Griffin

Introducing Griffin Thompson Draitser, born 9-20-11 at 7:14pm. 7lbs 9oz, 20 inches. 25 hours of labor and 9 days late but worth the wait. We are very proud!

Distraction

To distract myself from the monotony of doing my baby rain dance around the living room for yet another day, I have decided to let you, dear readers, embark with me on my latest quest - that for the perfect diaper bag.

Since Carter was born, I have carried this:


My sweet husband bought it for me shortly after the Roo arrived because I had been obsessing over its pattern for months. Damn if I don't love me some stripes, people.

Now, that bag and I have had a good run, I must say. However, I'm beginning to suspect that it's not ideal for two (GAH!!) kids, and all the accompanying schlepping that goes with that territory. I can hardly jam it full of Carter's stuff these days, so how on earth can I possibly pack accoutrements for a whole other person in there? Plus, there's no zipper top, which I think most moms can agree is a major bummer - I'm constantly paranoid that I am leaving a trail of crackers, diapers, car keys, sanity, etc. in my wake whenever I go out. Not cool.

Thus, inspired by the recent diaper bag quest of Rebecca over at GGC (who lives right down the street and just had her twins YESTERDAY **OH, JEALOUSY**), I am going to document my hunt for the ideal diaper bag. Huzzah! This should occupy some space in my weary, bloated brain that would otherwise be obsessing about the distinct lack of newborn in my arms!

Like many women, when I first began to outgrow my striped friend above, I sought refuge with a variety of non-"diaper bag" alternatives and began just throwing everything into bigass purses, like this one from Gap (bought on super-sale for about $12 two years ago):

I'm not usually into flowery prints, but what you can't see in this photo is that the entire interior of the bag is BRIGHT ORANGE, which is flat-out awesome. Issues: serious lack of pockets = haphazard tossing of crap into bag = can't find shit. Again, not ideal.

Another husband-purchased alternative (thank you, LOML!) is this Etsy find:

I love this one for its simplicity, its redness, its ginormity, and the fact that it has a ZIPPER closure (I mean, really, diaper bag people, get with the program). The fact that it is somehow super-inexpensive while being handmade in Turkey is also fairly badass. However, although there ARE several inner pockets, I still find myself fishing for kid stuff often due to the bag's depth and lack of structure, which allows for a strange quicksand effect of everything I seem to need sinking to the bottom, just out of reach. Hrmph.

So there you have it. Three good bags, with downfalls to each. If I weren't 40 weeks, 3 days pregnant, I would probably just suck it up, jam everything into one of these suckers and call it a day - but by damn, I am an American consumer! Let's throw this economy a bone and buy some stuff we don't especially need! Yeeeeeehah, folks.

Some parameters - I'm not really into the whole "diaper bag that looks like a briefcase/office bag/fancypants expensive leather dealie." Like this one:

Yes, apparently that is a diaper bag. Sleek, no? But here's the deal - while I don't necessarily want a bag that screams "KID SHIT WITHIN!" I also am not in the market for something that looks like I really should either be shopping at Bloomies or about to enter a boardroom. I'd like SOME sense of whimsy to it. I mean, have you met me?

For instance, I find this (craaaazy expensive) one kind of awesome, but I think it just might take itself a little too seriously:




So here goes nothing. Some contenders:

OiOi Bags:




In case you don't know, I am a big fan of anything red. Thus, I love these. And look at all that cool stuff that comes with it. Plus, I found them for only $112 online (normally $160). Oh, AND they are made from organic cotton with a water-resistant finish and phthalate-free everything. Be still my heart. I think I like the hobo shape more than the satchel-y one, because I'm not a big fan of hardware on bags and the contrast of the black on red is too distracting to me. It also comes in a very nice blue shade, but I just don't know that I could commit to something outside of my signature color.

Although it's not as unique, I also like this one, in all its preppy, Nantucket-y glory. I found it for only $99 online (normally $150). However, I fear it's ultimately a little too boring. I mean, I'm looking for whimsy, after all:


I am very fond of this one, which seems to possess an endless array of pockets which I could stuff with all manner of kid crap:

It comes in a truckload of colors, but I'm strangely partial to this navy, even more so than the red. It's less fun than the red OiOi bag, but more interesting than the office-y type bags, and it looks sufficiently massive to suit my purposes. Price is pretty great, too.

I've heard good things about the Le Sport Sac bags being very lightweight and stuffable, but MY GOD isn't this just the most incredibly boring thing you've ever seen?


In other options, people seem to really dig these Timi and Leslie bags (same as office-y black one pictured at beginning of post), but I just don't know if they're ME.

I like this one, but it's pricey ($200!!), doesn't have a top zipper, and I can't find a better price online. I did, however, find it in another pattern for only $99, but it's nowhere near as awesome.


I weirdly like the quilted effect of this one, but don't think I can commit to all-black (booooring):


This is a total daddy bag, but I weirdly like it. So many pockets! So much stuff to cram inside! And it's red! And cheap ($79!)!


I like these bags (in all patterns except the lame peace symbol), but they don't have a zipper top and come with no cool accoutrements (hello, changing pad?!). Plus, I suspect that it may not be massive enough for my purposes.

All right - I could and would go on, but I've already been looking at diaper bags for several hours and I'm beginning to have some crampy contraction-ish stuff going on, so I'm going to go take a walk outside and see if I can have a baby today.

Before I go, tell me folks (all four readers of my blog) - what diaper bag do you carry? Thoughts? Recommendations? Help a lady out!

Ciao!

Yes, Still Pregnant

**Be forewarned - cranky pregnant lady venting below**

I have officially reached the point where I am quite certain that I am in fact going to be pregnant forever. Little Brother is now two days late and doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry, as evidenced by the fact that 1) I still have not lost my mucus plug (gross, but deal with it) - with Carter, I lost it on my due date and he wasn't born for another six days (yes, I am aware that some women never lose theirs and just go ahead and HAVE BABIES anyway, and I am hoping that's the case here), and 2) I've been having contractions every day for the past, oh, FOREVER, but nothing feels even remotely painful or productive. Every night I think tonight's the NIGHT! and then I wake up the next morning, STILL pregnant.

So there you have it. Last week we had a heat wave, with temperatures reaching into the 100s. I just thought the baby was wisely choosing to wait it out until cooler weather, with plans of being born last Saturday, 9/10/11, which would be a fairly badass birthday and match well with his brother's, 9/1/09. Nope. Then I thought perhaps he was planning to hang out until the full moon yesterday, 9/12/11. No dice. Now I'm thinking that maybe he's just a very considerate child and is going to give his Grandpa an awesome 77th birthday present by being born on my dad's birthday tomorrow, 9/14/11. Fingers crossed.

So there you go. That's me. That's all I've got. I am now going to bounce on my birth ball and watch bad television and/or movies on Netflix. SIGH. I love being pregnant, but JUST ONCE can't it be for the normal amount of time? Yes babies, I get that my uterus is really comfortable, but COME ON! Give a lady a break. Little squatters.

Hrmph.

The Waiting Game

Things I Have Done On My Maternity Leave (all four days of it thus far):

- packed birth bag
- swept and mopped the kitchen, dining room, and living room floors
- scrubbed the bathtub
- disinfected the toilet
- cleaned the counters and sinks
- washed the bassinet cover and bedding
- washed the Boppy and My Brest Friend covers
- washed the padding for the My Little Lamb swing
- sterilized breastpump parts
- washed nursing bras
- washed Carter's carseat cover
- attempted (in vain) to vacuum 87,000 crackers out of said carseat
- ordered pictures online
- ran 87 million errands
- gone to two movies
- awoken before 6am daily with a damp toddler calling my name (note to self: please invest in nighttime diapers, stat)
- baked and frosted (in four different colors) four dozen mini cupcakes for said toddler and his preschool pals to enjoy on his birthday
- bounced on birth ball
- reorganized Carter's closet
- washed/folded baby clothes
- gone to midwife appointment
- read birthing books

Things I Have Not Done On My Maternity Leave:

- HAD A BABY.


Ahem. I'm still ten days away from my due date, and I don't particularly anticipate this kiddo gracing us with his presence anytime soon, despite the strange pressure that I have periodically been feeling in my nether regions, like someone jamming themselves onto my cervix (yeeeehaw, run-on sentence!). For about five seconds the other day I fully suspected that I was about to go into labor in the middle of IKEA, but then it passed. I suppose there are worse places to have a baby - the bedroom showrooms are really rather cozy, after all.

I'm not particularly good with "down time," I suppose. I've been reading and responding to work emails constantly - yesterday a coworker wrote "Quit replying to emails and go have a baby." Hey, I'm TRYING, dude. The truth is that work has been so all-consuming this year that it's tough to unplug. Evidently I'm not even supposed to be checking work emails while I'm on disability - HR would not be pleased.

For the past nine months, between the office and mothering a toddler, I have hardly had a chance to focus on the fact that OH YEAH, I'm pregnant. On one hand, I feel fairly guilty about this (or as guilty as you can feel when you're existing in a state of exhausted delirium and functioning on pure adrenaline). When I was pregnant with Carter, I sang to my uterus for an hour a day (AM/PM commute), read books to my belly, played Mozart and Beethoven to my abdomen through headphones, ate like a saint, practiced my contraction simulations and relaxation exercises, yadda yadda yadda. In short, all the stuff I have NOT been able to do this time around.

This kid gets either Lady Gaga on the radio, or Carter's favorite, the "Construction Site" theme song played a trillion times during our daily commute. I haven't read to the belly even once (but we do read to Carter, so that's something - right? Right?!?) I attempt to plug the uterus up to some classical tunes, but generally pass out drooling on the couch immediately thereafter and then stumble to bed. Strictly organic eating fell prey to leftovers scrounged from whatever meeting somebody had at work on any given day (hellooooo, greasy noodles from random hole-in-the-wall! Fancy meeting you here!). Every time we attempt to practice our contraction simulations/relaxation stuff, my husband and I pass out cold. In short, I've been decidedly less Type A and more, well, human this time around.

On the bright side, less obsession equals fewer neurotic fixations - only a small fraction of my brain is spent vexing over all the unpasteurized cheese that waiters have potentially served me, for instance. Bonus!

We are ready - all of us. Carter keeps telling us everything that he wants to show the baby - "I want to show the baby the big red bulldozer." Or the yellow dump truck, or the green crane, or the brown cement mixer (yes, we are into machines these days).
He likes to attempt to lick my belly, which he finds endlessly entertaining: "I want to LICK the baby!!" followed by a pink-tongued lunge in the direction of my stomach.

Yawn. I could pass out over these keys right now.

Today is the Roo's birthday, which means two things: 1) WE MADE IT ANOTHER YEAR! and 2) unless he joins us in the next 8 hours, my kids will not have the same birthday. Hopefully Little (still nameless!) Brother will also refrain from disrupting Carter's birthday party this Saturday (just a family dinner this year, because I have come to the conclusion that I am NOT Superwoman and therefore did not wish to attempt a 40+ person party in the scorching heat of summer while 39 weeks pregnant) with his arrival too. My husband politely requested that I wait until next week to have this baby, because he's very busy in the office this week, thankyouverymuch. I told him that was between him and the uterus, so he gave my belly a stern talking-to.

Oh, Braxton Hicks. Welcome, my friend. How have you been?

Two years ago today, I was in the hospital, gazing raptly at my beautiful, perfect newborn. And every day since, I've been able to stare at that same sweet face, and wonder how it is that I became so lucky as to be his mother.

Where I'm From

I haven't made a peep on here lately, mostly because I'm TDP (Too Damn Pregnant) and subsequently exhausted, but I loved Erica's post so much that I had to steal the idea for myself.

Where I'm From

I am from rolling valleys, from grapevines as far as the eye can see, from springtime fields flushed yellow and thick with mustard.

I am from the big drafty house on the hill, from cobwebs and scorpions and stacks of old magazines piled in corners.

I am from lazy weekends at the river, inner tubes, tadpoles and sandy car floors.

I am from Glen Miller and Ella Fitzgerald, from Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert and movies with Dad.

I am from roadside bushes thick with berries, stained fingers and cobblers and one for me, one for the bowl.

From three little towheads fighting like demons, hairless baby dolls and comic books, from home movies and It Came From the Laundry.

I am from strong Southern women, from the golden rule and Thumper's mother, from a Peter Pan record on the Fisher-Price player and the sandman's comin', don't you cry.

I am from sausage pie and pork chops, from salami sandwiches and orange juice and how many popovers can I eat before it's time to go to school?

I am from crisp fall air scented with wine, from woodsmoke and apples hung in windows and cut-your-own Christmas trees.

From the animal shelter, Breyer horses and best friends since kindergarten.

I am from hippies, health food stores, and farmer's markets, from tourists and tastings, from a small town just figuring out who it wants to be.

It's now late July, which means that I'm due in 7 weeks (50-something days - GAAAH!), the little person in my belly weighs about four pounds, and the countdown has begun. I feel strangely calm about the fact that I'll be FULL-TERM in a mere four weeks. There's no logical reason for this, so I am assuming that the recent insanity both at work and at home has simply pushed me into pure survival mode, where I am (fortunately) capable of functioning fairly well as employee, mommy and (occasionally) wife (not in that order), but the typical, anxious, Type A, living-five-weeks/months/years-in-the-future part of my brain is rendered broken. Clearly that's the only reason that I feel any calm whatsoever about the fact that in a matter of weeks I will have TWO CHILDREN, correct?! Or is it that I am just too stupid to know any better?

Whatever the case may be, I'm feeling much more positive about life these days, largely due to the fact that I have only five weeks left in the office, and the chaos that has haunted my every workday for the past, oh, 8 months, is beginning to die down (KNOCKING WOOD FURIOUSLY). Carter has been SLIGHTLY less crazy recently, so my plans to sell him to gypsies are now off the table. No more crying when I drop him off at daycare (that was a brutal way to start the day for two or three weeks there), and the sleep has been going a little better (I will not elaborate, for I do not wish to jinx it...again with the KNOCKING).

My main concern these days is his upcoming transition to the 2+ preschool next door. He's been in the infant/toddler center since he was four months old, and has thrived there. He knows the teachers, the kids, the toys. He naps well, sleeps well, plays well. So all of this begs the question - what kind of fresh new hell will preschool bring??

My saving grace (if there is one) is that he will be transitioning to the preschool with two of his little girlfriends (and oh yes, my child can FLIRT like you've never seen, little ladies' man that he is), as they were all born within days of each other. My daycare begins the transition weeks prior to his birthday, so he'll begin venturing over to the preschool in the next couple of weeks and spending more time there each day leading up to September 1st (when my boy turns TWO - TWO!?!?!). Also, one of his favorite activities for the past few weeks has been going to visit his friend Adam next door. Adam is a June baby, so he moved next door last month, and Carter misses him. Every day when I pick him up, he says "Go find Adam!!" and we toddle/waddle next door together. Carter stands at the gate and calls "Adam, Adam!" and then Adam sees him, joyfully cries out "CARTEROOO!!" (yes, it seems that everyone has adopted his nickname), races over and they play through the fence until Adam's mom arrives to liberate him. Then they run around the yard together and race up and down the sidewalk. Carter looks through the gate and points out all the big-kid toys to me, and I tell him that soon he'll be joining Adam next door.

I am certain that the transition will be difficult for him, as my boy is a creature of habit and doesn't adapt particularly well to new people or situations (though I have yet to meet a toddler who does). For instance, last weekend my husband and I went to dinner (in a RESTAURANT! at a NORMAL TIME! and didn't FALL ASLEEP AT THE TABLE!) and let my mother-in-law and sister-in-law do Carter's nighttime routine for the first time - dinner, bath, bed. To understand the significance of this, you'd have to know that NO ONE has ever put Carter to bed except us. In fact, no one has ever done any of the nightly routine except us...and I could go into labor in four weeks, and seriously need Baba/Auntie to step in and save the day.

Shockingly, it went very well. He ate like a trucker (yes, MY kid ate - WHAAAAT??), went to sleep easily, and slept through the night in his big-boy bed. The only hitch was when they went to start his bath and he realized that mommy and daddy weren't there - evidently, loads of tears and crying ensued, but by bedtime all was well.
Oh, the freedom we felt, eating our dim sum at 7pm at the awesome new restaurant in our 'hood instead of yawning over our dishes at 10pm. We'll be trying to do this several more times before D-day.

I would write more, but my husband just brought dinner home and it's 9:24pm on a Thursday night, so I can no longer focus without stuffing my face with noodles.

That's how I roll these days, people.

Hanging In

Somehow a month has gone by without my realizing it. You see, these past several months - and particularly the past month - have been, without doubt, the most exhausting, stressful, and challenging of my life. Hrmph. You know, I was about to write "I'm not complaining" but yeah, I guess I am - SO THERE.

When you are working SO FREAKING HARD at the office that you blearily emerge into the bright early evening summer sun at 5:45pm, racing to pick up your toddler before daycare closes, and realize that OH CRAP, you forgot to leave your desk and go eat lunch all day and OH YEAH, you're 8 months pregnant so that's not good, it's okay to complain a little.

When your toddler decides that sleeping through the night is for SUCKERS and he'd rather wake up 3+ times per night for the past two months, screaming "MOMMY AND DADDY'S BED! BACK IN MOMMY AND DADDY'S BED!" (yes, we let him sleep in our bed ONE night when he had a cold - NEVER, EVER AGAIN!), leading your husband to start sleeping on the floor of the nursery just to get him to sleep, DEAR GOD, get him to sleep, you get to complain a little.

When, while attempting to re-sleep-train and let him cry it out, said 22-month-old toddler CLIMBS OUT of his crib and wanders down the hall to the living room where you are FINALLY relaxing for five seconds on the couch and you suddenly realize SWEET JESUS it's a whole new ballgame now, you're going to complain a little.

When it's 95 degrees in Los Angeles and you're SO HUGELY PREGNANT that parts you didn't even know you had are simultaneously aching and bloating and sweating while you waddle around the neighborhood at noon in a desperate attempt to get your toddler to nap in his stroller, OH WHY OH WHY won't you NAP?!?, then by damn, it's your god-given right to COMPLAIN A LITTLE.

Yawn. Blargh.

At work, we are launching three shows this fall, in addition to the half-dozen or so other shows we already handle, which means PURE CHAOS for yours truly. You see, I handle the money, and EVERYONE WANTS THE MONEY these days. I really like my job - I really do. But when I (stupidly?) attempted to take a mini-vacation to visit family in Seattle a few weeks ago, accidentally scheduled said "vacation" during THE WEEK OF MY BIGASS DEADLINE (no, I'm not an idiot nor a masochist - without telling me, my boss moved the deadline after I'd booked my flight), and spent the entire trip tethered to my iPhone, replying to emails, with a sick kid who would not sleep, I realized that vacations and parenthood are not particularly compatible.

For some people, this is no doubt a depressing thought, but I have grown accustomed to the idea, and actually find comfort in my new vacationless resolve. For me, there's no point in attempting lofty travel goals - at least, not with the silly notion of "relaxing" in mind. BAH! Relaxing vacations are for childless people and people who leave their kids with Grandma. Thus, save for visiting my parents up north, I have decided that I am not taking any more vacations until 2018. I figure by then all of my children (assuming I have three, per the current plan) will be done napping and we will have more freedom and less insanity. Oh, and we'll bring Grandma.

Well, this post was simply DEEEELIGHTFUL, wasn't it, kids??

I'm going to finish with something positive - I am having a BAAAAAABYYYYYYY in less than two months, and he's already head-down and ready to rock. A few days ago I gave Carter a baby doll to introduce him to the concept of Big Brotherhood. He took one look at it, started chanting "NO BABY! NO BABY! NO BAAAAABY!" and threw it on the floor, which I didn't even realize until my husband pointed out that Carter's little brother was now lying face-first on the rug. Hmm...this does not bode well for their relationship. Gotta work on that.