Kid Amnesiac

Well, it’s been a pretty horrific few days over here, and tomorrow we test fate and take Simon on his first plane ride. Wish us luck!

Matt’s been working crazy hours — in fact, he’s working into the wee hours tonight — and Simon chose today of all days to not sleep. He woke up early from his morning nap. He woke up early from his afternoon nap. And he threw the mother of all screaming fits tonight. Worst I’ve seen him since those early and unlamented colicky days.

If I make it out the door with even half of what I’m supposed to, I will have the Whitworths to thank. They came over tonight to help me with Simon while I packed up all our gear. I’m sure I’m still going to forget something. I’m so tired now I can hardly focus to type. This post is only happening because I’m moving things around in my work inbox and that takes time.

Tomorrow we land in Oakland, where I hope to see many of old friends, meet many new babies, and get some much needed R&R. Look for some cute pics (I hope) and tales of being on the road with a seventh month old shortly.

I realize that an obnoxious trait in the new parent is to suddenly feel like you are an expert in children based on your newfound experience with a single child. I really do understand how annoying and misguided that is.

But I’m thinking that perhaps you don’t have to know very much about kids to realize a Very Bad Idea when you see one. Especially not when the Very Bad Idea is a new TV show described in my local paper as follows:

“A new reality show, ‘Kid Nation’, will take 40 children and set them up in an abandoned New Mexico town. Cameras will follow them as they try to set up their own society without adult supervision.”

Oh my God! Are you kidding me? Have none of the executives behind this show read Lord of the Flies? I’ll tell you what will happen. Piggy will lose his glasses, that’s what will happen. The only question is whether said glasses-losing will be the beginning of a ratings spike or a dive. I shudder to think…

It is exactly the prospect of programming like this that made me fight to not have TV in the house, a battle I lost this Tuesday when the cable crew showed up to hook us up after a two-year hiatus. I’m putting it on the table right now: The first day I watch this monstrosity will the last day we have cable if I have to cut the cord myself.

Today is my first Mother’s Day, and in some respects, I still don’t feel like a real mom. With Simon being so young, I haven’t had to treat a skinned knee, lower a fever, soothe hurt feelings, or help with homework. Nor have I argued with Simon over where he can go, how much he has to eat, and what he is allowed to wear. Surely these are the true tests of motherhood. Emotionally, babies are very easy.

The physicality of mothering a baby, on the other hand, is a completely different story. Simon will be 30 weeks old Monday, and we’ve had him home for 29 weeks as of last Friday. By my reckoning, I have by now done the following:

• Nursed Simon approximately 1,471 times.
• Changed about 500 diapers (Matt changes as much or more than I do, and we have Moms helping out twice a week, too.)
• Changed his clothes around 300 times.
• Washed approximately 182 loads of diapers.
• Washed approximately 73 loads of non-diaper baby laundry,and spent more on baby clothes than I’ll ever admit.

And heaven only knows how many times I’ve picked Simon up, burped him, bounced him, sung to him, or carried him up and down the stairs. At the same time, I still have yet to:

• Be away from Simon for more than 4 hours (2 1/2 is my usual average).
• Sleep for more than 6 straight hours (3-4 is our usual average here).
• Eat a meal at home without simultaneously working, folding laundry, or holding Simon.

But I’m not complaining. Because after three days when I had lots of help with Simon–a mommy’s helper Thursday, my mom Friday, and Matt yesterday–I found that by last night I was rather missing him. Enough so that I spent a fair bit of time watching him sleep and tried to get him to sleep with me after his 5:00 a.m. feeding.

So whatever I get for my first Mother’s Day (I’ve asked for a cafe au lait from Highland Coffee Company delivered to me in bed), I can’t help but feel that my real present is Simon himself.

We’re now four weeks into solid food, and the culinary adventure is beginning to be fun even as it gets to be more challenging and even a little political.

Like 99% of parents in America, we started with boring rice cereal from a box, step one in a strict progression ordered by the pediatrician. It promised to be nearly allergy-proof; unfortunately, it also proved to be nearly flavor-proof unless you consider library paste an actual flavor. Simon ate small amounts of it with little enthusiasm for about two weeks, then pretty much stopped eating it, even when I added mashed banana and a dash of cinnamon to liven things up.

Meanwhile, at the two week mark we started Simon on vegetables. I was pretty excited about the jar of sweet potatoes I bought. Simon? Not so much. He ate them pretty well once, and then made awful faces the second and third time. At first I suspected that he inherited his Bubbie’s freakish dislike of the world’s most perfect vegetable (They are good for you, and they taste like candy. What could be more perfect than that?) Then I tasted the suckers and wondered how something purporting to contain only sweet potatoes and water could taste so little like the real thing.

Turns out lots of what comes out of those jars has little flavor. The carrots are good, the squash is so-so, and the peas are grayish and scary looking (I have no idea what they actually taste like, as I’m finding their color a barrier to entry). As we introduced these new vegetables, Simon seemed to concur. As a result, he wasn’t eating so well and wasn’t enjoying himself. Most meals began with a grimace, ended with a grimace, and featured quite a few grimaces in between.

At this point, I decided to do a little reading and got Child of Mine: Feeding with Love and Good Sense, which offered the ground-breaking theory that if it doesn’t taste good to you, it may well not taste good to your baby. That and there’s nothing sacrosanct about those jars. This information liberated me to get out the food mill, hit the produce aisle, and start cooking. I’ve got carrots, butternut squash, sweet peas, and peaches ready to go, and Simon has enjoyed the carrots and squash with nary a grimace in sight. Meanwhile, the yucky rice cereal has been banished from the pantry, replaced with oatmeal. It tasted much better to me, and judging by the amount Simon gobbled this morning, I’m going to say he liked it better, too. Now we’re cooking!

In just over two months, it will be time to introduce protein. And that presents its own challenges. I’ve been a vegetarian for 17 years, so my heart wants to make a go of feeding Simon a vegetarian diet, too. My head, on the other hand, is pretty sure that it’s hard to get small babies to eat enough beans or tofu to ensure that they get enough good fat and protein. A quick call to my cousin Connie, a dietician by trade and vegan herself, more or less confirmed my hunch. In fact, she suggests skipping poultry and going straight to beef.

Beef! The meatiest of all meats! The least vegetarian food in the world! Well, it could have been worse: She could have suggested pork.

So here I sit in my kitchen researching local sources for grass-fed, free-range beef. Turns out I need not worry; my home state has many farms that produce just what I’m looking for, much of which is carried at a grocery store about a mile from my house. So the shopping at least will be easy.

The cooking on the other hand…that’s a whole ‘nother story. I’ve never cooked meat. Ever. I’m sure I can read about cooking beef in my copy of The Joy of Cooking, but can I cook it safely without tasting it? I’ll let you know in about two months. (Mom, can you come over and help?)

And the biggest trick of all will come in setting a good example for Simon, as the irony in all this food angst is how badly I eat myself. If you truly are what you eat, then I am Chinese take-out, Amy’s Organic meals in boxes, Alpen Muesli, McCann’s Oatmeal, Snyder’s Pretzels, and Starburst. Ay yay yay, there’s a lot of junk in that list.

But I have a plan for getting off the junk. My theory is that Simon’s grass-fed, free-range beef will be so expensive that I’ll be forced into eating black beans and brown rice to economize. Then again, Starburst is pretty cheap…

Whenever I’ve talked to people about going with out or taking a vacation with a baby, I always hear the same thing. “You just have to lower your expectations.”

Today was my first forray into this new world. At about 10:30 today, I decided that once Simon woke up from his morning nap, we were going to the zoo. There’s a baby elephant there, and I wanted to see him while he still looked like a baby.

Simon woke up at around 10:45, and we were out the door by 11:00. So far so good. The baby is only on display from 10:00 a.m. to noon and 2:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m., so I had no time to lose. By 11:20 I was a zoo member, and by 11:30 I was standing in front of a six-week old unnamed elephant.

Cute! And when I say “cute”, I mean super-duper, amazing, heart-breakingly, would-it-fit-in-my-car? cute. I didn’t get to see him for long, but he put on a good show for me while I was there, including attempting to throw dirt on his back and missing and nursing from his mommy.

Speaking of nursing, by noon the baby went off display and I had to go nurse Simon. By 12:15 or so Simon was full, but I was starving. I have to say, salad was not a great choice, as it was very hard to cut up all the huge produce and eat it with one hand while I bounced Simon on my knee and otherwise tried to keep him happy with the other. By 12:45 or so, I had done the best I could and Simon was getting restless.

Off to the gorillas! No dice. Tons of kids there making tons of noise was too much for Simon to handle.

Off to the Siberian tiger! No dice. The tiger was best visible from a platform you reach by stairs. I had Simon in the Mei Tai, but I still couldn’t abandon the stroller.

Off to the polar bears! Nope, Simon was restless and wanted some time to stretch his legs. So out comes the outdoor blanket, and Simon and I enjoy some quality time sitting in the grass, playing with a rattle, and watching people go by.

Off to the polar bears! I got to see a single, rather mangy looking polar bear for about five minutes before Simon began protesting again in his stroller.

Off to the ____! And he’s done. By now, Simon is sufficiently unhappy that it’s clear to me he’s done with the stroller, done with the Mei Tai, done with wearing a hat, and pretty much done with the whole thing.

To the exit! After a few wrong turns, I find my way to the parking lot and our car by 1:30 p.m. By now, Simon has worked through his fussy period and is getting a head start on his afternoon nap. I seriously consider re-entering the zoo at this point, but it begins to rain before I can get the car-seat out of the car.

The final tally: Two hours. Rushed lunch. One nursing session. Three animals seen in any detail. But you know what? I got out of the house, I enjoyed a good walk, and the baby elephant was super-duper heart-breakingly cute.

Success! How’s that for a lowered expectations?

Footnote: A funny thing happened at the zoo. During my failed attempt to see the gorillas, I walked through a set piece designed to look like a traditional African market. The walls of this area are decorated with pictures of men and women in traditional garb, including at least one image of a woman carrying her baby in a long piece of cloth tied across her torso. Before I left the market, I heard a woman in the room say to her child, “Look honey, she’s got her baby in a carrier just like the mommy in the picture.” It took a minute, but I realized that the woman was talking about me, that I was the only person at the zoo with her baby “strapped on”, and that I was something of a walking exhibit myself.