Tiptoe of Tiny Feet

Packing up and moving on...

2009-01-18T23:52:00.000-08:00

Sorry Blogger.com fans...but I have defected.

A Letter to Zach - Month 10

2008-11-21T14:05:00.000-08:00

Dear Zach,
Today you turned 10 months old and you weigh 26lbs 13oz and are 30.5 inches long...
So either your shrinking since your 9 month newsletter where I reported you were 32 inches long, or I can't work a tape measure right.
And I would like to just take a moment to pat myself on my back for posting your monthly newsletter ON TIME. This is HUGE. I will be proud of this for DAYS.
This month we started off with a little Halloween activity which was probably way more entertaining for me than it was for you come to think of it. We spent the morning at Suzanne and Sylvia's house where we ate one of the tastiest potluck brunches I've had in a long time and stuffed you kids into hilarious costumes. You were a plush little turtle. This would be the part where it was probably more fun for me. You seemed pretty neutral about the whole thing, only swapping neutrality for confusion when we lined all of you up on the couch and then started simultaneously making cooing, buzzing, and clicking noises to get you all to smile and look at the camera together. Not as challenging as herding cats, but not easy either. In fact, combing through our collective pictures from all four cameras I don't think we got a single picture with all of you smiling.
We spent the rest of the afternoon running errands at which point (much to your relief) I changed you into your second costume for the day which was a simple skeleton PJ set courtesy of Grandma Carola. By night time we were home and ready to greet trick'or'treaters - something I was skeptical we would have given our track record of only one last year, and that was the neighbor we're friends with so it was more out of pity than anything else. But this year we had over 10! I'm convinced it's because the new neighbors have fixed up crazy old lady Rena's house quite nicely since buying it. And by 'nicely' I mean 'nicely, considering they chose to paint it a god awful shade of orange and I'm still upset about it 3 months after they did it.' My theory is that the house was downright scary looking before, and on a such small cul-de-sac not many people felt compelled to wander around knocking on doors near a freaky dark house where a crazy old lady is rumored to live. But she's gone and so the treak'or'treating ensued with much merriment.
Once Halloween wrapped up you came down with a cold.
Yes, sick again.
Thankfully you are the best sport about being sick, otherwise I think I'd go insane with all the times that you and I have collectively been ill this year. This time you had a head cold complete with cough, sore throat, and running nose. Which you graciously gave to me, and then I in turn gave to your dad. So for about 2 weeks running we were all in variously states of cranky. And in the midst of it all you decided to stop eating anything solid at all - even your cheerios - which drove me nearly batty by the 2nd week. You finally started eating cheerios again, but just about all other solids are out. I can sometimes trick you into trying a few things, and if I'm lucky and give you a loaded spoon you might actually get some of it in your mouth. At this point I think you're just still not that into food yet, combined with getting over a cold, as well as striking out with some independence of your own.
Once again I have chosen to walk the path of patience and neutrality. We try eating every day, at a few different times, and one day I'm sure I will look back on all this and yearn for the days when I didn't have to only shop at Costco, and I could leave there for less than $800 in groceries.
As for the end of the month you have been mastering a few accomplishments which has been both exciting and amusing. You've become quite adept at rolling around which has made things a little bit easier ironically. Now that you're independently mobile I don't have to hover quite as much in case you become bored and need flipping or propping up. You're quite happy to roll around and play on your own while I sit nearby supervising as well as accomplishing a task like sewing, knitting, reading, emailing, twiddling my thumbs. But mostly I enjoy getting down on the ground and playing with you - your favorite game is knocking down towers that I build with your blocks, followed by tearing apart whatever clean up your anal retentive mother has tried to do in the wake of your playing mess.
Now that you've mastered rolling around you seem to be working on pulling yourself up. You're not quite there yet, but you're getting stronger every day and I anticipate that one of these days you'll pop right up like you've been doing it for months. If I help pull you into a standing postion and give you something to prop yourself on you actually hold yourself up quite well. So well in fact that you cruised a little the other day. Your dad and I suspect that you might bypass crawling altogether and go straight to walking. Crawling seems to interest you very little. You can get into a crawl pose complete with your belly off the ground, but do you actually crawl? No. If you want something you roll to it. Game over.
We ended the month with adding a couple new constenants to your vocabulary: B and D. Which was quite entertaining as one afternoon you started saying "bah bah bah" and "dah dah dah" out of no where and continued to alternate between the two all day long. It was hilarious until about midnight when you woke up chatting. And it become increasingly unhilarious at 1:18am, 2:24am, 3:53am, 6:12am, and finally 7:42am. My sweet little boy - let me give you a tip - when you learn a new trick feel free to practice it whenever you like, just heed the following rules: 1) if you must do it at night, please wait until you have your own room and 2) if you're waking up to practice, please see to it that you go back to sleep on your own when done.
All the love and kisses possible,
Mama

A Letter to Zach - Month 9

2008-10-27T10:11:00.000-07:00

Dear Zach,
On Saturday you turned 9 months old and you weighed 26lbs and were 32 inches long...
Oh my little peanut, this month came with it's challenges. Nothing we were not necessarily prepared for, just a few things were shaken up and I'm left yearning for not that long ago when we had a fairly normal routine.
The greater part of the month was dominated by a minor virus that you have been plagued with. Still are, in fact, as I write this. The first week you had it I didn't even realize it - noticing only that your sleeping was off, you wanted to nurse more, and you seemed to be developing a rash on your legs and arms. Concerned about the rash I took you to your Doctor and he informed me that sometimes viruses show themselves in the form of little bumps and it's nothing to be concerned about. Glad to hear that my mothering instincts were right, and that I had nothing to worry about, I took you home thinking we were half way through the virus and you would be on the mend soon.
Only to find you developed a bad case of diarrhea a day later.
Now, one might like to think that she could go on about blogging on the topic of her infant son without mentioning diarrhea at length. And truthfully, if I was really devoted I could probably achieve that goal.
But I have just spent the past 8 days changing an average of 6 diarrhea diapers a day. That's 6 diapers on a squirming, almost 9 month old. An almost-9-month-old who has started rolling like there's a pile of tivo remotes on the other side of the room.
I'll explain about the remotes shortly.
And let us not forget what happens when a baby poops a lot during the day and consequently gets wiped a lot? Diaper rash happens that's what. Ugly, swollen, angry diaper rash that sneaks up on you. So next thing you know you're not just changing a diaper. You're preparing wet paper towels to clean the bottom (because baby wipes sting and make a baby scream like their toes are being chewed off), you're smearing Desitin on after each diaper change (which is near impossible to completely wash off of your fingers), and your washing each and every diaper pad you change on because your rolling tyke has roll/smeared poo all over it. And as a result of all this effort you're also doing laundry every day to keep up with all the poo-tastrophes (read: wardrobe changes), and let us not forget the twice (sometimes thrice) daily baths to soothe and help clean the poo-smeared angry baby.
And as I write this I can almost see the collective all-knowing head-nods of all the parents who've been there.
It's not pretty.
And we're on day #9.
Ok, so enough about poop.
This month you started rolling with some real intent. One day you were no longer content with just rolling over onto your belly. You decided it was high time you start rolling around to grab an object, or just to relocate yourself from point A to point B.
And much to our dismay you took your first fall off the bed on to the not so welcoming hardwood floor below. You ended up with a goose egg bump on your little forehead and a nasty looking fat lip - you learned that night a little bit about gravity and how your teeth are not just for chewing cheerios with.
As for the tivo remote...
You have developed an unusual fixation on the tivo remote. You always seemed very interested in it, but this month your interest has blossomed into something a little more concerning. When you see it nearby you get a look in your eye akin to that of a drug seeking junky who came across a stash in his dresser drawer he had forgotten about. You lunge, roll, grab, and squirm with all your little might in order to get the remote into you little palms so that you may suck on it. Once in your possesion you hold onto it like it's the most precious of all toys - never even coming close to dropping it.
We typically take it away from you since your playing with it usually wrecks havoc on our tivo - deleting shows we had yet to watch primarily. And up until recently you didn't care all that much. But then one day when I went to take the remote from you it ellicited a reaction I had yet to encounter - your face wrinkled up, turned red, and you started hiccuping little upset cries.
You, my darling little boy, were upset that you had something taken away from you.
For the first time ever.
While admittedly cute, I'm sure the cuteness will wear off. But for right now I find it adorable, so my sanity remains intact.
And you still don't get to play with the tivo remote.
In the spirit of the fall season starting and Halloween soon to follow we took a day off from working on the bathroom and traveled out to the coast for your first trip to the beach. We started in Halfmoon Bay to do a little (soon-to-be) traditional pumpkin farming, and then we drove up north on Hwy 1 through San Francisco and took you out on the beach for the first time at Baker Beach. Well, the first ocean facing beach you've been on - as we've been to our bay front beach in Alameda plenty of times.
It was windy, but you didn't care as you were snuggled up against me in your Ergo.
It was a fantastic day - just our little family taking time to be a family. Something I think we should try and do more of.
All the love and kisses possible,
Mama

My little Popeye

2008-10-20T19:03:00.000-07:00

Starting solids has been no quick and easy task for me and Zach. It has been mentioned in previous posts (it is with near-exaggeration that I pluralized the word "post") that he has approached transitioning to solids with much lackluster.
Tonight I looked into the pantry to decide what would be on the Junior Menu this evening and found a jar of spinach and potatoes - something that Zach has yet to try.
Cracking it open I took one look at it and grew very skeptical - the puree resembling something you might skim off the walls of an aquarium. After taking a whiff I was surprised to find out that it doesn't smell much better either. And finally taking a taste (as I find it hard to feed my kid something I won't at least try myself) I found that, yes, seriously, it really does taste like what I imagine algae to taste like.
Let us be clear - I have NOT tasted algae before so I am not certain.
This is only an assumption I am making on my part, and assuming is as far as I will go.
With much doubt I spooned a small helping into Zach's bowl and imagine my surprise when my little peach-hating, avocado-scoffing, pear-ignoring child took a big mouthful and didn't immediately spit it out.
Something I was tempted to do when I tasted it.
And imagine my sheer indignation when he took another spoonful. And then another.
In fact, I'm writing this post while lying on the floor.

A Letter to Zach - Month 8

2008-09-24T17:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Zach,
A while ago you turned 8 months old and you weighed 25lbs 7oz and were 30 inches long at the time...
I started this blog on time...and then the tile came in for our bathroom floor and all things got dropped. So you can imagine the laughter that ensued as I sat down and reread the draft I had started working on a few weeks ago, specifically the following:
"The mere fact that I'm actually getting this month's entry done on time might be an indication of a few things - 1) your nap times have condensed dramatically so that rather than taking 73 thirty minute naps a day you take two 1-2 hour naps a day and 2) we've almost finished remodeling the bathroom which has freed up my time dramatically.
Oh the hilarity of it all.

I particularly like the part about having almost finished remodeling our bathroom. We've "almost" finished our bathroom now for about 2 months. This pretty much sums up the largest lesson that your momma has learned about remodeling, and construction in general - when you think you're close to done, i.e. you just have the "finish" work left, you're only halfway there. This is why so many people don't actually ever completely finish projects - they get to this part and throw in the towel because there are so many other enticing things to do with your time (read: drinking heavily) and why spend it painting baseboards or filling holes with wood filler when you already have a working toilet, sink, and tub?
But your dad and I are dedicated to seeing all our projects through to the finish. Literally. Every hole will be filled, every item painted, sealed, or stained. So ever since the tile came in I've spent every free moment when you're asleep up a ladder painting, sanding, filling, sanding, and painting. And when I'm not up the ladder I'm on my knees tiling, grouting, sealing, caulking, and more caulking.
Isn't it nice how I've spent so much of your monthly newsletter on the topic of our bathroom? A room you don't even use?
Oh my little monkey - you will use it soon if I have any say in it.
And on that note...here's the rest of what I wrote, on time, back when you were just turning 8 months old:
This whole napping thing - oh let me tell you - has been the greatest thing. And to think, I was just writing mere months ago at how excited I was to just be able to put you down for a nap and walk away. Who would have thought I'd eventually have up to TWO HOURS to myself more than TWICE a day!?
It's insanity.
I mean, I knew there would eventually come a time where I would get a little more time to myself, that your naps would become more consistent as well as nice and looooooong. It seemed clear to me that at some point, by the time you were at least 20, I would have that luxury. So imagine my surprise when little by little your naps stretched out. As I'd be puttering around the house I would check on you, confused by how long it had been since I'd last tended to you. Eventually I would just check on you every so often to make sure you were still breathing because god knows there could be no other explanation for your sleeping for so long with out me RIGHT there next to you.
But I've adjusted. I've now learned that not only does this mean you have not stopped breathing, but it also means that a whole new world of opportunity has opened up for me. Quite timely I must say too, as we were in the throws of renovating our bathroom when all this started - it didn't take long for me to take advantage. Now while you nap during the day I spend my time drywalling, painting, tiling, and generally busying myself with lots of detailed finish work that is - quite frankly - driving me up the wall.
And to be honest?
Sometimes I look at you lying in that cozy bed and I yearn for the days of when I had the excuse that you wouldn't nap without me - just so I could go and lay there with you.
But that's only on the days when it's peaking 95 degrees and I have been up a ladder with nothing but joint compound, a drywall knife, and my sweat to keep me company.
And all this sleeping is going to good use I can see. You continue to put on weight, keeping you steadily just off the charts - you've turned into quite the little Michelin baby to be frank. And this week you worked on two more teeth. Bringing us to the grand total of 8 teeth.
I think you're going to be eating corn on the cob before you start walking at this rate. Although, that being said, you're still not the hottest about eating solid foods. We still try new things, and you continue to humor me one or two bites. But even your favorites you're not that excited about. Most of the time you look at me as if to say "what is this? why are you shoving this stuff in my face? I'm a boob-man mom, would you just accept it?
Like with all things parenting I stay patient about it, keep persisting, and assume that one day you will suddenly figure out that this whole eating solids thing is pretty damn cool.
And then we will go broke feeding you.
All the love and kisses possible,
Mama

A Letter to Zach - Month 7

2008-08-26T09:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Zach,
On Monday you turned 7 months old and you weighed 23lbs 13oz and were 29.5 inches long...
Oh my these weeks are speeding by. We've had a very busy summer and I can hardly believe that pretty soon I'm going to have to start thinking about a costume for your for Halloween!
At the beginning of last month we started trying out some solids. I watched you very carefully for a few weeks up to that point and felt that you were ready. You didn't exactly go for it with the gusto I envisioned you would. After all, you've been such a good eater to say the least. But I'm sure eating solids and drinking breastmilk are two very different experiences for you, so I'm patient and don't put much pressure on you. We started you on rice cereal which you seemed very interested in. And when I say 'interested' I don't mean excited, jumping-up-and-down-with- anticipation interested. It's more like hmmmmmm-this-is-different interested. You would roll the cereal around in your mouth and sometimes swallow it and other times push it out onto your chin. Then we moved on to bananas - something I was sure you would love. And while you seemed more into the banana than you were the cereal, you still seemed a bit UNDERwhelmed shall we say. Avocado had slightly the same reception. And then we tried the sweet potato. Holy cow do you ever like sweet potato. After one bite you were hooked - every time the spoon came your way you would open your little mouth and lean forward against the restraints of your highchair. Each bite you swallowed as quickly as it entered your mouth. You can't get enough of the stuff! By day 2 of the SP as soon as you saw the spoon you leaned forward, mouth agape, and reached out with not just your arms but your legs too! Each spoon full was received in much the same manor until we ran out of the stuff!
So I'd have to say we're off to a good start on the solids front.
On the teething front...
More teeth started coming in last month. The two neighbors of your upper front teeth started poking their heads out of nowhere. You certainly do keep teething to yourself these days. The drooling and gnawing hasn't even been that excessive - yet you seem to be growing teeth like mad. In addition to those two teeth, you started cutting your two front uppers near the end of the month - so you're pushing out 4 teeth all at once! And it seems as though you could care less. Which pleases me to no end - it gives me great pleasure knowing you're happing and comfortable.
And the fact you're not keeping me up at all hours is great too.
Saves on the liquor bill.
This month was full of visitors to say the least. Grandma came out from Colorado for a long visit and we saw her at the beginning of her trip before she headed up north to visit your Uncle Dana. We saw her again right before she flew home which was nice. Even though our visits are short, I'm glad we've gotten to see her a few times now since you've been born.
Aunt Nisa and Uncle John stopped in for an unexpected impromptu visit - this was your first time meeting them and we had a nice quick visit. And then later in the month Uncle Dana stopped by while he was in town. You had a great time with him, finding him particularly hilarious (as most people do), especially when he rubbed your feet on his 5 o'clock shadow. And in true Dana fashion he taught you how to make smacking noises with your lips.
I'm sure next time he'll teach you how to make farting noises in the crook of your arm.
Near the end of the month your dad and I took a day off from working on the bathroom and went with Grandma Carola to the Dale Chihuly exhibit at the De Young in San Francisco. I was super excited to go check it out as I have been a big fan for years, but it was also fun because it was your first trip into San Francisco.
Which I'm a bit ashamed to admit come to think of it.
We live across the bridge from the damn city and it took us nearly 7 months to take you over there??
Anyway.
It hadn't occurred to me prior, but during the exhibit I kept thinking what a great thing to take you to! You're not mobile yet, so you couldn't run around threatening to knock all the glass over...and consequently giving me a heart attack every 5 seconds. So you just sat in your carrier, leaned against my chest and looked out at all the beautiful colors and textures. You didn't nap until we were done - and boy were you tired. So glad I could share something like that with you.
All the love and kisses possible,
Mama

A Letter to Zach - Month 6

2008-08-11T15:28:00.000-07:00

Dear Zach,
I'm ashamed to admit that I am 3 weeks overdue with writing your 5 month newsletter. And it took me getting sick and confining myself to bed to do it.
But that's the way it's been for us lately - busy busy busy.
When you turned 6 months you weighed 23 pounds and were 29 inches long. I took you in for your 6 month check up and when the doctor was done the nurse came in and gave you a shot - and for the first time you didn't cry. I couldn't believe how brave you were! There were tears in your eyes, and you looked at me for support - but you didn't cry. You let out a little sigh and the redness in you face went away and then you saw me smile at you and you smiled back as if to say 'well that sucked, but I'm over it now.'
This month has been full of house related projects - which is probably the biggest reason why my blogging has gone from hardly at all to NOT at all. As mentioned last month we started our bathroom remodel upstairs. So far so good - in fact we're probably going to be ready to install our new tub on Saturday! I'm especially looking forward to that mainly because once that's in I can leave you and your dad alone while I go and take a long deep soak. I haven't had a bath in forEVER - the idea sounds particularly appealing as I lie here trying to ignore my aching muscles thanks to this stupid cold I've got. Well, in part due to that, and in part due to the aching muscle spasm that has taken up permanent residence in my lower back - a side effect I suspect is due to lugging around a rather large infant. I take it all in stride though - I take great pride in your healthy rolls of pudge - and I let the aches and pains remind me that I just need to do back strengthening excersizes while I'm at the gym.
Aside from growing (a given at this point) you've been busy working on other tricks. Blowing raspberries is probably my favorite. The day you learned how to do that you were so excited - you had watched your dad and I do it probably a million times, each one eliciting a big smile from you. So when you finally figured out how to do them on your own I could really see the joy and excitement in your eyes as you then sat there and kept blowing them for a good 10 minutes. I folded the laundry and you blew and blew and blew, alternatively flapping your legs and arms in celebration of your accomplishment, until you had a frothy spit mustache and were tired and ready for a nap.

Now you blow them whenever you feel like it - usually when you've just woken up from a nap, or when you're bored and are waiting for me to come and pick you up. And sometimes you blow them when you're really upset - like the time we were driving home in the car and you were upset and wanted out of the car. You were fussing the whole way home, ending each fussing yell with a raspberry. I snickered the whole way home. You certainly don't understand this now, but someday when you're a parent you'll see how hard it is to take a 6 month old's cries seriously when they're each punctuated with a long raspberry.
Much to my dismay you've learned how to wriggle out of your bouncey seat. The very same seat that enabled me to eat breakfasts, take showers, and just have a safe place to put you when you were very young. I haven't quite motivated myself to pack it up just yet. But each time I put you in it you seem to last less and less time, either ending in loud fusses or you wriggle out.

In a very exciting development, you've started sitting up on your own this month. It was very early on, so the news seems a bit old to me now - but it's still important! Sitting on your own means so many things to you! It's an important criteria to meet before we can start you on solids...you used to love sitting with help, so now that you can sit on your own you're that much more happy...and my favorite - you can now go in the swing at the park and not look like a sack of flour about to tip ass over eyeballs out onto the tanbark. A few weeks ago I parked you in a playground swing and you seemed to enjoy yourself. I use the word 'seemed' because you mostly just sat in the swing and thought about what was going on. As your mom I've come to learn that this means you're curious about what's going on and eventually will learn to love it. But for the time being you just want to think about it and will tolerate thinking about it for a long time. In this case I pushed you for about 15 minutes until the other baby we were with got bored and fussy.
We went to the beach for the first time this month. It's hard to believe that it's taken me this long to get you to the beach given our bay front beach is only a 10 minute walk from our front door. When I was pregnant with you I used to have all kinds of grand romantic ideas of walking with you to the waterfront on a warm breezy day...curling up with you on a blanket under an umbrella, and while you slept peacefully taking in the fresh bay air I would catch up on some reading and maybe snooze with you. Dreaming and doing are two totally different things. For one, I realized that walking to the beach with you was a totally different challenge if I intended to STOP and sit AT the beach. Have you noticed how pathetically small the cargo space is under your stroller? I barely have enough room in there to stow our farmer's market goodies, so it's pretty obvious to me that a blanket, an umbrella, jackets if it gets too cold, hats and sunscreen if the umbrella won't stay up in the breeze, and a book are all a bit on the big side cargo-wise. And did you notice that part about the sunscreen? I hate sunscreen. Hate putting it on, hate feeling it on my skin, hate reapplying it. So you can imagine I'd hate putting it on you, hate feeling it on you, and hate reapplying it. In fact, multiply that times 10 because you're squirmy and I'd feel much much worse if I got it in your eyes.
It took nearly 6 months, but a friend of ours planned a playdate with some other friends, so I packed all our things in the CAR and drove over to the beach. It was nice to finally share that part of our world with you - being we're Californians and all. And even though it was a bay-front beach, it still gave you a good idea of what to expect. Someday we'll make it out to the ocean and you can really see what I'm talking about. But that's a longer drive, a longer day, and a lot more sunscreen.
The last big accomplishment this month was cutting your first tooth. Which was quickly followed with cutting your second tooth. Two cute little teeth keeping each other company on your bottom gums. I hardly even knew you were cutting them - you were such a good sport. You've been drooly for a few months now, so that was nothing new. But one day your dad pointed out that he could feel a sharp little tooth just below the gum line - and sure enough just a couple days later we could see it poking it's little head out. Then a few days later the other one joined it. You drooled, and gummed your toys and our fingers a little harder than usual. But other than that life was pretty normal. Let's hope you cut all your teeth with as much of a sweet laid back attitude as you have so far!
All the love and kisses possible,
Mama

A Letter to Zach - Month 5

2008-07-08T15:19:00.000-07:00

Dear Zach,
Um, a couple weeks ago (ahem) you turned 5 months old and you weighed 21lbs 13oz and were 27.5 inches long...
It seems that your growing like a weed status has tapered off a bit and now you're growing at a much more manageable pace. Although this didn't really happen until you graduated on to size 12 months in clothing.
Now that I've said that you'll start another growth spurt tomorrow and I'll eat my words.
As I'm writing this you're rolling around in your play yard while sucking your fingers which brings me to one of the most exciting monuments you accomplished last month - rolling over! It had been a while since I had forced tummy time on you one afternoon, so I decided that while we had some free time I would put you down on your belly and make you get a little much needed belly wallowing done. No sooner had I placed you on your belly did you promptly push up so your chest was actually off of the ground and then you toppled to one side and rolled over.
Like you had done this every day for the past month.
I nearly fell over.
I rolled you back over again and watched as you repeated the same exersize again - flawlessly. It was as if you had learned how to remedy you mother's nasty habit of putting you down face down - just roll over! I then got out the video camera, rolled you over so you were on your belly again, and you started bawling until I picked you up. So I basically have footage of you crying on your stomach. But I think I got some footage later in the day of you rolling over so I'll have to dig around and post that once I find it.
While your growth has slowed down a little bit that still hasn't saved us from having to upgrade to a larger means of bathing you. I've picked up a little inflatable tub that seems to be doing quite well and you seem much happier in it with the additional wiggle room. I'm also pleased that I didn't have to worry about torching our old tub in order to satisfy myself that it was sterile enough. Which as it turns out wouldn't have mattered as your dad demolished the upstairs bathroom a few weeks ago and there is nothing more than studs, sub-flooring, and a toilet in the upstairs bath. So we spend our bath time these days downstairs in our new fancy bathroom that your dad and I built with our own two hands. Quite handy your parents are as it turns out.
In addition to your rolling around you have also met the milestone of grabbing your feet and occasionally shoving them in your mouth. Which is just about the cutest thing I've ever seen.
Although just about everything you do is the cutest thing ever.
This is how it works. I am your mother - therefore everything you do is adorable to me.
Except for tantrums. But I have yet to deal with that yet.
As it turns out, this whole foot-grabbing trick of yours is one of the handiest things ever because you are endlessly amused by your feet. I can put you down and the second you get cranky I'll just hand you a foot and you'll be totally distracted. Many times I have been able to put you down to take care of something in the other room and I'll hear you crowing and babbling at your toes. It's like you have this little audience cheering you on - you never feel lonely anymore.
All the love and kisses possible,
Mama

A Letter to Zach - Month 4

2008-06-02T10:07:00.001-07:00

Dear Zach,
Um...like a week ago? you turned 4 months old and you weighed 20lbs 1oz, and were 28 inches long.
This may be a short letter as my ability to sit down in front of the computer for extended periods of time has been reduced dramatically. Although, when I think about it, it's more out of choice that my time spent in front of the computer has been reduced, rather than something that has been forced upon me.
This can be explained in two parts: 1) a fantastic new development that you have achieved (YOU NOW TAKE NAPS ALONE), (yes, alone), (as in alone, alone), (like, you don't have to have a living, breathing person pressed against you, alone), (seriously), (couldn't be happier), and 2) we were out of town for your 4 month birthday and therefore I am behind schedule as it is and rather than try to crank out a regular letter and put me even further behind I am going to make this short.
And to any normal person reading this the question might arise: "what does taking naps alone have to do with why this blog is going to be short?". Well, this can be explained like so: now that I no longer have a little cute baby shaped tumor attached to me I can now get more things done around the house. So when said baby shaped tumor is napping I can do things like move crap out of the formally-known-as-the-office-and-now-referred-to-as-the-nursery, or seal the grout to the bathroom floor. Which means less time in front of the computer.
And to the same normal person reading this blog the thought might arise "it would appear that this blog is going to be no shorter than usual at the rate it's going, given that I have been reading for how long? and so far there is not as much depth as there is just a bunch of explaining."
Not to insinuate I ever have much depth to my blogging.
But I will admit that I have a tendency to, shall we say...ramble?
(Notice how I am now rambling about rambling.)
Um.
Well, I'm supposing we should get back to this here post.
Your 3rd month proved to be a bit more on the trying side. Not to say that it was difficult, but we did some learning and there were a few times where I wanted to lock myself in the closet with a bottle of wine and my iPod.
And it was really just one week, near the end of your 3rd month, that was difficult.
It was the week where I got a stomach bug, then you got a head cold, and then we wrapped things up nicely with a growth spurt.
There were a few moments in there where I wondered where my sweet calm adorable baby was and why was this alien with this sudden opinion of his own in my house? You went from being easy going and laid back about pretty much everything to only wanting to eat and sleep. Sounds easy enough...only you went even further and only wanted to nurse in bed - on a certain side of the bed. Imagine my consternation when your father suggested that perhaps you were fussing because you wanted to be nursed on your side of the bed (instead of where I was nursing you - in the middle) and when I humored him and moved you over you shut up. I damn near fell out of bed - the only reason I didn't was due to the fear of moving even in the slightest might disturb your happily nursing (and falling asleep) - something I was desperate to avoid at the time.
But we made it through that week - albeit with a few more bed sores than we went into it with - and now you're bigger, I'm wiser, and we're both getting along just fine again.
In addition to growing a little bit you also picked up a few more tricks during that week. You suck on just about anything you can get your hands on. But mostly you suck on your fingers. In fact, you'll be interested in pulling something to your mouth and then when you get that object to your mouth it's as if you're just discovering your hands all over again and you get all excited, drop the item you were deftly trying to maneuver into you mouth, and start sucking on your fingers.WOO HOO fingers!
The drool is an interesting side effect. It gets everywhere, and I'm busy trying to remember to put a bib on you whenever I can so you don't soak your clothes constantly. But you seem happy as ever, drool or no drool.
And I'm just happy to see you developing right on plan - drool and all.
Another fantastic trick is your talking. You are one little chatter box these days. Mostly only to me though. In public you are more concerned with people watching and observing your surroundings. But at home you are busy busy busy. You've got so much to say and you love it when we have our little conversations. I love talking to you, and I'm learning so many new words and nuances and fluctuations to your voice - it's making giving you what you need/want just a little bit easier. I make a point to talk to you just about every opportunity I've got. I've become quite good at narrating everything I do. Which, to an outsider, has got to be amusing - especially when wandering the aisles of the grocery store discussing at great depth our agenda for the rest of the day.
We wrapped up the last week of your 3rd month in Virginia with Michele and John. This was a very exciting time for me because not only was it our first plane trip together, but it was also the first time you met Michele. The plane ride went off with only one hitch - the airline (VIRGIN AMERICA) lost our seat reservation and put us in the very last row that DID NOT RECLINE. At first I was quite irritated, but the seats are pretty comfortable on their own, and the proximity to the galley proved to be quite useful as I could jump up and down as needed with you. I tried nursing you at take-off to help keep you calm and reduce discomfort with your ears, but the moment the engines flared up and the cabin started to rattle you leapt up in my arms and stared at me with a look of pure fear. It was incredibly endearing and I couldn't help but smile as I rocked you and told you everything was ok. You settled back down and for the next hour you flirted with the gay flight attendant over my shoulder. I finally stuck you in the baby carrier and bounced you in the galley to get you to sleep - and you slept peacefully the rest of the flight.
Thank God.
Now if only I could say the return flight was as easy and successful. But that is a story for a whole post in itself - not something I'm going to get into here.
And that just about wraps it up. It only took me a week of taking snippets of time here and there to get this thing cranked out. But there we go - so is the life of the mother of a busy now 4 month old!
All the love and kisses possible,
Mama

If you know what's good for you...

2008-05-12T18:56:00.001-07:00

Drop everything and go out and buy the FURminator right now.
A long time ago I was standing in line at Petco when I was intrigued by the video of the FURminator they had playing near the check stands. At the time, while impressed by the device as shown on the video, I was not as impressed by the $39.99 price tag and I promptly checked out with the bag of kittie food and only the bag of kittie food. Sure I like the idea of a shedding tool that would rid my house of the baby Bartleby's rolling all over the place. And sure I'd love to not have to look at my curtains every morning, as the morning sun shines through them, and be reminded that I need to brush them.
Yes.
Brush my curtains.
And then there's the copious amounts of fur left on our furniture, the same fur that during certain times of the year leaves my husband looking red and puffy as though he just had a crying jag while watching Beaches over a pint of Chunky Monkey.
But there's the skeptic in me that knows better than to believe every little video I see while standing in line at the pet store. And I'd be pissed to spend $40 on something that did no better than the cheaper brushes I have taking up space at home.
So what changed my mind?
I was reading Dooce and she mentioned having gotten the tool recently and loving it. Which reminded me of having seen it before. So I did a little internet research and found that there was in fact a whole ton of people who also liked the tool.
And it comes with a money back guarantee - so what the hell.
I went by Petco today, picked one up, and grabbed the feline for what had to have been one of the messiest brushings ever.
And I have to admit I was impressed with the first brush stroke when I lifted the brush to see a wad of fur that looked like the product of a mauling. And then I brushed again and again and again and kept coming back with more fluffs of fur balls.
Bartleby on the other hand wasn't quite sure what to think of it. Mostly I think he was confused that I was touching him given his demotion in the family food chain since we brought Zach home. But once he got over that he seemed to vacillate between being super hyper excited that I was touching him and being slightly turned on.
I tried to ignore him as I was too damned excited to be pulling SO MUCH FUR from him.
Fur that would not end up in the corners of my house. Fur that would not end up smeared all over my curtains. Fur that I would not have to brush from our couch cushions before guests come over.
And I think this is well worth the $39.99 and the scratch marks all over my forearms from a crazed and aroused feline.

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream...

2008-05-07T10:01:00.000-07:00

As I was wiping the sleep out of Zach's eyes this morning I was suddenly hit with a memory from childhood I hadn't thought of since, well, probably childhood. One of the many great things I'm finding about motherhood is that it brings back so many memories of your own from when you were little.
When I was young, I'm guessing about 5 or so, my mother used to warn me that if I didn't go to sleep the Sandman wouldn't come. In all the naiveté of a 5 year old I would dutifully obey because I didn't want the Sandman NOT to come. I had no idea who this Sandman guy was, or why it was that he made a business out of delivering sand to children while they slept, but that didn't matter. My mother would deliver the line in such a way that it made it clear to me that I surely did in fact want the man to come.
Note to self - it's all in how you deliver the line to your kid to get them to buy into whatever crap you are giving them.
So my mom would turn out the light after we said our prayers together, kiss me goodnight, and leave the room. And I would lie there trying to picture this Sandman, and he was always HUGE with a sack slung over one shoulder. He was also redheaded with a big bushy beard, and wore clothes like he was something out of J.R.R. Tolkien book. With his sack in tow he would leap in my window, nimbly sprinkle sand into each corner of my eyes, and then out the window he would disappear on to the next child's house.
Why on earth I pictured things this way is beyond me. But I look forward to sharing the same fun with Zach when he's older.
And somehow figure out how to explain to him that while the Sandman is allowed in his bedroom at night, if he actually SEES a man (other than his dad) in his room at night that he should react by kicking that man in the balls and asking questions later.
If it turns out to be the Sandman, then we'll just deal with that when the time comes.

Bathroom vs. Blogger

2008-05-01T16:43:00.000-07:00

A miracle has happened.
Sensing that Zach was on the verge of nap time, I put him on his playmat so I could go peel an orange and top off my water in preparation for his mid afternoon nap. His mid afternoon nap typically occurs around 5pm and lasts for maybe an hour where I hang out with him on my lap. I either read or catch up on some Tivo - but the bottom line is that he naps ON me. Not near me. Not in another room. He has to be on me. This is something that became abundantly clear the day we came home from the hospital - our baby is one of those babies that needs to be in constant contact with a living breathing person in order to be content enough to sleep.
I never let it bother me because 1) it's pretty damn cuddly and nice, 2) you eventually learn how to get things done and 3) I figured he'd grow out of it at least by the time he turned 30.
And besides, my philosophy about parenting is to not make a big deal out of things. Eventually you'll either figure it out, or it will work itself out. And by getting all antsy and anxious about something only stresses your kid out and in turn they become more obnoxious and difficult to deal with.
Where was I?
Rereading my rambling...
Oh ok.
So I saw Zach was getting a little heavy in the lids so I put him down to go peel an orange and came back to this:
I'd been noticing since his 3 month growth spurt that he'd been sleeping a lot deeper, which is typical. But I was still pretty surprised when I came into the living room expecting a cuddling session and nap time and this is what I came across.
And now I don't know what to do with myself.
My internal dialog went something like this:
Ohmygod
OHMYGOD
Don't make a sound...back up out of the room quietly and maybe he'll stay that way.
Wait...but we don't want to tip toe around a sleeping baby or he'll never learn to sleep through noises.
Ok...walk casually out of the room like you meant to go in there and then turn around and leave. Like there's nothing unusual. Juuuuuuusssst checking the living room to make sure it's still there.
(in kitchen)
Ohmygod
OHMYGODHE'SASLEEP
and not on me!
I can get something done now!
(looking around)
What needs doing?
Seriously.
What needs doing??
Oh for the love of...have I been unable to do things freely for so long that I no longer have an ongoing list of things to do?
Although I suppose this also means that I am pretty damn efficient at running this house regardless of having a 17lb weight strapped to me most of the time.
This is crazy. Like KUH-razy.
(looking around more, hoping something will leap out at me)
I could clean the bathroom...
Ok, something other than cleaning the bathroom...
I could tile the other bathroom floor.
Let's not get in over our head here Mary. He COULD wake up in 5 minutes.
But what if he doesn't? What if he sleeps for an hour and we just wasted an hour standing dumbfounded in the middle of kitchen going over a list of all the things we could be doing in our head instead of actually DOING something.
When did 'I' become a 'we'?
And there it is. The first time I'm left to my own devices in three months and it only takes me 5 minutes before I've split personalities and had a fight with myself.
Ok, this is stupid. DO SOMETHING.
And then I sat down and decided to blog about it.
Because what better way to procrastinate on cleaning your bathroom than to blog. Screw you bathroom, I've got more important things to do.

A Letter to Zach - Month 3

2008-04-23T14:30:00.000-07:00

Dear Zach,
Today you turn 3 months old and you weigh 17lbs 10oz...
This month you really seem to have graduated from being a 'newborn' to being more of a baby. You've gone from sleeping most of the time and only observing the world while you are awake to becoming an active participant in things around you during your waking hours - of which there are many more. Just a couple of weeks ago you started putting things up to your mouth, exploring textures, while learning how your hands work. Your hands seem to have a mind of their own but you're not bothered by it. Instead you take delight when they seem to do what you want, and you don't let it get to you when your too tired or too excited to manage them.
We've had quite the busy month you and I. Now that you're awake more often during the day I've found that you are more easily occupied doing certain things. Thank God. I have to be honest, when you were just home from the hospital I used to read ahead in the baby books. And like in most cases I should have followed the safe advise of never skipping ahead because it didn't take long for me to get to the part about how your newborn will go from sleeping 18-22 hours a day to sleeping only around 12-14. I remember reading that and thinking to myself that it might be quite possible that I will go insane if you are awake for that long. What the hell will I do with you? How will I fill the time? How will I do it without popping uppers?
And where am I going to find a dealer to sell me uppers? I've never had to acquire drugs before. I don't HAVE connections - I am no practiced at this sort of thing. Do drug dealers have profiles on LinkedIn? WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?
But then I resolved to just take the wait and see approach. And sure enough we've figured it out. Turns out that while you are awake more now, you are also more entertained by things because you are just one full time little learning machine. So we spend our days getting things done around the house, I do most of the "doing" and you do most of the observing. You're my little foreman which works out just fine by me. You also still love your bouncy seat most of all, but you've branched out and will spend some time on your play-mat that Grandma Carola gave you. You've found that if you kick and throw your arms and legs around sporadically then occasionally a toy moves or squeaks or rattles. And this little experiment of yours is repeatable with 100% success.
In the interest of trying to be more efficient lately I have started taking you in the shower with me. About half the time you get a bath, but the rest of the time I'll just give you a shower because this can be a lot easier and faster, especially when I've got to get a shower myself. You seem to like them, although I think you're not quite sure what to think of them yet. While clinging to my shoulder you hold very still and look around with big eyes. Meanwhile I've gotten better at juggling you and soaping you up – something that is a bit like trying to hold and pet a piglet that has been dipped in oil. I've found that if I wash myself first, and then bring you in the shower with me to get you clean this is the easiest way to go about it. Once finished I plop you in your bouncy seat in a towel and you sit there very relaxed and content while I rinse and get myself dry.
We've also been spending a lot of time outside playing in the yard. By far this is probably one of your most favorite activities. We find a nice shady spot for you, and while seated in your bouncy chair you kick and coo as I bust my ass in the hot hot sun. But that's ok because by busting my ass I am also slowly whittling away at it and those last few pounds that made themselves at home during my pregnancy with you, of which I am determined to evict by summer. AND it also means that we have beautiful flowers in our front yard to cheer us along, and hopefully divert most people's attention from the awful peeling paint on the house that we have to get around to sanding and repainting.
We took a trip down to my old company in the middle of the month - I say 'old' because while we were there I told my manager that I would not be returning. Something I always knew I'd do, but refused to say for sure until I had to actually make the decision. And I have to say that it was both one of the easiest decisions and hardest decisions I have made in a long time. Staying at home with you feels so right. Every morning I wake up and never for a second doubt that I'm not cut out for this, or wish I had a job to go to. This is what I was made to do. Raising you, watching you grow every day, is absolutely without a doubt one of the most rewarding and special privileges I could ever be given. And for your Dad and I to be able to afford for me to stay at home is a gift I will always be thankful for. But I also worked very hard to get where I was at my company and it was hard to let that go. So as I met with my manager, you perched on my lap smiling and sucking on my hand, we talked about my future and what I wanted to to. And he assured me that I would never have a problem coming back into the industry, that my network is strong and so what if I take a few years to raise my family? If I want to come back it will be there for me, I am sharp, bright, and strong. And he is right. As sad as he was to let me go, he also knew that being at home with you was the biggest priority to me.
And while we hold down the home front, your Dad is off conquering the hearing aid industry with his company. For two weeks we haven't seen much of him as there has been some exciting press around his company's product and that has done nothing but impact your dad's department to the point of near breaking. He's been working 12 hour days only to come home and work on the couch. Things are starting to calm down - not for lack of business, but rather your dad has been busy fixing all the things that broke with all the excitement and now the ship is running a bit smoother. So we're seeing a little bit more of him now and that's definitely a good thing. It's hard to not see him as much, but we know it's for a good cause as it ensures a solid financial standing for our family and enables me to stay at home with you, and it can only last so long before things go back to normal. So we take care of things at home, and greet dad with big hugs, kisses, and smiles when he gets home. And hopefully sooner rather than later his work days will shorten up a bit.
Among all the fun and wonderful things we've been up to this month, you and I have both been fighting our first cold since you were born. Fun stuff. I suffered the worst of it thankfully as you are nicely protected by antibodies I pass to you through my breast milk. But you still have suffered a few symptoms which I'm happy to say don't seem to bother you in the least. You might cough occasionally, or have a stuffy nose in the morning, but you still smile up at me as if to reassure me that it's ok, no biggie, you hardly even notice.
All the love and kisses possible,
Mama

Making lemonade

2008-04-15T20:51:00.000-07:00

So I've been fighting this head cold for a few days now and this afternoon was probably the worst yet. Mornings and early afternoons have been totally fine - but once 3ish rolls around I start feeling the cold wear me down.
And today I got home, stuffed Zach in his bouncy seat, sunk into a kitchen chair and just grabbed my head and stared at the floor.
And no matter how you look at it, faux brick linoleum never starts looking good and we are definitely going to have to get rid of it soon. I don't care what Grandma thinks.
After contemplating the certain demise of our kitchen floor it occurred to me that what might be really good is a cup of hot soothing tea. To the pantry I dragged myself and proceeded to dig through the collection of teas.
Black, white, herbal, medicinal, fruity...what oh what should I indulge in. Finally my fingers came to rest on a box of Sore Throat Soothers tea which is my favorite for when I'm ailing...and then it occurs to me that I may have some tea guzzling limitations due to the fact that I'm breastfeeding.
Which is a total buzz kill by the way. When I was pregnant I couldn't wait to be un-pregnant so I could resume eating and drinking the way I had before. Mostly.
I knew there would be restrictions that came with breastfeeding, but I figured it wouldn't be nearly as bad as while pregnant.
And it's not even the fact that there are dietary restrictions you must be concerned with that sucks so much. It's mostly the conundrum of eating anything questionable - and not really knowing if something is safe or not. And if you dare do some research online you'll find the number of websites telling you one thing is safe equals the number of websites telling you it's unsafe and you are a sick sick woman for even considering it and your fetus/child should be taken from you.
I made the mistake of forgetting how painful it is to do this sort of research.
But do not despair - I was reminded within 5 minutes. I threw my box of tea back in the pantry, emailed my La Leche League leader, grabbed Zach and the two of us fell into bed for a nice long nap.
Babies are the BEST nap buddies EVER.
2 hours later I roused to find an email reply from Patty telling me exactly what I figured:
caffeine in moderation, and avoid peppermint and sage as it will hinder your milk supply.
But it was the last line of her email that was the most helpful: "Honey and lemon are good in almost any tea and can reduce coughs."
With that little line of inspiration I wandered outside to our lemon tree (on steroids), (the tree, not me), pulled 3 lemons off of it, squeezed some juice into hot water and drizzled tasty honey from our neighbors bees over it.
Screw the tea.
Sometimes a little simplicity is all you need when feeling under the weather.
Life threw me some lemons - so damn it, I made some tea.

Sunny with a chance of sweat

2008-04-13T12:29:00.000-07:00

It's only been 80 degrees here and it still feels like a heat wave out of mid August. All of a sudden the weather went from downright perfect to hot as hell, forcing us to break out shorts and tank tops, throw open all the windows and sleep through the night with only a light cotton sheet.
And I have to keep reminding myself that it's only been 80 degrees during the day.
It's ridiculous.
This happens every year, usually about this time, when the weather goes from a perfect 70 degrees to over 80. Our bodies are so used to the colder winter months, that we have somehow forgot how pleasant 80 degrees feels after a 5 day stretch of 98 degrees.
And this year I'm doing it with a little space heater attached to my hip.
If I ever have a choice about it, I'm going to make sure that we plan the next baby to be born well during the winter - just like Zach - because I can't imagine having to recover from child birth, and lying around the house with an infant in this weather. And next time it will be with an energetic toddler testing my patience and alcohol limitations.
Just like any other man, Zach has been blessed with being perpetually warm. Not such a blessing to me as it turns out, not when it's hot out and I'm the one who's spending the most time holding him.
He's still a bit of a momma's boy.
So I've resorted to just live with it - and taking two showers a day.
And hopefully this "heat wave" will pass soon and I can return to snuggling with my son without breaking out in a sweat and sticking to him.

A letter to Zach - Month 2

2008-03-26T10:24:00.000-07:00

Dear Zach,
On Tuesday you turned 2 months old and you weigh 15 lbs 2 oz...
What a sack of potatoes you are becoming! Last month at this time, when I was writing your last letter, I wrote of transition and adjustments both emotionally and to our daily lives. This last month seemed to be more of transition on your part physically as you've added a nice little layer of padding all over and have stretched to just over 2 feet long. As I change your diapers I pinch your chubby little thighs and arms and marvel at how much weight a little baby can put on in such a short amount of time solely off of breastmilk. And at least 5 of the pounds you weigh must be in your cute little cheeks.
This month has been a busy one as you and I have started learning how to be functional together. We've gotten ourselves quite a nice little routine which couldn't make me happier - as you get older you'll learn how much your mom likes routines.
Consider this your warning.
And if you want sympathy your father is more than happy to commiserate.
Our mornings are usually spent with you in your bouncy chair while I busy myself with a shower and getting myself fed, and if I'm really lucky I get a little extra time to pick up around the house before you ask for your mid-morning snack. I try to squeeze in some tummy time - but you're not the biggest fan. It's not as though you dislike it, it's more like you just don't see the point. You might lift your head a few times, but then you rest your head down and just look around being the content little baby you are. There's no point in your just lying on your belly on the floor, so I pick you up and try again the next day.
The beginning of the month started off with you accomplishing the milestone I was most looking forward to: smiling. Nothing prepared me for the idiot I would become at the sight of your smiles. I spend SO much time in front of your little face, doing whatever I can to illicit another smile from you. You often tease me with little closed mouth smiles - but every once in a while I hit the jackpot and you reward me with a big open mouth smile coupled with kicking and squeals.
You've also learned that if I'm near and you stick your tongue out at me, I might stick my tongue back out at you. This has you quite excited, and after you've tested me a few times and I comply, you then start sticking your tongue in and out rapidly over and over again. And like the good well trained mom I am, I do it back. My reward? Big smiles with kicks and squeals.
So now that we've got the smiling milestone taken care of - I'll just have to sit tight and look forward to your next highly anticipated milestone: graduating from college.
Earlier this month I started pumping breastmilk a little bit so we could start seeing how you'd like the bottle. Don't get me wrong, I love breastfeeding you, but sometimes Mom needs to get away for a little bit so she can go to the gym, get a pedicure, or drink 3 martinis and forget her name. And as if you knew how important it was to me that I maintain at least a little bit of my alcohol tolerance you took that bottle as if it was totally normal. You took it so easily in fact, that I almost felt a little offended and jealous, as if that bottle could replace me. But I got over it. And I've successfully made it to the gym a few times now, and your Dad only looks a little crazed when I get back. That's all I ask.
I thought I'd end this post on the topic of laundry, and how I can proudly say that we are now down to doing only 2 extra loads a week now - an accomplishment that I am very happy about every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Sunday, when I'm not busy doing more laundry. We hit this monumental achievement when you're bladder finally grew large enough that the mere opening of your diaper wasn't enough to trigger your pissing everywhere. The first few times we thought it was cute. But by the 173rd time I thought that it was getting a little old. And having to change your clothes, your new diaper (as you always manage to pee on the NEW diaper), the changing table cover, and anything that happened to be near by, was getting a little time consuming.
And I'd just like to point out here that I had NO IDEA how much pee a baby could hold. Let us pause for a moment and think about it: I would have to change your clothes, new diaper, and changing table cover. That's a lot of carnage. And this is AFTER you already wet your diaper which is why I was even taking your diaper off in the first place.
But I knew the day would come soon when you'd outgrow the habit, and sure enough here we are. I'm even so bold as to sometimes not cover your parts with a washcloth while I'm changing you. I know - SO bold.
All the love and kisses possible,
Mama

Well, what did I expect?

2008-03-24T11:41:00.000-07:00

We made it through Zach's 8 week check-up reasonably well. The only negative part was when he had to get his routine vaccines and I nearly cried.
Seriously, truly truly awful. And it took a tremendous amount of strength to not hit the nurse administering them.
But as I suspected Zach was a real trouper, only crying a little, then nursing contentedly to sleep. Where he then slept the sleep of the dead until we got home.
We learned that he's right on track with all his milestones, and has grown to 24.5 inches and weighs 14 pounds.
Which my back could have told me.
Still, a little bit of a surprise that he's growing so rapidly. Can hardly believe he's nearly doubled his birth weight. At this rate he should be taller than me by the age of 5.
Trevor found a nifty percentile tracking tool online and has posted about it on his blog. According to the national percentiles, if Zach keeps on his current trend, he should be roughly 3 feet tall at age 2.
That's to my hip.

Walking and Watching

2008-03-18T18:01:00.000-07:00

It's amazing how much more you observe while walking. At first, as I would go on my daily walks with Zach, I would marvel at the houses in my neighborhood that I never even actually noticed before. Gradually I started studying landscapes, enjoying the flowers as they transitioned from buds to full plump blooms ready to fall from their tree limbs.
Walking slows everything down.
And if you're an idiot like me and forget you own an iPod (two in fact) there's nothing else for you to do but think or enjoy the scenery.
(I have since realized that not only do I own an iPod, but it works outdoors even - so now I enjoy the flowers AND Timbaland).
Among the flowers and houses, I've also been observing people more.
Yesterday I went for a walk with Zach in his carrier downtown after we had checked out our new local library. Lots of people to observe downtown. And yesterday the type of people were more interesting than I expected.
I should probably explain that downtown Alameda is very quaint and charming. Small mom n' pop shops, new burgeoning restaurants peppered amongst old popular favorites...for the most part clean, safe, and, well, just charming and quaint.
So imagine my surprise when I walked right by a kid sitting outside the bagel shop rolling a blunt.
In plain daylight.
On a busy street.
Where cops frequent.
In a neighborhood where the biggest offense is violating the 25mph speed limit. Not smoking pot in broad daylight in front of everyone. Or rolling a big fat doobie.
And then there was the Hari Krishna 5 minutes later - wondering down the street with his mat and drum.
I should iterate here that this is Alameda - not Santa Cruz. Not Berkeley.
Close in proximity maybe - but not in culture.
To top off my day of people watching, I was amused to watch a kid of maybe 10 years old wondering home from school sucking on a can of whipped cream. Nozzle shoved in his mouth like a straw. Sucking it down like it was totally normal, and not the least bit unhealthy, to be consuming an entire can of whipped cream.
He was at least 20 pounds over weight, and obviously working on doubling that number by summer.
At least he was getting some excersize I suppose.

All I needed was a little fix

2008-03-15T19:18:00.000-07:00

Today has turned out to be a great day.
Brace yourselves - because a lot of you will think I'm insane - but today was SO great because I went back to the gym for the first time in 7 weeks and 4 days.
I love the gym.
The gym keeps me sane.
It's the place I have gone to on average for 5 days a week for the past...holy shit...7 years? Michele, you're going to have to help me out here because it's your fault I ever went in the first place.
The point is, the gym and I have been long time friends. It's been one of the most consistent parts of my life that I've had. And to take over 7 weeks off made me feel as if I was neglecting myself. It has been something that has been so much a part of my daily life - and to suddenly go without it left a distinct void in every day.
It almost felt strange that I was busy recovering from labor and delivery and going to the gym wasn't part of the process. To me getting a workout into my day helps me de-stress. I can sweat it out and relax my muscles. During some of the most tiresome and stressful times in my life I would go to the gym, get in my workout, shower, put my feet up, and feel some of the greatest relaxation ever.
I know there are people out there who will insist that 'I just had a baby - of course I should relax' and 'you're body just went through a tremendous ordeal..'.
And yea yea yea, I know. Blah blah blah.
But I was feeling damn good about 3 days home from the hospital - so it felt odd to not be going.
Cut to over 7 weeks later and I've been going a little stir crazy lately with just walking keeping me going.
And naturally my body is used to the 5-day a week workout, so my metabolism is shot to shit.
I've been jonesing for a good workout for about 4 weeks now.
So like a heroine addict stealing his grandmother's TV, I've been spending the past couple of days pumping milk so I would have enough to leave in the fridge for Trevor in case Zach needed a feeding while I was gone.
I fed Zach, suited up, pecked both my boys on the cheek, and off to the gym I went. And for 1 hour I stepped back in time. I went back to a time before Zachary, and it was so familiar and so comforting. I spent an hour reconnecting with my old self. Someone who I haven't missed per se - but someone I wouldn't mind visiting for an hour a day, 5 days a week. Someone who I'd like to remember, because even though I've been redefined as a mommy, I'd also like to keep a part of my old self - the part that felt sexy and energetic in her own skin. I may be a mom to Zach, but I'm still my husbands wife. And more importantly I'm still a woman that I care about and want to respect when she looks in the mirror in the morning.
And now I'm back, showered, feet up, and the sounds of snoring from the living room serenade me. My men are crashed on the couch taking a hard earned snooze.
It's hard when mom goes to the gym.

Sincere Flattery - and a letter to Zach

2008-02-25T13:36:00.000-08:00

I hate to imitate given that I prefer to be creative and unique on my own. But in this case I simple can't resist ripping off Dooce and writing a monthly letter to my son. First of all it's a great idea, and secondly it's the best way I know how to keep track of all these wonderful moments and memories that Zach and I are creating daily.

So here goes...

Dear Zach,
Today you turn 1 month old and weigh 11lbs even...
And as though you remembered how hard it was for me one month ago today giving birth to you, you gave me a break this morning and woke up quietly and sweetly and as I roused to the sound of your little critter-sounding noises I thought about how I am one lucky Mama.
This month has been a very busy one for you, and one full of transition for me.
For me, becoming a full-time stay at home mom to you has pretty much met my expectations. It has it's moments of when I'm trying to figure out how on earth I'm going to brush my teeth, or when I'm trying to decide just how miserable we'll be if we go without coffee for a couple more days and then you surprise me (and hell, I surprise myself) and we somehow manage to not only practice good oral hygiene but also go to the store. And it’s those moments that I am full of pride in both of us because as trivial as these activities may have been before you came along, I now realize just how complicated they can be when you have a little companion in need of your constant love and attention.
But overall the transition has been an easy one I was apparently ready for - and thank god for that.
You are without a doubt the most entertaining science experiment your father and I have ever attempted.
Hell, we're still shocked that we managed to conceive a baby. So imagine our surprise just about every day when we look at you, with all your perfect fingers and toes, with your little innie belly button, with your dark head of sweet smelling baby hair - we just simply feel astounded most of the time that we managed to produce something so wonderful out of virtually thin air.
And I can't believe I just used the word 'hell' in a letter to my infant son.
Anyway.
In just one month you've managed to surprise us further, as if creating you wasn't enough of a shocker.
It seems as though every day you become just a little more playful. You have a whole collection of noises that I've learned to identify with different emotions and needs. And they continue to bring a smile to my face each and every time - like the ridiculous new parent that I am. You've also been working on your smile most recently. It still seems like a fluke facial reaction that you don't quite have control over, but it's there and every once in a while we're surprised with a glimpse of what your little face will look like lit up with a smile. We're looking forward to the coming month or so when you'll actually learn to make that smile pop up at will. And you certainly are entertained when I smile at you with my big sappy mothering grins.
I'm happy to report that you love to take baths. Your first couple of weeks home you could have done without the terrible technicality of having to get clean periodically. We'd sponge you off, gradually moving on to dipping you into a little wash basin after your umbilical stump fell off - and you hated it. You'd cry that alarming cry of yours that we've come to learn is your 'I'm being serious you assholes' cry. By week three I thought you were big enough to break out the fancy baby tub, complete with infant sling, to bathe you in. I had a grand idea that perhaps you would feel more comfortable in this than slipping and sliding in our hands. I made the big mistake of trusting one of those fancy rubber ducky temperature thingies - the kind that has a big "HOT" sign that glows if the water is too warm. I took it a little too literally, and when it said "hot" I assumed (like the trusting consumer that I am) that the water was too hot and I added more cold water. You cried through that entire bath - much like your previous baths - and I assumed you just still weren't digging the baths yet. That is, until your father came and stuck his hand in the water and pointed out that I wouldn't enjoy taking a bath in that water either. Since then I've put your dad in charge of filling your tub with water, and coincidentally you've started to love your baths. In fact I love your baths as well. There's nothing greater than watching you kick and make 'cooing' noises and I could just eat you up each and every bath time. And your dad has not hesitated in giving me shit for the water temperature mishap once, so we all win.
And thank god for your bouncy seat, for without which I would not get showers, eat more than an apple for lunch, and we would have no clean clothes. You love that little seat and can waste 30 minutes kicking and making delighted sounded noises as you learn that when you kick you then bounce. More recently I sometimes catch you looking at the little grasshopper toy that dangles in your field of vision. Or dragonfly. Or whatever kind of generic insect it is. And we sometimes talk about how is unidentifiable and how it's a good thing your mother didn't go into Entomology because not only would that be a really boring profession, but I would be no good at it.
Of course your first month in this world has had a few bumps. About two weeks ago you started suffering from gas which doesn't look like any fun from our perspective. You power through it like a real trooper though; you've always been so mellow and calm. But I hate seeing you squirm and cry when it's really bothersome. And now it seems like you're getting used to it, or maybe the pain isn't as bad. Which to a new mom is a real relief considering that every day I hope it doesn't get worse and turn into the dreaded colic. And I don't discount the fact that you could develop colic at some point still, and I cross all my fingers and toes that you don't.
And then there was the moment a few days ago when I knocked a canister of tennis balls on your head. You kind of didn’t care for that all that much either.
Forgive me my little peanut – we’re new parents and still learning the ropes.
And apparently I am still learning about gravity.
All the love and kisses possible,
Mama

The view makes all the difference

2008-02-14T11:36:00.000-08:00

I am typing two handed this morning because I've learned a valuable thing...sometimes all a baby needs is a change of scenery to stop crying.
When Zach was about a week old we broke out the bouncy chair, put him in it, and set it on vibrate. Much to our delight we found that he could be occupied like this for about 30 minutes - enough time for me to take a quick shower and eat breakfast in the morning, completely independent of Trevor. So for the past 2 weeks I've been putting Zach in his chair just outside the bathroom door and enjoyed a shower and then breakfast while he kicks and makes cooing noises. This all works out rather well as I can see him from the kitchen table through the bedroom door, and he usually starts fussing right as I'm clearing my dishes.
This morning I was feeling a little ballsy and decided to blow dry my hair, which meant that about halfway through breakfast Zach started fussing.
Rather than scoop him up to feed him as I normally do, I decided to experiment - because that's all child rearing really is as it turns out: a big experiment. I picked up Zach while still in his bouncy seat - something I'm sure the manufacturer warns against - and set him down in the kitchen with me.
And just like that he was back to cooing and kicking like before.
And he's still cooing and kicking as I'm typing - because this change of scenery just bought me another 30 minutes it would seem.
I wonder if a move to the living room would buy me another 30...

Stretching our legs

2008-02-13T14:46:00.000-08:00

Entering motherhood for the first time you very quickly come to realize how much of your life must come to a standstill to make room for taking care of your little one while recovering from labor.
You realize this pretty much the first day home from the hospital when you first learn that going to the bathroom means either finding someone to hold the baby or listen to him cry whole-heartedly the entire time.
Which reminds me of something else you will quickly come to realize: hearing your own baby cry is totally heart wrenching and you begin to see how easy it is to spoil a baby.
And hold it as long as possible when you need to pee.
Once I saw how much of my daily activities ceased, I sort of took some enjoyment in it. My daily routine no longer existed, and going forward it was now going to be me and Zachary feeling out our new daily routine. And there may not even BE a routine for a while.
Cuz babies or so totally unpredictable - realization #3.
So here we are, embarking on a new adventure every day. And with each morning we consider what we're feeling up to accomplishing throughout the rest of the day. And as the days go on, we accomplish a little bit more.
Last week we finally walked all the way to the park next to the beach. Zach was feeling quite lenient about letting me walk that far - as he slept the whole way and only woke up to fuss when we got close to home. Our next goal is to actually make it all the way to the beach and walk along the pathways there. As Zach's naps are becoming deeper and longer I think we may be able to accomplish this in just a few days.
This week we were able to go to the grocery story for a long shopping trip - something I used to procrastinate on, and now it's something I find myself taking pride in.
That'll wear off fast I'm sure. But in the meantime, I don't mind being easily amused.
And today we made it on the freeway and actually drove 15 minutes to Target for a short shopping errand.
So very decadent.
My little co-pilot is becoming very generous I must admit.

Joining the one-handed typing trend

2008-01-30T12:09:00.000-08:00

For those who have not heard the news, little Zachary James made an early appearance last week at 2am Friday morning...after, like, eleventy-two hours of labor.
So with the little sleeping peanut in one arm, and a cup of warm decaf in the other, I thought it might be good moment to slide the laptop across the table and dust off this here blog.
Thus begins my one-handed blogging days.
I hope to have some time in the near future to document the birth adventures soon. Especially before mommy-brain sets in too much and I can hardly remember any of it.
But for right now I'm going to keep this quick, partly due to how frustratingly slow this one-handed typing is going, and partly due to the poopy smelling diaper I believe my little one is currently working on.
Until next time, I leave you with a picture of the most intensive and precious project I have ever worked on:

And here's a little something my adorable husband worked on last night:

On working a different shift

2008-01-15T14:15:00.000-08:00

Now that my primary priorities in life are split between being a house frau and a mother my daily routine has seen a major shift.
Obviously my days are no longer spent battling traffic at 8am to then wage war in the office, only to battle traffic to come home and spend the last few hours of the day with my husband.
Nowadays my time is spent doing things more central around the home. Which I love.
And given that my schedule no longer revolves around an inflexible work schedule I find myself planning errands around rush hour to avoid traffic and busy stores. Makes perfect sense.
But one thing I didn't realize was what kind of world it is out there during working hours - hours I usually was spending at my desk, or in meetings.
For example today I drew up a lengthy grocery list so as to stock our shelves for the next couple of weeks. The idea is to reduce the number of times I go to the grocery store to once a week at most. In the past I would sometimes go two or three times a week because I wouldn't bother to think ahead of what I wanted to cook for dinner for the whole week. So I would find myself stopping off at various stores throughout the week so we would have something for dinner on each individual night. Or, I wouldn't make the effort to check our pantry before going to the store and then find out we were out of coffee - after I had just been to the store - which would then send me to the store again the next day.
Because coffee cannot be lived without.
Heads explode.
Now that I'm home full time I feel there is no excuse - I have the time to sit down and draw up a menu for the week, check the pantry, and draw up a list.
Which I diligently did this morning.
And off to the store I went, fully expecting the parking lot to be empty and the aisles to be vast and wide and clear of crazy late afternoon shoppers trying to stock up for dinner and get home to their loved ones.
What I didn't realize is that I am not the only one who plans her grocery shopping around working professionals.
Old people are working the same angle.
Old people who drive down the center of the parking rows, rather than to one side. Which is ironic because while they can somehow drive directly down the middle of the lane, they can't seem to park their cars directly in the middle of their parking spot.
And they seem to have the same cart maneuvering skills while in the store.
Down the middle.
Slowly.
Stopping erratically.
And when they do leave their cart anywhere, it's random, in the way...and it makes my brain bleed.
But I'm patient. I'm not in a rush like I used to be in the evenings.
Sure, I've got things to do, errands to run. And sure it worries me a little bit that I might get boxed in between the frozen meat case, the butcher counter, and an erratically abandoned cart and then go into labor - only to find myself trying to get out of the store, in labor, stuck behind a pack of old people slowly pushing their carts. Being forced to delivery my baby next to the cereal and coffee.
But it would make for a great story I suppose - so I don't let it get to me.
It might take a little adjusting given that I'm more used to the fast paced environment that I'm coming from.
But pretty soon I'll have an 8lb dead weight slowing me down that will only get larger, heavier, and more challenging.
So perhaps I could learn a thing or two from the older more elderly generation and start slowing down now.
Before my head explodes.

YOU take it easy...I'm going to go get things done.

2008-01-10T09:54:00.000-08:00

When I first found out that my company, being one of the most renowned employee-focused companies in the area, grants it's expectant mothers 4 weeks of pre-maternity leave before her due date, I thought 'great! I'll have 4 weeks to get a couple things done, relax, and rest up before the baby comes.' Because I was so sure that based on what everyone was telling me, by the time I got to 36 weeks I would be sleeping all the time and only able to fit into Trevor's sweats.
Clearly I don't know myself very well.
My first day of leave began on the first working day of the year - January 2nd.
And in just one week I have accomplished exactly 417 tasks, taken a Babymoon, and defended our house from an ant-siege...all while trying to come to grips with the fact that I am having a baby in less than a month and the only symptom I'm suffering from right now is the occasional sore hip in the middle of the night.
Now I have 3 weeks until my due date, and my task list is now down to 372 items. I have yet to take a mid-day nap, and the closest I came to wearing Trevor's sweats was when I realized my gym shirts no longer cover the vastness that is my baby-bump and had to pull out one of Trevor's t-shirts to wear to the gym instead.
In short, I don't think I'm having the most conventional of pregnancies at the moment.
And please, save your comments about 'taking it easy' and 'you should get your rest now while you can', because if you know me at all, you know that's impossible for me. I take it easy when my body wants me to. Really - I don't ignore my body when it's whining and cursing me for pushing myself too hard. But if I force myself to take it easy it only serves to irritate me and only lasts about 5 minutes before I need to do something with all the energy that I somehow accrue and store in vast quantities without even realizing it.
If I could bottle it, sell it, and take long naps in the afternoon in exchange, I would.
And if I wake up tomorrow with only enough energy to go back to sleep - trust me, I will.
In the meantime, I have to say I can't complain. Things are getting done around the house like they never have. And by the time this little guy makes his appearance I will be able to lie around and snooze and cuddle with him like I should without staring at the curtains and cursing myself for the procrastination that kept me from hemming them for over a year.
Which reminds me, I was planning on hemming the bedroom curtains this morning.
Let's hope that with a little determination I can actually spend some time blogging as well.
But for right now I should probably stop sitting around at the computer and actually check a few things off my list. For starters maybe I should catch up on a few phone calls that piled up while we were out of town for a few days. A post for another day.

Let there be heat!

2007-11-16T15:32:00.000-08:00

As I write this there are two men downstairs in our basement installing our new furnace. In other words, I am sitting in my kitchen, tip-typing away at my computer, while someone else is cutting sheet-metal, wiring, moving heavy shit, and cursing.
I could totally get used to this.
And tonight there shall be heat!
Yes, real honest-to-god heat that will blow forth from grill-covered holes in our floors. And in the morning the house will be heated to a comfortable temperature automatically thanks to the genius invention known as the thermostat.
The prograaaaamable thermostat.
Yes - we are THAT fancy.
It gives me great pleasure to see that all the work we've been doing...all the replumbing of both gas and water, the hanging of ducting, and the constant swearing...it will all finally come to fruition in one! complete! project!
Until now I was beginning to think that DIY was really short for Do-It-Yourself-And-It-Will-Take-Forever-And-You-Will-Never-
Actually-Finish-Any-One-Project.

and now...a few complaints

2007-11-01T15:30:00.000-07:00

Things that are annoying me today:

1) My belly is always getting into the sink these days resulting in my walking around all the time with a big wet spot on my shirt.

2) I had the biggest craving for BBQ flavored Kettle Potato Chips and all my work's vending machine had in it was roasted garlic & herb. I never get cravings. And one of the few times I do and I can't do anything about it.

3) There was this guy on the elevator who was eating a bag of chips. Loudly. BBQ Kettle chips to be exact. And he didn't give me the bag no matter how hard I stared at him. Asshole.

4) This jacket I saw this afternoon on some coworker earlier. It was red plaid and looked like a short bathrobe.

5) Maternity shirts, like the one I'm wearing today, appear to be made for women with small chests. Not that I have a particularly large chest. But it seems that I have numerous maternity shirts that keep riding up over my boobs, as thought my boobs are too big - forcing me to constantly tug the shirt down or else look like I'm wearing a belly shirt. And pregnant women should not wear belly shirts.

6) A co-worker of mine is a sniffle-er. One of those annoying people who refuses to blow their nose when it is runny. As a result, anyone in near proximity must sit and listen to said co-worker suck the snot that is running down their nose back up into their sinuses every 10 seconds.

7) Britney Spears' Halloween costume.

8) I now have Roasted Garlic & Herb breath.

Time and time again

2007-10-24T16:01:00.001-07:00

At some point in the past 2 weeks time officially sped up and it has me a little annoyed.
We have been going at a reasonable tack, getting ourselves and the house ready for the impending arrival of our baby. But it has become very clear to me of late that we still have at least 173 things left to do, and only 3 months to do them in.
Or, 97 days.
Or, 14 weekends.
And that's only if the kid comes when he's expected.
Now, there was a time in my life - my sans fetus life to be exact - that 3 months felt like all the time in the world.
But given the fact that I have NO IDEA what having a baby in our house is going to do to our lives, I have to plan for us to check everything off our freakishly long list - so we don't have to deal with it after the baby is already here. I.e. plan for the worst case scenario.
Because - that is what I do.
I plan for the lamest, shittiest, most annoying situation. Mostly to annoy the piss out of my husband - the eternal optimist. But also because I like it better when I'm pleasantly surprised if things work out better than expected.
So I suppose in a case like this, the worst case situation would be that all we'll be capable of doing for a while is making sure the baby is fed and cleaned and loved. And if there IS any free time, that will be spent sleeping or eating.
Which doesn't leave much room for taking care of all the things we didn't get around to before the baby was born.
Like gutting the nursery so we can insulate the walls and hang sheetrock that doesn't look like it was hung by a contractor with only 3 fingers on each hand.
Or remodel the bathroom so we no longer have to avoid touching the walls in the shower because they are so disgusting and filthy from years of poor maintenance they are probably more petri dish than tile and grout at this point.
I can't even wrap my head around buying nursery furniture right now given there is NO nursery ready to set the furniture up in.
And then...and THEN...an order of books I placed from Amazon.com came last night. And I near about shoved them back in the mailbox.
Read?
I don't have time to read!
What the hell was I thinking when I ordered these books? Apparently I was playing a practical joke on myself when I ordered them.
Although I NEED to read them.
Being that they're all about birthing and taking care of an infant and all.
One might like to know what exactly to expect about the whole labor and delivery process.
Especially if one is going to have a baby IN 3 MONTHS.
And despite all this crap and worry that's going through my head, I'm fully enjoying the whole experience.
Something tells me that in a very short amount of time I'm going to look back on this time as the "quiet part of our lives".

Loose criteria

2007-10-16T15:40:00.000-07:00

“I really liked this doula – I feel a lot more at ease about this whole ‘giving birth’ thing I’m supposed to do in 3 months after having just met her.”

“Yea? Well that’s good.”

“Did you like her?”

“Yea sure.”

“No really, did you? Enough to spend possibly 30 hours with her?”

“The woman comes equipped with an iPod docking station with speakers. She passed any criteria I had when she told us that.”

“Slut.”

At least 5 toes...

2007-09-28T14:54:00.000-07:00

Before getting pregnant I had wondered at what point you actually feel like a ‘mother’.
And after I found out I was pregnant I wondered if it wasn’t going to be until the baby was actually born, because just being pregnant wasn’t actually enough to give me mothering feelings as it turned out.
That is, until I started bleeding and had no idea what it meant – for me, my baby, or for my body.
And the idea that this was the foreshadowing of something more serious, or worst of all a miscarriage?
Suddenly you find out that amidst all the panic, and fear, and denial that this could be happening to you, there is also the undeniable feeling that you are the mother and this is your baby that’s at risk.
And a very new mother at that.
And what do mothers do when there’s something wrong?
Well, if they’re me, they apparently call their doctor at 10 at night and blubber about ‘bleeding’ and ‘what’s going on?’ and ‘is the baby ok?’.
And in between the blubbering and jagged breathing the doctor tried to advise, and suggested that we go to the ER. That an ultrasound should be done just to make sure that it wasn’t anything serious.
I’m not sure that the idea of going to an ER made me feel better or worse for that matter. I pretty much knew when I first dialed my doctor that there was a trip to the emergency room in our near future.
But my call to her left me feeling neither consoled nor informed about what was going on. Other than the fact that some bleeding can be normal – she didn’t really say anything else to make me feel at ease.
So we soberly got in the car and drove into Berkeley to our hospital.
About half way there I started to feel rather calm.
As I’m sure Trevor found rather consoling.
I was fine.
The baby was fine.
There was no way that something horrible could be wrong.
That and the baby had begun it’s usual 10pm-12am yoga routine right about when we got in the car.
What could possible be wrong with the baby if the baby was moving around as usual?
And then it hit me.
We’re going to the hospital.
A hospital where we will be getting an ultrasound.
You know what happens during ultrasounds? Stuff happens.
Like finding out the gender of the baby.
And just like that I went from feeling 100% worried about the baby to about 20% worried and 80% excited that we were getting an ultrasound at 19 weeks and NOT 26 weeks.
We were going to find out what we were having!
Of course the 20% of me that was still worried seemed to have a strong hold on me.
But I felt much better when the triage nurse told me that I probably had nothing to worry about.
And then they took us in for the ultrasound and I got to hear the little heartbeat – all doubt and worry went away.
And when the tech said “the baby looks fine, everything is the way it should be” all I had left to ask was “can you see what it is?”
“Well, this isn’t your official anatomy ultrasound – but I can definitely tell you that you are having a little boy.”
And here’s a little keepsake for our fridge:

And we know he has at least a right foot with 5 toes:

A Penchant for Drama

2007-09-24T20:34:00.001-07:00

Quick note: BABY AND MOM ARE ALIVE AND FINE.
After receiving some concerned comments, and then rereading my last post, I realized that I may have a knack for writing with a bit more drama and suspense when I am both pregnant and up to my eyeballs in work.
Who knew.
My apologies to anyone that may have feared for the worst for me and the beh beh.
I will try and finish my 2-part 'dramatization' in the next day or two.
But my job may have other plans for me.

Letters of complaint to upper management

2007-09-21T15:43:00.001-07:00

It would appear that I've fallen behind on my blogging.
A letter submitted to upper management has indicated that there has been some dissatisfaction with the frequency, or lack thereof, of blogging at this here blog.
Big surprise there.
I bet half of you have fallen out of your chairs.
To be honest, I've almost blogged about 5 times in the past few weeks, but have stopped because I was procrastinating on telling the story I wanted to tell.
Not because the story is hard to tell - just drawn out. And there's a bit of news at the end of the story that I wanted to break to a few people on the phone first before I published over the vastness that is the internet.
Now that the phone calls have been made, I can now safely blast into the vastness.
This blog is probably going to be broken into 2 parts.
And those of you who are familiar with my other blog realize that this means I'll get only part of the story down and then allude to the final entry and never ever ever get around to it.
Ever.
Ahem.
Can't really say anything to lead you all to believe otherwise.
But this one is only a 2-part story...so I'm sure this shouldn't be too hard for me to complete.
And I SWEAR! This one I will finish.
Girl Scout's honor.
(I'm totally holding my hand up in the girl scout's honor salute right now)
So.
This whole story kind of goes back, to ohhhhhh...my doctor's appointment roughly around 16 weeks.
By this point in time Trevor and I were both dying to find out the sex of the baby. We knew that typically you would have to wait at least until 18 weeks for a gender determination ultrasound - 20-22 weeks for a more accurate determination. So the idea of waiting another 2-6 weeks was pretty much annoying.
But we had no choice, and we would put up with the waiting.
And so by the time we made it to my 16 week doctor appointment all I wanted to do was get the form from my doctor to allow us to set up our ultrasound at 20 weeks.
That way I'd have something ON THE CALENDAR.
And 20 weeks sounded good to me - not to soon, not too late.
It was going to be 20 weeks.
4 more weeks.
One month.
Just 30 more days.
So imagine how much I wanted to jump off the examining table and wring my doctor's neck when she informed us that we would not be having our next ultrasound until 26 weeks.
I should point out that I really like my doctor. She's great. Laid back, good sense of humor peppered with the right amount of sarcasm. Old enough to have a decent amount of wisdom under her belt, but not so old that she might employ the use of leeches during my labor...
But this was not news I wanted to hear from her.
26 weeks?
That was 10 more weeks!
DO THE MATH PEOPLE
That's, like, 70 days! A long amount of time that no one should be expected to endure!
And I'm PREGNANT.
You do not tell a pregnant women something she does not want to hear!
It might elicit one of the following responses:
a) crying
b) yelling
c) crying spontaneously interrupted with yelling
d) yelling spontaneously interrupted with crying
But I took the news ok I suppose.
Wanted to yell and all. But I kept that to myself.
She explained that the insurance companies (oh yes, how DID I know they had something to do with this) don't really like to pay for ultrasounds.
In their humble opinion, ultrasounds should only really be used to determine 'issues', 'life threatening' concerns, to make 'diagnosis'.
Blah blah fucking blah.
And apparently ultrasounds during pregnancy aren't really necessary as far as they're concerned.
But they succumb to paying for at least one - because FOR CRYING OUT LOUD a doctor and patient should at least have the right to make sure the pregnancy is HEALTHY.
So it's very common for insurance to pay for at least one ultrasound.
Two on the other hand is a little more tricky. And my doctor's office is usually able to bend the insurance assholes to their will and make them pay for at least 2 - one to make sure the pregnancy is healthy early on (8 weeks), and one to make sure it's progressing safely (at 26 weeks).
And so we left the doctor's office with our heads hung low - with the knowledge that it would not be for another 10 weeks that we would find out the gender of our baby.
Woe was us.
Life was over as we knew it.
But we took it like the supposed grown-ups that we are, and went about our day as usual.
And it didn't take long before we started looking into those 3D/4D ultrasound clinics that are popping up everywhere, considering the possibility of just paying for an ultrasound out of pocket.
So we could know 6 weeks early.
Cuz I might have died if I waited another 6 weeks.
And $100 for a 'gender determination' session seemed like an ok price to pay just so we could stop calling the baby 'it'.
And then about 3 weeks later, at 19 weeks, life threw us a little unexpected event - and we found ourselves sitting in the waiting room of the Alta Bates ER in Berkeley at 11 at night.
On a school night.
On THAT note...I'm off to go enjoy my weekend.
I'll finish this one up next week.

...and I was worried about deli meat

2007-08-31T13:36:00.001-07:00

I heard about this poor poor woman on the radio today.

I realize this happened 3 years ago - but I wanted to take a moment to sympathize with her concerns.
I mean, jackhammers ARE loud. And it's not like the baby is totally insulated and probably hears nothing more than a distant rumble.
There really should be a moratorium on all jackhammering in any residential area.
For ever and ever.
I hope Mellisa Williamson had a reprieve from the jackhammering soon after, considering it must be very stressful for her.
Good thing she's managing her stress with cigarettes.
Wouldn't want the baby to suffer from undo stress.

Some call it 'legroom'

2007-08-28T16:22:00.000-07:00

There came a moment early on in this whole ~~science experiment~~ pregnancy that we decided we needed to upgrade our car situation.
I’m still driving the same car I bought in college – the only added ‘feature’ being the air conditioning. Everything else is as manual as it gets.
That and it’s about the size of a go-kart.
Trevor is driving an even older convertible two-door. Albeit his car has more features, only half of them are working correctly. The other half either don’t work, or require some patience/begging/banging/tugging on to get to work.
And if all that wasn’t enough, both cars are pushing 200,000 miles.
We love our cars – but we love our baby’s safety more. And IF either of our cars makes it another 50,000 miles, there’s no telling how well or safely either one would hold up in an accident.

And it is with this reasoning that we found ourselves at a Toyota dealership last night.
We test drove the new 2008 Toyota Highlander with what had to be one of the most unenthusiastic sales reps I have ever encountered.
Overall I thought the car had a good ride – nice roomy interior, good suspension, nice handling. I thought some of the added features were a bit over the top and not well thought out – not worth the extra money. And it was a bit annoying that you have to buy either the AWD or the 4x4 to get the 3^rd row of seats. We only want FWD and don't like the idea of having to pay an extra $2500 to get AWD just so we can get a 3rd row of seats.

As for Trevor…
“So what did you think?”
“The back seats are too far back – you can’t reach the kids to hit them upside the head when they’re misbehaving.”
“I think that’s what they call ‘ample legroom’.”
“Yea, well, it’s lame. A parent needs to be able to smack their kids from the driver’s seat.”

With that we went over to the Chrysler dealership to check out the Pacifica.
We kicked the tires, took it for a test drive – found it to be quite impressive for the money.

As for Trevor?
“So how did you like the Pacifica compared to the Highlander?”
“I liked it…”
“Yea, it felt a little cozier than the Highlander – maybe not as spacious?”
“Yea, I could totally swat the kids from the driver’s seat in that car.”

We’ll be checking out a few more cars in the weeks to come. Hoping to narrow the search down by December when we plan to finally make the upgrade.
And with a little luck we’ll find a car with the right mix of what we need, and seats that aren’t so far apart that an occasional head smacking of the upside direction isn’t impossible.

Still Kicking

2007-08-21T15:48:00.000-07:00

Someone is moving around down there – and it’s not my large intestine.
Or the small one either.
I’m not really sure what I was expecting would happen the first time I felt the baby kick. It’s always been one of those things that I was expecting would happen and was looking forward to it…
But I never had any thoughts or expectations on how I would react.
And with something like this, when there are already so many new and unusual feelings going on below your beltline, it’s hard to tell the difference between lunch digesting or a baby moving.
So it’s hard to know when you SHOULD react – or you might just be getting excited about that chicken sandwich working it’s way past your large intestine.
But last week I had felt sensations that could have just been general weird sensations that come along with being pregnant, or could be something else. Who knows really.
Then on Friday I was in the car with Trevor and felt what seemed to be most definitely a baby moving.
Just a quick nudge, and then a rub, and then it was gone.
And since that moment I have waited and waited. Pausing at the slightest sensation that MIGHT be that little nudge again.
And nothing.
Until today.
Just a little rub – that caught my attention.
And then a little tiny kick.
I think he/she was saying hi.
After 17 weeks of silence, of just being *with* each other, the baby is finally communicating.
Maybe just a kick today...regular kicking in 3 months…and then pissing you off daily in 13 years…
But it’s something to start with.
And after you’ve been pregnant for this long, it’s kind of nice to feel a little something that proves to you that you’re not alone.
And it gives you a memory to look back on fondly when they’re 14 years old and you wish that getting a kick in the stomach was fun again.

Just twiddling my thumbs

2007-08-01T15:11:00.000-07:00

I am so lagging right now.
It occurred to me this morning on my commute - where I do some of my best thinking/self-chastisement - that I hadn't blogged in a while.
Shame on me.
I was supposed to be blogging more so that I could document this whole pregnancy experience and have it to look back on.
To lament for the days when I got a regular 8 hours of sleep and a daily shower.
But apparently I haven't had a whole lot to chat about.
To be honest, this whole being pregnant thing has been pretty uneventful so far.
I suppose I should consider myself lucky that I don't have all kinds of horrible ailments to be complaining about.
Life is pretty much status quo around here.
So there. Now I've written a blog entry that I will look back on when I have ALL KINDS of horrible things wrong with me.
And lament for the days when I had nothing wrong with me, and apparently all the time in the world to blog about how there's nothing wrong with me.
And one of these days I might get around to taking another "bump" picture and posting it.
Yes, that's right.
"Bump" is pregnancy lingo - or "pringo" - for my ever expanding belly.
And "Bump watch" is pringo for picture of a pregnant lady's belly.
I am down with the pringo.
Yo yo.
So stay tuned for the next installment of my "bump watch".
Can you dig it?

Bloated and taking pictures

2007-07-19T17:01:00.000-07:00

After overhearing much discussion at a baby shower recently on the topic of taking pictures of your belly throughout your pregnancy, I decided what the hell.
It seemed that most woman at the party hadn't - and regretted it.
And I hate it when I don't take the opportunity to learn from someone's else's mistake.
So here I am at 12 weeks:

That's right.
12 weeks exclamation point.
Now, I had apprehensions about posting a huge picture of my bloated belly on the internet. But everyone does it. And what can I say...I am such a lemming.
And this IS a blog about all things baby making.
Well.
Maybe not ALL things baby making.
Anyway.
Good God I had no idea I would be this big at 12 weeks.
I think I just look like I'm gassy all day long.
Here's another reason why I'm looking forward to telling everyone I'm pregnant - so everyone can stop thinking I'm just getting fat. Or have bad gas.
Poor Mary...not only is she a recovering alcoholic, but now she's putting on weight?
What a drag.

Step 1: Admit you have a problem.

2007-07-17T15:28:00.000-07:00

One more week and I came come out of the closet.
It's about time.
I'm certainly excited about finally being able to share the exciting news, but I think it's the secret keeping that's driving me the most nuts.
A person can only come up with so many excuses as to why they're not drinking.
Especially when said person is usually found with a glass of wine in her hand at parties.
I would like to take this moment to point out my Blogger picture on the right.
Point made.
So, my friends are all either suspicious I'm pregnant, or in AA.
This last weekend nearly did me in when I went to lunch with one friend at this great Tapas place.
Tapas.
You know...Spanish for: Must eat with Sangria.
Fortunately I was able to quickly feign fatigue and claim that a nice caffeine pick-me-up was what I needed. So 2 Diet Cokes with lime were ordered and the Sangria was quietly avoided.
Sadly my alcohol avoiding was not coming to an end anytime soon though.
Off to a baby shower was next on the agenda for the two of us.
And upon arriving I was immediately offered a glass of red wine.
Fortunately the gracious hostess realized almost immediately upon offering me the red wine that most red wines give me raging headaches.
Only, I was not to get off that easy...
"Oh! But we DO have champagne if you would like that!"
(Damn, damn, THINK, damn, THINK FAST...)
"You know, in this heat I think wine will just make me sleepy. I think I'll start off with some water instead."
And thankfully my lunch companion decided to opt for water as well.
So at least I was looking no more pregnant at that moment than she was.
And then came the champagne toast later.
By this point I was convinced that if I didn't take the champagne, I would be nailed for sure.
Apparently I have this opinion of myself that I am SUCH an alcoholic that for me to not drink would be HUGE and everyone would notice and think something was horrifically wrong.
I think very highly of myself in other words.
But no one seemed to notice when I opted for the sparkling cider instead.
They probably all see through me by now anyway.
They all know.
They all know, and I'm the one who doesn't know that they know.
But ha!
I am on to THEM.
I know, they know.
And now THEY are the ones that DON'T know, that I know, that they know.
Heh.

Whatever happened to a good old fashioned book burning?

2007-07-10T17:03:00.000-07:00

If I had to give just one piece of advice to a woman who just found out she's pregnant, it would be: Don't read and avoid the internet
As mentioned in a previous post I am currently in possession of roughly eleventy-two hundred books on the topics of pregnancy, babies, or motherhood.
All of which seem to be written by the most paranoid chicken-little types I have ever had the luxury of reading.
Now, of course there is some USEFUL information in these books - real good serious details about what you really should or should not be eating, or what sorts of OTC drugs are safe, etc.
But I'd say that's only about 17.3% of the subject matter.

The rest of the information goes something like:

Q: Is nail polish safe to use while pregnant?
A: For the most part nail polish MAY be safe. However, recent scientific studies have shown that when lab rats have been submerged in bowls of nail polish for an excess of 3 days their fetuses develop abnormalities and/or death that may be, but not necessarily, attributed to the nail polish exposure.

Or even better:

Q: Is it safe to use insect spray containing DEET?
A: Pregnant women may want to limit their exposure to insect spray containing DEET due to the fact that it may, or may NOT, harm an unborn fetus. Infrequent, poorly executed studies performed by high-school level biology students at under-performing disadvantaged schools have shown that exposure to DEET may, or may NOT, have directly resulted in the birth defects of a small, teensy weensy, percentage of participating expectant mothers who may, or may NOT, have also been simultaneously drinking alcohol or partaking in intravenous drug use.

But regardless of the ambiguous information within, I stuck to my books, and waded through all this annoying "may or may not" crap up until about a few days ago when I had a visit with my doctor.
About 3 weeks prior to that appointment I had just read that Nitrites, a common chemical used to preserve meats such as bacon or sausage, is not recommended for consumption by pregnant women.
I like sausage.
I HEART bacon.
I was HORRIFIED when I read this.
I consulted 3 of my other books. All had the SAME opinion.
In inconsolable denial I Googled it.
Google concurred.
So, being the good health conscience woman who doesn't want to burden her child with something HORRENDOUS like neural tube defects, I decided to ban Nitrites from my diet until I could talk to my doctor in a few weeks.
I, reasoning that I was an adult, decided that I could handle it.
It's JUST bacon. It's JUST sausage.
Let me just interject here to point out that in a world where you love bacon, it seems like there's never enough bacon out there. Never enough menu items have bacon on them. It seems like whenever you order a sandwich at the deli - you're asking for them to ADD bacon.
But in a world where you're not allowed to have bacon?
IT'S EVERYWHERE.
Chop salads?
Bacon
BLT?
BACON
But I refrained.
I uttered the words I never thought I would say when ordering food, choking on half the words in disbelief that I was doing this:
"Could I have that without the bacon?"

And then I went to the doctor.
"So how are you feeling?"
"Good"
"No nausea or vomiting?"
"No, I'm fine. So what's the deal with Nitrites?"
"Oh, they're fine. Just in moderation."
"So I can have bacon or sausage every once in a while? Like once or twice a week?"
"Oh yea, don't worry about it."
"What a relief! I was reading that I shouldn't eat them."
"Yea, I would recommend you stop reading pregnancy books - they'll only drive you insane."
So there we have it - my DOCTOR told me to stop reading my books.
I think I'm going to go home, lather up on the DEET, grill up some big juicy hamburgers with BACON, and paint my toes when done.
Take that chicken little.

Break out the bikinis!

2007-06-26T11:16:00.000-07:00

I'm 9 weeks tomorrow and already am starting to show.
Hmpf.
This is SO lame.
The idea of showing during pregnancy is one of the more exciting things - don't get me wrong.
It's the part where you feel really productive, like you're really ARE pregnant.
And less like the fact that your boobs are sore ALL THE TIME for no reason at all.
But part of what makes "showing" exciting is that people know you are pregnant just by looking at you.
A fact that I would like to avoid until I've actually TOLD people.
So, for the time being, I'm digging up all my looser fitting clothes, and hoping that people will think that I'm just fattening up for bikini season or something.

Ultrasound #1

2007-06-21T13:50:00.000-07:00

I don't think much prepares you for the moment you see your baby for the first time on an ultrasound.
And to hear their quick little heartbeat pounding so steadily?
No. No matter how much you might think you're ready, that moment is truly unique and beyond description.

WARNING: This is where I start talking a lot about pee. If pee or talking about pee bothers you, then please don't complain to me about it.

Our first ultrasound appointment started out innocent enough. We got to the appointment on time. I dutifully drank the 14 gallons of water I was asked to drink in advance. Something about having a full bladder makes for a better ultrasound.
I think they make you do it just so they can crack cruel jokes at your expense while checking you in.
"Ok, I'm just going to need your insurance cards...would you like some water while you wait? No? You sure?"
Ha ha. Funny funny.
So we got checked in and were seated and waiting to be called in by 10am.
By 10:25 we still hadn't been called in and while Trevor was sitting, I was doing more of a constant shifting in my seat.
At 10:30 the nurse came out to tell us that there was an emergency patient and they would be another 30 minutes. To her credit, she DID say I could go pee if I needed to. I would just need to drink more water.
I opted to stay put and try to not think about my aching bladder. I had already had one close encounter with nausea after glass of water #6 and did not really feel like drinking any more. It was either hold it, or pee but drink more and risk vomiting it all up - and being forced to drink MORE after that.
11am rolled around and we still weren't called in - so I checked in at the front desk only to find out it would be another 20 minutes.
I informed the admin that I found this information very unfortunate given the fact that they made me drink 8 glasses of water this morning, made me live with a full bladder for 2 hours, and are now telling me that it's going be be another 20 minutes. Supposedly.
She was so kind to tell me that if I wanted to relieve some of the pressure I could pee 1 cup if I like.
1 cup?
I'm thinking to myself - how's she going to know how much I pee?
And as though she knew what I was thinking - she reached under her desk and pulled out a giant paper cup. On the cup she drew a line, handed it to me, and told me to pee to the line.
People. If you have ever been in a position where you have to pee REALLY badly, has the idea of being able to STOP the flood gates ever seemed feasible to you?
Well, I suppose when you are desperate, AND don't want to fuck up your ultrasound after already suffering for 2 hours...you will close the flood gates with every ounce of your being.
So I "relieved" some pressure and miraculously they called me in after the 20 minutes.
By this point I was so tortured from holding my pee that my kidneys started aching.
You have never known such weird discomfort in your lower back as having your kidneys ache.
Fortunately they only needed a full (ha) bladder for the first few minutes - and then they let me run to the ladies room.
And my god I have never known such pain coupled with relief.
When I came back to finish the procedure I was feeling pretty irked at the whole experience, having been made to wait for over an hour and a half with a painfully full bladder.
That is, until the tech got started and I looked at the monitor and saw what was quite clearly and remarkably my baby.
And then, as if that wasn't crazy enough, out of no where I started hearing this quick and steady heartbeat - something I wasn't even sure we'd be able to hear so early in the development.
161 beats per minute - absolutely perfect.
2 centimeters long - just 8 weeks old.
Suddenly your world turns around and all you can think is that this has got to be one of the most miraculous things in life.
What bladder?

Subtlety is key

2007-06-18T13:38:00.001-07:00

For the time being it's just the little subtle changes that I'm noticing.
My appetite was the first thing - going from not being interested in eating a single bite of food to ALL OF A SUDDEN having the hunger of 15 year old boy in, oh, about 10 seconds. I still haven't learned to keep snacks in the car for when the sudden hunger occurs. Saturday I was THIS close to pulling over at an In 'n Out Burger and ordering 2 cheeseburgers animal style with a side of fries when I wasn't sure I could make the 20 minute drive home.
The next thing I noticed was the increased body temperature and heart rate. I'm like a walking furnace most of the time - which is kind of a nice change from the walking Polar Ice Cap I'm used to being.
The heart rate thing is a bit of a nuisance though since I already have to watch my pulse when exercising given that I'm pregnant. Which means that since I've already got a slightly increased heart rate and I can only let it get so high - I can only go so fast on the machines at the gym.
Which means I basically look like I'm running in slow motion through Jello.
And for the last little neato-bandito side effect of baby making that I've been enjoying lately is the mental spaciness.
The fact that I was actually able to make it through this blog entry without either getting side-tracked, derailed, or forget what the hell I was doing altogether is pretty miraculous.
In fact, pre-pregnancy, I was pretty guilty of committing all 3 offenses on a regular basis.
Perhaps this is having a counter-effect on my blogging?
In any case, it's pretty annoying.
The other night I almost stopped at the grocery store to pick up some avocados to have with our dinner - when I knew we already had 2 at home because Trevor picked some up for me the day before. And I totally would have gone and bought them if it wasn't for Trevor REMINDING me that we already had some.
The other day after I went to the gym at lunch, like I have for YEARS, I was getting ready for my shower and discovered that I hadn't packed a towel.
I can't even begin to chip the iceberg on all the brain farts I've had at work.
And what's worse is that no one knows I'm pregnant yet so they must just think I've turned into this flaky space cadet.
I feel sorry for my coworkers.

Listeria Hysteria

2007-06-15T11:15:00.000-07:00

Here's a little interesting piece of information that I imagine NO ONE KNOWS: When pregnant you should abstain from eating deli meats.
Stop this pregnancy train - I want OFF.
When I read that in one of my 241 pregnancy books I had to reread it.
3 times.
In fact, I read it 3 times - put the book down, went about my business for a couple days and then had to reread it AGAIN.
Deli meat??
Apparently since most deli meats are not in fact COOKED - but SMOKED - they can harbor Listeria. A little nuisance of a bacteria that we pregnant ladies like to avoid as it does things like make us unpregnant.
And if that wasn't bad enough, Trevor was so kind as to point out this would also include Salami and Prosciutto - 2 of my favorite sandwich fixings.
I was relieved to hear that I can at least eat these items as long as they are cooked thoroughly until piping hot. So I can still have Pepperoni on my pizza, and Prosciutto in some of my favorite Prosciutto-laden recipes.
But no turkey sandwiches? No Ham and cheese paninis?
Why was I not WARNED?
I want legal recourse!
And damn it - this is making me HUNGRY.

Could be worse

2007-06-08T16:15:00.000-07:00

Pickles and string cheese isn't really all that bad of a food craving.
I can't really complain.
For a first food craving, I'd say that's pretty simple and benign.
Other than the fact that pickles are just SO CLICHE.
That and I'm at work where there are neither pickles, or string cheese.
Son of a BITCH.

I need to eat. All the time.

2007-06-08T16:04:00.000-07:00

One of the first things I’ve read about a proper pregnancy diet is that the whole idea of eating for 2 is bull shit.
Yes ladies – for those of you who thought that getting pregnant meant that you could throw all caution to the treadmill gods and toss back a pint of Cherry Garcia with a side of Thin Mints – I’m here to tell you to do a little research first.
In the first trimester you only need to tag on an extra 300 calories per day to your normal daily requirements. This means that by most standards you should only consume around 2300 calories a day.
And graduating to your 2^nd and 3^rd trimesters doesn’t mean you get to add many more calories either.
Before I got pregnant and I read about this I thought – ok, no problem. I’ve been watching my diet for years. I can certainly keep things under 2300 calories.
What I didn’t expect was that I would have the opposite problem; that it’s harder for me to actually make sure I eat THAT many calories.
Yes, you read that right.
I am having trouble getting enough calories each day.
I will try to explain.
But I must warn you – this could be lengthy.
When you get pregnant all of a sudden your body becomes this science experiment. And if you’re like me, you start reading.
All the time.
There will be (at minimum):
- 3 books sitting on your toilet tank in case, as you are jumping out of the shower, you need to read up on when you should feel the first kick
- 4 books on your nightstand as a quick reference for when you wake up in the middle of the night wondering when is the best time to start shopping for a stroller
- 1 book on your kitchen table to read while eating cereal
- 2 books on your coffee table to flip through while your husband has chosen something annoying to watch
And one of the most common topics in all the aforementioned literature is what not to do while pregnant.
Or, more specifically, what not to eat.
Basically over processed food is the devil.
Chips, crackers, breakfast bars, just about anything in the snack isle at the supermarket – are all the devil’s sidekicks. Does it have more than 10 ingredients? Then it’s probably full of ingredients that are questionable on the pregnancy food list.
So this means that I, someone who is used to CUTTING her calories, is now having to consume more calories than usual – and do so by eating healthy low-calorie foods.
And?
I’m still exercising because what is one of the other popular topics in all my pregnancy books?
How important it is to exercise while preggers.
Which only increases my daily calorie needs even more.
As a result I am walking around feeling FULL all the time.

Speaking of which...I should probably eat something.

And then there were 3

2007-06-08T15:11:00.000-07:00

I'm starting this blog under odd circumstances - with the intention to not show anyone for a while.
I'm writing for no one I suppose.
Just myself.
And as something for those of you who do eventually start reading this blog to look back on. To retroactively read about all boring things I thought were interesting enough to blog about.
Yea for you!
And why am I keeping this blog all to myself for the time being?
You just don't broadcast your pregnancy the minute it happens.
You wait.
And wait.
You wait until science tells you that the odds are in your favor that you will carry to term.
And when you're in the same boat as I am right now, 6 weeks pregnant and trying to do the thing that is easiest to live with, you will read a litany of advise on when and how to tell everyone.
But out of all the different theories, timelines, and advice I've read, there is one that makes the most sense to me.
Only tell those you would be willing to tell you had a miscarriage.
If you loose the baby you will have to relive the cruelty of the miscarriage over and over again with each and every person you told you were pregnant. Because you have to untell them.
They say it's a personal choice. When and how you tell your friends, family, and co-workers is up to you and depends on your own personal circumstances.
And Trevor and I have decided that given our tendency to be a very private couple, we are waiting until our odds of miscarriage have dropped dramatically.
And there you go.
So now I am forced to blog to myself.
So I have SOMEONE to talk to about all this.