Slanted

Taxi

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 18:57:00 +0000

I've been having a love affair with taxis since sometime in December when Steve and I realized that it is often cheaper for the two of us to take a taxi than a bus. For being only two weeks old, The Bairn has a lot of appointments to keep and prefer to take him in a taxi. Occasionally we take him on the bus, but then I have to glare at everyone (even the very elderly who are so, so kind to us when they see me or Steve with a slingful of baby) and give them The Eye to remind them to keep themselves and their bus-riding germs away from my wee boy.

Today we are spending the night at our friends' giant, heated, Interneted, TVed home while they're taking a short holiday. I decided to haul The Bairn over to their house in a taxi, but it was a rather unsatisfactory experience. To start with, the driver's first language was not English so I wasn't sure what he was talking about when he asked me clarifying questions about our destination and I couldn't have helped him out much anyway, because I'd only been here once before and I came by bus, so that's probably why he pulled up at an abandoned grocery store and told me that he thought the house was just over the wall and down the hill a bit. Huh. See, I kind of took the taxi because you pay them to take you TO your destination. Because I'm not good at confrontation, I just got out of the taxi and lugged my baby in his car seat around the block to the house instead of requesting that the driver actually drive to the correct address.

Regardless, we are super happy to be here watching The Office (should I be concerned that Steve most identifies with Dwight?) and eating caramel bunnies (Steve says the bunny on the package is the only other person he ever considered marrying because she is so attractive).

Poor kid spends half his life in this seat.

Making the Rounds

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 13:00:00 +0000

In my family, we usually keep our babies in for a few weeks after they're born, but Steve works out of town two days a week and on those days, The Bairn and I stay with merciful angel friends who coo over him and send me off for naps. Last week we stayed with these friends. The little girl, Macy, is 2 and she wanted to poke the baby in the eye a lot and love him down but her mother wouldn't let her. When I came downstairs from taking a nap, The Bairn was lying in a Moses basket and Macy was standing nearby. When I paused to look at the baby, Macy shook her finger at me and warned, "Don't touch!"

It was a good practice day for The Bairn, who is meeting the marmots in a few short weeks.

I Can See Why Those Epidurals are So Popular

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 17:48:00 +0000

So labor is rubbish, huh? I've never been a big fan of the birth story, but here are a few notes about what I was doing this time last week.

I was in labor for 19 hours and around hour 7, I believed I had discovered the secret to pain-free birth. I was sitting in the bathtub singing songs. The singing forced me to breathe out for long periods of time, and I was planning to write a book and make millions with my new birthing technique, but then we hit hour 10 and if someone had suggested singing to me as a coping strategy at that point, I would have punched him/her in the face.
Steve discovered a better strategy--blowing into a straw, which I actually found more effective than using gas and air to manage labor.
Steve is an exceptional birth partner.
The baby's birth was natural, but then I had to have surgery to remove the placenta, so I ended up in the hospital for two days with a spinal block and drips and all that rubbish anyway.
Spinal blocks are awesome.
Hospital food is rubbish the world over. Especially anything that claims to be fricasse.

Welcome, Welcome

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 14:30:00 +0000

This is not the best picture we have of our new family member, but it's the easiest one to upload on someone else's computer when I can't figure out the image software.

Born 26 January 2012 at 10:13 pm

7 lb 5 oz, 49 cm long

The Buddha's Curl

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 14:14:00 +0000

Steve is friends with the director of a local Buddhist center, and today we attended a guided meditation session there. Baby McBaby did not meditate at all. He spent the entire time doing a little Highland jig (probably in honor of Burns Night tonight). In the corner of the hall where we were relaxing, one of the center's members was carving a life-size Buddha. He's been working on it for two years and it's quite impressive even in its incomplete state. As we were leaving, the artist cut off one of the Buddha's curls and gave it to me as a gift for the baby, which I thought was so nice. Baby McBaby, however, has not shown his appreciation by being born yet. Maybe tonight.

The Waiting Game

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 12:36:00 +0000

I have discovered that the best way to while away time waiting for a baby is with a box of assorted Indian sweets. Mmmm. Really counteracts the grouchy (but doesn't force the baby out).
It would appear (unless he's winding me up) that Steve has just discovered that the word is contraction not contraption.
We had a botulism scare this morning. I opened a can, which shot out some liquid, which I then carried on draining, planning to pop it into the slow cooker. Apparently, this was very, very bad (although the can was not bulgy and may not have been actual poison). Steve decontaminated the whole area and gave me a wee lecture on food safety (apparently, my rather strict food safety rules are not grounded in science or actual fact).

There is no other topic until this baby is born.

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 10:57:00 +0000

I've been feeling a little bit irritable for the past week or so. When I walk down the sidewalk and someone doesn't get out of my way, I think, Hey, can you not see that I'm extremely pregnant and about to give birth on the pavement here?! The least you could do is make a little room. And the other day, Steve started a sentence with, If you'd like something to do today . . . He didn't get to finish that thought right then because it was met with a scowl and a protestation that the ONLY thing I want on my agenda this entire week is ice cream eating. By necessity, there is also a lot of nose blowing on my agenda this week, but that's coming off ASAP.

Anybody Feel Like Being Born Today?

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 10:29:00 +0000

My mom and two friends all have their birthdays today, so I thought it would be nice of Baby McBaby to join them and have his birthday today too, but he's not showing any inclination to acquiesce to my kind request to just come on and be born already.

Some people's children.

Keeping Calm and Carrying On

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 10:32:00 +0000

Since we moved back into our flat on Friday, I've been hearing mouse noises at night. I told Steve about the nighttime rustling but after investigating and finding no mouse droppings and nothing chewed up and having no cases of Hantavirus surface in the flat, he dismissed my claims.

Steve: It's probably just the building settling.
MBC: No, it's a rustling. And it's something alive moving.
Steve: It's probably Ludmila (the neighbor) walking around next door.
MBC: No, it's not big people steps! It's a little animal opening a package of crackers or something.
Steve: It could be a noise from outside.
MBC: No, it's coming from right over there. It's a mouse or (and I actually kind of wanted this to be true) a hedgehog or something.

This morning over breakfast Steve oh so casually asked me if I'd heard any mouse movements in the night. I did. Three times. He didn't comment on it, just finished breakfast and went to brush his teeth. When he came back he announced, "We have a mouse."

MBC: Why? What did you see?
Steve: I saw the mouse. He was popping in and out and dancing all around while you were standing by the sink. I thought about not telling you, but I didn't want you to freak out if you see him today.

I've never taken so little satisfaction in being right before.

But it's probably best that Steve DID tell me, considering my reaction to Hammy's first appearance.

But I'll Never Pronounce Pecan Like Steve Does

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 13:19:00 +0000

I'm losing my spelling and pronunciation skills. I can't remember if skeptical is an American or British spelling. I heard myself pronounce na'an as nan the other day.

I continue to yell at the TV, though, when Liv Tyler pronounces Pantene as Panten. E___e = ee. I distinctly remember that lesson from the first grade.

True Confessions

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 13:06:00 +0000

I don't really know how to cook chicken. We don't eat a ton of meat and when we do, we usually throw it in the crockpot or chop it up and put it in a casserole or something, so when a recipe tells me (as the one for dinner tonight is) to season chicken and cook until done, I honestly feel a bit nervous.
I'm not a Downton Abbey fan. I know I should love it but I don't. I didn't watch the last few episodes of the first season and I completely skipped the second season and the Christmas special.

Good Thing These Maternity Clothes are Stretchy

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 11:02:00 +0000

1. It's beautiful outside this morning.
2. I proclaimed to Steve that I would be leaving the flat today (a novel idea) to enjoy a walk in the beautiful sunshine.
3. Steve looked sceptical.
4. Last time I insisted I needed to take a walk, I only made it two blocks before I declared that we were going back inside and staying there until April.
5. I just checked the temperature online.
6. Five degrees Celsius and wind*.
7. Maybe I'll just stay inside and continue to eat brownies.

*I don't want to hear from anyone that 5 degrees is not cold. It IS cold. Very cold.

Being Resolute

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 19:26:00 +0000

A few years ago I went with a theme rather than resolutions for the new year. Last year I was back to resolutions with mixed results. I did visit Sweden (check) and I am pregnant (check, check) but I never learned to make peshwari naan and I now doubt that I will ever hike a Munro. I think that this year, a year that promises to be full of turmoil with a new baby and a move across the ocean, requires a good, centering theme. This one seems appropriate for the circumstances and fittingly British:

I may also attempt to force Steve to adopt this theme as he is Head of Worrying and Anticipating Disaster in our family.

My TV Nervous Closet

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 15:16:00 +0000

The flat where we are staying has a TV and cable (or satellite or whatever it is that makes all the pretty, pretty channels available). I am now wondering how I made it through pregnancy this long without the Food Network or reality shows that air water births.

When E(9) (can you believe she's NINE?) was a little girl she was a wee bit on the neurotic side and a whole lot of seemingly harmless household items made her nervous, including a toy duck that quacked "Aflac" and the detachable hood of Marmot Dad's coat. My sister stuffed everything E(9) declared nervous-making into the linen closet, which became known as the Nervous Closet. Occasionally E(9) (who was probably 2 or 3-years-old at the time) would walk tenuously to the closet with me and command, "Open it." Then she stood in front of the open closet with her fists clenched and shook until she was done scaring herself.

I feel the same way about birth TV shows and books. I tried to read Birth: A History at the beginning of my pregnancy but I was so freaked out by the author's description of a c-section in which the doctor popped her baby out "like a champagne cork" that I decided that this year was not the correct year for that particular book. I do like watching those televised water births, but in a kind of shaking-in-front-of-the-nervous-closet kind of way. Which is fine. When I'm done, I just pop over to see what's happening on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives so that Steve and I can drool over a bit of American roadfood and repeat over and over to one another, "Hey, we could eat one of those this spring!" (with our BABY).

Different Strokes for Different Folks

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 18:24:00 +0000

Steve loves trains. He likes to think about them and read about them and talk about them. When we go to the train station to catch a train, he likes to guess which kind of train will be taking us to our destination that day. He has a favorite train (the Intercity 125) and he would really like me to agree to go trainspotting with him. I'm not opposed to trainspotting exactly. I'd like a flask of hot chocolate to sip and a tweed jacket to wear, but I can't really muster any genuine excitement about the sighting of a specific train (unless that train happens to be carrying a loved one who's coming to see me bearing a box of Thornton's chocolates). I was trying to find an example of something that excites me that Steve finds less interesting, so I could explain to him my train feelings and today I discovered the correct parallel: baby clothes.

Last week I was given a load of baby clothes. We know a family with ten children and they invited me over to rummage through 25 years worth of baby boy clothes and to take whatever I liked for our baby. I selected enough items to get us through the two months we'll be here after the baby is born and dropped them off at our old flat. Today we were back at the old flat picking up a few things we've been missing, including an outfit for the baby to stick in my hospital bag. As I was going through the baby clothes, I was going wild over the tiny, tiny pea coat and the itty bitty socks and Steve was being bored out of his mind and wondering aloud why we couldn't just take a onesie (the first thing he saw in the pile).

MBC: We can't take that because it has no legs.
Steve: Do we need something with legs?
MBC: It's the middle of winter.
Steve: Huh.
MBC: Isn't this adorable? It has a puppy on it. You love puppies.
Steve: Yeah, but I like real puppies. That's just clothes. They're all the same.

But they're NOT all the same. Some of them are tiny baby-sized, making them fascinating to me for hours on end. In fact, I think that next I'm going to go look at Baby McBaby's tiny sleepers and think about stuffing him into them in a few weeks when he comes to live with us.

(Did I mention that Baby has little socks with puppy faces to match the the puppy sleeper? Eeeeee!)

(And a puppy hat.)

(And bib.)

(So cute.)

(Better than trains.)

Favorite Books of 2011

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 10:52:00 +0000

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern - Adult Fiction
Two young magicians, Celia and Marco, have spent their entire lives training to compete against one another in magical duel that can leave only one survivor. Their masters create the breathtaking night circus, Le Cirque des Rêves, as the arena for the competition, where Celia and Marco create stunning exhibits and performances without revealing their actual, competitive, purpose to the circus patrons or knowing themselves who is winning. When the two contestants meet and fall in love, though, the stakes become even higher as they struggle to find a way that the two of them and the circus can all survive the deadly game. I wasn't expecting to enjoy this as much as I did. The writing's very good and the story had the feeling of the films The Prestige or The Illusionist to me.

I read a number of books this year with a similar theme: Gawking at Other Cultures and Being Slightly Appalled. But also Fascinated. The following four books were my favorites from that category:

Nothing to Envy by Barbara Demick - Adult Nonfiction
The author follows the lives of six ordinary North Koreans over 15 years, including the year of Kim Il-Sung's death, showing typical family life and the incredible power of the state in the lives of its citizens. A National Book Award Finalist, this is a remarkable work that I found equally interesting and disturbing.

Mao's Last Dancer by Li Cunxin - Adult Nonfiction
Great account of a Chinese peasant boy selected to attend Madame Mao's Dance Academy. After traveling to the US in the late 1970s, he marries an American and defects. Like Nothing to Envy, I was intrigued by the author's experiences growing up under Mao but I almost couldn't believe some of it was real.

River Town: Two Years on the Yangtze by Peter Hessler - Adult Nonfiction
More China but from a Western perspective. Gives an account of the author's years as a Peace Corps volunteer in the Sichuan province.

The Space Between Us by Thrity Umrigar - Adult Fiction
I love this author and I wish I could get my hands on every single one of her books. The Space Between Us is a beautifully-written look at class division in India, told through the intertwined stories of a middle-class woman and her servant.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot - Adult Nonfiction
Henrietta Lacks was a poor Southern farmer, but her cells became immortal when they were taken without her knowledge and used to study and develop vaccines, cloning, in vitro fertilization, and other medical advances. The book discusses Henrietta's life, the science around her cells, and her family's (traumatized) reaction to the discovery of Henrietta's cells being used without their knowledge. So interesting! Slightly anticlimactic at the end but overall a fascinating read.

The Cardturner by Louis Sachar - YA Fiction
Reviewed this one here.

When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead - YA Fiction
And reviewed this one there as well.

Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby - Adult Fiction
Quick and very readable love story about a man, a woman, and a musician. I've been really impatient with chick lit this year (I am NOT calling this chick lit), but this book worked for me in the same way that chick lit used to (with an established relationship and a bit of a look at loneliness and redemption).

Yoga for Pregnancy, Birth and Beyond by Francoise Barbira Freedman - Adult Nonfiction
So, I suppose this one has a limited appeal if you don't happen to be pregnant, but I've had it checked out of the library almost all year long and I adore it.

Soor Plums and Sair Knees by Bob Dewar - Adult Nonfiction
Fabulous illustrations and short snippets of info about growing up in Scotland following WWII. Blogged about it here.

Other suggestions?

Happy Christmas!

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 12:58:00 +0000

I love having Christmas on Sunday. I love going to church and singing carols and being hugged and kissed by Martha. And this year I find the Christmas story particularly touching. Each time I hear the words "her first born son," I get a little tear in my eye as I think about my wee boy.

Being pregnant makes me feel quite vulnerable, especially since Steve and I are far away from family and dead poor this year. I think that vulnerability, though, makes me even more touched by the incredible kindness we're being shown. Today we received our fourth offer of a pram. Women at church keep pulling me aside to ask what I need for the baby. A sling? A bath? Dummies? Our list of people willing to drive us to and from the hospital keeps growing and that puts a little tear in my eye as well.

This afternoon we're eating our Christmas dinner and then opening presents from my friend Moo. We weren't expecting to have any presents this year, but Moo sent a package full of wrapped gifts for me and Steve and Baby McBaby. Isn't that kind?

Other people's kindness makes me truly feel goodwill toward men this year.

Happy Christmas!

Glasgow Loves Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 19:37:00 +0000

There were really inexpensive train tickets to the Continent this month and Steve and I very much wanted to take a last vacation before the baby comes, but leaving the country seemed unwise the month before my due date, so we took a mini-break to Glasgow on Monday instead. It was divine.

We stayed in a nice hotel with a pool, because floating in water is my favorite pregnant activity. Steve was very pleased with the hotel, because it had a TV and he got to watch The Fall Guy. And we were both thrilled that there was heat and a comfortable bed.

Monday night we walked into town and to enjoy tasty food and Christmas lights.

Right outside the European Christmas market in St. Enoch Square.

We ate dinner at my favorite Indian restaurant, Assam's. That peshwari naan is seriously the size of my torso. And DELICIOUS.

George Square festived up for Christmas.

Steve and Friend.

Nativity on George Square

We would be sad, sad, sad to be back home, except that we're now in our holiday digs at Becky's flat. Hooray!

This is a Really Good Song

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 11:53:00 +0000

I've been listening to this on repeat whenever I have an Internet connection (which will be EVERY BLESSED DAY after we move into our friend's flat for the holidays on Wednesday).

<p>&amp;lt;a href="http://tylerlyle.bandcamp.com/track/things-are-better"&amp;gt;Things Are Better by Tyler Lyle&amp;lt;/a&amp;gt;</p> (It looks like you have to click over to the blog to actually listen--sorry.)

The First Day of Christmas

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 14:39:00 +0000

Yesterday (in addition to being Dr. Steve day) was the first day of Christmas. This year we're doing something festive each day of the 12 days of Christmas to take the place of gifts. Our first activity was dragging our Christmas tree across town to our friend Becky's house (where we're staying for the holidays), setting it up, decorating it, and eating tiny (somewhat nasty) pies and mulled juice.

Steve took several of these baby bump photos, many of them from "artistic" angles. When I complained that the artistic shots gave me 12 chins (when I actually have only 3), I was informed that that was part of the art. Hmph.

The Doctor is IN

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 13:34:00 +0000

Today was Steve's viva (dissertation defense).

He passed, of course.

You may now call him Doctor.

All I Do is Think about Babies

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Sat, 10 Dec 2011 13:32:00 +0000

Someone asked me several months ago how I feel about the differences between maternity care in the UK versus the US. I don't know. I've never received maternity care in the US. I'm sometimes surprised about the maternity/birth proceses here, but I don't know if my expectations come from books and movies or actual practices in the US.

My only first-hand experience with birth in America is as a visitor who pops along to see her sister and new niece/nephew in the hospital several hours after the baby is born. In that capacity I can state with authority that after giving birth, one's sister will be in bed claiming that the baby she just had is the best baby that's ever been and that her older children will be climbing on her bed to drink her juice boxes and poke their new sibling in the eye with the straw.

One thing that is notably different in the UK is that maternity care is handled almost exclusively by midwives. I consider this a positive thing, because I would lean toward midwifery in the States, too, but here it is my only real option. If I had medical problems that complicated my pregnancy, I would be referred to a doctor, but my default healthcare provider during my pregnancy is the midwife at my GP's office. She's based at the hospital but holds appointments at my health center on Thursdays.

I'm giving birth in a hospital, but the hospital has two different birth wards--the labour suite and the midwife unit. The labour suite looks like the birth wards I've visited in the US. The midwife unit has birthing pools (large enough for dads to hop in too) and showers, birth balls, and low, padded resting/sleeping areas, but no beds. Active birth is encouraged there and the only drugs available are gas/air and diamorphine. Anything stronger (like an epidural) is available in the labour suite.

Yesterday in antenatal class we were informed that after the baby is born, they no longer whisk him away to weigh and clean him first thing. They prefer that we snuggle him up for an hour or so and let him eat first. There are no hospital gowns; I give birth in whatever I feel like wearing (if I feel like wearing anything at all). I leave 6-24 hours after a normal birth and then a health visitor comes to our flat periodically over the next 10 days to check on me and the baby. All of these things were new information to me, but maybe they happen in the US, too. I don't know.

Naming the Bairn

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 12:11:00 +0000

Steve and I have a working list of baby names we agree on. Kind of. None of my favorite names made the list and none of his favorite names made the list and there's some disagreement about possible nicknames for the approved names. I think a working list of 10 names is fine, but Steve still pitches suggestions every morning and every night and he feels strongly that we can't settle on a final name until we actually see the baby and determine which name looks like him. The problem with that approach, of course, is that babies look like root vegetables when they're born and I don't want to name the baby Celeriac anymore than I want to name him Donald.

Fun Times at Antenatal Class

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 14:09:00 +0000

We just returned from our first antenatal class. I missed quite a bit of it, because about 20 minutes in, while the midwife was showing us how the little plastic baby comes through the little plastic pelvis and hits the pelvic floor, I suddenly felt very warm and very light-headed, not unlike the time I passed out at our friends' house in early pregnancy. Just as I was saying to Steve that I didn't feel right, the midwife noticed that I'd gone pale and we all got to stop our class in order for the midwife to pull out a mat for me to lie on on the floor and for someone else's husband to go fill me a cup of water and for my own husband to fetch me some chocolate-covered peanuts. Oh, good times, good times.

The second episode of light-headedness was equally fun, after I'd returned myself to the table and then thought, "I don't think everything is supposed to look so light and airy," and took myself back to my mat on the floor. It was like being a kindergarten student during naptime or storytime. Except the story was about water birth.

The midwife says I'm probably anemic. Steve is hoping this means we get to eat more red meat. It actually means that we will be eating more chocolate.

Where is my hot water bottle?

noreply@blogger.com (MBC) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 12:45:00 +0000

I'm sick again.

And I take back my comments about being plenty warm in our cold flat. The temperature dropped again and it's too too cold. We do have three machines that help keep us warm and Steve has given all of them names. Mr. Woods is the dehumidifier who keeps the damp out. Glenn is the electric space heater. And Gassy Jack is the portable butane heater.

(MBC: Why Gassy Jack?
Steve: Because he's a gas heater and he jacks up the heat.
MBC: Aaah.)

We're not getting Christmas gifts (austerity + moving back to North America in March) this year but we are cat/housesitting for a friend for two weeks over Christmas and her place has central heat. Central heat! Two weeks of heat without the fear of Gassy Jack (I'm pretty sure he's going to tip over and set the place on fire despite all Steve's explanations of why this is not possible) is going to be the best Christmas present ever. (And I'm going to tell this story to Baby McBaby someday when he wants a pony for Christmas. Before you were born, we were so poor that our best Christmas present was HEAT, so you just look forward to that new pair of underwear that you're actually going to get for Christmas and put the thought of ponies right out of your head.)