The Life & Times of This New Mommy

Misc.

2006-06-12T19:17:00.001-05:00

Today I ordered the party decorations for Bean's First Birthday. So I guess that makes it official. My little baby is turning one next month. We are throwing a very small party in the backyard, with just a couple of family members and close friends. I am most looking forward to letting him tackle his own mini-cake and letting him eat one whole scoop of ice cream all by himself as a special treat. {Why do both highlights concern food?}

Speaking of food, I still can't eat red meat. I must have some sort of stomach virus because I feel nauseous most of the day. The only time I don't feel nauseous is when I am eating. Weird, huh? It is at its absolute worst when I wake up in the middle of the night to tend to Bean.

These are the things that Bean tries to say:

"I Love You" which sounds more like "I-ligh-yigh-yigh-ooo"
"Thank You" which sounds more like "Tank-oooooo"
"Daddy" which sounds exactly like "Dadadadadadada"

He still does not know what any of these phrases mean, however. Each day I try intently to get him to say "Mommy" or anything that even sounds remotely like it. Usually he just looks at me, smiles, and then says "dadada". Wonderful!

Back to the birthday party though. I wonder if he will be walking by then, or if he'll just crawl around the backyard at his Numero Uno. I always thought that my child would be so advanced that he would do everything early. I just laugh about that now.

How's that for a random post? Hope all my readers are doing well.

Sibling Rivalry

2006-06-12T19:17:00.000-05:00

Bean loves riding in the car. He has a comfortable, plush car seat and the vehicle motion has soothed him since he was a newborn. Which means that he never complains or fusses while riding. So when he let out this horrific scream yesterday in the car, I knew something was going on.

"What's going on back there?" I asked, alarmed.

"Nothing," Munchkin replied.

"Why is Bean crying?" I pressed.

Silence.

When we got to our destination, I turned all the way around and looked Munchkin in the eye. "Why was Bean crying like that a few minutes ago?"

She shrugged. Then she said: "I didn't scratch him."

On his arm, a bright red scratch. So deep that skin had been removed. An innocent little baby! Just sitting in his car seat, comfortably riding along, and then getting scratched FOR NO REASON. By his sister, whom he trusts and adores completely. I cannot tell you how livid I was, and still am, every time I think about it.

TMI*, Just For You

2006-06-12T19:16:00.000-05:00

*TMI = "Too Much Information"

I'm not pregnant again, but still. Tell me if you think these things are more than a coincidence.

Before I even knew I was pregnant with Bean, I was craving fresh salsa and salty tortilla chips. All day. Even for breakfast. Has that been happening lately? Check. But that's because I love mexican food.
In the early stages of my pregnancy, I was immensely tired. Couldn't get enough sleep. Has that been happening lately? Check. But that's just from taking care of two kids. All. Day. Long.
Newly pregnant with Bean, I went from loving meat (particularly red meat) with all my heart to hating it with a passion. So much so that the sight or smell of it made me want to retch. Has that been happening lately? Check. I have been considering becoming a vegetarian it is so bad. And that is no joke.
Never got morning sickness with Bean, but last night around 2AM I was hunched over the toilet, throwing up and crying (because I always cry when I throw up. It's too traumatic for me). Why did this happen? I rarely vomit.

But I'm not pregnant though. Because every pregnancy is different. Right? Of course. And besides, I'm on the minipill.

Warning Labels

2006-06-12T19:15:00.000-05:00

I noticed a label on the side of my breast today. It reads:

CAUTION: Contents may cause extreme drowsiness. Avoid driving or operating heavy machinery while under the influence. Call your doctor if you suspect an overdose. Keep this, and all other sedatives out of the reach of children.

Reading Material

2006-06-07T05:49:00.000-05:00

I read more than just mommy blogs. I read daddy blogs too. I also read blogs by pregnant women, women trying to get pregnant, women who can't get pregnant, couples who are adopting and people who have been adopted. Blogs written by gay men, lesbian women, lesbian couples having a baby. Comedians, wannabe comedians, authors, freelance writers, tv stars, racists. Also immigrants, teenagers, dating and loving it, dating and hating it, young professionals, and college students. Men and women trying to lose weight. And let's not forget your average joe, just taking it one day at a time.

Even though blogs are a public forum, there are many topics that I feel are surrounded by a shroud; a secret society of sorts that I am not a member of - nor am I even a welcome visitor. Particularly, the blogs on infertility, homosexuality and racism are the ones I usually don't even comment on. Despite the fact that I am reading every day. It's because I sorta feel like I don't fit in, I can't relate, and they don't want me. I'm just a stay-at-home mom with 1.5 kids, a fenced yard and a dog. I read all sorts of blogs because I like to think of myself as an open-minded person, and it is interesting to me to read the views and feelings of so many sorts of people. Especially when their life experience is so far out of my frame of reference. Granted, there's nothing like reading a post from someone in your shoes that resonates so well with you that you feel you could have written it yourself. But then, there is an equal thrill to read about something that you know you just couldn't possibly experience in this lifetime.

I just wish that certain people who make me feel like a leper for reading and commenting on their blogs would understand that blogs are public diaries. And if they don't want to share their thoughts with (potentially) the world, then they should keep their ramblings under lock and key, stored in their nightstand drawer.

It's For You

2006-06-07T05:32:00.000-05:00

Since Bean loves to play with my cell phone, and because I hate it when he calls people in my address book; I have devised a way to make us both happy. I gave him my old Samsung camera phone to play with. I charge the battery for him every night so that when he opens it, it lights up and actually does something when he presses the buttons. Obviously, this is a pretty expensive "toy" - but useless to me since I am not with that cell phone company any longer. So what else was I gonna do with it?

On the outside looking in, it seems that Bean just presses random buttons on the phone. However; he has taken pictures, turned it off and on, changed the ringer, dialed an international number, and tried to place calls to my father, brother, the numbers "000*045" & "211-14", our old veterinarian up in PA, and the NICU where he spent the first week of his life (guess he wanted to speak to the nurse who cared for him there). Somehow he even managed to set the Daily Alarm on this phone to go off every day at 8:43AM. This morning when it "rang", Munchkin got all excited: "Someone's calling Bean, Mommy! He phone is ringing!!" They both just loved the fact that this (dead, useless) phone was actually getting an incoming "call".

I opened the flip for him and placed the phone to his ear. "It's for you, Bean" I said. He pushed it away. I think he is annoyed with whoever that was, calling him so early in the morning.

Always Be My Baby

2006-06-02T22:59:00.000-05:00

Sweetie let my baby eat part of his hamburger for dinner. And not just any old hamburger either. It was one of those Philly Cheesesteak Thickburgers from Hardee's. You should have seen my son, opening his mouth wide, biting down, and chewing all that meat. Loving the flavor and the texture. I wanted him to be at least 2 years old before eating a hamburger. Wishful thinking, as it turns out. Watching him eat like such a big boy was too bittersweet for words. It's like he grew up a little bit more right before my eyes.

In fact, every day he seems to lose another smidgen of babyness. He is less pudgy - less round. His face is thinning out and looking more mature. His features are sharpening. His body movements are becoming ever more steady and sure. His physical actions have purpose. The babble coming out of his mouth is now recognizable; sounding an awful lot like real language. He is getting older and it's happening directly under my nose.

Bean has changed so very much in his time here. Photographs of him from just a couple of months ago are proof positive of his startling transformation. But even with all the differences, there are times that he will make a certain facial expression or move his body in such a way that it reminds me of those very first days of his life. I catch a glimpse of that newborn he used to be. It serves to remind me that no matter how much he continues to grow and mature, he will always be my baby.

Pristine Condition

2006-05-31T21:26:00.000-05:00

I read magazines. I have done so ever since I was a tween enjoying Sassy and Seventeen. My subscriptions tend to reflect my interests at any given point in life. Currently, I read a lot of parenting and baby mags, as you might surely guess.

In the past, my magazines stayed in perfect condition. I would read the thing cover to cover, and still it stayed as crisp and smooth as the new issue arriving in the mail a month later. You could barely tell the pages had been turned at all. I choose some pretty weird things to be anal retentive about. Or perhaps using "weird things" and "anal retentive" in the same sentence is redundant?

Anyway, now my magazines all look like they have been through the washing machine. The covers are always torn. Pages bent in all directions, or ripped out completely. Puffed out and expanded to almost twice the original size.

Why? Because I have a 10-month-old.

Today he came crawling up to me with the most disgusted look on his face; chewing on something that was obviously revolting. Yep - magazine shreds. The model on that page must have looked good enough to eat.

Anything But Routine

2006-05-30T21:38:00.000-05:00

On A Good Night

8:30PM Get Bean ready for bed. He has the perfect pajamas ready and his room smells like Lavender baby lotion.
8:45PM Read Bean a bedtime story. He quietly listens to the tale, staring at the illustrations intently. He rubs his eyes and yawns softly as he gets sleepier. I can feel his body relaxing.
8:55PM Nurse Bean. He cuddles into me and nurses contentedly. His eyes close as he effortlessly drifts off to dreamland.
9:03PM Lay Bean in his crib - where he settles in peacefully, rolls over to his side, and continues to snooze uninterrupted.
2:00AM Bean cries softly. I can hear him courtesy of the baby monitor in our room. I go to him, bring him back to bed with us. We co-sleep comfortably for the rest of the night, nursing on demand in the side-lying position.
8:30AM Bean wakes up with a tremendous smile on his face and all is well with the world.

On A ~~Bad~~ Typical Night

8:30PM Get Bean ready for bed. I can't find any suitable pajamas so I dress him in a terry sleeper that is too hot for the season, but better than wearing just a diaper. His room smells like poop from the loaded diaper I just changed.
8:55PM Read Bean a bedtime story. He attempts to grab every single page. When this is not successful he tries to close the book altogether. Usually this does not work either, so he begins to scream and stiffen his entire body, almost sliding off my lap in the process. He throws his fists up in the air, hitting me in the face and knocking the book out of my hand. He decides he would rather get down and crawl around, scooting the book in front of him all over his room.
9:10PM Nurse Bean. He suckles for three seconds, then detaches to look around. He tries to sit up. He latches on again for another three seconds, then he kicks me as he wriggles free from my embrace. He cries with anger and frustration until I allow him to sit upright. He attempts to latch on from this non-reclining position which is very uncomfortable for us both. He starts to glisten with sweat because terry cloth doesn't breathe much.
9:25PM Rock Bean while sitting in the glider. I encourage him to lay his head on my shoulder. Instead he uses every ounce of his body strength to try to stand up in my lap and/or crawl down my legs and onto the floor. I doggedly continue to reposition him chest-to-chest with his head on my shoulder. Eventually he relents and dozes off.
9:56PM Lay Bean in his crib. As soon as his head hits the mattress, he rolls over onto his back and stares into me with wide open eyes that hint nothing of sleep or restfulness.
9:57PM Rock Bean again.
10:08PM Lay Bean in his crib. He cries.
10:09PM Rock Bean again.
10:26PM Lay Bean in his crib. This time he stays asleep.
11:04PM Bean screams bloody murder. I can hear him even without a monitor, he is crying so loud. I go to his room. My vision has not yet adjusted to the darkness, so I reach for him where he should be laying. Instead I find him sitting up in the corner, wailing and woefully rubbing his eyes.
11:05PM Nurse Bean. He latches on hungrily. After a few moments he breaks free and begins to practice backbends on my lap. We continue this cycle until he is tired enough to nod off.
11:13PM Lay Bean in his crib. He stays down.
11:47PM Bean hollers and gnashes his teeth. This time I go to his room and find him standing up in his crib, his face wet with hot tears.
11:48PM Nurse Bean. He eagerly latches on. He then attempts backwards somersaults off my lap and onto the floor. We continue this cycle until he goes to sleep.
11:57PM Lay Bean in his crib. He tosses and turns but does not wake up or cry out. I sneak away, closing the door behind me ever so softly.
12:12AM Bean howls. I go to him and bring him back to bed with us. We spend the rest of the night in bed together, but not co-sleeping because nobody is getting any Z's. He spends most of the wee hours of the morning kicking me in my belly button, digging his fists in my neck, trying to sit up, and/or crawling to the head or foot of the bed. When he is ready to nurse, I attempt the side-lying position but he continuously gets on all fours and tries to crawl away with my nipple in his mouth. He does eventually go to sleep, but he must be dreaming about kickboxing.
8:30AM Bean wakes up with a tremendous smile on his face and... well.... you can fill in the rest.

He Ate What?

2006-05-29T13:02:00.000-05:00

I am so proud of my little boy. He eats like a big kid. For some time now, Bean has joined us at the dinner table and eaten the same thing we were having as a meal. Unless our main course is too spicy, or contains any of the highly allergenic foods you have to be so careful about, Bean is eating it too. In his young life, he's tried so many different things. Yesterday we grilled, so Bean actually had shish-kabobs (his were chopped up though), baked beans and corn on the cob (yes - the cob!) for dinner. Granted, he didn't care too much for anything but the corn -- still, he ate it.

He's using his four little teeth to bite and chew. I don't know what to expect from him next. Perhaps a big, deep voice saying "Mom, can you please pass the potatoes?"

Baby Steps

2006-05-26T20:59:00.000-05:00

Bean took half a step today!! This is a major accomplishment in the History of Bean (all ten months of it). For the first time in his life, he stood on his own, held onto nothing, and took one little half step towards me - his mommy. His standing has been getting better and better. For some time now he no longer falls straight back onto his head, but more eases himself onto the ground when he is tired of standing. Which demonstrates excellent lower-body control. Even still, he hasn't mustered up the courage to actually move those legs while he is standing alone.... until now. The illusory cement encasing his feet has been broken.

This half-step is huge. It means that he is finding the confidence to conquer unfamiliar territory and new ways to navigate his world. It's one small step for Bean, one giant leap for Bean's psyche.

Toddler Clothing Sizes for Dummies

2006-05-24T21:09:00.000-05:00

Munchkin (Sweetie's daughter) is an average sized 3-year-old. She weighs 31 pounds and stands about 36" tall. I have taken her to the park on a couple of different occasions and had the opportunity to watch her playing with other 3-year-olds; who were by the way, exactly her size. However, her mother insists that she is tall and skinny for her age. As a result, 85% of the clothing she sent for Munchkin to wear during her stay with us is size 4T. Which means that virtually all her pants are falling off her waist and the cuffs are dragging the floor. Her butt is the only thing holding them up, and sometimes that doesn't even work.

Over the weekend I noticed that Sweetie had dressed her in a particularly awkward looking pair of trousers. The tush was sagging, the crotch was drooping, and the cuffs had tiny slits on the outside while flaring slightly at the bottom. They hit right above Munchkin's ankles and frankly looked like highwaters. She kept drawing attention to how ill-fitting they were because every 10 minutes or so she would grab at the crotch and attempt to push it upwards. I kept telling her to go potty every time she did that, but she insisted she didn't need to. What the heck is going on with those pants? I wondered. So I checked the tag: 5T. And then I immediately understood. Her mother was letting her wear a massively oversized pair of CAPRIS and passing them off on her as PANTS. It didn't work. Trust me.

I can't tell you how much this annoys me. A mother should know what size clothing her child wears. These 4T clothing items just don't fit. This is glaringly obvious to me and I have never even dressed a toddler before now. It's very simple. Someone, somewhere, in a place far away once said "Hey, let's make it easy for parents to know what size clothing to buy their child. We will cut the garments and label them as such so that the average sized three-year-old toddler can wear size 3T. Get it? That should be simple enough!" So why in the world this little girl has all her clothes falling off of her is frustrating to me, and unnecessary. Is there one of those "...For Dummies" books out there on this topic? Maybe I can slip it in Munchkin's bag when we pack her up to go back home.

He Could Have At Least Pretended To Be Happy About It

2006-05-23T21:09:00.000-05:00

Because babies change so much in their first year, I have taken Bean to get portraits done every month since his birth. Today we went for his ten-month photo shoot. You would think that by now he would be accustomed to the drill and perform like a star. Yet, he outright refused to cooperate today.

The photographer was doing everything short of acrobatics to get my baby to smile. Even I joined in on the hilarity; making a fool of myself with sound effects, super-huge grins and exaggerated peek-a-boo sessions. He sat there with this solemn look on his face, regarding us as pure idiots. Flash after flash, he was unmoved. Stoic. Dressed in the most colorful, spiffy outfit and looking like his dog just died.

Five background changes and two dozen shots later, we end the session with Most Serious Baby On Earth. We go to the computer to review the proofs, and he looks like he is on the verge of tears in the first four shots. Which makes me want to cry myself. As we move through the other poses, his facial expression becomes ever more bewildered and annoyed. One shot in particular, he is wearing a grimace that looks an awful lot like he is in pain (either that, or pooping). In one of the last shots, he has this semi-smile that is so fake I don't even recognize him. I didn't even know that babies could fake smile (you know -- the one where the photographer says; "ok smile!" and you smile, and hold it, but the photographer doesn't take the picture, so you hold it some more because you don't want to stop smiling right when he releases the shutter, but he still doesn't take it, and you keep smiling because any second now he will TAKE THE DAMN PICTURE ALREADY, and then right when your cheeks literally start to hurt he takes the picture, and when you finally see the photo it looks like your face is made of stone and someone chiseled in your grin? yeah, that one.)

"I'm so sorry," the photographer kept apologizing to me, as if it were somehow her fault that Most Serious Baby On Earth didn't crack. "We can reschedule," she offered unhelpfully, confirming in my mind that the pictures were crap.

"No!" I decline; obstinate. "If he wants to look unhappy at month ten in his first year photo album, so be it." I realized that I sounded like the baby here. But I also knew that I was not coming back to redo this month's session. The idea is to capture all his moods and appearances during the first year of his life. So I guess I got my wish.

Maybe he's just sick and tired of doing this every. single. month.

Nah!

You Mean It's For Real?

2006-05-22T20:20:00.000-05:00

The other night I was on the computer with one ear listening to the television. When I heard something along these lines:

A man saying, "blah blah blah..... mashed potatoes."

Then, a woman answering in response, "Would you like me to top that off with sweet golden corn, crispy fried chicken, a four cheese blend, and our famous thick gravy?"

Surely this is some sort of parody! I turned my head to the tv, half expecting to see the actors from MadTV or SNL or some such. But it was a true, bona fide commercial for an actual product: KFC Chicken Bowls. That is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen. And they are dead serious too.

Oh My!

2006-05-20T09:54:00.000-05:00

This morning, I noticed with shock and amazement that my son has no neck! He's got this big round head balanced precariously on a set of fairly narrow shoulders. No wonder he is always tipping over, bumping that noggin, or falling face first into the carpet whenever he crawls too fast. Perhaps if he grew a neck he would be able to balance better.

ASS-U-ME

2006-05-19T11:43:00.000-05:00

In the past, I have always gotten the comment from strangers that my son does not look like me. As much as I hate to admit it, I have to say that he definitely takes on more of his father's features than mine. Hardly seems fair, considering I am the one who carried him for nine months and labored with him for 12 hours before having him carved out of my abdomen. But I have come to terms with it. My Bean just doesn't look like me.

Unless, apparently, Munchkin is with us.

At Wal*Mart the other day, an over-friendly cashier looked at Munchkin and said to me: "She must look like her daddy cuz she doesn't look anything at all like you."

Of course, she wouldn't look like me. We're not blood-related. But to be honest, she doesn't look much like her father either. Munchkin has rich dark skin, close-set almond eyes, and a narrow nose -- features that niether I nor her dad possess. Furthermore she has tight bushy hair that no biological child of mine would likely inherit. In fact, to me it is strikingly obvious that she is not the fruit of my loins. Yet, this woman at Wal*Mart assumed she was mine and stuck her foot all the way down her throat by saying Munchkin doesn't favor me.

Being that I am always out with my son, I never noticed how frequently people just assume that the child you have with you is yours. Perhaps because every time someone jumped to that conclusion with me and Bean, they have been correct; therefore I did not get annoyed. It's not until you see someone erroneously putting pieces together that you realize how intrusive and nosey people can be when they are just trying to make small talk. It just made me wonder about all the other blended families out there, adopters, caregivers, surrogates - heck any situation that is unique - and how the parents handle unwanted comments such as these.

"Now him -" she continued, motioning towards Bean, "he looks exactly like you."

I guess compared to Munchkin, he does.

Houseguests

2006-05-18T19:47:00.000-05:00

So tell me:

If someone were staying at your house to visit, and they were taking a hot shower every day, and washing their clothes in your machine, and sleeping in, and eating the home-cooked meals that you prepared each evening, and leisurely yet systematically lounging around viewing the movies in your extensive DVD collection.....

Would you get angry if they didn't even rinse their dinner plate off and load it in the dishwasher?

Or am I just an overtired, crabby mommy?

Morbid Thoughts

2006-05-17T18:32:00.000-05:00

Growing up, I always had this strange feeling that I would die young. Well, that obviously didn't happen because I turned 30 last year. ;-) All jokes aside though, it was a nagging "premonition" that I just couldn't shake. Because of that, I formulated many of my life goals on an accelarated timeline. Many times I found myself thinking "please don't let me die before I make it to Paris" or "I hope I get to graduate from college before I die." Weird, I know.

Well, oddly enough, I reached a point in my life.... oh about 3 or 4 years ago, where I felt that it would be ok if I died. I had accomplished all my major goals, done everything I wanted to do, gone everywhere I really wanted to go. I had my life right with God and my struggling marriage was limping straight toward the finish line. I felt there was nothing more here for me. I accepted my fate to die young; indeed, I welcomed it.

And then, my son was born. At which point everything changed. I found myself loving life again. Cherishing every single day, looking forward to the future. I want nothing more than to see my boy mature into a man. I know that no one one this earth can love him more than I do, so I fret over the possibility of him growing up without my love. I find myself thinking now -- "Please Dear God, don't let me die before my baby grows up." Sometimes I even cry, just at the mere thought that something might happen to me before my child is self-sufficient.

I am nuts.

Very Ordinary

2006-05-16T21:03:00.000-05:00

Today was beautiful. I took the kids to the park. It was a very nice area, modern and well-kept. I was impressed with how well the children all interacted with one another. There was no fighting or selfishness. Every child played nicely and waited their turn. Parents were diligent and watchful; not to mention helpful and kind. This was my first trip to a children's public park in the afternoon during the workweek, so I wasn't really sure how these things go. Overall it was a positive experience.

At one point, a very pretty little girl about the age of 5 or 6 came up to Munchkin. "Do you want to play with me?" she asked. I remember thinking: Beautiful and kind, a rare combination, but I guess she's still too young to know otherwise. Munchkin nodded yes, and they were instant friends. Running around together, doing the same things, taking turns on the slide. I wish it were that easy for me to make new friends. Maybe I woudn't hate this godforsaken place so much if that were the case. I should have went up to one of the other moms there and said "Do you want to be my only pal in this ho-dunk town?" But anyway, it was cute, and I loved watching them play together.

My Bean had three "firsts" today. First time on a baby park swing - which he loved to pieces (although at times the momentum made him grimace like he was losing his cookies). First time with his bare feet in the grass - which he didn't much care for. And first time going down the big slide on mommy's lap - which he hated. We only did that once.

I am blogging about this trip to the park like it was something special, but really it was a very ordinary day. I guess blogs are meant to record those sort of events as well. Thanks for reading! ;-)

TopTen Things I Swore I Would Never Do

2006-05-14T09:24:00.000-05:00

Until I became a mother......

10. Share my bed, every night, with someone who is not my mate. And who constantly kicks me in the gut.
9. Allow someone to use my cell phone as a toy, placing random calls and then hanging up on people in my contacts list.
8. Feed another person the food off my plate while I go hungry myself.
7. Wipe saliva, snot or earwax off with my bare hand.
6. Carry a purse bigger than my head.
5. Lose command of the English language by pronouncing the letters 'r' and 'l' like 'w'. (i.e., "Wook at that pwetty wittow baby!")
4. Nurse a toddler.
3. Examine the contents of a poopy diaper. Closely.
2. Smell someone's butt to check for said poop.

And the number one thing I promised to never do in my life:
1. Expose my breasts in public.

Funny how much your life changes, in both small and large ways, when you become a mom.
Happy Mother's Day!!!

Beano Bambino

2006-05-13T11:23:00.000-05:00

Stress affects me physically. It makes me feel sick to my stomach, my head hurts and my heart palpitates. Sometimes depression goes along with that and I just feel like what is the point of going on?

And then I look at my Bean. One glance into his eyes and I know instantly the point of living. Every breath I take, every decision I make, everything in this life I do..... I do for him. I love him so much that it literally makes my heart hurt. If my life had no meaning before, that has changed totally now. Whenever I question my reason for being - the purpose of my life - my son holds the key. That's my Beano Bambino and he is the reason that I live.

Like Rugrats

2006-05-12T15:46:00.000-05:00

Since Munchkin is only 3, I figured that we could be like The Rugrats and have the best of both worlds. She should be like Angelica - able to understand both baby and adult - so why not be my translator for Bean?

I couldn't wait for my first chance to give this a try. Bean babbled something that sounded a lot like "Whaaaaaaableeepopbeeeeeeee!"

"Do you know what he is saying?" I asked Munchkin.

She nodded her head yes, with an all-knowing look in her eyes. I grew excited with anticipation.

"Tell me," I urged.

"He's saying....." she answered, "Whaaaaaaableeepopbeeeeeeee!"

Ok, that didn't work.

But I do feel that they have a kinship. Even if she can't literally translate his babbling, she seems to inherently know what he desires. Sometimes when he is crying, I will ask her what he wants. Just for kicks. And she will say something (different each time) like "he wants to play with another toy" or "he wants milk" or "he wants to get down from his highchair". To humor everyone I will try whatever it is that she says he wants. Each time I have done that, he has seemed very content with the outcome. So perhaps there really is something to that whole Rugrats thing after all.

Who's Consoling Whom?

2006-05-11T12:45:00.000-05:00

Whenever Bean cries for my attention, Munchkin goes over to him and starts comforting him. She gets this really high pitched voice and says "Mommy be back.... It's ok...... Mommy coming." Did I mention that she is 3?

A Truly Awful Feeling

2006-05-10T12:58:00.000-05:00

My father - aka Big Daddy - treated Bean and Munchkin to a fun-filled day. First he took them on a shopping spree where he let them pick out whatever they wanted {well, Munchkin got to pick hers anyway}. After that, we went to Chuck E. Cheese for what he called some "pizz-un": Pizza + Fun! And boy, was it a great time too. To my surprise, Bean was big enough to get on several of the rides in Toddler World; as long as I was holding him, of course. His absolute favorite ride was a Bob The Builder tractor that played music and rocked back and forth. He sat there with his hands on the steering wheel, bouncing to his little heart's content. I still can't get that picture out of my head.... my baby playing like a big boy. And of course, Munchkin was totally in her element. She asks to go to Chuck E. Cheese every day. I kid you not.

They ate pizza, ran around and had endless fun. We closed the place down, literally. Simply put, it was happy times for all.

When Big Daddy dropped us off at the end of the night, we were saying all our goodbyes and doling out the hugs & kisses. Then Sweetie and I prompted Munchkin to tell Big Daddy "thank you" for the shopping and the the fun. She just stood there. Here we are encouraging her to show some gratitude and she turned into a tiny little statue - staring at the ground and refusing to budge. She wouldn't open her mouth. She totally shut down. So we sent her in the house and finished our goodbyes with Bean.

But I can't tell you how awful that made me feel inside. This was my first experience with truly feeling diasppointed in one of my kids and it was like a piece of me crumbled up and broke off when that happened. It hit me like a ton of bricks and I was both angry and embarassed. I know that Munchkin is not my biological daughter, but I consider her as such. And for her to receive all that she did - with no expression of gratitude whatsoever - hurt me and pissed me off completely.

We dealt with her by having a serious talk about thankfulness, appreciation, gratitude, and most of all doing what she is told. She was upset, and I wasn't sure how much of it she actually took in. But the next day, Big Daddy came over again. I told Munchkin that she could run out and greet him. She bounded outside and jumped into his arms, giving him a huge bear hug. And the first thing out of her mouth was "Thank you for Chuck E Cheese, Big Daddy!" I made a mental note to ask Sweetie if he told her to do that.

Later that day, Sweetie came to me and said "Did you tell Munchkin to thank Big Daddy today for Chuck E Cheese?" I answered no with surprise. All on her own, she had decided to say thank you. Which means that the talk worked. It also means that she is a sweet little girl (although stubborn like her daddy) who wants to do the right thing. The pride I felt in knowing this almost erased the awful feeling from before. But I am still surprised at how strongly your children's actions can affect the way you feel. I never bargained for that and it caught me off guard like nothing else ever has.

Only Takes A Second

2006-05-08T15:50:00.000-05:00

We don't have stairs at our house. It's all one level. But this week we have been staying with my mom and she has three. Bean has never been around a staircase in his short life. So he would have no idea how to navigate them.

Or so I thought.

While in the kitchen cleaning up the lunch dishes, I heard Bean and Munchkin playing right outside the doorway. They were laughing and yelling. He obviously had her complete attention and I assumed she was keeping him in one general area. After a few seconds I realized that I could not see them moving around in my peripheral vision - and furthermore Bean's hollering was taking on more of an echo effect. I stepped out of the kitchen and turned towards the staircase to see one of the greatest shocks my heart has taken in some time.

Bean and Munchkin -- halfway up the staircase. She was at step number 7 or 8 on her tush, turned around backwards and encouraging Bean along. Bean, who was on step 5 or 6!! Standing there, pounding the next step with the palms of his hands, lifting up his chubby little leg and getting ready to climb once again.

He was wobbly, he was off center and he was teetering. I rushed to him and lifted him, swooping him into my arms just as he seemed to be about to completely lose the battle with gravity. My heart was beating in my ears and I was sick to my stomach with regret and surprise. In ten seconds flat my two little ones had gotten away from me and it was all my fault. I knew better than to ever take my eyes off of them, but since I could hear them playing together while I put away the dishes I just thought that everything was peachy keen.

Big Mom Mistake #51. How many more will I make before he is grown?

More Changes

2006-05-05T21:17:00.000-05:00

I alluded to more changes going on around here a short while ago when I updated the look of this blog. I have been pretty quiet about it, because it really seemed too good to be true, but alas it is coming to fruition.

My blog is being redesigned once again and this time changing location. I was chosen as a Club Mom blogger, which means that I am going to (in essence) be a freelance writer. This blog will now be hosted on the Club Mom website and I am one of the featured moms. It's exciting, it's encouraging. I couldn't have asked for anything better.

The move will be happening soon. The appearance and presentation of the blog will also change. But I will not. I will continue to write as I always have before, in the same voice. So thank you to all of you, my half a dozen loyal readers who have been with me since the start.

Close Quarters

2006-05-04T07:40:00.000-05:00

When I was a single, childless person I dreaded sitting anywhere near children on an airplane. Even worse than sitting in the same row with kids was sitting in front of them. Hearing their little incessant voices, feeling their pint-sized feet kicking against the back of my seat - and worst of all, the most annoying crying. The kind of noise pollution you can't get away from because in airplanes everyone breathes the same stuffy air and sits closer to each other than most married couples.

I'm not childless anymore. This time, I am the harried mother traveling with a 3-year-old and an infant. Add Sweetie to the mix and we take up a whole row with our little family. But I just want to use this opportunity to brag that my children were very well-behaved. There was no yelling, no crying, no kicking. Playing quietly, contented and sure. Even the flight attendant (I almost wrote stewardess here) complimented us - particulary Bean - for being so mannerly.

And even though some story about my kids cutting up at the airport or wreaking havoc on the plane would have made for an interesting blog entry, I am so proud of them for their exceptional behavior.

Maybe you will still get an entertaining story from the trip back home.

A Good Night's Sleep?

2006-05-02T10:37:00.000-05:00

I awoke with a start at 4:20am - because everyting was too quiet. While Bean normally wakes up every 2-3 hours throughout the night to nurse, he had been asleep since midnight. Additionally, Sweetie's 3-year-old daughter Munchkin is here to visit for the next two months. It's her first night sleeping in a new place, so I was sure that she would be up at some point as well.

So instead of being happy to get 4 hours of uninterrupted slumber, I practically jumped out of bed in a panic - my heart racing. Why had no one cried out? Why was there no little person in my bed? The only way to ease my mind was to get out of my own bed and visit each of their rooms to make sure they were ok.

Here I am thinking that as soon as my little one starts sleeping through the night, I will too. But when I should have been snoozing (like everyone else in the house) I was pacing the floor, cracking open doors, tiptoeing around beds and pulling blankets up around tiny little shoulders. I guess now that I am a mom, I will never get another good night's sleep again.

Like The 90s

2006-04-30T10:10:00.000-05:00

My hairstyle is cute. Now that it has been short for about a month, I have gotten used to the way it looks and nothing beats the convenience of it. However, it has grown extremely fast and it is already losing its shape. Don't get me wrong - when I have it styled and gelled and ready to walk out the door, it looks an awful lot like this....

But on my lazy days, staying inside the house, I don't really do anything to it. Whenever I let it dry out, it gets sorta bushy and shows the true shape. It has grown into more of a box; the way some men used to wear their hair in the 90s. Which means that in all honesty, some days my hair looks more like this:

It is rather unflattering (to say the least).

Pancreatitis

2006-04-28T11:40:00.000-05:00

My brother is in the hospital sick with pancreatitis. He has had these bouts where he would be in extreme pain off and on now for a couple of years. He always thought is was a stomach ulcer, kidney stones, or some other mild disorder. Well, now it is official. Since I found out he was hospitalized, I have been doing some reseach online about the disease. For the most part, it seems like something he can beat fairly quickly, but of course there is always the possibility for some pretty dim outcomes.... which frankly, scares me. They are going to do further examination to his pancreas as soon as possible. In the meantime, he can't eat anything and is being given fluids and pain relievers intravaneously.

How can my baby brother be in the hospital getting treated for anything?! Aren't we too young for this type of stuff? :-(

Parent Abuse

2006-04-27T12:04:00.000-05:00

I feel awful for even considering this... but I think that I may have to call Parent Protective Services on my son. He is extremely physically abusive towards me and it seems like the only way to stop it is to get the authorities involved.

On a typical day, Bean does the following things to me:

Reaches into my mouth, grabs my lower lip, and pulls with all his might.
Smacks me open-handed; his palm connecting to my cheek with a convincing whap!
Grabs a fistful of my (stylishy cropped) hair and yanks until he manages to pull several strands free - which he then brandishes victoriously.
Leans in towards me with an open mouth to my cheek, making me think that he is going to give me a kiss. But instead he chomps down with his four little sharp teeth, leaving a reddish impression on my face.
Punches me closed-fist; his knuckles connecting to my head with a resounding whump!
Kicks me in the stomach, or throat, or mouth - in perfect karate style.
Pinches me anywhere skin is revealed, in a demonstration of his new mastery of the pincer grasp.
Scratches me, leaving jagged marks across my skin.
Screams at me at the top of his lungs, making himself hoarse sometimes with the effort.

He's always looking for new ways to beat me up. Last night, he actually bit my hair. You should have seen the look on his face after that one... Priceless!

Are You Serious?!

2006-04-26T20:14:00.000-05:00

Those Top Model judges must be wacked in the head to choose a Praying Mantis over a Nubian Queen! I seriously thought that Nnenna was going to win it all (even though I want Jade to be America's Next Top Model). Nnenna has so much poise, quiet confidence, and inner beauty. Not to mention that she is regal and striking in appearance. She definitely has the makings to be a top model. Nnenna won almost every single challenge put to the girls. But because she doesn't have enough "expression", she goes home. And that ghetto, round-the-way girl Furonda gets to stay.

Despite my utter outrage though, I must admit that I am glad Jade rocked it out and will not be going home this round! She is so beautiful. I would totally make out with her.

No Restraint

2006-04-25T17:01:00.000-05:00

I swear, my cravings while nursing are stronger and more detrimental than anything I ever experienced while pregnant. Recently, my downfall has been Sonic. I have eaten there probably four times in the last week. I don't know what's wrong with me!! I literally just ate there about two hours ago and looking up their website to link here has me craving it again. They have the best fries, their burgers have a unique taste that I love, and nothing washes it down better than a Cherry Limeade. I want more.

I hate this about myself. I want to be one of those glowing nursing moms who eats salads and fruit and fresh veggies. I want to snack on soy milk and granola. I want to eat grilled fish with brown rice and steamed broccoli for dinner. I want to politely say "no, thanks" when someone offers me ice cream for dessert. Yeah right!! I am like a bottomless pit, just opening my mouth and shoveling in the greasiest, fattiest stuff I can find. Never satisfied, never full. I just stop eating because I know that I "should." Somebody please help me.

And on a side note, eating at Sonic so frequently really has me wondering: are you supposed to tip the Carhop??

K.A. = Bean

2006-04-25T07:58:00.000-05:00

When my son was first born I came on here and made the announcement for the blog world. Not wanting to reveal his real name online, I used his initials to proclaim his arrival. Since that day, I have been referring to my baby as K.A. on this blog. However, that really is not accurate. Nobody calls him K.A. He has grown and evolved into his own person over the last 9 months, and he most decidedly has come into his own nickname: Bean.

I sing songs to him that include the name "Bean". When I am talking to him I call him "Bean". In fact, Sweetie has even teased me time and time again by saying that the boy is going to think his real name actually is Bean - because even now he answers to it.

So from this day forth, my son will be known as this blog as Bean. He is K.A. no more!

I Heart Google

2006-04-24T16:24:00.000-05:00

Distressed about the loss of my digital pics, I became determined to exhaust every possibility known to man in an attempt to retrieve them. I am a strong believer that you can find the answer to anything on the world wide web. It's all there, a wealth of information right at your fingertips. But you have to know how to get to said information. Which is why I love Google even more than I love Tylenol.

Simply typing the words "sandisk, corrupted" as my Google search criteria brought up a website (the first result, mind you) with just the answer that I needed. Granted... I had to read, and dig; and be diligent, and patient. But the answer was there. A link to this website, which offers a free tool to recover data from corrupted flash memory like the SanDisk 256MB SD Card that blew up on me.

I am ecstatic to announce that PC Inspector's Smart Recovery tool allowed me to retrieve every single pic on that memory card. Even ones that I believed to have been "deleted" months ago. Their tool is free, but they have an option to donate via PayPal, which I did. Because those pictures, to me, were priceless... and no amount of money is sufficient for what those photos mean to me.

Thank you PC Inspector, for making a free product that works and dries many tears. Thank you even more Google, for leading me there. I was just denouncing "Technology" and now I am again singing its praises. And I'll give you another tip too..... don't buy a SanDisk memory card. Apparently what happened to me is commonplace with the brand.

I'm So Upset I Could Cry

2006-04-23T19:14:00.000-05:00

I lost 2 weeks worth of digital pictures. TWO WEEKS! In my world, that's like 200+ pictures. KA's first circus, the visit with SDC, the trip to the beach, standing, crawling, two little top teeth breaking through gum. Life. Gone. I am so upset about this I could truly cry.

Pictures are so important to me. I am very diligent about caring for them. I download them from my camera to my pc as soon as the memory card gets full. I immediately back them up to Yahoo!Photos and again on CD-R. I then leave the pics on that memory card for several weeks just to make sure that I can always at least retrieve the latest batch from the source in case something happens.

But one thing I never accounted for was the actual source failing. One of my memory cards is corrupted. KA and I were out in the backyard enjoying a mild springtime evening. Just rolling around on the blanket, playing and taking pics. Gazing up at the amazing blue sky and watching the clouds roll by. I turn the camera off and come inside. Later, when I turn the camera on again, I get this unbelievable error message:

Memory card
requires
formatting

CONTINUE
CANCEL

Formatting means erasing. Period. I tried retrieving those pics directly from the unit, I tried using Windows Explorer, I tried bypassing the camera altogether and using a laptop. It won't do anything but request a format. Which means that all the pics on that card -- some 200 photos of very important events in my son's life -- are now virtually gone. I mean, theoretically they are still on the card.... but if the card is inaccesible through all means until it gets formatted, then for all intensive purposes they no longer exist. Weeks 37 and 38 of my baby's life. Gone forever in time, and now - not even captured on film.

I am beside myself with grief.

I Think They're Cute

2006-04-23T07:53:00.000-05:00

It's causing quite a controversy amongst some of my internet mommy friends. Clothes like these, from Old Navy, that look more like gear for teenagers than for baby girls. I personally feel that they are adorable, and if I had a little girl I would dress her like this in a heartbeat. At this age they are way too young to be provocative, which means that the only other way to describe it is cute.

I'm curious to hear what you think?

No Wonder It Was So Cheap

2006-04-22T08:39:00.000-05:00

I'm a sucker for great deals. So when I saw this item, regular $69.84 on clearance for $9.00 -- I had to buy it. It's called a VideoNow Jr by Playskool. It's like a mini video player just for kids to watch Dora, Sesame Street, Blues Clues, etc. I read the packaging and understood that it can only play one specific video format, something called a PVD especially for this system. No problem! Except.... these videos are no longer being sold in stores. I didn't realize that until after I got home and started researching the thing to make sure that I really did get a fabulous deal. Those PVDs are out of stock everywhere.

Everywhere, that is, but eBay.

I never understood the craze and addiction. I always just used Sweetie's account on the rare occasion I wanted to buy something from eBay. No longer. I have my own account now, with my own list of items I am watching and bidding on. I have already lost two bids on those silly PVDs, but there are plenty more to be had and I will not go over my set price. I will just keep searching and bidding until I win. Meanwhile, there are a lot of other great deals to be had on eBay, and I am still a sucker for them all. I am watching things that I have no business watching, but I keep telling myself (if this thing gets down to two minutes left and the price point is still this low I am going to have to bid on it myself because if I could possibly get it for such a low price it would really make my day and I would be the happiest shopper on earth for getting a steal on an item that I really don't need but since it was so cheap it certainly doesn't hurt to have it) I might get lucky.

My name is K, and I am an addict.

Cheese To Go With That Whine?

2006-04-21T06:07:00.000-05:00

I've got a replacement baby. Someone must have come in the night and switched out my old K.A. model with a new version. Because I am not really sure who this child is? My son used to be content and happy. Able to entertain himself and indepedent. Only cried if he really needed something, and that was not often at all.

This new baby though.... he is unhappy most of the day. He eats constantly! No sooner than I can finish nursing him, he wants to eat real food. As soon as he comes out of the highchair he wants to nurse again, I kid you not. He doesn't ever want to be left in the room alone. If I step away for just a second, he fusses and follows me on all fours so that I am never out of his sight. But the biggest change is that he whines almost constantly. He is just not happy. Sweetie says he's hungry (growth spurt). I say he's bored or frustrated - as an expert crawler he can see so much more of the world now, but still can't physically move around as fast as his mind and interests do. He could even be in pain (more teething?). He doesn't have a fever or any other symptoms of being sick.....??? so I am truly at a loss!

All I know is I want my original baby back. I didn't appreciate the swap.

You Wanna Be On Top?

2006-04-20T10:58:00.000-05:00

I watch America's Next Top Model. I am, in fact, addicted to the show. I said that I was going to boycott it last season when Bre didn't win it all. Alas, I did not stay true to my word. Now I am sitting on edge every week rooting for my girl Jade. So many people hate her because she is cocky, arrogant, over-confident, whatever. In my mind though, she is simply gorgeous and takes a slamming picture. Plus we have the same haircut. ;-)

Jade was in the bottom two last night. Almost got herself eliminated because nobody believes she is sincere. She better pull it together because I might have to boycott the show for real this time if she doesn't win.

That One Annoying Relative

2006-04-19T10:54:00.000-05:00

I suppose we all have that one "special" relative who we would rather avoid. You know, the one that just irritates you to no end and makes you grit your teeth. The relative that fills you with so much anger and annoyance that you morph into someone whom you don't even recognize? For me, that relative is Aunt Flo, and I am so disappointed to say that she has arrived to visit.

Aunt Flo and I made an agreement before K.A. was even born that she would stay gone until he was no longer breastfeeding at all. I explained to her how her arrival puts me on edge and causes me to lose the patience necessary to care for my son. I also told her how when she comes to visit I can't stop shoveling my face with salty junk; which makes me gain weight and retain water and no longer fit in the skinny jeans I just bought. I thought Aunt Flo understood that I get sluggish and overtired whenever she is around... none of which is good for my mothering skills. Plus, lugging her around makes my back hurt (she's disabled). Not to mention that merely anticipating her arrival causes so much tension between Sweetie and I that we become enemies instead of lovers. So she said that she would not come back until the baby was weaned. For all our sakes.

That bitch lied. So excuse me if I am not welcoming her with open arms or a vase of fresh flowers in her room. She may be blood, and I may have no choice but to deal with her. But I don't have to like her at all.

Change Is Good

2006-04-18T10:29:00.000-05:00

This new look is not the only thing changing around here!! Please stay posted for more info....

Meanwhile, I can talk about our weekend. My best friend (SDC) and her husband (TLC) came to visit the baby. SDC has not seen him since he was 5 weeks old, while TLC had not yet ever met my baby in person. K.A. took to them both so well, I was proud of my baby for understanding that these people are "family" and that he should treat them as such. I would have been mortified if he had been screaming bloody murder when they touch him (like he is right now). Makes me feel like maybe I am on my way to doing a good job as a mom - raising a confident, well-rounded and friendly boy.

We went to the circus. This is a small town I live in, so the "circus" was at the "fairgrounds" under an actual big tent. In the past I had gone to Ringling Bros at the convention center of a major city, so this weekend's event was quite a bit of a difference in both venue and presentation. But it was still a circus; complete with the animal acts, clowns, high-wire daredevils, and even a human cannon ball. TLC was also lucky enough to be picked out of the crowd to perform in the show. I have pictures as evidence but I will not post them here because TLC is a professional and those images could surely be used as blackmail!! ;-)

Another day at the beach, a delicious dinner at a fun steakhouse, and a tour of Sweetie's military base finished out their visit. And now they are gone. It was great having family here to spend time with K.A. They are planning to come back in July for kiddo's 1st birthday and we are very much looking forward to that. We keep in good touch via phone and email, but there is nothing like an in-person visit to renew the bonds of a friendship.

It has taken me way too long to finish writing this post because I keep having to abandon it to attend to a wailing baby. Gotta go figure out why my son is so inconsolable today.....

A New Look

2006-04-14T07:02:00.000-05:00

Warning! I am going to change the look of my blog. I am tired of this black background. It has looked like this for a year. I want something fresh, fun and clean. Unfortunately I don't have the time or effort to make a custom look for this blog so I have to just choose something from the Blogger templates (which aren't all that great). But still. Just didn't want you to be thrown off guard when you come back again next week and it looks different. ;-)

Got Milk?

2006-04-13T06:44:00.000-05:00

It seems K.A's favorite thing in the world is still breastmilk. Even though he is too busy during the day to sit down and enjoy his meal, he still is very much a boob man. Proof positive is his newfound signing ability. Since he was about 5 months old I have been showing him the ASL sign for "milk" whenever I breastfeed him. He has begun signing back to me to let me know when he wants to nurse! However, he signs for "milk" whenever he wants anything. He wants to nurse? Pumping that little hand. He wants to eat real food? His hand just moving away. He wants the toy you're holding? Wants to be picked up? Held? There the hand goes - open, close, open, close.

It's time to expand his vocabulary.

100 Days Left

2006-04-11T06:13:00.000-05:00

One hundred and sixty-five days ago I wrote a post about my baby turning 100 days old. Today I am writing because he has 100 days left before his 1st Birthday. He started cruising yesterday. That's what they call it when the kid walks sideways using furniture for support. By the evening, he actually let go to turn around and grab for something behind him. So in less than one day he is already getting the courage to try moving around without something to hold on to. It seems that every day I have a new update with him.

So in the fashion of my prior post, let's review his life 165 days later. His hair is growing back, the cradle cap is long gone. The eczema has been officially diagnosed. He still sweats like Mommy, but at the end of the day now his piggies stink a lot. I have no idea what he dreams about anymore and he wakes up gracefully (no more "startling"). And yes, he most definitely has a distinct personality - still.

He Loves....
Nursing
Table Food
Apple Juice
Outdoors
Crawling
Standing and trying to walk
Playtime with Daddy and tickling
Mommy singing to him or winking at him
Riding in his stroller
Bath Time
Story Time
Television (uh oh!)
Crinkling Paper
Toys that make music (actually, music in general - all types)
His Reflection
Wreaking Havoc

He Hates....
Teething
Cornbread
His Crib
Being stuck in his playpen
When I won't give him something off my plate...
....Or out of my cup
Falling down
The nasal aspirator

I was actually pretty hard pressed to come up with this list of hates. My son knows what he wants for sure, but he is definitely an easy-going baby. Don't know who he gets that from. Maybe his Uncle Z.

All I Want For Easter Is My Two Front Teeth

2006-04-10T07:54:00.000-05:00

We proudly annouce the arrival of K.A's two front teeth! He is grinding them already and they haven't even made their full descent yet. He thinks he is so grown up now that he has a total of four teeth. He is under the impression that he can go anywhere he wants and touch anything that catches his eye. He totally thinks that he can just ignore me when I tell him not to mess with something. Not to mention that he believes these four teeth have now made him invincible. The boy has no fear, I promise you. I told him for the 300th time not to go near the tv stand and he just flashed his teeth at me and kept going. Some would say that he was smiling, but really he was visually warning me - lest I forget - that since he has four teeth now, I can't stop him from doing anything. I guess when the next two come in, he'll stay out all night drinking and chilling with his buddies.

Go Fly A Kite

2006-04-09T20:18:00.000-05:00

We went kite-flying today. I felt like a kid again.

Ok, Stop!

2006-04-06T07:10:00.000-05:00

Last week, it was crawling. This week, he pulls to standing. After a couple of days of swollen gums and fitful sleeping at night, I feel two little top teeth trying to poke through this morning. He's even eating Cheerios now. Cheerios, people! -- the quintessential toddler food!

Why do I have these conflicting emotions, where every time my baby meets another milestone I want to rejoice and mourn at the same time? Of course I want to see him learn and grow... but it is unbelievably hard for me to be losing my baby so quickly. I knew they grew fast in the first year, but my gosh is that an understatement. The worst part is that I fear I will never get used to it. I can see myself crying over the fact that "my baby" has started college or is getting married.

Don't mind me, I am just extremely saddened by the passage of time. I am trying to capture all these memories in a jar, but I think it has a hole in the bottom.

Like In The Beginning

2006-04-04T07:28:00.000-05:00

There are some big changes going on in our household. After eight months of co-sleeping with K.A. - or at the very worst laying him down in a bassinet right beside our bed - we are transitioning the baby to his very own crib in his very own room. It is NOT fun.

I feel like the mom of a newborn again. Things are like in the beginning, with me going to him every two hours or so to feed or comfort him when he cries out. My sleep-deprived state has turned me into a zombie. There are a couple of reasons why nights are so rough now that K.A. is sleeping in his crib.

He hates it there. He wants to feel a warm body when he is asleep (wouldn't you?) and his crib is big, lonely, cold and empty.
He is too busy to eat much during the day so he over-compensates at night. My baby is so mobile now. He is crawling, rolling, scooting, and he even pulls to standing. There is a whole house for him to explore during the day which means that he nurses infrequently. For 5 minutes at best, each time..... so the boy is hungry at night.
He likes to practice this newfound mobility all the time. So even when I go to him in the middle of the night once I hear him crying, he will be sitting, crawling, or rolling around in his crib. Fussing all the while.
His room is on the opposite side of the house. Which means that I have a long trek each time. I'm wearing the carpet down on the path between his room and mine.
His mommy is stubborn. I refuse to put him on a schedule. Each day he eats, naps and plays when he tells me that is what he wants to do. I listen to his cues and the only thing I enforce is a bedtime of 9:00pm. Everything else is flexible; this is by choice. I guess all that is coming back to bite me?
His mommy is stubborn (did I already say that one?). I never allowed him to sleep in his crib until now. I just didn't want him all the way over there on the other side of the house. Sweetie hooked up the baby monitor so I could listen to him. He installed a security camera over the baby's crib so that I could watch him sleeping on our bedroom tv. And I still never put K.A. to sleep in his own room. Now that it has become a must, we are going cold turkey; and no one pays the price of that more than yours truly.

I'm running after him all day and I'm running to him all night. I get no rest. And I am really suffering! If it were up to me, we would still be co-sleeping every night to make my life easier. But.... there is someone else to consider. The man who goes to work every day and makes sure that all our bills are paid? Yeah, him. He needs a good night's rest too. So we are trying to get K.A. to sleep by himself now, which is proving difficult to say the least. However - I can see everyone's point of view on this, so we will just keep working on it. And both my guys are just going to have a very tired mommy until we get it right.

There's Something About the Commissary

2006-04-03T07:43:00.000-05:00

Every time Sweetie and I go food shopping together we end up not speaking to each other on the ride home. He hates the way I shop, I feel the same about him; and we always clash. I used to think that it was just the long shopping trips that would put tension between us. But we have gone into the commissary only for diapers and baby food before, and still left out of there fuming.

It's not me.

The air in the commissary is infused with a secret military agent. I am immune to it, but it affects Sweetie drastically. As soon as we walk through the doors, this substance in the air changes him. He becomes serious and driven. He talks very little and smiles even less. His whole demeanor morphs into a methodical, impatient bulldozer. In fact, I believe that all non-civilians are affected in this same way, which is why persons in uniform get "front of the line" privileges there. But I digress.

If it's not on "the list" -- we can't get it. I have 2.5 seconds to decide on an item. If I take 3 seconds, he zooms away to the next isle. He has a 30-minute total threshold. After that point, he is ready to leave, hands down. No matter if we have completed the list or not. We start off walking together down the aisles; but over the course of the trip, he loses more and more patience. The gap between us widens until I have to literally search for him in the store because he has moved so far ahead.

It's not me.

I just like to price compare and explore the various brands. For the life of me I can't figure out what it is about my shopping style that drives him up a wall. Needless to say this is one area where we just cannot get along. We can go to Wal*Mart or Best Buy together and browse around indefinitely -- but at the commissary it just never works out. So we have agreed to disagree; and vowed after yesterday to not make anymore trips to the commissary together. For anything.

15" of Regret.

2006-04-01T18:37:00.000-05:00

I did it. I was excited and very much anticipating my haircut today. The result is not quite what I imagined. You see, I am now bald. Not technically, of course; but so much of my hair is gone that I feel bald. First, she cut off my ponytail (11"). Then she cut more to make it closer and easier to work with (2"). The back still wasn't short enough to match the picture I gave her so she trimmed still more (1.5"). And finished up with taking just a little bit additional off the top (.5").

As she was clipping her heart out, I mentioned to her that I thought she was taking quite a bit off.

"It's a really short haircut in the photo you gave me, hun," was her reply.

"Ok," said me. Dubiously.

I hear the scissors slicing through wet hair. I think I can feel each strand getting snipped. Another stylist comes up and remarks that the cut looks really cute.

"Yes, and she had a lot of hair too!" my stylist responded. "She donated." This, referring to me getting my ponytail sent off to Locks of Love. So they begin to talk about how special it is when someone comes to get their hair cut off for such a worthy cause, which made me feel all proud and warm & fuzzy inside. Until she twirled me around and I saw the finished product.

Gulp! This my friends, is the sound that comes from swallowing your heart back down to where it belongs when you look in the mirror and do not recognize the reflection staring back at you.

In all my life, my hair has never. Ever. EVER been this short. I am bald. Most men have more hair than me. When I left the salon, I could feel the wind caressing my scalp. I never knew what that felt like before today.

I wanted a change. I wanted to be able to have wash & go hair that required little to no maintenance. I wanted my hair to be as short as the model in the picture I have been carrying around all week. I got all that I wanted. And I hate it.

Sweetie, in his usual fashion - and living up to his name - assured me that my hair looked great and he told me that I am as beautiful as ever. I hope he means it because it really is the only thing that got me through today.

It is shinier and healthier than it has been in a very long time. I can assure you that this hairstyle is low-maintenance. Heck, it is NO maintenance. All I have to do is wash it, gel it, and walk out the door. It will stay in place and look good all day. But it is short as hell. So if you want to actually see this disaster, click here.

You thought I wouldn't let you see it just because I hate it? I am bigger than that. You all helped me get the courage to do it in the first place, so of course I will let you see. Luckily for me, hair grows. Meanwhile I will enjoy my newfound hair freedom and try to find the silver lining in this humongous storm cloud. Cheers!

The Michael Jackson Disease

2006-03-31T09:10:00.000-05:00

You may remember me posting a few weeks back about suspecting that my son has vitiligo. We finally had our appointment with the dermatologist. I am relieved and ecstatic to report that my son simply suffers from a (rather commonplace) case of eczema. The doctor walked into the room, took one look at K.A., and diagnosed him instantly. Apparently the white patches on his skin are caused when his body attempts to cure the dry eczema patches on its own. The "disease-fighting" cells lack pigment, so with each flare-up and consequent healing of those inflamed and irritated patches, my son gets another white spot on his skin. He will regain the pigmentation over time, even though it is a lengthy process that takes months and sometimes years. Meanwhile I am to use Eucerin on a daily basis to keep his skin moisturized and hopefully circumvent any future flare-ups.

In retrospect: I suppose that we all knew it was eczema in the first place. Am I so wrong for wanting someone with the letters "MD" behind his name to tell me the same thing? Now if I could just stop self-diagnosing my son with crippling and deforming disorders, we might be alright.

Then & Now

2006-03-29T12:14:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I took K.A. to the portrait studio to do his 8-month photo session. A lot of parents take their children to get portraits done at the typical 3, 6, 9, 12 month milestones. I am taking K.A. every month for the first year of his life. Each time we get them done, I marvel at how much my little guy has changed since his birth; and how much he continues to change. In fact, I have morphed a great deal too.... pregnancy hormones did a number on my looks (swelling, acne, blotchiness). This is why I take so many pictures. It's the only solid proof we have of how much we've changed.

Then

Now

I know my baby is cute in both pics..... but please, be kind to me!!

Wish Granted

2006-03-27T07:40:00.000-05:00

K.A. has had a little cold with a big cough. I felt so badly for him, I just hate it when my little one is sick!! Even if it is with "just a cold." I spent the last couple of days wishing that I could just take the sickness from him. I would much rather be sick myself. Well, I got part of my wish. I am sick now too. But this is not what I wanted! I wished to be sick in his place.... not right along with him!! Gosh, I need to be careful what I wish for.

Time For A Change

2006-03-24T07:20:00.000-05:00

I've had long hair all my life. Right now, it reaches to about the middle of my back. I have always considered my hair to be my crowning glory. I took pride in it and cared for it with the utmost diligence.

Now, I am starting to hate all this hair. It is unruly. Caring for it takes too much time, energy, effort, and (yes) money. All of which are in shorter supply now that I am a stay-at-home mom. I want to feel free and light. And I also want to look pretty; because right now my hair is usually a mess. On a good day I throw it in a smooth ponytail. On bad days.... well let's just say that it looks ridiculous.

I want to get all this stuff cut off into a super short pixie cut, and donate my tresses to Locks of Love. The problem is.... I just cannot bring myself to do it!!! I am one of those people who are deathly afraid of change. I keep thinking to myself that I am a person with long hair.... who will I be without my long hair? What if I don't wear the new style very well? Without my long hair, what will make me stand out or be different? What if I hate it?

I just wish that I could be more gutsy. Hell, I jumped out of a plane before......

But I am afraid to get my hair cut??? There is something definitely wrong with that....

How Did It Get On Your Shoes?

2006-03-23T08:03:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was a busy day for us, hence the lack of a post. [Ok, so I don't post every single day anyway, but at least I have an excuse for yesterday!] We had to go to therapy (for my massage), the post office (mailing letters), the DMV (ugh!), the mall (for a new pair of jeans in my new small size*), and the grocery store (for more ice cream). I had K.A. all dressed in the cutest outfit you have ever seen. Tan corduroys, a beige onesie and a cream/tan/beige big boy sweater. And boots with perfectly matching socks. Trying to take advantage of the few cold days we have left and let him wear some of his warm clothes before he completely outgrows them. He was dressed like a little man; not a baby. And it was adorable.

We are ready to walk out the door and I sit him down to play with his toys while I put on my socks and shoes. I hear him grunting, and then I hear the inevitable explosion in his diaper. I tell myself not to panic. Poop is natural, and anyway, "Hurray for Huggies!" Right? Those Huggies didn't have a chance. I pick up my son.... poop all along the side of his cords. I remove his pants... poop all down his leg and up his back. Poop on the onesie, poop now on the bedspread - quick, move him to the changing pad - poop all on the changing pad. I begin to tackle this mess. And let me just mention here that K.A. will not sit still to allow me to change his diaper. For some reason, he didn't understand that for a blow out like this one, it is imperative that he remain perfectly still for the entire diaper-changing process. I calmly explained this to him but he chose to ignore my direction. Therefore, he somehow managed to spread the poop everywhere. He even got poop on his shoes.

I will spare you the rest of the details. Just know that by the time I cleaned him up and got him dressed in another outfit (that I did not like nearly as much, mind you) I was a sweaty mess and we were running late for therapy.

Hurray for Huggies? I think not.**

* sorry, couldn't resist another opportunity to brag....
** actually, I do not blame huggies for this unfortunate event. I believe that is just my sheer frustration speaking out.

When You Are Someone's Mother

2006-03-21T08:34:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm all sentimental because today my baby is 8 months old. I know that time flies, but this is really getting ridiculous. It feels like only yesterday I was still pregnant with "it"; dreaming about how s/he would look, act, be. Wondering what it's really like to be a mommy. Imaging how my life would change. And now, 8 months later, I still have no clue how to be someone's mother but I know exactly what it feels like to be one.

When you are someone's mother, your life becomes secondary to theirs. You buy clothes for your child even if everything in your own closet is threadbare and the wrong size. You wipe boogers or earwax or drool or spitup with your hand, and never get grossed out at all. You sing (off-key) and dance (no rhythm) in public with no embarrassment if it will please your little one. You forget to eat or bathe yourself some days because you are consumed with caring for your baby's daily necessities. You live for their smile. You'll do anything to make them laugh. You take your next breath solely to ensure their well-being. You would lay down your very own life - in a single instant and with no hesitation - for theirs.

When you are someone's mother, the day your child is born is the day that your life changes forever. In that moment, you think that you could never love another being more than you love your baby right now. But then the next day comes. And somehow your love for this precious baby has still grown.

When you are someone's mother, you at once can experience the greatest joy, the worst fear, the strongest pride and the truest love. All for your child. You have no idea what it means to be "overprotective" until you become a parent.

In eight short months, my son has brought so much happiness into my life. He is my constant companion. I marvel at him learning his way around this world. I am proud of his physical and mental accomplishments, which are both progessing at an extremely rapid clip.

I love the way he looks at me with that little half smile whenever I sing along with one of his many talking toys. I love the way he hugs me and "gives me a kiss" when I ask for one (and sometimes even when I don't - which makes it twice as sweet). I love how he stares at his own fingers and toes like they hold the secret to the universe. I love to watch him try out his new strength by rolling, sitting up, scooting, and trying to crawl. I love it when I see him figure out something else about how things work, like the day he discovered that he can pull the blanket to bring the toys closer to him and never have to move at all. And I somehow love him even more when he cries or gets frustrated. Perhaps because at that moment, he wants me more than anything. And I know that if nothing else, I can soothe his pain.

My son is growing up. Every day he gets more and more independent. Already, I can't believe how close we are to completing his first year of life. I am wise enough to know that the older he gets, the less he will rely on me. And if I do my job correctly, he will one day be a self-sufficient man, who calls to check up on me. But I can't wholly fathom that right now, nor do I want to. Right now, all I want to do is relish the eight months I have been already blessed with my little boy. And enjoy this moment..... when I am his world and he is mine.

Sugary Sweet

2006-03-20T16:46:00.000-05:00

Babies are precious and cute enough as it is. The footed pajamas just take them over the top in terms of sweetness. That, and the themed outfits like Lil Puppy or Lil Pumpkin, make our kiddos even more adorable than ever. I just wanna kiss him, and hug him, and squeeze him.....

Picture Day

2006-03-17T09:36:00.000-05:00

For more photos of baby, click here!

A Funny Correlation

2006-03-15T20:02:00.000-05:00

It seems that each time my son graduates to the next size up in diapers, I move down one more size in my jeans. K.A. just started wearing Size 3's and Mommy is now one size under her pre-pregnancy clothing. I noticed this when even my "skinny" jeans were starting to fit loose through the waist and thighs. This new number on the tag of my pants is a size that I have not seen since my college days. I attribute it all to nursing. Because I don't exercise and I still eat like a pig. Literally. My lunch today was the sort of meal that has so much fat and grease that you can actually feel your arteries clogging as you eat it. My regular diet consists of steak, potatoes with butter and sour cream, breads, oils. Ice cream, cookies, brownies, milkshakes. Full course meals including dessert. Every day. I eat like a man: I can throw down with Sweetie at the table and sometimes even eat him under it. And yet, the numbers on the scale keep dropping. I just cannot get over my luck.

I appreciate the woman's body so much more now. I understand why we are softer and rounder than men. It makes sense why so many of us can never get rid of those "last 10 pounds". Because we need that to nourish our young. It is so simple, so basic, so pure. My fat stores are diminishing as my son's are building up. From the milk that he is obtaining from my body. It is absolutely amazing.

K.A. is never allowed to wean. Never.

A Day At The Beach

2006-03-13T15:03:00.000-05:00

We had beautiful weather this weekend, with temps soaring into the eighties. Which made it a perfect opportunity to take K.A. to the beach for the first time in his very young life. I had always been curious about how he would react to the ocean; if he would be indifferent to it or enthralled. He - apparently - was mesmerized. My baby kept staring out into the deep blue, it was so difficult to get him to turn away from the horizon even long enough to take a picture. He truly could not tear himself from the view.

I wonder what he was thinking about that ocean view. Did he notice that the colors of the sky and the water were subtle variations of each other -- common members of the same hazy palette? Could he distinguish the demarcation between the ocean and the sky? Did the sheer vastness of it scare him or overwhelm him?

He definitely felt something about it! We thought it would be cute to let him dig his chubby little toes into the sand. And he allowed us to do that, however trepidacious...
But then we decided that it would be fun to let the waters of the incoming tide swirl past his ankles; and let me tell you, he wanted absolutely NO parts of that! He looked down at that water rushing towards his feet, and the moment it was lapping around his toes he jumped in surprise and began to cry. We at first thought the water was cold, and that is what shocked him; but that wasn't it. The water felt fine..... He just didn't know what to make of it. Couldn't forge the connection between what he playfully splashes around in during bathtime - and this never-ending, fast-moving, greedy stuff at his feet.

But my son will be a beach baby indeed. As a family, we will be stationed near water for the remainder of his daddy's military career. I love the ocean, as I am hoping that my son will too. He has plenty of time and opportunity to get used to it, and even come to adore it as I do. I am not pushing it. Just hoping that it comes on its own, in due time.

This Kid Knows Where The Good Stuff Comes From!

2006-03-10T08:48:00.000-05:00

My Big Boy

2006-03-09T06:18:00.000-05:00

Gone are the days of carting my son around in his infant carseat/carrier. Yesterday we ran several errands together, and I was so proud of my big boy! At therapy, he sat up in his umbrella stroller and watched Mommy get a massage. He was very well-behaved. Then, we went to the mall to pick up his 7-month portraits from Sears. He cruised around in his big luxury stroller taking in all the sights and never complained. Last we went to Wal*Mart for diapers (which, by the way now, he is in Size 3!) and my baby sat in the front part of the shopping cart like all the big kids do. Of course, I am one of those obssessive moms who got a shopping cart cover to keep him clean and entertained. But he truly loved the new view this type of ride afforded him.

We don't need to carry him around in that infant carseat everywhere we go now. What am I gonna do with myself?

Mornings

2006-03-07T06:58:00.000-05:00

Early mornings have become my absolute favorite time of day. I am up before the sun rises. I love to sit at the window and watch the first weak rays of light filtering in through the slats of the blinds. Around here, a mist usually hovers near the ground, and it swirls away as the sunlight gets stronger. Clouds in the sky are illuminated with a golden glow. Everything is so quiet. I have time to myself - the only time of day this is possible - to think, meditate, re-evaluate, and look inside of me. Before the day really starts and I begin giving myself to my family.

My son slumbers peacefully during this time. It's like he knows that I have to rejuvenate in order to be at my best for him. So he allows me this. I look upon his sleeping face.... so still, so serious. His eyelashes brushing his cheeks and his perfect lips pressed in a bow. He sighs. If I trace my fingernail lightly in the palm of his hand, he extends his chubby little fingers. His hands are so pudgy and soft.

Soon he awakes. I can tell when he is coming out of his sleep by the way he shakes his head from side to side. His eyes flutter behind his closed lids for a spell, and then they open. He looks around, so serious still, and he usually stretches. I think that he enjoys the serenity of mornings too, because he does not cry out. He just lays there contentedly staring at his hands and watching them sail through the air. He intertwines his fingers and concentrates on their movement. And then I come to him.

Instantly, his face brightens. He comes alive - kicking his legs and pumping his arms. "Good morning, sunshine!" I say to him, and he smiles. At me. A beautiful, gigantic grin that opens his entire face and is meant just for his mommy. He snorts, he babbles; his way of expressing his excitement and greeting me. He waits patiently for me to change his diaper, and then he is ready to nurse.

So we spend the first moments of every quiet morning together, cuddled up, with him nursing. I watch his face, I listen to him breathe. I gaze down at him and smile. He looks up at me with the same smile both in his eyes and tugging at the corners of his mouth. I stroke his hair, hold his hands, rub his back. And when he is finished, we start our day.

I absolutely love that we do this. Each morning. I look forward to it and relish every single one.

Talk About Being Caught Off Guard...

2006-03-02T06:46:00.000-05:00

At physical therapy, my doctor decided it is time for me to start getting clinical massage as part of my treatment once a week. I used to regularly spoil myself with full body massages at the chichi spas when I lived in PA. So I am familiar with the drill, you know; getting undressed and all that jazz. But I've only had a couple of "clinical massages" in my life and the woman who used to do those always had me stay fully clothed while she massaged strictly the problem area. I assumed this would be the same. I was wrong.

The massage therapist gave me a briefing on what he would do, how the massage would work, etc. Then he instructed me to get down to my underwear once he left the room, in preparation for a full body massage. I was expecting to remain fully clothed!! My panties had a decal of Yosemite Sam on the front and the words 2 Hot 2 Handle emblazoned across the tush. Man, was I embarrassed.

His Reflection

2006-03-01T06:58:00.000-05:00

We moved his carseat to the middle of the backseat. The older he is, the more easily he gets bored staring at the cloth of the seat-back in the car. So I decided to get him a play mirror to attach to the headrest, which gives him something interesting to look at and play with while we ride. It has worked like a charm!

However. I have since discovered that because he is in the middle of the backseat now, and because there is a mirror hanging from the headrest of that middle seat... if I angle my rearview mirror down ever so slightly, I can see my son! The mirror gives a perfect reflection of his sweet little face right into my rearview. I can see if my son is peaceful or upset, bored or entertained, awake or sleeping. Which is great for me. Not so great, though, for the other drivers on the road.....

Can You Read This?

2006-02-28T03:29:00.000-05:00

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!

Pearly Whites

2006-02-25T13:05:00.000-05:00

As my son was laughing and playing with me yesterday, I looked into his mouth and I saw two little white teeth! Where did these come from? I thought. One has already broken through the gum and the other one is well on its way to doing the same. They appeared, literally, overnight. My baby boy is growing up! Ok, I'm going to go cry now....

We're Sick :(

2006-02-24T06:55:00.000-05:00

Sweetie has been home all week with some sort of cold virus. He shared it with us. The baby spiked a fever and I feel like crap. Yesterday passed in a fog of fitful naps and dry coughing. This is the first time that my son has ever really been ill -- his fever neared 103˚ and really put me on edge. I must say that he is taking it like a trooper, I am sure that he doesn't understand why he feels so terrible. There are times that he gets pretty whiny, but for the most part he is his normal jubilant self. And of course, I took him to the doctor yesterday just to determine exactly what was causing the fever. As suspected, we all have the same thing. Right now I am sipping on chamomile tea sweetened with cream and honey because I want to avoid taking any medications at all costs. The baby gets infant tylenol every 4 hours, which really seems to help (once again, my dear tylenol has rekindled our love affair....). Mommy doesn't want any theraflu passing through her breastmilk, so she gets.... oh.... tea.

We really should have quarantined Sweetie. What ever happened to the mommy of the household being immune?

O, Happy Day!

2006-02-22T11:38:00.000-05:00

Today is one of the happiest days of my life. I got something that I have patiently been waiting over two years for. I feel joyous, and lighthearted, and free. But that's all I will say on the blog. Please, even though you may not know what the heck I am talking about... just say to me:
CONGRATULATIONS. ;-)

Precious Impressions

2006-02-21T11:11:00.000-05:00

I wasted $10 at Wal-Mart.

I was walking down the craft aisle when the cutest little thing caught my eye. A home casting kit, made just for babies, intended to create a statuette of their little hands and feet. What a beautiful idea! I thought.

Now you can hold your baby's hand forever -- the box promised me.

This would have made a wonderful baby shower gift. I was so excited to use this thing, and to get little statues of my son's hand and foot before he turned seven months old (which is today by the way - Happy 7 Months K.A!!).

The instructions were simple enough, the product was harmless, and the process seemed extremely straight-forward. Even me, someone who is not crafty at all, should have no trouble getting it done.

I prep K.A. by getting him undressed down to his diaper. I get all the materials out and begin to mix up the mold. So far so good. It's turning pink just as the instructions said. I pour the mold into the bag, moisten the baby's hand, and plunge it in.

Disaster ensues.

My baby wiggles and screams like I am hurting him. He will not sit still. I realize that I have a death grip on his arm in an effort to keep the mold inside the bag and no further than his wrist. Letting up on my grip caused the mold to ooze up to his shoulder. Now he has an entire arm covered in goo, instead of just a hand and a wrist.

Undaunted, I continue to "press and squeeze the gel" around his hand, making sure that it was covered at all times. Meanwhile, my son is using all his strength to flap his arm around; and he has real tears streaming down his face. At this point, I almost decide to just abandon the whole thing right then.

BUT.... the goo is turning white and firm, just like the instructions said it would! Perhaps this will be a success after all! So I decide to hang in there for just one more minute. After all, the kit promised to have a successful mold in under 3 actual minutes. One more minute of his crying is worth a lifetime of being able to see his precious six-month old hand.

The directions also said not to worry about your child moving his hand, because once the mold starts to firm up, the baby will no longer be able to move and a perfect impression will be the result.

Um..... no.

When I removed that big block of mold from his hand, the inside impression looked almost like a smooth bowl. There were three lines that vaguely indicated his fingers, but it was basically a blob. No impressions of his knuckles, fingernails or skin. Not to mention that now he has mold goo all the way up to his shoulder and he is looking at me with fire in his eyes.

I was so disgusted with the way the mold of his hand turned out, I didn't even bother pouring the plaster into it. Nor did I make a mold of his foot. I just threw the whole damn thing in the trash and cursed myself for thinking that it would ever look like the picture on the front of the box. No wonder they were so dusty and well-stocked on the store shelf.

I wasted $10 at Wal-Mart.

Self-Diagnosis

2006-02-16T15:46:00.000-05:00

I've managed to convince myself that my son has vitiligo. He's got these light-colored patches on his face that sometimes start out red and inflammed, and sometimes they are dry and itchy -- but not always. A few of the patches just seemed to have....appeared...... And they are lighter than the rest of his skin. So I went online and did some research. Now, no matter what anyone else says about it being eczema, I firmly believe that it's vitiligo. I even felt depressed enough about this to cry the other day, for my son and the obstacles he will have to face as a result of this condition; and I don't even know for sure if that's what it is! I'm a nut.

He has a doctor's appointment about it tomorrow. After the doctor tells me it is eczema, I am still going to ask her is she positive that it's not vitiligo anyway.

Lucky Me.

2006-02-15T08:01:00.000-05:00

Boy, am I a lucky girl. Yesterday I got Tiffany, a gorgeous rose & lily bouquet delivered to the house, a luxurious teddy bear, the sweetest card, and chocolate. The gifts kept coming all day long. Sweetie really spoils me. I'm not sure what I ever did in my life to deserve such a wonderful and caring man. A man who allows me to stay at home with our child. A man who spends quality time with his son every day and doesn't leave me to do all the baby chores. A man who gives me my every wish and desire. Not just on Valentine's Day, but every day.

Thank you, Sweetie. I love you and I appreciate you.

I Need A Vacation

2006-02-10T07:39:00.000-05:00

Before my baby was born, I was a world traveler. I was thinking today about how badly I need a real vacation. A change of scenery. Some place new. Which caused me to start going through my pics looking at some of the places I have already been. I decided to share a few of my favorites here with you.

All of these are taken from my very own camera - by none other than Yours Truly. Enjoy!

Red Bottom

2006-02-09T10:16:00.000-05:00

My son has a horrific diaper rash. It happened overnight. He cries when he poops and he screams when I change his diaper. It looks terrible, and I feel awful. Like somehow this is my fault.

Commercial Worthy

2006-02-06T23:19:00.000-05:00

Today for lunch I decided to take advantage of my temporarily supersonic metabolism and I visited the local Burger King. I had a hankering for a Double Whopper with cheese and extra tomatoes. Combo meal. With a Coke.

Have you ever had one of those fast food meals where everything was absolutely perfect? That was me, today. My Double Whopper was actually pretty. Everything was in place - not disgustingly thrown together. The patties were piping hot, the vegetables were crisp, and the cheese was melted, just so. Had the extra tomatoes just like I ordered. It looked like the ones on the commericals. Like the picture on the menu. Impeccable.

Adding to my intense pleasure, the french fries were scalding -- with just the right amount of salt. The Coke was ice cold with the kind of carbonation that burns your throat going down.

If every fast food meal was so perfect, and so delicious... I would be hooked for sure. I suppose it's a good thing (for my waistline, at least) that more often than not, these fast food places are serving up crap.

But oh... today? Orgasmic.

Qwyzzle

2006-02-05T14:06:00.000-05:00

Someone sent me this link.

The Qwyzzle 100 Challenge

Oh, how I despise them for it..... I have a baby to raise!!

Afternoon Delight

2006-02-02T21:40:00.000-05:00

I believe I have mentioned on here before that sometimes my son screams with delight. Today he went to therapy* with me, as usual. He didn't want to stay in his carseat this time and was getting a little fussy. So I took him out and held him in my lap during treatment. Apparently this tickled him so. He started grinning, then laughing, then screaming. And I mean, at the top of his lungs - screaming so loud that his face was turning red. I tried to calm him down, but my attempts to shush him only made him more excited. Which meant he began to scream with more frequency and intensity, neither of which I thought possible.

The assistant rushed us through to see the doctor, thanks to K.A's screaming we jumped ahead of everyone else in line. While in the patient room waiting for the doc to arrive, the baby continued to serenade me. With each scream his little body would tense up -- back straight, fists curled, neck cords bulging. He would totally empty his lungs with each scream. For the life of me, I don't know why he does this (and furthermore why it seems to happen most often in public places). But he screamed the whole time.

Finally we were free to go. As I was making my appointment for next week with the receptionist, she asks me "Was that your baby screaming like that?"

I answered in the affirmative.

"Was he upset --- or was he happy?"

I assure her he was not upset.

The receptionist's desk is on the complete opposite side of the building from the therapy room. Any questions?

* physical therapy for my back pain, from the accident in September.

Mikey Likes It!

2006-02-01T12:48:00.000-05:00

Ok, so his name isn't Mikey. But he sure does love his solids! So far he has tried rice cereal, oatmeal, fresh bananas, fresh avocado, pears, apples, peas, carrots, squash, sweet potatoes -- and probably some other things that I am currently forgetting. Our feeding episodes usually go something like this:

1. I put baby in his highchair and strap him in.
2. He bangs his fists on the tray and yells at me while I am fixing his bowl of food.
3. I sit down at the table and pull the highchair in close.
4. I place the bowl on his tray.
5. He reaches for it and tries to tip it over or grab the spoon.
6. I move the bowl off his tray.
7. He yells again and opens his mouth for the spoonful.
8. I give it to him.
9. He pauses.
10. Then squinches his face up and looks at me like "what did you just put in my mouth, woman?!"
11. I wait for him to recognize the flavor (or if it's something he is trying for the first time) decide if he likes it.
12. He swirls it around in his mouth very slowly.
13. I offer him another bite which he cautiously takes.
14. He decides he likes it and yells at me to hurry up with the rest.

Pretty much this is the routine; every day, for every feeding. So far there is only one thing he hasn't wanted to eat, and that was some fresh bananas I had mashed for him that just weren't ripe enough yet. He refused to eat those. But everything else has been a hit!

I am so proud of my son. I remember when I didn't want to start feeding him solids because it meant that he was growing up and therefore not needing me anymore. I can be such a silly-nilly.

The Pack & Play

2006-01-30T11:48:00.000-05:00

When my baby initially came home from the hospital we used to let him sleep in the pack & play in our bedroom. I love this device because it has a special section to be used as a bassinet and was our baby's "crib" for months. A nightlight attaches to the side which plays music and nature sounds. The second day K.A. was home with us, Sweetie laid him down for a nap and played the classical music for baby while he slept. Courtesy of the baby monitor, I could hear the refrains soaring in the next room. The music was so beautiful and peaceful. I thought of my brand-new baby lying in there sleeping; this music, this world -- everything so new to him. Feelings of pure love engulfed me and I cried tears of joy and thankfulness for my son.

He has since outgrown the bassinet portion of the pack & play. We are using it strictly as a play-yard now. But the other day, Sweetie put him in the play-yard with some toys and turned that same music on again. I was instantly transported back to my very first days of being a mother. Of learning how to take care of another human being. Of getting to know our son. Those days in which I was frankly overwhelmed with emotions and crippled with the love I felt for my new baby.

Then I realized that I love him even more now.

And I cried again.

The Kindness of Strangers

2006-01-27T11:47:00.000-05:00

Yesterday waiting in line at Sam's Club, a woman unknowingly made my day.

"Look at your son sleeping so peacefully... he is so beautiful!" she remarks as an opener. I hear this so much I am beginning to wonder if people just say that all babies are beautiful, or if everyone really does agree with me that he is gorgeous.

"Yes, thank you," I respond.

"And look at you," she continues, "you don't even look like you could have had a baby. You look great!"

I blush, although you can't tell through my nutty-colored skin.

Then the woman asks me, "How did you do it?"

"Well, I haven't really done anything," I answer rather sheepishly. "I just attribute it all to nursing."

"Yeah, well I nursed my babies too, but I didn't shrink!" she exclaims. "You are lucky. Very blessed indeed."

By this time my purchasing transaction is complete, so I thank the lady again and leave. But the egoist in me has to admit that this was a huge boost to my psyche. I mean, this woman didn't know what size I was prior to getting pregnant and here she is telling me that I look great! Which indicates to me that by any standard, I am not fat.

You have to know something about me to understand why this encounter stuck with me so. I was an overly chubby child. Ok, actually, I was fat. I used to dread family events because distant relatives would always remark on just how chubby I was getting or how I need to watch what I eat before I get too overweight. To a child, mind you! Needless to say, hearing comments like that through most of my early years has made me extremely self-conscious about my weight. Throw in the fact that my adult size fluctuates wildly, and we've got a problem. I always feel fat. It doesn't matter how thin I am, in my mind I can always stand to lose weight. I don't have a healthy body image at all. When I look in the mirror, I see a chubby girl. It's not until I see a picture of myself that I realize - hey, maybe I am not fat after all?

So for someone that I don't even know to imply that I might be thin... well, it almost makes me feel as good as when someone says that my baby is beautiful. Notice, I did say almost.

Picture Day

2006-01-25T16:19:00.000-05:00

For more photos of baby, click here.

Can I Take The Pain Away?

2006-01-24T14:10:00.000-05:00

There is one thing that parents cannot do for our children that I desperately wish I could change. We cannot take pain upon ourselves in order to relieve them of it. Today was K.A's 6 month well-baby appointment. I knew that he was going to get the dreaded immunizations that make him so unhappy for about two days afterwards. This morning was beautifully serene. We nursed, we played. I saw him really studying his hands and making note of how they work and move. We languished in each other's company.

We got the doctor's office. As usual, K.A. was the center of attention. He was extra happy today too. He was bouncing around, and kicking and laughing. Sometimes when he gets super-excited he screams with delight. He was doing that today too in the waiting room. They loved him, he loved them, I was a proud momma, and all was well with the world.

And then they called his name.

Unsuspecting, K.A. continues to be his friendly gregarious self and all the nurses gush over him as they take his weight, height, etc. The doctor comes in, singing to us, and the baby greets him with a glorious smile. He is so amiable and gives the doctor no problems during the exam.

The calm before the storm.

He gets his shots. This office does not have the combo immunizations, so my son got five different needles stuck in his chubby little thighs today. His face got crimson red; he screamed bloody murder. He sniffled and wept for five minutes afterwards. I cried on the inside harder and longer than that.

We get home, and he is still out of sorts. He is irritable and cries (hard) for seemingly no apparent reason. But I know he has a reason, and it tears my heart to shreds to see him weeping and wailing in such a way. Crying real tears and screaming with despair. He doesn't understand why he feels so awful. I would give anything to be able to take this pain and discomfort from my son and bear it myself.

He Understands

2006-01-22T14:44:00.000-05:00

My baby is smart. I am impressed with the things that he understands at his tender young age. I don't care what anyone says, he knows the word and sign for "milk". I can sit the baby on my lap, at a time when he is calm and totally unconcerned with nursing. And if I look him the eye, saying "baby, do you want some milk?" while simultaneously signing the word, his response clearly indicates that he understands what I am asking him. He will begin to whine, fidget - and if he is close enough, even bump his forehead against my chest. So don't try to tell me that a 6-month old cannot understand language. They can.

Additionally, he has come to associate his highchair with eating. We used to be able to sit K.A. in his highchair during busy times to get our hands free. But not anymore. As soon as the baby is sitting in his chair, he begins verbally demanding to eat. Goes from relatively quiet and content -- to excessively loud and impatient. Instantly. Just from the simple act of placing him in that chair. The only thing that will get him quiet at that point is food or removal from the apparatus. I have known for a long time that his powers of association were strong, as there have been many various examples. But this proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that my baby has memories and expectations. He uses context clues to put things together and he is beginning to make sense of the world around him.

I didn't realize that he would be so aware of things after only being on this earth for half a year. I have been underestimating babies all my life. It takes having one to truly understand their wonder.

3 Square Hots

2006-01-20T13:59:00.000-05:00

I can't remember the last time I was able to sit down and relish a meal. Ever since my baby was born, it has been a race to clean my plate. Racing because, soon he will be needing a diaper change or crying for his own meal. It never fails. I sit down to enjoy my food, K.A. begins to fuss or otherwise demand attention. He has trained me to shovel food into my mouth fast and furious, desperately hoping to eat as much of it as possible while A) it is still hot, and B) he is still relatively calm. I have become a pro at balancing a plate over his head or eating single-handed. Several instances he has worn crumbs from my meal on his outfit. And too many times to count, my food has been abandoned, at various stages of consumption, getting cold. Becoming ever the more unwanted.

Even in prison you get three hot meals per day.

So Does He Look Like Me?

2006-01-13T09:47:00.000-05:00

Me, at an Unspecified Baby Age

Him, at 24 Weeks

Potatoes, Sweet. Sauce, Apple. Bananas, Mashed.

2006-01-12T14:20:00.000-05:00

Everyone told me that since I started my baby off with sweet fruits like bananas and applesauce that he would refuse to eat his vegetables. Well, I really didn't care. He is my son, breastmilk is his main source of nutrition, and I wanted eating solids to be a pleasurable new experience for him. Fruit is sweet, and it tastes much better than veggies -- so I did it my way. Turns out everyone's 2 cents was worth even less than that.

After eating bananas, peaches, apples and pears (his favorite) I finally let him try sweet potatoes. He loved them! Next will be green beans and then peas - YUCK. But I am going to let him try it all. Just because mommy doesn't like it has no bearing on what baby will enjoy.

Confessions of a Guilty Mom

2006-01-09T09:23:00.001-05:00

Sometimes at the end of a long day, I do not change K.A. into his pajamas. I just take off his jacket/pants, leave him in his onesie, and throw a blanket sleeper over him. Voilà!

My goal is to read to the baby every day. We don't always meet that goal.

I spend time on the computer when my child is asleep. But there have been instances when he has awakened too early, so I sit him on my lap and let him watch me surf the net.

On the nights when K.A. is inconsolable and I am breaking my back trying to get him to go to sleep, I stick him in his swing and let that contraption do the job for me. It works like a charm.

K.A. falls asleep in his carseat most times when we are out and about. If I truly don't want to chance waking him from his nap, I just bring the carseat inside, set it on the floor and leave him be.

My baby doesn't get a bath every day. Sometimes I just wipe him off with a fresh baby wipe, lotion him down with some pink baby lotion and call it a day.

Sometimes I know that he is awake from his nap - I can feel his presence and hear him cooing - but I do not go to him until he cries out. I justify it by saying he wants his "alone time".

On many occasions, I admit to having wanted my baby to wake up when he is asleep; or go to sleep when he is awake.

I carry him and kiss him and hug him and cuddle him SO much that I wonder if I am spoiling him or making him soft.

I love him so much and think of him so often that I feel obsessed.

Stoic

2006-01-07T18:14:00.000-05:00

Usually when K.A. is awake, he is smiling, laughing, screaming or "talking". He is a bundle of noise and activity - the most bubbly personality ever. I can look at him and barely grin, and I am rewarded with a megawatt gummy smile of his own. But today, he dozed off in his swing. I was at the computer. Something told me to look over at him, even though I didn't hear a sound or anything at all to indicate that he was up. But he was. And he was just staring at me, with the most serious look on his little face. I smiled at him, grinned, winked. No response. Said "hey baby" in my sweetest voice. Nothing. He just kept staring at me; stoic.

It was weird.

I wonder what he was thinking.

They Fit!!

2006-01-06T07:48:00.000-05:00

Well since this is my blog I can use it for shameless self-approbation. I am officially back down to my pre-pregnancy weight. My old jeans fit perfectly, while my postpartum jeans now hang on me. I may not be put together the same, but the scale reads the right number and so does the tag on my clothes.

I gained nearly 40 pounds with this pregnancy. Every extra pound is gone. The best part about it all is that it took absolutely no effort on my part. The weight just fell off. I suppose breastfeeding really does burn a lot of extra calories because I am eating with abandon, the most fattening foods. Hey ladies, wanna eat whatever your heart desires and still lose weight? Breastfeed!

Gosh, I'm a lucky girl. Wonder if I can nurse forever?

For The Record...

2006-01-05T08:59:00.000-05:00

Being a stay at home mom is not a vacation. Nor is it an "easy" job. In fact, it is much harder than the corporate 9-to-5 that I used to get paid very well to do. I really resent it when people imply otherwise.

Just wanted to set the record straight.

Normalcy

2006-01-03T21:36:00.000-05:00

We made it through the holidays and a relocation, simultaneously. I have been neglecting my blog (and everything/everyone else) because there were gifts to wrap, a tree to trim, moving boxes to unpack, a house to clean, a new year to celebrate, and.... oh - a baby to take care of.

Today for the first time in a long while we returned to a sense of normalcy. I gave the baby a leisurely bath. I read him a book; we had playtime together. I fed the baby peaches, which he attempted to eat through his forehead. I sent away the evil mommy who kept sticking her child in some kind of play device and who also let one whole day go by without washing her baby up - so she could "unpack boxes."

My blog entries should once again become more regular. Funny how even when I am living my life (as opposed to just transcribing it), I am all the time thinking about this blog and what I'm going to relate next.

Santa Baby

2005-12-23T16:26:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas from K.A!!

Hooks, Anyone?

2005-12-22T16:17:00.000-05:00

Even though there were moving boxes everywhere, it was still my top priority to get a Christmas Tree. Where we live now is not really that close to any stores, so we made it a point to get everything that we needed for decorating the tree in one trip. And I mean everything. Being that this is my first year having a tree of my own {in the past I always traveled to KY for Christmas} I spent hours in the store trying to decide which decorations we were going to have on our tree. I carefully chose ornaments, garland, lights, a stand cover and more. We had everything; we were done.

We get home, and lay everything out -- ready to adorn our tree. But something is missing....

I wish somone had told me that ornaments do not automatically come with THESE!

A Watched Pot Never Boils

2005-12-17T20:53:00.000-05:00

We waited all morning for the woman to call. Into the afternoon. We got tired of waiting and decided to go run some errands.

We leave the house.

She calls.

Gloom & Doom

2005-12-16T07:11:00.000-05:00

You ever have one of those situations where everything that could possibly go wrong, does? Welcome to my world. Murphy's Law is in full effect right now. I consider myself one to roll with the punches, so to speak. But this is getting ridiculous.

Hectic

2005-12-15T10:17:00.000-05:00

Many of you know that we are having a new house built. We have been waiting on it to get finished for several months now. Things are drawing to a close and I have spent all morning trying to schedule the walkthrough, closing, move-in day, etc. It is no fun having to do all this so close to Christmas. Not only do we have to get our stuff in there and get settled, but we also have to prepare for the holiday all at the same time. It's the pits.

But the house is beautiful and our current living conditions are not. So even if we were moving in the day before Christmas I would just be grateful to be spending the holiday in our new home. Amidst moving paraphernalia and all. Moving boxes, gift boxes. What's the difference? We could clear out a Christmas area to make for some nice pics no matter what the rest of the house looks like. ;-)

If you don't see me on here for a few days it is because we are trying to get settled in our new place and also may not have internet service right away. Wish us luck!!

Thirty. 30. Three Decades.

2005-12-14T09:05:00.000-05:00

I'm 30. Yesterday was supposed to be my Happy Birthday but I spent most of the day depressed. Not because I was turning 30, per se, but just because it seems as though life is blowing by at warp speed. Consequently, my turning 30 is glaring evidence of that.

The morning was gloomy (even though it had been sunny here all week) and K.A. was being so fussy and irritable all day yesterday! Sweetie took me out for a steak & lobster dinner and we could hardly enjoy our meals because the baby cried and whined and fussed the entire time we were there. I still haven't figured out what he was crying about, other than maybe the fact that it was Mommy's special day and she is not allowed that? I swear, I can't remember the last time I was able to sit down and leisurely relish a meal. But that's another blog post for another blog day.

Anyway. Why am I tripping over turning 30?? Some would say that I am still young, that I have my whole life ahead of me. But I feel as though my life is now officially half over (give or take a few years). And if the rate at which the first half of my life went by is any indication of how quickly I will breeze through the second half.... shoot.... I might as well just order my funeral arrangements this weekend!

I felt so bad for Sweetie. He was trying so hard to help me celebrate my birthday and I was just devoid of... well, everything!

Too depressing for you? This post doesn't sound like my normal jubilant self. So what.

On a much more positive note, Sweetie purchased the camera that I had been wanting for my birthday gift. I believe that I have a knack for taking good photographs and I want to make a "career" out of it. Part-time to start, and then see where it goes. This is something that I love to do, and the thought of perhaps getting paid for it seems like a dream come true! I spent too many years in corporate america doing something that I hate, now I get to try my hand at something that I love. He got me the exact camera I requested. It is a professional 35mm SLR so watch out! Add the birthday money that Brother and my mom so generously gave me to buy a few more accessories -- and I will have everything I need to get started. I'm excited!

Sagittarius

2005-12-12T14:07:00.000-05:00

My birthday is tomorrow. THE BIG 3-0. Here is what my horoscope says about me...

Adventurous and open, you'll talk to anyone and try anything once. You love your freedom, but you never forget a friend.

Why you're wonderful: You're cheerful, truthful and a bundle of energy -- energy often devoted to helping others.

Why you're impossible: You're often unable to pause and take in the moment -- or to keep your mouth shut when you should. You may not have yet realized that you don't, in fact, know everything.

Yes! We Have No Bananas

2005-12-10T15:12:00.000-05:00

Last night was the night. We started baby on solids. Since he is 100% breastfed, we decided to give him mashed bananas because I read somewhere that breastfed babies prefer their sweet taste to the blandness of rice cereal.

He was definitely a good sport about eating off the spoon. I was so proud of him! However, he could not decide whether he actually liked the bananas. His face had such a dubious expression and to be honest he didn't seem all that interested in getting another spoonful. So he only ate a smidgen, and then he was ready to nurse again.

Which is fine by me. I didn't really want to start him on the solids anyway!!