Namesake

Today's fact about The People's Temple, which was the name of Jim Jones' church:

909 People's Temple members died in Jonestown on November 18, 1978.  Although this event is widely thought of as a mass suicide, only approximately half of the people who died there drank the cyanide-laced Kool-Aid willingly.  The rest of those died were elderly or children to whom other members administered the poison.  Jim Jones himself did not drink the Kool-Aid, nor did he even take his own life.  He had a Temple member shoot him in the head.

I thought about the army

Reasons Temple can't join the Army:

• too short
• doesn't speak English
• can't do a pull up
• dietary restrictions
• soft head

Nicknames

The following is a list of many, but not all, of the names we have called Temple in her first month of life:

Temple
Temple T
Tempo
T
T Rex
T Bone
Tim Tebow
T Serms
Squirrel
Peeperson
Mr. Bundles
Organic Banana
Clementine

Phantom Limb

During pregnancy, I got accustomed to focusing attention on my abdomen.  Starting in November, when I was about 4 months pregnant, I could feel little twitches in my belly, and I waited to feel them every day.  By the end of pregnancy, her movements became almost violent.  I could feel and sometimes see tiny feet feeling around my ribs.  Her feet would keep me up at night.  Sometimes she would head-butt me right in the gut, which would make me nauseous.  After 37 weeks, I was also monitoring my nether regions for signs of labor, which never came.
Since she is not in my uterus anymore, I don't need to keep track of her kicks anymore, but I guess my brain has muscle memory.  My inner eye remains on my pelvis, and every tummy rumble triggers my reflex to put my hand on my belly.
Also, I think Temple may have realized that she owns her left hand.  Jury's still out on the right.

Confucius say...

"When we bring up our children to have knowledge without compassion, their attitude towards others is likely to be a mixture of envy of those in positions above them, aggressive competitiveness towards their peers, and scorn for those less fortunate.  This leads to a propensity toward greed, presumption, excess, and very quickly to loss of happiness."


Actually, that wasn't Confucius.  It was the Dalai Lama.

So, how do you teach compassion?

Let the right one in

Temple and the Sleep Sheep. 
If you think "Sleep Sheep" is fun to read, believe me when I tell you that it is more fun to say.  The Sheep has 4 white noise options.  T favors the sounds of the ocean.

It is due at least in part to the Sleep Sheep that we had a calm Monday, and we hope to have a good Tuesday.  Both Sunday night and last night, I got nearly 9 hours of sleep, in 3 hour blocks, of course.  T can fuss before bedtime, but she has gotten good at going to bed.  We are usually the ones to wake her up to eat, too.  When Temple and mamma wake up around 9am, she eats, then she can chill in her crib and listen to the Sleep Sheep.  She has been awake and taking in her surroundings without being upset and fussy, and without mamma needing to hold her at all times.  

The Sleep Sheep has let a couple habits back into my routine.

I got to cook yesterday.  In the past few years, I have come to enjoy cooking very much.  It relaxes me, and I've found that cooking my own food is good for my body and soul.  When I was working in children's welfare law in Baltimore, after a long and annoying day of arguing cases about drug babies, weeks old babies with broken ribs (and parents who had no idea how that could have happened), 6 year olds with gonorrhea, and pregnant 12 year olds, I liked nothing more than to come home and chop vegetables for a few hours.  It's soothing.  Yesterday, I made buttermilk marinated baked chicken chunks with curry, garlic, chili powder, etc.  It was an Indian or middle eastern type dish, should have been made with yogurt, but buttermilk works.  It's milky and spicy.  Next time, I'm going to add cauliflower and peas.  It's going to be major noms.  

Another welcome addition to the daily baby routine: I read a book for 20 minutes before going to sleep.  

Also, I pressed the snooze button for nearly an hour this morning.  T wasn't fussing to be fed, so we slept in.  Maybe this isn't the best habit to let back in.

Punnett Square

What color will Temple's eyeballs turn out to be?  Her mom's are hazel.  Her dad's are dark brown.  Her maternal grand mother's are hazel.  Maternal grandfather's are blue.  Paternal grandmother's are blue, I think.  Paternal grandfather's dark brown.  Right now, I'd describe Temple's as brownish blue, if that exists.  

If there are any geneticists out there, I'd appreciate a diagram and some odds.

***UPDATE, courtesy of Alexis Fabbri, Temple's auntie***

And here we have it.: 50% chance of brown, 37.5% chance of green, 12.5% chance of blue.  Thank you, Dr. Leki.

Now, can anyone tell me the odds of Temple having laser vision when neither parent has that genetic trait? 

The Sads

The following are some items that give me the sads:

• The Wire is over.  I was a latecomer to The Wire.  I am a latecomer to many outstanding TV shows, mostly because I don't like new things.  Like, Matt got the first season of The West Wing on DVD when we moved in together in 2003, and I bitched and moaned about how much it sucked.  This is because the first and only episode of WW I had seen was a "very special episode" that aired right after September 11, 2001.  The characters all have monologues wherein they educate the children about Islam and prejudice.  I thought the show was a little preachy.  I finally gave it a shot, though, and I have now gone through the whole series literally dozens of times.  It was like that with The Wire, too.  I don't think I watched one episode live.  I prefer to watch whole series in marathon form.  It's just my style.  I don't like the suspense.  Anyway, I've watched  The West Wing to death, and I really didn't want to do that with The Wire.  Matt and I watched it over the Christmas Holiday, and we started it up again when the baby came home.  We finished the last episode of season 5 last night.  It makes me terribly sad.  These past few weeks, when I am feeling exhausted and frustrated and blue, it was so comforting to sit next to my husband and watch the Baltimore murder police solve the case.  Season 5 is my favorite.  I won't get into a discussion about which season is the best, because there is no best, they are all outstanding, it's just that 5 is my favie.  I'd make the argument that Scott Templeton, the dishonest reporter, is the most irredeemably despicable character in the whole series.  The man has no code.  Anyway, it makes me sad that not only is the series over, but our most recent run through of it is over, as well.  What are we supposed to watch now?  I'm open to suggestions.
• The Cluck U near us closed.  Cluck U has delicious boneless, skinless, buffalo chicken breasts.  I didn't appreciate this until I was pregnant, and by that time, the Cluck U that was 10 minutes away and delivered to our house (!) had closed because they hired incompetent teenagers to run it.  Seriously, once they delivered to our house when we hadn't even ordered.  We still took the wings, but that's no way to run a business.  Now, we have to go all the way to Parole to get the fix.  That's 25 minutes away.  
• Flagler is rubbing his butt on the carpet again.  That only means one thing: the pug needs his anal glands expressed.  
• My weight loss has slowed.  I lost 25 pounds in the three weeks since Temple was born.  Now, I acknowledge that most of that was baby and baby's house, but it still felt like an accomplishment. Between last Sunday and yesterday, I gained a half a pound.  This means, of course, that I am going to be a dumpy overweight hausfrau for the rest of my life.
• I had a C-Section.  I still can't believe that I wasn't able to give birth the old fashioned way.  I suppose it was the right medical decision, but I feel like a failure.  I feel like I missed out, and if I had done something differently, I may not still be recovering from Temple's birth, and caring for a three week old would be just a little easier.  Not to mention I now have a classy scar.  The surgery went perfectly, and I am recovering very well, probably better than average.  I know that the important things are a healthy baby and healthy mamma, and I have that, but I can't help it.  I have regrets.  

I think I am supposed to be making a list of things I am grateful for everyday, rather than a list of things that make me sad.  That'll be my next post.  

An Utterly Otterly Day

According to our pediatrician, Temple is growing according to nature's plan.  She gained about 6 ounces in the last 9 days, which is on the low end of a normal weight gain, but she's right in there.  She seems to be a healthy girl in spite of her bouts of crankiness.
While I dozed after a feeding that lasted from noon to noon:45, Matt tried to entertain his daughter by reading Utterly Otterly Day, a book that my friend Emily sent us, and one of fetus-Temple's favorite.  She wasn't as impressed with it outside the womb.  She did enjoy the ocean noises from the lamb cradle-mate that emits white noises.  She didn't care for the babbling brook, or the rainforest, but she liked the ocean.  She was, after all, born on the shores of the Chesapeake Bay.  We have otters here, I don't know why she wasn't into the book.  Mysterious.

Watching The Wire, season 5, episode 2

That McNulty is so crazy.

Jail: (verb) to thrive and survive in confinement. "He needed a big man 'cause he ain't know how to jail."

Breastfeeding is not for the weak of will.  I've described the contradictory advice given to us by doctors and lactation experts.  I went to a breastfeeding support group last night (funny: we went around the room introducing ourselves, and I was a half second away from introducing my self as, "I'm Kris, I'm an alcoholic.").  Naturally, I was super uncomfortable being around people I don't know, but it was good, and I definitely should go back.  T weighed 8 pounds 3.7 ounces right after I changed her.  She weighed 8 pounds even a week ago, so it's good that she's gaining, but she is supposed to gain about a half a pound a week, so she's probably not getting enough food, which would explain the crying during the day.  After nursing her for about 40 minutes, she had gained about 2 ounces.  The nurse there said that baby should eat about 2 to 4 ounces at each feeding, so, again, she's not quite getting enough.  Still, this is good to know.  Today, I'm leaving Temple on for as long as she wants.  At 12:30, she did 20 minutes on each side, then still ate 120 mls from the bottle, but after all that, she was satisfied.  Our doctor had told us that she should be satisfied after 10 minutes on each side plus 10 minutes on the bottle, and that if she was cranky after that, it was not from hunger.  That does not seem to be the case.  Oy vey.  Still, we are finding our way.  I'm going to another support group in Annapolis next Thursday.
     Surely, you can understand how frustrating and crazy-making it is to feed and feed and feed the baby according to the doctor's instruction and have her still be screaming with hunger.  It gave me the sads in a major way.  Matt stayed home today to help with feeding, make sure I don't throw myself out the window, and get me some milk-making herbs.  Please see post below re: if you have a baby, have one with Matt, because he rules.  He's my big man.  Flagler is The Big Man, but Matt is my big man.

The Force

When a woman gives birth, her body begins producing milk to feed her baby. The milk is all the baby needs for nutrition.  The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends breastfeeding exclusively for 6 months, and continuing to breastfeed while supplementing with solids for a year and beyond, if mutually
agreeable (the video we watched in the hospital actually used that phrase, "mutually agreeable."  Queers.).  Breastfeeding can act as a natural birth control, suppressing ovulation.  Breastfeeding releases a hormone that contracts the uterus, reducing it back to its pre-pregnancy size.  Breastfeeding burns 500-
800 calories a day, using the mother's ample fat stores, and helping her get back to a fit fighting weight so she can take care of a child.  I think all this is somewhat magical, another example of the beauty of evolution.  Far be it from me to question nature's perfect design, but I have a suggestion: in addition to being supplied with the perfect means to nourish a new human being, I would like telekinesis.  I have to sit still for 30 minutes at a time while nursing, and sometimes I forget to fill my water glass, or the remote
is out of reach, so if I could get the power to move things with my mind, that'd be great.

On an unrelated note, it smells seriously sausagey in my neighborhood.  Maybe my nose is extra sensitive because I haven't been outside in a week, like when you go spelunking, but when I stepped outside this afternoon, it was like kielbasa korner out there.

The Clems-Eye View

Clementine has really grown up since baby Temple has come home.  I think Clems had a sense that she was on the way when I was pregnant.  Clementine laid on my belly a lot, and Matt and I both believed that she was whispering messages to her while we slept.  Now that Temple is here, Clementine always wants to keep an eye on her.  Clems will now jump up on the couch all by herself; she hardly ever asks me or Matt for help.  She is asking to go outside to go to the bathroom, and this morning, when it was raining, she asked me to open the bathroom door so she could do her business in there.  She's a good girl.  

Treme

Temple and Matt dancing to the Treme theme song.  T is starting to turn her head in the direction of sounds.  

Musings at 2:30 am

Name the most famous Asian woman.  Can't think of one?  Me neither.  The best I got is Imelda Marcos, and while the Philippines is technically part of the Asian world, it doesn't seem right that the most famous Asian woman isn't from China, Japan, or Korea.  The only famous Asian women I can think of are Asian-American: Vera Wang, Kristy Yamaguchi, Lucy Liu, Amy Tan, Margaret Cho.  Iconic Asian men are easy: Chairman Mao, General Yamamoto, Atilla the Hun, Pol Pot, Kim Jong-Il, General Tso, etc.  Despotic bastards, but famous.  Icons of Asian womanhood are anonymous or fictional: the Geisha, the Concubine, Madame Butterfly, Miss Saigon.

What's that about?

***UPDATE***

Matt insisted I give him credit for this post.  We woke up early this morning to feed the beast, and not a word passed between us until 10 minutes into the feeding, when Matt asked, "who is the most famous Asian woman?"  The above summarized discussion followed.  Copyright Matt Sermon, 2010.

4 8 15 16 23 32

...But you've gotta make your own kind of music
sing your own special song,
make your own kind of music even if nobody
else sing along...


Feeding a baby is like living in the hatch on Lost (I'm only on season 2, so I apologize if that plot device is no longer relevant).  Every 90 minutes, you have to feed the baby, or else.  The "or else" on the island is mysterious (to me.), but the "or else" for me is Temple crying and crabbing at us.  It's also sore boobs.

Being tethered to the baby and the breast pump has made me appreciate my iPhone.  I keep it with me all the time.  I use the timer and alarm to wake us up and to time her feeding.  I have actually been checking Facebook frequently to connect to other human beings.  I read the paper.  I check my celebrity blogs.  And Matt discovered an awesome program called Pandora Radio.  It is an internet radio station (and a free iPhone App) that personalizes the songs to your taste.  You start by creating a station with an artist or a song.  Pandora finds other similar songs or artists and plays them on your station.  If you like it, you give it the thumbs up, and Pandora will find other songs that have similar elements.  If you give it a thumbs down, Pandora will adjust what it plays for you.  It is cool as hell, a great way to find new music, and free free free.

www.pandora.com

***UPDATE***

Ok, so I'm tardy for the Pandora party.  I'm told by my cool/hip/groovy friends that Pandora peaked a couple of years ago, and there are better similar services out there.  I'm still going to use it, though.

Ceci n'est pas un papa

If you are thinking about having a baby, I recommend having one with Matt.  He's the best father ever.  He and Temple have their feeding routine down.  This is a picture of the forehead to forehead burp method, developed by Matt exclusively for Temple.  He'd a diapering wizard, too, although breastfed baby poo isn't really vile.  It actually doesn't smell.  We've heard that when T starts eating real food, she'll start making real poo, and I'm sure I'll be grateful that I have the diapering wizard to take care of that.

Yesterday was rough, but we had a good night last night.  After she ate every hour and a half for 14 hours, she did one final breastfeeding, then we pumped her full of formula.  She slept for 3 hours.  At 2:00 am, we repeated the process, and she slept for another 3 hours!  Then around 6:00 am, she was all breastmilk and fussy.  Matt took charge of soothing her so mamma could get a few more hours of sleep.  I slept until 8:15 am, then again until 10:00 am.  I actually got about 8 hours last night (3 + 3 + 1 + 1.  Take that Tim Curry).  Matt's reward?  He is on a nice long walk around the neighborhood now.  I'm telling you, if you don't have a Matt, you should get one.  They are super useful, and their seed produces cute babies.  

home alone

Matt went to work today for the first time in over two weeks.  Let me be more specific: he left for work at 6:00 am, got to the District line, then turned around and came home.  He hung with us for another half an hour before going to the DMV to renew his expired license, which he accomplished quickly and before the irritated hoards, apparently unaware that the DMV is the quintessence of inconvenience, descended.  Honestly, who doesn't know that you have to arrive before they open if you want to get out of there by noon?  Have these people never heard stand-up comedy?  Matt reported that, on his way out, there was, predictably, a line around the building, and some bloke, unsurprisingly, tried to go right in the front door, cutting the line, and was, naturally, scolded by a line-stander.  What did he think those people were waiting for?  While individuals may evolve, groups will never learn.

I don't know why I'm vicariously fired up about that, I wasn't even there.  Matt went to work after acquiring the license that allowed him to travel there legally.  I was home with baby Temple.

This was the first day in our breast feeding journey that Matt has not been there to top her off after her time on the teet.  In the first few days after a baby is born, she loses some of her birth weight.  Much of this is fluid that gets pressed out during birth, and she also sloughs off the juices that were in her intestines in utero.  This is her first tarry BM.  Also, she doesn't need to eat much during her first day or two, because she is still digesting the nutrients that passed to her through the placenta.  Pediatricians get alarmed, however, when a baby loses more than 10% of her weight, which Temple did, and so our pediatrician advised us to pump breast milk, feed her every two hours, and supplement the milk with formula to get baby T to start gaining weight, then ween Temple back to the breast.  He assured us this is possible, citing preemies.  Premature infants start feeding through a tube, then take formula in a bottle, then breast milk in a bottle, and finally breast milk from the breast.  If a tiny tiny born at 30 weeks can do it, so can nearly 42 week Temple V.  The lactation specialists, however, do not believe in pumping or formula, and they advised me to continue to try to breast feed because the baby knows what she needs and when, and the weight loss is not cause for concern.  Also, the lactation specialists think our pediatrician is a dick.  Because of my Earth Mother, Fertility Goddess complex (see Vice post below), I was confused, and exhausted, but after much soul searching and crying, Matt and I decided to go with the pediatrician's advice, since he's been practicing for thirty years, and he will be Temple's doctor for the next decade and a half, and he has this professorial demeanor that makes me want his approval.  I'll be exploring that in therapy.

I'm not supposed to give Temple the bottle.  She must learn that momma is for boobs and poppa is for bottles.  So, I pumped every 2 hours or so, and Matt fed her.  After a few days, she gained weight, and we tried to put her on the breast again, and she wasn't having it.  Pediatrician said put her back on the bottle, and I cried some more.  She continued to gain weight, and got better at breast feeding.  So, since Tuesday, she has been breast feeding for 10 minutes on each side, followed by 10 minutes on the bottle of breast milk, or formula if the pumped supply was depleted.  She continued to gain weight like gangbusters.  Today, however, because the bottle man was at the DMV then at work, she was all breast, 15 minutes on each side.  She's not wild about the change.  She should simmer down to sleep soon after eating.  Between 5:00 am and when Matt got home at 2:00 pm, she ate for 30 minutes out of every 90, and was awake and cranky for all but about 20 of the minutes she wasn't eating.  It was rough.  But, change is hard.  She'll learn.  She'll learn, right?

Bath-sheba

Temple had her first bath yesterday.  She didn't care for it, but she did look lovely in her lamb towel.  If she's anything like her mother, she won't be taking many baths anyway.

The Mark of the Beast

Temple has a social security number. It's a good one, too. I'm not
going to tell you what it is, but I'll give you a hint: it starts with
2.

Sent from my iPhone

Benjamin Button

Temple looks so much like Matt, seeing him feeding her is like seeing him feed a tiny version of himself.  It's weird.  That's some Benjamin Button stuff right there!

Vice

Before getting pregnant, I imagined that, once I conceived, I would be

an earth mother fertility goddess: practice daily yoga, eat organic

produce, wear flowing garments of many colors, and consume no

chemicals, including caffeine. I would drink herbal teas and juices

from the rainforest. It didn't shake down quite like that. In the

exhaustion of the first trimester, for every warrior pose I did, I

also took a couch nap with the tv on; for every apple I ate, I also

rang the Taco Bell; and I've worn the same black target sweatpants for

going on 10 months now. But, I did not drink coffee. I did NOT - Until

the first day of the second trimester. I was working 14 hour days, and

it was just starting to get fall cold and I was driving into DC in the

dark. I got a venti vanilla soy misto, which contains about 10 ounces

of coffee. It was among the most memorably delicious meals of my life

(up there with the gyro near the Centre Pompidou. A tale for another

time.). It gave me a new lease, and I drank coffee nearly every day

since, though still not in the quantities I desired. I exercised some

restraint. And, my baby was a healthy size and perfect in every way.

The cliches about newborns and no sleep are no joke. We got maybe 3 hours
of sleep a night in our 3 nights in the hospital. Since we've been
home, it's been more like 7, which would be great if it weren't in 90
minute chunks. For a sleeper like me, this pattern is torture. At
the risk of sounding like a selfish monster, getting up in the dark
and cold to pump and feed the baby is a little bit of hell.  I'm
working on my attitude toward this, and I'm putting it in the hands of
my higher power. The best time of day for me now is the morning, when
I'm fresh with the most rest I'm going to get, I can take my pain
meds, have some eggs and toast, and a cup o' joe from the French
press. Other than realizing again how blessed I am to have a perfect
daughter and wonderful husband, my coffee really is the best part of
waking up. The percocet isn't bad either.

Matt, Clementine, and my lobster hand around my coffee.

Stef made me do it.

I have submitted.  I had a baby, and now I'm writing a blog about her.  Damn me.  

She is 11 days old.  Her father turns 33 today.  So, in May, our family will have Temple's birthday on May 1, Mother's day whenever that falls, Matt's birthday on May 12, and my dad's on May 18.  Which of us 4 will be wearing conical paper hats, though? 

Temple looked like an elf when she was born.  Now that she is gaining weight, she is beginning to look more like Matt.  Since we started trying to have a baby (almost 3 years ago), I have done a lot of reading about babies and pregnancy.  One of my favorite sharable facts is that babies tend to look like their fathers when they are born.  Check out your own baby photos if you don't believe me.  A drunk Japanese man in Vancouver once shouted, as my mother and I walked through the gaslight district, "ah, mazah and daughtah rook a just arike," but if you see my baby photos, I look like Tobey, not Danielle.  This is nature's way of keeping fathers from eating their young, and I think it is elegant.  Maybe I just want Temple to look like Matt to validate the evolutionary poet in me.  She has my hair color, and my cleft chin.  The nurse at the hospital told us that she recently learned that if a baby has a cleft chin, one of her parents has to have it.  Then she told us that she learned that on Gray's Anatomy.  Comforting.  

Gotta go.  Baby's crying.