prep.

hello gnomington, i say.

peter is presenting the little gnome to me while i shower (a daily ritual). peter has dressed him in a onesie bearing the shield of a certain east coast preparatory school sent to us by the alumni office, no doubt in the hopes that such a thoughtful gift will inspire in us a desire to give back. millions.

you put him in his preppy shirt.

that is why his name is gnomington, replies Peter. gnomington bumnobben the fourth. descended from gnomington bumnobben, the great senator.

from virginia.

exactly. destined for greatness.

evidence.

it seems clear that my infant potty training is not going very well. next to the changing table an unused pacifier collects dust inside the bowl of a bright red potty.

twain.

soren, dressed for a midday walk in san francisco in july. fleece sweater, leg warmers, socks, and leather shoes.

boy (blurred).

happy feet.

in the last week soren seems to have discovered his feet. while they have not yet reached the status of hands in terms of amusement and intrigue, they are pretty exciting, with or without socks.

nursing in nevada.

nevada is not a state to which i have any particular attachment. a few weekends back marked my second visit. the first was to reno during the last presidential election in the company of a gentleman i was then seeing through whom i made the friend who would later introduce me to little gnome's babydaddy. the second was to visit the little gnome's great-grandparents on his father's mother's side, who have retired to the smaller government side of tahoe.

to the extent that i had thought about the trip, i had worried about the length of the drive and the gnome's comfort in the car. i had not given much thought to breastfeeding across state lines, other than to be happy that my breasts automatically came with me and required minimal packing. so i was surprised to find myself less comfortable feeding my baby once i was there. in san francisco i have no compunction about feeding in public and have occasionally wished that someone would tell me not to just so that i could tell them off. it is legal to nurse anywhere, you know. no one actually has and i doubt that in the bay area anyone actually would, since we have heartily embraced the breast is best campaign here. so embraced it, that friends of mine who have had trouble or not enjoyed breastfeeding have confessed to guilt and anger at how freely strangers dispense their unsolicited advice and pass their judgments. judgment is something with which parenthood is rife. and i had thought people had too many opinions about how to give birth. that was only the beginning my dear. for the most part people seem to want you to affirm their choices through your own.

since the incision cured my early breast infection, i have not had too much trouble. the gnome is a hearty eater and my breast to baby ratio makes things smooth enough. this trip to nevada, however, got me thinking about how comfortable a community i live in for nursing and lucky i am to have that. yes, nursing is a legal right, but circumstances can make it so difficult, from the body to the workplace. i imagine that the very work environments that might make pumping and storing breast milk a challenge are those that are not paying enough to offset the added expense of formula. a friend's mother told me that she had not nursed her children because she was too embarrassed to do so in front of her father-in-law. a close friend whom pregnancy and childbirth have given much larger breasts uses a "hooter hider" even in this city because she worried that her bounty made others uncomfortable and she is not someone ill at ease with the body. at my husband's grandparents i found myself retreating to another room, where normally i just nurse at the table. it was nothing they said, just something i felt. and no one asked me to stay, whether for my comfort or theirs.

whether it is the breastmilk police monitoring the contents of every bottle in berkeley, or the averted downcast gaze of a stranger in nevada, feeding an infant has become yet another arena for other people to tell a woman what to do with her body. for me, it was a relief to return to san francisco where my choices are generally affirmed by the community i live in, where i can go to a restaurant and nurse at the table and not be the only one.

16 lbs.

I weigh the little gnome over at natural resources every week or so. Even though he is now too big for their free diapers and we have a glider of our own, I stop by often enough to feel self-conscious. Sascha called me and the gnome by name. We buy a lot there, but we do not buy that much elsewhere. In some ways I am very much my father's daughter, my father who goes to the same butcher, bookstore, grocer and dry cleaner in his little town, who knows the proprietors by name.

One Christmas my brother and I bought all of our presents on Main Street in Concord. Neither of us knew how to drive and we did not have much time. I do not remember what we got other family members, but we walked to the center of town, its black lampposts all decked out with delicate white lights and wreaths of evergreen, and we went to the leather goods store, where we purchased a change sorter for my father that was slightly beyond our means. This was not a simple, bureau-top group of slots, but a large, moving, transparent globe with a shoots-and-ladders-style path down its center over which the deposited coin traversed before being shot out into the appropriate slot. The coin made a satisfying clang as it reached one side of the globe and was transferred a level down and back the other direction. We were very proud.

After all of the presents had been opened, our coin sorter stood, a sculptural presence, on the kitchen table. My father had not, apparently, paid careful attention while he opened his gifts. He approached the inconveniently large sorter, gave it a look, and then turned to his children and asked,

"Who gave me this? your Uncle? I need this like I need a hole in the head."

We were silent for a split second before our high, pre-pubescent voices responded in unison

"We gave it to you Daddy."

That simple response was sufficient to make him feel terrible. There was nothing he could do to take back the hole in the head comment, and he knew it. Although we were devastated that our amazing gift had not been appropriately received, we actually felt sorrier for him than ourselves.

I am not sure what lesson we all learned from that Christmas. It was not the last time we bought all of our presents in the town center, despite the continued shift of the stores towards useless high class kitsch. We may have avoided the leather good stores for a while, but I am sure we returned another year for some less daring wallet or belt. We always receive gifts from my father purchased at the local bookstore. This Christmas Peter and my father each planned to buy the other the same hardcover Cormac McCarthy book, until I mentioned this to Peter and instead we all got him the GPS that was later stolen out my parents car on Van Ness while my brother and mother were watching Sicko.

Here in San Francisco, Peter and I tend to shop almost exclusively at stores to which we can walk: meat from the butcher on 29th, too many groceries from the amazing corner store on 26th where Ida routinely gives us sesame candies that stick to your teeth with our change, and baby items from natural resources , where the staff know the little gnome's name, the prices are not so much higher than the driveable chains, the products are well-edited and we can go in and glide for a while, and if the gnome is awake, plop him onto their scale.

baby monitor.

on and off we have toyed with the idea of getting a baby monitor, so that we do not have to keep peaking in on the gnome through the cracked door while he naps to make sure that he is alive. like many things, we haven't gotten around to it yet. today, the little gnome was napping. i kept calling calliope away from the door because she was bringing this gigantic bone into the room and dropping it loudly from her jaw onto the floor as an from offering. i was concerned that this would wake him, but he slept through. i last called calliope away from the door about twenty seconds before i heard his waking noises. that time, she had been heading in sans bone to rescue him, having heard him awaken first. i usually hear the baby a few seconds before peter (all those years at the rock shows), but calliope has my response time beat. perhaps we do not actually need a baby monitor.

modern times.

i am in the bedroom nursing the little gnome to sleep. peter is in the study/playroom doing what one does in such a room. in order to avoid derailing the baby's sleep train, we are communicating with one another via text message. in fact, if you receive a text message from me between six-thirty and seven-thirty pm, i typed it behind the baby's back.

golden showers.

i am all for kink, but i have never understood getting peed on as a road to climax. it ranks, for me, alongside being a furry. even worse, getting peed on by one's own progeny is not only not a turn-on (is there such a thing as an oedipal golden shower? that is almost too ridiculous to even be gross) it is not fun. so, you already know how this story ends.

this morning, after the little gnome had peed a few rounds in a few different diapers, i decided to let him air out on the bed. we have a huge four-poster balinese bed that peter acquired before i knew him from someone on craigslist who could not fit it in his apartment.

soren and i spend a lot of time in this bed these days because he sleeps there with us and naps there and so far the only way i can get him to go to sleep outside of a baby carrier is to nurse him into a deep slumber and then sneak away. lately i have been reading novels over his shoulder to pass the time. soren is usually at his most awake and playful first thing in the morning, when he is all smiles and energy. he usually takes his first nap an hour later after we tire him out with games like laughing practice or rolling over or airplane.

the little gnome is airing out while balancing on my shins simulating an airplane in turbulence. and all of this time i am vigilantly watching for any sign that he might poop, since i thought he had peed himself out. i land the airplane by lifting him off of my shins and, still lying on my back, place his feet on my ribs. soren is all smiles. he loves standing. and i am smiling back up at him when warm liquid hits my neck and chest and arms.

yuck!

safety in numbers?

a few weeks ago a certain friend who once appeared in some episodes of hypnagogica as "the butterfly" and i were walking home on guerrero. we passed a couple of mothers strolling together. once they were a safe distance on he asked how many friends with strollers would it take to make me feel uncomfortably conspicuous walking down the street. two. myself included. more than one and you are practically the hells angels. one if you are are pushing the double-wide (why do people resist stacking? having twins or two children who cannot walk may be difficukt, but that should not give you license dominate the walkways). if the babies are in carriers instead of strollers my number is probably three.

that said i have spent the last few tuesday mornings in a mission cafe popular with the internet set and irreverent hipsters in the company of two, sometimes three other moms with babies. we take up a lot of space on the couches. usually whoever else is sitting on them relocates. we talk about sleep and teething and maintaining one's sanity and generally detract from the cafe's cool. and their company makes me feel more rather than less comfortable in this space.

last night i drove the gnome to oakland for a dinner. he was the only baby at the party and our presence totally derailed the conversation for awhile, with the other guests passing him around and asking baby questions. it wasn't until i tried to put him down in their spare bedroom that people resumed adult conversations. you know about travels and seeing strangers in public with their pants around their knees. the gnome did not stay asleep, so we left on the early side. it was hard not to feel like an alien.

last week leila, my mother, juniper and soren all arrived to a packed mom and baby yoga class just before it was about to begin and we had to spend five minutes rolling other people's strollers out of the room just to make space for our mats. not one woman volunteered to move her own stroller out of the way. in order to avoid the extra labor, today we set up on the other side of the room and another woman told me we were supposed to go to the other side because our babies were little and this part of the room was "reserved" for older babies about to "graduate" who could play with one another. she did not seem pleased when i informed her that there was no room at the other end of the room and acted as though we should still move.

at the activities designed specifically for people with babies, you have to deal with the people and their babies. at the activities designed for people without babies, you have to be that person who has one. harumph.

whoops.

at first we were going to go to stern grove to picnic with os mutantes, but the hour grew late and we opted for dolores park, then the hour grew later and we decided to picnic at our kitchen table. athena had brought quite a spread and i was eating while you slept in your beco (yes, i am a bit of a carrier whore). i often eat while you sleep in a carrier and i often drop bits of whatever i am eating, crumbs of a muffin or a flake of kettle chip, onto your head. i once found some zucchini bread in the folds of your diaper. yesterday, i dropped a piece of falafel loaded with hummus onto your head and it smeared through your hair. you did not wake up.

that night you smelled faintly of chickpeas.

three months!

little gnome, gnomity, baby num num, today you, soren, are three months old. you are now fifteen+ pounds, a smiler, laugher, roller, and grabber of hair and hands.

some favorite pictures are here

the whole three months are here

Enjoy!

dogs days.

in the midday sun, which has been uncharacteristically strong for san francisco in summer, we joined our personal dog posse for a trek up bernal hill. leila brought fiver and her baby juniper, soren and i brought calliope, dave had my dad's golden, brady, and his friend tom and mom traded off with her little and loud chloe, whose sharp barks kept waking the babies. at the top we met joanna and baby alma who looked much fresher than the rest of us for not having had to start at the bottom. at our maximum we were six adults, four dogs, and three babies. formidable.

people are kind.

1. maggie lent me her stroller to get to a family brunch at arden and duane's about which i had forgotten and for which i was very late and traveling on foot.

2. an unknown man with a white pickup truck followed me and the stroller for several blocks as we raced down valencia to return dave's twenty dollar bill that had fallen out of my back pocket onto the sidewalk.

3. arden lifted a hardcover nora roberts to give to me and came all the way to our place to drop it off and i have been reading it over the gnome's shoulder while putting him to sleep.

not green.

from my mother, i inherited bathing expedience, a certain waspy refusal to indulge in the pleasures of the bath. although i do not share her general distaste for fleshly indulgence and i appreciate an enervating visit to the hammam, i used to pride myself in keeping my morning shower to no more than three minutes. i wasted no time. lately, however, my habits have changed. although i have sped up my execution of most other tasks since the birth of the little gnome, i find i now linger under the shower. whatever benefit to the environment accrues from cloth diapers and our infrequent use of the car, my newfound slowness negates. i wondered at the reason for this shift and realized that the shower may be the only place where i am alone.

7000 ft.

higher altitudes increase baby output. a lot. pack extra diapers and wipes.

high praise.

during the very long trip back from tahoe we stopped at starbucks in vacaville to wait out some rough traffic and give the gnome and ourselves a reprieve from his road rage. the couple at the table behind us told me that the gnome was a beautiful baby. a girl? they asked in a tone that suggested that they didn't need an answer. actually, no. but afterwards i looked at him and thought, were i a total stranger and not someone who has changed your diaper a million times, i might have guessed girl too. and then i thought this was high praise indeed. guessing girl is a way of saying you are pretty. so, little gnome, despite your balding, flaky head and your wrenching car seat cries, today vacavillians called you pretty. perhaps that was just the boost you needed to fall asleep for the rest of the drive.

in a pinch...

breastmilk storage bags make good travel-size containers for your shampoo and conditioner.

little gnome &c are hitting the road to tahoe to visit with the paternal great-grandparents. it is 100 degrees there. wish us luck.

baby, what large pants you have

in yet another example of our general failure to read the manual, peter and i only recently learned to secure the cloth diapers using a snappy (a plastic fastener that works sort of like the prongs that hold ace bandages) even though the diaper service goes so far as to offer a video on their website. for the first two and a half months we just folded up the diaper and put on a cover without fastening. for a while the high cloth to flesh ratio made this effective. in recent days, however, our technique had started to give way to some large wet spots in our bed every night. so peter mastered the snappy and used it on a diaper he put on the gnome before mom and baby yoga. thus, i mastered the snappy when i went to change him in the middle of the class and discovered these plastic hooks underneath the cover (and it says something about our lives at present that stealth mastery of the snappy ranks as a surprise).

this new fastening technique, however, made us realize that the diapers we were putting the gnome in were much too small. it had never crossed my mind that cloth diapers come in sizes, although of course it makes sense. after a few days of corseting my infant with his diaper, i called up the service. the woman on the other end laughed when i told her that my child weighed fourteen or so pounds and i was still putting him in the newborn size. today they delivered two bags of regular-sized diapers. the difference between the two is enormous. if infant was a washcloth, these are a generously-sized tea towel. the amount of diaper now pouring out around the gnome's cover is hilarious. the front piece practically reaches his nipples. it reminds me of the underwear that my dad picked up for me one summer on the excavation (yes, i asked my dad to pick up some underwear for me. i was busy). he dutifully went to the local underwear store in concord and when we met up in ashkelon he handed over a week's worth of the granniest panties you have ever seen. they were so large that if i pulled the waistband all the way up, it connected with my sports bra. and i wore these for at least the entire summer. they were very comfortable. i hope the gnome feels the same about his gargantuan diaper, which if you fold it down looks like he is wearing an inner tube.

butterfly kisses.

in the dark something tickles my skin. after a time i recognize the sweep of your lashes.

and a good time was had by all.

last night we went to leila & gavin's to meet up with babyalma and babyjuniper and their parents. leila had gotten out all of their baby toys so that the babies could try them out. peter and i live in a small and already very cluttered apartment. we have tried to keep our baby purchases to something of a minimum. partly this is about space and partly this is about taste. i am not suggesting that most parents love kiddy kitsch, but i think many accept it as inevitable from the beginning. they may be making their lives easier in the long run.

outside of the arena of clothing, we have been cautious in our additions. soren sleeps with us and until we finally cleaned out our study yesterday he did not have any designated space in our apartment. now he has the option to share a playroom with peter's monstrous computer monitors. the idea is that i will write my dissertation in there while he amuses himself (ha!). it is not that we haven't made any baby additions. above the changing table/dresser in our bedroom hangs an amazing cowboys and cowgirls quilt that deirdre brought us. we eventually hung a swallows mobile from our bed. yesterday i hung some kites sonal brought him from india, and added brightly colored art postcards to the picture ledge. true, i had originally collected these for myself, and many of them depict some variant of the female body, but they are catchy and sehenswert. soon i think we will get him a real crib, at least for napping. somewhere along the way, peter replaced the chartreuse settee in our cobbled-together living room with a glider of no particular elegance that has proven one of our most useful purchases. slowly, slowly we are getting there. but soren is growing fast and while he used to be content to spend the day napping and eating, now he intersperses some taking in of the world.

among the toys provided last night was an activity mat with arches from which soft toys hung. i had been thinking about getting something like this for soren and had been eyeing a subtle wooden version that a friend had pointed out to me. it looks lovely in a gepetto's workshop sort of way, and were i a kid i would want to live in gepetto's workshop. last night i put soren down on the mat and hung a monkey and a giraffe from its rafters. and he loved it. he loved the bright colors and squishy grabby animals. in my slowness, my desire to choose just the right thing, i am missing how fast he seeks new things. perhaps gepetto's workshop would be a wonderland, but fisher-price is actually available to him. like the kid whose parents do not allow sweets, last night confirmed what i had already suspected. as the little gnome grows up he is always going to be asking to go over to thistle's place, where all the fun toys are.