Baby Proofing

Gus took quite the digger this week, and it was TRAUMATIZING… for his mom that is. He seemed to have forgotten the incident entirely after about fifteen minutes had passed.

Ugh, he is just freaking insane, he’s so fast, pulls himself up on everything. He is not happy unless he is standing, and he prefers that whatever he is holding on to while standing be super tippy and dangerous. When we’re in the basement we have to block the stairs with baskets and toys so he can’t climb them. Because he can climb them like a champ, like seriously he’ll do the whole set of stairs in a matter of minutes, but he doesn’t realize that we would prefer not to be standing behind him all day long as he climbs them.

So we block them, and he does everything within his abilities to plow through our carefully constructed barricade. He gets himself wedged between the wall and the toy basket. He climbs ON TOP of one of those plastic stand-up toy table things to get to the stairs. This kid is seriously crazed.

He has this little yellow piano on which he feels it is necessary to perch precariously while digging in a big plastic bin of train stuff. Or he’ll stand on it like it’s a surf board as he’s pulling himself up on the couch.

Crazed I tell you.

Anyway, so the traumatizing incident…

It was around 12:30 on Monday afternoon, Gus and I had just had lunch and I decided to put in the Glee soundtrack and have a little dance party. He had loved watching Glee with me earlier, dancing up a storm being super adorable, so I thought, what a perfect antidote for the dreary, rainy, boring day we were having. DANCE PARTY! He was playing on the floor by the dining room table, messing with the rug, doing his thing, literally a yard away from me. I opened the disk drive on my laptop and all of a sudden, “BOOM! CRASH!” and then there was the horrible screaming. I look over and he’s underneath the dining room chair. I pick it up off of him and scoop him up and there is just blood everywhere, streaming out of his mouth. And he’s just screaming and it’s just the most horrible screaming I’ve ever heard. I FREAKED OUT. I will not lie. My baby was bleeding. The first thing I thought was, “What do I do, who do I call?”

Then I realized that I would have to be the mom here and handle it myself. I put a wet towel on his mouth and eventually it stopped bleeding, and his screams turned to whimpering, and my panic turned to sobbing and apologizing to my sweet little boy.

His upper lip started to swell, to the size of a grape, and to combat the swelling I got the bright idea to put a bag of frozen corn on it.

Bad idea.

That just made him angry, he’s swatting at me, furious, and somehow I lost my grip on the bag of corn and it went flying, and there was frozen corn all over the living room. Awesome.

Anyway, we’re pretty sure he bit his lip, there are a bunch of cuts on both the inside and outside of his top lip. The swelling has since gone down, but it hasn’t been an easy couple of days. That first day it would start bleeding again every time he stuck a toy in his mouth, or when he chewed on the edge of the pack-n-play, or when he rammed his face into his dad’s arm. Dan gave him dinner that night, and he’d throw a fit with every other piece of food he put in his mouth. Oh, and he’s got a big egg-shaped bump on his forehead where the chair must have hit him.

My poor baby.

And it is SO my fault. I knew those dining room chairs are tippy, and yet I let him stand up on them all the time. Ugh. I don’t know how to be more careful, how to watch him more closely. Already I feel like all I’m ever doing is running interference between him and the dog. Or I’m swiping him away from the car seat that he likes to try to climb on and into. Or I’m quickly running to close doors or scoop him up when he’s doing something dangerous. I want him to be able to explore and learn, but I swear it is a non-stop full time job keeping his environment safe for exploring. I’m finding it increasingly difficult to predict what might prove to be a hazard.

So yeah, I think I said this to my mother-in-law the other day, but this whole parenting thing isn’t going to just magically get easier is it? Certain things might get easier, but by then you’re facing yet another new challenge. Funny, baby proofing is the one thing I never ever really stressed about. I remember when we registered that it just seemed so far in the future that I couldn’t even comprehend the necessity. Funny. Ha ha. =(

These days

I can’t say it enough, I am so lucky to be able to work part-time, and spend my Mondays and Fridays at home with my little boy. He is such a joy, and I am so thankful that I can spend two full days every week, just the two of us, soaking up his sweetness, relishing in his giggles, planting kisses on his squishy neck.

Today was just lovely. Gus woke up so happy and rambunctious, he’s into everything and going everywhere these days, which is truly fun to be a part of. He’s pulling himself up, going after the dog dishes with gusto, challenging me to races to electrical cords all over the house. And he is constantly laughing! It’s so funny, I’ll be in the kitchen pouring a bowl of cereal, and I hear him out in the living room playing with his toys, babbling to himself, laughing like someone just told him the best joke.

He sees poor, tortured Bella, sprawled on the floor across the room, and he is off like a jet, maniacally giggling until he’s just about there and she finally gets up and scoots out of the way. She’s learning. She doesn’t like having fistfuls of fur ripped out of her butt, but she still tolerates him. She’s a good dog.

Oh, but there are perks to having this little munchkin take over our lives, and Bella has caught on quickly to those perks as well. Now that he’s eating table foods, she’s his best friend at mealtime. So predictable. I will just say, I’m thankful that we have a dog. Without her our floors would be even more disgusting than they already are. Tonight Gus and Bella had the same dinner as Dan and I, marinara sauce with sautéed onions and green, red, and yellow peppers over cheese tortellini. It was a mess, but a hit all around.

After lunch this afternoon Gus and I went outside for about an hour and a half and enjoyed this gorgeous weather we’ve been blessed with the last few days. He watched me water the flowers from a blanket in the grass, and amazingly did not take off after the hose. I saw him think about it a number of times, but for some reason he gave me a break. ;) Afterwards we lay on the blanket under the tree in our front yard, read books, played with toys, he climbed all over me while I tried to drink a Diet Coke and look through a catalog. He charmed the elderly neighbors with his cheesy grins. A perfect day.

Today was great. I’m thankful.

Weekend

Spring. It’s here, and I’m not exaggerating when I say it has made everything better. The windows are open and we have a breeze going through the house. I can hear the sounds of life being lived outside, roaring motorcycles going by, children playing in the street, birds chirping. The elderly man next door has a pile of “free” stuff on his front lawn, and he wanders back and forth from the house, all morning long, adding things, removing things, glancing over his little table. Picking. He’s such a putzer, and I sort of get a kick out of watching him in action. Dan just thinks he’s bat-shit crazy, but I think you have the right to be sort of insane once you get to your late 80’s.

Gus is napping. Last night was one of those nights where he essentially wanted my boob in his mouth the whole night. I didn’t get a great night’s sleep, but it wasn’t terrible, and knowing we didn’t have to be up for anything in the morning always makes those rough nights more tolerable. 6:50 AM though, was way too early for him to be rolling around on the bed and giggling at me. We stayed in bed for about as long as he would allow it, but there’s only so long he can entertain himself with a book and a stuffed animal. Dan finally got up to change his diaper, and I burrowed under the covers for just a few more minutes, the bed all to myself, it felt glorious.

Next thing I know its 8:30, and Dan is throwing my baby boy on the bed with me. “He’s ready for a nap already.” Deliriously I sat up and snuggled him into me, nursed him, and in no time he was fast asleep. What a little angel. But can I ask, angel, why must you get up so early only to be ready for a nap less than two hours later? This I do not understand.

Dan seemed a little salty when I came down, neither of us wanted to get out of bed this morning, but he did it, and he let me sleep. He’s a good man, a good father and husband, I am lucky.

Yesterday was just a lovely day. Gus and I played hard all morning, he’s moving around so much these days, and it’s so much fun watching your baby learn. He’s started to master the sitting to tummy maneuver, and vice-versa. So darn close to crawling, he gets up on his toes, sticks his little bum in the air, and rocks back and forth. He’s had to endure a number of bonks on the head, nose-dives into bright plastic toys, but he’s figuring it out. I watch him now, every move done ever-so-slowly because he is already learning from his mistakes. What a smart little boy. Babies are amazing.

In the afternoon we had lunch with one of my best friends, and went walking around the sculpture garden in Minneapolis, throughout Loring Park. It was perfect. I couldn’t have asked for a better day, catching up with a friend, enjoying our city, taking in the spring air and sunshine. Last night we went to Dan’s grandma’s house for her birthday, a delicious grill out, lots of family, girl-talk with my sisters-in-law, even Gus had a blast and he was up WELL past his bedtime. Again, perfect.

Better go get ready for the day, get out of this bathrobe. It’s Saturday and there are errands to run, another family get-together tonight. Hope everyone is enjoying this beautiful weekend as much as I am!

The Wolf is Back

Last night was really rough, like testing my motherhood rough. We think Gus is teething. We thought he was two months ago, but alas, no teeth, so while I feel like I’m crying wolf every time I say it, if it’s not teeth, WHAT IS GOING ON little boy?! He was up fussing and crying like half the night, and that is not an exaggeration. He went to bed SO GOOD at around 8:00, and per usual, woke up to be fed around 10:30 when we were heading to bed. He fell asleep nursing, I plopped him in his crib, and then not 3 minutes later he was awake and screaming. So I went in, rubbed his tummy, tried to console him, and not until after I picked him up and rocked him for a few minutes did he fall asleep. So I put him in his crib again, and he’s awake immediately. Wash, rinse, repeat. I’ve been trying to help him learn to put himself to sleep, so I tried that. I sat on the floor of his room while he fussed, squirmed, and pulled out his pacifier, and when it turned to screaming after 30 minutes, I finally just picked him up again and tried to console him. He wanted none of that. He also wanted none of the boob. He was ok snuggling in bed with Dan and me for a bit, but then was pissed again. I don’t know when he finally agreed to just take the boob already, but he did, and he calmed down. Then I gave him some Tylenol, swaddled him up, bounced him around until he was asleep, and put him in his crib. He slept for a whole hour and a half, and I think that was the longest stretch of sleep I got the entire night.

The rest of the night was more of the same. By around 5:00 AM he was seemingly ready to be up for the day, refused nursing, and screamed until I put him in his crib and turned on the dream screen, which kept him happy for 10 minutes. Dan got up for work at 5:20, just in time to bring me my sad little baby. We just sat awake in bed for about 40 minutes, he played a little, fussed a lot. I got him a cold rag to suck on, he pretty much threw it back at me. Dan came up to kiss us goodbye at about 6:00, and found me with bleary eyes, spirit broken, holding my son, desperately wandering around his room trying to get him to go to sleep. And I just broke down sobbing. I can’t describe it, but being that tired, that frustrated, that early in the morning, something just came over me. I felt hopeless, alone, and also just so sad that my baby was clearly so unhappy, and there was seemingly nothing I could do about it.

Needless to say, Dan took Gus and got him to sleep, and went off to work about 20 minutes later than usual. And I got 2 glorious hours of sleep, in bed, alone. Those two hours and the coffee I had when I woke up are the only reasons I am able to function this morning.

Tomorrow I have to work, so if we are in for another night like the last, (which I am totally anticipating because if he is in fact teething I’ve heard it’s usually 3 or 4 similar nights before that tooth finally pushes through), then Dan and I are switching off. The other alternative ends with me spontaneously combusting.

So anyone have any good, natural (is that asking too much?) teething remedies, or is the best advice to just stick it out?

All I have time or energy for...

...are little tidbits, but I feel like writing. So here goes.

This morning I woke up at 8:00 AM (about an hour later than Gus usually lets me sleep) to my baby grabbing at my nose, grinning at me with dried milk all over his face from our sleepy night-nursings. Is there any better way to wake up? I live for mornings like those.

Dan and I procrastinated on doing our taxes, and now we can't find Gus's social security card ANYWHERE. I have absolutely no clue where we put it. Honestly though, can we be blamed for anything we did in those first few weeks with a newborn? It's all so hazy... I remember getting it in the mail, rejoicing over Gus's ability to now get a job and pay taxes, and then... like I said, hazy. Ugh. I'm not quite sure what to do.

Speaking of the little guy, he is driving me a bit crazy today. Fighting naps like it's his job. I got a very fussy baby down about 20 minutes ago, and now I can hear him on the monitor, cooing at the cieling, shrieking with delight at God know's what, and kicking the little hanging thing on the dream screen to make it light up and play music. Seriously, that's all you need child? 20 minutes? Yea, I don't think so.

Ok, the cooing has turned to crying. Gotta go. This is a sad excuse for a post, should I even hit publish?

Baby boy in a bonnet

I mean seriously, is there anything cuter than my child in his baptismal bonnet?! I personally don't think so, but I realize I'm not entirely impartial.

A close second has got to be my kid in his underwear, playing with his uncle...

Awwwwwwe! Alright, enough. I'm done. Thank you for your time. ;)

You live, you learn

We finally got Gus baptized this weekend, at just over 6 months. Mother of the year right here! Anyway, it went well enough, he cried and fussed through the actual ceremony because the poor little guy was completely ready for his afternoon nap, but other than that, success! And he looked adorable in his little baptismal bonnet. He is a boy, so it’s not often I get to put bonnets on him, and let’s just say I thoroughly soaked it up.

To be honest, I’m mostly relieved it’s over. We spent so much of last week cleaning, cooking, and preparing for the party, and I was just so spent. Entertaining is so much work and I have decided that I have NO kitchen instincts whatsoever, which makes it that much more stressful. I wish I was one of those people who could whip up a delicious meal without a recipe, but I am most definitely not. I’m not even one of those people who can whip up a delicious meal WITH a recipe. And when you’re cooking for thirty people, you can’t exactly follow a recipe, you just have to figure it out. I pretty much stressed and questioned everything… oven temperatures, timing, quantities… you name it and I likely had a mini-panic attack about it.

We went to the little Mexican restaurant down the street for dinner on Saturday night with my brother and his wife, and it was definitely a bit of a wake-up call as to the fact that we no longer have a baby that can just be carted along anywhere and everywhere. Gus was a bit of a beast to deal with, and I learned a few things:

1. Booths just don’t work. There is not enough room, period.

2. Breastfeeding in public with a 6-month old is becoming increasingly perilous. Gus swats around and squirms and pulls the nursing cover off of him, and generally just behaves like he is being tortured. It’s ridiculous. Also he is just so distracted by everything around him that he won’t really eat, even if he’s hungry. I can barely nurse him in front of the TV at home anymore, so why am I surprised when it is difficult in a loud restaurant?

3. I need to remember to bring cool toys with me. Distracting toys. Toys that Gus doesn’t normally get to play with. Otherwise, all he wants are the butter knives, beer bottles, and salt shakers. And no matter how well we think we’re doing keeping that stuff out of his reach, he’ll find a way to get them. If Gus was a Super Hero, that would be his super power.

4. I need to bring baby food. Gus wants to join in on the eating, and gets really pissed when he realizes that he doesn’t get anything because I’m a bad mom and didn’t even consider throwing a little cube of frozen squash in the diaper bag on the way out the door.

Time...

What a lovely weekend, there’s something about this time of year in Minnesota… when the weather finally starts to remind us that winter really won’t last forever, the days are longer, the sun shines brighter, and people are just genuinely happier. I swear they are. I certainly am.

I am really sick of having a baby in the winter. I’m sick of having to carry him around in his heavy car seat carrier with a “bundle-me” insert because it’s too cold and too much of a pain to get him in and out of the car without it. When I do forgo the carrier, it’s all… hat, mittens, furry hooded coat? Check, check, and check. Are his little (perfect, delectable, chubby) ankles exposed? Uh, oh, better fix that. I’d love to just be able to put him in the Moby right from the car, and leave the big bulky car seat in the car where it belongs, especially since he’s going to want to be out of the car seat as soon as we get inside wherever it is we are, but it’s just too much of a hassle with the cold and the muddy, slushy, grossness of winter. Ugh. I just can’t wait until it’s over.

I hate wishing away time, because every day that passes means Gus is one day older. One day closer to no longer being my little baby. Seriously, these last six months have just gone by so fast, he’ll be walking and talking and eating glue and chasing girls with worms in just the blink of an eye. Don’t get me wrong, I will of course love seeing him grow and learn and become this amazing little person, but I know I will look back on this time when he was a sweet little baby and kick myself if I don’t treasure every single moment of it. That’s why I’m going to try not to get too worked up over things like getting him to sleep through the night or pumping issues and stressing about my milk supply. I’m going to try not to push and wish for the next big milestone, who cares when he scoots or crawls or pulls himself into a sitting position all by himself, right? He’ll do all those things eventually, and it will definitely be exciting when those things happen, but what he’s doing right now is pretty exciting too! It’s difficult to live in the moment, but that’s what I’d like to try to do… just enjoy this short time when he is a baby, because that’s exactly what it is – such a short and sweet period of time.

Alright, better get to bed because he’s been sleeping since 7:30, nearly three hours, and he’ll probably be awake and crying for his mama and her boob within the hour. Oh well, just one more chance to squeeze him close and kiss his little fingers and sniff his gloriously bald head. ;)

Catching up

I wish I would have been better about writing since Gus was born, but its never too late right? So my baby is just a little over a week away from being 6 months old. I can’t believe that, has it really been 6 months? As evidenced by my little goofball going crazy in his Jump & Go right now, exploring the door jams, gnawing on the tag that I suppose I should have ripped off, and squealing with delight, yea I’ve got a 6 month old.

He is really such a joy. Last night he came home from his grandma’s blowing raspberries like crazy, and not those tired, frustrated raspberries he used to blow when he was 4 months old, they are like hilarious, jubilant, joyful raspberries. He is just such a happy, wonderful baby.

That’s not to say I’m not constantly exhausted, because I am. Gus spends about half to three quarters of each night in our bed, because he just wakes up so much and I simply don’t have the energy to keep going in to sooth him or nurse him and then putting him back in his crib, only to have him wake 45 minutes later. Instead I bring him to bed with us, lay down, and give him the boob. When he starts to fuss and wake up 45 minutes later, I roll him over to the other side and boob him again for about 60 seconds and he’s out. This goes on for many many hours, and it leaves me feeling like a zombie in the morning. Some nights are better than others, and it seems like he’s waking much less now than he was a month ago, so I am hopeful. I’m just not willing to do cry-it-out, not now, not ever, and I don’t have the energy for any other kind of “gentle” sleep-training. So bed sharing it is! And it’s a pretty full bed when you consider the fact that our dog is in it too.

The other issue plaguing my life is the constant worrying about my milk supply, which seems to have taken a dip this and last week for no discernable reason. I shouldn’t say my supply has tanked, because Gus seems to be getting plenty of milk those 4 days of the week that we are together. It’s just that the 3 days a week that I’m at work I don’t seem to be able to pump enough milk. I am freaking pumping 4 times a day, for about 15-20 minutes a time. That’s A LOT of time pumping at work. And then when I get home at night, it seems like there’s a whole lot of screaming at the boob, which usually brings me to tears and leads me to believe he’s not getting what he wants. It’s like I’ve pumped myself dry all day, to get 14-15 ounces. And he’s taking in as much as 20 ounces some days at day care. So while the situation certainly isn’t dire, he’s only away from me 3 days a week, and I have a freezer supply with almost 100 ounces, it still is really stressing me out, and I am always mentally calculating how long that freezer stash will last us if I continue to not able to keep up with him. This week I started taking More Milk Plus four times a day, Fenugreek twice a day, and am focusing on drinking tons of water, so I hope some of that helps. I also try to get a few pumping sessions in Friday through Monday when I’m home with him, but that’s not always easy. Ugh. On top of it all, there’s the guilt. If my pumping Tuesday through Thursday is not quite keeping up with his intake, I feel tremendous guilt even thinking about being away from him for even a few hours on my days off. I want to go on a date with my husband, which hasn’t happened since Gus was born. I want to see a movie, which I haven’t done for months. But I feel like I should be with him as much as possible when I can, nursing as much as possible, to at least keep up my supply. I know the guilt is just part of being a mom, I realize, but it’s nice to be able to vent a bit here. Now though, I’m feeling guilty about venting about it. Ridiculous!

Though there are a lot of difficult things that come with being a mom, I really truly love it. I adore this child of mine. He is so hilarious and sweet. He’s starting to sit up on his own these days (with a little help of course!), he explores everything he can get his hands on, he’s obsessed with remotes and phones and even shows that he has a little stubborn temper when you take them away from him. So funny! He loves to stand and bounce, is fascinated and obsessed with all dogs, squealing with delight if he can get his hands on them. He is constantly taking everything in around him, and loves to go to different places. He used to nap if I took him somewhere like the mall, pushing him in the stroller or carrying him in the Moby. Now he is just captivated by everything he sees, babbling and smiling at strangers, grabbing clothes off the wrack, screeching with glee at the crazy colors and the children running and playing. He is always reminding me how lucky I am to be his mom. Isn’t it amazing how children make you see things with different eyes? I love looking at the world through him, I feel hopeful, thankful, and just in awe of what a beautiful and wonderful world we live in.

Mommy chronicles: breasfeeding

So Gus is almost 8 weeks old already, and I still haven’t taken the time to write about being a new mom. Mostly that’s because I’ve avoided writing all together because it just feels like such a daunting task. How in the world am I supposed to describe how much my life changed since that day in the hospital that we met our son for the first time? The right words are hard to come by, that’s for sure. So I won’t put too much pressure on myself to write some sort of masterpiece, I’ll just share some little tidbits about motherhood that I’ve learned over the last two months. Today I want to talk about breastfeeding.

First off, breastfeeding is hard at the beginning. I was plagued by self doubt those first couple weeks… Is he getting enough milk? Why don’t I feel a “let down”? My nipples are bloody stumps, does that mean I’m doing something wrong? Do I have a weak supply if I’ve never been painfully engorged or my milk doesn’t shoot across the room like my mom describes? Should I really wake him up to feed him every 2-3 hours? Am I drinking enough water? Can I eat spicy food? Thinking back on it, I was a neurotic mess. Also I took everything people said to me like it was the bible. When someone else’s experience was different from mine, I full on freaked out and convinced myself that Gus wasn’t getting what he needed to flourish. Finally after about two and a half weeks I saw a lactation consultant, and it was absolutely the best thing I could have done. I felt so much better, she reassured me that we were doing just fine, and gave me some advice for increasing my supply if I was really worried about it, even though she didn’t necessarily think it was needed. We talked about how Gus is a little grazer, not getting a ton of breast milk at each feeding, doing lots of comfort sucking, and thus coming back less than two hours later for more. She gave me creams for my sore nipples, a recipe for lactation cookies, but best of all she told me to trust my instincts and stop comparing myself to everyone else. She said every mom is different, and every baby is different.

Now I absolutely love breastfeeding. Not only is it the most important gift I can give my son, but I really feel like it has helped me bond with my little man on such an amazing level. I love that nursing is our own little special time together. Often I find myself looking down at him with teary eyes, stroking his perfectly plump little cheeks, rubbing his fuzzy little head, kissing his tiny little fingers, and just feeling so overwhelmed with love and amazement for this little gift from God. For all those future moms out there, it can not be said enough, breastfeeding is really hard those first few weeks, but stick it out because it gets so much better and it is so worth it. My nipples were so cracked and sore, I would have to whisper to myself every time he latched on, “It’s not that bad, it’s not that bad, the pain will go away in about 30 seconds”. Of course the fact that all the books say you’re doing it wrong if you feel any pain doesn’t help things. Screw that. At the beginning, especially if you have sore nipples from your baby’s constant and frustrated nursing during those days before your milk came in, it totally hurts.

In short, my advice comes down to this: lactation consultants are your friends, stock up on lanolin and nursing tanks, and don’t get too hung up on the experiences of everyone else, because every mom and every baby is different when it comes to breastfeeding. Be confident, ask for help, and focus on what this is all about, a healthy and happy baby.