So we now have six school days of the new school year under our belts. It's been kind of a mixed bag. Geo's class is a split-age class-- four year olds and three year olds together. His teacher seems very kind, but Geo does NOT like the class assistant. He tells me she yells and scares him. Being a very sensitive guy, it's hard to know how serious the issue is. She may have simply reprimanded someone-- but Geo's always worried that he'll be criticized. (And yes, he takes after many of his family members in his perfectionism...)

But he was thrilled to see his friends again after the summer break, and when I pick him up in the afternoon he tells me he that school was "too fun" and that it's "way funner than home". So, yay!

With school comes disgusting germs, so we've all caught the first cold of the year. For poor Mazen, it's also the first ear infection. But despite the discomfort, he's his usual smiley sweet self. He's crawling everywhere now and pulling up constantly. Including on things that aren't designed for pulling up on-- like computer cords and folding chairs. And rocking chairs. We need to get babyproofing.

What else is new? My schedule is filling up fast. On top of the normal mom stuff and the magazine stuff, I'm adding in running a book club, volunteering in Geo's room and possibly also starting an English-language class for Geo's school friends. I hope to expand to giving English lessons to adults, also, and also some freelance editing gigs. Busy, busy, busy. It's strange to look back and realize a) that we've been back a little over a year now and b) how much things have changed in that time. We came, we knew no one, had no friends here, and now a quick walk through the village inevitably means bumping into a friend or acquaintance and a long chat while the kiddos run around. It's so nice to feel like part of a community.

End of the summer hiatus

Wow. Almost two full months without blogging. I guess I should have realized that things would get a little crazy this summer and warned my readers not to expect much. Sorry!

Here's what happened in a nutshell:

Alpine trip from July 10th-24th in the verdant town of Valloire, about 1500 meters above sea level. Scenery: spectacular. Hikes: fun (grueling, if you ask the 4 year old). Fresh air: invigorating. A lovely time all around.

Hackett family visit from July 25th- Aug 14th. Grandparents, aunts and uncles, even some family friends. Highlights included a cooking class with my mother and uncle, a trip to Vaux-le-Vicomte, the beautiful chateau, and the medieval town of Provins.

A lot has happened in the last two months and I will be back soon to share more. But at the moment Mazen needs a nap, Geo is requesting breakfast-- en bref, normal life has resumed.

All about Mazen

Mazen will be 5 months old in a few days, and given that and the fact that we saw the pediatrician on Friday for his 5-month checkup, this post will be all about Maz.

Some fun facts: he's 9.4 kilos (almost 21 lbs), so he's doubled his birth weight (and is way, way off the charts for weight).

He's 66 cm long, so he's near the top of the charts for height.

His head is 45.5 cm in diameter, and is also off the charts for size.

His personality continues to develop-- he's extremely sociable, very smiley, loves to watch everything that goes on. He's fascinated by his big brother, by the cat, by all the adults. He loves to be out-- if he gets fussy, all it takes is putting one foot on the balcony for him to calm down. He loves looking at the flowers and trees. He's very talkative and gives his opinion freely on everything he sees.

He recently discovered his toes and does not want to let them go. Even while sleeping. On Friday at the doctor's office, the doctor put Maz on his back; Mazen grabbed his toes. The doctor sat Mazen up; Mazen kept a tight hold on his toes. The doctor tried to put Mazzy on his tummy, which was difficult because Mazen didn't want to let go of his toes.

He likes to be in bed, asleep, by 7pm, and isn't the kind of baby who wants to nurse to sleep or be rocked to sleep. He just wants to be put down. This was a huge adjustment for me, because Geo was and is a very high-maintenance guy when it comes to sleep. The long daylight we have now means that he's often up by 6 or 6:30, which I'm frankly not thrilled about. But one gummy smile is enough to forgive the early wake-up call.

He's a delight; a joyful, darling, amazing delight. I am such a lucky person.

A short conversation

Yesterday I was in the bathroom putting on makeup, getting ready for Mazen's christening. Geo walked in to chat.

"Mama, what's that stuff you're putting on your face?"

"It's makeup". (Obviously I don't wear makeup very often!)

"What's it for?"

"It's to make me look pretty."

"But you already look pretty!"

"Aww, thank you!"

"Aren't I sweet, mama?"

Ten minutes of quiet

That's all I have before I have to go pick Geo up from school.

So a short update: we're getting ready for Mazen's baptism. It'll be a small deal, some of our friends can't make it because they are out of town, another set of friends has sick kiddos, so it'll be mostly family. We're hoping the godmother can make it from Norway; there is a strike in some of the airports this week (Murphy's law remains a constant companion to us here). The cake is ordered, flowers will be bought Saturday morning, along with snacks and drinks. The tablecloth is ironed, the clothes prepared. Geo and are going to get him some shoes this afternoon.

All the tiny details that take up lots of mental energy and time...

The magazine outline deadline has come and gone. Looks like another varied and interesting issue. I have to say, this job has been so fulfilling; I feel like I've gotten much more out of it than I've put into it.

And my ten minutes (interrupted by a baby waking up from his nap and being put back to sleep) are up.

Sick Day

I'm breaking my own cardinal stay-at-home-mom rule today: always be showered and dressed by noon. I'm taking a sick day. So is Geo, for that matter-- he had a fever yesterday afternoon/evening, slept 13 hours last night (and slept in so late school would have been out of the question even if he hadn't just had a fever). He woke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and was MAD that he wasn't going to school.

I had a rough night myself last night. While the four of us were in bed by 8:30pm (sad, isn't it?) I was the only one who didn't get to go to sleep until sometime around midnight. It went like this:

8:30pm, get into bed (children have BOTH been asleep since 7), finish listening to a podcast

9:00pm, start drifting off to sleep

9:30pm, Geo wakes up screaming from a fever nightmare. C sleeps through the screaming. I go soothe him back to sleep. This takes about an hour.

10:30pm, back in bed.

10:35pm, Mazen wakes up to nurse

10:55 pm, start drifting off to sleep

11:05pm, Geo wakes up crying. I went into his room intending to give him something for the fever, discover the fever is gone. Get him back to sleep.

11:45 back in bed, start drifting off.

12:30 am, Mazen wakes up to nurse

12:45am, start going back to sleep.

1:15am I am violently and suddenly ill, presumably from something I ate at the picnic on Sunday.

The night went on, more or less in that vein. Geo woke up and cried out a couple of times, but fell back asleep instantly. Mazzy gave me a couple of 3-hr stretches, and slept in until 7:15. C got a good night's sleep. I feel like crap.

And, Murphy's law being in full swing, this is the day I had mentally devoted to finish filing my tax information (before you tell me that the deadline was April 15th, know that expatriates have a 2-month automatic extension). It's also the day before my magazine deadline. I was counting on a quiet house this morning.

The good news: none of the illnesses seem to be serious, the tax forms have been filled out in pencil and will be inked in at some moment when children are not around, and the magazine will be fine. Focus on the positive, focus on the positive, focus on the positive. I will sleep again someday.

Pour ceux que j'aime

So it's been a tough road recently, parenting Geo. I don't know if it's being four, being a big brother or being in school (most likely all of the above) but I've felt like my sunny, cheerful boy has been replaced some days by a totally different person. Angry, temperamental, sort of teenager-ish. We've had lots of door-slamming and foot-stomping and all-around unpleasantness. Many, many days it's been much easier to be a good mom to Mazen, whose needs are so simple. Eat, sleep, change diaper, coo, smile. With Geo, it's negotiating difficult relationships at school, teaching the finer points of manners (examples: the truth bomb posts), reminding him not to pick his nose; the constant, joyless grind part of parenting.

And then there are these flashes, these moments that shine through to remind me what a great kid he is and how much I like this little person.

Today he brought home from school a box for C and I. It's a combined Mother's/Father's Day gift. I opened it up; it was prettily painted. Inside were three folded pieces of paper, one blue, one green and one orange. Geo picked the blue one first, unfolded it and "read" me a poem. Then he "read" the orange one, then the green one. Hearing his French, watching him make the hand gestures that the teacher must have spent so much time drilling into the heads of 28 four-year-olds, was so moving. And he was so proud of himself! At the end, he told me, "See, mama, I know how to read!"

And then, after his shower I was getting him in his pj's. C went out to dinner with an out-of-town colleague tonight, and Geo was telling me how much he missed his Baba at dinner. "I didn't even get to find out what he had for lunch," he told me sadly. Because every night at dinner, Geo asks C how his day was, if he saw his friends, and what he ate at lunch.

And later, putting him in bed, he recited one more time "Un petit poeme pour ceux que j'aime" and told me they'd been working on it for a long time, Maitresse had told them to keep it a secret.

It was the best kind of secret.

Of Neti Pots and Nit Combs...

Geo was talking to me this morning in the kitchen, while I was making his breakfast.

"I want you to get me a treat this afternoon," he said.

"Yeah? What kind of treat?" I assumed he meant a lollipop or something-- his usual after school occasional treat.

"Ummm... You know, you could get me a rocket-ship with a 'mote control that really flies," he said, as if this idea had just occurred to him (he's been asking for a 'mote controlled rocket ship for about a year now).

"You know, I've looked and looked but I've never seen one of those for sale in the village."

"Maybe in Paris."

Little does he know that the only things I'll be buying him today are a neti pot (to clear his sinuses) and a nit-comb (should be self-explanatory). It turns out, after a visit to an ENT specialist, that Geo's tonsils are swollen, causing a sort of mechanical ear infection-- fluid can't drain properly-- which affects his hearing. So we're on a quest to improve things for him, and one recommended treatment is a neti pot.

As for the nit-comb, well, it's springtime and the lice have officially made their appearance in his class. Since the weather has been warmer, the kids have been required to bring baseball caps for recess, which means that transmission is just too easy.

So. Neti pots and nit combs, and nary a 'mote controlled rocket ship to be found.

Looking at the bigger picture: snot and parasites! Who said parenting wasn't glamorous? Because they were totally right.

Another day, another truth bomb...

Right after posting my previous rant about Geo's extreme truthfulness we went into Paris for the afternoon.

On our way home, we got on the bus. Since it's the terminus of the line, we often have to wait a bit in the bus before the driver finishes his cigarette and we can go. So we're sitting in the increasingly-full, almost totally silent bus when Geo starts giggling and pointing. "Mama, look at that man, he looks like a GORILLA, hahahahahaha!!!!" I die of shame a little.

Me: "Geo, remember what we said? It hurts people's feelings when you point at them and laugh. You wouldn't like it if someone did it to you, would you?"

Geo: Sulk. Mumph.

Me:"If you want to say something, whisper it to Mama or Baba. But don't point."

Geo: Pout. Sulk.

I guess this is like everything else when dealing with children. You have to repeat the same thing 1,000,000 times before it begins to make a dent.

Truth Bomb

Walking around with Geo these days is like walking around with a bomb that could explode at any second. At age four, he's opinionated, verbal, has recently become extremely competitive and has absolutely no filters. Which leads to almost daily situations where I wish the floor would open up and swallow me.

Examples:

-- Making one of his friends cry, telling him "Your house isn't lovely." When pressed (by me, stupid, stupid idea) about WHY he would say that, he said to his friend, "Your house is too small, so it's not lovely." For the record, said friend's apartment is a bit smaller than ours, but is always beautifully decorated in creative, Waldorf-y ways for every seasonal event, and Geo LOVES to go play there.

-- Telling his other friend that their car is smaller than our car, and our car goes faster, leading to a very heated shouting match.

-- Pointing to a man in the metro who's hair was gelled straight up and telling his dad, "That man looks like a sheep, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA". Admittedly he said it in Arabic, but the pointing and laughing was definitely not subtle.

-- Asking me why people are "so big" in public-- again, in English, but when he's up close and pointing, I'm sure people can guess what he's asking about.

-- Various reactions to different birthday gifts included gems like "That's IT?!?!", "That's NOT what I wanted!" and in the case of a gift of clothing, "I don't like clothes, I want TOYS!!!!".

I know he's four and I know it takes time to learn how to NOT say every thought that comes into your head (still working on that one, myself) and I try my best to head off these moments with coaching, but boy, it's way more exhausting to parent the four-year-old than it is to parent the four-month-old.

Rereading the classics

Classic children's books, that is.

Geo's grandparents sent him some classic books: Socks, Ribsy and The Mouse and the Motorcycle, all by Beverly Cleary. It's been fun introducing Geo to them, and rereading books I adored as a child, but haven't read in twenty years. Boy, have times changed-- the things I loved about the book Socks as a child horrify me as an adult. (For those of you who are unfamiliar with the book, it's about the life of a housecat after the new baby arrives.) First of all, I realized that while it's written from the point of view of the cat, it's really about sibling rivalry (duh). I remember totally identifying with poor Socks and feeling so, so sorry for him. Now as a parent and cat owner, I feel a) vaguely guilty and b) horrified by the way the babysitter ignores the baby and focuses on the cat! (The part about feeding the baby raw egg yolk also blew my mind...)

Also, the vocabulary level of the books is so much higher than children's books today. I remember being about eight when I read Socks-- but other books I've read Geo which are intended for young readers are much simpler and with much lower vocabulary levels. It's interesting to see how times have changed.

We're both really enjoying reading chapters every day. Last night at the end of a particularly tense chapter, Geo begged to hear what happened next. A reader is born.

The Crazy

I've always imagined and hoped that I would be able to protect my kids from unnecessary crap (read: abuse) at the hands of other people. I would be super-aware, communicate with my children and listen to them. If anyone did anything questionable, Mama Bear would lash out to protect her young, leaving the person responsible for hurting my child in a quivering heap of jelly.

But life is rarely that cut-and-dried. Sadly. Oh so sadly.

When Mazen was diagnosed with bronchiolitis, we got a prescription to go see a kine (physical therapist) for sessions to help loosen the mucous in his lungs. Tiny babies can't cough effectively, and often end up in the hospital with this illness. It can be quite serious. France is one of the only countries to use this therapy, since apparently the long-term implications end up being the same as NOT doing the therapy (this is according to research I've done since).

So we got the diagnosis on a Saturday, and the doctor told us to start sessions immediately. It was really hard to find a physical therapist who was open on Saturday-- we ended up going to the hospital where Mazen was treated for the UTI. The therapist there was a lovely woman, very kind and gentle. She did the chest compression stuff. It's unpleasant to watch-- they press on the throat of the baby to make him cough. Mazen cried a lot. But she spoke to him gently, soothingly. We saw her twice. Sunday, she told us that as of Monday we'd need to find someone else, since she was just the emergency therapist.

Monday morning I called around our village. The one woman who took care of small babies in our town was on vacation. I was recommended two therapists in Antony. I called them both (we'd already seen one with Geo back in February). The woman we knew was alone; her colleagues were on vacation and she couldn't take on any new patients. So we were left with the guy. Who I'll call Mr. B.

Mr. B. gave me an appointment for the afternoon. Maz and I took the bus, got there early. When Mr. B. escorted us into the room, he took Maz from my arms and told me to sit on the other side of the room. "Stay behind me, where he can't see you. They get angrier when their mothers are nearby," he told me.

He did the same things the woman in the hospital had done. Mazzy cried a lot. When it was over, Mr. B. handed him back to me, limp, exhausted, sweaty. He said, "Your son is a tricky guy. He doesn't want to do what I want him to do. And he's way over-reacting. He's not really scared or in pain, he just doesn't want to cooperate." I should have run away then. Actually, I should have run away when he told me to stay out of the line of sight of the baby. But I didn't. I was worried sick about Mazen, about what would happen if he had to be hospitalized again. C was out of town, barely reachable by phone, a ten-hour flight away. There were no other therapists to be found. So I went back three more times.

It only got worse. At subsequent sessions, the therapist lectured me about letting my baby cry (I got the old chestnut that it's good for their lungs), about not letting the baby manipulate me with his tears. If Mazen didn't want to look at Mr. B., he would hold his head and *make* him make eye contact, saying "I'm the boss here, not you". He told me he had to "force" things a bit to get Mazen to cough out the goop. At the end of the sessions Mazen would collapse in my arms and immediately fall asleep.

The last time I went was a Thursday. The fourth session with Mr. B., the sixth total. At the end of the session, Mr. B. put saline drops in Mazen's nose to clean it out. As you may or may not know, babies can only breathe through their noses at age 3 months. And this guy was squirting the saline up both nostrils at the same time. Mazen was panicking, flailing his arms and legs. I'm sure he thought he was drowning. Mr. B told me, with a straight face, that Mazen wasn't scared, he "just wanted to breathe". He JUST WANTED TO BREATHE. I can't imagine a worse or scarier sensation than "just wanting to breathe".

I took my poor little baby back from the lunatic. We went home. I felt shaken and weak, just like Mazen. That night, I couldn't sleep. I kept replaying scenes from our week with Mr. B. His scary desire to dominate the baby. The way he told me, with disdain, that babies Mazen's age were too used to getting their own ways. That I would see, down the road, Maz would be a troublemaker. I kept thinking about how Mazen "just wanted to breathe" and I felt like my heart would burst. Mr. B. told me Maz would need three or four more sessions. But unlike the woman at the hospital he wasn't listening to Mazen's lungs with a stethoscope or checking blood oxygenation levels. It seemed to me that Mazen was doing much better: he was sleeping soundly, eating well, his chest wasn't rattling when he breathed.

But put a mother's instinct against a medical professional's opinion, no matter how hastily-made or for what motives, and the mother will doubt herself. I didn't sleep, trying to figure out ways to find another therapist. Worrying about the baby's condition. I knew I couldn't take him back to Mr. B. I was actually afraid for Maz-- each session had been worse, the man's craziness clearer. What if he really hurt the baby? We had an appointment at 2pm Friday, that's how long I had to figure out what to do.

Luckily, Friday morning C was free to do an internet chat for the first time since he'd left. I was finally able to fill him in on the details and we agreed I would go to the appointment without Mazen, pay Mr. B. and call the mother of one of Geo's classmates, who is a physical therapist, to get her opinion and advice on what to do. When I reached her, she told me that it was really rare for babies to need six sessions (which is the number we had reached on Thursday-- two at the hospital and four with the crazy man), let alone more. And she confirmed that Mr. B.'s attitude was bizarre, to say the least.

So I went alone to the appointment. I was full of things I wanted to say, from "I hope you never have a dog, let alone a child" to "you will never lay a hand on my baby ever again, and I will tell everyone I know how awful you are". But in the end, all I said was, "We've decided not to continue with you". He knew perfectly well why, I could see it in his face. He didn't ask. I paid him and left, feeling a thousand times better. I got home and put a review of him on every internet site that I could.

I'm still angry at myself for being paralyzed with indecision, for over-analyzing, excusing and justifying his behavior. I feel like I failed Mazen, that I've been failing Mazen since his birth-- he's been so sick twice now. But worst of all, I didn't listen to mt instinct early enough, and my baby suffered needlessly. This is a painful post to write, but it's an important reminder for me to listen to that voice. A reminder that I will recognize The Crazy when I see it, but that I need to trust my ability to do that. A reminder that my children's health and well-being far outstrips my need to be polite. A reminder that my inner vision of myself doesn't always match the outer version as well as I would like. That there's always work to do.

I haven't posted in a long time (I feel like I start every blog post with that!). We just hit a crazy period in the year and things went catawumpus. Let's see if I can remember far enough back to give a recap...

-- Easter. Was fun! We had friends over for dinner on Easter night-- our first party since Mazzy was born. A good (and very loud) time was had by all.

-- C went to Turkey. I was on my own for three days with the boys, then Peggy and Chris took pity on us and came to hang out with us.

-- Geo got sick. Really sick, not just a bad cold. Coughing, fever, sore throat, the whole shebang.

-- Mazen got what Geo had.

-- C left to go to India, and his parents arrived from Detroit

-- I spent 10 days shuttling between doctor's appointments, physical therapy appointments (that's a whole other blog post), osteopath appointments

--We had a minor flood in the kitchen resulting in no dishwasher or washing machine for 3 days

-- I had a magazine deadline somewhere in there and was busy editing and arranging

-- C came home

-- Everyone was declared healthy as of yesterday at what will hopefully be our last doctor's appointment for a while.

Some other fun facts. Mazen weighs, as of yesterday, 8.2 kilos. According to my handy-dandy converter, that's EIGHTEEN POUNDS. At three months, three days old. He's also 25 inches long and has a head circumference of 17.7 inches. In case you aren't up on baby sizes, that is one gigantic piece of baby. He is officially off the charts for weight and head size and at the very top for length. He's the same size Geo was at six months, and Geo wasn't on the small side. I would worry, but I used up all my worry while C was out of town and I had a very sick baby and preschooler. I'm worried out. Besides, the pediatrician just laughed and told me Mazzy's head size matches his weight, and that he needs a lot of brain space for the three languages he has to learn.

Other fun baby stuff: he's grabbing, talking up a storm, cooing, laughing, scrunching around when he's on his tummy and pretending to be an airplane. Geo adores him and covers him with kisses, especially when someone else is paying attention to the baby, or right after Geo has eaten chocolate or smeared his face all over the window on the train or bus. Also, he's drooling and trying to eat both hands at once, so I think teeth are on the horizon. That's Mazen, not Geo, obviously.

Maz is so different from Geo. He wants to be in bed, asleep, by 7:30 pm. He doesn't want to wake up until 7:30 am (though he does nurse several times throughout the night). He likes to sit in his bouncy chair, and his favorite place to nap is still in the Beco while I walk around. He's way lower-maintenance than Geo was, but he communicates just as much as Geo did.

So. It's been a rough patch, but things are looking up.

March pics

From March 2010 + Chaanine 2010 - St Julien le Pauvre, Paris Ve

It's been a while since I posted. And if you're a Facebook friend, you probably know that things have been a little rough here recently.

On March 15th, Mazen spiked a very high fever-- 103.5. Our pediatrician had reminded me at the post-natal check up that babies this young aren't "allowed" to have fevers, so if Mazen had a fever we needed to go to the ER. Which we did, Monday night at about midnight. It was scary-- Mazen was burning up, Geo was mostly asleep, as were C and I. At the ER, they took blood, tried to collect some urine, and told me we might need to do a spinal tap. All sorts of scary things were brought up. If it wasn't a urinary tract infection, it could be a strep B infection that he caught at birth. The doctor told me that Mazen would be staying at least for the night. Luckily, they had one more mother/child room available, so I was able to stay with him and I even had a folding bed to sleep on (not so comfortable, but better than the floor!). Mazen and I were taken up to the room at about 2am, and at four am the nurse came in and told me they had confirmed it was a urinary tract infection. So they gave him his first dose of antibiotics intravenously.

The next day we learned that we would need to stay for 24 hours after his fever broke and that we'd be doing IV antibiotics for ten days total. We were released from the hospital Thursday the 18th, and had to go back every morning for the treatment. Once the fever broke, Mazen was fine. Being at the hospital was a strange, strange experience. In a way, it was the first time since Mazen's birth that I was able to focus 100 per cent on him, on being his mom, without any distractions of dishes, laundry, older brother, even telephones or internet. But mostly it just sucked. The night we came home was a wonderful night, I woke up at 4am thinking how nice it was to be clean (no place to shower at the hospital!) and in a comfy bed (no sleep with the nurses checking in every 2 hours!) and to be healthy.

So we made it through the following week of daily trips to the hospital. Knock on wood we are all healthy now. I am praying we stay that way.

Mazen says hi

The video of Mazen's first word... Ok, I know he isn't really saying "hi", he's just imitating me, but it's so darn cute!

Pictures!

Finally some more recent pictures of Mazen.


First picture with a smile!



He's fascinated by Geo...


Two handsome guys!


Not so sure about the enthusiastic kiss, though.


This is how he spends his time during the day. I would get nothing done without this carrier.

One month old ... already??!?

Argh. It's true. The baby is already a month old. Time flies and all, but this is ridiculous.

Not only is the baby already a month old, he's busting out of his newborn and 0-3 month size clothing. We're up to size three, THREE! in diapers. He's wearing size 6 month pyjamas, and they fit pretty darn well. I know it's scary to have a small baby, but having one on the other end of the weight chart isn't all roses, either. I worry. Is this normal? C and I are hardly giants. Does he have some sort of metabolic disorder that makes him grow like a weed? Will he end up obese? And most of all, Is this all somehow my fault, and if so, how?

The other night during a total change thanks to a poopsplosion of epic proportions (it was up to his neck! Going down his sleeves! And of course down his legs and all over his feet!) C grabbed a newborn size onesie and tried to put it on Mazen. To be fair, he's NEVER worn the French newborn size. And C stuffed him in-- he looked like a trussed chicken. Or a sausage. It was pretty funny at 6:30 in the morning, delirious from lack of sleep.

What else is going on? Well, baby has had baby acne (another Is this all my fault? moment, but Dr. Sears in his book has done his best to reassure me that this just happens with some babies). Between that and the thinning hair, baby kind of resembles Bill Murray, when he was a newborn. Ok, I feel bad saying that, he's gorgeous, really. But the acne, the thin hair, the VERY grumpy expression he wears whenever he isn't asleep or nursing: definitely Bill Murray.

Baby has also stopped sleeping on his back, stopped tolerating being swaddled and is not loving the stroller. Basically I wear him 80 per cent of the time. Partly it's his digestive system that's causing problems. I think he has a little bit of reflux-- he spits up after every feed, is very gassy. I think he prefers being held up-- it's more comfortable for him. I'm hoping once his system matures a bit he'll go back to enjoying the stroller and sleeping on his back.

But he's very sweet. I love it that when he's crying and I pick him up he stops, and nestles his head in my neck. I love it when his little fist whacks me while he nurses. Sometimes he even manages to grab hold of my t-shirt, which is his goal. I love feeling is soft, warm weight on me while he sleeps. I love the puzzled expression in his bright blue eyes as he studies my face, Geo's face, C's face intently. I love the rare, very rare smiles and laughs he graces us with. And honestly, I love that his favorite place to sleep is snuggled in his carrier, listening to my heartbeat.

Ahhh, the weekend. Time to rest, relax and ..... go to the doctor. A lot.

I mentioned in my last post that Geo was coughing a lot. We took him to the pediatrician on Saturday, and lo and behold for the *very first time* Geo actually has a somewhat serious illness. Usually his ped looks at me like the over-anxious mother I am and tells me it's just a head cold and to clean his nose with saline solution. But yesterday he was diagnosed with a foyer pulmonaire, which is French for "localized lung problem", ie, bronchitis/bronchiolitis. From the pediatrician's office we booked it to the radiologist's office, which luckily was still open and luckily fit us in at the very last minute. The chest X-ray was clear, happily, which means we caught this infection early. He's on antibiotics and had a physical therapy session today to help clear his lungs (they tap on the lungs, make him blow out air through a straw, etc, to try to clear out the lungs). One more session and he should be much better.

It's been a little stressful, though, and everyone keeps warning us to keep him away from Mazen. Easier said than done since he loves his baby brother and wants to kiss and pat him all the time, not to mention give him his pacifier and "help" him play with his toys. Sigh.

So that was our adventure this weekend. Let's hope next weekend is much, much duller!

3 weeks old!

Mazen is three weeks old today, and as of his pediatrician appointment yesterday he's gained almost a kilo (2.2 lbs) since we've been home! He's also grown 4 centimeters, which explains why he's busting out of some of his clothes and has already had to go up a size in diapers. He weighs almost 12 lbs!!

We're doing ok here. Geo is sick. Again. After a double ear infection he's now coughing up a storm. I guess this has to do with his first year in school and all the nasty germs kids spread to each other. Kids are gross, and little kids are especially gross! Having volunteered a bit in his classroom last semester, I quickly realized *why* he's sick all the time. The amount of snot! The drool! The coughing!

But I digress. We're fine, a little sleep-deprived, between the newborn and the coughing, but fine. Geo has a two-week school break as of tomorrow morning, and yes, I'm nervous about that. It looks like C will take a couple of days off each week, which will help. I'm just praying it's warmer and not raining or snowing, so we can get outside every day. Anyone have any great tips for getting through school vacation? Besides TV and Benadryl? (Kidding, kidding. About the Benadryl, anyway.)

I'd post some pictures of Mazen, but I'm lazy. I will get around to it some day. And if I don't, C will post them on the Picasa album. Because he's organized like that.

Friday's child is loving and giving....

I'm so happy to announce the birth of our beautiful son, Mazen Andrew Gray on Friday, January 29th, at 5:39pm. He weighed in at 9lbs, 14oz (4.485 kilos) and 52 cm. His APGAR scores were 10 and 10 (which, as you'll see in a few minutes, is a really wonderful thing given the birth situation).

We came home on Wednesday, Feb. 3 and are recovering well. Mazen is a very peaceful baby-- eating, sleeping and pooping just the way he's supposed to. He actually sleeps on his back, and we can put him down now and then, unlike his older brother! And speaking of his older brother, Geo has been thrilled with the baby so far, telling me "Mama, I love our baby" and giving him lots of kisses and pats.

And now, I'm going to write about the birth itself, so if you aren't interested in this kind of thing, skip to the end of this post.

I went into labor on Thursday night (or rather, early Friday morning) at about 2am. The contractions weren't strong, but they were enough to keep me awake so I got out of bed to time them. After spending a few hours timing contractions (and helping Geo go back to sleep) I decided to lay down on the couch and get some rest. I dozed for a couple of hours, until about 7am when I felt a small *pop* and a little gush. Thinking maybe my water had broken, I leaped off our (leather) couch to the rocking chair. Nothing happened, so I started doubting myself. Shortly afterwards, C got up and I told him he wouldn't be going in to work-- I was in labor.

We got Geo off to school (and much to my later consternation, I realized I forgot to kiss him goodbye), and I called the hospital to see if I needed to come in. From time to time, I was having small gushes of liquid. The midwife told me I should come in to be checked during the morning, so we quickly made arrangements for Geo to be picked up from school, and then picked up by his uncle. I took a hot shower, finished getting my things together and we headed to the car.

The drive into Paris took about 40 minutes, and we got to the hospital around 11am. I went upstairs to get checked, and they confirmed that my water had broken. The midwife said the water was "tinted", which meant the baby had pooped a little, and was possibly a sign of distress. So they started monitoring me immediately, and put me on an IV. She gave me some pitocin to get the contractions to be more regular. I was given the absolute lowest dose. I labored like that for a couple of hours, sitting on a yoga ball. When she checked me again, I had progressed only a little bit. She upped the dose of pitocin slightly and right away, the baby reacted really badly. His heart rate dropped from 150bpm to 80 before coming up again. The midwife was concerned and turned off the pit. She also suggested we go ahead and do an epidural, which I agreed to.

Putting in the epidural was pretty strange and uncomfortable, so I'll spare you the details. Once it was in, it took the edge of a little. But soon, it was like I didn't have anything at all. The contractions were getting really, really intense, and as I was now on my back the only way I could manage them was by growling/vocalizing through them. I was making a LOT of noise. The midwife was surprised that the epidural wasn't working, so she tried to add another dose. Nothing. And the baby's heart rate kept going way down. And then I started having long contractions that were lasting 4, 5, 6 minutes and felt like the transition contractions I had with Geo. Except I hadn't made any progress at all in dilating. Baby's heart rate crashed for the fourth time, only this time it wasn't coming back up. Suddenly there were about 8 people all around me and they said, "We're doing a c-section." At that point, I *wanted* them to do it. I was so scared for my baby and in so much pain I knew it was the only solution.

It was a lot like a ballet. I was whisked from the labor room down the hall to the OR. I was moved to the operating table (while having massive contractions), was shaved down and painted with freezing cold disinfectant. The room was so cold and bright, people were running around shouting things and hurrying, I was crying. C was told to change clothes and come back. Someone noticed I was naked and asked if I was cold, and finally started warming me. I was still dealing with horrible pain, and the anesthesiologist was trying desperately to get something to work. Finally, someone put a mask to my face and told me to breathe deeply. I could hear the doctor saying "We need to wait for the father to get here."

General anesthesia is so weird. It's like being in a movie. One second you're in one scene, then there's a jump and you're someplace totally different. The next thing I remember is someone calling my name and patting my face. I woke up alone, on a stretcher. I started to cry because I realized I wasn't pregnant anymore and whatever had happened, I had missed it. Someone came over and told me that my baby was fine and was with my husband. I managed to ask if it was a boy or a girl (just wanted confirmation!) and was told he was a boy. Another doctor came over and asked me if I was crying from emotion or from pain, and then I realized that it hurt. I told him, both. He and another doctor did some complicated thing to ease the pain (and ended up spraying me in the face with painkiller, but frankly that was the least of my worries). Nearby I could hear a baby crying. "Don't worry, that's not your baby" someone said. I knew that already, though.

I was still unable to stop crying when someone let C come in. He was carrying a little bundle-- our baby. He helped me hold the baby against my skin. As soon as I had the two of them near me I felt much, much better. I was able to nurse him a little, and C told me what had happened.

The epidural had never worked so they'd used general anesthesia, which meant C wasn't allowed in the OR. He was waiting in the labor room for about 30 minutes before they told him Mazen was born. He went to the little room where Mazen was being checked, wiped off and suctioned, then they gave him to C and had him hold the baby skin-to-skin. The midwife who assisted at the c-section told him that the cord had been wrapped around the baby in such a way that he couldn't descend into my pelvis, and on strong contractions the cord was being compressed, which caused the heart decelerations.

The good news is that Mazen and I are healthy, and home and safe. I'm still processing what happened, it all went so quickly. It slid out of control so quickly, I'm still wondering what might have happened if just one thing had been different. I was later told that there were a couple of indications that the placenta was on the verge of abrupting (which means it separates prematurely from the uterus-- it can be fatal for the baby). One was the long, long contractions, and the other was my pain that wasn't relieved by the epidural. When they examined everything, there weren't clear signs, so they've sent the placenta off for analysis.

In my heart of hearts, I think I knew that this birth was going to be very different from Geo's birth (which was totally drug-free and peaceful). I was extremely apprehensive about labor and birth, and I couldn't bring myself to get things set up for the baby. I was having horrible thoughts about having to announce the stillbirth of our baby on a regular basis-- in fact, I was having to remind myself that everything was going to be fine. When we came home from the hospital we had to set everything up-- we didn't even have any diapers at home!

So I'm feeling so incredibly blessed. I was surrounded by a very caring, loving team at the hospital who took my and my baby's health very seriously. I have a beautiful, healthy (gigantic!) baby. I'm healthy and recovering well physically. What I am mourning is the gap in our family memory. C and I have really beautiful memories from Geo's birth, but neither of us was "present" at Mazen's. I don't know if he cried, what color he was. I didn't get to put him up against my skin right away. I totally missed the hormone rush post-birth. All of that pales in comparison to having a healthy baby, of course. But still.

Good news

Just got some good news-- brother-in-law's 2-day seminar has been postponed for 2 weeks. So Baby can be born on Granddad's birthday, if that's what s/he wants.

Whew!! So relieved!!

Yes, I'm still pregnant.

And no, the little jokes and comments aren't wearing thin, not at all. Ha, ha, ha, see, I'm laughing!

Yes, I know baby will come when baby is good and ready. It would be nice if baby would work with mama here and get him/herself born either by Wednesday midnight or sometime after Friday 6pm (yes, we have childcare worries. It's times like these that grandparents are sorely, sorely missed-- not that they aren't sorely missed at other times, too, but you know what I mean.) And I just don't think I can go into labor and give birth while worrying about who is watching Geo and who will pick him up from school. And I don't *want* to give birth alone, should C have to be taking care of Geo. C and I have a pact. His job is to stay with the baby whatever happens. This is really, really important to me. I need to know someone will be with the baby, just in case.

I shouldn't complain, we're blessed with so much-- kind friends who are willing to help us out, a car (!!) to get to the hospital, a brother-in-law who can pitch in (except on Thursday and Friday!!)... But giving birth is one of the scariest, loneliest things in the world. No one else can do it for you. Every woman faces the possibility of her mortality, and worse, the mortality of her child when she faces childbirth. It's huge. Overwhelming. Terrifying. Can you blame me for wanting C nearby to hold my hand, and hold the baby, if I can't?

Pity party over. I've still got to clean and hit the grocery store this morning before my 3 hours of freedom are up.

Another week, or almost, has gone by. It's been, as usual, busy in a quiet way. Our big news is that we bought a car (yippeeee!!) and that took a fair amount of time and energy.

I'm so pleased and grateful we were able to get this car. It was being sold via the anglophone parenting group I'm a member of-- its former owners left for Australia (today, actually) and they really wanted to get rid of it, which meant we got an awesome deal on a nice-sized family car. Now I'm not stressing out about how I'll get to the birth hospital when the time comes. I was having anxiety about waiting for a taxi, having the taxi refuse us, my water breaking in the taxi, laboring in a taxi... See the trend? What a relief to be independent of both taxis and public transportation when it comes time to leave for the hospital.

We're looking forward to a short visit from P & C this weekend, courtesy of the European UU annual meeting (C presides, and P accompanies).

Otherwise, school is still going well for Geo. When I dropped him off this morning, his teacher told me how cheerful and joyful and open he is. She said other teachers have picked up on it, and what a pleasure it is to have a child like that in the class. Of course, this made me cheerful and joyful, too-- I think my little guy is a treasure-- it's nice that other people see those qualities in him.

On the way home from school, I got to hear about this intense, complicated game Geo played during recess today. Something about a boat sailing through water with lots of sticks, and pirates (in the shape of older boys). He's really at that age where he concocts elaborate stories around his play, and it's interesting to see what he comes up with.

So, other than being very, very tired that's about all that's new here. Insomnia is a terrible thing-- I have tons of energy at midnight, or at 5 am, but can't really do anything useful. And during the rest of the day I'm so wiped out from lack of sleep that I can't seem to accomplish much either. Ah, well, it won't last forever, I'll be 40 weeks pregnant as of Saturday. Baby, you can come any time now!

What's new around here?

Well, the baby turned head-down, so I guess the acupuncture worked (hooray!!). C is fully back at work and we miss him a lot. Geo is happy at school (not sure if I mentioned this already, but it's really kind of a miracle!). Every day he comes out of the classroom and tells me "I had so much fun at school today, mama!". Music to my ears.

I'm finishing up the work on the magazine's spring issue (deadline is today) so baby can come any time now. I'll be 39 weeks along tomorrow.

Other than that, I just wanted to post something about the incredible bond between parents and children... because really, it just blows my mind some days.

First, a sweet story. Yesterday afternoon Geo's buddy and his buddy's mom were over for a playdate/ coffee klatch. Geo and friend were fully engaged in Geo's marble run, when Geo ran over to me, gave me a kiss and said "I love you, mom." Then he turned to my friend and told her, "You know, M, I really love my mom." When he went back to join his friend, he told him, "I love my mom SO MUCH." It made me a little teary-- I have a feeling there won't be many more playdates where one topic of conversation is how much he loves his mom!!

But about the bond. When Geo was a tiny newborn, and an older baby, and a toddler-- I would frequently awake out of a deep sleep for no clear reason. I would try to lie quietly and fall back asleep, wondering how on earth someone so deeply sleep-deprived could possibly be wide awake for no reason. Then, a minute or two into my wakefulness, Geo would wake up and need to nurse or get his diaper changed, or whatever. It was this crazy mental connection we shared.

What's cool and amazing to me is that we *still* share it. It still happens occasionally that I'll wake up for no real reason, and within a minute or two I'll hear a little voice in the next room calling for me.

Then there are the moments, like the one yesterday, when I realized Geo had taken a red marker to our blue couch and drawn on it, that I think this mental connection thing should really work during the day, too. Red + blue = really ugly. It would've been nice to anticipate that little shenanigan!

It's about time...

Ok, I know it's been more than two weeks since I posted, and I apologize for that.

The holidays were really wonderful-- peaceful, joyful, full of friends, family, good food, nice gifts-- it was lovely. C's recovery from knee surgery seems to be going well also. He's back to work today after a three-week sick leave. And it was soooooo nice to have him home for all that time! Geo and I really enjoyed it, and Geo was sad last night when we told him Baba had to go back to work.

Post-holidays, things have been a little more stressful. This baby is breech/transverse and is making his/her mama nervous! I even had an acupuncture session last week to try to encourage him/her to turn. No luck so far, but the acupuncture was a very interesting experience. It included having my belly warmed with burning (and very, shall we say pungent) smelling herbs. The ride home on the totally packed RER was interesting, as people smelled me and assumed that at 8.5 months pregnant I'd been busy smoking a lot of.... something.

And Geo, who's been doing great back at school, has started having really horrible sleep issues at night. I think we're working our way to the end of that, but it's been a rough couple of weeks sleep-wise, and we're all feeling a bit tired. Actually, that's understating it. We're feeling desperate for sleep. Just in time to welcome a newborn, too!

Now that C is back at work and Geo is back at school I have a bit of time to concentrate on welcoming this new baby and preparing for the arrival. My to-do list is appallingly long, but I've decided to jettison all but the most important things on it and concentrate on relaxing and feeling peaceful. I'm due in about 3 weeks, so baby could come at any time, and I want to feel joyous and excited, not tense and stressed out. To help in this goal I plan to avoid listening to any political podcasts as all the political news from the US is raising my blood pressure!

The three of us hope everyone is well. Now that I've gotten around to posting, I'll hopefully manage to get some pictures up from Christmas vacation before too long.

Oh, one last funny Geo-ism. Recently, when he's upset or disappointed by something, he's taken to frowning ferociously and saying, "That's bitter!". I'm not quite sure what he thinks it means, but it reminds me of the line from The Princess Bride:
The Sicilian: "Inconceivable!"
The giant: "I don't think that word means what you think it means."