Daylighting Our Donor

The whole known donor thing has proven to be easier than I ever expected. Easier as in we often forget how Finn came into being. I know it took a long time to get him and a lot of work, but sometimes I swear he magically appeared. There was no chance union of sperm and egg, and where that sperm came from matters even less.

Top it off, DtD isn't even around. He was such a part of our lives and now he's an occasional email and a lot of memories. He's living one life, we're living another and I hate that they aren't intersecting much at the moment.

All of this means that M. and I don't have a lot of pressure to deal with the donor issue. It's easy to say he's not around, it's easy to keep his identity from our family, it's easy to not talk to Finn about how he came to be. Before we know it Finn could be three years old and we haven't actually managed to normalize having a known donor entirely by accident.

This is why we've decided to start the daylighting process. We're pulling DtD very slowly out of the donor sperm closet and starting to introduce him to the world. Starting with Finn.

Finn has a little photo album that has pictures of his family. It's the kind that he can rip at, tear, and basically abuse but not hurt the pictures. He loves it. It has pictures of mommy and mama, of Grandpa and Grandma D and Grandpa and Grandma K. It has pictures of his cousins and his Godmama KMBKH. Now it has pictures of DtD and BF. Because they're part of his family and it's our very first step toward the openness we always planned.

I'm a little nervous. We're officially opening ourselves up to our families finding the picture and asking questions. If I were doing this for myself I would never tell them, but I'm not. I'm doing it for our son and us being open about where he came from is really important.

The Joy of Cats!

Finn has had many love affairs in his so-far-short life. The vaccuum. The computer. The water dispenser. The duster handle. These things have come into fashion and then fallen out as his attentions wandered elsewhere. There is one thing that he has maintained a great passion for throughout all these fads.

CATS!!!!

Finn LOVES cats. He's lived with them his entire life so you'd think that they would lose their allure at some point, but no. Every morning he wakes up with joy that CATS exist. He squeals in delight about CATS. He points to CATS and demands to be taken to them so he can pat their fur and pull their tails. CATS!!!!

The cats don't share this passion.

My poor girls. Their lives have eroded away bit by bit. They're fed erratically. They no longer spend long evenings being cuddle on the couch. They lost sleeping on the bed priveledges. Now they spend their days being chased by a screeching 2.5 foot blue-eyed joy-filled little boy.

Shoes!

I think almost everyone has spent a little time doing retail. Personally I worked in the Men's Department, which was a pretty cush job because men tend to come in and do all their shopping all at once. I've figured out an even BETTER place if for some reason I ever decide to do retail again...children's shoes.

Children's shoes has to be the absolute best gig around. They cost as much as big person shoes and you have to buy a new pair EVERY THREE MONTHS. Bad for our pocket books but great for that sales person.

That was what M. and I were doing Monday afternoon - braving Nordies to find some shoes for our boy. Our adventure started when we spent about ten minutes looking very intently at the very expensive toddler boy shoe display while four erstwhile sales people stood at the desk a mere six feet away and gossiped about who knows what - their dating lives, their hair, who was found making out in the stock room - clearly everything but whether or not the two women and the cute little boy needed assistance. I then informed them that there were four of them and we needed help while M. tried unsuccessfully to hide behind a rack of overpriced baby sleepers.

If I'm going to spend a crapload of money on a very small amount of leather, I want help dammit.

Our boy is a size 5, BOTH feet - imagine that - and now has a couple pairs of uber cute little walking shoes, and mommy and mama are out only about the cost of ONE pair of adult shoes instead of two. Three more months and it should be time for the Nordies anniversary sale....and more shoes.

First Bandaid

First Bandaid, originally uploaded by Sacha Digi.

Finn had his first gash from a fall. Somehow I hoped my boy's blood would never see the outside of his body. Wah.

Walking

I think I've been off in some esoteric overly serious zone lately. So here's a little update on the boy. He's a crazy walker. He loves walking. He walks all the time. I love it. Is there anything sweeter than holding your child's hand as he slowly makes his way down the street (in this case dragging a pull toy he had not so nicely swiped from the birthday girl whose party we were attending)?

Walking kind of amazes me. Crawling is so much more efficient yet Finn is expending a lot of energy to stand up and take these wobbly unstable steps. I know he wants to be like us but sometimes I want to explain that he'd obtain his goal much quicker if he'd just drop and skitter across the floor on hands and knees. That's the pragmatist in me.

The mother in me just watches him carefully and takes his hand when he offers it and soothes the bumps and bruises.

Crawling is far from extinct in our house. Cat-chasing still calls for the speed of crawling, and it happens quite regularly. Those cats are going to be in for a shock when he starts running after them.

Words Matter

Now that Finn is getting old enough to get what we're saying and start the process of saying things back to us, M. and I have been thinking about what we're saying and what it means. Not the obvious profanity stuff but the meaning behind the things we say on a day to day basis. M. tells me the other day that we shouldn't tell Finn how smart he is. Because he'll internalize it and then think he has to be smart to have our love. But what if we never tell him that he's smart and then he feels like his parents never validated his intelligence???

No more "good job" but "you're trying so hard." Being a studied C- student who has always tried as hard as I could, I know how it feels to constantly try hard and wish that someone would just tell you that you did a friggin good job. It's good to try hard but a person wants to succeed every once in a while as well.

No "good boy" but "being a good boy".

All these rules do is make me mutter under my breath...freakin' good boy smart trying hard good job no being a good boy...AHHHHHHHHHHH!

Limiting profanity is so much easier. I'd rather give up uttering an appropriate contextual "fuck" or "shit" then have to spend every minute being self-concious of the most innocent utterings that come from my well meaning mouth.

Sometimes I think modern parents have way too much time to sit around and think, and to much motivation to perfect the process of raising children. Our words matter but how much do the matter? And does it count that Finn is snuggled and loved and M. and both think he's got to be most fantastic kid in the ENTIRE world who we will nurture and gently guide through this world even if we also tell him he's a really, really SMART GOOD BOY?

Until what sometimes feels like an inevitable moment of therapy induced blame M. and I will work to make sure Finn always knows that we love him and support him exactly how he is. If he wants to tell me that he always had to live up to my expectations of intelligence I can only answer back that every parent thinks their kid really is that incredible.

Boy, Unfiltered

You don't know how you'll parent until you actually do it. I know I had lots of ideas. Some of them realistic. Some of them unrealistic. Some have become entirely unimportant. Something that has surprised me as a parent is how devoted I am to Finn being, well, Finn. I always thought I'd work hard to have polite, well-mannered children, and that work starts early. I'm not sure it does anymore.

I have a colleague who has a 2.5 year old daughter and she was telling me all about how her little girl has really great table manners and won't touch her food unless it's cut up, and all I could think was that I love that Finn will dig into his food with his hands and smear it all the way from his chin to hairline. Is that bad? Am I breeding an ingrate?

The world is going to dictate to Finn how he should be. It will tell him how to be a male in this society. It will tell him how to have good manners. I'm by no means saying M. and I have no intention of teaching him all these things, but I now realize that he will have just a small window to truly be himself without outside pressure. Next year we're going to send him to preschool and he'll start feeling the boiler pot of peer pressure, and it's something that will never stop.

We have our children for such short periods of time. I just don't want to be part of all the outside forces that will push and push, yet another filter he will have to define himself through. I want to be the person who gently keep my child, who holds him as the precious thing on this earth, and who creates a world where he can be himself every second of the day. This is why M. and I work hard to just "be" with our son: be present, be engaged, be his anchor and let him show US who he is.

Sunny Day, Sweepin' the Clouds Away

Something we Seattleites do a regular basis is convince ourselves that summer has arrived. The thermometer hits about 68 degrees and we throw on our swimsuits, put down the top on the convertible and say goodbye to the rain. It was 93 degress yesterday, soooo...

SUMMER IS HERE!!!

We have our child-safe California Baby 30 SPF sunsceen and I dug my flip flops out of the closet, got a couple tank tops from Old Navy for Finn, ordered our lattes ICED and opened the sunroof.

I'm really excited for summer. For the first time in YEARS M. and I have nothing significant hanging over our heads. The only things ahead are pitchers of homemade lemonade and long, lazy days hanging out at the park. Oh, and watching Finn discover his world more and more.

But in true Seattle style, despite all of our efforts and true conviction that on May 18th summer truly started, it hasn't. There's a reason why we drink a lot of coffee around here. It'll rain in a couple days and summer will be over until the next time we convince ourselves that it's finally here.

Then when it finally arrives, we'll just complain constantly that it's too hot. It's our way.

Living Small

The world scares me these days. Gas is rising, rising, rising. Our country is pretty much owned by China in order to pay for war that we essentially sowed the seeds for in a unprecedented act of aggression. Food is getting more and more expensive. In the Emerald City your buck goes barely anywhere. Everything just feels a little crunched.

We've never been entirely financially comfortable, but we've always been able to get the things we want and not have a huge amount of debt. It doesn't feel that way anymore. I have an ever-growing list of things we need that we simply can't afford. A new bed. A new couch. A new computer. At the same time it feels like our money goes a shorter and shorter distance these days, being sucked up by the basics expensese of having a roof over our head and food on our table. Then we started talking about preschool for Finn next fall and my stomach developed some sort of horrible knot.

Money matters suck.

M. has lost all but one of her clients. This is bad. It's good as well. We finally have some time together instead of stolen snatches of frantic moments where we do too little and beat ourselves up. We're also down to my income, which means I get to work my ass off and pull overtime to keep us afloat. We'll make it. We always do.

In the meantime I've had a revelation. I need to live small. I am going to mend my spendthrift, cd buying, clothes hog, eating out, latte drinking ways (sorry Starbucks, this girl is on drip for a while). I'm going on a money diet. I have decided that I'm not going to spend money beyond our basic needs for the next month.

Of course the first thing I did after this huge declaration is turn to M. and tell her we should buy Finn a water play mat and a bubble maker and he really needs shoes and I really need new clothes and...and...and....

I'm a Taurus. I admit that I love my stuff. This is going to be hard. But I'm a Taurus and I have a deep well of determination that makes me both successful and a huge pain in the ass. I can do this and I need to, for my family. Even if it's hard.

Happiness and Joy

Happiness and Joy, originally uploaded by Sacha Digi.

Busy busy busy at the M, S, Finn house. Our boy is having terrible seperation anxiety at night which means mommy gets to go to bed early and nothing gets done, like blogging.

This is our happy baby. M. and I were walking back from breakfast in the 'hood and Finn kept leaning out of the carrier and laughing at me. Uber cute to the max.

Signs Signs Everywhere Signs

I was completely convinced Finn would never sign. It seemed like everyone else's kid was signing but he would just look at us like he was wondering why we were waving our fingers around in front of his face. A few months ago I just gave up doing "more" and "all done" and "ball" and "milk" and god knows what. I accepted that our son wouldn't sign. Not all kids have to sign and we communicate okay so THERE.

::pout::

Finn has his first sign!

He started doing it a few days ago and it's not even one of the signs we've done consistently. Being a Foody Baby Finn is now signing FOOD! He he. That's my boy.

Mommy feels better. We are on our way to blissful toddler communication after all.

Foody Baby

M. is annoyed at me.

She's annoyed because our boy has a taste for the good stuff. He loves curry and homemade pasta with cheese and Parmesan reggiano and veggie shepherds pie with lentils. He scarfs down guacamole and zucchini coins sauteed in butter with fresh herbs and feta.

He loves food.

M. is annoyed at me because Finn HATES boring food. He will not eat pretty much any of the traditional toddler foods. Peas? Nope. Beans? Turns his nose up. Chicken? Only if it has some sort of tasty seasoning. Avocado? Uh uh.

We have FOODY BABY. And it's all my fault. One of my biggest dreams before we actually had a family was being able to feed them good food. No box mac and cheese - only my favorite Beecher's Flagship cheese grated into a bechamel sauce and poured over whole wheat noodles. Handmade breads. Scratch cakes. Food so good that our children would forever have an imprint on their taste buds of their mothers' cooking.

A wonderful dream but an impractical reality. Because sometimes it would be nice to just give Finn some easy peas or beans on his plate and call it a day. It's not that way and M. and I are really glad that our boy has such a diverse palate, but it definately has it's down side.

Going for a Walk

Going for a Walk, originally uploaded by Sacha Digi.

A Certain Sense of Order

Finn has this amazing sense of order. This amuses me because I personally have a great skill for existing in chaos. Mess does not phase me. Finn is different, so maybe we are all born with an inate sense of order and it's slowly drained out of us by the chaos of our environment.

Things happen in certain ways. Blocks fit into containers which are covered with lids. Night lights go back the right way, flat side down. Toilet paper in the potty. Bath toys in the bath. Dogs go back into the dog house, first green, then blue, then pink, then green again. Dishes get put away. Water goes in a cup.

How will Finn feel when he realizes that his mommy does not share his sense of order? That I can peer through piles, rummage through drawers and find what I want in second? That stacks of paper do not daunt me? That order is not my priority?

We have children only to be judged by them.

One of my funniest childhood memories was when my parents forgot to pick me up from an out of town track meet. Being resourceful and capable of existing in chaos, I simply walked the several miles home in the dark to my family who had not even realized that I was missing. It was funny, but not really. I won't do that to Finn and that's good because I'm not sure my child will be as okay with the chaos as I was.

I love his sense of order. And because I love him I will work to respect it even if it doesn't jive with my own personality. Luckily it does jive with M., yet another characteristic Finn gets from his mama!

What Kind of Noise Does a Rabbit with Wheels Make?

Finn has started to make car noises when he plays with cars. It's a kind of "vvvvrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhh" noise that also sounds a little bit like he's spitting.

SO FREAKIN' CUTE!

It's not like M. and I taught him to make car sounds. He picked this up all on his own. He makes the noise with his cars...and his little plastic helicopter...and his rabbit. Yes, his adorable little wood rabbit pull-along toy that he got as a gift for his birthday.

M. and I were a little confused about this development until we realized that the rabbit has WHEELS. So what sound does a rabbit with wheels make? Well, according to Finn, "vvvvrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhh".

New Diaper Covers

Blue and olive peels, originally uploaded by mariajasnoch.

I've been stalking Kiwi Pie to get a couple of her Kiwi Peel covers and yesterday I got two!!!!

We are moving to a fitted bamboo dipe with wool covers. Now we have one Covered Caboose and two Kiwi Peels...just need to order our dipes. I cannot WAIT.

M. and I decided a couple months ago to start early potty training and so far it's going really really well. Finn gets up in the morning and pees on the potty and he pees after his naps. I think it's highly probable that we'll have a potty trained boy by the time he's two, probably sooner.

This is GREAT. This is SAD.

Because we both LOVE our dipes. It will be a sad day when our little boy doesn't have that lovely and soft cloth bum and we put away all our beautiful diapers and covers.

In the meantime I'm eagerly anticipating our beautiful covers. They are just lovely. And they'll probably be the last covers our boy needs.

Unraveling our Tangled Sleep

Sleep remains THE issue in our house. When we get it, how much we get and who wins.

Finn wins.

I am Night Mom. I am the one he snuggles with and feeds off. I am the one he will not let go. I am the one who must carefully and quietly sneak away from him. I have lost the luxury of being able to just get out of bed - I have to lie there and strategize how to extract myself from his little arms and legs without waking the tiny beast.

Sometimes I don't care. I just want to get up and go to the bathroom without it being complicated, so I just do it. Parenting overnight leaves no time for yourself.

M. and I have our time at night, a few precious hours between his bedtime and ours where we get to watch TV or talk to each other, recapturing a sliver of our previous lives. Then every once in a while he steals that too, waking shortly after we put him down, refusing to let either one of us go. It's really frustrating and it makes you feel crazy.

Frustration breeds a black and white point of view. JUST SLEEP...please...please. It becomes easy to forget that he has a place in our parenting experiment too and we start to lose his voice as we struggle to find balance in ourselves. Two weeks ago M. and I were feeling that the only option we had left was to let our son cry.

Then we took a collective deep breath.

Finn clings to us on the nights when I go back to work. It makes sense. I'm home with him for a few days then I'm gone before he wakes and return when he's asleep. I'm basically gone for two days. His actions aren't irrational and he's still just a baby.

I ended up going to bed at 9 pm and missed Top Model. We'll survive. He'll probably sleep better tonight. And M. and I will keep perspective as we work to untangle this puzzle in a way that works for all of us.