Brightwood Lights

Andreas celebrated his first birthday on December 26. It was a simple affair; we were in Georgia, so Oma and Opa got to be there for the big ONE. Simona enjoyed helping him open his gifts, and the guest of honor enjoyed playing with his new toys and new wrapping paper.

His first cake was fun all around. I enjoyed making it, though I must say that it didn’t turn out quite as I had envisioned! He ended up with a round, snow-ball looking creation (chocolate cake & coconut icing), while the rest of us enjoyed similar-looking cupcakes. (Hey- I never claimed to be Betty Crocker!)

Simona got to blow out the candle and lick the icing off of the #1. She also decided to bite off a bit and quickly learned that candles look prettier than they taste!

Andreas, for his part, started off skeptical, dipping his finger into the icing and cautiously licking. He quickly progressed from handfuls of icing to diving in face first, fulfilling his obligation to show enormous enthusiasm for his first birthday cake. Guess the funny looking snowball cake still tasted good!

A is crawling FAST, climbing and pulling up on everything, and starting to vocalize much more. (He even took his first few steps on January 2! But because he’s such a good crawler, he much prefers that mode of transportation.) He loves looking at books and pictures, making lots of little cooing noises while pointing at various pictures. I’m pretty sure he knows what the word “Katze” means (cat), and he definitely can identify various people. I whistle to him while I change his diapers, and he usually tries to whistle back at me, pursing his little lips and making sweet noises. His big sister can make him laugh at the drop of a hat and is by far his favorite person to watch. He loves baths, being chased, banging on things, and fruit. He hates vegetables, being scolded, and being strapped into his car seat. We are working on his sleeping habits- he take short naps because he’s such a light sleeper, and he STILL wakes up in the night pretty frequently. This is a huge contrast to Simona, who literally has slept through A stepping on her face.

His eyes are doing very well, though he still has three little granulomas (the bumps visible on his left eyelid) that lead to plenty of questions from strangers. He will need an additional surgery in a couple of years, at which time the granulomas can be removed. More important, though, is that his December ophthalmology check up went very well; he was right on track for visual development for a one-year-old. His ophthalmologist noted that he had made at note in the chart at his first appointment (at one month old) that Andreas would likely need glasses by his first birthday. We’re fortunate that’s not the case.

Hard to believe a whole year has gone by already. Your little dimples light up our house, and your laughter is contagious. We are lucky to have you in our family. Happy Birthday, Andreas!

We are in the phase of life during which many of our peers are starting their own families.  In the past twelve months, all three of my closest friends in DC, several other long-distance friends, and I myself have had babies.  Needless to say, I have devoted much time and energy to thinking about babies and childbirth.

Between S & A’s childbirths, I read and researched the topic extensively out of a mixture of curiosity and self interest.  Some of what I read included the books Pushed, by Jennifer Block; Birth: The Surprising History of How We Are Born, by Tina Cassidy; and Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth by Ina May Gaskin.  I also watched The Business of Being Born, visited a few websites discussing and debating childbirth and maternal medical care, and even researched some public health statistics on childbirth.

My research and personal experiences have lead me to two conclusions.  First, I believe that the process of childbirth matters.  The techniques and procedures used by medical professionals who attend deliveries are of life-and-death consequence for mother and child.  And statistics bear out the fact that, though childbirth in the United States is much safer than in countries without advanced medical technology, it is not nearly as safe as it could or should be.  Better birth matters because those statistics are not just numbers.  They are actual lives of actual mothers and babies who matter and who deserve the best possible chance at health and life.

My second conclusion is that the discourse surrounding childbirth rapidly deteriorates into a pointless debate between the “natural birth” and “medical intervention” camps, to the detriment of women and babies’ health.  In the fight for access to improved health care, women seem to have lost the forest for the trees.  The insistence on a certain “birth experience” for the sake of ensuring the safest, least painful outcome for mother and baby is worthwhile.  The quest to make childbirth a homey, comfortable experience, though, is not only futile but can also be extremely risky.

I would argue that improved maternal/fetal care is not only desirable but also attainable.  Both the “interventionists” and the “naturalists” are doing what they believe is optimal and that both desire the best possible outcome for mother and baby.  I acknowledge that other factors can cloud medical professionals’ judgements: profit, convenience, fear of lawsuits, etc.  But I seriously doubt that any person who works in labor and delivery does not care when a mother or child dies or is seriously injured.  Both “camps” can learn from one another.  This requires humility on both sides, along with an acknowledgement that childbirth is and likely always will remain a dangerous prospect.

Finally, I would urge a healthy dose of perspective.  One of the dear friends mentioned above did not have the happy, healthy outcome we all desperately desire.  Though her loss was not caused by her daughter’s birth experience, it did offer the poignant reminder that anyone whose pregnancy outcome is a heatlhy mother and child have first and foremost an obligation to be grateful and secondmost a reason to do all possible to ensure that other mothers have access to that same outcome.

As a mom without a TV in the house, I don’t get to see too many movies these days.  But today’s episode at the grocery store really was like being IN a movie.I try to minimize the number of mornings dedicated solely to running errands, so I often find myself heading to the grocery store late at night or swinging by the dry cleaners and post office with the stroller en route to the playground.  But about once or twice a month, we have to forgo fun morning activity (usually the playground) in favor of tedious tasks.

Today was one of those days.  After a rough night (continued teething woes for Andreas), we got a late start getting everyone dressed, fed, and ready for the day.  Because of the specific items I needed for a few recipes I’m making this week, I knew we’d need to head to two grocery stores to complete our list.  We headed out for the dreaded errand run and made good time getting through both stores.  Even better, we had successfully avoided meltdowns. . . but I could tell we were on the brink.  Andreas was NOT happy about the extended search for chicken bullion cubes (Aisle 4 at the New Hampshire Avenue Shoppers, for future reference).
So as I’m pushing to finish up and get home for lunch and naps, admittedly buying peace from Andreas with a graham cracker, the check out woman gets chatty with Simona.  Bad move.  I guarantee you that a 3-year-old can out-chat anyone.  Even the chattiest of grocery clerks.

Then, as is liable to happen around here, a random acquaintance of the clerk walks up and joins the conversation.  Pretty soon, Simona is pulling up a pant leg to show off her “owie” from tripping on the sidewalk on Sunday.  Now, mind you, this minor scrape had already spent two days covered by a Curious George band aid (which in turn meant not bathing for two days).  Suffice it to say that the wound was well on its way to being healed.  But, the clerk and her friend decide that a band aid is necessary, and preferably a Barney band aid.  They begin discussing looking for the first aid kit, which, I’m sure, would contain no Barney band aid.  I’m already envisioning such a prolonged search for Barney that nap time will have come and gone before we finish paying, so I, smilingly but firmly, convince them that Simona really is OK and that we can skip the first aid kit.
Finally convinced, the cashier resumes checking groceries but now is singing the famous “I love you” Barney song.  Simona hears it, jumps in, and before you know it, we have a grocery store sing along happening.   I am not lying.  Two cashiers, Simona, and customers in each of the two check line are singing.  Andreas is amused and entertained; I am able to quickly finish my transaction; and we manage to leave the store as the MOST (instead of the usual LEAST) popular customers.

Crisis averted, and another successful morning as a mom is in the history books.

Simona, like all three year olds, is quite imaginative these days. She makes up stories, songs, and all sorts of fake friends, words, games, etc.  It’s usually pretty funny, and overall, I enjoy listening to whatever might come out of her mouth next.

About two months ago or so, Simona started stopping to pet her “monkeys” that live in the trees between our house and the playground.  She always invites me to pet “Bilowa” or “Minkowna” or whatever name she makes up on the spot, and if I don’t pet the precise leaf she indicates, she’ll correct me and show me exactly where “Bilowa” is.

Cute, until you realize that there are about 30 trees between our house and the playground.  And that by the time we are on the way home, we are all hot, fussy, tired, hungry, and ready for lunch & naps.  Stopping to pet monkeys gets quite tedious, so I’ve had to limit the number of monkeys we can pet on the way home.  Recently, a fellow mom walked home with us for lunch.  Along the way, she and her daughter got to help pet monkeys, so eventually I told Simona that we would only be stopping for one more monkey.  Since I told Simona that in German, I translated it into English for my friend’s benefit, so she’d know she wouldn’t have many more to pet.

She just laughed and said (in her wonderful British accent), “Brilliant, isn’t it?  Did you ever envision being a mum would involve implementing the ‘One Monkey Rule’?”

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Update:  Some June pictures are up.  Pictures from Simona’s birthday & our trip to Iowa will be up soon, and July pictures will follow hopefully soon thereafter.