I should know by now not to ever brag about a good night's sleep or baby taking a 3 hour nap. Doing that almost always conjures up an inevitable jinx. No sooner than I posted on Facebook about my child sleeping 13 hours in one night, did my little angel decide to flip the script on me.
She's down to one nap in the afternoon, and I've come to terms with that. As long as she sleeps well at night, I'm not too concerned. At daycare they tell me she needs to be rocked to sleep for naps. I guess the other kids put themselves to sleep, but I already knew my child wouldn't do that. She doesn't do it at home. I still have to nurse her to sleep for naps and at bedtime. I'm fine with that, but the problem is, I'm the only one who can put her to bed at night. I love that time dearly, but Momma needs a break! I talked to some other mommy friends and after hearing "Oh he/she just grabs her lovey, snuggles up and falls asleep in his/her crib within minutes" so many times, I decided I needed a plan. I have the next two weeks off from work for Christmas vacation, so I decided to try putting her down for a nap without nursing her. That's right. I gave myself a homework assignment.
Day 1:
I only nursed her first thing in the morning and did bottles during the day (along with meals). Right around noon, baby girl started showing signs of sleepiness. Now's my chance! I gave her a bottle, rocked her for a few minutes, then put her in her crib and rubbed her back. Just like the other moms said they do. She was pissed. She sat straight up, looked at me like "what the fuck, mom?" and screamed her little head off. But I stayed strong and kept telling her she's ok, rubbed her back and
then left the room. I kept her door open so she could see me do laundry and every few minutes I went to her and rubbed her back without saying a word. Just like the other moms said. She grew even more angry and her cries turned into blood curdling screams. Three hours of that went by (ok, maybe it was more like 10 minutes) and I couldn't take it anymore. I am not ok with seeing my baby in that much discomfort or pain or anger, whatever she was feeling, so I picked her up. She immediately snuggled in my shoulder and fell fast asleep. Two minutes later I was able to lay her down in her crib and she slept for an hour and a half! I win! I did it without nursing her! Gold star for me!
Well... I had that gold star ripped from my lapel later that evening. Baby girl holds a mean grudge. As I nursed her to bed, she decided that was a good time to demonstrate the use of her new bottom teeth. I ignored it the first time. Maybe it was an accident. Then she bit me again. Still, I tried not to draw too much attention to it, but holy fuck! That hurts! After the third time I put a stop to it. I covered up and tried not to make a fuss. I didn't want her to think it was a game because that game sucks and I do not wanna play. Thankfully she got tired and surrendered to the boob when she realized it wasn't a good idea to bite the hand (boob) that feeds her. Ok now we're even.
She was asleep at 8:00. Movie time! Not so fast... She woke up screaming ten minutes later and was awake until 11:00pm. She refused to nurse, would not let me rock her in the rocking chair, wanted me to hold her, but at the same time tried pushing away from me. She wanted daddy... No, mommy... No daddy... And we did this dance for hours. She finally fell asleep in my arms while I paced from room to room, in and out, back and forth, in circles, and figure eights.
This morning she wouldn't nurse, only took a bottle. Is she mad at me? Cutting another tooth? Does she have an ear infection? Sore throat? Or has she just decided she's too old for the boob? I don't know, but whatever the reason, it makes me a little sad. The only thing I know for sure is Momma needs some coffee right now.
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Saturday, November 15, 2014
Who Needs Sleep?
Sleep. It's so overrated. I mean, really. You lie there with your eyes closed, breathing. Literally, that's all you do, breathe. So boring, right? Oh, but sometimes your brain stays awake and causes you to dream. You can dream about something awesome, like winning the lottery, only to be woken up from it by your alarm clock with the punch-in-the-gut realization that it didn't really happen, and probably never will because you don't even play the lottery. Or your brain reaches in deep to pull out some fucked up, random thought and then translates it into a nightmare of tiny spiders crawling all over your body, or your teeth suddenly falling out of your head for no apparent reason, after which you wake up in a panic sweat and don't ever want to fall asleep again! Yeah, sleeping sucks. I'm glad my child has been waking up 2 or 3 times a night.
This is me looking on the bright side of not getting enough sleep. The truth is, I've been lying to myself and everyone around me. When people ask if she's a good sleeper, I would say "Oh, yes. She typically sleeps through the night, but she has a stuffy nose this week, so she's been waking up a few times," or "She's just teething this week," or "She must be going through a growth spurt," or "It got cold last night, she probably needs a warmer sleep sack," or "It's too quiet." But the truth is, she's just not a good sleeper anymore.
A few times, she woke up screaming so hard, she couldn't catch her breath, like she was having a bad dream. Even once at daycare, she woke up from a nap sort of startled and panicked. A nightmare? What could she be having nightmares about? Her whole life is just kisses and snuggles and toys and puppies! How could her tiny brain possibly turn those thoughts into something scary? Luckily that didn't continue, but the sleepless nights did, and it is starting to take a toll on all of us.
Remember zombie Dad who couldn't follow a simple direction because he only got 3 hours of sleep? Yeah, he's back. But this time it's worse because now Mom is also an incompetent zombie. You see, back when Baby Girl was just a newborn, I was running on adrenalin and new mom power. I got used to being up all night and my brain was trained to push through it. But now, 8 months later, my brain got smart. It's had a taste of a full nights sleep again and doesn't want to turn back. You want me to help you remember everything Baby needs packed for Daycare, and everything you need for work, and to brush your teeth, and to lock the door, and to stay alert while you drive, and to not leave your coffee on the roof of the car, and then get you through a full day of work on just 3 hours of sleep? Fuck that. I'm shutting down.
It's amazing we made it through the week. One day last week I packed Peanut's lunchbox (which usually only has room for her bottles, lunch bowl, spoon and bib, and her snacks go in her backpack separately). I stood at the counter in awe of myself because I got everything to fit in it! Wow, I thought. I did it! I figured out the puzzle! Damn, I'm good. And I zipped up that bag like a proud kindergartener who just learned how to tie her own shoes. Not long after I drop her off at daycare, did I get a phone call: "Uh, Andrea, I can't find the tops to her bottles. Did you leave them in your car?" Shit! Shit! Shit! That's why everything fit! I forgot the fucking nipples to her bottles! Luckily they have back up bottles at daycare that they sterilize every night, so I didn't have to drive 45 minutes back home to go get them. Stupid, stupid, stupid [banging my head against the wall].
My favorite zombie parent moment, however, came a few days later. After a particularly horrendous night of taking turns tending to a very fussy baby, hubby and I got up and mindlessly went through the motions of our morning routine and went our separate ways to work. When I got to my desk, I received this text message:
Hubby: Did your coffee taste normal today?
Me: Haven't tried it yet. Why?
Hubby: I'm not sure, but I may or may not have put OJ in my coffee instead of milk.
Me: Ew.
So that's our life in a nutshell right now. Hopefully it will get better and Baby Girl will learn to sleep again, but for now we drink our coffee black.
This is me looking on the bright side of not getting enough sleep. The truth is, I've been lying to myself and everyone around me. When people ask if she's a good sleeper, I would say "Oh, yes. She typically sleeps through the night, but she has a stuffy nose this week, so she's been waking up a few times," or "She's just teething this week," or "She must be going through a growth spurt," or "It got cold last night, she probably needs a warmer sleep sack," or "It's too quiet." But the truth is, she's just not a good sleeper anymore.
A few times, she woke up screaming so hard, she couldn't catch her breath, like she was having a bad dream. Even once at daycare, she woke up from a nap sort of startled and panicked. A nightmare? What could she be having nightmares about? Her whole life is just kisses and snuggles and toys and puppies! How could her tiny brain possibly turn those thoughts into something scary? Luckily that didn't continue, but the sleepless nights did, and it is starting to take a toll on all of us.
Remember zombie Dad who couldn't follow a simple direction because he only got 3 hours of sleep? Yeah, he's back. But this time it's worse because now Mom is also an incompetent zombie. You see, back when Baby Girl was just a newborn, I was running on adrenalin and new mom power. I got used to being up all night and my brain was trained to push through it. But now, 8 months later, my brain got smart. It's had a taste of a full nights sleep again and doesn't want to turn back. You want me to help you remember everything Baby needs packed for Daycare, and everything you need for work, and to brush your teeth, and to lock the door, and to stay alert while you drive, and to not leave your coffee on the roof of the car, and then get you through a full day of work on just 3 hours of sleep? Fuck that. I'm shutting down.
It's amazing we made it through the week. One day last week I packed Peanut's lunchbox (which usually only has room for her bottles, lunch bowl, spoon and bib, and her snacks go in her backpack separately). I stood at the counter in awe of myself because I got everything to fit in it! Wow, I thought. I did it! I figured out the puzzle! Damn, I'm good. And I zipped up that bag like a proud kindergartener who just learned how to tie her own shoes. Not long after I drop her off at daycare, did I get a phone call: "Uh, Andrea, I can't find the tops to her bottles. Did you leave them in your car?" Shit! Shit! Shit! That's why everything fit! I forgot the fucking nipples to her bottles! Luckily they have back up bottles at daycare that they sterilize every night, so I didn't have to drive 45 minutes back home to go get them. Stupid, stupid, stupid [banging my head against the wall].
My favorite zombie parent moment, however, came a few days later. After a particularly horrendous night of taking turns tending to a very fussy baby, hubby and I got up and mindlessly went through the motions of our morning routine and went our separate ways to work. When I got to my desk, I received this text message:
Hubby: Did your coffee taste normal today?
Me: Haven't tried it yet. Why?
Hubby: I'm not sure, but I may or may not have put OJ in my coffee instead of milk.
Me: Ew.
So that's our life in a nutshell right now. Hopefully it will get better and Baby Girl will learn to sleep again, but for now we drink our coffee black.
Monday, October 20, 2014
The Shit We Put Up With
A really funny thing happened yesterday. Well, if you ask my husband, it wasn't really funny at all. But that's only because it happened to him. I got to hear the play-by-play, so to me, it was hilarious.
We had a fun day planned this Sunday. We were meeting some friends of ours for breakfast and then taking our babies to the pumpkin patch. The mommies were excited for two reasons: 1. Breakfast is awesome, especially when you don't have to make it or clean it up; 2. The pumpkin patch offers some great Fall photo ops! Despite the fact that it was pretty fucking cold out, we were determined to get some cute shots of our little pumpkins sitting amongst the actual pumpkins because that will be adorable and no one has ever thought of that before, right?
But first, breakfast. Baby Girl can sit up on her own now, so that means we can put her in a high chair at restaurants. And that means I can finally use that fancy high chair/shopping cart cover that I got at my baby shower! It was perfect. Not only is it pretty, but there are a few rattly toys attached to keep her busy while we wait for food and it protects her from having to touch or, god forbid, lick any nasty goo that the last baby left behind from their breakfast. As we are eating, my friend says "Look at her. She is so calm and content at the table." I took a break from my plate full of bacon to glance at her, realizing now that she had stopped babbling for quite some time. "Oh, that's not calm. That's her poop face." Lucky for me, my husband eats like it's his job to be the first one done at the table. And because he's such a gentleman, he knew he was on diaper duty so I could finish my meal.
As he picked her up from her fancy seat cover, the look on his face turned to a combination of panic, disgust, and an immediate regret for scarfing down his food so quickly, as he felt the warm wetness that was all down her leg and now in his hand. "Shit. Hand me her extra clothes." Shit was right. She pooped right through her diaper, onesie, jeans, AND the fancy seat cover! Boy was I glad I still had bacon on my plate. He knew there was no changing station in the bathroom, so he opted to change her in the car to avoid laying her on the bathroom floor.
Hang on. I haven't even gotten to the funny part yet...
The rest of us continued eating our breakfast and chatting, only to realize that Hubby had been gone for over 10 minutes now! I only noticed this when I saw the bottom of my coffee mug. That means I actually got to finish my coffee and that rarely happens. When he finally returned, all he said was "That was not pretty. We should keep plastic bags in the car." And I could tell he did not care to elaborate.
As we walked to our separate cars in the parking lot, PTSD started to set in. "No, really. That was awful. Like, the worst blow out ever," he said with empty eyes. "Oh, come on. You should be used to baby poop by now," I told him. "It got on my face," he said discretely, trying not to let our friends just a few cars away hear him. "What?! How the fuck did you manage that?" I blurted out, which they did probably hear. "She kicked me with a shitty sock," he said both embarrassed and traumatized.
My response: "BAAH HAHAHA! That's hilarious!"
Hubby: "No, it's not."
Me: "This is so going in the blog."
Hubby: "I know."
So we continued on our way to the pumpkin patch with the shitty clothes and seat cover rolled up in a stinky ball in the trunk (because I'll be damned if we are going to miss a cute photo op because of a shitty sock to the face). We did end up getting some great photos. And now, for those of you who have had the pleasure of viewing them on my Facebook page, you now have an explanation as to why my child is wearing an orange shirt with a pumpkin on it with grey sweatpants that have bunnies on the feet. We were much more coordinated than that in the morning, I swear!
We had a fun day planned this Sunday. We were meeting some friends of ours for breakfast and then taking our babies to the pumpkin patch. The mommies were excited for two reasons: 1. Breakfast is awesome, especially when you don't have to make it or clean it up; 2. The pumpkin patch offers some great Fall photo ops! Despite the fact that it was pretty fucking cold out, we were determined to get some cute shots of our little pumpkins sitting amongst the actual pumpkins because that will be adorable and no one has ever thought of that before, right?
But first, breakfast. Baby Girl can sit up on her own now, so that means we can put her in a high chair at restaurants. And that means I can finally use that fancy high chair/shopping cart cover that I got at my baby shower! It was perfect. Not only is it pretty, but there are a few rattly toys attached to keep her busy while we wait for food and it protects her from having to touch or, god forbid, lick any nasty goo that the last baby left behind from their breakfast. As we are eating, my friend says "Look at her. She is so calm and content at the table." I took a break from my plate full of bacon to glance at her, realizing now that she had stopped babbling for quite some time. "Oh, that's not calm. That's her poop face." Lucky for me, my husband eats like it's his job to be the first one done at the table. And because he's such a gentleman, he knew he was on diaper duty so I could finish my meal.
As he picked her up from her fancy seat cover, the look on his face turned to a combination of panic, disgust, and an immediate regret for scarfing down his food so quickly, as he felt the warm wetness that was all down her leg and now in his hand. "Shit. Hand me her extra clothes." Shit was right. She pooped right through her diaper, onesie, jeans, AND the fancy seat cover! Boy was I glad I still had bacon on my plate. He knew there was no changing station in the bathroom, so he opted to change her in the car to avoid laying her on the bathroom floor.
Hang on. I haven't even gotten to the funny part yet...
The rest of us continued eating our breakfast and chatting, only to realize that Hubby had been gone for over 10 minutes now! I only noticed this when I saw the bottom of my coffee mug. That means I actually got to finish my coffee and that rarely happens. When he finally returned, all he said was "That was not pretty. We should keep plastic bags in the car." And I could tell he did not care to elaborate.
As we walked to our separate cars in the parking lot, PTSD started to set in. "No, really. That was awful. Like, the worst blow out ever," he said with empty eyes. "Oh, come on. You should be used to baby poop by now," I told him. "It got on my face," he said discretely, trying not to let our friends just a few cars away hear him. "What?! How the fuck did you manage that?" I blurted out, which they did probably hear. "She kicked me with a shitty sock," he said both embarrassed and traumatized.
My response: "BAAH HAHAHA! That's hilarious!"
Hubby: "No, it's not."
Me: "This is so going in the blog."
Hubby: "I know."
So we continued on our way to the pumpkin patch with the shitty clothes and seat cover rolled up in a stinky ball in the trunk (because I'll be damned if we are going to miss a cute photo op because of a shitty sock to the face). We did end up getting some great photos. And now, for those of you who have had the pleasure of viewing them on my Facebook page, you now have an explanation as to why my child is wearing an orange shirt with a pumpkin on it with grey sweatpants that have bunnies on the feet. We were much more coordinated than that in the morning, I swear!
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Please Don't Share Your Toys
I knew sending our daughter to daycare would mean bringing home lots of germs. It will be good for her immune system, right? Sure! We made it through our first cold, just one week into starting daycare. One week. That's all it took for those babies to haze the new kid. I'm sure to the adults it looked all cute, like they were learning how to share toys. But really it was all a part of some evil baby scheme to start an epidemic, just because they can. Don't let those cute, chubby cheeks fool you! Babies can be diabolical!
I thought the first cold was bad. Runny nose, cranky, runny nose, no naps, runny nose. Oh, and she had a runny nose too. If I were to collect all the snot that I suctioned out of her nose that week, it would probably equal her body weight. There is nothing grosser than a baby with a crusty booger nose. And to make matters worse, she will scream bloody murder if you try to wipe it off. Oh, you enjoy the feeling of dried up snot on your face? I'm so sorry! I just assumed you would want to maintain your soft, adorable huggable features. Nobody (except momma) wants to hold a baby with snot face. Or maybe that was her plan all along. Snot face = time alone with mommy. Diabolical, I tell you.
Just a few weeks later, we got hit with round two. Only this time it wasn't the common cold. It was an outbreak of the virus every parent fears. Not chicken pox. I think most parents want their kids to get chicken pox so they don't get it again or develop shingles when they're older. Not the stomach bug, although that is a nightmare that I am not looking forward to. I'm talking about Coxsackievirus.
Don't know what that is? Well let me give you a brief overview of our experience with it. Coxsackievirus is spread through bodily fluids. And what do babies enjoy sharing the most? Bodily fluids! Drool, snot, puke, you name it and they'll share it. "Hey, new baby! You have got to try this block I've been playing with! I've been chewing on it for a while now, so the corners of the wood are nice and soft. Here, give it a go!" Now, I know her daycare providers take extra special care to try to prevent them from chewing on the same toys. I've seen them wash the toys and switch them out, but it is impossible to prevent it 100% of the time. I assume that's how she contracted the virus.
Two weeks went by since the first case popped up in her daycare, so I thought we were the lucky ones and escaped the pandemic. I should have known luck would not be on my side. I'm the type of person who buys a scratch off ticket to put in someone's birthday card (because they are cheap, but still exciting to receive) and then they win a million dollars. Ok, that never happened, but that's why I don't buy scratch offs for other people.
It started off with just a few spots that resembled pimples on her shoulder and a couple on her leg. Within an hour, she had a fever of 102 and the rash had spread all over her back, both legs and arms. As the fever got worse, she became absolutely miserable. It was heartbreaking to see my usually happy, smily baby turn into this angry, irritable human being. Not only did the rash turn my baby's perfect skin into a red, bumpy, scaly mess, the doctor saw that she had sores down her throat too. She screamed all night long. We gave her baby Motrin to control the fever and relieve the pain in her throat, but she couldn't even take it because it hurt her to swallow. I stayed up and cried with her all night. There was nothing I could do. Not even my magical breast could soothe her. That has always been my go-to remedy! Now what?!
We kept her home a few days. My husband and I took turns staying home with her. I had day 1. She fussed, wouldn't eat, wouldn't nap, and had diarrhea. Day 2: no fever, happy, playful, took long naps and ate an extra helping of veggies. I expected nothing less. Next time, Momma gets day 2!
Hubby and I have been diligent with washing our hands after every diaper change and feeding because that is really the only thing you could do to prevent catching it yourself. To be honest, I wasn't even really considering the fact that I could get it too. I had been so consumed with nursing her back to health, I didn't take note of the fact that she loves to suck on my shoulder, my fingers, my cell phone, the remote control, my necklaces... Basically anything she could get her hands on. I was literally wearing the virus around my neck! So here I am, home on a Thursday because yesterday the school nurse sent me home with a fever and now I have spots on my throat. Last night I couldn't even sit up in bed without help from my husband. On the plus side, I get to stay home with my favorite little girl AND it gave me some time to write on my blog! Who gets the last laugh now, babies? Muahahaha!
I thought the first cold was bad. Runny nose, cranky, runny nose, no naps, runny nose. Oh, and she had a runny nose too. If I were to collect all the snot that I suctioned out of her nose that week, it would probably equal her body weight. There is nothing grosser than a baby with a crusty booger nose. And to make matters worse, she will scream bloody murder if you try to wipe it off. Oh, you enjoy the feeling of dried up snot on your face? I'm so sorry! I just assumed you would want to maintain your soft, adorable huggable features. Nobody (except momma) wants to hold a baby with snot face. Or maybe that was her plan all along. Snot face = time alone with mommy. Diabolical, I tell you.
Just a few weeks later, we got hit with round two. Only this time it wasn't the common cold. It was an outbreak of the virus every parent fears. Not chicken pox. I think most parents want their kids to get chicken pox so they don't get it again or develop shingles when they're older. Not the stomach bug, although that is a nightmare that I am not looking forward to. I'm talking about Coxsackievirus.
Don't know what that is? Well let me give you a brief overview of our experience with it. Coxsackievirus is spread through bodily fluids. And what do babies enjoy sharing the most? Bodily fluids! Drool, snot, puke, you name it and they'll share it. "Hey, new baby! You have got to try this block I've been playing with! I've been chewing on it for a while now, so the corners of the wood are nice and soft. Here, give it a go!" Now, I know her daycare providers take extra special care to try to prevent them from chewing on the same toys. I've seen them wash the toys and switch them out, but it is impossible to prevent it 100% of the time. I assume that's how she contracted the virus.
Two weeks went by since the first case popped up in her daycare, so I thought we were the lucky ones and escaped the pandemic. I should have known luck would not be on my side. I'm the type of person who buys a scratch off ticket to put in someone's birthday card (because they are cheap, but still exciting to receive) and then they win a million dollars. Ok, that never happened, but that's why I don't buy scratch offs for other people.
It started off with just a few spots that resembled pimples on her shoulder and a couple on her leg. Within an hour, she had a fever of 102 and the rash had spread all over her back, both legs and arms. As the fever got worse, she became absolutely miserable. It was heartbreaking to see my usually happy, smily baby turn into this angry, irritable human being. Not only did the rash turn my baby's perfect skin into a red, bumpy, scaly mess, the doctor saw that she had sores down her throat too. She screamed all night long. We gave her baby Motrin to control the fever and relieve the pain in her throat, but she couldn't even take it because it hurt her to swallow. I stayed up and cried with her all night. There was nothing I could do. Not even my magical breast could soothe her. That has always been my go-to remedy! Now what?!
We kept her home a few days. My husband and I took turns staying home with her. I had day 1. She fussed, wouldn't eat, wouldn't nap, and had diarrhea. Day 2: no fever, happy, playful, took long naps and ate an extra helping of veggies. I expected nothing less. Next time, Momma gets day 2!
Hubby and I have been diligent with washing our hands after every diaper change and feeding because that is really the only thing you could do to prevent catching it yourself. To be honest, I wasn't even really considering the fact that I could get it too. I had been so consumed with nursing her back to health, I didn't take note of the fact that she loves to suck on my shoulder, my fingers, my cell phone, the remote control, my necklaces... Basically anything she could get her hands on. I was literally wearing the virus around my neck! So here I am, home on a Thursday because yesterday the school nurse sent me home with a fever and now I have spots on my throat. Last night I couldn't even sit up in bed without help from my husband. On the plus side, I get to stay home with my favorite little girl AND it gave me some time to write on my blog! Who gets the last laugh now, babies? Muahahaha!
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
New Jersey: 5 Minutes from Everywhere
This past weekend we went to visit my Aunt and Uncle. They have become sort of parental figures to me since losing my mom and it's important to me that baby girl spends time with them too. So we packed up the car (and I mean PACKED!) for an over night stay in New Jersey. It's amazing how much stuff such a tiny person needs to go away for just one night! Hubby and I crammed all of our stuff into one bag, the rest of the trunk was for all the baby paraphanalia. They must have thought we were moving in long term when we pulled up and had to make several trips to the car to unload!
Baby girl had a great time with them. She even loved seeing the dogs (two little Malteses) who barked incessantly at her since the moment we walked in the door. The male dog was terrified of the baby and pretty much kept his distance. He was probably thinking I don't know what kind of breed that hairless creature is, but it makes funny noises and I don't trust it. The female, on the other hand, was not having any of it and she made sure to voice her opinion. That tiny little 3 lb pup sniffed her up and down and barked and barked and barked. Who do you think you are, being all cute, coming into MY house, cuddling my MY parents? I'm the cute one here! This is MY palace! So take your diapers and your wipes, and your... Oh, what's this? A stuffed animal? I'll be taking that...
It was pretty funny, actually. The more she barked at the baby, the more the baby smiled and laughed and even started yelling back to her.
Dog: I'm cuter!
Baby: No, I'm cuter!
Dog: No, I'm cuter!
Baby: haha, this is fun!
(At least that's how I imagined it)
But the dog took it very seriously and eventually retreated to her perch on top of the couch where she could carefully oversee this intruder on her territory. This went on the whole weekend. I tried channeling my inner Cezar Milan and use some dog whisperer techniques. That worked for about 10 minutes, and then it was round 2 of Baby vs. Dog. I'm not sure who won, but baby sure had fun playing!
We had beautiful weather, so we did a lot of stuff outdoors. We met my sister, her husband and kids at the zoo and had lunch. Yay! Her first trip to the zoo! She will have so much fun looking at the animals... I thought. She slept in her stroller the whole time. Oh well, I'm still putting it on her calendar! She woke up in time for lunch and got to hang out with her cousins, who she just adores, while my uncle made friends with an 84 year old Italian man who showed us a black and white photo of his wife back in the day and told us that "she's much heavier now." That's one of my favorite things about my uncle. He makes friends wherever he goes. He's a magnet for interesting characters, like Huey on the train to Disney World, or Peter at the gas station, and Ernie from PSE&G.
The next day we took a nice long walk in the park and baby girl took her first ride in a swing. By that I mean she sat uncomfortably in a swing that was obviously too big for her while we took pictures of her as she slowly slouched deeper and deeper into the contraption. So cute! She wasn't amused.
Before we left we went out to lunch. "Do you want Italian or Chinese?" my uncle asked. "The Italian place is just down the road and the Chinese place is about five minutes away." I could tell he really wanted Chinese so we went with that. We piled into the car and headed out to lunch.
"It's just 10 minutes down the road." my uncle said. Wait, I thought you said five. Oh well, no big deal... 10 minutes later... "Are we there yet?" My husband asked, watching the gas gauge approach E. "is it within 20 miles because we're running out of gas?" To which my uncle replied, "oh yeah, it's just 15 minutes away." Apparently, in NJ the laws of time and space don't apply. Maybe that's why NJ drivers are notorious for cutting you off and yielding at stop signs. Because if your destination is 10 minutes away, you need to step on it to make sure you get there in 30, and that car at your front bumper is actually a mile away. In fact, the side view mirrors on NJ vehicles read OBJECTS IN THE MIRROR ARE AT LEAST 30 YARDS FARTHER THAN THEY APPEAR, SO GO AHEAD AND DRIVE AS THOUGH THEY ARE NOT EVEN THERE.
So we keep driving, with the baby in the back seat screeching like a wild banshee. "Is she ok back there?" My uncle asked. "Oh, yeah. She's happy as can be. That's just what she does from time to time." She likes the sound of her own voice, especially when we're in a confined space or somewhere public. My Aunt was in hysterics watching her. She sang to her some songs from her childhood, and some she made up on the spot about driving all around the state of NJ to get Chinese food. Anything to keep her entertained! Baby Girl sang right along with her!
40 minutes later, we reach our dining destination, with 3 miles of gas left to spare. We had a delicious lunch, followed by yummy frozen yogurt. We always have a good time with them, filled with lots of laughs. I wish we all lived closer to each other, but these trips make great memories and hilarious stories to tell for years to come!
Can you guess which cups belong to my health-nut, vitamin-crazed, fitness guru Aunt & Uncle, which one is mine, and which one is my hubby's? If you say mine is the gallon of overflowing chocolate and toppings, I'll break your neck!
Baby girl had a great time with them. She even loved seeing the dogs (two little Malteses) who barked incessantly at her since the moment we walked in the door. The male dog was terrified of the baby and pretty much kept his distance. He was probably thinking I don't know what kind of breed that hairless creature is, but it makes funny noises and I don't trust it. The female, on the other hand, was not having any of it and she made sure to voice her opinion. That tiny little 3 lb pup sniffed her up and down and barked and barked and barked. Who do you think you are, being all cute, coming into MY house, cuddling my MY parents? I'm the cute one here! This is MY palace! So take your diapers and your wipes, and your... Oh, what's this? A stuffed animal? I'll be taking that...
It was pretty funny, actually. The more she barked at the baby, the more the baby smiled and laughed and even started yelling back to her.
Dog: I'm cuter!
Baby: No, I'm cuter!
Dog: No, I'm cuter!
Baby: haha, this is fun!
(At least that's how I imagined it)
But the dog took it very seriously and eventually retreated to her perch on top of the couch where she could carefully oversee this intruder on her territory. This went on the whole weekend. I tried channeling my inner Cezar Milan and use some dog whisperer techniques. That worked for about 10 minutes, and then it was round 2 of Baby vs. Dog. I'm not sure who won, but baby sure had fun playing!
We had beautiful weather, so we did a lot of stuff outdoors. We met my sister, her husband and kids at the zoo and had lunch. Yay! Her first trip to the zoo! She will have so much fun looking at the animals... I thought. She slept in her stroller the whole time. Oh well, I'm still putting it on her calendar! She woke up in time for lunch and got to hang out with her cousins, who she just adores, while my uncle made friends with an 84 year old Italian man who showed us a black and white photo of his wife back in the day and told us that "she's much heavier now." That's one of my favorite things about my uncle. He makes friends wherever he goes. He's a magnet for interesting characters, like Huey on the train to Disney World, or Peter at the gas station, and Ernie from PSE&G.
The next day we took a nice long walk in the park and baby girl took her first ride in a swing. By that I mean she sat uncomfortably in a swing that was obviously too big for her while we took pictures of her as she slowly slouched deeper and deeper into the contraption. So cute! She wasn't amused.
Before we left we went out to lunch. "Do you want Italian or Chinese?" my uncle asked. "The Italian place is just down the road and the Chinese place is about five minutes away." I could tell he really wanted Chinese so we went with that. We piled into the car and headed out to lunch.
"It's just 10 minutes down the road." my uncle said. Wait, I thought you said five. Oh well, no big deal... 10 minutes later... "Are we there yet?" My husband asked, watching the gas gauge approach E. "is it within 20 miles because we're running out of gas?" To which my uncle replied, "oh yeah, it's just 15 minutes away." Apparently, in NJ the laws of time and space don't apply. Maybe that's why NJ drivers are notorious for cutting you off and yielding at stop signs. Because if your destination is 10 minutes away, you need to step on it to make sure you get there in 30, and that car at your front bumper is actually a mile away. In fact, the side view mirrors on NJ vehicles read OBJECTS IN THE MIRROR ARE AT LEAST 30 YARDS FARTHER THAN THEY APPEAR, SO GO AHEAD AND DRIVE AS THOUGH THEY ARE NOT EVEN THERE.
So we keep driving, with the baby in the back seat screeching like a wild banshee. "Is she ok back there?" My uncle asked. "Oh, yeah. She's happy as can be. That's just what she does from time to time." She likes the sound of her own voice, especially when we're in a confined space or somewhere public. My Aunt was in hysterics watching her. She sang to her some songs from her childhood, and some she made up on the spot about driving all around the state of NJ to get Chinese food. Anything to keep her entertained! Baby Girl sang right along with her!
40 minutes later, we reach our dining destination, with 3 miles of gas left to spare. We had a delicious lunch, followed by yummy frozen yogurt. We always have a good time with them, filled with lots of laughs. I wish we all lived closer to each other, but these trips make great memories and hilarious stories to tell for years to come!
Can you guess which cups belong to my health-nut, vitamin-crazed, fitness guru Aunt & Uncle, which one is mine, and which one is my hubby's? If you say mine is the gallon of overflowing chocolate and toppings, I'll break your neck!
Friday, August 1, 2014
First Day of Daycare
This past week was a tough one for me. Monday and Tuesday were marked on my calendar, taunting me for weeks, causing my heart to break a little every time I walked by. Summer work days. I know a lot of you want to reach through your computer screens right now and smack me for complaining about having to work two whole days during the summer, but actually it's four. I have to go back a few days in August. What's that? I still haven't won your sympathy? Ok, I get it. But nonetheless, I know every mother can relate to this experience. Baby girl's first full day at daycare...
Hubby and I decided, even before she was born, that we wanted our child to go to daycare when I go back to work. As a teacher, I know the benefits of learning how to socialize with other children, how to behave in a structured environment, how to share toys (and attention) with other children, and that it's ok to be away from mommy and daddy for a while (that last one was a lesson for me as well!). These skills foster independence and developmental growth, not to mention Kindergated readiness. Don't get me wrong, I would be a stay-at-home mom in a split second if I could, but for some reason our money tree just isn't taking root. I think it might be our sandy soil. Anyway...
In preparation for the first big day, I brought the little peanut in for a visit the Thursday prior. I stayed with her for a few hours so it wouldn't be a strange place with strange people when I dropped her off on Monday. They had her cubby all ready with her name and birthday on a cupcake picture on the wall. They had a cabinet space labeled and ready for her diapers and wipes too. This is going to be her home away from home during the school year. I could already feel the tears welling up and we had only been there for five minutes!
We went into the play area and sat down with all the toys. With so much to look at, peanut didn't know what to do with herself. Then all of a sudden, we were surrounded by babies! Two of them walked right over, and the others, not yet mobile on their feel, crawled or wiggled on their bellies to come check out the newbie. It was starting to feel a bit children of the corn-ish, but then one boy handed my little peanut a toy, and then another baby brought over a toy for her too! I just about lost it! These are going to be her bff's! I fell in love with each of them!
Her teacher came over and sat with us too. She gestured to hold my baby and she went right into her arms. Her teacher was very cuddly and loving with her and it made me feel good to know she was going to be in good hands. She convinced me to drop her off the next day too, even just for an hour or two before leaving her for a full day on Monday. So that's what I did.
I brought her back on Friday morning and only stayed for a few minutes. They had set up her pack n' play right next to my friend's son, so he can look after her. He's a big boy, one of the oldest in the room (just turned 1) so I told him to keep an eye on my girl. He gave me a serious nod in agreement. Either that or he was pooping.
It was surprisingly easy to drop her off for a few hours. I guess because I have been away from her for a bit longer than that when I get my hair done or go to the gym, it wasn't that bad. When I came to pick her up, she was asleep in one of the teacher's arms. A huge feeling of relief came over me and I literally sighed out loud. I was so happy to see her comfortable enough to take a little nap. I asked if they had trouble putting her down in her pack n' play for a nap and she said she didn't even try because she was already comfy and she just wanted to snuggle with her anyway. Music to my ears! No one can possibly love her more than me and my husband, but I think we found a place that comes pretty close! Just then, she opened her little eyes, looked at me and gave me a huge smile! First drop off was a success!
Then came the dreaded Monday. We walked in and her teachers welcomed us with big smiles. I unpacked her things and went through the list of things like when to feed her, how to know when she's sleepy, to change her if she gets too warm or too cold, and that she likes to nap on her side. They were very good at not showing their ok-lady-we-got-this-we-know-what-we're-doing face and let me go on and on. I gave my little muffin a million kisses, told her teachers to call me if she becomes unruly and starts tearing the place apart because she misses me so much (seriously, that's what I said), and I walked out before my baby could see me cry.
I got in my car, called my husband at work and cried to him the whole 10 minutes it took me to get to my school because I missed her already. "It will be ok," he said. "It was really hard for me to go back to work too." Oh yeah. He already had to go through this, when she was just 2 weeks old. "The best part is coming home and seeing her big smile when you walk in the door." I held onto that image in my mind to get me through the day. Luckily I have some of the best coworkers who are also some of the funniest and craziest people I know, who kept me both busy and entertained throughout the day and before I knew it, it was time to go get that little munchkin!
She was asleep again all snugly in her teacher's arms. They said she cried a bit, but was easily soothed and she had a great day! Once again, she slowly opened her tiny eyes, maybe because she heard my voice, and gave me a huge smile. I scooped her right up and gave her the biggest hug.
As we walked out to the car, I witnessed something beautiful. The teacher of the toddler room had the kids outside playing on the blacktop where they have bikes and ride-on toys and chalk, etc., but it had rained that morning so there was a huge puddle in the middle of the play area. The little ones seemed intrigued by this large body of water that wasn't there yesterday, but they carefully kept their distance. Then I heard the teacher say "Go ahead! Jump in!" The children looked at each other as if to say Did she just give us permission to jump in that puddle? Is this some kind of test? Then, one brave soul tapped his foot in sending a tiny splash into the air. The others softly giggled until another child jumped in with both feet making an even bigger splash. Before long, they were all jumping in the puddle, laughing and smiling and having what seemed to be the best time of their tiny little lives. Their laughter quickly filled the air and I thought to myself, Oh yeah, I think we're going to love it here!
Hubby and I decided, even before she was born, that we wanted our child to go to daycare when I go back to work. As a teacher, I know the benefits of learning how to socialize with other children, how to behave in a structured environment, how to share toys (and attention) with other children, and that it's ok to be away from mommy and daddy for a while (that last one was a lesson for me as well!). These skills foster independence and developmental growth, not to mention Kindergated readiness. Don't get me wrong, I would be a stay-at-home mom in a split second if I could, but for some reason our money tree just isn't taking root. I think it might be our sandy soil. Anyway...
In preparation for the first big day, I brought the little peanut in for a visit the Thursday prior. I stayed with her for a few hours so it wouldn't be a strange place with strange people when I dropped her off on Monday. They had her cubby all ready with her name and birthday on a cupcake picture on the wall. They had a cabinet space labeled and ready for her diapers and wipes too. This is going to be her home away from home during the school year. I could already feel the tears welling up and we had only been there for five minutes!
We went into the play area and sat down with all the toys. With so much to look at, peanut didn't know what to do with herself. Then all of a sudden, we were surrounded by babies! Two of them walked right over, and the others, not yet mobile on their feel, crawled or wiggled on their bellies to come check out the newbie. It was starting to feel a bit children of the corn-ish, but then one boy handed my little peanut a toy, and then another baby brought over a toy for her too! I just about lost it! These are going to be her bff's! I fell in love with each of them!
Her teacher came over and sat with us too. She gestured to hold my baby and she went right into her arms. Her teacher was very cuddly and loving with her and it made me feel good to know she was going to be in good hands. She convinced me to drop her off the next day too, even just for an hour or two before leaving her for a full day on Monday. So that's what I did.
I brought her back on Friday morning and only stayed for a few minutes. They had set up her pack n' play right next to my friend's son, so he can look after her. He's a big boy, one of the oldest in the room (just turned 1) so I told him to keep an eye on my girl. He gave me a serious nod in agreement. Either that or he was pooping.
It was surprisingly easy to drop her off for a few hours. I guess because I have been away from her for a bit longer than that when I get my hair done or go to the gym, it wasn't that bad. When I came to pick her up, she was asleep in one of the teacher's arms. A huge feeling of relief came over me and I literally sighed out loud. I was so happy to see her comfortable enough to take a little nap. I asked if they had trouble putting her down in her pack n' play for a nap and she said she didn't even try because she was already comfy and she just wanted to snuggle with her anyway. Music to my ears! No one can possibly love her more than me and my husband, but I think we found a place that comes pretty close! Just then, she opened her little eyes, looked at me and gave me a huge smile! First drop off was a success!
Then came the dreaded Monday. We walked in and her teachers welcomed us with big smiles. I unpacked her things and went through the list of things like when to feed her, how to know when she's sleepy, to change her if she gets too warm or too cold, and that she likes to nap on her side. They were very good at not showing their ok-lady-we-got-this-we-know-what-we're-doing face and let me go on and on. I gave my little muffin a million kisses, told her teachers to call me if she becomes unruly and starts tearing the place apart because she misses me so much (seriously, that's what I said), and I walked out before my baby could see me cry.
I got in my car, called my husband at work and cried to him the whole 10 minutes it took me to get to my school because I missed her already. "It will be ok," he said. "It was really hard for me to go back to work too." Oh yeah. He already had to go through this, when she was just 2 weeks old. "The best part is coming home and seeing her big smile when you walk in the door." I held onto that image in my mind to get me through the day. Luckily I have some of the best coworkers who are also some of the funniest and craziest people I know, who kept me both busy and entertained throughout the day and before I knew it, it was time to go get that little munchkin!
She was asleep again all snugly in her teacher's arms. They said she cried a bit, but was easily soothed and she had a great day! Once again, she slowly opened her tiny eyes, maybe because she heard my voice, and gave me a huge smile. I scooped her right up and gave her the biggest hug.
As we walked out to the car, I witnessed something beautiful. The teacher of the toddler room had the kids outside playing on the blacktop where they have bikes and ride-on toys and chalk, etc., but it had rained that morning so there was a huge puddle in the middle of the play area. The little ones seemed intrigued by this large body of water that wasn't there yesterday, but they carefully kept their distance. Then I heard the teacher say "Go ahead! Jump in!" The children looked at each other as if to say Did she just give us permission to jump in that puddle? Is this some kind of test? Then, one brave soul tapped his foot in sending a tiny splash into the air. The others softly giggled until another child jumped in with both feet making an even bigger splash. Before long, they were all jumping in the puddle, laughing and smiling and having what seemed to be the best time of their tiny little lives. Their laughter quickly filled the air and I thought to myself, Oh yeah, I think we're going to love it here!
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
That Mom
Everybody knows a mom who constantly boasts about their kids, posts a trillion pictures on Facebook per hour, and thinks that everyone else in the world is waiting on the edges of their seats for the next update on what their child got on their Spelling test or the color of their baby's poop. You know, THAT mom. Ugh, what a pain in the ass, right? I mean, really! Babies are cute, but they're a dime a dozen. Once you've seen one baby take their first steps, do you really need to see any other? Unless you are fortunate enough to catch your baby taking her first steps, looking especially drunk and wobbly, and ends up falling down, landing on an adorable puppy on video (you know, some real quality AFV shit), does anyone really care? I sure don't!
That was me... before becoming a mom. Something strange happened to me 4 1/2 months ago. It wasn't my body morphing into the shape of a hippo who swallowed a watermelon, or the super human strength I magically obtained to squeeze out said watermelon from my lady parts, or acquiring the power to, not only function but take care of another human being on just a few hours of sleep. All of those things are weird and true, but the strangest thing that happened to me was that on that magical day in March, I became THAT mom. Yup. That mom that you roll your eyes at as you scroll down your Facebook newsfeed, trying to get past the obnoxious baby pics as fast as you can to get to the good FB gossip... That's me!
I realized that I was, in fact, THAT mom just the other day. We were Skyping with friends who live far away and have never met the little muffin in person. I know they love to see her face and can't wait to hold her, but I had a total Really, Andrea? moment when this came out of my mouth:
"Do you want to see her roll over?"
I didn't even give them a chance to answer (although I'm sure they would have said yes!).
"Hun, face the camera over there I'll put her on the floor. Make sure you get this angle so they can see."
It was close to her bedtime, so she wasn't really into performing her newest trick, but I was determined not to let our audience down. So I became a cheerleader.
"Come on, honey! You can do it! Lead with your head! It will give you momentum!" After a few minutes, she finally gave in and our friends were able to witness this amazing feat of athleticism! They clapped and cheered and I know their excitement for our daughter's developmental accomplishments are sincere, but I had an immediate feeling of Oh shit. It's happened.
I've turned. Like I've been bitten by an obnoxious zombie mother, I can feel the infection coursing through my veins, slowly taking over my brain, convincing me that every human being on this planet not only wants to know all about my baby's milestones, but NEEDS to know. Because if they don't get to see a picture of her face right after she poops on her towel after bath time, or see a video of her blowing raspberries (yes, I know. I'm actually guilty of both), their life will be empty and unfulfilled. I'm saving their lives, really.
I don't believe I am the worst offender out there, though. Don't get me wrong, I take an incessant amount of pictures of my child during the day, but I promise I don't post them all! I try to keep myself in check by limiting the amount of pics I post and only posting statuses that I think will make someone laugh, or if I need advice from other mommas, but I'll admit, sometimes I get carried away. It's only a matter of time before I'm driving around in a minivan with a Proud Parent of an Honor Roll Student bumper sticker on the back and opening up an art gallery to showcase her first abstract fingerpaint creations.
Do me a favor, please. If I get really out of control, just whack me on the head with something sharp and heavy and put me out of my misery. But I'm sure it will never get to that point. It's not like I write a blog for the world to read all about my adorable and amazingly talented baby or anything...
That was me... before becoming a mom. Something strange happened to me 4 1/2 months ago. It wasn't my body morphing into the shape of a hippo who swallowed a watermelon, or the super human strength I magically obtained to squeeze out said watermelon from my lady parts, or acquiring the power to, not only function but take care of another human being on just a few hours of sleep. All of those things are weird and true, but the strangest thing that happened to me was that on that magical day in March, I became THAT mom. Yup. That mom that you roll your eyes at as you scroll down your Facebook newsfeed, trying to get past the obnoxious baby pics as fast as you can to get to the good FB gossip... That's me!
I realized that I was, in fact, THAT mom just the other day. We were Skyping with friends who live far away and have never met the little muffin in person. I know they love to see her face and can't wait to hold her, but I had a total Really, Andrea? moment when this came out of my mouth:
"Do you want to see her roll over?"
I didn't even give them a chance to answer (although I'm sure they would have said yes!).
"Hun, face the camera over there I'll put her on the floor. Make sure you get this angle so they can see."
It was close to her bedtime, so she wasn't really into performing her newest trick, but I was determined not to let our audience down. So I became a cheerleader.
"Come on, honey! You can do it! Lead with your head! It will give you momentum!" After a few minutes, she finally gave in and our friends were able to witness this amazing feat of athleticism! They clapped and cheered and I know their excitement for our daughter's developmental accomplishments are sincere, but I had an immediate feeling of Oh shit. It's happened.
I've turned. Like I've been bitten by an obnoxious zombie mother, I can feel the infection coursing through my veins, slowly taking over my brain, convincing me that every human being on this planet not only wants to know all about my baby's milestones, but NEEDS to know. Because if they don't get to see a picture of her face right after she poops on her towel after bath time, or see a video of her blowing raspberries (yes, I know. I'm actually guilty of both), their life will be empty and unfulfilled. I'm saving their lives, really.
I don't believe I am the worst offender out there, though. Don't get me wrong, I take an incessant amount of pictures of my child during the day, but I promise I don't post them all! I try to keep myself in check by limiting the amount of pics I post and only posting statuses that I think will make someone laugh, or if I need advice from other mommas, but I'll admit, sometimes I get carried away. It's only a matter of time before I'm driving around in a minivan with a Proud Parent of an Honor Roll Student bumper sticker on the back and opening up an art gallery to showcase her first abstract fingerpaint creations.
Do me a favor, please. If I get really out of control, just whack me on the head with something sharp and heavy and put me out of my misery. But I'm sure it will never get to that point. It's not like I write a blog for the world to read all about my adorable and amazingly talented baby or anything...
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Weekend Getaway
Every year my sister and brother-in-law rent a house on a lake not too far from where we live, for a week in the summer. I love that they chose a location close to us because we get to crash their vacation for a few days and spend time with our niece and nephew! This year was especially fun because it was the first time we got to experience a mini vacation with a baby in tow and watch her get to know her cousins!
The first night, my sister insisted that my husband and I go to the bar down the street for a drink so she can spend time with the baby all by herself. Who was I to argue? What kind of mom would I be if I deprived my child of some good quality time with her aunt and uncle? I knew I couldn't leave her for too long because I only had one bottle of breastmilk that I was able to pump that morning, but a little 45 minute date with the hubby was just what we needed. A great start to the weekend, for sure. We were within walking distance from the house, but because we were out on a lake surrounded by mountains, my cell phone somehow interpreted that as being out of the country, so I couldn't receive or send text messages, but I trust my sister 100% and didn't really worry too much. She's done this a few times. She knows what she's doing! Baby girl did just fine! She played a little, took her bottle and even started to fall asleep in her arms, but at one point she opened her eyes, looked up at my sister and out came the boo boo lip when she realized she wasn't with mommy. They were both able to sooth her again by the time we got home, but hearing that she experienced "stranger anxiety" (even for a brief moment) for the first time was a little heartbreaking.
It took a while to get her to sleep that first night. Probably because it was a different environment and the room was pretty bright with all the windows overlooking the lake. But the second night, we all hit the jackpot... All 3 kids were asleep before 8pm! Wahoo! No sooner did my baby's head touch her pack n' play mattress did my sister have a bottle of wine uncorked and ready to be poured.
Not so fast, sister! Here comes the steamboat dinner cruise... We watched that boat with such intensity, as if we were on the front line in battle watching the enemy approach. Don't do it, Captain. Don't you dare blow that horn! Wouldn't you know, Captain Fuckhead tooted that damn horn right in front of the house! Ugh! Baby girl started to stir and those assholes on their fancy dinner cruise blissfully waved to us with a cocktail in the other hand while my sister and I gestured back with just one finger and silently mouthed obscenities at them, careful not to disturb the children. Miraculously, peanut didn't fully wake up. Neither did her cousins! She just swung her little legs way up in the air and plopped back down, landing on her side. That was a first! She got all snugly lying on her side and fell back asleep on her own! Phew! I guess we can check that off the list of developmental milestones!
Ok, pour that wine! Oh yeah! I'm gonna hold my glass with two hands, just because I can. It was a beautiful night. We sat on the deck overlooking the lake, sipping wine and having a few good laughs by the light of our baby monitors. Life is good! I never want to leave.
If you are thinking that sounds too good to be true, you would be right. We were laughing, telling stories of the good old days, when all of a sudden we hear chanting in the distance. We couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but it definitely sounded like children and they were directly across the lake.
Me: "What is that? What is going on over there?"
Brother-In-Law: "I don't know, but it sounds like Lord of the Flies. 'KILL THE PIG! DRINK IT'S BLOOD!' "
Hubby: "Nope. That's not it. They are chanting 'FIREWORKS! FIREWORKS!' "
Me & Sis (simultaneously): "Fuuuuuuuck."
BOOM! BANG! KAPOW!
Prior to four months ago, a surprise fireworks display would have been exciting, beautiful, even a bit romantic. But in this particular moment, I wanted to swim across the lake and shove a Roman Candle straight up the ass of whoever thought this was a good idea.
All of the baby monitors started to go off, picking up the sound of the fireworks, and once again, we were on the edges of our seats waiting to see whose child was going to be the first to scream in terror. They all wiggled and squirmed, tossed and turned, but they didn't wake up! I love this place! Maybe it's all the fresh air or just the excitement of being on vacation, but these kids are sleeping! Through everything! Pour another glass and bring on the finale!
In case that wasn't enough of a threat to our peaceful evening, the neighbors decided to start a bonfire. Ok. No big deal, right? Well, as it turns out, it is a big fucking deal when you want to start a bonfire and have no wood. It is a HUGE fucking deal when you need to split logs with a metal wedge and hammer at 10PM. And it is an ENORMOUS fucking deal when you need to split logs at 10 PM AND have two barky dogs that like to sit in front of the open window! Son of a Bitch!
Well, my little peanut finally woke up and needed to be rocked back to sleep before we could finish off that bottle of wine. So we did just that. We drank, We laughed so hard, my cheeks were hurting, and we stayed up past midnight (I know, we are wild and crazy!). This will definitely be a story we tell our kids when they're older, hopefully on the same lake vacationing together again.
The first night, my sister insisted that my husband and I go to the bar down the street for a drink so she can spend time with the baby all by herself. Who was I to argue? What kind of mom would I be if I deprived my child of some good quality time with her aunt and uncle? I knew I couldn't leave her for too long because I only had one bottle of breastmilk that I was able to pump that morning, but a little 45 minute date with the hubby was just what we needed. A great start to the weekend, for sure. We were within walking distance from the house, but because we were out on a lake surrounded by mountains, my cell phone somehow interpreted that as being out of the country, so I couldn't receive or send text messages, but I trust my sister 100% and didn't really worry too much. She's done this a few times. She knows what she's doing! Baby girl did just fine! She played a little, took her bottle and even started to fall asleep in her arms, but at one point she opened her eyes, looked up at my sister and out came the boo boo lip when she realized she wasn't with mommy. They were both able to sooth her again by the time we got home, but hearing that she experienced "stranger anxiety" (even for a brief moment) for the first time was a little heartbreaking.
It took a while to get her to sleep that first night. Probably because it was a different environment and the room was pretty bright with all the windows overlooking the lake. But the second night, we all hit the jackpot... All 3 kids were asleep before 8pm! Wahoo! No sooner did my baby's head touch her pack n' play mattress did my sister have a bottle of wine uncorked and ready to be poured.
Not so fast, sister! Here comes the steamboat dinner cruise... We watched that boat with such intensity, as if we were on the front line in battle watching the enemy approach. Don't do it, Captain. Don't you dare blow that horn! Wouldn't you know, Captain Fuckhead tooted that damn horn right in front of the house! Ugh! Baby girl started to stir and those assholes on their fancy dinner cruise blissfully waved to us with a cocktail in the other hand while my sister and I gestured back with just one finger and silently mouthed obscenities at them, careful not to disturb the children. Miraculously, peanut didn't fully wake up. Neither did her cousins! She just swung her little legs way up in the air and plopped back down, landing on her side. That was a first! She got all snugly lying on her side and fell back asleep on her own! Phew! I guess we can check that off the list of developmental milestones!
Ok, pour that wine! Oh yeah! I'm gonna hold my glass with two hands, just because I can. It was a beautiful night. We sat on the deck overlooking the lake, sipping wine and having a few good laughs by the light of our baby monitors. Life is good! I never want to leave.
If you are thinking that sounds too good to be true, you would be right. We were laughing, telling stories of the good old days, when all of a sudden we hear chanting in the distance. We couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but it definitely sounded like children and they were directly across the lake.
Me: "What is that? What is going on over there?"
Brother-In-Law: "I don't know, but it sounds like Lord of the Flies. 'KILL THE PIG! DRINK IT'S BLOOD!' "
Hubby: "Nope. That's not it. They are chanting 'FIREWORKS! FIREWORKS!' "
Me & Sis (simultaneously): "Fuuuuuuuck."
BOOM! BANG! KAPOW!
Prior to four months ago, a surprise fireworks display would have been exciting, beautiful, even a bit romantic. But in this particular moment, I wanted to swim across the lake and shove a Roman Candle straight up the ass of whoever thought this was a good idea.
All of the baby monitors started to go off, picking up the sound of the fireworks, and once again, we were on the edges of our seats waiting to see whose child was going to be the first to scream in terror. They all wiggled and squirmed, tossed and turned, but they didn't wake up! I love this place! Maybe it's all the fresh air or just the excitement of being on vacation, but these kids are sleeping! Through everything! Pour another glass and bring on the finale!
In case that wasn't enough of a threat to our peaceful evening, the neighbors decided to start a bonfire. Ok. No big deal, right? Well, as it turns out, it is a big fucking deal when you want to start a bonfire and have no wood. It is a HUGE fucking deal when you need to split logs with a metal wedge and hammer at 10PM. And it is an ENORMOUS fucking deal when you need to split logs at 10 PM AND have two barky dogs that like to sit in front of the open window! Son of a Bitch!
Well, my little peanut finally woke up and needed to be rocked back to sleep before we could finish off that bottle of wine. So we did just that. We drank, We laughed so hard, my cheeks were hurting, and we stayed up past midnight (I know, we are wild and crazy!). This will definitely be a story we tell our kids when they're older, hopefully on the same lake vacationing together again.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Damn You, Rubik's Cube!
Having a new baby is like working on a Rubik's Cube every day. As soon as you have the yellow side figured out and then solve the blue, you realize that, in doing so, you've just fucked up the yellow side, and in trying to fix that, you fuck up the blue again! Soon you find yourself in frustrating spiral of do-overs, second guessing every move you make, and seriously contemplating peeling off every single goddamn sticker and reorganizing it by color to make everyone think you are so fucking brilliant and put-together that they hate your guts. Perfection. That's what we want. We want our children to be perfect and we want to be perfect parents. There's no shame in that. Of course I want the best for my child. But this week, I learned something that I think all new moms should know: Best does not always equal perfection.
By the time our baby turned 3 months, life started to get a whole lot easier. Baby girl was a pro at latching to breastfeed, we had established a daytime routine complete with somewhat regular nap times, a nighttime routine with bedtime stories, and best of a all, baby girl was sleeping through the night! We had 4 out of 6 sides of the Rubik's Cube complete! We were fucking rockstar parents! Life was good... for about 2 weeks. Then we hit the trifecta of turds hitting the fan: growth spurt, teething, and... what was the third thing? Shit. I can't remember. Hello, sleep deprivation. It's nice to see you again. NOT!
One of my biggest concerns was that this little peanut decided to go back to cluster feeding during the day again. I brought this up at the Breastfeeding Support group and Counselor Grabby basically told me it was my fault. She said that in letting my baby sleep through the night, I was allowing my milk supply to diminish. Her advice was to wake my baby up at night to feed her and save my milk supply! Excuse me? We have a good thing going and you want me to wake her up? Hell no! I tuned her out after that advice. After that she sounded like Charlie Brown's mom. Wha wha wha wha.... It didn't matter anyway because soon after that, she started waking up 2-3 times during the night on her own. Ugh.
Another issue we are now facing is teething. I think this is why she is waking up at night. It's not crying that I wake up to through the monitor, but rather a sort of primal grunting noise that you would not expect to come from the body of such a tiny baby. After waking up in a panic, expecting to see a gorilla peering over my baby's crib on the monitor, I realized it was just her trying to suck on her thumb. Actually, she was trying to get her whole entire fist in her mouth. Someone once told me that when a tooth is making its way through a baby's gums, it comes in like a cork screw! I have no idea if that's true or not, but that image was enough for me to leap out of bed and run to my baby's rescue as fast as I could. The only thing that seems to calm her down is to breastfeed her until she falls back asleep. Now she can't fall asleep for naps or bedtime unless I breastfeed her to sleep. So this begs the question: have I created a bad habit? (Hubby, did I use that phrase correctly?).
Like I said earlier, I want the best for my child. I want to be a perfect mom for her. I want to teach her how to grow up to be a strong, independent woman, the way my mom taught me. I want her to be a good problem solver and have the courage and self esteem to try things on her own before asking for help. Some people would argue that you should teach your child independence by allowing them to fall asleep on their own and let them cry it out. But is it too early to teach her those lessons?
After talking to other moms, especially the one mom that I look up to the most, my sister, I came to an answer to that question. Yes. Yes it is too early to teach those lessons. I get so wrapped up in worrying about her future, I tend to lose sight of what's right in front of me. She's just a baby and she needs me. It's ok that she falls asleep on my breast, and needs a little extra comfort in the middle of the night. It's ok that I pick her up every time she cries, and sometimes before she cries, just when she gets that little boo-boo lip going. It's ok that I kiss her cheeks several times before laying her in her crib at night, and sneak into her room for one more smooch before I hit the sack. It doesn't seem like it right now, but I am teaching her something that I never want her to forget. I am teaching her that Mommy will always be here for her, day or night, whenever she needs me. Hopefully, she will grow up knowing that she will always have the support of Mommy and Daddy, and with that she will be able conquer anything her little heart desires!
It's certainly not ideal to wake up at midnight, 2 am, 4 am, and 6 am, or to suffer the pains of cluster feeding a teething baby, but it's my life right now and it's perfect. We'll figure out this side of the cube together, and when we do, baby girl will probably scramble up all the colors again and we'll be right back where we started, in Rubik's Cube hell. And that's ok. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to nurse my little bean to sleep for her nap and hold her a little longer before laying her in her crib. No, scratch that, I'm going to put my chores aside for a while and let her nap on my chest on the couch. Now that's a perfect afternoon!
By the time our baby turned 3 months, life started to get a whole lot easier. Baby girl was a pro at latching to breastfeed, we had established a daytime routine complete with somewhat regular nap times, a nighttime routine with bedtime stories, and best of a all, baby girl was sleeping through the night! We had 4 out of 6 sides of the Rubik's Cube complete! We were fucking rockstar parents! Life was good... for about 2 weeks. Then we hit the trifecta of turds hitting the fan: growth spurt, teething, and... what was the third thing? Shit. I can't remember. Hello, sleep deprivation. It's nice to see you again. NOT!
One of my biggest concerns was that this little peanut decided to go back to cluster feeding during the day again. I brought this up at the Breastfeeding Support group and Counselor Grabby basically told me it was my fault. She said that in letting my baby sleep through the night, I was allowing my milk supply to diminish. Her advice was to wake my baby up at night to feed her and save my milk supply! Excuse me? We have a good thing going and you want me to wake her up? Hell no! I tuned her out after that advice. After that she sounded like Charlie Brown's mom. Wha wha wha wha.... It didn't matter anyway because soon after that, she started waking up 2-3 times during the night on her own. Ugh.
Another issue we are now facing is teething. I think this is why she is waking up at night. It's not crying that I wake up to through the monitor, but rather a sort of primal grunting noise that you would not expect to come from the body of such a tiny baby. After waking up in a panic, expecting to see a gorilla peering over my baby's crib on the monitor, I realized it was just her trying to suck on her thumb. Actually, she was trying to get her whole entire fist in her mouth. Someone once told me that when a tooth is making its way through a baby's gums, it comes in like a cork screw! I have no idea if that's true or not, but that image was enough for me to leap out of bed and run to my baby's rescue as fast as I could. The only thing that seems to calm her down is to breastfeed her until she falls back asleep. Now she can't fall asleep for naps or bedtime unless I breastfeed her to sleep. So this begs the question: have I created a bad habit? (Hubby, did I use that phrase correctly?).
Like I said earlier, I want the best for my child. I want to be a perfect mom for her. I want to teach her how to grow up to be a strong, independent woman, the way my mom taught me. I want her to be a good problem solver and have the courage and self esteem to try things on her own before asking for help. Some people would argue that you should teach your child independence by allowing them to fall asleep on their own and let them cry it out. But is it too early to teach her those lessons?
After talking to other moms, especially the one mom that I look up to the most, my sister, I came to an answer to that question. Yes. Yes it is too early to teach those lessons. I get so wrapped up in worrying about her future, I tend to lose sight of what's right in front of me. She's just a baby and she needs me. It's ok that she falls asleep on my breast, and needs a little extra comfort in the middle of the night. It's ok that I pick her up every time she cries, and sometimes before she cries, just when she gets that little boo-boo lip going. It's ok that I kiss her cheeks several times before laying her in her crib at night, and sneak into her room for one more smooch before I hit the sack. It doesn't seem like it right now, but I am teaching her something that I never want her to forget. I am teaching her that Mommy will always be here for her, day or night, whenever she needs me. Hopefully, she will grow up knowing that she will always have the support of Mommy and Daddy, and with that she will be able conquer anything her little heart desires!
It's certainly not ideal to wake up at midnight, 2 am, 4 am, and 6 am, or to suffer the pains of cluster feeding a teething baby, but it's my life right now and it's perfect. We'll figure out this side of the cube together, and when we do, baby girl will probably scramble up all the colors again and we'll be right back where we started, in Rubik's Cube hell. And that's ok. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to nurse my little bean to sleep for her nap and hold her a little longer before laying her in her crib. No, scratch that, I'm going to put my chores aside for a while and let her nap on my chest on the couch. Now that's a perfect afternoon!
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Breast Friends Forever
My friend and I decided to attend a breastfeeding support group at the hospital where we both delivered our babies. Our little peanuts have been doing well with breastfeeding, but like many other new moms, we still had 1,001 questions. I figured, why not? Even if I don't get answers to my boob related inquiries, at least we can make friends with some other new moms in the area. And if we fail to do that, at least I can get some good blog material.
And that I did.
We had no idea what to expect. We walk in and who do we see? Our favorite Boob Camp Counselor. You know, the real handsy one. "Hey!" I said to her, as if she would remember me from 3 months ago. Of course she had no idea who I was. I don't know, I just thought that since she and I went right to second base when we first met, she would at least recognize my face! Huh!
The room was already a bit crowded with babies and moms, sitting barefoot in a circle, on a blanket, on the floor. A breastfeeding picnic, if you will. Except the only ones allowed to eat are the babies. We found a spot on the floor and joined the lovely kumbaya circle of boobs.
We chatted with a few moms and kept glancing at Counselor Grabby, wondering when she was going to facilitate this meeting. 10 minutes went by... 15... 20 minutes. She just stood over in the corner! Meanwhile all the moms, who we soon found out all knew each other from prenatal yoga classes and have been attending this group on a regular basis, kept chatting and breastfeeding. No udder covers, no blankets, just a whole lot of boobage! And there we were, my friend and I, with our trendy little nursing covers at our sides. Without saying a word, we knew exactly what the other was thinking:
Are you going to use your cover?
I don't know. Are you?
I'll do whatever you do. We're in this together.
Well, soon enough, our babies started to fuss and were ready to join the feeding frenzy. We looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. When in Rome... If we weren't close friends before, we certainly are now!
We soon realized that this was not going to be a raise-your-hand, Q&A type of class. It was literally just a place where moms can breastfeed together. It was a bit awkward at first, I'll admit, but I did learn some fascinating things about breastfeeding from the other moms. I even got a few tips from Booby McGrabbyhands, once she decided to leave her corner and converse with us mommies. One mom, in particular, totally blew my fucking mind with a bit of info that she shared. We got on the subject of pumping and building a good milk supply for daycare and she said "I can usually pump about 14 ounces a few times a day. Then I divide it into smaller portions and freeze some."
"I'm sorry," I interrupted. "did you say 14 ounces? Like 1-4?"
"Yeah." She replied. "I can get anywhere between 14-16 ounces on each side every time I pump."
"What!?" I said in disbelief. "On each side?!" I hope she wasn't offended by the you-are-a-freak-of-nature look I had on my face. "Do you mean milliliters?"
"No. Ounces."
Holy shit! I can maybe pump 3 or 4 ounces on each side. And that's on a good day! How the hell does she do that? I couldn't help but picture her pumping into a freaking Nalgene bottle, and then attaching an enormous, custom-made nipple to feed it to her giant baby (her baby was not giant at all. He was perfectly average sized). I was so amazed by her ability to supply enough milk for an entire village, I had to tell my hubby when I got home. "Was her name Bessy?" he asked, laughing. "Is she a blue ribbon contender at the state fair?"
We had a good laugh, but honestly, I was kind of jealous! It would be so nice to be able to pump enough milk every day and have enough bottles to be comfortable leaving my baby with someone for longer than an hour. She can go on vacation for a whole week and be able to leave more than enough breastmilk for her baby! Incredible!
Soon the two hours were up and moms started to pack up their babies and leave, but not before we heard some whispers:
Mom #1: "Are you going to the..."
Mom#2: "Oh, yes. We'll be there."
Mom #3: "I'll meet you guys there in a bit. How about you? Are you going to... the thing?"
Mom #4: "Of course! I'll see you there!"
What? What thing? Where is everyone going? Clearly we were the "newbies," not yet initiated into this secret sorority. How do we pledge? When can we become Kappa Kappa Ta-Tas? I want in!
And that I did.
We had no idea what to expect. We walk in and who do we see? Our favorite Boob Camp Counselor. You know, the real handsy one. "Hey!" I said to her, as if she would remember me from 3 months ago. Of course she had no idea who I was. I don't know, I just thought that since she and I went right to second base when we first met, she would at least recognize my face! Huh!
The room was already a bit crowded with babies and moms, sitting barefoot in a circle, on a blanket, on the floor. A breastfeeding picnic, if you will. Except the only ones allowed to eat are the babies. We found a spot on the floor and joined the lovely kumbaya circle of boobs.
We chatted with a few moms and kept glancing at Counselor Grabby, wondering when she was going to facilitate this meeting. 10 minutes went by... 15... 20 minutes. She just stood over in the corner! Meanwhile all the moms, who we soon found out all knew each other from prenatal yoga classes and have been attending this group on a regular basis, kept chatting and breastfeeding. No udder covers, no blankets, just a whole lot of boobage! And there we were, my friend and I, with our trendy little nursing covers at our sides. Without saying a word, we knew exactly what the other was thinking:
Are you going to use your cover?
I don't know. Are you?
I'll do whatever you do. We're in this together.
Well, soon enough, our babies started to fuss and were ready to join the feeding frenzy. We looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. When in Rome... If we weren't close friends before, we certainly are now!
We soon realized that this was not going to be a raise-your-hand, Q&A type of class. It was literally just a place where moms can breastfeed together. It was a bit awkward at first, I'll admit, but I did learn some fascinating things about breastfeeding from the other moms. I even got a few tips from Booby McGrabbyhands, once she decided to leave her corner and converse with us mommies. One mom, in particular, totally blew my fucking mind with a bit of info that she shared. We got on the subject of pumping and building a good milk supply for daycare and she said "I can usually pump about 14 ounces a few times a day. Then I divide it into smaller portions and freeze some."
"I'm sorry," I interrupted. "did you say 14 ounces? Like 1-4?"
"Yeah." She replied. "I can get anywhere between 14-16 ounces on each side every time I pump."
"What!?" I said in disbelief. "On each side?!" I hope she wasn't offended by the you-are-a-freak-of-nature look I had on my face. "Do you mean milliliters?"
"No. Ounces."
Holy shit! I can maybe pump 3 or 4 ounces on each side. And that's on a good day! How the hell does she do that? I couldn't help but picture her pumping into a freaking Nalgene bottle, and then attaching an enormous, custom-made nipple to feed it to her giant baby (her baby was not giant at all. He was perfectly average sized). I was so amazed by her ability to supply enough milk for an entire village, I had to tell my hubby when I got home. "Was her name Bessy?" he asked, laughing. "Is she a blue ribbon contender at the state fair?"
We had a good laugh, but honestly, I was kind of jealous! It would be so nice to be able to pump enough milk every day and have enough bottles to be comfortable leaving my baby with someone for longer than an hour. She can go on vacation for a whole week and be able to leave more than enough breastmilk for her baby! Incredible!
Soon the two hours were up and moms started to pack up their babies and leave, but not before we heard some whispers:
Mom #1: "Are you going to the..."
Mom#2: "Oh, yes. We'll be there."
Mom #3: "I'll meet you guys there in a bit. How about you? Are you going to... the thing?"
Mom #4: "Of course! I'll see you there!"
What? What thing? Where is everyone going? Clearly we were the "newbies," not yet initiated into this secret sorority. How do we pledge? When can we become Kappa Kappa Ta-Tas? I want in!
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Grocery Shopping... Ugh.
I have been spoiled for several years now with a husband who loves to cook. And he's pretty damn good at it! And because he is the Foodie in the house, he usually does the grocery shopping too! What a catch, right? I know, I totally hit the jackpot! It's not that I'm lazy, I'm just not a good cook. I have a few specialties that my husband will request every once in a while, but it's really best for everyone if I just stay out of the kitchen. I'll help do the grocery shopping every once in a while too, but half the time I come home with the wrong type of olive oil, or forget the fennel because I have no idea what the fuck that is or where to find it. Plus, I haaaaate it. I don't have enough patience to wait for my number to be called at the Deli line, and I have zero will power when I get to the snack aisle. But now that I'm a temporary stay-at-home mom, I figured I need to up my game a bit in the kitchen so we can have good quality family time when Hubby comes home from work. (By "upping my game," I mean learn a few easy crock pot recipes. I know my limitations).
To do that, I was going to have to conquer my fear and take the little peanut grocery shopping. So that's what I did this morning. The grocery store is right down the road and my list was pretty short, so I figured what the heck, let's do this! I got a parking spot right next to the shopping carts. Score! Then came my first obstacle: where does the baby go? She's too small to sit in the seat in the cart, and I needed to buy too many things to pile on top of the stroller, so I just put her car seat right in the basket of the cart, facing me. That's what you're supposed to do, right? Baby girl gave me a look as if to say "why are you putting me in this cage? What have I ever done to you besides the 23 hour labor, 3 1/2 hours of pushing, hemorrhoids, stitches, stretch marks... Ok, maybe I deserve to be in this cage for a few minutes." She must have felt pretty guilty, because she was quiet and content the whole time. I, on the other hand, was faced with another dilemma: where do the groceries go? The car seat takes up the whole damn cart! I was able to put some stuff in the front seat area of the cart, shoved a box of cereal and a few boxes of granola bars down in front of the car seat, 2 quarts of milk in the undercarriage, and I let the baby hold onto a pack of sponges and soap. What?! She owes me one!
We made it through the checkout, no problem. I feel kind of stupid for even writing about it. I know moms and dads do this all the time, and they are probably laughing at me right now for being such a spaz about it. But this time my list was short and it was easy. What do people do when they need a week's worth of groceries? Seriously, I want to know! I'm a pretty good multi-tasker, but there is no way I can push a stroller AND a shopping cart! Especially not mid-week, in the middle of the day, when all the senior citizens do their shopping in their Hoverounds with a total disregard for common sense traffic rules! How do parents of multiples do it? How do single parents do it? Good God, how do single parents WITH multiples do it??? It will be easier when she is old enough to sit in the cart, but what am I supposed to do until then? Balance a gallon of OJ on my head and stuff the lunch meat in my bra?
Show off!
Is this another one of those secrets experienced moms don't want to share? Come on! Help a sista out!
To do that, I was going to have to conquer my fear and take the little peanut grocery shopping. So that's what I did this morning. The grocery store is right down the road and my list was pretty short, so I figured what the heck, let's do this! I got a parking spot right next to the shopping carts. Score! Then came my first obstacle: where does the baby go? She's too small to sit in the seat in the cart, and I needed to buy too many things to pile on top of the stroller, so I just put her car seat right in the basket of the cart, facing me. That's what you're supposed to do, right? Baby girl gave me a look as if to say "why are you putting me in this cage? What have I ever done to you besides the 23 hour labor, 3 1/2 hours of pushing, hemorrhoids, stitches, stretch marks... Ok, maybe I deserve to be in this cage for a few minutes." She must have felt pretty guilty, because she was quiet and content the whole time. I, on the other hand, was faced with another dilemma: where do the groceries go? The car seat takes up the whole damn cart! I was able to put some stuff in the front seat area of the cart, shoved a box of cereal and a few boxes of granola bars down in front of the car seat, 2 quarts of milk in the undercarriage, and I let the baby hold onto a pack of sponges and soap. What?! She owes me one!
We made it through the checkout, no problem. I feel kind of stupid for even writing about it. I know moms and dads do this all the time, and they are probably laughing at me right now for being such a spaz about it. But this time my list was short and it was easy. What do people do when they need a week's worth of groceries? Seriously, I want to know! I'm a pretty good multi-tasker, but there is no way I can push a stroller AND a shopping cart! Especially not mid-week, in the middle of the day, when all the senior citizens do their shopping in their Hoverounds with a total disregard for common sense traffic rules! How do parents of multiples do it? How do single parents do it? Good God, how do single parents WITH multiples do it??? It will be easier when she is old enough to sit in the cart, but what am I supposed to do until then? Balance a gallon of OJ on my head and stuff the lunch meat in my bra?
Is this another one of those secrets experienced moms don't want to share? Come on! Help a sista out!
Sunday, June 1, 2014
A Reading Rainbow... Of Sorts
For my baby shower, guests were asked to give a book in lieu of a card. I loved this idea because I couldn't wait to start building a library for our daughter. My husband and I decided it's never too early to start reading to her, so we've been reading bedtime stories every night since the day we brought her home from the hospital. I know what you're thinking, what's the point? It's like reading to the dog. Newborns don't even have fully developed eyesight, let alone the ability to comprehend the exciting plot twists of Frog and Toad. I know she has no idea what's going on and has zero comprehension of the stories we read, but it creates a routine for her (and us), and it sets aside some special time for us to spend together.
We got some fantastic books, old and new, and let me tell you, they are all just as fun to read to each other (Mommy and Daddy) as they were to read to my students when I taught Preschool. Besides all of the educational benefits of reading to your child at an early age, it's also really fun to over analyze the simplicity of children's books now while she doesn't understand what the hell we're saying! It's like Mystery Science Theater every night in my house, but with children's books. You should try it! I hope no one takes offense if I happen to mention a book that you gifted to us. I'm not criticizing them, just having a little fun here.
Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed: my husband thinks it's hilarious, and a bit disturbing, that every single time one of the monkeys falls out of bed and hits their head hard enough for Momma to have to call the doctor, she puts the injured monkey back to sleep! Hello? NEVER LET SOMEONE WITH A HEAD INJURY GO TO SLEEP!! They could have a concussion! And what the fuck kind of doctor responds to a head injury with "This is the 5th child from the same house in the SAME NIGHT with a head injury? How about trying no more jumping on the bed? Let's see if that works." Uh, it didn't work the first four times, maybe now you should call CPS on this woman. Not only do all of her children have possible head trauma, but all five of them have to share a bed! That's just sad.
The Cat in the Hat: Don't even get me started on how this book teaches kids to let a total stranger in the house to play and completely trash the place while mom's not home. Wait. Mom's not home? Yup, that's right. Mom left the two young children at home alone while she went grocery shopping. Oh but don't worry, the goldfish is babysitting!
I actually do love both of those books and I can't wait to read them to our little one when she is a little more self-aware. There is absolutely nothing wrong with them. As a teacher with a masters in Literacy, I can tell you that they are engaging, fun, and introduce concepts like rhyming, repetition and alliteration, and they've withstood the test of time. So thank you to the people who gave them to us!
Then we came across this book:
This treasure was from my husband's childhood collection of books. As tattered and worn out as it is, I'm surprised it even exists. I mean, why has this book not been burned in a fire along with all the bras during the women's lib movement of the 1960's, or had the pages torn out and used to roll joints during the environmental movement of the 70's? I should explain. Let me make something very clear: what you are about to read is not sarcasm. This is actually a synopsis of the book.
Stan is about to embark on his first day on the job as a Garbage Man. During his route, he decides it's such a waste to just throw gently used household items into the "chewer-upper," so instead he ties everything to the top of the truck and gives them way to the people in town. Everyone is so excited to make other people's trash their treasure. Great idea, right? Reduce, Re-use, Recycle! Yay!
Not so fast.
When everything is gone, and I quote: "...fathers went to work and mothers went back to the dishes."
Mmmhmm. Yup. That's right, Mom. Go back to the kitchen where you belong and make me a pie!
But wait, there's more! Stan's boss is a little disappointed with this novel idea of recycling. He was supposed to put everything in the "chewer upper" so that the trash and ashes can be carried away on a tugboat and, I quote again: "used to fill in swampland. Then parks and playgrounds would be built there." What a shame! Now, because stupid Stan had to go and reduce the amount of trash collected in the town, the poor children won't have a dirty swamp yard to play in! WHEN WILL SOMEONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?!
But don't get too worried. Every good book has a happy ending. [SPOILER ALERT!!!!!] The people of the town decide, the very next day, that their new treasures were pieces of shit after all and put everything back on the street for garbage pick up. Stan was sad at first, but then he realized something:
"All this stuff will fill in lots and lots of swamps!"
If you were as captivated by this author's poignant writing as I was, then you'll want to check out his other work (I'm going out on a limb here to assume that Gene is a guy):
The review for No Roses for Harry especially caught my attention. Dear Garbage Man already proved that logic + ludicrousness = gales of laughter, I can't wait to see what kind of gender stereotyping and environmental activism Harry has in store for us!
Here's another timeless classic from the 1950's, salvaged (thank god!) from my husband's childhood collection:
[I should take a moment here to point out that my husband is not actually in his 70's, although if you look at his taste in alcohol, you might think so. He's only 32, and he drinks Manhattans and single malt Scotch. But I digress...]
I Want to be a Fireman: I'll be brief with this one. Bill and Jane stop by the fire house on their way home from school, when the fire alarm goes off. Curious about what firemen actually do (you can see how interested Jane is in this illustration), they stick around to watch them in action.
They count the firemen and identify the different trucks and equipment. Even Jane, a girl, identifies the pump engine! Way to go, Jane! Then, here comes Dad to drive them right to the deadly inferno so they can get a front row seat at the action. Right then and there, Bill decides that's what he wants to be when he grows up. And what about Jane, you ask? Will she become a trailblazer for other intelligent little girls like herself in the future, and become the first female firefighter?
No, she will not.
Bring Back Reading Rainbow... PLEASE!!
We got some fantastic books, old and new, and let me tell you, they are all just as fun to read to each other (Mommy and Daddy) as they were to read to my students when I taught Preschool. Besides all of the educational benefits of reading to your child at an early age, it's also really fun to over analyze the simplicity of children's books now while she doesn't understand what the hell we're saying! It's like Mystery Science Theater every night in my house, but with children's books. You should try it! I hope no one takes offense if I happen to mention a book that you gifted to us. I'm not criticizing them, just having a little fun here.
Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed: my husband thinks it's hilarious, and a bit disturbing, that every single time one of the monkeys falls out of bed and hits their head hard enough for Momma to have to call the doctor, she puts the injured monkey back to sleep! Hello? NEVER LET SOMEONE WITH A HEAD INJURY GO TO SLEEP!! They could have a concussion! And what the fuck kind of doctor responds to a head injury with "This is the 5th child from the same house in the SAME NIGHT with a head injury? How about trying no more jumping on the bed? Let's see if that works." Uh, it didn't work the first four times, maybe now you should call CPS on this woman. Not only do all of her children have possible head trauma, but all five of them have to share a bed! That's just sad.
The Cat in the Hat: Don't even get me started on how this book teaches kids to let a total stranger in the house to play and completely trash the place while mom's not home. Wait. Mom's not home? Yup, that's right. Mom left the two young children at home alone while she went grocery shopping. Oh but don't worry, the goldfish is babysitting!
I actually do love both of those books and I can't wait to read them to our little one when she is a little more self-aware. There is absolutely nothing wrong with them. As a teacher with a masters in Literacy, I can tell you that they are engaging, fun, and introduce concepts like rhyming, repetition and alliteration, and they've withstood the test of time. So thank you to the people who gave them to us!
Then we came across this book:
Stan is about to embark on his first day on the job as a Garbage Man. During his route, he decides it's such a waste to just throw gently used household items into the "chewer-upper," so instead he ties everything to the top of the truck and gives them way to the people in town. Everyone is so excited to make other people's trash their treasure. Great idea, right? Reduce, Re-use, Recycle! Yay!
Not so fast.
When everything is gone, and I quote: "...fathers went to work and mothers went back to the dishes."
Mmmhmm. Yup. That's right, Mom. Go back to the kitchen where you belong and make me a pie!
But wait, there's more! Stan's boss is a little disappointed with this novel idea of recycling. He was supposed to put everything in the "chewer upper" so that the trash and ashes can be carried away on a tugboat and, I quote again: "used to fill in swampland. Then parks and playgrounds would be built there." What a shame! Now, because stupid Stan had to go and reduce the amount of trash collected in the town, the poor children won't have a dirty swamp yard to play in! WHEN WILL SOMEONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?!
But don't get too worried. Every good book has a happy ending. [SPOILER ALERT!!!!!] The people of the town decide, the very next day, that their new treasures were pieces of shit after all and put everything back on the street for garbage pick up. Stan was sad at first, but then he realized something:
"All this stuff will fill in lots and lots of swamps!"
If you were as captivated by this author's poignant writing as I was, then you'll want to check out his other work (I'm going out on a limb here to assume that Gene is a guy):
The review for No Roses for Harry especially caught my attention. Dear Garbage Man already proved that logic + ludicrousness = gales of laughter, I can't wait to see what kind of gender stereotyping and environmental activism Harry has in store for us!
Here's another timeless classic from the 1950's, salvaged (thank god!) from my husband's childhood collection:
[I should take a moment here to point out that my husband is not actually in his 70's, although if you look at his taste in alcohol, you might think so. He's only 32, and he drinks Manhattans and single malt Scotch. But I digress...]
No, she will not.
Bring Back Reading Rainbow... PLEASE!!
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Irrational Fears
These are just a few things I have become irrationally afraid of since giving birth to my daughter:
-Breastfeeding somewhere public and forgetting to tuck everything back in and close up my shirt
-Losing my grip on the stroller and watching it pick up speed down a steep hill and I can't catch up to it
-My baby having a huge diaper blow out and I forgot to pack extra clothes, or worse, no diapers!
-Packing up the car and leaving the car seat (with baby in it) in the driveway, along with my coffee. (the coffee part I've done before)
-My baby somehow figuring out how to unbuckle herself from her car seat. She just figured out how to get her thumb in her mouth, but somehow I'm still terrified that I will look in my rear view mirror and see her climbing out and reaching for the door handle.
-Her first words are something stupid like "selfie" or "#wheresmybinky"
-She's going to grow up with a poor sense of distance and space because she thinks her Auntie Sophia and Auntie Kelsey live in Daddy's iPad. We Skype with them often because they live waaaay too far away! (Hint, hint. Move to NY!! I'm trying to work the guilt trip angle here! Is it working yet?)
-She will start teething on one of the dog's toys. Ok, this one is not that irrational because it might actually happen. Some of the dog's toys closely resemble baby teething toys! If there weren't massive teeth marks in some of them, would you be able to tell which ones are for the dog and which ones are for the baby?
(answers below)
Some more fears:
-I'll hear strange voices from her baby monitor at night, like in those Paranormal Activity movies
-I'll see my baby being slowly dragged across her crib by an invisible force through the baby monitor, also like those Paranormal Activity movies (I really have to stop watching those movies)
-She'll have my husband's alien toes. Seriously. His second toe is like an inch longer than the rest (I exaggerate a bit). He knows how I feel about them.
-She'll inherit my awful memory. My husband gets so annoyed when we scroll through Netflix and I pick a movie and he has to break the news to me that we already watched it... just last weekend. Then after trying to convince him that no, we haven't seen it, and that he must be mistaking me for a previous girlfriend that he watched it with. I think I would remember watching Sharknado, duh. We play the movie and 10 minutes in, I admit, "Oh, yeah. This looks familiar. I think we've seen it already."
-She won't have good manners
-She'll hate Math (it's my favorite subject to do AND teach!)
-She'll also hate Reading. Is there anything worse than a teacher who can't even teach her own child to love reading? Don't try to defend me on this one, I would judge myself!
-We'll be at a nice restaurant, or a wedding ceremony, or the library, or an elevator and baby girl will let out one of her adorably loud farts and everyone will think it's me (another one that is not really irrational. It's only a matter of time before this happens for real)
-She will fart like that forever
This is just an abridged version of the list of things that keep me up at night sometimes. Call me crazy, call me irrational, call me neurotic, or whatever. Maybe my brain subconsciously focuses on these ridiculous scenarios to avoid the real heavy stuff I'll have to worry about in the future like puberty, dating, driving, and college... Oh my god, my head hurts already! Someone get me a Valium, STAT!
(Dog Toys: 1, 4, 9, 10; Baby Toys: 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8)
-Breastfeeding somewhere public and forgetting to tuck everything back in and close up my shirt
-Losing my grip on the stroller and watching it pick up speed down a steep hill and I can't catch up to it
-My baby having a huge diaper blow out and I forgot to pack extra clothes, or worse, no diapers!
-Packing up the car and leaving the car seat (with baby in it) in the driveway, along with my coffee. (the coffee part I've done before)
-My baby somehow figuring out how to unbuckle herself from her car seat. She just figured out how to get her thumb in her mouth, but somehow I'm still terrified that I will look in my rear view mirror and see her climbing out and reaching for the door handle.
-Her first words are something stupid like "selfie" or "#wheresmybinky"
-She's going to grow up with a poor sense of distance and space because she thinks her Auntie Sophia and Auntie Kelsey live in Daddy's iPad. We Skype with them often because they live waaaay too far away! (Hint, hint. Move to NY!! I'm trying to work the guilt trip angle here! Is it working yet?)
-She will start teething on one of the dog's toys. Ok, this one is not that irrational because it might actually happen. Some of the dog's toys closely resemble baby teething toys! If there weren't massive teeth marks in some of them, would you be able to tell which ones are for the dog and which ones are for the baby?
(answers below)
Some more fears:
-I'll hear strange voices from her baby monitor at night, like in those Paranormal Activity movies
-I'll see my baby being slowly dragged across her crib by an invisible force through the baby monitor, also like those Paranormal Activity movies (I really have to stop watching those movies)
-She'll have my husband's alien toes. Seriously. His second toe is like an inch longer than the rest (I exaggerate a bit). He knows how I feel about them.
-She'll inherit my awful memory. My husband gets so annoyed when we scroll through Netflix and I pick a movie and he has to break the news to me that we already watched it... just last weekend. Then after trying to convince him that no, we haven't seen it, and that he must be mistaking me for a previous girlfriend that he watched it with. I think I would remember watching Sharknado, duh. We play the movie and 10 minutes in, I admit, "Oh, yeah. This looks familiar. I think we've seen it already."
-She won't have good manners
-She'll hate Math (it's my favorite subject to do AND teach!)
-She'll also hate Reading. Is there anything worse than a teacher who can't even teach her own child to love reading? Don't try to defend me on this one, I would judge myself!
-We'll be at a nice restaurant, or a wedding ceremony, or the library, or an elevator and baby girl will let out one of her adorably loud farts and everyone will think it's me (another one that is not really irrational. It's only a matter of time before this happens for real)
-She will fart like that forever
This is just an abridged version of the list of things that keep me up at night sometimes. Call me crazy, call me irrational, call me neurotic, or whatever. Maybe my brain subconsciously focuses on these ridiculous scenarios to avoid the real heavy stuff I'll have to worry about in the future like puberty, dating, driving, and college... Oh my god, my head hurts already! Someone get me a Valium, STAT!
(Dog Toys: 1, 4, 9, 10; Baby Toys: 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8)
Tuesday, May 27, 2014
Bye Bye Bassinet
Last night was the first night the peanut slept in her crib and not in the bassinet at my side! I am happy to report that we all made it through the night! There were some tears and very little sleep, but other than that, I did just fine! Well, if you ask my husband, "just fine" might not be the phrase he would use to describe it. He did a great job coaching me through. I was like a 5 year old trying to come up with every excuse not to have to go to sleep in my own room. I would have been perfectly fine pulling out the sleeping bag and camping out next to her crib.
Me: "What if she needs me?"
Hubby: "She will cry and you'll hear her in the monitor."
Me: "But what if she needs me and just makes her little squeaky sounds?"
Hubby: "You will hear her in the monitor."
Me: "What if she wakes up and is scared because she doesn't know where she is?"
Hubby: "She takes naps in here, she is familiar with her room."
Me: "What if it's too dark?"
Hubby: "I'll go get the night light."
I nursed her in the rocking chair while Hubby read a bedtime story to her. Of course he chose the book On The Night You Were Born. He hadn't even finished the first page before the tears started rolling down my face. Looking down at her, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic about the night she was born. It was only 11 weeks ago, but it felt like just yesterday, and yet I can't even remember her being that tiny in my arms (if that makes any sense at all). I look at her and see how much bigger she is already! Her little legs dangle off my arm now and those tootsies can reach the arm of the chair. She is getting stronger too! She likes to kick those little chicken legs onto the arm of the rocking chair as if she is propelling herself off the wall of a swimming pool, which, if you can imagine, feels wonderful while breastfeeding. (In case you can't read sarcasm, it does NOT feel wonderful at all. But it's still kind of cute that she does it). And she is more independent. Well, as much as an infant can be. She grabs her toys, she can get her thumb in her mouth with about a 70% success rate, she latches on to breastfeed all by herself, she even grabs at my shirt when she's hungry and will hold onto my boob with both hands like a bottle (Sorry if that is TMI!), she sleeps through the night, and now she is sleeping in her crib like a big girl! I can't even take it!
After about 45 minutes of rocking her in my arms, I finally found the courage to lay her in her crib and walk out of her room, tears still streaming down my face, Hubby's hand on my shoulder escorting me out, telling me everything will be ok. I must have stared at the monitor for over an hour before finally falling asleep myself. My poor husband had to get up early for work the next morning and I kept him up late, making him take turns with me going in to check on her.
Me: "I can't hear her."
Hubby: "Thats because she's sleeping."
Me: "go check on her, please."
Hubby: "ok."
Me: "Put your hand on her chest and make sure she's still breathing."
Hubby: "ok."
This went on for about 30 minutes.
Me: "What if the sound isn't working on the monitor?"
Hubby: "The sound is fine. Get some sleep."
Me: "Go in there and whisper something so I can see if I can hear you."
Hubby: "ok..."
The sound check worked and I was running out of excuses to try to get my husband to give in any say "Let's just let her sleep in here for a few more months." But I knew I had to get through this. All of my mommy friends said they had their babies sleeping in their cribs by 2 months and here we are going on 3! But I just miss her so much when she's sleeping. I had to keep reminding myself that I'll see her in the morning when she starts to wiggle her little butt around and makes little grunting noises as she stretches and tries to wake up, letting out a little toot with every stretch. And when she opens her eyes for the first time, she gives me a big, gummy smile and squeezes my neck when I pick her up. That is something I look forward to every day.
I don't want to be a helicopter mom with the umbilical cord still attached when we help her move in to her college dorm room for the first time. Oh my god... College. I need to end this post now because I can feel the tears welling up again.
Me: "What if she needs me?"
Hubby: "She will cry and you'll hear her in the monitor."
Me: "But what if she needs me and just makes her little squeaky sounds?"
Hubby: "You will hear her in the monitor."
Me: "What if she wakes up and is scared because she doesn't know where she is?"
Hubby: "She takes naps in here, she is familiar with her room."
Me: "What if it's too dark?"
Hubby: "I'll go get the night light."
I nursed her in the rocking chair while Hubby read a bedtime story to her. Of course he chose the book On The Night You Were Born. He hadn't even finished the first page before the tears started rolling down my face. Looking down at her, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic about the night she was born. It was only 11 weeks ago, but it felt like just yesterday, and yet I can't even remember her being that tiny in my arms (if that makes any sense at all). I look at her and see how much bigger she is already! Her little legs dangle off my arm now and those tootsies can reach the arm of the chair. She is getting stronger too! She likes to kick those little chicken legs onto the arm of the rocking chair as if she is propelling herself off the wall of a swimming pool, which, if you can imagine, feels wonderful while breastfeeding. (In case you can't read sarcasm, it does NOT feel wonderful at all. But it's still kind of cute that she does it). And she is more independent. Well, as much as an infant can be. She grabs her toys, she can get her thumb in her mouth with about a 70% success rate, she latches on to breastfeed all by herself, she even grabs at my shirt when she's hungry and will hold onto my boob with both hands like a bottle (Sorry if that is TMI!), she sleeps through the night, and now she is sleeping in her crib like a big girl! I can't even take it!
After about 45 minutes of rocking her in my arms, I finally found the courage to lay her in her crib and walk out of her room, tears still streaming down my face, Hubby's hand on my shoulder escorting me out, telling me everything will be ok. I must have stared at the monitor for over an hour before finally falling asleep myself. My poor husband had to get up early for work the next morning and I kept him up late, making him take turns with me going in to check on her.
Me: "I can't hear her."
Hubby: "Thats because she's sleeping."
Me: "go check on her, please."
Hubby: "ok."
Me: "Put your hand on her chest and make sure she's still breathing."
Hubby: "ok."
This went on for about 30 minutes.
Me: "What if the sound isn't working on the monitor?"
Hubby: "The sound is fine. Get some sleep."
Me: "Go in there and whisper something so I can see if I can hear you."
Hubby: "ok..."
The sound check worked and I was running out of excuses to try to get my husband to give in any say "Let's just let her sleep in here for a few more months." But I knew I had to get through this. All of my mommy friends said they had their babies sleeping in their cribs by 2 months and here we are going on 3! But I just miss her so much when she's sleeping. I had to keep reminding myself that I'll see her in the morning when she starts to wiggle her little butt around and makes little grunting noises as she stretches and tries to wake up, letting out a little toot with every stretch. And when she opens her eyes for the first time, she gives me a big, gummy smile and squeezes my neck when I pick her up. That is something I look forward to every day.
I don't want to be a helicopter mom with the umbilical cord still attached when we help her move in to her college dorm room for the first time. Oh my god... College. I need to end this post now because I can feel the tears welling up again.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Back Seat Driver
This weekend we took our first long car trip with the peanut to visit my sister and brother-in-law for his birthday. We were so excited for our daughter to see her Aunt and Uncle again and her cousins too. They were having a BBQ and some friends who have not met our daughter yet were going to be there, so of course we were excited to show her off. They live about 3 hours away, so we knew we had the daunting task of getting there before we could enjoy all the family fun and excitement.
My husband and I always said we would not let having a baby become an excuse to stop doing the things that we love like hiking, camping, and weekend road trips. No better time to start than now, right? Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a planner and I hate being late, even when "late" means I missed my own set arrival time. Ask my husband about the look he gets when we're in the car, right on schedule, half way there, and he tells me he has to pee! Oh, no you don't! You are going to hold onto that large, iced hazelnut coffee, black with sugar that you just HAD to have on our 3 hour drive until we reach our destination! No different with a baby, I thought. I would simply include pee stops in my travel plans because, unfortunately, I can't ask a 10 week old to hold it in for just a few more hours (I thought about it, though!). As loving and sweet as my baby is, I somehow don't think she would comply.
So, Friday night we made the packing list and checked it twice, and once more for good measure and we were good to go! That part was easier than I thought. All we needed for the baby were diapers, wipes, pack n' play, some toys for the car (although she's not really into toys yet), and extra clothes in case she spontaneously combusts out of her diaper a few times. I am her only food source right now, so as long as my husband didn't leave me stranded at a rest stop after hearing the wrong lyrics to every song on the radio for hours on end, we didn't have to worry about packing bottles or snacks for her. Our departure time was set at 8am. Before departure, I planned a nursing session so we had a happy, full baby on board.
First stop: drop the dog off at my in-law's, where we also scheduled a diaper change. So far, so good! Baby girl relieved her bladder right on schedule (Momma's girl!) and we were back on the road. Our ETA is 12:00, plenty of time to spend the whole day with family and friends (and right on time for my sister to have lunch ready!).
Here comes the first rest stop on the highway, 7 miles away.
"Should we stop?" my husband asks hesitantly, afraid I might think he was trying to sabotage my schedule.
"She is sound asleep right now, let's see how far we can go. The next one isn't too far ahead," I replied.
Sign: "Rest Stop 5 miles"
Baby: still sleeping...
Sign: "Rest Stop 1 mile"
Baby: "waaaaaah!"
Perfect!
We stop, change a diaper, feed the baby, hubby uses the rest room, we buckle in the peanut, passifier in mouth, and we are on our way again. Baby girl falls asleep again! Piece of cake! In fact, she slept the rest of the ride until we literally turned onto my sister's street and we make it there by 12:15. This child was definitely made from my DNA!
We had a great weekend at my sister's, but now it was time to leave. We made plans to visit my Aunt and Uncle on the way home to break up the trip. We got there, no problem. We had a lovely visit. Baby girl was thrilled to be smothered with lots of hugs and kisses. We had a nice lunch, dessert and even a glass of wine! Perfect way to end the weekend. But, oh wait... Our weekend wasn't over yet. We still had to get home.
I got this. We should be home by 9:00.
6:00 pm- diaper change, jammies on, in the car seat and away we go!
6:05- stop for gas, baby needs a diaper change. Seriously? Already?
6:08- pull away from gas pump and hit the roa... "Waaaaaah!" Hold up, baby is hungry. Of course she is!
6:09- hang out at the gas station while I nurse in the back seat and change another wet diaper.
6:30- hit the road. For real this time.
6:30 - 6:45: entertain baby in the back seat with silly faces funny voices.
6:45- baby falls asleep. [sigh of relief]
Oh my god, I just realized she hasn't pooped all day! Surely we are going to have a blow out in the car. Shit! (No pun intended).
7:15- our little back seat driver wakes up and decides she wants out of her wet diaper NOW! But the next rest stop is about 10 minutes away and our daughter has now turned into a hurricane siren. We are getting off schedule! This is definitely my husband's child.
7:30- stop at rest area, change wet diaper and feed baby. Still no poop. Uh oh!
8:00- back on the road. A little over an hour still to go.
9:30- we finally make it home and baby is fast asleep. Yes! We did it! And not one of us is covered in baby poop!
So, what should have been a 2 1/2 hour drive from my Uncle's house turned into 3 1/2 hours. But we made it home safe and sound. We were all unpacked and ready for bed by 10:30. Baby girl, exhausted from all the new faces she encountered throughout the weekend, and from waking up in new places every time she took a nap, went down fairly quickly.
11:00pm- everyone is sleeping.
4:30am- [loud, wet baby fart coming from the bassinet at my left]
And there it is!
My husband and I always said we would not let having a baby become an excuse to stop doing the things that we love like hiking, camping, and weekend road trips. No better time to start than now, right? Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a planner and I hate being late, even when "late" means I missed my own set arrival time. Ask my husband about the look he gets when we're in the car, right on schedule, half way there, and he tells me he has to pee! Oh, no you don't! You are going to hold onto that large, iced hazelnut coffee, black with sugar that you just HAD to have on our 3 hour drive until we reach our destination! No different with a baby, I thought. I would simply include pee stops in my travel plans because, unfortunately, I can't ask a 10 week old to hold it in for just a few more hours (I thought about it, though!). As loving and sweet as my baby is, I somehow don't think she would comply.
So, Friday night we made the packing list and checked it twice, and once more for good measure and we were good to go! That part was easier than I thought. All we needed for the baby were diapers, wipes, pack n' play, some toys for the car (although she's not really into toys yet), and extra clothes in case she spontaneously combusts out of her diaper a few times. I am her only food source right now, so as long as my husband didn't leave me stranded at a rest stop after hearing the wrong lyrics to every song on the radio for hours on end, we didn't have to worry about packing bottles or snacks for her. Our departure time was set at 8am. Before departure, I planned a nursing session so we had a happy, full baby on board.
First stop: drop the dog off at my in-law's, where we also scheduled a diaper change. So far, so good! Baby girl relieved her bladder right on schedule (Momma's girl!) and we were back on the road. Our ETA is 12:00, plenty of time to spend the whole day with family and friends (and right on time for my sister to have lunch ready!).
Here comes the first rest stop on the highway, 7 miles away.
"Should we stop?" my husband asks hesitantly, afraid I might think he was trying to sabotage my schedule.
"She is sound asleep right now, let's see how far we can go. The next one isn't too far ahead," I replied.
Sign: "Rest Stop 5 miles"
Baby: still sleeping...
Sign: "Rest Stop 1 mile"
Baby: "waaaaaah!"
Perfect!
We stop, change a diaper, feed the baby, hubby uses the rest room, we buckle in the peanut, passifier in mouth, and we are on our way again. Baby girl falls asleep again! Piece of cake! In fact, she slept the rest of the ride until we literally turned onto my sister's street and we make it there by 12:15. This child was definitely made from my DNA!
We had a great weekend at my sister's, but now it was time to leave. We made plans to visit my Aunt and Uncle on the way home to break up the trip. We got there, no problem. We had a lovely visit. Baby girl was thrilled to be smothered with lots of hugs and kisses. We had a nice lunch, dessert and even a glass of wine! Perfect way to end the weekend. But, oh wait... Our weekend wasn't over yet. We still had to get home.
I got this. We should be home by 9:00.
6:00 pm- diaper change, jammies on, in the car seat and away we go!
6:05- stop for gas, baby needs a diaper change. Seriously? Already?
6:08- pull away from gas pump and hit the roa... "Waaaaaah!" Hold up, baby is hungry. Of course she is!
6:09- hang out at the gas station while I nurse in the back seat and change another wet diaper.
6:30- hit the road. For real this time.
6:30 - 6:45: entertain baby in the back seat with silly faces funny voices.
6:45- baby falls asleep. [sigh of relief]
Oh my god, I just realized she hasn't pooped all day! Surely we are going to have a blow out in the car. Shit! (No pun intended).
7:15- our little back seat driver wakes up and decides she wants out of her wet diaper NOW! But the next rest stop is about 10 minutes away and our daughter has now turned into a hurricane siren. We are getting off schedule! This is definitely my husband's child.
7:30- stop at rest area, change wet diaper and feed baby. Still no poop. Uh oh!
8:00- back on the road. A little over an hour still to go.
9:30- we finally make it home and baby is fast asleep. Yes! We did it! And not one of us is covered in baby poop!
So, what should have been a 2 1/2 hour drive from my Uncle's house turned into 3 1/2 hours. But we made it home safe and sound. We were all unpacked and ready for bed by 10:30. Baby girl, exhausted from all the new faces she encountered throughout the weekend, and from waking up in new places every time she took a nap, went down fairly quickly.
11:00pm- everyone is sleeping.
4:30am- [loud, wet baby fart coming from the bassinet at my left]
And there it is!
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Flight of the Mama Bee
Yesterday was a super productive day! I got so much done! That's right, things were DONE! I mean complete, finished, brought to an end. I do a lot during the day, but that usually means that I start a lot of things; the laundry gets washed, but not dried or folded, the dishwasher gets filled, but never emptied, and I take a shower, but rarely get dressed. But on this particular day, despite the fact that baby girl woke up 3 times during the night, things got done!
It started out with a morning cup of coffee. An entire cup! Still warm! I felt like I hit the jackpot already, but that was just the beginning! I was sure the little one was going to be a crank pot all day after waking up so many times during the night, but I was determined to get out of the house anyway. It was warm and sunny out and, maybe it was that jolt of caffein I consumed all at once instead of small sips throughout the day, I was feeling ambitious. So I put the peanut in her car seat and headed to the grocery store, Just to pick up a prescription and a few greeting cards, not full on grocery shopping (I'm not that brave yet). Peanut fell asleep.
Hmmm, let's try to make one more stop, I thought. So we went to the mall to pick out an anniversary gift for the hubs.
Still sleeping.
On the way home, we pass a local nursery. "Our back deck could use some color'" I whispered to my sleeping child. So we stopped again and picked up some petunias and potting soil and headed home.
When we got home, I had just enough time to unpack the car and get in the house before the little one finally woke up screaming. Perfect timing! I was happy with what I had just accomplished, but it didn't end there! After a diaper change and feeding, the little nugget fell asleep again! So I put her down in her crib, grabbed the baby monitor and the music started up in my head. My theme song for her nap times: The Flight of the Bumble Bee. It's the music I hear in my head when my baby takes a nap in her crib that lasts longer than 10 minutes and I quickly scan the house trying to prioritize the chores I can finish before she wakes up. Then I run around, checking things off the list in my head, without stopping, until I hear the buzzer (AKA screaming) that tells me my time is up. If you don't know the song, I pasted a link below. While you listen, take a look at the things I was able to complete!
-eat lunch
-go to shed and take out gardening tools
-put flowers in the planters on the deck railings
-pot some flowers on the front porch
-bring plants that were indoors for the winter out on the deck
-water all the plants
-empty the dishwasher
-clean kitchen counters
-pee
-unpack AND put away shipment of diapers and wipes (gotta love Amazon Mom!)
-break down boxes from shipment for recycling
-straighten up the living room
Phew! I couldn't believe it! I was so proud of myself and of my baby girl who has never slept that long in her crib before! I will mark this day as a success in my book and try not to hold myself to that standard in the morning because every day is completely different. Nothing is predictable. Tomorrow I might be lucky just to get the chance to brush my teeth.
It started out with a morning cup of coffee. An entire cup! Still warm! I felt like I hit the jackpot already, but that was just the beginning! I was sure the little one was going to be a crank pot all day after waking up so many times during the night, but I was determined to get out of the house anyway. It was warm and sunny out and, maybe it was that jolt of caffein I consumed all at once instead of small sips throughout the day, I was feeling ambitious. So I put the peanut in her car seat and headed to the grocery store, Just to pick up a prescription and a few greeting cards, not full on grocery shopping (I'm not that brave yet). Peanut fell asleep.
Hmmm, let's try to make one more stop, I thought. So we went to the mall to pick out an anniversary gift for the hubs.
Still sleeping.
On the way home, we pass a local nursery. "Our back deck could use some color'" I whispered to my sleeping child. So we stopped again and picked up some petunias and potting soil and headed home.
When we got home, I had just enough time to unpack the car and get in the house before the little one finally woke up screaming. Perfect timing! I was happy with what I had just accomplished, but it didn't end there! After a diaper change and feeding, the little nugget fell asleep again! So I put her down in her crib, grabbed the baby monitor and the music started up in my head. My theme song for her nap times: The Flight of the Bumble Bee. It's the music I hear in my head when my baby takes a nap in her crib that lasts longer than 10 minutes and I quickly scan the house trying to prioritize the chores I can finish before she wakes up. Then I run around, checking things off the list in my head, without stopping, until I hear the buzzer (AKA screaming) that tells me my time is up. If you don't know the song, I pasted a link below. While you listen, take a look at the things I was able to complete!
-eat lunch
-go to shed and take out gardening tools
-put flowers in the planters on the deck railings
-pot some flowers on the front porch
-bring plants that were indoors for the winter out on the deck
-water all the plants
-empty the dishwasher
-clean kitchen counters
-pee
-unpack AND put away shipment of diapers and wipes (gotta love Amazon Mom!)
-break down boxes from shipment for recycling
-straighten up the living room
Phew! I couldn't believe it! I was so proud of myself and of my baby girl who has never slept that long in her crib before! I will mark this day as a success in my book and try not to hold myself to that standard in the morning because every day is completely different. Nothing is predictable. Tomorrow I might be lucky just to get the chance to brush my teeth.
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Music Is Good For The Soul... But Not That Shit!
Hush little baby, don't say a word
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird
And if that mockingbird don't sing
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring
And if that diamond ring don't shine
Mama's gonna buy you a...
Wait. Hold on. I know this...
And if that diamond ring don't shine
Mama's gonna buy you a... porcupine?
No, that's not it.
And if that diamond ring don't shine
Mama's gonna buy you a... subway line?
Nope.
And if that diamond ring don't shine
Mama's gonna buy you a... bottle of wine?
Now, that's just down right irresponsible.
Fuck! How does this stupid song go??
Screw it.
What you want? Baby I got it!
What you need? You know I got it!
All I'm askin' is for a little respect when you come home...
Yeah, that's better!
That's me on any given day during "cranky hour," usually between the hours of 6 and 8 pm, when all my baby wants to do is eat and cry. No, make that eat and scream her tiny little head off. I try to console her with a sweet, soothing lullaby, but that never works. Plus, I don't know the words. Plus, some of them scare the shit out of me! The image of my sweet baby, all snug in her cradle, suddenly crashing down to the ground because, for some god forsaken reason, I decided to place it way the fuck up high in a tree, is horrifying! And don't get me started on that Hush Little Baby nonsense! Every single one of those gifts is wildly inappropriate for an infant (I had to look up the lyrics. It was driving me crazy!).
A mockingbird? Everyone knows birds suck as pets. Unless you can train them to do cool things like tell jokes or deliver messages across country. Trust me. I had one and it couldn't do either of those things. Bor-ing!
A diamond ring? I only have one of those and it took me 27 years to get it! So, no, I'm not going to get one for my 9 week old.
A cart and bull? What the fuck? I don't even know what to say to that one.
This song was clearly written by an over exhausted mother of a colicky baby, at her wit's end trying to come up with some way to shut her baby up, that she succumbs to bribery. Only she bribes him with things she knows will probably hurt him, just to teach him a lesson. That lesson being: Don't fuck with mom and go to bed when she tells you! The only appropriate gift in the whole song is a dog named Rover, but the idiot parent who is singing wants to return the poor thing because it doesn't bark! If you ask me, that's the greatest gift ever! First of all, dogs are awesome. Second of all, aren't you trying to put your child to sleep? Why the fuck do you want a barking dog to come charging in?
I am pledging, right now, in front of all of you readers, to never be the mom that only plays lullabies, nursery rhymes or Kidz Bop music for her kids, especially in the car. Hell no! My kids are going to grow up listening to real music.* Sometimes the only thing that makes my baby girl happy is dancing around the house to Aretha Franklin, The Beatles, Fitz and the Tantrums, or Alabama Shakes (just a few of our current favorites). It really is a win-win situation. Baby keeps calm, and mommy keeps her sanity! And when Mommy's not home, she listens to weird shit, like Daft Punk, with Daddy. Whatever works!
*Disney soundtracks also count as real music.
(What? So mommy likes to pretend to be a princess every once in a while. What's wrong with that?)
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird
And if that mockingbird don't sing
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring
And if that diamond ring don't shine
Mama's gonna buy you a...
Wait. Hold on. I know this...
And if that diamond ring don't shine
Mama's gonna buy you a... porcupine?
No, that's not it.
And if that diamond ring don't shine
Mama's gonna buy you a... subway line?
Nope.
And if that diamond ring don't shine
Mama's gonna buy you a... bottle of wine?
Now, that's just down right irresponsible.
Fuck! How does this stupid song go??
Screw it.
What you want? Baby I got it!
What you need? You know I got it!
All I'm askin' is for a little respect when you come home...
Yeah, that's better!
That's me on any given day during "cranky hour," usually between the hours of 6 and 8 pm, when all my baby wants to do is eat and cry. No, make that eat and scream her tiny little head off. I try to console her with a sweet, soothing lullaby, but that never works. Plus, I don't know the words. Plus, some of them scare the shit out of me! The image of my sweet baby, all snug in her cradle, suddenly crashing down to the ground because, for some god forsaken reason, I decided to place it way the fuck up high in a tree, is horrifying! And don't get me started on that Hush Little Baby nonsense! Every single one of those gifts is wildly inappropriate for an infant (I had to look up the lyrics. It was driving me crazy!).
A mockingbird? Everyone knows birds suck as pets. Unless you can train them to do cool things like tell jokes or deliver messages across country. Trust me. I had one and it couldn't do either of those things. Bor-ing!
A diamond ring? I only have one of those and it took me 27 years to get it! So, no, I'm not going to get one for my 9 week old.
A cart and bull? What the fuck? I don't even know what to say to that one.
This song was clearly written by an over exhausted mother of a colicky baby, at her wit's end trying to come up with some way to shut her baby up, that she succumbs to bribery. Only she bribes him with things she knows will probably hurt him, just to teach him a lesson. That lesson being: Don't fuck with mom and go to bed when she tells you! The only appropriate gift in the whole song is a dog named Rover, but the idiot parent who is singing wants to return the poor thing because it doesn't bark! If you ask me, that's the greatest gift ever! First of all, dogs are awesome. Second of all, aren't you trying to put your child to sleep? Why the fuck do you want a barking dog to come charging in?
I am pledging, right now, in front of all of you readers, to never be the mom that only plays lullabies, nursery rhymes or Kidz Bop music for her kids, especially in the car. Hell no! My kids are going to grow up listening to real music.* Sometimes the only thing that makes my baby girl happy is dancing around the house to Aretha Franklin, The Beatles, Fitz and the Tantrums, or Alabama Shakes (just a few of our current favorites). It really is a win-win situation. Baby keeps calm, and mommy keeps her sanity! And when Mommy's not home, she listens to weird shit, like Daft Punk, with Daddy. Whatever works!
*Disney soundtracks also count as real music.
(What? So mommy likes to pretend to be a princess every once in a while. What's wrong with that?)
Friday, May 9, 2014
Please Don't Make Me Do Math
Hi! My name is Andrea. I am married and have 1 baby girl and 1 dog. I teach 4th grade, and I am 1,615 weeks old.
Sounds stupid, right?
You are correct. It does sound stupid. Because it is stupid. Why do some mothers insist on using weeks when asked how old their child is? I mean, it's ok if your child is 3 months old or younger, but beyond that is just stupid.
"She's 28 weeks old."
No she's not. She's 7 months.
"He's 78 weeks old."
No he's not. He's a year and a half. I'll even accept 18 months (but don't get carried away with months either!).
I actually met someone at Target who did this to me. I didn't get her name, but I'll call her Crazy because that's what she is. Here's how that encounter went:
Crazy: "What a sweet baby! How old is she?"
Me: "Thank you! She's 9 weeks. How old is this little guy?" referring to the adorable little boy in her shopping cart, joyfully tossing out items when mommy wasn't looking.
Crazy: "Oh, he's 31 months."
Me: "duhhhhhhh... Well, he's adorable."
I teach 4th grade math, so I know how to count by 4's. But when I'm caught off guard in the middle of a casual conversation, it's gonna take me a minute to convert weeks to months or years and I'm gonna look like an idiotic mouth-breather as I blankly stare at you while I do the calculation. Or perhaps that's exactly why you do it. You like to watch people sweat when you give them a pop quiz they never saw coming.
Hmmm... That's pretty funny and I'm sure equally amusing... I might have to try this after all.
But if you don't want to be an ass hole when someone asks how old your little nugget is, here are a few basic rules to consider:
1. Weeks are ok up to 3 months
2. Months are ok up to 2 years
3. You may use weeks or months in your own head for as long as you want to make sure your little one remains your "baby" forever (I know I will!). But keep in mind that if you do this out loud, people will think you are psycho mom. No, like the actual mom from the movie Psycho. And they will be afraid that your child will grow up just as crazy, murder you, and keep your rotting corpse locked up in the attic. And who wants that kind of reputation?
Bottom line, if I ask you how old your child is, I just want to make small talk about your adorable peanut. Or I want to secretly evaluate the behavior and social development of your little screamin' demon. (What!? I can't help it! It's the behavior analyst in me!) So please don't make me do math! (said the Teacher)
Sounds stupid, right?
You are correct. It does sound stupid. Because it is stupid. Why do some mothers insist on using weeks when asked how old their child is? I mean, it's ok if your child is 3 months old or younger, but beyond that is just stupid.
"She's 28 weeks old."
No she's not. She's 7 months.
"He's 78 weeks old."
No he's not. He's a year and a half. I'll even accept 18 months (but don't get carried away with months either!).
I actually met someone at Target who did this to me. I didn't get her name, but I'll call her Crazy because that's what she is. Here's how that encounter went:
Crazy: "What a sweet baby! How old is she?"
Me: "Thank you! She's 9 weeks. How old is this little guy?" referring to the adorable little boy in her shopping cart, joyfully tossing out items when mommy wasn't looking.
Crazy: "Oh, he's 31 months."
Me: "duhhhhhhh... Well, he's adorable."
I teach 4th grade math, so I know how to count by 4's. But when I'm caught off guard in the middle of a casual conversation, it's gonna take me a minute to convert weeks to months or years and I'm gonna look like an idiotic mouth-breather as I blankly stare at you while I do the calculation. Or perhaps that's exactly why you do it. You like to watch people sweat when you give them a pop quiz they never saw coming.
Hmmm... That's pretty funny and I'm sure equally amusing... I might have to try this after all.
But if you don't want to be an ass hole when someone asks how old your little nugget is, here are a few basic rules to consider:
1. Weeks are ok up to 3 months
2. Months are ok up to 2 years
3. You may use weeks or months in your own head for as long as you want to make sure your little one remains your "baby" forever (I know I will!). But keep in mind that if you do this out loud, people will think you are psycho mom. No, like the actual mom from the movie Psycho. And they will be afraid that your child will grow up just as crazy, murder you, and keep your rotting corpse locked up in the attic. And who wants that kind of reputation?
Bottom line, if I ask you how old your child is, I just want to make small talk about your adorable peanut. Or I want to secretly evaluate the behavior and social development of your little screamin' demon. (What!? I can't help it! It's the behavior analyst in me!) So please don't make me do math! (said the Teacher)
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Shapes
I always knew I wanted to be a mom. I couldn't wait to be pregnant. I had visions of myself with a baby bump and it was all very flattering. I was going to be such a cute pregnant lady! I excercize pretty regularly and I like to run, so naturally I would continue that throughout my pregnancy. I was going to look so cute in my maternity workout clothes. People at the gym would say "Wow! Look at her on the eliptical, 7 months pregnant! That's amazing!" And I would only gain mass in my belly. And because of that, when the baby is born, I was going to spring back into shape without even trying. Yeah, I was going to be THAT girl.
Boy, was I wrong!
But I wasn't being totally unrealistic with those dreams, my doctors led to believe they would be true. "You're petit. For your current weight and height, you can expect to gain about 20- 25 lbs throughout your pregnancy." Great! Most of that will be the weight of the baby, placenta, and amniotic fluid, so I will walk out of the hospital after giving birth looking like I had never been pregnant to begin with! Like Kate Middleton or Beyoncé! Maybe there would even be speculation that I never actually carried the baby myself, but had a surrogate and only pretended to be pregnant! Yeah, just like Beyoncé.
Well, that fantasy was short-lived because by the time I had my 3 month check up, I had already approached a 20 lb gain. "Well, 25-30 lbs would be ok," they said... And then at five months I was approaching 30 lbs and they said "Well, 30-35 lbs is still ok for your size." And by 7 months they started saying "Hmmm, let's keep an eye on that weight gain, shall we?" Well, at that point I was going in for weekly check ups, so you can imagine my delight to hear that every single week.
What the hell happened??
Here's what happened. I continued to jog and went to the gym for a while in the beginning. But then nausea and heartburn set in. Big time. So workouts started to slow down. Then, mid way through the pregnancy, I started getting real bad pain in my pelvis and all forms of excercize came to a halt completely (as recommended by my doctors who were also telling me to watch my weight gain at the same time).
So the number on the scale kept creeping up. And it wasn't because I was eating pickles and ice cream all the time. I was actually eating less than I normally do because everything made me nauseous! In fact, my only craving throughout most of the pregnancy was for apples, much to the disappointment of my husband (he was hoping to get a free ride on the train to Crave Town)! How was I gaining so much weight? Honestly, at the time I didn't care. At that point, I was on cloud nine. Our baby was healthy and growing and I was about to finally be a mommy!
When the baby finally arrived, I was shocked to find out that instead of shrinking back to size, my body actually got bigger the first 48 hours postpartum! Oh yeah. I had so much swelling going on, I didn't even recognize myself in the mirror the first time I went into the bathroom! After 23 hours of labor and 3 1/2 hours of pushing, I looked like a hippopotamus! No joke.
Luckily, it's true when they say breastfeeding helps the weight come off faster. The first 25 lbs came off without really trying. I have about 20 more pounds to go, but I'm back at the gym and started to run again so I'm on my way!
I have to laugh at the whole ordeal because really, the only important thing is that we had a beautiful, healthy baby girl. I survived labor and delivery (thank you, epidural), and I love being a mommy.
Not that it has anything to do with pregnancy, but this all reminds me of a Dane Cook bit about a creepy guy at work, who he describes not as being fat, but just shapes. That's how I felt after giving birth. I wasn't fat. I was shapes.
Here's the clip to start your day with a good chuckle. Laughter burns calories! You're welcome.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
Milk. It Does A Body Good.
Remember that slogan before Got Milk? Well, it turns out that cow's milk isn't the only milk that can do your body good. Apparently, breastmilk has some pretty amazing benefits. I'm not talking about the nutritional value and how it helps baby's immune system, although that's pretty amazing in itself. I'm talking about using breast milk as a home remedy for all kinds of ailments!
I wasn't aware of the hidden power of breastmilk until my baby was just about a week old. She woke up in the middle of the night for a feeding and I noticed her eye was kind of goopy. I didn't think much of it at first. I just thought it was a sign that she was beginning to produce tears. Well a few hours later she woke up again, and this time it was worse. She could barely open her right eye. It was almost crusted shut. My immediate thought was pink eye, but how could she have gotten that? She's never even left the house! We got her in to see the pediatrician that morning. He said it probably wasn't pink eye, but rather her tear duct was clogged and that should work itself out by the time she turns one. What?! My poor baby was going to have to deal with this for what could be an entire year? I cried the whole way home. I know it wasn't going to kill her or even be harmful to her health, but I've had pink eye before and know how nasty and uncomfortable it can be. I did not want my tiny, helpless newborn to wake up like that every day for the entire first year of her life!
So, I did exactly what I advised you all not to do. I took to the internet. Most of what I read was that it was pretty common and not likely to go on for a whole year. I read that gently massaging the corner of her eye a few times a day can help unclog it. Then I came across a remedy that seemed so ridiculous I thought it was a joke. One mother posted to a blog that she squirted breast milk into her baby's eye and it cured it almost instantly! What the fuck? I thought to myself, now that's one wackado hippie mom. Who on Earth would do that?
Well, as I continued my online search, I came to find out that a lot of moms do that! I called my sister to tell her about my poor baby and without me even bringing it up she said, "This is going to sound insane, but have you tried breast milk in her eye?" Ok, I must be in a Twilight Zone episode. This has to be a joke! But she said she tried it, by accident really, and it worked. She was almost embarrassed to tell her pediatrician, but to her surprise, her pediatrician replied "Oh yeah, that stuff will fix a broken bone!" My sister is my most trusted parenting resource, so I decided to give it a try. I expressed a few drops of milk into a medicine cup (because squirting my child in the eye was just too barbaric to me) and carefully let it drop into the corner of the affected eye. Then, with a clean finger, I gently massaged her tear duct to work it in. Well, wouldn't you know, it cleared up almost immediately. Each time she woke up after that it got better and better, so I continued with this remedy a few times a day for a couple of days and we haven't had a problem since!
This got me thinking, what else is breast milk good for? You'd be shocked to see what I've found. I'm not sure I believe it all, and I question how some of these remedies were discovered, but it's pretty cool to think about how truly amazing a mother's body really is.
Here are just a few things that breast milk apparently cures:
Diaper rash
Baby acne and eczema
Cradle cap
Ear infections (yup, right in the ear)
Itchiness due to chickenpox or poison ivy
Cuts and scrapes
Insect bites and bee stings
Clogged tear ducts (I can vouch for this one)
Congestion (yup, right up the nose)
Cancer
Burns
Warts
...Wait. What? Cancer??? Check it out:
There are also cosmetic uses too:
Makeup removal
Puffy eyes
Chapped lips
Contact lens solution
Deodorant (hmmm, not so sure I'd replace my Secret just yet)
Pretty crazy, huh? Now, I'm not condoning or recommending any of these remedies, as I have only tried one. I, myself, am not so sure I'd give some of these a go. So please don't go hosing your children down with breast milk and telling people that I told you it was ok.
It's not ok.
I wasn't aware of the hidden power of breastmilk until my baby was just about a week old. She woke up in the middle of the night for a feeding and I noticed her eye was kind of goopy. I didn't think much of it at first. I just thought it was a sign that she was beginning to produce tears. Well a few hours later she woke up again, and this time it was worse. She could barely open her right eye. It was almost crusted shut. My immediate thought was pink eye, but how could she have gotten that? She's never even left the house! We got her in to see the pediatrician that morning. He said it probably wasn't pink eye, but rather her tear duct was clogged and that should work itself out by the time she turns one. What?! My poor baby was going to have to deal with this for what could be an entire year? I cried the whole way home. I know it wasn't going to kill her or even be harmful to her health, but I've had pink eye before and know how nasty and uncomfortable it can be. I did not want my tiny, helpless newborn to wake up like that every day for the entire first year of her life!
So, I did exactly what I advised you all not to do. I took to the internet. Most of what I read was that it was pretty common and not likely to go on for a whole year. I read that gently massaging the corner of her eye a few times a day can help unclog it. Then I came across a remedy that seemed so ridiculous I thought it was a joke. One mother posted to a blog that she squirted breast milk into her baby's eye and it cured it almost instantly! What the fuck? I thought to myself, now that's one wackado hippie mom. Who on Earth would do that?
Well, as I continued my online search, I came to find out that a lot of moms do that! I called my sister to tell her about my poor baby and without me even bringing it up she said, "This is going to sound insane, but have you tried breast milk in her eye?" Ok, I must be in a Twilight Zone episode. This has to be a joke! But she said she tried it, by accident really, and it worked. She was almost embarrassed to tell her pediatrician, but to her surprise, her pediatrician replied "Oh yeah, that stuff will fix a broken bone!" My sister is my most trusted parenting resource, so I decided to give it a try. I expressed a few drops of milk into a medicine cup (because squirting my child in the eye was just too barbaric to me) and carefully let it drop into the corner of the affected eye. Then, with a clean finger, I gently massaged her tear duct to work it in. Well, wouldn't you know, it cleared up almost immediately. Each time she woke up after that it got better and better, so I continued with this remedy a few times a day for a couple of days and we haven't had a problem since!
This got me thinking, what else is breast milk good for? You'd be shocked to see what I've found. I'm not sure I believe it all, and I question how some of these remedies were discovered, but it's pretty cool to think about how truly amazing a mother's body really is.
Here are just a few things that breast milk apparently cures:
Diaper rash
Baby acne and eczema
Cradle cap
Ear infections (yup, right in the ear)
Itchiness due to chickenpox or poison ivy
Cuts and scrapes
Insect bites and bee stings
Clogged tear ducts (I can vouch for this one)
Congestion (yup, right up the nose)
Cancer
Burns
Warts
...Wait. What? Cancer??? Check it out:
Makeup removal
Puffy eyes
Chapped lips
Contact lens solution
Deodorant (hmmm, not so sure I'd replace my Secret just yet)
Pretty crazy, huh? Now, I'm not condoning or recommending any of these remedies, as I have only tried one. I, myself, am not so sure I'd give some of these a go. So please don't go hosing your children down with breast milk and telling people that I told you it was ok.
It's not ok.
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