Shuffled Pink

2011-11-14T03:47:00.000-08:00

You know, one nice thing about being a slacker blogger who doesn't have many--um...any?--readers is that you don't have to apologize for the ridiculous time gaps between posts. Hee.

I don't know what happened. We got back from our extended stay in Okinawa and.... Okay, yeah, it's coming back to me a little bit. I recently read that a lot of kids start acting out around the half-year mark and R was about two and a half when we got back to Tokyo. And boy did she start acting out. I've blocked out most of it and I don't want to try to recall any more. But I do remember not having any desire to blog. Things got better after a few months though, and now, I have to say our relationship is fantastic. She's turning three this month, so--fingers crossed--we should have at least a six-month grace period before everything falls apart all over again: just about the time she starts kindergarten. Yippee.

For me, sharing one's life with a communicative kid is immeasurably better than with a cuddly unreasonable baby. I love the conversations I have with R. She actually points out things I, in my typical dazed way, tend to overlook. She helps me out, like when I'm stuck on the toilet and, too late, realize A used up all the stinkin' toilet paper but didn't put in a new roll. When it's bed time, and she's refusing to put on her PJs, I can actually say, "Fine. Then you put them on when you feel like it. Good night," and then leave the room.

R is being this amazing kid right now and I'm just holding my breath, waiting for everything to blow up in my face, cause that's the way I am. But I'm definitely not taking anything for granted or failing to enjoy the good times while they last. Sure, R has her quirks. She still refuses to really play at the park unless it's after dark--but she's now reluctantly able to share the playground with other children, though not too many. She still asks to be carried, a lot. She hardly walks--again, unless, it's dark (I don't know, I guess she feels safer, somehow, when she's less visible?). She has the appetite of a cow and it's a pain having to hear "I'm hun-gee" 263 times a day, let alone trying to appease that little stomach of hers. And right now, she has this annoying thing where she asks "What xyz saying?" every other second. You know how some kids ask "Why?" constantly? It's kind of like that. So, say we're about to leave the house and have to leave Edward the Dog behind, the ensuing conversation will go something like this:

R: What Eddie saying?
Me: He's saying, "Oh, I wish I could come with you guys."
R: What Ruka say?
Me: Sorry, Eddie, you can't come.
R: What Eddie say?
Me: Why not?
R: What Momma say?
Me: Because dogs aren't allowed into the supermarket.
R: What Eddie say?

Okay, you get the idea. It's hair-tearingly exhaustive conversation and is very, very difficult to put a halt to. Believe me, I've tried all sorts of distractions and commands, but once she's determined to know what everyone's saying, she'll just keep on asking. R used to love hearing me read books to her before bedtime, but now she just can't stop interrupting me, wanting to know what every person, creature, and thing on every page is saying. AND she asks "Why?" all the time, too, but in super-annoying ways:

R: Can we go to the playground?
Me: Sure.
R: Why?

R: I did it, mom. Say, "Good job."
Me: Good job, sweetie.
R: Why?

As I mentioned, R's birthday is coming up and the twinges of stress I feel here and there over getting her the cake she's asked for and trying to decide what present to buy her are huge foreshadowing for all the birthdays to come. Right now, she's little enough that as long as her cake is green (her favorite color), truly nothing else matters. But dear god, what happens when there are teeny, noisy little friends running around? When there is peer pressure to have a fun party, a gorgeous cake, the right presents, etc.? I know some parents enjoy that sort of thing, BUT I AM NOT ONE OF THEM. I'm already caving and deciding not to try to make R's cake myself, since I definitely do not cook pretty. I figure, living in Japan, it should be fairly easy to buy a green matcha cake, add a mountain of raspberries (her favorite fruit) on top, maybe stick in a plastic Santa (she saw a Christmas cake catalogue and was inspired), and--voila--you have R's dream birthday cake.

Well, for it to be totally perfect, there would have to be Jiji somewhere on the cake as well. Jiji is the little black cat in the Ghibli animated movie, Kiki's Delivery Service, currently R's favorite movie. But I...I know R is too young to conceive that a cake could actually be shaped like a cat or even feature a cake somewhere on its surface, so I'm going to be a mean mom and not even go there. Sort of the way, when she asks about a candy she's spotted in a store, a candy she's never tried before, I just shrug and feign ignorance, like, "Wow, I don't know what that is, either. Interesting, huh? Oh, hey, look, Miffy-shaped nori!!!" Is this terrible of me? I figure I've got YEARS of themed birthdays in my future and am in no rush to get there before it's absolutely necessary.

2011-05-11T05:54:00.000-07:00

Last week, the news abruptly announced that tsuyu--the rainy season--had come early to Okinawa. I grew up in Vancouver, so really shouldn't complain about a few weeks of merely sporadic rain and mucky skies. But this will be our last week in Okinawa. This Saturday, the remaining four of us, plus the dog and cat (who incidentally still hate each other's guts, despite sharing a roof for over a month), will be returning to Tokyo.

Okinawa is to the rest of Japan what Hawaii is to the US mainland, and no one imagines being here and having to deal with umbrellas, rain slickers, moldy laundry, and dark afternoons. I'd thought we'd have at least one chance to swim in the gorgeous ocean so tantalizingly close by. I packed our swimsuits--which have remained folded inside my suitcase.

We've been making nearly daily trips to the coin laundromat to dry our clothes, since the only option at home is hanging things outside on the balcony. Every afternoon, the dog and I stare longingly out the living room glass door, willing the leaky clouds to clear out and for some color to return to the world. Sunday was all scorching hot blue skies--for which I was grateful, but I'm hoping for at least one more such day, so we can spend it at the beach before our time in Naha is up.

I was rather mournful about coming here, about living with my in-laws. Now I wish we didn't have to leave. It's been an incredible experience, raising R with people--family--around to help out. The luxury of popping out to walk the dog and leaving R at home or cooking dinner while R plays with someone in the other room or, at the end of a long day, having R say she doesn't want me but obachan to give her a bath (oh darn I am so hurt but okay then I guess I have no choice but to lie here on the sofa and read something on my iphone while eating this handful of gummy bears): This is the first real vacation I've had since R was born. I realize what a breathless race life is back in Tokyo, where it's just R and me; there is never enough time to do everything I need to do, from the moment I'm jerked awake by my daughter's cries in the early morning, till I lower her back into the crib that night.

I've had so much more patience for R and she, in turn, is calmer and less prone to tantrums. R is clearly happier for having other people in the home who she can turn to, for love, for laughs, for comfort, for learning. She has really bonded with my mother-in-law and I couldn't be more glad.

Sure, there are things I won't miss about our life here: For one thing, my mother-in-law has unexpectedly revealed herself to be a total TV addict. I swear, if the TV could be programmed to turn on first thing when she wakes up in the morning, like a coffee percolator, she'd do it. She has been understanding of my wish not to have R watch too much TV, but still, every other minute the damn thing is on at high volume and too often R will stumble into the living room and become immobilized before it--mute, deaf, and brain-dead--until my MIL catches on and turns it off.

Second thing I won't miss: Considering what a middle-of-nowhere neighborhood we're living in, it's freakin' noisy as hell. We're practically touching distance from an elementary school and are bombarded all day long with tolling bells, screaming children, blaring brass bands, and bored roosters. Then there are the uncontrolled guard dogs waiting at the front gate of every house, ready to explode into sound at the least provocation; the garbage trucks that play a tinkling tune at high volume, to alert residents to their approach, I suppose; and the stupid black motorcycle parked outside my window that roars to heartstopping life every night at around 2am. Am I the only one who fantasizes about shooting things with a gun--like that damn bird who starts croo-CROOing at 5am every morning?

and then there were five

2011-04-21T06:34:00.000-07:00

Sora-chan and her mom have moved out, and today, my sister-in-law's two friends who'd been staying over the past week returned to Tokyo. Finally, the proportion of people (5) to bathrooms (1) in this house has reduced to a reasonable ratio. I'm also thankful that I'll have less dishes to wash from now onward. My mother-in-law has been so wonderful, doing almost all the cooking; I try to pitch in here and there, but then my recent disastrous attempt at boiling eggs had her firmly reclaiming the kitchen reins. So I've been extra diligent about helping with all the washing and clearing.

The only thing is that Japanese meals always require a million different little plates and bowls--which adds up to a lot of dishes to wash. I used to work for my college's catering company though, so all the time spent at the sink actually brought back a few good memories. Like wearing a bow tie, sitting and chatting with the kitchen ladies with their pouffy hairdos while decorating endless cookies, and singing really loudly and going a little stir-crazy with a coworker in a banquet hall while doing a formal setting for sixty tables.

R's Japanese comprehension is really developing and she's beginning to switch languages correctly--it's "yada" when she's talking to grandma, "no" when she's with me. She adores having grandma, great-grandma, and her aunt around all the time, but she's been extra clingy with me, since we got to Okinawa. I was hoping to leave her with my in-laws and try to get my Japanese driver's license--a lengthy and time-consuming process--but so far, I haven't had much luck going anywhere without her.

Today, my MIL asked me how long I planned to stay in Naha, as my SIL apparently is planning to return to Tokyo at the end of this month. It's been reported that the nuclear plant situation could take as long as nine months to resolve. We laughingly agreed though that after going through the big production of moving down here, we had to at least stay a few more weeks to make it worthwhile.

today's walk

2011-04-18T07:58:00.000-07:00

this is why I make her nap

2011-04-18T07:47:00.000-07:00

R, after waking up from her nap. A slightly blurry shot. She was running at me pretty fast.

missing words

2011-04-17T07:05:00.001-07:00

I thought tonight as I was getting ready for bed that perhaps I was starting to feel a little lonely. But I'm hardly starved for company, and then realized the problem: I miss speaking English. It's been over a week since my last casual conversation in my native language. Oh well, hopefully, my Japanese will get a little boost from this total-immersion program I'm currently living.

naha dress code

2011-04-14T06:05:00.001-07:00

I'm uneasy about taking pictures of random people on the street, which is why I have no images to back up my recent observation that people in Okinawa dress a lot more warmly than I think is necessary. I don't know if it's because to the locals, 25 degrees Celsius is considered chilly or if it's that common Asian fear of sunshine touching one's skin (I do see a lot more women using umbrellas on sunny days), but so far, everywhere I look, people are well covered up. Everyone is in long pants and sleeves, but many go further, layering it on with cardigans, jackets, scarves, and gloves. I even spotted one fur-lined hooded coat. Today, I felt rather self-conscious, traipsing outside of the house in my knee-length skirt and--gasp!--short-sleeved top. I was, without a doubt, the most scantily clad person on the street and I thought I got checked-out by an old geezer waiting for a bus. Probably called me a hussy, in his head.

clouds, sky, castle, donuts

2011-04-13T06:29:00.000-07:00

When I look up at the sky in Okinawa, the clouds appear startlingly close, as if they'd get tangled in a tall building, if there were any around. Combined with the fact that I'm always standing on a hill, this makes me feel like I'm at an incredibly high altitude...though I don't think I am.

You need strong legs to live in this place! I ventured out with R to Shuri Castle this morning and although the distance I walked wasn't so great, the number of torturous old-style Okinawan steps (I'll post a picture of them some time) I climbed with a toddler strapped to my back, and the steepness of the rolling hills I traversed, had me groaning a bit on that last upward slope toward home.

I bought some malasadas donuts--am not a big sata andagi fan (shhh, don't tell)--at a curry shop situated at the bottom of the steps to the Shuri monorail station. It's on the left side of the road, if you're heading toward the castle. Look for the yellow awning. The donuts were satisfyingly large and had a wonderful texture, pillowy and tender. They also came in a variety of flavors: matcha with azuki beans, cinnamon, chocolate, custard-filled, and plain. They were just a little too sweet, though.

R and I enjoyed the monorail ride. The windows are big and clean and we got a terrific view of the city from an elevated height. The castle grounds have been spruced up a bit and we were even in time for a traditional dance, which was an interesting contrast of gaudy colors, deliberate movements, and somber facial expressions. R took in the performance with an equally serious expression, but I think she enjoyed it, since she declined leaving early, when given the option.

In the evening, after dinner, she and Sora-chan wrestled, tumbled, and chased each other, risking concussions at every turn and resembling exactly a pair of rambunctious puppies. I have to admit it was an adorable sight, even as we all yelled and tensed every time one of them went flying backward toward a sharp table edge. Sora and her mom will be moving out the end of this week and I think R will miss her first real friend--which is what I realize Sora is.

Just as I thought we'd finally get a little extra room in the house though, it turns out my sister-in-law has invited two friends to stay from tomorrow. Can someone please join me in a moment of heartfelt groaning? True, I did say my in-laws are good people...but COME ON. So for at least two days, we'll have nine women sharing one tiny house and one bathroom. I've been doing my best to avoid this, but with the additional visitors, I'm going to have to stay in the same room as R. I'm pretty sure I'll lie awake in bed the whole night, tense, and waiting to hear her little voice telling me she's up and "all done" with sleep. Ungh.

moving in

2011-04-12T06:27:00.000-07:00

This is what our new neighborhood looks like. Maybe I could have picked a sunnier day to take pictures, but I must admit I've never thought of Naha as a pretty town. As you can sort of see, it's a hilly place, and obachan (grandma)'s home is perched on a fairly steep slope, right smack next to an elementary school. From our second floor veranda, you can look right into several of the classrooms and watch--if you don't mind being watched back--the kids during class.

I've been deliriously happy with the weather. Apart from the odd cold evening, it's been shorts-and-t-shirts warm. Everyone in the neighborhood keeps their windows open, to let in the fresh air, and when Edward and I take one last walk before bedtime, the night is filled with the sounds of people talking, dishes clacking, babies crying, and children playing. I like this.

Below is a shot of obachan's ceiling. It's an admittedly older house, with cracked windows, creaky floorboards, and rickety window screens--I've already managed to yank down three of them. And there's one step going up to the second floor that I swear is not going to tolerate a person's weight for much longer. But as I've mentioned before, my in-laws are really nice people and probably the best people to live with if you were to find yourself in my situation. Despite the fact that there are seven women living in a three-bedroom house with only one bathroom, we've been getting along great.

Admittedly, there have been fluctuating tensions between two of our housemates: R and an almost-three-year-old named Sora-chan. It's been extremely interesting living with a child so close in age to R. Sora-chan is A's cousin's child and she is currently experiencing the terrible-twos in a most spectacular and loud fashion. R, who has never been possessive of her belongings before, is suddenly experiencing the frustrations of having her things snatched from her. The two girls have a funny hot-cold relationship--taking turns being the pursuer and the rejecter--and when they do play together, it's sometimes hard to tell whether they're really having fun. There's a lot of competitiveness, taunting, pushing, and whining. It's great, though, watching R running after Sora and laughing, wanting to hold hands with her, and trying to stand up for herself. These are rare sights.

I am starting to get a little cabin fever though because Naha is one of those cities where you really need a car to go anywhere. And we don't have a car. Heck, I don't have a Japanese driver's license.

first night in naha

2011-04-09T05:57:00.001-07:00

This will be a rushed post because I need to get to bed ASAP.

I'm in Okinawa with R, in my own little room, in my in-laws' house. Typical situation with being in a brand-new place: I don't know where any of the light switches are, my clothes are exploding out of my suitcase because I'm not sure where to unpack them, I can't find a single stupid pair of clean underwear, and I'm not sure what R and I are going to do for breakfast tomorrow, since I'm pretty sure we'll be the first ones up but I don't feel comfortable digging around in someone else's kitchen.

The good news is--ta-dah--I managed to set up the wi-fi thingy and so we have Internet connection. The bad news is the rental baby crib we ordered never came, and so R, who has never successfully slept anywhere without a crib, is going to have to sleep on a futon tonight, in an unfamiliar place, with a bronze bust of some man I don't recognize looming above her (there wasn't anywhere else to put her futon and I'm not going to offend anyone by trying to move that admittedly heavy head). She's out cold right now because she got up early this morning, didn't nap on the plane, and ran around this evening like a crazy person with her three-year-old cousin. Whenever she crashes from exhaustion like this, though, she *always* wakes up a couple of hours later, tired and furious but wide awake. This is why I've got to get to bed soon, since there's no telling how much sleep total I'm going to get tonight. Unfortunately, this old house is so dusty--I thought I'd be escaping my seasonal allergies by heading south, but am currently so congested, I feel like my head's about to implode. The summary: not much sleep tonight.

a day for flowers

2011-04-07T04:11:00.001-07:00

2011-04-06T22:51:00.000-07:00

I realize my last few posts have been whiny and annoying, and now feel the need to add something redeeming, if I can. I realize how lucky I am to be able to go to Okinawa--to get away for a while, like a vacation, really. I just dislike the uncertainty of the situation. When will it ever be truly "safe"--how do you define that term?--to return to Tokyo? It's not like we even have to go, in the first place...is it? Is A going to be okay here if something sudden and drastic occurs (sorry, my mom's still sending me daily news predictions of epic disasters to come)? What if something happens to A, while I'm over there gorging on sun, Spam (the porcine type), and goya? It feels so wrong to split our family apart, like this--that's all. I wish, when A had first sprung the idea on me to leave Tokyo with R, that I had stood firm and told him we'd stick this out together, no matter what. Maybe he even hoped I'd say that.

Did this post ended up whiny and annoying as well? Crap.

warm spring evening

2011-04-06T21:52:00.001-07:00

The weather has been near-perfect, the sun has been sticking around longer in the late afternoons, the cherry blossoms are reaching peak gorgeousness, my seasonal allergies seem to be weakening, and yet R and I are all set to leave Tokyo this Saturday. I've been scrambling to find a way out of this fix, trying to think of excuses to delay our departure, but somewhere along the way, the ball got rolling, the air tickets got bought, the number of in-laws joining us in Okinawa increased, and the bulk of our belongings have been shipped over. Uhhhhh.

It's rather amusing how the females in my husband's family seem to be on the verge of a mass exodus to Naha, where the maternal side of the family is originally from. Here's who's going, along with R and I: my mother-in-law, my pregnant sister-in-law, my grandmother-in-law who broke her arm yesterday, my cat-in-law, my dog who loathes the cat, and my husband's cousin's wife and daughter. The latter two intend to remain in Okinawa for four years, while the rest of us have vague plans to hang out at least a few weeks, for now. Obachan (grandma) has an old house there and that's where we'll all be bunking. Cozy.

My two biggest concerns are whether I'm going to have to permanently wear a bra my entire stay in that house and if R's going to find out that people eat pancakes with syrup. Oh yeah, then there's the concern that R's crying from being forced to sleep in an unfamiliar place may prevent all seven of our fellow housemates from slumbering peacefully. Groan.

bittersweet

2011-03-29T21:38:00.000-07:00

I've always been a terrible photographer: That's my apology for these series of photos, in which I tried, and failed, to get just one closeup shot of the cherry blossom buds about to bloom at any moment. Usually, this is the sight that fills the Japanese with anticipation and seems to accompany a sigh of warmth that spreads through the country. In Japan, the cherry blossom trees are literally everywhere and always seem to bloom together in one quick but extravagant burst of frothy, billowing petals.

I wonder, though, if this year, the sakura season that is almost upon us will pass with only muted and guilty appreciation. How can those of us lucky enough to do so enjoy the traditional picnics under the trees, when hundreds of thousands are still in mourning for loved ones, homes, and towns whose cherry blossom trees will never bloom again?

2011-03-28T21:41:00.000-07:00

Dear R,

I'm a little worried about you--is that an embarrassingly gratuitous statement for a mother to make about her child? Although I've been told that a toddler's personality can drastically change as they gain independence and that the worst thing you can do is trap your kid with labels, I secretly cannot help thinking them in my head when you react to things in your distinct and, so far, consistent way: shy (the worst label offender), timid, cautious, sensitive, easily frightened, insecure, unadventurous, and slothlike (confession: I wanted to type "lazy"). I know, so many negatives.

It's just that while I try my best to be sympathetic, it is hard to soothe a frantic child because she is freaking out about a piece of string. Yes, you do this. I don't know, maybe string looks like the antenna of a bug or something? You hate bugs; but then, so do I. You still dislike walking and we have been having some major battles about your refusal to go up and down the stairs in our apartment, despite being perfectly able to do so. "Mama, hug," you say, which means: "Carry me"--even when I've got four bags of groceries hanging from each arm, even if I just want to run down quickly to grab something, but you refuse to wait upstairs alone for even 30 seconds.

I've been frustrated and short-tempered with you lately, R. I'm so sorry about that. I want to blame it on a combination of stress over radiation contamination and the stinkin' Claritin-D, which a quick Google reveals can affect your moods (I took one yesterday, too close to bedtime, and spent the entire night jerking awake, convinced we were having another earthquake). Maybe, too, it's the lack of sleep, since you've been waking like clockwork at 5:45am, ever since we got back from our three-week trip almost three weeks ago, so get back to normal already, please. But I also need to work on my patience, my sympathy, my tolerance for things I don't understand about you (e.g., Why is no one allowed to sleep in your presence? And do you have to attempt to gauge out the offender's eyeballs?). I just want you to know though that some day, if you ever want to get a tattoo, I won't freak out on you (well, as long as the design doesn't include a prancing unicorn or stretch across your face); your dad will, but we'll deal with that when we get to it.

One funny development: You are very into washing dishes right now. Of course you're providing zero actual help, and in fact are doubling the amount of time I have to stand at the kitchen sink. But the seriousness with which you attend to the task is cute. And to be honest, I'd just as soon wash dishes with you as play with some other game that would likely create a mess, a mess that I'd either have to clean up myself or talk myself blue in the face trying to convince you to help put away.

Your latest obsession is goggles. You first learned of their existence when you saw your grandpa wearing a pair while swimming. Next you saw a bunch of kids wearing them in a clothing catalog. You are adamant that you need green ones and even came up with the idea that washing your hair without tears and screaming might actually become a possibility, if only you had some goggles. I'm just not sure where to find a pair that might fit your tiny face.

Lately, you proved that you do have your usefulness. I was sitting on the toilet and realized there wasn't any more toilet paper. I asked, and you actually went and got me some. Awesome.

You're also very good--shall I go so far as to say naggy?--about reminding me not to forget things before going out: my keys, my cell phone, money (to buy you snacks--your words), the bicycle lock.

But I worry about you. Mostly, I hope you'll be okay about getting on an airplane again and moving into your great-grandma's old house in Okinawa. It'll be a totally new place; you still don't like new. You'll be living with people you haven't lived with before and you won't see dad for a while.

It'll be an adjustment for me, too. No more running around the house without my bra on--damn it. No more casual meals slapped together for just the two of us. No more crazy dancing around the living room. No more loud and impromptu singing sessions. Possibly no more Internet--it's an old, uninhabited house.

Oh well, at least we'll be together.

I always wanted to live...

2011-03-25T05:21:00.001-07:00

...above a bakery or cafe. I liked the thought of being able to just pop downstairs for freshly baked bread or a good cup of coffee, first thing in the morning. Well, people, my dream is very close to being realized since...da da da da: Domino's Pizza has moved into the empty space on the first floor of our apartment. Well, whatever, it's food and it's just a short elevator ride away.

Yesterday, I actually received a visit from the store manager--a fresh-faced boy who introduced himself, winced and apologized profusely for the noisy construction that had been going on until now, reverently offered me a coupon for a free pizza as well as a prettily wrapped box of Japanese snacks, and then bowed so low I felt tears prick my eyes (who am I but a lowly foreigner, after all) and remained bent over until I closed the door. Only in Japan.

2011-03-23T06:47:00.000-07:00

I can't help it. Every time I look at water now, I wonder. Every time I wash my hands and dry it on that same hand towel, is the radiation building up on its surface? My eyes were itching badly from pollen allergies just now and I splashed water over them to cool the burning--have I introduced radiation into my system that way? What about washing R's toothbrush with tap water? What about bathing? What about laundry?

I heard it was yesterday's rain that caused the contamination. It's raining again tonight--was snowing earlier. My rosemary plant is outside on the balcony.

which way to go

2011-03-23T04:07:00.001-07:00

I don't know if it's really apparent from my posts, but my emotions have been yo-yoing like crazy, the past week. In my last post, I was feeling calmer, more resolved to stay in Tokyo. Then today, the latest news: radioactive iodine-131 levels detected in Tokyo tap water had risen to 210 becquerels per liter of water. The news was telling us to avoid giving tap water to babies one year old and younger, and also for pregnant and breastfeeding women to be cautious. To quote the linked article above, "For all people over the age of 1, 300 becquerels per liter of water is the standard regulated level, but pregnant and breast-feeding women may want to tighten the standard to 100 becquerels per liter." R is two; she won't be getting tap water any longer.

But A and I agree that maybe it is time for me to consider taking R out of Tokyo--without A. The biggest problem right now is that bottled water was already hard to find before today's latest announcement. Stores have been limiting customers to one bottle per person. I have a feeling that by tomorrow, bottled water will be constantly sold out. And if I am to use bottled water to cook R's food as well, we'll need a lot more than what we have and what's available.

I can't convey how torn I am, how distressed. This contaminated water could be a long-term problem. If R and I leave Japan, we may not see A for months.

But it seems the decision to leave has already been made. It's only a matter of time before we run out of bottled water. The question now is where to go. There are two options: back to Singapore, to stay with my parents, or Okinawa with my in-laws. Can I be totally honest and admit that the prospect of living for months with either my parents or in-laws makes me queasy? My parents are, hands down, more annoying--but at least I can yell at them and tell them I think so. The in-laws are wonderful people, but when I'm with them, there is a certain level of civility and restraint that must be maintained, and the thought of not being able to totally relax ever is distressing. The main reason I'm leaning toward Okinawa, though, is because it's only a two-hour flight from Tokyo and at least A could come visit us once in a while. On the other hand, R is already familiar with my parents' home, since we were just there for almost a month--they have a crib for her, toys, books, a car seat; their apartment complex also has a pool, which R adores. My in-laws' home in Naha is admittedly super-old, completely unfamiliar to R, pretty far from any public transportation.

I just don't know.

lost and found

2011-03-18T05:05:00.000-07:00

Four more people I know have left or are planning to leave Japan. Yesterday, I bumped into a neighbor who was on her way to the train station and headed for Osaka. I can't deny the jolt I feel when someone sends me a "By the way, I'm in Canada" email.

But for now, I'm staying (I think someone actually started a Facebook group with a name like that. Seriously!). The reasons, listed in order of importance: I can't leave my Japanese husband behind, I don't want to disrupt R's life when she's so obviously happy to be home again, we *just* got back from being overseas and I'm not eager to board a plane any time soon, and I still don't think we are close enough (240km, to be precise) to the Fukushima nuclear plant be at risk of exposure to dangerous radiation levels.

I do not judge the people who are leaving. If you have the luxury of somewhere to escape to, if you have people you want to protect, if you're starting to go bald from the stress of waiting for something to happen, GO. But I think those of us foreigners who are choosing to stay have ties to this country--or at least spouses who aren't budging. Not only is my husband here, so are R's grandparents and great-grandparents, so is my sister-in-law who is four months pregnant. Heck, my dog is here--am I supposed to put him on a raft with food and water and wish him luck?

Somehow, without me realizing it, Japan has become more of a home to me than anywhere else. Maybe that's not saying much, considering I've never felt strongly about the places I've lived. But this realization is a surprise to me and, despite the circumstances, makes me glad. Now let's just hope the big fat heading on tomorrow's newspaper isn't: Get the Hell Out.

latest stats on post-quake japan

2011-03-18T04:49:00.000-07:00

Taken from recent Reuters article:

Supplies of water, heating oil and fuel are low at evacuation centers, where many survivors wait bundled in blankets. Many elderly lack proper medical supplies. Food is often rationed. [I saw on the news what the people at one evacuation center received for lunch: a ball of rice the size of a plum and a quarter of an apple.]
Nearly 320,000 households in the north were still without electricity in near-freezing weather as of Friday afternoon, Tohuku Electric Power Co said, and the government said at least 1.6 million households lacked running water.
The National Police Agency said on Friday it had confirmed 6,539 deaths from the quake and tsunami disaster, exceeding 6,434 who died after the Kobe earthquake in 1995. But 10,354 people are still missing.

naked shaking

2011-03-18T03:30:00.000-07:00

You know that thing people always say about not wanting to be caught without undies in the event of an emergency? Well, guess which idiot decided to take a long bath when earthquakes are on everyone's mind and aftershocks are still occurring daily?

I had good intentions. The living room was so cold yesterday because I've been trying my best to conserve energy, by not using the heater. Edward the Dog and I looked at each other, both of us shivering and miserable, and I decided that at least one of us should be given a short reprieve. So I ran myself a bath, got out an old paperback novel, and settled in for a nice soak. Unfortunately, just as the water was approaching that uncomfortably lukewarm point, another quake started.

I'm ashamed to admit that for longer than a moment, I hesitated. Book held aloft, I assessed the shaking--or, rather, the sloshing water--and decided that (a) it was just another mini aftershock and (b) it would be *really* cold getting out of the water. That's really wrong, isn't it? I should have leaped out and at least put some clothes on. I'm worried that I'm getting complacent.

what's left behind

2011-03-16T06:45:00.000-07:00

Almost all the foreigners I know have fled Tokyo or even Japan--probably at the urging of concerned loved ones glued to their tellies. My mom tells me on a daily basis that she fears the situation in Japan is getting worse and sends me frequent little emails of impending doom predicted by CNN. And yet, today I woke up feeling a lot calmer [damn, I think I spoke too soon: we're having another quake...ohhh-kaaay, not as bad as yesterday night].

Yes, the mini quakes that occur daily keep us a little on the edge of our seats. Yes, I'm terrified at the thought that I'll be upstairs and R downstairs if another big earthquake strikes. Yes, we are now having to deal with four overheating nuclear reactors and I can't help thinking "Is that it?" when the big solution seems to be: So we're going to drizzle seawater over 'em.

But I've heard that meat and rice are reappearing on the supermarket shelves. Now I just have to keep my fingers crossed about diapers--Amazon Japan and Babies R Us Japan were sold out the last time I checked--though I have enough for now to last me over a week.

And I just learned that they have started testing the radiation levels in Tokyo on an hourly basis and are even publishing the results online. In this regard, the government is trying to keep on top of the situation and I feel more assured than I did yesterday.

2011-03-16T06:04:00.000-07:00

Finally got to watch some news with simultaneous English interpretation on TV and feel so ashamed of my self-absorption with the threat of radiation from the Fukushima nuclear plant. Although it seems that's the topic on almost everyone's mind, rather than the thousands of people who are currently stranded without water or heat.

It is bitterly cold tonight. Even R didn't want to go outside this afternoon, for which I was supremely grateful. But the conditions over here are nothing compared to what many people farther up north are enduring. The news reveals that those towns destroyed by earthquake and tsunami are now turning white with heavy snowfall. And many of the people over there are without adequate clothes, blankets, heat, food, you name it.

Even worse, there are people around the 30km radius from the nuclear plant who have been all but stranded and deserted. There is no gas to travel out. And truck drivers are too afraid to venture that close to the plant to bring basic supplies, even though that distance is in fact still safe.

The multiple issues over at the nuclear plant are serious, no doubt. But I fear that a lot of people are suffering because the media is focusing so much on the dramatic radiation threat and building up our anxieties to the point that we have forgotten there are people facing far more immediate, critical, and real problems.

2011-03-15T06:42:00.000-07:00

Yikes, we just had another quake. Not big (3 where I am, but 6 in another region), but longer than the average mini quakes we regularly get in Japan. They've been happening pretty frequently since the big one on Friday. Deep breath,

2011-03-14T23:07:00.000-07:00

I can't shake this constant feeling of dread and anxiety and I don't know if it's because there's a damn nuclear reactor leaking radiation a bit too close to home or because that's how I tend to feel when I'm taking Clarinase. Yeah, that's right, seasonal allergies don't get put on hold just because there are more pressing issues at hand. Apologies in advance if any of my comments seem to have come from a fuzzy brain--they have.

I keep encountering conflicting scenes that are keeping me in a state of unbalance. Yesterday, I was completely taken off guard when a visit to the nearby supermarket revealed a scene of restrained chaos. The first shock was that the shelves that normally hold diapers and toilet paper were completely emptied. And no one knew when new stock would arrive. And I only had two rolls of toilet paper left in the house. As my footsteps unconsciously sped up, I spotted more and more gaping sections of shelves where meat, rice, and bread used to be. It was hard not to panic, not to start snatching up whatever was left, not to take things I ordinarily wouldn't reach for.

Suddenly, I spotted a woman holding the Holy Grail: toilet paper! Trying not to jump on her like a rabid animal, I asked her where she had found hers and quickly followed her directions to a nearby store. I guess I wasn't totally taken aback when I saw the long line of people snaking out the door. The store worker unpacking the toilet paper told us very sweetly to each take just one pack. Despite the feeling of desperation in the air, I noticed everyone around me remained kind and helpful with each other. No rioting for the Japanese, thank god.

While we waited to pay for the precious toilet paper clutched in my arms, R glanced back and forth at all the people ahead of and behind us, and asked in amusement what everyone was doing. Thank god she managed to be distracted by a banana, since our shopping trip had taken twice as long as planned. As we emerged from one supermarket, I noticed the checkout lines had tripled in length.

Later in the afternoon, though, a stroll through a nearby park revealed couples cuddling on benches, people walking their dogs, old men drinking beer and fishing. Today, we saw a man washing his car, two ladies buying flowers, a mother pushing her son on a swing, people tending their gardens: the mundane and the frivolous, everyday life. When all the images being repeatedly displayed on the news show entire towns swallowed up by water, fires at nuclear plants, people lost and crying, it feels wrong to want to buy vanilla essence because you're running out. I look at the man sitting in the real estate office, the construction workers continuing to build that new house across from us, all those thousands of people cramming the train stations to capacity, lining up for miles and waiting for hours to get on a train to get to work: I marvel at their determination and optimism. It's tempting to want to huddle at home and listen to the dire news on the TV and radio all day long, but I think a lot of people around me are doing their best to get on with life. Having a toddler around has forced me to do the same: There are meals to cook, dirty fingers to wash, sand to shovel, naps to enforce. No time to just sit around and brood, though that doesn't mean my mind isn't racing when it's given the chance.

Returning

2011-03-13T22:42:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry that it took a major disaster to get me blogging again, but here I am, mostly for my own sake, to get all my fears off my chest, to calm the panic, to share what's going on here in Tokyo.

The funny thing is that A, R, and I were all out of the country when the earthquake struck. A was in the US on a business trip. R and I were overseas, visiting my parents. Unfortunately, we were all scheduled to fly back the following day. A part of me hoped Narita Airport would stay closed, forcing all of us to stay away. It didn't. So here we are, back in Japan, four days later.

We actually arrived Saturday afternoon, our two flights close enough in time for A and I to meet at Narita and attempt to return to our apartment together. As soon as I called A from my cell phone after getting off the plane, and he explained the transportation situation, that's when the doubts started coming. The trains--really, the only decent way to get to and from the airport--had all stopped after the quake and many of them were still not running. Schedules were completely thrown to the wind. The only ones functioning were the local trains, which would stop at every single station. It could take hours--hours of standing, changing trains, waiting for new ones--to get home. And we happened to have a two year old with us, one who hadn't slept a wink on the plane and was already letting me know matter-of-factly that she was well and done with all this traveling business. I've bitched and moaned about it countless times, but never had the distance from Narita to Tokyo seemed so far as it did that night.

It was getting late, R was getting ornerier, and we finally got off the train, caught a taxi to Makuhari--a neighborhood near Disneyland--and checked into a hotel. It turned out to be an interesting stay. Makuhari is one of the newer residential areas, built on a landfill--not the most stable place to be during an earthquake. Although the proof of that wasn't clear until we woke up the next morning and took a walk down the street. Many of the sidewalks had actually buckled and cracked, and huge pools of mud had seeped through the cracks to cover entire sections of walkways and roads. And we were in Tokyo, which had supposedly been spared the full force of the quake.

I also saw, in a nearby neighborhood, people lining up for water.

Luckily, the trains we needed to get home were up and running, and we made it in about two hours. Even luckier, our apartment survived the 5.0 earthquake with only a single casualty: an overturned potted plant.

Unfortunately, the situation at the nuclear plant as well as the threat of additional earthquakes still hang over our heads, making the overall atmosphere tense. Well, I for one am feeling tense. And as selfish as this sounds, a part of me regrets returning to Japan. Yes, my husband is here, my home is here, but all I can think about right now is R. All my protective mom instincts are telling me that I should never have brought her back here. She's only two and doesn't have a clue what's happening, what could still happen. If it were just me, I would have come back to Japan and A without hesitation. But now I'm scared. I wonder, if there's another big earthquake, if everything comes crashing down and the streets are impassable, how am I going to get her to safety? How am I going to keep her safe and warm and clean and dry and not hurt, not hungry, not thirsty, not terrified?

The people in Sendai and the surrounding areas are the ones suffering right now and in desperate need of aid. I know I should be getting my act together and doing all I can to help. I know that.

Bloo Kangaroo Doll Carrier

2010-12-27T05:09:00.000-08:00

I still have a love-hate relationship with my Babyhawk Oh Snap carrier, and am dying to try a Kanga-XT--although the price makes me cringe every time I see it. But I use the Oh Snap every day, and would have lost the use of both arms and maybe severed my backbone by now if not for it. DD definitely recognizes it as an essential part of baby care and has been wanting to wear her own stuffed animals on her back. My scarf does the trick, but these doll carriers by Bloo Kangaroo are totally adorable.

2010-12-27T03:55:00.000-08:00

Dear R,

I haven't written one of these in a while, so I thought it was time, especially since you turned two pretty recently.

Slowly, slowly, you are losing your fear of people. You're still not big on walking by yourself when we're out of the house, but you seem to realize that all the neighborhood elderly people cooing at you are actually pretty nice, and will give me a grin and murmur a belated "bye" after the person has walked away.

Compared to other toddlers your age, you're a little slow in the vocab department. But I'm not worried, since you seem to understand every word I say, these days. And you want to know the names for everything: you'll point and ask, "Kore, kore?", which means "this, this" in Japanese. You may not know all your alphabet or colors yet, but you can correctly identify at least six different kinds of dogs (poodles, dachshunds, chihuahuas, shiba dogs, bulldogs, and corgis) and I bet you'd be able to name more, except that some dog names are rather long (king charles cavalier spaniel--whatever).

You definitely know when we're talking about you or, worse, laughing at something awkward that you've done, and you do not like it; I do remember my own parents doing this when I was a kid, and how that made me feel, so I've been trying hard not to even crack a smile if it's ever at your expense--like the other night when you were fidgeting and moving about on your seat while eating dinner and you somehow slipped off the cushion, and the entire bowl of spaghetti flipped over onto your startled face. I'm sorry, baby, but inside I was cracking up.

You like to call yourself "Baby Boo"; so do I. You do not like to be called a "good girl," but I can call you a "good bunny rabbit."

You still LOVE eating, which I'm always amazed and grateful for. Although to be honest, I don't think at this age that toddlers really need that much food. I mean, considering how much you consume and how little you move, you should be an extremely obese insomniac. But you're still pretty little--though my back doesn't think so, and wow am I creaking about like an arthritic old lady these days--and you sleep a decent amount. Your favorite foods are beef, octopus, and clams. Though on Christmas, you had your first taste of chocolate--pieces of candied orange peel dipped in dark chocolate--and I'm pretty sure it was a hit, considering the desperate edge in your voice as you kept asking for more.

You thought Christmas was your birthday, part two. This would be a fairly logical conclusion. I mean, grandma, grandpa, and great-grandma came over, there was a fancy dinner (you were pretty excited at the sight of the whole roasted chicken and kept circling around it and wanting to touch it), you got presents, you were once again the focus of everyone's attention. What else would all that fuss be about?

You can now ride your tricycle and put on your socks by yourself. Not at the same time.

And this morning, for the very first time, you PLAYED INDEPENDENTLY. I couldn't believe it. I ran downstairs to grab something, expecting the automatic and unceasing hollering of "mama, mama"...but, nothing. I rushed back up, imagining I'd find you dead on the floor or about to do something particularly forbidden--like dangling Edward the Dog out the living room window--and instead, when I peeked around the corner, you were sitting quietly and calmly, trying to nurse your toy rabbit while stacking blocks at the same time. Multitasking AND independent play. My heart could have burst with pride. I couldn't help noticing how tenderly you cuddled Mr. Bunny in the crook of your arm and gently stroked his back, every so often. Now if only you could be that nice to our dog. You even proudly admitted at lunch today that "Wuta kick Eddie." You felt the need to confess this repeatedly.

But you're really a good girl, R. No, sorry, I meant a good bunny rabbit.

2010-12-24T07:01:00.000-08:00

It is exactly 12 am, Christmas Day, in Tokyo...and I'm blogging. I really should be in bed, since R has been doing that annoying waking up earlier and earlier thing that she does every few months, just to keep me jumping. Can't sleep, though, because I'm waiting for a load of laundry to get done. Glamorous, huh. Where is my life? Well, my husband is working, of course. My daughter is sleeping, thank god, because yesterday around this time, she woke up screaming in a way that sent chills down my spine, and when I got to her and finally managed to calm her down, she declared that she was hungry. My parents are in England with my brothers and their families, and we had a Skype session with them earlier this evening, during which R got to meet her cousin M, whose the same age but unfortunately halfway round the world. M was adorable, baby Brit accent and all; my brother was pale and dazed, from the flu--so he claims--but then again he's also had my parents as house guests for the past week; my mom was annoying, as always, and spent most of the conversation comparing R with M (who I have to openly state could possibly be an alien child because she wakes up every morning at 9am--what the hell kind of two-year-old DOES that?), find R lacking due to my substandard parenting abilities, and even managed to throw in my face yet one more time how woefully lacking R's life is (compared to M's) because I don't let her watch television. Apprently, there is something called Pepper Pig that is all the rage amongst UK toddlers and M benefits greatly from an hour viewing of the pig's program every day ("He teaches manners," mom says.)

What have I been doing all day? When not entertaining the toddler, I've been prepping in the kitchen like a crazy woman because it stupidly occurred to me only a few days before that I should probably invite my in-laws over for Christmas dinner, so we can all spend some time together as a family and because I've been mooching meals off of them for months now and it's getting a little embarrassing. It's been a bit of a challenge: last-minute feast-making made from the limited food stuff available in my neighborhood supermarket. We're not exactly living in central Tokyo. It's a pretty small, old area. Hell, my mom calls it a "village," as if we should all be walking around in ski boots or toting hunting spears.

So tomorrow, there's going to be a big-ass chicken roasting in my teeny tiny Japanese oven--dear god, please let the chicken come out alright, preferably cooked on the inside. At least my in-laws should be duly impressed by the mere fact that I'm serving them a whole chicken. It's funny how I used to think of roast chicken as a comforting, easy weekday dinner. But when we were living in the US and I made it for A--who is Japanese, I don't know if I ever mentioned this?--he'd always glance nervously around, as if expecting hidden guests to leap out at any moment and yell "Congratulations on your newly wedded status!" or something equally momentous. So, it's a big deal in Japan. Heck, I was surprised to find whole chickens at the supermarket, since you won't even see bone-in meat on the shelves, on a regular day. I live in a "village," people, get used to it.

I really wanted to bake something warm and spicy for dessert, but I don't want to spend the entire day in the kitchen and I don't know if my oven could handle that big a work-load. It's about the size of a toaster oven, after all, and is used primarily as a microwave.

But aside from the fact that an hour ago, I dropped an entire bowl of shredded cheese on the kitchen floor--total bitch to clean up--and Edward the Dog rushed in to help clean up, except that he mostly just stepped all over the cheese, smearing it everywhere, and making the floor extra sticky with all his licky saliva, so then I had to wash his feet and then wash the floor...uh, where was I going with this sentence? Crap, now I have to go hang up the laundry, and it took me way too long to write this post, and I NEED to be in bed.

Good night and happy holidays, everyone!

wooden toy cake

2010-12-09T22:18:00.000-08:00

Just got my Goods Land catalog in the mail yesterday and saw what would have been the perfect Christmas present for R...except that this toy features cake toppings with magnets in them. While R isn't the type to put non-food things in her mouth, she does love her berries, so I'm going to be my non-self for once--i.e., prudent--and hold off on this one. Ever since R's birthday passed and she had cake not once but twice, every cake she sees is labeled "Happy Wuta Tu Tu" cake and is examined closely and with much enthusiasm. She's also big on pretend and feeding people right now, so I know she would have had a great time with this toy. It even comes with two different magnetic icing choices--chocolate (shown in picture above) and strawberry--so it's a very customizable cake. And at only ￥3,150, the only thing I'm worried about is why it's so cheap and how much lead is hidden in this thing.

if I had all the money in the world...

2010-12-08T22:50:00.000-08:00

...I'd buy a lot of baby and kid clothes.
Seriously, there is nothing that makes me want to spend money like the stuff targeted at rich parents. Take the brand Oeuf (see the knit berets above; come on, are they not so crazy-cute you want to start typing in all-caps?)--I think I first heard about it when pregnant and searching exhaustively for a crib for R (we finally settled on the IKEA Gulliver Crib and it was totally great and totally one-tenth the price of the Oeuf crib). Then I fell in love with the Oeuf Coverall Hats that were made of this chunky, bright-colored alpaca yarn. They've since been redesigned, for some reason, but are still pretty sweet, in a more understated way. And about once a year, I remember my love of Oeuf's knit dresses and will visit the site, squint at the reduced-price sale items, and then move on.
Not surprisingly, Japan--the Land of Kawaii, itself--has incredibly tempting kids clothing, if you have cash to burn. But who does anymore? No, I take that back: There is this lovely, expensive children's clothing store in Tokyo and their online stuff is constantly sold out. Will try to blog about that shop and more stuff like it in the future. Because I don't know why but my blog never really feels like it's written by someone living in Japan, does it.

R's music recs

2010-12-08T22:29:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned, R has very specific music needs. She requests songs by name--well, the names she gives them--and she can listen to a song she likes, literally, fifty times. Of course I'm not counting, but if you have a three-minute song on replay for two hours...okay, so math isn't my strong suit, but let's not get into that.

So here are R's favorite songs at the moment:

Aiuta, by GreeeeN

Jump in the Line, by Harry Belafonte

Sleigh Ride, by Harry Connick Jr. (definitely NOT the Andy Williams version--duh, mom)

Shabondama Tonda, not sure who's singing this one (it's a Japanese children's song about bubbles floating up and away, but according to my husband was written by a guy who's little baby had died)

I'm not sure what R's been singing lately. I don't recognize the tune. Apparently, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is so last-month.

lately

2010-12-08T21:44:00.000-08:00

This is R's new thing: tea. Has to be chamomile and in the drinking vessel of her choice. I wonder if other toddlers her age are this exacting. If I sing a song that does not agree with her mood, I am promptly silenced. There are certain clothes I wear that she also disapproves of. When we go for a walk, she gives extremely specific directions about which way we should go. Right now, the fabulous red goose-down jacket that grandma and grandpa bought her has fallen out of favor and if she must wear a coat, then it has to be the shoddy black hand-me-down that's so big, she keeps tripping over her own feet cause she can't see them.

This week, though, we had an exciting development: R actually PLAYED at the playground. I mean, she ran around, climbed the various structures, slid down slides, and all that other good stuff. Only thing was that it was pitch-black and we were the only ones out in the freezing cold, scampering about like crazy people.

When I was a kid, I remember reading about a little girl who was allergic to sunlight and her mom had to take her to the playground at night. I thought that was about the saddest thing I'd ever read. Now here I am, twenty years later, living the sad life. But no, it really was not that bad. There is something fun about being out after dark--take Halloween and trick or treating. Sure, winter isn't the best season for it. But having the whole playground to ourselves, R really relaxed and had a ball, screeching in delight, drawing pictures with her hands in the gravelly ground, spinning round and round while looking up at the stars. I have never seen her so at ease outside of the house.

And the great thing about living in Tokyo is that I don't feel nervous going out with R at night and playing with her in a deserted park. It's a densely populated city where most of the residents commute by public transportation, and I'd say the average worker leaves the office at 8 pm, so there are always people on the streets long after darkness falls.

Unfortunately, R seems to think "people" are bad. When we're out walking, she'll say "people" right as she turns to me, arms up, waiting to be whisked out of the slimy reach of...people. And as I just wrote, in Tokyo, there are always people. Lots of people. Hopefully, a good daily dose of this will eventually cure R of her fears.

2010-12-01T21:22:00.000-08:00

As a parent, you are allowed to have an okay day with your child, even a good one. But don't ever have a great day, and never think to yourself "Hey, I can do this"--or you will pay for it. I'm not talking crazy, here.

I foolishly blogged about what a great day R and I had on Monday. Foolish! Despite a happy dinner Monday night to the accompaniment of Sleigh Ride, on constant reply per R's request and which she adorably scrunched up her shoulders in pleasure at hearing for the first time, it's been steadily downhill from there. Also, A will be away this weekend to attend a friend's wedding somewhere outside Tokyo, so I have no weekend to hang in there for.

Teething again, but this time, it was reach-for-the-Motrin-but-yes-I-do-know-about-the-latest-recall-thanks bad. Today, R was so hysterical and clingy that I was sure I heard a shhhhtuck! noise every time I tried to separate her little body from mine.

I do feel that I am being punished, somehow, for having the audacity to not be a maternal woman. I don't have any natural desire to coddle, fawn over, or care for needy creatures. I in fact do not like needy people. Or animals. Which is why it's funny that I ended up with not one but two (or three, if you count my husband) extremely needy people in my home: R and Edward. Edward being the dog. If you are scoffing at that, you've never raised a puppy with severe separation anxiety. Edward came to us at the tender age of two months, and the first month, he wouldn't eat unless I sat on the floor, right next to him. The first three months, he lived in my lap. The first six months, I couldn't take a shower without hearing him screaming and clawing at the shower door the entire time. The first three years (or maybe more?), we couldn't leave him home alone uncrated unless we wanted to return to a thoroughly trashed apartment.

Now R. Sigh. She is such a great little kid. But her fear of everyone who isn't me, her inability to play for even five minutes by herself, her demand that I be her constant entertainment--today, I seriously thought about connecting my head with the Le Creuset casserole pot in order to get some alone-time.

Then just now, while I was rushing around trying to get dinner prepped, I felt eyes boring into the back of my head, turned, and found Edward standing at the entrance to the kitchen looking at me. You have to have a dachshund of your own to understand, but they don't stare at you like normal dogs do. They have a look. It's sort of mournful and condemning, and it makes you worry. I just checked and he's still looking at me. Maybe he needs to poo again.

2010-11-28T22:35:00.000-08:00

I know, the following photo (taken with cell phone) quality is awful. It hurts my eyes to look at it up close.

But if you back up, what you'll see is one of those beautiful ginkgo trees I keep mentioning. The photo color is true: the foliage really is that yellow. And if you look carefully, maybe you'll spot R somewhere in the picture.

I had to post this image though because this morning, R and I had the most perfect fall-day walk...with no photos to show for it. We had only two mini meltdowns the entire time out. The weather was almost warm and R walked more than she ever has, too busy wading through the crispy carpet of fallen leaves to ask to be held much. The Japanese maples are starting to get gorgeous. Each tree's changing foliage seems to have a different tint--some are pale gold, others coral pink, and then there are the ones with the standard gradation from green to fiery red to a deep maroon. And R was thrilled with it all--the colors, textures, and sounds. She clutched a huge leaf in her left hand the whole time she was exploring, and would say "rain" whenever a gust of wind had leaves showering down all around us.

This was one of those days I kept wishing I had brought a camera. But for someone who was once a light traveler, I already find there is so much crap to bring along when going out with a toddler (but leave one item out and I guarantee you it will be the one item you need desperately when you are far from home and will somehow result in you having a crying toddler on your hands, no matter what that item is--trust me on this one). So I am loathe to add to the number of things dangling from my arms and shoulders, not to mention that having a camera would mean I'd spend the majority of the walk trying to keep R away from it.

Oh well, this is one of those days I'll just have to do my best to store in my head.

christmas is coming

2010-11-26T06:17:00.000-08:00

How do you know winter is almost upon you in Japan? Wham!'s Last Christmas playing in every store, of course. And a big bowl of mandarin oranges on the coffee table.

Except for maybe a two-month queasy and uncertain period when I first arrived in Japan--and mostly the feelings were borne of the realization that my husband would be working 17-hour days for the rest of his apparently short life (you don't work that hard, drink and smoke that much, and sleep that little, and then live to a ripe old age, I fear)--I didn't suffer too much from culture shock. I'm fine with the food, the people, the way of life. Sure, I wish I had a washing machine with a hot-wash option. Yeah, it is freakin' cold inside Japanese homes in the winter (oh, I'm sorry, have I already gone on and on about that?). And yes, secretly I wish my father-in-law would stop serving us summer ayu (fish) because the internal organs are just plain bitter, no matter which way you look at it, and after painstakingly separating the flesh from all those bones with your chopsticks, it just ain't a very filling meal--ayu are itty-bitty things.

But one thing I really enjoy is the enthusiasm for seasonal food (exempting summer ayu) in the Japanese culture. I may dread the encroaching cold, but I get excited at the beginning of fall because I know my in-laws will soon invite us over for their annual matsutake dinner. At the nearby park, lately, you can always find people beneath the huge, brilliant-gold ginkgo trees, gathering up large bags of the smelly fallen fruit, which I've been told have to go through a thoroughly tedious process before one can enjoy the ginkgo nut within. When the nuts are ready to be eaten, they'll be roasted and served unadorned or maybe added to chawan-mushi--a delicate egg custard steamed in a cup with bits of chicken and other good things. The other day, I saw the first packs of overpriced strawberries at a fruit store. Just a bit longer and R can finally have a taste of something she's been asking for for over half a year.

I grew up in Canada, and my family, at any rate, ate whatever we wanted when we wanted it. In Japan, R can point at pictures of strawberries until the cows come home and she's not going to get any until maybe December. Each season, you get a limited choice of fresh fruit and vegetables in your supermarket, and you do get sick of eating the same thing after a while, but everything usually tastes really good and the anticipation makes that first taste particularly exquisite. It's also nice to always have something to look forward to. Right now, I'm loving the huge bags of mandarin oranges available that are not only cheap but thin-skinned, juicy, and sweetly fragrant. For as long as the stores will have them, I'll keep my big green bowl in the living room mounded with mandarins and R can eat her fill. She still loves citrus fruit and can be distracted, while I prepare dinner, with a wedge of lemon, yuzu, or sudachi.

2010-11-25T22:43:00.000-08:00

My mom...I think I need a new blog rant category devoted entirely to her. I think everyone should have one, simply entitled "My Mom." It's funny, you'd think after becoming a mother, I'd be inclined to take the "other side." But no, my mom still knows how to piss me off like no one else on earth. My brother hasn't spoken to her in over a year and he's thirty-seven, so I don't think I'm just being a whiny little girl.

It's funny, although she'd die before admitting it, my mom thinks I'm a bitch. Because I AM whenever I talk to her. I'm actually a pretty nice, easygoing person the rest of the time. But the minute mom starts up one of her "conversations," I can practically feel the black Spidey suit oozing down over my face and swallowing me up. Hiss.

That's all for now. Otherwise, this topic would take over the entire blog.

being less clean

2010-11-24T03:58:00.000-08:00

I am loving my decision not to bathe R every day. Trust me, when you've been pleading and reasoning with and then barking at your adorable but willful toddler nonstop since sunrise (e.g., "I know you're teething for...what is it, the 136th time?--but please don't gnaw on my nipple, again"; "Please let's not struggle when I'm trying to change your poopy diaper...ah, poop on my leg; no, sweetie, please don't run away, it's getting scattered...ah, the white carpet"; "What? You want to go for a walk now, when it's 15 minutes before nap time? Then why did you say 'no' the 362 times I asked you previously if you wanted to go for a walk?"; and so on), bath time at the end of a long day is anything but a heartwarming bonding experience. There are lots of protests (when she doesn't want to get in) and water wastage (when she doesn't want to get out), and my 33-year-old back just doesn't have that old pack-mule spring, like it used to. Yesterday I was stupid enough to go out with A and R while wearing heels (yes, yes, I already mentioned the stupid part), R stuck to her "no, daddy" routine the whole night, and I ended up chasing/carrying/dragging R around a very crowded, busy Tokyo neighborhood, dodging bicycles and buses, in heels in case you forgot that part, and my back was killing me all day today.

Ah, there's nothing like having a child to make you start aging triple-time. The first occasion I was ever not carded when buying alcohol was after R came along, and a quick glance in the mirror confirms that was no coincidence. I don't know what's happened to my face. Lately, I've been looking like a Flowers in the Attic version of myself, which shocked me enough to prompt some serious, serious consideration to wearing makeup. I'm too lazy to ever cave and too ignorant to know where to begin, but the desire is out there somewhere.

Anyhow, this new "not bathing my child too often" lifestyle made me realize what a hippy mom I am turning into. Cleaning the house with vinegar. Using a menstrual cup. Lately, I've even decided to give "no poo" (no shampoo) another try. Obviously, the next step is to grow out my armpit hair. Actually, for me, "hippy" and "mom" almost unavoidably go together. (I even learned about menstrual cups from an online mom forum--because after you've had a baby come out of you, I guess you're a little more open about discussing what goes in...?) When I was pregnant with R, I instinctively began seeking out the most natural (i.e., safest) way to live and raise the people in my care--to be honest, I never gave a damn before--and funnily enough, strong soaps and detergents started looking very threatening. I even read, though I don't know if I believe it, that there is good bacteria on your skin that gets lost if you wash too often. Hmmm....

One thing that has always hugely bothered me is the dog. Here I am, trying so hard to keep our floors clean for my baby to crawl on and lick and eat fallen food off of, and the dog comes in after a walk and tracks outdoor grime all over our carpet. I know some people who wipe their pets' feet before they come in. I just can't do that. The amount of bending over (did I mention Edward is a mini dachshund--i.e., stands extremely low to the ground), paw+tummy-wiping, and additional garbage I have to drag down and out of our apartment and over to the garbage pick-up site: My back says no. Do dog shoes sound totally insane? I know there will be the inevitable annoying battle with my daughter, who will want to put on the shoes herself but be unable to, meaning we will be stuck in the entrance hall, trying to leave, for an additional forty minutes. But what is the point of the rest of us so dutifully taking off our shoes at the front door, if the dog doesn't? At least this is Japan, where almost every pooch (except mine) wears clothes, so I doubt we'll get anything but positive attention. In fact, right now, Edward looks pitifully nude when we go out. Maybe the shoes will help redeem his standing amongst the neighborhood canines.

2010-11-18T05:09:00.000-08:00

I don't know if I'm being a total wimp, but the current low temperatures do NOT feel like fall, to me. Yesterday, after a bit of time huddling, stiff-limbed, in my frigid apartment, I finally broke down and headed to the nearest shop to stock up on fluffy, warm indoor accessories, and am now moderately more comfortable in my new socks, booties, and fingerless gloves. All I need is a hat that won't make my forehead itchy. If you think this sounds extreme, you haven't lived in a Tokyo apartment before--and no, I'm not talking about those fancy Roppongi high-rise homes. My half-assed theory is that in the olden days, Japanese people had nothing but a paper sliding door between their living room and a blizzard, so who needs things like insulation and central heating?

With the drastic change in the weather, R has started clawing bloody slashes into her suddenly dry skin, and lotion seems to be doing nothing for her, so I've decided to take more drastic actions. I think I'm going to go all hippy-mom and stop bathing her so often. I'll wash her bum every day, of course, but maybe only do a head-to-toe cleaning every other day...or less. I'll let my nose decide.

I've actually already been pretty conservative about cleaning R--not wanting to go overboard with the soap and other chemicals--and have used nothing but extremely diluted Dr. Bronner's baby soap (in a foaming pump bottle) at bath time for the past year. Okay, maybe a little California Baby non-scented conditioner on her hair once a month. She looks--and smells--okay to me. R's not a sweaty kid. Nor an active one. When we're outdoors, she hardly detaches from my body long enough to get very dirty, I think. So that's what we're going to do for now.

I'm further motivated to do this, since R has developed an awful new ritual of bursting into tears, wailing "hug, hug," and trying to climb up my neck at the end of every bath time. Considering it is FREEZING when we get out of the shower, we're both damp and naked, and she's squirming and struggling so hard I can't get any clothes on her or myself, if I can reduce the number of times I must endure this, I'll be warmer and happier for it.

filling in the gaps

2010-11-16T03:50:00.000-08:00

Oh man, I'm convinced somebody out there is watching over me because just when I started very gently mulling over the possibility of being able to handle a second kid--BOOM, here come the molars. And the celestial memo to me would be: You can't even handle ONE kid. Okay, it hasn't been awful, so far--I haven't stared longingly at my bottle of Infant Motrin, the way I have sometimes done during past teething episodes, when completely depleted of any inner resources--but the past week hasn't been fun.

Yesterday was probably rock-bottom. There was a lot of poo--both the child and dog variety--that I was forced, beyond the norm, to come in close contact with...I don't really want to talk about it. Today, I still don't feel completely clean.

Teething always leads to mom abuse at the small but sharp-nailed hands of my almost-two-year-old, but A isn't getting off easy, either, poor guy. He's been facing increasingly harsh rejections by R, during their limited time together. Lately, she only says "daddy" in combination with one of two words: "no!" or "work." The other night, during dinner, she looked up suddenly and declared: "Daddy work, grandma bye, grandpa bye." This was pretty soon after my parents left and, yes, A was at work, as he almost always is when R is awake. It was funny and tragic at the same time, and she still says this combo sentence, apropos of nothing, every so often, as if assessing her tribe and finding it somewhat lacking.

I do feel increasingly worried that R needs more of a life than what we have right now. Her dad isn't really around. She sees her Japanese grandparents once a week, but they aren't very demonstrative people--or, at least, they are very careful about not being too pushy--and I think that is the reason R seemed to bond more with my aggressively loving parents in their two weeks here than she has seeing A's parents weekly for the past eight months. We do meet up with a few babies on a regular basis, but they are all much younger than R for some reason, and aren't able to really interact with her yet.

As an English-speaking wife and mother in Japan, I've found the Tokyo Mother's Group and the Married in Japan Yahoo Group to be okay online resources (the latter can be fairly entertaining; there is currently a pretty busy conversation thread going on that began with one of the members sharing that Japanese women consider it bad manners for other women not to wear makeup, which is certainly interesting since I never wear makeup and have possibly been offending women in this country for years), but haven't had great luck meeting up with many of the members in real life, since Tokyo is so huge and we few foreigners are fairly widely dispersed. Also, simply being the mother of a toddler and trying to get together with other mothers with toddlers is a near-impossible feat when you throw in varying nap times, conflicting work/play schedules, tantrums, meltdowns, etc. I also don't live close to where the expat community congregates, but I'm not interested to mingle with that crowd, to be honest, since none of them are here for the long haul.

I recently learned about another group, the Association of Foreign Wives of Japanese, that is supposed to be smaller and better organized than the MIJ Yahoo Group, but there is something like a 7,000-yen annual membership fee.

hazel girls' clothing

2010-11-11T04:29:00.001-08:00

Zulily is one of those limited-time sale sites that I'm registered with but have yet to buy stuff from--mostly because the prices, even when 50-percent off, are still more than what I'm willing to fork over for kiddy stuff. If I see something well-made that is going to keep DD warm through the winter, I'd consider it. But I won't splurge on a summery little skirt, no matter how sweet the floral print.

This time, though, I'm tempted. All the pictures in this blog post are of clothes under the brand "Hazel" currently on sale at Zulily and some of the stuff is cute. The sizes range from 2T (two-year-old toddler) to something called 6x.

Unfortunately, I recently had to go on a bit of a shopping spree, getting practical winter wear for R. And being a cheapskate at heart, I'm at my spending limit. But I still wanted to share some of the things currently on sale.

Strangely, I couldn't find a website for Hazel's girls' clothing, although there is a site selling women's clothes that were nowhere as nice.

grandparents

2010-11-08T05:43:00.000-08:00

Tonight, R and I stood inside the front door and must have said good-bye to my parents for a good 15 minutes. I know I was getting sleepy long before the door started closing, millimeter by painful millimeter, my mom's eye glued to the crack, until the very last.

And so ended my mom and dad's two-week stay in Japan. With them gone, and the little poopsky in bed for the night, quiet has once again descended upon our little home. Perhaps there is a pang of loneliness left in my parents' turbulent wake, but equally hard to ignore is, for some weird reason, "Ding Dong the Witch Is Dead," currently being sung in my mind with particular jubilant gusto by those little munchkin creatures.

I'm not a total bitch. I admit my iceberg of a heart thawed a degree when I saw how red my mom's eyes were at having to be parted from my daughter. I do feel awed and glad that R is so obviously loved, by both sets of grandparents.

But it's also kinda weird, to me. I once was told by a random woman lining up behind me to use an airplane lavatory, "You love them [your grandkids] more than you ever did your own children." And seeing my own parents in action, I believe it.

What IS it about becoming a grandparent? I guess I'll just have to wait my turn to find out. But to see my rather...composed mother-in-law transform into a warm, smiling, doting person when R is around...it's weird. I mean, until we moved back to Japan recently, R was practically a stranger to my in-laws, except in name. But they obviously love her a lot, and did right from the start. She could be some random child I picked up off the street and then announced was their grandchild. How can they open up their hearts so easily?

I remember my husband's friend, his face a little queasy, remarking about his own dad and little daughter, "He speaks to her in a voice I've never heard before."

Like I said, I'm glad R has so many people who care so deeply for her. But there is also an uneasiness that arises in the face of so much sickening adoration (not your own) for your child. I'm also scared as hell, because my dad has been planning his retirement for some time and lately keeps telling me how he wants to spend MUCH more time with R, getting to know her (i.e., making sure he's in the lead in the favorite-grandparent race, which certainly is an interesting competition to observe, as everyone struggles to maintain that veneer of restraint and warm consideration for each other) as she grows, etc., etc. We're talking "months" of time here.

How does one respond to such determination? My dad, who has devoted his entire life to his job, is soon going to have to redirect all that terrifying energy and focus into other areas--namely my child, from the looks of things. He also just sent a text message from the airport to my phone, expressing his hopes that I will give R the "chance of a christian upbringing." Sigh. I'm going to bed early.

2010-11-04T18:58:00.000-07:00

Ahhhhgh, so tired. Well, no big revelation there. But this is a fresh, new "my parents have come from out of town and are staying in my little Tokyo apartment for two weeks and are already planning their next trip real soon, and, no, they didn't ask if that would be okay, they just assume they have an open invitation to visit, any time" kind of tired.

It hasn't been awful having them around. In some ways, it's been wonderful. Suddenly, our home is full of loud voices and fresh life. Even that last stretch between R's dinner and bedtime isn't so grueling when there is someone to keep me company. My parents are very energetic, and they are excellent at entertaining R, keeping her laughing and giddy and distracted. But it's more like having two older children suddenly in my care. They are excited to play with R, push her in her new tricycle, sit on the floor with her at the toy store--that sort of thing.

But just an hour ago, while feeding R lunch, I watched my mother slumped in a chair, the very picture of a 14 year old girl stuck at home without anyone decent for company, announcing, "I'm boooored. I can't sit around like this, doing nothing."

I think back on the correspondence between my mom and myself a few weeks back:

Mom: Would you like me to stay an extra week?
Me: I worry that you'll be bored.
Mom: I'm coming to help with Ruka, not for my own entertainment.
Me: .... Of course you're welcome to stay longer, if you like.

People always comment on how youthful my parents are. That's a pretty accurate description. Unfortunately, they also possess the attention span of the extremely youthful. Now combine that with what seems to be the early stages of senility, and maybe you'll understand what I'm dealing with.

My mom has good intentions, I guess. But she is easily frazzled, keeps burning my pots and pans, and makes me repeat myself until I swear I can hear this weird ringing in my soon-to-explode head. My dad...when my brothers and I were kids, if you wanted some adult to dress up as a ridiculous-looking monster and chase you roaring around the room, he was your guy. He was also the one who would slam your fingers in the car door and then laughingly apologize when you screamed. He's mellowed a bit in his old age, but he now does things like leave big knives, dirty tissues, and medication lying around for toddlers to snatch up with curious delight.

Okay, so I have to be more vigilant and do a bit more washing, cleaning, and garbage duty. But they're keeping R occupied while I get dinner ready, and for that I'm willing to forgive any extra work they cause me.

But I do have to cope with a bit of rage-suppression when my dad does things like purposely making R out-of-control hyper right before bedtime (every.single.night he does this, and with a merry chuckle) that it takes me three times as long to calm her down and get her sleepy, once we're in her room.

And when my mom puts on her big-girl lecturing pants, that's when I want to...well, do something violent. It's puzzling that my mom cannot recall a single detail about raising three kids but seems to think she knows much more than I do. R has had a stuffy nose the past three weeks, due to allergies I think--"Do you vacuum her room?" she asks dubiously. "Her coloring has improved since we got here," she tells me with an expectant look (I think this is my cue to...invite her to live with us forever?). "She needs to start watching TV. Otherwise, she won't learn anything." And a huge failure on my part: "She's never eaten ice cream? She should eat ice cream" (this issue is brought up every day, without fail, and discussed in a tone that suggests I'm the type of mother who would make her child a birthday cake constructed completely out of steamed vegetables). Even my dog-raising abilities are not exempt from her scrutiny: "Edward looks miserable. Why is he always lying on the floor, curled in a ball?" The first few times, I tried to explain that he's getting older and doesn't have as much spunk as he used to. Recently, when the issue came up yet again, I asked her if she would prefer that he dance a jig, while juggling doggie biscuits, and she appeared to give the question some careful consideration. Those seem to be the key points in my mom's two-week intensive seminar. And I assure you, she's way more wordy and repetitive when arguing the above topics.

Okay, I think I've said my piece. Mom and dad, may you never discover that I have a blog. Yes, I am a thirty-three-year-old woman.

what I said to my daughter today...

2010-10-19T20:43:00.001-07:00

..."Friends don't poo on friends."

Well, he may be just a little face cloth, but this is Mr. Towel, we're talking about. Technically, he's the closest thing my daughter has to a best friend right now, so she needs to learn to treat him right.

R has been in a mean mood the past few days. I actually thought Edward the Dog's life was at risk a couple of times yesterday. Trying to evoke empathy does not seem to be working. Yelling definitely isn't having any effect. I think the only thing I can do right now is physical removal of object being abused. I'm also trying to introduce the concept of friends and the proper treatment of them. For example, "Friends don't try to kick each other down the stairs."

The situation with Mr. Towel, though, wasn't really due to malicious intent. R has been getting more and more into imaginary play, these days, and one of the things she is keen to reenact is Edward going to the toilet on his pet sheet. I do use them from time to time, and I worry about how this might affect R's future potty training, since she often squats on top of Mr. Towel and then tells me "pee pee" or "poo poo"--well, at least I can say she's partially house-trained. I worry, though, that one day something a little less imaginary is actually going to come in contact with this towel who R always holds, and rubs against her face, and sleeps with. Ugh.

new words

2010-10-15T08:48:00.000-07:00

Moh-tutu = oatmeal (Me: You mean "oatmeal"?; R [with a firm nod]: Moh-tutu)
Bah-tutu = bicycle
Moh-dadadada = motorcycle
Boti = coffee

imaginary love

2010-10-15T08:37:00.000-07:00

Tonight, R "plucked" mandarin oranges off the page of her book and fed it to me and her various stuffed companions. But she didn't leave Mr. Towel, her lovey, out--apparently, Mr. Towel makes the same eating noises as everyone else (he also needs his teeth flossed and his hair brushed, from time to time).

2010-10-15T04:10:00.000-07:00

Poor R, her hand slipped when she was on the playground swing today, and she went flying through the air. I think she landed on her head, since she almost had an epileptic fit when I tried to wash her hair tonight, and had similar reactions every time I went near her head. Just when I was proudly thinking she had completely mastered the big-girl swings.

I really have to get some shots of Tokyo playgrounds. They are sad: dark-chocolate mud ground, gravely concrete, rusting metal, flaking paint, murky sand pits that according to my husband double as litter boxes for the many roaming cats, swarms of mosquitoes due to the stagnant drains that catch the water-fountain runoff. The motif seems to be Seventies Ghetto, and there are no concessions to the below-three crowd. It's such a funny and extreme contrast from the playgrounds in Northern California, where we moved from: where there were always toddler swings, the sand pits were filled with this white satiny stuff you'd ordinarily find on a beach in Aruba, and everything practically glowed with the sheen of newness.

When we first arrived in Japan, R was around 15 months and her first few rounds with the big-kid swings always ended with her slamming spectacularly into the hard, stony ground. I am not a sadistic mother--R was the one who kept insisting we try the swings yet again. She finally learned to hold on tight to the metal chains and to keep her balance on the wide plank-like seats. And, most importantly, she learned to tell me when she'd had enough--versus just letting go mid-swing.

But today reminded me she's still pretty little. Guess we're going to have to go back to more gentle swing pushes, until she gets stronger.

japanese babywearing

2010-10-12T21:30:00.000-07:00

I was really lucky that I discovered babywearing while pregnant because R turned out to be the kind of baby who always wanted to be held, and at 23 months, this inclination has not changed. I was just wondering this morning as I held her throughout our morning walk whether it's possible for a toddler's muscles to atrophy from lack of use. This girl does not like to walk--or, rather, she likes being held by me more than she does walking.

I was really excited when we first moved back to Japan and I noticed what a big babywearing culture exists in Japan, or at least around where I live. It's very common to see a mom on a bike with a toddler in a child seat and a baby strapped to her front or back. And the dads don't seem shy about using wraps and slings, either.

BUT while babies are worn quite a bit, toddlers are not. In Japan, toddlers either walk or sit quietly in strollers--and, yes, they are *always* quiet. I don't know how Japanese parents achieve this. Whippings? Maybe noisy, squirmy toddlers just don't get taken out? Anyhow, the only toddler carrier I've seen around is the Ergo, which I don't like because the baby is quite low down when worn on one's back. It's also not the best carrier for a smaller person, as it's quite big and bulky.

Right now, I'm using a BabyHawk Oh Snap, which I bought used off the Babywearer.com forum. The best thing about it is the high back carry--compared to, say, the Ergo or Beco (which I had previously been using and loved, but R grew to hate once she was about 15 months old). Compared to my Beco Butterfly, though, the OS feels pretty bulky, with lots of long straps dangling all over the place. Before I had R, I wouldn't have been caught dead wearing something like this (it looks a lot *neater* in the picture to the right). The problem is that to support a bigger, heavier child, you do need something more structured, hence the name Soft Structured Carrier, which refers to carriers with the belts and buckles.

I definitely wouldn't recommend the Oh Snap for a smaller person, even though I've had petite moms tell me that it works for them. I think it's because I can't get everything tightened up as much as I need it that sometimes my shoulders start aching if I wear R for too long. I never had this problem with my Beco.

The problem is that the toddler carriers out there that I've been told work for smaller women are STUPIDLY expensive. I'm talking US$180 for a used carrier. So then I started looking at Japanese-made carriers. And found some great-looking stuff. Unfortunately, I don't know where or how to begin researching how good these carriers really are, and, more importantly, most of these carriers seem to have a maximum weight limit (for the child) of 10kg. R is just a little over that. But I'm so tempted to get the sling-type carrier pictured at the top of this post. It's just a small X-shaped cloth, and like a baby pouch, it folds up nice and small; many times, I've been caught without a carrier--but needed one desperately--and wished I had something like this, something portable enough to always have on hand. But, unlike a sling or pouch, it has two-shouldered support, so I would assume it's more comfortable.

The other carrier I would have loved is this Japanese SSC called Sun & Beach. It's made for a smaller body frame and is wonderfully compact and light (my friend has one and I've tried it on). It also comes in really cute colors and patterns. But although the kid in the picture to the left looks about the same size as R--maybe even bigger--the website says the carrier is meant for babies up to 10kg. Darn!

menstrual cups

2010-10-09T21:31:00.000-07:00

I think the title is warning enough. There will be references to blood and vaginas. Read or don't read.

I recently started using a menstrual cup and while my experiences haven't been magical or anything, I'm going to keep using mine until...I stop having periods, I guess. And despite the various cons of menstrual cups, I don't understand why they aren't as easily available and well-known as pads or tampons. Well, I guess any time you have the combined topic of menstrual blood and foreign objects being inserted up a vagina, some idiot is going to go "ew." So it's hard to appeal to the masses or introduce something new. But how can you be a woman, have periods, and be squicked out by the idea of blood? And if you feel okay about inserting a tampon, why not a little silicone cup that leaves no lint behind in your vagina?

To be honest, the primary reason I decided to try out a cup is because I have heavy periods and loathe the feeling of pads. I'm the last person to preach about doing one's part to protect the Earth and reducing material waste: I gave up on cloth diapers after about one day of trying it out and was asked by the diaper service lady, "Aren't you ashamed?" I was. But I still returned everything.

I think I remember hearing somewhere that the total amount of blood actually lost during the duration of your period is like three tablespoons. I obviously am nowhere near average, and since using the cup, I FINALLY can sleep through the night without jerking awake to that horrible feeling of blood trickling up, up, up my back. Hopefully, I'm done with blood-stained sheets and panties. Because when I used pads, I *always* leaked, no matter what.

Okay, so that's the boring back story. Now, all about M cups:

Pros

Depending on how heavy your flow is, you may not need to empty your cup more than every 12 hours.
If it's in there correctly, you really can't feel it. I could always feel when I had a tampon inserted.
No hot, itchy, soggy pads against your skin. Thank god!
You're saving quite a bit of money, since if you take care of your cup, it can last for years.
Tiny voice: It's better for the environment.

Cons

If you have a heavy flow, like me, things can get a bit messy, which can be problematic especially in a public toilet. And on heavy days, I am emptying out the cup more like every four hours (rather than twelve). But I read that once you get the hang of it, there really should be very little mess. I don't know about that, but....
Although I haven't had this problem, supposedly some people have trouble with insertion and removal. But heck, I just read this news story (which actually made me, as a mother, break into a cold, sickened sweat) about a five-year-old Peruvian girl who gave birth to a baby. And if that is physiologically possible, then I think most women should be able to handle a tiny cup that could fit in the palm of your hand.
If you don't insert the cup correctly, it could leak.
You *will* have to face the sight of a cup of (your own) blood, when it comes time to empty the cup. But just like pooping, nobody's asking you to study it in close-up detail. Just do it, you big sissy.

For anyone thinking of trying out a cup, I think the best advice I can give is: choose one based on the size that best fits your inner girl (it's important to estimate how far back your cervix is during your period). There is a huge selection out there, and each cup has its own unique dimensions, capacity, softness, etc. This is a great resource of info.

I don't know about "Happy Periods" (who the HELL came up with that one, and god help her if it was a woman), but mine just got a lot more comfortable. Yay.

2010-10-07T22:16:00.000-07:00

Here's a photo randomly added, mostly for color. It's the view from my kitchen and it's my favorite time of day, twilight.

So I took R to a Montessori-based mom+toddler class today called Sesame Club. But this is Japan, so there was a Doraemon figurine in the midst of the natural toy selections, and during drawing time, the teacher was determined to teach poor, neglected R who An Pan Man was (a superhero whose head is a round bread bun, for all you losers who didn't know). "Hora, An Pan Man da yo!" Was there a desperate tinge to sensei's tone, when her doodles of the doughy red guy failed to evoke any reaction in my daughter? Even one of my British friends seems compelled to automatically draw AP Man in the sand for her daughter at the park. And during one of the summer festivals we attended, we witnessed a circle of old ladies in yukata dancing to the An Pan Man song (with taiko accompaniment) over and over. Seriously, it was that and the Sakana Sakana Sakana song on replay the entire night.

Anyhow, all that aside, I'm really glad my MIL found this class for us. This is Tokyo: the baby swimming class we attempted and failed to participate in had 30 moms and babies. Can you imagine the amount of noise and splashing--not to mention peeing--going on? But Sesame Club has the rare rule of keeping class size to a maximum of five kids, and in fact, there's only R and one other little boy in ours. Thank god. So although there was a bit of clinging at first, R actually managed to relax and participate in the class. Total miracle.

I think it will also be good preparation for kindergarten--both in terms of socializing and being exposed to Japanese. I just worry though that R might be confused because she is being taught new ways of saying words she's only recently learned: dog, train, etc.

Which brings us to a concern for many foreign families living overseas: your first language being the minority language. Growing up in Canada, I knew a lot of kids whose parents spoke a different language to them, but who always answered back in English. I worry that this will happen with R. I respect that she's going to grow up and most likely live in Japan forever, but I still want her to keep her options open, and be able to communicate with people on my side of the family: her grandparents, cousins, uncles, etc.

A and I have decided to practice what is known as Minority Language at Home (although we didn't know it even had a name at the time we agreed on it). This means we'll always speak English at home, unless we have Japanese visitors over, of course. The problem is that as she grows older, the percentage of time she spends at home and hears English will get less and less. Also, since A isn't around that much, there aren't many opportunities for R to hear English being spoken interactively. But this is what we'll stick with.

Much harder is for me to speak English to R outside of the house, which is what I've decided to try to do as well. If we're in the company of people who only speak Japanese, of course we won't. But even when it's just R and I, it's so hard not to feel self-conscious. Speaking English in public in Japan will get you a reaction every time. Being a person who HATES HATES HATES being stared at, it's so tempting to switch to Japanese and just melt into the crowd. Before R came along, I even spoke to Edward the dog in Japanese, when we were out on walks. I've had people in front of me on escalators whip their whole bodies around to gape at me, when they overheard me speaking English. I almost caused an accident for a person on a bicycle once.

But one point about encouraging bilingualism in your children, I think, is to never make them feel that one language is better than the other. And never act embarrassed to speak a different language from everyone else, which is a challenge in Japan, where being different--and, worse, being blatant about it--is a bad, bad thing. So although I haven't done a good job until this point, from now onward, I am going to casually and happily speak English to R, no matter the audience or reaction, and we are going to get used to it, gosh darn it.

Sorry, this post was all over the place.

2010-10-06T21:18:00.000-07:00

I just read the following on Parents.com:

A recent study in Child Development showed that 2- and 3-year-olds argue with their parents 20 to 25 times an hour.... "Kids this age are realizing that they can assert themselves, and arguing with you is one way they gain confidence," says John Sargent, MD, a child psychiatrist and professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at Baylor College of Medicine, in Houston. Remember: The world is still a big, mysterious place to your toddler, and he feels pretty powerless in it. Saying no is a normal, healthy way for him to feel as if he has some control.

To be honest, while she is exhausting at times (especially when I'm trying to get the two of us out of the house), R hasn't worked herself up to her full arguing potential yet. I think right now we argue about 10, 15 times an hour. As the Japanese say: Lucky!

2010-10-04T22:15:00.000-07:00

Dear R,

Although I wrote previously that I've never been big on using baby-talk with you, I do say a word twice when I want to emphasize the importance of something--e.g., "Don't touch poo. It's dirty-dirty." I think this is because I remember someone telling me once that babies find it easier to learn repetitive sounds. And it seems to work with you. Right now, I'm getting a kick out of you saying "budgie budgie" (spicy), with a rather long pause between the budgies for some reason. I guess this is one of those fun-for-only-me things but it just sounds so cute. Also, I realized recently that your pronunciation and the stress you put on incorrect syllables reminds me of Balki on Perfect Strangers. The other day, you touched Edward, who was lying in the sun, and said, "Uhh-t" (hot).

Today, we were out taking a "walk," and we came across a huge collection of kids in the park practicing for Sports Day, which apparently is a big deal in Japanese schools. You were captivated by all the rustling pompoms. I was bemused at how much buzzing activity and effort (by the aproned teachers) was going into the choreography of it all. According to a mom on one Yahoo Group I am a member of, the teachers work really hard on this event and her daughter's teacher burst into tears when he discovered that his students didn't really want to have anything to do with it. A bit pitiful. But also weird.

Uh oh, you're up. Gotta go.

windy day

2010-10-04T22:03:00.001-07:00

Ta-da, Shuffled Pink's inaugural pic. I've been aware for a while that my blog, without photos, looks rather bare and lonely, but A has always been rather against publicizing pictures of R and I rarely carry a camera with me when I go out, so I miss taking so many things that catch my eye. Plus, R usually starts screaming to hold the camera, and then I have to go through long negotiations to calm her down and get her focused on something else. I need to get a cell phone with a better camera.

Baby R lexicon

2010-09-29T21:50:00.000-07:00

Nuk = milk (as in, breast; I still haven't figured out what to call the bovine stuff)
Bu/bubu = blueberries, poop, car, pool, pretty much anything R feels like
Wuta = R's own name
Doddy = daddy, Mr. Doggie (the latter being R's lovey, who is indeed a dog; however, generic dogs, are either "woof woof" or "Eddie")
Pucker up your lips and say "heesh" = fish
Biyuh = bear
Dah dah = egg, hot (no idea)
Apu = apple
Owinj (accompanied by ASL sign for apple) = orange

The rest of the words in R's current vocabulary, she either pronounces correctly or they're probably not interesting to anyone else but me. The "bubu" confusion has reached a critical state, lately, as R will suddenly say it quite insistently while we're in the bathtub together (I must sit in there with her, no arguments), and I'm honestly not sure if she's asking for blueberries or if she's about to poo in the water--the latter being something I NEVER want to experience firsthand. She gets so furious, though, when I panic and whisk the both of us out of the tub, but I'm not taking any risks.

I can't properly express how weird it is, though, to witness my baby's comprehension and communication-ability levels develop. Maybe it's because I was a dog owner first, but once Edward learned the basic commands as well as a few untaught words, obviously I never expected more. To continue a one-sided conversation for over a year with your own little animal-like creature, and then suddenly have her reveal that she understands you, see her respond, hear her speak back....

I've never really been good at baby talk, and for the most part, have always spoken to R at a normal pace. Today, we were eating lunch with her and I was nattering on by myself as usual. But when I complained offhandedly that she wouldn't be fishing pasta out of her navel if she would only agree to wear a bib, gosh darn it, R suddenly stood up and ran over to where her bib was hanging and held it up to me. Of course the minute I put it on, R promptly tore it off and threw it on the floor, but that's a different story. All through the day, I am encountering situations like this more and more.

Sometimes R will initiate conversations with me, going off about something or other in a stream of babbling, accompanied by contorted facial expressions. It is so fun. I will nod along and she will nod back. Today, we hummed Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star in unison; until now, it's been R or me singing it separately. Sometimes, though, R will repeat the same word over and over--"mama," for some reason, needs lots of practice and revisions, it seems--and I won't deny that it drives me mad, especially when she expects me to respond.

The other day, we tried to go out on a family bike ride, A and R on one bike, me on the other. For forty minutes or more, R cried over and over, "Mama," and for forty minutes, I said, "Yes?," with a few "hais, uh huhs, yups, and meows" thrown in for variety. If nothing else, R has a very determined streak. That girl does not give up. I'm really scared what kind of teenager she's going to grow into.

2010-09-26T21:31:00.001-07:00

I hate to turn this blog into a self-indulgent bitchfest but...hey, it is my blog, isn't it? God, this weather is killing me. I've heard of people who get depressed from lack of sunlight, but I seem to be experiencing hot-weather withdrawal symptoms. I'm sluggish, depressed, have a headache, and the thought of moving my body hurts. It has been raining endlessly, but that's not what's bothering me. I miss the type of muggy heat that makes your face pink and seeps deliciously into your pores.

Particularly in Japan, there is no escape--even when indoors--from the cold. I don't know what that means. Is every building in this country badly insulated? All I know is that I'm shivering in my living room right now, and in a few more months, I'll be blogging with a scarf and hat on. And now I have to worry about keeping my toddler warm, too, although I think with the baby fat, she's somewhat better equipped than I am for the coming winter.

Today, we put on our wellies and went for a rainy day walk, and R was happily splashing about in the icy puddles long past the time I was ready to go home. Great. Now the spider-monkey child decides she wants to walk--now, when the weather has turned rotten. I need better wellies.

The apricot-colored gingko fruit have just begun to fall from the trees and R decided it would be great fun to pick these up and squash them in her hands. Why are gingko fruit so smelly? Can someone please tell me that?

And now, I have to stop blogging and deal with the ever-elusive, annoying question: What's for dinner?

2010-09-16T04:58:00.000-07:00

Just discovered SafetySuit. Am liking their song "Find a Way." Great rainy-day song.

2010-09-16T04:15:00.001-07:00

Dear R,

You were in the weirdest mood today. I kept feeling your forehead because I was sure you were sick. Maybe it was the stupid drilling going on next door that disturbed your nap. Or the fact that you didn't eat much for lunch, and maybe were hungry. Or the sad gray sky, chilly air, and nonstop rain that was totally getting *me* down, for sure. Anyhow, you wanted nothing but for me to walk around the living room holding you in my arms, while demanding to hear the Black Eyed Peas's "I Gotta Feeling" over and over and over. And over. Unfortunately, I hadn't yet downloaded the Youtube Auto Replay add-on--didn't even know it existed until a second ago. The first time the song ended, I made the mistake of trying to go on to another song, turned around, and was shocked to see your face crumpling. I quickly went back to "I Gotta Feeling," you clapped your hands in approval, but then your bottom lip actually started quivering when the last line of the song played. God.

Anyhow, when my arms were about to give out, I caved and asked you if you wanted blueberries ("bu bu," you call them). The reason I never ask is because, when it comes to blueberries, there is no such thing as enough. Watching you eat blueberries is to see the development of addiction unfold. It's also a major pain in the ass to clean up after, since it gets all over your hands, which you make sure to wipe on as many surfaces as possible. But, yes, the blueberries did the trick, and then I lured you away from the berries with uncooked dried soba (another favorite of yours), cucumber, and roast chicken.

Despite the ominous start to our afternoon, things eventually got quite merry. We sat together on the kitchen floor, using your little stool as a dining table. We slurped (cooked) soba together. I butchered bits and pieces of Benjamin Britten scarcely recalled from my college choir days. We even did numerous rounds of kampai ("cheers" in Japanese), and maybe this is only funny to me but you pronounced it very clearly as "pad thai." Did I mention you ate cucumber?

About half a year ago, you went from gobbling down everything to systematically cutting everything vegetable out of your diet. But in the past week, you've voluntarily eaten cucumber, broccoli, and green beans. For some reason, spinach, lettuce, and asparagus are still not acceptable. But who cares about those?! Until now, I'd been this close to convincing myself edamame had some sort of veg affinity because of its color. Thank god those days of self-delusion can perhaps draw to a close.

2010-09-14T23:27:00.000-07:00

The temperature in Tokyo very suddenly plummeted, and this strange cool afternoon has me feeling down. Anyone who's experienced summer in Japan would probably look at me incredulously, but I love the heat. Yes, I too have moments when I feel overly sweaty and ill-tempered, but most of the time, I'm happy and invigorated when the temperature is up. You know when you see those lizards lying plastered against boulders, soaking up the sun? That always looks so good to me.

2010-09-08T23:07:00.000-07:00

Sigh. This morning was--sigh.

After seeing how much R enjoyed swimming this summer, I thought she'd love taking a mom+baby swim class. Do I not know my own daughter yet?

I actually went out over the weekend and bought a new swimsuit because the only one I own is a string bikini and my friend, who already attends the class, assured me that all the other Japanese moms wore things that had the equivalent coverage of wearing a tank top and biking shorts--"sort of like a wrestling suit," she said. Japanese ladies are pretty careful about not revealing too much skin. I couldn't quite bring myself to buy the wrestling suit, but I did get a more modest two-piece, and after much prep work, phone calls, etc., had us ready for our trial class. The school required that both mom and babe wear swim caps, and I was totally stressing over this, since R most days won't even tolerate having a baby hair clip touching her head. Funny thing about that. We didn't even get close to the water, let alone attempt to put on swim caps.

The moment we entered the pool area, R started panicking, crying louder and louder, and then hitting me, as if to say, "Why the hell did you bring me here? What, did you think I'd enjoy this?!" Sigh.

By the time I got us back into our clothes, R was pretty much inconsolable, and sobbed all through my explanations and apologies to the front desk, as I sheepishly asked for a refund on the trial-lesson fee and swim caps. Sigh.

When we got home, R had fully recovered and, as if to taunt me, spent the rest of the morning blowing water bubbles into her cup. "See," my mom said over Skype, "she wants to swim." I looked at R and she gave me her trademark naughty scrunchfaced smile. Sigh.

It's funny. Strangers always comment what a good, quiet little girl R is because when we're out, she's usually glued to my chest or standing frozen with her eyes downturned, if by some miracle, she actually agrees to be let down. You look at those active toddlers squealing and tearing through the supermarket and always feel sorry for those kids' moms. But having a "cautious," "sensitive"--not "shy," don't ever call them that, apparently--child can be hard in its own way.

The life R and I live sometimes feels very isolated. She is so easily distressed (and she's not quiet about her distress, let me tell you): crowds, new people, not-so-new people, any place with a front desk that can be mistaken for a dentist clinic. Even the playgrounds and parks I take her to every day--I can never be sure she will actually climb down from my arms, walk, play. Her dependence on me is immense, somethings feeling more heavy than I can bear. Even at home, she might suddenly grow insecure and do that climbing-up-my-neck thing that she does, when she cannot find the comfort she desperately needs.

I am really all she has--though A sees her on the weekends--and sometimes I wonder if that is partly to blame. A friend who's from India but lives abroad told me that when she went home for the summer, her son was surrounded by so many family members that he really came out of his shell. I think kids need that loud, in-your-face reassurance, that there is not just one but many people who will protect them and keep them safe.

I've heard from other moms with children like R that it's simply a personality thing. This is R's nature, for now. She might change in a year or two, she might not. I am learning to accept this. I try not to wish that she'd walk sometimes, instead of always insisting I carry her everywhere. Thank god she's still fairly small and portable. And every day I get stronger.

At least I never have to worry about her running into a busy road of traffic or walking off with a stranger. I passed the toddler leash I'd been given on to a friend, whose active daughter did almost get hit by a car, right in front of my eyes. That was terrifying. This same friend also admits she finds it exhausting always running after her daughter. Perhaps there's no such thing as a sane compromise when it comes to children.

2010-09-02T05:46:00.000-07:00

Dear R,

This week was...hellish. You--that's right, you--put your mom through the ringer. It started with the sudden earlier-morning wakings. Went from a decent-ish 7:30am to a totally unacceptable 5am, Miss. I'm dreading what time you're going to be crying out for me tomorrow, which is why I REALLY should be in bed by now.

Although I love hot weather, 36'F doesn't make struggling with an unhappy toddler comfortable. I tried to leave the house with you about six times this morning, and was pretty drenched with sweat by the time we actually stepped out the front door. Lovely way to start an outing.

I have to confess: I all-out bellowed at you yesterday and I think I've managed to horrify the neighbors. It had been a very, very long day, sweetheart, and you really did everything possible to drive me insane. I held out until the very end, just before bedtime, when you were trying to shriek the house down and then attempted to tear the curtains off the railings. That was, for some reason, the last straw for me and I really shouted quite loudly at you. Can I just say that you were not impressed or intimidated in the least? But this morning when we bumped into the lady next door, she gave me a decidedly nervous half-glance. Or maybe I just looked as crazed as I felt, after all I'd gone through to get you out of the house.

But then late this afternoon, it was like the sun breaking through a thick grey sky and you suddenly lightened up, after days of tiny fury. And then you opened your mouth really big in my direction--kinda like you did the day before when you repeatedly tried to bite a hole in my face, zombie style, while I held you helplessly in my arms and tried to walk home--and started pointing at your gum, which upon close inspection turned out to be quite red and shredded-looking. Ah. Teething.

Teething. Even the most clueless new parent is prepared for certain things, but for some reason, nobody mentions how insane a child can become when teething. I guess it is different for each person. Some lucky bastards have kids who chortle through all twenty coming through, I suppose. Not me. Not you.

The first time I experienced teething was when you were six months old. You stopped being happy for an entire month. That was hard.

Truly, every time you are inexplicably mean or miserable, it is always teething. Sometimes I think I loathe those adorable little pearly chiclets--the source of all our woeful times. And you still have a ways to go. Argh, why does a person need so many teeth.

But on a lighter note, once you started returning to your normal self, you soon had me laughing again. You have a new thing that you do: Whenever you spot something small and brown, you scream, "Ew, a bwa" (translation: Ew, a bug). I'm pretty sure you're imitating me. But it is a poor imitation. The way you screech and whinny--I'm not that hysterical when I see an insect. I'm not.

You also are something of a physical comedian. When you're being silly, sometimes you'll pause, stare off into space for just the right amount of time, and then whip your head around to give me a naughty look--I wish I could capture it on the video camera.

You are becoming increasingly sweet and caring with your favorite stuffed animal--Mr. Doggy--as well, asking me to give him hugs and kisses, to massage his paws, and today offering him your lunch. Well, you love Mr. Towel, too, but it's hard to massage a towel and brush its teeth. Also, I don't think Mr. Towel likes eggs.

I hope you feel better tomorrow, R, mostly for my own sake. What a mean mom I am, huh? I'm really sorry I shouted at you yesterday. I doubt it will be the last time, though. You still have something like nine more teeth to go. Ugh.

2010-08-29T21:14:00.000-07:00

Our first night and day back, after being away two weeks for summer vacation, has been a bit of a trial by fire. The minute we stepped off the plane, into the tunneled walkway, we were seared by the intense Tokyo heat. Let's not even bother complaining about the long, tedious trip from Narita, with the baby who refuses to nap on planes in tow. Walking back to the apartment from the station, my heart sank as the sound of cicadas blared from the trees (I'd hoped they'd all be dead by the time I returned) and their whitened corpses littered the ground around us. The horrible thing about dying cicadas is that if you walk too close to the fallen ones, they can suddenly spring back to life, and somehow their dying wish always seems to be to get tangled in my hair, while they claw and scream. During the elevator ride up to our floor, a cloud of mosquitoes went after me with a vengeance and my skin, which had finally started to heal, is now peppered with fresh red bumps.

The next day, let's see, what did we have? Mud-throwing tantrum while at the playground far from home? Check. Crazy bleeding nose from finger up nose that coated R's entire face, both of my hands and arms, and all our clothing, of course. Check. Toilet tank going wonky and me trying to explain the situation in bad Japanese to apartment management? Check. Pee on the carpet? Check. Poop on the floor (actually, it just barely landed on the edge of the toilet seat, which I treated as a huge triumph, because it means R actually told me correctly that she needed to use the toilet and about two seconds earlier would have possibly gotten her stuff in the right place, yay)? Check.

I guess that's about it. The day is in fact only half over, though, so there could be more in store for me.

2010-06-30T06:05:00.001-07:00

Dear R,

It has definitely been too long since my last real update. You are 19 months old now, and seem to have made up your mind to test out the "terrible twos" a little early. You're not (that) terrible. But you get angry a lot these days about things that don't make sense to me. Like when you've been straining against the harness in your stroller, and we finally get home, and I take you out, and you pitch a huge fit and try to climb right back into the seat. Or when you're all sweaty and I try to change you into something cooler and you hurl yourself backward onto the floor, screeching. You're getting more violent these days, baby. Lots of clawing and hitting. Today you came after me with Edward's hairbrush because I tried to stop you from cracking the dog's spine with it.

I must admit the majority of our battles seem to be over Edward. Poor beloved, tormented Edward. You adore him and all the abuse is coming from an originally good place. You want to hug him, but it always turns into an awful choking headlock. You try to approach him to pet him, he runs away in terror, you grab his tail and punish him for trying to spurn your affections. You want to nurture him, but end up doing things like trying to brush his teeth with a metal spatula. I really am doing everything I can to protect him, but the furry fool insists on following you around a lot (you're really low to the ground and often have something edible dangling from your fingertips). But of course you don't understand why I'm coming between you and your best friend, and often all hell breaks loose in typical frustrated-toddler fashion.

If I hold Edward in my lap though (so that he can't escape), you are very tender and gentle when you cuddle your face against his neck. Your grandma bought you a book about a little girl and her dog and you ask me to read it to you multiple times a day, and each time, you are inspired to reenact the scenes in the book (throwing a ball with Edward, who unfortunately has never been into balls; sharing tea and cookies, goddamn book; kisses and hugs, which Edward does his best to survive). Even if you're in the middle of a massive tantrum, if I tell you that it's time to say good-night to Edward and go down to your room, you somehow pull yourself together, toddle over to him, and very carefully pat his back. I'm also fairly certain Edward's name was one of your first words, even if it did come out extremely garbled and still sounds kind of like "Eh-eee" (Eddy). And sometimes, the two of you even succeed in playing together, much to my amazement.

What else? You're still very much into smells: fresh herbs, citrus zest, even my morning coffee. Just the other day, you were happily walking about the room sniffing a peppercorn.

You're not so afraid when we go out anymore, though you will freak out randomly and start climbing up my leg. You love meowing but are scared of cats. You look eight months pregnant after you've eaten a meal--the sight of that bulging little tummy is terrifying. You like dancing on top of the coffee table. Although you've never eaten these things in your life, you will start signing "more" (which you use to say that you want something) when you see pictures or even just drawings of cookies, ice cream, and chocolate. Why?! How do you even know they're edible?

The other night, I was marveling at how much time we spend together, how thoroughly I know you and how you are starting to know me. It's shocking to think that two people can be so physically and emotionally close--and yet, one day, you will begin the process of distancing yourself from me. I suddenly understand things, like mothers who can't cut the apron strings. I don't want to be one of those moms. But I think I can appreciate how hard it must be to be needed this much and then not needed at all. I used to dream all the time that I could breathe underwater, but taking that first breath was always so hard, going against everything my body knew. That's how it must be, to watch your child grow up. We are still a long ways off until then, but I don't think you can be a parent and not look down the road, with both joy and dread.

2010-06-17T21:51:00.000-07:00

Dear R,

I think you are psychically connected to my Blogger account because every time I pull up the New Post page, you abruptly wake up from your nap with an angry yell. So much time has passed in your concentrated little life, and I haven't recorded it. I actually don't feel too bad though because I've been savoring our days together. Although we have our rough patches, especially as you get more and more opinionated, while still not actually being able to vocalize said opinions--most of the time, I'm really enjoying this stage of your toddlerhood. You're still so much a baby in my eyes, and I feel a bit sad whenever I think about you getting older and more independent. I don't even want to think about the inevitability of being hated, once you hit your teens. Is there any way to avoid that? Every time I talk to your Nana--my mom--and consider my attitude toward her, I totally freak out, imagining myself at the receiving end of all that impatience and...

And there it is: Your angry waking yell. Time to stop.

ETSY share: Naoko Stoop

2010-04-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

Every time I go into R's sad, bare room, I get all fired up to transform it for my little girl, who still cries every day and clings to me and obviously isn't a happy tot. Yesterday, I got her a funny little red and white toadstool stool, which surprisingly she figured out right away and started trying to squat down upon in that totally awkward and adorable toddler way. I've bought some plants, which help, and yesterday I bought two pictures from self-taught illustrator Naoko Stoop on Etsy.

The minute I saw the pictures, I knew I wanted some for R's room. They are sweet and whimsical, but for some reason also evoke a touch of melancholy that remind me of Saint-Exupéry's The Little Prince.

I chose pictures from a collection of Stoop's that features a little girl in a red coat and hat accompanied on her adventures by a bunny pal. I'm hoping the bright spots of color will liven up R's rather dark room (only one wee little window), though I've also been debating on whether to attempt some wall decals.

I like the visible wood grain that shows through in many of the pictures. And although it was merely a coincidence that I chose something by a Japanese (albeit Brooklyn-based) artist, the recognizably Japanese features in the various pictures appeal to me: the seasonal quality of each piece, the shape of the rabbit, the daintily dotted foliage.

2010-04-08T14:41:00.001-07:00

I really want to add pictures to my blog posts--there are so many little things I see each day in passing that make me look twice or make me laugh or that I just want to share with others, like black Q-tips at the conbini (Japanese convenience store), "See the dirt clearly!" I've been snapping pictures with my temporary cell phone but I have no idea where our USB port is.

2010-04-07T20:23:00.000-07:00

So, life in Tokyo. It's like All laundry detergent's "small and mighty" line: compact packaging, highly concentrated. In this city, everything crowds in claustrophobically close: the buildings, the people, the street traffic, the sounds. Luckily, our apartment takes up the top two floors of the building, so we have a fairly open view of the surrounding area--but when I go to bed at night, through my window, I can see what my neighbor in the building next door is cooking for dinner (yesterday, it was stir-fried vegetables). When you walk the narrow streets, your life is pretty much in constant peril, as you dodge the two-way flow of bicycles, motorbikes, cars, and buses squeezing so close, I wouldn't even have to stretch to graze their sides with my fingertips. And in Tokyo, everything is "on" at high volume: music blasting, lights glaring, store clerks hollering their welcomes and announcements of what's on sale "for a limited time!!!", every thing performing to capture your attention...except that you never know where to rest your eyes. Even my washer/dryer combo machine, though impressively quiet, plays a song so loudly when the clothes are done that I can hear the frantic tune while in the shower.

But of course this is just a single facet of life in the city. I'd move on to the positives...but the baby has woken up. And she's mad.

2010-04-06T19:32:00.001-07:00

I have to take back what I wrote before. R is not quite there yet, in terms of settling in. In fact, I thought at first she was simply tired from the flight and so on, but I think the source of a lot of her recent tantrums and meltdowns (and, yes, there have been many) has actually been the move itself.

I've moved so many times, it never occurred to me that it can be a distressing experience for others. In fact, I was surprised to read that moving homes is considered a traumatic experience, second only to losing a loved one. And to a baby, who has only known one home her entire life, having everything change abruptly, without any warning--well, it was stupid of me not to think that she might become scared and upset.

Another huge change in R's life is that her dad isn't going to be around much anymore. A and I knew this was coming, but there's really been no way to prepare R for the fact that in Japan, her dad's work life is his whole life, and, she and I, we're just...well, leftover bits, I'm afraid.

In California, A used to come home, on average, around 11pm. We both had a good laugh over that, in the beginning. The first time it happened, I scrambled off the couch in shock and asked what he was doing home so early. Then we got used to the luxury, and took for granted the fact that A was able to wake up a bit earlier in the mornings to spend an hour with R.

Well, yesterday night, I think I heard A come in around 4am. And this morning, I don't blame him that he jumped off the couch about five minutes before he had to rush out the front door again. I understood and sympathized. But R held out her arms for her dad and cried when he wouldn't hold her because he had to get dressed, and then she stood at the door sobbing for a long time after he left. It was so painful to watch, the look of sheer hurt on her tear-stained face. She pretty much stayed mad and upset the rest of the morning until nap time and then refused to sleep.

I know she'll eventually get used to our new home, the new neighborhood, the new language, the new people, and even the absence of her father. But I feel anxious about that last one. How will she feel as she gets older? Will she resent her dad for never being around (or always sleeping when he is)? Will she be like the typical Japanese teenage girl who pretty much loathes her father and has a terrible relationship with him?

I remember one Japanese mom telling me that her husband worked so much that one Saturday morning, her son woke up to find his dad in the kitchen and started crying because he didn't know who this strange person was. He had forgotten his father. This is a pretty common story in this country.

But seeing the way R cried today for her dad, it made me realize that no matter how hard I try to make up for A's absence, it will never be enough. She needs her dad, just as much as her mom. The way I see it, in the wild, a young creature dependent on just one adult for security is in a very tenuous position. To a baby, I think the more adults surrounding him or her, the safer she feels. I wonder if I should encourage A's parents to spend more time with us during the weekdays. As hard as it is sometimes to relax when one's in-laws are around, for R's sake, I might just have to suck it up and deal with it.

Back in Japan

2010-04-04T19:02:00.000-07:00

It feels good to be back in Japan. We were away for almost four years, but, for me, it feels like I never left. As I type, the view from every window in our new apartment reveals white fogged skies and a steady downpour of rain. What a departure from our temporary life in California, where almost every day you were guaranteed the most gorgeous blue skies and mild weather. Just a few days ago, we were eating outdoors in short sleeves. One rather hellish 10-hour plane ride+2-hour train ride+1-hour taxi ride later, we emerged on the other side of the world, regretting that we'd decided to ship over our winter clothing (which could take as long as two months to arrive).

As much as I hate to admit it, the hardest part of the move was R. The packing up, the unpacking, the jetlag, moving countries, setting up our new home--everything would have been fairly straightforward if not for the fact that we also had a very cranky, insecure, tired toddler to care for.

A's parents have been wonderful. They are so in love with R and have been a great help watching her in the afternoons, while A and I rush about trying to get things we need for the apartment. Much to my astonishment, R was almost immediately at ease with them, despite the fact that they are virtually strangers to her. This unfriendly little thing who I have to fight not to apologize for, when strangers coo at her and receive nothing but what I term "dead eyes" in return, almost immediately began holding her arms up to signal that grandpa must hold her and barely gave A and me a glance when we left her behind with her grandparents. She'll also wolf down things they feed her that she won't for me. Can you hear me scratching my head?

After almost a week, R is starting to relax a little in her new home. I've found it really important to give her lots of eye contact, cuddling, and uninterrupted one-on-one time. The first few days, I didn't do a good job with that, simply because I was cross-eyed with exhaustion from a combination of jetlag and the flight--as I expected, based on past experiences, R refused to sleep and I spent hours carrying her up and down the narrow aisles, rocking her in the back of the plane, pretty much getting in everyone's way--and R still not sleeping well after we were back on solid ground.

She still fights sleep a little, I think because she's afraid to be left alone in an unfamiliar place. I'm impatient to decorate a little, and transform her new bedroom into a cheerful, inviting space. But unfortunately, basic necessities like new cupboards, garbage bins, and so on take precedence. And now that we're back in a city where the principle mode of transportation is the train, it's so much harder to go out with R to buy things. Right this minute, I'm worrying over the ten-minute walk from the grocery store to our home in the heavy rain, while juggling R, an umbrella, and shopping bags full of the basic kitchen provisions we still need.

Funnily enough, we're back in Shakijikoen, the same neighborhood we were in before we left. In fact, from the kitchen window, there is a clear view of our old apartment, close enough that I can see a little black and white cat seated at the living room window of one of the units, gazing out into the gray watery day. Everything feels familiar in a warm, intimate way and I'm glad we returned here. One less new thing to figure out.

2010-01-07T12:16:00.000-08:00

Dear R,

We just got back from vacation spent with your grandparents, uncles, and potential aunt (I *think* an engagement was mentioned). Some parts were nice: visiting the places of my childhood, being surrounded by snow-covered mountains and towering pines. But, mostly, it was exhausting. You refused to sleep during the flight there and back. You viewed my family as strangers and clung pitifully to me the entire two weeks (I have newly bulging biceps to show for it--scared the heck out of me when I spotted them showing off while I was brushing my hair in front of the mirror). We had to share a room, which was sheer hell for me; you made sure to wake us often throughout the night.

But we're back now, thank god, and mom is slowly recuperating. And you're returning to your usual cheery self. You've been getting more independent-minded, these past few days. You want what you what "and don't even bother trying to distract me with that stupid ladle." Suddenly, you want to wear shoes--mine and dad's. You have two push-and-walk toys but you stubbornly return again and again to your own stroller, which isn't one of those little umbrella fold-up types, by the way; you've even figured out how to release the break, when mom sneakily tries to thwart your efforts. And you want to feed yourself, god help me--but NO HIGH CHAIR. You leave food trails on the kitchen floor like some omnivorous snail. I'm considering putting you into the bathtub naked and letting you do as you please with your dinner; right now, that consists of you violently stabbing your fork and spoon into the bowl and sending food flying everywhere. You then attack the food with your hands and like to finish off with using mom as a giant serviette. I think I need a bib more than you do.

You still hate your infant car seat. Which reminds me to record this: Your eyebrows turn bright red when you've had a long bout of rage-induced crying. It's really...cute and funny. Which I guess makes me a bad mom for giggling a bit when viewing her baby's tear-stained face. I realized last night that I'd become a true mom when I found myself driving home, singing cheerfully along with the radio, and really not bothered in the least by the fact that you were shrieking in the back at full volume, wailing as if your tender baby heart were being torn from your chest.

But I must say that you're actually not a big cryer. These days, say you topple over and hit your poor head, you'll right yourself and just rub the injured spot with a puzzled frown on your face (I guess because I usually do that for you, but does it really make the pain better?). It's endearing.

I love how your personality is showing itself more and more. You like smells and have a nose like a hound dog. The minute I break into the skin of a mandarin orange, your head pops up in eager anticipation. You love cinnamon and could happily sniff a bottle of it the whole day. And I can't even get a spoon of yogurt close to your face before you start shaking your head in refusal. Sometimes, I find myself smiling even when you're turning your head away from a particular food, because I love that you have actual opinions on such matters and that you're already standing up for your beliefs. Before, you were like a little animal, utterly helpless; but you're steadily growing into your own person. It's amazing.

Etsy Share: Wooden Toy Boat

2009-12-10T13:32:00.000-08:00

I think these hand-made wooden toy boats sold at the Friendly Fairies Etsy store are so pretty. Unlike the stiff plastic versions usually found in toy shops, these boats have such a strong tactile sensuality to them. Don't you just want to run your fingers along the wood? I especially love the wood-burned details, and it's great to know all the boats are "painted with non toxic paint and triple sealed with a non toxic hard coating."

One Red Dot

2009-12-09T12:30:00.000-08:00

R just woke up from nap but want to post this QUICK! Was at the book store with her yesterday and holy cow, pop-up books: not how I remember them. Saw a particularly incredible series of books by David A. Carter, but I thought the best of the lot was the first volume, One Red Dot.

I admit this is not the best book for my baby, who eats magazines for breakfast--literally, of course--but it is so much fun, I'm considering buying it anyway and letting her enjoy it...from a distance.

Good snack for breastfeeding moms

2009-12-09T12:04:00.000-08:00

I've kind of joked about this before, but it IS really hard to be constantly hungry because you're breastfeeding or simply don't have the time (or aren't allowed--if you have one of those babies, you know what I mean) to eat, while trying to take care of a baby/toddler. Today, we hadn't even reached the time for R's first nap and I was already wiped out. And literally dizzy from hunger. So I strapped her on my back and made pancakes. I know everyone has his or her own favorite recipe, but I've tried LOTS of different ones and this recipe from the Joy of Baking website just seems fail-proof every time and produces my ideal pancake: light texture (not gummy or chewy), just a hint of a crisp caramelized exterior, and no bitter taste. The last point is, I think, due to the fact that the batter calls for melted butter (not oil, which to me tastes a bit bitter) and baking powder, rather than baking soda (which, again, bitter).

But actually the point of this post was to talk about a great quick-grab snack for lactating moms: Yo Baby (Stonyfield Farm brand). Yep, the yogurt for babies. To be honest, I don't want R eating this stuff because I'm trying to keep her sugar intake low for as long as I can control her--mwa ha. So, R gets plain yogurt. I used to eat plain, too, because I loathe the sugary flavored adult yogurts out there. But you do need to mix plain with some fruit to cut the sourness--and these days, I just don't have the time for that (all that fruit washing and fruit slicing and fruit sprinkling). So on a hunch, I decided to try Yo Baby...and it's good. It still has 12 grams of sugar per serving, but that's about half the amount of the adult versions, and it definitely tastes better because of this. Also, it's full fat, which helps satisfy my hunger and is what I need right now, with my body still churning out the breastmilk. Lastly, it's the perfect size for a quick snack.

That's my recommendation for the day.

2009-11-25T15:49:00.000-08:00

I was definitely on a roll, in terms of blogging recently, but the previous post might explain the week of silence. Sigh. Little R has not been a happy camper, and it doesn't look to be a fleeting phase or a passing illness (am I terrible mom for almost hoping she'd get sick and then turn back into a happy baby again?). She's also suddenly resisting naps and waking up at all hours of the night.

What I've read about one year olds is that it's pretty common for them to get separation anxiety about now and--here's the best part--it's not unheard of for this phase to last until eighteen months. Hmmm. More than half a year of this clinging and wailing and tantrum-throwing. Interesting.

It seems the best way to deal with separation anxiety is to give the baby as much reassurance as possible. Lots of holding and cuddling and eye contact. I think if you try to force a baby to confront his or her fear of being alone, you're only going to end up with a little octopus suction-sealed to your chest whenever the two of you are together. After all, a one year old really is still very much a baby and *shouldn't* be independent yet.

Except that my arm sometimes feels like it's about to fall off because she wants me to hold her in my arms, not my Beco baby carrier. And there are certain things that you just cannot do--or, I at least am too stupid to do--one-armed.

And when, inevitably, I have to set the baby down--to change her diaper or clothes, for example--there's so much yelling and screaming, I'm really terrified my neighbor is going to call Child Services on me.

This makes for a long, tiring day. I was just emailing a friend that I've stumbled upon a new and very effective weight-loss strategy: the too-tired-to-eat diet. I've actually gone to bed two nights in a row now with my empty stomach protesting most vehemently and yet with no trouble falling asleep.

So what this meandering post is is an advanced apology if things suddenly go very silent on this blog. Check back in eight months. Oh god.

2009-11-19T23:15:00.000-08:00

Dear R,

You're a very sweet baby. Just not today. Or yesterday. Or this whole week. Wow, have you got some bee up your bonnet lately. And there's absolutely no way to know for sure what's causing all this infant ire.

Most likely, it's: teething (will this particular insanity never end?), looming illness, or maybe a new developmental milestone (but why do you need to get mad about this, I ask you?). You have had a lot of firsts, this week. You figured out how to wave bye-bye. Your technique is charming, but the application is a little iffy. Often your timing will be off (you'll be waving even though nobody's leaving or after dad's shut the door and gone off to work) or you wave at people who are completely unaware of your attention (like passersby on the sidewalk below). And today, you made an attempt at clapping--for yourself, apparently, after you put a toy block into a bowl (another first). I did make a pretty big deal out of it. I think what got me so excited was that I first asked you to try doing it and then you did, you understood me.

Anyhow, it's been a long week, for both of us. I actually thought today, "Dear god, it's only Thursday?" and to accurately capture the voice in my head, you'd have to inject a boatload of shrill panic and despair into it. That's right, sweetie, sometimes you do make mom tired. There was a lot of not-sleeping today, starting very early in the morning, combined with plenty of whining and collapsing and crying and trying to climb up mom's neck and stiff flopping like a fish dragged out of the water.

I really hope you feel better tomorrow, baby. It's your birthday, after all.

Lapsaky Cotton-Fleece Romper

2009-11-18T20:50:00.000-08:00

The cotton-fleece romper that I recently bought online arrived today. Not hating it, not thrilled.

The good: The inside of the romper is really soft--just like polyester fleece. I went with the "natural" color (no dyes or bleaching), which in the photo on the website looks stark white, but in reality is a nice cream.

The bad: The website describes this as a winter romper, but even though it's not *that* cold where we live, this romper is not thick enough to be worn on its own. For people in truly cold climates, this might not be the best romper for your babies--unless you're the type of people who, say, like to frolic in semi-frozen bodies of water or have your babies nap outdoors in the winter, and probably think I'm a total wimp for classifying my current location as anything less than balmy. Nevertheless, in my wimpy opinion, I'd say the romper would be more suitable for fall/spring. So my first problem with the romper is: What's the point of the snuggly cotton fleece if you have to wear layers underneath it and thus not get to enjoy the snuggliness? Yes, that's right, I am peeved on my baby daughter's behalf.

Then here comes problem number two. There is a zipper that goes all the way from the neck down to the left ankle cuff. Since I've been known to shriek uncreative curses at snap buttons in my head--usually while trying to do up about a trillion snap buttons around a flailing, hysterical baby--you would think I'd be appreciative of this zip. Except that there's this lining along the zipper track on the inside that is stiff and scratchy. Again with the scratchy. Not comfy. Not snuggly, damn it.

I could stop fussing and just leave my baby to suffer with an itchy left leg as she sleeps, but these little things REALLY bug me. I know, it's her leg, not mine. But it STILL BUGS ME.

So here we are, with a nice, cuddly-soft cotton-fleece romper but it looks like R will always have to wear an extra inner layer. Maybe that scratchy wool underwear I recently bought her. Argh.

Ho-hum: Nuno Organic Wool Undies

2009-11-18T11:37:00.000-08:00

The wool onesie and long johns I'd ordered from Nuno Organic arrived yesterday and I was disappointed that the material was a bit scratchy. I rather thought itchy wool--especially in products meant for babies--was a thing of the past.

I do have somewhat sensitive skin, but I imagine it can't be more so than a one-year-old baby's. Now I'm not sure I want poor R wrapped in this stuff while sleeping. I did write to Nuno Organic to ask if there is a way to soften the wool and am awaiting a reply. There were suggestions online to use hair conditioner, but I don't feel good about trying that when there's so much chemical crap in conditioner--says the girl who uses said crap on her own hair almost every night.

Searching for Snuggly

2009-11-15T12:49:00.000-08:00

Is it just me or do the seasons lately seem to change in the blink of an eye, rather than a gentle transitioning? One day, the sun will be lighting up the green foliage outside my window; the next, like an overnight blizzard, I'll wake up to find everything changed, the trees and ground suddenly cloaked in yellow and pumpkin-orange leaves. And just as suddenly, the temperature nose-dives. This is the worst part. Now more than ever, because like most parents, I think, I'm always stressing about whether the baby is too warm or cold during the long nights.

It's confusing to me because they tell you (don't ask me who "they" are) that baby should always wear one extra layer of clothes than what you've got on. But then I'm always seeing little kids scampering about outdoors in nothing more than a t-shirt and jeans, while I'm bundled up to my nose in my thickest woolens. Kids just seem more warm-blooded than adults, but maybe that doesn't apply to babies, especially sleeping ones?

Anyhow, R has a sleep bag made of wool, which supposedly is good at regulating body temperature. But I'm still obsessing about how to dress her underneath that. I don't know why but in the US, there only seem to be two choices for baby pajamas sold in the mainstream stores: thin cotton or thick polyester fleece. I don't want R in synthetics during the night, and layering on the cotton seems extremely stiff and confining, especially when R likes to roll about A LOT in her sleep.

The past few nights, R has been waking up crying, and when I go to her, her hands and arms are icy. So I broke down and splurged on some versatile woolen underwear from Nuno Organic but couldn't bring myself to spend $60 to $90(!) on the thicker one-piece PJs that she'll surely outgrow before next year.

Yesterday night was FREEZING though and I just knew the wool stuff I'd ordered wouldn't be enough. I briefly considered the Snug Organics cotton sherpa sleeper (warning: maddeningly slow-loading website), which sounds pretty snuggly. But at $48, this was way too pricey. After a lot of searching for warmer baby sleepwear made from natural fibers but that wasn't crazily expensive, I settled on an organic cotton-fleece romper ($35) made by Lapsaky. Will report back when I get it and test it out on R.

Update: my reviews for the wool thermal underwear from Nuno Organic and the Lapsaky cotton-fleece romper.

Things I Do, Now (i.e., I'd never do this stuff pre-baby, seriously!)

2009-11-13T15:38:00.000-08:00

Since I've had R, I find myself doing things that surprise me, sadden me (as in, pathetic-sad), and even embarrass me. Like:

1. I get into the driver's seat of the car, look over, and find in the cup holder a stale cube of bread (in plastic wrap, I assure you), a leftover bribe for getting R into the car seat without too much back-arching and screeching. I snatch it up, thinking "Jackpot," and devour it, utterly indifferent to the number of days it's been sitting there.

2. I never am able to finish my morning cup of coffee uninterrupted, so whenever I return to it, it's cold. If I made myself a fresh cup each time this happened, I'd drink us right into the poorhouse. So throughout the day, I just keep topping up my coffee with hot water, whenever I have the chance, until by the end of the day, I'm drinking a very translucent brown water for reasons I don't even understand.

3. (a) I often find myself at home, feeling weak with hunger, but unable to do anything about it because the baby's sleeping and there's nothing in the house to eat. I'll occasionally stagger into the kitchen, open all the cupboards, stare into the fridge, confirm there's nothing to eat, and drink some more pale-brown water (see 2 above).

(b) I often find myself out of the house, rushing somewhere, feeling weak with hunger but unable to do anything about it because the baby's awake, but only for the next two hours, and there's just not enough time. There's never enough time.

(c) Alright, sometimes there is food to be had. But there's only so much peanut butter, cheese, and bread a person can eat. Why peanut butter, cheese, and bread? Because these are the things that can be taken out and gulped down in approximately 30 seconds or less. Mind you, gulping down peanut butter or cheese is extremely hazardous, and should never be done unless you have a baby standing at your feet, yanking at your pant leg and wailing. In which case, you'll put your life on the line, day after day. Also, a tip to new mothers: Eat standing. Don't waste those precious seconds on stupid things like carrying the food somewhere, pulling out a chair, sitting down--all that la-di-dah nonsense.

4. I come up with asinine fantasies, such as procuring skunk spray (I've never Googled it, but is there any doubt that somebody sells it online?) and leaking it down into my neighbor's balcony, which is right below our apartment and where she emerges every freakin' hour, from 5am in the morning until 1am at night (okay, there is a short reprieve some time in the middle of the day), to smoke cigarettes. The smoke rises up and for some reason gets sucked into our apartment, if our windows are open. Sometimes it's just too hot and stuffy to keep the windows closed all the time, though, and so I'll open them, the fumes inevitably come rushing in, and when I imagine R inhaling this second-hand smoke, that's when the juvenile ideas start churning.

5. The other day, I microwaved (get your pens out, everyone, this is an original recipe, from me to you) some leftover white rice, then stirred in a handful of frozen peas (thawed with hot water) and half a can of tuna. Ambrosia from the gods--is what you'd think too, after being on a steady diet of cheese, peanut butter, and bread for the past year. I might have even moaned a little, while eating this feast. Oh my god, my stomach just growled in recollection. I need to stop blogging and find something real to eat.

Etsy Share: Mamachee Bird Rattle (on sale, too)

2009-11-13T11:48:00.000-08:00

There is so much amazing baby stuff to be found on Etsy, but like any good thing on the Internet, there's also a surfeit of it. I tend to get overwhelmed when I have too many choices, and even found my Etsy newsletters piling up in my mailbox unread. But every so often, I'll scan through and be sucked in anew by some adorable handmade creation. I'll try to share, when I can.

My first Etsy Share is this squelchably adorable bird rattle by Mamachee. I'm being a bit of a mom by adding this, but if you order one, you might want to request that those bead eyes be replaced with simple hand-knitted ones, so that they don't come off and get swallowed accidentally by baby. Also, you can't tell by the pictures, but these rattles are a pretty nice size--not too tiny--that's perfect for baby to hug. There are more pictures on the Mamachee shop pages.

According to the Etsy newsletter, from 13 to 15 November, there will be a 10-percent to 20-percent discount on these rattles--although I couldn't find any info on that on Mamachee's homepage.

Loves/Hates

2009-11-12T12:53:00.000-08:00

Dear R,

You're 11 months old and you have strong opinions about everything.

Right now, you love:
-being held by your dad
-food
-your stupid 100% polyester lovey, which was originally a cheap wash cloth that someone gave us and that I tried to replace with several organic lookalikes, which have all repeatedly been tossed aside
-opening and closing doors
-turning pages of books and magazines (but not actually looking at the pages or being read to)

You hate:
-being strapped down (i.e., carseat, stroller, high chair, supermarket cart, my Beco Butterfly carrier--so are we ever going to be able to go anywhere ever again? And do I have to let you eat while moving about freely, dragging fistfuls of food across the floor, leaving a slimy trail behind you like a snail?)
-lying on your back
-socks, shoes, and hats--actually anything even remotely near your head (your latest enemy is the sun shade attached to the carseat)
-getting ready for bed (but weirdly, you're okay with the actual going-to-bed part)

Recently, you were scared by:
-a helium balloon
-water spraying against the shower curtain
-being at Gymboree (I think I'm going to cancel our membership)
-three huge nurses surrounding you to collect a urine sample with a catheter because you had a fever for three days without any other symptoms and the doctor wanted to make sure it wasn't a UTI (turned out to be roseola). And I totally don't blame you for freaking out during this whole ordeal; poor baby, mom was having a very hard time keeping it together herself.

She Sleeps?

2009-11-09T13:21:00.000-08:00

So there's been incredibly loud hammering, scraping, and rattling going on in the upstairs apartment for the past three hours now, and it's all coming through my ceiling nice and clear. It started about an hour before R's naptime, and I found myself praying the noise-makers would be prompt about pausing for lunch. But, no, not these oh-so-diligent workers. I actually started Googling white-noise makers and was about to purchase the Marpac SleepMate 980A Electro-Mechanical Sound Conditioner on Amazon, when I decided to peek in on R first, certain she'd be rolling around in her crib with her hands clamped over her little ears. But no, actually, she was sleeping the sleep of the dead. Whah?

I don't get it. This is the baby that bolts upright if I even dare breathe wrong while in the room next door, while she's asleep. This is the baby who didn't doze for more than 30 minutes, at 10-minute intervals, during a recent 16-hour international flight, because every little thing woke her up.

Now she sleeps through construction work? And continues to sleep, I might add, longer than she has in...months. I don't know what this means. Oh my god, maybe I better go check to see if she's breathing.

Does ANYONE Like Daylight Savings?

2009-11-09T13:07:00.000-08:00

Obviously the person who came up with the idea was one of those early birds who doesn't have any small children in the house and probably goes to bed at 8am each night. Daylight savings has doomed me to having to wake up an hour earlier every day since R's body doesn't know any different. Just what all parents with babies need: one extra hour less sleep each morning. Screw you, Daylight Savings person.

Maybe Not Helpful Tip

2009-11-05T20:09:00.001-08:00

In a pinch, breast milk works great--like an all-natural hair gel--to keep baby's hair out of her eyes. Really!

Your First Birthday

2009-11-02T23:02:00.000-08:00

Dear R,

Your first birthday is coming up this month. I hate to admit this, but I thought about planning a party for you just because everyone else was doing it for their baby. Yep, I almost caved in to mommy-group pressure. But I didn't need to think about it too long. I'd barely begun agonizing over matching balloon and cupcake frosting colors, when I realized I couldn't do that to you. You would hate a birthday party, especially your own. Heck, while the other babies at Gymboree are either throwing themselves into each new activity or just hanging out with mom on the mats, you're the one repeatedly making her way to my shoes at the entrance, like, "Let's get the heck out of here, already."

Everyone says you're the picture of your dad, but at heart, you're more like me. You don't like too many people all at once. You're not so good with new places. And you're more often an observer, rarely a participant. So I can pretty much anticipate your reaction to a room full of noisy people with lots of attention thrown your way.

They say the first birthday celebration is usually for the parents, but I'd rather the day be for you. So we'll probably keep it low-key, just our little family: you, me, and dad. Maybe we can go to the zoo and actually see all those animals you've been avidly examining in your board books. You can still have a birthday cake, though. Let me take another stab at my whole-wheat, sugarless banana-almond cake recipe. Which may not sound very good to the you reading this now, but trust me on this: Baby R digs mom's cake.

It keeps bowling me over, the tide of feeling that accompanies my thoughts of this upcoming milestone. I actually get teary, and I'm about the least sentimental person I know (your dad gets not-so-secretly miffed every time I forget our wedding anniversary). At first I chalked it up to me being hormonal, or something, but after talking with other people, I've learned that baby's first birthday is incredibly emotional and bittersweet for most parents. I don't feel sad that you're growing up, though--that isn't it. I don't quite know yet what I'm feeling.

I thought it would be nice to take a few pictures, though--an informal family portrait. We have possibly zero photos of the three of us together. So someone else would have to take the pictures. But I don't want one of those studio ones, with the weird cloudy background, matching snowflake sweaters, and poses that make you think of high school yearbooks.

I came across the Blue Lily blog by a husband and wife photographer team and was amazed by some of their pictures:

I like how natural and at ease everyone is. No one looks posed and there aren't any stiff studio smiles.

I wish we could have a gorgeous family picture like that, in memory of your first year...but most likely, we'll be in a public place, and we'll ask some passerby, "Excuse me, would you mind taking our picture?" And your dad will be smiling, you'll probably look serious because there are strangers everywhere, and I'll have that perpetually irritated look I always seem to have in photos. But we'll all be there, and one of us will be holding you close, and that's really all that matters, right?

Wanting Useless Things (Though Not for Myself)

2009-10-28T22:47:00.000-07:00

I don't know if many other moms and dads have suffered from a similar insanity, but considering I've never been a shopaholic, it's stunning just how badly *I* want these Baby Bloch ballerina slippers--which cost about $40, by the way--for my baby. Who can't even walk yet. And won't tolerate anything on her feet. It's just stupid, I know it. But look:

Right? All the little details--the little elastic bow at the front and all that. Exactly like real ballet slippers...but mini! I can see how these in toddler sizes wouldn't have the same suck-you-inability. Even before I had R--and wasn't crazy about babies--I always thought baby shoes were cute. But these literally make my insides squelch. I can hear an actual squelching sound.

The strange thing is that Baby Bloch doesn't seem very popular in the US. What little stock I could find--yeah, I searched, just out of curiosity, of course--was not very nice. They seem much more popular in the UK and Australia. No idea why. Just like golden syrup and hot custard sauce, I guess there are some great things that may never catch on over here.

Or maybe it's the first picture that greets you on the Baby Bloch website. I mean, I can see how the impression they were going for was adorable. But does anyone else see an unfortunate resemblance between the two bald and bashful souls below (okay, baby has a bit more hair than the action movie guy)?

Do New Stuff

2009-10-28T21:21:00.000-07:00

Dear R,

There have been several exciting developments in your life lately.

The first is that you now have a top front tooth to accompany your two bottom teeth--all the better to bite you with, my pretty. That's right, clueless mom had to be nipped in the nipple about eight times before the light bulb came on. You're still accidentally biting me here and there, and frankly, it's painful and terrifying, now that there are sharp edges closing in on mom's tender flesh from two sides. Thankfully, you're not doing it on purpose...yet.

The other milestone is that you *definitely* spoke today. I mean, you've been saying things that sound like words for a long time, but admittedly, it all kind of sounds the same and sometimes it's hard to tell whether you really know what you're saying--like how you say "mama" when you're hungry or tired. But today, you extended a credit card in my direction, so I took it, then gave it back to you, saying, "Dozo." You then held the card out to me again and, with your little bird mouth pursed, cried, "Duzu!" We passed the card between us many times, and every time you gave the card back to me, you would say "dozo," or "duzu," rather. Maybe it's because I'm your mom, but I thought this was so cute. I wanted to share the moment with your grandparents in Japan--they would have been thrilled--so I tried to film you doing this, but you promptly tossed the card aside and lunged for the camera. I guess this is something that will be recorded only in my memory. And on this blog.

One other thing is you've started giving me goodnight kisses. Oh, sure, sometimes you just want to gnaw on mom's face with your brand-new, razor-sharp teeth. But last night and tonight, after our last nursing session before bed, you stood in my lap, put your hands on my shoulders, and repeatedly pressed your mouth to my face, very gently. You then kind of nuzzled my cheek and rested quietly against me, which was a surprise. You've never been the cuddly type. In fact, you haven't fallen asleep in my arms since you were a newborn, always preferring to be set down in your crib when you're getting ready to sleep. It was particularly sweet, considering in contrast the many harrowing bedtimes we've gone through before this.

I love you, little bird.

The Truth About Mom

2009-10-28T21:01:00.001-07:00

Dear R,

Your dad's away on a business trip right now, I just ate an egg sandwich for dinner, there are books and blocks strewn all over the floor...and I'm in heaven. I don't know how I'll be as you get a bit older and I have to start setting a good example, but for now, your mom is a genuine slob.

It distresses your father to come home to a messy house, so, after you're in your crib for the night, I usually try to undo the wreckage throughout the apartment dealt by your wee hands. You seem to have an affinity for chaos (which your dad has somehow decided is all my fault): Your first task of the morning is always to head straight for the coffee table and drag out all the magazines (which your dad has been begging me to throw out--but who am I to remove the bedraggled pile of parenting magazines that bring you such obvious delight?). When set on the floor before a jumbled heap of laundry on your right and a stack of folded clothes on your left, you'll invariably head left. And if anything is sitting on a low shelf, you cannot rest until every last object is whacked to the ground.

But here I am, sitting in our exploded living room, blissfully choosing *not* to clear up. Ahhh. Of course, before dad comes home, there will be some seriously frantic housecleaning done by me. But not today.

From Me, To You

2009-10-09T12:33:00.001-07:00

Dear R,

This is my first letter to you. You're eleven months old right now, but still very tiny compared to all the other babies your age. I worry about this, and not just cause I don't want you to be a shorty like your mom, when you grow up. But I'm breastfeeding you--still going--and giving you lots of different kinds of very high-calorie, nutritious foods, so I think I'm doing my best by you, baby.

You've always been a very adventurous eater. Your first food was mango. Your first meat was lamb. Your first bread was a crusty sourdough--though this you mostly clutched to your chest and sucked on. You like spicy foods--curries, even. You hate plain boiled vegetables, although you will make allowances for edamame and peas.

You have your monthly obsessions. Last month it was gadgets and footwear. This month it's Edward's leash and the dishwasher. You've been nonchalantly plucking all the safety covers off the electrical sockets (damn IKEA so-called child-safety products). You've also begun inching closer to the toilet bowl, god help me. And will you never get over your need to overturn Edward's water bowl?

I've been going crazy lately with my spray bottle of white wine vinegar. Supposedly it's antibacterial, so I've been spritzing everything you may come in contact with, with it. The fumes give me a headache and make me worry if there are any risks to a baby regarding overexposure to vinegar. That sounds ridiculous, but I think it's possible to overdo anything.

Look what you've got me doing: cleaning. This is the power you have over me, baby girl. Not even your dad's endless grousing could get me going before.

You finally sprouted two teeth this month and your pink gummy smile has been altered. You don't look so baby-ish anymore, and I guess that's about right since you're almost a toddler. So now, when I Google one of my million worries about you, I sometimes have to try typing, for example, "toddler" (instead of "baby") + "thumb biting" + "horrific wounds." Yeah, your new teeth have left multiple punctures on one of your thumbs and it looks terrible. Supposedly, it's a pretty normal occurrence. You may even develop a callus, a thumb-sucking callus.

You know what? You seem to be torturing Edward less. Or he's getting smarter about running away. Thank god, I thought that poor dog was going to start developing bald spots.

Okay, this was a pretty mundane letter, wasn't it? But this is the kind of life you and I live these days and these are the thoughts that occupy my mind about you. It's funny, I thought I'd get frustrated with such things. Even your increasing clingy-ness, somehow I'm handling it okay. I even find it kind of cute how sometimes when I walk toward you, you'll come barreling over to meet me halfway, as if we've been parted for years (rather than the seconds it took for me to wash my hands for the 11,000th time that day). It's nice to be needed that much--who would've thought?

I love it when I pick you up and your whole body wriggles happily, like a puppy. Or when we've been together the entire day and yet, in the midst of your endless quest to examine every inch of our apartment, you'll still pause to catch my eye and give me a broad smile, like you're telling me, "I like being with you." Your dad and I need to be more like that with each other. We've been together so many years now, I think we forget to let each other know sometimes, simply that "I like being with you."

2009-10-08T13:03:00.001-07:00

Oh my god, how do people do it? How do they blog *with* babies? My last post was in May, when R abruptly stopped napping. And now she's almost one. Most of all, I feel bad for not having recorded all the little memories of my baby that I'm sure are slipping away each day, as new ones take their place in my mind.

I've heard of other moms who write letters to their babies, every few weeks, and I always thought this sounded very nice--both for you to look back on and maybe also to share with the child when she's older, to let her know how much she was loved. Because your emotions and attitudes toward your baby change as they grow, and some of those feelings are even lost, I think. The patience and adoration can be challenged when your little pink bundle begins transforming into an increasingly independent being. I see exhausted mothers in supermarkets with their toddlers and they have this look on their face. It scares me--that brittle expression. It's difficult to imagine bearing an attitude like that toward R one day, but I know she won't be this sweet, soft, and non-vocal forever.

I'm thinking of changing my posts into little (or long, if I can) letters written directly to R. I wonder if this will motivate me to write more frequently. But I also wonder if I should make that a separate blog, instead.

But as with most interruptions these days, R's woken from her nap. Yes, she is napping again, thank god.

Kicky Pants Bamboo Baby Clothes

2009-05-27T17:30:00.000-07:00

After finding some very sweet onesies online, I was all ready to make a purchase when a few thoughts stopped my finger from hitting the "checkout" link. Admittedly, the first one was: Am I really about to pay $20 for what is essentially a basic cotton onesie?

I realized with chagrin that I'd been focusing on things with cute or pretty graphics, rather than considering more important factors, like baby girl's comfort. No, I wouldn't dress her up in one of those stiff, scritchy floral numbers--like the ones my mom had recently bought for R with so much enthusiasm, I don't quite know how we're going to get out of that one. But, after one particular hot day recently, when the baby had sweat through her cotton onesie and became so soggy she got plastered to anything she came in contact with, I started wondering about alternate materials.

This wondering led me to bamboo. Although I'm not entirely convinced because I could only find the following info at various retail sites, it seems fabric made from bamboo has all kinds of good qualities: it's insulating, antibaterial, and wicks away moisture from the skin--better than cotton, supposedly. In addition, pesticides aren't necessary when growing bamboo, so you can feel a little better about the material being against your baby's skin or even in her mouth, as the case may be with a sleeve-sucking kid. However, the website SAF (safe alternatives for) Baby wrote:

We’ve heard about the toxic process of bamboo from plant to fiber which can be harmful on the environment. So, we searched for a company that offered a safer, non-toxic processing alternative.

SAF Baby then went on to recommend the company Bamboosa. By the time I found this article, however, I'd already ordered some baby clothes from Kicky Pants. I liked the clean simplicity of its organic Bamboo Basics line.

Although the Mother Earth and Baby site offers the best selection of colors at the lowest prices I could find--e.g., $15.30 for onesies--they only have sizes from 0 to 12 months. Wanting to stretch my dollar a little, I was looking for bigger sizes that would last us longer. Little Speckled Frog is offering 99-cent shipping until the end of May, and the prices aren't too bad, but their sizes and colors are limited. I finally settled on Amazon because they had a free-shipping deal, the size I wanted, as well as a very adorable pink romper that I--yes, I--needed my baby to wear (it's got these three rows of little ruffles on the butt...).

Well, the clothes arrived and I was immediately impressed by the very fine, smooth texture of the fabric. It's deliciously soft. There's also a stretchiness that makes it great for R, who is getting more active these days, rolling across the floor during her exploratory forays--and, today, doing this adorable inchworm-like forward scootch. Now, when I touch R's regular cotton onesies, they feel so rough and stiff in comparison!

As for all the other properties of bamboo cloth, those remain to be seen. But I think there might be several opportunities for Kicky Pants to be field-tested in the near future, as assorted relatives living in Singapore and Japan are demanding that we come and visit this summer. Tokyo in July...hmmm.

Breastfeeding Scare

2009-05-27T17:15:00.001-07:00

Just as I was finishing up feeding R this morning, I noticed an alarmingly hard area in my right boob. I still get engorged once in a while, and I've had plugged ducts, but this felt like neither. For one thing, it was in an isolated area. For another, there wasn't any pain, redness, or feelings of exhaustion, all of which accompanied my previous experiences with mastitis. In fact, the area felt rather numb. Ironically, this lack of pain freaked me out. And, come on, who wouldn't panic when it feels like a mischievous little breast pixie tucked a golf ball inside your breast while you slept.

I tried to tempt baby girl to get a little more milk out but she wasn't having any of that. Dragged out my dusty breast pump but the stupid thing couldn't squeeze out more than a drop.

Well, long story short, took two lecithin capsules, did a lot of massaging and warm compresses, and had a very long nursing session in the afternoon right before R's nap, when she was half asleep--perfect because she wasn't distracted and pulling on and off.

Success! The horrifying rock sliding around behind my nipple has almost completely melted away.

Baby Sunscreen Recs

2009-05-14T16:40:00.001-07:00

Summer is heading this way and most babes are going to be getting more sun exposure--unless your baby is like mine and flinches and flails, even when asleep, at the merest tickle of light. I'm the mom that you see either walking with an umbrella when it isn't raining or entombing her baby inside the stroller with layers of blankets, but only because R, my little baby vampire, demands it. Anyhow, for everyone else, Safe Mama recently did a nice baby sunscreen roundup.

Onesies!

2009-05-14T01:09:00.000-07:00

Until now, I've scarcely bought any clothing for R because every single baby gift I've received so far has been clothes. The little miss's cabinets are full to bursting. We could start a baby sock shop.

I can only surmise that there must be something universally irresistible about miniature outfits. I know I can't wait to buy things for R myself, and now that the weather is warming up, I've been surfing the Web for some less pajama-looking onesies, particularly ones that are decidedly NOT pink. If anyone reading this is doing some searching of their own because they need to buy a baby gift, can I give you one piece of advice? No one--trust me on this--wants to dress their new baby girl in Pepto-Bismol pink. Baby R's own wardrobe often looks like a flamingo exploded in there, but what can you do?

Here are a few nice onesies that I've found so far:

Brown Swamp Grass by Circular Accessories

The Hunt by Circular Accessories

Fawn Print by Shyness & Bloom

Cherry Blossom by Shyness & Bloom (see adorable "bottom" detail)

Escape by Circles & Squares (see closeup of graphic; picture shows baby tee but it's also available as long- and short-sleeved onesies)

Guinea Pig on organic cotton by Circles & Squares (comes in both infant-onesie and bigger-kid sizes; there are also other onesies printed with less commonly seen creatures like the meerkat, kiwi bird, and anteater)

And although they aren't onesies, I really like the gentle colors and jovial vegetables featured on the organic baby tees by Puddlefoot. My favorites are the beet and celery.

An added bonus is that Puddlefoot offers free shipping to addresses in Canada and the United States.

*The onesie shown at the top of this post is Old School Woodsy, sold at The Retro Baby.

California Baby "Super Sensitive Hair Conditioner"

2009-04-24T00:27:00.000-07:00

Lately, the hair at the back of baby girl's head was getting seriously matted after every nap and had developed a texture not unlike steel wool. She even had a few mini dreads. So I bought the Super Sensitive Hair Conditioner by California Baby, choosing it primarily because it contains no fragrance and seems to use natural ingredients (I admit I didn't really do much research on this). I used just the tiniest dot of conditioner in R's hair, combed it through, and then rinsed it out. I wasn't sure what to expect and so was pretty surprised to find her hair completely back to normal the next day. And her hair stayed straight and smooth for three days before starting to frizz up a little bit again. The price for this rather small bottle (8.5 oz / 255 ml) of conditioner was US$11.49, which seems expensive, but considering how fine and short most baby hair is and how little you need to use, one bottle could actually last quite a long time. After checking out the California Baby Web site, I noticed that the conditioner even contains "natural sunscreens"--not that I really know what kind of protective coverage that would provide, but, hey, every little bit counts, I guess.

2009-04-23T21:47:00.000-07:00

Ah, breastfeeding. What could so perfectly conjure up that maternal emotion of quiet, tender love as the scene of a mother nursing her infant? Unless you're me, of course. Because then, most likely, your jaws would be clenched and your shoulders stiffly hunched as your own flesh and blood lays siege to your body.

If someone asked me what's the hardest part about being a new mother, I would answer unequivocably: breastfeeding. What's so hard about it? Well, first, there's that little bit of pressure regarding adequately nourishing your child. Imagine holding your fragile new daughter, who, hysterical with hunger, tries to find relief at your breast, only to pull back, flailing and screaming even louder. Then having a nurse gasp and say, "Oh, no" after weighing your one-week old baby, who apparently has lost too much weight. Then having the pediatrician tell you that your babe is dangerously jaundiced and that you have to supplement with formula because your milk isn't working, isn't enough (which translates in a crazed new-mom's brain as: You've completely failed your child and it's entirely your fault that she's sick).

Breastfeeding also has its physical discomforts. In my case, so far, my breasts have been: bitten, bruised, puked on, kicked, kneed, pounded on by little fists, clawed and bloodied, pinched, yanked on, shoved away, infected, blistered, and so engorged at times, I couldn't put my arms down or bear to feel a soft t-shirt against my skin. I still can't face forward in the shower, unless my arms are crossed shield-like over my chest against the water spray. Hugging makes me wince. It's been almost two months and the multiple milk blisters on my left nipple aren't healing and there's sharp pain every time I nurse, and even when I'm not nursing. Although really it's nothing compared to the experience of nursing with thrush--thank god that's over--which felt like there was a shard of jagged glass repeatedly plunging straight through my breast and out past my shoulder blade.

I'm not tallying up my battle wounds like a strutting jock. I'm not fishing for sympathy--because truly, after all this time, you get a bit numb to the discomforts. I'm writing this post because I haven't yet met a mom struggling with breastfeeding who didn't tear up when we shared experiences. I don't want to scare anyone who hasn't gone through it. I have friends who declare it everything those Madonna and Child paintings depict it to be, who adore each precious bonding moment. But for those of us who find it a challenge--a "war" was how I thought of it in the beginning, when every nursing session left me feeling utterly drained and defeated--just know that you're not a failure and a wuss for crying, for finding it hard, for having thoughts of giving up. If you have any doubts, just visit the La Leche forum, and you'll see there are many, many other moms going through something similar or maybe, sadly, something worse.

I think a low point for me, though, came a few months back, when my own lactation consultant told me that maybe I should consider giving up. No, there's no shame in pumping or turning to formula. But that's not what I needed to hear when what I was seeking was encouragement and hope. Okay, sure, while she's savaging my nipple, my daughter's roving little fingers still attack any exposed flesh like she's Bruno the Burly Baker working on a rebellious piece of bread dough. Yeah, the slow-healing milk blisters are bugging the heck out of me. Maybe all this jaw-clenching is realigning my until-now straight rows of teeth. Also, tonight, the little poopsies bit me so hard I felt the pain surge like a wave all the way down my body. But when I glance through my baby girl's newborn photos and see exactly how much she's changed, how big she's grown, how squeezably chubby her body has become, I feel...awed and amazed that somehow I had something to do with that. And on those rare occasions when we're not battling, when she's getting sleepy at my breast and the abuse from those terrifying little hands turns to gentle petting, or when she's just about to nurse and opens her mouth, like a baby bird beneath a dangling worm, with utter confidence in my ability to feed her, I do understand the peaceful connection that other women experience with their babies.

The best thing to do is think only about getting through today. Don't dwell on the weeks and months stretching ahead of you. Some things actually do get better. My daughter eventually stopped choking and crying while nursing when I finally fixed my overactive letdown (this took weeks of militantly precise block feeding). I woke up one morning and my shirt and sheets weren't completely drenched and soggy with milk from my stupid leaking breasts. I haven't had a plugged duct--utterly terrifying for anyone who's ever had mastitis--in weeks. And I can sort of, almost, practically feed my daughter without using my beloved My Breast Friend pillow. Now if we could only nurse in public without my daughter swatting at the nursing cover so hard my breasts are revealed to all the hapless passersby.

Disposable Diaper-Changing Sheets

2009-03-04T17:13:00.000-08:00

Before Baby R was born, a fellow dog-owning friend confessed that she used puppy toilet-training sheets when changing her son's diaper. Having no desire to wash the diaper-changing pad cover every time there was leakage (or squirtage, as the case sometimes is with a baby), I thought it was a pretty good idea. One concern I had, though, was that it could add up to a lot of money. My dog's pee pads are not cheap, but because I live in an apartment and mostly because I'm a lazy bum and don't want to trudge all the way downstairs and outside late at night for that last potty break before bedtime (oh, stop sneering, all you home-with-a-yard owners), I'm willing to fork over the dough and withstand censorious looks from the petshop cashier person, who informs me they have a great toilet-training class for dogs.

A second concern was that I didn't really want my baby's skin coming in contact with questionable chemicals, which those pet sheets are often treated with to encourage a puppy to pee.

After touring a few incontinence Web sites, further Googling led me to Mednet Direct. At $34.95 for 300 sheets, this was definitely the cheapest deal I could find. And everything about the site was totally suspicious--just check it out and you'll see what I mean. In addition, at the time, all I could find online were endless press releases about Mednet and its great deal on puppy sheets, but nary a legitimate human review.

Being the wild risk-taker that I am, I decided "what the heck" and ordered a box. For the record, they have a pretty expensive flat-rate shipping charge of $12.95, but the total price was still lower than anything else I could find. A week later, much to my surprise, the pads arrived, and in a fairly compact box, to boot (a bonus, as I'd been worrying about where to keep 300 bloody pee-pee sheets, but the whole lot fit quite neatly in the little cabinet under the bathroom sink).

First things first, the quality of these sheets is not great, especially for dogs. My pup is a little guy, but when he uses one of these sheets, the pee rapidly seeps past the border--and just keeps on going. On the other hand, it's more than adequate if you're using it for changing diapers. Unless there's an accident, your baby isn't going to pee on this thing. It's just to catch a smear here and there, and save you from doing extra laundry. In our house, one sheet lasts us a long time, unless Baby Girl has a particularly explosive blowout.

So that's the verdict: The Mednet sheets are cheap, both in price and quality, but for changing diapers, you don't need to waste your money on something better. They're also great for diaper changing outside of the house, whether you're protecting your baby from having to come in contact with those changing tables in public restrooms or doing an emergency change on the floor...somewhere.

SimplyNoise.com

2009-03-03T17:06:00.000-08:00

So we're officially "sleep training"--spurred on by three evenings in a row of very cranky, inconsolable wailing by a baby who's tired but won't sleep. I'm reading books, Web sites, mommy/baby/parent forums, you name it. And one recurrent recommendation was a white-noise machine. So yesterday, Baby Girl, the dog, and I strollered through darkness and rain to Target, in search of this supposedly magical apparatus. They didn't have one.

Sleepwise, it hadn't actually been a terrible day. Our little evening outing seemed to have put the little pookies in a good mood and she continued to nap happily in her Bugaboo Cocoon even after we got home. She's been waking up in the middle of the night, not hungry but fussing, though, and I was eager to test out the power of white noise. A quick "white noise" search brought me to SimplyNoise.com. What I like about this site is there's no downloading required. You just go there and the white noise starts. There are actually three options--white, pink, and brown/red noise--with white being the highest pitch and brown/red a deeper rushing sound, almost like ocean waves. I set up the laptop near baby's bassinet and just let it play all night.

I don't know if the sleep training is starting to work or if it was all about the white noise, but yesterday, at exactly 1:40am (that girl is like a clock, I tell you), I heard the heavy breathing and then the dreaded "eh eh eh," and then--silence. Until 8:30am the next morning. Hallelujah, praise the Internet, Elizabeth Pantley, the Baby Whisperer's idea of "wake to sleep," and the almighty white noise--and I really have to go and feed her now.

Carlson Baby Ddrops

2009-02-27T22:56:00.000-08:00

I was at Wholefoods the other day and made a happy discovery: Carlson Baby Ddrops, the vitamin D supplement I'd mentioned in my previous post. A friend got the okay from her daughter's pediatrician--I didn't even think to ask ours (sigh)--so it should be safe to use.

I'm glad to report that these drops are completely tasteless. There is a slightly sour odor, which might bother breastfeeding moms, since you're supposed to put the drop on your nipple (and let the baby suck away), but it really doesn't linger. The best part is that Baby Girl doesn't even realize she's taking a vitamin.

One thing: The solution is fairly liquid, and you need to have baby ready at the breast, right before you put a drop on your nipple, so you can quickly get that boob in his or her mouth. Also, be careful of sudden flailing arms--the first time I tried the drops, Baby R's hand suddenly flew out and went right through the stuff, and I didn't add another drop for fear of overdosage (which maybe isn't a real concern, but hey, I'm a first-time mom--leave me to my paranoia).

The only bad news is that the aforementioned friend's pediatrician also said breastfed babies need an iron supplement. Groan.

Vitamin D Supplement for Baby

2009-02-26T19:42:00.001-08:00

There are a lot of differing opinions regarding giving your baby a vitamin D supplement. Only if you live in Alaska--or Canada (love the sweeping geographical verdict)--some say. Just take a vitamin D supplement yourself and it'll pass through your milk to the baby, my friend told me. All a baby needs is a few minutes a day in direct sunlight, claim the old-schoolers. The Baby 411 Blog has a nice post that sums up the vitamin D situation.

Baby R's own pediatrician recommended a vitamin supplement for babies--which I did most dutifully go out and buy. And which, I acknowledge, has been sitting a few squirts short of full at the back of the medicine cabinet for months. Why? Because, at the time, the only supplement seemingly available was a foul-smelling liquid (apparently, it's the vitamin B that's the stinker) multivitamin called Poly-Vi-Sol. You had to give a whole dropper's worth every day, and it was so hard to administer to my little baby because she absolutely hated it: her whole face would scrunch up and turn bright red and she'd repeatedly stick her tongue out, as if to get rid of a bad taste in her mouth--not to mention the fact that she pretty much spit out the majority of what I painstakingly was trying to squirt in.

[Editor's note: Can I interrupt this post to say that my baby is crying her guts out right now and it's extremely hard to think, let alone blog? I've tried everything: fed her, changed her diaper, read her a story, held and cuddled her. Nothing. Hated it all (except the feeding). For any new moms out there, this kind of thing happens and the intense stress it invokes will churn your stomach and shave five years off your lifespan.]

But then I found out that last year, the AAP had upped their recommended vitamin D dose for children from 200 IU to 400 IU. Worried, I did a little online research and thanks to the La Leche League forum, learned about something called Carlson Baby Ddrops. You just need to give baby one drop--applied on the nipple, for example, for breastfeeding moms. Sounds easy and painless, and I'm going to try to find it tomorrow, if the stress of my still-wailing baby doesn't first cause my brain to explode.

Update: I found the drops at a local supermarket and wrote a short review on it.

Baring All

2009-02-25T16:52:00.000-08:00

So I'm sitting on the couch in the living room--the place where I spend the majority of my resting hours, now that there's a baby in my life. There's a little watery sunlight coming in through the window and there's a chill in the air, but I'm topless. Blogging topless (about to breatfeed--I just wanted to add. It's not like I blithely sit around half-naked for the tingly pleasure of it).

Here's the thing about being a new mom. It's going to seem as if you're constantly in some state of undress or other. If you're breastfeeding, then get used to the girls hanging out, fully exposed, for many hours of the day. Even if you're not, though, amongst the many activities that baby will seem to purposefully interrupt, such as eating, sleeping, emailing, etc., changing clothes will be another. And you'll find yourself rushing to your screaming baby's side, wearing maybe a scarf, one sock--and your panties, if you're lucky. If the people in the building opposite ours were of the pervy, binocular-wielding variety, they'd get an eyeful.

My next-door neighbors surely get an earful, since the soundproofing in this apartment--yeah, there isn't any. As if piercing infant cries and badly sung (by me) songs aren't enough to endure, the people on our floor might also be unfortunate enough to overhear such choice tidbits that I call out to my fussing baby as: "Okay, okay, look! I'm taking off my shirt. Look, your favorite breasts!" and "Okay, okay, just a sec. I'm just going to the bathroom. No good? Okay, here, I'll let you watch me."