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March 3, 2004
I came to work on Monday and found the friendly reminder in my Inbox: “Your iParenting Diary has not been updated in more than 3 weeks … we know that life can get a bit hectic and sometimes things get forgotten …”
So I have to write something, don’t I? But that’s just the problem, my life hasn’t been at all hectic over the past three weeks, it’s been downright boring and I’m sure you’re not all that interested in reading about Andrei’s first ever stomach bug or how Barsik’s whiskers are finally growing back after he lost them due to his curiosity about a candle, or about how I HATE taking the metro to work every morning … that’s not any more interesting to read about than it is to write about. Thus the yawning (and I mean it literally) chasm of silence.
But I sort of promised Allisun I’d write, so write something I must.
Up here in the far north, winter is still in full force. We’re all very ready for spring, including Barsik the cat. Barsik, who usually has the energy of a three-toed sloth, has been living bouncy pouncy nights the last week or so. Nothing like waking up at 5 a.m. with to the cat using your big toe protruding from the blankets as a means to practice his hunting skills. Realistically, spring won’t be here until the beginning of May, and that’s if we’re lucky. Last year the trees didn’t grow leaves until closer to June.
At the beginning for February, I signed Anna up for pre-school beginning in September. The downpayment on that would feed many a Russian family for at least half a year. Speaking of which, I bet you didn’t know that there are approximately 6 million children living in orphanages in Russia.
If you’ve been reading my diary for a while, you will know that Dima and I are set on having one more child. Dima is certainly leaning toward that third child being biological, while, the more I think about it (and believe me, after 4 miscarriages I have thought about it a lot), I am more and more wanting to adopt. However, I have absolutely no experience with adoption, knowing neither people who have adopted, nor people who have been adopted. Actually, the whole adoption thing in Russia is quite taboo, which is part of the reason there are so many children in orphanages. Dima would certainly agree to adopting if we were advised not to have any more children, or if we were not able to.
I finally decided to try to find out if there is a reason I’ve been getting pregnant but having the pregnancy almost immediately spontaneously terminate. Last week found me at “the Center for Miscarriage of Pregnancy”, a bring your own rubber gloves, syringes and sheet place I’d gone to when I had problems in the pregnancies with Andrei and Anna. I gave the finger to my super-high-tech sterile western clinic when I went in after my 4th early miscarriage only to have the doctor say “you already have two children, what are you so worried about?” Not the answer I was looking for.
So far, we don’t know anything, except that there’s something weird going on with my boobs. The doctor tweaked my nipples and out of each came a drop of milk the size of a pinhead. “That’s abnormal” she said. Gotta love the bedside manners of Russian doctors. I’ve noticed ever since Andrei was born that if I squeeze my nipples REALLY HARD (why would I be doing this, you ask) I get the same reaction. Didn’t really give it too much though, preferring to direct my hypochondria elsewhere. So along with a zillion other blood tests, I’m going in on Monday to have my prolactin levels tested. Ironic, for a woman who couldn’t breastfeed.
What are Andrei and Anna up to these days? Well, Anna has now fully potty trained herself (except for nights when she wears a pull-up). She and Andrei get a huge kick of pooing simultaneously, he on the toilet, she on the potty, making all sorts of fake and disgusting noises. I’ve also been letting Anna feed herself (I’m such a control freak that I was still “helping” her eat). So far so good. Her big incentive in all this has been the “reward” that she’ll get to go to Andrei’s pre-school in September. She is still in the habit of having major screaming falling flat on the floor temper tantrums when something doesn’t go her way, like not being able to put on her tights so the heel indentation is at the heel.
Andrei is also well, he did have his first stomach bug, his first puke at the ripe old age of 3 years 9 months. I’d been waiting for that moment for the past 3 years. You see, Andrei has a habit of putting things in his mouth. He’s been known to take the tires off his small metal cars and stuff them in his mouth. Fingers, sticks, filthy gloves, SNOW (a BIG no-no), cat sand, flakes of paint, Lego, and last weekend he ATE part of my bath bomb (like a humungous round bath salt), you name it, Andrei’s tasted it. You’re probably thinking that at almost 4, he’s too old to be “mouthing” everything, you’re probably thinking “get that boy to a child psychologist”, and I was worried, too, until I began thinking that it runs in the family. My dad the eminent biochemist is 61 and still bites his nails. I bit my nails until on fine day at the age of 25 I got so sick I ended up in the hospital on an IV for 2 weeks and nevertheless I’m still known to pop my finger in my mouth for a quick chew. Finger chewing champion of Russia and the former USSR is my dearly beloved and Andrei’s dad – Dima. So you could say the oral reflex is probably just very overdeveloped in our family. Nyus, on the other hand prefers to stick things in her NOSE. Yuck.
In closing, I’d like to mention some books I’ve read in the past weeks. For my birthday, I got a big package of books from my dad, yippee! It’s such a treat for me to read books in English, Usually you’ll find me sitting in the metro with my head in the latest Russian supermarket detective novel.
Everything is Illuminated – the broken English was way too hard for me, that and it’s stream of consciousness made what was probably a very touching and horrible story too difficult for this Russian gal.
Russian Debutantes Handbook – Two thumbs up from me. This was the book I’d write if I knew how to write. But for the “broader public” who hasn’t been a Russian immigrant to North America, lived in Prague in the 90s, I don’t know if you’ll find yourself nodding in agreement and laughing out loud like I did.
Babyville – Theoretically, I should have loved this, but for some reason, I just could not get into it at all.
Secret Life of Bees – I never in a million years thought I would like this book. I usually avoid PC, touchy-feely, “women’s” literature, but my dad sent me Bees and I stayed up all night reading it. What a wonderful book.
Don’t know how she does it – I found this book totally unexpectedly in a bookshop on my way to the metro. There are about 50 English language books for sale in the city of St. Petersburg and this was one of them. Having no idea what it was about, but out of books for my metro ride home, I took it. Ummm, this woman has written about my life as a guilt-ridden everysecond of the day overscheduled working mum. Many may think it’s an exaggeration and over-the-top, but no, it isn’t.
And that’s what I’ll write about in my next entry, entitled: “Anna has all the Baby Born clothes available in Europe because her mother works”
Poka!
Lisa
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