Life with Peanut

Speech

2009-11-14T12:44:00.000-08:00

I know, I know, I neglect my blog. I need to get back into this, because it's good for me.

At Noah's 18 month appointment, I mentioned to the pediatrician that Noah was really only using 3 words (Mama, Daddy, and NO). The books all say 18 month-olds should have 8-10 words, but the pediatrician felt Noah (who has always hit milestones WAY early) should have closer to 25 words, and he suggested we get him evaluated through the regional center. I knew then that Noah would probably catch up on his own, but the evaluation and therapy are free, and that's an awfully good price for peace of mind.

So we went through the process, and Noah was diagnosed with a 50% speech delay, and we started taking him to speech therapy once a week. By the time we started therapy he was already saying 10-ish words, but in the last few weeks he has really taken off. I don't think it actually has anything to do with the "therapy" (which consists of a very nice lady playing with him for an hour and enunciating like crazy). I think he just didn't want to talk until he got it right. We're not there yet, but here's what we have:

Amma (Mama)
Addy (Daddy)
A-bye (Bye-bye)
NO!
Yeah
Eh-pahle (Yes, please)
Leeees (please!)
Taaajuuu (Thank you)
Dyyycheen (Diaper change)
Poop
Toot*
Og (dog)
Cow
Moo
Itty! or Eee-ta! (kitty)
Ball
Car
Ruck (truck)
Tree**
Br (bird)
Coh (cold)
Ot (hot)
Toes
Owie
Uh-oh
Mo (more)
Jooos (juice)
Baba (bottle)

*Noah has started telling us when he's poopy and needs a change by grabbing his butt and shrieking "Poop! Dyyycheen!" Freaking. Adorable. The other day he farted - forcefully - then ran over to me and said "Dycheen?" I told him, "No, I don't think you're poopy. You just tooted, dude." He pondered this for a minute, looked up at me and asked, "I toot?" "Yep, you tooted." His eyes lit up, and for the next hour he ran around the kitchen, chanting "Toot! Toot! Toot!" Definitely a boy.

**We were in Target the other day, and when we passed by the Christmas tree section Noah FREAKED OUT and pointed and kicked and said "TREE!! TREE!!! TREE!!!" and he cried when we left the area. I've been thinking about it... I think I'd freak out too if I didn't know what Christmas was and I walked into I store I'm very familiar with and suddenly ran into an elevated sparkly indoor forest. Just wait till we set up the tree IN OUR HOUSE, kid. The world will never cease to amaze.

My favorite thing these days is the "counting" and "spelling". Whenever the kid passes me his magna-doodle or a crayon, I always write his name and say the letters "N-O-A-H". He started saying it with me, and now he'll just spontaneously say "ehhh, aaaaah, ayyy, unh!" Not even close to the actual letter, but with perfect inflection. Love it. And if you start counting, "One..." he'll usually chime in with "oooo, eeee", which just melts my heart. Love this kid.

And here's my current favorite picture-- on the slide at Hillcrest Park. The amount of static electricity on that playground is astounding!

Poll #2

2009-09-18T20:22:00.000-07:00

So, since you’ve all been so helpful with the email thing, I have another little poll for you all—one with much bigger implications.

I’m hating life right now. I hate leaving to go to work. I hate that my job isn’t as fulfilling as it used to be. I hate that I put so much energy and effort into work that I come home too tired to appreciate my family. Noah has a speech delay (more on that later), and I hate feeling like that’s my fault, or that I could have done something about that if I had more time/energy. I hate that we have to take vacation days to get a day off together. But most of all, I hate not having a plan. Change is required.

This is where you all come in, because I can’t decide the best course of action. I’ve kind of narrowed it down to three options.

Quit. Soon. Like, November-ish.
Leaving my job would be the quick fix. It would keep me home, relax me, and be fantastic change. But it would also mean a drastic change in our financial situation, and we’d definitely be living in the red for a while. In short, it’s the ultimate goal, but it’s probably not smart to jump in so quickly.
Quit, eventually. Like, next year-ish.
What would be most prudent would be to stick it out at work until we’re ready for baby #2, take advantage of the fantastic maternity leave benefits, and then… not return to work. That gives us time to ease into a new financial lifestyle, and really makes the most sense. But it requires another year (at least) of work crappiness until we get there… and at that point I will have missed most of Noah’s toddler years at home. Is that really worth it? I can’t decide.
Stick it out, for the long haul.
However much I complain, I DO love my job. I love the history, I love the heritage, I love the people, I even like the work. Things are just really out of whack right now, and there’s no opportunity for advancement in the immediate advancement due to the economy. It’s a huge de-motivator for me, but if I knew I was in it long-term, I could stick it out and be happy. Plus, big things are coming, and I’d love to be there for the new openings. I like the idea of having a career. But it means giving up on staying home—and that would be a tough one.

Like I said before, I want it all. Help!

Poll

2009-09-06T22:58:00.000-07:00

Okay, after at least 12 years, I'm ditching my Hotmail email account. I've hated Hotmail for a long time, but I keep it around because it's the address everyone knows. I'm hopping on the gmail bandwagon.

I could just be "current Hotmail account name" at gmaildotcom. But the whole point is to get something new... maybe something NOT tied to a nickname I was given at 14. Something I could put at the top of a resume without feeling ashamed. But, unfortunately, myfirstname.lastname at gmaildotcom is taken, and so are all the logical combinations of it. (This is the first time I have ever resented my fantastic married name. MyfirstnameMaidenname, of course, is available.)

So I need your help:

All of it

2009-08-16T22:10:00.000-07:00

I've started about a thousand blog posts in my head recently. I committed about a hundred of them to draft, in one form or another-- iPhone note, bullet points at a boring meeting, a Post-it, and even an Outlook draft. None of them are worth posting.

What I want to write about right now is this internal conflict I've been feeling for the last six months or so. On the one hand, my life is wonderful. On the other hand, there are Things I want for myself and my family that I want to attain so badly it makes my brain hurt. In the middle are Things of Great Suckitude that have been plaguing me since layoffs in March.

I haven't blogged about any of this because

My life is really wonderful
I don't want to sound like a whiner, because my life is wonderful
I'm not 100% certain of my blog audience and the last thing you want is to say something you'll regret... and end up dooced.
It's really selfish (and so typically American) to want more and more and more, without ever appreciating what you really have.
I'm not sure my desires are realistic or attainable, so I've been trying to surgically remove them from my brain. I have failed.

So, here goes:

I want a job that I love, that I care about, that makes me feel like I'm making a difference in people's lives. I have this job, or at least I used to... lately I feel so unmotivated that I'm finding myself-- for the first time ever-- really dreading going to work each day. I know it's only temporary, that it will all come full circle in just a few years. But that doesn't make tomorrow any easier.

I want to stay at home with Noah. We're closer to that point now than I ever thought we could be, but not close enough to make it a reality. I love my days off with the Boy. He's funny and engaging and I find enjoyment in little things like making pico de gallo from scratch and scrubbing the cabinets with my Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. I get to the end of my "weekend" and think, I could get used to this.

So, in short, I want to work and I want to enjoy it, and I want to stay home and love it. I want the impossible. I want it so bad my bones ache. Like an itch you can't scratch, this is a desire that can't be attained, and I have no idea what to do about it.

And then there's the guilt. Because, let's face it, I already have it all. A house we can afford, a husband I love, a kid so cute he can light up entire cities, a job with a fantastic company anyone would be proud to work for. Isn't it unbelievably selfish to want more?

And then I think, Well, I don't want it for me, exactly. I want it for Noah. I want Noah to say that his mom was always there to pick him up from school, that she made fantastic dinners and thought up the best games for him to play. And for me, if I have to work, shouldn't I love it? Is that so much to ask? I want that for Noah, too-- if I have to work, I want him to be able to say that his Wonderful Uncle Vincent taught him about Batman and Star Trek while his mom worked at the best playground a parent can provide for her child, and that she came home happy and fulfilled, with enough energy left over to make dinner and play games.

A couple months ago, I made a deal with myself: Stick it out through November. If Things still Suck after Thanksgiving, I can quit my job (saving me from a super-sucky Christmas). We'll make it work financially. What would be more prudent would be to stick it out until we're ready for Kid the Second, so as to utilize the fantastic maternity leave options offered by my company and the great state of California. But we're nowhere near that point now, and while the last 18 months have indeed flown by, if I were to measure that in 10-hour shifts my head would explode.

I don't have a good conclusion for this post. Which is the other reason why I haven't written it-- how on earth do you end a post about your own selfishness? It's so arrogant to think I can pull up to the drive-thru of life, and when asked for my order, answer: Hi, I'd like it All, please? That's right, everything on the menu. Now, preferably. Thanks bunches! and then expect to be directed to the pick-up window, bypassing any form of payment.

So anyway, that's where I've been. That's where I'm at. Cute toddler post coming soon.

The difference between men and women

2009-07-02T11:09:00.000-07:00

When I go to the cupboard for my morning cereal and discover that we're out of clean spoons, I

Check to see if the dishwasher is clean (it is)
Check cupboards for plastic spoons (we have plenty)
Wash a spoon and use it.

Presented with the same situation yesterday, Ben ate his Cheerios with an extra-large serving spoon. Today, he ate Frosted Mini-Wheats with a gravy spoon.

Whirlwind

2009-06-11T22:45:00.000-07:00

A couple quick photos from the last couple weeks:

We got this really cool sandbox/water table thing that Noah had a blast with before June gloom set in. In hindsight, it's not the most brilliantly designed thing... the whole half water/ half sand table is going to quickly become the table filled with wet sand. Whatever. It's still cool.

Noah loves keys... he especially loves THROWING them. Particularly in Target. But you better pick them up and give them back to him, or screaming will ensue. And better your keys than your wallet. I'm just saying.

But I had no idea he knew what the keys were actually for...

And every now and then Noah throws me these silly little faces... and I can see exactly what he's going to look like when he grows up. He's a little snotty in this picture (literally, not figuratively... although... well, no, he's just snotty), and this is before his botched overpriced haircut (see how his hair is IN his ears?), but I love it anyway. Look at that kid! Can you believe that this:

was a full year ago?! Time flies.

Lessons in Parenting

2009-05-19T08:37:00.000-07:00

Micha was here last week, and as we were chatting on the couch, Noah picked something up off the floor (a crayon? a ball-point pen? a found Cheerio? I don't remember) and proceeded to put it in his mouth. Micha, good honorary aunt that she is, started to reach for Noah to take the object away. I interjected with the first thing that popped in my head: "Meh, it's probably non-toxic." Then I made a joke about how many times a day I think that to myself.

I'm trying to pinpoint the moment when I stopped worrying (and caring) about Germ Exposure. Maybe it was when Noah became mobile and I realized that the only way to keep the kid from putting EVERYTHING in his mouth would be to stand at his side constantly-- and I really didn't/don't have that kind of energy (and who wants that kind of mother?). Or maybe it was way back when he started sucking on his own toes. Really, the only way to keep anything out of this kid's mouth would have been to sew elizabethan collars into all of his onesies. (Which, come to think of it, could be one of the inaugural items at Amanda's Baby Emporium. We'll keep it next to the Baby Ambien.)

So anyway. I'm eating leftover chow mein for breakfast (cold - yum!), and Noah just trotted over (no, really, he trots), patted me on the arm, opened his mouth wide like a baby bird and said, "Uah!" (which means either "I would like a bite, please", "May I have some, Mommy?", or "ME! FOOD! NOW!" You be the judge.). I gave him a noodle, and while trying to extricate it from my fork, he dropped it on the floor. I reached down to get it, but I swear, this kid's floor-to-mouth reflex is FAST. Fast like a frog's tongue to a dragonfly. As Noah walked away with half a noodle hanging out of his mouth I thought, "Meh, it's non-toxic." And turned back to my blog.

I am an excellent mother.

Speaking of our litigious society

2009-05-07T09:42:00.000-07:00

Noah's crib has been recalled.

Before you get all up in a tizzy, you should know that it seems like 50% of the baby products out there get recalled (especially cribs and mattresses), so this news was hardly shocking to me. Apparently, if you kick hard enough, your baby COULD weaken the wooden slats of the crib. And those slats COULD break. Which COULD pose a hazard to your baby. *eye roll* And we COULD all be hit by a devastating tsunami tomorrow. Better shrink-wrap the laptop! Anyway.

The question is, what to do?

Here's how it works. You fill out a form with your crib information and the company sends you a "recall kit" (done). The recall kit includes an "acknowledgment form" in which I promise not to sell or give away my recalled crib. Then I take apart the crib, send the company the bolts and screws, and ONE OR TWO WEEKS LATER, I get a voucher to go to Babies R Us and buy a new crib. There's no mention of where my child is supposed to sleep for one or two weeks while his disassembled crib litters his bedroom.

Option 1: Go for it. The kid can sleep in his playpen for two weeks. I wasn't going to want to re-use this crib anyway, since Noah gnawed it to pieces while cutting some teeth. Hooray for new (free!) stuff.

Option 2: Go for it... in a few months. Wait until I think Noah's done destroying this crib, get the new one, use it. Gently.

Option 3: Go for it, but don't use the new crib. Keep it neatly boxed in the garage for some future child (mine or a friend's or someone on eBay's - who knows?). Go to Ikea and get Noah a cheap boring standard crib or a really cool big kid bed (it flips over!).

Option 4: Do nothing. Too much work.

Help!

A vacation!

2009-05-04T20:45:00.000-07:00

We just got back from our week-long vacation in Cancun. We've been saving up Ben's frequent flyer miles, so we flew first-class for free; and we used Ben's hotel points to stay at the Westin Resort for 7 nights for $150. Hooray for super-cheap vacations!

I had big plans to post several times during the week, but internet access was 150 pesos a day (more than $10), and we just weren't in the room enough to pay that much. I ducked into two internet cafes during the week ($2 for the first 20 minutes), and each time I realized that I am wholly, completely, irrevocably addicted to the internet. It's an issue I'm sure I should address... someday.

But anyway. Getting to Cancun was really hectic. The couple weeks leading up to our vacation were stressful and busy and exhausting, and when we finally arrived it was hot and sticky and confusing, and by the time we got to our room I was wondering why we even bothered. Then I stepped out onto our balcony and saw this:

And I knew it was worth it.

We arrived in Mexico on Saturday, and the swine flu travel advisory was issued on either Sunday or Monday. We were completely disconnected from the world - no newspaper, no internet, and we didn't even turn on the TV until Tuesday evening. Which is, of course, when the hysteria started. But we decided to stay and finish our vacation. There were no reported cases of the virus in the state of Quintana Roo until today, and I'm just not a worrier by nature. I'm worried about the state of tourism in Mexico now, though - especially for Becky and Matt's sake, since their jobs are based on tourism - because Cancun was a ghost town by the time we left on Saturday.

There are a lot of things you can do in Mexico that you can't do in America. A lot of them are simply because Mexico does not share the overly litigious culture that results in warning labels on socks and liability waivers on every street corner. As a result, we were able to do things with Noah that just wouldn't happen in the States:

Like getting a kiss from a parrot:

Holding exotic lizards

Posing with a passing crocodile in its habitat

Getting in the pen to feed the deer
Allowing wild monkeys to eat off a stroller tray

That was all at the Crococun Zoo - which is less a zoo and more an interactive animal tour. It was so cool! Noah got to touch all the animals, and he had a blast.

We also went to Xel-Ha, which was super-expensive but SO worth it. I would have gone back a second day if we had time. They had baby-sized life jackets, and we were able to take Noah out in the water while we took turns snorkeling with Becky, Matt, and Riley. Most of my pictures from Xel-Ha are crappy (I bought a waterproof disposable camera. It lived up to its name, but the pictures turned out horribly), but I love this one:

I could go on and on. It was such a relaxing week. Noah was a fantastic traveler - even on the plane rides. It was great to see Becky! We weren't together all week, but we did get a little sister time. It was a really, really nice vacation. We ate GREAT food, had AMAZING margaritas, did a little shopping, did a LOT of swimming... and actually managed to not get sunburned!

My two favorite pictures:

Noah trying to give me some sand:

The turquoise ocean at our hotel:

Decisions, decisions

2009-03-29T19:19:00.000-07:00

Hi. I'm still here. It's been a crappy month.

Layoffs happened last week at my work, and it was very VERY stressful. I'm still employed, but I lost a co-worker of three years, and my boss (who I LOVE) has been "reassigned" (demoted) and moved to another area. We didn't know until Friday whether we were "safe" or not, and my BlackBerry was practically smoking with the number of emails and messages I was getting from friends - "I'm being called to conference room X", "So-and-so is getting walked out", "Manager X is demoted", "It's been a pleasure working with you". I hope I never have to face another week like that ever again. Ever. Again.

And now the real stress begins - will I like my new boss and co-worker? Will my workload be impacted? Will my days off or hours change? How much is my life about to suck?

Ugh. Let's talk about something else.

A couple weeks ago I was going to write about my ridiculous obsession with finding a new stroller for our vacation to Cancun next month. Not that I don't like my current stroller, but it's really big and bulky and it weighs almost 30 pounds - not conducive to international travel. Like having a Cadillac when you need a Civic. And we could have purchased a cheap-o umbrella stroller, but I'm way too tall to push them comfortably. And (as always) I wanted it all - huge canopy, breathable fabrics, cup holders, gigantic basket for storage, and a compact fold - and I wanted it to be light as a feather.

So an obsession was born. No joke - I had an Excel spreadsheet put together, rating the different features of each stroller and noting the amazon dot com review for each. I probably did 20 hours of research - I am now a stroller expert. I liked this one, but for the price, it seemed cheaply made. We almost got this one, but the storage was tiny, it had a crappy canopy, and there was no tray for Noah. I finally decided on the Baby Jogger City Mini (I felt justified in spending the extra money since I now definitely have a job). It has the coolest fold I've ever seen. So instead of getting the Civic, we spent the extra bucks for the Beetle. How very like me. :)

That's what I was going to write about. But now our decisions are much more complex.

Ben's company did not win the contract they were bidding on, and so he was given his layoff notice last week. (Like I said, it's been a crappy month.) But, before you feel too sorry for him - Ben has THREE job offers on the table, all of them offering him a raise. But he has until Tuesday to make his decision, and each of the companies would provide drastically different working environments and futures.

Company A - Ben's current company. There aren't any positions in LA, but he's been offered a position in San Diego at a 5% raise. It's a leadership position, which is what he really wants for the future, but it's a CRAPPY commute, at least three days a week. Plus, Company A already offered him a fantastic severance package, and it's hard to pass that up! BUT, Company A has a great corporate culture - one that directly inspired the theme for Noah's room. It's hard to leave that behind. And working where I do, no one appreciates the importance of that better than me.

Company B - the winners of the contract. Basically, Ben would get to keep his current job (at a 5% increase), but would just work at a different company. However, this company has a completely different culture. Instead of building things, they're a consulting firm, run by "partners". Currently, Ben reports to an AF Captain. How's that for a change? And he'd have to wear a tie every day. But, these people REALLY want him, and I have already asked him to name his price - it sounds like they'll do almost anything to get him.

Company C - I think Ben likes this company better. They're offering him a different job, but still in LA. We won't know what the offer is until tomorrow, but it's probably going to be the highest pay. But, it doesn't offer the immediate career advancement of Company A. But, it's closer to home. And he'd get a raise AND Company A's severance package. But he'd really piss off Company B, who he'd still have to work with regularly.

But, but, but. Ben's been droning on and on all week about each company's 401k/pension/retirement plans (often while I was short-circuiting my BlackBerry getting news from my own job), and it matters, but I'm not factoring it into this decision as much. After all, at 31, you don't join a company for the retirement package. And you wouldn't stay at a job you hated just because they contribute more to your 401k.

So that's where we are. Each day brings a new decision. Some frivolous, some life-changing... each of them more exhausting than the next. Is this what adulthood is all about? I must have missed the memo.

If you made it to the end of this, you deserve some Cute. So, here you go: this is from our trip to Big Bear over Ben's birthday (I guess the whole month wasn't so bad). Noah's first snow!

No judgment

2009-03-02T20:42:00.000-08:00

I feel like I've learned more in the past year than in the previous 26 years of my existence combined. Here is a non-comprehensive list:

Humans are capable of functioning on just a few hours' sleep for weeks at a time. Surviving, not thriving.
Despite what you'd think, lack of sleep and lack of time to eat does NOT equal weight loss.
Hormones will really mess with your brain.
Babies make really funny faces.
It is possible for someone to poop into their hair.
Boppy pillows should be standard hospital issue.
So should Moby wraps.
It is 100% impossible to "sleep when your baby sleeps".
They say you can start sleep training your baby at 4 months. But they don't tell you what to do when your baby slept through the night from 10 weeks - 6 months, then (with a few weeks of exceptions) is up nightly due to teething and colds until past age 1.
Baby "experts" who write volumes on how to feed, bathe, clothe, and raise your child are actually writing about how they successfully fed, bathed, clothed, and raised THEIR child(ren) 30 years ago. Their child(ren) is(are) 100% different from yours. Guaranteed.
There is a surprising amount of pressure to feed your baby 100% organic food from BPA-free containers... often from parents eating french fries from Styrofoam boxes.
As a parent, guilt is inevitable, unavoidable, and unnecessary.
When pajamas are wet 3 mornings in a row or you have 3 consecutive poop leakages, it's time to move up diaper sizes. You'll never see that published anywhere, but it's the best indicator we have!
Baby shoes (good ones) are shockingly expensive. As are bottles, teething biscuits, diapers, pacifiers, and formula.
Some parents buy baby clothes too big, or don't buy much at all, because "he'll just grow out of them". I get it, and he definitely does, but I just can't resist a cute outfit. And I almost always buy it to fit. But, I have a rule-- I never spend more than $8 per piece on an outfit (unless its a really, really special occasion).
Hugs from a baby will melt your heart.

But most importantly:

As a parent, you make rules for yourself and your baby. You decide what kind of parent you're going to be, and then, when the baby actually arrives, you change all of your rules to fit your baby (The Boss). But after a while, you accept your rules as being the most correct, because they work for you-- and it's hard not to judge what you see around you.

For example, I never wanted to use pacifiers. I thought they were an unnecessary crutch used by lazy parents. And then all Noah wanted to do was suck-- on ME-- even when he wasn't hungry. And so began soothing with pacifiers. We'll start weaning this summer, once we're off bottles. But today, I saw a three or four year old with a pacifier and thought, "Dude, really? That kid is way too old." But then I reminded myself-- No judgment. You never know how it will end up.

I never wanted to use bottles. I planned on exclusively breast feeding for at least 6 months. And we all know how that turned out. But still, when I see parents with really really young babies using formula in bottles, I think "you should be breastfeeding!"... and then I remember-- No judgment.

And I was reading about a mom who just Ferberized her baby, and now they're sleeping through the night. We've tried crying it out a couple times - half-heartedly, admittedly - and it did NOT work for us. In fact, it made it worse. And I really hate the idea of sending Noah the message "Mommy and Daddy are unavailable from 9:00pm until 6:00am, even if you really need us." But I have to remember-- no judgment.

Of course there are non-negotiables: Car seats, clean diapers, supervision - the basic safety stuff. But the little things: clothing, feeding style, sleeping arrangements, organic vs. non-organic... it's all about style and what works.

So - the biggest learning?

If it works, run with it.

Uncertainty

2009-02-22T10:59:00.000-08:00

I'm not good at waiting. The last three weeks of my pregnancy were unbearable-- not because I was supremely uncomfortable (and I was), but because I knew that labor was going to be hard ad painful (can I get an "Amen"!), and it could start at any moment (although it didn't), and there was nothing I could do to control it.

On Thursday, we all got word that our company is doing some major re-structuring. We've known about it for a while, but the details announced on Thursday were more drastic than my wildest dreaming, and it set everyone into a tizzy. Several executives have been laid off (probably more than several), and most of the remaining VPs and directors have been "re-assigned" as "general managers".

This is Round One. Now that the executive team is in place, they'll spend the next 30-90 days re-structuring the lower levels of management, which will involve job losses at my level. Which means I might have a job in two months, or I might not. My job might be exactly the same, or I could be given double responsibilities, leading to 12 hour days or even 6 day weeks. I'm almost not worried losing my job or not-- we could survive that, I think-- I'm most worried that in three months, my job will no longer resemble the one I have now, and that I'll no longer love what I do.

But it's the waiting that I really hate. 1-3 months?! What kind of timeline is that? They might tell us in two weeks or twelve! I might know mid-March, or they might wait until after our planned vacation to visit Becky in Cancun-- we get back May 3rd. Ugh! Just tell me now!

Yeah, I'm not a good waiter.

One

2009-02-17T08:00:00.000-08:00

Attn: Human Resources

2009-02-11T19:24:00.000-08:00

To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing because I have concerns about the working conditions to which I have been subjected over the last month. My job duties seem to have increased threefold of late, and my co-worker (who usually pitches in to ensure I am not overworked) has been sent elsewhere to conduct "more important" business. As things get up and running, I find that it is more and more difficult to take even a short coffee break, as even a moment's inattention frequently leads to physical and emotional catastrophe for our entire organization. Morale in my department is sinking - and fast.

That being said, I must admit that I find parts of my job positively delightful. And no one can deny the view from my office is breathtaking. However, I do have some specific complaints, as detailed below:

It has been months since I was able to care for personal hygiene issues without supervision. I think you'll agree that this is both inappropriate and unnecessary.
My boss seems completely incapable of communicating his needs. When my work performance displeases him, I am subjected to incoherent screaming, frequently followed by embarrassing tears for us both.
The increases to the size and scope of my position over the last year are unprecedented, and I feel I must mention that I am grossly under-compensated.
Since January 1st, I have been given only two opportunities to sleep for longer than 4 hours at once. I have been working insane amounts of overtime, completely without pay. I should remind you that most countries frown on slave labor, and that a call to the US Dept of Labor would likely lead to an audit of my time cards... and I would hate our disagreements to come to that.

Your urgent attention to these matters is greatly appreciated. It is my great hope that we can work together to better our work environment, to ensure the continued success of our organization.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
Noah's Mommy

Things you don't want to hear before 8 am

2009-02-06T07:59:00.001-08:00

Parents are always talking about how much they hate batteries. They complain about the impossible installation, the six hundred sizes, the screwdriver requirements.

But now I know: it's all a front for what they REALLY hate -- noisy toys. Noah has this airplane without a volume control that makes the Most. Irritating. Noises. It has single-handedly removed days from my life.

But you know the best thing about batteries? They wear out! I think we have just one battery-operated toy that works right now. (Vincent, you share in my joy, right?)

So imagine my horror when Ben starts the morning by holding up a screwdriver and cheerfully saying, "I'm going to replace Noah's batteries!"

Scene in the Winter house, 5 minutes later:
Play table: "One! Two three! Four five six seven eight!"
Fire truck: "I see a fire truck..."
Play table: "Then, there's nine! Counting's really great!"
Airplane: whooooooooshwhiiiiiiiiiiiine
Fire truck: "... a big red shiny fire truck...."
Play table: "Hello... the phone is ringing so I say hello..."
Airplane: LA la la la LAAAA....
Fire truck: crescendo "... and there's a noisy siren ringing on the truck!"
Play table: sings "La Cucaracha"
Noah: squeals and screams of delight
Ben: "Dear God, what have I done?"
Me: "Yeah, I hate you."

And now Ben is in my kitchen ~~permanently defacing my cabinets~~ installing more tot locks while Noah runs around the loop with the whining airplane. Ben just held up the drill and said, "Oh, crap." Yeah, THAT'S comforting.

And, to complete my morning, I'll leave you with the latest utterance from the Winter house: "Noah! Box cutters are not for babies."

Firemen

2009-02-02T23:21:00.000-08:00

Today, four very, VERY handsome firemen came to my house!

Here’s how it went down: Noah and I were heading out to Target. I locked my house, arms laden with child and various paraphernalia, and we walked to the car. I opened the door with my pinky and realized that I really needed two hands to strap the kid in. So I rocketed all the baby crap (plus my purse, jacket, sunglasses, and car keys) into the front seat, strapped Noah in, and walked around the car to get something out of the trunk.

Except the trunk was locked. Huh, that’s funny, I thought. I walked over to the driver’s side to unlock the back… but that door was locked, too. Um… uh-oh, I thought as I patted my pocket for the keys and remembered where they were… in the front seat. Crapcrapcap, I thought as I walked back over to Noah’s door – locked. Shitcrapshit, I thought as I frantically ran around the car testing every door seventeen times… Whimpercrapdammit – locked.

I walked over to Noah’s door again. He giggled and waved. “Hi, honey. Um, Mommy’s really stupid. I’m going to get you out in a minute, okay?” He gave me one of his best smiles—he thought running around the car was hilarious. We’ll have to try a Chinese fire drill sometime. He’d love that.

Anyway, I needed help. I guess I’ll call AAA… with my phone… which is in the car. Crap.
So I ran over to my neighbors – no answer. (It went against every instinct to leave Noah in the car, but I figured if I couldn’t get him out, no one else could, either.) Luckily, some very polite Asian businessmen in expensive suits were standing in front of the house next door to my neighbors, and they were only a little phased by the crazed crying Mommy in converse asking to borrow a cell phone. They came over and entertained Noah in a foreign language (Korean?) while I tried to pull it together – Screw it, I’m calling 911.

The 911 and fire department folks were very kind and not at all condescending (frankly, I might have been). They dispatched the fire department right away, and I stood in shame on the sidewalk while the businessmen chatted in Korean (about my incompetence as a mother, certainly. Or possibly about the wisdom of moving into a neighborhood of crazies). Noah thought the whole episode was a pretty funny game.

The (very attractive) firemen arrived in the biggest fire truck I’ve ever seen—complete with extra-long ladder (useful for… I don’t know what in my neighborhood. But I guess it’s better to be prepared, right?). Anyway, four (completely ripped) guys get out, immediately ask how old the baby is (“We’ve got a one year-old, guys!”), is he okay (“Oh, he’s a cute one!”), how long has it been, and am I okay (“We’ll get him out in a jif!”). It was love at first sight.

Then they get all Mission Impossible—they brought out a big black canvas bag full of strips of metal and glorified coat hangers that apparently are used to break into cars. They paired off and basically competed to see who could get the car open first (Team Passenger Side won). It was very impressive—I asked one of them if they get B&E training. He told me yes, but their specialty is houses. (Of course.) So it took them a while to find a way to get in.

I’ve already told this story a few times (despite the embarrassment, any story with handsome firemen in suspenders is worth re-telling), and I keep getting comments that make me want to reiterate the situation: EVERYTHING was IN THE CAR. “Firemen? You should have taken a picture!” said Vincent. The camera was IN THE CAR!!! “Firemen!!! Did you give them my number?” asked Sarah. My phone was IN THE CAR!! “Why not just wait for AAA to get there? They could have opened the car even faster,” said someone at work. My baby was IN THE CAR!!!

So anyway, after 15-ish minutes, a couple failed attempts and some strategic use of duct tape (typical men), they finally got the car open and I guess all’s well that end’s well. But I felt (feel!) completely ridiculous, like I had the fire department come to rescue my kitten from the top of the tree. I should have offered them lemonade and cookies. Instead, I offered them each a handshake, a sincere compliment, and some baby claps, and then Noah and I finally went to Target. We were out of baby wipes.

And then I went to work. It’s been a day.

Current State

2009-01-20T08:04:00.000-08:00

You know what? Teething sucks. Noah is NOT a good teether. I've posted about it before, but I actually think it might be worse this time around. He's not waking up quite as frequently as he did in August/September, but when he wakes up now he's up for an hour. Or longer. Much longer. And he's no longer content to snuggle up in our arms and let us rock him into oblivion-- as long as he's up, he'd rather get down and practice walking circles around the ottoman in his room. Which we don't let him do (it's THREE AM), leading to anger, frustration, and general fussiness. For all of us.

Someone at work told me recently that the sleep-deprived feeling goes away over time; not that you get more sleep, but that you just get used to it and learn to function. That's sort of true for me-- I can function fairly well on just a few hours of sleep. But I never seem to stop being TIRED.

On the flipside, however, Noah has never been cuter. He has officially taken his first steps, but walking seems a few weeks away. He's so cautious! He double-checks his hand-holds before moving forward, and he always seems to pause to put together an escape route-- just in case. Not that I'm in a hurry! Noah moves so quickly already, the thought of him going faster is overwhelming. And exhausting.

So anyway... Noah's first birthday plans are underway! Looks like it's going to be February 15th, sometime in the afternoon, but I'm still nailing down a location. The community center I wanted to use isn't as cheap as I thought it would be... but I might just go for it anyway. I used to make fun of parents who went WAY overboard for their young kids' birthdays, but now I totally get it. I was there-- it was a big day! Forget Noah, look at what I did on February 17th last year! And Ben- we survived! We are capable of supporting human life! Let's celebrate!

Wow, this is a boring blog post. Sorry. Here! I'll make up for it with Cute Baby:

Christmas

2009-01-05T22:10:00.001-08:00

I've been meaning to put up pictures from Noah's first Christmas:

Noah had a ball opening his stocking on Ben's lap. He took out each item, watched Ben unwrap it, and then taste-tested everything. The look on his face was priceless-- it was like watching a scientist in a laboratory.

Here, Noah studies the back of a package of baby spoons (an item that we lose more frequently than socks...). I keep waiting for him to look up and say, "Hey, Mom! I just read that these are dishwasher safe!"
Gosh, look how long his hair had gotten. While my family was here, I enlisted Kim's hair styling skills for Noah's first hair cut...

His hair is still a little long, but it's MUCH better now. I think Kim was being conservative-- my dad kept shouting tips at her and Noah kept trying to grab Kimmie's super-sharp scissors and I think we were all holding our collective breaths, waiting for Noah to lose an ear. Next time, Kim can cut his hair without an audience. And after Noah's nap, not before.

My parents got Noah the most obnoxious gift ever-- so naturally, it's Noah's favorite.

It's a rocking horse, but when you push the button on its ear it neighs and whinnies and gallops and wiggles its nose and wags its tail and makes an unholy racket for one full minute and you can't. turn it. off. And my dad taught him how to turn it on. Thanks, Dad. Is this punishment for the years and years of the Smurfs on Saturday mornings? Anyway, Noah loves it.

I have like, 10 other blog posts I've been working on in my head for weeks, but I've just been too busy to post anything. But January looks like a return to normalcy for a while (or, at least, normal days off for me), so maybe you'll see more of me. Is anyone even still reading?

Coming soon...

2008-12-21T21:53:00.000-08:00

Just a little something I'm working on for Noah's first birthday:

It's all about connections. :)

But seriously, I need to start thinking about Noah's birthday party. I'd love to just have a party at our place, but we really don't have enough room for my parents and sister plus Ben's parents and 7 siblings + 3 siblings in-law + 8 nieces and nephews + their significant others and any of our friends. And February isn't really a predictable month in which to plan a picnic-in-a-park kind of party. Any thoughts?

Also, Noah's birthday is February 17th, which falls on a Tuesday. I was planning his party for the previous weekend, but that Saturday is Valentine's Day. Should I have the party on Saturday or Sunday?

Help!

42 weeks

2008-12-10T17:23:00.000-08:00

Dear Noah,

You have now been alive for 42 weeks, which means you have officially spent the majority of your life on "the outside".

(Incidentally, you'll be 10 months old next week. Tell ME pregnancy only lasts nine months. Yep, still bitter.)

It's been 10 months of ups and downs: from overdue discomfort, a difficult recovery (we'll just skip over labor and delivery), sleepless nights, sleepless days, teething, a cold, more teething, more sleepless nights, and most recently - roseola... but then first smiles, first laughs, first bananas, finally sleeping, sitting alone, army crawling, peek-a-boo-ing, jumping, clapping, and now - cruising.

I am so proud of you, and of the little boy you're becoming: mischievous, silly, sensitive, and kind. I can't wait to see what you do next!

Love,
Mommy

Naughty or Nice...

2008-12-03T09:20:00.000-08:00

The Ninth Month Slideshow

2008-11-26T21:19:00.000-08:00

Forgot to post this last week...

Confession

2008-11-16T22:38:00.001-08:00

When I heard yesterday that Brea Olinda High School was damaged during the fire, my first thoughts should have been:

"I hope everyone's okay!"
or
"Oh my goodness! Those poor students..."
or maybe
"I wonder when those kids will be able to go back to school?"

Should have been.

My actual first thought?

"OMG!* That's right by the Brea Mall!"

...Because if the world lost one of its six thousand Baby Gaps, THAT would be a real tragedy.

Something is wrong with me.

*Yes, I say "OMG" in my head. I also "LOL" and use :) smilies in my thoughts. Something is definitely wrong with me.

Family

2008-11-12T07:32:00.000-08:00

Vampire, continued

2008-11-02T21:17:00.000-08:00

Okay, okay, maybe not Baby Vicodin, then. The Teething Cocktail (Tylenol, Hyland's Teething Tablets (homeopathic), and Baby Orajel) works okay, but you know why he had such a rough time? He cut TWO teeth in less than 8 hours! Top right front and top left incisor (which brings him up to 5 teeth, for those of you keeping track). Poor guy.

But anyway, I remember those sleepless nights in front of the TV after Noah was born (and also last week), watching commercials for sleeping pills, and they all go something like this:

"Are you awake several times during the night? Are you restless, unable to fall asleep? Does it affect your mood during the day?"

... and I thought Oh my god... That's NOAH! And then I thought (and still think) if I could make and market (and get the FDA to approve) a sleeping pill for babies, I would become a GAZILLIONAIRE. Overnight. I would receive endless bouquets of flowers from sleepless mothers around the world. I would be greeted around the country with parades, and parents everywhere would celebrate Sleeping Baby Day (preferably on my birthday). I would achieve international renown, and be a hero to womankind. I would even be considered for the Nobel Peace Prize, but eventually passed over for the guy who negotiates peace in the Middle East. I would argue there IS no peace without sleep, but you know, it's all politics.

Baby Ambien, coming soon to a pharmacy near you!

If only...

Vampire

2008-10-31T12:15:00.000-07:00

Noah's teething. Again.

And for those of you who are already parents, that statement alone is enough of a post to describe the last couple weeks, but for those of you who haven't experienced this Painful Part of Life, I submit this story:

This morning, Noah woke up from his nap playing the part of Inconsolable Super-Sad Noah. It happens from time to time, and I can't figure out why-- it's like he wakes up, realizes he's all alone, and thinks, Oh, no- I'm ALONE. And they're NEVER COMING BACK. And I can't climb out of the crib! Wait, let's try... NO! I CAN'T!! I'm stuck here FOREVER!! It would be cute if he wasn't screaming. But usually, we can just pop him a pacifier and hug him and rock him, and in a minute or two he realizes Oh, yeah, the world is good and happy and people love me.

So I pop the kid a pacifier, and rock him and hug him, but it didn't work. So I thought, FOOD. Let's hook the kid up with food and see what happens. So I plop him down in his high chair, grab some pureed peaches, pull out the pacifier, and see this:

Yeah, that's blood. (On Halloween, appropriately.) There are drips on his shirt, too. I checked to make sure the cats were still alive, and then realized-- OH!! It's a tooth.

He smiled for the camera (or, actually, for the cat who was standing behind me), but before this, he was giving me a look that clearly said, "Hey, remember when Uncle Vincent had his wisdom teeth out? THAT'S how I feel today. And Uncle Vincent had Vicodin!"

So, today, I am founding a new movement on behalf of mothers of teething infants everywhere. I'm too tired to think of a clever name, but it will be something like "MoBabyVic: Mothers for Baby Vicodin" . Or maybe something less obvious, like "Mothers Against Teething Pain", but we'll all walk in the street, chanting in front of a hospital "Baby Vicodin Now! Narcotics are the answer! I need sleep!"

I'm joking. Kind of.

Cousins!

2008-10-28T17:04:00.000-07:00

So, another October, another Smith Family trip to Monterey. I LOVE these weekends, because it's so good to see my whole family, and Monterey is such a beautiful place, and it's always a relaxing weekend. It hasn't been the same the past two years, because Becky's been in Mexico.

But this year, Becky came!!! And she brought Riley for a whole week!!! (who, interestingly, has both Mexican and American passports. I didn't have a passport until I was 25.) There aren't any direct flights from Cancun to San Francisco, so she had to stop in LA. Conveniently, it was an overnight layover, so she spent the night at our place.

Here I am at the airport with a very sleepy Noah and a very confused Riley. :)

We drove up to Nor Cal a few days after Becky arrived. Here's Noah and Riley, with their free balloons from Red Robin.

Riley and his gorgeous mama:

Me and Riley at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. He doesn't really "talk", but he definitely knows a few words (especially "hot!". Being from Cancun, I thought that was appropriate.). But as he touched the starfish in this picture, he kept saying "Wow. Wo-oww. Wow." Too cute!

Much to my parents' delight, Riley started walking while he was here! He also started getting into things he never could before...

The best part of the whole week was my dad. He's such a great grandpa-- it's a real shame he doesn't get to see his boys more often. He went out one day and bought the ultimate Grandpa Accessory-- a little red wagon. It was better than any double stroller we could have bought, and my dad just LOVED pushing them around! The boys spent most of their time in the wagon either enjoying the scenery or trying to take off each other's shoes.

Anyway, hope you all enjoy the pictures! I downloaded all the pictures from my Mom's, Becky's and Kim's cameras-- there's 468 more where these came from. Not including the ones on my camera, which I haven't even looked at yet. It was a well-documented week!

Back to work tomorrow...

The Eighth Month Slideshow

2008-10-19T06:52:00.000-07:00

We're in trouble...

2008-10-11T03:56:00.000-07:00

Who could say "no" to this face?

Go on, try it!

Noah, I always knew I would love you, but I never imagined I would like you so much! Thanks for being such a great kid. And for sleeping through the night again.

(Posted at 4 am because I just can't sleep. Noah is asleep and I am not-- this is the most frustrating form of insomnia ever!)

Overheard in the Winter House

2008-10-01T21:19:00.000-07:00

My life is a never-ending organization project. It's very VERY slow-going... but it needs to be done, because we are quickly being overcome by the avalanche of Baby Crap that has descended into our lives in the last 7 months. Current case in point: the kitchen. I now have serving bowls, take-n-toss bowls, snack bowls, sippy cups, two kinds of spoons, and six thousand bibs (and it's still not enough), in addition to the twelve hundred bottles we use every week. And that doesn't include the ever-increasing supply (and strange variety) of pureed fruits and veggies that are overtaking my cupboards.

Anyway. I'm trying to organize. I was working on a cabinet this afternoon, so plopped Noah on the floor and asked Ben to watch him for a few minutes. Ben glanced up from his laptop (where he was responding to work email), and said, "Sure".

Fast forward a few minutes. Noah's banging a toy on the floor, having a great time, about 5 feet from where I plopped him down. I can't see him very well, so I ask, "Ben, are you watching him?" Ben (still on his laptop) says, "Yeah, I can see him."

A few minutes later. Noah's pretty much done with the ground. He's still banging around, but his babbling has become a little whiny.

[Side note: Noah has several play stages.

Quiet contemplation. (What is this new toy/place/person/experience? and what does it taste like?)
Noisy contemplation. (What happens when I talk to/bang on/yell at this new toy/place/person/experience? does it taste any different?)
(These two phases can be repeated over and over.)
Boredom. (This toy/place/person/experience has nothing left to show me. Change is requested.)
Frantic boredom. (HEY! CHANGE IS REQUIRED! I'M GOING TO PERIODICALLY SHRIEK LIKE A PRE-PUBESCENT WEREWOLF!)
Meltdown. (WEREWOLF TRANSFORMATION COMPLETE. COMMENCE CROCODILE TEARS.)]

Anyway, Noah's in stage 3. So I glance over. "Hon, are you watching him?" Ben looks up, exasperated. "Yes! You just asked me that! I'm watching him! He's right here!" "Okay, sorry," I say, feeling a little bad. "It just sounds like he's done, is all. And you're still on your laptop." "He's fine," Ben replies.

A few minutes later, I hear the beginnings of stage 4. I glance into the living room, and find Noah playing in a puddle of his own spit-up. "Ben!" I exclaim. "Are you watching him?!" Ben looks at me, clearly annoyed. "Yes!!! He's right here!", he says. "Okay, except he's playing in his own vomit," I reply.

Ben glances down at Noah, who flashes us both his winning mischevious smile, and says, "Oh. Sorry."

We are excellent parents.

(Next up in the Excellent Parenting series: "Things I've Found in my Baby's Poop". Items of interest include cardboard book remnants, grape skins, a whole pea, cat hair, long hair, tiny pieces of a wicker basket, and bits of paper that I think used to be a Pottery Barn catalog.)

The Most Absurd Thing I've Read on the Internet Lately...

2008-09-26T09:26:00.000-07:00

This is just WEIRD.

The Seventh Month Slideshow

2008-09-22T21:59:00.001-07:00

Identity

2008-09-16T15:34:00.001-07:00

So, I finally did it - I joined MOPS. My grandma is a mentor mom for a MOPS group in Nor Cal (those lucky moms!), and she wanted me to join back in January. I didn't, because Peanut was running late and then he WAS late and then it was too late and my recovery was so crappy that it was all fine with me.

Anyway. Today was the first session. It was nice!- yummy breakfast (my first impression: these girls can COOK!), good company, great speaker. And the girls at my table are very sweet, and we're all about the same age and (oddly) all former/aspiring/formerly aspiring teachers. And four of us have babies born in 2008. So that's nice.

But (isn't there always a but with me?) I'm the only full-time working mom. And definitely the only one who doesn't really cook. So these (very sweet!) girls are talking about whether they're planning to home school or volunteer or find time to make a quilt and I'm thinking... There's a load of laundry in the dryer I need to fold before I go back to work tomorrow.

I know I'm doing fine as a mom (mainly because my son is still alive and wearing ~~clean~~ formerly clean clothes). But then there are times when I feel... inferior, I guess. Our table is bringing breakfast for the whole group in two weeks, and these girls are all swapping quiche recipes and I'm thinking Who has time for more than cereal? I'm bringing juice and fruit.

I guess this is about finding my identity as a mom. I'm never going to be the quiche-baking, home-schooling mom. I'm going to be the run-to-Costco-the-night-before mom. For Noah's Batman birthday party, I'm going to be the one who picks up cakes at Albertsons instead of decorating a home-baked cake in the shape of the Batmobile. I'm not a scrapbooker or a hand-sewn-Halloween-costumes mom. We'll still have cakes and costumes and photo albums, and I'll still help bring breakfast. Just in a working mom kind of way, not in a cloned-from-June-Cleaver-and-Martha-Stewart kind of way.

And I guess I'm okay with that.

Sleep, and the lack thereof

2008-09-11T09:49:00.000-07:00

Noah has always been a fantastic sleeper. At 10 weeks, he started going from 12 am - 5 am without eating, and at 5, I could get up, nurse him, and he would go back to sleep for another 2 hours or so. By 4 months, he was sleeping 10-ish hours at night.

Rock Star Baby! We know exactly how lucky we were.

Because... At the beginning of August, Noah caught a cold. He was so stuffy that he could barely breathe, so sleeping through the night was nearly impossible. And then, just as he started feeling better, Noah started teething. And then, once that tooth came in, he decided to grow another one. And now, he's getting another cold... and maybe another tooth. Ugh.

During the day, (besides sneezing and oozing and chewing on everything within sight) Noah is his usual cheerful self. But at night... oh... At night, the Terrible Teething Monster descends on our household, wreaking havoc and making us all long for the good old days where 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep seemed like a blessing. Last night, Noah went to bed at 9:30. We were up at 11:00, 12:10, 1:15, 2:40, and 4:10. We got up at 7:30. That does not include all the times that Noah cried out and woke me up, but went back to sleep on his own. This was the worst night in a while (especially since Ben's in Albuquerque and couldn't help), but I haven't had a night's unbroken rest in over a month.

True story: Yesterday, I pulled into the parking lot at work, and just sat there for a minute, trying to gather the strength to walk the half-mile to my office. I closed my eyes for a second, and when I opened them... 12 minutes had passed. I'm seriously considering asking Vincent to come early today, so I can take a nap in my car.

So, I want to post in my blog (I love you guys!), but I'm just too tired.

Photo update!

2008-09-04T07:36:00.000-07:00

I found 15 free minutes!

We gave Noah some Cheerios for the first time. He LOVES to try to pick them up, and he likes to gnaw on them, but he always has this look on his face when it finally ends up loose in his mouth:

Um, Mom? you forgot to mash this up.

We visited Deb and Nathan last week! It was so hilarious to get those kids together... And Deb, is it just me, or does Noah look HUGE in this pictures? He didn't seem that much bigger in person!

My book!

And lastly, here's our little charmer...

Can't I have a bite of your ice cream?

A whole lot of nothing

2008-09-04T05:52:00.000-07:00

I've started three different posts, and they're all really boring. So, some highlights:

I'm looking for a new job. Some within my current company, some outside, but I really need one weekend day off, so we can spend a little time together as a family. I'm just keeping my eyes and ears open...
I'm trying to decide what Noah should be for Halloween... We thought of Mr. Peanut (complete with top hat and cane!), but this is the only peanut costume I can find, and, well, it's not cute. (Seriously, the little kid seems to be saying, "Mom! This costume is choking me!!") And yes, I could make one, but I'm not that domestic. So, we thought about this (especially cute because my dad still calls me Pumpkin), but isn't it a little... boring? So, how about Batman? Too young? I kind of like this teddy bear one, too. Or Yoda! Thoughts? Suggestions?
Noah is sick. Well, actually, Noah's getting better, but now I'M sick. So basically, we haven't slept through the night in nearly a month. I'm tired.

And, I owe you all pictures. I have lots! on my camera. So... soon. Really. When I have free time.

The Sixth Month Slideshow

2008-08-26T16:43:00.000-07:00

It's my day off, and that means two updates in one day! Enjoy the pics...

Eat, continued

2008-08-26T16:08:00.000-07:00

Months later, I'm still bitter about breastfeeding. It's ridiculous, I know, because Noah is growing super-fast, he's happy and healthy, and nothing else should matter. But it does matter - to me - and I'm having a hard time letting go.

You know, for a few weeks after Noah was born, I felt this way about my birthing experience. I was mad that I got pushed around, frustrated that it didn't go the way I wanted, and a little bitter that my recovery was so damn awful and I wasn't prepared for that at all. But after a couple weeks, that feeling went away, and I hardly think of it now. But I guess because feeding Noah is something that we do all day, every day, I think about breastfeeding all the time.

I stopped pumping at work a couple weeks ago. I didn't intend to stop; it just happened... It was the peak of summer and it got to a point where it wasn't possible to get away for my own lunch, much less sneak away to make lunch for Noah. And anyway, pumping wasn't nearly as effective anymore. I was so stressed out (by everything) that it was taking 5 minutes just to let down and then another 20-30 to get a measly 3 ounces (which ironically, I would have been overjoyed to get back in March when I couldn't even reach the one ounce mark). But when I went back to work in May, I could get nearly 6 ounces in 10 minutes, and if I was home, I could go almost all day without giving Noah a bottle. I felt like a rock star. But now I turn on my breast pump, adjust the setting from "dustbuster" to "swirling vortex of death", try to distract myself with something amusing on my iPhone (you'll never see that on a commercial!), and slowly, painfully, extract a mouthful of milk. So I stopped.

And now we're down to breastfeeding twice a day: morning and night. Three times if I'm home around noon. And he's lucky to get two ounces at each feeding - about a third of what he'd take in formula.

So why not just quit, you ask?

I don't have a good answer for that. Partly, I don't want to quit. It actually is quality time for us, despite my own frustration. And Noah craves it; sometimes it's the only way to calm him down. And he really won't take a bottle from me until he's sure I have nothing better to offer him. So there's all of that.

But really, I think that giving up would be the ultimate admission of defeat. My body never really did cooperate, and I had to work my ~~ass~~ breasts off to get where I was, and now our circumstances have totally negated everything I worked for... I guess I feel like I've failed.

I did, however, meet my ultimate goal: to give Noah breastmilk for 6 months. And now he's 20 pounds, 30 inches - completely off his growth charts. But, here I am in limbo. I imagine one day soon we'll just give it all up and I'll have a big party out back and you can all come watch me barbeque Leopold, my breast pump. (Or maybe, since it was $300, I should save it. Maybe I'll just burn the parts then?) That will probably be the same day he discovers how to chew with his newly-cut tooth. Until then, I'll just keep plugging along.

Day Care

2008-08-19T22:02:00.000-07:00

So, here's how it went down.

I had a couple meetings to go to today, so - even though it's a Tuesday - I went to work. I knew about this pretty far in advance, so I wasn't worried. Ben's parents have been itching for time with Noah, so I figured they could watch him on Vincent's day off, and everyone wins.

Except, Ben's parents are watching Mike's kids since Mike moved to Arizona and-- well, it's a long story. So at the last minute, we found ourselves without child care. And Vincent, I know I totally could have called you and you probably could have bounced right over. But you've been working way too hard, and I thought you deserved a break. And, my company launched a new pilot "back-up care" program, where 15 days a year they provide child care for $10 a day. They've been advertising it like crazy lately, so I thought, "Let's try it out!"

And it was amazing! I called and said, "I need care for my six-month old on Tuesday", and within a few hours they called me back and said, "Here's two day care centers and a family-run center within 3 miles of your house, all with availability on Tuesday". I picked one, they made the reservation, I paid on the phone via credit card, and it was done! Super-duper easy.

Until last night, when I realized; CRAP. I have to pack. And the center doesn't make the formula for you; it all has to be pre-made. And Noah has to bring his own diapers and wipes and baby spoon and bib and crib sheet and blanket. And everything has to be labeled with his name and the date and his serial number and the name of the neighbor's cat and holy moly this is a major ordeal.

And then I get there this morning, and there was just one care giver for the 5 babies in the room (they advertise a 4:1 ratio). One was fussing in a play yard; one was sitting in a swing, staring off into space; another was swinging with a bottle propped up to his face; and another was sucking on the floor mat in the corner. The care giver gave Noah a lot of attention while I was there, but she clearly had her hands full. I was trying to run her through "Noah 101" while she held baby #1, helped me put Noah's stuff into little cubbies, and re-propped up baby #3's bottle... and it became short little phrases like "He just sleeps for 30 minutes at a time" and "He'll probably take solids around 10:30"... which evolved into phrases like "If he cries, feed him" and "Don't forget to change his diaper".

Anyway, Noah was fine. There's seven babies in the class, and three care givers who work different shifts; the ratio was fine (eventually). But when I went to pick him up, they told me that Noah "wouldn't sleep" - he went 8 hours without a nap. And then he somehow managed to go from 9:30 to 4:00 without a bottle... which he has never done (he did have solids at 1100, but that's still a really long time). Noah was REALLY happy to see me, and he promptly took a nap on the way home. He was really clingy to us all night long, poor kid. But he was totally fine. And you can't beat $10.

And I'm not knocking day care; we were really close to using it, before Vincent established his Boy Wonder Training Academy for us. I gotta admit, the biggest reasons we chose to go with Vincent were the price and the convenience, plus the added benefit of knowing our care provider. That, and day care centers don't do part-time care for infants. But now, I can say without reservation: we stay with Vincent because we have the same care philosophy, he does a fabulous job, and -- most importantly -- he genuinely loves our kid.

Vincent, you rock. Noah can't wait to hang out with you tomorrow!

Adventures in Dining Out

2008-08-13T10:39:00.000-07:00

We went to one of my favorite restaurants over the weekend, and we sat down as a party of "6 + a highchair". I've done enough eating out with Noah by now to know that the hostesses just automatically bring a kid's menu when they see anyone under 5 feet tall; they don't see my abnormally large almost-six month-old and assume he should be completing mazes and eating chicken fingers. (The hostess at Chili's brought me a kid's menu and crayons for our first restaurant meal - Noah was four days old.)

Anyway, they brought Noah crayons, which I promptly stowed on the floor. (Come to think of it, I should really start taking these crayons home to start our own personal collection.) But the server took the time to chat us up and find out how old Noah was, and just as our appetizer arrived, he brought me saltine crackers and skinny orange wedges for the baby. How cute is that?

We haven't done the cracker thing yet, and I wasn't about to start with saltines, but I thought for a minute about the orange wedges. Could be interesting, I said to myself, and we'll be right here. (I say that a lot.)

Interesting, indeed:
He got MAD when all three wedges were mangled and no longer edible, and we had to take them away. When we offered him the rice cereal I brought, he looked at us with a look that said, "Um, really? I'm supposed to eat this sludge after that delicious orange?" I have a feeling I'm going to see that look a lot in the coming years.

Not funny

2008-08-06T11:42:00.000-07:00

So, you're at home alone for a couple days, and you start to lose your mind...

I was feeding Noah last night - peas - and he was getting a little cranky. He was still hungry, but getting a little impatient. So, we started playing a little game: after I dipped the spoon in the bowl, I pretended to take a bite myself, commented on its deliciousness, and then "flew" the spoon over to him, where he grabs it and puts it in his own mouth. (One day, I'm going to just stick him in the chair naked with the bowl and spoon and see how much he can really do on his own. He doesn't really enjoy being fed.) Anyway, Noah thought our little game was HILARIOUS. He was laughing - hard!- between bites, and we were having a great time.

Until the last spoonful, when I forgot to "pretend", and I actually took a bite of Gerber strained peas.

It was one of the most disgusting things I have ever eaten. Noah thought the face I made was hysterical. I had to brush my teeth twice to get the taste out of my mouth.

This morning, we switched to applesauce. Just in case.

Time and Punishment

2008-08-04T22:37:00.000-07:00

So, I've suddenly become ridiculously busy. I feel I don't have time for anything anymore. And the things I have to make time for (like the laundry) take so much energy that it's impossible to make time for anything else (like posting in my blog).

And Ben's on another business trip (again!), which just makes the feeling that much stronger. Noah is increasingly independent (so I can use two hands for more than 10 minutes at a time), but he's also increasingly mobile (so I can't look away for more than 10 seconds). I don't mind that Ben travels for work (I used to love the time to myself!), but now when he's gone I get this feeling like I have two jobs and I never ever ever get a break. Not to shower or pee or eat. Two jobs that I really enjoy, of course, but it's still overwhelming, because I'm not that good at multi-tasking.

I love my job, but it's killing me right now. Working this many hours every week is just exhausting, and I put a lot of emotional energy into my work, too... so when I get home, I'm totally drained. And inevitably, I get home in the hour before Noah goes to bed, and I spend that hour trying to combine "quality time with Mommy" with "tired fussy baby hour"-- you can imagine that the results rarely leave me feeling like Parent of the Year.

I guess we've kind of hit a plateau. Some people would call it "hitting our groove", and others would say "stuck in a rut"... it's somewhere in between for me. Routine is healthy, I suppose, but when it involves consistently being exhausted, it's hard to enjoy life. Maybe it will get better when summer is over and my hours are better.

This post is really depressing. I'm going to end it with a cute clip of Noah-- this kid amazes me every day. His "commando crawl" involves several technical maneuvers: there's the standard arm "reach and pull", combined with a gecko-like sticky-hand maneuver if he's on the wood floors; there's a inchworm-like butt action, or occasionally a snake-like side slither; and the ever-important big toe propeller/steering mechanism. Seriously, kid, get up on your knees! It's much simpler, and you won't get belly button rug burn. (Whoa. Diana, didn't someone write a poem about that? Talk about random memories...)

The Fifth Month Slideshow

2008-07-25T22:07:00.001-07:00

Food

2008-07-25T20:55:00.000-07:00

We started Noah on solids! We got the okay to start at Noah's last check-up, but we decided to wait for the five-month mark. Noah loves it! He was a little confused at first, but now he practically feeds himself - he won't let go of the spoon!

We bought a high chair (not pictured) - and finally spent the last $20 from a Babies R Us gift card. Noah just loves this chair! He'll play in it for a long time, and since it's on wheels, I've been able to move him around the house in it while I fold laundry or do the dishes. And I haven't seen it yet, but Vincent says he'll fall asleep in the chair - making it the most magical piece of furniture in my house.

Pictures!!

You turn your head away for one second....

2008-07-21T10:10:00.000-07:00

I left Noah in the living room for a sec so I could run back and pee, and when I came back...

Noah had rolled over at least three times and was eating Ben's sandal. Cute, but gross.

A few minutes later, I got up to put away my cereal bowl, and I looked over and saw this:

Cute, but dangerous. (Don't worry-- it's just a cable to Ben's xbox controller. Noah is NOT about to be electrocuted in this picture. Or I wouldn't have stopped to get the camera.)

Um, Ben? It's time to child proof the house.

(When I looked over and saw Noah eating the cord, I exclaimed, "Noah!!!" He jumped, looked over at me, and gave me a HUGE mischievous grin. Yeah, this kid knows exactly what he's doing.)

Giving up the Dream

2008-07-21T08:17:00.000-07:00

I just asked Tiffany & Co to stop sending me email ads. Because it's just too beautiful, and too depressing.

*sigh*

TMI

2008-07-13T22:19:00.000-07:00

Okay, folks, this one’s not for the boys, the pregnant ladies, the squeamish, or the faint of heart. I’m all about full disclosure here, but this one isn’t for those who would rather not know. Ignorance is bliss. You’ve been warned.

I did a lot of reading during my pregnancy. I was determined that nothing about birth or new parenthood would catch me off guard (ha!)—I wanted to be very well educated. So, when Noah was born HUGE and the nurse explained that he would get glucose screenings during his first few hours of life, I knew exactly what she was talking about, why it was happening, and I had no questions. (I remember sort of waving the nurse away and saying, “Yep, I know”, and the nurse was a little confused/offended… and then Hilary my Fantastic Midwife explained that I Knew Everything and was Educated. I told them both I watched too much Discovery Health channel.)

Anyway, I learned a lot, but there were many, many things they didn’t tell me, things that (apparently) no one speaks of until you’re well-initiated into the New Mommy Club. I’m guessing this is because if nothing was left to the imagination, they future of the entire human race would be in jeopardy. Well, I’m breaking the rules. (I imagine if I had close friends with new babies, I would have known these things. And yes, my sister and sister in-law have babies, but we just don’t talk about those things. Becky is really private. I still can’t believe she told me about her stretch marks.)

Okay, let’s get this train back on track.

So, here’s a partial list of Things They Didn’t Tell Me. I’ve learned most of this by googling my symptoms and then adding “postpartum” to the search.

Nothing “down there” is where I left it last year. I mean, it’s all fully functional, but I swear the landscape has changed. And not just because I had a tear and it didn’t heal quite right… things in that region are just Different. Towards the end of my pregnancy, the nurse would send me to pee in a cup, and I’d position things perfectly (I thought) and then pee all over my hand. I thought it was the huge belly and lack of coordination, but I’m telling you, nothing is where I left it. It’s not bad, just different.
Your nipples can scab. Yep. You heard it here first.
You can get stretch marks AFTER pregnancy. On your boobs. Which is really depressing. The results are good, though. The girls have never been so perky.
Many women experience postpartum carpal tunnel. How weird is that?
I had a blood clot in my leg for a few weeks after Noah was born. I had mobility issues already, but the blood clot was painful and swollen (like other areas of my body), and I could barely bend my leg. They actually sent me to the hospital for an ultrasound on my leg (to rule-out DVT), and when I showed up, I could tell the techs were expecting a 70 year-old man, not a 26 year-old new mommy. If I hadn’t been 5 days postpartum, it would have been funny.
I’m currently experiencing serious hair loss. I’ve always been a heavy shedder, but this is BAD. Like, chemotherapy bad. Like, I have to clean the drain TWICE every shower. And clean out my brushes daily. Luckily, I have plenty of hair to give up, but it’s still really depressing.
That postpartum baby weight? You can lose that. What you can’t lose is the skin! You know how sometimes you put a sweater on a hanger and when you take it off it has that funky hanger dimple? THAT is what my happened to my skin. You can push it in and move it around and tuck it into things, but it’s stretched out forever. Boo.
And for the record? The cocoa butter stretch mark prevention lotions don't work at ALL. I used them religiously every day, and I still look like I've been mauled by a tiger. Aren't stretch marks supposed to fade to silvery-white? Eventually?
You’ll continue to be bombarded with daily email recommendations to bank your baby’s cord blood. It's really irritating. If I had known I could get baby spam every day, I wouldn't have signed up for so many baby newsletters.

So anyway. This is the stuff I never found in a book. The internet is a great source of information (thank you, Dr. Google!), but I take everything the internet tells me with a grain of salt, because it doesn't seem as "official" as a book. This is the stuff that caught me off-guard. I've had this list floating around in my head for nearly five months. It helps to put it in writing, for some reason. I used to journal all the time, and it was always cathartic. This is a lot like a journal, I guess, except I use spell check and let a lot of people read it. Hope it's not boring! Sorry for the TMI.

Dinner Conversation

2008-07-11T23:14:00.000-07:00

So, I’m in Nor Cal for the weekend (and my parents are thrilled!). I love watching my dad with Noah. He’s so obviously delighted by the very sight of this kid, and Noah thinks my dad is hilarious. I’ve always said that Noah is good for my ego, but I think he’s even better for my parents’.

Those of you who have known me long enough know that my dad and I had a rocky relationship through my late teens. It seemed like every conversation ended in a fight. It’s 6000% better now, but I still get a little irritated by my dad, because he has this one really annoying habit: he’s a Commentator. Seriously, the man could have had along illustrious career as a sports commentator, because he just announces everyday life, as it happens. He makes it sound like something exciting, and then he announces the Painfully Obvious. (He would have been a GREAT golf announcer.) With Noah, it’s really bad. “Manda, look! Look! He put his thumb in his mouth.” “Manda, look, his hair is doing this—“ After a while, it’s harder to get our attention. “Cheryl. Cheryl. Cheryl. Look, he’s sleeping. He’s got his mouth open like this.” “Kim. Kim. Kimmie. KIMBERLY. Kim. Look at his foot.”

I love Kimmie. She’s become a little (okay, a lot. a super-lot) spoiled in the years since Becky ran off to Cancun and she became an almost-only child. (Seriously, my parents just bought her a Mac laptop for her high school graduation. SPOILED.) Anyway, I love Kim. She can make me laugh like no one else, and she’s the queen of self-deprecating humor. I have to preface this story by saying that Kim’s not necessarily book-smart, but she’s street smart and funny and witty and just fun to be around.

So first, she tells me the story of how she didn’t know that Washington D.C. and Seattle, Washington were in two different places. It’s a really funny story involving boys and several waiters, but suffice it to say we’re all shocked they gave this girl a high school diploma.

And then, at dinner, this conversation:

Kim: Dad, can I ask you a question?
Dad: Sure (only half-listenening, as he watches Noah bounce away in his new bouncy toy) (to me) Look at him! He’s turned almost all the way around! He just doesn’t know what to play with! Look! He’s putting that toy in his mouth!
Kim: Dad, you’re not listening.
Dad: Yes, I am! You’re not talking. (To Noah) Tell Auntie Kimberly to ask her question, and we’ll listen. Aren’t you so cute? You want to see what that tastes like, don’t you?
Kim: Daa-add. God. Fine. Is there Viagra in watermelon? Because my friend told me there was.
All attention turns to Kimmie. I have my mouth full of watermelon, and I stop chewing to hear the rest of her question.
Ben: What?!
Dad: Um, no, Kimmie. Where did you hear that?
Kim: My friend told me! And I thought I’d ask you, because if anyone would know, I thought you would--
We all pause…
Kim: --I mean because you watch the news! No, not like THAT!
We all burst out laughing. I start choking on my watermelon. Noah stares at us.
Mom: (totally missing the joke) Well, you know, whatever works.
I shoot watermelon out my nose.

Ah, I miss my family.

Starting to...

2008-07-10T22:58:00.000-07:00

Whenever Noah does something new, I wait a week (make sure it's not an anomaly), and then tentatively tell people, "Noah's starting to _____". The only thing is... Noah changes all the time. So by the time I tell someone "Noah's starting to ______", he's already moved on to something else. And by the time I've waited that tentative week, it feels like old news. For example, by the time I felt ready to tell people, "Noah's starting to sleep through the night", he'd been sleeping through the night for 2 weeks and I didn't want to jinx it. And now, Noah's starting to roll onto his tummy during his sleep, and he's been doing it for a week so obviously he's fine and it's hardly news (except that he sleeps an extra hour or two a night now - and it's bliss).

I think part of it is the whole "hindsight is 20/20" cliche. It's hard to tell day-of what's up with this kid. Like, if he's really fussy one evening, I can never figure it out until the next day, after I see how well he sleeps (was it reflux? was he really really tired? did he need to poop?). But I keep finding myself living in the past, trying to decipher behavior that happened 3 days ago and may never happen again. There's no figuring it out.

So anyway, this is a boring post. It's just -- when Noah turns 16 and I tell you all he's starting to learn his multiplication tables in school, could you all just ask me what he did yesterday? Because I really need to start living in the present.

Scrapbook

2008-07-07T18:09:00.000-07:00

So, one day while I was still pregnant, I got a package in the mail. I opened it, and it was this:

Micha's mom made Noah a scrapbook! I knew I wanted to do a baby book of some kind for Noah, but I lack the creative capacity to scrapbook. Actually, I take it back-- I sort of have the capacity, but I'm such a perfectionist that I can't get past page one. Every time I try to start page 2, I look at page 1 and say, "Ugh, this would look so much better if _____". So when I'm feeling crafty, I make cards. It's less permanent.

But back to Noah's scrapbook. It's perfect! It's SO cute, and so easy to add to. And Marilyn included all the paper scraps and lots of extra stickers, so if I want to (or have time to) add to it, I can. I finally bought more photo paper and got all the pictures printed in the right sizes, and I got a lot put together today:

There's more, but this is what I took pictures of. Isn't it so cute? And all I had to do was add pictures and write little monthly blurbs. It goes all the way until he turns 1! Still in my top three favorite baby gifts.

Thanks again, Marilyn!

Fourth of July

2008-07-05T08:53:00.001-07:00

Warning: Cuteness below...

I had to work until 7, but after I got off, we went to Fullerton High School to watch fireworks. It was really fun!

If it looks like the front of his shirt is covered in slime, that's because it is. Noah is the King of Spit-Up.

Now that he can really sit up in it, Noah loves the Peanut Shell.

Here's Noah, watching the fireworks. He just stared and stared... it was hilarious! The kid loves bright flashy things, what can I say? I'm just glad he wasn't freaked out by the loud noises. He wasn't even startled!

Oops, I need to go get ready for work now.

Safe

2008-07-03T11:30:00.000-07:00

Before I had kids (goodness, I wonder how many times I'm going to use that phrase in the next 20 years), I thought parenting would be simple. Not easy, mind you,-- I'm not that naive-- but simple. Black and white. I thought the "right" decisions would just pop out at me and say, "Hello! I'm the right choice! Choose me!", and I'd choose them, and then I'd be a good parent.

As usual, I was wrong.

Noah's becoming mobile (God, help us), and I keep thinking about all the choices we've made to ensure his safety. There's the obvious ones, like strapping him into his NASA-grade car seat everywhere we go. And not letting him eat cat hair. Or cheeseburgers. Or cigarettes. And we added deadbolts to our sliding glass doors so you can't just walk out to the pool. But then there's the "iffy" things; the things some people tell you not to do that I do anyway, because it's easier and the risk is so small. But what I've discovered is that my "iffy" things - our calculated risks - fall on some people's "bad parents do these" list.

We used a sleep positioner with Noah until just a couple weeks ago, and until a month ago, we put him to sleep on his side. (He had such a strong startle reflex that sleeping on his back was nearly impossible, and he hated being swaddled.)
There's a bumper in Noah's crib.
I never used baby laundry detergent.
We don't have a safety gate around our pool, because our backyard is too small.
I cut the safety strap off of our changing pad, because I never, ever use it.
I use a rear-view baby mirror in my car, because it's nice to know if Noah's crying because the sun is in his eyes or he's being attacked by his elephant toy. But apparently it can become a projectile in a crash.

Anyway, I know there's more, but I'm tired of linking to websites that make me sound like a bad mother. I just got lost in one site as one woman told the story of how her six year-old died eating a hot dog, and the story of how another woman's baby died after ingesting part of a magnet. And that's after I got stuck in a SIDS website. So we're moving on now.

My point is, we take a lot of risks in life. I'm not sure I realized just how many until after Noah was born. I try not to worry about it (except SIDS, which is impossible not to worry about), because I know I've done everything I can to ensure Noah's safety and provide our family with a practical life. Because I could have put Noah to sleep on his back, except he wouldn't have slept- ever - for his first 8 weeks of life. And that's not practical. And I could strap Noah into his changing pad every time I change his diaper, but really? That's not practical, either. Especially during the more serious HazMat situations. And I can't do anything about our pool to backyard ratio - a gate would leave no room to walk in our yard!

But I guess you could argue that knowing the dangers are out there is half the battle - that just knowing the risks makes you a better parent. But I tell you what - in our hyper-safety-conscious uber-litigious society, there's nothing like a discussion about baby safety to spark serious debate.

Discovered this morning

2008-07-03T09:42:00.000-07:00

Wow, Mommy, your feet are huge!

Birth Day

2008-06-28T09:11:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday.

And now that I've lived through the process, I must say, I have a huge appreciation for the celebration of Birth Days, and it certainly is something worth commemorating every year. I look back on the day I gave birth to Noah, and so many things surprise me. It was an amazing experience. I did things I never thought I could do, endured the unendurable, suffered horrible indignity (someone really needs to make maternity hospital gowns - no one wants to see a pregnant woman's ass), I dealt with the pain better than I ever thought I could (though there were moments of whimpering and despair), and ultimately gave life to another human being (a 9 lb, 10 oz human being at that. Oy). How special! How extraordinary!

And yet, so ordinary. Birth happens every day. Those amazing things I did? The things I'm most proud of? They happen every minute. Right now, someone, somewhere is giving birth. The so-called "miracle of life" occurs with such frequency it's amazing we call it a miracle at all. One of my pregnancy books talked about how being pregnant makes women feel "connected to the universe". I thought that was really hokey, because I never felt that way. I felt huge, fat, always in the spotlight, and almost isolated. But now that I have Noah, I look around at work (where I constantly have hundreds of people within eye-shot) and think to myself, "Someone gave birth to ALL of these people." And now I feel that "connection" I think the book is talking about... like I did something truly extraordinary... along with billions of others. Like I've joined a really cool, not-exclusive club. (Like MySpace! Just kidding.)

I also have a renewed appreciation for adoption, and for Denise. I used to think, "I could never do what she did," not because I would have made a different decision, but because I didn't think I was strong enough to do it. And now... well, I'd lay down naked on spikes in front of a truck on fire if it meant Noah could have a better life. It really is a different kind of love. I have a renewed respect for my sisters' birthmoms, too, even though their stories aren't as happy as mine. I don't care what the circumstances are - it takes guts, love, courage, and huge amounts of inner strength to bring a baby to term, give birth, and say goodbye... and that alone should be a ticket to heaven.

So, it's my Birth Day. Denise, for the ordinary-extraordinary thing you did for me 27 years ago, I just want to say, thanks.

And so began the Great Sock War of 2008

2008-06-27T11:51:00.001-07:00

The Boy has discovered his feet.

(and he still doesn't appreciate the camera flash.)

One Year

2008-06-27T08:16:00.000-07:00

I meant to post this on the 13th -

Riley is one year old!

One year ago, I was in Cancun meeting my new baby nephew:

So little! And now:

Isn't he so adorable?! He's crawling everywhere, and Becky said he says "Mama" all the time. I can't wait for Riley and Noah to meet!

Survey!

2008-06-25T22:30:00.000-07:00

I never do these, but I got this one from Sherida's blog, and it seemed like fun.

COUPLES SURVEY

What are your middle names?
Jason and Margaret

How long have you been together?
We met for the first time February 4th, 2000. (8 years before Noah's due date!)
Married June 22, 2002

Who asked who out first?
Well, our blind date thing was because of me, I guess, but when it came to actually start "dating", he asked me.

Who's mother do you see the most?
Ben's, because she lives closer.

Who’s siblings do you see the most?
Ben's, for sure. One of mine doesn't even live in the country.

Do you have children together?
Who could forget cutie patootie Noah?

What about pets?
2 cats, Maui and Tito. Both are on Ben's Shit List.
We really miss Max.

Which bill is the hardest on you as a couple?
Lordy. The mortgage, I guess - it's the most expensive. But the most irritating ones are our property taxes (we have to set aside $500 a month), and our student loans (another $400). My student loans will be paid off in 2024 - as Noah starts his junior year of high school. Ugh.

Did you go to the same school?
Yep.

Are you from the same hometown?
Nope.

Who's the smartest?
Ben, definitely. Unless it's related to pop culture.

Who is the most sensitive?
Ben, probably.

Where do you eat out at most as a couple?
Hm. Red Robin? Oh! No, it's definitely Panera Bread.

Where do you shop the most as a couple?
Target. At least once a week. Yaay Target!

Where is the furthest you have traveled as a couple?
As a couple? New York or Hawaii - whichever is farther away, I guess. Separately, I've been to Cancun and Mexico City, and Ben has been to Mongolia and Mali. Ben wins.

Who has the best group of friends?
I'm not sure Ben has any friends that are just "his"! So, me, I guess.

Who has the worst temper?
I don't know. Me? I get pretty irritated when I'm grouchy/tired. But Ben's fuse is shorter than mine.

Who does the cooking?
Ben. Because he's better at it.

Who is more social?
Ha! Me.

Who is the neat-freak?
Um, neither, although I still have "nesting" pangs, where I simply HAVE to organize something or I'll go insane. Ben has never nested a day in his life, although he is strangely drawn to landscaping our yards.

Who is the most affectionate?
It used to be me, for sure, but I spend my days cuddling with Noah, so we're probably pretty equal now.

Who is the most stubborn?
Me, probably, but neither of us are very stubborn.

Who wakes up earlier?
Ben, for work.

Where was your first date?
Baskin Robbins. Our second date was at Disneyland. It rained, and it still goes down as one of the top 5 trips to Disneyland ever.

Who has the bigger family?
With 7 siblings, 3 siblings in-law and 8 nieces/nephews, definitely Ben. But I'm much closer to my extended family (aunts, uncles, cousins) than he is, so we probably come out even, actually. But Ben grew up in a much crazier house, so I'll let him win that one.

Do you give or get flowers often?
No. I love flowers, but they're ridiculously expensive, and I'd rather spend my money on something that won't die in three days.

Do you have little pet names for each other ?
Aside from the traditional "Honey", I also affectionately refer to Ben as "Booger Butt" or sometimes just "Booger". Now that I type it... I'm not sure why.

Do you share friends?
Definitely.

Do you fight often?
I'm not sure we "fight", ever. We irritate each other occasionally, but we always talk it out and come out fine on the other side. We're not yellers.

Are you in love?
For sure! But, more importantly, we care about each other, and we're committed to the same things, and that keeps us going day after day. Being "in love" wouldn't get us through the hard times.

I can't believe we've been married for 6 years. It feels like much longer, and it feels like it was just yesterday. Some days, it's hard to remember a time when I didn't know him.

Love you, Ben!

Check up

2008-06-24T22:07:00.000-07:00

So, we had Noah's 4-month check-up appointment yesterday. It was originally scheduled for last Tuesday (his four-month birthday), but Ben was in Texas on business, and the idea of dealing with post-immunization Noah by myself was a little overwhelming, so we rescheduled. (Actually, Kaiser called and canceled the appointment for me because the doctor had a vacation day, and I considered it divine providence and rescheduled.) I'm SO glad, because post-immunization Noah sucks. He's cranky and irritable and pissed off at the whole world, and he's not afraid to let you know exactly how he felt about having three huge needles jabbed into his thigh muscles. Thank God for infant Tylenol.

Anyway, the stats: 17 pounds, 10 ounces - 27 inches long. This kid is HUGE. He's literally off the chart in height! But he's doing great: he's hit almost all of the six-month milestones! We got the go-ahead to start solids in a few weeks, but I'm not going to rush it. I'm going to wait until I make a final decision on which high chair I want (It all comes back to shopping with me). Plus, it all sounds very messy, and I do enough laundry as it is.

The funniest/oddest things happen in the doctor's office. The first thing you do is fill out the most ridiculous questionnaire with questions like: Do you drink hot liquids while holding your baby? Do you bathe your baby in water hotter than 100 degrees? Do you always use a rear-facing infant seat while driving in the car? Do you allow your infant to handle your collection of hand grenades? Okay, I made that last one up. But seriously.

And then the nurse asks about the baby's feeding schedule. Do you breast- or bottle-feed? Um, both. How much formula does he take? Depends on the day. On my days off? 10-ish ounces. If I'm working? 20-ish. Does he take breastmilk from the breast, or are you pumping? Um, both. How many ounces? How many minutes on each side? God, I don't know... And she looks from the computer screen to me, back to the computer screen and tries to find a way to enter the information. We are NOT the only family doing this - there's got to be a better way to record it.

ANY-way... It's been six gillion degrees outside, and our pool has warmed up a lot. For fun, we decided to take Noah in the pool with us - and he did great! Ben bought this hilarious Baby SpringFloat for Noah, and he had a blast kicking his legs in there. (Ben, how come we didn't get the ducky one? I just realized that ours has a big pink flower on it.) Whatever. Pictures!

Sorry about the bathing suit. Mine, I mean - Noah's is freakin' adorable. I'm not really bathing-suit-ready this year (or any year, come to think of it). Ben saw this cute bikini in Gap the other day and said, "Manda, isn't that a cute bathing suit?" and I said, "Yeah, it's really cute. On the mannequin. But I bet you $100 that mannequin didn't give birth four months ago." He didn't take the bet.

K, I'm done rambling now. To recap: Appointment had, shots given, cranky baby. Baby is enormous and growing up fast. Doctor's offices ask funny questions. Hot weather + pool + baby = fun for all, even when none of your bathing suits fit well.

One last thing: My birthday is Saturday! And got the day off work! Party party party!

The Fourth Month Slideshow

2008-06-20T10:15:00.001-07:00

And so it came to pass that Amanda cleaned the bathroom at 10 p.m.

2008-06-18T22:06:00.000-07:00

I keep reading, over and over, that it's not a great idea to let a baby nurse himself to sleep. That, if you do this, he'll never learn to fall asleep on his own. It all makes sense, in theory, until you realize that the ability to make a baby fall asleep is... well, elusive... and if you can do it by breastfeeding, why the hell wouldn't you?

So basically, I nurse Noah to sleep every night. And then he sleeps through the night. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?

Except babycenter.com sent me an email about how to get your baby to fall asleep on his own, and I decided to try it out. On Monday night, I fed Noah and then put him down in his crib while he was drowsy, but awake. I gave him his pacifier, turned on his hypnotic baby music, and left the room. I turned on the baby monitor and... waited.

And waited. Because no WAY I'm going to sleep until I know Noah is OUT-- there's nothing more irritating than being awakened just as you enter REM sleep. So I waited. And, since I didn't have anything better to do (and Ben's still in Texas), I decided to clean my bathroom. At 10 pm. And then I went and nursed my still-awake-and-eating-his-toes baby to sleep at 10:30, because I can and it works. So there, babycenter.

I just realized something, though. About 30 minutes ago, I put Noah to sleep, and he woke up after 5 minutes (I hate when that happens). I gave him his pacifier and said, "Sorry, kiddo, Mommy has a blog to write. I'll be back in 15." And... (checks on the baby)... yep. He's out. All by himself!

So now I'm thinking about all the chores I could do at 10 pm. And I'm torn, because I just found that thing that every adult on the planet wishes for - an extra hour in the day - and I really don't want it!

Four Months Old

2008-06-17T22:41:00.000-07:00

In four months, Noah has:

been born
learned to eat
learned to poop
smiled
worn ridiculous outfits
pooped all over ridiculous outfits
flown first class - twice
been on a long car trip (oy.)
discovered his hands
been away from us for three nights
been shopping (many, many times)
rolled over
rolled over the other way
cried
put every object within reach into his mouth
spit up on me
spit up on Ben
spit up on the cat (Funniest. Moment. Ever.)
laughed
slept (occasionally)
discovered his feet
met 40 extended family members and many honorary aunts and uncles
generated approximately 100 loads of laundry
stretched me far beyond the limits of what I thought I could do
made me love my husband even more deeply
been subjected to thousands of camera flashes
been loved and adored more than he will ever know.

changed my life - for the better - probably more than I realize.

I love you, baby Noah!

Domestic

2008-06-16T17:06:00.001-07:00

It's my day off! (Finally.)

When I was pregnant, (when not at a doctor's appointment or shopping) I spend my days off laying around my house conserving energy. Once I stopped working, I filled my days with nesting, cleaning, and episodes of the West Wing. Once Noah was born... well, let's just say I no longer have real days off. Now, I simply have days where instead of working for a salary, I work overtime at my parenting gig without getting paid. On those days, I try to catch up on housework (ha!) and fit in as much "quality time" as I can squeeze out of my four month-old.

I was dreading these two days "off", because Ben left this morning for Texas, and he won't be back until Thursday. I was afraid that these days would be miserably long and difficult. But as it turns out, today, I rock. So far, I have:

Showered (And honestly, I could stop right here and it would be a red-letter day.)
Ate breakfast
Washed, folded, and put away 6 loads of laundry
Cleaned out my underwear drawer (Seriously, it was like following my butt back into history-- Hey, I remember when I wore these on our honeymoon and -- well, the rest is a little personal.) Anyway, that created a Target bag of trash, because, well, my ass isn't honeymoon-sized anymore, I'm sorry to say. And, lordy, that was 6 years ago. Time for new chonies.
Ditto on bra drawer. Less depressing, because pregnancy/nursing has sent me up a cup size and a half, and I'm not complaining about that!
Washed dishes
Cooked lunch (chicken chow mein from Trader Joe's - which will also be my dinner)
Responded to emails
Responded to phone calls
Wrote this
Fed/comforted/changed/loved my hungry/fussy/dirty/adorable baby boy.

And it's only 5! If my friend gets back to me, I may get out for dinner tonight. If not, I'm going to watch a movie. And tomorrow, we're going to Ventura with Michelle, (shopping in Camarillo!) so that will be fun.

Gotta go. Naptime is over. Quick photo!

Life is what happens while you're busy checking email

2008-06-12T15:21:00.001-07:00

Scene: It's Saturday night. I just got home from work, and I'm catching up on email. Ben's in the kitchen, making yet another fabulous-and-easy skillet meal from Trader Joe's. Noah is on the floor, playing with the dangling doo-hickeys on his baby gym, like so:

(We switched the singing fish with the rattling elephant. The singing fish was bringing me closer and closer to my death.)

Anyway, after a few minutes, I looked over, and Noah was on his stomach! So, I asked Ben a very awkward question: "Um, honey? Did you move the baby?"

The kid rolled over from his back to his tummy without a noise or an audience. I missed a milestone while checking email! I can't decide if I'm a bad mother, or if it's just a sign of the times and I'm completely normal. But if I miss his first steps while watching American Idol auditions next winter, you can call Social Services on me.

Anyway, here's the video! He's always reluctant to perform on camera (I think this is take #132), but I got it!:

Photogenic

2008-06-10T15:51:00.000-07:00

I recognize that I may be biased, but it really seems to be an irrefutable fact:

This kid is CUTE. Don't you just want to hug him and squeeze him and cover him with kisses and pour him over ice cream and eat him with a spoon?

Leopold

2008-06-03T08:24:00.000-07:00

My breast pump talks to me.

No really. I first brought it out a few days after Noah was born (trying to boost a supply that never really came), and I thought the "talking" was just another symptom of my postpartum mania. But I still hear it! The rhythmic wheeze sounds like a hyperactive pool pump, and after a while, you can hear the words. At first, I heard: "We are pump, we are pump, we are pump". I think that was the postpartum insanity, though, because it quickly changed to, "We uphold, we uphold, we uphold". And now, it's pretty much always, "Leopold, Leopold, Leopold". I'm not sure why my pump calls for Leopold, but I'm telling you, it does.

Pumping at work really stinks. It's awkward, it's uncomfortable, the bag is enormous and heavy, and it's super-inconvenient. Thankfully, I've been able to use the park's baby center. I guess some people have had trouble with this in the past (it's too busy, and they'd rather you not look like an employee in there), but so far, it's working out for me. Which is good, because there's no way I would pump in the bathroom. Ever. Period.

The baby center is nice enough - if you have a baby. There's a rocking chair and a curtain, so you have comfort and "privacy", but once I turn on Wheezy Old Leopold, there's no guessing what I'm doing. And rocking chairs weren't made with pumping mothers in mind. So that's awkward.

And it's so uncomfortable. I love my team, but working with two gay men and two women who aren't interested in having kids means nobody gets it. I mean, they're supportive and they care and they're great, but the don't get it. The word "pump" makes all of us (including me) uncomfortable, so I say I'm "visiting the baby center". Silly, but "pumping" makes me think of either this or this, and neither of those images make the task more pleasant.

And really, I should be pumping twice during a shift, but so far, I've only been able to manage that once. And frankly, even if I had the extra time in the afternoon (I really don't), it's hard to get motivated to go. So, by the time I get home, I feel like my chest is full of wet concrete and I've been left to bake in the desert sun. (Hi Noah! Are you hungry? Too bad, it's time to EAT.)

But I'm committed, even if I'm frustrated to the point of insanity. I didn't some this far and work this hard to let some machine get me down!

An Awesome Day

2008-05-29T21:14:00.000-07:00

So, today, some of us got to take our sort-of assistants (I call them that for simplicity and lack of a better word - I'm not nearly important enough for a real assistant) on a tour of the Studios in Burbank. They've worked super-hard for us for a year and a half now, and I couldn't do my job without Randie. I've been up to the Studios several times on my own (awesome store!), but I've never been on the official tour... it was AWESOME. Like, seriously awesome. Our guide was amazing, and we all walked away feeling like we'd seen some really really special things.

Best part of the day? We stopped at the Archives (run by the amazing fascinating super-cool Dave Smith), and he spent a good half hour showing us some really special things... including Disneyland ticket #000001 (purchased by Roy Disney on July 18th, 1955), some original ticket books, an original newpaper promo from 1955, some super-old mail-order merchandise catalogs (with hand-painted cels from Sleeping Beauty for $2.50 or a Walt biography signed by Walt for $4.00), and an Academy Award. Don't believe me? Here's me, with Oscar himself...

It's really REALLY heavy!

Other cool stuff:

The wardrobe from Narnia:

The bedknob! Micha, the actual bedknob!!!

I love my job.

My new favorite commercial...

2008-05-27T09:10:00.001-07:00

Gold Star

2008-05-26T08:53:00.000-07:00

So, my boss put me in mid shifts for my first couple weeks back to "ease me back into things". It was very nice of him, but I'm losing my mind - I leave home right after Noah gets up for the day, and when I get home, I have about an hour before bedtime. A fussy hour. I have always hated mid shifts, but now the hatred is much more fierce.

This weekend marked Ben's first two days at home alone with Noah! He did great. But yesterday, Ben asked me, "What do you do with him all day?" Poor guy. Staying at home with a baby isn't nearly as easy as it sounds - and it doesn't sound all that easy. But yesterday Ben found time to wash the dishes and mow the lawn, so he gets a gold star from me.

Ben's off today (HOORAY!), so we're going shopping (!), and I plan to lay low and try to get laundry done on my days off. More pictures, coming soon!

I'm ba-ack... at work.

2008-05-24T21:55:00.000-07:00

So, work. Yeah. I was way more worried than I needed to be - things are different (new attraction! new store), but nothing has changed. Same people (mostly), same issues, new day. I remembered liking my job, but I didn't realize so many people liked me back... I got such a warm welcome! It made my first few days easy. I still have concerns about working in general, but I'm feeling a lot better about the whole thing now that I'm in it.

Gotta go. The kid's hungry. More later.

Paranoia Genesis

2008-05-20T19:02:00.001-07:00

I just received an email from BabyCenter.com inviting me to read the story "Is it ever okay for babies to watch TV?".

Try and tell me Big Brother isn't watching.

Two Disturbing Scenes + One Adorable Picture

2008-05-20T16:01:00.000-07:00

Picture this:

Noah was really fussy and gassy yesterday, but felt much better this morning. I went to get him in his crib, and this is what I saw: Noah had his legs up, hands behind his knees, head up off the mattress, grunting and straining... it looked exactly like a birthing position. And he did give birth - to a stinky, sticky poop. Problem solved, Happy Noah, Slightly Disturbed Mommy.
I had to make some phone calls today (we paid for our hospital stay with our Flexible Spending Account debit card, and now they want a receipt. I have a new baby. You think I know where 3 month-old receipts are?), and I needed Noah to be quiet for 30 minutes. So, I fed him, changed him, played with him, and then parked him on the floor under his gym... and put The Simpsons on as a little hold-time entertainment for me. Noah completely ignored his gym and watched The Simpsons, silently. I imagine he was riveted by the flashing colors, but it was a little disturbing. This is how things like Baby Einstein get invented.

My new favorite photo, taken on Noah's three-month birthday:

Torn

2008-05-19T20:50:00.001-07:00

So, I go back to work on Thursday. I had lunch with my bosses today, and Vincent had a fantastic trial run as our "manny", so I'm basically "ready".

Except... I don't know. I have such mixed feelings about working. Especially after my lunch today, because I was pretty good at my job and I remember liking it a lot, and I genuinely miss a lot of people. But I'm anxious about going back... Part of what made me good at my job is the long hours I put in - often 11 or 12 hour days - and I just can't (and won't!) do that anymore. Can I be as good at my job in 9 hours? Or will I be the manager that "used to be great until she had kids"? Hm.

And I really feel guilty. Guilty for leaving Noah (even though he's in great hands!), guilty for not being able to afford to stay at home, and mega-guilty for occasionally longing to get out of the house. Guilty because of the smiles I'll miss, guilty for dreading having to use the breast pump every day, and - most irritating of all - guilty for feeling guilty, because I know better. It's a vicious cycle.

I think back to two years ago, when we bought this house. The whole point of selling the condo was to upgrade to a "family" house. And I LOVE this house (really!), but I can't help think that if we were still in our condo, with its fantastic $1200 mortgage (including HOA!)... I could be at home with Noah. A smaller, more cramped home, but home. But then, we never would thought about having kids in the condo, because it was too small and cramped... plus, we wanted a yard for a dog. And now we don't have one.

I really need to stop thinking like this. It's too depressing/confusing. Plus, my head's going to explode.

The Third Month Slideshow

2008-05-18T17:08:00.000-07:00

Who's the leader of the club?

2008-05-17T09:16:00.001-07:00

Recap

2008-05-16T08:34:00.000-07:00

Whew! It's good to be home. A quick recap of the last week:

Went to visit the 'rents and Crazy Auntie Kimberly
Spent Saturday at Samuel P. Taylor State Park with the extended family (Noah got passed around more than my grandma's famous cookies).
First Mother's Day was nice, but subdued. Ben bought me a necklace. Noah spit up on me several times.
My mom watched Noah Tuesday-Thursday while Ben and I ran off to Vegas! We stayed at Planet Hollywood in an AMAZING room on the 25th floor. There was a HUGE tub in the middle of the bathroom with a view of the strip, so I took a bath and watched the Bellagio fountains. We gambled, we shopped, fun was had by all.

A more interesting post will follow...

Houston, we have mobility (sort of)

2008-05-08T17:32:00.000-07:00

I fear tummy time will be much harder from here on out...

Am I a bad mother?

2008-05-08T09:09:00.001-07:00

When Noah spits up (hourly), and it gets on me (frequently), I clean myself up first. Because frankly, Noah has more clothes than I do, he's easier to bathe, and he doesn't care if he smells like curdled, sour milk.

Eat

2008-05-06T09:41:00.000-07:00

So, as long as I'm boring all of you to death, let's talk about breastfeeding. It's one of those hot-button baby topics I never expected to have an issue with... but it's really been on my mind daily since Noah was born.

I knew I wanted to breastfeed. It's a no-brainer-- it's the best nutrition for your baby, babies have fewer ear infections, I lose weight quicker, it's FREE, I could go on and on. And all the material I could find on the subject before I gave birth is pro-100% breastfeeding, and extremely anti-formula. So, I was on board.

Until Noah was born. He was tongue-tied (I was going to link to wikipedia here, but the article was really disturbing!), so we had some latch problems from day one. Noah had a frenulectomy (again, really disturbing), and that fixed a lot of his latch problems, but I think the damage was already done. His latch was really "bitey" for the first week, and it took three weeks for the scabs to heal. You don't know creepy until your baby spits up blood-- and you realize it's yours. On top of that, I never felt the "engorgement" you're supposed to get when your milk comes in, and I don't think my milk really came in for more than a week.

So, we had to introduce formula when Noah was just 4 days old. The kid wasn't getting any nutrition, he hadn't pooped since right after being born, and he was quickly becoming dehydrated. In my head, I knew it was the right thing to do, but I felt like I was feeding him poison! And I felt like such a failure. I just kept saying in my head over and over, "I wanted to breastfeed! It's the best thing for him!"... and I so didn't want to give him formula. It was probably six weeks before it occured to me, "Hey! We can do both." Those first few weeks were murder... but I stuck with it, nursed through the pain, Noah had formula to keep him growing, and now we've figured out a combination of formula/breastmilk that works for both of us. I started taking a fenugreek supplement that really helped my supply (although I really smell like maple-syrup)-- Noah probably gets 30-ish ounces of food a day, and only 8-10 of it is formula. I feel really, really good about the whole thing now.

So, alls well that ends well, right? Except now I'm really bitter. How come no one told me I could do both? I spent weeks feeling like I had failed the first test of motherhood. It was a huge contributer to my postpartum haze. Why are you either a good, breastfeeding mother or a bad, formula-feeding monster? I read that some 77% of women at least try breastfeeding now-- the highest numbers in decades! But lots of them stop around 6 weeks - when many women return to work and/or give up because it's too hard. How many of those women would keep going if someone told them "Hey! You can do both." Even a little breastmilk is better than none! And you're not a bad mother! I had four appointments with lactation consultants, and I had to figure all of that out on my own.

Okay, end of rant. This is just another one of those Things That Surprised Me About Parenting... and I can't help but share.

Reward for your attention:

Trial Separation

2008-05-05T08:47:00.000-07:00

So, two and a half weeks left before I go back to work. In some ways, it's going to be great - lots of adult interaction, less random spit-up, and at least one meal a day that I can eat with two hands.

But really, I'm dreading it. And it's not even that I love Noah and want to spend as much time with him as possible (and I do!) -- I was prepared for that. It's that I actually enjoyed being a stay-at-home mom! I've really liked maintaining our household (even the dishes, which I usually can't stand). But mostly, I like it when Ben comes home from work and we have dinner as a family. And Saturday mornings when we attempt to sleep in together, and then spend the day as a family. We're a family!

I guess what I'm dreading is that when I go back to work, we go back to Survival Mode. We'll do just enough laundry to keep us in clean burp rags, the dishes will get done when we run out of bottles, and eating together will be a novelty. No more days off together.

And that sounds so depressing.

And the worst part is, people keep asking me (over and over!) if I really need to go back to work. And so I have to explain (over and over!) that YES, I do-- we own a home and two cars in Orange County, and while we could probably pay all those bills on Ben's salary, we wouldn't have much left for things like clothes and diapers and food. And theoretically I could get a different job - one with better days off and steadier hours - but I remember really really loving the one that I had... so I'm going back. If I hate it, I'll look for something new.

In the meantime, we solved the great Day Care Crisis of 2008! Can you believe some people pay $2000 a month for day care? I mean, super-fantastic day care, but still... he's 3 months old! He doesn't need learning centers! He needs a clean diaper, a hand to hold his bottle, and moderate human interaction. But I digress. While those crazy people spend their paychecks on Montessori for infants, Noah will spend his time with Uncle Vincent! I feel really good about this; we know Vincent, we trust him, Noah likes him, and he hasn't been offended by the Random Acts of Spit-Up performed by my child, so it's a good deal, really.

But deep down, I'm considering this a Trial Separation... because I'd love to be able to just be home with Noah. We just have to figure out the money stuff... Ben, couldn't you ask your boss for a really big raise? Like, $30,000? That would cover it, I think.

Obligatory Noah photo!

Shut your big fat yap

2008-05-03T03:26:00.000-07:00

I had to open my big mouth. Noah slept for 7 hours! Like, four nights in a row!

And now I'm up at 3:30 again.

Lesson: Don't mess around with the Jinx.

This post is brought to you by...

2008-05-02T19:21:00.000-07:00

So, now that we're all adjusted to life together, I think Noah's a really great baby**. He's generally cheerful, he entertains himself long enough for me to eat breakfast most days, and (I can't believe I'm about to say this out loud) for the last 4 nights, Noah has slept for 7 hours straight.

But Noah really likes to be held. A lot. Like, all the time. I think I once saw him entertain himself for 45 minutes, but 15 minutes of autonomy is all I usually get. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, 15 minutes is great... but it's not really long enough to get things done. So I've been experimenting with baby carriers. Ben has this one, and I think he secretly loves it. I think it's just okay. Before Noah was born, I bought a Peanut Shell (who could resist the name?), and I LOVE it, but Noah's not as big a fan. I tried a different sling, thinking maybe the sizing was off, but it turns out he doesn't like being cradled unless he's eating.

So today, I went out and bought a Moby Wrap. And, dude, it's been 4 hours, and it's the best thing that ever happened to me. I mean, the best thing since Noah, anyway. Noah can look around, my back doesn't hurt, and I can type with both hands. And? Right now? I'm nursing Noah! And typing! With both hands! How awesome is that?!

And I just realized that there are like, two people who read my blog who will care about this. If that. Sorry for the pointless post. Here's a cute picture of Noah in his Bumbo chair (another product I love) to make up for the pointless read.

**Not that I didn't think Noah was a great baby before. I think I mean he's a relatively easy baby. But you know, things like colic take a while to show up, and I didn't want to count my chickens, etc. Also, I'm afraid of jinxing myself.

PS. 3 weeks before I return to work...

Daddy Time

2008-04-30T14:43:00.000-07:00

I gotta say, Noah loves his daddy. I swear, he reserves his biggest smiles for when Ben gets home from work (and honestly, after a full day of mommy-ing, I do too!). And Ben is so cute when he plays with Noah. He walks the baby around the house and points out all the cool stuff we have ("Look Noah! A mirror." and "Do you see the kitty?" and "Can you say 'external hard drive'?"). And the funny thing is, Noah always looks at him seriously, like he's just filing away that information for the future.

So cute. But really, we all spend most of our time with Noah like this:

Ooh! And I've been meaning to tell you all!: I'm learning to cook. Yeah. Because by the time Ben gets home in the evening, I don't want him to make dinner, I want him to hold the kid so I can sit up straight/pee/move independently. So, Ben holds Noah and directs me in the kitchen. So far, I've made stir-fry chicken and veggies, creamy chicken and rice, beef with gravy, and chicken lettuce wraps (that last one I did all by myself!). Anyway, for those of you who know me, this is a huge deal. I'm so proud!

Camera Shy

2008-04-25T17:55:00.000-07:00

So, Noah takes great photos. He doesn't always smile, but he looks right at the camera, and I've gotten some really great shots of him.

Like this one:

Too cute!

Noah's new thing is "talking"-- making miscellaneous vowel/consonant/tongue clicking combinations and then squealing with delight when we make them back to him. A conversation with Noah goes something like this:

Noah: Ah-bgoo!
me: Bgoo!
Noah: (big smiles) aaaauuuuww!
me: ow?
Noah: (opens his mouth big to try again) Mmmm.... Aaaa...
me: Ma!
Noah: (unhinges his jaw like a python) Neee... [pop] Aaum... [click] ba.
me: Dude, I can't make that sound.

Seriously, the kid knows some obscure African dialect. Any translators out there?

But anyway, I've been trying to capture his hilarious noises on camera, because.... well, why shouldn't I record these moments for posterity? But every time I pull out the camera, he stops and stares. and stares and stares. "Just act natural!" I say. But this small device apparently holds some divine mysteries for his brand-new brain. Or maybe he's challenged the camera lens to a staring contest. But it's a phenomenon that must been seen to be believed:

Tradition, with a side of Creepy/Cool

2008-04-25T09:39:00.000-07:00

So, at my great-grandma's old house in Washington, there was this metal wash basin. I don't know how it came to be the designated baby-bathtub, but it did. Nearly every child in my family (from my grandma on down to us grandkids) was bathed in it at least once. So, when Noah was up for a visit a couple weeks ago, we made sure he got his turn.

Here's a picture of me in the tub (with my Auntie Sue!) over Labor Day weekend in 1981 (9 weeks old):

And here's Noah in the tub, at 8 weeks old:

Maybe I find it more interesting than it really is because I was adopted and I've just never lived with someone who looks like me before... but the resemblance IS striking, no?

The Two Month Slideshow

2008-04-21T20:13:00.000-07:00

Two Month Old Techno-Baby!

2008-04-18T17:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Noah's 2 month birthday! He went to the doctor for his check-up-- he's two feet tall, and he weighs 13 lbs, 6 oz. He had his immunizations, too, so he was pretty cranky and sleepy for the rest of the day. Poor guy. But he slept for 7 straight hours last night-- his longest stretch ever! Hooray!

There's so much drama surrounding immunizing infants... I think we've decided to follow the normal schedule. As a member of society-at-large, I think it's the right thing to do. Chicken pox can be eradicated in my lifetime! As a parent... well, it's hard to think that something you want to do for your child's well-being might not be 100% safe. But you know what? I can't protect my child against every risk. I use BPA-free bottles, Noah sleeps on his back, I give him as much breastmilk as I can possibly produce, and we strap him into his car seat like we're sending him to the moon. While I'm at it, I'll also protect him against polio and the measles. Every day, he risks car accidents, general viruses, bonks on the head, and other things I can't bring my new-mommy brain to think about. If my best intentions lead to other risks... well, we're going to do the best we can with the information we have available. That's all we can do, right?

Anyway, two months old! Can you believe it? Ben decided it's been long enough--time to introduce the boy to technology. Start 'em young!

Hate.

2008-04-18T16:55:00.000-07:00

You know what I really hate? TICKETMASTER.

My Christmas present idea for Micha (and also for me!) was to buy us tickets to Wicked. I've been DYING to see this for ages, but it's so hard to justify $100... but Christmas! Christmas needs no justification! But when I formulated this plan, I was hugely pregnant, so I decided to wait until after the baby was born to actually buy the tickets. And then Noah took 7 more weeks to arrive. (Oy.) And then I spent every waking moment thinking about baby things. And then we needed to wait until after our tax refund had arrived to actually purchase tickets. And now I just have one month to achieve this fantastic outing before I return to work! So the pressure is on.

But every time I get on the Ticketmaster site, I want to pull out my hair and tear my clothing and spend weeks weeping in the desert in a very Old Testament way. Seriously? I have to enter not one, but TWO security words-- separated by a space!-- every time I want to check a different date for tickets? And okay really? I search for "Best Available", and it gives me "Orchestra House [WAY] Left", in the back of the theater. But if I search for "Orchestra House Center", there's two seats! in the middle! together! I think Ticketmaster needs to re-visit their idea of "best available". Ugh. Why can't we do this like an airplane reservation? Just show me a picture of the theater with all the available seats, and I'll select the two I want. Fast and simple.

I'd think about calling them on the phone... but something tells me it's not going to be better.

Seriously, who gave these guys the monopoly on ticket sales? You would think that some grassroots company might have emerged with better customer service and search capabilities by now... but no, Ticketmaster is so powerful that they can somehow have exclusive rights to sell tickets at every major venue in the United States. And exclusive rights mean you can suck as much as you want and people just have to deal with it. And I guess I could just march my butt down to the Pantages Theater and buy tickets and the box office, but you know what? I have an 8 week-old infant and I don't have time to go gallivanting through Los Angeles.

Dude, I must really hate them. I just wasted 20 minutes of Noah Naptime ranting about Ticketmaster instead of doing... well, anything else really.

Interactive

2008-04-15T17:01:00.001-07:00

Noah has been smiling for a few weeks now, but this is one of the first ones I have on camera. I swear, he's all smiles and giggles, but as soon as I break out the camera, all I get is a serious, studious frown-- VERY Ben.

It's like he's taking the camera apart and then putting it back together in his head, no doubt making it smaller and more efficient. He must have had a breakthrough yesterday, because I brought out my camera and he smiled right to it!

Anyway, we spent all of last week in Nor Cal visiting the family again. They just can't get enough of this little guy! It was hilarious to watch my dad and Kimmie fight over him. But I didn't bring my laptop (it's the longest we've ever been apart!), so blog posting was not possible. But I have lots of pictures! More coming soon.

In the meantime, this is how I spend my mornings with Noah:

He's getting more and more interactive, which is such a blessing because I was really dying for a while there. I've been telling Noah all of my best anecdotes, and it's like being a comedian in a foreign country without an interpreter or something-- all I get is a blank stare. I feel like I should call my agent ("Dude, who booked this gig?") or install a laugh track in my living room or something. Anyway, every day he's a little more alert and a little less fussy, and I'm starting to think this parenting thing might work out after all.

A Noah Slideshow

2008-03-31T10:33:00.000-07:00

I suck.

2008-03-27T12:54:00.001-07:00

73 countries in 5 minutes. Sounds like a lot, except that I forgot Bermuda and Poland, and there's 197 countries left. So, I suck.

And, dude, this is not how I should be spending 5 baby-free minutes.

The Barf Shirt

2008-03-25T13:09:00.000-07:00

So, there's this really cute onesie that looks so cute on Noah-- it has a monkey on it and it says, "Mommy's little monkey". Silly but cute.

But there's something about this shirt-- Noah can't go more than an hour without spitting up ALL OVER IT. In fact, I don't think he's ever worn it outside the house, because we never make it that far before it's absolutely destroyed. It never fails: every time I've put him in it, I'm subjected to projectile vomit all afternoon. And he spits up every day, but there's something about this shirt that makes him extra-barfy.

So, you'd think I'd stop putting him in the shirt, right? Thing is, I'm afraid if I take this shirt out of rotation, he'll pick another, cuter outfit to destroy.

Hm. I'm going to need to get over this outfit-preservation thing before Noah discovers the wonders of mud and grass stains.
___________________

Cute alert: Noah is over in his swing talking to the hanging bird toy. He keeps making the same little sounds over and over: "Ahgoo, mmbu, ahhh," followed by a series of grunts. It kind of reminds me of the noises the cats make when there's a bird outside. Anyway, I can't decide if he's whining or talking, but it's pretty cute anyway.

Oops, that's definitely whining. Oh, and that's a bored cry. Time to retrieve the boy.

Missing

2008-03-23T12:01:00.000-07:00

So, we spent four days in Nor Cal last week. Ben had to go on a business trip to Baltimore, and the thought of being at home alone with Noah for four nights made me want to cry (and I think I did), so while Ben was on the East Coast, I spent some time with my parents. It was a good trip-- the great-grandmas got to meet Noah, and I got to take the rare weekday morning shower while my mom held the baby.

While we were gone, we left our dog Max with Ben's brother Mike. Mike and April have a Rottweiler named Trixie, and Max (who doesn't always get along with big dogs) just loves her. We've left them together before, and they always have fun. The two of them have staged a couple escape attempts from Mike's yard before, and once they were picked up by the doggy cops and taken to the pound, but the gate they busted through before has been replaced by a brick wall, so we assumed they'd be fine.

But Max and Trixie are definitely unstoppable partners in crime, and they somehow got out of Mike's yard late Thursday night. I didn't worry when Mike called; the dogs always stay together, and are usually found trying to make friends with ducks behind Mike's house. But Friday afternoon, Mike located Trixie in a shelter-- Cal Trans found her on the 210 freeway, where she had been hit by a car and killed.

No sign of Max. We posted fliers all over Mike's neighborhood, and we spent all day yesterday visiting every shelter in the Inland Valley-- we went all the way to Devore! The good news is that no one has brought in a yellow Lab in the last few days, so there's a good chance that he's alive somewhere... but where?

Have you seen my puppy?

Spittin' Image

2008-03-22T09:50:00.001-07:00

So, now that Peanut is here, the questions have changed from "Are you going to breastfeed ?" and "For the love of God, what is his name?" to "Who does he look like?". There has been lots of speculation, but I thought I'd settle the question, once and for all:

This is me, at 3 months:

Noah, at 3 weeks:

The general consensus is that Noah looks just like me (my grandma said it was like holding me all over again), but his facial expressions are all Ben.

Like this one:

Sometimes I get the feeling he's staring at the camera, desperately trying to figure out how it works. And THAT is all Ben.

Okay, and just for fun, here's my current favorite picture:

Who could resist baby sunglasses?

Nothing cuter

2008-03-14T14:46:00.000-07:00

There's nothing cuter than a man in jeans and a white t-shirt.

Even if the man's jeans are way too big and he looks like a little hoodlum. (Seriously, if he had boxers on, they'd be showing.) And even if moments later, he has a diaper blow-out that requires changing him out of the cute outfit.

This is why I keep a camera nearby at all times.

Edited to add: OH MY GOD he's flipping off the camera. He IS a little hoodlum! Or maybe he was just sick of the photo session. Was the diaper blow-out also retaliation? Hm.

Noah, little shenanigans like this will only be cute for another year or so-- enjoy it now, before I start blaming Vincent for your corruption!

Full Disclosure

2008-03-14T11:12:00.000-07:00

So, I hadn't planned to admit it, but I refuse to contribute to the "code of silence" that exists among new moms. No one talks about how hard and overwhelming the first few weeks with a new baby can be, so in the interest of full disclosure:

I had a Mega-Meltdown yesterday.

I've had a couple since Noah was born-- mostly hormone-induced cry fests directly related to lack of sleep and compounded by some minor frustration ("Noah, please stop crying-- I have to PEE."). But yesterday was a little different. Noah was mega-fussy all morning (turns out he was a little constipated and really gassy), and he basically screamed all day. After not sleeping well all night. And I was super-tired and really hungry, but all attempts to rest and eat were thwarted by the Super Screaming Spit-Up Machine. No joke-- he spit up in my cereal. I will pause now to allow you to process the gross-ness.

So anyway, around noon, I had a Mega-Meltdown. Noah was screaming, obviously in pain, and there was nothing I could do but cry with him. I think before yesterday this has all been pretty surreal; like we're baby-sitting someone else's child and his mom will be back any day now and we just have to hang on until then. But yesterday, reality came crushing down on me: no one's coming to pick him up, I'm not going to get a nap today, I'm not going to eat until Ben gets home, Ben's not coming home for hours, none of my friends are available to come over, the laundry is just going to have to wait, I'm not getting a shower today, we're not going for a walk, I'm going to have to just hold in my pee, I can't take Excedrin, ugh I still feel so fat and this is all really happening. Mega-Meltdown.

Why does no one tell you to expect this feeling of overwhelming helplessness? They stop talking about the "baby blues" after the first week, and postpartum depression requires an awful lot more than one mega-meltdown. So what-- every other new mom is supposed to just glow? Without sleep?

Whatever. I'm done ranting. And thankfully, today is 6000% better than yesterday, because we put Noah to bed at 11 last night and he didn't wake up to eat until 5!!! It's amazing what 6 hours of sleep will do for your morale. I have no delusions that this will happen again anytime soon, but I really needed it yesterday, so I'll take it.

I'm developing new coping skills. Fussy or not, I HAVE TO eat breakfast. Low blood sugar + super-tired = another Mega-Meltdown. Crying or not, I HAVE TO pee when required. (This is much easier now that going to the bathroom isn't always a three-part drama.) I have to close my eyes and ignore the dishes in the sink and the laundry that has been sitting in the dryer for three days. And when Ben gets home, I have to take 30 minutes of me time, just to recharge my batteries a little.

S0 we're figuring it out. I'm sure it wasn't my last meltdown, but I'm also sure that I'm not crazy, and I will get a nap again someday, so we'll be okay. It's all about perspective. And honesty.

Phobia

2008-03-12T17:22:00.000-07:00

Noah and I went to the breastfeeding clinic yesterday morning (Hokey and a little silly? Yes. Helpful? OH, yes. I highly recommend it.), and there were two other women with appointments at the same time. BOTH of these women had two week-old boy/girl twins. They were so cute!

However, in the weeks since Noah was born, I've developed a severe aversion to twins, and multiples in general. Every time a see a woman with a double infant stroller, I turn and run in the other direction, just in case it's contagious or something. Because seriously? They're cute, but I NEED my one free arm to do things like eat and brush my teeth and type a new blog post from time to time. And watching these women breastfeed their twins (two! at the same time!)----

Hold on a sec.

Wait a minute here.

Okay, I just looked down, and there's spit-up on my pillow. Like, a puddle of it. But none on the baby. Not even dribble on his chin! And wait a sec... yeah, my foot is wet. My foot is UNDER THE TABLE. Noah... Dude. Just... dude. If you're going to projectile vomit, could you at least be obvious about it? How long has my sock been soaking in spit-up?

---

Okay, I got clean socks now. And I put my pillow back in my bedroom. (How did it get out here in the first place?) Okay. Was I saying something before? Before the spit up? I'm not sure. It's gone from my brain now. Oh, well.

This is my new life.

My Memoirs

2008-03-10T13:29:00.000-07:00

Well, we've successfully completed Week 3 of Parenthood, and I'm ready to write my memoirs. Here are the titles I'm contemplating:

Explosive Poop and other Adventures in Motherhood
"Dude, How Did You Get Poop on Your Socks?" and other questions for the cosmos
"Dude, How Did You Get Poop on My Socks?" and other questions for the cosmos
Baby's First Band-Aid: Surviving Your Baby's First Manicure
Lamaze Breathing Techniques and other Coping Mechanisms for Breastfeeding a Barracuda
"Wow, That's an Interesting Color!" and other exclamations made during diaper changes
One-Handed Memoir Writing, Laundry Folding, and other skills not taught in Home Ec
Spit-up: Not a Best-Selling Fragrance
Wake up and Eat, Baby - Mommy is Not a Pacifier
Well-Rested and other phrases deleted from my vocabulary

Anyone want to come over and hold the baby so I can type with two hands again? :)

Cuteness defined

2008-03-06T06:14:00.001-08:00

The Birth Story - really long!

2008-03-04T18:17:00.000-08:00

So, you ask, I deliver. This is much longer than I intended it to be, but I lack the energy and will to edit it down. Sorry! Also, fear not-- this post is G-rated. Well, I think so. I'm not going to read it all again. Maybe it's PG. But I gotta go, because Ben is sitting next to the baby in the swing asking him, "Noah, do you want to go really fast?!" I'm pretty sure he's joking, but that seems like something I should check on. Enjoy!

_______________________________________________

So the date was set. Saturday, February 16th, 6 p.m., we went in to be induced. I was less than excited about the whole induction thing, but we were also really done with the endless suspense of waiting for labor to begin. Also, Ben was asking me “Any more contractions?” every hour, on the hour, and I was afraid that I’d end up killing him in an overdue pregnant woman rage. So, it was time.

We showed up 15 minutes early (but only because we killed 30 minutes by driving around the hospital 17 times first), and they walked us right back to our room. By 6:15, I had stowed my clothes, purse, and dignity in the closet (open-backed hospital gowns don’t have room for dignity or self-respect), and had been hooked up to monitors, a blood pressure cuff, and an I.V. (which, looking back, was in the top 3 most painful things I endured that night). By 7:00, I had been seen by my midwife, Hilary, had my cervix checked (NO CHANGE overnight – UGH), and they started the pitocin. Since I hadn’t made any progress, they decided to insert a Foley catheter to dilate my cervix (the #2 most painful thing).

And so labor began. Ben, Micha and I kicked back, watched a movie, I walked around (sort of), sat in a chair, and tried not to watch the contraction monitor… and while I was certainly uncomfortable, it was all totally manageable as long as I kept moving.

Except that every time I moved, the baby moved, and my labor nurse had to come back in to “find” him on the monitor. And, since I was up and moving and pretty uncomfortable, my blood pressure was a little high. So the nurse made me get in bed. This really frustrated me, because everything I’ve read and seen and heard says that laboring women should stay mobile as long as possible. Use gravity, use the birthing ball, blah blah blah. But I was feeling compliant, so I did what she wanted. Around 11:30 p.m., the Foley bulb fell out, to general applause (because we knew I was at least 3 cm!).

About an hour later, a doctor came in to check me, and I was 4.5 cm, 90% effaced, -1 station! I think we all cheered. But also around this time (I don’t know for sure—the hours between midnight and 4 am are a total blur), they decided it was time to keep me in bed for good. Really, I think my nurse was tired of my requests to go to the bathroom every 45 minutes (because that’s how quickly they were pushing fluids in me!), and really tired of having to come back in to find the baby’s heartbeat. Knowing what I know now, I really should have fought harder for my freedom, but what could I do?

This is also when labor really kicks in. Contractions have been pretty regular for quite a while, but now they’re longer and stronger. I’m handling the whole thing just fine—except that I can’t MOVE. The nurse wanted the bed inclined, but she also wanted me on my side, so I spent the next few hours sitting on alternating hips. My hips had been sore for weeks now, so this is torture.

Also around this time, I get the shakes. Like, my whole body was convulsing, and I couldn’t calm it down. That was something I had never read about and was totally unprepared for, and it really freaked me out. Between that and the frustration of not being allowed out of bed, I was starting to lose it. Around 5 am, a nurse checked me again, and I was now 4 cm, 75% effaced, -3 station. I had been so tense for so many hours that things weren’t progressing at all—they were actually going the wrong direction! So, add in the utter frustration of hours of pain with no progress, and I asked for the epidural. (Not that I hadn’t planned on getting pain relief, I just didn’t want to take anything until I hit 5 cm. I can’t remember why this was so important to me.)

So the anesthesiologist arrived, and had the epidural in lickety-split. I laid back in bed, utterly defeated, but ready for relief. And a few minutes later, relief came… on HALF of my body. Seriously, look down at your stomach and draw a line down the middle. Now, imagine the right half numb and comfortable, and the left side twisted in knots. They call it a “halvsie” epidural. Yeah. Apparently the way to fix it is to lay on the left side, using gravity to bring the medication over. Except, my left side is in PAIN, and I’ve been laying on it for hours, and that’s WHY I asked for the stupid epidural in the first place!

I’ve never been so frustrated. Also, this is when I realize that my labor nurse really doesn’t care about me at all. Or, at the very least, that she doesn’t care about my pain since I’ve been a very demanding patient all night. In any case, this is my Despair Moment. Also, Ben and Micha are looking pretty freaked out—I think my epidural would have brought them relief, too. Sorry, guys.

So, 7 am—nurse shift change! This is when the whole thing turns around. Marie, the best labor nurse in the universe, walks in, introduces herself, and commits the next hour to getting my epidural fixed. Bless her. The anesthesiologist comes back with a different, stronger drug, hoping it will work… and it does, but only on the right side. Again. Ugh. But Marie rocks, and just having someone who cares is enough for me.

8 am—doctor shift change! My midwife, Hilary, starts her shift, and Marie makes sure I’m the first person she visits. She takes one look at me and has Marie call the anesthesiologist back to take the epidural out and start all over. By 10:00 am, I’m a whole new woman, feeling only tiny twinges for the strongest contractions. God bless epidurals. I mean, epidurals that work.

And this is when I finally get some rest. By “rest”, I mean that I closed my eyes for an hour. But seriously, it was good rest. I really needed to just relax and calm down. At one-ish, Hilary came back to check me, and I was NINE cm, almost completely effaced, and at 0 station. See? I just needed to relax! We’re all relieved to be in the home stretch.

I labor for a couple hours, feeling LOTS of pressure. At 3:00, Marie checks me, and I’m complete and at +1 station. The pressure is killing me, so we decide to practice pushing to see if it provides any relief. I started pushing at 3:45, and didn’t really feel like “practicing”. Within 15 minutes, they could see his head. Someone got a mirror so I could see the action (apparently this is a “great motivator” for some), but I found it really disturbing. I’ve seen births before, but somehow watching my own was just a little… creepy, I guess. Instead, my “great motivator” was the look on Ben’s face. Seriously hon, you were great.

The best part of my delivery, besides having a fantastic labor nurse, was having Hilary there. Hilary has taken care of me from day one, so having her deliver Noah was really special. Also, I knew her and trusted her, and when I needed some encouragement, she knew exactly what to say. Especially since what I really wanted at this point was a sip of water, or juice, or a milk shake, or ANYTHING other than ice chips… and ice chips is all they would give me. Seriously, I’m supposed to summon the energy to push out a baby when I haven’t had anything to eat or drink for 24 hours? You’re all ridiculous.

Noah was born at 5:09 pm. I found out later that they had called another person into the room, because they were worried that his shoulders might not fit, but once I pushed his ears out, the rest slithered out so easily—the best feeling I’ve ever felt. When they put him on my belly, all I could think was “I did it!” and then “He’s so cute!” -- because he was pretty amazingly cute, and surprisingly un-bloody, like some babies are.

And then comes the announcement that I’ll never ever forget—“9 lbs, 10 oz!” We all looked at each other and said, “WHAT!?” And my internal dialogue switched from “I did it!” to “How the hell did I do THAT?!” I still can’t believe it.

Sadly, I had a tear (hardly surprising, given his size), and while Noah spent some time with Ben, I got put back together. All I really remember about this time (besides watching Ben with the baby) is asking for water. Repeatedly. Actually, I might not have been asking—it was probably more of a DEMAND. I went through a bottle of Propel and three juice boxes in less than five minutes. Nothing has ever tasted so good. Plus, I was holding a cute little baby, so life was good. ☺

We stayed in the hospital for another 24 hours. I would have liked to stay longer, to get some extra rest, but there IS no rest in a hospital. I only slept for an hour that night, and didn’t get a nap at all the next day. Shouldn’t nurses be able to come in and check my blood pressure and temperature without waking me up? Particularly on the postpartum floor? Ugh. But if that wasn’t enough reason to go home, the food would have been. The breakfast they served in the morning was so gross-looking: yellow rubber “eggs” and a “turkey sausage” patty that looked more like petrified dog poop. Also, it was cold. But thankfully, they were quite generous with those juice boxes!

I was relieved to get home. Those first two nights were Hell, because we are huge idiots. We had this great idea that we were a “team”; that we were “in this together”. So we stayed up with the baby together, and neither of us slept. And coming off of two nights with no sleep, this was REALLY stupid. Plus, I wasn’t really prepared for the hormone let-down that left me feeling completely overwhelmed and generally insane. I’m not really sure how we survived. Honey, did we even eat?

But day 3, the cavalry arrived, in the form of my mom. We could NOT have survived without her—she’s the only reason I slept or ate during that first week. I need to buy her a gift of some kind.

I was not at all prepared for the recovery process during the first week. There’s the normal body fluids to deal with, the general soreness and bruising, the monstrous ordeal involved when going to the bathroom. But I wasn’t prepared for Noah being tongue-tied, the difficulty breastfeeding, having to introduce formula on day 4 to get my little guy some nutrition, having my stitches dissolve on day 3 and ending up on hard-core antibiotics that did a real number on my stomach, and generally feeling like crap for two weeks while trying to entertain my family. And you know, I think if you had told me about all that, I never would have believed you.

So here we are, two weeks later. I’m doing much, much, MUCH better. Today was my first day home alone with the baby—no family, no Ben. Except for not getting any sleep and the baby being awake all day so I couldn’t pee or eat or brush my teeth, it went okay. Tomorrow my goal is to get out of the house, even if it’s just to walk to the end of the block and back. Baby steps!

The whole experience is totally surreal to me now. I can barely believe it all happened! It’s the little things I remember—hating ice chips, the stupid nurse who kept the blood pressure cuff on the same arm as my IV, the extreme discomfort of the Foley catheter, feeling like my hip was going to explode, and that feeling of overwhelming frustration when nothing would go my way. But you really do forget the pain of pushing—or, at least, it’s not as vivid a memory as I thought it would be. Noah isn’t quite back up to his birth weight yet, so every time I look at him, I can’t believe that I pushed THAT out. I’m not sure I’ll ever believe it! But it happened, and he’s here, and he’s really fabulous.

We love you, Noah!

Rolling over!

2008-02-26T13:36:00.000-08:00

No, no, not the baby-- although Noah IS very advanced-- me!!! For the first time in six months, I rolled over onto my stomach this afternoon. It was bliss!

It's all about the simple pleasures these days. A fluffy pillow, a hot shower, 5 uninterrupted minutes in the bathroom, poop that stays properly contained in its diaper. This parenting gig is hard work! But totally worth it. Even when I feel like I'm about to lapse into a coma two hours into the 3 am feeding, I can't help but stay awake to watch for Noah's light-up-the-world gassy smiles. I WILL catch one on-camera, one of these days.

Noah is doing great! We took him for his first pediatrician appointment and discovered that he no longer weighs 9 lbs, 10 oz-- he was down to 8 lbs, 12 oz! Apparently we were both retaining a lot of water weight from the 17 gallons of saline they pumped in my body during labor. Ugh. But that's another story for another day. The point is, Noah's doing great! And I'm doing okay, too. After a very painful week and a trip to the doctor last Friday, it looks like I'm finally starting to heal. The things they don't tell you about childbirth... I'm not going to tell you, either. Or, at least, not here.

Oops, I've babbled on too long. Noah's starting to wake up, so I'll jump to the part everyone is tuning in to see-- pictures!