Growing Family

I Know

I know I haven't been writing a lot. I thought that the last month or so before The Sprout shoots out would be filled with calm days, a clear calender, and time for reflection. Instead we're really busy from here until the end of October. There's all the doctor's visits, the childbirth class, the routine commitments of every week, and then everyone seems to be getting social this fall! Birthday parties abound.

We've made really good progress on the pre-Sprout's arrival work list. My mom transplanted 11 established shrubs in my yard (I move plants like furniture) and put in the six new shrubs in my foundation beds. All the babe's clothes have been washed in Dreft and are folded in the bassinet. There are newborn diapers in the drawer. I ordered a cd I want to have for labor (Gnarls Barkley) and tomorrow I'll be picking up a supplement I want to take from now until the birth. We have a doula. I'm caught up on housework. I have a stash of new toys and books for Small Sun after The Sprout gets here. Small Sun is doing well in play school. We went to the photographer for a maternity photo session last weekend. It's all coming together. I just need to keep doing what I'm doing, speaking life and blessing to my family, to my baby, to my body. Each day comes and at the end I am exhausted but satisfied. It's a good life.

So...what do I write about? I feel like I'm pressing issues and causes and injustice away from myself and my consciousness right now. The Hypnobirthing book talks a lot about "going in to your baby" during labor and delivery. Shutting out the world to work with your baby to bring him or her into the world. I feel like I'm doing that now. The movie Hotel Rwanda has been siting here for weeks and I keep telling the Captain "I can't watch that right now". I've got to focus on this beautiful thing inside me to have the strength to deliver her with confidence. I keep thinking of those glorious scriptures "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable, if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things" and "the joy of the Lord is my strength". Sustained by joy, lifted up by meditation on goodness. Jesus said "the poor you will always have with you". I take that to mean, the cause and the need will be there tomorrow, the relationships are here to be nurtured right now.

So, it's a busy but quiet life these days. I hope you don't mind.

Playschool Issues

To give me some time to adjust to being a mother of two, and an opportunity to do grocery shopping and errands with one child, instead of two, I decided to enroll Small Sun in a Playschool program one day a week. Do you know how difficult this is to do?  First I cast a wide net looking at Montessori programs, Jewish preschools (we're not Jewish), etc. Do you know some of these places have a waiting list to start next year?? I quickly saw that my options were limited as I was looking so late in the year (at the end of summer). Also, I only wanted one day a week and not a lot of places do that.

I found two places that both seemed to fit our needs. I asked both secretaries about the ethnic diversity in their programs and they both said "well we're diverse, and you'll have to talk to our directer about your child's specific class and its diversity." So, I made appointments to visit each program and meet with the directors.

Playschool #1: Impressive facilities in a church in the nice part of town. I met the teacher, very nice, very capable and motivated. Small Sun enjoyed the place. Then I got down to brass tacks.

Me: We adopted my son. Can you tell me if you have other adopted children in your program, and how many other children of color are present?

DirectorA: Oh yes, we have several adopted children.

Secretary: Oh, one of our families has the most beautiful little China baby! She is just gorgeous!

DirectorA: And we have a large oriental population in our congregation so we have a good number of oriental children in our program. (Seemingly awkward discussing the topic)

Me: Are there any other black or biracial children?

DirectorA: Oh yes! Let's see, there's Janey in the three year old class...and Isaac in the twos...doesn't Small Sun look JUST like Isaac? (It ends up Isaac is another biracial, adopted child and the whole staff was in agreement that he and Small Sun looked JUST ALIKE!)

The director kept stating that there was indeed diversity, but her 1.5 black children, and "oriental" children didn't convince me. And besides, when I pressed her about the diversity in the one year old class, the truth was, there was none.

Playschool #2: More modest facilities in a good, but not trendy neighborhood. Teacher has been there for 17 years which has pros and cons. Small Sun loved the class room and wanted to stay.

The Conversation

Me: It's important to me to find a program where my son is not the only non-white child. Can you tell me about the diversity in the one year old class?

DirectorB: Of course (with confidence). It varies day to day because different children come on different days but on the day you're requesting there is an African American girl who is very sweet.

That fact pretty much sold me on that playschool. The director was comfortable discussing race and there was another black child in the class (there were only 5 in the class to begin with). So Small Sun has been going for two weeks and he LOVES it.

I went to drop him off on Monday and his teacher beamed at me with excitement and pointed to a new little (black) boy in the class and said ... (drum roll please) "we have another one!". Another one? Another student? Another boy? I'm guessing not...  So that was a big turnoff. I don't want to jump down people's throats though because honestly, how often has this teacher in her 50s in the south really had opportunity to get comfortable talking about race? I'm happy that she was excited to have the new child and communicated that excitement to me. And now there's three children of color in a class of 7.

It's hard for me to know when to correct someone's inappropriate language and when to just listen to their feelings behind the words. This time I let it go, but in the future I don't think I would. Come on, this is 2006, get some diversity training so you don't sound stupid.

A Good Saturday

For a couple years now I've battled the Saturday Funk. I seem to have polar experiences on Saturdays. I either have a wonderful day or spend morning to night (with a peak of frustrations around 4 pm) fighting some inner demon that tells me even the sunniest Saturday is gray. Maybe these bad Saturdays come because I look forward to the weekend all week and then I usually don't have anything much to actually do...and I'm disappointed somehow. Or even from waking up I feel the disappointment that I'm likely to feel later in the day. It has persisted through kid #1 when I thought that would help me grow out of it. So, I don't know...it's weird, I'm weird...something. But today, well today was a good Saturday.

It all began with a good night's sleep, which I've had two nights in a row! Then, Small Sun entertained us with his mad dj skills putting the alarm radio on and off and changing the stations from indie funk to Iranian folk and back again, all while tapping the touch sensor light from dim to high. He just learned these two skills this morning so we know it shows his great dj potential.

We all played together until Small Sun's nap time. Then The Captain set off on his mission (sealing the deck) and when I told him my idea of fun was to go to the nursery outside of town and spend hundreds of dollars on new shrubs for the front of the house, he said okay! So off I went, slightly stunned at the absence of any negotiations or budget checking. The garden guy helped me find exactly what I was looking for but I wasn't feeling exactly "wowed" by the dense yew I was preparing to load into my station wagon. Then, I looked over into the greenhouse on my right and noticed the Cherry Schipka Laurels which I had meant to look at as an option. Suddenly they looked so beautiful and perfect. I ditched the yews and loaded up on laurels. The good news? I needed fewer shrubs that I thought and they were less expensive than I had planned on so I spent less than the amount I had told The Captain. Then, the guys next door excavated an area to build an addition. They dumped a ton of soil on my property for me to use to plant the shrubs, which saves me even more money!

On the way home I saw a sign in my neighborhood for a "moving overseas"sale, complete with a kangaroo drawn on it. Curious by the idea of anyone from our neighborhood moving overseas (we live in a industrial/blue collar area) and drawn especially by the roo, I followed the signs to two blocks from my house. There was a young couple, with their two young kids, moving to Melbourne! To boot they had all sorts of stuff in their yard sale that I was happy to buy. I acquired a elephant slide,

a sheepskin rug (to sink my toes into on winter mornings), the chicco stroller the stupid airlines broke on our last trip to Holland, and a bookcase for the kiddies room. They guy also gave me four terra cotta chimney flues from a house build in the 20's. I had seen these used in a garden design in a magazine and wanted some for myself but thought, where in the heck would you find such a thing? Well, in these people's backyard, evidently. Here is one, in my garden (I'll place it somewhere else later, I just plopped it here...well, The Captain did, I'm not plopping any 40 pound item around right now, unless you count my belly).

So, the next highlight of my fine day was I used a pair of my pajamas from when I was a baby as a pattern to make a pair for The Sprout. Here's the originals, and my creation. I was able to work on them from start to finish while Small Sun played around on his own!

The Captain finished sealing the deck, which was another pre-baby arrival project.

We had dinner together, and went on a long walk. Then The Captain just made us a banana strawberry shake, and I got to write all this down. Next up - curling up with my book Exodus by Leon Uris. Nothing like a 500 page novel to turn me on. So yea, today was a great Saturday. Thanks for letting me tell you about it in excruciating detail.

On Atlanta

So The Captain and I have been married for six years. It was our anniversary last month and we had a nice steak dinner with a fine table spread on our deck. Our family surrounded us, which was both heartening and disheartening as my parents are happily married for something like 29 years and running and The Captain's parents, married the same year as mine, are now divorced after about 25 years. The dinner was nice but we weren't able to do anything special just the two of us, so this last weekend we set off for Atlanta, leaving Small Son with my parents.

I want to tell you about Atlanta. We've both been to Atlanta before but for business kinds of things where you don't get to sit back, observe and feel as much. As soon as we drove into Atlanta we began to feel the differences. The first thing to strike us was the presence of a black middle and upper class. It wasn't until we were there that I began to realize the lack of visibility of successful African Americans in Nashville. The entire time we were in Atlanta (with the exception of one restaurant and the guests at our hotel) we were in the minority. It was wonderful. What that experience gave us was the visual that several other bloggers have been talking about lately. There is no one way to be black. There is no one "black culture". That's what I want my son to know and that's what I saw in Atlanta. Men in suits, men in dreads, men driving nice cars, men riding the metro, women out with the girls, women out with their children, business women.

Atlanta is a beautiful city and the people were so kind. Everyone was helpful with directions and many treated me (and my large belly) with special care and concern. People chatted on the street. I found people looking each other in the face as they passed, instead of averting their gaze as we do in Nashville. It was like all the hospitality of the South, without the scorching legalism that is said to be righteous but has not much to do with Godliness.

One of the telltale moments for me was seeing a gay couple walking down the street holding hands. I realized that I never see that in Nashville, and that there seems to be an undercurrent of fear for those who are living outside of the conservative right wing parameters. That is, I don't think it's really safe for a gay couple in Nashville to express affection openly. I don't think anyone would physically harm them, but they would not be welcome. It would not be okay. I think the same tension exists for mixed race couples and families, and anyone in an "alternative" lifestyle. Maybe I feel this more keenly because I am connected to very conservative circles, but I think it's a general feeling over the city as well. So what I felt in Atlanta I would describe as the freedom from fear. There was a lightness over everyone - there was room to breathe.

I'm trying to be articulate and Small Son is trying to hand me things, then take them back, then crawl under my chair, then need more juice, then scream for no (apparent) reason. So we'll see how coherent this actually is. I'll just slap some pictures up real quick and call it a post. Maybe I'll come back later and elaborate.

Six years and Happy

At the Aquarium - Whale Shark and Manta Rays

We stayed at the Georgian Terrace Hotel, Super Cool, Awesome staff

My lovely baby bump, check it out!

Labor Pains

No, I am not in labor. :)

Along my pregnancy journey I have reconnected with an old friend who is also pregnant. We went swimming together this summer, enjoying the weightless feeling the water gave us. We're in the same childbirth class that has us squirming in embarrassment and sometimes horror, and often, peeing our pants with laughter. She's due a month before me, October 5th, but now she's in labor. There are three more childbirth classes to go but she's in the hospital, equipped with half the information. I've been praying all morning (she went in after her water broke last night) and waiting for news.

So, here's what I'm concerned about. I've been close to several situations lately where the water broke and then labor didn't really get going. But the hospitals, being antsy and lawsuit shy as they are try to get the labor to hurry up and get moving. It starts with something simple like stripping the membranes (or if you're still at home under the care of a midwife, taking caster oil or something). Then, they want to do the Pitocin. And depending on how that goes you're soon begging for an epidural because it's taking FOREVER and the Pitocin is making you feel like hell. And before you know it, your plans for a natural childbirth are all being overwhelmed by the momentum of the system that just wants to get that baby out of you! And of course you want the baby out too. Then there's the antibiotics if your water's been broken for awhile and they're scared of infection in their germy hospital.

So, how do you keep this from happening? I know that if you stay home you can go a lot longer after your water is broken because your home is a more sanitary environment and you have greater immunity to the germs there. Could you just not call the midwife (in my case it's a midwife) when your water breaks to avoid the pressure to go to the hospital? Could you just wait until the labor gets going or go ahead and start some caster oil treatments? I just don't want to find myself on a spiral that starts with what the Captain and I want and ends up with us just being players in a game that isn't ours.

I really hope my friend is okay, and that the birth of her baby girl is an exhilarating experience. It should be. It was meant to be.

I Love and I Miss

I love the way I feel The Sprout move these days. We have regularly scheduled playtime when she puts on a show, rocking and rolling my little theatre. The Captain watches and laughs with me as arms, legs, and who knows what rolls under my skin. When I wake up after a night of carefully rolling from side to side with my arsenal of pillows, I swim towards consciousness. I begin to feel my full belly that I had forgotten about in the heavy early morning sleep. Then, as I stretch and wake, I feel her stretch and wake inside of me. It usually takes a couple strokes on the belly and some "good morning baby girl" before she gets going, but the same is true for me.

I miss being close to the Captain. Really close. Being able to lie on him on the couch and feel our ribs pressing together as we breath. I can't spoon him anymore. He can come close to me, but when I try to get close to him I am stopped by the beautiful bump between us. I don't want to rush this experience, but I am dreaming of when I can be close to the Captain again. Of course that's how the bump got there in the first place...