Long Nights, Impossible Baby

As a person, I know that not every day can be a good one. You'll have nights where you don't want to do anything but veg out on the couch and watch Conan. Which is totally what I'd do If I could stay up that late but - who does that anymore???

Now as a mother, I know that these nights are tenfold when small carbon-based lifeforms are involved. Especially when one or more of us is sick or fussy, or god help us teething. And there are points when burrito has been crying and he's not hungry or wet and just wants to be held but I feel nauseated and my back hurts and why can't he just tell me what he wants?? And I just feel like taking him by the shoulders like I would my husband and shaking him and yelling "what do you want!"

BUT OBVIOUSLY cannot do this. One, don't shake babies. It's just not good manners. It was one of those things we were taught early on, along with don't eat yellow snow and don't run with scissors.

Second, it will accomplish nothing. He still won't be able to tell me what's wrong, and odds are If I do anything he doesn't like he'll start in with the full-on banshee cry instead of being just a fussy baby. His fussy noise goes "meeeeeh meeeeeh" btw, which when uttered with downturned lips and pitiful face sounds a lot like he's lamenting that his mother is a disgrace. I can see the tell-all books now. (no wire hangers!!!1!11!!!)

I have found that laying him down and letting him kick while I take a moment to breathe helps. I have also found that he enjoys the alphabet song and oddly enough, "hit the road jack." so I rock him back and forth and sing. Or, lay on the bed while he flops around like a fish and sing.

Another gem I discovered this morning? A little thing I call the surprise mirror. I hold him with my back to the mirror, then spin around so we can see our reflections in the mirror while doing my best impression of that stunned squirrel-type thing that was all over the intertubes years ago. I even try to make the dramatic noises. He loved it. Totally weird, I know.

So there's your weekly update on the fussy part of my life. Which, coincidentally, happened last night (er, June 1st, hehe) every hour save 1 to 5 am. Yup, I got 4 hours of sleep. Someday I will punish him for this by showing his prom date embarassing baby/toddler pictures and wearing white go-go boots to pick him up from school.

Thank you, Saint Anthony

You found my supply!

Last week I thought it was totally gone. I had been reading Kellymom.com and it said to still nurse when you are sick - well I was so dehydrated last week that I didn't think to keep nursing when I could barely move much less make any milk. I only skipped one nursing session, but apparently it KILLED my supply. I was barely pumping 3oz, and he was waking through the night to nurse. But nurse I did, as much as possible, and today? I'm at 7oz and counting at my morning pump. Whee!

So, future self who is sick and tired and wondering what the hell happened to your body/milk/youth (ok that last one really doesn't count I guess...):

~ drink gatorade. 2 L per day to be precise.
~ decide to start off your "new beginning of your diet" as healthy and stock up on chicken broth, greens, and whole grain items.
~ when supply has not resumed its normal schedule after one week, throw diet out the window and eat everything in sight including tons of oatmeal in a last-ditch effort to increase milk.
~ lose one pound and find milk supply back to normal.

There you have it. Eat, eat, eat. Kind of counter-intuitive when you consider all the healthy-eating i've been striving for, but oh well. At least it's not all chocolate cake! Here's been my foods of choice, and by choice, I mean what I have around the house after the baptism party on Sunday:
Mini sammiches from a tray from local store. Turkey, ham, roast beast and chicken salad with some Swiss on potato or pretzel rolls.
Potato salad.
Grapes, apples, and lettuce (oh my) and the occasional tomato.
Sunchips, triscuits, pretzels.
Pizza from local shop.
Iced tea and milk.
Egg sammich and oatmeal.

Now I'm hungry again...

you're damn right.

I have not made anything new in the last year. Er, wait...when was the last time I was here? D'oh.

Well that will all change, because my bff is getting married in January, and I'm sick of this extra baby weight (oh who am I kidding, it's cake weight) I'm carrying around. Plus? I don't like scrounging up food or scouring the frig for any old thing - I need to start eating real food. Like, the kind that normal people eat. Plus? I'd like to start instilling healthy eating habits in the burrito.

Here's the burrito just for reference:

Cutest damn thing evah? I think so.

And now he is stirring, so I'll say good night, and good luck. To myself. Trying to eat like a healthy person. Grapes, spinach, wheat bread in the frig - I'm referencing you.

stupid bug.

So my memorial day weekend was shaping up to be ok - had to work Monday, but it was only 5 hours, so no big deal. We had a giant heat wave knock us into the 90's so I wasn't that hungry Monday, which didn't really bother me as I am trying to whittle down the muffin.

However, later that night, after I had a turkey sandwich and ice cream I had been craving, the GI Bug that had been brewing reared its ugly head. I was nauseated for a full two hours before my stomach gave its entire haul for the day back to the porcelain throne. After that, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. Every muscle in my body ached, and my back was killing me. I turned the AC down many times that night, trying to get comfortable.
Hubs had to deal with a slightly fussy burrito, and I kept apologizing for not helping (when I was coherent that is). He kept reminding me that I'm not the only parent... Oops. Fail on my part!

So Tuesday I called off of work and headed to the doc while hubs dropped burrito at daycare - with a frozen bag of milk, as I hadn't pumped enough the day before, tyvm bug. Got my info, stopped at the store, got some gatorade and chicken noodle soup. Slept. It was glorious. Until time came for hubs to leave for work, at which time it was just me and a fussy pre-bed burrito. Thoughts which were running through my head included: how did Mom do this?, can the dog entertain him, can I put out a mass request for help on FB?

Eventually after nursing 4 times, he was satisfied and fell asleep in the bed with me. We woke again at 130 to turn down the AC and eat, and 330 to eat, 630 for the day and he ate again at 745, which is hopefully telling my body he still needs milk.

Unfort, I am still running on gatorade and just starting to eat solids again. Hopefully I can ramp it up and be able to pump enough for at least half the day tomorrow. I have one bag of freezer stash available and I don't want to send formula...but If the kid needs to eat... *sigh* stupid bug.

Gender Roles and Stereotypes

I see there is a post on BotB about this from last night, and I'm just starting to read all the responses now, which is good, because lately I have really been thinking about how what we do as parents and people will now start to affect the burrito as he is fully able to view and take in everything around him.

I have noticed that hubs' family is especially supportive of gender roles and boy stereotypes. I can't remember exactly the situation, but someone tried to give him something purple, and MIL said "no, that's a girl color!" I said that I don't want to tell him that certain things are meant only for girls or only for boys. I also pointed out that he has four spoons of differing colors and one of them is pink and I use it even though it's not a "boy color." Hopefully if I keep pointing it out, she'll get it. I try to make it more about the way I want him brought up and not a me vs MIL sort of thing (just because recently I've noticed that her mannerisms and way of acting around the burrito are not exactly in tune with mine...case in point: please do not let my child lick your fork which just had a seasoned steak on it).

But I digress...I don't want to post the whole conversation here, but I did want to put down some snippets so I recall them later:

(original thread)
(original original thread)

I don't know the answer, but I will say that I'm amazed at how much of a "boy" Gabe has turned out to be.  There's just so much that comes from society that you don't even realize.  I try to expose Gabe to a wide range of toys and experiences (he has dolls, he has play food, he has puzzles, he has trucks etc), but he's currently obsessed with cars, trucks, airplanes and trains.

Where does my responsibility as a parent lie?  Do I encourage the things he is interested in even though they are pretty stereotypically "boy" interests?  Do I try to steer him towards more gender neutral interests in order to "balance" him out for lack of a better word? - armandos


...listen to a child's cues and be aware of their comfort level. I have two friends with little kids who are displaying gender non-conforming behavior. Explaining why peoplereact the way they do without blaming the child or telling them what to do makes a difference. These are kids who know their sex, don't have the words to describe gender expression, but who are truly discovering what fits for them. - BGG

I am  thinking of a blog post (which I can't remember) where a mom was called in because in her 1st grade classroom, her daughter was in trouble for being violent.  They were writing a story and each kid built on the page in front by the previous kid.  Her daughter's had to do w/ something violent and the teacher insisted that she had NEVER seen such violence in a story before...but the daughter's page was building directly off of the MORE violent pages that came first...but no one cared about those because boys could be violent. - GBKC

But I also grew up knowing that physically, I am a girl and there are certain things that are expected of me as a girl (for lack of a better term).  I knew that going to church on Sunday, showing up in a dress would be less controversial than showing up in khaki's and a tie.  I was blessed to have incredibly supportive family/friends and not to have any serious inner gender/identity issues and could go between my desire to be more tomboy and societies expectation for me to be more girly. - Balls

As far as the coddling girls and toughening up boys thing... it is the total opposite at my house.  It has nothing to do with their sexes, and everything to do with their personalities.  Rough housing is an equal opportunity sport in this house, and nobody holds back anymore on Riley than they do on Nathan.  Nathan tends to be more sensitive if he gets hurt or feels upset, and he needs the hugs and cuddles to get over it quickly, so that's what he gets.  Riley tends to do better with the "you're alright, shake it off and get back up!" speech, so that's what she gets more often than not. ... I think that expecting everyone to conform to them is definitely not ok, but there is nothing wrong with "girls like to wear dresses" and "boys like to play with trucks" as long as people understand that it is ok for it to be the opposite. - Leslie

My MIL has voiced her concerns about us not teaching him proper gender rolls.  She sees photos of him playing with the vacuum, pretending to cook, etc.  She truly feels that we should be pushing the cars, trucks, and trains.  He owns "boy toys" and chooses not to play with them very often.- MadameFP

This is something I worry about with MIL. I believe that every kid no matter the sex should know how to do things around the house - laundry, cooking, cleaning, etc. I know that hubs will support this, because he's a clean freak by nature (his time in the Navy added to this). But hopefully she won't discourage that. My common sense says she would not, but my inner monologue worries about everything. I just have to focus on how hubs grew up I think, because she raised him, and he makes a killer french toast. Score.

One of my favorite selections from The Parent's Tao Te Ching - A New Interpretation:

2. Take Care With Labels

When you teach your children that certain things are good,
they are likely to call all different things bad.
If you teach them that certain things are beautiful,
they may see all other things as ugly.

Call difficult things "difficult,"
and easy things "easy,"
without avoiding one and seeking the other
and your children will learn self-confidence.
Call results "results,"
without labeling one as success
and another as failure
and your children will learn freedom from fear.
Call birth "birth,"
and death "death,"
without seeing one as good
and the other as evil
and your children will be at home with life. 

 - AKA
↑ I need to get this, I completely agree with this excerpt. Thanks akalutts for posting this! ::adds to Amazon list::

Well, I have a little time before he starts being heavily influenced by outside sources...I'm not entirely sure that the other kids at daycare are giving him pressure right now. But I am interested to read the book that aka quoted and see if there's anything that I can start doing (or not doing) now to help make the burrito a more tolerant, well-rounded, and communicative individual. Or, just not screw him up. Isn't that what every parent aspires to?

Milestones - they make me *tear*

So here are the milestones that have been making me cry lately:

1) we moved the crib mattress to the lowest setting.
here's our crib, btdubs:

Several reasons for this: two weeks ago, he figured out how to sit up from a kneeling position. he hasn't yet figured out how to move forward, only backward, but he can roll over onto his tummy, push up, and move one leg so that if he pushes himself back, he's sitting up. I'd hear babbling in the morning and walk in to find him on the opposite end of the crib, pac in mouth, hands folded, watching for me as if to say "oh, you're up too? I'll take some milk."
This past weekend, I was ironing next to his crib, and he decided to see what was going on. He pushed into a sitting position, put his hands over the crib rail, and pulled himself up until he was in a straddle - not quite standing up, but close enough that I decided it was TIME.

2) He's saying dada. Not in any recognizable way, in that when hubs walks into the room he says it; just baby babbling. But it's enough.

3) He can now sit up on his own, and play with toys on his own, and at the beginning of the month we got him a Pooh stand-up-easel-looking thing that has wheels. And when I stand him up and he holds on to the handle? He takes steps with it. STEPS. Granted, the thing has to slide out so far that he is almost horizontal before he actually thinks "hmm, I should move a leg..." but still.

(obvs not the burrito)



4) He ate bananas the other day. Like, actual bananas. I cut up a semi-ripe one, and he was smushing it onto his fists, and then putting his fists in his mouth. It totally counts. Ish.
Of course, this past weekend, I had some melon on my plate and he was bored, so my plate was his target of choice. So, I let him suck on the melon (note to self: wear drop cloth). When I pulled the melon out of his mouth, a chunk was gone. WTG burrito, you actually gummed a piece of food off and down your little throat!


Soooooo, I will be taking a vacation day sometime soon in order to babyproof my first floor...he should be crawling any minute now, closely followed by high school.

Mother's Day - my lesson.

I just got back from a loooong walk. You know the kind; one of those walks where you keep looking down over the canopy on your stroller to see if they're asleep yet.

It all started innocently enough - hubs went to lay down before going into work at ten, so I took the burrito downstairs and placed him lovingly in his pack 'n' play. In a few minutes, he was p'n'p-ed out, so we switched to the new convertible walker/easel-type toy with Pooh noises. He soon tired of that too. I knew he was tired, so I walked him around a little bit. Nada. He started to scream louder. The pac didn't work, holding him sideways didn't work, none of the usual tricks.

So, I resorted to the last trick I knew - The Stroller. I estomped (that's Legally Blonde for walked while pouting) upstairs, ripped off my PJ pants and put on some jeans, threw on a sweatshirt, estomped back downstairs, grabbed Yelling Child from p'n'p of death, grabbed dog leash, yelled over my shoulder to said dog, yanked stroller down the front steps, and attempted to shove Yelling Child in stroller. Pac in mouth, dog in front, all was good (read: distracted).

I felt...like a complete failure. Here it was, Mother's Day, the day when I should be celebrated (it's my first as a mama), and give myself a pat on the back, and pamper myself (the non-diaper variety of that word please). The day when I get to bask in the glory of my kid(s), and reflect on all I have done for them. And I have to push Yelling Child around the block in Stroller to get him to calm down. Normally when it's the two of us at night, hubs and myself, it works out better. I'm not sure why; it just does. But when it's just me? I swear that he senses it and is not satisfied with the norm. He wants more! Step it up mama! Work for that title!

So all through the walk, I'm wallowing. Rolling around like a pig. In the mud of my self-pity. "You had to use the last resort Stroller! on Mother's Day no less! What kind of mom can't calm their kid down?? What kind of mom can't rock their baby to sleep??" A tiny voice in the back of my head said, "ok, but you knew that the stroller would calm him down, and he loves walks." And I wanted to estomp it out and continue to wallow in my lovely mud.

And then I realized. I was giving up too easily. I'm not sure where, but somewhere along the way, I have come to be That Girl - the one who cries "this is too hard - I don't want to do it anymore!" and estomps back upstairs and into bed. I have no idea how it happened; maybe it was a result of my relationship troubles last year. Somewhere, after all the not giving up there, I apparently started to feel like I could now give up everywhere else. Maybe my emotional brain decided that I hung in so long with that aspect of my life that I deserved a little giving up elsewhere. I don't know for sure. But I know it's been happening more recently. Especially with Yelling Child. And I don't have a colicky baby, an awful baby, anything like that, which may make it worse - I expect him to be happy all the time because he is happy most of the time.

So...where does that leave me? When is it ok to "give up," to throw in the towel and go get a pedicure? Because I'm sure that there are times where that is acceptable. But not all the time. Not every day. Not even when, on the day we go out to breakfast to the place that I want to go to, where hubs utters two complaints (which I knew were coming), where the burrito gets fussy because he poops and then proceeds to rip off the wipe I strategically place upon his baby nether regions while changing him and then emit a stream of urine so powerful the second I turn to grab a new diaper that it not only wets his face, hands, jacket, overalls, shirt, and the changing table, but also myself and the whole underside of his outfit as well (which I did not discover until afterwards when he was sitting on hubs' lap while we were waiting for boxes for our food and the check because his spare outfit was used the day before). I kinda gave up then. And I really didn't have to, but I think I placed so much pressure on the whole thing to be perfect that it was doomed from the start.

I'm pretty sure that's the worst kind of perfectionist too - the kind who doesn't even do things because they know it can't be done perfectly, so why bother? I don't know, is that me?

Well anyway, I know what I have to do now. Self, this one's for you:
Realize that life will go on no matter what, and if you keep stopping to complain/give up/estomp upstairs, you may miss things.
Don't worry, it can always get worse.
You have been through worse - this isn't it.
While ruined moments may give you just cause to eat a whole pack of chocolate poptarts, they do not give you just cause to continue to ruin more moments. Only one pack is justified, so suck it up and say NEXT.