All I'm Saying there's a joke in here somewhere

So there's a question that has been bothering me for years now, and I found myself pondering on it the other night again. I thought I'd throw it out to the internet community and see if anyone could come up with an answer for me:

What, exactly, do polar bears drink?

It isn't like there are a lot of running streams up above the Arctic Circle, so that pretty much just leaves ice and snow. But I think it is kind of windy up there too, so a lot of the snow probably blows away, leaving behind ice. And most of the ice is frozen sea water, so it would be too salty for a polar bear to take a big chomp out of and make its own drink. Also, if the polar bears are eating/drinking ice, they'd have to have an awful lot of it, wouldn't they? And I have sure never seen any footage of them doing this on any of the educational programs we are always watching.

So I ask you, what the hell do they drink?

UPDATED: Lurker Jackie is my new personal savior of the day. A little research turns up the answer to the question: polar bears more or less don't drink water. I'll be go to hell... Thanks, Jackie!

I went in for my microdermabrasion today. The gist of the process is that an aesthetician takes a little wand-looking tool and scrapes off the top layer of the skin on your face (or wherever you choose to be dermabraded, I suppose). The intent is to minimize scarring or red spots and get the environmental contaminants off your face so that the nicer skin underneath shows through.

The woman performing it said it would, "...feel like a cat licking your face." Maybe if it was a sabre-tooth tiger. Or a liger. Or a tigon. It was nothing if not vigorous. However, I must admit that my skin looks rather nice--shiny and more youthful.

I totally could have done without her showing me the little vial of dead skin that got vacuumed off my face. It gave me the same feeling I get when we have our carpets cleaned and you look at that big ol' container of nastiness that used to be in your rug.

I've been debating for weeks about whether or not to do what Dooce/Heather and Beth have been doing, which is posting a monthly update or letter to their babies. I love the idea, but don't want to look like a copycat or anything.

However, the blog is such a good record of everything else that has gone on in my life since I started it, and what is more important for a mother to record than the milestones in her child's life? So here we go: my observations on motherhood, babyhood and life.

Dear Freya,

You'll be seven weeks old on Tuesday, and it is pretty much impossible to imagine our lives before you were here. I've been dazed with wonder since the doctor first laid your sticky little self onto my belly. Your father spent large amounts of time in the first couple weeks of your life reading to me out of the parenting books, telling me when you'd be likely to have your first smile, how many poops per day you should have, and that we shouldn't get water in your ears so that you wouldn't get ear infections. I honestly got kind of tired of it, but then you actually started doing those things and now I am constantly asking Matt, "What's next?"

You first smiled at three and a half weeks, which was about a half a week to a week and a half sooner than the books said. Obviously, this means you are a genius. Pretty much everything you do tells me you're way above average. I hear other new moms who talk about how "good" their babies are, in that they don't spend large portions of their days crying. (Unlike someone near and dear to my heart.) I could be jealous, but instead I think, "Freya cries because she's so smart. She's learning so much so quickly, and has so much going through her head that all she can do to express herself is to cry."

One of the most precious things you do is that sometimes while nursing, you'll look up at me with one big, blue eye and you'll give me an ear-splitting grin as the milk in your mouth runs down your face. I do a lot of extra laundry when this happens, but it is so worth it. Eating has been your favorite thing to do, but I'm starting to think it might be overtaken by looking at your daddy's and my faces. You also really enjoy smiling at the toy that Mel got for you, your mobile, and the sofa cushions. (We haven't figured that one out yet.)

As I hold you when you are nursing, I spend quite a bit of time looking down at your small hands. They're adorably pudgy and dimpled at the knuckles, but the most precious thing is how your tiny, vulnerable little fingers interlace or wrap around each other. They're so precious that I almost weep. I look at them and think of how they will change over the years: how you'll discover the joys of sticking them up your nose, how they'll be smeared with finger-paints, how they'll write letters and turn the pages of books, and how they may someday wear a wedding ring and hold a baby of your own.

You're teaching me new things every day, both about you and about the depths of my own soul. I'll be indebted to you forever for showing me who I really am and for all the gifts you have already given me.

Yours,
Mommy

One of the many good things about parenthood (though I don't recommend this be your only reason to have a child) is that you can upload silly pictures of your baby to your website in lieu of posting anything intelligent.

This bell pepper hat was a gift from one of our neighbors. I can't wait until Malia completes Freya's Viking Chicken Hat. You know the internet is going to see pictures of that!

Someone in this room just curled my nose hairs with an extraordinarily noxious fart. I can't tell if it was the dog or the baby. I'm hoping for the dog, as otherwise I'm going to have a hell of a nasty diaper change in my near future.

I'm so excited for Donna!

Chris and Beth's cat died. I'm sorry.

I'll be heading back to work before too much longer. I am in negotiations with my boss as to the day, but it'll be either the first or second week of April. I'm up in the air about returning: maternity leave is getting a little boring, honestly. But I'm very nervous about how Freya will be at my office. I get to take her to work until she's 6 months old, provided she is a "good" baby. That means that she won't be entirely disruptive to the office and that I can still get my work done with her around. If not, I do have my neighbor across the street to provide child care, but still...I want it to work out and not be an issue.

I bought a new pair of jeans on Friday--a size up from my pre-pregnancy size. Today they are too big on me. Breastfeeding is a miracle in more ways than one. Hello, calorie burning!

I scheduled a microdermabrasion session for next week. My skin looks hellish lately, and I'd like to be all purty for my triumphant return to the office. I've never had it done before; does anyone have any input for me?

I was just over at Spuddy Buddy, and guess what?

Donna is pregnant!

I got so excited that I think my milk let down a little.

I had my six-week post partum visit with the doctor today. Looks like all systems are a go and I can get back to life as normal, or at least the new version of life as normal. I'm pleased to report that I have only ten pounds to lose to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight!

I find myself going back on birth control, which is not a real exciting concept for me, but I sure as hell have no plans for getting pregnant again anytime soon.

Finally, I asked my doctor about when I should get a mammogram, as my older sister was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was three years older than I am now (she's fine--cancer-free for 8 years now). She pointed out that I will need to wait until I'm done breastfeeding, which makes sense now that I think on it. Can you imagine what would happen if they tried to squeeze my boob in between those plates now?

A review of recent keyword activity indicates that once again, my readers have questions. Well, someone has questions/concerns/desires anyway, and a 'net search has led them here. Let me try to address them.

Train Store, Pat Monahan, Shirt If there was a store where one could buy Pat Monahan, I wouldn't specify whether or not he had to be wearing a shirt.

Biiiiig boobs Okay, someone literally spelled "big" with five i's in their search. It doesn't look like this site showed up for the four i search, nor the six i. We only stock five i biiiiig boobs here.

Is continuous farting a sign of pregnancy? It is definitely a sign of something, but pregnancy wouldn't be my first pick. Try checking into your diet first.

Hairy stomach while being pregnant Yes. Definitely. And so far, none of the extra hair has fallen out. Not my stomach hair, not the hair on my toes, not the hair on my head. My hairdresser despairs and I am starting to look like shrubbery.

That's about it. Stay tuned for the next installment of "What Were You Thinking That Led You Here?"

Since discovering iTunes in my endeavor to create Freya's "Labor and Delivery Dance Mix," I have been having a gay old time with downloading.

(As an aside, the mix that I made got played exactly once during labor and no music at all was actually playing when she finally squirted out. I was chagrined, as I was thinking I might be able to augur something of my daughter's future by the song that was playing when she was born.)

I have been merrily downloading songs that make me happy and that I really enjoy dancing to. Recent examples include "Boy in the Bubble" by Paul Simon (I didn't say I danced in public to these songs), "Golden Years," by David Bowie, and a couple of numbers from The Monkees, (Mike Nesmith forever!) and "Free to Go," by Folk Implosion.

But part of being a new parent is self-editing, so that is why I stopped short of anything from the Nine Inch Nails. I just have to draw the line somewhere...

I'm just not sure it gets any cuter than this:

Or this:

Not that Matt was a real "boob man" to begin with, thank God, but I think that I have managed to de-sexualize breasts for him all together.

Ladies, if you want to turn your man off of boobs, just rent or borrow a breast pump and go to town. I recommend pumping both sides at once for maximum efficacy. And hey, let me know how that works out for you, mm-kay?

At least three times a year, Matt tries to talk me into getting a bicycle. A couple of years ago, we bought him a nice mountain bike at tax refund time. He's ridden it maybe a dozen times total. He has this feeling that if I had a bike, he'd go riding more since we could ride together. I'm not sure why he's thinking that now that we are tending to a five week old baby.

The thing is, I don't want a bike. I sold the last bike I had at a yard sale and got $10 for it. I don't regret that. The following are my reasons why I am not interested--do they seem clear enough to you?

1. I look at a bike as a possible fashion accessory, rather than a means of transportation, recreation or fitness. If I were to get a bike, I'd want one like this. Then I could load it up in the truck, drive to the park, and ride around on the paths so that people could say, "Hey, that's a cool looking bike!" This doesn't seem like a good idea in light of the cost.

2. Something about the posture when riding a bike causes me to throw my neck out. Bike riding is a pain in my neck.

3. Bike riding is also a pain in my ass. What is it about a bike seat that causes your sit bones to ache like that? No thanks.

4. It isn't like we could ride bikes together right now anyway. Freya is too little for one of those kid seats, and even a bike trailer wouldn't be very practical considering the areas Matt would want to ride involve narrow trails.

Anyway, despite what I consider to be very sound logic, Matt still said on the way to REI today, "You know, their baseline woman's mountain bike is only $399..." Ugh.

One thing about staying home with a baby (or even about getting short breaks where your husband watches the baby and you make a high-speed trip to the mall) is that you can end up spending a lot of money. I thought I spent a lot of money before. Okay, the amount is fairly static, in that I only get paid so much. And I spend that.

But sitting at home feeling kind of lonely and bored has meant that I have been on E-bay quite a bit. Other sites too, but that combined with the mall and REI has pretty well done me in. (But I got the cutest pair of Keen sandals that I have totally been coveting for ages and they were 20% off!) (Don't tell my husband, okay?)

Another thing about spending your day at home with a baby is that you really don't feel much like adding up your receipts and squaring it all off with the amount of money in your checking account.

One final thing about staying home with a baby is that you look at the notice you just got from the bank and realize that maybe you should get the first item taken care of, in light of your lack of interest in the second item. Oops...

Matt's parents were here over the last 5 days to see Freya. It was really pretty fun to see them interacting with her. I had low expectations for Matt's dad to have much contact with the baby, but he held her much more often (and was much better at it) than I had expected. As far as Matt's mom goes, I thought I was going to have to go through her luggage before they left this morning to make sure Freya wasn't tucked inside.

They're getting old--Grandpa turned 80 recently, and Grandma isn't too far behind. I want to say they're getting fatalistic about their ages, but I guess they're ultimately being pretty realistic. I overheard Matt's mom saying to Freya, "I won't be here to see you graduate from high school."

Big mouth that I am, I replied, "We'll be sure to video-tape it for you." Not that I didn't know what she meant, but it's hard for me to hear people talk like that and I get flippant. (Imagine that!) However, due to my proven ability to reproduce, I think I'll now be getting away with many more flippant remarks than before...

It's kind of hard to get a photo of her when she's smiling, so I'm just counting myself as lucky that I was able to capture this one.

I call this Freya's "Somethin' Done Run Up Mah Pant-leg" look:

I think it was just the camera flash startling her, because somethin' woulda had to run up mah pant-leg first in order to get to hers.

Matt's parents are here right now to visit their 17th grandchild. (Fertile bunch...) In fact, they have taken Matt off to Mass this morning, leaving my pagan baby and I behind. I think they'd have been happy to have us come along, but for the concern that the Almighty may not have been able to hear the praying over Freya's screams. Actually, she's doing very well right now. A long time back, Ginny had mentioned The Happiest Baby on the Block to me, and we watched the video yesterday. This doctor advocates swaddling and other activities to mimic the womb environment to help quiet young babies. And holy cow, we've had some peace! (Big thanks to Ginny for that one.)

Now we're off to do an infant massage!

Thanks for all the supportive comments to my last post: I try to be really honest with myself when posting to the blog, and while I do sometimes lean toward hyperbole, I think you guys know when that's happening and when it isn't. So that post was no exaggeration--sometimes I feel the hugeness of motherhood and the necessary evolution that I am undergoing, and it is a heavy psychological thing to bear. Like I said, I know I can and will do it, and do it well, but it is a HUGE thing.

So the scratch on Freya's cornea has been healing up pretty well, and some of the pressure of her crying has gone down as a result of that. However, the pointy arrow is resting right on "colic," and we're dealing with that. How? We're "attachment parenting."

What the heck is that? Well, I'm still figuring it out myself. I will let you know for sure in eighteen years or so. But the gist of it is that Freya wants to be close to her parents. A lot. In fact, she is squalling in a chest pack right this minute. As in, hanging off the front of me. Little barnacle... Additionally, (and no one call Child Protective Services, it really is okay) we are co-sleeping. She cuddles up next to me on the bed at night and we snooze away. Matt is on the other side of her, and we keep a nightlight on so that we can just glance down and see how she's doing. She's taken to it very well, and we're all getting four to six hours of sleep at a stretch between feedings, which we also do right in bed. It works GREAT.

I bought an "Over the Shoulder Baby Holder" from a La Leche League representative today. It is a more organically-styled sling where I will be wearing Freya in a horizontal position across my chest most of the time. She's been in it to try it out, and really seems to like the closeness and the ability to fall asleep comfortably in it. (Something the chest pack doesn't provide.) And we took an infant massage class this morning.

So we're turning into quite the hippy-dippy family as far as child rearing goes. But we're finding things that work for us, and will help us raise the happiest child we can.