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.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream...
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.
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.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Bathroom vs. Blogger
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
A Letter to Zach - Month 3
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
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
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Making lemonade
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.
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.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Sunny with a chance of sweat
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
A letter to Zach - Month 2
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
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
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