I don't like what's going on with women's and children's healthcare in Texas.

So.  Yeah.  This may be a bit incoherent, because every discussion about abortion inevitably becomes incoherent.  With that caveat, here we go:

I doubt that there are many people who read this blog who are unaware that I live in Texas.  But just in case someone doesn't know that, I do.  I live in Texas.

You, friends and readers, may have heard or read about State Senator Wendy Davis's filibuster of a bill that would, in effect, close many women's clinics that provide abortions by requiring that they conform to the standards of ambulatory surgery centers.

The bill would also provide for, I think, a far less controversial (though still objectionable to many people) 20 week limitation on abortions in Texas.  (The current limit, as of the writing of this post, is 24 weeks.)  The bill has been reintroduced in a special session of the legislature, and it will pass.  People predict with some level of certainty that the passage of this bill will close down all but five abortion clinics in the state (one in Dallas, one in Austin, one in San Antonio, and two in Houston).

Texas women are already required to have a sonogram and wait 24 hours before an abortion procedure may be performed.

So here's the problem:  availability of abortions will, probably, be vastly diminished for vast swaths of lower income and rural women in the state.

And here's my fear:  that's not going to stop these women wanting to terminate their pregnancies.  They will seek other means that are far less safe than the non-ambulatory surgical centers that they currently visit today.

This is scary.

My personal feelings on the subject shouldn't matter that much, but for the sake of clarity, I return to former President Bill Clinton's comment that abortion should be "safe, legal and rare."  That is and always has been my position. (Also, I should note a fact:  I have been inside a Texas abortion clinic.  For the sake of the privacy of all parties concerned, I am not going to describe the circumstances of the visit.  But I want to say this:  It was fine.  It was not a happy place.  The protestors did not help and, were, in fact, ineffective.  People do not merrily skip up to a clinic to end a pregnancy.  People do this in great anxiety and sobriety.)

But back to the bill.  I said that abortions should be "safe."

So, yes, the bill is aimed, at some level, at safety, but I fear that the safety measures sought to be imposed are attempting to force the "rare" part of Mr. Clinton's equation by making abortions harder to get.  Making them harder to get does not mean that they won't happen.  It means that there will be far less safe abortions performed in the shadows.  They just will be.  Deal with it.  And women will be harmed; some may die.

So let's talk about how to make abortions more rare:  prevent the pregnancies from happening in the first place.  This means:  (a) better sex education for the people of Texas (including adults, through their doctors) and (b) more widely available contraceptives.  But Texas doesn't want to do that either.  (By the way, the sex education that I think should be provided really ought to contain a component of what pregnancy is and its awesome life-altering-ness.  Honestly, I never knew until I was 39 years old and pregnant for the first time.  That's awfully late in life to learn a fundamental fact about my sexuality.  Maybe the only way to learn it is to go through it, but I think maybe we could do a little better in trying to get that message across prior to the actual pregnancy.)

But I mentioned children's healthcare too in my title.  Right.  What did I mean?

I meant that Texas does not want to provide adequate healthcare for the children of poverty.  Indeed, the sponsor of the Texas House of Representatives version of the bill, Jodie Laubenberg, cannot maintain a coherent position on the status of that entity that grows in a woman's womb.

For the purposes of her present abortion restrictions bill, that entity is a human child deserving of protection.  For the purposes of funding prenatal care for expectant mothers under Texas's version of the CHIP program, Ms. Laubenberg argued that the mothers of in utero humans were undeserving of economic support for prenatal and perinatal care in the first three months of pregnancy under CHIP because their children "were not born yet."

So for the purposes of the abortion bill, these pre-born humans are deserving of utmost protection, but for the purposes of the CHIP program, they're not deserving of vital healthcare until the fourth month.  All of our Ob/Gyns tell us that we need to be getting prenatal care ASAP as it ensures the best outcomes for the pregnancy and the child it will produce.  So why deny it until the fourth month?  It's bizarre.

But it's not, if you think about how most people view abortion, which is through the lens of viability.  Most people hold their nose and turn the other way when you're talking about an abortion in the first three months of pregnancy.  Ms. Laubenberg was just betraying her own prejudices in that regard when she made that statement that they "were not born yet."  She holds her nose and turns the other way too in the first trimester.

And that's because we all understand at least that part of the science:  no embryo or fetus is viable at twelve weeks gestation.  At twelve weeks gestation or earlier, pregnancies are still potential.  But at 24 weeks?  Well, I know of at least two babies born that early who have lived.  So, yeah, at 24 weeks we're talking about at least a fighting chance at life outside the womb.

So, indeed, the 20 weeks limit proposed in the bill, while perhaps not based in sound science, is based in the sort of hunch we all have:  that somewhere between 12 and 24 weeks, potential becomes probability.  For me, it was when I felt my baby move for the first time -- 17 to 18 weeks -- that's when I began to see the future with a real baby.  But that, I admit, is purely arbitrary and should not be utilized as a standard by which one should pass a law.  (Still, it informs my opinions and personal prejudices.)

But the fundamental hypocrisy of wanting to prevent abortions, but not wanting to provide prenatal healthcare for the pregnant women, or provide contraceptive and gynecological services to the poor persists.

So to end my little tirade here's my prescription for a compromise:

1. Safe, legal, and rare abortions.
2. Adequate healthcare for the indigent women and children, including in utero children, of the State of Texas.
3. Comprehensive sex education for the people of Texas.
4. Affordable contraception so as to prevent unwanted pregnancies.

And what I do not want, but fear I may see in the near future:  Women being injured or, God forbid, dying in "back alley" clinics in poor and rural areas of Texas.  Babies being born into a system that will not ensure that they and their mothers have adequate healthcare and support.  It's not enough to prevent the abortion.  If you prevent the abortion and a child is born, we must ensure not just that she lives, but that she has the opportunity to thrive.

I think Texas is smart enough, I think Texas is good enough, to do that.

Bad Poetry

Mine. Not someone else's.

TRAFFIC 

Here I go Here I go Here I go going

South.

There you go There you go There you go

North.

Elvis C sing Miracle Man

To me as I drive my blue Civic

South.

What do you hear in your car

As you steer through your paces driving

North?

Roadside toy truck teddy bear

little sock pillow and shoe Tears

South.

What do you see as you make

Your own breeze and drive past me going

North?

Chick fil A titty bars el mercado means Market billboards of my view going

South.

What do you see as you cruise

Through pavement grooves making your way

North?

I compose at speed and revise

As I steer distracted and bored driving

South.

What do you think as we pass in a blink

And. You. Go.

North?

So this is why I don’t write novels

Too much to memorize driving

South.

What is it that you don’t do as worn

Paths you pursue and continue driving

North?

Summertime In Texas

Ugh. 

It's shorts and flip flops weather.

My thighs and I hate shorts weather. 

But my feet and I are kind of into flip flops weather. 

P.S.  My giant calves are not fans of capri pants.

And my easily sun burnt arms and shoulders don't care for tank tops.

We all like maxi skirts, though, so that's good.

And hats.

And sunglasses.

Summertime in Texas. 

Tricky.

Yeah, all that stuff I said about finding a middle ground? Never mind.

So, we're softies at heart, I guess. And we tried to ease into the toddler bed situation. 

But the fact is that The Boy had us up the better part of the wee hours of the morning all week because our slacking screwed up his sleep schedule.  We're talking 2 to 3 hours a night. 

All the good sleep training went to hell in a hand basket in less than a week.  But it's easily recoverable. And we know how.

So we're going through a Ferber moment even as I tap this out on my iPad. It's been about 20 minutes. I've been up to see him twice. He's having interludes of quiet just now, which means it'll be over soon, and tomorrow night will likely be smooth sailing. It typically only takes one (maybe two) nights to get him back on track after we've gotten off course.

I've probably got one more visit to hug and kiss and say, "I love you. You're the best boy ever."

***

Which I just did....  He did not spring from his bed and chase me as I left the room, as he did the other two times.  He listened as I told him he was "so safe," and we were close, and we all needed sleep to recharge our batteries so we can play tomorrow, and I love him soooo much.

And he's quiet, now. It took 30 minutes, all in. As The Working Dad just said, "That Ferber stuff is hard."

But it does work. And I know that I'll have a happy well-rested boy in the morning.

Sleep training is as much about the parents as it is about the child. And it looks like The Working Mom and Dad had to learn that lesson again, at the cost of The Boy's tears.

And that's the hardest part of it all. You're sort of left feeling like you could have prevented this if only you hadn't been a little bit of a jellyfish.

The sweet part of the other night was still there tonight, though:  he likes to be read to in bed.  And I'm glad.  Maybe tomorrow night "last book" will be followed by a sweet good-night rather than a tempest like tonight.

Night.  Night.

Big Boy Bed Postcript

Now here is where I admit something may be amiss in our new plan. Last night, about two hours after I posted my story about our Big Boy Bed, The Boy woke up crying for "Mommy."

I went up to his room with the intention of sleeping the rest of the night in there, on the floor.  I somehow knew that would be necessary. When I got to his room, he was kneeling on his bed, peering over the toddler rail, staring at the place I had laid, and crying "mommy, mommy, mommy."

I had disappeared in the night, and he was scared. 

That's my fault. I had not made clear the expectations. Tonight, and every night, we will tell him that Mom (or Dad) will stay for a little while, until he sleeps, and then go to bed downstairs. He's smart enough to get that, I think. He may not like it, initially, but it'll save my back and hip....hopefully. That nursery room floor is awfully hard.

Big Boy Bed

This past Saturday afternoon, rather than nap, The Boy escaped from his crib. I should say that the escape was prefaced by the sort of angry, screaming fit that is usually reserved for...I don't know, crazy ex-girlfriends as they are in the process of becoming your ex.

Anyway, The Boy was pissed about being in the crib. Big time pissed.  And was more pissed about being put there to take, of all things, an afternoon nap (when there are Cars DVDs to be watched, and all).

We tried the Ferber thing, as we've done before. After five minutes, it got quiet. Really quiet. We thought, rather mundanely, that he'd fallen asleep.  Then there was a slight yell. Then...the sound of the small TV that we keep in The Boy's room turning on and of the Cars DVD starting up. (Yes, I know you're not supposed to have a TV in the kid's room. But we do. So I guess we're bad parents. Alas.)

I knew I didn't leave the remote anywhere near the crib, so I thought something was wrong with the TV/DVD set up. 

The Working Dad went upstairs to check on The Boy and to figure out what was wrong with the media system. 

The Working Dad peered through the screen door on The Boy's room. He was astonished not to see The Boy in his crib. Then he looked around the room and saw the little man sitting ramrod straight in the rocking chair, remote in his hand, watching Cars. 

Without entering, he came downstairs in silent laughter and sent me up to look.  So up I went, and this is what I saw:

Not only had The Boy escaped, but he had then found the remote, turned on the TV, turned on the DVD player, and started the Cars DVD that was inside it. 

Oh dear.

At a minimum, this meant the immediate, abrupt end to the crib and, with it, the our child's babyhood that The Working Dad and I weren't quite ready to let go of yet. 

Still, time and your acrobatically gifted toddler marches on.  So off came the crib front and on went the toddler rail. We're a big boy now!

He got right up in it and cuddled his doggy friend (Barkley) after if was finished.  But that doesn't mean that The Boy was happy to sleep in the big boy bed at night.  Noooo.

Saturday night was a rough night going to sleep. The Boy's dad ended up rocking him to sleep while listening to Murray Perriah play The Goldberg Variations and similar audio fare.  When we checked on him before going to bed ourselves, he was asleep in the floor. I scooped him up and placed him back into bed.

That's definitely not Ferber. 

But, when your kid can just jump up and run out of the bed, Ferber begins to reveal his limitations. 

And the hallmark of good parenting, I am given to understand, is flexibility. 

Here's what we knew:  The Boy was (a) interested in the big boy bed, but was (b) a bit freaked out about it, probably because it was different and because he understood on some level that it meant he was growing up . . . which in turn means greater independence, which is scary. And we knew (c) that he was generally not excited about going to sleep at night, strongly preferring to hang with us in the livingroom.   (I wonder how he would enjoy the 1979 British mini-series version of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy with Alec Guinness that we've been watching after he goes to bed.)

So how to deal with those facts?

We knew that we wanted him to eventually be willing to sleep in his own bed. But we were worried about the sort of trouble he might get into throwing a tantrum alone in his room at bedtime, which under Ferber would be inevitable. Not that his room is not baby proofed or that we store our knives under his bed or anything, but there are plenty of things to throw and bang into when you're having an epic screaming fit.  So, that, to us, made the Ferber waiting method unattractive in this new big boy bed era.

But rocking to sleep every night, while totally pleasurable for all concerned, doesn't get The Boy acclimated to sleeping in his new big boy bed. Still, we felt that straight up Ferber was not going to work with our exceptionally hard-headed little man. And at 2, fear of abandonment and nightmares are more acute than in infancy. We were searching for a middle way.

So, here's what we're doing:  we do bedtime routine as always. Then, whether it is naptime or bedtime for the night, we tell The Boy it's time to get into his bed and Mom or Dad will lay down on the floor next to him. The first time we tried it was Sunday, Mother's Day, at naptime. After a period of pretty strong resistance, he finally got into bed, I laid down on the floor, and he jabbered a bit for about 15 minutes, and then fell asleep soundly.

Sunday night, we had another little battle, which included me saying, "If you want me to stay, you have to get into bed," which, as The Working Dad said, the Freudians would have a field day with. Nevertheless, he got into bed, I laid down on the floor, held his hand, and he was asleep within 10 minutes.

He slept through that night until about 5:50 am. Granted, that's not the 6:30 to 7:00 wake up we used to get from the guy in his crib. On the other hand, we didn't have a screaming mess of a little boy until 9 o'clock either, which is what we had the last couple of weeks (the build up to The Great Escape, in retrospect).

I should pause here, I suppose, to say that I recognize that my being in the room and holding his hand are forms of sleep crutches that, under a strict reading of The Ferber Method, would be verboten. But we prefer, I think, right now, to view them as bridge activities. They are small things that barely take any of our time that allow him to feel comfortable in his new sleep environment. They will not last forever. And they will, I hope, lead to the thing that began to materialize in Monday night. 

Monday night, we did our nighttime ritual and, after two Pete the Cat books (The Boy's hands down favorite these days), I told him that it was time for him to get into bed and for me to lay down on the floor beside him. He fussed. He balked. He wanted me to read another book. He wanted me to do it sitting in the rocking chair. 

I told him that I would read him the book, but he needed to get into bed first. After a bit of cajoling, he complied.  I read him the book. And his eyelids started to get heavy. I laid down beside him on the floor, and he was again asleep before 10 minutes had passed.  The same happened Tuesday night, but with less fussing about getting into bed. I think we're beginning to work it into our routine.  And every night, except that first Saturday, when I had to retrieve him from the floor, he has slept the whole night in his bed. Whew.

So with the introduction of the big boy bed also comes something, to our delight, The Working Dad and I have been looking forward to: Reading to The Boy in bed. 

So Ferber rule breaker?  Maybe. But when rules seem not to work anymore, maybe you need to revise them.

Wistful mom of a full-blown-toddler-non-infant?  Definitely.  But the sweetness of getting to start this new bedtime reading tradition salves the sting of ruthless time that has taken my baby away and made him into a clever, strong and funny little boy. 

Nighty Night.

The Return of Room Mothers

Well, Teacher Appreciation Week is right around the corner, so it's time for room mothers to get into full swing. Last year my friend and fellow lawyer-mommy (in fact, The Dude's mom), was room parent for our kids' class. This year, I volunteered.

Actually, in a fit of over-exuberance at the beginning of the year, I initially volunteered to be co-chair of the entire PTO. But when what I will call philosophical differences arose in early autumn, I deemed it best to bow out gracefully. I did volunteer to be The Boy's class's room mom, though, just not head of the whole she-bang.

Along the year, I've been impressed with various fund-raising efforts the PTO leadership has done, silent auctions and such. So I felt like my stepping aside was a good move. So I am loathe to complain.

But you know what's coming.... Here's where I start complaining:

We found out about what we're supposed to do for Teacher Appreciation Week yesterday evening. Teacher appreciation week starts a week from Monday (on May 13th). And some classes don't even have room parents yet! (In fact, The Boy and The Dude's class is listed as having no room parent and the powers that be have me assigned to the class those guys left three months ago, but I'm doing my kid's class, folks.)

We room parents are supposed to gather donations from other parents for teacher gifts, make a class wall decoration (using kids' pictures, which will also need to be provided by the parents), and put together (which includes shopping) gift baskets for the teachers. And, oh yeah, next weekend is Mother's Day, a traditionally family oriented holiday, but never mind.

Holy Last Minute Assignments, Batman!

I mean, it's not to say that I can't do it, because I can. But a little more time to plan, shop, do a little art project, and get all the stuff assembled from the other parents, would have been nice. Particularly when you consider that I've got depositions to take regarding one matter and trial of another matter planned for the same time period....

But, hey, who knows, maybe the short timeframe will focus the mind and it will all turn out brilliantly.

Still, just a tip, friends: no parent, but especially not a working parent, wants to have a pile of tasks dropped on them at the last minute. So, all you PTO leaders out there, you know, plan accordingly.