Sun Baby

It was warm this weekend! (It was freezing and rainy yesterday, but it's warm again today, too!) So, having washed all the baby stuff we've been receiving, we hung the laundry out on the line for the first time this year. YAAAAYYY!!

We also made sure Mommy (and Bean) got a good dose of Vitamin D while working on curriculum.

Of course, we had to keep shifting our chairs to stay in full sun (even a little bit of shade was chilly), and the laundry wasn't out long enough to actually dry all the way, but still...

IT WAS AWESOME.

Just a Picture 3/29/09

Remaking the Chair

I've had an oak mission-style rocking chair for many years, and in that time, it's been reupholstered twice. Thanks, Granna! This time, however, it was up for a pretty major overhaul; it would be bad if it collapsed while we were rocking the Bean! So we called Auntie Jen.

Scraping off old glue and varnish from the joints:

Examining an odd bit of chair engineering with Grampa: "Really? That's all that holds it together?"

(In the bottom corner, you can see the underside of the seat, whose fabric I was attempting to remove - staple by staple - and two old layers of upholstery fabric.)

The bottom half of the chair complete. And what would be the fun of a project like this if it didn't involve teasing the cat with quilt batting?
Enlarging the holes to fit the new bolts that hold the back to the arms. Auntie Jen has cool power tools! (And she's really good with white finish nails, too.)

And today, the chair moved into its new home - a hippo chair on a hippo rug. And Luna, so glad that we have put so much work into her chair! (Little does she know...)

Gracey, meet the Bean.

From a guide that Marcey found:

"It's a good idea to start preparing your pet for your baby's arrival early in your pregnancy, or even when you're trying to conceive. But although starting as early as possible will yield better results, it's never too late to train your pet to get along with small children, even if you already have a baby or a toddler.

"Set up a special, private spot for your pet and let him get used to spending time there. Pick a place where he won't be disturbed, like a laundry room, a dog crate, or, for a cat, a high shelf. Stock it with his food bowl, water dish, blanket, and favorite toys. This will give your pet a safe, quiet space to retreat to when he's overstimulated [sic] by household commotion or your crying baby.

"One of the best things you can do is desensitize your pet to the rough handling young children can dole out. He'll need to get comfortable being touched in places where small hands can go, like between paw pads, on the face, tail, and underside of the body, and in the ears and mouth. Start by gently touching your dog or cat in these spots. Don't forget the insides of ears, inside the mouth (for dogs only), the top and underside of paws, and all sides of the tail. If your pet resists, have a helper feed him treats or a meal while you do this exercise. Try to do it at least five times a day for a two- to five-minute period. Work with your pet in conjunction with his favorite activities, like mealtimes or play, so he'll associate your sessions with pleasurable things."


Yes, Luna, just remember that having your tail pulled is fun! Pleasurable, even! Whoever wrote this didn't have a cat. Seriously, would you stick your fingers in this cat's ears?

3/21/09: Happy Spring

Mommy in the nursery.

In any form, we like babies!

On Sunday, Auntie Sarah, Mommy and I embarked on Bean's first trip to the zoo! Because, you know, zoos are a mecca for babies. Like this one, with whom we spent a lot of time:

This is the cub of two of our local lions, Ramses and Nyala. He's moving to a new home soon, so we try to see him pretty often. We especially liked the stuffed lion that he has as a toy.

He was very playful, outside in an pen with his trainer, his blankie, and his toys. So cute!

It was interesting to watch both Auntie Sarah and Mommy react to the cub:

With such influences, Bean will be artistically well-rounded.

A couple of days later, Mommy and I went for babies - beans, even - of a different sort:

Bean, meet seed! (mmm. Cucumbers. and peppers, chard, tomatoes, peas...)

Happy Spring!

Contest Time!

Okay, everyone, time to check in with your gut feelings: the Baby B-T Contest is here!

We know it's been driving some of you nuts that we are operating with so much uncertainty - don't know what the birthdate will be, don't know if it will be a boy or girl. So here's your chance to put in your two cents, in a way!

In the "comment" field below this post, write in your guess as to both sex and arrival date. (official due date: Sept. 14) For extra credit, or to differentiate yourself from someone else, feel free to write in approximate time of day - morning, afternoon, evening, overnight.

If you feel so moved, you may, of course, suggest a name. Just be prepared for us to completely ignore you. What, you have a problem with Hepzibah and Obadiah?

The main calendar is all the way at the bottom of this page. (scroll way down.)

Happy guessing!

We Like Purple!

I've been thinking about pink and blue these days, about hearing other parents deal with pink and blue from prenatal days, and thinking about the kind of world we hope for our children.

Gender stereotyping, whether we enjoy it or resist it, I think, is all about the kinds of choices we allow our kids to envision for themselves. I dream in purple for our baby - all the choices laid out for the sampling. I think about my own childhood, and my friends' - how we grew up with the '70's album "Free to Be You and Me" - quite possibly the best anti-gender stereotyping, positive brainwashing out there (William wants a Doll, Don't dress your cat in an apron just cause she's learning to bake, Daddies are People, Mommies are People, It's alright to cry...and more!). I think about Dad encouraging me to be pre-med, and Mom reminding me about the power of creativity to draw together community. I remember Scouting, where we learned to do everything from wilderness survival and CPR to making healthy baby food, budgeting a grocery list, and changing our own flat tires. I feel lucky that we have moved forward in so many ways - Hillary and Obama, are you listening? ;) And yet, the baby clothes and toy designers just haven't caught up yet. Oh, well. I am thrilled to see that children's book authors and illustrators
are on the forefront of opening up all possibilities for our kids - even kids with two moms or two dads. One favorite: "Pugdog" - hilarious and wonderful. Owner of pug puppy assumes she's a he, plays all the wild doggy games possible, vet brings to light Pugdog's a girl, she gets forced into frills and nail polish...and is very unhappy, until Daddy has a revelation. Check it out!

Here's to purple, here's to nurturing the whole boy, the whole girl, the whole person.

Our conversation this morning, definitely without enough coffee:
Mommy: Our Bean is a lemon!
Mummy: Don't say that! Our washing machine is a lemon. Not our Bean.
Mommy: Oh, come on, think Meyer.
Mummy: Worse than Gershom.
Mommy: Sweet and sassy.
Mummy: This is going to be a long week.

In other Bean news, this is apparently the week of the facial workout - trying out smiles, frowns, and various grimaces that probably accentuate the alien-baby look. I have to say, though, that I was quite pleased to read that this is the week in which the baby should figure out thumb-sucking; our little genius had that one down last week.

Pink, politicized

I'm not a big blog reader, but there are a couple that I read daily, at least. One, of course, was the inspiration for this one, by friends of ours in Brooklyn. The other is one that M. found via google, I believe, and now we're both hooked.

Today, I checked both, and got very much sucked into the latter. Because, you see, today's post was all about gender identity and... pink. Granted, Baba (as this particular parent calls herself) tends more towards hyperventilation than do I, but as she described not only her own four-year-old daughter's ballet class, but the ballet-themed birthday party of her daughter's cousin, I began to feel some distinct resonances. And then she hit the nail on the head for me: "My brother -in-law and boy nephew were totally fine the whole time[during the ballet party], by the way, because why? Because at no point was this pink tutu-filled world laid out for them as their one, their only, their true destiny." (to read the full post, click here)

Hmm.

In itself, I have nothing against pink. Or skirts or dresses, or heels, as anyone who knows me is quite aware. But it disturbs me deeply that in this supposedly post-feminist day and age, I can still go into Target and see "girls' toys" that consist of plastic kitchen sets, baby dolls, and all of the other trappings of the 1950s housewife. Legos, Duplos, and all the fun stuff gets labeled "for boys". Even the supposedly "gender-neutral" toys get painted shades of pink and lavender for little girls. And don't even get me started on baby clothes. What sort of subtle messages are we sending our kids?

I promise that my pink-nazi phase will pass, especially if we have a boy. Even if little Hepzibah wants to take ballet in yards of pink tulle... hey, I did it, and turned out okay. (no comments, please.) And I don't mean any of this as judgment against anyone who disagrees - what, am I going to be opinionated while denying the opinions of others? Not so much. A lot of friends wore a lot more pink, and a lot more frills, than I ever did, and have become brilliant, liberated women. But I challenge us all to find just one of these women who have not faced gender stereotyping, or any of the other subtle forms of sexism that are still rampant in our culture. Pink is just one sign of it, of the way in which we tell our little girls "what it is to be feminine". And as long as we are creating that distinction, as long as we are setting different boundaries for little boys and little girls, this particular Mummy will be firmly anti-pink.

When the Bean is old enough to choose his/her own clothes, then Mummy's opinion becomes just that: Mummy's opinion. I'll even help fasten the little frilly pink skirts. But while the Bean's sense of self-in-the-world is in its earliest phases, wouldn't it be nice to actually enact and embody the phrase which I hope our Bean will hear frequently: "You can be absolutely anything you want to be."

Makes Hepzibah sound good

(Disclaimer: yes, I know I'm leaving out half of my own last name. In this one instance only, I promise - but ya gotta admit, it's funnier.)

Yesterday, I got a note from Katrina, asking for the blog address again. She had tried to google "And Bean Makes Three", and though she found a baby blog (a blogspot one, too), it was for a couple in Minnesota with a one-year-old (or so). Really cute kid, and actually a pretty funny series of blog posts. (Of course I looked. Wouldn't you?)

But they fell victim to the trend towards oddly-unique names. In this case: Paisley. And I couldn't help myself - probably aided by the other similarities in blogging - I thought about that name in our case. And it hit me:

Paisley Tweedy.

Sounds like a men's clothing store run amok.

Dreams, cravings, and other odd stuff

A note from Marcey:

Those of you who know me know that I'm a big nighttime dreamer - technicolor, bizzarre, vivid movies are the norm. There's been wacky trends of being back in college lately, me packing up dorm room posters and books, racing to get to my current adult life, trying to squeeze in the trigonometry final exam I'm totally unprepared to take.
But a few nights ago, I had a crystal-clear dream that we had a healthy baby girl, with chocolate-drop brown eyes and a few wisps of hair. Friends from all parts of our life arrived in a surreal parade - chorus members from Stonewall in NYC, new friends from Harvard Divinity, a gay pride parade passing in the background like a birth Mardi Gras, and of course, family. I woke up smiling.
Cravings? CHEESE! Cream cheese and bagels, sharp, spicy hard cheeses, and orange/red foods like sweet potatoes, tomato-black bean soups, strawberries, OJ. I had a pimiento olive a few weeks ago that never tasted so good in my life. I learned that in Thailand, an expecting mother is seen as "really pregnant" not at the first baby kick, but at the first day of craving sour foods. I'm there!
Funniest body change? The very center of my innie belly button is slowly rising to the surface...and the skin isn't tan; it's never seen the light of day. And wouldn't you know, it's ticklish. Of course. :)

More pitcures of the Bean

A contemplative moment.

Not a Fig!

Not a schmoo, either. Look at our Bean!


Okay, so Bean still has some alien-baby moments. Especially when caught on film mid-barrel-roll. Apparently, ticklishness is inherited. Mommy might just be in for a loooong third trimester. Bean was all over the place, bouncing and wiggling. The moment that we couldn't quite catch (unfortunately) was the moment of thumb-sucking that had both mothers in melty little puddles on the floor.

Hey, Bean... wave hello to all the folks who love you!

We come by it honestly

From Granna Kate, this morning:

"Something about today's front page made my brain work in convoluted ways... (well, duh!)... and I remembered Piglet's grandfather, Trespassers W., which was short for Trespassers Will, which was Short for Trespassers William.

"And I thought, thought I... (unless you'd prefer for him to live in the Hundred Acre Wood, under the name of Saunders), that perhaps young Obadiah, should that happen to be Bean's gender, might take on the spirit of Piglet's ancestor.

"What do you think of Stimulus Bill? We who love the child could call him Stimulus Billy?"

Or Stimulus William. Thank you, Granna.

Back to the Bubble

Living in Massachusetts, sometimes one forgets what a lovely little bubble protects us. Legal marriage, and the benefits and rights it bestows, can occasionally make us forget that there's a huge segment of this country that isn't actually happy for us, or for our little Bean.

Like the segment right next door to us - admittedly, not the "huge" part mentioned above, but a segment nonetheless.

Our very own, usually-beloved, state of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations. (Little state, big name. Kind of a taxonomic Napoleon complex.) And it very clearly demarcates the edge of our bubble.

Several phone calls to both Women and Infants' Hospital, and the state Board of health, have determined that babies born in Rhode Island may have one (1) Mommy and one (1) Daddy. No other possibility is allowed. Not on the birth certificate, at any rate. Someone else, a Mummy, for instance, may adopt the little tyke at a later date, but it will not be a complete family that leaves the hospital.

And so we return to our bubble, and to the security that it provides our little family. M. has talked with several other moms at her school, who have recommended Ob/Gyns in our very own town. And indeed, it turns out that the little hospital down the road from us has a fabulous birthing center. Who knew? So with great sadness, we will be saying goodbye to our midwife and the amazing nurses we had come to love and trust, and moving a little closer to home. Back to the bubble, and not taking anything for granted.

Meanwhile, many thanks to Joni for her wonderful willingness to help us find information - and to keep us laughing. (Bean says thank you, too.)