Addition Problems: May 2006

Anybody home?

We're still here but have been busy with out-of-town visitors and um, a baby. (Gee, it felt like a longer list of things that was keeping us busy....) There's a post that's ready and just waiting for some photo permissions from aforementioned guests. In the meantime, I leave you with these tidbits:

1) You know you're really tired when you discover that you have put on your bra inside out. (No wonder it was so hard to fasten!)

2) I am SUCH a total geek. A safety geek and a technogeek. Oh, and a mom geek. As a safety geek, I refuse to put any of those "see your baby from the front seat" mirrors in the back of the car because in an accident they could become a projectile and a huge hazard. As a technogeek and a mom geek, I now carry the digital camera all the time. And we have enrolled with TrixieTracker to indulge the techno/mom geekiness. When you put that all together, you get this:

Yup. I really hate not being able to see her, plus for the TrixieTracking I needed to know if she was awake or asleep, so....

(And to fend off any OTHER safety geeks, I took the picture at a red light. A very LONG red light.)

What IS it with me and the Feds anyway?

Natalie and I were enjoying a late breakfast, as is our custom -- which is to say, I was making my toast and nursing her in a sling -- when there was a knock at the front door this morning. Assuming it was one of my neighbors, I opened the door without looking, and was somewhat surprised to discover a nondescript gentleman in a three-piece suit with a notebook in his hand. "You look busy," he said, "but I'm from the FBI and we're doing a background check on one of your former neighbors who used to live next door." Envisioning a VERY awkward interview with the baby at the boob, I tried to dodge the bullet, truthfully saying that the same people had lived next door to us since we moved in. As I spoke, Natalie progressed from calmly eating to fussy head-bobbing. I made no effort to hide the breast-wrangling as I tried to help her get going again. The agent seemed undeterred and proceeded to explain that the person in question was the daughter of our current neighbors, and had indeed lived there in the time we had been next door. Desperate, I told him -- again, completely honestly -- that I really didn't know her. As Natalie wailed helpfully and I flapped my mammary in his general direction, he finally conceded that I probably wouldn't be able to help much, thanked us, and went on his way. Phew.

But really, first the IRS and now the FBI. Who's next?

On a Happier Note

Natalie was four weeks old yesterday. She'll be officially one month tomorrow. She's growing. She's learning to make noises that are not related to crying. She smiles at us, and it nearly dissolves me. She still loves baths and has discovered the joys of naked time. She kicks her legs and flails her arms and looks around with glee. She holds her head up for extended periods, and then releases control so her head comes crashing down on one of us. She somewhat grudgingly takes a bottle from me every day or so, just for practice. Like Sanna, she's all about the Dr. Browns, and won't consider an Avent. She entertains us by waking up grunting, stretching, and desperately searching for the boob. She only breaks into wails if it takes too long to get there.

Yesterday we went to Jen's mom's house for dinner. We're sort of in the doghouse over some Mother's Day drama (which shall remain a story for another day). So...we went all out. We dressed Natalie up in a dress Jen's mom had given us, and topped it off with booties and a bonnet. Between the overwhelming cute girliness and the photobook we had made for her, we escaped with very little in the way of reprimands or scolding.

We're thrilled to finally be mothers this Mother's Day. Here's wishing all mothers--past, present, and future--the happiest of days.

It's Enough to Make a Person Go Postal

If it weren't for the wonderful cards and gifts that keep arriving for Natalie, I swear I would just stop picking up the mail. Practically every day we get another piece of bureacratic pestilence in our mailbox. Today's reduced me to a quivering, sobbing lump.

Shortly after she was born, we began to receive form letters from our insurance company for Natalie's medical claims (her birth and three pediatrician appointments to date), saying she wasn't listed as a dependent and that if she were not added to the policy within 45 days, they would refuse payment on the claims. However, the insurance company insists that they have to be notified by my employer before they will add her and my employer is adamant that we have to submit her birth certificate and Social Security number before they will enroll her. The insurance company says dependents must be added within 45 days of birth; HR says you have up to 60 days. In any case, we have yet to receive either a birth certificate or a Social Security number for her, but we get the form letters 2-3 times a week.

You may recall that a few weeks before Natalie's arrival, the I*R*S sent me a charming missive challenging my first time homebuyer deduction in 2003. Yesterday, the DC government sent an inquiry to both Cait and me, debating our Homestead deduction. Unless Cait has a tropical island getaway she's not telling me about, this *IS* our sole and primary residence and we *ARE* entitled to the deduction, but we now have to jump through hoops to prove it.

Today's mail brought TWO doozies. First, the I*R*S has decided that my 2003 return was incorrect, so I owe them more than $5,500 in back taxes, interest, and penalties. Given that I had a baby in the middle of the 30 days when I was supposed to dredge up the documentation for my 2003 filing, I was a little late (3 days) sending them my proof of ownership, so hopefully I can get this straightened out in the end. But it's NOT what I want to be doing during my short time home with Natalie.

Second, we got a letter from the midwives informing us that DC Vital Records has rejected Natalie's birth certificate application saying that her last name must be my maiden name unless we list her father's name on the birth certificate. DC has a ridiculous law that babies can only have their mother or father's last name. The ENTIRE reason I rushed the name change through before she was born was so that she could have Cait's last name from birth (by making it MY name too). Not only does this infuriate me because we can't give our child the name we want (yet - don't think we won't be fighting this) but it also compounds the difficulty of getting her on the insurance because the birth certificate info hasn't even been filed yet, 28 days into the 45 or 60 day countdown.

Makes a mailbox full of credit card offers, catalogs, and political flyers seem downright heartwarming, doesn't it?

Kilroy Was Here

Is there something that you buy again and again, yet no matter how many you have, you can never find one when you want it? For me, the top two contenders are nail clippers and chapstick. The chapstick situation is so bad that Cait and I give each other chapstick routinely as gifts (e.g. in Christmas stockings - in our defense, each of us is particular to a brand that is difficult to find). But the nail clippers drive me MAD. I swear I have bought HUNDREDS of them, but they always vanish. If we ever move from this home, I bet I'll end up with a moving box full of them.

How about you?

Wardrobe Malfunction

If you should ever find yourself in the position of being a breastfeeding mom, I have a fashion tip for you. Those nursing shirts with openings are great. However, when you get up to answer the door and let in a repair person, make sure that the flaps have been pulled back into place and that your bra has been returned to its upright and locked position BEFORE opening the door.

I'm just sayin'.

Bathing Beauty

As of yesterday, Natalie is finally cordless. This morning she got her first real bath. We were expecting screams and wails, given her reaction to the sponge baths she's had so far. Surprisingly, we got this: