30% say WHA....?!?!?!?

I read a poll in Parenting Magazine last weekend that asked a rather provocative question. Readers, would you would be willing to breastfeed another person's child? Unsurprisingly, the majority of moms said no. But slightly more surprising? Roughly a third said YES! Now, maybe it's because I'm a baby neophyte, but I wouldn't have guessed that was appropriate under any circumstances short of apocalyptic conditions. Yet almost one out of three women said they would. Does anyone else find that somewhat disconcerting? 

I can't imagine this is part of the "mom bonding" I hear so much about...:-/

Righteous Indignation? Or hormonal surge?

I would say, for the record, that I don't think I've been all that moody or emotional since getting pregnant. Sure, there's been the occasional melt down. I definitely started crying one day on vacation for no apparent reason. And there have been a few times when I've finished blowing my top only to look at Doug's curious eyes and realize that I totally over-reacted. But a hand full of those over the better part of a year isn't that bad... right?

Or am I totally incapable of gauging? It occurred me to the other day that I once met a woman at about seven months a long and thought she was totally difficult, overly sensitive, territorial, reactive and generally annoying. She had a baby, and came back the nicest person in the world. Total 180. Our friend Josh told us on New Year's Eve that after his wife had their first baby she "mean for an entire year." An entire year! And she acknowledged it now, but at the time I bet she didn't think she was being mean. At the time the mystery prego-terror was making my life difficult I bet she didn't think she was mean. So maybe I'm crazy mean and I'm just unaware? Maybe I'm like The Hulk. Or some emotional amnesiac who turns into a green monster and then loses all sense of self-awareness or perspective, than comes to completely chill on the other side?

Let's hope for Doug and Avery's sake that even if I am a mean pregnant woman (unbeknownst to me) I return to normal shortly after labor. One can hope:-)

The charm of being consistently inconsistent

I know, i know. It's been almost two months since my last blog post. That's only slightly better than Doug, who jump started his blog again this week after not writing for a quarter of a year. 

The most consistent thing about the two of us is our inconsistency. Which is ironic, given that we keep hearing about how important consistency is in parenting. Babies need schedules, kids need boundaries, etc. I'm sure I'll buy a bunch of books on the topic only to read the first 60 pages. Or better yet, I'll read the books in their entirety, come up with a plan on how to implement consistency into our lives/parenting, etc. and then fail to follow through on day one. 

Any advice for us chaos loving parents to be?

friends for baby A

Thing #793 I didn't know about being pregnant: I didn't know how excited I would get about other people having babies. Sure babies are always exciting - cute little balls of dough that looks like Winston Churchill and smell like divinity (most of the time). But it's a way bigger deal to find out that people are pregnant when you're pregnant. I'm not sure if it's because I'm excited about the shared experience (Your ankles are swollen? MINE TOO!!!) or the thought that we'll be going through most of the same things at the same time for the next two decades plus (Your daughter is kissing boys on the playground? MINE TOO!!!). Or maybe it's just the imaginary friendships I picture our little ones having - as surely they'll be as cool as their parents (who we love). Either way, it's exciting. And we've had a lot to be excited about lately. 

This is a tale about a baby boom. Sure they say these things come in cycles. It seemed like everyone got engaged in an 18 month period. Then clusters of people started getting married, buying houses, etc. So it's not rocket science that the little ones would start a'comin. But I didn't exactly expect this magnitude. It really all started when super cool Shane and Karen Matlock had an "oops" experience last February. In March, Adam and Christy had a surprise of their own - and in May, Doug and I completed the trifecta with our surprise blessing (we really should start calling ourselves the Fellowship of the Nuvaring... either that or initiate local classes instructing people on how exactly birth control works, since clearly it gets confusing around here...). Then Peter and Patty Wyngaard got pregnant three weeks after we did... then Jake and Kristin Seward and Katherine and Richard Wintsch. All of us due between November and June. Avalanche of babies. 

The cutie pictured above is the first to be delivered (Kayden Matlock and Avery's future BFF). Shane and Karen had her in Lille, where they moved this summer. Our plan is to pack up baby A and trek her over the Atlantic next summer so Kayden and Avery can romp around France in baby berets. I think it's a totally brilliant plan:-) 

The Namesake

The other day I ran into a woman I work with who is 8 months pregnant. She's having a boy (her 4th!) and we started talking about baby names - or specifically their inspiration. She said she had a baby name she loved, but that it was inspired by a soap star - and knowing that her husband wouldn't approve of a baby named for a day time television character (who would?), she found a literary character with the same name and said that was her inspiration. Sneaky, but brilliant...

It got me thinking about Baby Avery's name inspiration. There's no real magical story. I've liked the name for a long time. It's not super common (...nor does it sound like something we made up by throwing random syllables together... though we did play that game over the 4th of July. I would think of a syllable and Doug would think of a syllable and each of us would throw one out to see what baby names we came up with. Among the favorites were clee-boo and dron-us. That's how a lot of people name their kids these days, right?...) and frankly Avery was the only one we could agree on. I really loved Harper (To Kill a Mocking Bird), Bella (short for Isabella) and Darcy (for Jane Austen), but Doug wasn't a big fan of any of those. I heard the name Kennedy for a girl the other day and thought it was kind of awesome, but of course, we're settled now. And I'm rambling. Back to the point of my story...

When I told my mom we were thinking about naming our girl Avery, she said, "Oh I love that name! Except for that terrible woman in Jerry Maguire." She was, of course, referring to Kelly Preston's character in the '96 Cameron Crowe movie. For those of you who don't remember that iconic Avery, she was Jerry's fiance for the first few acts. Smart, talented, ambitious and beautiful, when he loses his clients she gives a pretty famous speech:

"There is a sensitivity thing that some people have... I don't have it. I don't cry at movies. I don't gush over babies. I don't start celebrating Christmas five months early and I don't tell a man who just screwed up both our lives 'oh, poor baby.' That's me, for better or for worse. But I do love you..."

In many people's minds (including my mother's) this lack of sensitivity was paramount to being a sociopath - certainly not characteristics one would want for one's child. But truth be told, that character is like my own version of Tara's secret soap star. I loved her. I loved her unabashed authenticity. I love that rather than being destroyed when a guy broke up with her, she hauled off and hit him (this is probably revealing a lot of latent feminism leaking through - or anger issues - I'm not exactly sure...). I loved that she was strong and independent - and as someone who DOES cry at movies, start celebrating Christmas early and has always wanted to punch an ex-boyfriend or two - I was envious of those things. And that admiration kind of stuck with me over the past 12 or so years (eesh I'm getting old). You'd better believe her talent and tenacity were on my mind when I threw out the name.

So, when my grandparents asked about our baby's name I gave them the official company line: Avery means 'wise counselor' - and I do hope she's wise. I also hope she's capable of a healthier relationship than Kelly Preston's character. But if a boy ever breaks her heart, I'm okay with her leaving him limping away in pain rather than the other way around... Just between you, me and the internet...

rockabye baby

Alright prospective parents. In case you've been dreading the idea of having to learn the words to "wheels on the bus" and "the farmer in the dell" - I have recently learned that there is a fabulous alternative. My BF Lauren found this cd series called Rockabye Baby (www.rockabyebabymusic.com). She bought us lullabye renditions of u2 and coldplay, but they also have the beatles, rolling stones, nirvana, etc. etc. etc. They instrumental lullabies are just what baby music should be - sweet, melodic and sleep inducing. And now Doug and I have full confidence baby A will have good music planted into her little brain early on. Gotta love that:-) Thanks aunt Lauren!

Prego Business Cas

Seven months ago my definition of "business casual" involved a cute skirt from anthropologie, some sort of blazer from banana, some funky heels and jewelry. I'm no Rachel Zoe, but when the occasion arose, I could clean up with the best of them. Entering my third trimester, that's not so much the case. I lost the ability to wear anything from my beloved anthopologie around month 4 (or at least I'm not spending Anthro money on gear I hope to never fit into again post baby), around month 5 my shoes stopped fitting. And last week I went on a business trip wearing black Liz Lang maternity pants, converse all stars and assorted layers of spandex and stretch cotton. This is the new business casual. I'm sure I didn't look at slummy as I felt, but I was utterly depressed by the options before me when I looked in my closet at 4am before my flight. Sure, there are "businessy" maternity clothes that probably would have been an improvement, but for someone who has always taken such delight in fashion... arranging pieces in unexpected combinations to express some sort of feminine communique, pairing full panel pants and whatever sneaker-ish shoes my Professor Klump feet with cooperate their way into is utterly depressing. 

I know this all sound like vanity (sounds like?), but it's worth mentioning how far I've fallen where one of my favorite pastimes is concerned. This is definite motivation to work out starting in March.