thinkythink

A Slowed-down Day

I talk about this more often. On a less spacey day, I'll go back and check what I've said before. It's a spacey day today, and lately my ADHD has been hitting a bit harder than it had been- I think it's a hormone thing, or the stage that my toddler is in at the moment, I'm not sure. Point is, it's not always predictable. My brain's status is not always what I think it would be. Ok, I've grown to NOT rely on it being the same all the time, which is always a big help. That is, assuming some days or moments will be somewhat sucky, makes it easier when that happens.
Ah, but my point?
it's the old flexible structure thing. I'm pretty lucky right now; my son directs my attention a lot of the time, so that I don't need to choose what to focus on, and his needs are fairly immediate and tangible, which is a good ADHD thing. My work time is more limited, so I have to choose pretty quickly what to do- again, this can actually be ADHD-friendly, as long as you let go of all the stuff you think you ought to be doing and keep only a couple things in mind (even if long-term it means we need some desk-cleaning strategies). But I also need some grace. I think grace is how I think of this kind of flexibility.
Lately, on Thursday afternoons, I work on some projects. My client appointments tend to be lumped on other days recently. So I can do follow-up emails and write a blog post, for example. But I may not be able to do as much as I think I can. I may not get down to my office as quickly after the sitter arrives as I would like, even if I've got everything lined up. As long as I've got the grace to just let that be the way it is, that's ok.

As long as I can accept that I DON'T always move in straight lines to get to my desk (or to a task) then I keep myself more at ease, more focused- and I keep the flow of laundry-to-babysitter going (she folds it for us, so she acts as a structure for me to get it in the wash), so I can be less distracted by household stuff (I've done what I'm supposed to right then). And I do get to my work. And the thing is, on a day like today, on a spacey day like today, when I need someone else to tell me whether to eat the eggs or the ham and cheese lest I stand in front of the counter for an hour spacing out and being ambivalent, less work is what was going to happen anyway. But less work is some work, and it's pretty darned good.

Can you relate?

Sweet Music, Warm Laps.

Here's my new favorite album: Sing-a-longs and Lullabies for the Film Curious George, by Jack Johnson.
It's super sweet. It's sweet like the sweetie napping in my lap while it's still playing. This morning was one big fuss-a-thon, including top-of-lungs screaming on attempts to seat in high chair; wailing on attempts to put down so mommy could eat anything at all; attempts to steal oatmeal with nuts in it; crying when put down to crawl while I got dressed even though what you seemed to want was crawling... and now he's napping so sweetly in my lap. Talk about time boxing; this is the very best time to use my computer. I'm not sure if resting one arm on a baby and bending the other one around his head is exactly what the hand therapist meant by "neutral position" but, um, at least I've got a blanky over my cold feet?
As for music that some of you may find sickly sweet, first of all, it's great for dancing with a baby to, and way less sickly sweet than actual made-for-baby music. Second of all, hasn't the world filled its quota of "challenging" and painful experiences? Curl up and enjoy whatever you can enjoy. It's contagious and that's what the world really needs.

ADD Mom Leaves for Half an Hour

This morning was daddy morning. I have clients at 10:00, but before that, I have time to do my own work. (Before that? You mean I function before 10:00am? I do now, thanks to baby!) I woke up dreaming of going to the nearby coffee shop to write a blog post. The main point here is to have my body in a location away from the baby's.
Mind you, part of me wanted to stay and watch daddy feed baby pears, the pathetic and wonderful of it being that I didn't want to leave the baby for my 45 measly minutes. That mommy-side aside, I wanted some time to myself. So I'm currently sitting with my coffee and laptop, a five-minute drive from the house, counting down the minutes until I have to get back in the car and speed home to have any hope of nursing G. before my next client. Fourteen. Fourteen minutes at the moment (ok, I've already ordered and sat down with a frothy cappucino, opened the laptop, put some headphones on, checked and noted the lack of new e-mail.) And if I pause for a moment, it's long enough to notice that I'm here, on my own! Weeee! Mommy's 45 minutes out!

For those of you who don't have kids, I describe the feeling like this:
you know when you're a teenager in absolute love/lust/obsession, the object of said emotion is constantly in your mind, and always feels like they're with you physically, a monkey you're glad to have on your back? The monkey isn't gone until after you break up, plus a bit of break-up mourning, and finally you've got your own skin back, no one clutching on, checking you for nits,  giving weight to every breath?

That's what it feels like with baby. I only notice my body being my own when I leave for a while. I don't break up, and it's only a few minutes at a time...(now I have 8 minutes). Here's what I have to do to get out of the house for my 45 minutes:

Wake up. Pry myself out of bed even though there's another adult to respond to baby's needs. Nurse the baby. Shower. Tell Daddy he's going to change the baby and get him dressed. Find some clean   clothing that serves to cover my naked body. Ignore the fact that the baby wants some attention. Pump some milk for baby for while I'm gone. Feel like it would be easier just to stay home with all this effort!  Make some breakfast. Make clear that I'm not the one feeding baby pears (convincing myself and reminding my husband). Extricate my wallet and such niceties from the diaper bag and discover where we have another bag that isn't a diaper bag. Feed myself something. Hang out while daddy takes the trash out because baby needs somebody there and I haven't left yet. Figure out how much time I have... that wasn't so bad, and maybe easier than without the baby because then I didn't have so much reason to kick myself out for the precious few minutes. Feel like it's easier just to stay home! Remember I still should nurse the baby before my client appointments; recalculate time. Feel like staying to watch baby eat and chat with husband. Misplace shoes but ignore that because who cares if you have the shoes you want when you have only a few minutes...

Time remaining: 1 minute. I haven't even finished the foam at the bottom of my cappucino cup. I did write this blog post... gotta run,.

I just remembered, he's due for a nap

I was going to entitle this post "working at home with baby," because this morning, my husband and I are both working from home. I work a few partial days per week, while Peter "works" from home. He's the primary go-to parent during those times, and I can schedule clients, but I can also take a break with the baby, nurse him, etc, if I want to.

Now little G. is 6 1/2 months old. That's old enough to entertain himself for a while, if he is so inclined, with toys he can reach for from his recently-achieved sitting stability. So exciting! He can entertain himself! A taste of... being able to hang out with him while doing a little bit of work. Just a tiny tip-of-the-tongue taste, because he is just as likely to want attention, be bounced on a knee, talked to, or rescued from toppling over.

[note: both of us love hanging out with baby and playing. we're just trying to get a thing. or a quarter of a thing done periodically.]

So while I have a brief yet exciting window to do some writing before my next client call, and Peter hopes limply  that he'll finish a desperately needed e-mail, our wee one hangs out in his high chair. And starts to fuss right away. Then I remember the time. No, not the time it is with respect to client scheduling, but the Baby time. It must be baby naptime by now. We both completely forgot about that part. Funny, since it could provide us with glorious e-mailing possibilities. Then again, both of our abilities to forget, say, to eat; my ability to forget I'm in the shower (hence forgetting to get out), and so forth- why am I surprised? Perhaps because the baby spoils me with needed external structure; I can't forget to get out of the shower (he'll fuss); I can forget to eat I suppose, but I've grown used to taking full advantage of the moments he'll let me eat. But one thing he doesn't do is say "hey mom, dad, it's naptime." I need to remember on my very own to run down the list in my head of things-baby-might-fuss-about, and remember all the things on it. And I must remember my list of things-baby-needs in my head. That part? Not so genetically automatic.

Objects My Baby is in Love With

These objects keep the little one blissful, and distracted. They are objects of awe and joy. It doesn't have to be the big / expensive things in life...

Mola (weaving) on our wall. Gets huge stares.

La Jolla Cove Swim Club sweatshirt (from Aunt Claudia) emblem. Whales rock. Gets much petting and attention.

Mouseymouse, knit by Aunt Wendy. Gets a lot of kisses/time in mouth, and rapt stares.

Boys Toys

Perhaps from the feminism desk, I love this story from the New Scientist :

Male monkeys prefer boys' toys.
Apparently, if you give baby monkeys toys to play with, the boy monkeys prefer trucks and other wheeled vehicles, while girl monkeys go for both dolls/plush toys and vehicles.

So you can stop feeling bad about socializing your boys to play with "boys' toys." That's just what most boys do.

Watch the  awesome video as well. Yeah, I'm a sucker for monkeys, toys, and gender issues.

BPA, Pthalates, am I nuts?

Why am I concerned about all this plastics stuff?

I try to stay low-key about all the safety concerns and toxins concerns. I have enough to take care of. I have enough issues without making up no-buy lists I don't have to. I've seen how hard it is for people who really have to avoid foods and chemicals of various sorts because they are clear causes of health problems in their lives. (sugar/diabetes or citrus/hives or various cosmetics/eczema etc)

For myself and my clients, I do try to maintain a "save yourself before you save the world" attitude. This means: if you can't get organized to get the trash out at ALL, work on waste disposal before you work on recycling that takes extra car trips. Once the house is out of public-health-hazard danger, you'll be more able to think about setting up systems that are as great for the world as can be, and more able to actually have an impact. Similarly, once you've ingested some food on a regular basis, you'll be more able to think about ingesting better food.

And then here come the plastics scares. and I'm a new parent. I'm a new parent with a long (25 year long) history of crazy hormones. Sometimes they call it "PMS and we don't know what else there is to do," sometimes they call it "hormonal dysfunction," and sometimes they call it "PMDD." More about all that later.

There are all kinds of things one can do supposedly to improve PMS symptoms, like drastically change diet, cut out caffeine, bla bla. Never mind whether these things work (I tend to think it's just assumed that they do, because I haven't seen much research that shows that less red meat and no caffeine helps PMS); they ignore the fact that my hormones can mean it's hard to get to the supermarket, let alone cook healthy food. They ignore the fact that caffeine is one of the medicines that helps me cope, and helps me distance from my physical discomfort, helps me focus, and helps me get to the gym, and well, to the store, during the 1/2 of my life I may be sick. Oh no! way to much rant on another topic.

Bisphenol-A, used in plastics since grandmother's childbearing years. A synthetic estrogen. I've been wondering about xenoestrogens and all that for some time in my pursuit of a more even-keeled hormonal life, but thought, well, we've had wicked bad pms in the family going back to at least my grandmother.
Before that might be hard to know; the women were preggo for most of their child-bearing lives. What I do know going back to my grandmother is that menopause is something to look forward to. It's when things get better. I know mine is the worst, but I figured those chemicals and stuff can't be so much of a dramatic issue because the rest of the family has it bad. Until I read the timeline for BPA and its use in polycarbonate and realized I can't know that it isn't an issue.

That along with the finding that phthalates are exreted in infants' urine... and I'm changing a couple of things. Don't get me wrong folks, I am not claiming it will change everything or that these chemicals are the root cause of all that is bad. The thing is, that timeline, made me realize, I just don't know.

So I hope my husband will pardon the apparent obsession; it's hard to track down which products contain and don't contain which chemicals, and I'm just trying to clean things up for the sake of the little one while I'm still passing this stuff on to his tiny body. And who knows, maybe it'll help me too.

Helpful Links:
The Environmental Working Group and their Cosmetics Database (also check out their report on sunscreen, baby product buying guide, etc)

www.thesoftlanding.com  - check out their shop and their blog

zrecs.blogspot.com - check out their blog, and their awesome cellphone texting service to check on products.

Baby Improves Executive Function

It's a little bit hard to quantify how my functioning is since the baby came along, partly because no one expects you to see straight when you've just given birth, or when you're waking up every hour with the little one.
But I'll say this: I am completely flabbergasted with the total vacuum of ability to choose when I do have a moment to, well, choose. When baby is fast asleep in the middle of the day for a little while, for example, and I wasn't in the middle of cleaning up a disaster or already out on an errand. This is actually the point: Baby dictates most of my waking moments.
I don't have to choose what I do, or what I focus on. I've got this creature who chooses my focus for me- time to feed/change/feed/change/entertain/change. It don't gotta focus on nothing. Except. What is right in front of me.

Then in the quiet moments, I truly stare into the ether in front of me. Until the little one peeps.