ChiKat

One of my big concerns about the South America trip is that I have been talking my husband into going on the trip. He loves the idea of the trip, too, but he is often in love with the *idea* of things and not the *actuality* of things.

I'm the one that usually plans trips and drags us out the door. Then he has a great time.

I think this trip will be the same, but if something goes wrong, I will feel like it was 100% my fault. We aren't making these decisions together. I am talking him into the decisions. So if something goes wrong, like the very likely chance that my son will get a headache from the high altitude, I will feel like it is my fault. If something serious goes wrong, like a bad reaction to the Yellow Fever vaccine, I will be buried under the guilt that I will pile on myself.

When we made medical decisions for our son before, like deciding about circumcision, we both believed very strongly in our opinions. I feel like we split the responsibility for the decision-making equally.

With this trip, my husband knows how much I want to see my brother, so I think he is letting me talk him into things that he isn't really comfortable with. That makes me feel the weight of responsibility even more.

At the same time, if I don't drag us out the door, I'm fairly convinced my husband wouldn't leave the condo until our son was 18.

On a day-to-day basis, my husband is much more daring and adventurous than me. He barrels down the mountain on his snowboard, zipping through the trees with no concern at all. I snow plow down at a snails pace.

But when it comes to our son, my husband is much more protective. I guess since I'm already so cautious, I don't feel the need to be MORE cautious just because I have a baby. My husband, on the other hand, has had to make some pretty big lifestyle changes to accommodate the pace of a baby. I think his pendulum swung from thrill-seeker to safety-net, but maybe it's still needs some fine-tuning because no matter how much I bundle that child up, my husband is always hovering with an extra blanket, an extra hat AND the suggestion that we just stay inside.

My son got his first tooth for Christmas. That made for VERY tired parents during the holidays. He still doesn't sleep through the night. Teething has just made it worse. I'm so tired, I am ready to claw my own eyes out. My husband had developed an eye twitch that gets worse whenever our son cries. I have dark purple bags under my eyes that no amount of make-up can disguise.

And yet my husband and I still talk excitedly about having ANOTHER baby in the future. I swear, this biological need to continue the human race makes you crazy.

My husband has a job offer that he is 99% sure he is going to accept. Phew! It's a good job offer. It's at a place that is not as prestigious as his current location, but it is a much better work environment. It's close enough so we won't have to move, which is awesome. We're really comfortable in our little condo right now, so I'm glad we can be here for a few more years.

His old job ended July 31. The new one starts September 3. Having a month off really rocks (which is one of the reasons you have seen so little of me in the past few weeks).

With our free time, we've been exploring the city and visiting family. For me, it's been so nice to have him at home when the baby is freaking out. Our son isn't the most laid back child on the planet, and he still hasn't figured out how to sleep through the night. I'm pretty tired, but being able to hand him off to my husband makes the schedule so much more tolerable.

We're busy planning a vacation during our free month, along with exploring the city. My husband's been so busy the last two years - it's awesome to finally have time with him to enjoy life.

Hmmm…apparently, this has become a blog that is updated on a weekly basis. I'm not sure when I'm going to get back to daily postings. Maybe when my son goes to college.

Things with my husband's job are going ok. Now that he has handed in his notice, he is his boss' new best friend. ??? Yeah, we can't figure it out either. His boss doesn't want him to stay, but is super nice to my husband now that my husband quit. It's very strange.

My husband is updating his resume. Hopefully he will submit it to some new places soon. He's totally burnt out and sick of dealing with career stuff, so he is dragging his feet on finding a new job. I'm waffling between being the super supportive wife (with a touch of "please, don't ask me to get my own full time job" thrown in) and mildly hysterical wife because we don't know what will happen at the end of July.

I'm not freaking out for financial reasons. I just hate not knowing what he will be doing and if we have to move.

My husband quit his job yesterday. He took the high road and didn't blame his boss for the last few years of poor management and lack of vision. Instead, he took responsibility for their (shared) problems and his boss really responded well to that. His boss even offered to write a positive letter of reference and said he would try to help my husband with his job search, which was way more support than we were expecting.

My husband has until the end of July to find something new. I really hope he can find something that challenges him; a job that he enjoys.

In the meantime, I'm looking at airfare to see if we can squeeze in a vacation between jobs. Because at times like this, I am nothing if not impractical.

The first few weeks of my son's life, I didn't post here that much because I was too busy cooing over how fabulous he was. After that, I didn't post here because he was screaming. All. The. Time.

But behold! I have discovered the wonders of the pacifier! My ears are finally getting a break.

In other news, my husband might quit his job today. His work is funded by a grant that expires in July. His boss is demanding that my husband justify (read: beg for) more funding. That's perfectly reasonable, except for the fact that for the last two years, his boss has been demanding this every few weeks. At this point, if his boss doesn't have confidence in my husband's project, my husband doesn't see the point in begging for more funding.

I think my husband would feel differently if he felt like his boss respected him. But the boss has made it very clear that he doesn't think my husband will be successful. Why stay in a job like that?

Well, for the salary and the health insurance. We do have savings, but my husband is extremely stressed. I don't know how I feel. A part of me wants my husband to be free from such a demoralizing boss, but another part of me is afraid of the change. We have no idea what my husband would do for a job if this doesn't work out, so we're both feeling a bit unfettered.

Of course, there is a small, irresponsible part of me that is screaming, "ROAD TRIP!"

I've already said this isn't a baby blog, but I thought you'd like to hear my experience getting to the hospital.

I didn't take any Lamaze or childbirth classes. I'd rather read a book than take a class. Sometimes I put a little too much faith in books.

The day my son was born, I woke up around 2 AM with pain really low in my back. Honestly, it felt like I had to use the bathroom. I went back to sleep, but I kept waking up with this sensation of being a little constipated. I would try to go to the bathroom, but nothing would happen. I kept trying to go back to sleep, but my 5:30 AM, I couldn't ignore the pain anymore. I got out of bed and wandered into the living room and watched the neighborhood wake up. By 6:30, I had this epiphany that the back pain was coming every five or six minutes, so maybe it was early labor and not actually a bathroom issue.

I woke up my husband, but I was sure that the pain was just the start of a very long day, so I told him to go back to bed since he would have to go to work. I kept wandering around the house. I watched the moon set and the sun rise. I watched the residents leave for work, and the students arrive and take all the street parking.

By 8:30, the back pain had gotten really intense. I still wasn't sure if this was the real thing. My husband woke up and looked in all my birthing books. Everything said that labor starts in the back and moves to the front. Real labor is in the front. Each contraction lasts for more than 30 seconds.

My pain was between 15 and 25 seconds. I never had long contractions. It was all back pain. My stomach was totally relaxed. We called our doctor, and she agreed that it was early labor, but I could come into the hospital anyway if I wanted.

I was so disappointed at that point. I was having trouble handling the pain, but I was sure I was less than 2 cm. I didn't want to spend the entire day at the hospital, laboring in unfamiliar surroundings with all their machines and monitors. But every instinct in my body was telling me to get to the hospital.

Suddenly, the pain changed. Instead of coming every five minutes or so, it started coming every minute. The contractions were still short, but they hit me in waves. I couldn't sit. I couldn't lie down. The idea of a 30 minute car ride terrified me because I would be trapped in a seat. But staying home wasn't an option.

My husband scrambled to get our hospital bag in order. He told me that the car was ready. Suddenly, the contractions stopped. A part of me was convinced that it was over and that those were just Braxton Hicks contractions. The other (more sane) part of me raced down the condo stairs into the car. I wanted to take advantage of the break in pain while I could.

One block later my water broke, which meant I spent the entire car ride sitting in a cold, slimy marshmallow of blood and mucus. I seriously thought, "Huh. I guess it's not just in my head…this really IS labor."

Once my water broke, I had a HUGE desire to push. My books mentioned that some women defecate while they are in labor. I had already had my water break in the car. I was HORRIFIED at the idea of pooping in the car also. What can I say? I'm a bit of a prude about bodily functions. Thankfully, that prudishness gave me the strength to fight against the urge to push.

When the urge ripped through my body, I would arch my back and chant, "Don't push! Don't push!" over and over, while hanging my head out the window, dripping in sweat.

When I started chanting, "Don't Push", my poor husband practically had a heart attack. I might have thought I wanted to go to the bathroom, but he had a much more realistic view of what was happening. The expressway we normally would take was under construction. So, for the locals, we took MLK to Cermak to Ashland to get to Rush. In other words, we hauled ass through the south side. Technically, we did stop at red lights, but only for a micro-second before speeding through the intersections. We must have run at least 20 red lights. It being the south side, that was not a problem.

We got the hospital at 10 AM. I was fully dilated and ready to deliver. My son was born an hour later.

If you saw some more woman, hanging her head out of a Volkswagen while her husband raced down MLK, that was us. Thanks for giving us the right of way.

We live close to a university campus. The campus is beautiful, but the students tend to be a bit dorky.

The other day, I met my husband on campus and he said, "I can't believe that you're 8 ½ months pregnant and you still have a better ass than 90% of the undergrads here."

Considering how much I've felt like I have been waddling lately, that was the sweetest compliment I have received during my pregnancy. I told me husband that, and he said, "Thank God. Once I blurted that out, I was worried you would freak out because I was admitting to checking out other girls AND finding 10% kinda hot."

Well, when you put it that way…

Around tax-time, but husband and I figure out how and where we want to donate some of our money. NPR, PBS and the Red Cross usually make the list pretty easily. After that, we have our personal favorites.

Last year, I fell in love with the Search Dog Foundation, which trains dogs to help rescue workers find victims in emergency situations. After receiving my donation, they sent me a graduation picture of the 2006 search dog class, pretty much guaranteeing that I would love their organization forever.

My husband likes to donate to a local charity, so we don't feel as much liberal guilt when we don't give money to people asking for change on the streets. Last year, we donated to a local organization that provides housing, meals and social services to members of our community trying to exit homelessness.

I know! Don't we sound generous? And kind! We're such good people!

Yeah, then I got an invitation from that local charity, inviting me to an evening of cocktails and appetizers. The event would be organized, catered and run by the very people we helped.

I'm uncomfortable meeting new people. I smile and wave at my neighbors, but I'm not interested in a night of cocktails with strangers.

As I was throwing out the invitation, I said to my husband, "Why couldn't they just send a graduation picture like Search Dogs did?"

"Errr…did you just compare people trying to end homelessness to dogs?"

"No! Wait…did I? Crap!"

"Don't worry…I won't tell anyone what a terrible person you are."

"Dude. I'm TOTALLY putting this on my blog."

My husband is always a little uncomfortable telling people that I work part-time. He's especially uncomfortable telling people that I do most of the cleaning, cooking and laundry. It's so…1950s. He considers me a feminist, so he has a hard time reconciling his view of feminism with the fact that I own a book called "The Simple Art of Napkin Folding" (and, worse, that I USE the book when I throw a dinner party).

He wants people to see me the way he sees me, as someone he considers intelligent, creative and adventurous. But when he mentions that I don't work full-time, he gets the sense that people assume I am a Stepford wife.

I believe that we, as a society, are wrestling with the conflicting demands from work and home-life. We're trying to find the right balance at a time when two-incomes are almost always required, but don't always make everyone happy.

A few generations from now, I believe we'll have found the right balance between bread-winner and parent. But until then, I think it's worth pointing out that it's not just the women who get a lot of judgment about their career and parenting choices.