Learning about ISO

Youre getting better mom
You're getting better mom

So I’ve been working my way through a book about photographing children. It had a small but useful chapter on the technical stuff that cameras do. I’ve discovered my point and shoot does NOT have any manual controls for aperture — the bit where you can blur backgrounds. Given the clutter that is the normal state of my environment, that would be mighty useful. But I did discover ISO, or how not to use a flash indoors. I think some of my photos are “noisy” from having gone too high in the ISO settings, but generally I like the light better.

The bulk of my pictures are of Thane. There are two reasons for this: 1) He is a baby and therefore massively photogenic 2) He sits still, unlike his cute (if snotty) older brother.

There are also one or two pictures I just thought looked cool and so left in place.

I laugh at you, stereotype that second children have fewer baby pictures than first! Thane shall not lack for baby pictures!

Here’s the link to my full set:

http://tiltedworld.com/brenda/pictures/LateJanuary2009/

A farewell to boys

So today I took both boys to daycare. I thought it would be easier to drop Thane off at daycare because:
1) He’s a full month older than Grey was when I first dropped Grey off
2) I’ve known Rubertina for three years now, and have had a good experience dealing with her and my FIRST baby
3) Thane is my second baby. These things get easier with practice, right?

Ha. Wrong.

It’s hard to drop your child off at daycare for the first time. I don’t think it gets easier until they get older, either.

It probably doesn’t help that I read this story about SIDS and how it happens disproportionately to children on their first day being taken care of by someone other than their mom, for reasons which are not yet clear. Also, SIDS risk is highest between 2 – 4 months. Thane is 3 months old. I wish to heaven that SIDS didn’t exist and that the fear of him simply dying while asleep was an irrational one. I’m good and dealing with irrational fears. The fact that it is rational and it happens to sweet, smily, healthy children with no warning while they are peacefully sleeping is, to put it simply, utterly terrifying. We have as few risk factors as possible (no smoking, not premature, Caucasian baby, sleeps on his back, room’s not too warm, no blackets, yadda yadda) but it still isn’t zero.

These are the things that occupy your mind one the first day you drop your sweet, beloved child off at daycare. Or rather, the night before, to the great chagrin of your husband.

Happily, the things I worry about are statistically extremely unlikely. I bet that the drive too and from is riskier — especially in this weather. (On second thought, perhaps not such a happy thought.) I look forward to snuggling that sweet little body close to me tonight!

Nearly famous

So sitting right next to me is this book:

I opened it to read the acknowledgments:

For Josh, Em an Al — my three better halves, and never mind the math.

I beat Em in Gheos last night. I know all three of the acknowledgees. I even know the authoress.

This is SO COOL. It’s like, um, really cool. At least half my friends have had visions of writing a book and having it published, myself included. More of my friends have actually written books, myself not included. But that someone I know can have, through hard work and talent, actually written and published a real book which can really be purchased through Amazon!??! Tres cool.

So go. Buy this book. Read this book. (I will as soon as I can — only my great devotion to my children prevents me from perching on the couch right now.) This book represents the hopes that we have, but fulfilled by great efforts and abilities of Maggie.

Snow day = parenting fail

As of 7 am this morning, the furnace was not working. It was 45 degrees in our bedroom. It was snowing, with a forecast to snow all day long. Our plans for the day had already been canceled.

It’s now 11:30. The furnace guy fixed our furnace.

Aside: Have you ever heard the saying “It takes money to make money?” This was a good example of that. We inherited a service contract on our furnace from the previous owners, and renewed it this fall. Basically, we spend about $200 for a furnace service and what is basically like AAA insurance. They put us to the top of their service list and any standard repairs we need come free. Most years you don’t need anything. But then in the middle of a snowstorm when your furnace isn’t working you get a guy within 3 hours and he makes your furnace work — a $400 repair — and it doesn’t cost you a red cent. If we’d attempted to save money by not doing the service contract, or if we hadn’t been able to afford it, it would’ve cost us two years worth of contract fees to make the one repair.

Grey and I are sitting next to each other at our respective laptops. He’s playing a Wa Wa Wubbsy game (and actually doing an amazing job) and I’m, well, writing to you. Thane has finally gotten his hands back after being in a snowsuit for most of the morning and is happily chewing on the “teriyaki” hand. Sleeping Beauty is on in the background. I can’t decide whether I’m being appropriately mellow, or if I’m full of parenting fail.

But don’t you remember snow days when you could rot your brain on screens and read books cover to cover and were feted with junk food and hot chocolate? Childhood is too short. I regret nothing.

Like the end of summer vacation

I remember that at the end of summer vacation, I’d rush around attempting to do or finish all the things that I had thought about with the stretch of unbroken leisure in front of me in June. That’s sort of where I am now.

So about a week ago I looked at the downstairs bathroom and thought, “I can totally do that.” The bathroom looked dated with a poorly installed wallpaper, a medicine cabinet with plastic handles (one of which had fallen off), a non-descript wooden towel holder and a toilet paper holder that looked for all the world like a 7th grade shop project. (Let’s just say that I did similar things in 7th grade.) I thought the paint color I used for the living room would look great in the bathroom, and that I needed nothing to start but to start.

So I removed the medicine cabinet, washed the walls, slapped on some primer and was off and running.

Coat 1: the primer didn’t do enough to block the wallpaper color splatches
Coat 2: the paint color was fine for the wall tile but ALL WRONG for the floor tile.
Coat 3: I decided to retry, this time using a gray primer to truly eradicate the wall splotches.
Coat 4: I discovered that the nearly-white paint I was using totally didn’t cover the gray primer
Coat 5: Still didn’t really cover the primer, but it will have to do.

Then I Shang-hied my husband into installing the new medicine cabinet, rewiring the light (twice) installing a new light and installing the tp holder and towel bar.

As a reward, the bathroom now looks better. But my husband confessed, as I was in the bowels of the project, that he hadn’t minded it before.

Next time I decide I can just slap up a coat of paint in a day and have a trasformative effect, someone take me aside and talk sense, please?

I NEVER remember to take before pictures, and the bathroom is really tiny so these pictures are a bit questionable, but here you go!

The new medicine cabinet area

The window and hardware
The window and hardware

Thane at three months

Thane on tummy time

I’m spending this week getting ready to go back to work. That’s involved a lot of cooking, shopping, laundry and doctors appointments. (There’s nothing wrong, I’m just cramming a year’s worth of appointments into the last week or so.) You always wonder how you are going to handle things when life is about to change. How will I deal with a baby? How will I deal with a second child? Will I go nuts at home? Will I get any sleep? How will I deal with work? Will I ever have any time to myself ever again?

I’ve learned that in general, you do manage and you do cope. But I’ve really enjoyed this time at home with my children. For the most part. Poo excepted. Still, the time is coming for me to return to work, and that’s also a good thing. I’m just making two of my most time-consuming recipes this week as a farewell (tonight: turkey).

It will be particularly difficult to leave Thane. For a quarter of a year, I have rarely gone anywhere without him. For three quarters of a year prior to that, I went nowhere without him. You would think experience would provide consolation… he’s a month older than Grey was when Grey went to daycare. He’s going to a woman I’ve known now for three years. His big brother will be there, and Grey is quite capable of watching over Thane and letting me know what goes on. Heck, I’ll still be there nursing at lunch. But oh, he’s such a joy.

I’m still struggling to decide whether Thane is a more mellow child than Grey was, or whether I am a more mellow and experienced mother. I think a little of both. Thane spends a lot of time quietly watching the tumultuous world into which he was born. He has this amazingly clear, patient gaze.

Thane is starting to gain control over his body. His hands reach out and grasp what they encounter — particularly endearing when what they encounter is your finger. He has started playing with toys. There was a remarkable day when that simply BEGAN. He reached out his hand and grabbed the beak of this colorful bird that was his Christmas present. For maybe even 20 minutes he reached his hand out to where his attention was riveted. He’s also much more active when he does move. We find him perpendicular to where he was placed in his crib. He managed to turn on the bubbler by kicking it. He rolled over again (front to back) after a month hiatus or so. He scootches across the floor.

He smiles all the time. He grows unhappy if he can’t see people, but will contentedly sit for quite a while if I remain in view. His smile is radiant, transcendent, glorious. The gummy toothless smile of a child who loves you best in the world is hard to top.

He’s a big kid. He’s well into 3 – 6 month outfits. They fit perfectly, boding ill for how long they’ll continue to fit. He’s pretty strong — he holds himself up sitting (although he lacks balance to sit by himself). His neck is very stable, and his grip impressive.

He has the auburn hair of his great-grandfather. I’ve seen pictures of my grandfather as a young man, and Thane has the exact same hair color (for what hair he has).

We are still doing very well nursing, and I have oodles of milk frozen for his journey to daycare.

Grey is an amazing big brother. I keep waiting for the resentment or impatience. Grey and I have our conflicts (over pretty much everything else), but he never ever turns his ire or impatience against his brother. (Yet.) Yesterday, the boys and I were in Thane’s room. Grey decided to spread a blanket on the floor and asked if he and Thane could have a sleepover. How delightfully imaginative! I was so impressed that he figured out a way to play with Thane that he could do! (Thane’s few skill indeed include lying on one’s back on a blanket.) Grey is incredibly careful and gentle with him, and it was wonderful to see my two boys ‘playing’ together.

It is time for me to go back to work and flex those disused muscles. I think it is a right and necessary thing. But oh. I will miss my boys.

Ah wod some powr the giftie gie us

Last night I was invited to a Bobby Burns night. Leaving my husband adequately equipped with bottles and stored milk, I hied myself to downtown Boston to partake in the adventure.

I walked in the door with my tartan tam (slightly moth-eaten) on my head, my grandmother’s silver thistle proudly on the side. I carried a heavy cast iron dutch oven full of corned beef hash (an old family recipe), along with the inevitable cottage cheese and french bread. I met many new people and told them all about my clan name, history and crest (they were very patient). I explained that the hash was from a recipe that had likely come over on a boat with my great-grandparents. I talked about just what rapscallions my ancestors were. I sang or lead singing for “My Love is like a Red, Red Rose”, and “The Rape of Glencoe” and “The Skye Boat Song” (I totally forgot the first TWO verses!) I joined in other songs. I heard poems — new ones and old favorites.

There are parts of one’s history and background that remain dormant for long stretches of time. My Scottish heritage just doesn’t come up often anymore. I mean, my last name is now IRISH! (The horrors!) It was remarkably refreshing to uncover this particular aspect of who I am!

Some strings attached

I just got an unsolicited package of baby formula. I thought there were ethical rules they agreed to abide by NOT to do that to nursing mothers. I have to guess that the timing (you know, about the time most women have to return to work) is not coincidental.

Do you wonder why I’m mad at getting free baby formula?

1) Breastfeeding has been shown to generally be the best option for babies. (Note: it’s not always possible and isn’t ALWAYS the best option)
2) Studies have shown that women who are given free formula are less likely to continue successfully breastfeeding (http://www.breastfeedingonline.com/free.shtml)
3) Even using a little formula can affect milk production. Milk is a “use it or lose it” proposition — mom’s make as much as their baby’s drink, so if their baby’s drink some formula instead of milk, the mother creates less milk. This is a very difficult cycle to break.

So sending a mother about to reenter work free formula (two whole cans!) might tempt her to use some of them (for a good night’s sleep, or to do that instead of pumping at work — assuming that’s an option). That will create a dependency for the child for the rest of their time nursing, which is usually until about 12 months.

Oh well. I’ll donate them to a food bank. There are moms who can’t nurse, shouldn’t nurse (if they are doing drugs, for example), or can’t pump at work. Formula isn’t evil. But this method of marketing it is, I think, underhanded.

I like my milk pre-caffeinated
I like my milk pre-caffeinated