Archive for February, 2009

Happy Boy

February 26, 2009

The small one is an absolute joy these days (not that he was ever a drag).  Especially in the morning.  We hearhim starting to wiggle about right around 7, and when I head into his room and place my hand on his chest (he’s usually sucking his thumb with his eyes closed but distinictly not asleep), he turns to me and smiles. 

By the time he’s done feeding on side number one, he gives a contented sigh and starts chirping and cooing at me (instead of wailing as a means of saying all done).  We head to the changing table and he’s all giggles and smiles and excited arms flailing.  He snuggles his face into my neck when I pick him up, he nestles into my lap when we return to the chair, and if he isn’t hungry for side number two, he just looks up at me, sticks out his tonhue a bit and smiles or giggles. 

After that he plays contentedly in his crib, hugging his stuffed toys, batting at his activity gym, grabbing at the ring that hangs from his crib mirror, while I get ready for work.  Sometimes while I’m in the shower, my husband will bring the small one into the bathroom and hold him up so he can look into the shower and he always beams when he recognizes me.  The feeling of having this adorable child thrilled just to see me is the best. feeling. ever. 

This child is so wonderfully and completely happy in the morning.  It blows my mind every day.  And by the time I head off to work, he’s taking his first nap of the day, and I leave the house smiling.  We have an amazing little boy.  We are so fortunate. 

Sorry for the totally lame and gushy post, but wow is being a mom awesome.

So about that VBAC

February 24, 2009

The Strollerderby blog on Babble has a great post, The Trouble With Wanting a VBAC.  Unfortunately it says exactly what I was afraid of… it’s going to be one heck of a struggle to even attempt a vaginal birth for the not even thinking about it for two more years minimum next child, given the way the small one made his appearance. 

More troubling than the prospect of another cesarean (honestly, the first wasn’t all that bad) is the effect it can have on my ability to attempt baby number three if we choose to be so masochistic.  I’ll have to ask my OB about this at my six month appointment in April.

church shopping

February 23, 2009

I’ve always considered myself an agnostic. I’d even go so far as to say that the god I’m pretty sure exists (at least I think he exists, although I wouldn’t really bother to argue the matter so don’t try to bait me in either direction – it would just feel like freshman year of college all over again) is modeled largely after the christian god I heard about growing up and attending a pretty typical northeastern Presbyterian church… the kind of church that makes Christians of the capital C variety scream because the sermon often made reference to Time Magazine articles or the Wall Street Journal, and Bible lessons began with etymology of the original Greek. Yeah, it was a liberal, intellectual church attended by upper middle class lawyers and doctors that was heavy on the history lecture, light on the fire and brimstone.  And I loved it.

On the other hand.  I married a man whose parents were such evangelical Christians that he’s never dressed up for Halloween. And the man who married us, his childhood minister, managed to work in an anti-gay marriage, pro-life, creationalist message while delivering our very brief ceremony.  Honestly, it was so extreme it was comical. 

All this is to give context to our recent parenting adventure – church shopping.  You see, since high school, I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve gone to church.  I know it’s something I should do, even something I enjoy doing (yes, I know pleasure is not the reason I should go, but whatever), but the prospects of finding a church in the South that didn’t give me hives seemed dismal at best.  And so, I didn’t bother.

Until we were pregnant.  And then we began shopping around.  Because while my husband could cultivate his relationship with god fine on his own and I was content with my laissez-faire approach to mine, I was not about to take such a casual approach to the small one’s salvation.  Of course, my opinion on religion largely boils down to my approach to food – how do you know you don’t like it if you havent’ tried it?

First we tried the Episcopalians, but it seemed too light, even for me.  We tried the church my husband’s grandmother helped found, but it was definitely too intense, not to mention my complete inability to deal with contemporary services – who thought it was a good idea to use a guitar at church?  And finally, we settled on an older Presbyterian church with a traditional service and plenty of blue haired ladies (a prerequisite of mine – church needs to have old people, I have no idea why but it does). 

And then we had the small one.  And we didn’t go again.  Until this weekend.

We thought we had the timing perfect – he ate at 9:45, and the service started at 11:15, just when he should be going down for a nap.  The optimal word being should.  Honestly, it went pretty smoothly considering.  He hung out in the magic chair for the first third of the service, spent the second third sitting on my lap, and then decided he wanted to play, at which point my husband spent the remaining third standing in the foyer and walking around with the boy so he’d stay quiet.  Not a bad first showing, but definitely not something I’d catagorize as a success, either.

Unfortunately, what we failed to anticipate was how such a modest change in schedule would rock the small one, who spent the next three hours in a general state of discontent (meaning I spent the next three hours holding him).  He finally crashed for a good nap and all was restored to normal, but my husband and I were left exhausted.  We know we want to go back… okay, what we want is to be able to get the small one baptised and eventually have him go to Sunday school and learn about Noah’s Arc, etc. etc., but the actually attending church with a four month old is not something I’m looking forward to attempting each week.

Awkward

February 20, 2009

Nothing like leaving the room where you were pumping only to run into the entire senior management team exiting a meeting. I wouldn’t exactly call seeing the CEO for the first time post maternity leave with freshly expressed breast milk in hand as having gone according to plan.

There is nothing glamorous about being a working mom.

You know you’ve spent too much time shopping for baby clothes when…

February 18, 2009

… you see the pictures of Tiger Woods’s son and instantly recognize the Baby Gap onsie.

You’d think he’d be buying something a little more high end, what with his having bought the wife a yatch for her wedding present.

95th Percentile

February 17, 2009

Ten days shy of his 4 month “birthday” we took the small one in for his 4 month well baby check up. He weighed in at a substantial 16 lbs 10 oz, which was actually less than we had expected. But then we heard the height – 26 inches. That’s the 95th percentile (i.e. he is taller than 95% of babies his age). Can I reiterate that I am 5’2″? That my husband is 5’10”, that the only person in either of our families to break six foot is the small one’s great grandfather? The doctor said we’d have a better sense of height when he’s two years old, but that at this rate, he is likely going to be tall.

If it wasn’t for the fact that my husband followed the small one ou of the OR and into the nursery to be cleaned, and that he looks exactly like his father, I would be suspiciosu that I’d taken home someone else’s baby.

Sizing Up

February 13, 2009

As I’ve mentioned before, the small one is really anything but. He was 14 pounds by his two month check up and we’ll find out Monday just how big he is now (my guess is 16-18 lbs but 20 would not surprise me).

As such, we are quickly running out of clothing. By the end of month one, the 0-3m onsies didn’t fit when wearing cloth diapers. By the end of month two, the 3-6m onsies didn’t fit either. So for month three, we gave up on onsies (mostly because we were dirt broke from my still being on leave) and started wearing all the long sleeve shirts the small one received for Christmas. Granted, they still fit, but in that belly shirt sort of way we are only able to cheat because of how high his wool diaper covers sit. 

I only recently realized how dramatic our clothing issue was when I purchased an 18-24m romper from a local baby boutique that was having a sale, with the thought that eventually he could wear it. Besides having to roll the sleeves, it fits him perfectly now. Did I mention he’s not even four months yet?  I chalked it up to the outfit being boutique-y and that it must run small.

When I attempted to buy the small one more clothing, I thought I was being conservative when I ordered only 6-12m onsies from American Apparel.  It turns out that romper was not an anomaly.  The AA onsies were tight on him the minute they arrived, so I’m returning them today.  How is it possible that a 16 week old can’t fit into 6-12m clothes?  Is someone slipping my child growth hormones?

And so today I went hog wild on Kate Quinn, ordering 18-24m clothing only with the hope that I may actually get a whole two months out of these before I need to replenish the drawers again.  At this rate, the kid is going to be taller than me by age four.

You know it’s time to pump when…

February 11, 2009

… the buttons on your shirt appear ready to revolt.

Seriously. When I put this shirt on this morning, it fit fine with room to spare. By the time 11 AM rolled around, You’d think I’d been working in a dryer all morning. I swear I swing up by two cup sizes in my standard three-hour feeding cycle. Oy.

A little lead can’t hurt

February 10, 2009

I’ve become completely addicted to Momversation, a video blog where a bunch of popular and witty mommy bloggers pose various questions to the group and discuss them via web cam. Yesterday, Alice from Finslippy posed a question about toxins and recalls – how do you deal? Between lead paint on toys and salmonella in peanut butter, do you block it out or do you flip out?

How apropos, I thought, as I debate whether or not to mail in the cooler bag that came with my Medela Pump in Style metro bag, after I accidentally came across a NYTimes article about how the vinyl lining has lead in it.

Yup, lead.

My first thought upon making this discovery (which, ironically, came about when I was googling in an attempt to purchase a second cooler bag) was “you have to be shitting me.” I have been so damn intentional about EVERYTHING I purchased for the small one. I spent weeks finding the most organic crib mattress, mattress pads and organic wool puddle pad available (not to mention sheets and blankets). All his clothing is organic cotton, down to his booties. We are using glass bottles. His pacifiers are all natural rubber. We are using cloth diapers from a service that uses natural cleaning agents to wash the diapers (not bleach). We have no plastic toys, only wooden ones made from reputable companies located in Europe (and regulated by strict EU standards). Heck, the whole time I was pregnant, I would order soy milk to avoid ever having to drink conventional milk, and never once did I slip and eat cold cuts or tuna. I switched to a Sigg bottle and stopped getting my nails done. We used f-ing hippie paint when redoing the bathroom for god’s sake. We were so good. And then a ridiculously reputable company like Medela goes and completely fucks me.

And no, I am not so crazy that I think that the carrier that holds the (of course, BPA-free) bottles I use to transport my expressed milk home from the office is going to turn my child’s brain into mush. That’s not why I’m so pissed off. It’s because no matter how much research you do, how much money you spend, this modern world of ours is riddled with cost cutters, short cut takers, and the just plain too dumb to think shit through people, and they are making the products we use every day. It makes me want to move to the country and turn my own bowls out of fallen trees.

But back on topic.

On Medela’s website, there is a page dedicated to the cooler bag issue, and they are not only offering to replace your bag but even give you $2.50 to cover your shipping costs for returning it to them. Not a bad response, although it will be a pain to go without a cooler bag for up to 6 weeks while they process my return. I even tried to call them, since the article is from over a year ago, to see if there was any way I could tell if my bag was one of the new, lead free batch or one of the old ones. The customer service lady began to launch into the whole “while we are offering replacements, we don’t believe our product blah blah blah” spiel, and I just asked her point blank if I could tell if my bag was a dud and she said no, just mail it back. Great, thanks guys.

I’m sure I’m going to send it back, but probably not until this weekend, as we are having a bit of a warm spell in Virginia and while I don’t like that there is lead in my bag, I know that letting the milk warm up on my walk home is a much more tangible risk.

I now understand how my mother went crazy.

It’s a sick world…

February 6, 2009

Okay, so trying to be clever and all, I titled a post about looking at other people’s baby pictures “baby porn” and now, looking at my blog stats, 20+ people a day are finding this blog because they googled the phrase baby porn.

Ew.

I now feel 100% confident in my decision to NOT use my real name or post any pictures of my son.