A QUICK UPDATE

So it’s been a while and things have been overwhelmingly busy. Of everything that has to slip to the wayside, blogging was one of the first things to go. However, now that I have a rare moment of peace and quiet, I thought I would take a few minutes for a new posting.

Over the last couple months, a million topics have come to mind and, of course, now that I am sitting down to write, I seem to have forgotten them all. So instead of concentrating on trying to remember all those forgotten topics, I am going to selfishly update this blog with updates as to what has been going on lately.

First of all, huge kudos go out to Sister. She has put me and Husband and the dogs up in her place not once, but twice. She also has been a most willing babysitter to the dogs while apartment renovations have been underway. Turns out the Cody’s separation anxiety has returned and he was barking while we were not home. Sister has, on multiple occasions, given up plans so that we can leave the dogs with her at her apartment and continues to be helpful in a million ways that I can barely describe.

Apartment renovations were supposed to be done this week, but given the sloppy work of the guys that were supposed to install the stone countertops today, I imagine that there is at least another week of work on the horizen. Still, we now have a functional kitchen and a working bathroom (minus the bathroom sink, which should be installed this week) and a completed living room. The baby’s room is no longer a storage place for boxes, but actually has some baby stuff in it.

And speaking of baby, it is a good thing that the room is pretty much ready since it looks like the baby won’t be waiting until June 27th to enter the world. When I went to the doctor on Friday, I was already dilated 3.5 cm and experiencing what turns out to be mild contractions (I thought it was just a stomach ache). But, we spent the weekend doing some last minute shopping, packing the hospital bag and generally getting things together so we are ready for the baby when she makes the decision to enter the world.

Oh right, and we gave up on keeping the gender a secret. It was too much of an aggravation and so we admitted to those who asked that the baby will be a girl. Or, at least we think it will. We never got actual confirmation but the tech seemed to agree with our assessment.

Anyway, that is pretty much the update. Hopefully, this little post will get me back into the blogging spirit….

C IS FOR COOKIE.  T IS FOR TUNA

When I was a little kid, my parents would sometimes go away together and leave us at my aunt Meme's house for a long weekend.  I loved when they did this.  I mean, sure, I missed my parents, but staying at Meme's meant new toys to play with, cousins who always made me giggle and, as a kid, I mostly thought about the cabinet of treats.  

Meme's house has something very important that was lacking in my own home: a pantry filled with things like Vanilla Wafers, Fig Newtons and other yummy delights.  And the best part, it was all within reach of a small child!  I would happily reach in whenever the sugar urge struck me (which ironically, was less than at home where such things were often not in the house) and pull out a cookie or cracker.  A child's version of heaven.

Now, as an adult, I rarely keep cookies and such items in the house.  Like Mother, I have a horrible sweet tooth and if I had a pantry like Meme's, I would constantly be eating out of it and gain tons of weight (not to mention a very unhealthy lifestyle).  I am sure that one day, my child will prefer staying at relative's houses for the same reason that I loved visiting Meme.

I know that for my dogs, they are very happy that we are all living with Sister while the new apartment undergoes some renovations.  The love the air mattress that Sister's boyfriend (SuperRob) brought over and seem to be very content relaxing on her couch as well.  But, last night, for the first time, I realized that if I were to leave them alone with Sister for a weekend, they would likely not even miss me.  It would be just like when my parents left us at Meme's house.

Last night I met a new friend from my dog training class for a quick glass of wine (I dare you to judge me for it!) and some food.  We were having a blast and time quickly flew.  I looked at my watch, saw it was 9:30, the time I had promised Sister I would be home, hastily said goodbye and jumped into a cab.  As we sped toward Sister and the dogs, i figured I would call to check in and make sure that 1. Sister knew I was on my way; and 2. to ensure that the dogs were not missing me too badly (Cody will often cry when he gets home if Husband and I are not there).

"Hey, I am on my way in a cab, " I informed Sister when she answered.

"Ok," she replied.  "Can the dogs eat tuna?"

"A little bit is fine," I told her.

"Ok.  Bye," she said, abruptly hanging up on me. 

I wondered what was going and and when I walked into Sister's apartment, both dogs looked absolutely blissful.  Turns out, Sister had split an order of sushi with them and all three had gorged themselves on tuna rolls, tuna sushi and rice.  Neither dog looked particularly excited to have me home.

And this morning it hit me.  I had walked in immediately following the dogs being able to have all the treats they wanted and they gave me the same reaction I used to give my parents when they walked in right after my fourth Vanilla Wafer.  

I guess everyone (even dogs) need a Meme to spoil them occasionally.

PARENTING SKILLS TESTED

It’s amazing how fast time has gone by this month. I don’t think I have ever been this busy at work and getting the apartment together feels like a never-ending process. But, we do have a slight update: We now have a (mostly) finished living room and the kitchen has a working microwave, oven, stove and sink. Sure, there is still no bathroom and Husband, the doggies, and I will be moving in with Sister for a week while the bathroom is being done, but there seems like there is an end in sight and for the first time, I think the apartment may be finished before the baby is born, which is really all I wanted.

Actually, as we get closer to having an actual baby (as opposed to a fetus) I alternate between feeling like a baby is going to be much harder than I think and feeling like I really will be a good mother. Tiki and Cody the wonder dogs (aka double Trouble) are a huge part of my parenting practice.

For example, the other day, I noticed that Tiki was peeing weird and took him to the vet. Initially, the vet said nothing was wrong and offered some antibiotics as a prophylactic (which I accepted) but insisted on more tests. Sure enough, it turns out the Tiki had kidney stones and I congratulated myself on knowing my baby well enough to insist on medical care, even when the vet said it was not necessary. Oh yeah. I can totally handle a human baby.

But then, as though he knew my confidence was soaring, Cody (who has been uncomfortable in the new apartment) developed massive separation anxiety and howls whenever we leave the apartment. A couple weeks after moving in, we left Tiki and Cody crated in the apartment while we had dinner with Photogenic Friends, who had just moved into their new apartment in Brooklyn. The night was really fun and when we got home, we were surprised to see a note on our door. Apparently Cody was crying all night and kept up the neighbor who loves below. (Of course, he left an anonymous note so it took us a while to figure out who was complaining). I worked really hard with him and finally figured we had progressed to the point where he and Tiki could be left uncrated in the apartment.

So, Sunday night, I left the dogs uncrated in the living room (blocked with puppy gates) and went to the movies with Husband for the first bit of relaxation all weekend. When we came home, both dogs greeted us at the door, having jumped the gates, and we noticed the trash had been torn apartment and so had the remains of good bags given to us at a party the previous evening. One or both dogs had eaten sugarless gum, chocolate, and oatmeal raisin bars. All three things are toxic to dogs and could be fatal, and my first reaction was to freak out. But, instead, I had Husband walk them (in case diarrhea was coming) and called Animal Poison Control. Following the instructions given by the vet over the phone, I induced vomiting in the dogs and went to bed. Ugh, I will be the worst mother ever and likely kill my child.

As I was retelling this story to a friend, she commented that, despite allowing the dogs to get into something dangerous to being with, I actually handled the situation well by being calm and just figuring out a solution to the problem. According to my friend, she screws up all the time as a mother and the trick is just fixing the problems she causes before they get out of control or cause real damage. That made me feel better.

So maybe I will be okay in a couple months. But then again, not sure how to remedy the fact that for the last month, I have been breathing in lead paint dust during renovations. Ah, the conflict continues…

A SILVER LINING TO A CRAPPY WEEK



So last week was one I hope never to repeat. Let’s start with the basics. I moved into my new apartment, which is still undergoing extensive renovations. We have a toilet and shower (currently draped in plastic with cardboard boxes as the floor), no sink, no kitchen, no living room and are living out of the bedroom. The bed serves as our couch, dining table, bed and desk. The dogs are stressed, I am frustrated and Husband is surprisingly calm about the entire ordeal (which is like bizarro world to me).

Then, to top it off, I was having the busiest week at work I had ever experienced. Three motions were all due, 4 client deadlines and an oral argument in Federal Court. I could have worked all night every night and still not finished. And of course, the whole pregnancy thing was not helping since I am starting to feel awkward in my own body. Just big enough that my belly and boobs are in my way, my back hurts and I am getting sick of this whole pregnancy thing.

But, sometimes, your body has a special way of telling you to slow down, and for me that came in the form of pneumonia. I went to bed on Thursday night with a sore throat, cough and congestion. I woke up on Friday with a massive hacking cough, chills, headache and general aching. Husband handled the entire move while I sat in Starbucks drinking tea and trying to stay awake.

All day Friday, things felt worse and worse and on Sunday, when I could not stand up, I finally paged my OBGYN to find out what medications I could take while pregnant. Robitussin and cough drops were pretty much it. And some Tylenol for the fever.

That weekend, Husband unpacked what he could, took care of the dogs, let me nap as much as I needed and bought an electric kettle in order to make me hot tea to soothe the cough. He spoke to the doctor when I was too sick and carried me to the makeshift bathroom at 3am when I was so dizzy that I could not stand up.

Monday morning, I went to the doctor and after a bunch of tests and a fight with my General Practitioner (I really hate him but only remember that I hate him when I am too sick to do anything about it) I had chest x-rays and the diagnosis came back with pneumonia. A prescription for antibiotics, fluids and rest followed and I missed the entire week of work.

While the construction guys were in my apartment I went to Sisters and napped in her bed and on her couch. I used her kettle to make tea and Mother came over several times in order to keep me company, make sure I was drinking those fluids and check my temperature. I came home every night after Sister got home from work (she brought me cookies from my favorite bakery) and Husband got me soup and bread to settle my stomach. My Nana called to check in on how I was feeling. Various Aunts called and offered whatever services they could, Father offered to make me chicken soup (which I declined since last time he tried to make me soup, I thought he was poisoning me) and my coworkers took on all the assignments without complaint. Even Evil Partner, in a surprising show if humanity, told me to take it easy and be careful of a relapse.

So, while I physically felt miserable, it was nice to know what a wonderful support system I have and how many people care about me. And, while I never want to go through another week like last week again, it was reaffirming to know how wonderful the people in my life really are.

MOVING DAY

So this Friday, I am moving to Beirut circa 1984. Well, at least that is how the contractor described the condition of the new apartment. There is no running water and exposed electrical wires. There is no kitchen and no bathroom, and even if there was, they would be useless since there is no plumbing right now. There will be almost no furniture, which is not a bad thing since there is dust and bits of plaster everywhere. I suppose that since there are not bullets flying through the windows (as there may have been if I have moved to this neighborhood 25 years ago), I should count myself lucky.

A month ago, when we gave notice on our current apartment and decided to move into the new place during renovations, this seemed like a good idea. The contractor was confident that most of the apartment would be completed and that, at the very least, there would be a working shower and toilet, even if there were not yet tiles on the floor. But, through no fault of our contractor (who we actually adore and would work with again in a heartbeat), the co-op board delayed and delayed on the required approvals and work is really just beginning. So we are weeks behind our original timetable and I begin to understand why our contractor refuses to put a “time is of the essence” clause in a contract concerning co-op renovations.

But, Husband and I are up to the challenge. We are going to “camp” in our new place and Sister has generously given us the key to her place for middle of the night bathroom emergencies and morning showers. Husband, Tiki, Cody and I will all live in the master bedroom and hope that the dust we are inhaling contains only minimal amounts of lead. (And, if there is lead, then when Sesame is actually born and does something stupid, I can tell him/her that it is not their fault but because Mommy inhaled poison during pregnancy.)

I will continue updates as the renovations continue and, in the meantime, am glad to have an office with a nice clean bathroom. Somehow, I see many a late work night in my future over the next couple of weeks.

INVESTING IN MY FUTURE

Just this week, the accountant at my office asked me if I was pregnant. Apparently she was out of the office when I made the big announcement in December and had just figured I had been gaining weight over the last few months.

"Congratulations!" She gushed when she saw me. We talked about when I am due (June 27th) and how much she loved it when her kids were born. And then this:

"I suppose when the baby comes, you'll want to be a stay at home Mommy, right?"

I have spent many a sleepless night lying awake feeling my unborn child kick me non-stop and wondering about how the impending birth is going to change my life. First and foremost on my mind is childcare.

I live in Manhattan and work helping low income people fight for livable wages. The problem is that while I feel really good about my career choice, I barely make a livable wage myself. I never really cared about this since Husband, Sister and the rest of my family are generous enough to pay for vacations and the occasional meal, and while I do appreciate having nice things, I can also live without.

And, while there are certain aspects of my current job that I really don't like, I do like working overall. In fact, I love being busy with my work and my volunteer activities and can not imagine giving them up. Do I want to be an attorney forever? Likely not. Are there other career opportunities that I am eager to explore? Most definitely!

So then, Husband and I wrestle with the different ways to handle child care. Mother generously offered to help out a few times a week, but I feel bad having her watch my child just when all of her children are grown. Mother has fabulous vacations planned and keeps a relatively full schedule. She does not need a nanny job.

And what about a professional nanny? Well, the starting salary is somewhere around $600 per week, not including healthcare and overtime. I make just barely more than that and I have wondered about the trade off of working just to pay the nanny.

And then there is day care. At $2000+ a month on average, it is slightly out of our price range and the places we have explored do not allow child to enroll before 8 months of age. So that would be 8 months where I would be out of work and the idea of trying to catch back up and re-hone my skills terrifies me.

Part of me thinks of the cost of child care as an investment in my career. Money I am putting in now to ensure a higher return in the future. And part of me wonders why I am so eager to leave my child and go back to work even before it is born.

But the other day, I met a group of women who really helped to clarify my thinking on the subject. We had gathered for a roundtable discussion about how the Clinton campaign resonates with working women and, due to my obvious pregnancy, the topic of working motherhood came up. One of the woman who was part of the discussion runs Working Mother Magazine, so clearly she had some insight into the matter.

I was open and honest regarding my fears for the future: our lack of affordable childcare options, society’s expectation that I stay home, the fact that Husband’s salary is so much more than mine and thus the one we rely on more. And also I spoke about how I am happiest when I am busy and thrive on participating in things like NYC Shiba Rescue, Haven Coalition and even my job (especially when Evil Partner is on vacation). I don’t know if I would be satisfied with full time motherhood and think I may even begin to feel isolated from my friends.

The women of the group nodded in sympathy. They had all been in my position and all felt like they were fighting an uphill battle against the same forces I felt.

One woman nodded in sympathy when I explained how the nanny would make more than I do (or close to it) and told me, “Going into debt for childcare is an investment in your future. It’s like going into debt for law school. You are paying out money now and expecting a huge return on your future.”

That was a moment of clarity for me. It’s okay to work just to pay the nanny (if that is what I choose) since the personal and career rewards I would reap from that investment would more than pay me back. And, while that may not ultimately be the decision I make, and I certainly would never fault those who made a different decision, it is nice to know that when the time comes, I am not alone.

And really, whether I go back to work right away, take some time off or never go back to the workforce, I am investing in my future. I am doing something that may not be cost effective now because I know the benefits I will have in the future. And I am lucky to have so many options.

So, the next time someone like my office accountant makes the assumption that I want to stay at home, maybe I will just tell them that I will be investing in my future leave it at that.

LESSONS LEARNED WHILE MOVING

I had meant to write a post about how the other day, I participated in a rountable discussion with working women in NYC in order to discuss how the Clinton campaign resonated with them. Whether or not these woman supported Clinton's campaign for the White House, they also saw gender as a huge factor in the race and felt that Clinton was judged differently from her male counterparts. This post was supposed to be about how these woman, all mothers, made me reevaluate my own priorities and offered insight into working motherhood which changed my plans for the future and made me realize that I was not being true to myself, but rather what I felt society expected of me. That post will have to wait.

Instead, I would like to offer a quick lesson to anyone moving homes who may have a dog: If you decide to consolidate your CD collection and remove all the cases in order to store the CDs in a box to later upload to iTunes, make sure that you don't use the same box where you previously stored dog bones. And, if you do use the same box for CDs as you previously used for dog bones, do not leave it on the floor while you attend a friend's birthday dinner. Nothing good comes from that.