ChiKat

My son is no longer nursing. He's 14-months-old. I can't believe I nursed him for that long. It was so hard in the beginning, when he wasn’t on a schedule and I was his only source of nutrition. No matter what I was doing, when he fussed I would need to stop and find somewhere private to nurse him. It felt like he fussed every five minutes.

It was the hardest between months three to six, when he was a baby instead of a newborn, when it was easy to be convinced that he could take a bottle just as easily, when he wasn't sleeping well and demanded me all the time.

But we survived and started to figure out a schedule. Or rather, I figured out that I could put him on a schedule, that I could start deciding when he should nurse rather than waiting for him to fuss.

After that, it was still occasionally a hassle, but it also gave me great superpowers. If he bumped his head, fell down, was crabby, was sad…all those things I could magically fix just by nursing him. My son is incredibly active and squirming. He's not a cuddler (and neither am I). But during those nursing sessions, we curled around each other, skin to skin, and just marveled at each other. The nursing sessions created a bond between us that is magical and awe-inspiring. I'm so thankful I had the experience. I'm so thankful my husband supported me during the tough times, told me that I could stop is I wanted to, but knew I could keep going if I wanted to.

More than I ever thought I would, I am going to miss our nursing sessions. But I'm so proud of my boy, of his independence. He's brave and bold and intelligent.

I no longer have my nursing superpowers, but I get to keep that magical bond that I have with him. I am so blessed.

Last night, I heard yelling in the alley, followed by the loud and distinctive sound of a slap. I looked out the window and saw a man shaking a woman while yelling at her. I was home alone. I called 911 and told them a man was hitting a woman in the alley. I gave them the address of the building they were standing behind. While I was on the phone, the man struck her again. She was crying, but she wasn't running away or yelling for help. I assume it was a domestic dispute. I don't want to be the nosy neighbor, but I think calling the police is the right thing to do when someone is getting hit.

I did not go outside and ask if everything was ok. I didn't walk my giant dog over there to find out if the woman needed help. That woman will never know that I was watching, hoping that she would be ok. That I called for help for her. I didn't feel safe going out there and getting involved. Even if he started beating on her, I don't think I would have gone out there. I put my own safety (and my sleeping son's safety) ahead of hers.

I want to believe that I am the type of person who would help a person in need. But when the times comes, you think of a million reasons why you should just stay quiet and hope the police arrive. You think that perhaps you will make the situation worse, that perhaps the man will turn on you and hurt you, that perhaps he has a knife or a gun and you will be risking your own life for a stranger's.

And then you realize you are not the type of person to risk your own life for a stranger's. Not today, anyway.

The man yelled at her for about 30 more minutes, pushing her on occasion, but no longer slapping her. Then he got in his car and drove away, while she sobbed in the parking lot before returning to her building. The police never came.

My husband and I love taking walks in the summer, late at night, when the neighborhood is sleeping and everything is serene.

With a one-year-old who goes to sleep each night around 8 PM, late night strolls now take place around…4 PM. It's not quite the same thing.

As a compromise, I decided to create a peaceful haven on our balcony, so we could be outside during the summer nights while the boy slept in his crib. I found a tiny table and two chairs. I bought planters and planted beautiful flowers. It's really a nice space.

Today I looked out the window and saw two squirrels racing through the petunias…then start rigorously mating.

So I've made a nice, romantic escape…for squirrels.

We had a security specialist come look at our building. He suggested we reinforce the front door and upgrade the locks. He provided a reasonable estimate. I sent that estimate to our association.

Besides the owner's whose unit was broken into, no one has responded.

I hate this building. I hate the lack of involvement from everyone else. I want to tell my husband, "Let's upgrade the locks so we don't have a repeat break-in" and not have to wait weeks while a consensus is reached. I am so tired, tired, tired of condo living.

And you're probably sick of hearing about me being tired of condo living. But you'll have to listen for a while longer, because we've decided to stay here another year. It was a tough decision. I have had it with condo life, but my husband doesn't feel comfortable moving until he has a better sense of where his career is going. Next year, he should have a better idea of that.

In addition, next October they announce if Chicago gets the Olympics. I don't think the Olympics would drastically improve the value of our condo, but I do think it would make it a little more marketable. If we're going to stay another year, we might as well wait until the Olympics announcement, just in case Chicago really is selected.

I don't think Chicago will get the nod – I think it will be Tokyo. But wouldn't it be fabulous if we did? I've never been to the Olympics, but if they were here, I would totally go see some of the games. I would probably even try to volunteer.

This is a rambling post – from association complaints, to moving to the Olympics. And now my son is attacking the computer. Time to race matchbox cars instead of working!

I write a post about wanting a backyard, then we have the perfect city day. We went for a walk down to the lake the other day. The weather was perfect. The lake was beautiful. The dog played. The boy toddled.

I love the south lakefront.

The north lakefront is just as beautiful, but it is wall-to-wall people on the bike path and the beaches.

South of 31st Street beach, the wall-to-wall sardine feel disappears and the walking path is wide open. We spent hours just wandering along, enjoying the sunshine, the warm weather and the fabulous lakefront.

I still want a backyard and a nice school for my son, but for now I'm going to savor being this close to this beautiful lake.

We were at my sister-in-laws the other day. At one point the kids and the dogs were getting a bit hyper. Do you know what she did to fix the situation? She opened the back door and let them play outside.

That's what you do when you have a house. You go into your backyard and you play. Because you can.

We are home. The news about the first floor break-ins is very strange.

First, a little background. There are two units on the first floor. Two years ago, a family moved into the rear unit. They fixed up the unit, painted the place, and seemed pretty nice. They claimed they were leasing-to-own. They wouldn't provide the contact information of the owner to the condo association. Whoever owned the unit never paid association dues. After about six months, the family disappeared and the unit remained empty. Not association dues were paid.

Our management company kept investigating and finally found contact information for the owner. The owner was clearly in financial trouble, but promised to pay the association dues. A couple months ago, a young couple moved into the unit. They have no furniture and are rarely home, but they seem like nice people.

The promised association dues have never arrived.

While we were gone, burglars came to the first floor and tried to break-in via the fire escape. When that didn't work, they pried open the first floor.

The people on the third floor witnessed this and called the police.

The burglars got into the building, used a sledge hammer and a chisel to break into the first floor front unit. They walked past laptops, DVD players and televisions. They went all the way to the back on the condo and tore apart the bedroom. They stole a small safe and some jewelry, neither of which were worth that much.

Then they went back into the building, broke into the rear unit that is home to the non-due-paying people. Then they left.

20 minutes later the police arrived.

Apparently, a burlarly in progress isn't high on their agenda. The third floor tenants saw the whole thing, and gave the police a description of the burglars, including the fact that one of them was wearing a blue hat.

The police did not bother to pick up the blue hat that was left on the front lawn until it was pointed out to them.

The police did point out that the people in the rear unit, despite have their door busted open, never filed a police report. The police believe that the burglars were looking for something that was in the rear unit. They went into the front unit by mistake, took the safe and jewelry box, then when they didn't find what they were looking for, broke into the rear unit, found what they wanted and left.

Ugh. I have no idea how to make this better. How to make this safer. We can't demand that the people in the rear unit move out, because we have no proof that they are doing anything illegal. But the whole situation does seem very strange.

The management company is pursuing legal action to try to get the $6,000+ overdue fees from the owners.

Meanwhile, I'm thankful I have a 110-pound dog.

We just found out that the people who live on the first floor of our building were broken into. We have no idea if our condo is OK. Normally, we would ask our neighbors, we feel a little inappropriate saying, "sorry your place was trashed and you're staying with family…could you drive back into the city and check on our place?"

After the health scare and now the news about the condo, I wouldn't call this the most relaxing vacation ever…

Today we flew from La Paz to Cuzco and had quite a health scare. My son keeps getting feverish at night, and has a stuffy nose and dry cough during the day. We've been explaining it way as a reaction to pollution or the stress of traveling, but today he was just not himself. He kept falling asleep (which he never does – he's a bundle of energy usually), his heart was racing and his breathing was labored.

Really, it was the sleeping that bothered us. He would just lay limp and unresponsive in my husband's arms. We would try to wake him and he would barely be able to drag his eyes open.

I've spent the entire year wishing my son would sleep more, but this was not a healthy sleep. At one point, my husband was worried that our son had actually become unconscious because he was so unresponsive. He was sweaty and lethargic.

We spent about 10 minutes panicking quietly in our room. We had read about high altitude sickness, and one rare symptom was pulmonary edema…which could be fatal.

My husband, who is more medically savvy than me, was quietly and steadily panicking because my son had many of the symptoms of pulmonary edema.

I went downstairs to get help, and my husband spent the time holding our son, praying we hadn't killed him by choosing to travel.

Because we were traveling with my brother and his friends, we were able to talk to the American doctor at the La Paz embassy. He was incredibly helpful and gave us very clear instructions. We were to get our son oxygen, in case he was having a problem with the altitude, and we were to get him to a doctor immediately.

We had just arrived in Peru. We had no idea where anything was located and we spoke very little Spanish. We went to the front desk and told the, in English, that we needed oxygen and a doctor.

The instantly brought us a tank of oxygen and a mask for our son (which he HATED and spent the entire 15 minutes SCREAMING at the TOP of his lungs…which the hotel staff assured me was fine, because it meant he was taking big lungfuls of the oxygen in between screams).

When we asked about the doctor, the hotel staff assured us that a doctor would be arriving at the hotel within 10 minutes.

Sure enough, within 10 minutes, an English-speaking doctor arrived, spent 30 minutes examining our son, another 30 minutes talking to us, diagnosed him with infected tonsils, prescribed antibiotics and assured us that our son would be fine.

Total cost: $70.

And we say we don't have a problem with healthcare in this country.

My son is not 100%. He doesn't have his usual energy and good cheer. I think he is tired. We have been getting up early and he hasn't had his usual naps.

For the last two nights, he has developed a fever at bedtime. I know he hates sleeping at night, but giving yourself a fever to avoid sleep seems a little extreme even for our son.

The fever goes away with a little Motrin, so I'm not too worried. But I do think the pollution is bothering him.