apron strings

I Should Have Had An Extended Extramarital Affair.

Nursing at the Beach. Before teeth.

Because I certainly would feel less guilty. 

I did the unthinkable. The unbelievable. The heartbreaking. 

I.quit.breastfeeding. For no real reason. 

Other than I am sick of the drudgery. To the point where I kept secretly hoping that I would get thrush and have to. I know. 

Certainly no physical impediment forced me to stop. Other than Cate's refusal to nurse. Or to resist chopping down on my already sore nipple's with her FIVE teeth. To the point where I bleed and they stung for hours after wards. Every time she did it-I screamed from instinct and which scared her to scream bloody murder. Which rendered both of us shaken. 

Yes, I know. I could have refused to let her eat with a bottle and punished her in some way until she quit biting. But, I am a tough itsokayforhertofuss rather than let her lose sleep kind of mom. But I draw the line at letting a baby cry from hunger. Or 'punishing' her for anything. 

So, that let me with pumping-for two hours a day. Two hours. Which, as you might guess, sucks the fat one. 

Despite my uterus of death-and otherwise reproductively challenged (to say the least) body--my boobs produced enough milk to feed half the world's children. I never one time got less than ten ounces from a pumping session. Never once. In fact, 18 oz was the norm. Eighteen ounces people. Though, I seldom pumped more than twice a day--so to pump that much I had to carry the milk around for hours. My boobs were so big and saggy that I nearly had to quit my attorney job and apply at a school lunchroom. 

The drudgery, the biting, the lack of sweetness got me in the end. 

And--for the past FIVE years my body's survived gallons of hormones. Between fertility treatments, pregnancies and breastfeeding I am over it. I want to know that when I am in a bad mood-I am so for a reason and not because hormones are pumping through my veins. 

Plus, I lost five pounds of boob  when I weaned. (I am still pumping a bit). 

Despite the guilt--I don't know that I've felt better in years. No more pumping means that I can spend forty more minutes with Cate in the morning. Tickling, chasing, and taking her for walks. 

I tell myself that I matter too. That the WHO & APA say at least 6 months and ideally to a year. That I came so close to a year. That K supported-if not urged me to quit-my decision. That breast is best--but organic formula is not too bad, either. That soon we will start trying again. And being pregnant and nursing would be too much. 

I demand that I be a friend to myself. I know that if a friend told me all this-I would verbally give a "snap out of it slap." But I ignore said demand. 

But I know that I didn't get to a year. That my neighbor who had supply issues and worked twice as much as I do-breastfed for 18 months. That it would have saved us money. That Cate's gotten sick once. In ten months. With a slight cold. 

I wanted to make it until at least a year. But I didn't. I really, really, tried to just go the two remaining months. 

In sum, my boobs are lighter--the load of guilt--not.so.much. 

Life. It's Funny That Way.

“I never, ever want children. “

 

 

She said. She being my best friend in high school.  She just wanted to be a “good aunt.”

 

She mentioned that one of the many reasons that she didn’t want a child is that by the time it would even be possible it would be too late. She said this as she was finishing the second of six years of becoming a doctor.

 

She didn’t make any excuses-to me, Ms. Infertility,  which is exactly what she should have done.  Who wants to be lied to?

 

She told me this in December-when she met Cate for the first time.    Which is how I know she meant it. *

 

She didn’t want a baby because she had traveled extensively-to Costa Rica, by car, to every other major rock climbing, kayaking, and goodness knows what else you nature loving people do places.   Her husband, and her, lived on the smallest amount of money that I could ever imagine. They lived in a house with windows—without glass in them for Pete’s sake.

 

Her and her husband wanted to travel the world with Doctor’s Without Borders, practice in their rural state to pay off her loans-save so that they could retire at forty.  And they would have done it.

 

Yes, you do know where this is going.

 

When she came to see Cate, in December, unknown to her--she was pregnant. 

 

She didn’t tell me  until months later because, “she had to get her mind around it.”  I can see why she was not immediately excited—and the fact that she didn’t want children was the least of it. Her due date was the week her residency was to start. The first paying job she would have for five years.  Her residency-of course-had no maternity leave.  Her residency meant working more than three 24 four hour shifts. So, at least 90.   N-I-N-E-T-Y hour weeks. With an infant.

 

But she did wrap her mind around it. By the time she fessed up to me  she and her husband were already preparing for  little one and had two names in mind.

 

At that point she was five months pregnant.

 

Eight weeks later-she had her baby at SEVEN months. Twelve weeks early. Three months early.

 

So early that there stood a too- real chance of losing her little one.

 

Little one weighed one pound at birth. ONE POUND.  My friend, Kate, had known there was something wrong with her pregnancy-and had-even as a medical student-been ignored if not chastised about her concerns. **

 

Kate's knowledge of a 26 week old's chance of survival didn't make the THREE hour ambulance ride to the nearest NICU--while she was trying to keep the little one in-- seem any faster.  

Little one is fine-thank God. The universe and mankind in general.  She is now one month old. And has gained a pound! 

 

So, Ms. Hope is here. Though she is a surprise twice over.

 

She couldn’t be more wanted. Or more loved.

 

*I mean, hello. 

**Things like this add to my distrust of the medical community-post forthcoming. 

***I doubt my math adds up-all I know for sure is that she was pregnant when she met Cate and told me that she never wanted children. And that she had her baby at 26 weeks. The rest is a guesstimate. 

No Nanny Not So.

Well, daycare isn't going to happen-at least not yet. I found a fantastic place where Cate can go to a Montessori school--when she is walking (which she almost is-at 9 months!) for half a day. 

Plus, my main to goals for her are to get the naps she needs and for socialization. I just do not trust a daycare to be able to allow her to get the sleep she needs. With all those children to play-Ms. Gregarious would never close her eyes. 

So, nanny search 90 is on. 90 resumes/emails sat in my in box. NINETY. Which I deleted promptly. After placing an second ad that described the job--AND letting all potential nannies know that I not only do a federal and state background check but will want a DMV and drug screen--and will check all references related to child caring. 

The second ad barely got 20-TWENTY responses. Sure, some of the potential nannies were likely offended at the intrusiveness of my nanny screening-or -ohmygodiamneverelavingthehouseagain-worried that I might discover something. Honestly, I don't want either to apply. And yes, two nanny cams are on the way. Maybe I'm paranoid-but I'd rather be on this side of the fence any day. 

Because if they don't get how I will go to the lengths of the earth to protect my child- fuck'em. After passing a thirty page-ethics investigation for my bar license--I basically went through it again to become a prosecutor and took random drug screens. Which included me peeing if front of a stranger. 

So, PLEASE tell me--what you would look for in a nanny-besides no convictions, 

I am currently looking for-

-No silliness-no one who sends me a resume from "lvr4you@yahoo/gmail/msn.com" (seriously, WTH?)

-Personable

-Must have decent grammar. (I am interesting to talk to you-up, yeah, not soo much) (they were a U.S. Citizen, by the way).

-Honestly, college degrees freak me out-I once hired an overly-educated-for-the-position assistant who left as soon as she got a good job. 

-I don't mind paying more than the market rate (which just isn't a livable wage) but some of recent college grads want what I made as a prosecutor the first year out of law school). 

-Someone close by. (I had court at 8:00 a.m. three times last week. 

-Someone who looks capable of chasing a nine month old around. Who is chasing a 6 year old dog around. People-like me- with a too high BMI- can still chase a kiddo--but you know what a couch potato *acts* like.

-Someone who likes to work. It does drive me crazy that Cate took a THREE hour nap yesterday afternoon (the nanny told me) and I came home to dishes in the sink and an empty dishwasher. Really? And then wrote her a $400. check (we split her, and this is part time by the way). 

What else!!?!?!?!? (or, are the above 'qualifications' off? )

 

blech.

i am having an awful, awful day. i won't go into the details, because i can't. and because most of it is boring. let's just say that it sucks. 

i would say i am having the worst day ever-but k and cate are healthy and in my life- so, it can't be that bad of a day. 

No More Nanny.

Yep, looks like Cate is going into daycare. Were I doing what was best for me--Cate would be with a nanny until she was 18--and the nanny and she would always be near me all day--so that I could work and kiss on Cate all day. 

But, as it happens, I have to ask myself what is best for Cate and if she could say--what she would say--regarding her care. 

Cate likes to be around other babies. Period. You should see her around them. I think all babies like all other babies--but Cate is mesmerized. She is the most social baby on the planet. (everyone who knows me thinks her being so social is hilarious.)(I've been told that I could get a rock to talk).

I came home the other day and the nanny was outside pushing Cate on the swing--and Cate just stared off ahead. That weekend--we put her on the swing next to her cousin--and she almost pee'd herself. (Actually, she probably did).

Plus, socialization can't be started early enough. 

We had agreed to move her to daycare between 12-18 months. But the current childcare situation is about to change--and while we are at it--I figure we might as well do it for the long haul. 

Our neighbors that we split a nanny with--are going to need their own nanny because of transportation issues. So, the other family is going to keep the nanny. They think. Though, she is so expensive-worth every penny-but now they have two children to pay for........While we love our nanny-and so does Cate-we just don't have the money-and now she wants a raise-to pay her.  Especially  not when daycare would be better for Cate--and less expensive to boot.

I think a daycare is what we are going to end up with. Maybe not. But I think so.  

So, we are now on the hunt for daycare/schools. 

Oh, the play was awesome. Sold out three nights!

I Knew You Were Dying.

At least on some level when you told me you had cancer last fall. I ignored my gut feeling--because I was too coward to swallow that fact. You seemed too young--and you were. You had  hair--people who have hair aren't dying of cancer. Or so I hoped. Really, really hoped. 

Oh, Celeste--I sure did like ya.'  From the moment we met at the Women Attorney's networking breakfast. You were a lawyer's lawyer. You were the only criminal defense attorney who never talked smack about your clients. Though, you sure had some zany clients. And my God woman did you fight and fight and fight  for your clients. 

Even from your hospital bed. 

And you told your friends to take care of your husband --to abide with him in his grief. 

I really appreciated our last conversation. Though I feel stupid for letting you compare having to survive dip shit comments about your cancer to those about my miscarriages. Because I wasn't dying. Though, I still couldn't admit that you were. 

 

I wish I could have made it to Manuel's Bar to celebrate your life. I volunteered for the ABA play again this year-and it was opening night. Not to mention--I can't even hear your name without crying the ugly cry. Which is ugly with no make-up on and reallllllyyyy ugly with stage make-up. 

I know, I know, you're not in pain--thank God-and that you're, *allegedly,* in a better place-but God dammit-I wish we could go to happy hour again and talk about our latest trials. (I wonder if you can see me using air quotes when I say allegedly? If so, I hope a got a little smile.)

So, that's all. I effin miss you already. You died too young-and the world is missing out on one helluva lawyer. 

**** 

Celeste Sauls Jenks of Decatur, Georgia, formerly of Omega, Georgia, passed away 

Friday June 5, 2009 after valiantly fighting cancer. She was born June 6, 1969 in Tifton, 

Georgia, and spent the last 20 years in Atlanta. 

  

Celeste was a member of Glenn Memorial Methodist Church in Atlanta 

A 1987 graduate of Colquitt County High School 

A 1991 graduate of Emory University 

A 2004 graduate of Georgia State University School of Law 

  

Celeste was a member of the State Bar of Georgia, the Atlanta Bar Association, and the 

Dekalb Bar Association. She was Chancellor of the Oglethorpe Legal Society of which 

she was a founding member. In addition, she served as the CLE Coordinator and Co- 

Chair of the annual Peach State Update CLE program. Celeste was active with the 

Georgia Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers and co-wrote an amicus brief for the 

Georgia Supreme Court on behalf of the Association.  She was also a member of the 

Georgia Association for Women Lawyers. 

  

Celeste is survived by her beloved husband, Dale Jenks of Decatur, her parents John and 

Linda Sauls of Omega, her brother and his wife, Jeffrey and Iris Sauls of Atlanta, and her 

animal children Harry and Little Bit. 

  

A memorial service will be held Saturday, June 13, 2009 from 2:00 - 3:00pm in the 

sanctuary of Glenn Memorial Methodist Church at Emory University, 1660 N. Decatur 

Rd. NE Atlanta, GA 30307, (404) 634-3936. 

A celebration of Celeste’s life will take place immediately after the service at Manuel’s 

Tavern, 602 N Highland Ave NE Atlanta, GA 30307, (404) 525-3447.  

 

The family requests that donations be made in Celeste’s name in lieu of flowers to any of 

the following: 

 

Celeste Sauls Jenks Law Scholarship 

c/o GSU Foundation 

P.O. Box 3963 

Atlanta, Georgia 30302-3963 

 

Office of Advancement, Visiting Nurse 

Hospice Atlanta 

6610 Bay Circle, Suite C 

Norcross, GA 30071 

 

Animal Action Rescue 

P.O. box 366 

Scottdale, GA 30079 

 *******

It Is Unfortunate That..........

I didn't pump before I went to bed last night. Because I have a clogged duct. And six hours of acting/dancing ahead. Tonight. For the next three. 

That my zipper was undone during court. In front of clients. My nanny. The guys at the gas station. Everyone at Target. 

Opening night is tomorrow! Did I tell you that Darth Vader, Obama, and Bernie Madoff have a place in our play. 

Gotta go give myself the darkest tan possible then pile on blue eyeshadow and hot pink lip gloss. Oh.yeah.baby.

So I've Been Thinking

regarding my last post. Thank you very much for your comments. 

To be sure, most shortcomings by the people I noted in my last post-our nanny, renter, and housekeeper- are my own. 

It's not--in any way-fair to expect my nanny to not reach expectations that I haven't told her about. It's just not. And I am now holding myself accountable for that. 

What bothers me so much about that whole situation--is that one, I feel like K and I are being taken advantage of--and two that a person who doesn't work hard expects to be paid like she does. 

I feel like we have been taken advantage of--because I called our renter and told her how hard it is for us when she pays the rent late- that I have to transfer money around to keep our checks from bouncing- (bounced checks could cause me to LOSE MY BAR LICENSE by the way)--and low and behold--she paid her rent on the 5th--the earliest she has paid it in years. 

Further--like my perfectionism,* my insistence on hard work--isn't my best personality trait. My mom drilled "worthwhile people work hard." So, my self-worth is, in large part, based on hard work. God forbid-I slack one day. In fact, when I do --I feel worthless. 

It's true--that the things we loathe in other people--are really the things we loathe in ourselves. 

So, I guess the moral of the story--is that I need to make my expectations clear and realize that hard work isn't for everyone. 

Do you think that hard work is essential part of a healthy life?

___________

*like all perfectionists--I am only perfectionist in some parts of my life-which is a whole other post. 

Maybe I Am A Spoiled Little Rich Girl

Or, um....not so much. 

I am so over people who k and I pay thinking that we are somehow made of money. And take advantage of that. 

We are not made of money. Like every one else in this country-and around the world-we've felt the recession.

This frustration comes from these three things:

-Our nanny, who we like very much, wants a raise. Just because. She's worked for us for 4.5 months and though-she texts, reads and watches t.v. during the FOUR to FIVE hours a day that Cate sleeps. I asked around my other friends who have nannies-and we are paying her more than they pay their nannies--who do light housekeeping. (I only asked the people I know who would never take advantage of someone less privileged. ) Seriously, she will text/read/watch t.v. when Cate is asleep AND I AM RUNNING AROUND LIKE MAD DOING HOUSEWORK-DISHES, ETC before I leave for the office.

-Our renter (we have a house we can't sell-that we lose money on every month) who pays her rent whenever she feels like it. Seriously. Last month on the fifteenth. No, we can't evict her-because we wouldn't be able to find someone else and it would be awful for us to have to pay that mortgage on our own. 

-Our housekeeper-she's told me that her business has slowed a lot. So, I hire her to babysit even though she charges double what anyone else does. We also gave her a raise because I felt like she wasn't charging enough. Oh, I have referred her no less than five other families who she has now cleaned for -for years.

She keeps making these promises to cut us a break-split the $100.00 repair fee for our vacuum cleaner that she broke. Which of course she conveniently forgets to pay us for. There are 4 other instances of her 'forgetting' to do things that she promises. But I've bored you and myself enough-and I have no plans on stopping this post anytime soon.

Yes, I know that k and  I are comfortable. More than. And 'lucky." Though, behind 'luck' is a heckavalotta hard work. I wouldn't change a thing about my twenties-paying my way through school by working full time-was on of the greatest things that I did. But I did it. My family contributed-literally- $20.00 to my education. Not to mention the insane loans (I have $125,000.00 in loans-not counting k's).

K worked his arse off in undergrad-AFTER HE GOT A FULL SCHOLARSHIP. He worked as a janitor-i.e. cleaned toilets- the summer before he started his freshman year. (as an aside-we joke that he cleaned the toilet that Karenn.a Gor.e used because he cleaned the ones in the dorm she stayed in.)

I am sorry that they didn't go to high school and certainly not college-but that's not my fault. 

Nor is the recission. And who is getting a raise this year? I took a pay cut mainly so that I could keep paying my assistant because her husband got laid off and I suspect they would be homeless if she didn't work to support them. And, I adore her. 

My nanny is the only person I have met who is  even thinking about a raise. 

So, that's it. I am just over people thinking that we are made of money. Because trust me, we aren't.

This is Comical. In So, So, Many Ways.

So, I am doing a play. Just like last year. Yes, there is a video.  

The five comical parts-pre-play so far.

1. The opening act is "Hello Sally," sung to "Hello Dolly" ( to the partner suing re: four hour erect.ion with the blurry vision.) 

2. There is a choreographed ballet-esque dance with lady lawyers in bright leotards dancing to "Law is A Battlefield, " sung to "Love is a Battlefield."

3.  There is some guy attorney--who is in the play--who dresses in tight, black jeans. Who dresses in tight jeans and a tight tank top. With a metal studded belt. Not his costume. (his costume in the play is a suit).

 WTF? He has a STAGE NAME. It's Flash. 

4. I dance next to this guy named Charlie. (suspiciously we are both in the last row? Perhaps because my dance skills are on the same level as a sixty-year-old male?) ANYWAY--Charlie, is quite impressed with his new cell phone. IT HAS A TIMER! AND AN ALARM! Which he continually shows me. And touches my back while he does. I don't get the skeevy feeling-he's very old south "honey." 

5. My conversation with k, when I got home from play practice at one in the morning, while he was asleep, at 1:00 a.m.

__________________________________

me: "when did cate eat last?"

k: "noon."

me: "k, i know she ate after noon."

k: "okay, she ate at 10:oo a.m."

me: "k, are you sure?"

k: "no, chuckle, chuckle."

__________________________________

Seriously. So. Very.Funny.