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!
Friday, June 20, 2014
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!
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