Chagrined

I don’t even know where to begin. An apology for not posting for so long? A thank you to ScientistMother for making me feel less lame for posting after such a long hiatus?

I guess I should begin with the Bug. Bug was born on December 29th, two weeks before his due date. I had been predicting for months that he would be born that week and had made all my lab work plans around my mothers intuition. Luckily Bug obliged.

I woke up at 4:00 a.m. with infrequent but regular contractions every 8-10 minutes. At 6:00 a.m. I woke Husband and told him that he wasn’t going to work. Actually, that’s not true. I woke Husband and we negotiated how long it was going to take him to collect his timepoint. After labwork was out of the way, we spent a relaxing day in early labor. We took Bean to a puppet show, we had a nice lunch. When Bean went down for her nap, I tried to lay down myself but found I was too restless. So I folded laundry and Husband set up the co-sleeper. When Bean woke up, she cried because she hadn’t helped set up Bug’s bed. So I gave her a little stuffed toy and a blanket for her to lay in there for him, and then we bundled her off to a friend’s house.

On the way from our friend’s house to the hospital the contractions started to get intense. About 10 minutes away from the hospital my water broke and the contractions started coming every 2 minutes. It turned into the classic “laboring woman yelling at her husband on the way to the hosital” cliché, with me telling husband he was an idiot for stopping at stop signs. By the time we got to the hospital I was in tears and could no longer walk or talk during contractions. They took us straight into our room.

The midwife checked me. I was only 4 cm. I was devastated. The contractions were extremely painful and coming right on top of each other. I tried several different positions, rocking on all fours, on the birthing ball, squatting. Eventually I asked to get in the tub, and the tub gave me a lot of relief. The midwife turned out the lights and I spent a couple of hours laboring in the tub with husband applying ice cold compresses on my forehead. When I think back on that part of my labor, I remember it as both intensely painful and intensely intimate. I remember my hand clutching the side of the tub during contractions, and husband holding my head. The midwife framed in the doorway with a dim light behind her. I remember the labor in fragments, with tunnel vision. I don’t remember Husband’s face, only his voice and his hand.

After awhile I was starting to lose my ability to cope through contractions. I asked the midwife how much longer. How much longer until Bug was born. No more than 2 hours she said. 2 hours sounded like an eternity. I opted to get a dose of fentanyl to help ease the pain. In reality, the fentanyl didn’t really ease the pain, but it did help me rest between the contractions and helped calm me down. The fentanyl wore off extremely quickly, but it was enough to help me rest, refocus and start coping again.

After about 2 hours in the tub, I asked the midwife to check me. But as soon as I stood up I could tell it was time to push. Husband helped me out of the tub and into the bed. With the midwife and the nurse’s help, I tried pushing. I was surprised to find that pushing seemed to relieve the pain of the contractions. After 45 minutes of pushing, Bug was born, wet and beautiful on my belly.

Bug’s birth was an incredible experience. Along with my wedding day and Bean’s birth, it was one of the best days of my life.

Bean wasn’t able to come visit her baby brother at the hospital (thank you, H1N1), but she has been an enthusiastic and loving big sister. The adjustment has been surprisingly smooth. Bean is a caretaker for sure and likes being Bug’s second little mommy. She likes to smile for and otherwise entertain him, and she always tells me if he is crying (even when I’m holding him). There haven’t been any real signs of jealousy yet (*knock on wood*).

Bug for his part is an extremely mellow and wonderful little baby. He’s sweet and cuddly and not much of a crier. He’s been nursing and growing well. A relatively good sleeper, even. Now 3.5 months old, he’s smiling, rolling over, and starting to grab toys. We’ve been using a co-sleeper for the time being and that is working out wonderfully (though I dread the day when Bug moves into Bean’s room).

I’ve been back at work for the last three weeks. It’s going okay. My mom is here in town taking care of Bug, and he’s slated to start in the infant room part time next week, going full time May 3rd. I’m far more anxious about Bug starting daycare than I was about returning to work. I know ultimately that he will be fine, but I’m really dreading this transition. It’s easier to be away from him knowing that he’s being cuddled and sung to by his grandma. Much harder to leave him with someone else.

So that’s where I’m at. I’ve actually had some great luck at the bench since I’ve been back, so that makes work a bit easier too. I’m also trying to write the papers had been hoping to write before Bug was born. Writing is fun because I spend at least as much time reading papers as I do writing my own, and that’s a nice way to get back into the science.

I promise more posts to come.

Potty trained (?)

Bean seems to be completely and totally potty trained (*knock on wood*). It was remarkably painless, which makes me think she may have been ready to potty train before we were. She hasn’t had an accident in almost two weeks, and this weekend she even napped in her underwear and still woke up dry. She’s still wearing diapers overnight, but in the morning she asks to potty when she wakes up and her diaper is almost dry. It’s pretty amazing.

It’s also somewhat stressful when we’re out and about. This weekend we were at the farmers market, and the nearest potty was quite a ways a way. But Bean has been a trooper and we’ve never ever had an accident while we were out.

Actually, the funny thing is that being pregnant while potty training is actually an advantage. My body acts as a built-in timer for reminding us to take Bean to the bathroom. Every time the pregnant lady’s gotta pee, chances are the toddler should too.

All grown up

This weekend Bean spent all of her waking hours in underwear.  And, through diligent watch checking by her parents, Bean kept her underwear clean and dry all weekend!  

Yesterday was her first day wearing underwear to school.  She did go through two pairs of underwear, but her teachers said she did great for her first day.  I expect there are going to have to be a lot of accidents before Bean starts to understand that underwear are not the same as diapers and before she starts initiating potty breaks, but that's okay.

I'm really proud of Bean for doing such a great job on the potty.  Frankly, potty training hasn't been that much of a struggle with her.  She's generally happy to go use the potty, she's proud of herself when she uses the potty, and she excited about her big girl underwear.  I wish I could take some credit for her success, but her positive potty attitude has made this process pretty easy so far.  *Knock on wood*

Seeing her in her big girl underwear is kind of a surprise to me.  The underwear really make her look like a big girl:  she's lost her round baby belly, her legs have lost almost all of their baby chub and now look muscular and strong.  She's gone through a growth spurt I think, and drawers she used to hang on trying to reach she can now easily peer inside.

Sometimes I think my baby girl is gone, but then she cuddles against me for a story and sucks her thumb and I still have to lean down to put my head in her hair.

Baby Bean, I love you so much.  I'm so proud of you my big girl.

Random Bullets of I'm Too Tired to Write A Coherent Post (RBOITTTWACP)

• Bean and I went to my brothers wedding a few weeks ago.  Some of you may recall he was in a terrible accident last year (just weeks before his originally scheduled wedding day) and almost lost his legs.  At the wedding, which was beautiful, he danced with the Bean.  I must have kissed my brother and my new sister-in-law about 2,000 times each.  It ranks as one of the happiest days of my life.
• After the wedding we had a few days with my mom before Husband joined us to attend his family reunion.  Every single member of Husband's family there for some time out in the wilderness.  Bean spent every waking second either splashing in the water, chasing her cousins or looking for bugs and frogs.  It was a really great time.
• Bean is really into bugs right now.  Ants, snails, moths, spiders, she loves them all.  I am doing a pretty good job of repressing my "ick" response and encouraging her interest.  No need to pass on my irrational fear of spiders.
• Bean's most popular phrase right now is "Mama, look at me!"
• I've gotten some really beautiful looking data in the past few weeks.  And while the analysis is kind of a slog, I'm really excited.  Before starting this experiment, I would have given it about a 20% chance of success, and it totally worked.  It almost makes up for all the times when stupid easy experiments don't work.
• I gave lab meeting yesterday and everyone Ooh'd and Aah'd over my lovely new data.  It's nice to put one in the "Win" column now and again.
• This pregnancy is shaping up to be very different from my first pregnancy.  I got much sicker in the beginning, I'm much more tired, and my belly has already popped.  Not in the cute "ooh a pregnant tummy" way, more in the "wow, she really let herself go" way.  
  
• ...but, I've started feeling the baby kick already.  That'll put a smile on a girls face.
• This weekend, Bean is transitioning to underwear, and next week she's wearing them to school.  She's been pottying 6-10 times a day, and I haven't changed a poopy diaper in about a month.  Um, awesome.
• Is anyone else loving the summer produce?  I can't remember the last time I had such consistently good summer produce.  The berries, cherries, tomatoes and corn have been amazing.

Big sister Bean

Thank you to everyone for your well wishes!  We have, in fact, told the Bean the happy news.  She’s too young to really understand.  She knows “there’s a baby in mama’s tummy” and she will put stuffed animals under her shirt and tell us that they are growing, but that’s about the level of her understanding.

My earliest memory is of being just about Bean’s age now (a little over 2 years old), and seeing my mother, very pregnant with my younger brother, getting out of the shower.  I remember being amazed at the size of her belly.  “You’re fat” I told her.  And she gently reminded me (for no doubt the 8,000^th time) that there was a baby in her tummy.  So yeah, I don’t have high expectations for Bean understanding the situation.

And to be fair, I didn’t really understand what it was to have a baby until Bean arrived.  And though she sort of understands the concept of brothers or sisters, I don’t expect that she will really know what it means to be a big sister until the baby starts drooling on all her stuff.

But, I hope Bean will get excited as the time nears.  7 months is a long time for her to work on “getting it”, and I’m sure the big sister books will help.  For right now though, I’m happy to let her enjoy being an only child for a little bit longer.

Springtime "snow" storm

The cottonwoods in Dissertation City have started shedding their fluffy little seeds.  At my house, the trees are dropping their seeds so rapidly that the fluff is falling through the air like snow, accumulating in drifts in the parking lot and along the edge of the grass.  

Bean is very excited about this new development and for the last two days has wanted to "step in the fluff", as she puts it.  I was a little hesitant, as Bean has somewhat sensitive skin and I didn't know if it might irritate her little legs.  So last night I put her in her rainboots and she had a grand time stomping around, kicking up the fluffy seeds and squealing in delight.

41 things about Bean

1. Do you like blue cheese? Um, yuck. But my mama sure likes it.
2. Have you ever smoked? Nope.
3. Do you own a gun? Nope.
4. What flavor Kool-Aid was your favorite? Never tried it.
5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? Nope, but I scream like hell when the doctor starts trying to examine me.
6. What do you think of hot dogs? Never had one.
7. Favorite Christmas movie? My mama let me watch a few minutes of Frosty the Snowman at Christmas. I wasn't impressed.
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Milk.
9. Can you do push-ups? Nope, but I'm pretty darn strong and my newest trick is turning doorknobs.
10. Favorite piece of jewelry? Anything dangling around my mama's neck.
11. Favorite hobby? Describing everything I see/do in real time.
12. Do you have A.D.D.? Is there such a thing in a toddler?
13. What's one trait you hate about yourself? I actually love myself a lot. To the point of singing songs about how much I love myself. My mama hopes that never changes.
14. Nick names? Bean, Goosey, Ticklebelly.
15. What are you doing at this exact moment? Napping.
16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink? Milk, water and milk.
17. Current worry? Pup stealing my food.
18. Something you hate right now? People getting all up in my grill.
19. Something you love right now? The spider that built its web right next to the front door.
20. How did you ring in the New Year? Chilling with Grandma B.
21. Where would you like to go? To the zoo.
22. Three people who will complete this? I'm taking all comers.
23. Do you own slippers? I got a hand-me-down pair of polar bear slippers recently, but I mostly like wearing them on my hands.
24. What shirt are you wearing right now? A little navy henley with polka dots.
25. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? Never had the pleasure, but my mama thinks they're creepy.
26. Can you whistle? No, but I try to copy Daddy's whistling. It basically sounds like I'm saying "hoo hoo hooo".
27. Favorite color? Pink. (I know, my mama's a little worried that she's already warped me, but nonetheless I always choose pink.)
28. Would you be a pirate? I'm not sure I understand the concept, but I'd like to have a parrot.
29. What songs do you sing in the shower? Singing in the Shower by Sandra Boynton.
30. Favorite Girl's Name? Kylee. It's my best friend's name, and I name everything I can Kylee.
31. Favorite boy's name? Daddy.
32. What's in your pocket right now? Nada.
33. Last thing that made you laugh? Mama kissing my belly button.
34. Best bed sheets as a child? I have no interesting sheets. Just stupid green ones with little flowers.
35. Worst injury you ever had? I bonked my head at school and gave myself a giant goose egg a couple of weeks ago.
36. Do you love where you live? Yes. I'm a Dissertation City Baby.
37. How many TVs do you have in your house? One, but I've only watched it a couple of times.
38. Who is your loudest friend? My dog, Pup.
39. Does someone have a crush on you? I don't think so.
40. What is your favorite book? Currently: Cars and Trucks and Things That Go.
41. Favorite Sports Team? Me and Daddy.

Kids say the darnedest things

Me:  Bean, Auntie H just found out that she has a baby girl in her tummy.

Bean:  And Uncle J has a baby boy in his tummy.

Me:  Seems reasonable.

RBO Mothers Day

*I had a really lovely Mothers Day, and it kicked off with Bean sleeping in until almost 7:00. Awesome. 

*As I lay in bed, Husband got up and retrieved Bean from her crib and then while Bean and I cuddled and read books, Husband made us challah french toast.  Double awesome.

*Bean sang "Happy Birthday dear mama" during breakfast.  Close enough.

*We all dressed and, after a brief stop off at my lab (colonies!), we went to meet some friends at the park for playtime and a picnic.  I spent a blissful morning running barefoot in the grass with Bean, helping her dig in the sand, and blowing bubbles for her and her little buddy.

*An exhausted Bean took a really good nap, which meant that I could take a really nice nap.

*We ended the day on a high note, with Bean as a willing dinner table participant and probably 45 minutes of cuddly reading before bedtime.

All in all, pretty much exactly how I wanted to spend the day.

An Open Letter...

...To my Bean,

Sunday is your second birthday.  It’s trite, of course, to say that these past two years have flown by quickly, that you’re growing up so fast.  To say that it feels like just a heartbeat ago that I lay down in bed with you still nestled in my belly, breathing with my lungs.

The night before you were born I felt you try to turn.  You got your little body transverse, which must not have been an easy feat in that crowded little womb.  After a minute you settled back into position (little did I know your feet were pointing down).  I like to think that you knew that your birth was approaching, and that you tried your best to get into the right position.

Labor was like white noise, like static, isolating you and I.  The doctors around us, talking to each other, talking to me, but they were miles away.  It was just you and me, sweet girl.

Later in our room, as I nursed you for the very first time, daddy played a CD for us, Iron and Wine.  When I listen to that album now, joy still balls up hard in my throat.

I still have an image of you, in our first days home, napping with your daddy on his bare chest.  He’s asleep, you’re swaddled but you’ve slipped your thumb into your mouth, and my entire world is there resting in cotton sheets and new pillows, grey filtered sunlight and the smell of too much sleep.

Every night before I go to bed, I sneak into your room alone.  I pet your damp curls and stroke your cheek.  I slip a finger into your palm and you close your fingers around mine.  I stay just a minute and tell you that I love you.  Sometimes you sigh and my heartbeat responds, a perfect harmonic.

Last night after dinner we settled down for story time on the couch.  This is my favorite time of every single day.  You snuggle into my lap, thumb in your mouth, rest your head on my shoulder.  It’s one of the few times each day when I still get to hold you.  I kiss the back of your sweet little neck, or bury my face in your soft fine hair.

When we read stories now, you often show your little stuffed animals or dolls the pictures.  “Look Froggy,” you say, pushing your frog’s face into the page.  Sometimes you “read” the books to us.  I love to see how much you know and understand, to see you discern patterns in the prose.  You love rhythm and music, and are lulled by the cadence of my voice as it rushes over the words.

You’re singing, always singing.  Songs I don’t even know.  You make up your own words to songs sometimes, telling us what you see or wish to do.  You ask us to sing to you too, and sometimes ask “Mama and Dada and Bean sing all together?”

You’re growing quickly, my sweet, precocious, mercurial little girl.  But no matter how much you grow, how strong and independent you become, you and I will always be connected.  You will always be mine.

Happy birthday, sweet baby.  Happy birthday.

With Love,

your mama

The case against breastfeeding(?)

My dear friend Ruchi passed along this article about breastfeeding to me and wanted to hear what I had to say about it. The main thesis of the article is that despite the claims of breastfeeding advocates such as the American Academy of Pediatrics, parenting know-it-all Dr. Sears, and La Leche League, the evidence that breastfeeding actually reduces the rates of childhood obesity, allergies, and illness, increases IQ, and promotes mother-child bonding and attachment is far from definitive.

[The medical literature] shows that breast-feeding is probably, maybe, a little better; but it is far from the stampede of evidence that Sears describes. More like tiny, unsure baby steps: two forward, two back, with much meandering and bumping into walls. A couple of studies will show fewer allergies, and then the next one will turn up no difference. Same with mother-infant bonding, IQ, leukemia, cholesterol, diabetes. Even where consensus is mounting, the meta studies—reviews of existing studies—consistently complain about biases, missing evidence, and other major flaws in study design. “The studies do not demonstrate a universal phenomenon, in which one method is superior to another in all instances.

The author goes on to discuss the fundamental problem inherent in most human studies: that in order to perform the study ethically, you can not randomize participants into breast-feeding and non-breastfeeding groups. And because of that, scientists are always chasing their tails, trying to control for factors which could confound the results (things like age of the mother, income level, number of siblings in the household). It's not surprising then that studies are often conflicting... some studies show that breastfeeding is beneficial in one area or another, other studies show no difference between breastfeeding and formula. The author notes:

The IQ studies run into the central problem of breast-feeding research: it is impossible to separate a mother’s decision to breast-feed—and everything that goes along with it—from the breast-feeding itself...

My decision to breastfeed had little to do with whether or not there was "proof" in the literature. My decision to breastfeed was based on the idea of breastmilk as a whole food, while formula is more of a synthetic food. I think of breastmilk as YEPD and formula as SC. I know my yeast grow a hell of a lot better on the rich, complex mixture of yeast extract and peptone than they do on synthetic amino acids and ammonium sulfate. I find the complexity of breastmilk reassuring... I mean there was a time when we didn't recognize that Iodine was an essential trace element. I really don't expect that we have identified all of the essential components of newborn nutrition that promote optimum growth and development.

That being said, I think that the benefits of breastfeeding are relatively small (when compared to the contributions of things like genetic makeup, family income, parent's education level, etc). And this is why observational studies like the ones the author discusses have such a hard time proving any significant benefit.

The author's main point, which she obscures with her rather bitter and unfriendly tone, is that the small benefits that breastfeeding may (and I would argue likely) provide don't justify the (sometimes militant) pro-breastfeeding culture. And I couldn't agree more. There has to be a balance between providing women with the cultural and practical support that promotes breastfeeding, and one which does not demonize women who, for any number of reasons choose not to breastfeed.

And, somewhat off topic:

Given what we know so far, it seems reasonable to put breast-feeding’s health benefits on the plus side of the ledger and other things—modesty, independence, career, sanity—on the minus side, and then tally them up and make a decision.

I actually found this sentence a little offensive. Just because this author finds breastfeeding miserable doesn't mean that everyone does, and I resent the way she presents breastfeeding as nothing but minuses. Yes, breastfeeding can be challenging, demanding, tiring, but it is also immensely rewarding. I wouldn't trade my time nursing Bean for anything.

Wait, do you work here?

2009 has gotten off to a kind of rocky start. In addition to finding out that Husband’s change in funding source meant a net decrease in take home pay (and that he doesn’t qualify for his institution’s retirement benefits because he’s apparently a “new” employee), my paycheck dropped as well as our health insurance premiums quietly jumped 33%.

But the thing that really has me down this week was a more long-term stressor. Husband and I want to have a second child, and I’ve always been biased towards trying to space the children fairly close together. I was hoping for 2 years between babies, but with Husband’s job search happening a year later than we had hoped, we figured three years apart would be the most practical. Which would mean trying to get knocked up sometime this summer.

As we try to figure out where the hell we’re going to get the money for a second child, I tried looking into what the maternity leave policy would be now that I’m being paid by a private fellowship instead of off my boss’ grant. I couldn’t find any information on family leave in my Fellow’s Handbook, so I contacted the American Cancer Society directly. The response shocked me.

No paid parental leave. As in 0.00 days of paid leave following the birth or adoption of a child. Instead they offer to put the grant on hold until I return to the lab and extend the grant termination date.

I was really taken aback by their response. In 2008, the NIH extended their parental leave benefits from 30 paid days to 60 paid days of leave. Damon Runyon offers their fellows 12 weeks of paid leave. So I was really really surprised by the ACS policy of no paid leave.

It’s really frustrating. As a postdoc, you don’t accrue vacation days or sick leave or personal holidays. Postdocs are often in a weird unclassified vortex of suck. We’re not employees, we’re volunteers… who happen to have bosses and get a paycheck. We sometimes qualify for benefits. Sometimes not.

I know that I’m lucky to have a paycheck and health insurance and some stability in my employment. But I’m getting old here, people, and it’s frustrating to feel like I still don’t have a “real” job. Instead I’m still stuck in the confusing world of not-quite-an-employee. It makes me feel like I’m still a grad school.

I’ve contacted one of the officers of the Postdoc Association here at the University to see if I have other options, and I’m waiting to hear back. But I’m frustrated and grumpy.

I’ve also started reading “Nickeled and Dimed” to remind myself just how lucky I am.

Climbing up the academic ladder

On pregnancy, childbirth and being a woman

In case you all aren't regular readers of Dr. Jekyl and Mrs. Hyde, over the past few months Dr. J has written a really beautiful series on infertility and IVF. Dr. J has been really honest about how painful her experience with infertility has been, while pouring on the black humor as she psuedo-liveblogs her IVF experience.

This past week Dr. J wrote a really amazing post, from which I will quote liberally:

For anyone who wonders why people would go to such lengths just to put themselves through the difficulties of pregnancy and birth, I would say this. Imagine that you were born female but that you never had menses. "Lucky you," your friends would say. "It's awful, and inconvenient." Meanwhile, every women's magazine you read has an article about menstruation--readers' stories of when they got their first periods, debates about maxipads with wings, the Eight Signs That You Should Visit the Gynecologist. When groups of women are together, they talk about PMS, or about sex during their periods, pro or con.

You would feel jealous. Not because having a period was such a desirable thing, but because it was such a fundamental part of every other woman's life that to lack it was to be excluded. And wouldn't you sort of hate your friends for telling you not to want what they all had?

Take that sensation and convolve it with the knowledge that most women enjoy aspects of pregnancy and birth, and say that it was a life experience they wouldn't miss--it was defining. The fear that you will never have that experience is real.

Though Dr. J is talking broadly about both pregnancy and childbirth in this post, it sums up in a way I have never been able to express how devastated I was that Bean was born by C-section.

I personally really enjoyed my pregnancy. It wasn't always easy, but it was an amazing experience to grow my child in my belly, to nourish her and protect her. The culmination of my pregnancy, and my ultimate gift to Bean, was supposed to be a natural birth. It was something I had hoped that Husband, Bean and I would all experience together, and I imagined it would be a powerful event.

When, just a few hours into my labor, the doctor told me I had little chance for a safe vaginal birth and would have to have a C-section, I was devastated. I cried and cried. The doctor, the nurses looked at me like I was insane. But I lost my chance at the birth I wanted, and knowing that VBACs aren't always possible, I knew that I might not ever experience a natural birth.

Afterwards, when I tried to talk to Husband and others about how heartbroken I was, the response was always the same "But at least you have a happy healthy baby!" "It's the product, not the process!"

Of course that's true. Given the same circumstances, I would make the same choices, putting Bean's health and safety above my desire for a vaginal birth. But it doesn't mean that I don't still feel a sense of loss over the once-in-a-lifetime experience that I missed.

As time has gone by, the sadness I feel about my childbirth experience has lessened. The wound less tender, the anger less sharp. But it's still there, and the sadness seems to bubble to the surface every time I see a movie or TV show about with a birth in it.

Maybe I'm the only one who felt this way after a C-section, but thanks to Dr. J for putting this to words.

Holiday bliss

On Monday night Husband’s schedule got all screwed up, and so Bean and I went to pick him up from lab in the early evening. On the way to pick him up, I spontaneously decided that we should take Bean into downtown Dissertation City and show her all of the holiday decorations.

We arrived at the fancy downtown shopping center just in time for their nightly “snow” fall. They played loud music to announce the event, and then bubbles came cascading down into the atrium. Bean ran and chased the mock snowflakes squealing.

After a quick bite to eat, we took Bean outside. In front of the shopping center was a talented young woman playing violin, her fluffy brown dog sprawled at her feet. Bean squirmed down and began dancing in front of the woman, smiling at her. When the song finished, Bean begged “more, more”. The woman obliged and Bean danced for two more songs, each time clapping and shouting “hooray!” at the end. Bean also got to pet her adorable dog, who kissed Bean’s face and then rolled over on her back to let Bean rub her tummy.

We strolled up the tree-lined street and found the center square had been set up with both a 20 foot tall Christmas tree and a carousel. Bean pointed to the carousel and signed “Please?” After the carousel ride (Bean rode a blue pony and was not at all frightened by the up-and-down motion), we saw a man with his horse drawn carriage. He let little Bean pet the horse, and she was very excited to do so. As we walked away, she asked “more horsey?”

We stopped to have one last dance to the violin music before calling it a night. We kept Bean up more than an hour past her usual bedtime, but it was pretty much one of the most wonderful nights of my life.

And that is why I love the holidays.

Delusional parenting 101

A couple of friends who have babies the same age as Bean were getting together to take the kiddos to a Tiny Tots Symphony Performance of the Dissertation City Opera. I was really excited to bring Bean because she LOVES music, and the event was billed as an interactive performance geared towards very small children.

The morning started off great. Bean was very excited to go "see music", and dutifully put on her dress and allowed me to put clips in her hair. She sang ABC's all the way to the symphony hall.

And the first couple of minutes of the performance went exactly as I had imagined. She sat in my lap, we sang with the talented musicians and singers, there were action songs. But after the novelty wore off, Bean was all wiggles and writhed her slippery way right out of my lap.

Before I knew it I was following her up and down the aisle, past all the children sitting perfectly in their parents laps, and back to the stairs. Up and down the stairs Bean went, back and forth, back and forth. Dancing to the music sometimes, but not looking on stage even once. I tried pathetically to get her interested in the music again while nearby parents gave me knowing looks. Good luck, sister the other mothers seemed to say. But at least she wasn't screaming.

Until she decided that she wanted to slide face first down the stairs on her stomach. At this point I tried to pick her up, but that little Bean was more slippery than a greased pig. As she tried to wrest herself from my grasp, Bean somehow smacked her chin on the ground, biting her tongue in two places.

I picked up my poor wailing Bean and hauled her out of the concert hall. Once her bloody tongue had been inspected and deemed to be still intact, I let her burn off a little steam by chasing her around the lobby. When Bean said she was ready to go listen to the music again, I took her back in, just in time for the last song.

She clapped wildly as the musicians took their bow.

What big eyes you have

I have no idea where she gets those gorgeous peepers from...

Haiku War

After an understood day of armistice last Friday, Bean-Mom and I return to our Friday Haiku war.

Sometimes it's curly,
other times wispy and wild
Hair cannot be tamed

Owie! she insists
in a concerned little voice
No Bean, a freckle

Bullets

-This weekend, my in-laws taught Bean to say Psych! as well as it's proper usage. So her newest game is to hold out a toy (or a piece of food, or a tissue, or a piece of trash she found on the floor...), and then as soon as you reach to accept the item, she pulls it back and yells Psych! at the top of her lungs. This is followed by 30 seconds of adorable maniacal laughter. Then she offers you the item again...

-Bean's report card yesterday said that they are working with Bean on her inside voice, as well as walking when indoors. Bean currently has a collection of bruises that she has acquired by running full force everywhere she wants to go and then tripping and falling into something. She's kind of a clutz (like her mama...).

-Last night on the way home from school, we passed a house that normally has blue Christmas lights strung on the balcony. The owners hadn't turned them on yet, and Bean was sorely disappointed. More blue lights! she cried More blue lights! She didn't want to hear my explanations for why the blue lights were off.

-It is time for me to break out the cold weather running gear. Stupid cold city.

-I ran a very expensive experiment yesterday. The last time I tried it the dumb cells did not behave. I should know tomorrow whether or not it worked this time. Fingers crossed because money is tight until our new NIH grant comes in (April?).

-I have been reading some really great papers this week. I LOVE LOVE LOVE reading good papers. It makes me happy. It reminds me why I love science (even if sometimes I hate bench work).

Random bits

Last week Bean said her first swear word (and I would like it noted that it wasn't my fault!). Husband walked in the door with Bean on his hip to find that Pup had an accident on the bathroom rug. Dammit he said. Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit Bean parroted for the next 20 minutes. Luckily she seems to have forgotten her newest vocab word.

Our Thanksgiving holiday was totally awesome. We trekked down to Husband's mother's house for the annual eat-stravaganza. Husband's niece, who is six, was there this year and she was an awesome older cousin. Bean and her cousin played together virtually non-stop the entire weekend. It was really great to see. Their favorite game was one in which they took turns running from one end of the house to the other and then threw themselves onto a tumbling mat in a kind of belly flop.

The luxury of four (virtually) stress-free days with my child made returning to the daily grind of work/school jarring for me, and apparently heart-wrenching for the Bean. She wailed when we brought her to school yesterday, crying Mama! Mama! with giant tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. But as usual, when it was time to pick Bean up from school, she ran away from me, desperate to play with one. last. toy.

Last night during dinner, she sang bits and pieces of Jingle Bells.