The Seversons

I’ve never been the vain type. Was never a big make-up or fashion hound. In fact, pregnancy was kind of freeing because I completely ditched my normal going-out dress code and was more than happy to go to the store with no makeup wearing whatever random clothes actually fit.

Now that I have Graham to take around I still don’t worry so much about it. I have stains on all of my pants from spit-up, which the kid can produce at an amazing rate. Most of them aren’t actually pants but various forms of knee-length short type things that are supposed to be for working out or yoga or something like that. I wore them through much of my pregnancy and I’m still wearing them now.  I figure no one’s going to spend much time worrying about the fashion statements being made by a new mother.  When I go to work, I have only one pair of decent pants I can wear. They’re jeans. Worse, they’re maternity jeans. I have not even started the fitting-into-my-pre-pregnancy-jeans quest because I don’t feel like getting depressed.

It’s taken a little while for me to start feeling annoyed with my body. I was completely prepared for the postpartum look. (A couple years ago I’d seen a website where women posted pictures of their post-baby bellies. I was shocked and appalled, but I appreciated their willingness to do it. It meant I could be shocked then by someone else’s body and not in the midst of postpartum hormones by my own. Sadly, I can’t recommend this site to other women with their first pregnancy; I went by today and it’s become pretty awful, full of teenagers who are on their 2nd or 3rd kid and stick-thin women who I’m sure post their pictures just so everyone can tell them how great they look.) I was a bit annoyed at the last-minute stretch marks, especially after I’d been feeling all smug about how few I had, but I’d known it was possible. I didn’t lose sleep.

The pooch is an inevitable byproduct of pregnancy, at least for the 95% of women who don’t immediately slip back into their normal clothes the day they leave the hospital. (I’m sure karma has something in store for them.) It’s best to be realistic. It happens to most of us. It can’t be avoided, and you don’t want to skimp on the pounds you gain during pregnancy and end up with a low-weight baby. I was happy to see this week that even picture-perfect Betty Draper on Mad Men is walking around with a post-baby pooch. (As if I didn’t love that show enough already. They have a thing for showing appropriately-sized women, and, apparently, fat suits when necessary.)

Now, 2 months later, I’m starting to get tired of the pooch but it’s hard to do something about it. There isn’t a whole lot of time to exercise. Graham has to be calm and happy or asleep. I haven’t been able to go on walks for the last week because we’ve been seriously inundated with rain. (There’s a torrential downpour outside the window right this minute.) We’ve plugged the Wii back in and I’m hoping to grab a little time here or there, but usually when I get that little bit of time I’m trying to eat something or get dinner ready or run an errand or enjoy some time with Eric and Graham. I’m going to try and up my game and make it a priority. I’m also going to try and work on my appetite. Apparently my stomach is so happy to be its normal size and back in its normal place that it wants to stretch out and enjoy itself. Since I no longer have the benefit of breastfeeding, a big calorie burner, I’ve got to be proactive. (More on that in another entry.)

Fortunately, I have my share of chunky company. Somebody had his 2 month appointment today, and has moved up 25 percentile points in weight. That’s right, the President and Founding Member of Future Chunks of America may soon be able to claim his rightful place as a full-fledged member of ABC–American Babies of Chunk. He may even make a run for a leadership position. Speaking of the little man with a big future in politics, I think he’s waking up so I should run. But before I go, any tips and tricks from those who have gone before me and destroyed the pooch would be greatly appreciated.

There’s a new post below, but I’m overdue on a video.  My voice is a little loud, I’ll try not to stand so close to the camera next time.  Graham isn’t doing a lot here, but there is some smile action and he tries several times to roll himself over using the momentum from his legs.  And even if he’s not really doing anything, he’s very cute while doing it.

It blows my mind that the time has come for my 5-year law school reunion.  (Almost as much as it blew my mind the other day to realize I started college TWELVE YEARS AGO.  Yikes, I am old.)  I guess when I think of my lawyerly career and the strange journey it’s been, it actually seems like more than 5 years.  But law school often feels like it just happened, so it’s still kind of weird and sad.

It doesn’t look like I’ll be able to make it out for the big party next month.  Eric’s interviews and the plane fares and hotel costs involved are going to be a huge stretch for the year, so I can’t just go gallivanting around the country for kicks.  Plus there’s that little detail of the Nugget, who would have to come along.  The idea of taking him on a plane is enough to make my head explode.  These days it is a major effort to get him to the grocery store, where we have plenty of personal space and it’s not an artificially pressurized environment.

Still, I can wax nostalgic about the good old days.  Most people find the first semester of law school to be trying.  Personally, I found it heaven.  I knew within that first week that I’d found my thing, despite the fact that I often read the same thing over and over and still had no idea what it meant.  Honestly, I wouldn’t mind going back and doing it all over again.  In fact, I’d kind of like the chance to actually work hard this time.  I had the same unfortunate tendency in law school that I’ve had throughout my academic career: I work hard on things I like, but if it’s something I’m not interested in I pretend it doesn’t exist.  This explains why I failed Handwriting in 5th grade, when I simply refused to do the homework that was nothing more than 26 assignments, each of which consisted solely of writing a single letter in cursive over and over again.  It also explains my grades for Property and Contracts.

Despite this, people seemed to think I knew what I was doing, which I think is hilarious.  Apparently no one noticed when I was called on twice in Property and biffed it both times.  Instead, what seems to have stuck is a single day in Civil Procedure.  I guess that first impression was the biggest.  Civ Pro, as we law types call it, is probably the hardest class any 1st year has to take.  You’d think a class that’s only about rules would be pretty easy, but instead you find yourself swimming for weeks, learning about rules and precedents that you have to understand and which you kind of do on some level even though most of it still makes no sense.  You may be able to define something like the Erie doctrine, but you don’t really know what it means really.  The large section Civ Pro professor was a particularly tough one, and for poor little 1L’s who weren’t yet used to the Socratic method, it could be very very frightening.  (Unless you were our classmate in the back row who didn’t try to hide the fact that he didn’t know what was up and proudly displayed his LegalLines–the law school version of CliffNotes–as he answered questions.  You guys know who I’m talking about.)

The day I got called on in Civ Pro is a day I will probably remember until I die because I was as nervous then as I was at a jury trial.  The thing is, though, I was incredibly lucky.  That day I’d actually spent more time than usual reading the homework because for once I thought I might be able to understand it in some real context.  The subject was venue, probably one of the easiest subjects of the whole class (which also, lucky for me, made up a big portion of the final exam a couple months later) and not only had I re-read the case over and over, I even read the notes.  The notes!  And I don’t mean the footnotes, I mean the notes after the case that I probably never read again for the next 3 years.

Technically, I wasn’t called on first.  Instead, it was the poor guy behind me.  He did what most people do when they’re called on and either haven’t read or have no clue or just freeze up: he flipped pages in his book.  As soon as someone starts flipping pages, you know it’s over.  Law books have big pages covered in tiny type, you aren’t going to find anything on those pages that will help you.  But still, it tends to be the last refuge of the doomed student.  When someone is called on and can’t answer, a substitute must be found and professors usually go based on proximity.  Sitting next to someone who doesn’t prepare can be fatal.  I was the only person sitting close to this guy, and I knew the moment I heard those pages turning that I’d be up.  So when I was called on and asked a question not only about the John Deere case, but one which made a subtle reference to the VanDusen case in the notes, I was totally on top of it.  (I told you I remember, I still know what the cases were.  I even remember that the VanDusen case was the one about a plane crash.)  After fielding my share of questions and being released from the spotlight, the guy sitting down the row from me stared in shock and said, “How do you study?” as if he expected me to tell him that I didn’t actually sleep but just studied all night long every night.

I guess it’s a little sad that the highlight of my law school career came at the very beginning, but I continue to get great pleasure out of it so I guess it’s not so terrible.  And once I did get a plaque, that was cool.  It is the only plaque I’ve ever received.  Plus I got a couple of trips for Trial team which were pretty fun.  That ambitious part of me, which is often beaten into submission by the lazy part (which is surprisingly powerful for being so lazy), would really like a shot to go back and kill law school.  It wants to read the assigned cases every night, give up any hint of a social life, and IRAC those finals like there’s no tomorrow.  This will never happen.  Just like how the ambitious part of me will never get a chance to go to medical school, which is probably for the best since it would be rough not only for the lazy part of me but the squeamish part as well.  Luckily I married a med student, so I can live it all vicariously, which involves significantly less blood and guts.

I’m not sure what kind of career I’ll have down the line, but I will always be happy that I went to law school.  I’ll always be glad I got my chance to litigate and to be a public defender.  Hopefully no matter what I can always use my knowledge to argue with my kids, right?  Even if they inherit my lawyerly talents, those skills take years to hone.  I may be able to get by without saying “Because I said so” for quite a while.

Anyway, for those of you who’ll be there, have fun!  Hello from me!  And if anybody asks how I’m doing tell them I am looking amazing and doing awesome and other such hyperbole, k?  (In parting, my favorite comic…)

To parents with blogs who obsessively post video of their babies: I’m sorry for thinking you were lame.  I get it now.  From the last couple of days we have 4 videos of Graham.  He doesn’t do anything particularly novel in any of them.  In one he smiles once at the very beginning and then does nothing for 45 seconds.  In another he repeatedly pulls his legs up in the air, then throws them to the right, does a little turn to the side, then goes back.  He does this about 6 times over the course of a minute or so.  And then there are the two where there’s nothing to describe because so very little happens.

I always knew that new parents are obsessed with their babies.  I guess I thought I was immune because I didn’t feel it as much for the first few weeks, what with all the grandparents and the physical recovery and the massive adjustment.  But now I’ve been sucked in.  I tell myself that it’s different because Graham is just better than all those other babies, but I recognize in my heart that he is just a baby like all the others.  Albeit an incredible baby (who is probably still better than all the others).

Even worse, I can watch those videos where nothing happens and find them entertaining.  I don’t think I’ve ever watched any of those baby videos on other people’s websites.  And don’t worry, I don’t expect the vast majority of our small band of readers to find a lot to look at.  But a few of you will, so I post some from time to time.  We’re trying to find a better way to post them, but thus far it’s not going well.

As for our goings on here, last week I took Graham out a bunch of times.  It didn’t always go swimmingly, but he handled most of it pretty well.  I don’t see us repeating our trend this week, at least not if I continue with my present sleeping patterns.  I mentioned this problem last week and it’s continued.  With Graham still having a bedtime that varies from 11 pm to 2 am, I can never be sure if he’ll stay asleep should he nod off during that time.  I envy babies their ability to sleep for hours on end or just a few minutes at a time.  A couple nights ago after falling asleep around 10:30 I was just about to head to bed a little after midnight when he was awake like he’d just swigged a liter of Mountain Dew.

He’s still only 8 weeks old, so I don’t worry too much about his lack of patterns.  But I’ve been so desperate for sleep that I’ve slept with him in the twin bed in the nursery the last three nights in a row.  He’ll sleep, then start to whimper, keep whimpering, and then as soon as I cave and pick him up he will immediately be asleep again.  There is something wonderful and sweet about a baby sleeping in your arms, and I admit that I wish he could spend every night sleeping like that.  But I’m having a rough time sleeping as it is and I can’t find a way to make that happen.  The best we get is cuddling together in bed.

Oh, and speaking of sleep, I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you but you and I don’t seem to be on good terms lately.  Last night Graham slept from 11 until 6, but I was wide awake in bed at 2 a.m.  (Which was when Graham started his whimper routine and I moved to the nursery.)  I am so desperate that I’m resorting to the sleep-inducing tactics I used as a teenager: imagining that instead of laying in my bed, I’m laying in a raft.  It’s one of those relaxation techniques and I don’t know why I bother doing it because it doesn’t work.

As for the baby (which is why you’re all reading anyway, right?) he has become quite vocal in the last couple weeks.  It started with the occasional smile that came when he wasn’t farting, and then led to some little coos on top of his classic “heh heh heh,” and now you can practically have a conversation with the kid.  (Just not when the camera’s on.  Then he clams up.  We need to work on that.)  He’s always been an observant baby, but now he’s much more interested in things and tends to look at something in particular, instead of staring off at the ceiling or the wall.

We’ve tried to take advantage of this with his new mobile.  The mobile goes on the crib, and that was the main reason I chose it.  See, Graham hardly ever sleeps in his crib.  He’s getting better, but mostly he sleeps in his bouncer.  The other day, Graham was taking too long of a nap during the day and to make sure we kept him on schedule, we tried to wake him up.  We spent a good ten minutes moving him around, but he still nodded off every time he sat still.  I had a brilliant idea: I stuck him in the crib.  When I came back five minutes later, he was wide awake.

I was hoping Graham would like the mobile, and thus get more comfortable in the crib.  My plan appears to be working.  When he’s in a happy mood, he can literally stare at it for minutes on end.  He gazes up in a silent baby rapture, punctuated with occasional smiles.  The other day I stuck him there while I was preparing a bottle.  He was hungry and upset and it was hilarious to see him there because one second he’d be happy about the mobile and then he’d remember he was mad, but then he’d get distracted, then he’d remember he was mad.  It was a bit of baby schizophrenia and I wish I had it on camera.

Anyway, with all this talk of video, I don’t actually have one to post today.  I need to convert it to another format and it’s not done so I’ll have to defer your extreme gratification until another post.

In most respects, Graham refused to be categorized.  Certainly he is firmly in the “cute” category, but when it comes to something like sleep, well, he is consistent only in his inconsistency.  He will sleep for 8 hours straight, do it again, and just when you think you’ve got him pinned down he’ll be up every 3 hours like clock work.  Last night I stayed up waiting for him to wake up for his next feeding.  He never did.  He got 7 hours of sleep, I got maybe 4.  And that’s a big maybe.

This wouldn’t be so bad, but I’m a notoriously bad sleeper.  I have trouble getting to sleep and I have trouble staying asleep.  I use ear plugs and an eye mask every night.  (Fortunately I can hear the baby through the ear plugs, but they do cut down on the noise from the insects and birds outside, the air conditioner turning on and off, and a certain someone snoring.)  Even as a teenager when I had to be up at 5 in the morning I had trouble getting to bed before midnight.

At the hospital when Graham was born I barely slept.  I ached and it was impossible to get comfortable.  I can’t sleep sitting up and laying down hurt too much.  By the time we came home I was so sleep deprived that I was no longer tired and it actually took some serious effort to get that sleep I needed so much.  Since then it doesn’t seem to matter how much Graham keeps me up the night before, when it’s time to sleep it’s going to take a while.  Each time we get up during the night is one more time I have to try and get to sleep.  They say practice makes perfect, but going to bed more often isn’t helping much.  But I am making it through the day, so I guess it’s not so bad.  I have also gone for a week or so without bringing Graham to bed with me, so things are improving in that respect.

At the very least, I feel like the newborn-associated sleep deprivation has been surprisingly manageable.  It was actually much harder when I had help and I didn’t have to be up and around quite so much because I started to get used to a little bit more sleep at a time.  Now when I see people complain on facebook about being up at 6, I want to laugh at them and say that I’d already been up three times by then.

(Quick note: doesn’t his hair look red in this picture?)  The two of us are getting out more and he mostly handles it well.  The other day I had my first time using a changing table in a public restroom and I had to wait in line.  I can’t remember the last time I saw someone using one, but that’s my luck.  We’ve had a couple incidents where we head home very very quickly because someone is making it quite clear that he has had ENOUGH.  Last time that happened, he was still upset in the car, which is unusual.  As long as the car is moving he’s usually fine, though he may protest when we stop for a stoplight.  I turned on some music to make the tiny car a bit more tolerable and he stopped when the Beach Boys started singing and then started again when they finished.  So we put the Beach Boys on repeat all the way home.  We’ll see if he’s got a thing for them in the future.  Here he is in his car seat on a cool day.

We have a couple more videos to post.  I admit that I see lots of people who post videos of their kids and I never feel the urge to watch them so I will completely forgive you for ignoring these.  But Eric and I tend to watch our videos of Graham over and over.  Perhaps he’s just inherently more interesting than the baby population at large?  Or there might be a bit of bias.  He is changing really quickly so there’s motivation to get some little things on video before they’re gone.

Here is some video from Graham on his play mat.  I bought it before he was born for the black/white/red high contrast which appeals to infants, but he’s seemed pretty uninterested in it thus far.  Until today, that is.  Suddenly he wanted that little octopus toy hanging above him more than anything.  If you watch, you’ll see that he’s not only trying to get it with his arms and legs, he’s even trying to get it with his tongue.  He kept this up for a good ten minutes.  He’s a determined little guy.

In contrast, here is Graham turned over on his play mat for tummy time a few minutes later.  He’s not quite so big a fan but he’s a good sport.