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    From trash to treasure

    April 5th, 2009

    I’m a first born. Not only so, but also the first born in my immediate family. What this means is that I’m not used to hand-me-downs. I don’t look down on them, but I’ve grown accustomed to things new and shiny.

    In many ways I’ve found myself transferring my personal preference onto G as well, although I’m really working hard to keep an open mind. There are many things I won’t consider getting used, but there are others that I really don’t mind giving a second life to.

    S and I have many friends with children who are outgrowing their gear and clothes and we’ve been the fortunate (and grateful) recipients of many goodies. Although my “new and shiny” tendency still rears it’s head, I’m appreciating that 1) it saves us money; 2) G won’t remember (or care) that his XXX wasn’t brand new as long as it does what it’s supposed to; 3) reuse is really best for the environment.

    I also get a kick out of getting a really good deal. G’s swing (Fisher Price Rainforest) sells for $270 new. S and I picked one up in great condition for $50. Today, I got G’s next sized tub (Primo EuroBath) for $10, where I would have paid over $20 new… before taxes.

    Craigslist and the local mother’s group mailing list have been our friends 🙂 At the end of the day I’m happy, the sellers are happy, and the trash dude strains his back over less item hauling to the dump so he’s happy.

    S and I are gearing up for a “Things we couldn’t live without post”, but in the meanwhile this is one tip from me to you (and to future me) as a reminder that the saying of “One person’s trash is another’s treasure” really is true.

    Cheers,


    Parenting is hazardous work

    February 22nd, 2009

    We now have scientific proof that parenting is hazardous to one’s health… or at the very least one’s hearing.

    After several evenings of G serenades, during which S has had to break out the ear plugs, we started to wonder just how loud G was crying.
    Being who we are, it should come as no surprise that we got a decible reader. Nothing fancy, mind you, but enough to get the just of where G ranked on the audible scale.

    Turns out we won’t really know for sure because the application maxes out at 105dB and G was easily hiting and exceeding that. Don’t believe me? Hear for yourself 🙂

    Yes, my friends, this is the second installment of “Am I ready for
    a(nother) baby?” imagine this for 45 minutes straight at about 2 in the morning. If this doesn’t make you want to cry on your own, you might just be ready to take the parenting journey (again).

    Meanwhile I wonder if OSHA will be stopping by to issue G a citation?

    PS. In case you’re curious, this is what Tummy Time sounds like to this day. Alas!


    I want a do-over

    January 31st, 2009

    G is now 5 months old. Amazing how time flies, huh? He is such a sweet little guy.

    In honor of this milestone, I’ve decided that I want a do-over! I want to re-live the first 4 months all over-again. I’m not talking about having another child, I want to do-over of my time with G.

    I just feel that we know so much more now, about him, about ourselves that I just know we could do it better if we had the chance. And we’ll have more fun.

    What would I change?

    1. Enforced nap-time.  G’s a great night-time sleeper, but still fights day-time naps. I could have trained him to fall asleep, but didn’t know how to.

    2. Recognized his crying as being hungry, or tired. It took me awhile to start recognizing hunger as a possibility for him being upset. And fatigue never even crossed my mind. Looking back, there are so many days when he’s get fussy, when all it really meant was that he needed some Z’s.

    3. I would have started pumping right away. In the hospital even. If there was any way I could have promoted my body to produce more than it is, I should have done it.

    4. Recognized and accepted the reflux earlier. There was a period of time I lived in denial. It would have saved us all so much grief. Above all, my little guy wouldn’t have been in pain for as long as he was.

    5. Started tummy time earlier… and stuck to it. G’s getting better, but still not a big fan. If I was dedicated to it more, and let him cry a bit more, maybe he’d be better now.

    All in all, I don’t think I’m a bad mom. I wouldn’t trade this experience for the world, but I just feel like it could have gone better and we could have enjoyed each other so much more.

    So… anyone got a time-machine I could borrow?


    Yes, I’m “that” mom

    January 30th, 2009

    As it turns out I’m the creepy mom from the book “I love you forever” (PS. That book, by the way, made me “Aw!”, then cry, then creeped me out, then made me cry again).

    Why is that? Because if you’ll observe the timestamp of this entry (3:01am, thank you very much), you’ll see that I’m up.

    G is asleep. Has been since we put him down last night, but I’m awake. I’m awake and I just went into his room to check in on him. When I do, I put my hand on his tummy, lightly, and just feel him breathe. To be clear, as crazy as I may seem, I do value my sanity somewhat, so I don’t pick him up to rock him (ala ILUF mom) for fear of waking him, but I do stand by his side and just watch him.

    We have a room monitor, but he sleeps so soundly that many nights he doesn’t even make a peep. It’s nights like this that I wonder if a video monitor will help… but even then he doesn’t move much, so unless the monitor has thermo-heat setting (can you say military-issue and expen$$$$$ive?), I’ll probably still be getting up. We also tried the Angelcare monitor only to get rid of it faster than the time it took us to get it setup. Obviously the low-tech, little-sleep approach is most effective in this family.

    So yeah…. can you say “neurotic”?


    You know you’re a mommy when…

    January 11th, 2009

    A few days ago I was getting dressed following a shower. I had pulled out two nursing pads prior to me getting clean and laid them out by my clothes. There were two. I knew this because I remembered opening each one of their little plastic packages.

    Well, I came out of the shower, I put on my clothing, and I reached for my nursing pads. One… and where’s the other? I flipped the sheets around, I looked everywhere, but it was no-where to be found. After awhile, I gave up looking and just popped open another new one.

    So fast forward to today. I get out of the shower. I walk out into our bedroom in my bathrobe. S is on our bed playing with G. As I’m getting dressed I hear some giggling. At this, S says:

    “Babe — you have the nursing mom’s equivalent of toilet paper stuck to your shoe.”

    “Whaaaaa’?”

    “Go in the bathroom, turn around and look in the mirror”

    So with this, I march back into the bathroom, turn so that my back is facing the mirror and look around. Stuck to my back, like an ever so blatant “Kick me!” sign, was my missing nursing pad. How I didn’t see it until today, I don’t know.

    Mystery resolved: nursing pad found. Sadly, brain still missing.


    Never say “Never”

    January 9th, 2009

    S’ mom gave us some parenting advice at our shower: “Never say that your child won’t do something because some day they’ll go and do just that.”

    I’m finding that this piece of advice is extending not only to G, but to my expectations of myself and parenthood in general. I am seeing myself doing/saying/feeling things I never thought I would.

    – A conversation about baby poop with friends? Never thought that would ever be a popular topic of discussion, but yet it has been… on several occasions.

    – Breastfeeding in public? Check! I cover up, of course, but feeding my kid has taken priority over my modesty and ego.

    – Pumping exclusively? Utter failure! I idealized that I would only pump, and while G got his essential nutrients through my milk, S and I would equally be able to share in baby bonding and feeding. Yeah…. HA! When G is hungry and vocally telling me about it, I think “bust out the boob!”, not “where’s my pump?” Having prepped milk is also an option, but being in a location where’s its constantly available in the quantity needed isn’t always a guarantee. I admire the women that do this, but as it turns out, I am not one of them. And to be honest, I don’t mind it much either. Since I’ve been at work I seem to do 50-50 pump and feed. It’s still a ton of work.

    – Staying at home full time w/ baby… and enjoying it? Big check. This one was perhaps my biggest surprise. Some women have known from the start that they want to be stay at home moms. That’s fine with me, but with my nature, I knew this choice was not the right one for me. However the last few months at home with G were really a lot of fun and I enjoyed it more than I expected. I miss him during the day now and constantly wonder what he’s doing.

    – Appeasing a child as opposed to following the parenting books? Have you seen our hair drier lately? We’re on the second one (after burning out the first)! The first was raising a white flag and was tying bedsheets together in an attempt to escape our house from over-use. It was sitting in a box unused (except when house-guests asked for it), collecting dust until G came along. As it was one of few things that pacified him, it got overly frequent use. Now it’s gone to hair drier heaven and I’m certain loving every second of it. When it died, S and I were in the store a few hours later purchasing it’s successor.  We do what we gotta do to get G to a happy state, and if that doesn’t jive with people that have “doctor” or “whisperer” in their author name, I’ve just stopped caring.

    – Daily wake-ups before 6am? Yeah, getting out of the house at a good time implies spending a good amount of time getting ready. Although I don’t wake G until after 6, my alarm goes off so that I can finish packing up his breakfast, my pump, shower and dress. I used to think parents that got up before 6 were nuts, and yet here I am. 5:45 bed exit for me this a.m. I dread what my life will look like when solids & breakfast come into the picture. I now understand why the makers of Pop-tarts are diving into a pool of golden coins.

    – Home by 7pm? I never understood families that just refused to go out for dinner, or had strict timelines when they wanted you to visit and leave by. Now I get it. If G’s not starting his bed-time routine by 7-7:30 he is cranky. I mean CRANKY! It makes for an unpleasant dinner experience for anyone. So we rush to be home in time to put him down. Next time I invite you for dinner at 5:30, that’s why! That’s right — we have a curfew again. Mind you the earliest curfew I’ve ever had.

    So there you have it. A few of my “Oh, I’ll never do that!” items that have come to bite me. Feel free to add your own.