Janice and Nick came by to give Jackson their Christmas gifts, and he thanked them by showing off his latest trick.
Literally, I have no idea how this happened. A week ago he was taking one or two steps at a time and this week he's tooling around so fast it's like he's been doing this for months. Slow down, child!
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
A 2011 recap
It's Christmastime. It's Jackson's birthday. We're all sick. NRF just upgraded its holiday forecast. The Senate just went down to the wire on some, well...important thing that Chad was working on. We still haven't unpacked our artwork. We leave for Illinois in four days.
The last thing I have time to do is print and cut and stuff a bunch of little pieces of paper into our Christmas cards. At a certain point, in the interest of actually mailing your Christmas cards before December 25, you say forget about it.
But since the letter was already written, and since I did put our blog address on the back of the Christmas card, I figured I'd paste it here in case anyone in this entire world cares what it said.
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Hi to our family and friends: December 2011
Happy holidays and Merry Christmas! After taking a hiatus on our annual letter last year (did you really need an update, other than the fact that we had a baby?), we’re happy to share the contents of this year – what we remember of it, anyway:
Ellen returned to work at the beginning of April after a long maternity leave (note: long, not relaxing) and shifted her hours so she can leave the office at 3:00 to spend some time every day with Jackson before he goes to bed. She’s still at the National Retail Federation in public relations, analyzing consumer trends, talking about the importance of retail to the economy, and encouraging people to shop.
In the event that you’ve heard of a little thing called the “housing crisis,” Chad is right in the middle of it. Several years ago, when he moved to the Senate Banking Committee to take over housing issues, no one imagined his position would become as crucial as it is today. He’s had an incredible year steering public policy and really loves going to work every day. A good thing, because he’s rarely home before 8 p.m.
We’re still in denial that Jackson turned one on December 9. For better or worse, he seems to have the personality – and energy – of triplets. Jackson’s grandparents consider this appropriate payback for the rambunctiousness of both his parents when they were little. He loves the dog, crawling up stairs, and absolutely anything that makes noise. It’s been such a joy to watch him learn new things every day.
We were fortunate enough to make several trips back home this year so that Jackson could see his grandparents (and meet seven great-grandparents!). After a few earlier trips to the farm, we all headed home in August for Ellen’s brother’s wedding. It’s bittersweet that the final Tolley wedding is a thing of the past, but we were so thrilled that Daniel’s amazing wife said yes we were all able to look beyond that. And Chad’s parents were kind enough to watch Jackson for a few days while the two of us took off to Lake Tahoe for a long weekend (Ellen went for work, Chad called it vacation).
Our biggest news of the year came in the fall, when we moved into a new house. Chad, who has been looking at houses every day for the last several years, finally convinced Ellen that it was time to say goodbye to our perfect little townhouse for a single-family home – and Ellen relented when he found a house that met all of her “there’s-just-no-way-he-can-find-a-place-like-this” requirements. We love the neighborhood, our big backyard, and the number of children on our street (14 houses, 30 kids!). As we sit here writing the Christmas letter by a crackling fire – one of Ellen’s necessities – purchasing our old brick colonial seems like a great idea. Never mind that we still have nothing on our walls and a porch full of boxes.
In the midst of the move – and the holiday season… and a big hearing at work for Chad – Jackson decided he had moved too far off our radar and brought the attention back with a bout of pneumonia. Kids apparently have a way of reminding you why you exist in the first place. After a couple weeks of R&R, he was back to his normal self – and we started getting sleep again.
Lucy continues to keep us on our toes. Our daily walks have turned into weekly outings, but she’s so excited over the backyard she has almost forgiven us. (Please don’t ask why she didn’t make the Christmas card this year. Chad still isn’t over it.)
If you want to keep up with the general chaos that has become our lives, feel free to visit our blog at thedavisden.blogspot.com. Don’t get too excited because it isn’t updated as often as it used to be, though we do get the big stuff up – even if it’s late.
We wish you a very happy holiday season—and a wonderful New Year!
Saturday, December 17, 2011
I'll have what he's having
When I was a kid, my mother told me that moms don't get sick. Must be their penance for taking care of snotty, puking, clingy, feverish children, I've thought all these years. I bet your body develops these amazing immunities during pregnancy so you're able to be a picture of health while taking care of others. It's very Florence Nightingale, if you think about it.
Ever since his birthday, our little guy has been in bad shape. What started as a cough - in true Jackson form - morphed into hacking, wheezing, a five-day fever, an ear infection, and RSV. After three doctor's appointments, five different medications, a chest x-ray, and a follow-up with a respiratory specialist next week, he's finally on the mend.
Here's what he looked like at his one-year doctor's appointment. The bright red cheeks and 101-degree fever weren't exactly a picture of health, so he did manage to get out of his shots that day.
With Jackson's latest plague, much like the others, I have wiped the runny noses, rocked him during the coughing fits, and am not the least bit fazed when this little person sneezes all over my face.
I am fearless. I am a mom. I don't get sick.
Until this week. It started on Monday with a little sniffle and a weird ringing in my ears. By Tuesday, my head was pounding. By Wednesday, I had lost my voice. And by Thursday, my boss was asking if I had bronchitis. As I told my sister, who asked how Jackson was, "If he feels half as bad as I do, he's pretty darned miserable."
When I confronted my mother about this complete and utter fabrication of the truth, she paused, smiled and said, "I didn't tell you that moms don't get sick. I said they don't have time to get sick."
She is right about that.
Ever since his birthday, our little guy has been in bad shape. What started as a cough - in true Jackson form - morphed into hacking, wheezing, a five-day fever, an ear infection, and RSV. After three doctor's appointments, five different medications, a chest x-ray, and a follow-up with a respiratory specialist next week, he's finally on the mend.
With Jackson's latest plague, much like the others, I have wiped the runny noses, rocked him during the coughing fits, and am not the least bit fazed when this little person sneezes all over my face.
I am fearless. I am a mom. I don't get sick.
Until this week. It started on Monday with a little sniffle and a weird ringing in my ears. By Tuesday, my head was pounding. By Wednesday, I had lost my voice. And by Thursday, my boss was asking if I had bronchitis. As I told my sister, who asked how Jackson was, "If he feels half as bad as I do, he's pretty darned miserable."
When I confronted my mother about this complete and utter fabrication of the truth, she paused, smiled and said, "I didn't tell you that moms don't get sick. I said they don't have time to get sick."
She is right about that.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
365 days of Jackson
What a year. As one of my friends has said, "Welcome to the time of long days and short years." On the one hand, it seems like yesterday. On the other hand - oh man - it seems like a lifetime ago.
I've been trying to wrap my brain around the idea that an entire year has gone by since Jackson was born, and I can't. So since I've had a hard time putting feelings into words, I decided to go back through some of my favorite moments with him (I'm intentionally excluding the not-so-favorite moments, of which there were several - or maybe more like dozens).
As we get ready to celebrate Jackson's birthday, turn up your sound and take a look back on where we have been.
If you'd rather watch the larger version, here it is on YouTube.
I've been trying to wrap my brain around the idea that an entire year has gone by since Jackson was born, and I can't. So since I've had a hard time putting feelings into words, I decided to go back through some of my favorite moments with him (I'm intentionally excluding the not-so-favorite moments, of which there were several - or maybe more like dozens).
As we get ready to celebrate Jackson's birthday, turn up your sound and take a look back on where we have been.
If you'd rather watch the larger version, here it is on YouTube.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Beef. It's what's for dinner.
Last week we had a heck of a time getting Jackson to eat "beef pilaf" baby food. It took me three meals to stagger beef-and-bananas, beef-and-peas, beef-and-carrots before the pilaf was gone.
He'll eat chicken, he'll eat turkey...and he'll eat just about any vegetable or fruit. But beef? Spits it out. Plants his mouth shut. Yanks off his bib.
Turns out, he was just waiting for the real thing. Watch as Jackson gives a seal of approval during his introduction to Tolley Beef. Note the sound effects. This went on for 25 minutes.
He'll eat chicken, he'll eat turkey...and he'll eat just about any vegetable or fruit. But beef? Spits it out. Plants his mouth shut. Yanks off his bib.
Turns out, he was just waiting for the real thing. Watch as Jackson gives a seal of approval during his introduction to Tolley Beef. Note the sound effects. This went on for 25 minutes.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Jack in the Box
Jackson is at the stage where he is in to e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. Tonight we found him rummaging through the cabinets underneath the kitchen sink while Chad was making dinner and I was unloading the dishwasher. That little stinker has gotten lightning fast!
The only way we can seem to contain Hurricane Jackson is by letting him play in one of our moving boxes. It's a good thing we've got plenty of those around - this one kept him entertained for 20 minutes.
PS: DJRR...thanks for the title suggestion. ;)
The only way we can seem to contain Hurricane Jackson is by letting him play in one of our moving boxes. It's a good thing we've got plenty of those around - this one kept him entertained for 20 minutes.
PS: DJRR...thanks for the title suggestion. ;)
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
And they all lived happily ever after
I am only laughing because Chad did not send this to me.
If he had, it would be a very different story.
If he had, it would be a very different story.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Bingeing and purging
I'm so behind, I haven't even updated that we bought a new house.
We close in two weeks.
And if you thought I was motivated about getting rid of stuff from my posts in February of 2009 or during my series of posts last year, you people ain't seen nothing yet.
Since we made the decision to move, I have been dead serious about purging the stuff we don't need. I am not taking seven years worth of crap into my new house. So here are the current rules we live by, agreed upon by Ellen and Chad - and Jackson by default:
1) If you forgot you even had it, it goes.
2) If it hasn't been used in the last five years, it goes. (For clothes, amend to: if it hasn't been worn in the last year, it goes. And if you have kept it around all this time thinking that someday you're going to be able to fit into it again...who needs that pressure?!? It goes.)
3) If you have no idea what's even IN that box, the whole blessed thing goes.
4) If the only reason why you still have it is because you'd feel badly getting rid of it...buh-bye, honey. It goes.
5) If it's not something that you want your spouse or your kid to have to sift through when you die, it goes.
In the last two weeks, we have taken a ton of stuff to Goodwill - including five garbage bags of clothes and over 100 books. And we've thrown away our fair share of stuff as well.
But in all the manic throwing-away of things, there have been a few moments where I've stumbled upon something unexpected and smiled. Like this note I found buried in a ridiculous amount of cards and love letters and newspaper clippings from my senior year of high school. They all got pitched but this made the cut:
Among a sea of absolute junk that I've been dragging around with me for 15 years, why on Earth did I keep that? (And why on Earth didn't I keep MORE of that? I love it. I'm keeping it forever. Chad and Jackson can clean it out of the attic when I die, and it will make them smile.)
I wonder how as a parent you make the decision on what to keep and what to pitch. I wonder if I'll have an attic full of Jackson mementos that someday I'll be begging his wife to take off my hands, or if I'll wish I kept around just one more piece of artwork or note on the days I'm reminiscing. I wonder if what I deem "important" enough to keep now will seem totally irrelevant in 15 years. I do wonder, all of these things.
But I ponder all this while I keep decluttering. This has been amazingly liberating and is such an opportunity to prioritize what's important in our lives. So when we move into our first actual house at the end of the month, we'll be doing it without a whole lot of baggage.
Except for the little things I love that will get tucked away until I stumble upon them again.
We close in two weeks.
And if you thought I was motivated about getting rid of stuff from my posts in February of 2009 or during my series of posts last year, you people ain't seen nothing yet.
Since we made the decision to move, I have been dead serious about purging the stuff we don't need. I am not taking seven years worth of crap into my new house. So here are the current rules we live by, agreed upon by Ellen and Chad - and Jackson by default:
1) If you forgot you even had it, it goes.
2) If it hasn't been used in the last five years, it goes. (For clothes, amend to: if it hasn't been worn in the last year, it goes. And if you have kept it around all this time thinking that someday you're going to be able to fit into it again...who needs that pressure?!? It goes.)
3) If you have no idea what's even IN that box, the whole blessed thing goes.
4) If the only reason why you still have it is because you'd feel badly getting rid of it...buh-bye, honey. It goes.
5) If it's not something that you want your spouse or your kid to have to sift through when you die, it goes.
In the last two weeks, we have taken a ton of stuff to Goodwill - including five garbage bags of clothes and over 100 books. And we've thrown away our fair share of stuff as well.
But in all the manic throwing-away of things, there have been a few moments where I've stumbled upon something unexpected and smiled. Like this note I found buried in a ridiculous amount of cards and love letters and newspaper clippings from my senior year of high school. They all got pitched but this made the cut:
Among a sea of absolute junk that I've been dragging around with me for 15 years, why on Earth did I keep that? (And why on Earth didn't I keep MORE of that? I love it. I'm keeping it forever. Chad and Jackson can clean it out of the attic when I die, and it will make them smile.)
I wonder how as a parent you make the decision on what to keep and what to pitch. I wonder if I'll have an attic full of Jackson mementos that someday I'll be begging his wife to take off my hands, or if I'll wish I kept around just one more piece of artwork or note on the days I'm reminiscing. I wonder if what I deem "important" enough to keep now will seem totally irrelevant in 15 years. I do wonder, all of these things.
But I ponder all this while I keep decluttering. This has been amazingly liberating and is such an opportunity to prioritize what's important in our lives. So when we move into our first actual house at the end of the month, we'll be doing it without a whole lot of baggage.
Except for the little things I love that will get tucked away until I stumble upon them again.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Patience is a virtue
Over the past week, I've been trying to encourage Jackson to put food into his mouth. He loves to eat when someone is feeding him, but can't grasp the concept quite yet to feed himself. So I figure the more I can get him to touch food, the more likely it is he'll accidentally figure this whole thing out.
Last night while I was getting his "real" dinner ready, I put a few little pieces of cereal onto his tray in the hopes that he'd consider picking one up and putting it into his mouth. He thought they were fun to play with but I don't think he ate any of them. Most of the little bits, in fact, ended up on the floor - and there was no one more pleased about this than the dog.
You can almost hear what Lucy was thinking: "After nine months, this kid is finally starting to pay off."
Last night while I was getting his "real" dinner ready, I put a few little pieces of cereal onto his tray in the hopes that he'd consider picking one up and putting it into his mouth. He thought they were fun to play with but I don't think he ate any of them. Most of the little bits, in fact, ended up on the floor - and there was no one more pleased about this than the dog.
You can almost hear what Lucy was thinking: "After nine months, this kid is finally starting to pay off."
Sunday, September 4, 2011
It's time to get up
Jackson has an almost uncanny ability to wake up at exactly 7:00. You can set your watch by it. Seriously.
Yesterday morning, our first of a three-day weekend, I was really hoping for a few extra minutes of shut-eye. Was 7:30 really too much to ask? (Crazy to believe that a year ago I wouldn't see the light of day before 10:00. And even that would be considered early.)
But right on schedule, I heard Jackson start to stir and talk to himself at 6:57. Fairly soon after that he was yelling his, "Hey guys, I'm over here...time to come get me!" mantra. Likely kneeling in his crib smacking his open palm against the slats, as if to impress us with his newfound mobility.
It was Saturday morning. I was so tired. Work has been so busy. I just need 15 more minutes, buddy. Pleeease let me have 15 minutes...
And as I was lying in bed listening to the jibber-jabber of a little boy who was oh-so-ready to start his day, I thought to myself, "Someday, when we're older and retired and the kids have moved away, I will give anything to have one more day just like this."
Suddenly, getting out of bed didn't seem like that much of a chore.
So we went downstairs, I made some coffee, and Jackson and Lucy got into a disagreement over the purpose of her dog bowls.
Yesterday morning, our first of a three-day weekend, I was really hoping for a few extra minutes of shut-eye. Was 7:30 really too much to ask? (Crazy to believe that a year ago I wouldn't see the light of day before 10:00. And even that would be considered early.)
But right on schedule, I heard Jackson start to stir and talk to himself at 6:57. Fairly soon after that he was yelling his, "Hey guys, I'm over here...time to come get me!" mantra. Likely kneeling in his crib smacking his open palm against the slats, as if to impress us with his newfound mobility.
It was Saturday morning. I was so tired. Work has been so busy. I just need 15 more minutes, buddy. Pleeease let me have 15 minutes...
And as I was lying in bed listening to the jibber-jabber of a little boy who was oh-so-ready to start his day, I thought to myself, "Someday, when we're older and retired and the kids have moved away, I will give anything to have one more day just like this."
Suddenly, getting out of bed didn't seem like that much of a chore.
So we went downstairs, I made some coffee, and Jackson and Lucy got into a disagreement over the purpose of her dog bowls.
It's been an amazing weekend.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
A mother's love
There are some things I understand so much more now that I'm a mom, like the brilliance of drive-thrus. (Seriously, why aren't they everywhere? You think I want to take my sleeping kid out of the car in the rain to pick up that prescription?)
But I've also been dumbfounded by how mom-hood has ratcheted up every single human emotion I have.
When I watched the two-hour episode where Diane Sawyer interviewed kidnap victim Jaycee Duggard, I was blown away. How does a girl-then-woman suffer years of abuse from someone and have his children? How could you raise two little babies living in a tent in a backyard? How could you help those kids have a "normal" life? And how could you be a mother whose child is snatched on her way home from school?
I think about the Baby Jessica case years ago, when the little girl was taken from her adoptive parents after a court determined that she should live with her biological father. At the time, I thought it was heart-breaking. Today, the thought of someone taking Jackson away from me when he's two years old to go live with another family - forever - is incomprehensible. The picture of her being taken from her parents will always be burned in my mind. As a parent, how do you survive something like that?
And then there's the latest. The utter human tragedy happening now in Somalia. A few weeks ago, the cover story in my Wall Street Journal offered this photo. The caption said this little boy is two.
My immediate reaction? Toss the paper into the circular file. I could not - would not - be able to mentally make time for this. Way too difficult. Way too much to do. But when I was a millisecond away from dumping the paper into the trash, I froze. This is somebody's baby. His mother probably loves him as much as I love my little boy.
Can you imagine?
And so, I read about it. I look at the pictures. I try to imagine what those poor people are going through - what it must be like to leave one child to die in the hopes that the others will live. This picture has been haunting me for more than a month. I literally cannot forget it. But I can't do anything about it either.
That's the worst part about being a mom.
Kids bring amazing joy and happiness. Lots of things happen that you can control. But when they're sick or hurt or frustrated, there are times you can't do a thing. In the end, all you can do is love them and pray for them and hope that one day they'll know you did everything you could in your power to help them find their own way.
But I've also been dumbfounded by how mom-hood has ratcheted up every single human emotion I have.
When I watched the two-hour episode where Diane Sawyer interviewed kidnap victim Jaycee Duggard, I was blown away. How does a girl-then-woman suffer years of abuse from someone and have his children? How could you raise two little babies living in a tent in a backyard? How could you help those kids have a "normal" life? And how could you be a mother whose child is snatched on her way home from school?
I think about the Baby Jessica case years ago, when the little girl was taken from her adoptive parents after a court determined that she should live with her biological father. At the time, I thought it was heart-breaking. Today, the thought of someone taking Jackson away from me when he's two years old to go live with another family - forever - is incomprehensible. The picture of her being taken from her parents will always be burned in my mind. As a parent, how do you survive something like that?
And then there's the latest. The utter human tragedy happening now in Somalia. A few weeks ago, the cover story in my Wall Street Journal offered this photo. The caption said this little boy is two.
My immediate reaction? Toss the paper into the circular file. I could not - would not - be able to mentally make time for this. Way too difficult. Way too much to do. But when I was a millisecond away from dumping the paper into the trash, I froze. This is somebody's baby. His mother probably loves him as much as I love my little boy.
Can you imagine?
And so, I read about it. I look at the pictures. I try to imagine what those poor people are going through - what it must be like to leave one child to die in the hopes that the others will live. This picture has been haunting me for more than a month. I literally cannot forget it. But I can't do anything about it either.
That's the worst part about being a mom.
Kids bring amazing joy and happiness. Lots of things happen that you can control. But when they're sick or hurt or frustrated, there are times you can't do a thing. In the end, all you can do is love them and pray for them and hope that one day they'll know you did everything you could in your power to help them find their own way.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Movers and shakers
Jackson likes to wait until he has an audience to hit big milestones. When we were here in March, he rolled over. And tonight, we had another momentous occasion.
He's been crawling backward for a couple of weeks (on my favorite excursion, he backed himself into the closet so only his head was showing). He would get so frustrated but absolutely could not figure out how to move his hands and knees in the right direction.
Tonight, something seemed to click...and the kid started moving. Forward.
Jackson is currently most fascinated by cords, electrical outlets and shoes - not toys, books or any number of stuffed animals.
Looks like it's time to baby-proof the house.
He's been crawling backward for a couple of weeks (on my favorite excursion, he backed himself into the closet so only his head was showing). He would get so frustrated but absolutely could not figure out how to move his hands and knees in the right direction.
Tonight, something seemed to click...and the kid started moving. Forward.
Jackson is currently most fascinated by cords, electrical outlets and shoes - not toys, books or any number of stuffed animals.
Looks like it's time to baby-proof the house.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
I love this place
Being down on the farm isn't quite the same with two little boys in tow. Our mornings of sleeping in, drinking coffee in our pj's until 11:00, going out to lunch and playing cards all night seem to be a thing of the past. (In fact, last night we were all in bed by 9:15.)
But even though life is changed, it really couldn't be more perfect. Even though this week hasn't been filled with as much sleep or leisure as my typical "farm visits", I wouldn't trade it for the world.
But even though life is changed, it really couldn't be more perfect. Even though this week hasn't been filled with as much sleep or leisure as my typical "farm visits", I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Playing with Grandma and Grandpa in the front yard. Life is good.
This boy is a thinker.
Mark my words, he'll do something important someday.
Mark my words, he'll do something important someday.
Jackson trying to figure out how to get from here to there.
Fairly certain that this is how you define "a handful."
Jackson loooovvves his Grandpa.
Are these not the most beautiful blue eyes you have ever seen?
I love rice cereal!
And peaches, and peas, and avocados, and carrots, and...
And peaches, and peas, and avocados, and carrots, and...
Happy, happy boy.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
A new perspective
Since I posted the last video of Jackson, he's been growing like a weed. (At his six-month check-up he was 28.5 inches and 19 pounds, which puts him in the 95% category for height and 75% category for weight - and to think we were ever worried about him gaining weight!) He's been sitting up, chewing on absolutely everything he can get his hands on, and trying to crawl (currently he's a champ at going backwards).
The other night, Chad put Jackson up on his shoulders and his eyes were as wide as they've ever been. Though I have a feeling he'll spend most of his life towering over me, he seemed to enjoy the scenery from this new perspective.
The other night, Chad put Jackson up on his shoulders and his eyes were as wide as they've ever been. Though I have a feeling he'll spend most of his life towering over me, he seemed to enjoy the scenery from this new perspective.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
On the second day...
Today, Jackson began the second day of his brand-spanking-new daycare. We've been on the list for this place for over a year, and we're really excited about his new "teachers" and the structure of the program. (After looking at his daily "report card" of developmental activities - which included "pretending to fly" and "pointing at black and white pictures" - Chad said, "Man, I'm going to feel guilty about not taking him in on weekends too.")
When I picked him up yesterday, Jackson seemed a bit shell-shocked. I chalked it up to over-stimulation, new faces and a change in his schedule. It was the first time in Jackson's "I'll go to anyone, anytime" life that he was actually clingy. And quiet.
Today when I picked him up, I was handed the following:
Turns out, he was getting sick. The doctor says it's a serious ear infection. (Ouch.)
But the "Your son was sent home from school today because ____" note makes me laugh. This was the first time, but something tells me this will not be the last in his many years of education that I get a note from the teacher. Here's hoping this trend doesn't continue into, oh, high school.
Yes, I'm going to save this.
When I picked him up yesterday, Jackson seemed a bit shell-shocked. I chalked it up to over-stimulation, new faces and a change in his schedule. It was the first time in Jackson's "I'll go to anyone, anytime" life that he was actually clingy. And quiet.
Today when I picked him up, I was handed the following:
Turns out, he was getting sick. The doctor says it's a serious ear infection. (Ouch.)
But the "Your son was sent home from school today because ____" note makes me laugh. This was the first time, but something tells me this will not be the last in his many years of education that I get a note from the teacher. Here's hoping this trend doesn't continue into, oh, high school.
Yes, I'm going to save this.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
I'm baaack...
Well, this is embarrassing.
It's been two months to the day since I have updated my blog. Since I wrote my first post in 2007 I've never gone this long without updating it.
I refuse to get caught up over-explaining and rationalizing my neglect so I will only say I'm sorry to all four of you who read this. (Or maybe none of you now. Hmm.)
I'm also not going to try to spend an entire blog post summing up our last two months. Partially because there's too much to include and partially because I don't have enough brain cells at the moment to remember all of it. I do know that since I've blogged I've gotten a new boss, been to a bachelorette party, went away on a work trip, stayed downtown for our anniversary (6!), been to a wedding, hosted the parents for a long visit, spent time back home on vacation.... Honestly I don't remember the rest. Let's just say I haven't spent the last two months getting manicures and reading books.
Though I did just read The Help and it was as good as everybody says.
So we'll leave it at this: Now that my little guy is soundly sleeping 12 straight hours at night (halleluiah, I feel like a real person again) and my house is not a disaster and my job is not utterly insane, I will update this more often. How often? Who knows.
Guess you'll have to come back again to find out.
It's been two months to the day since I have updated my blog. Since I wrote my first post in 2007 I've never gone this long without updating it.
I refuse to get caught up over-explaining and rationalizing my neglect so I will only say I'm sorry to all four of you who read this. (Or maybe none of you now. Hmm.)
I'm also not going to try to spend an entire blog post summing up our last two months. Partially because there's too much to include and partially because I don't have enough brain cells at the moment to remember all of it. I do know that since I've blogged I've gotten a new boss, been to a bachelorette party, went away on a work trip, stayed downtown for our anniversary (6!), been to a wedding, hosted the parents for a long visit, spent time back home on vacation.... Honestly I don't remember the rest. Let's just say I haven't spent the last two months getting manicures and reading books.
Though I did just read The Help and it was as good as everybody says.
So we'll leave it at this: Now that my little guy is soundly sleeping 12 straight hours at night (halleluiah, I feel like a real person again) and my house is not a disaster and my job is not utterly insane, I will update this more often. How often? Who knows.
Guess you'll have to come back again to find out.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Jackson was right!
That phrase, uttered by my brother-in-law, was the way we found out that Jackson had a boy cousin. (Of course, Jackson knew this all along. I, on the other hand, was just sure it was a girl.)
My peanut nephew Connor Joseph Ryan entered into the world a mere 5 pounds, 12 ounces. Suddenly, Jackson seemed all boy and no baby. He's a tank next to his little cousin!
My peanut nephew Connor Joseph Ryan entered into the world a mere 5 pounds, 12 ounces. Suddenly, Jackson seemed all boy and no baby. He's a tank next to his little cousin!
Ever since Connor was born (nine days ago - yes, I'm quite behind), I've been trying to wrap my mind around how amazing it is that these two little boys are just five months apart. They're never going to know life without each other. I have big dreams for them to be as close as brothers...though I'm under no illusion that is always going to be a good thing. (As my three-boys-in-four-years friend Marj cautioned, "If you ever hear silence when they are playing together, be scared.")
Until then, I'm reveling in a teeny tiny baby - way more teeny than the 8 lb 9 oz bruiser we came home from the hospital with! - and finding yet another reason to go shopping.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
It's a boy!
Ok, ok, I can't take this anymore. I'm going to be an aunt again any day now and the suspense over whether I will be welcoming a niece or nephew into this world is just killing me. Earlier today, we had a little tease from our new family member "Yogi," thinking that he or she might be coming into this world as soon as tonight or tomorrow. (Alas, that does not appear to be the case.)
For most of this journey, I've really thought Yogi was a girl. (I still do, actually.) But Jackson and I got to talking about this tonight and he's just certain - apparently - that he'll welcome a little boy cousin. In fact, he's so convinced that I'm starting to waver in my prediction.
PS: I am nearly certain that this screeching is a gift from one of Jackson's daycare friends. Someday this will not be charming, I'm sure. But I love it now!
PPS: After watching this video, can anyone sympathize with the way this child kicked me for nine months? :)
For most of this journey, I've really thought Yogi was a girl. (I still do, actually.) But Jackson and I got to talking about this tonight and he's just certain - apparently - that he'll welcome a little boy cousin. In fact, he's so convinced that I'm starting to waver in my prediction.
PS: I am nearly certain that this screeching is a gift from one of Jackson's daycare friends. Someday this will not be charming, I'm sure. But I love it now!
PPS: After watching this video, can anyone sympathize with the way this child kicked me for nine months? :)
Monday, May 9, 2011
Mama mia
Yesterday was my first Mother's Day and, I have to say, it was awesome. It was a glorious day. I've got a big bouquet of roses and some chocolates sitting on the dining room table ("I took the nutritional information off the back so you can't see how bad these are for you," said Chad) and we spent the day going out for a leisurely lunch, taking a stroll around the neighborhood, and hanging out in the front yard until Jackson's bedtime. I even took a two-hour nap. Amazing.
Leading up to Mother's Day, I got very nostalgic thinking about all of the amazing moms in my life that I've been fortunate enough to know. There's my mom, of course. And my grandmothers. And my mother-in-law, and Chad's grandmothers. And my aunts. All of them are incredible women who have taught me little things here and there about how to raise good children and what's required in this motherhood gig. We all have our own style, I suppose, but I've taken pieces from each of them.
There are other moms as well. I never really understood before, but moms stick together. So many of my friends - and even some of my acquaintances who have become friends - have reached out with advice, thoughts, stories, and hang-in-there anecdotes. It's been one of the most surprising parts of this journey: the new bonds I've made along the way.
Fortunately, for us, parenthood is getting a lot easier and more fun. (I know, I know...soon it will get harder again, but we're enjoying this time right now!) And with several friends and neighbors soon set to join the "mommy" ranks, I'm already thinking of ways to pay it forward.
Until then, I'm remembering a great Mother's Day. And thinking of ways to make Father's Day this much fun.
Leading up to Mother's Day, I got very nostalgic thinking about all of the amazing moms in my life that I've been fortunate enough to know. There's my mom, of course. And my grandmothers. And my mother-in-law, and Chad's grandmothers. And my aunts. All of them are incredible women who have taught me little things here and there about how to raise good children and what's required in this motherhood gig. We all have our own style, I suppose, but I've taken pieces from each of them.
There are other moms as well. I never really understood before, but moms stick together. So many of my friends - and even some of my acquaintances who have become friends - have reached out with advice, thoughts, stories, and hang-in-there anecdotes. It's been one of the most surprising parts of this journey: the new bonds I've made along the way.
Fortunately, for us, parenthood is getting a lot easier and more fun. (I know, I know...soon it will get harder again, but we're enjoying this time right now!) And with several friends and neighbors soon set to join the "mommy" ranks, I'm already thinking of ways to pay it forward.
Until then, I'm remembering a great Mother's Day. And thinking of ways to make Father's Day this much fun.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
What do people do all day?
Of course these days I find myself wondering at random moments while at work what Jackson is up to while he's hanging out at daycare. When he got home the other night, this is what we decided. I'm sure one day he'll be more than willing to go on and on about what he did all day without us, but until then, we'll just have to guess.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Bubblelicious
Dog + Baby + Bubbles = Hilarious
We all should have a few things we put away in the back of our minds in case we're ever having one of those days.
Well, today, I found another "thing:" A baby's reaction after watching her dog chase bubbles. As the icing on the cake...this is the daughter of a high school classmate of mine who shares videos of his child on YouTube (like we do) for long-distance friends and family. It just so happens that this video has gone viral and, since April 7, has been viewed over 224,000 times (and counting!). Ellen DeGeneres featured it on her show. Local TV stations have been broadcasting it all day. And celebrities have been Tweeting about it.
If this doesn't bring a smile to your face, well, I'm afraid there's just no hope for you.
I might need to see what Lucy thinks of bubbles. If I could recreate this scene on demand in our living room, I might never be in a bad mood again!
We all should have a few things we put away in the back of our minds in case we're ever having one of those days.
Well, today, I found another "thing:" A baby's reaction after watching her dog chase bubbles. As the icing on the cake...this is the daughter of a high school classmate of mine who shares videos of his child on YouTube (like we do) for long-distance friends and family. It just so happens that this video has gone viral and, since April 7, has been viewed over 224,000 times (and counting!). Ellen DeGeneres featured it on her show. Local TV stations have been broadcasting it all day. And celebrities have been Tweeting about it.
If this doesn't bring a smile to your face, well, I'm afraid there's just no hope for you.
I might need to see what Lucy thinks of bubbles. If I could recreate this scene on demand in our living room, I might never be in a bad mood again!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Wake-up call
Jackson was scheduled to get his four month shots over a week ago, but he woke up last Monday with a fever and his first cold. After eight days of sneezing, coughing and not a whole lot of sleep, we went in for his shots today. I spent all day dreading it. I remembered too well what happened last time and was wishing he was old enough that I could bribe him with a McDonald's sundae, as mom used to do with me if I was good while I was getting shots.
When we got up to the second floor, I realized I had forgotten something in the car. I asked the receptionist if I had a few moments before we were called, and he suggested they keep Jackson while I ran down to get it. When I returned, Jackson was holding court in the waiting room with three nurses, the scheduler and even a pharmaceutical sales rep crowded around his car seat watching him laugh and giggle for everyone. Must have been a slow afternoon in the office.
This time, the shots were a piece of cake. (As one of the nurses said, "With those thighs, he probably won't even feel them.") We were in and out in 20 minutes. He hadn't shed a tear.
On our way out of the building, I was feeling particularly euphoric. Our little boy had charmed the whole office, he wasn't fazed by the shots, and we were heading home on a beautiful spring day for a few hours of playtime before bed. I couldn't believe I'd spent much of the morning with a pit in my stomach thinking about this.
When I pushed the down button on the elevator, it opened instantly. A mother and her son - about six years old, give or take - had stepped in right before us and were taking the elevator down as well. She wrapped her arms around him and asked in the world's most cheery tone if he wanted to stop for Chick Fil A on the way home. Oh good, I thought, it's still ok for moms to bribe their kids for behaving at the doctor.
I smiled at the little boy, and instantly did a double-take. He was tall, but appeared fragile. His Superman t-shirt and blue pants were hanging off his wiry frame. He seemed tired. His pale blond hair was fuzzy, and growing back in patches. It was then I connected the dots: Our pediatrician's office shares a floor with the Children's Center for Cancer.
As I held on tightly to our perfectly healthy, giggly kid, I snuck a glance at this mother. She seemed so put together given that she was clearly dealing with the absolutely agonizing uncertainty and pain that must come along with having a seriously ill child. She's got far more strength than I ever will.
Suddenly, dreading two shots seemed like the most significant waste of time in the world.
When we got up to the second floor, I realized I had forgotten something in the car. I asked the receptionist if I had a few moments before we were called, and he suggested they keep Jackson while I ran down to get it. When I returned, Jackson was holding court in the waiting room with three nurses, the scheduler and even a pharmaceutical sales rep crowded around his car seat watching him laugh and giggle for everyone. Must have been a slow afternoon in the office.
This time, the shots were a piece of cake. (As one of the nurses said, "With those thighs, he probably won't even feel them.") We were in and out in 20 minutes. He hadn't shed a tear.
On our way out of the building, I was feeling particularly euphoric. Our little boy had charmed the whole office, he wasn't fazed by the shots, and we were heading home on a beautiful spring day for a few hours of playtime before bed. I couldn't believe I'd spent much of the morning with a pit in my stomach thinking about this.
When I pushed the down button on the elevator, it opened instantly. A mother and her son - about six years old, give or take - had stepped in right before us and were taking the elevator down as well. She wrapped her arms around him and asked in the world's most cheery tone if he wanted to stop for Chick Fil A on the way home. Oh good, I thought, it's still ok for moms to bribe their kids for behaving at the doctor.
I smiled at the little boy, and instantly did a double-take. He was tall, but appeared fragile. His Superman t-shirt and blue pants were hanging off his wiry frame. He seemed tired. His pale blond hair was fuzzy, and growing back in patches. It was then I connected the dots: Our pediatrician's office shares a floor with the Children's Center for Cancer.
As I held on tightly to our perfectly healthy, giggly kid, I snuck a glance at this mother. She seemed so put together given that she was clearly dealing with the absolutely agonizing uncertainty and pain that must come along with having a seriously ill child. She's got far more strength than I ever will.
Suddenly, dreading two shots seemed like the most significant waste of time in the world.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Heartstrings
There are moments in any given day where I look at Jackson and I think one of the following:
1) Now what am I supposed to be doing with you?
2) How much longer until bedtime, again?
3) When will we ever understand each other?
But when he sleeps, I check in on him.
Seeing him lying there crooked and contorted in his crib - watching the slow up-and-down of his breathing - fills my heart to more than it can hold. He's so vulnerable, and so perfect. I love him so much that I almost can't handle it. I forget the frustrations and the monotony that fills my days and I just want to pick him up and hold him all night long because I know he's not going to be this small forever.
1) Now what am I supposed to be doing with you?
2) How much longer until bedtime, again?
3) When will we ever understand each other?
But when he sleeps, I check in on him.
Seeing him lying there crooked and contorted in his crib - watching the slow up-and-down of his breathing - fills my heart to more than it can hold. He's so vulnerable, and so perfect. I love him so much that I almost can't handle it. I forget the frustrations and the monotony that fills my days and I just want to pick him up and hold him all night long because I know he's not going to be this small forever.
Friday, April 8, 2011
That's what I said. Period.
I've always been a bit of a grammar nerd. I'm not sure if it's because my mom would constantly interrupt me when I was using it poorly or if I was just so bad at math and science that I needed to find something I was good at. Regardless, I can spot an error a mile away. (That's not always a good thing. In fact, it often drives Chad crazy.)
This morning, I was finishing up a few things in the kitchen before heading out the door. Jackson was still sleeping. Chad was in the shower. I wanted to make sure he knew about a couple of things, so I left him a post-it on the kitchen window.
I scribbled it quickly, slapped it on the glass and started to laugh. This note would read very differently without the period, wouldn't it?
This morning, I was finishing up a few things in the kitchen before heading out the door. Jackson was still sleeping. Chad was in the shower. I wanted to make sure he knew about a couple of things, so I left him a post-it on the kitchen window.
I scribbled it quickly, slapped it on the glass and started to laugh. This note would read very differently without the period, wouldn't it?
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Rude awakenings
Act I
Jackson has been sleeping like a champ for the last few days (as in, 8-9 hour stretches without waking up!). The downside of this is that my body hasn't adjusted to this expanded schedule. So last night at 2 a.m., after being asleep for my requisite three hours, I woke up completely unsure of what to do with myself. I wandered around. I checked the nursery to make sure he was breathing. I remembered that I needed to fill out some paperwork for the daycare lady and spent 45 minutes downstairs looking up the info of our pediatrician and the emergency contact folks.
At 3 a.m., just as I was getting ready to go back to bed, Jackson woke up hungry. (In fairness to him, he'd been asleep for nine hours - even I can't go that long without eating!) He's always been very good about eating and going right back to sleep, but last night after he ate he kept wiggling and squirming - which was frustrating both of us.
Yesterday, it was hot. Outside was 88 degrees and our house had cooked to a toasty 75 by 3:30 a.m. Holding a baby for 45 minutes wasn't cooling me off any, either. Once I realized he wasn't going back to sleep because he was too warm (even my cold-blooded self had changed out of my flannel pajamas!), I took him out of his sleeper. I opened the windows, rocked him again, and he went right to sleep.
Success! 4 a.m. And - bonus - a nice, cool breeze blowing through the windows.
Act II
Fast-forward 15 minutes. I was somewhere in that great state between asleep and awake. I felt something looking at me. I opened my eyes and less than an inch from my face was Lucy's nose, huge eyes and ears flat to the side of her head. I mumbled something about "It's ok, Lucy, time for bed..." and she didn't move.
Not 30 seconds later, it started pouring. I mean, raining harder than I have ever seen - sheets and sheets of blowing rain (of course, in Jackson's windows, which I had only opened moments earlier). We did the maniacal run-around-and-close-all-the-windows drill that I perfected when growing up in a house without air conditioning, and went back to bed.
But Lucy doesn't mind the rain. She minds the lightning and the thunder. For over a half hour, she was as close to being in our bed as you could be with two feet still on the floor. She had herself stretched halfway across that thing. And she shuttled between my side of the bed and Chad's - back and forth, back and forth - until, exhausted, she nestled herself in a tiny little ball next to my nightstand.
I fell asleep.
Thirty minutes later, at 5:30, my alarm went off. That's the one part of that new 7 a.m. - 3 p.m. schedule I hadn't thought through.
As I told Chad this morning when we were both stumbling around looking for our sanity and caffeine, someday we'll laugh about this.
Jackson has been sleeping like a champ for the last few days (as in, 8-9 hour stretches without waking up!). The downside of this is that my body hasn't adjusted to this expanded schedule. So last night at 2 a.m., after being asleep for my requisite three hours, I woke up completely unsure of what to do with myself. I wandered around. I checked the nursery to make sure he was breathing. I remembered that I needed to fill out some paperwork for the daycare lady and spent 45 minutes downstairs looking up the info of our pediatrician and the emergency contact folks.
At 3 a.m., just as I was getting ready to go back to bed, Jackson woke up hungry. (In fairness to him, he'd been asleep for nine hours - even I can't go that long without eating!) He's always been very good about eating and going right back to sleep, but last night after he ate he kept wiggling and squirming - which was frustrating both of us.
Yesterday, it was hot. Outside was 88 degrees and our house had cooked to a toasty 75 by 3:30 a.m. Holding a baby for 45 minutes wasn't cooling me off any, either. Once I realized he wasn't going back to sleep because he was too warm (even my cold-blooded self had changed out of my flannel pajamas!), I took him out of his sleeper. I opened the windows, rocked him again, and he went right to sleep.
Success! 4 a.m. And - bonus - a nice, cool breeze blowing through the windows.
Act II
Fast-forward 15 minutes. I was somewhere in that great state between asleep and awake. I felt something looking at me. I opened my eyes and less than an inch from my face was Lucy's nose, huge eyes and ears flat to the side of her head. I mumbled something about "It's ok, Lucy, time for bed..." and she didn't move.
Not 30 seconds later, it started pouring. I mean, raining harder than I have ever seen - sheets and sheets of blowing rain (of course, in Jackson's windows, which I had only opened moments earlier). We did the maniacal run-around-and-close-all-the-windows drill that I perfected when growing up in a house without air conditioning, and went back to bed.
But Lucy doesn't mind the rain. She minds the lightning and the thunder. For over a half hour, she was as close to being in our bed as you could be with two feet still on the floor. She had herself stretched halfway across that thing. And she shuttled between my side of the bed and Chad's - back and forth, back and forth - until, exhausted, she nestled herself in a tiny little ball next to my nightstand.
I fell asleep.
Thirty minutes later, at 5:30, my alarm went off. That's the one part of that new 7 a.m. - 3 p.m. schedule I hadn't thought through.
As I told Chad this morning when we were both stumbling around looking for our sanity and caffeine, someday we'll laugh about this.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Daycare, Day 1
After stressing out about where to take Jackson when I went back to work, we found a good short-term solution with the in-home provider where our friend April takes her little boy, Braden. (Long-term, one of the spots at the daycare we really wanted opened up for this July.)
I wasn't a total mess when I dropped Jackson off yesterday, but it wasn't easy. I will withhold all judgment on this "working mom" gig for two weeks, or at least that's what I promised Chad.
The woman, Farhana, has a master's in child development and goes back for continuing education every year. She had an opening, is very convenient for drop off and pick up, and has plenty of things for kids to play with. (Though Jackson spends most days just playing with his hands at this point.) I absolutely trust her, which was the most important factor for us in finding someone.
I dropped him off about 8:30 and checked in midday to a good report. (As Chad said, "I wonder if Farhana and her helper take bets on what time the new mom will call?") Then, with my new 7-3 work hours, I couldn't get out of here fast enough. He was sleeping when we dropped him off and sleeping when I picked him up.
And when we got home, he was all smiles. In fact, he often gets to laughing so much that he gives himself the hiccups - yesterday afternoon was no exception.
I wasn't a total mess when I dropped Jackson off yesterday, but it wasn't easy. I will withhold all judgment on this "working mom" gig for two weeks, or at least that's what I promised Chad.
The woman, Farhana, has a master's in child development and goes back for continuing education every year. She had an opening, is very convenient for drop off and pick up, and has plenty of things for kids to play with. (Though Jackson spends most days just playing with his hands at this point.) I absolutely trust her, which was the most important factor for us in finding someone.
I dropped him off about 8:30 and checked in midday to a good report. (As Chad said, "I wonder if Farhana and her helper take bets on what time the new mom will call?") Then, with my new 7-3 work hours, I couldn't get out of here fast enough. He was sleeping when we dropped him off and sleeping when I picked him up.
And when we got home, he was all smiles. In fact, he often gets to laughing so much that he gives himself the hiccups - yesterday afternoon was no exception.
Friday, April 1, 2011
April Fool's
A year ago today, I had one of the biggest surprises of my life: I found out I was pregnant.
We haven't shared this journey widely, but having a baby didn't come particularly easy for us. In fact, we were close to the realization that perhaps this all wasn't meant to be.
After seeing one specialist on and off for the better part of a year, we were told that I wouldn't be able to get pregnant without a costly procedure. We thought about it and prayed about it and decided against that option, at least for the time being. Since I was never too thrilled with her, I decided to go for a second opinion. Ready to try this all one more time, I met with the doctor, they explained the testing and took some preliminary blood work. I was encouraged but knew it was going to be a long process. As in, months.
Here we go again, I thought. And if this doesn't work, we'll just be the world's coolest aunt and uncle (and be able to take lots of kid-free vacations in the process).
I went for a second opinion on March 31. On the afternoon of April 1, I was working from home when my phone rang. It was the nurse I'd met the day before.
Well, she said, your blood work came back. I've got some good news and some bad news.
The good news is, you're pregnant. The bad news is, the hormone levels are really low. It will likely end in a miscarriage.
It was April Fool's Day. The irony did not escape me. Based on all the testing they'd done, there was no way I should have been pregnant. A big part of me thought that maybe the lab had screwed up the test.
How did Chad find out? It was very anticlimactic: I called him at work and said something along the lines of, "Well, you'll never believe this. I'm pregnant though it's not going to last. But the good news is it can happen." We didn't celebrate but we were encouraged for the long term.
Over the next few weeks, I returned multiple times for blood work. Instead of going down, my numbers kept going up. And up. And up. By about the middle of April, I started to wonder if this was really going to happen. The next several weeks went painstakingly slow as we kept getting morsels of good news but needed to be realistic that it was still very early.
We all know what happened next but in case you need a refresher...
One year to the day later, I'm on my last day of maternity leave with a beautiful little boy who makes me laugh more than he makes me crazy. While I dream of sleep and a real vacation and an impromptu evening out, I can't really imagine our lives without him anymore.
Oh my, how life can change in an instant. That April Fool's was apparently no joke.
We haven't shared this journey widely, but having a baby didn't come particularly easy for us. In fact, we were close to the realization that perhaps this all wasn't meant to be.
After seeing one specialist on and off for the better part of a year, we were told that I wouldn't be able to get pregnant without a costly procedure. We thought about it and prayed about it and decided against that option, at least for the time being. Since I was never too thrilled with her, I decided to go for a second opinion. Ready to try this all one more time, I met with the doctor, they explained the testing and took some preliminary blood work. I was encouraged but knew it was going to be a long process. As in, months.
Here we go again, I thought. And if this doesn't work, we'll just be the world's coolest aunt and uncle (and be able to take lots of kid-free vacations in the process).
I went for a second opinion on March 31. On the afternoon of April 1, I was working from home when my phone rang. It was the nurse I'd met the day before.
Well, she said, your blood work came back. I've got some good news and some bad news.
The good news is, you're pregnant. The bad news is, the hormone levels are really low. It will likely end in a miscarriage.
It was April Fool's Day. The irony did not escape me. Based on all the testing they'd done, there was no way I should have been pregnant. A big part of me thought that maybe the lab had screwed up the test.
How did Chad find out? It was very anticlimactic: I called him at work and said something along the lines of, "Well, you'll never believe this. I'm pregnant though it's not going to last. But the good news is it can happen." We didn't celebrate but we were encouraged for the long term.
Over the next few weeks, I returned multiple times for blood work. Instead of going down, my numbers kept going up. And up. And up. By about the middle of April, I started to wonder if this was really going to happen. The next several weeks went painstakingly slow as we kept getting morsels of good news but needed to be realistic that it was still very early.
We all know what happened next but in case you need a refresher...
One year to the day later, I'm on my last day of maternity leave with a beautiful little boy who makes me laugh more than he makes me crazy. While I dream of sleep and a real vacation and an impromptu evening out, I can't really imagine our lives without him anymore.
Oh my, how life can change in an instant. That April Fool's was apparently no joke.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Meltdown in aisle five
My friend Linda has always bemoaned my love of Target. When we were living together in St. Louis, I'd drag her in "just for a couple of things" and we'd end up spending hours - and a lot more money than we'd planned. I've loved that place since college.
Well, I've found a way to get me in and out of Target in 15 minutes, spending less than $40 in the process.
Go shopping with my son.
On Tuesday afternoon we went to Target to get a handful of small household things and a birthday present for Chad. I timed this perfectly: It was that sweet spot after naptime and before mealtime when Jackson is usually at his most charming. I figured I had an hour to browse the aisles, pick up a few snacks and cleaning supplies, peruse for the perfect gift and make it home with time to spare.
But that didn't happen. After about ten minutes in the store, Jackson decided he absolutely had enough and proceeded to have a complete meltdown in the shopping cart. We're talking about a gasping-for-breath screamfest. For absolutely zero reason, other than he apparently hates Target.
You've never seen me pick out a birthday present so fast.
My favorite part ~ Upon checkout, the very well-meaning clerk was trying to diagnose his ails:
- Ahh, he must be hungry.
No, he's not hungry. He just ate.
- He must be tired.
No. He just woke up from a two-hour nap.
- Maybe he needs a hug.
Ok, seriously lady. I'm about to ring this all up myself.
At that point I must have looked at her with the exhaustion and frustrations of a new mother, because she stopped with the grand inquisition...and proceeded to ask me if I'd like to save 10% on my purchases for signing up for their credit card. (Umm...no thank you. And pretty sure the people in line behind me don't want me doing that, either.)
As the proverbial icing on the cake, as soon as the doors opened up to the outside Jackson stopped screaming, looked straight at me, and...smiled. Hmph.
This is why I shop online.
Well, I've found a way to get me in and out of Target in 15 minutes, spending less than $40 in the process.
Go shopping with my son.
On Tuesday afternoon we went to Target to get a handful of small household things and a birthday present for Chad. I timed this perfectly: It was that sweet spot after naptime and before mealtime when Jackson is usually at his most charming. I figured I had an hour to browse the aisles, pick up a few snacks and cleaning supplies, peruse for the perfect gift and make it home with time to spare.
But that didn't happen. After about ten minutes in the store, Jackson decided he absolutely had enough and proceeded to have a complete meltdown in the shopping cart. We're talking about a gasping-for-breath screamfest. For absolutely zero reason, other than he apparently hates Target.
You've never seen me pick out a birthday present so fast.
My favorite part ~ Upon checkout, the very well-meaning clerk was trying to diagnose his ails:
- Ahh, he must be hungry.
No, he's not hungry. He just ate.
- He must be tired.
No. He just woke up from a two-hour nap.
- Maybe he needs a hug.
Ok, seriously lady. I'm about to ring this all up myself.
At that point I must have looked at her with the exhaustion and frustrations of a new mother, because she stopped with the grand inquisition...and proceeded to ask me if I'd like to save 10% on my purchases for signing up for their credit card. (Umm...no thank you. And pretty sure the people in line behind me don't want me doing that, either.)
As the proverbial icing on the cake, as soon as the doors opened up to the outside Jackson stopped screaming, looked straight at me, and...smiled. Hmph.
This is why I shop online.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Reality check
I've been spending my days trying to unlock the mystery of a three-month-old, battling spit up and diaper duty and the inexplicable changes in personality that come from being too tired/too hot/too hungry or any litany of assorted things. It can be hard to remember in the midst of this tunnel vision that most of us are pretty damn lucky.
The father of a friend of mine, who is more like a sister than a friend, was diagnosed this week with pancreatic cancer. I don't know how bad it is, but pancreatic cancer is not good. They're going to fight like hell to beat it and, if anyone can beat it, they can. He's a wonderful guy, and my friend has such a palpable connection with her dad you can feel it when you spend just a few seconds with them.
Even though we've had a few friends recently who have lost parents - and a few more whose parents were very ill but pulled through - this news hit me like a ton of bricks. I've spent more minutes than I can count this week thinking about her and her family, wishing there was something I could do and praying for God to give them strength to help them through this.
This horrible, wouldn't-wish-it-on-anybody-in-a-million-years news has offered me a bit of a reality check. Instead of bemoaning my desperately-needs-a-refresher wardrobe or that pile of laundry in the corner of my bedroom or those last few pesky pregnancy pounds, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about what we do have. And I've been consciously trying to take advantage of all the good in my life.
Join me in making a mental list of everything you have that's amazing. And, if you've got an extra minute, please send some positive thoughts to a friend going through a rough time.
The father of a friend of mine, who is more like a sister than a friend, was diagnosed this week with pancreatic cancer. I don't know how bad it is, but pancreatic cancer is not good. They're going to fight like hell to beat it and, if anyone can beat it, they can. He's a wonderful guy, and my friend has such a palpable connection with her dad you can feel it when you spend just a few seconds with them.
Even though we've had a few friends recently who have lost parents - and a few more whose parents were very ill but pulled through - this news hit me like a ton of bricks. I've spent more minutes than I can count this week thinking about her and her family, wishing there was something I could do and praying for God to give them strength to help them through this.
This horrible, wouldn't-wish-it-on-anybody-in-a-million-years news has offered me a bit of a reality check. Instead of bemoaning my desperately-needs-a-refresher wardrobe or that pile of laundry in the corner of my bedroom or those last few pesky pregnancy pounds, I've been spending a lot of time thinking about what we do have. And I've been consciously trying to take advantage of all the good in my life.
Join me in making a mental list of everything you have that's amazing. And, if you've got an extra minute, please send some positive thoughts to a friend going through a rough time.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
This is too funny
Since Jackson and I have been in Illinois, I've been chastised for not blogging (hi, Janice). We've taken a lot of pictures and done the rounds for all the relatives, so blogging has most definitely taken a back seat. While I promise pictures when we return to DC, here's a video from the other night when Jackson got to giggling after watching his grandma stick her tongue out.
Ah, what grown-ups will do to make kids laugh...
Ah, what grown-ups will do to make kids laugh...
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Tricks and treats
A few days ago, my sisters and I surprised my mom for her birthday. She had turned sixty a few days before so was absolutely not expecting the three of us - and Jackson! - to come sauntering in for a weekend of fun.
His aunts went home, but Jackson and I are now in Illinois for almost two weeks. He's going to meet uncles, aunts, cousins, seven great-grandparents, and even a few great aunts and uncles. And second cousins. (Phew! Did I get all that?)
Earlier today during Jackson's obligatory tummy time, I mentioned to my dad that I thought he'd roll over before we went back to DC. Little did I know that just a few hours later, during the 90 minutes I spent driving Rachel and Janice to the airport, Jackson had a few tricks up his sleeve for his Grandma. By the time I got home, a whole room of people had gathered to witness Jackson's latest performance. You'd think a child had never rolled over before given the response.
Jackson, it's like you're doing this to me on purpose. You give your first smile to one grandma and roll over for the other. Can't you give your own mom a little love?
His aunts went home, but Jackson and I are now in Illinois for almost two weeks. He's going to meet uncles, aunts, cousins, seven great-grandparents, and even a few great aunts and uncles. And second cousins. (Phew! Did I get all that?)
Earlier today during Jackson's obligatory tummy time, I mentioned to my dad that I thought he'd roll over before we went back to DC. Little did I know that just a few hours later, during the 90 minutes I spent driving Rachel and Janice to the airport, Jackson had a few tricks up his sleeve for his Grandma. By the time I got home, a whole room of people had gathered to witness Jackson's latest performance. You'd think a child had never rolled over before given the response.
Jackson, it's like you're doing this to me on purpose. You give your first smile to one grandma and roll over for the other. Can't you give your own mom a little love?
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Things, they are a'changin
I might just jinx myself. And if I do, please don't say I told you so.
For the last several days Jackson has been, well, fun! He's happy when he's awake, he's been sleeping fairly well (just need to do something about those 5 a.m. wake-up calls...) and he is fairly content to spend a little quiet time sitting in a chair watching me do things or hanging out on his favorite mat.
I was telling a friend the other day that I'm not sure if the 12-week point is a mile marker because of the child's development or because parents have just started to figure things out. Either way, I'm enjoying it. Today, I managed to accomplish the following: ate lunch, made dinner and put it in the fridge, washed all the dishes, washed and folded a load of laundry, started packing for our trip home (yeah it's not for 10 days but I'm excited!), gave Jackson a bath, went on a three-mile walk with the stroller and the dog, and picked up dry cleaning on the way home. Oh, and, ummm...took a two-hour nap. (And here I am updating the blog!) I'm starting to feel like Super Mom.
Jackson, meanwhile, is changing every day. In the last few days he's started talking and laughing - or at least the three-month-old version of talking. Something tells me this child will have big stories to tell someday!
For the last several days Jackson has been, well, fun! He's happy when he's awake, he's been sleeping fairly well (just need to do something about those 5 a.m. wake-up calls...) and he is fairly content to spend a little quiet time sitting in a chair watching me do things or hanging out on his favorite mat.
I was telling a friend the other day that I'm not sure if the 12-week point is a mile marker because of the child's development or because parents have just started to figure things out. Either way, I'm enjoying it. Today, I managed to accomplish the following: ate lunch, made dinner and put it in the fridge, washed all the dishes, washed and folded a load of laundry, started packing for our trip home (yeah it's not for 10 days but I'm excited!), gave Jackson a bath, went on a three-mile walk with the stroller and the dog, and picked up dry cleaning on the way home. Oh, and, ummm...took a two-hour nap. (And here I am updating the blog!) I'm starting to feel like Super Mom.
Jackson, meanwhile, is changing every day. In the last few days he's started talking and laughing - or at least the three-month-old version of talking. Something tells me this child will have big stories to tell someday!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
One step forward...
On this, Jackson's 12-week birthday, I want to shout from the rooftops "We made it!"
But I can't. I'm too tired.
Why? Because our little pipsqueak slept like a charm from about 6:30-10:00 last night and then decided to wake up at 10:18, 11:06, 12:30, 1:20, 2:08, 3:12 and 4:04. And I got up for the day at 5:30. At some point after an all-nighter like that you just have to say good riddance to the past six frustrating hours and look forward to the daytime.
It was so bad that Lucy left our room and slept on the living room couch all night. This morning Chad called her a traitor. He was right!
The optimist in me thinks Jackson was just giving us one last all-night hurrah before turning the corner for good. Because I have racked my brain for every single other possible explanation to why he wouldn't sleep for more than 45 minutes and absolutely nothing else makes sense.
Unless he was hungry. This child is a bottomless pit.
We went back to the doctor yesterday for another check up on his growth and he's plodding along. He's a superstar in height (24.5", so 75th percentile) but puny in the weight category (just 11 lb, 2 oz...or the 13th percentile). He may just be destined to be tall and skinny his whole life, but our doctor's orders for the next few weeks are to fatten Jackson up as much as we possibly can. After pumping him so full of milk this morning that he looked drunk, I think we are making real progress. Why? Because Jackson has been asleep since 9 a.m. - nearly three hours.
Wish I could say the same for his parents.
But I can't. I'm too tired.
Why? Because our little pipsqueak slept like a charm from about 6:30-10:00 last night and then decided to wake up at 10:18, 11:06, 12:30, 1:20, 2:08, 3:12 and 4:04. And I got up for the day at 5:30. At some point after an all-nighter like that you just have to say good riddance to the past six frustrating hours and look forward to the daytime.
It was so bad that Lucy left our room and slept on the living room couch all night. This morning Chad called her a traitor. He was right!
The optimist in me thinks Jackson was just giving us one last all-night hurrah before turning the corner for good. Because I have racked my brain for every single other possible explanation to why he wouldn't sleep for more than 45 minutes and absolutely nothing else makes sense.
Unless he was hungry. This child is a bottomless pit.
We went back to the doctor yesterday for another check up on his growth and he's plodding along. He's a superstar in height (24.5", so 75th percentile) but puny in the weight category (just 11 lb, 2 oz...or the 13th percentile). He may just be destined to be tall and skinny his whole life, but our doctor's orders for the next few weeks are to fatten Jackson up as much as we possibly can. After pumping him so full of milk this morning that he looked drunk, I think we are making real progress. Why? Because Jackson has been asleep since 9 a.m. - nearly three hours.
Wish I could say the same for his parents.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Seeing double
It's hard to know when you're registering for baby things what you're really going to use and what you're not. I was always kind of "ehhh" on the baby activity gyms (didn't really see the point) but we registered for one anyway.
I wasn't totally shocked when we didn't get it.
But my Aunt Kathy & Uncle Dave sent us money for "something Jackson would want" a couple of weeks ago, and I started to reconsider this toy. Now that Jackson is more alert, I'm looking for ways to stimulate him. And these little mats are also supposed to help babies enjoy their "tummy time," which my child has always hated.
The activity gym came a week ago today, and it's one of our favorite gifts right now. We use it probably three times a day. It's got lights. Music. Little animals that swing overhead for him to grab. And a mirror.
(I will interject, here, by saying that Lucy is not sure what to think of this contraption.)
My favorite new milestone of Jackson's - aside from spending minutes on end staring at his hands (gasp! what are these things stuck to my body?) - is when he finds himself in a mirror. He grins and stares at me all day long but when he sees himself, well, we both crack up.
I wasn't totally shocked when we didn't get it.
But my Aunt Kathy & Uncle Dave sent us money for "something Jackson would want" a couple of weeks ago, and I started to reconsider this toy. Now that Jackson is more alert, I'm looking for ways to stimulate him. And these little mats are also supposed to help babies enjoy their "tummy time," which my child has always hated.
The activity gym came a week ago today, and it's one of our favorite gifts right now. We use it probably three times a day. It's got lights. Music. Little animals that swing overhead for him to grab. And a mirror.
(I will interject, here, by saying that Lucy is not sure what to think of this contraption.)
My favorite new milestone of Jackson's - aside from spending minutes on end staring at his hands (gasp! what are these things stuck to my body?) - is when he finds himself in a mirror. He grins and stares at me all day long but when he sees himself, well, we both crack up.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
10 lessons in 10 weeks
In honor of making it to the 10-week mark fairly unscathed, I've given some thought to the ten things I've learned (or was glad I had heard) during this whole experience. Here's what I know now that I didn't know before - or that I knew but kept reminding myself for the last two months.
#10: Trust your gut. I was worried that Jackson wasn't eating enough. Every new parent apparently thinks they're starving their child and I was not going to be one of those spastic new moms who called the pediatrician convinced of this. But at Jackson's two-month appointment we found out that there is an exception to every rule: my "lazy eater" wasn't gaining enough weight and had, in fact, spent the greater part of his scant eight weeks of life hungry. (Ouch. The idea that you haven't been feeding your child enough has "Mommy Guilt" written all over it.) Someday while my son is scarfing down his third helping of dinner I will remind him of the fact that he was once considered a "lazy" eater. Chad and I just aren't sure which side of the family that came from. Point being, in the back of my mind I knew this about week #4. I just talked myself out of it because I didn't want to come across as a spaz.
#9: If at first you don't succeed, try again. Some other day. At the six-week mark, I was determined to move Jackson from a Pack 'n Play into his crib. Six weeks seemed like the appropriate milestone for this to occur, so we made the move. And at the six-weeks-and-three-day mark, I abandoned my valiant mission. After several nights of getting up every hour to soothe a crying infant, we pulled the Pack 'n Play out of its carrier and put Jackson back in his little vibrating napper he loved so much. I needed sleep and I preferred to stay sane. "I am not giving up," I told Chad. "I am just accepting the fact that he is not ready for this." We'd try the crib in a few weeks, we decided. And, guess what? Two nights ago I put him into the crib and he sleeps like a dream child. Life is good.
#8: Kids make noise when they sleep. Why did no one ever tell me that I need to listen before rushing into my child's room? After about nine weeks I realized that Jackson grunts, farts, snorts and even cries in his sleep. Rushing in to put in the pacifier or feed him resulted in me legitimately waking a sleeping baby more times than I care to admit. Now I know a "just readjusting myself, Mom" whimper from a "Hello, I'm hungry, Lady!" wail when I hear it.
#7: Dr. Harvey Karp is a frickin' genius. If you ever invite me to a baby shower, let me spoil your gift: I will bring you a copy of The Happiest Baby on the Block and a swaddle. Even when I was apparently starving our child (see Point #10) I could calm down his cries in a matter of seconds with the "five S's". This man is a dream worker. As of late we've been loving the Miracle Blanket because it is the one swaddle that our little Houdini cannot escape from in the middle of the night. And he can't scratch himself, either, which he does if he's not wrapped up tight.
#6: Talk to your mommy friends. They will understand. I have been so lucky to have this charter group of women who have gone before me that really "get" this whole parenthood gig. They check in. They send reassuring emails and how-are-you-doing text messages. They comment on my blog posts. They call in the middle of the afternoon for no reason and we talk about things like bowel movements and the appropriate length of naps. (Yes, I have become one of those people who keeps track of both.) In my non-mom days I wanted to support my mom friends - and I did to the extent I could - but I've realized that I just didn't "get" it. If you're having a kid, find your network of people who have already sailed these waters and put them on speed dial. Immediately.
#5: This, too, shall pass. During the screaming fits, and there have been a few, I constantly reminded myself that neither of us would permanently be worse for the wear in six months or six years. These are the times of long days and short years, one of my friends wisely told me. And it's funny that, looking back even on the last few months, I really remember the best moments and have blocked out the worst parts. Perhaps that's the sleep deprivation talking, who knows.
#4: Don't fool yourself. You will not be able to sleep when the baby sleeps. A well-meaning friend said to me around Week Two of this adventure, "So, what are you going to do with all your free time?" I smiled, but I was gritting my teeth. Yes, it goes to figure that if a newborn sleeps 14-18 hours a day that you should be able to be pretty darned productive. Well, in the last ten weeks, I have taken exactly one nap. During Jackson's spotty nap times I am lucky to shower or eat lunch or put in a load of laundry or take out the trash or feed the dog or... I think you get the gist. In fact, when I'm putting Jackson down for his naps I am mentally prioritizing my to-dos. Should I make myself coffee first or write those three thank-you notes? Dare I make some oatmeal or should I wash those bottles? When you're living on borrowed time, it's amazing how productive you are. But, unfortunately, sleeping isn't usually part of that equation.
#3: Get out of the house. RIGHT. NOW. I sign up for these weekly baby emails about what your child should be doing developmentally, what you should be watching for, etc. At Week Eight, my email said something like, "Now is the time you should be thinking about and mentally preparing yourself to leave your child with someone else." Yikes, I thought. I must be the world's worst parent. We left Jackson and headed for the hills at about Day #3. Getting out of the house is essential. Chad and I have been to dinner by ourselves more often than I can count. And I've got a rule that if the temperature is above 40 degrees, I bundle Jackson up and take Lucy for a walk. Accept the fact that, if you're lucky, there are people on this Earth who love your child *almost* as much as you do. And those people have probably had far more sleep and are much more refreshed than you are. They make amazing babysitters. Get out of your house without your child. For everyone's sake!
#2: Having a baby is a productivity killer. This was actually the phrase that Chad uttered to me last Sunday after we had both been up for six hours with a fussy child and found ourselves still in our pajamas. Mentally prepare yourself for the fact that you will not be able to get anything done for the first 12 weeks and if you do, it's a bonus. This is not the time to be planning or doing anything of substance. Like knee surgery. But that is another blog post. And, yes, my Aunt Rita cautioned against this.
#1: If anyone offers to help, teach yourself these six little words: "That would be awesome. Thank you." Now is not the time to be Superwoman. You can't do it all, trust me. (And even with help, your kitchen will look like a disaster.) In Jackson's first weeks, Janice did my laundry. My mom made dinner more than once. Rachel sent me a "Pick a night this week when I can come babysit" text. April and Sarah and Sara and Erika and Margaret and Cathy and oh I'm sure I'm forgetting lots of people took care of us so we could take care of our child. Those are the best friends to have. And you need to be willing to accept everything they're willing to offer.
#10: Trust your gut. I was worried that Jackson wasn't eating enough. Every new parent apparently thinks they're starving their child and I was not going to be one of those spastic new moms who called the pediatrician convinced of this. But at Jackson's two-month appointment we found out that there is an exception to every rule: my "lazy eater" wasn't gaining enough weight and had, in fact, spent the greater part of his scant eight weeks of life hungry. (Ouch. The idea that you haven't been feeding your child enough has "Mommy Guilt" written all over it.) Someday while my son is scarfing down his third helping of dinner I will remind him of the fact that he was once considered a "lazy" eater. Chad and I just aren't sure which side of the family that came from. Point being, in the back of my mind I knew this about week #4. I just talked myself out of it because I didn't want to come across as a spaz.
#9: If at first you don't succeed, try again. Some other day. At the six-week mark, I was determined to move Jackson from a Pack 'n Play into his crib. Six weeks seemed like the appropriate milestone for this to occur, so we made the move. And at the six-weeks-and-three-day mark, I abandoned my valiant mission. After several nights of getting up every hour to soothe a crying infant, we pulled the Pack 'n Play out of its carrier and put Jackson back in his little vibrating napper he loved so much. I needed sleep and I preferred to stay sane. "I am not giving up," I told Chad. "I am just accepting the fact that he is not ready for this." We'd try the crib in a few weeks, we decided. And, guess what? Two nights ago I put him into the crib and he sleeps like a dream child. Life is good.
#8: Kids make noise when they sleep. Why did no one ever tell me that I need to listen before rushing into my child's room? After about nine weeks I realized that Jackson grunts, farts, snorts and even cries in his sleep. Rushing in to put in the pacifier or feed him resulted in me legitimately waking a sleeping baby more times than I care to admit. Now I know a "just readjusting myself, Mom" whimper from a "Hello, I'm hungry, Lady!" wail when I hear it.
#7: Dr. Harvey Karp is a frickin' genius. If you ever invite me to a baby shower, let me spoil your gift: I will bring you a copy of The Happiest Baby on the Block and a swaddle. Even when I was apparently starving our child (see Point #10) I could calm down his cries in a matter of seconds with the "five S's". This man is a dream worker. As of late we've been loving the Miracle Blanket because it is the one swaddle that our little Houdini cannot escape from in the middle of the night. And he can't scratch himself, either, which he does if he's not wrapped up tight.
#6: Talk to your mommy friends. They will understand. I have been so lucky to have this charter group of women who have gone before me that really "get" this whole parenthood gig. They check in. They send reassuring emails and how-are-you-doing text messages. They comment on my blog posts. They call in the middle of the afternoon for no reason and we talk about things like bowel movements and the appropriate length of naps. (Yes, I have become one of those people who keeps track of both.) In my non-mom days I wanted to support my mom friends - and I did to the extent I could - but I've realized that I just didn't "get" it. If you're having a kid, find your network of people who have already sailed these waters and put them on speed dial. Immediately.
#5: This, too, shall pass. During the screaming fits, and there have been a few, I constantly reminded myself that neither of us would permanently be worse for the wear in six months or six years. These are the times of long days and short years, one of my friends wisely told me. And it's funny that, looking back even on the last few months, I really remember the best moments and have blocked out the worst parts. Perhaps that's the sleep deprivation talking, who knows.
#4: Don't fool yourself. You will not be able to sleep when the baby sleeps. A well-meaning friend said to me around Week Two of this adventure, "So, what are you going to do with all your free time?" I smiled, but I was gritting my teeth. Yes, it goes to figure that if a newborn sleeps 14-18 hours a day that you should be able to be pretty darned productive. Well, in the last ten weeks, I have taken exactly one nap. During Jackson's spotty nap times I am lucky to shower or eat lunch or put in a load of laundry or take out the trash or feed the dog or... I think you get the gist. In fact, when I'm putting Jackson down for his naps I am mentally prioritizing my to-dos. Should I make myself coffee first or write those three thank-you notes? Dare I make some oatmeal or should I wash those bottles? When you're living on borrowed time, it's amazing how productive you are. But, unfortunately, sleeping isn't usually part of that equation.
#3: Get out of the house. RIGHT. NOW. I sign up for these weekly baby emails about what your child should be doing developmentally, what you should be watching for, etc. At Week Eight, my email said something like, "Now is the time you should be thinking about and mentally preparing yourself to leave your child with someone else." Yikes, I thought. I must be the world's worst parent. We left Jackson and headed for the hills at about Day #3. Getting out of the house is essential. Chad and I have been to dinner by ourselves more often than I can count. And I've got a rule that if the temperature is above 40 degrees, I bundle Jackson up and take Lucy for a walk. Accept the fact that, if you're lucky, there are people on this Earth who love your child *almost* as much as you do. And those people have probably had far more sleep and are much more refreshed than you are. They make amazing babysitters. Get out of your house without your child. For everyone's sake!
#2: Having a baby is a productivity killer. This was actually the phrase that Chad uttered to me last Sunday after we had both been up for six hours with a fussy child and found ourselves still in our pajamas. Mentally prepare yourself for the fact that you will not be able to get anything done for the first 12 weeks and if you do, it's a bonus. This is not the time to be planning or doing anything of substance. Like knee surgery. But that is another blog post. And, yes, my Aunt Rita cautioned against this.
#1: If anyone offers to help, teach yourself these six little words: "That would be awesome. Thank you." Now is not the time to be Superwoman. You can't do it all, trust me. (And even with help, your kitchen will look like a disaster.) In Jackson's first weeks, Janice did my laundry. My mom made dinner more than once. Rachel sent me a "Pick a night this week when I can come babysit" text. April and Sarah and Sara and Erika and Margaret and Cathy and oh I'm sure I'm forgetting lots of people took care of us so we could take care of our child. Those are the best friends to have. And you need to be willing to accept everything they're willing to offer.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Daycare drama
I am over halfway through my maternity leave. Some days, I can't think of anything more amazing than staying home with Jackson and some days the idea of getting ready and going into an office sounds like a day at the spa.
But either way, the plan is to head back to work the first week of April. I'm sure I'll be a blubbering mess, but what's really got me stressed at the moment is not knowing where, exactly, we're going to take Jackson while we go to work. It is entirely too difficult to find a place to take your child around here. All the "good" places have huge waiting lists, and many of the best in-home daycares also have no openings. They basically make you pay a registration fee (typically in the hundreds of dollars) and then a "renewal" fee every year while you sit on the lists. I am in the wrong line of work, I tell you. I should open up a daycare enterprise.
We've been on two lists pretty much since we found out I was pregnant. There's a good daycare at the Senate - which, last I checked, we were #104 - and another in Old Town that gets rave reviews from some of my mom friends. That one looks more promising but when you've got 10 infant spots and over a hundred people on a waiting list, nothing is ever a done deal.
There is a good chance that neither of those will work out by April 4, so I'm currently stressing out about Option C: an as-yet-undetermined location for our not-very-old little boy. I refuse to take him just anywhere after hearing horror stories of babies left all day crying in their car seats. (I want to cry just thinking about it.) We've got lists of questions we're supposed to ask potential child care providers - everything from what's their emergency safety plan to is everyone a legal citizen and who is their back-up - and are trying to find someone who will love our child that has an opening for an infant the first week of April or before. I asked fewer questions when I was trying to decide which college to attend. And this all seems like an incredibly overwhelming and frustrating task.
This is another one of those moments when I wish Jackson's grandmas lived closer!
But either way, the plan is to head back to work the first week of April. I'm sure I'll be a blubbering mess, but what's really got me stressed at the moment is not knowing where, exactly, we're going to take Jackson while we go to work. It is entirely too difficult to find a place to take your child around here. All the "good" places have huge waiting lists, and many of the best in-home daycares also have no openings. They basically make you pay a registration fee (typically in the hundreds of dollars) and then a "renewal" fee every year while you sit on the lists. I am in the wrong line of work, I tell you. I should open up a daycare enterprise.
We've been on two lists pretty much since we found out I was pregnant. There's a good daycare at the Senate - which, last I checked, we were #104 - and another in Old Town that gets rave reviews from some of my mom friends. That one looks more promising but when you've got 10 infant spots and over a hundred people on a waiting list, nothing is ever a done deal.
There is a good chance that neither of those will work out by April 4, so I'm currently stressing out about Option C: an as-yet-undetermined location for our not-very-old little boy. I refuse to take him just anywhere after hearing horror stories of babies left all day crying in their car seats. (I want to cry just thinking about it.) We've got lists of questions we're supposed to ask potential child care providers - everything from what's their emergency safety plan to is everyone a legal citizen and who is their back-up - and are trying to find someone who will love our child that has an opening for an infant the first week of April or before. I asked fewer questions when I was trying to decide which college to attend. And this all seems like an incredibly overwhelming and frustrating task.
This is another one of those moments when I wish Jackson's grandmas lived closer!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Our new normal
After Janice spontaneously took pity on me and literally forced us out to dinner, Chad and I found ourselves at one of our favorite restaurants last night with time to kill. There was a long list of people in front of us, so we cozied up to the bar with a glass of wine to wait it out.
Heading out to dinner by ourselves, which used to be just another weekday or weeknight for us, has become very rare - and quite a production. We schlepped more stuff over to Janice's than I take for a weekend away: a Pack n Play, blanket, diapers, milk, toys... The idea of getting everything around to go anywhere could turn me into a hermit pretty easily.
As we were sitting in the middle of the very crowded restaurant, I found myself anticipating the days when we can drop Jackson off at his aunts' and uncles' with nothing more than a pair of pajamas, send him over to play with his cousin or a friend down the street at a moment's notice, or even bring him with us to a restaurant (since of course he will always be well behaved and polite).
I was thinking the rest of this year might be challenging but that by this time next year Jackson would be easier, on a more set bedtime schedule and not so unpredictable from a temperament standpoint. Short answer: definitely by the age of three but I'm banking on two.
Curious what Chad thought of this timetable, I asked him when he thought we'd be at the point where it will be easier to go out to dinner again.
He paused. He looked at me.
Oh for heaven's sake, I said. Be optimistic.
"Probably when he's old enough to stay home by himself."
Heading out to dinner by ourselves, which used to be just another weekday or weeknight for us, has become very rare - and quite a production. We schlepped more stuff over to Janice's than I take for a weekend away: a Pack n Play, blanket, diapers, milk, toys... The idea of getting everything around to go anywhere could turn me into a hermit pretty easily.
As we were sitting in the middle of the very crowded restaurant, I found myself anticipating the days when we can drop Jackson off at his aunts' and uncles' with nothing more than a pair of pajamas, send him over to play with his cousin or a friend down the street at a moment's notice, or even bring him with us to a restaurant (since of course he will always be well behaved and polite).
I was thinking the rest of this year might be challenging but that by this time next year Jackson would be easier, on a more set bedtime schedule and not so unpredictable from a temperament standpoint. Short answer: definitely by the age of three but I'm banking on two.
Curious what Chad thought of this timetable, I asked him when he thought we'd be at the point where it will be easier to go out to dinner again.
He paused. He looked at me.
Oh for heaven's sake, I said. Be optimistic.
"Probably when he's old enough to stay home by himself."
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Today, I cried
Jackson is two months old today. And that means a doctor's appointment. And that means shots.
I knew he was going to get shots. Shoot, at our two-week appointment the pediatrician went on and on about the importance of vaccinations. I'm sure she spent 15 minutes selling us something that was already sold. (Quite an inefficient use of her time, really.) So I've known this day was coming for awhile. Of course he was going to get immunized. "Just tell yourself that the pain of the shots will be far less than the pain he'd feel if he contracted any of these diseases," I kept repeating.
I'd be fine. He'd be fine. After all, for goodness sake, they're only shots.
So we had the whole doctor's appointment. Jackson's gained some weight and grew another inch. He's doing all the developmental things right on target. He's, apparently, "a clinger," which is what the pediatrician called a baby that likes to be held so much that they hate riding in car seats or being put down for naps. (There's nothing we did to cause this, she said. And you know I asked!)
Then it was time for the shots. The nurse, a very pleasant African-American woman, came in with three long needles. I made a joke about how she must have drawn the short straw to be the one who gets stuck with this task.
"Honey," she said, in a light Southern drawl. "I do more of these in a day than I can even count."
Which I took to mean that she really knew what she was doing. (And/or somewhere down the line, she really pissed somebody off to get such a thankless job.)
I had read that babies whose mothers held onto them during shots were in less pain (whoever managed to figure this out I don't know but I believed it), so I took a deep breath and I stood there as my happy little naked-except-for-his-diaper son went from bright-eyed and smiling to bright red and gasping for air.
The nurse was very efficient with the first two shots and waited for Jackson to take a deep breath before pulling the cap off of the third. "This one's a stinger," she said. "I'm sorry."
She pinched his leg and stuck in the needle, and that's when I lost it. I looked at his little beet red face and his pleading eyes which burned right through my soul and the tears started rolling down my face.
Oh My Lord, I realized, I've become one of those mothers. I was 100% shocked with myself.
After the shots, I scooped him up and he stopped crying in about five seconds. I'm convinced I was more traumatized by the experience than he was. As she put on his Band-Aids and cleaned up the needles, making her way out the door, the nurse kept apologizing. I felt like an idiot.
Chad might have to go to the four-month appointment with Jackson all by himself.
I knew he was going to get shots. Shoot, at our two-week appointment the pediatrician went on and on about the importance of vaccinations. I'm sure she spent 15 minutes selling us something that was already sold. (Quite an inefficient use of her time, really.) So I've known this day was coming for awhile. Of course he was going to get immunized. "Just tell yourself that the pain of the shots will be far less than the pain he'd feel if he contracted any of these diseases," I kept repeating.
I'd be fine. He'd be fine. After all, for goodness sake, they're only shots.
So we had the whole doctor's appointment. Jackson's gained some weight and grew another inch. He's doing all the developmental things right on target. He's, apparently, "a clinger," which is what the pediatrician called a baby that likes to be held so much that they hate riding in car seats or being put down for naps. (There's nothing we did to cause this, she said. And you know I asked!)
Then it was time for the shots. The nurse, a very pleasant African-American woman, came in with three long needles. I made a joke about how she must have drawn the short straw to be the one who gets stuck with this task.
"Honey," she said, in a light Southern drawl. "I do more of these in a day than I can even count."
Which I took to mean that she really knew what she was doing. (And/or somewhere down the line, she really pissed somebody off to get such a thankless job.)
I had read that babies whose mothers held onto them during shots were in less pain (whoever managed to figure this out I don't know but I believed it), so I took a deep breath and I stood there as my happy little naked-except-for-his-diaper son went from bright-eyed and smiling to bright red and gasping for air.
The nurse was very efficient with the first two shots and waited for Jackson to take a deep breath before pulling the cap off of the third. "This one's a stinger," she said. "I'm sorry."
She pinched his leg and stuck in the needle, and that's when I lost it. I looked at his little beet red face and his pleading eyes which burned right through my soul and the tears started rolling down my face.
Oh My Lord, I realized, I've become one of those mothers. I was 100% shocked with myself.
After the shots, I scooped him up and he stopped crying in about five seconds. I'm convinced I was more traumatized by the experience than he was. As she put on his Band-Aids and cleaned up the needles, making her way out the door, the nurse kept apologizing. I felt like an idiot.
Chad might have to go to the four-month appointment with Jackson all by himself.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
All by myself
I'm not a TV watcher. I don't turn on the TV "just because." But one of the benefits of being home is that I can watch TV if I want - it doesn't get backlogged in the TiVo like it used to. So last week - or the week before (of course I don't remember) - I found myself in the basement at 4:00 with a hungry baby. And 4:00 means Oprah.
The episode was on military families and really brought the heavyweights: Tom Brokaw, Ben Bradlee and Michelle Obama. Each highlighted a different military family that inspired them. The entire show was intended to demonstrate the sacrifices and quiet commitment these families make to serve our country, often without much understanding or support from those of us who are removed from the process.
I've been closer to military families than most. Chad's brother spent several years in the Army and his family lived at Fort Bragg. He was deployed for over a year and his wife, Becca, stayed home with their baby daughter (who is now much older than I care to admit). So I kind of thought of myself as being relatively in tune to the struggles and sacrifices that these families make. I know about the missed holidays and birthdays, the pit in your stomach when they leave, the heartbreak when they lose people they know, and the unpredictability and frustrations of deployments and leaves.
Thanks for the show, Oprah, but, well, I get it.
Or so I thought.
I found myself unintentionally thinking about these military families a lot when Chad went off to Atlantic City for a guys' weekend. He left for work on Friday morning and for 60-some hours it was just me and Jackson. (Granted, I had no less than five people email me asking if I wanted to get together for lunch or coffee or a walk, etc., but for the most part it was just the two of us.) And I gained such an incredible appreciation for what it would be like if I was taking care of a child, especially a newborn, and my husband was gone all the time.
I would lose my mind.
It's not the days that would be bad. Jackson and I already spend every day, all day, together. And most of the time I actually enjoy it. But when you've done the eat/play/sleep rotation four or five times, it's nice to have something or, more specifically, someone else to look forward to. In my case, there's someone coming home every night with whom I can have a real conversation and eat an actual dinner. There's someone to warm me up when I crawl back into bed around 3 a.m. after Jackson eats, who doesn't even complain about my perpetually cold feet. And there's someone who actually seems interested in my banter about the intricate, though often boring, details of each day.
I'm sure women of deployed soldiers have a support system. But "support" or not, when 5 p.m. rolls around and you're not waiting for anyone to walk in the door, that's going to make for some long nights.
After my weekend alone, I've got a totally new appreciation for families of deployed soldiers, especially those with little babies. I have no idea how they do it. I really don't think I could.
The episode was on military families and really brought the heavyweights: Tom Brokaw, Ben Bradlee and Michelle Obama. Each highlighted a different military family that inspired them. The entire show was intended to demonstrate the sacrifices and quiet commitment these families make to serve our country, often without much understanding or support from those of us who are removed from the process.
I've been closer to military families than most. Chad's brother spent several years in the Army and his family lived at Fort Bragg. He was deployed for over a year and his wife, Becca, stayed home with their baby daughter (who is now much older than I care to admit). So I kind of thought of myself as being relatively in tune to the struggles and sacrifices that these families make. I know about the missed holidays and birthdays, the pit in your stomach when they leave, the heartbreak when they lose people they know, and the unpredictability and frustrations of deployments and leaves.
Thanks for the show, Oprah, but, well, I get it.
Or so I thought.
I found myself unintentionally thinking about these military families a lot when Chad went off to Atlantic City for a guys' weekend. He left for work on Friday morning and for 60-some hours it was just me and Jackson. (Granted, I had no less than five people email me asking if I wanted to get together for lunch or coffee or a walk, etc., but for the most part it was just the two of us.) And I gained such an incredible appreciation for what it would be like if I was taking care of a child, especially a newborn, and my husband was gone all the time.
I would lose my mind.
It's not the days that would be bad. Jackson and I already spend every day, all day, together. And most of the time I actually enjoy it. But when you've done the eat/play/sleep rotation four or five times, it's nice to have something or, more specifically, someone else to look forward to. In my case, there's someone coming home every night with whom I can have a real conversation and eat an actual dinner. There's someone to warm me up when I crawl back into bed around 3 a.m. after Jackson eats, who doesn't even complain about my perpetually cold feet. And there's someone who actually seems interested in my banter about the intricate, though often boring, details of each day.
I'm sure women of deployed soldiers have a support system. But "support" or not, when 5 p.m. rolls around and you're not waiting for anyone to walk in the door, that's going to make for some long nights.
After my weekend alone, I've got a totally new appreciation for families of deployed soldiers, especially those with little babies. I have no idea how they do it. I really don't think I could.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Jackson waves hello
At first, the smiles were fleeting. If I was lucky, I'd catch one. Or if Jackson were in juuuust the right mood, he might respond with a grin. (Or he might not.)
But in the past few days, he's started to smile almost on command. Of course, this is only when he's both not hungry and not tired, so there's about a 30-minute window within each four-hour period that this is possible.
This morning, Jackson wanted to give a special shout-out to all of his fans, especially his family. (Yes, I realize I forgot to call out the uncles so you get a special greeting in writing.) Happy Friday from all of us!
PS: Chad is heading to Atlantic City this weekend for his annual guys' weekend. That's the "trip" reference we're talking about. So Jackson and I are keeping ourselves occupied by making ridiculous videos like this.
But in the past few days, he's started to smile almost on command. Of course, this is only when he's both not hungry and not tired, so there's about a 30-minute window within each four-hour period that this is possible.
This morning, Jackson wanted to give a special shout-out to all of his fans, especially his family. (Yes, I realize I forgot to call out the uncles so you get a special greeting in writing.) Happy Friday from all of us!
PS: Chad is heading to Atlantic City this weekend for his annual guys' weekend. That's the "trip" reference we're talking about. So Jackson and I are keeping ourselves occupied by making ridiculous videos like this.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Office space
The woman who NRF hired to fill in for me during maternity leave - who is fabulous - is also pregnant, due at the end of February. Today, NRF threw her a surprise shower and I went into the office.
As with any "appointment" lately, I was a little nervous that we wouldn't be on time. I was up at 5:45 a.m. (not my choice) and still couldn't conceptualize how Jackson and I were going to make it into the city by 12:15. He ate. He played while I made coffee and tried to keep my eyes open. He napped. He took a bath. He ate again. He napped. And then I finally decided to bite the bullet and venture downtown, saying a silent prayer that Jackson's excursion into DC did not end - or begin - with a screamfest through the halls of my very serene office.
It was about as normal of a day as I've had in ages. Jackson's Aunt RT kept him over her lunch hour while I went out with the other people in my department. ("WOW," I kept thinking. "I used to do things like this all the time!" It feels like a million years ago.)
Before and after the festivities, Jackson managed to charm his way through the halls of NRF, even flashing smiles to a handful of lucky co-workers (most importantly, the woman who signs my paycheck! Way to go, buddy...). We were there four hours and Mr. Personality put on a show for everyone right up until the very last minute when this picture was taken.
He's been asleep ever since. Guess that adventure wore him out almost as much as me!
Jackson's Grandma Margaret ventured to guess that he may have a career in public relations. After his performance today, I've got to agree. At least I hope it's public relations and not politics!
As with any "appointment" lately, I was a little nervous that we wouldn't be on time. I was up at 5:45 a.m. (not my choice) and still couldn't conceptualize how Jackson and I were going to make it into the city by 12:15. He ate. He played while I made coffee and tried to keep my eyes open. He napped. He took a bath. He ate again. He napped. And then I finally decided to bite the bullet and venture downtown, saying a silent prayer that Jackson's excursion into DC did not end - or begin - with a screamfest through the halls of my very serene office.
Before and after the festivities, Jackson managed to charm his way through the halls of NRF, even flashing smiles to a handful of lucky co-workers (most importantly, the woman who signs my paycheck! Way to go, buddy...). We were there four hours and Mr. Personality put on a show for everyone right up until the very last minute when this picture was taken.
He's been asleep ever since. Guess that adventure wore him out almost as much as me!
Jackson's Grandma Margaret ventured to guess that he may have a career in public relations. After his performance today, I've got to agree. At least I hope it's public relations and not politics!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Pay it forward
After a call to the pediatrician and a quick trip to CVS, our little buddy is back to his normal self. He's hardly perfect but at least we're over that hump of screaming for no reason. I even managed to photograph an ear-to-ear smile from him for the first time today...and make a batch of cookies, do a load of laundry, shower (and dry my hair and put on make-up), AND eat lunch! The angels were smiling on me today, I'm sure of it!
But back to my original headline...
I've mentioned before that we're so lucky to have an incredible group of friends out here that I really consider a second family. When we had Jackson, we didn't cook for two weeks. When Chad had his knee surgery, a friend took the day off work to stay at our house with a one-week-old baby all day long (three others volunteered - there was literally a list of takers!). And we've had more than one email from people who have said, "I'm free on [fill in the blank]. Why don't I come over for a few hours so you and Chad can go to dinner?" Umm...you don't have to ask me twice!
So last week when I was making lasagna for us, I made extra: One for some friends of ours who just had a baby girl and another for Chad's family friends who just moved to town with their three-week-old. In those first few foggy days of parenthood, I appreciated more than I can say how nice it was to open the fridge and find something to eat when I couldn't even remember if I'd brushed my teeth. It was time for us to pay it forward.
We didn't invite ourselves in, just did a little drop-and-run with a smile on our faces. Even if they hated the lasagna, it made me happy. And if I ever feel like I have time in my life again, I'll be doing things like this even more often!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
The breaking point
I am an idiot. I never, ever, EVER should have said that the first six weeks were easy. Because the last 10 days have been, well, not.
Jackson has developed a personality. And opinions. We have some good days and some bad days. Moments where he is smiling and cooing are quickly offset by moments where Jackson is screaming his head off. (In one book I read that "passionate" parents typically produce passionate children. So, basically, here's my payback.)
The latest phase has Jackson refusing to be put down when he's napping. If he's being held he'll sleep for two or three hour stretches but if we put him in a swing or carseat or bouncy seat he's awake in 20 minutes screaming bloody murder. And then he's overtired. And we all know what happens next.
Being one of those people who believes there is a right and wrong way to do everything, and also that knowledge is power, I've read a ton of baby books. And the more I read about how to do things the "right" way, the more I start to get confused. In fact, I've read so many books that the experts are starting to contradict each other. Where is Parenting for Dummies? Isn't there a Bible for Moms?
With arms and a back that ached from carrying a baby around all day, I sent off an email last night to the Old Town Moms listserve, an email group I joined that shares advice on random baby things (everything from daycare recommendations to deals on diapers). I mentioned that our seven-week-old would only sleep when swaddled or being held and asked for suggestions on reversing that trend. Convinced I was missing out on some great parental secret since I apparently am just no good at this, I thought someone could share their insight.
Turns out, nobody had any insights - really. They all just said, "It's a phase. He'll get over it. Enjoy it because one day he won't be little and you'll miss these moments, we promise." While that all made me feel better, my inability to eat or shower during the day while Chad is working has been fabulous for my figure but not so great for my psyche. I was hoping for an actual s-o-l-u-t-i-o-n.
I responded to one woman in particular who suggested swaddling him while he was napping. (Jackson sleeps fairly well at night because he's swaddled.) I mentioned in my email to her that the Miracle Blanket instructions said not to swaddle your child for more than 10 hours a day. I asked if she agreed with that, and received the following email from her this afternoon:
Truth is, there is virtually nothing you can do in these first three months that will have lasting effects. OK- mainly an opinion- but you can't spoil a baby. :) I think, as was said, when you hold them and they sleep for hours it is basically the same thing as swaddling. They are close, snuggly, warm, can hear your heartbeat, they are, basically, prevented from wiggling/startling and this is what keeps them asleep. They are so little and sleep so much - even still- that so many naps is pretty normal. My littlest was still so sleepy at 10 weeks I was worried. Now she is 16 weeks and awake so often I wonder what I ever worried about. She's napping in her swing these days but it's just what she needs right now. Eventually, I'll transition her to the crib (sis is already there), if it doesn't work at first- we'll try again later.
I never read any baby books, just part of happiest baby. (The 5 Ss are the most important tip for soothing a baby for sure.) Otherwise, the first year stinks. Seriously. Not to sound depressing but it is so hard - the hardest work we have done in our lives. The baby is constantly changing. No one book will encompass all your baby needs and once you start reading multiple books you'll lose your mind.
Follow your heart and your mommy instinct. There is nothing wrong with survival mode, especially in the first three months. Start shooting for a routine around 4 months. In general, baby wakes up- eats- is up for 1-2 hours then sleeps- then repeat for rest of day until night time. Eventually, your baby's schedule will emerge- and there you go. And then it will change- and here we go again:)
If you are loving on that baby and there for them when they need you, you've done it right.
If I knew where she lived, I'd send her flowers. Here's a woman with four kids - two of them being just four months old - who took time to send the world's longest email to a new mom that's come close to her breaking point. (And I actually didn't even sound desperate in my email!)
Sometimes I think parents who have been removed from this for even six months to a year forget what these first few weeks are like. (And, hey, I don't blame you - there are parts of this I'm hoping to forget, too!) So it was particularly meaningful to hear from somebody who is in the trenches with me. I feel a zillion times better.
I love what she said so much that I might print it out and put it in every room in my house. And I've put the baby books away for now. This next chapter will be called "Instinctual Parenting." To be continued...
Jackson has developed a personality. And opinions. We have some good days and some bad days. Moments where he is smiling and cooing are quickly offset by moments where Jackson is screaming his head off. (In one book I read that "passionate" parents typically produce passionate children. So, basically, here's my payback.)
The latest phase has Jackson refusing to be put down when he's napping. If he's being held he'll sleep for two or three hour stretches but if we put him in a swing or carseat or bouncy seat he's awake in 20 minutes screaming bloody murder. And then he's overtired. And we all know what happens next.
Being one of those people who believes there is a right and wrong way to do everything, and also that knowledge is power, I've read a ton of baby books. And the more I read about how to do things the "right" way, the more I start to get confused. In fact, I've read so many books that the experts are starting to contradict each other. Where is Parenting for Dummies? Isn't there a Bible for Moms?
With arms and a back that ached from carrying a baby around all day, I sent off an email last night to the Old Town Moms listserve, an email group I joined that shares advice on random baby things (everything from daycare recommendations to deals on diapers). I mentioned that our seven-week-old would only sleep when swaddled or being held and asked for suggestions on reversing that trend. Convinced I was missing out on some great parental secret since I apparently am just no good at this, I thought someone could share their insight.
Turns out, nobody had any insights - really. They all just said, "It's a phase. He'll get over it. Enjoy it because one day he won't be little and you'll miss these moments, we promise." While that all made me feel better, my inability to eat or shower during the day while Chad is working has been fabulous for my figure but not so great for my psyche. I was hoping for an actual s-o-l-u-t-i-o-n.
I responded to one woman in particular who suggested swaddling him while he was napping. (Jackson sleeps fairly well at night because he's swaddled.) I mentioned in my email to her that the Miracle Blanket instructions said not to swaddle your child for more than 10 hours a day. I asked if she agreed with that, and received the following email from her this afternoon:
Honestly, no I don't think you can- unless you are literally swaddling all day- even during waking times.
Truth is, there is virtually nothing you can do in these first three months that will have lasting effects. OK- mainly an opinion- but you can't spoil a baby. :) I think, as was said, when you hold them and they sleep for hours it is basically the same thing as swaddling. They are close, snuggly, warm, can hear your heartbeat, they are, basically, prevented from wiggling/startling and this is what keeps them asleep. They are so little and sleep so much - even still- that so many naps is pretty normal. My littlest was still so sleepy at 10 weeks I was worried. Now she is 16 weeks and awake so often I wonder what I ever worried about. She's napping in her swing these days but it's just what she needs right now. Eventually, I'll transition her to the crib (sis is already there), if it doesn't work at first- we'll try again later.
Here is my theory. Take it for what it's worth (probably not much haha!) but I do have 2 kids, 4 and 6 years, that are relatively normal - meaning my friends don't go run screaming when we show up - and 2 more that seem to be progressing nicely. :)
I never read any baby books, just part of happiest baby. (The 5 Ss are the most important tip for soothing a baby for sure.) Otherwise, the first year stinks. Seriously. Not to sound depressing but it is so hard - the hardest work we have done in our lives. The baby is constantly changing. No one book will encompass all your baby needs and once you start reading multiple books you'll lose your mind.
Follow your heart and your mommy instinct. There is nothing wrong with survival mode, especially in the first three months. Start shooting for a routine around 4 months. In general, baby wakes up- eats- is up for 1-2 hours then sleeps- then repeat for rest of day until night time. Eventually, your baby's schedule will emerge- and there you go. And then it will change- and here we go again:)
If you are loving on that baby and there for them when they need you, you've done it right.
If I knew where she lived, I'd send her flowers. Here's a woman with four kids - two of them being just four months old - who took time to send the world's longest email to a new mom that's come close to her breaking point. (And I actually didn't even sound desperate in my email!)
Sometimes I think parents who have been removed from this for even six months to a year forget what these first few weeks are like. (And, hey, I don't blame you - there are parts of this I'm hoping to forget, too!) So it was particularly meaningful to hear from somebody who is in the trenches with me. I feel a zillion times better.
I love what she said so much that I might print it out and put it in every room in my house. And I've put the baby books away for now. This next chapter will be called "Instinctual Parenting." To be continued...
Monday, January 24, 2011
All in my head
There are all sorts of things people don't tell you about having a baby (couldn't someone have warned me that I would never be able to eat a hot meal again?), but one in particular is really messing with me.
Let me introduce you to Phantom Baby Syndrome, which I have defined as the uncanny ability of a mother to hear a baby - any baby - cry. While the wailing is sometimes real, it is often imaginary, leading new mothers to wonder if they truly are losing their minds.
New parents, beware: PBS comes on suddenly and often without warning. Sleep deprivation or stress makes it worse. Prolonged PBS can often lead to trouble breathing, stomach aches, distracted conversations with friends, inability to concentrate, and sprints across your house for no reason. There is no cure.
I must admit: I suffer from chronic PBS. My symptoms began about two days after we brought Jackson home from the hospital and continue almost constantly. I swear I heard Jackson crying last week when I was out on a walk (and he was at home with Chad). My baby radar picked up a newborn's fussing three aisles away at Target. A few nights ago in my sleep, I groggily walked over to Jackson's crib ready to stroke his hair or pop in a pacifier or (worst case scenario) pick up and rock him only to find a nearly-snoring baby contentedly sleeping with his mouth wide open. He hadn't made a sound. Sheepishly, I went back to bed. That was a new low.
I take solace in the fact that I am not alone. Though not widely talked about, many moms and dads silently suffer with PBS. My only question to them is: When does it end?
Let me introduce you to Phantom Baby Syndrome, which I have defined as the uncanny ability of a mother to hear a baby - any baby - cry. While the wailing is sometimes real, it is often imaginary, leading new mothers to wonder if they truly are losing their minds.
New parents, beware: PBS comes on suddenly and often without warning. Sleep deprivation or stress makes it worse. Prolonged PBS can often lead to trouble breathing, stomach aches, distracted conversations with friends, inability to concentrate, and sprints across your house for no reason. There is no cure.
I must admit: I suffer from chronic PBS. My symptoms began about two days after we brought Jackson home from the hospital and continue almost constantly. I swear I heard Jackson crying last week when I was out on a walk (and he was at home with Chad). My baby radar picked up a newborn's fussing three aisles away at Target. A few nights ago in my sleep, I groggily walked over to Jackson's crib ready to stroke his hair or pop in a pacifier or (worst case scenario) pick up and rock him only to find a nearly-snoring baby contentedly sleeping with his mouth wide open. He hadn't made a sound. Sheepishly, I went back to bed. That was a new low.
I take solace in the fact that I am not alone. Though not widely talked about, many moms and dads silently suffer with PBS. My only question to them is: When does it end?
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