Nothing to see here folks

(Dumb things I did) This week in numbers:

• left baby to sit up by herself for like two seconds because she seemed sooooo stable & could handle the pressure of me running to get pillows to prevent her toppling over only to have stable baby toppple over & bonk head = twice
• walked into hanger hanging off of bed frame (thanks jackass - I'll get you back with the hanger thing) & gouging my thigh so as to leave a hideous bruise = once
• number of bruises on my legs = six
  
• hours of sleep averaged a night = four
• dreams involving the U.S. military & rock slides = two (wtf?!)
• kilometers ran (with walking breaks) = sixteen
• posts started & never completed = three
• fits of hysterical crying = two
  
• whacked Freyja's head while manoeurvering into nursing postition while asleep at three o'clock in the morning thereby scaring the crap out of her & making me feel like a heel = one
• searched for teeth in Doodle's gums but found nothing despite three months of people telling me she's teething because she's drooling like a garden hose & sticking her hands & anything else she can reach in her mouth = eleven
  
• bonked some teenage boy on the head with the carseat while trying to get into the convenience store because him & his buddies made about one foot of space for me to get through = one
• clothing items bought for baby because she looks better in them than I do at the moment = one
• other items purchased for baby = four
• bathed baby (don't worry, today is bath day) = one
• paranoid delusions about awful things happening to baby &/or husband &/or myself = too numerous to count
  
• read Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You? , Goodnight Moon, Owl Babies, etc. = thirty five
  
• kissed baby, hugged baby, told her she was smart & strong & beautiful = untold
  

babe

Reversion

Regular brain

You know that Star Trek TNG episode where the crew de-evolves? Remember how Picard slowly became dumber & more animal like throughout the episode? I think this is what “mommy-brain” truly is. Once that fruit of your loins springs forth (ya right, springing?) from your womb your brain (well at least mine has) undergoes a primal regression to a baser more instinctual level. The fog of waking life that you barely function in is what I imagine life as an animal must be (yes I know we are all animals – I’m talking… come on, you know what I’m talking about). It’s all about reaction on a visceral level that can take your breath away. Something happens and you react like a creature in the forest that has heard a twig snap. There’s nothing you can do, it just takes over your higher brain functions & reasoning capacity.

I have regressed to continuously experiencing primal fears & emotions that I cannot seem to control. When I get upset I become a simpering baby wailing & gasping for air. The noises emanating from my gaping maw sound eerily similar to my child. My reactions are instinctual, frighteningly so. Anything can & does annoy me, especially the other animal of the house (the dog, not Calvin) when he asserts his presence. I have no patience for it all. I feel blinding rage & fury at stupid little things. I want to snarl & hurl things like some ape-man in A Space Odyssey. When the order that I’ve strived so hard to achieve becomes disturbed the calm (ok I just typed clam) inside my head bursts into chaos. There is a disturbance in The Force.

That order is important even though most people (lovely hubby) think it’s absolutely bonkers. A month or so ago there was a young woman on Dr. Phil (there was nothing else on I tell you, nothing!). The episode was Most Annoying People or something along those lines. This woman at the end of the show was deemed annoying (partly by herself) because she always had to have things done a certain way. I swear she could have been me. I need to load my dishwasher, fill up the grocery cart & put my clothes away the way I do because under the illusion of efficiency (though it is clearly superior ;)- ) it calms the anxiety.

Ever the worried person, my fears have been amplified with introduction of this cute little someone I now have to worry about too. The gut instinct to protect her from anything & everything bad or hurtful or harmful in anyway has smooshed logic out of the way. Even though I know somewhere deep in the recesses of what I used to call my brain that there is no rational reason for me to think we are going to go over a bridge, I still can’t help envisage the event. The desire to stop the crying is not because it’s annoying (which, let’s face it, even though you feel bad for someone else’s child, it can get on your nerves (though not as much anymore because…)) but because it is physically ripping your heart in two. The attempts to make her laugh are as much for my benefit as it is hers because the joy it brings makes the sun shine a wee bit brighter.

And so I live in this primeval haze of not quite thinking clearly, of not being able to communicate, & of not realizing when logic should prevail over impulse. I am sure I am not the only one, that it not just my precarious hold on sanity but rather a part of motherhood. Some appear to have it worse than others while in contrast there seem to be those that live in a world of butterflies & angels & sunshine up their asses. Is it just a façade that we are pressured into putting up so no one thinks we are bad mothers? Whatever. I just know that this (or something similar) is my brain on mommy.

Mommy brain

Have nothing, not got nothing dumbass

So I was pretty tired when I put up the pictures this morning. Now I am still tired but it's a good physical tired rather than being brain dead & in dire need of caffeine. We actually made it to a Strollercize class today & it was hard but fantastic. I've been meaning to go from the start but something or laziness always prevented me from getting my butt in gear to get there on time. At first the whole nap schedule didn't jive, then it got cold & Doodles hated getting bundled up in warm clothes & being strapped into a car seat. Then I didn't want to get bundled up & go outdoors because let's face it, staying at home in my house pants in front of the tv was much more appealing than walking in the snow.

Even though I'm spinning twice a week & trying to walk as much as I can the excess pounds have not been melting off. I've been really lax about the 10km running clinic I signed up for so that probably has a lot to do with it, plus I'm still not eating super great (damn it I'm still hungry!). I've missed 2 Saturday clinics, once was because we were out of town & the other, I slept in. Ooops. I never make it to the Sunday & Wednesday night runs either so I have been wondering if I would be able to make it through a 10km race in May. But I swore I would do it right? I know I could slog through it doing 10's & 1's but there's no way I'd be back to my old pace.

Today though because of Strollercize I think I can up my training nicely (not crazily) by going 3 times a week. I'm sure I won't necesarily run each time but it'll get me out & moving. The woman who runs it is fantastically motivating & super nice & I also met some very lovely ladies today. Plus there's Starbucks afterwards. (mmm peppermint soy latte) Today I ran / walked 7km with a 16 pound (maybe?) baby in a stroller (plus diaper backpack) in the wind (both ways - go figure, plus bad mum that I am I forgot to put a blanket over the bun so she was pretty cold at the end). My muscles are sore & tired but in a good way & I am just proud of myself for doing it. It's a nice feeling.

I got nothing to say....

So I will distract you with a couple of baby pictures. One of them even has a little fame.


Pretty baby - love this wonderful outfit given to us by Aunty Kris & cousin Ally


oh the fame!

Apathetic

There’s been much discussion lately in the wonderful world of blogging about feminism & motherhood & what the one brings to the other. (I could link to many but this is where I started from - I lurv Her Bad Mother.) I strongly believe in the feminist stance on equality (not sameness) & that I can do just about anything a man can do barring some physical limitations. I believe that I should have as many opportunities & advantages for career placement as any male friends I have. That I should be able to receive the same benefits (paycheck) for equal work & that I should have control over any choices that affect my body or well-being. And now, I want my baby to know that she can be anything (almost) she wants to be.

I am grateful that I live in a society that, despite some issues, allows me all of this. I am privileged to have the opportunity to achieve just about anything I put my mind (& money, or lack thereof, but that’s a whole other can of worms) to. It’s just that at the moment I really don’t feel like putting my heart into making any achievements besides raising a happy & confident person in my little girl. I am lacking in ambition when it comes to my “job” & once again I am aimlessly maneuvering through life without lofty goals or aspirations. Or am I? Or have I just transferred them onto my little daughter? If so does this mean I’m doomed to become one of those parents who live vicariously through their kids & will end up a sad empty shell of a human being while I make my baby be the star I always wanted to be? How can you not end up living vicariously through your children anyway? Is it actually a bad thing? So many damn questions!

I just don’t have the energy mentally or physically anymore to feel gung-ho about working. My apathy has reached an all time high & I’m feeling a little guilty about it. Guilty because I should be jumping at any opportunity to make some spare cash. Guilty because once again I am being supported by my hubby. Guilty because even with his support I still don’t do enough around the house to offset the work he does at his job. Guilty because I’ve wasted so much time in my life before getting to where I wanted to be & feeling now like I’ve squandered it. Guilty for failing to strive for more. I just really don’t want any more right now.

I might feel a little less guilty if I could just muster up the energy to get a little June Cleaver-ish but making my home beautiful & spotless simply does not give me the joy & pride it does for some people. Don’t get me wrong. I love having a clean house but only because it feels nice to not be choking on the dog hair & the fact that I won’t be overly embarrassed if someone drops by unexpectedly. It’s more a feeling of accomplishing a chore than pride in my house.

I know that I am lucky to have a choice. That I can stay at home & work from home even if there’s not much work to be had &, even if there was more, I’m not sure I’d be up to it at the moment. I think the problem might be actually having the choice – I’m not very good at making decisions. I want to feel creative & crafty. I want to design wonderful places that people love to live or work in. I want to be recognized for my work & I want the self-confidence to show people that my work is good. Ah there’s the crux. Lacking in self-confidence & an apathetic attitude will get you no where girl.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this (as usual). I seem to have so many good thoughts lying in bed at night (at least they seem so under the fog of sleepiness) so I get up to write them down & they disappear like gossamer spider silk hanging from a light. One puff of air & the thread breaks from its anchor. Anyway, the guilt of my apathy surrounding my career is somewhat assuaged by my new job as mum. At least the benefits are great even if the pay sucks.

Mystery in the Garden

Where's dat rascally rabbit?

Bunnies. Gone. (Wild?)

Was it Elmer Fudd with his shotgun? Mr. McGregor with the rake? General Woundwort & his henchrabbits? Judge Doom & his chemical dip? The evil neighbourhood cat?

I'm hoping their mother came & moved them because of all the attention they were getting. But hope if fleeting isn't it?

In other news the plague has apparently spread. How fortuitous for us now that symptoms are subsiding.

And in other happy accidents:

Wow look what I can do!

Plague!

Damn bird.
(Doodles actually loves this bird but they got into some kind of argument regarding nap time.)

So ya, the plague. But not really. She's just a wee bit sick again. Could be allergies I suppose but it's gone from just sneezing & rubbing her eyes constantly to a runny nose (clear but it's like a freaking hose man & my boob feels like it has been shellacked) & a pathetic hacking cough. Oh and her cute girly noises have a slight hint of Brenda Vaccaro meets Kathleen Turner. That is if they cooed & garbled like a 5 & a half month old.

The infant cold & flu drops last night got thrown up. Not spit up. Full on puke because she despises it so much she makes herself gag. She's eating ok but she's all stuffed up so nursing is frustrating for her - again. Her head feels feverish but the thermometer says everything is fine. And yes I only did it in the armpit. I refuse to stick anything up her butt. Flat out refuse. La la la I am not listening to you.

So now I am stressing about ear infections because she's been pulling at them for the past few days. I know this is an unreliable symptom but with the other stuff it's a little concerning. I think we'll wait it out until tomorrow as she's been napping a hell of a lot (great for me but kinda weird) & is in a pretty good mood for being a sick little monkey.

See. (Had to do it this way because the embed was screwing up my margins.)

Me? I've got a headache & am feeling not so hot myself.

Bunnies? At least three of them are still there. No rabbit prints that I can see but the little hoppers appear to be doing ok so I'll just keep checking on them. I dreamt that their mother was taking care of them so I think that bodes well.

Then again, I also dreamt that I stole someone's camera at a wedding type event & then pretended to find it under some garbage when the police came & boarded the bus we were all on to arrest the Kevin Federline look-a-like that everyone was accusing of thievery. What the hell that means I have no idea. Perhaps it bodes well for K-Fed.

The Easter Bunny is Late

But she did leave these in my garden:


baby bunnies

The stupid dog was acting a bit weird yesterday afternoon when I let him out in the front yard. Of course he has to go where he's not supposed to - in the garden area. He usually just ends up sitting in the dirt & getting tangled around one of the bushes & then barks until I go rescue him. This time he was barking but when I went to let him in he was pulling at the leash & snuffing up a storm. There was a whole lot of rabbit hair strewn around the dirt so I thought there was an injured adult he wanted to eat. I couldn't find anything but the dog was persistant so I looked again & found a nest. It's a shallow depression filled with rabbit fur & old bits of mulch. I think there's about 4, maybe 5 little kits in there & they are so sweet & cute. Their eyes are pretty much still closed & they are squirming around quite a bit.

We put out some flour around the nest so we could check for the mother's prints today since they only come back to check up on their young twice a day (dawn & dusk usually). I'm worried that one of the neighbourhood cats might've got her though because I couldn't discern any tracks today but the nest did seem a bit fixed up.

That is until I let the stupid dog outside. Our gate into the back yard doesn't latch so well so the jackass got out in front & started digging up the nest. I went to let him in & he wasn't there so I ran to the front & there he was with a poor little bunny in his mouth making pathetic tiny screeching noises. I screamed at him & he dropped it on the ground. I yanked him inside & yelled at him so all the neighbourhood could hear & then went to check on the furry bundle. I laid a towel over it to pick it up & it started trying to hop so I think it'll be ok. There didn't appear to be any torn skin & the limbs were working fine. I put it back & tried to cover up the nest even more.

I don't know if Joxer (the asshole dog) got anymore before I caught him with that one but I won't be letting him out in the front yard anytime soon. As of now he's been whining to get back out there for about 3 hours. That's fun. Grrrrr! Now I just have to be on the lookout for the cats & hope I can find some bunny footprints tomorrow or, sucker that I am, I'll be fostering some baby buns.


bunnies in a nest

Time for some cuteness

Hey there. Can you freaking believe this mess?!


Getting into prime dancing postition.


Mmmmmm fist mmmmmm.


Oh why don't you get it?


These are my keys & if I catch you with them you're grounded.


I rule the universe & hold the world in the palm of my hand.


na na na na na

Identity Spell Check

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this so bear with me. Ever since the doodles' conception & even before that I've thought about her name. Oh the blissful heartburn-filled heydays of pregnancy when we were trying to decide on names by looking at books, researching my ancestry & his (pre-Newfoundland heritage) & playing with baby name wizards. There were popular names, old-fashioned ones, celebrity babies, made-up names & the (Pornwadee?) just bizarre. I lurked on the fertility & pregnancy boards trying to get a glimmer of insight into how people chose names & what they all liked. How cruel some of the commenters were, spewing their vitriol in anonymous fashion but always couching their nasty comments with phrases like "IMHO" (in my honest opinion - what is an opinion but honest? I guess unless of course, you are lying.) or "it's not my style" or best yet, "no offence, but...". Like that's really gonna make it all better when you insult me. I never posted on these boards because for the most part I garnered all the info I wanted & didn't want by just reading & I knew my hormone raddled fragile ego couldn't take the critiques.

And so I narrowed down my list & shared it with the hubby who whittled it down even further with some surprising results. He ended up liking the odder ones a lot more than some of the regular names I provided. Odder being the Norse pantheon namesakes versus the more common kilt-wearing brogue tongue-rolling variety. Not that there isn’t tongue rolling in Icelandic – with letters like this (Ð ð,Þ þ, Æ æ & Ö ö) you know there’s got to be some oral gymnastics (oh that sounds really bad eh?). Of course I had ultimate veto but I wanted him to have input & I valued the dude’s opinion. He may be a freak but he’s also pretty smart & I gotta live with him. Besides, he teases me mercilessly so I needed to provide my baby with some protection – if I gave it a name he didn’t like, he’d have some powerful ammunition for teasing the child. My veto power lies in a trade we made. I took his last name when we got hitched on the promise that I could pick our kid’s names. Compromise.

And so Freyja it is. With a “j”. Why? Because I can. Because it seemed a more Icelandic way to spell it & since I traded in my surname (now a second middle name but that’s a whole other story) I felt I needed to honour my side of the family. Because I thought it was cool & different & hey, “j” is a fun letter. Why do parents want different when there’s the possibility of embarrassing their child? I’m not sure about this. And with an influx of odd names, funky spellings & the like there’s bound to be a backlash & so, a reversion to traditional or old-fashioned names. It all seems rather cyclical with a few minor variations. Anyway (like I said, bear with me), for the past while I’ve been concerned about that pesky “j”. It seems to screw people up & so I’m a little worried about when she gets old enough for school. Actually maybe it’s the “y” – most pronunciations end up sounding like “Free-a” rather than “Fray-a”. Its o.k. with me & I don’t correct people unless they ask. Why not? Because I spent my entire life correcting people on how to pronounce my last name & it never made a difference. One gets a bit tired of explaining how to spell or say something that to you is second nature & as a kid you really don’t know why the hell people have such trouble with it. And so now I’ve gone & done it to my kid.

There’s also this mommy label thing I’m mulling over since reading this & this. The whole idea that once someone becomes a mother others may not take you as seriously as they once did. (Who the hell ever took me seriously?) Hey it's really hard not to talk about spit-up & poop when all you have time for in your day is changing the next diaper & reading Doctor Suess instead of keeping up with the latest in politics & technology. So I don't know what to call myself & perhaps more importantly, I can’t figure out how to spell it. When I talk to baby it’s mostly in the third person. “Mommy’s gonna change your butt now.” That sort of thing. When I pronounce mommy it sounds more like mummy so I spell it that way sometimes even though I get pictures of bandaged-wrapped figures in my head when I see it written down. I prefer mum to mom because it sounds less apple-pie- Partridge Family & more, cool Brit. Not that there’s anything wrong with apple pie & I always secretly wanted to get on that funky bus & play the tambourine with the gang. Mother sounds a bit too old & whiny to me at the moment – I’ll wait until she’s a crabby teenager before going there. Or at least until I say “Because I’m your mother & I said so.”

The mom spell-check spills into the Grandparents as well. On Calvin’s side we have Grammy & Poppy. On my side there’s Grandma. Or is it Gramma? And Great-Grandma or Gramma. And Long-Amma. There’s Grandpa too but it gets a bit more confusing there since I’ve got step-dad & Dad. Grandpa Ken & Grampa? Afi? Anyway since I can’t make up my mind as to what spelling I use am I confusing my child even more? Why the hell I am asking these questions when she can’t even talk yet is beyond my feeble mind’s comprehension. It’s just all part of the general anxiety I am experiencing I think.

Then I read this post about the whole Ms./Miss./Mrs. (or rather Madame/ Mademoiselle) debate. Why do we as women have to bother checking one of three boxes instead of just one? There’s only a Mr. box for the guys that has absolutely no indication of whether or not the dude is married or single. Why do we get the choice? Is it a good thing to have these options or is it really any business of the questioner? Why do I even care? I’m not sure that I do but it made me think about why I never can decide what box to check. Then there’s the issue of getting mail addressed to Mrs. His-first-name His-last-name. I’m sure it’s just good old-fashioned etiquette but last time I checked I did have a first name of my own. It doesn’t offend me but it does drive me a little bonkers & makes me think about what my identity is.

Ack! This is getting nowhere & you (all 10 of you) must think I’ve finally lost it. Let’s just say that those deep questions I had in my twenties of who I was & what I was going to do with my life that I thought were answered are apparently not. Does it ever end?

Anyway, I think I’ll keep the “j”, & stick with Ms. The rest of the spelling will just have to work itself out.


fray-a day-a doodle-bug

bad wife / good mommy

As Calvin is wont to use my laptop whenever he gets the chance (despite the fact that there is a huge desktop sitting right beside it that waits oh so patiently for the touch of his magic fingers) he sometimes gets to read things that I've left up on my screen (that I am just usually about to come back to & therefore, do not like to find that they've disappeared & been replaced by google searches about freeride bikes, conditions at Whistler or that I'm now logged out of my e-mail so he can check his because he obviously doesn't get enough of it at work with the 1000 + e-mails he gets a day). So yesterday while I am feeding baby he nefariously sits down at my lifeline to the world & starts reading this wonderful post by a very funny blogger I just started reading (like I've got the time to add more to my list?!).

Poor boy thought it was something I had written about him.

And so I am a bad wife.

Because I don't write nice things about him. And I drive him to drink.

See?

I am sorry that I never started a blog like this for you sweetie.

But I know that you think I'm a good mum & that I hope, makes up for the lack of praise for you here on this amazing information superhighway (see I wrote it like you like it dude). I hope it makes up for the lack of getting any, the emotional outburts, the not being able to express myself better in person versus here & the general dissaray of our household (though I'm only taking half the blame for that). I am obviously slacking in my wifely duties & so here I am saying, dude, you rock.


Trying to be a good mommy

Oops a meme

Because of last week's lack of sleep, the visit from mom & my lameness in general I haven't been keeping up with my regular bloggy reads so lo & behold I discover today that I have been tagged for a meme by Scarbiedoll. And since for some bizarre twist of fate I slept in until 11am today & get this - the doodles is still sleeping at 12:09 I might just get the chance to do this before she awakens. It's very strange but it feels great to be fueled by sleep & only a little caffeine. Now if the damn dog would just stop whining to be let outside every 10 minutes life would be perfect.

On to the the meme:
(edited to add) Accent: Sadly I pick up accents wherever I go like some wanna-be poser. I don't want to but it just sort of happens when I'm around accented folk. I guess I've still got a bit of the prairie-girl thang going on. A sort of Fargo meets the Queen's English with the eh fully ingrained.

Booze of Choice: Probably beer. I like cheap watery crap like Coors Light & Bud but I also love me some Guinness. White wine like Pinot Gris or Riesling. I like red as well but have to avoid it most of the time because it makes my allergies crazy. Gin and tonic. Scotch & ginger. Fun blue cocktails. Oh wait, was I just supposed to choose one?

(I hear stirring from the bedroom..... ok it's now 3:30 and we've gone for a walk to the library because it's such a beautiful day outside. Now it's jolly jumper time so on with the show.)

Chore I Hate: Scrubbing the tub because it hurts my back. Vacuuming the dog hair off the couch because it takes about 3 friggin hours.

Dog or Cat: Dog. Dalmatian = pretty but neurotic. Now drives me crazy. Love cats but we're all sort of allergic to them now.

Essential Electronics: Computer & sadly, the tv with the new snazzy pvr.

Favorite Perfume(s) / cologne(s): Hardly ever wear any so I'm not so good with this one but my aunt gave me some lovely Alfred Sung stuff for Xmas. Light & citrusy is always nice.

Gold or Silver: How about white gold? Silver - I've always liked it better.

Hometown: Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada but Ottawa feels pretty homey to me now.

Insomnia: Several times. My doc prescribed me some great sleeping pills just before my wedding because I'd lie in bed all night long stressing about details. I wish I could've taken them while I was pregnant or even now sometimes just so I can catch up on the zzzz's.

Job Title(s): Current: (Besides the mommy thing) Interior Designer/CAD Monkey Previously: Part-time college teacher, library/archive assistant, a whole lot a retail, nanny, student, etc.

Kids: The lovely little doodle bug formerly know as the bun that in reality I was never the master of.

Living Arrangements: 2 plus bedroom 1950's ranch house in an old suburb which means lots of big old trees & seniors.

Most Admired Trait: About me? Being empathetic I think. In others? Self-confidence as long as it's not arrogance.

Number of Sexual Partners: Not going to touch that one with a ten foot pole. Don't let your curiosity get the better of you you perverts.

Overnight Hospital Stays: One for maybe a few weeks when I was five for a bladder operation. I remember having races down the hospital corridors in my wheelchair with another little boy. Oh what fun. I've had lots of day surgeries though - not so much fun.

Phobia(s): Lots of water issues here despite being a decent swimmer. Large waterfalls, high bridges over water, thought of being trapped in a car sinking in the water. I get anxious just typing this out.

Quote(s): "To err is human..." - Alexander Pope. "Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live." - Oscar Wilde. And for good measure, how about this? "The secret to creativity is knowing how to hide your sources." - Albert Einstein

Religion: Brought up Anglican but I think it was mostly because my mom was the organist & choir director. Now, I consider myself more of a Humanist I guess.

Siblings: Three sisters & a step-brother. All younger, blonder & includes a set of twins.

Time(s) I wake up: Somewhere around mindnight, 3 am, 5:30 am, 8:30 am & today a blissfull 11:00 am.

Unusual Talent /Skill: I am extremely flexible & if I warm up, can probably still get my foot behind my head on a good day. My brain is also full of useless trivia that I'm hoping will get me on Jeopardy one day but this mommy-brain thing has got to go before that happens.

Vegetable(s) I refuse to eat: Cucmbers in the form of pickles. Other than that I'm pretty game.

Worst habit(s): Procrastinating, swearing, watching too much tv.

X-rays: Lots. From top to bottom: neck due to whiplash several times, chest due to rib pain, lower ribs from swing-dancing accident, hips because of pinched nerve thing, feet from dancing injury. Also have had a couple of bone scans & an MRI so I'm full of radioactive goodies. Watch me glow.

Yummiest Food I Make: Chocolate Cake. I have two versions & they are both delicious. I also like my maple glazed salmon.

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Tag to anyone who feels like doing this. Have fun!

5 Months

This has been a month of big changes and lots of growing my little sweet cheeks. It now feels like time is slipping out of my hands watching you master all kinds of new tricks & discovering this crazy world you live in. I have this desire to make you stay as you are - so cute & small & dependent on me - but I know that's an impossibility. As weird as this sounds, there's definitely moments where I want to breastfeed you forever just so I can keep you close to me. That, and never have to deal with real poop.

Yup. Though I'm sure you'll hate me one day for letting the world know, yesterday for your five month birthday you had your first almost regular person crap. That is if that person had been eating butterscotch pudding for a week for a half. You've changed my sweet and in this instance change is not a good thing because it's a hell of a lot smellier than before. So far you've had about 8 teaspoons of rice cereal which seemed to keep all the poop contained - so much so that you didn't go for almost three days. Quite worrisome for me as you'd pretty much go on schedule every day before that. So I gave you a break from the rice and once things were back to normal I tried some barley cereal the other day. Let me tell you, that certainly got things moving & increased the fart factor by about 10. Now I'm not sure if I should keep going with this or just keep you solely on the boob for another month. Does the increase in gas production mean you are having trouble digesting this new victual and I need to let your intestinal tract develop a bit more or do I continue with the cereal because, well, in this family at least, the gas is inevitable? Who knows? The doctor seemed mildly shocked that I hadn't given you any solids at your 4 month checkup so I felt bad & gave you some but then I read I don't need to bother until 6 months. Normally I just take all the info & do my own version dependent on your cues but this food thing is a little freaky.

Nursing is still going surprisingly well & I totally credit my Lily Padz (with a z so you know they're rad) for the turn of events in that department. Seriously, these things rock & I've saved a bundle of moolah not buying the diposable kind (with the thrush I was changing those suckers about 4 times a day), not to mention trees or whatever the hell they are made of. FYI the Padz just kind of seal up rather than soak up which is just fine leakage wise unless you decide not to eat for hours at a time. For instance, I thought you were on a nursing strike a couple of weeks ago and perhaps you were or perhaps you just decided that you wanted to be like the ancient Romans and eat only when reclined. It was quite weird & even now it seems you just want to eat lying down instead of in any type of cradle hold. Fine by me, I'm all for lying down on the job.

As for lying down you'll have none of that anymore, thank you very much. Unless you're tired of course. It just seems that as soon as I put you down you are rolling over onto your belly which is great for about 5 minutes max. Then the grumbling starts because you can't move forward well enough to get whatever it is in front of you that you desire. Sometimes you can roll back onto your back again but it's not as consistent as the other way around. While on your belly you can now get your toes under your feet & push off to get your cute little butt in the air & as of a day or so ago your knees are almost making it up under your butt as well. You want to crawl so bad & you try so hard but there is a lot of face planting going on so your frustration level is pretty high. Yesterday you scooted forward about 2 feet towards me & then did a 360 before you got fed up so I know you've got it in you. You just need more practice.

And so, practice you do....

on your mark

get set - roll!

go go

gadget feet

i made it!

that was tiring - now what?

Oh there's so much to do & things to see these days. You are still in love with the baby in the mirror, the jolly jumper and all of your books but now you try to also eat them. This is hard for me to watch because I am very particular about keeping my own books in mint condition (Calvin gets in trouble for not using bookmarks) and I want you to have these forever so I am constantly wiping the slobber off of them. You are still playing snack bar when you eat but have also taken to clawing & grabbing at my shirt & pulling it over your face. I'm not sure if you just like to eat in the dark along with lying down or it's just something to do. You'll also grab & hold my fingers & move your arm in circles or up & down if you can't get at the shirt - all while pushing off of my legs with your feet. It's quite the workout sometimes & I can definitely tell when you've had enough because you either twist off of my boob or you do this iron cross move where you straighten up your little body & arch your back to get away. At first I was a little offended & thought maybe my milk tasted awful or something but now I know it's just your delightful way of telling me you are full.

You now get distracted very easily & want to be entertained most of the time. I often get the feeling that I need to do more with you & that I'm perhaps a bit too quiet but then I catch myself talking to you in the third person or singing a silly tune and you'll just beam at me so I know it's going to be ok. Plus daddy talks more than enough to make up for my reticence. You still laugh more with him but it's now suddenly tempered with you being frightened of him sometimes when he gets too rambunctious or loud so I always know you'll come back to me for the snuggles. You are beginning to get startled now from sudden loud noises & you'll open your eyes so wide I think they might pop & then you will either laugh or start screaming.

Speaking of screaming, those three nights of hell for me stopped as suddenly as they started & I am so grateful. I think that with all the growing, new food, new people (Grandma - who she adored!) & the daylight savings time thing going on you were just a wee bit confused & uncomfortable. I know the peace won't last but I'm thankful that my eardrums are getting a break for now. Maybe you had a headache because I think your head grew while Grandma was here & you are definitely longer than you were. Only thing is, the meat on your bones isn't what it used to be - in fact I can now feel your ribs & your arms feel kinda skinny too so I guess it's a good thing we are attempting that whole solid food business. Your cheeks of course are still nice & pinchable so everyone at least gets the impression that I'm feeding you well.

Anyway monkey, I'm still a little sleep deprived (that's never going to end is it?) & this is getting long & probably boring so I'll end of with a kiss to your sweet little self & promise that I'll let you grow any way you want to.

Screech!!!! (This post has nothing to do with Saved by the Bell or Newfoundland Rum)

So you come in search of tales from Grandma's visit? And perhaps hints of where I've been for the past week & a half? Well my friends, you shall not be rewarded until I get another nap, because for the past two nights or so I've been in hell. Or at least some sort of purgatory. It is a place of soul-shattering screams directed squarely at my inner ear & what little sanity I have left. We're talking Jamie Lee Curtis horror film festival scream proportions here. There's nothing wimpy about about this gal's lungs even though I've been told she has the cutest little girly cry ever.

It seems my dear doodles suddenly does not want to go to sleep in her usual time & fashion anymore. Since we received the crib she'd been doing great, going down pretty easily around 7 or 7:30 every night and then I'd transfer her to our bed when I was ready to go nighty-night. This could be anywhere from 8 - 11ish but it didn't seem to matter when because she'd barely wake up & I'd nurse her back to sleep quickly. When Grandma arrived we had a couple of fussy evenings but I racked it up to being perhaps a growth spurt or maybe too much excitement or even some gas. (That gas is a whole other issue.) Anyway it wasn't too bad & it was nice to be able to blame Grandma (heh heh, just kidding mom!) for our cranky baby. Sadly now she is gone so I'm feeling the full brunt of guilt for not being able to soothe my very very upset monkey.

Wednesday night I put her down in the crib but she woke up crying halfway through ANTM (best show evah!) so I went to check on her & then the screaming started. It appeared to be gas since she was drawing her legs up & squirming so I picked her up & preceeded to rock her for the next hour & a half. All I can say is thanks to any & all deities that I bought that sling or my arms would've been toast (they were already sore from holding her in my arms for about 45 minutes in IKEA a couple of days prior because she wouldn't fall asleep in said sling). She finally fell asleep fitfully when The Amazing Race was over after bouncing, rocking, singing, cuddling, attempting to nurse, sucking snot out of nose, administering gas drops, burping & cradling finally wore her out. Then daddy came home (after not answering his stupid cell phone) and I tried to put her down on the bed only to have the screaming begin again. Your turn dude. I think it went on for another 45 minutes but I'm really not sure because my zombie brain can only think about napping & having a beer or an espresso. Plus I went downstairs to watch some more tv (I know it's pathetic).

So she finally goes to sleep, the deep sleep of the nosferatu & then wakes up all chipper & sunshiney like nothing ever happened only to go through the same proceedings the following night. Last night she did not want to go to bed & cried every time we tried to put her in the crib. Normally we'll let her whimper & fuss a bit because she'll invariably fall asleep. Nope. She had to be up & hanging out with us until about 8:30 when her head started nodding. Up to bed & onto the scream festival again. I tried to nurse her but you know when you cry & your nose gets stuffed up? Well the poor little thing couldn't breathe while suckling so that pissed her off even more. I think Calvin finally got her to sleep around 10:15 by shaking her rattle teddy bear thing at her for several minutes. Holy crap.

I've read a ton of books, articles & opinions on the web about sleep regressions, teething, growth spurts, developmental spurts & also about all sleep training, Ferberizing & attachment parenting but none of it helps when you are in the middle of a scary monster baby moment. I know it'll change, it's just a phase, blah blah blah, but if we are in for more than a week of this I think I will lose my mind. Right now she's having a nap oh so peacefully in the crib. I should be taking this opportunity to sleep myself but since she didn't want to go back to lalaland this morning when I did, I drank too much coffee so I could function semi-humanly and now I couldn't doze off if I tried. Man, this the most negative post I think I've written since the 3am heartburn incident. I'll try and be better tomorrow folks.

P.S. Family party picture links to come soon plus pics from Grandma's visit.