Sp'ilt Milk

I have an ambivalent relationship with breastmilk.

Don’t get me wrong, I love breastfeeding. What could be more convenient and less costly? (Note that I did not use the word “fast” or “easy.”) It’s so mammalian, and that is so cool. I can’t imagine a better way to enhance a bond with an infant child. At the same time, it also counts as a small step toward letting go, a titrated way to separate from the new entity that for nine months could only be counted as an integral part of me. And, of course, it’s nutritionally the absolute best thing for the baby.

Here’s my problem: it’s juice that comes from my person. That’s just plain weird. Think about it – people juice. Doesn’t quite have the same easy ring as, say, orange or grape, does it? Even V-8 is a more appealing idea. But when I discovered, at the beginning of last week, that my entire supply of pumped, frozen “me-juice” had been inadvertently spoiled, you would’ve thought I loved the stuff as unequivocally as one might love liquid gold.

Sparing you the details of my own discovery of the problem, suffice it to say, I seem to have too much of an enzyme called lipase in my system. It makes the milk go bad immediately, unless flash pasteurized. Poor Django figured this out a day before I did, when Nana tried to give him a bottle full of the nasty stuff while I was beginning my Birthday Week celebrations at Kabuki Hot Springs with Cousin Marin. He wouldn’t have any of it, screamed inconsolably and made awful faces at Nana for the better part of two hours, as she tried and tried again. She says she still catches him giving her the stink-eye for it.

Nonetheless, I managed to get my Birthday Week facial, hair cut and massage, while Django got to stroll in Noe Valley with Nana & Cousin Marin, cruise Potrero Hill with Gianna, and take in the SFMOMA with Brad & Joey. We also squeezed in a lovely ferry ride and walk to Andi’s temporary home in Belvedere, and a quick tour of the de Young Museum. Not quite the week of extended babysitting I envisioned, but I’d be a fool to complain about having extra time with a dreamboat son like mine.

Trials & Triumphs

We started this week with a really exciting triumph -- our first fun run!

Django had not been loving last weeks trials in the fancy jogging stroller. I didn't want to mention it here because the thought of him hating exercise was just too frightening to utter. So I was quite relieved when we had such a lovely time with MDN & friends on Saturday during the 25th Annual Run for the Seals (to benefit the Marine Mammal Center) in the Marin Headlands. It was a gorgeous day out there, and Dj was all snuggled in his little fleecey bag, reclining under the yellow shade of the stroller. He complained for about the first and last 2 minutes of the course, but the middle 36 minutes he was happily napping. And it only took me those three, prior, completely miserable jogging experiences to realize his head had been bouncing in between two hard plastic buckles with every step I took. Duh. Sorry, baby.

We went to Zeitgeist's patio to celebrate after the fun run. I was thrilled to learn we could be there, together, since it's one of my favorite places to drink, eat & people watch in San Francisco, especially on a sunny day. As you can tell, Django was all tuckered out from the run, too. I don't think I'd ever noticed the "BIKES.BABES.BEER" sign above the door, or at least not with double entendre attached.

The rest of the week I was a bad photographer. I didn't manage to get any pictures of Django meeting 7-month old Lera on our walk around Stow Lake with Charly, Magarita & Nona on Sunday. Didn't snap any of Joannie & Luna loving on Dj while making us dinner at their *new* (to me, since I think they've lived there 3 years) townhouse in downtown Oakland on Monday. Got no shots of he and 11-month old Zoe, when she and Tori came over to play on Tuesday. None of our Bernal Babies Gang that meets for Wednesday Wine & Whiners Hour at Vino Rosso, the neighborhood wine bar. Missed all the great ones at Book Club on Thursday, too, when Rebecca, Jessica and Jeanna took turns fawning all over him -- you should've seen him flirt! Likewise, no cute photos of Dj meeting my old friend Chris Ho on Friday, or volunteering at the SPCA with the bunny rabbits on Saturday. I did try to get a good shot of him on Julian's lap at their St. Patty's Day party as Saskya and Kate were singing and dancing for him, but I have to admit I didn't do such a great job.

There's always next week...Nana & Cousin Marin are here visiting now. Maybe we'll be able to make some Kodak memories together.

Baby Needs a New Pair of Shoes?

No problem. They've got a bucket of pre-owned ones at Chloe's Closet down the street from our house.

See, aren't these the cutest?

But "Mama Needs a Used Car" is a problem for which I have absolutely no easy solution -- especially since I was really hoping to get to the end of my days without ever having owned one. Thing is, in investigating childcare arrangements I've come to the conclusion that I'll absolutely need one, unless I'm prepared to send Django to boarding school at the ripe old age of 5 months and just limit my time with him to weekend & holiday visits. So, if anyone knows someone selling an old, reliable 4-door, fuel-efficient, compact/mid-size car for less than $4500, give me their number. I'm ready to wheel-n-deal.

Reach, Grab & Roll

People talk a lot about the moment your baby reaches 3 months old. There's definitely good reason for that. Django's eyes are brighter, he's bigger all over, he burbles is so many more voices, and his hands hold a whole new fascination for him -- and me. You should see the way he sticks his arms straight out and just stares at his own little fists. Maybe it's a mom thing, but it makes me laugh every time. Especially when he has them in the "gotch'er nose" shape, or attempts to bring one to his mouth but lands it in his eye instead. Loads of fun.

One thing for sure -- now that he has a lot more to say, do and feel about his world -- I think I'm going through a growth spurt, as well. I can do a lot more things one-handed: go to the bathroom, open the mail, eat a hamburger. (No, seriously, you try it; it's not easy, especially if it's not in a wrapper of some sort.) I can turn any chore into something akin to a Broadway musical. I also have the ability to get through a bigger checklist in the same amount of time. It's no longer, "Let me see if you're hot/cold/hungry/need to be changed/or burped." Now it's, "Oh, you must be bored/frustrated/annoyed/sore/tired/confused/
hot/cold/hungry/need to be changed/or burped."

I'm telling you, we both have mad skillz now.

Another change is that I have started thinking of 2:30-4:30a as good, productive hours. It's a nice time to tidy the house, catch up on my magazine reading, change the rabbits' litter boxes, send email, eat breakfast -- basically, a nice time to do anything that needs to be done and can be, without waking the baby. Really, you should try it.

Oh yeah, and I've started the search for daycare for Django when I have to go back to work in the beginning of May. Everything about that sucks ass, pardon my French.