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.**

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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.

 

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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. 

Welcome Back

The long and short of it is: I got my period.

It started out with a pregnancy test.  Any normal woman would have taken one.  Especially with our "not 100% effective" birth control.  My boobs hurt.  I was swelling up.  I was teary.  I lost my appetite.  I couldn't stay awake.  On and on.

Do you know what it's like to tell your husband you're taking a pregnancy test?  Especially when you have a three month old infant and you're not "trying"?  I tried to sugar coat it as much as possible- "You know, I'm nervous about this whole period thing.  I'm thinking of taking a test.  I have one.  It's not like I have to go buy one...  But I think I might take it just out of, you know, curiosity."

My hands were shaking more than on the original pregnancy test.  You know, the one I actually WANTED to come out positive.  My brain kept rushing from one thought to the next.  Was I or wasn't I?  Were we ready for child number two?  Was my body healed enough to carry another baby full term?  Where would we put him or her?  Would I need to quit my job?  Could my mom handle two kids under the age of two?  Would that even be fair to her to ask?  Can you breast feed while pregnant?  Would that mean I'd be breastfeeding through two solid years?  How much weight would I gain?  I haven't lost the last weight yet!  What were we thinking?  Why didn't I just get the IUD??

Negative.

I nonchalantly threw away the test and walked downstairs.  "I took that test.  It was negative.  I figured it would be."

Not.

So a few days later Aunt Flow packed her bags and headed in for a visit.  There's something very...surreal...about getting your period after you fully comprehend what your body is doing.  That could have been a baby.  That's the makings of a baby.  I've been getting my period since fourth grade.  (Go ahead and gasp.  The perks of PCOS before they knew what it was...)  So that's 19 years of periods, and yet this was different. 

First off, it smelled different.  There was an "amniotic" smell that I can't describe.  Second of all, there was no pain from cramps (or if there was pain, I didn't recognize it).  Thirdly, it was HEAVY.  Yikers.

But that's it.  It's over.  I'm back on the pill again.  Trying to find the new normal.  Yadda yadda.  More on this later.

PS: Answer to a FAQ

This mini post is brought to you by those who have been asking me a simple question:

Did you poo during labor?

The answer is yes and no.  Yes I did poo during labor.  No I did not poo during pushing.

When you're in labor, the baby is pushing down on all your internal organs, and you really have no choice but to poop.  In a toilet, of course.  You don't just lose all your bodily functions at once like I think my "Followers" are expecting to.  And if you poop, in the toilet, during labor, you're not going to push the baby out.  Although they are the same muscles.

When I started pushing, I felt this extreme "release" which I thought was poo, but it wasn't.  It was just amniotic fluid and blood and whatever else.  And I cannot stress enough- you're NOT going to care.  There are so many bodily fluids, one more is not going to matter.

So there is your answer.

Any other questions?  You know I'll answer them!