I'm happy

Yes, I did get to pet a kangaroo. This is a gray kangaroo, which is actually brown. The red kangaroos look mostly gray, so don't try to figure that one out either. Kangaroo fur is much softer than you'd think. It reminds me of petting a horse with its thick winter coat.

We saw the kangaroos at this place, the Healesville Animal Sanctuary. We also saw parrots, echidnas, wallabies, baby Tasmanian devils, koalas, platypus and wombats. Then we went wine tasting. And yes, we saw all of those animals BEFORE drinking wine, and no, we are not making any of them up.

The land down under

This is my nephew, Zach. He lives in Melbourne, Australia. He hangs out with wallabies. We think Zach is very cool, and he knows where the wallabies live, and will introduce us, so we are going to visit Zach in Australia. We are leaving tomorrow and will be there for a month. What? It's a long way - we might as well stay for awhile. I'm on maternity leave - this seems like a good use of my time.


Are we insane for traveling with a 4 1/2 month old baby to Australia? Probably. There has been a lot of hassle about car seats, and bassinets in the bulkhead seats and pre-approval of car seats, and what have you, but we think we have it all sorted. Seth's parents are meeting us in Los Angeles for the super-long part of the trip to Melbourne. I think it's 16-ish hours or something. I try not to think about it. I do think about the favorable 4:1 adult to baby ratio for the flight. Seth had it worked out as 4 hours per adult.

I've made packing lists, hauled out the suitcases, done most of the laundry, and thought extensively about what to pack. Actual packing has not yet occurred. But I did get a pedicure.

We will be petting wallabies and kangaroos, and seeing koalas, emus, duckbilled platypuses, fairy penguins, beaches, and vineyards. We will not be eating Vegemite. I've tasted it and its English cousin Marmite, and that was quite enough of that culinary adventure.

We think Zach is excited to see Helene, though he may be a bit disappointed that she does not do too much stuff yet, by his 3-year old standards. You know, like say words or play trains with him. When he first met her in December, he definitely expected that his baby cousin would be a little more exciting, and not just a tiny sleeping lump that everyone was inexplicably entranced by. I'm sure she will happily hold and gum a Thomas The Tank Engine, but that might not fit in with Zach's plans.

So, there might not be a whole lot of posts on here for the next month. I'll try to stick up some random photos of us with kangaroos and on the beautiful Melbourne beaches just to make you jealous, but I'll probably be too busy petting wallabies and tasting wine and enjoying grandparent babysitting services to exert myself too much. (Could I be traveling to AU just to get free babysitting? It's possible.)

I wonder what Helene will learn or do over the next month. She does something new every day, it seems. She's almost rolling over. She talks expressively to the ceiling fan. She is discovering her feet, and on a recent warm day, she rubbed her little feet and toes together to test out the feeling of barefootness. She is a little sponge, gazing with wide-open blue-grey eyes at everything in sight, drinking it in, as I carry her down our street. It's my favorite thing about her right now - watching her see and be amazed by the world for the first time.

Her look clearly says "Holy cow! I can hold my head up!" She's Australia-ready.


Gratuitous baby toes picture. No pedicure needed - cuteness is more than enough.

39 weeks - and waiting....

I had some really clever title for this post last night before I fell asleep, but it's gone. Poof. Into the amniotic ether. But yes, here I am. Still pregnant. Kind of tired of the incredulous looks and exclamations when I tell people my due date is 10, 9, 8, 7, 6 days away. I guess I should be happy that no one has said, Oh my god you're so BIG. I don't really feel that big (except when trying to get in/get out/roll over in bed - for some reason those things are AMAZINGLY DIFFICULT. And require a lot of grunting.). I was in the office for a couple of hours the other day (I'm working mostly from home now, primarily so I don't have to actually get dressed and can wear stretchy maternity yoga pants allllll the time) and I felt like such a spectacle, as everyone and their assistant asked when the due date was, when my last day of work was, if I was feeling OK. My goodness. A co-worker who sits in an adjoining officle (cubicle + door = officle) overheard me tell someone it was 9 days until my due date. She came literally running over after he left, and seemed quite alarmed about me being in the office when I could clearly have a baby at any second! Right here in this office, on the ugly carpet! She is in at least her late 40's, unmarried, no children. And she has watched waaaay too many movie/TV representations of labor. "Do you have a suitcase here at work?" No, because I'm not really working here at the office, and I live five minutes away. "Do you have a backup emergency plan if you go into labor here?" Uh, no, because again, I live five minutes away, my birth place is 10 minutes away, my husband works in the building, most women go into labor at night in the safety of darkness, and labor is generally long. Loooooong. (Unless of course you are my friend Janine whose babies slide out in 2 hours or less and walks around 8 cm dilated with no discernible contractions. But she's extra-speshul, and her genes are going to kick all of our genes' asses.) "Well, I'm right over here if you need anything." Yes, and I will definitely turn to you instead of say, my husband, or my doula, or a trained childbirth professional. Thanks. I know she means well, but come on.
The belly is definitely full up. Sometimes the baby stretches, and it's almost painful as my skin pulls taut, I think, there is just no more room in there. And ow, as a little heel or elbow thrusts out with surprising power. I haven't really felt like OMG get out this very second get out but I will be glad to reclaim whatever is left of my body. I just want to eat, y'all. Like a full dinner, with spicy food, and a whole entire beer and dessert, and no goddamn heartburn and burping. I have definitely had it with those very special touches of pregnancy.

Sometimes, as I lie in bed, I can feel my "old" body underneath, my hipbones, my abs. I know it's in there, and it will be ready again someday soon to take me on a run, carry the baby to Eastern Market, lift her up in the air to let her look around. It just has a little more work to do first.

We think we're ready. Seth keeps talking to the baby and telling her she can come out now. I reached sort of a peaceful, still place about it a couple of weeks ago, realizing I was ready to give myself over to labor whenever it happened. The baby clothes are all washed, our bags are packed for the birth center, the baby is head down, face down, in optimal position for labor (high five, baby!), we actually installed the car seat correctly (apparently we are baby seat installation geniuses). Massage, relaxation, Bradley method, yoga, Happiest Baby, breastfeeding - we've taken classes, read, practiced, breathed.

And of course, when we got this baby sling as a gift, we immediately put the dog into it to try it out, because who doesn't do that? After the trial run, we're glad the baby will be smaller. And less hairy.

Fleeing the scene

We have temporarily fled our under-construction house.

It all came about kind of quickly. Seth's parents were here about two weeks ago, to deliver the dog back to us for safekeeping while they are in England and Australia. They were also here to look at apartments. A second grandchild on a third continent has made for some geographic challenges for my in-laws. Their primary residence is currently in London, where they've lived for the last eight or so years. For awhile, Seth's brother, his wife, and Grandchild #1 also lived in London. Which was great for everyone - loads of free babysitting for my brother-in-law, and my parents-in-law could get their baby fix. A little over a year ago, my brother-in-law got a great job offer in Melbourne, Australia. Which he took. So, Grandchild #1 (and his parents) moved to Australia. My in-laws have been on several month-long visits in the last year, and there has been some lobbying from some members of the family to get us to move to Australia so that everyone could conveniently be on the same continent. We aren't going anywhere, especially not after the Great Renovation is done, so that part of my mother-in-law's fondest dream won't be fulfilled. Unless of course we win the lottery or someone offers us very lucrative sinecures in Melbourne.

So, now we've gone and made everything more complicated by having Grandchild #2 on a continent that is neither Europe nor Australia. Now, my in-laws are wondering if they want to move back to the U.S. permanently (they spend summers here), and if so, where? They're considering DC, in order to be as close to the shiny new grandchild as possible. They definitely want to be here for awhile when the baby is born (which we think is fantastic - these people definitely know a lot more about babies than we do and we know they'll make sure we can keep her alive), and kind of try out the area, so they've rented an apartment. Due to the ridiculous glut of high-rise condo and apartment buildings constructed in the blind optimism of the real estate boom, they were able to find a place that would give them a short-term lease. While they were here looking, they asked if we might want to stay in the place while our house was being worked on, and if so, they'd rent it right away. We deferred and said, no, we're fine. Really! We don't mind living in one room, eating dinner sitting on our bedroom rug (it's like a picnic!), having to turn off all the lights to run the microwave because otherwise it will overload the pathetic upstairs circuit, washing dishes in the tub, weaving around the boxes stacked to the ceiling....and what's a little construction dust on everything? It's an adventure! I think they were rightfully probably completely horrified at the way we were subsisting.

The tipping point was the dog. The sad, pathetic dog who just had cruciate ligament surgery, requires a whole regimen of pills and supplements to treat his Cushing's disease, stiff aging joints, and allergies, and has to be carried up and down all stairs for the next six weeks while his ligaments heal. Plus he comes with a lot of stuff. And it turned out there was just no more room for one more living creature and his stuff in our one-room living space.
After one day of my popping pregnant self lugging Rufus (who the groomer has described as a "portly little guy") up and down our narrow rowhouse stairs and cast-iron stoop three times a day, barricading him in our bedroom to keep him out of the way the construction workers, and tripping over his pointy little Nylabones on the floor of our bedroom because there is no other room to be in, I agreed with Seth that we should just accept the generous, wonderful offer and move out of our damn house. (Seth does suspect he was at the end of the list of parties his parents could not go on allowing to live in the construction zone. We think the list of concern went in this priority order: (1) unborn grandchild; (2) gestating mother; (3) pathetic dog; and (4) oh yeah. Seth.)

So we did. Now we're living in what I think of as the Alternate Seth & Roberta Universe. In this alternate plane, we're a fresh-faced young (looking) couple, new to the neighborhood, with a baby obviously on the way, and a cute little dog, and we're moving into this spiffy new ultra-modern high-rise apartment building in an up-and-coming neighborhood, because we got a good deal on it, and it's near our offices, and we love new, modern buildings with game rooms and roof decks and free WiFi, and chatting up all the front desk folks, and we're saving up for a house.....It's so weird. This place is so not us. But who cares, because we have a KITCHEN and LAUNDRY. ALL IN ONE PLACE. And CABLE. Did I mention CABLE? WITH HBO AND A DVR. Even if the common areas do have furniture that looks like this:


These chairs? So not comfortable, in case you were wondering. Do not recommend flopping down in one, especially with the loosening joints and extra 25 lbs. of 7+ months of pregnancy.

(Interestingly, one of the building managers and his young wife actually ARE the alternate universe us - they have a little dog, and her due date is a couple of weeks after mine. So far, they are the only other people we have seen who also actually live in this building. Something like 20 of 200 available units are rented. Our whole floor is vacant, except for us.)

Seth's parents also rented furniture and dishes and things for the apartment, so that they will be comfortable whenever we vacate it. I had no idea you could do such a thing, but I guess these things are needed for corporate apartments all the time. The furniture is comfortable, if awfully....beige.

And in the category of Just Because We Needed More Shit Going On, we discovered earlier this week that our external hard drive had been erased. You know, the hard drive that we bought to be the super-safe backup of all our laptop data? After a whole lot of visits to the Mac Genius Bar to get our laptop issues fixed, we discovered that our laptop would no longer recognize our external hard drive. We'd plug it in, and the Mac acted like it didn't even exist. Which, well, it didn't, since it was BLANK. We think it got fried in the same thunderstorm that killed our modem. Despite the fact that the hard drive was plugged into a very expensive surge protector. Apparently, just the surrounding electrical surging energy and whatnot can be enough to wipe the data. Fortunately, the worst thing we lost was all of our music, most of which we still have on CDs, and the rest of which is still on the Mac. It just means many hours of downloading CDs again. (Breastfeeding project, perhaps? Put baby on boob. Insert CD. Click. Wait for both downloads to finish. Repeat.) So, we bought the SUV-version of a hard drive and backed up what we still have on our Mac. And we will never be keeping this hard drive plugged in or near a lot of other electronic stuff. Ever. And making more DVD data backups, so we can be sure to save priceless, high-quality, flattering photos like these forever:
Some fat guy we saw at a Red Sox- Orioles game once.

So long, and thanks for all the fish, Part 2

Or, the urban raccoons of Capitol Hill strike again.

The other morning, Seth let the dog out into the backyard, and the dog went berserk, running around, barking, sniffing, whining. The neighbor's dogs were doing the same thing. Then, our neighbor told Seth that we had a new resident on the block: a smallish raccoon that had taken up residence in a niche between our two rowhouses. It appeared to be a smaller, and different raccoon than the one that turned the neighbor's fishpond into an impromptu sushi bar a couple of months ago.

Our neighbor called the local humane society to see if they could come capture the raccoon, since none of us are that crazy about mammals burrowing into our houses, or giving fleas & ticks to our dogs and kids. The humane society's response was that they do not come out to capture apparently healthy wild animals. If we wanted it trapped, we could do it ourselves or hire a private trapper (I'm just imagining a Dog The Bounty Hunter for animals kind of guy showing up on the front steps).

So, our neighbor is trying Plan A, the "Have-A-Heart" humane trap:

Cozy and inviting, eh?
Comes with room service! Delicious, well-aged sardines!

So far, no luck. Perhaps a bowl of goldfish (and not the Pepperidge Farm crackers) would be more enticing?

So long, and thanks for all the fish

We have raccoons on Capitol Hill. At least one, anyhow. A big, fat furry fella clambered his way into my neighbors' backyard and went fishing in their little Zen waterfall fishpond, making quick sushi out of their Last Surviving Goldfish.

I just have so many questions. Where did the raccoon come from (Rock Creek Park? Virginia)? How did he get to Capitol Hill (bus? taxi? hitchhiking?)? Why did he come to Capitol Hill (Adams Morgan was too loud?)? What is he eating (other than unlucky goldfish)? Where does he live (a studio at the Congressional Apartments? The lush lawns of the Capitol grounds?)? How does he get along with the alley rats?

I am such a sucker for an animal story

This tendency runs in my family. When I made a visit home with a law school beau many years ago, my dad regaled my hapless boyfriend with his endless litany of Animal Stories. These stories starred not just our own Noah's Ark of pets, but other people's animals and livestock, and wild animals. I'd heard these stories for years, so I didn't pay too much attention, but I did notice when my otherwise night-owl boyfriend excused himself to go to bed at 9:00 pm. The next day, he said,"I'm sorry I just went to bed, but I couldn't listen to one more Animal Story."

A few years later, when my parents moved from New Mexico to Idaho (New Mexico had clearly become overrun with too many people and too few animals, so they set out for a less populous, more rural state), I learned on one visit that something inevitable had happened. We were driving to my aunt's house, via the back roads, when my mother said "Which left do I want to take?" and my father replied, "It's the one by the house with the three-legged dog." "Oh, of course, the three-legged dog" confirms my mother, with no hint of sarcasm, mockery, etc. Yes, my parents had begun to give directions by animals.

So, with such influences in my life, you can see why I might find this story irresistible:


Swan, Paddleboat Getting Back Together

Mar 26th, 2008 BERLIN -- Petra the swan has a new home and so does her beloved swan-shaped paddleboat.
In 2006, Petra, a black swan, became so attached to the boat — shaped like an outsized white swan — that she refused to leave its side at a lake near a zoo in the German city of Muenster.
Petra and her paddleboat were taken to the zoo.
Zoo officials finally parted bird and boat last week after Petra settled down with a real white swan and the boat was returned to the lake. But the romance was short-lived. The zoo says that, on Saturday, her new beau flew off and sought out the company of other black swans.
A zoo statement says that Petra "appears to feel lonely" and is swimming around in an agitated state. The solution? On Friday, she will be taken back to the nearby lake and her faithful paddleboat.