Today Daisy hurt my feelings

Yes. I can hardly believe I'm saying it. She is only 6 months old and it's started already. I was away from her, for the first time in her life, for two mornings this week, and I can only guess that maybe THAT had something to do with it...or maybe this is just the beginning of her hurting my feelings, over and over again, for the rest of my life. Experienced parents, do tell.

I came home from work, as on Monday, absolutely dying to see her. I burst through the door, shouting out her name, beaming upon her, and...she barely glanced at me. I tried to get her attention and I couldn't. She kept her eyes fixed on Grandma Susie, who has been looking after her a lot lately since I've been going back to work and we've been busy with the move. Not only would Daisy not look at me, but she also cried (briefly) when I pinched her cheeks (okay, maybe a tad too aggressively, because she was pissing me off). She kept looking and smiling at Grandma Susie and ignoring me completely.

When Grandma Susie left I told Daisy how rottenly she had behaved toward me. I told her how hard I worked all day, all for her, and how everything I do now, in life, is for her. And that was what I got in return! She was lying on the floor babbling away, "dadadada" and all that jazz, and grabbing her feet. I told her I was not going to lift a finger to entertain her, since she was so ungrateful and cold. She would just have to take care of herself for the rest of the day.

Two seconds later I decided to give her one more chance. I did some silly voices and sounds and she immediately smiled at me. Then she laughed, and I caved in the rest of the way and decided to devote myself entirely to her again. The manipulative little minx.

I am at work

It is my second day back at work (in a very part-time fashion, but still). My first day CRAPPED on me so we can only hope this one is better.

It is a strange feeling to be back at work. I feel as though I now lack social skills or something in that general arena for functioning in a work environment. I feel like I am not quite sure what to say to people or how to say it.

When I get home from work, I have to take care of the baby and pack for our big move on Saturday. Thank God my mother has been staying with us the last few days and helping us, or I don't think we'd have made it even this far. But she is leaving today.

For some reason, all I can think about is mastering the bus lines that run near our new place, which is decidedly more remote than our current one. The bus will be all the more necessary, because I'll be farther away from stuff, but it is also much more confusing in that multiple lines that look the same have different destinations, and take strange turns here and there, and make connections in places I'm not familiar with. I just went to the MUNI website and tried to fathom the maps and text that are meant to explain what the buses do to me, but I felt like the whole thing was written in a different language.

I don't think I got my left contact lens in quite right this morning. My left eye is doing weird things and I can't try to fix it because I don't have any lens solution with me.

What do you think of this ambiguous compliment/insult my co-worker paid me when she first saw me again on Monday?: "Look at you! You're already back to your pre-pregnancy weight!" Now, on the surface, that seems like a very kind compliment. But, as in reality I am nowhere NEAR my pre-pregnancy weight, it could also suggest that I was never very thin to begin with. I don't feel insulted, just curious. I think there is a real art to coming up with genuinely, unsolvably ambiguous things to say to people and I sort of admire this remark.

Hing-da!

...I proudly announce my daughter's first word.

It is scary how much I'm enjoying this performance of "Summer of '69" by some contestant on "Grease: You're the One that I Want."

Hmmm.

It is scary that I am watching "Grease: You're the One that I Want."

6-month girl

Because Deb predicted I'd do it...

...and I am predictable:

Three Names You Go By:
1. Sari (my mom calls me this)
2. Mam (Mark calls me this)
3. Sarita (Arwen and AMD call me this)

Three Things You Are Wearing Right Now:
1. sweatpants
2. a white long-sleeved shirt
3. socks that shrank in the drier and hardly fit on me; it took me like an hour to get them on, but I kept at it, because I really wanted to wear them. I have weird hangups about socks and there are certain socks I need to wear all the time, even if they don't technically fit me.

Three Things You Want in a Relationship:
1. gentleness/kindness
2. depth/substance
3. a true connection

Three of Your Favorite Things to do:
1. read
2. watch my favorite movies
3. listen to music
Sorry these were boring answers, but I was being honest.

Three Things You Want Very Badly At The Moment:
1. more time to sleeeeeeeeeeep
2. alcohol
3. for a Magic Moving Fairy to pick up all my stuff and magically move it to our new apartment for us.

Three pets you had/have:
1. Claude, a psychotic devil-cat, hated by most, loved by us
2. Kerouac, a pudgy angel-cat
3. Butterscotch, a poor white-and-tan mouse who ran in her wheel all day and then died after a year, because mice don't live very long. It broke my young heart.

Three people who will fill this out:
1. Me
2. Me
3. Me

Three things you did last night:
1. Finished _Little Children_, by Tom Perrotta. That was a fun, pageturning read, must say.
2. Watched Pt.1 of season finale of "Top Chef," my favorite TV show
3. Rocked the baby to sleep after her THIRD night waking (and to think I was so naive I thought we were past all that)

Three things you ate today:
1. a pineapple, banana, and mango smoothie
2. pesto
3. HEALTHY, organic cheese puffs. (Ha.)

Three people you Last Talked To:
1. Mark
2. Mom
3. my friend Nicole, who has the two most adorable little brown-haired, brown-eyed girls (like mine!)

Three Things You’re doing tomorrow:
1. Taking care of my baby
2. Packing for my impending move
3. Reading Matt's novel

Three Favorite Holidays:
1. Thanksgiving
2. Christmas
3. Arbor Day

I am so impressed with Deb for picking Labor Day.

I hope Deb reads this so she can see I did, indeed, do it! (Oh, and yeah--Deb's right about the random capitalization on this questionnaire. Bizarro!)

Feeding Daisy

is frustrating me. So far it consists mainly of me spreading food on her face while she keeps her jaws clamped tightly shut. Oh, and today there was a nice variation on the theme: she opened her mouth randomly, so I quickly shoved some food in there, prompting an explosive sneeze that covered me from head to foot in baby food. (Well, maybe not quite head to foot, but you get the picture.)

She hates eating. HATES it. I have no reason to believe she will ever eat. I fully expect to be breast-feeding her when she's 25.

She had her 6-month pediatrician's appointment today. It was not a great day. I got worried because her percentiles are dropping. She weighs 15 pounds 4 oz, which puts her in the 33rd percentile, down from 57th at the last appointment. Similarly, her height had barely changed, and she has descended from the 78th percentile to the 40th. I worked up my nerve and bravely asked the doctor if it looked like she might be a dwarf. The doctor said she didn't think so.

She explained, "We don't really use those" (i.e., the percentiles). Er, why bother telling me them, then?

We didn't have our usual doctor, who's a resident--we are used to long, leisurely appointments, followed by a consultation with our doctor's mentor. This time was more rushed, and I didn't have time to ask all the questions I had brought with me, covering two sides of a page. This made me anxious. I am, after all, the person who took 43 typed pages of notes in my Childbirth Preparation class and brought them with me to the hospital when I went into labor, thinking I could study them and brush up during intervals between contractions. (They never made it out of my hospital travel bag.) I am an extensive question-asker and note-taker, so it racks me with anxiety not to be able to ask all my questions.

Then we had the vaccines, which were more than unusually horrible because she BLED at the injection sites, something that had not happened before. She also turned bright red and cried, erasing her one-appointment winning streak of not crying for her shots. I guess Mark will not be writing another "I'm So Proud of My Daughter for Not Crying" post like he did last time.

We seem fine now. She took a much longer nap than usual--an hour and forty minutes! Usually it's 20 to 30 minutes, what the Sleep Lady calls a "disaster nap" and what the Elizabeth Pantley sleep books refers to as "not a nap at all"--and then I fed her, aka smeared food all over her face while she kept her jaws clamped tightly shut.

Sigh.

Ohgodohgodohgod

I can only say, once again...thank you, Deb!

Check out the little Daisy video she created (it's the second of two little montages on this post).

http://blog.debtjoa.com/?p=260

Something is very, very wrong with me

Today a friend of mine suggested to me that my voice sounds very loud on my cell phone voicemail message, triggering a sensitive spot for me because one of my pet peeves about my mother is that she's so loud on the phone that I have to hold it a foot away from my ear when I speak to her. The friend didn't mean any harm, but it did strike a nerve, so I called my cell phone--from my home phone--to see if my voice really sounded that loud.

I NEVER have my cell phone on, ever, so I'd like to say that at least partially explains what is otherwise inexplicable.

I dialed my cell phone, then sat there waiting, my ear next to the home phone receiver. Nothing happened. Then, a second later, I heard my cell phone ringing.

Who could it be? I wondered. I looked at the little screen and it said "Mark." Oh, Mark must be calling me from work, I thought. I answered, shouting into the phone, "Mark? Mark?" Then, more urgently, "Mark! Mark! Are you there? Are you there?"

Finally, dismayed, I hung up. I thought, okay, back to what I was doing before I was interrupted by that phone call from Mark: trying to see if my voice is too loud on my cell phone voicemail.

Only then did I realize that I had been calling myself. I guess I have our home phone listed on my cell phone as "Mark."

Hmmmm. I wonder how concerned I should be at the state of my brain?

We are moving (again)

I know it must seem insane that we are moving again after only about 9 months in this place. But...well, I guess if you've been reading this blog, you have an inkling as to why it's worth it. AND: we found a great place. In fact, I have to tell you how we found it.

We were driving around a neighborhood we have both always fancied, though it's remote and probably wouldn't seem appealing to all San Franciscans: the Sutro Heights neighborhood. This is waaaay out in the northwest part of the city; the park has the most sublime views of the Pacific Ocean. It's near the Cliff House and the Sutro Bathhouse ruins and Land's End, for you San Franciscans. You get there by taking Geary long past where it's busy. It keeps going and going and gets residential and then you get to the ocean.

Anyway, we were driving around there and we saw a beautiful apartment building, much like the one we used to live in on Cabrillo. It had a For Rent sign, and I said to Mark, "That's where I want to live. That's my new home." I called the number when we got home, and much to my surprise, someone answered (usually, it's hard to get a hold of the rental folks). He immediately told me that whatever apartment was for rent in that building had already been rented. I was disappointed.

But then he said, "Tell me what you're looking for and I'll see what else we have."

I said we had two cats, which usually ends the conversation right then and there, and that we needed a two-bedroom. He began describing what sounded like my dream apartment: a big, spacious 2-bedroom apartment, very cat-friendly, only a few blocks from the building I'd admired, with easy parking. He said it was about 1100 square feet (this one's about 650) and had been built in 1929 by an architect who had designed many of the Pacific Heights buildings. The address was 250 Point Lobos. He said to call him the next day and we'd arrange a time for us to see it (and he seemed extremely nice, which didn't hurt).

The next day I called him when he'd said to, and I got the machine. I called him a few more times during the day, each time becoming more dejected when I got the machine. By the end of the day, when I'd never heard back from him, I was convinced something had gone terribly wrong and that I was never going to see the apartment. Throughout the depressing evening I said to Mark, "Why can't I live at 250 Point Lobos?" Then, five minutes later, I would say, "Why aren't I good enough to live at 250 Point Lobos?" And, fifteen minutes later, "What went wrong? I was meant to live at 250 Point Lobos. It was my destiny." I said things of this nature all night long, including when we were in bed trying to go to sleep.

Okay, so I never figured out why the manager didn't call me back that day, but I called him again the next day and everything worked out fine. We saw the apartment and loved it-- it's a lot like our old Cabrillo place that we loved so much, except it's much bigger. It has hardwood floors and high ceilings and huge rooms. It doesn't have the beautiful Golden Gate Park view, of course, nor does it have an ocean view, because it's on the first floor; but we had wanted something on the first floor because both our moms were deeply unhappy about having to climb all the stairs in our current place and also in our Cabrillo place. And if you want to see the ocean, all you have to do is walk right out the door and there it is! It's at a reasonable rent (by San Francisco standards) and utilities and PG&E are included. I know being so far away from businesses wouldn't be everyone's cup of tea, but I love this area and it's also right on the Geary bus line, which brings you everywhere.

Our managers let us out of our lease early, and we gave our 30 days notice. We are officially out of here and into the new place on Feb. 8, though I am trying not to get TOO excited because we haven't actually signed the lease yet. We have a verbal agreement with our new manager and we are supposed to sign the lease this weekend (we have already applied and been approved). Oh, the manager is such a nice man, too. I really liked him.

I am happy, but trying to keep a level head until we actually sign the lease. This place would be so great. I am being realistic: it's a drawback in some ways to not have things like stores and coffee houses and restaurants in easy walking distance. I know that was one advantage this place had. But in EVERY other way, the new place is better for us.

Can you see this one?

I switched to the New Blogger and since then have been having some trouble uploading images. Can you guys see this one, or does it look like a red x???

5 months old montage

I don't know if you can read the writing on the cute little dress in the second picture, but it says "I'm with the band." The wife of one of Mark's bandmates made it for her. Sweet, eh?

Pleasures of the mundane

The image below documents Daisy's fanatical devotion to her current favorite toy, Plastic Lid. Before you start to feel sorry for her, let me assure you that this girl made a killing on Christmas and Chanukah--absolutely spectacular presents. Yet the perverse girl's favorite toys of the moment are (in no particular order) Plastic Lid, Glasses, and Human Hair. If I weren't worried she'd poke her eye out or choke on some tiny part, I could probably leave her alone to entertain herself for hours with Glasses.

Anyway, Mark took this picture because we were both so amused by her persistence in hanging on to Plastic Lid. She clung to it in the bathtub, examining it from every possible angle, managed to hang on to it throughout the toweling off process, and was still clinging to it after being diapered. I guess she must have had to part with it when she was put into her pajamas (at which point she probably got greatly distressed and Mark had to sing one of her favorite songs--another endearing thing we've noted is that she DEFINITELY has favorite songs, ones she prefers to all others).

New Year's reflection

Okay, so this year we had no heat on New Year's Eve, and it was freezing. But then I had a memory of how I spent this period of time LAST year, while about three months pregnant: on New Year's Eve, I was holed up in a hotel in Sacramento in the aftermath of a huge storm, doing battle with terrible nausea and watching a Curb Your Enthusiasm marathon (okay, that part wasn't bad) while Mark was out till the wee hours playing a KISS tribute show that he later deemed a pretty dismal gig. Despite my nausea, I wanted to eat something and we'd missed dinner, so Mark brought home a hamburger from Lyon's at about 2:30 in the morning. I remember berating him because it had no cheese on it, and only being able to take about three bites.

The next morning--New Year's day--we drove home, and I spent the afternoon throwing up Thai food through my nose.

Upon doing the math, I conclude that this New Year's was a vast improvement on the last.