Conversations on the nature of the universe.

While Matt and I don't share a religion, we do share a few favorite humorists in common. One of them, P.J. O' Rourke, published an essay recently on God and science:

On God

I particularly look forward to any upcoming scholarly publications on whatsamatter, as I'm sure they will be able to answer many of the bug's questions about the universe.

For example:

"The whole universe is made up of nature. How do we make it full of love and care for the things we want to care for and make our lives better and better as sky blue?"

Followed by her rock song:  "Rocks I love, Rocks I love, Rocks I love..."

Nothing like living with an abstract poet in the early stages of development.

Professional life. Home life. Twain never meeting.

My world has of late become rather small. My days consist of a slightly unpredictable pattern of cooking, cleaning, feedings, changings, laundry, and child pick-up and drop-off, with the occasional errand and walk outside the house. Because this time I knew what was coming, and how little I'd realistically be able to accomplish, I am much happier than with my first at-home-post-child experience. My expectations are somewhat more realistic, which is to say: Some afternoons, I am just going to nap. That will be the full list of "things accomplished." Other days, I will be able to do five fantastic things between lunch and bug pick-up, because the monkey slept well last night leaving me two brain cells to rub together in the morning.

I am technically still in my old job, though on leave, until the end of September. This means I still check email every day, still answer a few questions here and there, and maintain a limited amount of adult non-familial contact. Which is probably excellent for my general sanity.

I'm also working on a grant application which, if successful, would write my way into a cool job beginning next June. I'm not holding my breath for its success, but it could work out and it would certainly be both challenging and a lot of fun if it did. Not to mention that I'd be in control of my own schedule which is key.

Otherwise, I've been keeping my eye out for jobs to apply for, but to date everything of interest is full-time, and I'm not doing that for at least a few more months. Perhaps longer. In a perfect world, I'd like a job that would pay really well (read: about $40K a year) where I could work no more than 20-25 hours a week in an office, more from home up to another 15-20 hours as needed. That would keep the monkey at home with me at least most of his waking hours until he's three and starts preschool, and would keep the bug on preschool time without before-care or after-care. Is it possible? Who knows? I've been looking since last January for such a job without much success.

If anyone has suggestions for fields I could consider, don't be shy. :) World's oldest profession definitely excluded, although the schedule flexibility and set-your-own-rates financing would be desirable aspects.

The world's second-oldest profession (teaching) would be great, but jobs here are few and far between. As for an ego deflater, I got turned down by the University of Phoenix...not enough humanities online class sections to require my services. I bet they have stacks of humanities CV's that they burn for furnace fuel down there when it gets "cold" in December and falls into the 50's. I hear there are great training programs for paralegals and criminal justice officers available online, but that's because I've been watching TV for the first time in a long time thanks to the Olympics and the DNC. :) Other thoughts?

Clusterfeed.

I am learning new parenting vocabulary this time around.

Apparently when your newborn goes through a growth spurt and decides to eat once every two hours or less, this is called "clusterfeeding." It tends to happen for a day or two around specific growth periods and then he resumes "normal feeding frequency" (still figuring out what "normal" is around here).

I can tell you after being up last night at 10:30, 12:30, 2 a.m., and 4 a.m. that there is a reason the words "clusterfeed" and "clusterf**k" have so much in common.

From a mother's point of view there is really little difference. And for some reason the clusterfeeds don't seem to happen during daylight hours. But hey, he's gaining weight and is healthy! His two-week checkup was yesterday and he is well past his birth weight, which means he is not "failing to thrive."

Maybe all the extra meals will wear him out and tonight I'll get a bit more sleep!

A few impossible things after breakfast.

We have a photo where all four of us are (mostly) in the picture:



Of course someone had to throw back his head and howl at the key moment, but hey, it looks like we're all related!

As for other impossibilities: Matt has the bug with him on a grocery store expedition, and the little howler monkey is currently asleep in the bouncy chair. I have just gotten three pages of grantwriting done in the last half-hour and am trying to complete this blog post before someone wakes up, gets home, needs help, or shares bodily fluids. It seems that this, too, may be possible.

There goes the garage door. :)

Monkey updates and bug moonshines.

He does sleep.  To my vague memory, more than his sister did in terms of hours in a row.  I don't want to jinx the pattern, but we are getting hours, plural, of rest at a time between night feedings. This is refreshing and we hope it persists.

He eats. Frequently, and quite a bit.  But well within the realm of normality.

He is in some ways the mirror image of his father.  He has the same sleepy half-smile, but it's on the other side of his face.  He has the same palm-line pattern (Matt calls it a simian crease but we disagree on the accuracy of that statement), but it's on the opposite hand.

He is in other ways vaguely reminiscent of his mother.  He does not like to be cold, and "cold" is achieved at temperatures that other humans consider "warm," say around 70 degrees. He is not difficult to soothe and seems fairly practical about basic functional matters.  ("Wet diaper gone? Dry one on? Well, that's over then. Done crying.")

His sister adores him.  Wants to touch him, stroke his hair, cover him with kisses, hold him, poke at him, and generally show all forms of love and affection as often as she is allowed near him, or until she wanders off to watch the Olympics.  She has not shown sign one of any kind of sibling jealousy yet, but rather displays a constant wonder about what he's doing and a deep pride that he is her brother, which makes her now a big sister.  She relishes the role.

In short, we thrive. It feels awesome, as in being full of awe, to be a foursome at last.

Best. Ever. Reason to delay in posting.

This is our son.  In keeping with my bloggy tradition I'm not posting his full name on here, but rest assured I deterred Matt from "Thrakazog Thorfin Skullsplitter Hrothgar Beasley" successfully.

He arrived Tuesday morning at 5:42 a.m., four days ahead of schedule.  He weighed 8 lb, 8 oz, and was 21 1/4 inches long.  (Within an ounce of the bug's stats, and he was three weeks earlier!)

Today (Friday) is the great return to the homestead to see what havoc Matt has wreaked in my absence.  There may be a slight unrealistic expectation of the bug sitting in the middle of the floor with a number of open containers of food; I have an image of her with a jar of peanut butter and a spoon.  But she's a resourceful girl and is likely just fine.