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Dichotomy I feel like most of the up and downs of my life come out of the dichotomies that I create. I talk myself into one thing and then I feel horrible about it so I do ahead and do the opposite and then feel terrible about that. I would like to be thinner and fit into such clothing but every time I go on a diet, I think about how life is short and why the fuck shouldn't I be able to eat whatever I want. Then I get frustrated and hate life when I can't buy the clothes I want because I ate that stupid piece of chocolate. I want to be able to book more photo sessions and have a lot of clients but then I get sad that I am so booked that I don't have time to do other things I love like read and relax. I want to sign up David for some of the mom and baby courses so he gets to interact with other children but then each time we go to one of those things, he cries all the way there and all the way home. Sometimes he even acts grouchy there. So then I wonder should I have stayed home with him afterall. I want to sleep more but I feel like I am wasting time. I want my work environment to be more intellectually stimulating sometimes but then I don't want to sacrifice the other parts of my life like time with David. I want to keep writing this site every single day. I think about it constantly. I want to keep up on my email and take the time to keep in touch with my friends. But I don't want to give up any of the other things that take up all my life and time. I am constantly plagued by thoughts of one of these struggles. The even more frustrating part is that I am never happy with the option I choose because each time, while I execute the one I picked, I am thinking of the other one, the consequences of the one I picked. The pants I won't be able to wear because of the chocolate I am eating, the chocolate I don't get to eat because I want to fit in the pants. The life I don't get to have, the life I long for. It's just that I partly always feel like I am missing out. Like I am cheating a part of me. Not exactly sure how to get out of the loop. I guess the idea is to pick one and just be content with it. But I honestly don't know how.  REMEMBER THIS LATER
I worry about the stupidest things. Everything. All the time. It's what
I do. Worry. I don't know if I inherited it or just decided to take on
at some early point in my life.
I worry about big things too. My son. My marriage. My work. My health. But really, most of my day to day life is worrying about the stupid stuff. Whether David took a nap. If I ate too much. If I have enough creative talent. If my house is clean enough (it never is). Does my son eat enough veggies. This week I'm working from home cause David's school is closed. And instead of enjoying my time with him and being thankful that I am getting to spend this much of it, I decided to potty train him and be frustrated about it 24-7. I worry we waited too long and he's already 3.5. I worry he won't ever learn. I worry I'll scar him and make him have bigger issues. I worry. I worry. I worry. And so I am stressed. And then I am tired. It's so incredibly stupid. Instead I should be thankful my son is healthy enough for me to be able to toilet train him. Thankful that I get to be home this week and can take the opportunity and time to do it. Thankful that I was able to have a child. Honestly. It sounds stupid like the "be happy you have arms and legs" that moms always say but honestly, Karen, it's time to shape up. This one is for me to remember how I'm feeling at this moment. How thankful I am to be alive and to have a little boy that I get to toilet train. ON A GOOD DAY
A long while ago, I wrote about this concept of the
in-power you and the out-of-power you. And, lately, I've been
thinking about this a lot. I've had these incredible six weeks where I
had the whole life changing experience that led me to eventually start
creativeTherapy and
then I took this amazing energy class (which I still plan to write more
about) and then I took this innovative leadership class. And my whole
life changed.
Since then, I've been optimistic, happy, and much more fulfilled. This trickled over to my family and our relationship got more solid and I am now spending so much more time with David. I feel like I am definitely the in-power me. Strong and generous. And so very thankful. CONTAGIOUS
It's interesting how life works out where a small, tiny thing can
completely turn my day/week/life around. An inkling of something good is
all I need for all aspects of my life to get affected by that. And it
goes both ways, so it works for an idea of something bad too. It colors
everything else I do and everything I feel. It even colors how I feel
about future possibilities.
This reminds me about the dual self post I had made a long time ago. I think I am now feeling my centered and happy self. I feel like I am at my best. There's still a tiny nag deep within, the part that won't let go but I've been kicking it regularly and telling it to fuck off. The best part is, I am happier at home, nicer to Jake, more patient with David, more relaxed about my other commitments, just in general more pleasant to be around. Which then makes the people around me happier and then they go home and affect the people in their lives. And next thing you know, it's a snowball effect. And all it takes is a tiny idea. A change in perception. A change in perspective. The possibility of a good thing and not the promise or guarantee of one. I think that's phenomenal. A tiny stirring in one person results in tons of happier people. If that's not magic, I don't know what is. JOY
One of the reasons I love having a little kid like David is his
incredible ability to share joy. He's so expressive with his happiness
that it's contagious. Last week, we went to the Google Halloween party
and they had an inflatable cauldron where a witch came in and out of it
and each time the witch came out, David shrieked with joy. Pure,
unadulterated joy. It was so amazing that everyone around him was
laughing at his intensity.
It's funny how such things become socially unacceptable over time. It's sad how we don't feel (or at least) express that kind of happiness anymore. I honestly can't remember the last time I felt that good and I wonder if I ever expressed myself the way he does. But this is sort of why I wish it was okay to be straightforward with people. Not only is expressing outlandish joy pooh-poohed upon, but so is telling people you think they're great. If you say things like that you must either be hitting on the person or have an ulterior motive. Some days I wish it was okay to tell people that you think they're awesome and interesting and you're glad they're in your life. Like an official "go tell people you like that you like them" day or something. I wish people knew how to take compliments and say thank you. I wish people heard you and believed you and it actually made them feel good. I certainly value the bad more than the good. When someone compliments me, they mustn't know what they are talking about and when they bash me, they must be right. But I wish I was good at listening and hearing, too. Even if just for one day. National express-joy-like-a-toddler and take-compliments-well day. CONFLICTING PRIORITIES
One of my non-ending struggles is to find a way to "have-it-all."
I am constantly trying to decide what I should do and what I am willing to give up in return. Often times, I am not willing to give up anything completely so I try to do it all and I don't have enough time to spread across all so I end up doing a sub-par job at each and I get really frustrated. Back when I used to write, I'd always get annoyed that people around me seemed to send out their stories more often or write so much more than I did. Of course, many of them had no job or an easy 9-5 job as opposed to my Wall Street insanity. Today, I face the same struggles. When I don't reach a goal as fast as the person next to me, or don't reach it at all, I get endlessly disappointed in myself. I feel like life is unfair. I'm working just as hard as this person but I am not getting the credit. The fact is I am not. This person is only doing the one thing. I am doing seventeen things. When I distribute my attention and brain power across that many things, there's low chance I will do as well as the next person (unless they are naturally a lot less skilled than I am, which is rarely the case.) and it's not fair for me to expect to. Yet, I still do and I still get sad when I don't get the recognition or the opportunities others do. But then I try to step back and remember why I do what I do and remember that the next step may not actually be the best step for me to take. Sometimes opportunities aren't actually in the direction I want to go and it's hard to pull myself away enough to remember that point. So this is here to remind me. The next step in the ladder isn't always the best step for me. There's so much more to my life than the accomplishments. Recognition. Being over-accomplished is over-rated. And often not worth giving up the "other stuff" for. For the next time I forget. REJECTED
I must admit, I've been rejected from many things before and for many
reasons, but I have yet to be rejected for being too young. A book club
here just rejected me because they said I was too young to join them. If
at 32, I am too young, I suppose I should take that as a compliment!
What's amazing is how much rejection hurts, even being rejected from the smallest things. Even when you know you have no hope of getting accepted. I try out for things, just to encourage myself to get projects completed. And then when I don't get accepted or win, I feel so sad. Sometimes I feel sad for days. Even though, mentally, I know there was no chance or that it doesn't mean anything, emotionally it's not possible to ignore the rejection. The good thing is, it doesn't seem to have stopped me from trying to submit, however I don't know if that's the answer either. Why is it so important to me that others accept my work? Why do I need an "official" stamp of approval? Why can't my work be enough for me? I think I really need to think hard about the answers to these questions so that I know what my motivations are. If all this is just to seek approval, I need to find other forms of it. If it's to stretch myself and give myself deadlines, those are good reasons. The best thing about those reasons is that they don't depend on the outcome. By the time I submit my work, I have already completed something and I have also stretched myself. Those should be enough to feel good. If I am going to submit my work and keep putting myself out there, I think it's important to keep that in mind. Rejection is part of day to day life. We get rejected in small and big ways regularly. Just like we get accepted in small and big ways. It's important to celebrate the acceptances and grow from the rejections without taking them personally. I need to remind myself of this regularly. I need to stop diminishing the good and exaggerating the bad. I know I have this terrible personality flow where if someone thinks I am great, I quickly stop respecting or looking up to that person. I figure they must not know what they are talking about. And if someone doesn't think I am hot shit, why they must be totally right. And you thought you were fucked up. HERE
I've been here. I know I've been quiet. But I've been here. Working
hard. Working long. Spending all my free time with David and Jake and
scrapbooking and reading and sleeping and watching TV and doing a bunch
of other not very constructive things.
Funny thing is. lately I've been thinking more and more about my life before. Don't ask me "before what?" Just before. I've been thinking about all the classes I took, the languages, the saxophone, the volunteering, the writing, the photography, and now the scrapbooking. I've done a lot and I like living a full life. Maybe I'm being too optimistic, but expect some changes soon. BREATHING ROOM
"Isn't that why you quit working at Goldman?"Asks my innocent father when I tell him how busy my life has been with work. It is and it isn't. It has now been four months since I've started working at Google. Life's been hectic to say the least. However, it's not the same kind of hectic I had at my previous jobs. It's tiring and at times overwhelming like the other jobs were. But it's also invigorating and exciting and interesting and challenging. Basically, it meets all the criteria I had when I was looking for a job. And then some... So the last few months have been busy. When I'm not working or tired from working, I generally try to hang out with David and Jake. I think about writing often, but don't actually get around to doing it. As is the case with every year-end, I decided last week that writing more often would be good for me. Taking photos more often would be good for me. And reading more would be good for me. So I plan to do more of all three. If you don't see me writing for three consecutive days, feel free to harass me. All this ambition could be fueled by the almost ten days of relatively lull activity that is sure to end within 24 hours but I am still going to give it my best. I have taken a ton of photos of David and some of Palo Alto. I have read two books and making good progress on a third. I have even scrapbooked a few pages. All in the last ten days. Let's see how the next ten days work. More to come later. AT PEACE
I've noticed a few days ago that I am at my most thankful lately. I
absolutely adore my husband and my son. I am finally living somewhere I
love. I am surrounded by old and good friends. I am looking forward to a
wonderful new job. I love my new house. I am making tangible progress on
the driving thing. I can't imagine my life getting much better than this.
A MINI UPDATE
So it's been too long, I know. But to be fair, in the three weeks since I've made my previous post I found a new place, moved to a new house, in a new city, accepted a new job, changed my addresses everywhere, and said good-bye to one life and hello to another. I'm finally settled in and about to leave for vacation.
It's been a long and tiring few weeks. After an unbearably long flight, I am hoping to have a pleasant, eventless, and relaxing vacation. I will do my best to post as much as possible, but I am not bringing my computer so it will depend on how much computer time I get on the island. Be well, more coming soon. BLACK
It's been a rough few weeks in the karenika household. First came
some unexpected news that really threw a wrench in the comfort of the
household, then came a death, and then came another death. All these
events meant that we made four trips across the country in the last
two weeks. David, who had never been on a plane prior to April,
didn't take well to the redeye but was a champ on all the other
flights. He loved the Florida sunshine. He cheered everyone up at
both of the funerals and reminded people that there's an order to
life and that the most important things is for people to come and go
in order. He also added some much-needed humor to the very sad
occasions we've been a part of.
We spent one of our nights in Florida in a hotel. Since David's bedtime is 6pm, and we had a regular hotel room, Jake and I spent 6-11pm in the very tiny bathroom floor of the Holiday Inn. Like the time we were in San Francisco, the very close quarters of the bathroom, coupled with the whispering not to wake the boy up, makes for some intimate conversation. We ended up chatting a lot about life, our goals, our dreams and all the things we were thankful for. When we're home, Jake and I always have an unending to-do list. There is work to be done, books/websites to read, email, cleaning, cooking, David, laundry, are just a few things that get in the way of us-time. When we're away, we know we're not going to get anything done and we end up having the best conversations of our marriage. Times like these make me really glad to have David around. I tend to get lost in the little things when I'm in a bad place and forget that the world is great. Our lives are great. David's the best reminder of that. His laughs, his hugs. His beautiful face. His mere existence is a daily reminder that we've already achieved one of the biggest successes of our lives. Anyhow, this was meant to be an apology for the lack of posts. I've been making an effort to post more, partly for the few who still read me consistently (thank you), and partly for my own sanity. The last few weeks have been hard and thus ended up with no posts. Things are going back to normal (I hope) and such, I am hoping to be around a bunch more. FEVERISHLY WORKING
I've been in a slight technical slump lately. There were many things
I hated about my investment bank job in New York: middle-management
was full of incompetent managers who found a way to make your life
miserable. There were many 120-hour weeks. I ate dinner at work at
least three out of five nights. Often more. The users weren't all the
sweetest people you've ever met and technology is a male field and
combining that with the male-world of finance made the place a real
joy. (There's a specific incident with one of my managers and a photo
of a woman and a horse that is somehow etched into my brain
permanently.)
Of course not everything was terrible. The pay was relatively good but more importantly, the people I worked with were very competent. Some of them were downright brilliant. I gained more practical knowledge in one year of working with some of these people then I did in my four years at Carnegie Mellon. Some of my coworkers inspired me and made me a better coder. And I miss that. I miss it a lot. In my current job I have more responsibility in some ways and I do a wider variety of technology. I never had to administer servers on Wall Street, they had other people to do that. And to boot machines, and to configure files and compile unix programs (even though I did download, compile, and install the latest version of emacs on every machine I've ever used; this girl cannot live without emacs.) While I enjoy learning about the intricacies of freeBSD and ini files as much as the next gal, my main love is programming. And PHP just doesn't cut it for me. It was fun for the first few weeks while it was still relatively novel. I liked the cleanness of Smarty and how it let me separate stuff so I didn't have to fill my PHP code with html crap etc. However, two years into it, my fascination with PHP is long gone and I need something else. I've coded a bunch of Python a while back for fun and I am hoping to get back into it if only to preserve my sanity. Actually, my point was that I haven't been feeling very technically challenged lately so Jake's been encouraging me to create a project for myself that would be fun. After months of his badgering me, I finally broke down and came up with an idea I liked. I've spent the last week coding night and day and even though it didn't make me a fantastic coder, I've learned some new stuff I didn't know and I have a new website/domain now. I am hoping to roll it out for pre-alpha testing in a week or so. If you're interested in photography, writing, knitting or scrapbooking (any of them) and would like to be one of my guinea pigs, drop me a line: karen at karenika dot com. Only if you're going to play along tho and feel free to pass it on. That's why I haven't been writing the past week. All my free time has been 100% consumed by this. To be honest, it felt great to be consumed by anything (other than David who's my favorite thing to be consumed by of course) and even if the site is a bust, I loved working on it. College was probably the last time I felt like staying up and working on one of my own projects as much as I did this past week. Jake was right after all. What a shocker. SEVERAL LIFETIMES
A friend of mine asked me about my favorite movie the other day.
Anyone who's a movie-snob would cringe at some of my favorites and
probably think I am an uncultured, cheesy-movie-liking idiot. But I
don't care much for movie-snobs (or any other snobs for that matter)
so I don't really care what they think. Anyhow, my favorite movie of
all time is still the same as it was when I applied to college 14
years ago.
My favorite movie of all time is still Dead Poets Society. While I was very lucky to not have parents like the ones in the movie and wouldn't nearly qualify my life as oppressed and predetermined as those students, the message of sucking the marrow of life resonated strongly with me then and still does today. There are so many things I like to do and so many things I yearn to learn. So many things I wish I could do like design and play an instrument and draw well and write well and be more creative and artistic. I feel like the amount of things I want to do/learn/be would easily cover several lifetimes. I don't know how to figure out which path to take. There are many aspects of my life that I love and wouldn't give up. I love being married. I love that I've shared so much of my life with Jake and that we have all these memories that we can unleash like a treasure chest. I love reminiscing with him. I love being a mom. I love the joy and wonder David has brought into my life. The little moments where he does something completely unexpected, the minutes after he wakes up from a nap all flushed, the hours we spend bonding while I nurse him. I wouldn't give those up for anything. I love reading. I dedicate several hours of my week to reading books and those hours are some of my most cherished. My little escape into the minds and worlds of others. My opportunity to experience life in a different way. That's something else I am not willing to give up. Those are my core three that need to be in my life. There are many other time- consuming activities I like that I'd rather not stop doing like: photography, writing this site, scrapbooking my son's memories, taking classes with/for David, etc. But then there are others. Hours wasted having petty arguments around office politics. Hours wasted trying to configure some kind of installation or a piece of code that's missing a stupid parenthesis or semicolon (yey for python). Hours killed with being in a bad mood or stuck in traffic or running stupid errands or having a fight. I know it's impossible to dispose of all of these. And maybe I am just itching because it's time to try something new. I think that my main problem is that I feel insatiable. I feel like picking one thing is not going to satisfy me since I still have to give up picking something else. I had told myself that if Jake did well enough for us to live on his salary, I'd go back to school. Maybe get a PhD in Child Psychology. Maybe get one in Computer Science. Or maybe I'd do a collection of Masters degrees. One for math, one for computer science, one of english, one for statistics. One for design. One for psychology. Art history. Linguistics. Photography. Several individual languages. I really can go on for quite some time. Now, I'm thinking maybe I should just take classes. I don't know if that's even possible. I don't know that the schools I'd want to attend offer the option of just taking classes. But I suppose theoretically if I had enough money, I could convince them to let me. I wonder if that would quench my thirst. Make me feel like I was finally sucking the marrow of life. Make me feel like I was actually living several lifetimes in one. In a Funk It's been a relatively long week and hence the lack of updates. Even though I've had nothing urgent or critical to do, I've felt remotely annoyed and stressed out all week. Normally, I'd look forward to the weekend to get some rest but I have two shoots this weekend, which generally means I'll be working my ass off and before I know it, it will be Monday again. And, as opposed to most normal companies, my place of business does not feel MLK day is an important enough holiday to observe. Good Friday? yes, absolutely. MLK day - no fucking way. Thanks to the generous number of replies to my askme thread, I checked out twelve new books from the library. I gather some of them should be good. David has also generously lent me one so I am hoping I am set at least for the next few weeks. I am still in the blah zone for books, and feeling like there's too much mediocrity there compared to excellence but I guess that's the case by definition isn't it? I find that when I am in this mood, I am always tired, constantly eating bad crap, unable to focus and/or function in a positive manner. I am impatient with people i love and frustrated at the drop of a hat. I often don't know how to get out of the funk either so I hide under the covers with a good book and pray it goes away sooner than later. I have two evening fun-events to go to next week and maybe they'll be what I needed all along. Or maybe not. Who knows? Resolutions 2006 I've been putting off posting because I am struggling with what resolutions to create for 2006. Normally, I pick the typical stuff like losing weight, quitting Diet Coke, eating better, exercising more, writing more, reading more, etc. Last year, I knew better than to assume I would have any control on how my year was going to go and I am still quite confident that next year is also going to be as unpredictable and "not under my control" as this year. However, for the sake of having some goals, I'd like to set some resolutions anyway. These are a bit more atypical but quite important. My main goal for this year is to be more patient and pleasant. I want to be kinder and more about others. I want to listen more closely. Most importantly I want to remember that my "list of things to do" is often crap. It's stuff that doesn't matter and such I shouldn't stress about completing it over being with my family or keeping in touch with friends. I find that I often prefer to stay at home and do my list of items over hanging out with friends or taking a walk with David. Like other "busy" people, I have a hard time keeping up with my emails and staying in touch with my friends. I want that to change this year. Living here, I've learned the importance of good friends and I don't want to lose touch with the people who mean the most to me just because I am posting on my site or scrapbooking David's first year. These things are not worth falling out of touch with friends. I want to work on judging myself less. It's okay if I am not the best programmer, photographer, mother, wife, or the prettiest woman. Things that make me who I am are unique and they are perfectly fine. I know this sounds like a self-help section but I really have trouble keeping track of what matters sometimes. I often worry that I will be exposed for the fake that I am and will lose my job or the clients will ask for their money back. I didn't study years of photography after all. I wasn't a CS major at school, just a simple IS one. I get frustrated with my husband at times and I don't play with my son enough. I need to lose weight. I have a huge nose and sunken eyes. These are all true. They are facts I try not to stress about but often dwell on at length. I want 2006 to be the beginning of the new me, who dwells less, appreciates more and takes action when possible and necessary. I want to get influenced by others less often. Things that people say get to me. Someone's off-hand remark may kill my already low self-image. Someone's look can cause me to feel small. Even someone's lack of words can have a negative effect on me. I am too affected by other people's opinions of me. Or my skewed notion of their opinions of me. I take all the bad to heart and gloss over the good. I want 2006 to be the beginning of the me that realizes people are allowed to have their opinions but it doesn't mean their opinions are worth more than mine, especially when they are about me. As a friend of mine told me years ago, it's the person staring back at the mirror that counts the most. I know it sounds cheesy but, to me, it's important to remember it, so I am writing it down. Most importantly, I want to be more open, honest, caring, and patient. I want to look, listen, digest it all. I want to take fewer photos but with more meaning. I want to read fewer books but with more substance. Do fewer things but enjoy them more. Really live. So I can be calmer and wiser. I want to be a good example for my son. I was much happier in 2005 than I've ever been in my life. I had really hard and terrible moments but deep inside, I feel happy and content on many levels. I know that was David's present to me. And I want my present to him in 2006, to be a more grounded and confident mother. Happy 2006 everyone, may all your dreams and wishes come true this year. Resolutions 2006 I've been putting off posting because I am struggling with what resolutions to create for 2006. Normally, I pick the typical stuff like losing weight, quitting Diet Coke, eating better, exercising more, writing more, reading more, etc. Last year, I knew better than to assume I would have any control on how my year was going to go and I am still quite confident that next year is also going to be as unpredictable and "not under my control" as this year. However, for the sake of having some goals, I'd like to set some resolutions anyway. These are a bit more atypical but quite important. My main goal for this year is to be more patient and pleasant. I want to be kinder and more about others. I want to listen more closely. Most importantly I want to remember that my "list of things to do" is often crap. It's stuff that doesn't matter and such I shouldn't stress about completing it over being with my family or keeping in touch with friends. I find that I often prefer to stay at home and do my list of items over hanging out with friends or taking a walk with David. Like other "busy" people, I have a hard time keeping up with my emails and staying in touch with my friends. I want that to change this year. Living here, I've learned the importance of good friends and I don't want to lose touch with the people who mean the most to me just because I am posting on my site or scrapbooking David's first year. These things are not worth falling out of touch with friends. I want to work on judging myself less. It's okay if I am not the best programmer, photographer, mother, wife, or the prettiest woman. Things that make me who I am are unique and they are perfectly fine. I know this sounds like a self-help section but I really have trouble keeping track of what matters sometimes. I often worry that I will be exposed for the fake that I am and will lose my job or the clients will ask for their money back. I didn't study years of photography after all. I wasn't a CS major at school, just a simple IS one. I get frustrated with my husband at times and I don't play with my son enough. I need to lose weight. I have a huge nose and sunken eyes. These are all true. They are facts I try not to stress about but often dwell on at length. I want 2006 to be the beginning of the new me, who dwells less, appreciates more and takes action when possible and necessary. I want to get influenced by others less often. Things that people say get to me. Someone's off-hand remark may kill my already low self-image. Someone's look can cause me to feel small. Even someone's lack of words can have a negative effect on me. I am too affected by other people's opinions of me. Or my skewed notion of their opinions of me. I take all the bad to heart and gloss over the good. I want 2006 to be the beginning of the me that realizes people are allowed to have their opinions but it doesn't mean their opinions are worth more than mine, especially when they are about me. As a friend of mine told me years ago, it's the person staring back at the mirror that counts the most. I know it sounds cheesy but, to me, it's important to remember it, so I am writing it down. Most importantly, I want to be more open, honest, caring, and patient. I want to look, listen, digest it all. I want to take fewer photos but with more meaning. I want to read fewer books but with more substance. Do fewer things but enjoy them more. Really live. So I can be calmer and wiser. I want to be a good example for my son. I was much happier in 2005 than I've ever been in my life. I had really hard and terrible moments but deep inside, I feel happy and content on many levels. I know that was David's present to me. And I want my present to him in 2006, to be a more grounded and confident mother. Happy 2006 everyone, may all your dreams and wishes come true this year. Reflecting on 2005 I figure the last day of the year is an appropriate time to look back and reflect. And we can save the resolutions for the first day of the year. Here's to a year of not drinking Diet Coke. That, in itself, is a huge accomplishment for me. Just wanted to make sure that didn't go unacknowledged. This year, like a few before, brought many changes for me and my little family. The most substantial being the uneventful and quick birth of our little son. David has brought nothing but joy into our lives. Last year, I wrote that I couldn't remember life before being pregnant. This year, I feel the same way about being a mother. I can't remember what my life was like before I had a little boy to worry about. To be honest, there are moments when I miss the quiet solitude that I imagine my life to have been before we became a family of three. However those moments are always overshadowed by David's laughter and beautiful face. Our tiny family of two became a little family of three in 2005 and that will be with us for the rest of our lives. May each of our children turn out as sweet and joyful as David. So February brought home our little one. March and April passed like a blur as I figured out how to get David to nurse properly and how to balance my job and my new life. Spring brought new friends thanks to a mom's group. My first group of friends in San Diego. David didn't really like to sleep so we took a lot of walks and read. Jake started preparing the paperwork to finally open his fund. He talked to lawyers, auditors, accountants. The second set of big changes came in August as Jake formally opened his doors and I decided to start a small business of my own. This meant much more driving for me and I was lucky that the small venture prospered very quickly. David grew up and became even more fun to be around. We all worked and worked some more. He finally figured out how to sleep through the night and forgot about it all over again when the teeth started peeking out. He looked like he was never going to crawl and just when we thought he'd walk instead, he tricked us and started crawling overnight. As the year came to a close, Jake and I finally fell into a groove and we have figured out how to achieve some sort of balance with our new family setup. I don't know what 2006 is going to bring us but I imagine it won't be as substantial as 2005. Having a baby and starting two businesses is enough activity for several years if you ask me. All I want next year it for us to keep being healthy, for our businesses to be successful (especially Jake's) and for the year to bring a lot of laughter. So here's to a quiet, peaceful, healthy, happy, and prosperous 2006! Not Paying it Forward I've been making an effort not to pass my weird culinary distastes to the little one. And I think I have been succeeding because in the last two weeks David's eaten cauliflower and brussel sprouts, neither of which I will go anywhere near. I work really hard not to make a face while I feed him and try to ignore what I consider to be a putrid smell. Jinxed If I were superstitious, I'd say I must shut down my site. Since I began rewriting, I threw out my back, I got swamped with work, David got a stuffy nose, I got a sinus infection, I got a fever, David lost his voice, and David got an ear infection. All in a month's work. One of the reasons, among many many, that I wanted to nurse is because it's known that babies who are nursed get sick less often. David made it to eight months without any sickness at all. And then he got a stuffy nose. Everyone told me it was teeth. Well, two weeks passed, and still stuffy nose, still drooling, but no teeth. Then he woke up with no voice. When he cried, all we could hear were tiny squeals. That was so sad, but not even nearly as sad as the small, tiny laughs that came out without a sound. We went to the doctor a week into the stuffy nose but there was nothing else wrong. So, after a week, when he lost his voice, I wanted to take him back to the doctor and Jake thought I was insane. But I dragged him anyway. Which is when I found out David had an ear infection. And the doctor said it wouldn't have gone away on its own and I was wise to bring him in now while it's still mild. Yey for maternal instinct. Being sick and having a sick baby means everything else goes to shits. Nothing gets done. Mommy feels sorry for herself and she feels sorry for her little boy who's getting sick for the first time. So now that we're both feeling better, I've been trying to play catchup. I have six shoots in the next six weeks. My parents are coming to town next week for three weeks. I just deleted 4893 spam emails from my work account. I have fifty-seven personal emails to respond to and not the kind that take one or two minutes. The kind where you want to take the time and write a long response to and thus you keep putting off. I have to clean up my house and get it ready for my parents' arrival. Not to mention, I might have to move in two months and thus look for a new place to live, pack up all of our crap and move and unpack all the crap. Just thinking about it all makes me want to burst into tears. So that's my excuse for "coming back" and then disappearing almost right away. How did I do? Special Day Monday was my birthday. It seems there are those who make a big deal of their birthday and those who prefer to completely ignore it. I have always belonged to the former category. I come from a family which makes big deals out of birthdays and I subscribe to the idea. It's not really because birthdays themselves are all that special. To me, it's just an excuse to stop and appreciate that person. Sure we should treat each other like we're special every day, but fact is life gets in the way. Most days are ordinary and we do our thing and try to treat others with kindness (unless we're grouchy) but the day passes on and we sit in front of our computers, read our books, watch TV and do all the other things we do to spend time. I don't know many people who regularly take the time to acknowledge the people in their lives. Most people don't even work too hard to keep up with their friends. So that's the point of birthdays, for me. It's an excuse to remind someone how much they mean to you. A reason to stop and think of them and dedicate a few or a lot of your time that particular day to them. So even if all the other days come and go, you know that on that day you'll feel special and talk to all the people you love and take a moment. For those of you who whine about getting older, I'd hate to break the news to you but you get older every single day. Nothing magical happens on the eve of your birthday to make you older. So stop being whiny on the morning of your birthday about that. Life isn't about your age, it's about how you've used your days. There are people who live empty lives for 80 years and those who live full ones for only 30. Which would you rather have? This year was particularly peaceful for me. I woke up feeling exceptionally happy for no reason. David woke up to eat at 3am but then went back down until 6:30. I worked, I prepared for my shoot on Tuesday, I cooked and pureed David's food. We played and talked and my family called and my friends called and my friends emailed and it was wonderful. Jake bought me presents. We went to eat an early dinner with good food and delicious dessert. It was very ordinary and very magical all in one. I realized on Monday that I am truly happy. I cannot remember feeling this peaceful in years. If ever. It really was a perfect birthday and thank you for all the good wishes. 31 is looking fantastic so far. Brown Paper Packages My son belly-laughing. New books from my favorite authors. A beautiful Southern California day. Long chats with good friends. A smiling David after a long, happy nap. Code that works in the first try. Figuring out a bug I've spent weeks on. Taking photographs. Sunday Morning paper and breakfast in bed. Knitting, making jewelry, scrapbooking and other forms of craftiness. My husband. Chocolate. Days when all my to-do lists are accomplished. My nephews. Music. Tons and tons of music. Car trips. National Parks. State Parks. Beaches. Nature. TV and movies. Working from home. Computers and programming Hugs. Enveloping hugs. and of course brown paper packages in the mail. What are some of your favorite things? Five Months David turned five months old yesterday. I know it's pathetic that I haven't updated in nine days after saying I wanted to update more often but we've had a long and difficult week. Mostly cause mom has lost her mind. Last Saturday, I was online surfing about sleeping issues and came across the Baby Whisperer book. Something rang true so I went out and bought it right away. And proceeded to implement it. For those of you who are unfamilair with it, it goes something like this: You put the baby on an EASY schedule. He eats, plays (Activity) and then sleeps so you get some You time. (Eat, Activity, Sleep, You). You feed the baby every 3 hours. (or four if he's over four months old). Anyhow the idea is to teach the baby to self-soothe. What you do is you put him in the crib and then if he cries, you pick him up and when he calms you put him down. You do this as long as it takes. Our first night went badly. He was up from 1-3 and then from 5-7. The book said the first night would be hard so I persevered. The second night was perfect. He slept all the way from 8 to 5am. I dream-fed him and he never woke up. I felt great! I was sure it was working. I had finally found something that worked. Riiiiiighhhtttt. Come day four, David won't go to bed without crying in my arms or in his crib with me wrapped all over him. He wakes up four times a night. Sometimes for an hour, crying. At least for an hour. Today, day six, he was so bad that he would start stiffening and wailing as soon as we entered the bedroom. While Jake was putting him down and picking him up, he explained to me that this was no different from crying it out. I yelled at him and got mad but eventually admitted that he was right. As soon as I admitted it, I completely relaxed. I'd been stressing all week from hearing him cry and feeling like shit about it. Now I didn't have to any more. I took my son out for a walk and then at bedtime, I sat with him for thirty minutes while rubbed his belly, his head, his tummy and whatever else he needed to sleep. He fell asleep peacefully and has now been sleeping for 1.5hrs without a stir. I will NEVER do that to my kid again. If he wakes up seventeen times a night until he's a teenager so be it. That's what it means to have a kid, right? What's the point in having them if I am going to complain that he's inconvenient. I feel much better now and I am a lot more relaxed. I love my son and I am so so lucky that he's the smiliest and easiest boy in the world. Any other kid would have hated me for what I put him through in the last week. But my amazing son continued to smile at me and laugh when I kissed him. Happy Five Months, David, I love you with all my heart. Bits of Updates I'm not sure why I haven't been writing. Honestly, it's mosly cause I haven't been in the mood. I'll try to do better in July. One of the things I love most about my blog is that I get to go back and read about the past. If I don't update often, I don't have that luxury, so I will try harder. I figured before the month is up, I should do some updates. David's still not sleeping. His dad is being extremely gracious and helping me out incredibly by holding and consoling him throughout the night except the two times he eats which is when I get up. Since I haven't slept in so long, my sleeping patterns are all messed up and between that and my aching boobs, I still don't get too much sleep but it's considerably better since my amazing husband has stepped in to help. As for David we're still hoping he'll "grow out of it." especially since there appears to be nothing wrong with him physically and he's the happiest baby ever. Laughing and smiling like a crazy person. If you don't believe me, you can watch this video of us playing. Then you'll know how awesome he is. The reading craze is still continuing. I am now reading Specimen Days from the author of The Hours. This book is not nearly as good as the Hours, especially since it's a bit like horror and that's definitely not my genre. But Cunnigham's writing still quite beautiful. Next in line are Hornby and Melissa Bank. I am so excited to be reading again. David and I have started a routine of walking to the mall for lunch so he gets his afternoon nap while mom eats her lunch and reads. It's the most serene hour of my day.  My little boy must be teething because he's drooling like a faucet and has this unquenchable need to suck and bite stuff. The other night he sucked on my chin so hard that he gave me my very first hickey. We had a breakfast date with a friend of Jake's the next morning and I was very embarrased to wake up to a big black and blue bruise. I wasn't sure how to explain it. Who knew I'd get my first hickey from my son?
As I mentioned months ago, I am making a scrapbook for David's first year. It has one page for each week. He just finished week twenty, and I just finished week 17 so I am not that behind. When I am not with him, sleeping, eating, working or reading, I am putting the book together. I want to have a great record of his first year. If anyone out there is a big scrapbook person and has some good ideas, feel free to send them my way. If you want to see my layouts so far, shoot me an email. I will eventually put them all up but I haven't gotten all that organized just yet. Other than the lack of sleep, life's quite wonderful here in Karenika-land. I wish I had a bit more time to read/write and work on the scrapbook. But life is always too short when you're having fun, isn't it? Sooo Tired So my little one is still not sleeping. I've read a zillion books on getting your baby to sleep and most of them claim that if he gets his naps in, he sleeps better at night. Ahem. Not. True. There are days David naps perfectly and he still wakes up every two hours. There are days he doesn't nap much at all and he sleeps three hours or more so I'm going to say all those books are...crap! On the good side, he's healthy and happy as a clam. He smiles these wide, beautiful smiles that engulf you. When he's facing my cheek, he opens his mouth wide and gives me a bite/kiss. His lips are so soft. His tiny hands rest on my chest while he eats and he holds on so tight when I'm carrying him around. He's actually laughing at me several times a day now. My friend Roni asked me how my life changed since I had David the other day. (I think that's what you asked, right Roni?) Just as I was trying to figure out what to say, David decided he was hungry and I attempted to nurse him in public and when that was a disaster, I had to go home so I never answered her question. I was telling a friend that it's impossible to prepare for a baby. You think that nine months would be enough to expect the changes a baby will bring to your life, but it's nothing. And I mean NOTHING compared to how much your life really changes once the baby comes. There's no preparation. One day you're two adults who love each other and like to spend time together, the next day you're a family. A little baby that is constantly there, a baby not capable of eating, sleeping or changing himself. A wonderful and scary thing that will NEVER leave. Well, he will, assuming he goes to college. But it will be a long time before he does. And until then he is my responsiblity. And it's scary. It's hard. It's challenging. It's tiring. I look at him and I wonder when I grew up to be old enough to have a baby. When did I become an adult? Am I screwing this boy up? What if I do? This little, beautiful boy who wouldn't be here if it weren't for me. I owe it to him to make sure his life is full of wonderful moments. Full of joy. Full of love. Compassion and kindness. Curiosity. Hugs. Love. There can never be enough love. All the parents in my group ask where I get the energy to get through the days since I am not getting any sleep and haven't had a full night of sleep for thirteen months. Fact is, I wake up and I see David each time. I created this little man, and if he takes years to sleep through the night, then I will wake up for years. It's only the beginning of the things I can give him. Hugs in the middle of the night. After all, it won't be long before he won't let me hug him and I cherish these moments. So having a baby has changed my life indescribably. It's changed it permanently. And I am thankful for it each and every day! Thirteen Years I came to the United States in August of 1992. I had just graduated high school in Istanbul and flew across the Atlantic Ocean to attend Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, PA. Even back then I knew that I intended to stay here and was determined to do all that was necessary for me to achieve the goal of making the US my permanent home as quickly as possible. My senior year, I turned down offers from companies that wouldn't guarantee a green card application, namely JP Morgan and went with one that promised to apply exactly one year after my start date, namely Goldman Sachs. Exactly one year after my beginning date, I made a phone call from London where I was for a project and asked them to start the proceedings. Thanks to a great law firm, I got my green card relatively quickly, in two years, with the Extraordinary Ability clause. Exactly three months short of five years later, I applied for my citizenship. That was December of 2004. Today, I took my oath and walked away with my naturalization papers. I am officially a citizen of the United States of America. There were over 1,000 others swearing in with me today. We were told to arrive at 8:30 but the ceremony didn't begin until 10. It commenced with a group of local junior high school students performing a medley of Footloose songs. The relevance still baffles me. We then waited while they gave some awards to some officials and sang the Star Spangled Banner. Someone made the motion for all of us to become citizens and a judge accepted it after we took the oath of allegience. The judge's parents were naturalized citizens themselves so he was very moved to be there and cried a bit as he talked about how great America is and what a special day it was for us and how honored he felt to be there. There was another moving speech and then the judge read the names of all 94 countries that had citizens being naturalized today and asked us to get up as our country's name was called. Being in San Diego, he left out Mexico and at the end the crowd yelled, so he said, "What there are people from Mexico here?" and half the room got up and cheered. It was quite funny and specific to our location, I imagine. If I weren't so worried about David going without food for so long, I might have enjoyed the proceedings more. As it were, I wanted to get my certificate and be done with this long ordeal. I know there are many cynical and bitter people out there and not everyone agrees with me. But, to me, becoming American was a lifelong goal and one I am incredibly proud to have accomplished. This country has given me everything I've ever wanted. It allowed be to find myself and gave me the space to grow into what I wanted to be. If I hadn't come here, I am not sure I would have done half the things I've done in my life and I am so glad to live here every single day. I am proud to be a citizen. I am delighted that I will get to vote. Not to mention how much easier it will be to travel now! It only took thirteen years. Month Four It's amazing to think that David's been a part of our family for four whole minths. Actually thirteen months if we count the time he spent in my belly. Part of me can't believe it's been that long and part of me doesn't remember a time David wasn't with us. The changes from month three to month four have been exponential. In the last month, David's found his hand, his feet, and his voice. He now drools like nobody's business and he sticks everything in his mouth, including his toes. He has found a way to make a ton of different, funny sounds, some sharp and high-pitched and others gutteral and trembling. He can go between laughing and crying in less than thirty seconds. Sometimes he jumps back and forth between the two so much that you can't tell if he's mad, sad, or just playing. His smiles have gotten wider and he can definitely recognize mom and dad now. His face lights up when we look at him, regardless of upset he might have been. He gives us kisses (or tries to bite our cheeks depending on your perspective) and his little hands are soft like cotton. He has learned to grab things and hold on to them, including my hair. His favorite thing is to bounce up and down and when his daddy holds him up high. He has grown over 4 inches since he's been born and more than doubled his weight. He is cute beyond words and can drive us insane beyond words, too. He has learned how to get a constant whine going. He has learned to get bored and begun seeking more attention. All in the last four weeks. It looks like he's going to take after his mommy and be a big talker. He's practicing now. Along with the loud and stinky farts. Having a baby is challenging. It's time consuming, it's humbling, it's frustrating. And it's incredibly rewarding. And will be more so when he sleeps... I love you David, happy four months. To four thousand more.  You're So Fucking Perfect There's an episode of Desperate Housewives (yes, I watch that show but I watch everything on TV so it doesn't mean anything) where one of the moms finally comes face to face with the ADD medication she's been taking to keep up with her sons and she has a nervous breakdown. She's sitting in the middle of this soccer field when her friends find her. As she shares with them how horrible she feels about the kind of mom she is, they each tell her their storeis of the hard times they endured with their children and the mistakes they made. She then asks her friends why they never told her this stuff before and they tell her that no one likes to look like they aren't on top of things. The woman then tells her friends that they need to share those moments, that's what friendship is about. I need some of that lately. I am tired of everyone around me being so fucking perfect. Their kids are wonderful. They take all their naps on time and nice and long. They sleep through the night. They eat the perfect ten to fifteen minutes on each side and latch off when done. They burp on cue. They roll over, stand up, sit up, reach out, grab or whatever else they're supposed to do by that developmental age. Either everyone's baby is perfect or they're fucking lying. I don't understand the value of keeping your struggles to yourself. It makes it such that we suffer alone and make everyone else look and feel like they are the only failures in the world. What's so fucking wrong with the truth? I'll go first: My son's been on some sort of strike lately. He whines more often than he ever did. He really struggles to take naps and several times a week, we get in the car and drive around just so he can get some sleep during the day. He's been eating so much lately that I feel like both my breasts are empty all the time. Last night, I finally took him to bed with me because he's been waking up every 90minutes for the last week and I couldn't take it anymore. In our bed, he slept a solid five hours before waking up for a meal. He doesn't roll over yet (though he did once but I think it was probably an accident). He reaches out sometimes but won't grab stuff unless we put it in his hands. There are times in the day when I'd be willing to pay him a thousand dollars for him to sleep for one hour so that he can be better rested. Lately, almost daily I question my ability to do right by him. If I can't get him to sleep, what hope do I have of doing anything else? I don't want to hear advice. I am capable of spinning all this another way. I can tell you he smiles all the time and his smiles are wide and all consuming. I can tell you he's in the 50th percentile of all his numbers. I can tell you he's been gaining weight consistently and well. I can tell you he's been perfectly healthy since the day he was born. I can tell you he's the most beautiful baby in the world. All of that would be 100% true. But so is the other part. And I don't see why it's important to hide it. I feel like if I shared my struggles, it might help another mom who's also struggling. I remember when I was pregnant and hurt so much, I hated the fact that others didn't tell me how difficult it could be. That lasted only nine months. This is much longer. This is too long to be acting. Is it really that important to look good? What's the point of friends if not to share the rough times and to make others feel less lonely in their misery? Month Three A year ago this time, I wasn't pregnant. Or at least I didn't know it. A year ago this time, I quit drinking diet coke and started going to yoga more regularly. A year ago this time, I was trying to have a baby. David was conceived sometime in the month of May. Last year, this time, he was just a concept and now he's a three-month old boy who has big blue eyes. It seems like such little time has passed since he's been born and at the same time I can't imagine life without him. Having a baby has been a trying experience in so many ways. In the last week, he hasn't slept longer than a three-hour stretch day or night and he seems to only be able to take a nap that last longer than twenty minutes if he's in the car or attached to my breast. He eats in small bits and likes to bit or wiggle around. Two nights ago, he pooped twice in the middle of the night and three times in a row at six in the morning. He pooped right as I was changing him, all over my hand. Last night, he peed himself three times and I had to change him three times, which meant he woke up completely and it took me an hour to wind him down back to sleep. I haven't been able to do anything that takes more than thirty minutes in the last three months. I have washed my pajamas and daily clothes at least thirty times to clean the spit ups. I can't even count the number of laundry loads we washed of David's clothes. I have books I want to read. Projects I want to complete. I want to update my site more. I want to take photos. I want to keep better track of David's first months. But none of that is happenning. All I do is feed and play with David and try to put him to sleep. The same three months have brought the biggest joys of my life. I know it's cliche but he really did change my life and he really is the most amazing thing that ever happened to me. I don't mean that the rest of my life doesn't matter and I don't think I would like to give up who I am. But each time I look into David's smiling face and his shiny eyes, I can't believe he came out of me. Jake and I made this little man. This little, happy man. And no other accomplishment in our lives will ever compare to that. Happy three-months little boy. Exploding Boobies The upside to baby sleeping through the nite: more sleep for mommy, less cranky baby, more sleep for daddy, less crankiness all around. Happy baby makes happy family. Well-slept household makes everyone happy. Except my boobs. Twice this week, David graced us with sleeping more than five hours consecutively at night. I have an overactive letdown, which means milk sprays out of my breasts too fast with too much power. Imagine feeding yourself with a garden hose on high. No matter how much you like what the hose is spurting into your mouth, you probably won't like it when it's being delivered this way. One of the ways I work around this is to feed David on one side at a time. Last night, David ate a bit on both sides at 6:30 before he went to bed, his next feeding was at 1:40am, seven hours later. At that time, I fed him on the left side for a long time and we both went back to bed. My right side was already full and hard but I didn't want to upset him and his sleep is currently more important than my pain, so I went back to bed. He stirred at 4 but didn't actually wake to eat until 5:10am. By this point my right breast was in severe pain. A rock is softer. I got up and stood in front of his crib as David thrashed around. Sadly, I kept hoping he would open his eyes so I could pick him up and feed him. And the second he did, I swept him up and put him on my right breast. Within minutes relief was mine. So now I have a dilemma. I am wondering whether I am willing him awake because my boob is big, hard, and leaking. Should I let him thrash around? Is it possible that if I didn't interfere he's actually sleep until the morning and I am hindering this progress in an effort to relieve my throbbing boob? I know it will all adjust in time but until then my boobs are protesting the sleep-through-the-night plan. Desperately Seeking Cure for Sneezing This month's obsession is sleep. I am sure I will write more about it as the obsession gets deeper and deeper, but tonight I want to specifically talk about middle-of-the-night feedings. At eleven weeks, my little one is still waking up several times for night feedings. The quantity generally depends on the quality and the amount of time I invest in burping him. For those people who said that breastfed babies don't need to burp at night: You don't know shit! The middle of the night feedings are supposed to be quiet. The point is to quickly go to the aide of your little one, quietly feed him without rousing him too much, burp him, and put him back to sleep. You're not to even change him unless he's pooped. This way, he doesn't fully awaken and thus it's easier for him to fall back asleep. Makes sense, right? I am pretty good at getting to him before he cries himself awake. At the first sound of hunger, thanks to my ultra-sensitive monitor, I rush to his side and make sure his eyes are open signaling actual hunger and not sleep talking. I pick him up and put him on the feeding pillow and we rock back and forth while I feed. It's perfectly quiet for the first ten minutes. And then.... ACHOOOO! My sneeze pierces through the night, making both me and my peacful baby jump. His eyes are wide open now and he doesn't know what just happened. ACHOOO! ACHOOO! ACHOOO! Just in case he had decided to go back to sleep, my allergies let him know that's out of the question. My sneezes pile on top of each other. Then to add to the punishment, my nose starts dripping. So actively that I have to actually blow it disabling all of David's attempts to find that sleepy place. We're talking fifteen nose-blows before the faucet of a nose I have will quit. Actually it doens't even quit, it merely takes a break until I am leaning over to put David back in his crib. Then it decides to drip once more. Now I have a conundrum. Do put him down more quickly to rush for a tissue and risk awaking him or do I let my nose drip on him? I won't tell you which option I choose, but I will tell you it's a nightly dilemma. As David goes back to dreaming, I make my way into the bedroom, and just as I lay in bed it comes once more. ACHOOO! It will not quit until all members of my small family are awake and unrested. Ps: I had intended not to write about my son or montherhood to not turn this log into one of those. I wanted it to be more than that as well as that. However, my life is little besides David and work and sleep right now so since it's a major part of my life, I decided to write about it. This way, I ill hopefully get back in the habit of updating regularly and eventually start writing about more varied topics. If you don't like reading about motherhood issues, visit me weekly and hopefully there will be at least one entry that's not about David. Your Life Will Change That was the one common phrase I heard while I was pregnant. To me, that was some of the most frustrating words to hear. No one could tell me exactly what would change, the only guarantee I had was that life after would not be the same as life before. No shit, Sherlock. It always surprises me how I assume things don't go on without me. I don't mean that in the vain sense. I mean when I read a blog regularly like a religion and then suddenly stop. For example, because I have no time to keep up with it now that I have a baby, and then I revisit it months later, I get a weird feeling when I see that it's business as usual. Even though I was contributing nothing to the site, I somehow felt like my visiting it regularly was part of what made it exisit. Intellectually, I know this not to be true but somehow I get the weird feeling "Wow, this site is still active and bubbling?" each time I lose touch and come back. On the upside, this shows that one can take a long break and prioritize other things in their life. But when I come back, the other things are still going on and most of the time, I can jump right back in. In the last eight weeks, I haven't read half the websites I used to visit regularly. I have not kept up with my email or my friends. There are days when I haven't gotten out of my pajamas. I haven't taken non-baby photos except for two days. I haven't read more than two books. I haven't slept a full night. I haven't exercised. I have done the bare minimum for everyone and everything besides my baby. However, it's comforting to know that when the time comes all of those things will be waiting for me. Right now, I am working on what's most important. Giving Up on Dreams One of my workmates emailed me about her dreams this week. She told me that even though her friends seemed to have given up on saving the world as they got older, she hasn't been able to. She still wants to make a difference and a consequential one. She wrote, "I know you are going to think this is crazy, young, and idealistic, but I still want to save the world..." I don't think it's crazy. It's idealistic but definitely not young. If only young people can be idealistic, I think that makes the world a very sad place once we're past our twenties. Now that I have a child in this world, I believe I have even more reason to want it to be perfect. While my understanding of perfect and the boundaries of my possible effect in the world might change, my need to make it a better place hasn't and hopefully will never go away. I still want to start a nonprofit. I still think that you can change the world and I still want to be only surrounded by those who believe in the power of change. I never understood the cynicism that I saw in some of my friends. While I can understand that there can be experiences that lead one to question life and the way things work, I don't understand the advantages of cyncism. What good is it? Does it make the person happier? Does it make the world more livable? Does it mean you've won somehow? I feel like it gives you nothing but negative energy that makes the rest of your life even more bleak and even more depressing. If one chose to stick by their dreams and maybe alter them to be more realistic, more reachable, in smaller increments, wouldn't that make their life more enjoyable? Wouldn't it give them something to look forward to each day? Teach For America was a pretty depressing experience for me and I suffered a lot but I still think it's a wonderful organization and I am glad it exists. Would I like it to be doing some things differently? Sure. But at least they are there, trying. That's more than many of us. I hope more people out there are like my work friend and still chasing a version of their dreams. Those are the people who will change the world and make it a better place for all of us. Motivated I've been reading many of Paul Graham's essays during my late night feeding sessions. The little one is still waking up every two to three hours so I have plenty of time on my hands. The articles are well-written and strongly opinionated. Besides being a good read, I find them to be extremely inspiring. They make me want to stay up all night coding. Last time I was this motivated was my first year out of college. Jake was still at CMU and we would chat over zephyr while I worked on my 3-D Graphics class homework. One night we pulled an allnighter while chatting and I made huge progress on the trumpet. Actually, it's the only perfect model I created. It was all because of the allnighter and the push to finish it. Now that we have a little boy, I wonder if those days of staying up and coding or working on a self project are behind us. I sure hope not because they are so much fun and they remind me of the joys of programming or working on something I love. I don't want that to ever not be a part of my life. Each time I read the articles, I want to learn all there is to learn about Python and I want to write the next great piece of software. Now if I only knew what that was. Month One Our little baby turns one month old today. He's been in this world for four weeks. He has grown from 6 pounds 13 ounces to 9 pounds 1 ounce. His hair has turned lighter and grown a lot. His eyes are even bluer than they were when he joined us. Even though I know it's not purposeful, his smiles are already heartbreaking. Here's a list of google-queries I've made in the last month: Thrush Post-partum depression Over-active letdown Acid Reflux Australian-hold Breastfeeding with a fever Mastitis Curdled vs Hindmilk Breastfeeding and peanutbutter Gripe water downsides Newborn stuffy nose relief Baby massage Umbilical cord care Washing poop stains Most of them were the overactive imagination of a new mom. One month down, millions more to go. We love you more than words can express, David. Happy one month birthday. Life Goes On I would like to say that life has gone back to normal in the karenika household but that would be a lie. I know that we will be establishing a new normal now that our household accomodates three, but I am assuming it will not look the way it does now. The good news is that he has gained a lot of weight and is happy and healthy. No major or minor problems, thankfully. The bad news is that mommy is exhausted most of the time. She spends her days in her pink pajamas, eating, feeding baby, sleeping, working, and doing laundry. She has lost some weight but has a lot more to go and her back is better than expected but still in quite a bit of pain. While she is pretty patient with David, she's short the rest of the time with the rest of the people in her life. She knows that's due to exhaustion and it will go away. David spends his days eating, sleeping, peeing, pooping, and spitting up. I had promised myself that I wouldn't be one of those moms who constantly talks about her baby and that might be why I've been avoiding updating the site (that and a complete lack of disposable time). For the last three weeks, my life has been not much besides my baby and I assume it will be that way for at least a few more weeks before I start regaining some of my adult brain cells. I will start reading normal books again and having interesting thoughts again but, for now, I'm only concerned with the little one, making sure he's well fed and all around satisfied with the service he's getting. So if you've been waiting for new photos or some thought-provoking entries (and I know it's been a long time since we've had those) hang in there, they'll be here in a while. I'm just a little busy enjoying the miracle of life. Welcoming David It has now been two weeks since David has joined our family. There are so many little things that he does which I want to document daily but between feeding him, working, changing him, and sleeping, I seem to have zero free time to even brush my teeth. But I do think it's important to document these precious days that will go by so quickly. I am open to suggestions on the most efficient way to do that. I will try to do regular updates here soon again and I promise it won't be all about the baby, I just need some consistent sleep first. When we found out that I was expecting, my doctor calculated my due date to be February 8th. The pregnancy.com website calculated it to be February 5th. When we did the 17-week ultrasound, we were told February 2nd. So when the 2nd and the 5th came and went, I was pretty depressed. As much as I wasn't experiencing the bloating that comes with the ninth month, I was ready for the baby to come out so I could see the creature I'd been carrying around for months. On Monday, the 7th, we went for our doctor's visit. My doctor was scheduled to leave town on the 12th and if the baby didn't come by then, we were guaranteed to have a different doctor for the birth. One that we never met. So we decided to induce the next night and got an appointment for 7pm. As soon as we left the doctor's office, I felt terrible. Obviously the baby wasn't ready to come and forcing him/her out because I want to have my doctor present sounded so selfish suddenly. Jake and I spent the next four hours talking about whether we should induce or not. We knew all might go well but we also knew that inducing meant a higher chance of c-section and more drugs for the baby and possibly a much more painful labor. We decided that there were going to be many decisions where we were going to have to put our kid before us and there was no reason not to start now. So we went to bed knowing we were going to call my doctor the next morning and cancel the induction. At midnight, my water broke. I was sleeping and felt it all oer the bed, it was the weirdest feeling. I called the hospital cause I wasn't sure it was my water. They said to come in and they would let me know. We got to the hospital at 1am and they said my water had indeed broken and I wasn't going anywhere. I was only 2.5cm dilated and normally they don't admit you in the hospital until you are 4cm except for when your water breaks. I asked that we wait as long as possible before they give me medication to induce and was told they could wait six hours. They sent me up to labor and delivery and hooked me up to the machines. The night nurse, Heather Bacon, was awesome and helped us relax. Around 3:30, I told Jake he should sleep just in case it's a long night/day. At that point, my contractions were more regular but still painless. Within an hour, I went from no pain to acute pain. I couldn't breathe or move. On the way to the bathroom, I'd have two contractions, and three more on the way back. Heather came in to check on me and see if I wanted medication and I said not yet. Another hour later I was in so much pain that I finally woke Jake up. As I was talking to him, Heather came in again and I asked her to check how far along I was. She said I was 5cm and could get an epidural if I wanted. We discussed it for a while and finally at 6am, I got an epidural. Whoever says epidurals hurt must obviously have not experienced labor. I was in so much pain at that point that I felt literally no pain from the epidural and as soon as he put it in, my pain disappeared. It was like a miracle. An hour after the epidural, I was already 9.5cm so they called my doctor and told me to start pushing. Two hours and fifty minutes later, our little boy was born. The pushing wasn't a huge amount of fun but his head full of hair was very encouraging and helped me push. All the horror stories I had heard about labor turned out not to be the case for me. The breastfeeding was a bit hard the second day since David didn't want to swallow. But we've got it down now. I had very little to recover from so getting back to normal wasn't a long way. I worked on Monday before David came and we checked out of the hospital on Thursday, Friday morning I was working again. People had told me it would be impossible to work with him at home and so far that hasn't been true either. Thankfully, none of the things I feared came true. All in all, labor was less painful than 9 months of pregnancy and David is such a peaceful, wonderful baby that we feel blessed and overjoyed every minute of every day. It's a Boy David - Born: Tuesday, February 8, 2005, 9:51am - 6lbs. 13oz. - 20.5 inches. Baby, Mommy and Daddy are all doing wonderfully. More unpdates in a few days. Land of Unknown Well I just entered my due week. I am sure you're sick of reading about the baby and honestly, I want to write about other stuff, too. I am reading Blink by Malcolm Gladwell and it's a fantastic book and it's making me think a lot and generally those kind of books generate a lot of blog entires for me. However, I am so big and contracting so much that I can't seem to function much anymore. You try sleeping with a big, hard rock attached to your stomach and let me know how it goes. Part of me is scared of all the changes life will bring with this baby and that part knows that I should prolong labor as much as possible. While I might not be able to get sleep now, at least I don't have a baby that completely depends on me. (Actually, I already do but it somehow doesn't feel as real). The other part of me can't wait to finally see the little thing that's been living in me for 9 months. I'd lie and say I am all calm about labor but I am scared shitless. Actually, I am scared shitless of the whole thing. I tend to enjoy predicatability. I don't mean that I am afraid of unknown things cause I've ventured into the unknown many times in my life. I moved to the US for college all by myself. I lived in Japan for six months not knowing a word of the language and hating all the food. I left my cushy Wall Street job for a teaching job I believed in and then left that for a city I'd never seen in my life. I'm not afraid of conquering the unknown. In general. This time, it's different. This time it affects more than just me. Or Jake and me. I am bringing this little creature into the world because I wanted to and regardless of his or her wishes, she or he will hopefully live for a long long time in this world because of me. I will get to decide how s/he begins life. I will choose the first few friends. The first school. The clothes and experiences this baby will have until s/he is old enough to make decisions. That's a huge load of responsibility. In my mind, having a baby, and then a child, means that I am now fully subscribed into the land of the unknown. As opposed to venturing there every now and then, I will be taking permanent residence there. That might be exciting to a lot of people. It's a bit scary to me. I couldn't imagine doing it for a better reason but, it's still quite overwhelming. I am hoping that the day to day life will leave me with little enough time that I won't ponder the weight of this too often. That, and the hormones finally leaving my body, should help, too. Not Yet Baby is not here yet. I haven't been able to update because my parents came to town on Sunday and we've been running errands galore since then. We've taken what used to be Jake's room and then became an empty room and made a complete baby room out of it. It has a crib with a mobile, matress, sheets and bumpers, drawers full of clothes and a changing table, a bed (which was there for guests and will stay there) full of stuffed animals and toys. Two vibrating bouncers, a baby monitor, a playpen thingie, the stroller, a closet with diapers, nail clippers, thermometer and baby medicine, books, video tapes, and a box full of toys. Most bought and all set up in the last four days. I also have a rocking chair with ottoman in the living room and a pack'n'play with crib and changing table in the bedroom. We have packed our hospital bags which are to be finalized today. I've made 5 hospital CDs for labor. We bought the bestest camcorder: JVC's Everio which was something we drooled about but didn't think we could get. Presents are so wonderful. The camera is packed and so is the camcorder. The birthing ball is blown up and pillows are ready. I've already read the first six chapters of The Baby Book and watched The Happiest Baby on the Block with Jake. We made a list of possible names for girls and boys. We've cleaned up the rooms and washed all the baby clothes and toys we received. We bought extra detergent so we don't have to leave if we generate baby laundry faster than we can go out. I don't need formula since, hopefully, I come equipped with the baby food. I do have to eventually get a pump but we're going to wait a bit on that. My doctor's out of town until Monday so I hope the baby can wait that long, but otherwise we seem to be all set. Or at least as set as we'll get. Now all we can do is wait and hope that labor isn't too too bad and much more importantly, that the little one is healthy. We're waiting for you anxiously, little baby. When Not to Read I am an avid reader. If the excerpts and the 50 books links aren't enough to convince you, let me assure you that, under normal life circumstances, I read one to two books a week. I love reading and I've loved reading ever since I was little. So, it was a bit odd that when I got pregnant, I didn't rush to buy all the books on the subject or visit the plethora of websites that giver advice and information. My first hesitation was statistical. There's a higher than average chance of having a miscarriage in the first three month of a pregnancy, especially with the first pregnancy. Thus, I told myself that I didn't want to get excited and caught up in all the reading. That felt like a pretty legitimate reason not to buy anything. Once the first trimester was over, I was so busy throwing up that I didn't want to get up from bed, let alone go out to buy books. So another two months passed and I still hadn't read a word about being pregnant or the baby growing inside of me. (Not to lie, there was one website I went to ocassionaly which told me what week I was in and what that meant.) On Month Five, once the puking stopped, I decided it was time to go out and purchase some books. Since my pregnancy was already almost at the end of its second trimester, I didn't want to spend too much time or money on pregnancy books. Instead I bought books on the baby's first year, teaching sign language, helping your baby sleep, etc. I bought only one pregnancy book that was supposed to be fun. I came home and read that one first. After 60 pages, I had to put the book down and I never picked it up again. The same thing happened this week when I attempted to read our Childbirth Preperation class book. I can't seem to get through these materials. A jaded person might claim it's because I am not excited about the baby (which is definitely not true) or I am in denial somehow (which is also absolutely false). I am no longer feeling bad about not wanting to read. I've decided it's healthier not to read. There are about 10 pages in each of these books that tell you what a "normal" pregnancy/birth is like. The rest of the several hundred-page book talks about things that can go wrong. Or it talks about things that will definitely happen and that aren't pleasant. Like bleeding or severe cramps or acute pain. While it's a good idea to know enough to be able to differentiate between the normal and the abnormal, I am not sure that knowing the details of how painful labor might be will help me go through it more smoothly. I figure that at this point the baby is big enough that it will hurt no matter how the baby comes out. I also know that the six-week class gave us more than enough information on what to expect, what's a bad sign, and when to goto the hospital. The rest is stuff I don't need to know. I am going to stick to baby books instead. Becoming an Adult As a child, I often wondered what made someone an adult. When was the magical time that you crossed over from being a child to being a responsible adult? My mom looked liked an adult. She acted like an adult. Her face, her conversation, even her toes were those of an adult. At the time, I figured once I was over my teens, I'd be an adult, too. As the years passed, I didn't feel like an adult and I didn't think I looked like an adult. Not the way my mom did. Even though I discovered that she can behave like a child, too, I still thought my mom was more of a "grown up" than I was. College didn't change that. Neither did moving into my very first apartment. Neither did getting a full time job and making more money than she ever did. It felt like maybe I was never going to grow up. Lately, I've been thinking that maybe crossing over the threshold to having my own kids is when I cross over the threshold to becoming an adult. This is officially the time when I am going to be much more concerned about another living being than I am about myself. Not that there aren't times I put myself after Jake or my family or a friend. But this is permanent and it's constant. This little baby, and later the child and even the adult, will always come before me. I will have to learn to push other people away kindly but firmly to protect the well being of my baby. I will have to learn to make major progress on my "hangups" because now they are affecting an unsuspecting third party who never signed up to deal with my issues. Even if I don't feel it, I'm going to have to learn to act the part of a grown-up. It's all a bit overwhelming and scary. What if I mess it up? I know what everyone says, "all you can do is your best." But this is a huge responsibility. It's not something to be taken lightly. I think my mom always looked like an adult cause she had us very young. She was only 21 when my sister is born. She learned to grow up very quickly. Over the years she adopted and looked the part of a grown up. And now it's my turn. And I plan to take it seriously. Though I still don't think my toes look like a grown-up's. Showered Since Jake and I moved to San Diego a year and a half ago, we haven't made a huge number of friends here. It's a combination of a lack fo effort and lack of circumstance. We both work from home. My office has a total of seven people and he works for himself. Having come from huge Wall Street firms, our current setup isn't condusive to making work friends. We attempted to go to a few meetup events in the beginning but just got lazy. This is why I had assumed that I wouldn't have a baby shower. I figured I wouldn't have anyone to invite. But four different people offered to throw us a shower and in the end we had fifteen people over on Saturday for the baby shower. It turns out we have more local friends than we thought. It's amazing how little things make you realize the day to day things you take for granted. Major thanks go to my friend Cynthia who really did 99.9% of the work. To Ashlie who surprised me and came all the way from St. Louis just for the shower. To Jess and Chris who, even though they didn't actually get to make it since the weather was extremely uncooperative, had intended to drive all the way from San Fran for the day. And to Stacey who drove down from Palm Springs in torrential rain. And to everyone who came and intended to come. It appears we, and our soon to be, are luckier than I ever imagined. We are surrounded by amazing people. Pronoun Ambiguity We're down to four weeks left. Fact is, only 5% of pregnant people actually deliver on their due date. So most people say that our potential delivery period is somewhere between two weeks from now to six weeks from now. Either way, it's coming sooner than we can imagine. The most popular question I've been asked latety is: Aren't you curious? Don't you want to know if it's a girl or a boy? Of course I'm curious. This baby has been growing in me for over 8 months now and I am curious about all of the details. Does s/he have long legs? Are all the organs in the right place? Everything ok with the limbs, the brain, the eyes? Will s/he have blue eyes like Jake? Will s/he have colic? I am desperately curious to meet my baby. I pray that all is well and she or he will be born and live to be very healthy and happy long after I'm gone. I have a million worries and another million hopes. And in my list of 'things I really hope for,' gender isn't number one. It isn't even in the top ten. When I seriously sit down and think about it, I've decided that I don't have a significant preference of gender. I know some pretty awful women and some pretty awful men. What I care about much more is that our baby turns out to have a mild and pleasant personality. That she or he is a moderately easy baby and child. That we do right by him or her. Those are the things I care about. I've met enough atypical examples of each gender that I know having a girl doesn't guarantee any information about the sort of girl we'll end up with. And same goes for the boy. We already have too many assumptions on the toys our kids will like or the life they will lead depending on the gender they are and I want to make sure I don't fall into the typical pitfalls. So when I am honest with myself, it really doesn't matter to me what gender the baby is. The main reason I am annoyed we don't know is because, in English, I have to refer to the baby as 'it' since we can't justifiably use he or she yet. Whereas, in Turkish, we don't have gender-specific pronouns, making the 'it' equivalent not such a derogatory word to use. This is one of those cases where pronoun ambiguity would be in our favor. So, any premonitions? Girl or boy? (Oh, and we're 99.9% positive that there's only one so don't even go there!) Too Fast This is one of those weeks when I wish things could slow down a bit. I have too much catching up to do with my life and I can't seem to get it all working. That's partly why I haven't updated in a while. I have many things I want to write about but I don't seem to catch up ever. I have too many emails and only more are piling up before I get through the list. I'd say downtime will come with the baby but we all know that's a lie. I figure I should do it all before the little one comes since life as we know it will most likely be over with the arrival. Hope to catchup and get back into the groove in the next few days. Hope your holidays were fun. 2005 Since New Year's is my most cherished holiday, I have an inclination to make a lot of resolutions. I tell myself each year that this year will be the year I turn the corner on many things. This year I will learn to ride a bike. This year I will drive completely on my own. This year I will learn to take things less seriously. Less personally. Less emotionally. And, of course, most of it never happens. I've come to believe that things happen one of two ways: out of severe necessity or because it's time. In 2004, I quit drinking Diet Coke because I got pregnant and I knew that for a person who drank 8 to 10 cans a day, switching to 1 a day wasn't a realistic option. I started drinking a ton more water, eating healthier, trying to keep my yoga to a regular schedule, stress less, and give up the need to lose weight. All for the same reason. The baby to come. I moved leaps and bounds in driving in that I've become a lot more comfortable and can hold animated conversations while I'm driving. This didn't come out of hours of practice like one would think. It actually seems the less I drove, the more I became okay with it. I still have a huge way to go on that but somehow the time must have come for me to relax a bit because I did without a personal effort or vow to do so. As for reading more, learning more, being happier and calmer. Those came and went with the hormones in my body. To be fully honest, I can't even remember the first four months before I was pregnant. I can't remember how it felt not to feel so big and clumsy. Not to have to pee every five seconds. Regardless, most of this year felt like it wasn't in my control and I learned quickly to keep up with the necessary and let go of the trivial. Which brings me to 2005. I am now wise enough to admit that I cannot make a single resolution that I am guaranteed to keep in 2005. I cross my fingers and toes that the baby will come close to on time and the labor will be as bearable as possible and, most importantly, the baby will be healthy and happy. If all those things happen, I am willing to consider 2005 a good year. Most of my wishes for this coming year involve others. I wish for Jake's business to prosper. I want us to have a happy balance and a healthy approach to building our family. I hope the baby has an uneventful, happy, colic-free year. We will be starting the year with a lot of visitors which means that we'll be surrounded by family more than we've been in the last ten years. I hope that it strengthens our bonds and starts us off in a good track. I know that I won't be able to control most of what goes on this year (and probably all the others after this one). I hope I learn to relinquish the need to control quickly and learn to live my new life as wonderfully as possible. I make no resolutions this year, except for one which I think is necessary: I will learn to go with the flow. May 2005 bring all of you prosperity, luck, health, and ample joy. Thank you for stopping by. Dancer I don't dance. I used to years ago but I never enjoyed it. I always felt uncoordinated and awkward. My friends used to time their moves to the rythm of the song and I felt stupid and out of place. Eventually I just gave it up. I decided it wasn't giving me the joy or sense of freedom people talk about. I'm sure a shrink wouldn't approve of my giving up but I don't miss it much. My baby, it appears, loves dancing. S/he is already dancing and s/he's not even out yet. One of the things you're supposed to start doing in the third trimester of pregnancy is to keep "kick logs." These are typically done after dinner while you lay on your side. You take thirty minutes or one hour and count how many times the baby kicks in that time frame. Or you can count up to so many kicks and find out how much time it took the baby to kick that many times. This is so the doctor can make sure your baby is okay. A moving baby is a healthy baby, they say. I've never had to do one of those logs. As soon as my body is in bed, the baby decides it's time to dance. I generally count until 100 before I give up. We seem to reach three digit numbers in less than 20 minutes most nights. Just to give you a sense, they say to worry if the baby kicks fewer than ten times in a 24-hour period. Obviously, that's not a problem we have. Last week, I had a long week at work and noticed that the baby wasn't kicking as much as usual. We were still easily over 50 in a day but for my baby that's not a lot. I decided to wait until Friday to see if it was work-related. As we guessed, come Friday night, the minute my vacation began, the baby began dancing. S/he didn't stop all weekend. At points it was so strong that you could see my entire belly shift to one side and come back or stretch in ways that look like they must hurt. But they don't. The kicking never hurts me. I love it. It's like a way for the baby to talk to me before we get to meet each other. I know s/he can hear me now but I can't hear the baby yet and such we communicate through the kicks. As long as s/he doesn't keep it up once s/he's on the outside, we're good. Attitude Firstly, I apologize for the lack of updates. I'd blame it on my exhaustion, my lack of time, my lack of ideas but this time it was something much more mechanical than that. Our not-very-bright ISP forgot to pull out the static IPs from the DNS pool last week causing major net problems for us all week last week. Which meant our connection went down every thirty seconds. I had a hard enough time working from home and didn't have the energy to fight the ssh connection that allows me to post my entries. We're back now, though, and all should be fine. When I first got pregnant, other mothers told me that everyone would now touch my belly and they would all tell me what to do. I figured since I still don't know that many people in San Diego, the chances of people touching me weren't very high and also I have no problem telling people to get their hands off of me. However, I wasn't prepared for how hostile I would really feel. It seems that I automatically have a negative reaction to people's comments regardless of the intention with which it's delivered and how close or foreign that person might be to me. A few months ago, a friend told me that I really should get some maternity pants instead of unzipping the regular ones I wore. Instead of agreeing with her logical comment, my first hunch was to say: "Fuck You." Thankfully, I didn't actually say it out loud. But since then, I've noticed that everyone's opinions on what I should and shouldn't do is automatically greeted by my inner reluctance. I feel like telling them all off. For some reason instead of interpreting the information as helpful, I am processing it as confrontational or patronizing. And I am way too exhausted to be patronized. So that's how it goes. "You really should have the baby's room ready by now." "Fuck You." "You really should be exercising more." "Fuck You." "Are you seriously not taking any time off work? That's crazy; you should take off starting the beginning of January." "Fuck You." I know some of this is good advice but I can't seem to acknowledge that right now. What I need more is someone to spend time with and laugh with. I need a lot lot more sleep. I need to relax and know that everything will be okay with us and with the baby. I need someone to have fun with and not unsolicited advice. I am sure I will regret not listening to these wise people some day real soon, but for now I really just want them all to fuck off. Time Away I love car trips. Ever since we did our cross country trip I love the idea of piling up everything I love into the little car and driving to fun places. Being in California and having a car has meant that we can leave town at the drop of a hat. Since we've been here, we've taken around one trip a month to somewhere within California. I am hoping this fact won't change when the baby comes. On Wednesday, Jake and I drove up to meet his brother and parents in Santa Barbara to celebrate Thanksgiving. I am thinking this will be our last trip out of town before the baby comes. Especially since I'm already almost too big to sit in the car comfortably. Our current car trips already include 7 books, 10 movies, a cooler with lots of veggies, fruit and water, several gigs of music, 2 laptops, several chargers, camera with three lenses, several sets of changes of clothes, and a blanket and pillow. All this just for a four-day trip. I can't begin to imagine how much more complicated it will get once I have to bring along diapers, baby clothes, baby blankets, baby food, baby toys, and a million other baby needs. Our little Civic isn't the roomiest car there ever was but it has accomodated us very graciously. Pithier and longer entries when I'm back in town. In the meantime, Happy Thanksgiving and enjoy your weekend. Whale I am a few days away from week 30. That means we have around 10 weeks before the baby is here (assuming it's full term and not early or late.) A few weeks ago the doctor worried that my uterus was too small, but now I am measuring exactly where I am and all my tests (blood and diabetes) came out healthy. The baby's heart is beating loudly and at the correct speed. So all seems to be fine. Except that I've gained a lot of weight. I spent the first five months gaining a tiny bit of weight and now I'm gaining like it's going out of style. I've gained a bit over 22 pounds and I don't show any signs of slowing down. The thing that makes me mad is that I'm not eating any chocolate or chips or ice cream or anything that's your typical pregnancy food. The only possible culprit is that I drink Orangina (maybe a glass a day) but I can't honestly tell how I'm gaining all this weight. At first, I really freaked out. I asked the doctor if the weight gain has any bad implications on the baby. He said that there's no correlation between weight gain and a big baby. The main causes of baby size are diabetes or a genetic disposition to having large babies. The main downside to gaining more than the desired amount is that I'll have more to lose afterwards. (There are other disadvantages like my back might hurt a lot, etc, but I am not anywhere near that range for now.) So all my worries are from being vain. The baby is ok. The pregnancy is coming along fine, yet I am spending hours crying because I'm gaining more weight than I would like. How's that for a good mom? Changing Lives As I am growing bigger and bigger, my daily life has changed quite a bit. In the last week, three times, I woke up at 3:30am to pee and lay in bed for about an hour before I gave up on sleeping, got up, read some stuff on the computer, watched a bit of TV and went back to bed. As someone who used to be a night person, I really really don't enjoy being awake at 3:30am unless I haven't gone to sleep yet because I am coding something fun. Now, I wake up in the middle of the night a lot and I am in deep sleep by 10pm most nights. I spend most of the day in my nightgown unless I am going out. Loose clothing that breathes a lot is the only option lately. I am hot almost all the time and there's nothing I can wear that's comfortable in every position (meaning lying down vs sitting vs standing). I am tired all the time but not able to sleep. I used to be able to sleep anywhere, anytime. I slept so hard that earthquakes wouldn't wake me. Now, I spend many afternoons attempting to sleep and I am constantly unsuccessful. When I am actually sleeping, it's very light and a hiccup can wake me up. The only good side of this is that I seem to do a lot of lucid dreaming lately. I used to do all my work on the couch, in front of the TV. Thanks to my tummy, sitting on and getting up from the couch has become a challenge. Unless I sit up right, my stomach is going into my ribs and hurting me quite a bit. So, now I sit at the table, up right like a |