May 2006

Granna to Kate: No "Wednesday’s Child"

As most people who know me already know, I grew up in a very close, family-centered, multi-generational household. Added to that is the fact that my parents grew up across the street from one another and shared in a long-standing family relationship that preceded them by more than a generation. The closeness among everyone meant that I grew up thinking that all families were “one” family — no such thing as a “mom’s side” or a “dad’s side” — and in fact, this concept was frankly something that did not occur to me until my late teens.

One of the beautiful things about how I was raised, particularly as the eldest and a girl, was that I became the default historian for our family’s oral history. Living with extended relatives day after day means that you have the gift of knowing, truly knowing, who they are — not just who they are through birthday cards and yearly visits. You share in their daily beliefs, fears, joys, faults, and triumphs.

Following my Grandmother’s beliefs, we had fish on Fridays (especially good Friday and on each Christmas Eve, when fish was joined by homemade pierogies). I still have the urge for fish each Friday. When I spill salt, I always throw a pinch over a shoulder (this drives Paul crazy). And when someone on the street irritates me, I mumble curses in Ukrainian. I feel these little things connect me to those who came before me and it makes me feel grounded and secure in who I am.

My Mother had a similar situation growing up. She was the eldest and a girl and grew up steps away from her grandmothers and great aunts. Her large Italian family passed down many superstitions. For example, my mother and both of her brothers were born on Tuesdays. These were the 50s, when it was believed that women were too delicate to handle childbirth. My Grandmother, petite thing that she is, was therefore thought to be incapable of delivering a child vaginally — she was knocked out and each child delivered via Cesarean. Dr. Wolf (my Grandmother’s OB) only performed surgeries on Tuesdays and Fridays. My Great-Grandmother, Ann DiMarzio (my namesake), urged Grandma Betty to go with Tuesdays because she worried that one of Betty’s children could end up being born on a Friday the 13th, which she viewed as unlucky. So Tuesday was everyone’s birthday. I’m told that everyone breathed a sigh of relief when I, too, was also born on a Tuesday (of my own accord). My brother was born on a Saturday, which was a little upsetting to the women in my family. This is all due to the old rhyme:

Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go.
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for a living,
But the child born on the Sabbath Day,
Is fair and wise and good and gay.

My own Mother will tell you that this contributes to her belief that Skip (my brother) will always have to work hard; similarly, my Dad was born on a Saturday and she says the same thing about him. I don’t actually think she takes it to heart, necessarily, but having grown up around those who took these things very seriously, I say that it definitely weighs on her mind.

So now we come to Kate. My Mother was very concerned that Kate would be born on a Wednesday. Thursday is not a choice day either, but would be preferred over Wednesday. Since things have been getting a little more interesting in the past few days, Kate’s birth day-of-the-week has been regular conversation.

We’re almost through Wednesday and I feel quite confident that today will not be Kate’s birthday. Kate must be listening to her very wise and loving guardian angels (and her Granna) who were all holding their breath that she would wait at least another day.

(I’m still thinking Friday, Paul’s birthday… and I’m hopefully for this day as well. It’s not Mother Goose but meconium which weighs heavy on my mind!)

(Incidentally, Paul was born on a Tuesday. Will on a Friday.)

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Fly Man

If you are missing your fix of the world’s coolest kid, check this out.

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Update

– Restless night, restless morning. Played with Will and rested.
– Cramping all night/morning (normal), turned “regular” around 3pm. Gentle contractions, 10-15 secs long, about 4 minutes apart. Took a shower and enjoyed the water, laid down for a nap.
– Still crampy/contracting, feeling fine. Took a walk outside after nap time, played with Will.
– Went out for CB dinner with the family, still feeling good. Still having mild contractions.

My money is still on Paul’s bday (Friday the 5th) but it would not be a surprise for things to start earlier!

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Consumption Gumption

Interesting turn of events in the dissertation department. My Peruvian advisor/committee member/mentor extraordinaire, Valerie, is moving back to the States at the end of the summer. This radically changes plans for us, since she was the biggest draw of Lima as a dissertation study location. More and more, I’m drawn to the idea of studying Latino issues in post-K NOLA. This has always been an area of interest for me (immigration, labor, and health) and is certainly a timely issue for an area in a crossroads. Whether hormonal, emotional, political, or circumstance, the thought of staying domestic for the next few years has brought out a strong sense of American Consumption.

In other words, I have the “I wants.” It’s not a particularly long list, but it’s a doosy. I’m so embarrassed.

– A minivan. Either the Odyssey or Sienna, fully loaded (of course), 2004 or newer.
– I want to see our house dreams (ie: renovation) realized. In my lifetime.

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39 weeks, 2 days

Mood: excited, anxious, grumpy, sad, tired, loving, needy, irritated — yes, all at once
Baby: low, low, low
Bathroom: at least once an hour
Clothes: either super tight around my middle or slipping off from below — it’s more and more difficult to not have some midrift showing
Nesting: big time. I rearranged multiple dressers, closets, bathroom drawers, and purged a ton of stuff — even brought two big bags to Salvation Army this morning. Normally this would not seem a strange thing, but this is not my house.
Car seat: yesterday morning I spent over an hour cleaning it for the third time. I used some cleaning chemistry know-how and managed to get it into good shape. It’s finally dry and put back together. Looks like new.

I am floating between wanting to get the show on the road (so to speak) to wanting a little more time. Hopefully, the rest of the pictures for Will’s scrapbook will arrive tomorrow so that I can finish it up. Then I will feel much more accomplished.

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