Who DOES that?

Sleep training.

Have you ever heard of this? 

Supposedly there are many methods, as with anything in parenting, but it's essentially how to put and keep your child asleep.  When you read about all the methods, they start out by saying (under the heading of a picture of a beautiful mother with a sleeping baby) "Make sure that you are fully rested before trying sleeping training, as with any new parenting endeavors."

Bull.  Cocky. 

The reason why you're sleep training in the first place is because your child isn't sleeping.  It's because you're at your wits end.  It's because you're more tired than you were in college during finals week.  It's NOT because you have just had such a good go of things with night time rituals so far that you want to spice things up a bit.

Many people swear by the "cry it out" method, or the C-I-O approach.  This essentially means every few minutes you go back in and verbally reassure your child that you are here and everything is fine.  So you may start with a three minute interval- let them cry- then go in a reassure them.  Then five minute intervals.  Then 7 minute intervals...you get where I'm going with this?

Many people, including myself, think this is cruel and unusual punishment for both parent and child.  And when you want your baby to sleep, and you want yourself to sleep, you use the, "Do- whatever- the- heck- it- takes- to- get- this- kid- to- stop- crying- so- everyone- can- rest- and- your- husband- won't- throw- pillows" method.  This is the method I use.  I frankly think the C-I-O method is cruel and unusual.  Your baby is crying because something is wrong- because there is a need of theirs that you're not meeting.

I spend so little time with Liam.  I give him to my mom first thing in the morning- she bathes him, clothes him, feeds him, naps him.  I pick him up at either 5 or 6 (depending if it's gym day or not) and then I teach violin, do my chores, and then he goes to bed.  Well.  He's supposed to.  So for those who are keeping score, that's 4-5 waking hours a day, out of a 24 hour period, that I've got my son.  And even then he doesn't have my full attention- mommy after all is busy.  Weekends are no longer sacred time anymore either, now that I've started painting again.  But when you're constantly chasing after that almighty dollar, so your husband will stop complaining about having no money...there's not much of a choice.

So pardon me when some well meaning other mommy tells me that my child is now training ME, and I need to just let him cry until he pukes, pardon me if I feel like punching other mommy in the face.  No.  I'm not going to let him cry until he pukes.  As it is, when I have tried the C-I-O method (Which I have) I've come in to find him puffy and gagging and snotty and when I pick him up, he clings to me like a life preserver in a big open sea.  I made it to 45 minutes the other night.  I went downstairs in the kitchen so I couldn't hear him.  I gave up at the point where he stopped crying because he also stopped breathing.

It's not for me.  Maybe other mommys can do it, but this mommy can't.  This past weekend he didn't want anything.  He didn't want me, he didn't want his toys, TV (yes I tried TV, so sue me), bottle, nothing.  So I bathed him (you guessed it!  Didn't want that either!) I got in the tub with him to wash him up.  I dressed him to prepare him for church.  He was fed, clean, dressed.  And just as I was curling my hair and doing my makeup, I turn around to see this:

 

 

I gently tucked him in with his daddy and went about my business.  A cappuccino cleared the fog, and a little later in the day we took a nap together, and he was fine.

 

At this time, I'm going to go get my Baby Bug, and I'm going to go home.  I've cleared off my calendar for the evening and we're going to relax.  And I'm going to rock my son to sleep tonight.  Hold your gasps.

Back in the habit...

I promised myself that after I packed up my maternity clothing, save a few nursing shirts, that I would NOT under any circumstances go back and get any of them out to wear until I was pregnant again.

No matter HOW comfy those maternity undies were- they're staying clean and in the box.  No matter how great the fabric was on those navy capris Andy bought me in my last month, even though I only got to wear them for mere WEEKS before packing them up- they're staying clean and in the box.  Those skinny jeans I bought that fit so nicely in my brown leather slouch boots- they're staying clean and in the box EVEN THOUGH I've never found a pair that fit me better.

Now, it took me two totes to stash all my maternity clothing.  I bought one tote with good intentions.  SURELY I didn't accumulate THAT much clothing in 39 weeks time!  But yes-yes I did.  What can I say?  I'm a savvy shopper.  I accumulated a great deal from consignment shops and of course Kohls.  I had two of every bottom- capris, shorts, skirts, dress pants.  And lots and lots of tops, because who am I kidding?  I was a slob when I was pregnant.  And I only started REALLY wearing maternity tops at about 6 months.

Which brings me to my current revelation: if you wore an article of clothing while you were pregnant, and it doesn't say "maternity" on the tag, it's still fair game postpartum.

Like me today:

 

 

Hmmm...the bottom picture was just this morning...and it still does make me look a little pregnant...but we all know better.  The bottom line is that it's comfy.  And I like the colors.  And.  That's it. 

 

It's not like I got rid of shoes I bought and wore when I was pregnant.  Oh contraire.  Those ultra comfy slip flops and grungy old crocs will be donning my feet for summers to come- okay maybe one more summer at least.  Goodness knows they're all I wore and they're looking a little shabby.

 

So just so we're clear- if you bought it to wear while pregnant, but it doesn't have a maternity tag in it, you're free to wear it while you're not pregnant.  Says me.

 

Okay, back to what you were doing.

A Fine Line

My mom watches Liam for us during the day.  It's been a bumpy road- but not an unpleasant one.  She takes extremely good care of him, and I suppose if we're going to miss all his major milestones, I'd rather have her see them than a stranger.

But we differ on exactly HOW he should be raised.  She comes from a very old-school background where you warm bottles in the microwave and you sleep babies on their stomachs and car seats are more for containment than safety.

Clearly I have made it past childhood.  This is not the issue of GOOD parenting versus BAD parenting.  It's just that I do things differently.

For example- we feed on demand.  4 ounces every time, when he cries for it.  2 more ounces if he keeps that down and asks for more.  Mom feeds him six ounces every three hours whether he wants it or not.  I feel this is over-feeding him, she feels I am starving him.

She puts the water for his formula in the microwave for a little before she mixes it with the formula.  I serve it to him at room temperature.  I'm scared to death she's going to burn him, she tells me he likes it better warm.

I'm not too concerned about him though.  He's fine over there, and he gets all the love and attention he needs.  (The other day I was standing with him, ready to go, and he actually reached out for my sister!  Go figure!)  But I get offended when she tells me I'm not doing it right.  What do you MEAN I'm not doing it right?  He's not starving- he's happy- he loves me and his daddy.  I do my best with him! 

The other day we were out at a restaurant and I was feeding him his cereal.  After I was done feeding it to him, he screamed, but I knew he had two tablespoons, so he was fine.  I gave him a pacifier and walked him, and distracted him, and he was fine.  My mom was completely up in arms, "He's still hungry!  You mean you're not going to feed him his bottle??"  No mom, I'm not because he threw it all up when we did that the other night.  "No he doesn't!  I don't know what that doctor told you to do, but I feed him his cereal and then a six ounce bottle and he's always fine."  Yes mom, until he comes home and throws it all up!-- She didn't speak to us for the remainder of the afternoon.

If the tables were turned, I'm positive she'd feel the same way I do.  She's told me before that her mom would come in and take over and she'd feel terrible.  I'm counting that she'll remember that and lay off of me a little.

Things are getting better.  She takes my lead on things- because after all- he is MY son.  And like I said- he's getting all the love he needs over there.  Plus some.  I'm excited for the day he can ride his bike over there and swim in a little kiddie pool and get all excited about the airplanes taking off...there's so much more room over there!  My dad wants to mow the yard with him in the backpack and take him in his pick up truck.......  What a great place to be a kid.  I should know!

None for me, thanks

Yesterday was Valentines Day!!!  My husband came home bearing the obligatory roses, which were lovely!!  I cut them and arranged them and put them on the table.  I love roses :)  I love my husband :)

I made him a book on Shutterfly and also Liam got him Skittles and Peanut M&M's.  It was sweet family time, and it was perfect for me.

There used to be a time where I liked going out.  When I liked to get all dolled up and put on makeup and shave my legs and vacuum the car...I remember that time.  Where you'd buy clothing that was frivolous for that "special occasion" and you didn't know when you'd wear it, but when you did?  It was going to be amazing. 

I got some new work out clothing for Christmas.  They're from REI, so they're really really nice.  Well, I haven't worn them yet.  And it's not because I haven't gone to the gym- it's quite the opposite, actually.  I've been wearing my grubby old sweat pants because I don't know when I'm going to get new work out clothing again.  Can't rush into something like wearing new clothing.  And I will keep the tags on those clothing so when I saw them in my closet floor of my room, and I THINK about wearing them, I really have to consider it before nicely cutting ripping off those tags.

So now we don't go out all that much.  And it's not just because money is tight.  And it's not just because we have the baby and it's a little more complicated.  It's just that I'm truly and utterly exhausted.  And the thought of even putting make up for church is like...eh, good thing Jesus looks at the heart, because the face ain't happening today.

Truth be told- I like this new way of life.  Do I envy people who post on Facebook about bar hopping and clubbing?  Nah.  I was never really one of those people to begin with.  (Completely unrelated- you know you're a mommy when all the pics tagged of you on FB are actually of your children.  I just needed an updated picture of myself, so I went to FB, and the last 5 pics of "me" were actually of Liam.)

SMH.

Turns out when you're not feeling the best about your body, you're not as excited to show it off anymore.  Sweats seem nice-  Spanx are out of the question because ain't nobody got time for that.  A friend of mine recently had gastric bypass and she's all about buying clothing and showing off her new body.  I, on the other hand, am happy with leggings and Andy's t-shirt.  Just cover everything you can.  Just give me a black trashbag and we'll all go home happy.

I contemplated putting on something nice for my husband last night for AFTER dinner and a movie.  And I opened my lingerie drawer...and then promptly shut it again.  It'll be dark anyway, right?

Wake me up before you go go...

I often get asked, "Is Liam a good baby?"  And by rights I should really answer with something snarky like, "Well, no tattoos or piercings yet, but we ARE investigating some gang involvement with his other infant friends..."

But instead I'm usually like, "Oh yes, he's a great baby."  And just to prove it I would add, "And he sleeps through the night!"  Which when you're baby is 4 months old, sometimes that's all ya got.  And they would make a bumper sticker with this statement on it, like an honor roll sticker. 

And then he just stopped.  Stopped sleeping through the night.  He's tired, he goes to sleep fine, but he keeps waking up.  I have proof here that he CAN do it:

 

 



But it was just that one last thing where it was like, "Well, we don't have much but.  At least our son sleeps through the night." 

He's currently not going to anyone while I'm around.  I had him in the front pack last night to clean the kitchen (because he didn't want to be put down) and every time his daddy got near him, he'd howl.  Andy tried to take him upstairs during my lessons and that didn't go so well.  The only thing more distracting then a baby during violin lessons is a baby screaming upstairs during violin lessons.  So down he came.

I breast fed him and put him to sleep around 10.  He fell asleep in my arms.  And as soon as I put him down, he screamed.  So I went through all the motions: I put his paci back in and left him be.  Screamed.  Gave him my hand to hold.  Quiet... then screamed.  Rocked him, replaced the paci.  Screamed.  Picked him up.  Screamed.  Rocked him.  Screamed.  Left him scream.  Andy threw a pillow across the room and got out of bed.  That's when Liam and I evacuated to the living room.  Where you guessed it, he screamed.  He'd fall asleep for an hour TOPS, and then wake up and scream again.

I told him he was in trouble.  He smiled at me.  I told him mommy was sad with him.  He laughed and cooed.  I told him that he wasn't a kind little boy to be keeping mommy awake.  He grabbed my face and gave me a slobbery kiss.  "If you wanted a slumber party, why didn't you just tell mommy?"  He fell asleep in my arms on the recliner.  When my mom came to retrieve him this morning I just handed him off.  "Rough night?"  She asked.  I just said, "Please take him."

This morning I started to read about this "19 Week Sleep Regression" which made me feel a little better that it had a name, instead of just, "You're Doing Something Wrong With Your Baby."  Tonight we may try putting him in his crib.  If he's not going to sleep, why not NOT SLEEP in his crib?

I'm too tired to write more now.  Wish me the best.

Two types of people in this world...

So now that Liam is four months old, he's ready for some new adventures.

I have had to put away all his 0-3 and some of his 3 month clothing.  The onsies fit fine, but the pants are just tooooo short.  Poor little guy looks like he's searching for high water.  I tearfully folded everything neatly and (just to make myself feel better about the situation) bought a new green tote in which to put them all.  It was sort of the end of an "era."  And I'm not sure why I was so upset while doing it.  After all, there will be more clothing, right?  But I had these flashbacks to lovingly washing his little clothing and arranging them all neatly in his drawers.  Of holding them to my belly and imagining dressing him in them every day...  Goodness.  Clearing the dreamy fog now.

So last night we tried cereal for the first time.  And by cereal, I mean one TBSP of cereal in two oz of formula.  Tonight we'll cut back the formula a little.  He was very excited about this.  He opened his mouth every time.  For some reason, I found this cereal thing TERRIFYING.  Feeding his little system something new, for whatever reason, completely wigged me out.  (Do people say that any more?)  But he loved the experience and Andy was getting a kick out of it, so we'll try it again tonight.

**For those avid blog readers of mine: notice the high chair he's sitting in?  Yeah.  Finally set it up.  And it literally takes up the space of a small loveseat in our house.  So glad we waited.**

-----
In Liam's world, there are two types of people: mommy, and people who are NOT mommy.  The first type of people includes myself.  The second type of people includes strangers, family, tall people, short people, people with beards, people with hats, people with glasses, children, adults, the elderly, men, women, other babies and Daddy.

This is extremely adorable when he goes, "Mmmomomommaaaa" and you have to go cuddle him because you're the only one who can calm him.  This is extremely irritating when you need to go do something that requires two hands, and he won't go to anyone.  Now mind you- I've adapted to do most things with one hand.  And I'm not adverse to hearing him cry for a new moments so I can wash my pump or something- but sometimes I'm like, "Go to your father for two minutes, please!  Mommy needs to PEE!"

The other week we went to RI for the weekend to see my inlaws.  And things were going well.  I was not as clingy as I normal am, and they were just interesting enough that Liam didn't mind being with them and getting 100% of their attention.  Until bath time.

My MIL was giving him a bath and I was sitting in the kitchen, pretending not to hear his little cries and sniffles.  Meanwhile I was sitting on the edge of my seat, ready for bath time to be over so he'd relax again.  And then I heard it.  There's that siren wail that a baby does that means ABORT, ABORT, all systems are NOT GO!  I ran in and his little body was shaking!!!  I grabbed him all soapy and wet and held him to my chest.  He clung to me like I had just rescued him from the gates of hell.  I apologized to my MIL and she thankfully understood.  We finished mopping him off while I held him, and then he got his jammies on and fell asleep.

Sometimes it pays to be mommy.

It's only poop.

I love him.  I could fill up this page with reasons I love him, but I'll spare you.  Because you already know all of them just by looking at him.

This is my new project:

 

 

Thanks to Pinterest, I too can hang pictures going up my stairs.  Those are his infant pics on the left, and then his 3 months on the right.  There is room for little pictures in between.  So I'm excited :)  It's hard not to wish him to 6 months just so I can get his next set of pictures up there.

 

----

 

So for people who don't know, I paint and decorate.  I just recently started taking on jobs again, because I had to stop while I was pregnant after I became a tipping hazard.  However, I don't intend to leave Liam at home while I go earn money.  I do enough of that during the week. 

 

I took him to bid a job last week.  They had a huge German Shepherd and Liam was instantly in love with her.  He of course was giggling and hugging the puppy and petting the puppy, and the dog was LOVING it.  She brought him little toys to "play" with and laid them at Liam's feet.  It was just too adorable.

 

And of course the clients (a husband and a wife, I'm imagining a year younger or older than myself) were like, "Aww, he's sweet."  While maintaining a reasonable distance from my son at all times.  So when Liam puked on my shoulder, I laughed it off quipping, "You guys thinking of having kids?"  She handed me and ENTIRE ROLL of paper towels to clean it up.  A tablespoon of puke...whole roll of Bounty.  AND she brought the trash can over so I could throw the offensive material away.  Immediately, I could see where this was going.

So I tried not to seem like I wash rushing, but I really wanted to get out of there.  I threw my old stand-by neutrals out there, ("We're thinking about going for something bold...how about this beige, honey?") And that's when Liam's face started turning beet red.  And he started grunting.  And then he began to AUDIBLY fill his pants.  I looked at him and he forced a smile- I think the little guy was truly sorry he was doing #2- and then went back to bearing down and pushing out. 

At this point, the dog took an interest.  She came over to sniff, as if to inquire, "You mean they let you do this INSIDE?" and proceeded to stick her nose right in Liam's crotch.  It was then the client, up to this point just staring in sheer horror, pointed at Liam's back and mumbled, "Um, he's like, coming, um, up his, um..."  And then I saw the poop seeping through his shirt above his diaper line.

NO, I didn't bring his diaper bag in with me.  Of course not.  He was changed and fed and happy when I brought him in.  So they wrangled the dog and I went outside, baby in tow, and got the diaper bag and brought it in.  They so generously offered their kitchen floor to me so I could clean him up.  I opened my changing mat and proceeded to strip Liam down to his skivvies and clean him up with an army of wipes.  The clients sat in the living room, probably holding their collective breath to make sure they didn't catch a waft of the poop.

Meanwhile, Liam was THRILLED to be naked, and the dog was equally as happy.  She now brought Liam the rest of her toys for him to approve and then rummaged the diaper bag to catch a whif of whatever she could.  The clients were yelling at the dog to leave us alone, but that's about as far as it went.  They couldn't get too close.

I changed Liam's entire outfit, cleaned up my area- my changing station was now FULL of dog hair from the kitchen floor- and stashed the offensive diaper deep in the diaper bag.  As I'm writing this, I wonder if I remembered to fish it out again...  The clients cautiously came from the living room and came back to the table.  "Thinking of having kids?"  I quipped again.  They laughed politely.  The husband shot the wife a look that said, "We are NEVER having SEX again."

Surprisingly, they booked me for April.