Archive for the ‘Baby’ Category
The Hazards Of Crawling
Tuesday, February 13th, 2007
Sam has developed a taste for Meow Mix. Joy.
More Disney Memories – Sam Grows
Saturday, February 10th, 2007
During the last few weeks, Sam has grown quite a bit. She learned to sit up all on her own the week before we left for Disney, and was quite proud of herself. While we were in Orlando, she learned how to clap her hands and she started crawling. Plus, Sam also started eating solid food. She was quite insistent about it. No way was she going to let the rest of the family sample the gourmet cuisine in Disney World and not get a taste herself. The biggest change however, was Sam’s weight. I had to haul little Miss Chunky Butt all through Disney, and let me tell you, that kid just got heavier by the hour. By the time we got home, my left arm and shoulder had seized up from carrying Sam so much. And why did I carry her so much? Because the little fart figured out if she said “Mama!” she could have whatever she wanted.
Smart kid.
Smart kid.
Mired In Mucus And Mundania
Saturday, September 16th, 2006
Sam has a cold. She’s very congested, which makes it hard for her to nurse. I keep taking her into the shower to steam out her sinuses. Even so, we were up all night last night, dealing with the hacking, coughing, snuffling and oozing. She’s nursing right now but still having problems breathing while doing it. I’m hoping she takes a nap this morning to make up for her lack of sleep last night.
Meanwhile, I’m slumming around in the baggiest t-shirt I own. The only think baggier is my eyes. After all the ranting I did last time about wanting to jumpstart my life and follow my wildest dreams, it seems I’m pretty much stuck in mundane life right now, wiping snotty noses and praying for a few free moments to take a bath so I can wash the smell of spit-up out of my hair.
Sam is struggling too much to let me type, so I’m going to quit for now. Maybe I’ll get some work done later today. Probably not, though.
Who Do Voo Doo? September 16, 2006
Meanwhile, I’m slumming around in the baggiest t-shirt I own. The only think baggier is my eyes. After all the ranting I did last time about wanting to jumpstart my life and follow my wildest dreams, it seems I’m pretty much stuck in mundane life right now, wiping snotty noses and praying for a few free moments to take a bath so I can wash the smell of spit-up out of my hair.
Sam is struggling too much to let me type, so I’m going to quit for now. Maybe I’ll get some work done later today. Probably not, though.
Who Do Voo Doo? September 16, 2006
The Descent Into Hell
Wednesday, August 9th, 2006
The Italian poet Dante wrote a story called “The Inferno.” It’s an amazing piece of work, wherein Dante describes his descent through the nine circles of Hell, guided by none other than Plato himself. Plato gets to play tour guide in this one because he was a non-Christian but, in Dante’s opinion, still one of the good guys who ended up residing in Purgatory. Dante’s “Inferno” is written in intricate rhyming stanzas with brilliant imagery, calling up all the details of the nether realm, right down to his visitation with Lucifer at the very bottom of Hell. It’s truly astounding to read.
My own descent into hell last not was not nearly so imaginative. It started early yesterday afternoon. I was having trouble getting Sam to go down for her nap. Normally, I can nurse her down with no problem during the day. It’s night time that’s usually the nightmare. But yesterday, I couldn’t get Sam to settle to save my life. She’d nurse and fuss and fuss and nurse. I tried repeatedly to put her in her bassinette, only to have to pick her up again because she had blown out her diaper or spit up all over herself. Sometime around 5 PM, she finally fussed herself to sleep. Cassie didn’t get up until 6PM from her nap so I managed to squeeze in an hour of work. Then things really got interesting.
Michael left at around 7PM to go to karate class. I went through the usual evening routine of misbehavior and tantrums from Cassie. I had to hold Sam through all of it because she kept wailing. I finally got Cassie into bed just before Michael came home. Being completely exhausted, I put Sam down in her car seat to cry for a while as I tried to prepare for the next day. I kept hoping she’d cry herself out and fall asleep. That never happened.
Fifteen minutes after Michael got home, Sam’s wailing turned to shrieking. Michael picked her up and held her while I finished off my evening chores and tried to do most of the next morning’s chores as well. She fell asleep on her daddy around 10:30 PM. Relieved, we took her upstairs and put her back into the car seat to sleep (she still can’t sleep lying flat on her back). I went back downstairs to get a drink. When I came back up, Sam was awake and screaming again.
The screaming went on all night. Michael and I took shifts trying to comfort her. I tried nursing her, but Sam kept popping off and on again. Michael took her downstairs around midnight and after an hour of rocking her and patting her back, he got her to sleep for half an hour. As soon as he brought her back upstairs and put her back in the car seat, the screaming started all over again. So we ran a hot shower and I took Sam in with me. She calmed down a bit but wouldn’t fall asleep. I got dressed and tried to nurse her. She wouldn’t nurse. I checked her temperature. It was normal. We changed her diaper three times, each time discovering it was full of that damned green watery poop that has plagued us for the last seven weeks. After the last diaper change at 3 AM I took Sam back downstairs and tried putting her in the swing to lull her to sleep. It worked for a few minutes. Then she started howling again. I grabbed a blanket and a pillow and lay on the floor with her. She nursed a little bit and sometime around 4:30 AM fell asleep again. Then she woke up screaming at 5 AM. I took her back upstairs and crawled into bed with her. She nursed again and finally fell into a deep sleep around 5:30 AM.
Then at 6:30 AM I woke up to the sound of Cassie screaming bloody murder. I sent Michael out to check on her. He came back and said she was on the toilet and wouldn’t talk to him. She wanted me. I sent him back out again to try and calm her down. The screaming got worse. Since Sam was finally asleep, I put her in her bassinette and went to see what was wrong with my three-year-old daughter.
Cassie was in hysterics, crying and screaming so hard that I was afraid she’d puke all over herself. I tried calming her, but she was inconsolable. Frustrated and tired, I sent her back to her room and shut the door. Michael lay on the hallway floor, semi-conscious. I waited for a minute until Cassie’s sobs slowed. Then I pulled myself together, grabbed a washcloth, and went in to soothe my sobbing child.
Even now, I still don’t know why Cassie was screaming. I never could get a coherent answer. It may be that she just woke up knowing that Michael and I had descended straight into hell and she wanted to contribute to that experience as much as she could. Or it could be that she was a little jealous of all the attention Sam was getting through out the night. Or it could simply be she had a nightmare. I’ll probably never know.
As for Sam, she continues to scream in between short naps. There’s snot coming out her nose now, and she feels a little warm. I’m going to take her temperature again and keep watching for strange green poop. Later today, around 3 PM, we have an appointment with the pediatrician. In the mean time, I’m doing my damnedest to stay awake and take care of both kids.
I’m in hell, people. That’s all there is to it. The bitch of it is that I don’t even have someone cool like Plato to give me the 25 cent tour.
And people wonder why the mommy and the baby in my profile picture have horns on their head...
Feeding Frenzy
Sunday, July 23rd, 2006
Ugh. Feeding Sam in bed all night last night did not work out like I’d planned. Instead of getting any sleep, I ended up becoming a 24-hour milk bar for a very fussy customer.
We started at 8:30 PM in the glider, where I nursed Sam for an hour. This wasn’t an easy, gentle nursing either, the kind where the baby falls asleep in your lap and just makes the occasional suck for comfort’s sake. This was active, vigorous nursing that started to chafe after the first thirty minutes or so. I tried to let Sam keep going, hoping she’d get her fill and doze off. But when the hour mark hiy and she was still hard at it, I decided it was time to put her down for bed. Not an easy thing to do. I had to wedge a couple fingers into the viselike grip of her tiny jaws and pry them apart. That pissed her off of course, and she instantly went from a hungry but drowsy infant to a flailing, fussy, farting fireball.
It was 9:30 PM at this point, still early enough for me to get a good night’s sleep. Since Sam was only fussing but not actually screaming, I put her in the bouncy chair and left the room. I had this delusion that if I went downstairs for a little while and watched TV, when I came back up she’d be sound asleep. Big mistake. She was quiet up until she heard me enter the upstairs hallway. Then she started to howl. Being too tired to strap her into the front carrier and wear her out downstairs, I just gave in and pulled her into bed with me to nurse.
That was at 10:30 PM. A half hour later at 11, Sam was still nursing. The right side of my body was numb from lying still for so long. Sam, of course, was going full blast, just like earlier and once again I had to pry her off. She immediately started crying and grunting and hyperventilating, so I rolled over and let her have the other breast. Another half hour went by. By midnight, Sam was quiet but still sucking pretty strong. I pried her off anyway. My nipples were raw. She flailed for a bit, then finally calmed down and went to sleep. At 12:30 AM, I very carefully picked her up and strapped her into the bouncy chair, then went to sleep myself.
I woke up to a lot of grunting and hyperventilating. It was Sam again, of course. Her eyes were closed, but she was going nuts in the bouncy chair. I checked my clock. It was only 1:30 AM. I’d expected her to sleep until at least 2:30. How could she be hungry again that soon? Her eyes weren’t open though, so I thought maybe she was just fussing in her sleep and it would pass. I laid there for an hour listening to her thrash around in the chair. Finally, I gave up and pulled her back in bed again. My nipples still hurt, so I tried pulling her close to me and patting her on the back to lull her back into sleep. She dozed off after a while and I put her back in the bouncy chair.
Thirty minutes later, she was back in bed with me, this time nursing again. I swear, I thought she was going to suck my toenails out through my nipples. We went 40 minutes on one side and then another 20 on the other. My neck and back ached from lying curled around her. I wanted to lie flat on my back, but couldn’t do that and nurse Sam too. After another hour, I pulled her off and put her back in the bouncy chair. She raised a fuss. Then her hiccoughs kicked in. Sam has the loudest, most violent hiccoughs I have ever heard. They sound like large balloons exploding right in your ear. I tried to wait it out, but the noise was too much. I grabbed my pillow and went into the guest room. Even in there, I could still hear her hyperventilating and hiccupping. If an adult hyperventilated like that, they’d have passed out long before. Why couldn’t Sam do the same, I wondered as I pressed my pillow over my head.
At some point, I dozed off. Then I woke up again to the sound of crying. I stumbled into the bedroom and found Michael changing Sam’s diaper. It was 4 AM. He held her and rocked her for a while as I tried to get a little more sleep. Sam wouldn’t calm down. By 4:30, she ended up back in bed with me. Only this time, she was so agitated she wouldn’t latch on. She kept taking the nipple and spitting it back out. Then she'd wail each time I put it back into my bra. It took her a good fifteen minutes to finally hook up to the milk bar.
My usual wake up time of 5:30 AM came and went. Sam kept nursing. At around 6, she finally detached herself and went to sleep. I thought briefly about trying to put her back in the bouncy chair but by this time my back, neck and shoulders had seized up so that I resembled a giant question mark. Being unable to unlock my stiffened spine, I laid there and suffered before finally drifting off myself.
We woke up just before 8 AM, when Cassie came in looking for us. What a sweet child. What a loveable darling. No matter how bad her temper tantrums are at times, she does sleep through the night. How can you not love a child who does that?
Meanwhile, the human piranha dozed peacefully with her face tucked into my armpit. Michael took Cassie downstairs. I spent half an hour straightening my spine until I could finally get out of bed. Sam snoozed peacefully as I transferred her back to the bouncy chair. I took a shower and brushed my teeth. She never so much as sighed.
So Sam binged on milk all night long. Now I am dead tired, which means I will be facing my own feeding frenzy today, stuffing my face to sate my fatigue-induced craving for sugar and carbs. The only good thing about this is that I now weigh three pounds less today than I did yesterday. How much do you want to bet that Sam weighs three pounds more?
We started at 8:30 PM in the glider, where I nursed Sam for an hour. This wasn’t an easy, gentle nursing either, the kind where the baby falls asleep in your lap and just makes the occasional suck for comfort’s sake. This was active, vigorous nursing that started to chafe after the first thirty minutes or so. I tried to let Sam keep going, hoping she’d get her fill and doze off. But when the hour mark hiy and she was still hard at it, I decided it was time to put her down for bed. Not an easy thing to do. I had to wedge a couple fingers into the viselike grip of her tiny jaws and pry them apart. That pissed her off of course, and she instantly went from a hungry but drowsy infant to a flailing, fussy, farting fireball.
It was 9:30 PM at this point, still early enough for me to get a good night’s sleep. Since Sam was only fussing but not actually screaming, I put her in the bouncy chair and left the room. I had this delusion that if I went downstairs for a little while and watched TV, when I came back up she’d be sound asleep. Big mistake. She was quiet up until she heard me enter the upstairs hallway. Then she started to howl. Being too tired to strap her into the front carrier and wear her out downstairs, I just gave in and pulled her into bed with me to nurse.
That was at 10:30 PM. A half hour later at 11, Sam was still nursing. The right side of my body was numb from lying still for so long. Sam, of course, was going full blast, just like earlier and once again I had to pry her off. She immediately started crying and grunting and hyperventilating, so I rolled over and let her have the other breast. Another half hour went by. By midnight, Sam was quiet but still sucking pretty strong. I pried her off anyway. My nipples were raw. She flailed for a bit, then finally calmed down and went to sleep. At 12:30 AM, I very carefully picked her up and strapped her into the bouncy chair, then went to sleep myself.
I woke up to a lot of grunting and hyperventilating. It was Sam again, of course. Her eyes were closed, but she was going nuts in the bouncy chair. I checked my clock. It was only 1:30 AM. I’d expected her to sleep until at least 2:30. How could she be hungry again that soon? Her eyes weren’t open though, so I thought maybe she was just fussing in her sleep and it would pass. I laid there for an hour listening to her thrash around in the chair. Finally, I gave up and pulled her back in bed again. My nipples still hurt, so I tried pulling her close to me and patting her on the back to lull her back into sleep. She dozed off after a while and I put her back in the bouncy chair.
Thirty minutes later, she was back in bed with me, this time nursing again. I swear, I thought she was going to suck my toenails out through my nipples. We went 40 minutes on one side and then another 20 on the other. My neck and back ached from lying curled around her. I wanted to lie flat on my back, but couldn’t do that and nurse Sam too. After another hour, I pulled her off and put her back in the bouncy chair. She raised a fuss. Then her hiccoughs kicked in. Sam has the loudest, most violent hiccoughs I have ever heard. They sound like large balloons exploding right in your ear. I tried to wait it out, but the noise was too much. I grabbed my pillow and went into the guest room. Even in there, I could still hear her hyperventilating and hiccupping. If an adult hyperventilated like that, they’d have passed out long before. Why couldn’t Sam do the same, I wondered as I pressed my pillow over my head.
At some point, I dozed off. Then I woke up again to the sound of crying. I stumbled into the bedroom and found Michael changing Sam’s diaper. It was 4 AM. He held her and rocked her for a while as I tried to get a little more sleep. Sam wouldn’t calm down. By 4:30, she ended up back in bed with me. Only this time, she was so agitated she wouldn’t latch on. She kept taking the nipple and spitting it back out. Then she'd wail each time I put it back into my bra. It took her a good fifteen minutes to finally hook up to the milk bar.
My usual wake up time of 5:30 AM came and went. Sam kept nursing. At around 6, she finally detached herself and went to sleep. I thought briefly about trying to put her back in the bouncy chair but by this time my back, neck and shoulders had seized up so that I resembled a giant question mark. Being unable to unlock my stiffened spine, I laid there and suffered before finally drifting off myself.
We woke up just before 8 AM, when Cassie came in looking for us. What a sweet child. What a loveable darling. No matter how bad her temper tantrums are at times, she does sleep through the night. How can you not love a child who does that?
Meanwhile, the human piranha dozed peacefully with her face tucked into my armpit. Michael took Cassie downstairs. I spent half an hour straightening my spine until I could finally get out of bed. Sam snoozed peacefully as I transferred her back to the bouncy chair. I took a shower and brushed my teeth. She never so much as sighed.
So Sam binged on milk all night long. Now I am dead tired, which means I will be facing my own feeding frenzy today, stuffing my face to sate my fatigue-induced craving for sugar and carbs. The only good thing about this is that I now weigh three pounds less today than I did yesterday. How much do you want to bet that Sam weighs three pounds more?
Interpreting Your Baby’s Cries (yeah, right.)
Thursday, July 20th, 2006
In just about every magazine and book on parenting, you’ll find articles on how to interpret your baby’s cries. One cry will tell you she’s hungry, one will tell you her diaper is wet, one will tell you she’s bored, etc., etc., etc. This is all part of baby’s first attempts to communicate with you, the parents. Well according to experts I know (my mom and dad), children never willingly communicate anything useful to their parents. In fact, all attempts at communication are usually stringently avoided unless your kids want you to buy them something.
However, I do believe that Sam is trying to tell me something when she starts wailing, and she has a wide range of expressive cries. As a public service to other frazzled, burnt-out moms, I have decided to share with you what those different types of cries mean.
Soft grunting noise - I am not happy. Do something about it.
Hard grunting noise, accompanied by farting or spitting up - I am not happy. Do something about it or I will make a big mess and you will have to clean it up.
Persistent crying, accompanied by arms flailing and legs kicking - I’m ticked off. Pick me up so I may smash my pointed little head into your face.
High pitched screaming, face turns bright red and eyes are screwed shut - I’m getting pissed off here. Make me happy or else.
Mouth is opened wide in a scream, but no noise comes out; baby’s face is livid; her entire body is shaking in rage - I’m really, really pissed off. Make me happy now or you’re going to regret it.
Baby emits the same ear-piercing, glass shattering scream over and over and over again; her face is twisted into an expression that looks like something out of a horror movie; her arms and legs are locked straight out and her entire body is rigid - I hate you. You are incompetent. Who the hell told you that you could be a parent? I want my money back. This sucks. I’ll spend the rest of my life in therapy because you can not figure out how to make me happy. By the way, I’ve got a big messy poop in my diaper again and as soon as you pick me up I will spit up all over your best shirt, which is dry clean only of course.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what your infant is really trying to tell you. Good luck.
However, I do believe that Sam is trying to tell me something when she starts wailing, and she has a wide range of expressive cries. As a public service to other frazzled, burnt-out moms, I have decided to share with you what those different types of cries mean.
Soft grunting noise - I am not happy. Do something about it.
Hard grunting noise, accompanied by farting or spitting up - I am not happy. Do something about it or I will make a big mess and you will have to clean it up.
Persistent crying, accompanied by arms flailing and legs kicking - I’m ticked off. Pick me up so I may smash my pointed little head into your face.
High pitched screaming, face turns bright red and eyes are screwed shut - I’m getting pissed off here. Make me happy or else.
Mouth is opened wide in a scream, but no noise comes out; baby’s face is livid; her entire body is shaking in rage - I’m really, really pissed off. Make me happy now or you’re going to regret it.
Baby emits the same ear-piercing, glass shattering scream over and over and over again; her face is twisted into an expression that looks like something out of a horror movie; her arms and legs are locked straight out and her entire body is rigid - I hate you. You are incompetent. Who the hell told you that you could be a parent? I want my money back. This sucks. I’ll spend the rest of my life in therapy because you can not figure out how to make me happy. By the way, I’ve got a big messy poop in my diaper again and as soon as you pick me up I will spit up all over your best shirt, which is dry clean only of course.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what your infant is really trying to tell you. Good luck.
Another Long Night With A Screaming Baby
Wednesday, July 19th, 2006
I stand corrected. Michael is not going to Disney World for his conference in August. He’s going to the Rocky Mountains in Colorado instead. Not quite as fun a destination, but he still gets to go sans kids and spouse for a week. Quite frankly, I’d kill just to go to the bookstore for a few hours sans kids and spouse. As a matter of fact, after a week dealing with the kids on my own, I just might kill as soon as Michael walks in the door.
We had another long night last night. Sam continues to have problems with lactose overload. I overproduce breast milk and as a result Sam gets too much foremilk and not enough hind milk. The foremilk is loaded with lactose, and when she gets too much in her digestive tract, she has a lot of tummy troubles - gas, fussiness, and messy green poop. It’s painful for her and she screams all night whenever this happens. I’m still experimenting, trying to figure out how to get her more hind milk, which has all the fats in it that will help fill her up more quickly and keep her from overeating. I’ve been pumping off about an ounce of milk before nursing her. I think the problem yesterday was that I gave her a bottle of pumped milk while we were out. There was probably too much foremilk in it and not enough hind. This is going to cause problems if that’s the case, because now I’ll have to pump extra milk whenever I want to have a bottle for her, getting rid of the first ounce or two. I can do it, but it may make me produce even more milk, which causes my breast to swell up like big fat water balloons and only furthers the problem of overproduction.
Sigh. I can’t win.
Anyway, Sam wouldn’t settle down after her 9 PM feeding so it looked like we were in for a long night of back patting and walking around the house. I tried giving her a bath, but that didn’t help much. I let her nurse, hoping she’d soothe herself to sleep while she ate, but that didn’t work either, and probably only made things worse. I tried pulling her into bed with me and patting her back until she calmed down, but she wasn’t having any of that last night. Finally, around 11 PM, I put her in the front pack and headed downstairs to walk around the house with her for a while.
The worst thing about nights like these is that they make me feel totally useless. There is almost nothing I can do to soothe Sam, and what I can do wears me out pretty quickly. I also know that I’ll be up all night, making me even more useless the next day. Not a fun situation to be in, especially on Wednesday, which is Cassie’s play date day. While I was downstairs with Sam, I decided to set up the coffee maker to make my morning a little more bearable. As I was washing out the filter, Sam started to calm down a bit. That’s when I suddenly had an idea. What if, instead of waiting until tomorrow morning to do my chores, I did them then and there while Sam was strapped to me? I couldn’t do everything, but I could do most of my morning routine, and that way I wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning the house the next morning while I was dead on my feet.
I decided to try it. After setting up the coffee pot, I went through my list of chores and did most everything I would normally do at 6 AM. I folded laundry, washed the cat food bowls, swept the floors, straightened up and put toys away, etc., etc. By midnight, the downstairs was clean. Even better, Sam was sound asleep, her little face buried between my overproducing breasts.
I was able to get Sam upstairs and into bed without waking her. She slept for almost four hours before waking to nurse. When she woke, she didn’t seem as fussy. I let myself sleep late this morning, but because I got my chores done, I’m still on track to get out the door in time for Cassie’s play date, AND I’m not dead on my feet. I’ll have to remember this for next time. It’s going to make my life a lot easier today.
Potty Mouth And Baby Talk
Saturday, July 8th, 2006
One of these days, we’ll all be old enough to go to the toilet.
It’s a sad fact of life that once you have kids, certain adult things go right out the window. Going to the toilet is one of them. In our house, everyone goes “potty,” including my husband and me. I’m not even sure I can say the word “toilet” anymore because I’ve been saying “potty” for so long.
We do not urinate or have a bowel movement anymore either. We have poo-poo or pee-pee. But that’s okay because nobody in the house has a butt. Somehow we’ve all developed tushies instead.
I don’t know where the baby talk came from. I had no intentions of using it with my kids, but somehow it crept in while I wasn’t looking. It all sounds great when mixed in with my usual swearing, I tell you.
What’s really funny is the fact that Cassie is quite capable of speaking and understanding long words. Lately, she’s been asking me if we can have a “conversation” together. That’s her choice of words, not mine. She sounds so adult when she asks this, but once I say yes, things take a turn for the weird. It goes something like this.
“Mommy, can we have a conversation?”
“Of course, sweetie. What shall we talk about?”
“Hmm... Let’s talk about eating people.”
“Uh, okaaaaay, what about eating people?”
“Monsters eat people. People are crunchy.”
“Who told you this?”
“Aunt Khaki.”
“Remind me to thank Aunt Khaki the next time we talk to her.”
“Okay.”
Of course, the conversation with Aunt Khaki isn’t that much more rational. And I have conversations like this all day long. It’s no wonder I think I’m going crazy.
It’s a sad fact of life that once you have kids, certain adult things go right out the window. Going to the toilet is one of them. In our house, everyone goes “potty,” including my husband and me. I’m not even sure I can say the word “toilet” anymore because I’ve been saying “potty” for so long.
We do not urinate or have a bowel movement anymore either. We have poo-poo or pee-pee. But that’s okay because nobody in the house has a butt. Somehow we’ve all developed tushies instead.
I don’t know where the baby talk came from. I had no intentions of using it with my kids, but somehow it crept in while I wasn’t looking. It all sounds great when mixed in with my usual swearing, I tell you.
What’s really funny is the fact that Cassie is quite capable of speaking and understanding long words. Lately, she’s been asking me if we can have a “conversation” together. That’s her choice of words, not mine. She sounds so adult when she asks this, but once I say yes, things take a turn for the weird. It goes something like this.
“Mommy, can we have a conversation?”
“Of course, sweetie. What shall we talk about?”
“Hmm... Let’s talk about eating people.”
“Uh, okaaaaay, what about eating people?”
“Monsters eat people. People are crunchy.”
“Who told you this?”
“Aunt Khaki.”
“Remind me to thank Aunt Khaki the next time we talk to her.”
“Okay.”
Of course, the conversation with Aunt Khaki isn’t that much more rational. And I have conversations like this all day long. It’s no wonder I think I’m going crazy.
My Amazing Three-Year-Old – The Secret To Surviving Life With Child Number Two
Friday, July 7th, 2006
I decided to forgo yesterday’s blog entry in order to finish off a short story for ERWA’s Blasphemy theme week. The writers’ group dedicates the first week of each month to a particular theme and I decided to see if I could actually start and complete a story in the five weeks between Sam’s birth and the upcoming theme deadline. The astonishing thing is that I did manage to complete the story and get it posted to the group. I don’t think it’s my best work, but it got done, which is all the proof that I need to know I’m back in the saddle again.
Yes, I think I’m back to a normal life, or as close as I’ll ever get, five weeks after Sam was born. It took a lot of work and a lot of help, but hey, it’s currently 9 AM and I’m dressed, Cassie’s dressed, everybody’s had breakfast, the laundry is folded and all my morning chores are done. Just as soon as Sam finishes nursing, I’m headed out the door for a 30 minute appointment with the jog stroller and my neighborhood walking path. Life does not get any better than this, boys and girls.
So how did this happen? Well, I owe a lot of this success to my oldest daughter Cassie, who’s only 3 ½ years old. Cassie has not only made life easy for me the past five weeks, she’s actually gone out of her way to help me. Now I’m not saying we haven’t had some temper tantrums and whining and all out fits, but for a three-year-old, Cass has been pretty amazing. For starters, she knows how to entertain herself. This is a huge help when I’ve got my hands full with a hungry baby. Right now, as I nurse Sam and type out this entry, Cassie is sitting on my bed reading some of her books. She makes the occasional comment to me, and sometimes asks for things I can’t possibly do at the moment (like run downstairs and get her milk, tie her shoes, etc.), but for the most part she’s keeping herself busy and content.
Cass has also been pretty good about helping out. If I’m stuck in the glider or on the couch, I can ask Cassie to get me something and she’ll usually find it with no problems. Sometimes she’ll give me that vacant stare and shoulder shrug that says, “Cassie’s not in right now, but if you’ll leave a message...” but for the most part, I can ask for something and usually get it.
What other amazing things does my big girl do? She dresses herself most mornings, or cons her daddy into doing it for her. I will admit, she does make some unusual outfit choices. Personally, I wouldn’t wear a Disney Snow White costume with purple sneakers, orange socks and hot pink swimming goggles, but if Cass thinks she can pull it off, who am I to stifle her sense of style?
Cassie also makes her own bed. Sometimes she’ll pick up her toys. She can shoo the cats out of the room if they’re being pests and she’s gotten very good at telling me when it’s time to breastfeed Sam or change her diaper. She also likes to announce when Sam farts, but I’m not really sure that qualifies as helping.
Perhaps the most astounding thing about Cassie is her ability to go potty all by herself. That makes all the difference in the world, let me tell you. I only have to worry about changing diapers on one child, and I don’t have to constantly prod Cassie to use the toilet. She knows when she has to go and will do it by herself. When we’re out, she’ll even ask to be taken to the potty if she needs. We have had a few accidents, but not enough to be a problem.
My girl is so smart! So well behaved! So astonishing to me! It’s hard to believe that she was once a chunky little baby like her sister, who spent most of the day lying across my lap as she sucked the life out of me through my nipples. How did this happen? When did this kid get so big and so capable?
I don't know, but my advice to any mom thinking about having child number two is to make sure child number one can stand on her own two feet first. You’ll be ever so grateful when you’ve got a little helper ready to lend you a hand with your new screaming bundle of joy.
Yes, I think I’m back to a normal life, or as close as I’ll ever get, five weeks after Sam was born. It took a lot of work and a lot of help, but hey, it’s currently 9 AM and I’m dressed, Cassie’s dressed, everybody’s had breakfast, the laundry is folded and all my morning chores are done. Just as soon as Sam finishes nursing, I’m headed out the door for a 30 minute appointment with the jog stroller and my neighborhood walking path. Life does not get any better than this, boys and girls.
So how did this happen? Well, I owe a lot of this success to my oldest daughter Cassie, who’s only 3 ½ years old. Cassie has not only made life easy for me the past five weeks, she’s actually gone out of her way to help me. Now I’m not saying we haven’t had some temper tantrums and whining and all out fits, but for a three-year-old, Cass has been pretty amazing. For starters, she knows how to entertain herself. This is a huge help when I’ve got my hands full with a hungry baby. Right now, as I nurse Sam and type out this entry, Cassie is sitting on my bed reading some of her books. She makes the occasional comment to me, and sometimes asks for things I can’t possibly do at the moment (like run downstairs and get her milk, tie her shoes, etc.), but for the most part she’s keeping herself busy and content.
Cass has also been pretty good about helping out. If I’m stuck in the glider or on the couch, I can ask Cassie to get me something and she’ll usually find it with no problems. Sometimes she’ll give me that vacant stare and shoulder shrug that says, “Cassie’s not in right now, but if you’ll leave a message...” but for the most part, I can ask for something and usually get it.
What other amazing things does my big girl do? She dresses herself most mornings, or cons her daddy into doing it for her. I will admit, she does make some unusual outfit choices. Personally, I wouldn’t wear a Disney Snow White costume with purple sneakers, orange socks and hot pink swimming goggles, but if Cass thinks she can pull it off, who am I to stifle her sense of style?
Cassie also makes her own bed. Sometimes she’ll pick up her toys. She can shoo the cats out of the room if they’re being pests and she’s gotten very good at telling me when it’s time to breastfeed Sam or change her diaper. She also likes to announce when Sam farts, but I’m not really sure that qualifies as helping.
Perhaps the most astounding thing about Cassie is her ability to go potty all by herself. That makes all the difference in the world, let me tell you. I only have to worry about changing diapers on one child, and I don’t have to constantly prod Cassie to use the toilet. She knows when she has to go and will do it by herself. When we’re out, she’ll even ask to be taken to the potty if she needs. We have had a few accidents, but not enough to be a problem.
My girl is so smart! So well behaved! So astonishing to me! It’s hard to believe that she was once a chunky little baby like her sister, who spent most of the day lying across my lap as she sucked the life out of me through my nipples. How did this happen? When did this kid get so big and so capable?
I don't know, but my advice to any mom thinking about having child number two is to make sure child number one can stand on her own two feet first. You’ll be ever so grateful when you’ve got a little helper ready to lend you a hand with your new screaming bundle of joy.
Mystery Of The Green Poop Solved?
Wednesday, July 5th, 2006
I may have figured out what Sam’s problem is. Yesterday morning I did some poking around on the web, trying to figure out what else I could do to soothe a colicky baby. One thing about Sam’s late night crying that’s been bothering me is the green, mucous-like poop she has. She only gets it at night, never during the day. On Friday, when we went to the pediatrician’s office, I asked about this but the nurse practitioner who saw us said there was no connection between the nighttime green poop and the all night crying jags.
Well she was wrong!
At least I think she’s wrong. I finally searched Web MD for “colic” and “green bowel movement” and I came up with one hit, an article that lists everything you didn’t want to know about breastfeeding and ailments in infants. Turns out there’s something called infant lactose overload, which is something that happens when a baby gets too much foremilk and not enough hindmilk.
Some folks may be scratching their heads at this point and asking, “What the hell is foremilk and hindmilk?” Well, breast milk comes in two flavors, and I’m not talking chocolate and vanilla here. When a baby first starts to nurse, the milk that comes out is full of protein and a sugar called lactose. That’s the foremilk. After a while, the milk changes so that it’s got more fat in it and less protein and sugar. That’s the hindmilk. Apparently, if the baby gets too much foremilk, the bacteria in her intestines will latch onto it and cause a lot of gas (which is painful for the baby) and will also cause watery green poop.
How does the baby get too much foremilk? Well, in my case, it’s probably a problem of overproduction. Yes, my D-cups runneth over. Sam gets filled up with the excess milk I make, getting more foremilk before she can get to the hindmilk. Since she nurses more frequently during the day, all that sugar in the foremilk spends all day long fermenting in her little bowels, thus the nightly deposits of green poop in her diapers. The solution to the problem is for me to pump off some excess milk before nursing her. This means that I am suddenly very happy that all my friends donated their breast pumps to me when they were done breastfeeding. I have four Medela pumps and one Advent and it looks like I’m going to be rotating through all of them to bleed off at least two ounces of milk before each feeding to ensure Sam gets to that hindmilk.
The good news is we figured this out yesterday morning so I was able to pump before each daytime feeding. Sam was still wide awake and fussy last night at 10 PM, but she wasn’t squalling like normal. I was able to put her in her basinet and after half an hour or so, she fussed herself to sleep. It was amazing. She didn’t wake up until 2 AM.
She did have some trouble at 4 AM, and I was still dog tired this morning, but holy crap, I actually got almost four straight hours of sleep last night. Do you know how amazing that is?
You do if you’re a mom.
By the way, if anybody is interested in reading more info on infant lactose overload, check Web MD at this link. There’s also a good article on it at Babycareadvice.com and a blog article at Mandajuice who’s motto is ‘Because you can never know too much about boobs.’ You’re right about that, Manda.
Well she was wrong!
At least I think she’s wrong. I finally searched Web MD for “colic” and “green bowel movement” and I came up with one hit, an article that lists everything you didn’t want to know about breastfeeding and ailments in infants. Turns out there’s something called infant lactose overload, which is something that happens when a baby gets too much foremilk and not enough hindmilk.
Some folks may be scratching their heads at this point and asking, “What the hell is foremilk and hindmilk?” Well, breast milk comes in two flavors, and I’m not talking chocolate and vanilla here. When a baby first starts to nurse, the milk that comes out is full of protein and a sugar called lactose. That’s the foremilk. After a while, the milk changes so that it’s got more fat in it and less protein and sugar. That’s the hindmilk. Apparently, if the baby gets too much foremilk, the bacteria in her intestines will latch onto it and cause a lot of gas (which is painful for the baby) and will also cause watery green poop.
How does the baby get too much foremilk? Well, in my case, it’s probably a problem of overproduction. Yes, my D-cups runneth over. Sam gets filled up with the excess milk I make, getting more foremilk before she can get to the hindmilk. Since she nurses more frequently during the day, all that sugar in the foremilk spends all day long fermenting in her little bowels, thus the nightly deposits of green poop in her diapers. The solution to the problem is for me to pump off some excess milk before nursing her. This means that I am suddenly very happy that all my friends donated their breast pumps to me when they were done breastfeeding. I have four Medela pumps and one Advent and it looks like I’m going to be rotating through all of them to bleed off at least two ounces of milk before each feeding to ensure Sam gets to that hindmilk.
The good news is we figured this out yesterday morning so I was able to pump before each daytime feeding. Sam was still wide awake and fussy last night at 10 PM, but she wasn’t squalling like normal. I was able to put her in her basinet and after half an hour or so, she fussed herself to sleep. It was amazing. She didn’t wake up until 2 AM.
She did have some trouble at 4 AM, and I was still dog tired this morning, but holy crap, I actually got almost four straight hours of sleep last night. Do you know how amazing that is?
You do if you’re a mom.
By the way, if anybody is interested in reading more info on infant lactose overload, check Web MD at this link. There’s also a good article on it at Babycareadvice.com and a blog article at Mandajuice who’s motto is ‘Because you can never know too much about boobs.’ You’re right about that, Manda.
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