In Which Kanga Reminisces -- and Projects

I took J to the Dartmouth picnic two weeks ago. The Oregon chapter of the Dartmouth Alumni Club holds a picnic every August, usually at a gorgeous beach house in Gearhart. This place is astounding. It was previously connected with the Episcopal Church as a small summer camp, and includes the former church, the main house, a shed, a guest house that is several hundred square feet larger than my "non-guest" house, a glassed-in writer's studio, and separate garage big enough to stage food and equipment for a big party.

Most flabbergasting of all, though, is the baseball field. Yes, field. Between the gardens of the main home and the guest quarters is a full-size regulation field. The house owner just really. loves. baseball.

We arrived at 11 am on the dot, since I'd timed our trip over the coastal range to coincide with J's morning nap. She did well, waking up five minutes after we arrived.

She proceeded to charm everyone there, and literally did not cry, whine or even make a negative sound of any kind -- she didn't even poop -- the entire day.

We took off about 2:30 after a great meal of roast chicken, cowboy caviar (holy crap, look that up. amazing...), a beer and some brownie treats. On the kids' menu...chicken and veggies in a jar, with pureed peaches for dessert.

As we drove again over the mountains and J napped like a champ in the backseat, I thought about how interacting with other Dartmouth grads, of any age, always takes me back there. Even if, as was the case today, we don't even speak of the College except in very general terms, it reminds me of the depth of emotion that this connection holds for me.

And, though of course no one said a word about it, I have to admit that as I drove away from the coast I was figuring out...let's see...class of 2028? 2029?

In Which Kanga Boasts a Bit

While dropping J off at daycare this morning, I put her in a standing position while I spoke with her teacher.

Gradually I realized that her weight was perfectly centered...and I let go.

She stood, unsupported, for about eight seconds.

Mama is so proud, baby.

In Which Kanga Hangs On Tight

This morning, after changing J's diaper and singing her the Good Morning song, we traipsed on down the steps to the living room.

Except that Ampersand had other ideas.

She darted in front of me as I raised my foot, and I ended up sliding down our seven steps. Even as it happened, my mind slow-motioned into what to do: I simultaneously raised up J and held her tight to me, while my rear, elbow and neck took the brunt of the fall. After a brief cry, J was none the worse for wear.

Can't say the same for me...had to skip Pilates, and my neck doesn't turn quite right. But there was never any question that I would hang on to J, come hell or high water.

In Which Ampersand Bounces Back

In Which All Characters Confer Regarding Geography (Part I of an ongoing series)

(With apologies to Matt Ruff's Set This House in Order)

Rabbit: I am glad you all could make it. We are here to discuss the relative merits of moving.

Piglet: Eep! Why do we have to move?

Owl: Piglet, nobody said we HAVE to move. It's just that G and her husband and Little J might WANT to move.

Piglet: (knitted eyebrows)

Owl: Well, I shall speak first. As a design librarian, I find myself torn...

Piglet: Eep! (again)

Owl: Ahem!...torn, that is, in the figurative sense. I have an excellent set of opportunities at my current position. I enjoy my co-workers immensely, and am getting exposure to many different work scenarios that will serve me well down the road.

However (other woodland creatures begin fiddling with their paws, talons or toes), there is a hefty amount of corporate fog building at my company, and it might just be easier to go to a firm that has already addressed and solved the problems that my company is just now experiencing for the first time. It is, in a word...

Pooh: (under his breath) Exhausting.

Owl: Yes! That's it exactly. Astute and helpful bear.

Pooh: (grumbles) Astute? I'm trying to lose weight. It just takes a while.

Piglet: (timidly) Well, I don't know why anyone would want to leave the town that G, J and her husband are in. It's beautiful, clean, safe, liberal and not too expensive.

Christopher Robin: It IS across the country from their families.

Eeyore: (arches eyebrow, then thinks better of it and just grimaces)

Christopher Robin: And it does have a 140-day school year. That seems...short.

Kanga: I certainly agree. I for one can't imagine letting Roo attend school in places with no art, gym, music classes or...(trailing off) libraries.

Christopher Robin: Then we are agreed that it is a Puzzle?

Pooh: It certainly is. A Puzzle of Great Consequence.

Rabbit: And, as it is of Great Consequence, it certainly will require nourishment to solve. I recommend we break for carrots, or the sustenance of each creature's choice.

(Agreed.)

(To be continued.)

In Which Kanga and Roo Bust Out the Wheels

Partially because of the amazing weather lately, partially because of raging diaper rash (hers, not mine) and partially to offset encroaching ennui, J and I have ventured during recent sunny days to:

- the backyard, on a towel
- the front yard, on a towel
- Babies R Us (no towels)

Only one of these ventures involved a stroller.

As we tooled through Babies R Us today, with me jamming a hundred dollars' worth of baby swim accoutrements into my cloth shopping bag, I slowly realized that whipping out the Peg Perego earlier in this seven-month stint could have meant more freedom to both J and me.

It's a very simple thing. Well, the stroller itself is not simple...I seriously require an occasional tutorial in opening and closing it from an industrial designer friend of mine, and even SHE needed a few minutes to orient herself. But the concept of carrying one's child is simple enough.

For the first five months of J's life, besides the transit to and from the car in a carrier seat, I either held her in my arms or in a sling. No other method seemed close enough. What if she cried out? Got scared? Was confused? Only being up close to Mama's heartbeat seemed to solve the problem, and ensure that others weren't bothered by my freaking-out baby.

Realize, of course, that she never -- not once -- freaked out enough to even warrant being that close for soothing. The one time J has ever lost it in public, she was, oh yes, in a sling next to my chest. But still my fears remained and ruled me.

Gradually I started busting out the stroller, swayed by the small group of moms I hang out with. All more fashionable and style-conscious than I, they also make excellent use of their strollers and step out with their babes without a second thought.

Inertia breeds inertia, and today I really felt like I had avoided the Yahoo! baby.house.inertia usergroup by the slimmest of margins.

J deserves to go everywhere I do, insofar as those places are safe and appropriate for her, and I deserve to give myself a little credit for being able to handle the occasional meltdown.

The physical stroller itself also adds some cred to my bounce, as the kids say (or as they certainly should). It warns people ahead of time that a baby is approaching. It leaves my arms untired at the end of the day. It allows me to carry (albeit woefully small amounts of) baby crap. God forbid, it lets J see the world and interact with it as it passes by. And yes, it protects her.

I initially sought protection in methods that kept J physically close to me at all times. But the plastic, fabric and metal of a stroller is something to be reckoned with, and likely keep her better-shaded, -protected and -entertained.

I think I just didn't want to let her go.

In Which Kanga Examines Her Role in the Ecosystem

I am one of those people who never get sick. Between February 1998 and October 2007 I took a grand total of one sick day at work, and just generally felt well.

I attributed it to a few things...sleep (I slept at least eight hours, and often more), frequent exercise, fairly low stress and antioxidant supplements.

I still take antioxidant supplements.

Do you see where this is going?

So, anyway, I WAS one of those people who never get sick. Since J's birth I have had every imaginable ache and pain, from an unshakeable sore throat to blood-streaked phlegm (lovely) to a flare-up of osteoarthritis that I had thought was never to return.

And pinkeye. Who the hell over the age of eighteen gets pinkeye? (Knocked Up characters notwithstanding.)

Previously, with my husband and I as the only nodes of the germ ecosystem, illnesses attached themselves to one node -- his. He could be receiving the Rite of Extreme Unction for cholera and I'd be merrily traipsing off to go be healthy somewhere.

But now I find that my immune response is weakened. It's not any one thing -- I do sleep fairly well, I don't have unmanageable stress, I exercise two days a week or so -- but the paring away from where I used to be healthwise to where I am now...this death by paper cuts...has taken its toll.

Knock on wood, J has made it thus far with only a few days of gunky sniffles; no scary fever or ear infections yet. Even the pinkeye passed her by -- her, the most logical recipient as far as I could tell.

The end result of all this, besides a near-constant feeling that my body is dying, curling off in dry strips and blowing away, is that I have lost any sense of arrogance about my former strapping wellness.

As a new mother, the list of things about which I can be smug is woefully short. There just went another line item.