Kayaking, Diamond Lake, MI, July 2011

I was trying to figure out why the Algonquin Hotel is boarded up. By “trying to figure out” I mean I wondered fleetingly about it as I walked by this morning. I’m hoping the union that’s been protesting there for the past several weeks has gained some traction. It was the painters and allied trades union, District Council 9, accusing the hotel of bleeding their workers dry, hence the giant inflatable bedbug, next to the giant inflatable rat. I love the city and its unsubtle symbolism. Communication is important and we wouldn’t want to leave anything up to chance. So many relationships to negotiate and people to support in as many ways as we can on any given day, week, month.

This morning, I thought of a time when I was tested, tried, and finally shown the light. I’m thinking about the time I was falsely accused of something at work. It was a test of my relationship with my employer where I was tried casually and informally behind closed doors. The light that I was ultimately shown was the fragility of work relationships and the thankful lack of consequences of the alleged incident. There’s a 5 minute story in there somewhere.

The winning story at the Grandslam was about being arrested and realizing too late that, in an effort to protect himself, the storyteller made another man who was similarly situated feel frightened and vulnerable. It’s not funny when I describe it but I’m not that funny.

Working where I do, I listen to hundreds of stories a day while typically limiting each conversation to 5 minutes. I have a wealth of minimal knowledge of hundreds of different legal scenarios that could befall someone living in New York. Those aren’t my stories but I am often moved when hearing them.

Footnote: 4 drinks at Highline ran us $51.55, 2 tix to the show $40, a scallion pancake and shrimp tempura roll at Kang Suh $35, and the cab home $23 (including tips). I rarely go out like this. How had I forgotten!?

I learned today, from about.com, that there are only four styles of parenting: authoritative, authoritarian, permissive, and uninvolved. Whew! That was easy. It will save me the time of reading the Tiger Mother’s Battle Hymn and Cinderella Ate My Daughter. Authoritative parenting, whereby clear boundaries are established and consistently reinforced, is the middle ground between ignoring your children and beating them with a stick. I’m still going to read Cinderella Ate My Daughter and keep up with my attachment parenting listserv and keep an open mind. Additional suggestions are welcome.

It is nicely challenging although perhaps frustrating for a non-puzzler. The wooden pieces are unforgiving and need to be joined as they’re held in line with one another. Also, the Xerus has to slide in from under the Whale even though it is super tempting to drop it in from above. My son is about three and did not get overly frustrated; it is designed for age 5+ according to the site. He got the hang of it and does it almost every day. He likes to play with the animals, too, and builds a cage with his blocks for them. Today, he placed the Zebra on his Plan Toys forklift.

One downside, the Alligator’s nose broke almost immediately, as did the Flamingo’s legs and a chip off the Bear. Another friend of mine explained that natural wood will break along the grain. And so it did. The puzzle feels good and chunky and I’m very glad we have it. It’s a nice precursor to Christmas. I do believe that toys made of wood or wool are great textures for children, as opposed to big pieces of plastic.

The gift is also packaged beautifully and makes a great first impression. The names of the animals are listed alongside a picture of the completed puzzle, which is key. It’s big fun and I only wish the pieces didn’t break. I have successfully glued them with Elmer’s wood glue though.

Another obvious downside is the price. I did experience sticker shock when I saw the $40.00 price tag. Now I’m more disappointed that a number of the puzzle pieces broke but still loving it. Happy Holidays!

When that Fresh Direct truck would pull up to their door, my friend’s daughter, at a young 14 months or so, would point to it and say, “dinner.” And dinner it was. For in that truck lay the fixings for many meals, including some delicious pre-made creations like samosas and (half-frozen) parbaked bread, for those who like to “cook,” that is, who like to heat something up.

Fresh Direct is breaking out some new features for the wee ones like baby puree recipes, which brilliantly list all of the ingredients below the recipe for you to buy. There is also a “New Parent Survival Kit” which would seem a whole lot cheesier if it didn’t include beer.

Whew! I now have two $50 Fresh Direct gift certificates* on my hands, one for me and one for some lucky winner. Submit a comment to this post, content unimportant, by midnight on 10/14/08, and I will pick a winner at random and post it on 10/15/08. The winner will receive an email that includes the coupon code for the gift certificate, which must be used by 10/30/08.

*Web orders only (are there any other kind?). Limited-time offer. May not be combined with any other offer. All standard customer terms and conditions apply. Offer is non-transferable. Void where prohibited.

Here are a couple of other offers:

Promotion code for Free Delivery for current customers:
Free delivery on your next two orders
Customer needs to enter the code each time
Promo code: MOMBLOG
Starts: 9/16/08
Expires: 10/30/08

Coupon code for new customers:
25% off first two orders
Customer needs to enter the code each time
Promo code: MOMBLOG25
Starts: 9/16/08
Expires: 11/30/08

Now, why do I feel so dirty??

I felt contractions spread out over our walk so I called my OB at the BBG. He was more nonchalant than he’s ever been since our first meeting in January. All he told me was to wait a few hours for contractions. Matt was totally unsatisfied with my conversation, especially when I said I was not planning to call him back at any point that day. I knew my doctor and I was certain he would call us back later. There were a few details that he left out and he did call us when we were back at the apartment.

Even though labor would likely take a while to get going, having tested GBS positive for strep, I would need antibiotics, via IV, within four hours of my water breaking and then every four hours until delivery. My OB eventually informed me that delivery would have to take place within 24 hours of my water breaking and that he would induce me with Pitocin after 18 hours had passed (by Monday, 5 AM) if I did not progress. We would be doing this by the book.

My sister-in-law and her husband came over to watch Diego. Contractions were steady but I was able to talk through them and tried to ignore them. They were increasing in intensity and frequency in a very gradual way.

By 3 PM, I was in Labor and Delivery Triage. For the first time in the history of the world, it was not crowded. They monitored the fetal heart rate and I got my medication. We then headed home to supervise the changing of the guard, from my sister-in-law and her husband to my parents. After pizza with my parents and son, we headed back to St. Luke’s Roosevelt Hospital. The second dose of antibiotics were administered at 10 PM. By now I was having regular contractions, every 5 minutes or so. I was trying to play it cool so that I could get to full dilation and to pushing before I had a chance to second guess it. After the second antibiotic dose, we headed out for a walk and I was stopping in the street but hanging in there.

We decided to see what was going on around Columbus Circle. All the Duane Reades were open and a Dunkin Donuts. We stopped in for a few jelly munchkins. Our next stop was the Time Warner Center, which was open because of the few restaurants located there. We wandered around, I used the second and third floor restrooms, and I suffered through many painful contractions. At midnight, I decided it was time to get admitted to the hospital.

Midnight and we were back at triage. I was 5 cm but hoped I was further along. After two hours, I was officially admitted and moved to a small room where I would deliver the baby. I labored for a while but was quickly losing my cool. If I let Matt try to help me through a contraction I got frustrated and scared. On my own, I wasn’t much better. I think I had a look of shock and terror on my face at the onset of each contraction. I found it difficult to change positions or visualize anything. At Matt’s suggestion, I envisioned myself swimming out to the boat in the Galapagos Islands during our honeymoon. Unfortunately, it only worked for about two contractions.

By about 2:15 AM I was ready for an epidural. Two hours had passed since I reached 5 cm dilation but no one checked me at that point. I was so relieved to see the anesthesiologist appear quickly that I pretended to listen to everything he said. I survived two contractions almost effortlessly, puzzling my husband, while the doc stuck me with needles. The lights were turned off at 3 AM and we slept until 5.

5 AM and I was fully dilated with the baby’s head at the “+2″ position. I felt no pain and pushed like a champ until 5:50 AM (after a tiny episiotomy and a tiny tear). The contractions were more infrequent now; I was only pushing every 4 to 5 minutes.  I felt good and alert in our small, quiet room. In the reflection of an overhead TV, I could see the baby’s head emerging. As I pushed for the last few seconds, I leaned forward enough to see her come out. Our baby girl Fiona was born at 5:50 AM.

Now I’m home and feeling that same fidgety adrenaline feeling that I felt after the birth of my son. Having my husband home has been an incredible blessing. Having two children to share my life with is a blessing I can hardly speak of out loud.

Photos are posted on curinga.com.

We’re not beach snobs, in case you couldn’t tell. There is really nothing better than an almost deserted city beach visited on the Wednesday after Labor Day. I’ll admit there was some garbage washed up onto the beach at the high tide water line, like a few plastic bottles, for example. But we’re not talking diapers or syringes. My standards seem low, huh? Well, diving under the waves at 9 months pregnant on a weekday afternoon, playing hooky from life, was heavenly. I even got to lie down and read my book (The Time Traveler’s Wife) while my husband buried the two kids in the sand. No fights, just a lot of snacking and playing with seashells.

Of course today it’s 90 degrees, even hotter than yesterday, and no one invited me to the beach. I sweated it out in prenatal yoga and it was worth it. Nothing like finding your toes again and contorting one’s body into positions that just seem wrong, under supervision, of course.

All this freedom will soon change. The question is: am I ready for it. What do you think?