Lucy's asleep, dinner is in the crock pot, I just folded laundry, I dusted earlier this week, and I can't vacuum while she's snoozing.
What does a girl do with herself when--there's nothing pressing to do?
One writes a book review, of course.
I love mystery novels. Especially the almost bloodless, formal type, like Ngaio Marsh or Agatha Christie or Alexander McCall Smith, or the slightly more bloody PD James (love her the best) or even the somewhat raunchy Elizabeth George. Oh, for a good mystery to drown my head in.
So it was with much anticipation that I received "Maisie Dobbs" in the mail from PBS the other day. It was touted as like the Ladies #1 Detective Agency series, but set in post WWI Britain.
Just the ticket, I thought.
Oh, the disappointment!!
Why did this book become a bestseller? It's not awful, but it's so...obvious. The descriptions were poorly written. Maisie steeples her hands and places them underneath her chin to indicate that she's thinking. How...cliche! I kept rolling my eyes.
I mean, I roll my eyes a little bit with Precious Ramotswe, but geez, there's so much that's refreshing in Smith's novels. Botswana, for one. Witty dialogue, for another.
In contrast, everyone in Maisie Dobbs is trying too hard.
Oh--I just figured it out. There's no irony in the novel at all. It's so earnest it made my teeth hurt. When the author says characters are laughing, I don't really believe her. Or I'm not laughing with them.
What I don't understand is how the book got such glowing reviews. It takes all kinds, I guess--but if someone had turned this in for a fiction writing class, I would have been mostly positive (good historical detail, and enough suspense to get me through the novel--hey, I did look forward to finishing it). But I would have set the novelist down for a few lessons in characterization, proper use of attribution ("What's wrong, Dad?" Maisie queried is not okay) and more edge.
I guess I'm growing curmudgeonly if I'm this disdainful of a New York Times bestseller. Jacqueline Winspear, the author, obviously figured out her audience, and damn the attribution errors.
Sigh. Just goes to show: I should be a bestselling novelist.
Hey, if Lucy keeps sleeping this well, I might have time to write something other than this blog.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
my scent
So Lucy has been sleeping fabulously the last few nights. So well, in fact, that I went out after she went to bed to get groceries, and I wasn't even too worried she'd wake up. (Incidentally, on the way over, I realized it had been a long time since I'd been out after dark. It gets dark awful early right now.)
Anyway, we decided it was high time I come back to sleep next to Dyami (I've been sleeping on the couch or in the second bedroom for about a week).
Lucy wouldn't know the difference, right?
Hah hah! I'm sooo funny!!
Last night wasn't bad at all, but she did wake up at 1:30 am (after she'd been sleeping through till almost 5). Hmmm. After I got up at about 1 am to pee.
Coincidence? I think not.
Here's the dialogue I imagine went on in her head.
Doop de doop. Sleep. Sleep. Hmmm. Wake up. Dark shapes. Shadows. Swinging in bed. Hmmm. Suck my tongue. Hmmm. Rustling. Sniff. Sniff. Milk? Milk? Oh! Milk! I remember milk. Hmmm. Milk at night. Hmmm. I remember milk at night. Ohhh. Snuggles. Mmmmilk. Warmth. Mmmmmilk. MMMMama. Milllllllk.
MMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmilk.
I think I need me some of that.
(Wiggle. Wiggle. Fuss. Fuss.)
So after the nursing and the settling her back to sleep, I went back to my solo bed.
Sigh.
Anyway, we decided it was high time I come back to sleep next to Dyami (I've been sleeping on the couch or in the second bedroom for about a week).
Lucy wouldn't know the difference, right?
Hah hah! I'm sooo funny!!
Last night wasn't bad at all, but she did wake up at 1:30 am (after she'd been sleeping through till almost 5). Hmmm. After I got up at about 1 am to pee.
Coincidence? I think not.
Here's the dialogue I imagine went on in her head.
Doop de doop. Sleep. Sleep. Hmmm. Wake up. Dark shapes. Shadows. Swinging in bed. Hmmm. Suck my tongue. Hmmm. Rustling. Sniff. Sniff. Milk? Milk? Oh! Milk! I remember milk. Hmmm. Milk at night. Hmmm. I remember milk at night. Ohhh. Snuggles. Mmmmilk. Warmth. Mmmmmilk. MMMMama. Milllllllk.
MMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmilk.
I think I need me some of that.
(Wiggle. Wiggle. Fuss. Fuss.)
So after the nursing and the settling her back to sleep, I went back to my solo bed.
Sigh.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
moving
Lucy is really moving. She's practically balletic.
She wants to crawl so bad I can taste it. She's got the 'army skooch' down pretty good--sort of forearm over forearm to propel herself forward. (She's mobile enough now that we kind of have to keep an eye on her unless we want her sucking on the soles of our shoes). But today, she sort of got stuck in one place for a while because she dug her toes into the ground and tried to lift her bum off the ground.
Man, the sheer effort involved in movement is really amazing to watch.
Then she started turning around--sort of pivoting with her belly button as the fulcrum. She just turned, and turned and turned. Belly loop-de-loops.
She has been surprisingly content on the floor the past few days because (I think) now that she skooches so well, she isn't so frustrated that she can't get to stuff.
I think this phase is close to ending. She was pretty frustrated that she couldn't crawl. Then I picked her up and lay down on the floor with her on my stomach and started singing to her.
Have I mentioned how much she loves me singing? I've gotten compliments on my singing voice before, but there is nothing better than having a little baby's face light up the second you start singing a nonsense song you're making up words to.
All this was happening while I had the remains of a migrane, was tired out of my mind (despite the last few days of great sleep) an extremely sore shoulder, and was flying solo while Dyami was at church.
I was just content to be sort of out of it with my slightly fussy daughter, waiting for her bedtime so I could be alone for a while.
Thank you Lord, for contentedness striking when I expected it least.
She wants to crawl so bad I can taste it. She's got the 'army skooch' down pretty good--sort of forearm over forearm to propel herself forward. (She's mobile enough now that we kind of have to keep an eye on her unless we want her sucking on the soles of our shoes). But today, she sort of got stuck in one place for a while because she dug her toes into the ground and tried to lift her bum off the ground.
Man, the sheer effort involved in movement is really amazing to watch.
Then she started turning around--sort of pivoting with her belly button as the fulcrum. She just turned, and turned and turned. Belly loop-de-loops.
She has been surprisingly content on the floor the past few days because (I think) now that she skooches so well, she isn't so frustrated that she can't get to stuff.
I think this phase is close to ending. She was pretty frustrated that she couldn't crawl. Then I picked her up and lay down on the floor with her on my stomach and started singing to her.
Have I mentioned how much she loves me singing? I've gotten compliments on my singing voice before, but there is nothing better than having a little baby's face light up the second you start singing a nonsense song you're making up words to.
All this was happening while I had the remains of a migrane, was tired out of my mind (despite the last few days of great sleep) an extremely sore shoulder, and was flying solo while Dyami was at church.
I was just content to be sort of out of it with my slightly fussy daughter, waiting for her bedtime so I could be alone for a while.
Thank you Lord, for contentedness striking when I expected it least.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
magic sleep part trois
Okay, I took Spanish, not French, so my knowledge of the language is limited to shaky understanding of ballet terminology. Is trois three?
Our Internet has been down for two days, which is why I haven't posted. I was sort of bereft, but realized after the first day that I was actually getting stuff done, like exercising, and felt like I had a lot more uninterrupted time during the day. Hmmm. Maybe Lucy isn't the problem, but our cable modem.
Anyway, there have been exciting developments on the sleep front. The last four days, I've slept in the other room (on the couch while my mother in law was here) and Dyami with Lucy. When she wakes up, he tries comforting her while I try vainly not to notice her crying through earplugs. He goes for as long as he can, and then I go in and nurse her back to sleep.
I don't know why this should work, but it seems to be doing so. The first night she woke 3 times instead of 5-6. Second night, 2. Third night, 1. Last night, she woke up an hour after I put her to bed at six, and then didn't wake up until five am. Five am!!! I went to bed at 9, and my body woke me at four, which is a magic 7 hours of sleep. Then after I nursed her to sleep at five, I went back to bed, and slept until 8:30.
I feel like a million bucks. Omigod, sleep is like drugs. Very, very high-quality drugs. A co-worker of mine once had to take Oxycontin for surgery, and he said that he loved it. "I felt like I did in high school." I know exactly what he meant.
Things may regress anytime, and I certainly don't expect so much sleep every day. But this much improvement in such a short time gives me great hope for the future. She's teachable!
I think I'm going to start on reading next.
Our Internet has been down for two days, which is why I haven't posted. I was sort of bereft, but realized after the first day that I was actually getting stuff done, like exercising, and felt like I had a lot more uninterrupted time during the day. Hmmm. Maybe Lucy isn't the problem, but our cable modem.
Anyway, there have been exciting developments on the sleep front. The last four days, I've slept in the other room (on the couch while my mother in law was here) and Dyami with Lucy. When she wakes up, he tries comforting her while I try vainly not to notice her crying through earplugs. He goes for as long as he can, and then I go in and nurse her back to sleep.
I don't know why this should work, but it seems to be doing so. The first night she woke 3 times instead of 5-6. Second night, 2. Third night, 1. Last night, she woke up an hour after I put her to bed at six, and then didn't wake up until five am. Five am!!! I went to bed at 9, and my body woke me at four, which is a magic 7 hours of sleep. Then after I nursed her to sleep at five, I went back to bed, and slept until 8:30.
I feel like a million bucks. Omigod, sleep is like drugs. Very, very high-quality drugs. A co-worker of mine once had to take Oxycontin for surgery, and he said that he loved it. "I felt like I did in high school." I know exactly what he meant.
Things may regress anytime, and I certainly don't expect so much sleep every day. But this much improvement in such a short time gives me great hope for the future. She's teachable!
I think I'm going to start on reading next.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
the experts
Why do I do it to myself?
I got a baby book in the mail the other day. A friend had mentioned it (not a recommendation; she just said she was reading it) and so I got it at Paperback Swap.
It's a perfectly fine book. Pretty middle-of-the-road philosophy-wise. Looking back on flipping through it, I disagreed with some stuff, but that's pretty standard for parenting books. Other stuff I thought was helpful. Also standard.
Then there was the other 50 percent of the book that I wasn't sure if I agreed with or not. It sounded convincing. (And remember, I believe pretty much everything I read).
So when I finished skimming it, I felt completely inadequate. Like I had done the wrong thing since Day One with Lucy and it was going to require a Major Upheaval of our lives and patterns to get things Back On Track.
Oh, those experts. Americans love experts.
I love experts. And hate them.
I had always heard the saying, "Babies don't come with manuals," and nodded, naively. (Thinking--what moron thinks babies come with manuals? How hard can diapering be?) I figured the expression meant you had to learn the skills as you went.
What I didn't realize is that it is not the basic tasks you need a manual for (diapers are pretty standard stuff) but the day-to-day reality of your unique child in your unique house, city, family, and circumstance. All unique! Your baby will fit the book descriptions in Some Areas, not all. And only generally. No one can tell you what to do when your daughter's nap schedule gets out of whack and starts falling asleep on your lap an hour before her bedtime. (Let her nap and have a completely late bedtime? Wake her up and put an extremely cranky baby to bed waaaaay early?) There are literally thousands of decisions to make every day. Socks or footed pants? Onesie or t-shirt? Hat or blanket? Pee now or later? Left breast or right? Floor play time or sling? Is she fussy because she's hungry or tired or has to pee or is bored? All mundane decisions, and all extremely pressing.
So no one can really tell you what to do! (Or they can, and will, but you are allowed to ignore them.) Sometimes I desperately want someone to tell me what to do. Sometimes I try to get my pro mommy friends to do this. But they aren't biting. Sometimes I get my knickers in a twist when I suspect people are trying to tell me what to do.
Wouldn't it be nice if I could decide what I wanted?
So, last night, I got all sad and fearful that I'd ruined Lucy (who, by the way, was sleeping, peacefully and happily.) But by the light of the morning, (and after some rest) I decided I didn't really care so much what the book said. For one, my friend who has used it has had some (but not complete) success with it. Pretty much par for the course with parenting books. For another, I feel pretty good about the decisions we've made. Sometimes I don't like their short-term results, but they were decisions, not accidents. Also, I think parenting can be largely done by instinct. The more I pay attention to my child, the better off I am. Also, the woman who wrote the book has a business of going to peoples' homes to troubleshoot their childrearing.
That kind of creeps me out.
I don't really want or need that kind of intervention. We're doing just fine, thank you very much.
Don't you think?
I got a baby book in the mail the other day. A friend had mentioned it (not a recommendation; she just said she was reading it) and so I got it at Paperback Swap.
It's a perfectly fine book. Pretty middle-of-the-road philosophy-wise. Looking back on flipping through it, I disagreed with some stuff, but that's pretty standard for parenting books. Other stuff I thought was helpful. Also standard.
Then there was the other 50 percent of the book that I wasn't sure if I agreed with or not. It sounded convincing. (And remember, I believe pretty much everything I read).
So when I finished skimming it, I felt completely inadequate. Like I had done the wrong thing since Day One with Lucy and it was going to require a Major Upheaval of our lives and patterns to get things Back On Track.
Oh, those experts. Americans love experts.
I love experts. And hate them.
I had always heard the saying, "Babies don't come with manuals," and nodded, naively. (Thinking--what moron thinks babies come with manuals? How hard can diapering be?) I figured the expression meant you had to learn the skills as you went.
What I didn't realize is that it is not the basic tasks you need a manual for (diapers are pretty standard stuff) but the day-to-day reality of your unique child in your unique house, city, family, and circumstance. All unique! Your baby will fit the book descriptions in Some Areas, not all. And only generally. No one can tell you what to do when your daughter's nap schedule gets out of whack and starts falling asleep on your lap an hour before her bedtime. (Let her nap and have a completely late bedtime? Wake her up and put an extremely cranky baby to bed waaaaay early?) There are literally thousands of decisions to make every day. Socks or footed pants? Onesie or t-shirt? Hat or blanket? Pee now or later? Left breast or right? Floor play time or sling? Is she fussy because she's hungry or tired or has to pee or is bored? All mundane decisions, and all extremely pressing.
So no one can really tell you what to do! (Or they can, and will, but you are allowed to ignore them.) Sometimes I desperately want someone to tell me what to do. Sometimes I try to get my pro mommy friends to do this. But they aren't biting. Sometimes I get my knickers in a twist when I suspect people are trying to tell me what to do.
Wouldn't it be nice if I could decide what I wanted?
So, last night, I got all sad and fearful that I'd ruined Lucy (who, by the way, was sleeping, peacefully and happily.) But by the light of the morning, (and after some rest) I decided I didn't really care so much what the book said. For one, my friend who has used it has had some (but not complete) success with it. Pretty much par for the course with parenting books. For another, I feel pretty good about the decisions we've made. Sometimes I don't like their short-term results, but they were decisions, not accidents. Also, I think parenting can be largely done by instinct. The more I pay attention to my child, the better off I am. Also, the woman who wrote the book has a business of going to peoples' homes to troubleshoot their childrearing.
That kind of creeps me out.
I don't really want or need that kind of intervention. We're doing just fine, thank you very much.
Don't you think?
Friday, January 19, 2007
poor Dyami
Dyami has been a little down because Lucy won't let him comfort her at night.
When Dyami comes home from work, she is ecstatic to see him. She crows like a rooster. She laughs. She giggles. He takes her to the bathroom. She babbles at him.
Then he starts the nighttime routine (the shortened, much more sane night routine, BTW).
She immediately gets upset.
"She's too smart," he says. "She knows what she wants, and she knows I don't have it."
We decided to have him do first round of bedtime wind down and first response comforting if she wakes up. The hope is that she will get used to it at some point and he will be able to comfort her.
A month ago, he had the magic touch and could get her to fall back asleep when I was pulling my hair out.
Now she wants nothing to do with him after we turn out the lights.
Poor Dyami. It's kind of hard on him.
I'm disappointed to--I would really love him to be able to comfort her. Gosh, it would be nice to hand off some nighttime duties. (And honestly, even him trying unsuccessfully makes me feel better--at least I'm sharing the duties).
Though some completely insane part of me is happy to be so--essential. See, I was convinced that Dyami would be a superior parent (and he probably is, considering I have the boobs). So to be able to do something he can't--
Gosh. What an achievement. Great. Really great. Oh, good, Lucy's waking up--and I'm the only one who can comfort her.
Sheesh. Poor me.
When Dyami comes home from work, she is ecstatic to see him. She crows like a rooster. She laughs. She giggles. He takes her to the bathroom. She babbles at him.
Then he starts the nighttime routine (the shortened, much more sane night routine, BTW).
She immediately gets upset.
"She's too smart," he says. "She knows what she wants, and she knows I don't have it."
We decided to have him do first round of bedtime wind down and first response comforting if she wakes up. The hope is that she will get used to it at some point and he will be able to comfort her.
A month ago, he had the magic touch and could get her to fall back asleep when I was pulling my hair out.
Now she wants nothing to do with him after we turn out the lights.
Poor Dyami. It's kind of hard on him.
I'm disappointed to--I would really love him to be able to comfort her. Gosh, it would be nice to hand off some nighttime duties. (And honestly, even him trying unsuccessfully makes me feel better--at least I'm sharing the duties).
Though some completely insane part of me is happy to be so--essential. See, I was convinced that Dyami would be a superior parent (and he probably is, considering I have the boobs). So to be able to do something he can't--
Gosh. What an achievement. Great. Really great. Oh, good, Lucy's waking up--and I'm the only one who can comfort her.
Sheesh. Poor me.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
the mornings
I love the morning with my daughter.
Well, maybe the first half-hour of the morning. Not that I hate the rest of the day, but in the first half hour, Lucy is well-rested and full, and has just peed. And she's cute at all times, but when she's in her super happy mood that first half-hour, and all of her needs are met at the same time, I can just enjoy her.
So I eat her belly.
This is a very fun game for all of you uninitiated. First, I hold down her arms. Then I make a growling noise and I get louder as I get closer to her belly. Then I sort of gnaw on it.
She loves it! She squeals, and if I do it right, she even laughs.
The laughter of a small baby makes all the night wakings worth it.
Almost.
I also eat her armpit and her hands. Gosh, it's fun.
Sometimes I feel a little guilty. As a small child, I hated being tickled. Hated. So how can I justify doing it to my baby? My defenseless baby? I mean, what if she's laughing out of pain or fear?
But this is the best part of my day! My highlight!
You wouldn't deny me my highlight, right?
Plus, I really think she likes it. I think.
Well, maybe the first half-hour of the morning. Not that I hate the rest of the day, but in the first half hour, Lucy is well-rested and full, and has just peed. And she's cute at all times, but when she's in her super happy mood that first half-hour, and all of her needs are met at the same time, I can just enjoy her.
So I eat her belly.
This is a very fun game for all of you uninitiated. First, I hold down her arms. Then I make a growling noise and I get louder as I get closer to her belly. Then I sort of gnaw on it.
She loves it! She squeals, and if I do it right, she even laughs.
The laughter of a small baby makes all the night wakings worth it.
Almost.
I also eat her armpit and her hands. Gosh, it's fun.
Sometimes I feel a little guilty. As a small child, I hated being tickled. Hated. So how can I justify doing it to my baby? My defenseless baby? I mean, what if she's laughing out of pain or fear?
But this is the best part of my day! My highlight!
You wouldn't deny me my highlight, right?
Plus, I really think she likes it. I think.
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