tree
U up
V vote
W wubba wubba wubba wubba woo woo woo
X -
Y yes
Z -

Viva La Revolucion!

2008-07-21T20:41:00.001-07:00

Proud and Legal

2008-06-29T18:15:00.001-07:00

Just a photo for now (more later)...

Picking up the kitty: not as easy as it looks

2008-06-10T12:33:00.001-07:00

Blogging for LGBT Families Day

2008-06-02T12:45:00.000-07:00

Today is Blogging for LGBT Families Day so this member of an LGBT family is going to talk about marriage. But first, a quote:

Mawwiage. Mawwiage is what bwings us togethew today. Mawwiage, that bwessed awwangement, that dweam within a dweam. And wove, twue wove, wiww fowwow you fowevah and evah… So tweasuwe youw wove…Have you the wing?

I have no idea why that routine is so funny, but it is. Go figure. At the same time, I’m have no idea why people fall in love, but they do. And it’s wonderful. Well, it can be awful, actually, but if it works out it’s wonderful.

I’ve been in love a number of times in my life, and it’s been a mixed bag. Probably like most people, love has made me happy, sad, ecstatic, miserable, euphoric, depressed, angry, crazy, content, and just about every other adjective in the dictionary. But, until I met Amy, I never really understood why people got married. It always seemed to me that people mostly got married because they thought they were supposed to, or to have someone to do half the child-raising chores. My relationships are what they are, I figured – why do I need the church, or worse, the state, telling me how to define them? I still feel that way, to some degree. Neither the church nor the state nor any one else except Amy and I (well, now maybe our daughter, too) can define our relationship.

But falling in love with Amy made me, for the first time in my life, understand how you can love somebody so much that you need to shout it from the rooftops, spend thousands of dollars on a party, have friends fly all the way there from faraway places, proclaim publicly and loudly and openly and joyously that you will spend forever and ever and even longer with this incredibly wonderful person, and to tell the world how incredibly amazingly lucky you are to have found your true love and soul mate.

So, that’s what we did, three years ago, and it was wonderful. Except that it wasn’t legal. Well, we figured, fuck the government and their stupid-ass laws. That doesn’t make us any less married. It makes us less protected, less accepted, less financially secure, but it doesn’t change our relationship with each other.

But now, or soon anyway, we can get married here in California. And even though we’re already married, and even though it’s a little annoying to be “granted” something that is your right, we will get married again. Because I still want to shout it from the rooftops and proclaim publicly and loudly and openly and joyously that I will spend forever and ever and longer with this incredibly wonderful person, and I’m still incredibly amazingly lucky to have found her. I’ll forgo making my friends fly here and spending thousands on a party, though.

Who in their right mind could possibly deny us this?

Just a picture

2008-05-23T09:41:00.001-07:00

We Are Family!

2008-05-16T14:04:00.000-07:00

The California Supreme Court, as you all know by now, has spoken:

The designation of marriage to a union "between a man and a woman” is unconstitutional and must be stricken from the statute, and that the remaining statutory language must be understood as making the designation of marriage available both to opposite-sex and same-sex couples.

Woo-hoo! So, sometime next month, Amy and I will be getting married. Again. And that marriage may or may not be permanent, since there will be a ballot initiative in November to amendment the California constitution -- the only thing that supersedes a Supreme Court decision -- which would define marriage as between "one man and one woman," if it wins.

It goes without say that we're opposed to the ballot initiative, and that in fact we will be spending a lot of time between now and then pounding the pavement trying to get people to NOT vote for it. I'm hoping that anyone reading this who lives in California will be doing the same, if you can, and I'm also hoping that all of you donate as much as you can to organizations like Equality California and the Unitarian Universalist Legislative Ministry who are fighting this amendment.

I spent a few hours yesterday reading the comments on various websites about the Supreme Court decision, and the people who are opposed to same-sex marriage seem to have three main arguments:

1. The Religious Argument: the Bible says it's wrong.
2. The Democracy Argument: the voters already voted against this (in 2000).
3. The Slippery Slope Argument: next they'll be saying you can marry your sister, or your dog.

Since you will undoubtedly encounter one or more of these arguments, should you decide to discuss this issue with a Californian, I thought I'd take some time to expound, in the hopes of providing my vast readership (all 6 of you!) with some ammunition.

1. The Religious Argument

It's hard to argue with someone's religion. However, that's not really necessary in this case. The only argument to have with someone who believes that the Bible says that homosexuality is wrong or that marriage between men and women is sacred (or whatever) is that we all have the right to our own beliefs.

I don't really care if your church refuses to marry same-sex couples. My church celebrates same-sex marriages, and my faith is just as good as yours. This country was founded on the principle of Freedom of Religion, and so its laws should not promote one particular religious belief over another.

Besides which, there is a tremendous amount of disagreement among religious scholars about how to interpret the various faiths' teachings on this issue. There is also a tremendous amount of support for same-sex marriage among faith-based organizations, institutions and clergy. One of the Friend of the Court briefs in the Supreme Court case came from faith-based groups who support same-sex marriage. It was signed by many hundreds of churches, synagogues, mosques, religious organizations and clergy members, representing many faiths -- Unitarian Universalist, Presbyterian, Methodist, Seventh Day Adventist, Catholic, Lutheran, Mormon, United Church of Christ, Metropolitan Community Church, Baptist, Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist and Native American.

2. The Democracy Argument

In June 2000, California voters approved a ballot initiative (Proposition 22) which added language to the Family Code stating that marriage could be only between a man and a woman. It was that part of the Family Code which was overturned by the Supreme Court decision. Hence, while it's true that the Supreme Court decision rescinds the "will of the voters," there are a number of reasons why it just not accurate to claim that this is somehow undemocratic.

First, our Constitution (both the U.S. and the California ones) designates a system of checks and balances. The Legislature makes the law, and the courts determine if it is constitutional. In California, voters can also make the law through the ballot initiative process. Whether a law is created by the voters directly (by ballot initiative) or indirectly (by the Legislators the voters elect) it is still subject to judicial review. Laws are overturned by the courts all the time. That's the system. Have a revolution and write a new constitution if you don't like it.

Besides which, the voters will get to vote again this fall, this time to actually amend the Constitution itself, not just the Family Code. So, we'll see if the "will of the voters" is the same as it was 8 years ago.

Oh, and about that "will of the voters" thing. Fewer than 5 million people voted for Proposition 22 -- about 10% of the population. It was a low significance, June primary election with very low voter turnout. It was still perfectly legal -- I'm not disputing that -- but whether it is a good indicator of the will of the voters remains to be seen.

3. The Slippery Slope Argument

Well, last time I checked my dog didn't want to marry me, nor does my cat, my guinea pig, my sheep or my cow. You know why? BECAUSE THEY DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT MARRIAGE IS! Therefore, they can't consent to it! CONSENT, you people, CONSENT. I'm sorry to yell, but really, that is such a stupid argument. We're talking about marriage between TWO CONSENTING ADULTS here. Not children, not animals.

As for allowing you to marry your sister, or marry more than one person, when someone comes along and advocates for that, we should argue that on its merits. I just don't see why one whole class of people should be denied their civil rights just so as not to set a possible legal precedent for another class of people who may or may not in the future ask for the same right.

Besides which, all you people who say that the Bible prohibits homosexuality, doesn't the Bible ALLOW polygamy? How come you're not petitioning the court to legalize it?

There are other arguments people put forth against same-sex marriage, but I'll let you all figure out how to respond to them, since I'm starting to froth at the mouth. Just remember, it will take ALL OF US to defeat this ballot initiative.

My First Meme

2008-03-27T22:45:00.000-07:00

My moms tell me that these meme is going around the blogosphere. I've never done a meme, so I thought I'd try it, seeing as how I'm quite a well-read baby:

Fill in each letter of the alphabet with a title of a book that you've read that begins with that letter (i.e. American Psycho for the letter A).
*Articles (a, an, the) don't count in alphabetizing, so skip to the first letter of the next word (i.e. A Thousand Splendid Suns would count for the letter T, The Great Gatsby would count for the letter G, and so on).
*Titles that start with or are entirely comprised of numbers, will be alphabetized by how they would be spelled when written out in English (i.e. 1984 would count for the letter N for Nineteen Eighty-Four).
*The letter X space will be special. The title will only have to include the letter X to count (i.e. Don Quixote).

A to Z (a popular title, but the one I've read is the Sandra Boynton epic)
Bear on a Bike
Colors
Diary of a Wombat
Everywhere Babies
the First Dog
Goodnight Moon
How the Grinch Stole Christmas
I Love You This Much
(the tale of) Johnny Town-Mouse
Knuffle Bunny
Little Duckies & Godsukie (a as-yet-unpublished masterpiece)
Madeleine and the Bad Hat
Nursery Songs
Owl Babies
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What Do You See?
Quiet Time with Cassatt
Roo's Big Adventure
the Sissy Duckling
Touch and Feel Puppy
Up Pop the Monsters 1-2-3
the Velveteen Rabbit
What Makes a Rainbow?
siX Sleepy Sheep
Yum Yum Dim Sum
Zonk the Dreaming Tortoise

Oneness

2008-03-18T11:06:00.001-07:00

I am One. I walk everywhere now. This means I have two hands free to carry things. This means that there are measuring cups in the bedroom, blocks in Mom's shoes, mail in the bathtub, rubber ducks in the recycling bin, and little bits of toilet paper everywhere.

And, after I am done chewing on the alarm clock, I might throw it in the toilet.

The Reluctant Reindeer

2007-12-25T13:53:00.000-08:00

The little Munchkin has made it very clear that she does not want to pose with the antlers. We've been trying all day, and she will undoubtedly show the resulting series of photographs to her shrink in 15 or 20 years, as evidence of What She Had To Put Up With. Anyway, this is the best I could do.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

News Flash!

2007-12-05T08:38:00.000-08:00

Crunchin' Crackers, the kind that are shaped like little Elmo heads and little Big Bird heads, are in. Cheerios are out. Cereal with orange squishy stuff is out.

Just though you should know.

The Latest News

2007-11-14T10:39:00.000-08:00

If this baby were the editor of a newspaper (like, say, the Baby Bugle or the Infant Intelligencer, or maybe even the Diaper Daily) or a magazine (the Wee Weekly?) the articles would be along the lines of:

Cheerios: Are they for dropping, smashing, grinding into the rug, or just sucking on until they’re sticky?

Identifying the best playthings: How to spot dangerous items like electric cords and small bits of plastic in a room full of toys.

Arching your back, screaming, and grabbing Mom’s hair: How to make a diaper change as difficult as possible.

Guest Columnist: It’s All About the Cute, by The Cat.

ETA: Amy says I should add some news articles, since the above are all more like features. How about:

Breaking News: The Cat is in the Dining Room!
Fluffy Puppy Replaces Bear as Preferred Stuffie
No! I'm Not Hungry!
Update: The Cat is in the Living Room!
No! I'm Still Not Hungry!
The Swing is No Longer Interesting
No! I Don't Want Any Food!
Update: The Cat is in the Bedroom!
Time to Go? NOW I'm Hungry!

All alone

2007-10-04T15:38:00.000-07:00

Amy and the baby are away for a few days, and I miss them. The house feels so sad and lonely and quiet. So quiet. Hmmm. So quiet that I have not been woken up during the night, for two nights in a row. Two nice, long nights of nothing but sleep.

Life is full of mixed blessings.

What I would trade for 8 consecutive hours of uninterrupted sleep..

2007-09-15T10:14:00.000-07:00

My Palm Pilot (it's broken, but I'm sure you could get it fixed)
My MP3 player
The car
All my books, CDs, DVDs and videotapes
My Kitchenaid
All my Star Wars collectibles
My entire postcard collection
My computer
My cat
My dog (Ok, she died last year, but if she were still alive. Sorry, Astro)
My life savings
Sex with Johnny Depp
A Honus Wagner baseball card
A Magic Wand made of maple with a unicorn hair core
Van Gogh's Starry Night

And for10 hours of pure, uninterrupted sleep, I would also perform depraved sexual acts, do your laundry, and make you a cheese sandwich before I crawled under the sheets.

Rice Cereal

2007-08-25T12:38:00.000-07:00

The little mookster had her first bowl -- 2 bowls, actually -- of real food last night. Rice Cereal, to be exact, made with Mama's milk. At first, she was suspicious:

Then she thought about it a bit...

And decided it was pretty good. In fact, she said, "Give me that spoon!"

"This is really yummy. Ahhhh...smoosh in mouth."

"What do you mean 'Two bowls is enough' ?"

Just some baby news

2007-07-09T15:34:00.000-07:00

The Baby has learned to roll over onto her tummy. She is really proud of this ability and does it constantly. The problem with this is that the result is she is stuck there, arms and legs flailing. Amy says she looks like a turtle.

Sometimes she manages to roll back over onto her back, but usually she can't remember how and cries until someone comes and turns her back over. She clearly feels betrayed -- after weeks of trying, she's finally managed to roll over, only to wind up somewhere she doesn't want to be.

I keep telling her that life is like that -- no matter how far you go, you never really get to your destination -- but she is unimpressed by my philosophy. The first of many times, I'm sure, that she will be unimpressed by my philosophy.

She's also gaining a lot more facility with her hands. She can now grab, throw, push, and pull whenever she wants. Mostly, of course, she uses her hands for grabbing things and shoving them in her mouth. As a result, everything near her is damp, but that's kind of cute, in a disgusting sort of a way.

OK, enough blathering. Here's a photo:

just a little cuteness

2007-07-06T12:06:00.000-07:00

Most of you reading this have seen this photo already, but you get to see it again because it is so cute! Plus, I'm doing a terrible job at keeping up this blog, so I have to find something to post. It's better than listening to me whine about my job, believe me.

Keep away from me, paparazzi!

2007-07-04T14:36:00.000-07:00

Those Golden Moments

2007-06-15T09:01:00.000-07:00

As everyone who has raised a child probably already knows, it is full of wonderful moments that fill you with happiness -- the first smile, the way she turns to look at you when she hears your voice, the first time she notices the mobile, the stuffie, the cat.

There are other wonderful moments, too, that are more about relief than charm. Like right now, at 9:00 a.m., when the baby is just waking up after going to sleep around 11 last night. You have no idea how nice it to have 10 hours of not having to look after her needs. Or maybe you do.

I mean, I love this kid with all my heart, I really do. But it's exhausting. I have a friend who says that he remembers wondering, when he was a kid, why his parents were so tired all the time, but now that he has 2 kids, he totally gets it. Me too.

Blogging for LGBT families Day

2007-06-01T13:00:00.000-07:00

It’s Blogging for LGBT families Day! Yay! To celebrate, I’m going to write about what it’s like to have a change in status – from Ordinary Adult Being to Parent.

Before the arrival of The Baby, my expectations of what this change would be like were vague, and probably a little negative. I would transform from Ordinary Adult Being to an existence that consists largely of drudgery – sleepless nights, diaper changing, constant feeding, always at the beck and call of a demanding little monster.

Now that The Baby is not just theoretical, my experience of parenthood is completely different. While I certainly have experienced sleepless nights, diaper changing, constant feeding, and always being at the beck and call of a demanding little monster, the other things far outweigh all of that stuff. Now, this is possibly because I am the mother of The Cutest Little Baby in the World, who at the age of three months sleeps through the night and pretty much just acts cute all day, but I was unprepared for the sheer beauty of this baby.

I feel like someone has given me a priceless work of art – one of Monet’s Water Lilies, or perhaps my very own symphony orchestra. From the moment she was born – a screaming little mass of indignation – I was overwhelmed by her beauty. It’s not just the adorableness of the ten little fingers and toes, or the perfection of the 20 little finger and toe nails, the sound of the tiny little voice, or even the softness of her precious baby skin.

What it is, I suppose, is the miracle of life and the pride of having made it ourselves. Us! We went to the sperm bank and got a big metal canister, month after month, and took it to the doctor’s office, and then one day there was a little peanut growing in Amy’s belly. Then it had a face and organs and a gender. Then I watched her emerge from Amy’s body. I still can’t believe that process actually works. But this miracle occurs, I’m told, about 300,000 times a day, and only my baby is so special, so gorgeous, so cute, and so wonderful. I guess that’s another part of the miracle.

So I believe that my change in status is definitely a move up in the world. I love being a parent. I love watching this little girl change and grow. I love all the attention – the people on the street who come up and coo, the co-workers who ask to see her picture, the boxes that still arrive daily at the door. She deserves all this attention, as she deserves everything we can give her and teach her. I love this little girl so much it’s hard to understand.

OK, so back to Blogging for LGBT families day. What does this post have to do with LGBT families? It sounds as if it could have been written by any parent*, and I guess that’s the point.

*well, except for the part about the big metal canister

A Miracle Happened Here

2007-05-21T22:32:00.000-07:00

Some things are unexplainable by science. They shouldn't happen, but they do. They are unheard of, yet they occur. Everything in your experience tells you it never happens, and then it does.

Such a thing happened to us last week. The baby's mobile, the one mounted in her crib, the one that she loves to watch spin around and around, the one that keeps her happy and calm, broke. Probably in revenge, since we had subjected it to an operation the week before and snipped the wires which connect its tinny little music box to its loud, annoying speakers.

So, we did a little research and found a mobile that would spin around without playing an annoying tune. It was on sale at amazon.com, so I ordered it about 11 a.m. one morning, chosing the "free shipping" option to save a little $.

Now, I've ordered many a thing from amazon.com with the free shipping option. Free shipping is, generally, slow shipping. Sometimes painfully slow shipping. Sometimes it takes weeks. Of course you can choose fast shipping, but fast shipping is also extremely expensive shipping so I decided to go with the slow.

However, at some point in this process I said to myself, possibly even out loud, "Oh God I hope this doesn't take forever." I had visions of a crying, fussing, miserable baby, lying awake in her crib all night, wondering why her mobile was not turning and, more importantly, keeping us awake.

And, miracle of miracle, Oh God heard my prayer, or whatever it was, and the mobile arrived at our doorstep the very next day. I kid you not.

And now we have a happy, sleeping baby:

Attachment

2007-04-11T18:32:00.000-07:00

Amy and I are, more or less, followers of the "Attachment Parenting" theory (found here). At least we are to the extent that we think it's a good idea to respond to the baby's needs rather than let her just sit there and cry, which seems (surprisingly to me) to be a parenting technique that many people follow. Attachment Parenting also tells you to carry or wear your baby as much as possible, and to have her sleep in your bed at night. We sort of have her in our bed, although actually in a co-sleeper attached to the bed (which is acceptable to Dr. Sears, the Attachment Guru), but lately I've been trying to let her sleep in her crib more and more. And we do carry her a lot, and Amy wears her in a sling sometimes, but we don't actually hold her anywhere near as much as Sears recommends.

This is because although we seem to think Attachment Parenting makes sense, Mookie has mixed feelings about it. Sometimes she insists on being held, but often she makes it clear that that's not what she wants. I try to tell her that she should let us hold her so that she will learn to trust us, but she often says, "Trust, schmust, I wanna swing in my swing." Or, "I want to lie on my baby gym with my bobo in my mouth. Sucking and staring at the mirror are a really cool combination, and much more fun than snuggling with my parents. So PUT ME DOWN!"

And today she is feeling gassy, so she really wants to be in her swing when she's not eating. It's really good that the swing relieves her gassiness, but it's a little hard on us because swinging seems to, um, generate all sorts of internal action. Sometimes all over the swing, in fact. But, it's better than a gassy, screaming baby, I think.

The Baby Conspiracy

2007-04-01T00:28:00.000-07:00

Let me ask you something. Is it my imagination, or is there some sort of Baby Network or Baby Union or Baby Organization that sends messages to all little babies? Like, "Wake up! It's midnight! Baby Party Time!" And this morning, I'd bet anything, they held a contest: "The 7 a.m. Diaper Marathon -- How many diapers can you go through in one hour?"

I'm sure my darling little Mookiekins didn't win, but she made a valient effort.

Whose Idea Was This, Anyway?

2007-03-23T23:57:00.000-07:00

It is midnight. Approximately 2 hours ago, Amy and I were in a restaurant with some friends and I said, "We have to go home; I'm falling asleep." I am still awake. So, as you might have guessed, is my daughter. An hour ago, Amy fell asleep. Since then, The Baby has been alternating between sleeping, crying and emitting various noxious substances -- gaseous, liquid, and solid -- from various parts of her body. She has gone through at least 5 diapers, 3 or 4 burp clothes, and a change of clothes; and I've changed my shirt 3 times.

If I pay you money, will you come do something with this baby so that I can sleep?

Ask The Baby

2007-03-22T11:54:00.000-07:00

Today's guest blogger is The Baby. The Baby has taught me a lot, these last few weeks, about babycare, so rather than repeat what she's taught me, I thought I'd let her do a little Q&A herself.

Q: Why are you crying?
A: I'm not sure. Check my diaper. Put me on my tummy so I can burp. Put me on your shoulder so I can burp. Feed me. Hold me in your arms and rock me. Repeat.

Q: Cloth or disposal?
A: Cloth, definitely. It feels softer against my skin, and it's much easier for my moms to figure out when I'm wet. And I hear it's cheaper, although I don't really understand what that means. Also, disposals are bad for the Earth, which so far seems like a nice place, and besides which they seem to make me cranky.

Q: Do you really use 80 diapers a week?
A: Not anymore! My parents just called the diaper service and increased our order to 100 diapers a week! Am I special or what?

Q: When is the best time to pee?
A: Just after they take off the nasty, clammy, wet diaper.

Q: Doesn't that make your clothes, the changing pad, the diaper cover, and anything else in the vicinity wet?
A: Not if you remember to put down the new diaper before you take away the old one, stupid.

Q: When is the best time to poop?
A: Right when you have a new, clean diaper, and a new, clean diaper cover, and new, clean clothes.

Q: What are your parents' names?
A: "Boobs" and "Cleans My Butt"

Q: Does anyone else live in your house?
A: There are these two creatures, about my size, who are soft and furry and always trying to nap in my bouncy seat. I'm not sure what their purpose is.

Q: What kind of music do you like?
A: The same sort of pre-1990 rock that my parents like, obviously. After all, I came into the world accompanied by Bruce Springsteen. Although I'm starting to like jazz and classical as well. And I really like it when Cleans My Butt plays the piano for me.

Q: When is the best time to be awake?
A: My preferred time for being wide-awake and making a lot of noise is from midnight to 2 a.m. Why do you ask?

Q: Can't you stay awake more during the day and sleep at night?
A: No.

Q: Are you the cutest little baby in the world?
A: But of course!

I wasn't prepared

2007-03-21T12:07:00.000-07:00

I wasn't prepared for motherhood. She arrived a week early. The suitcase was half-packed. I didn't even buy a chicken for the chicken soup I was going to make* to spoon into Amy's mouth when labor got hard**. The first signs of labor came in the middle of the night, after I'd had only 2 hours of sleep.

But more than that, I wasn't prepared for how beautiful she would be, or how much I would love her. The sheer delight at watching her little arms flail, her little mouth suck, her little eyes look around, and turn towards me when I speak to her. She recognized my voice immediately! When she cries, I can lie her on my chest and hold her tight and she falls asleep. When she fusses, I play the piano for her, and she looks around, bright-eyed and calm. She is the most beautiful baby in the world.

Now I get it, this motherhood thing.

*My friend Joyce pointed out that making soup was probably not the best idea, anyway, since if I had made it I would have had to nag Amy to hurry up and go into labor before the soup spoiled.

**Plus, she wouldn't have eaten it. She didn't want anything to eat. Giving birth, as it turns out, is a lot of work, and you don't just lie in bed and get fed chicken soup. Mostly, you groan.

Photo: Little Mookie, about 2 minutes old. Those are my hands, on the left, cutting the umbilical cord.

Signs of Incipient Parenthood

2007-02-09T21:32:00.000-08:00

And so it begins...magazines with names like "Baby Talk" and "Motherhood" appear mysteriously on the coffee table. Yard sale purchases move from books and kitchen gadgets to onesies and crib bumpers. Packages show up at the door, with little bathtubs and diaper covers in them. A shelf in one of the bookcases fills up with parenting books. The crib is assembled; the alphabet quilt is hung on the wall; the changing table drawers fill with baby clothes. ~~Like a werewolf at the full moon,~~ I am transforming into another kind of being.

Strange Sisterhoods

2007-01-30T15:44:00.000-08:00

Lately I feel like I've been initiated into a mysterious society -- The Sisterhood of Childbirth. It's a sisterhood which, despite its mysterious nature, has a pretty open membership. All you have to do to join is get pregnant, or hang out really close to someone who is.

In the past I've always avoided this sisterhood, with its scary talk of pain and panic, stretching and soreness, tearing and terror, blood and birth and babies that cry and suck and poop. But now I've taken 2 whole prenatal classes, which qualifies me as, if not a full-fledged member, at least a credentialed auxiliary. I've learned new words, like "doula" and "maconium." I've learned the full meaning of words that have always been on the edge of my vocabulary, like "episiotomy" and "dilation."

It's a very scary society, this Sisterhood. And so I'm standing here now, at the brink of a new journey, full of information about analgesics and birthing balls and contractions and diapers and epidurals, but without any clear view of the road ahead. I know about Fischer-Price and Graco and highchairs and induction and jogging strollers, but not about what this little baby girl we be like or who she is or what kind of life she will lead. After all, the Sisterhood can only prepare you so much. Now that I've passed most of my training, I am about to be pushed out of the nest, along with and Amy and Mookie, to fly on our own as a family.

I think we'll be fine. Really, sure we will.

Malled

2006-12-20T16:47:00.000-08:00

I had another "dad" experience last weekend. I sat on the bench outside the maternity store in the mall while Amy shopped for new clothes. This was the only sensible place to be, since trying to negotiate your way around inside a small store full of pregnant women is a nightmare.

Although in my opinion the mall is a nightmare on a good day, and a Saturday 10 days before Christmas is definitely not a good day. But, we were both desperate for clothes, as my only jeans are ragged and Amy's expanding belly is, well, expanding. We haven't even thought about Christmas presents yet. Crazy, I know, but we're hoping that if we just ignore the holidays maybe they will go away.

Oh, and another thing. Mookie will NOT BE ALLOWED to become a teenager, at least not the type that hangs out in the mall. Yech.

Tinky Winky!

2006-12-13T23:52:00.001-08:00

Someone gave Amy some purple fuzzy button-down pajamas with legs and arms (there's a name for those things, but I don't know it) and with her big huge belly she looks just like a Teletubbie in it. Seriously, all she needs is a purple handbag and a triangle on her head.

I got the bookshelves about halfway up today. Not bad for a day's work. Well, ok, it's pretty bad, but I got 26o or so words out of 307 on today's Babble game. And we bought a freezer! You know, a put in the garage and store lots of food in it freezer, because once we have a baby we'll never be able to go out of the house again. I hope it can hold 18 years worth of meals.

Getting ready

2006-12-12T23:33:00.000-08:00

We're signed up for some sort of birthing classes at Kaiser in January, but Amy's decided that three 2-hour classes just aren't enough. So, after reading up on Lamaze and someone called Bradley* and a bunch of other childbirth "experts," and doing quite a bit of agonizing, she's decided that she likes the "Birthing From Within" approach. I have no idea what that means**, but I'll learn, since we're now signed up for three 4-hour sessions.

In other baby preparation news, I really am going to get those bookshelves put up in the baby's room this week. Really I am. And I'm going to finish putting the crib together. Notice how I, the mother who all my friends say doesn't need a qualifier of any sort but am simply Mookie's mother, seem to be doing all the "dad" things.

That doesn't actually bother me too much. In any random group of people, I'm usually the one who puts up the bookshelves. It comes of having a physics degree. People assume that that makes me "mechanical," and therefore capable of building rocket ships, fixing dishwashers, screwing nuts into bolts, repairing the plumbing, putting together Ikea furniture, and all sorts of unrelated activities, none of which I know much about, and certainly none of which I learned anything about in physics school.***

Physics ain't gonna help with getting this baby born, though. It's certainly not going to help me get through the process. I just hope there's not too much in the way of, you know, ick. I hate ickiness. I had to take introductory biology in college and I chose a much harder class than I could have, just because it didn't have a lab section. No way was I going to cut up dead things. I hate the Squishy Sciences.

OK, I admit it. In some ways I'd prefer to pace in the waiting room, even if I had to smoke cigars with the other dads.

Not that I'm scared or anything.

*a friend of ours kindly did some research, and thought Bradley's approach sounded like homespun wisdom gleaned from watching cows.
**my father pointed out that it does sound like the right place to give birth from, anyway.
***in fact, I remember in thermodynamics class when we were talking about refrigeration cycles one student asked "How do refrigerators work, anyway?" and the professor looked at him in horror and said, "This isn't an engineering class."

What child is this?

2006-12-03T22:52:00.000-08:00

Amy's sister and two kids came to visit this weekend, and I spent some time wondering if Mookie would be like either of her cousins. I know that Mookie will be her own little person, but it's hard to imagine a person you've never met. I really want to know what she's like already -- I've lived with this little girl for months; it's time for her to start asserting her personality. All I know so far is that she's pretty wiggly. Will she be musical? Will she be athletic? Will she like to read? (It's hard to imagine she could grow up in a house with me and Amy and not like to read.) My little baby girl, who will you be? Whoever you are, I already love you.

Oh, and Amy's developed that pregnant women's waddle when she walks. It's really cute.

Whadda you, some kinda queer?

2006-12-02T11:24:00.000-08:00

Some of the differences between my experience and those of the women in The Other Mother is that they are all (presumably) lesbians, and I am bisexual. I'm not going to go off too much on a tangent here, since this is a baby blog, not a bisexuality blog, but I need to kvetch a little.

The bisexual experience is different than the gay or lesbian experience. I never went through that "realization of being different because I like girls and not boys" or worried about how I would have a normal life. Not that all lesbians have the same coming out experience, but there are differences in the process you go through in coming out, and while the lesbian experience has been explored quite a bit, the bisexual experience has not. In all these lesbian parenting books I've read, I never seem to read anything that really speaks to me.

Although, actually, the thing that bugs me about this particular book, now that I think about it, is maybe not the bisexuality issue at all. All the women in that book seemed to be either women who couldn't get pregnant and were jealous of their partners, or women who thought of themselves as "boyish" or "somewhere between a mother and a father" or "male-identified" or something like that. And that's totally great, IMO. I like it when people explore these (artificial) boundaries we have that define what exactly women and men are and should be and should act like, etc. But it made me feel like there was no room for a woman who simply doesn't want to have a baby Not someone who is exploring her gender identity, not someone who always related more to traditional men's roles than to women's, not someone who considers herself to be outside traditional gender descriptions. None of those is a path I've ever been on. Just a woman who doesn't think having a baby is something she needs to do. I know I'm not the only one; I've met women a lot straighter and more conventional than I am who feel the same way.

OK, enough kvetching for one day. I'll try and be less whiny tomorrow. (Always a good goal.)

Mookie has two mommies

2006-12-01T21:44:00.000-08:00

I am preparing myself for other motherhood. I am trying to remember that just because people are nosy about us -- wanting to know which of us gave birth, where the sperm came from; and will use expressions like "real mom" and "daddy" -- that it doesn't mean they are necessarily bigoted and hostile. Adoptive parents get those horrible "real mom" comments all the time; single moms of all varieties have to live with the "where's daddy?" question. I will try to develop stock answers and offer them in a civil tone of voice. OTOH, I will not punish Mookie when she smacks the little brat on the playground who says that I'm not her real mom and that she is a fag and that we are all going to hell. I will hug her and hand her over to Amy, who will explain gently that violence is not a good solution, and should be avoided whenever possible, even when dealing with little brats who desperately need to be smacked upside the head. I will say, "Yes, of course your mama is right," and enroll her in karate classes.

I am preparing myself for other motherhood. I am wondering if I will feel the jealousy, ostracism, and loneliness that I've read about, while Amy and Mookie bond in ways that I can not share. I don't think I will. One thing that separates me from a lot of the women I read about is that I've never wanted to give birth to a child. I spent most of my thirties in (what seemed at the time to be) a stable relationship with a man, so I could have had a baby then. I kept waiting to get that urge, to hear that biological clock ticking, but instead I just kept getting older and having kids kept seeming really unappealing. If I had gotten pregnant by accident, I would have survived, I’m sure, but as for actively seeking to be pregnant? No, thanks.

After Pete and I broke up, I thought about adopting kids. So many of them needed homes and families and love, and there I was thinking only about myself. It made me feel selfish, and I started looking into it. Then I met Amy. It was clear from the start that if I got involved with Amy the result would be lifelong commitment, marriage, and kids, and an end to my grumpy hermitlike existence. Oh well. I really didn’t have any choice in the matter, since there was simply no way I could live without her. And, well, lifelong commitment, marriage, and kids aren’t that bad, as enjoyable as a grumpy hermitlike existence can be. Besides which, as Amy pointed out, hermits have notoriously lousy sex lives. (Then again, so do parents.)

So, here I am, me, the one that doesn’t want an alien being growing inside me and then tearing my body apart in screaming pain and then sucking and chewing and grabbing at my boobs like a little leech for the next year. I don’t think I’ll feel jealous at all. I think I’ll be happy to be the other mother, the one does half the diapering and feeding and shopping and worrying, but not the nursing or the bleeding or the stretching.

But the reality is, I don’t know what it will feel like. It is all new to me. I know I can feel great love for children, a love that is different than what I feel towards adults. I know that I am excited to be embarking on this new adventure, in equal partnership with Amy. I know that it will be very hard but very rewarding, because that’s what absolutely everyone says, and absolutely everyone can’t be wrong.

So, I am preparing myself for other motherhood. Not fatherhood, but still parenthood. Not one kind of motherhood, but another kind of motherhood. I am terrified and happy, worried and excited, hesitant and delighted. I’m probably as prepared as most people who set out to explore this strange new world, not knowing what I will find hiding around each bend. Wish me luck.

What am I doing here?

2006-11-30T09:39:00.000-08:00

I've started this blog to write about The Baby Experience. I do have another blog, where I do all the other things people do in their blogs: tell amusing little anecdotes about my daily life, complain about my job, do memes, whine about how much I hate Dubya and his little criminal friends, and gossip about my friends' love lives. That's different. That's for my friends, so I can stay in touch with them.

This blog is public, and it exists for the sole purpose of blathering about parenthood. Right now, you're going to hear a lot about what it's like to have a pregnant partner. Six months from now, you're probably going to hear a lot about baby poop. Ye faint of heart and stomach, be warned.

My inspiration is a book I'm reading called The Other Mother. So many interesting stories, but none of them is mine. Am I being outrageously egotistical to think that the world needs to hear my story? Maybe, but I don't care. I'm going to tell it, whether or not anyone ever reads it. So there.

An Introduction

2006-11-29T23:27:00.000-08:00

Hi. My name is Joy. I'm married to Amy. This is our daughter, Mookie:

As you can see, Mookie is not quite born yet. She will be arriving sometime in early March, or whenever she decides she is ready to face the world.

At the moment, she is living in Amy's uterus. She seems quite cozy in there. She doesn't have any complaints, anyway. She kicks and wiggles and squirms, but in general she's very well behaved. I imagine this is about the best behavior we'll see from her for the next 20 years or so.

Amy is, of course, her mother. So I am, even though she and I don't share any genes. I'm not sure what that makes me. Her mother-father? Her other mother? Her adoptive mother? Her non-biological mother? None of these labels work very well. I'm not male, or male-identified, and I don't feel or look in any way like anybody's father. I'm not genderqueer, or any of those concepts that I don't really understand. I'm a woman who loves another woman so incredibly much that we got married and are having a baby. "Adoption" doesn't really explain what I'm doing. "Non-biological" seems an unfair description; I'm just as biological as anyone else. I guess "other mother" will have to do.