My little family is going on vacation without me tomorrow. They'll be gone all week while I take on a training session at work with later hours. This choice was made because Jack's schedule was not manageable if I couldn't pick him up before 5:00, so the Dude took his week of vacation for the summer.
And so he's taking Jack to the lake because that's where we were planning on going. No reason he should have a crummy summer, missing out, just because things changed on my end.
And this will be good for me. I've been wanting this training and now I'm going to learn new things at work. So overall, it's a good thing. It'll be good for the Dude to have this time with his parents and Jack, some freedom from work, fresh air...
But damn. Five straight days and nights without them. I'll be honest, I had a little cry this evening.
I have some visits with friends lined up, and I'm really looking forward to those. It'll be wonderful to have the ability to just go hang out without any worries in the world about my responsibilities. But it'll also be mandatory for my emotional wellbeing because it's going to be really lonely around these parts for awhile.
I predict I'll be okay for a couple days, but by the end of the week I'll be a wreck. I'm going to miss my little pumpkin.
Showing posts with label baby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baby. Show all posts
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Ontario Science Centre With Baby
Today was the sort of day you dream about having when you start a family. We're talking good naps, brunch with friends and a well-behaved baby, and a trip to the Ontario Science Centre. We were going to go to the Aquarium, but we thought Jack needed more opportunity to run around and wear himself out.
By the time we got there we only had an hour to spend at Kidspark, the kid's section at the Centre. On one hand, this was okay since he only has a waking window of three hours max, plus that has to include a meal of some kind. When you include travel, we did the best we could. But damn, he went crazy in there. We really could have used more time.
There were so many things to touch and look at. He almost didn't know what to do with his bad self. By the time we got to the toddler area, he was pretty overstimulated and acted like a racoon who fell into a dumpster of shiny objects and corn cobs. It was amazing.
I had been wondering if 13 months was too young to enjoy this place or not and I couldn't get a good answer anywhere. Eventually I figured, fuck it. We'll just go. So glad we did. We're going to get the family pass and try and make this a thing, maybe once every month or two as a special treat.
We didn't get to see everything, by a long shot, but there was lots of stuff he was still too young for, things we can look forward to him enjoying later.
When I was younger, before I was sure I wanted a child, I used to see parents watching their kids play and I thought it looked boring. I felt bad for them stuck watching kids have fun while they sat on the sidelines. I've since learned that is the whole magic of it all. Watching your little baby become a toddler bit by bit, discovering the world, learning how to navigate his tiny body through a maze of new surroundings is almost a rush.
When you see a wee kid climb a ledge, it means nothing to you. When your own does it, you know the day he learned that skill and you relive your pride when you watch him do it somewhere new, on his way to figuring out something new.
Days like this are what I've always wanted. I experienced total contentment. And there's more to come.
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Full of Beans
My son is full of beans. Like, all the beans. I go to daycare to pick him up and our provider, who loves him, tells me all about his latest adventures in stealing other kids' food, pinching, getting jealous over a smaller baby, slamming doors and all kinds of other nonsense. And then she says he makes her laugh and she loves him.
My 13-month-old is a real character, basically. I'm working on extinguishing violence. We're firm about the hitting. We say no hitting, and we use a stern voice and an unimpressed face, no yelling, no antics, just a lack of rewarding reactions that might feed the behaviour. It's working, for the most part. He still does it, but doesn't repeat it, or will stop mid-hit and not make contact. He also seems very hesitant about hitting now, which is an improvement.
But damn, it's an ongoing thing. And that's just one thing. There's many things I have to be aware of. He just learned to climb stairs. Now I must follow him up and down on the playground because he has not learned to be careful around ledges. I have to have recurring dialogues about being kind to animals and not charging them or grabbing fur. I have to explain other people's belongings are not there for his benefit; sorry you can't pick them up and take them with you. I have to try and teach him about different foods and make sure enough healthy calories go into his body. I'm trying to teach him when he throws things away, particularly out of reach, he has to do without them.
And on and on and on. Every day there are countless teaching moments about acting right and I'm only with him two hours on weekdays. I don't resent this or even get bored. Hell, like I said, it's only two hours most days. I gotta pack in the time with useful things.
But damn, he still wears me out somehow in that window.
On an unrelated note, you could help me win free baby food: Vote for my video here and you'll help me save money, money, money.
My 13-month-old is a real character, basically. I'm working on extinguishing violence. We're firm about the hitting. We say no hitting, and we use a stern voice and an unimpressed face, no yelling, no antics, just a lack of rewarding reactions that might feed the behaviour. It's working, for the most part. He still does it, but doesn't repeat it, or will stop mid-hit and not make contact. He also seems very hesitant about hitting now, which is an improvement.
But damn, it's an ongoing thing. And that's just one thing. There's many things I have to be aware of. He just learned to climb stairs. Now I must follow him up and down on the playground because he has not learned to be careful around ledges. I have to have recurring dialogues about being kind to animals and not charging them or grabbing fur. I have to explain other people's belongings are not there for his benefit; sorry you can't pick them up and take them with you. I have to try and teach him about different foods and make sure enough healthy calories go into his body. I'm trying to teach him when he throws things away, particularly out of reach, he has to do without them.
And on and on and on. Every day there are countless teaching moments about acting right and I'm only with him two hours on weekdays. I don't resent this or even get bored. Hell, like I said, it's only two hours most days. I gotta pack in the time with useful things.
But damn, he still wears me out somehow in that window.
On an unrelated note, you could help me win free baby food: Vote for my video here and you'll help me save money, money, money.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
Jamie Bell Playground
How does one even cover a missed month of blogging? I think the answer is just don't bother.
So, today I took Jack to High Park playground for the first time. It wasn't our first time to High Park. We'd gone for the cherry blossoms within a month of him being born last year. I was exhausted quickly and we left after a small amount of time.
Today was better. Actually, better is an understatement. Jamie Bell Adventure Playground is amazing and now that Jack can walk confidently he zoomed all over the place. I like that it's sectioned off into differing levels where small children to older kids are fairly separated and the toddlers and kindergarteners can mosey about at their own pace.
So, today I took Jack to High Park playground for the first time. It wasn't our first time to High Park. We'd gone for the cherry blossoms within a month of him being born last year. I was exhausted quickly and we left after a small amount of time.
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| One Month old and giving zero hoots about the park. |
Today was better. Actually, better is an understatement. Jamie Bell Adventure Playground is amazing and now that Jack can walk confidently he zoomed all over the place. I like that it's sectioned off into differing levels where small children to older kids are fairly separated and the toddlers and kindergarteners can mosey about at their own pace.
From a distance the playground is pretty cool looking, but when you get right into the space you can see tunnels and nooks and crannies and tubes all over the place. What an incredible play space. And I like that the little kids section is fenced off so they can't easily run off.
I tried to get to get Jack to attempt climbing, but this guy was having none of it. Babies are so funny. They seem to zero in on certain abilities and milestones and ignore the rest. With all the babbling he's doing lately, I hope the next thing he's interested in is speech.
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| A year later and lovin' some park. |
Sometimes I miss mat leave. I wish I could have had it end after a few months of great weather rather than the polar vortex. If I was still off I'd be taking Jack out to all kinds of fun places now that the snow is gone. But I have to settle for weekends. But at least those weekends can be awesome.
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Dreams
Jack was unwell when I picked him up from daycare yesterday, and he had a fever. So today he's home with me, after a grand total of six work shifts.
He's getting some much-needed sleep right now. I was thinking about how some people have their parents to rely on in times like this. My work is good about accommodating this kind of thing, but it doesn't make me feel like a good employee to need time off this soon. But he needs me, so here I am. And, honestly, I'm the best person to make sure he sleeps and drinks enough.
But thinking about not having my mom gave me one of my old dreams, the one where she's still alive.
Normally they fall along a certain pattern. I find out she's not dead yet, but she's left me anyway, to go live her life somewhere else, to die away from me after doing things on her own first. I chase what feels like a shadow, look for clues, ask others, beg for a phone number, anything. I always wake up before I find her.
This time was a little different. She did leave, but now she's better and wants to see me. I'm so excited, and I'm trying to get to her, trying to dial a phone that won't work, be where I'm supposed to be with obstacle after obstacle in my way. I get messages and encouragement. And my son is alive in this dream. She wants to meet him. Everything is going to be better.
And then just like that, it's crushed. She faked her death, so I can't see her or the life insurance will sue. She won't see me. She goes back into hiding. I get to see a picture. She's happy. I know she loves me. And I wake up.
These dreams would haunt me more if they weren't the only opportunity I get to see her. And at least this time she wanted to see me back.
On my second week back to work, six days total under my belt. And my baby got a fever at daycare and now I need time off. #mommyproblems
— Jennifer Allan (@jendraberri) March 19, 2014
He's getting some much-needed sleep right now. I was thinking about how some people have their parents to rely on in times like this. My work is good about accommodating this kind of thing, but it doesn't make me feel like a good employee to need time off this soon. But he needs me, so here I am. And, honestly, I'm the best person to make sure he sleeps and drinks enough.
But thinking about not having my mom gave me one of my old dreams, the one where she's still alive.
Normally they fall along a certain pattern. I find out she's not dead yet, but she's left me anyway, to go live her life somewhere else, to die away from me after doing things on her own first. I chase what feels like a shadow, look for clues, ask others, beg for a phone number, anything. I always wake up before I find her.
This time was a little different. She did leave, but now she's better and wants to see me. I'm so excited, and I'm trying to get to her, trying to dial a phone that won't work, be where I'm supposed to be with obstacle after obstacle in my way. I get messages and encouragement. And my son is alive in this dream. She wants to meet him. Everything is going to be better.
And then just like that, it's crushed. She faked her death, so I can't see her or the life insurance will sue. She won't see me. She goes back into hiding. I get to see a picture. She's happy. I know she loves me. And I wake up.
These dreams would haunt me more if they weren't the only opportunity I get to see her. And at least this time she wanted to see me back.
Monday, March 17, 2014
First Week Of Daycare
Jack has spent a week at daycare. He's eaten his weight in food, dropped a bottle from his daily feed and is not taking much in the way of naps.
The eating part I'm feeling pretty great about. He's nearly a year old. Moving away from formula is a good move. The sleep part worries me. I've been so militant about it, going well out of my way to ensure he sleeps enough. But it's hard on him being somewhere new and trying to sleep there.
This weekend he stumbled around like a drunk, exhausted even after naps. He slept in. And today he had a leaky eye, runny nose and I got a call that he started running a mild temperature. He'd napped only an hour all day. He barely wanted dinner, so I did his bath routine 45 minutes early. And he's been waking up every 30 to 90 minutes with a cough or cry. Poor pumpkin.
And poor me.
You know, what's hard about being a parent isn't necessarily the extra labour. It's often the unknown variables you deal with. It's the lack of a support system when you're living away from most of your family. It's wondering how you balance your work obligations with your baby's needs. It's all the mental and emotional space your baby takes up in your mind and your heart.
Like right now, what do I do? He's wetting one fewer diapers than normal. Is it because he's sick? I don't want to wake him, but is his temperature staying steady? Was it the right thing to put him to bed early, or does that have anything to do with his restless sleep? These little choices feel so large.
I'm liking being back at work, but when Jack isn't feeling well, I don't want him away from me. I think he'll get better faster in my care. And I don't want to take time off work my second week back. He went till nine months without so much as a sniffle, and he's had three colds since, which actually lines up nicely with the increase in trips to the Early Years Centres and daycare. Sigh.
I wouldn't go back, but that doesn't mean there isn't a part of me that wistfully recalls my simpler life, which I didn't even appreciate as being simple. I can admit I struggle with certain aspects of domesticity, and throwing another person's needs into the mix at times feels daunting.
With him feeling under the weather, I feel no sense of predictability about tomorrow. At least this whole night has not been spent with him crying. Some sleep is happening. Maybe the morning will be okay. Maybe.
God, I'm lucky he's an easy baby. Jack is not the baby I deserve, but he is the baby I need.
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| Home after a busy day of daycare. |
The eating part I'm feeling pretty great about. He's nearly a year old. Moving away from formula is a good move. The sleep part worries me. I've been so militant about it, going well out of my way to ensure he sleeps enough. But it's hard on him being somewhere new and trying to sleep there.
This weekend he stumbled around like a drunk, exhausted even after naps. He slept in. And today he had a leaky eye, runny nose and I got a call that he started running a mild temperature. He'd napped only an hour all day. He barely wanted dinner, so I did his bath routine 45 minutes early. And he's been waking up every 30 to 90 minutes with a cough or cry. Poor pumpkin.
And poor me.
You know, what's hard about being a parent isn't necessarily the extra labour. It's often the unknown variables you deal with. It's the lack of a support system when you're living away from most of your family. It's wondering how you balance your work obligations with your baby's needs. It's all the mental and emotional space your baby takes up in your mind and your heart.
Like right now, what do I do? He's wetting one fewer diapers than normal. Is it because he's sick? I don't want to wake him, but is his temperature staying steady? Was it the right thing to put him to bed early, or does that have anything to do with his restless sleep? These little choices feel so large.
I'm liking being back at work, but when Jack isn't feeling well, I don't want him away from me. I think he'll get better faster in my care. And I don't want to take time off work my second week back. He went till nine months without so much as a sniffle, and he's had three colds since, which actually lines up nicely with the increase in trips to the Early Years Centres and daycare. Sigh.
I wouldn't go back, but that doesn't mean there isn't a part of me that wistfully recalls my simpler life, which I didn't even appreciate as being simple. I can admit I struggle with certain aspects of domesticity, and throwing another person's needs into the mix at times feels daunting.
With him feeling under the weather, I feel no sense of predictability about tomorrow. At least this whole night has not been spent with him crying. Some sleep is happening. Maybe the morning will be okay. Maybe.
God, I'm lucky he's an easy baby. Jack is not the baby I deserve, but he is the baby I need.
Sunday, March 9, 2014
End of Maternity Leave
I'm at the end of my mat leave. My last day was February 23, 2013. I took a little vacay, mat leave began on March 1, and bolstered by a little more vacay, I'm due back at work on Tuesday. Jack starts daycare on Monday.
Friday was the last real day, where I had my baby all to myself while the Dude was at work. And it was a really great day. In fact, I had a really good week. Jack had been kind of sick for two weeks, so we didn't do much for awhile. But last week was really lovely.
Monday the Dude took the day off and we went to the subsidy office.
Tuesday I took Jack to an Early Years Centre in the morning.
Wednesday I took Jack to an Early Years Centre in the afternoon.
Thursday a mom friend came over with her little boy in the afternoon for a nice visit.
Friday I took Jack for a long walk after a day of him eating plenty and taking great naps.
So, it's ending on a high note. The notes haven't all been high, but now that my leave is ending I realize just how much I'll miss it. It's an era of my life that's over. I watched my baby grow and it's been a sweet time.
Deep down, I guess I used to feel like parents had some sort of protocol or idea of what they're doing... but we're all really just flying kind of blind. I made everything up as I went, Googling, asking my doctor and other moms for information, and now I feel like I've got some sort of handle on it all. And just in time to go back to work and do things I'm completely rusty at.
I was rocking Jack in the glider yesterday evening as I fed him his last bottle of the day and I had a little cry. Very soon that time of the day is going to really matter more to me than ever before. At the end of a day of work, I'm going to have to get as much out of our time together as I can, all two hours of it.
The Dude and Jack have a great relationship, and sometimes the Dude doesn't even get to see Jack at the end of the day, though when he does he says it's amazing quality time. So I can't be afraid of our connection going anywhere. I was raised with daycare and was very attached to my mother.
It's just I don't think I'm fully ready for it to be over. That's all. If I could just have one more month, maybe, or two. There's so much I'm going to miss.
You know, it took me some time to adjust to being a mother, to truly fall in love with my baby and to get into a groove where I wasn't feeling inadequate. And now I'm there. But at least maternity leave did that for me. It gave me the time I needed to become confident and competent and to create a relationship with my son. I can't imagine what American mothers go through, leaving their babies at 6 weeks, 12 weeks... I had over 11 months and that still doesn't feel like enough.
But here we are. I'm lucky. I just have to remember that. Jack will be just fine, and soon so will I.
Friday was the last real day, where I had my baby all to myself while the Dude was at work. And it was a really great day. In fact, I had a really good week. Jack had been kind of sick for two weeks, so we didn't do much for awhile. But last week was really lovely.
Monday the Dude took the day off and we went to the subsidy office.
Tuesday I took Jack to an Early Years Centre in the morning.
Wednesday I took Jack to an Early Years Centre in the afternoon.
Thursday a mom friend came over with her little boy in the afternoon for a nice visit.
Friday I took Jack for a long walk after a day of him eating plenty and taking great naps.
So, it's ending on a high note. The notes haven't all been high, but now that my leave is ending I realize just how much I'll miss it. It's an era of my life that's over. I watched my baby grow and it's been a sweet time.
Deep down, I guess I used to feel like parents had some sort of protocol or idea of what they're doing... but we're all really just flying kind of blind. I made everything up as I went, Googling, asking my doctor and other moms for information, and now I feel like I've got some sort of handle on it all. And just in time to go back to work and do things I'm completely rusty at.
I was rocking Jack in the glider yesterday evening as I fed him his last bottle of the day and I had a little cry. Very soon that time of the day is going to really matter more to me than ever before. At the end of a day of work, I'm going to have to get as much out of our time together as I can, all two hours of it.
The Dude and Jack have a great relationship, and sometimes the Dude doesn't even get to see Jack at the end of the day, though when he does he says it's amazing quality time. So I can't be afraid of our connection going anywhere. I was raised with daycare and was very attached to my mother.
It's just I don't think I'm fully ready for it to be over. That's all. If I could just have one more month, maybe, or two. There's so much I'm going to miss.
You know, it took me some time to adjust to being a mother, to truly fall in love with my baby and to get into a groove where I wasn't feeling inadequate. And now I'm there. But at least maternity leave did that for me. It gave me the time I needed to become confident and competent and to create a relationship with my son. I can't imagine what American mothers go through, leaving their babies at 6 weeks, 12 weeks... I had over 11 months and that still doesn't feel like enough.
But here we are. I'm lucky. I just have to remember that. Jack will be just fine, and soon so will I.
.JPG) |
| We'll still have Sundays. |
Friday, February 28, 2014
End Of Maternity Leave Musings
10 days and no post?!
Well, Jack has had a runny nose and in the cold with its leakiness, I haven't much left the house with him. I took him for a doctor's appointment yesterday in the freeeeezing cold. During nap time. So I left early and walked there so he could nap in the stroller. That's love, man. But what was it all for? Nothing, really. He has a virus, non-contagious and even though it's last TWO WEEKS, it just has to run its course.
And I have one week left of maternity leave and this is how it gets spent.
I find myself really realizing what makes parenthood so challenging. It's not the loss of time, although that is an adjustment. It's not the new daily tasks you must perform, even though they're time sucks.
It's the not knowing how to do things.
It's wondering how to handle a baby when you've never cared for one and he's crying at night, even though he always sleeps through, and you don't know what his damage is this evening and maybe he needs Tylenol for teething (Is he teething?) or a bottle (Why is he hungry at 11 pm AND 5 am?)
It's wondering if he really should be eating purees still, and how are you going to manage dinner when mat leave is over because you never know what time your husband will get off work but your baby starts his bath routine at 6:30 and you won't even have him home till 5:00 after not seeing him all day, so make dinner?!
Should my baby be pointing? He's clapping and waving, but pointing is not happening. What do you mean 11-month-old babies can speak words? Does bababababa or dadadada count? He's walking everywhere! That's early? Why did he have to be advanced in the one area that makes life harder?! No, he's not using a spoon. He's gagging and vomiting if he doesn't care for the texture of what he's eating.
It's an endless sea of questions you don't have the answers to. You're enclosed in a dome of shoulds.
And now with barely no time at all left in my leave, I find myself almost mentally throwing in the towel. The daycare will help him now. I've done all I can, all I know how to do. I need to outsource some of this.
And of course it'll lead to other concerns: Is he getting enough attention? Is he eating enough at daycare? Sleeping enough? What's he doing now?
Sigh. Ambivalence.
It takes up a lot of mental space. It's the largest emotional investment I've ever made. I'm never done; there's always more issues and development and cleaning and mobility ahead.
I'm starting to forget life before Jack. Not intellectually. I recall lazy Sundays and brunch, going out for a movie in the evening, dinner invites on a whim, my friend's houses, quick travel. What I only vaguely recall is the lack of responsibility. I've acclimatized to being truly needed, physically depended on for life and survival. It's a part of my daily mentality. There's no going back.
And with that comes the sense all the shit I do now really matters. And it kind of does. Think about going home and eating dinner and talking to someone. Now what's for dinner plays into a child's growth and nutrition. The way I speak models language and behaviour. The way I interact with my husband around my baby teaches about relationships and communication. The toys I provide and the places I take him are opportunities for learning through play.
And these are everyday considerations.
Motherhood is not coal mining hard. It's not air traffic control hard. It's not being an astronaut hard. It's just... hard, in an unending sort of way.
And the really messed up part of it is how if you asked me if I'd take any of it away I'd look at you like you were crazy. This hardness, it's all mine. And the Dude's. Relinquishing it is horrifying.
And yet that's what mat leave ending is kind of about on a small scale. It's going to be a dizzying amount of personal freedom, coupled by sadness, along with worry and excitement at the end of the day. It's exhausting to think about.
Well, Jack has had a runny nose and in the cold with its leakiness, I haven't much left the house with him. I took him for a doctor's appointment yesterday in the freeeeezing cold. During nap time. So I left early and walked there so he could nap in the stroller. That's love, man. But what was it all for? Nothing, really. He has a virus, non-contagious and even though it's last TWO WEEKS, it just has to run its course.
And I have one week left of maternity leave and this is how it gets spent.
I find myself really realizing what makes parenthood so challenging. It's not the loss of time, although that is an adjustment. It's not the new daily tasks you must perform, even though they're time sucks.
It's the not knowing how to do things.
It's wondering how to handle a baby when you've never cared for one and he's crying at night, even though he always sleeps through, and you don't know what his damage is this evening and maybe he needs Tylenol for teething (Is he teething?) or a bottle (Why is he hungry at 11 pm AND 5 am?)
It's wondering if he really should be eating purees still, and how are you going to manage dinner when mat leave is over because you never know what time your husband will get off work but your baby starts his bath routine at 6:30 and you won't even have him home till 5:00 after not seeing him all day, so make dinner?!
Should my baby be pointing? He's clapping and waving, but pointing is not happening. What do you mean 11-month-old babies can speak words? Does bababababa or dadadada count? He's walking everywhere! That's early? Why did he have to be advanced in the one area that makes life harder?! No, he's not using a spoon. He's gagging and vomiting if he doesn't care for the texture of what he's eating.
It's an endless sea of questions you don't have the answers to. You're enclosed in a dome of shoulds.
And now with barely no time at all left in my leave, I find myself almost mentally throwing in the towel. The daycare will help him now. I've done all I can, all I know how to do. I need to outsource some of this.
And of course it'll lead to other concerns: Is he getting enough attention? Is he eating enough at daycare? Sleeping enough? What's he doing now?
Sigh. Ambivalence.
It takes up a lot of mental space. It's the largest emotional investment I've ever made. I'm never done; there's always more issues and development and cleaning and mobility ahead.
I'm starting to forget life before Jack. Not intellectually. I recall lazy Sundays and brunch, going out for a movie in the evening, dinner invites on a whim, my friend's houses, quick travel. What I only vaguely recall is the lack of responsibility. I've acclimatized to being truly needed, physically depended on for life and survival. It's a part of my daily mentality. There's no going back.
And with that comes the sense all the shit I do now really matters. And it kind of does. Think about going home and eating dinner and talking to someone. Now what's for dinner plays into a child's growth and nutrition. The way I speak models language and behaviour. The way I interact with my husband around my baby teaches about relationships and communication. The toys I provide and the places I take him are opportunities for learning through play.
And these are everyday considerations.
Motherhood is not coal mining hard. It's not air traffic control hard. It's not being an astronaut hard. It's just... hard, in an unending sort of way.
And the really messed up part of it is how if you asked me if I'd take any of it away I'd look at you like you were crazy. This hardness, it's all mine. And the Dude's. Relinquishing it is horrifying.
And yet that's what mat leave ending is kind of about on a small scale. It's going to be a dizzying amount of personal freedom, coupled by sadness, along with worry and excitement at the end of the day. It's exhausting to think about.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Countdown to Daycare
So, last time I wrote, Jack was not walking. Well, now he is.
And this started, like, last week. He can walk the length of the living room now. My boy, he's up and at 'em. He's really proud of himself, too. I say, "Come to Mommy!" when he's on his feet and he toddles right over with a happy little expression on his face.
And he's only 10 months, which is earlier than the norm to hit this milestone. And that's really awesome. It's also the scariest one, the walking. It's just so many more opportunities for my baby to hurt himself, and oh, he has already. He's taken nosedives into his activity cube, his play pen, the jumperoo, ironically all baby-friendly things.
And his little face, he looks so much like the Dude now. He used to be a replica of me, and now I'm seeing my husband more and more, which is kind of great. I was feeling bad for the Dude for awhile, only because everyone was telling him they could only see me.
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| Five months, all me. |
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| 10 months, looking Dude-like. |
Every mom thinks her baby is adorable, so obviously I'm stupidly biased, but look at that face! He's just so handsome. I hope this trend of looking like his dad continues. I'm not bad looking, but although my baby face looks great on an actual baby, I don't know how well it'll translate on a young man.
But his wonderful appearance aside, what's really on my mind is daycare. I go back to work on March 11. What the hell. I don't understand how that is even possible. I remember when my mat leave stretched ahead of me like an unending and confusing sea of time I had no idea how to navigate.
I spent the first chunk attached to a pump and feeling mixtures of failure, frustration and denial over my inability to exclusively breastfeed. Then another few months was spent getting emotionally comfortable with bottle feeding, trying to get out and meet people, and learning to understand my baby's daily rhythms.
The last chunk has been spent really getting to know my baby. His personality is blooming and I love it. I love who he is. He's so charming and friendly. Stranger anxiety? He never developed it. He's very confident. He seems to even have a little sense of humour. Babies aren't supposed to have that yet, but he's laughed at his own farts and when I make funny noises. He's a brave kid too. He doesn't wait until he's sure he can do stuff. He just tries things out and keeps at it, injuries and all, until he's got it figured out. He's relaxed and easily distracted. He loves books.
And now someone else will be looking after him all day. But, I think he'll be fine. He's got a little sense of adventure and he'll have fun. He'll have new toys to play with and other people to talk to. And at daycare he'll learn new things, stuff that as a first-time mom with no baby experience I don't know anything about.
He'll eat new food, learn to nap in less idyllic conditions, and hopefully later learn to drink from a sippy cup and use utensils. There's just stuff that I guess you could say I'll be outsourcing. It'll no longer be just me teaching him things. And that's okay. The whole "it takes a village thing" is true.
I believe in daycare. I think it's positive for children. I think it'll be good to have some separation. But... yeah. It'll be a change. It's an end to an era. How could I not feel conflicted?
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Harder, But Better
 |
| Just a tad snowy out. |
These are the little things that can make your day feel harder than it really was. I remember when I first had Jack and the weather was a little wet, and then it was summer and I felt it was too hard to get out and do things. Ohohohoho! I was naive.
No outer clothing for me or the baby. I had to pack bottles, no solids. Baby poop was not offensive yet. Jack was not mobile and could be plopped down and left quietly in the car seat while I took care of business setting up outside. The sidewalks were clear. His naps were ongoing and he could be swaddled anywhere and doze off.
Having a 10-month-old in winter, who is mobile and alert and more on a schedule and eating real stuff, well, that's another ball of wax. Also, no more coffee shop dates with moms. I gots to go to baby-centric stuff now because Jack gets antsy and wants to see what the world is made of.
And all the Early Years Centres have narrow time windows that always coincide with nap times. And I ain't missing no naps! Not worth it. You try dealing with Crank Master J when that happens.
I don't even think I've hit the crux of difficulty yet. Jack doesn't protest when we leave a place where he's having fun. He can't walk, which means he cannot run away from me. He cannot say "no." And he will do all these things at a time that overlaps with still being in diapers.
Fear.
But I will not end this post on such a weary note. My boy, he's been doing spiffy stuff. Standing independently is increasingly steadier. He's finding his centre of gravity. He lowers himself with surprising grace as he attempts to balance.
Also, he's started saying "Mmm" after every bite of food. And he claps now. Sometimes he claps while we're feeding him, which is amazing. He likes to listen to the Dude play the guitar and he plucks the strings. He knows Cookie Monster and Big Bird (He has the dolls) and when we ask him where they are, he finds them and brings them to us.
In closing, my son is super adorable. Life's a little harder, but fuck it.
 |
| <3 |
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Home Daycare
I have had a hard week. The Dude has been working overtime since Monday and it's Thursday. He's not even home yet. I get occasional texts from him lamenting his situation. And I've been exhausted. I used to be able to rely on the Dude handling bath time, maybe being home for Jack's dinner or some play. Not this week. I've been going it alone and it's tiring.
Last week I visited a daycare. And I took it. I rather wish it had been a more thorough search, but this city is not set up for childcare options. There are wait lists a year long (some requiring big deposits), not enough infant spaces and a parent right behind you ready and waiting to take the spot you didn't want.
The lady I met was nice and she took a shine to Jack. He seemed happy with the other children and it's an easy drop-off from our house en route to the Dude's work. It was safe, clean and I was able to pop in last minute, which gave me confidence.
I did want a centre, though, not a home daycare. I grew up going to a centre and there was a lot of space and activities, with plenty of children around. But infant spaces are few and far between. There just wasn't an open spot for when I needed it in the centre so I had to look into home care instead.
But I do see advantages to home daycare. For example, Jack really likes older kids and is not interested in his fellow babies. He'll be the youngest child, so he might like that. At a centre, he'd be around only other infants.
Also, fewer kids at the home daycare means fewer chances of coming home with a bug. You can't avoid illness with daycares, but limited kids means lower chances of frequent colds.
But still... it's a little unnerving to me. Here's the thing: I was just on my way out to see a different daycare when I talked to the provider and she told me the space just got filled. Just like that. Another provider told me I'd have to wait till a week before I needed the space to tour it. What? It was sheer luck that this other space was suggested to me and I could go right then.
And there was another agency I looked into, but they don't do the daycare subsidy and frankly we need it. We'll be daycare poor without a subsidy and so daycares that offer it have to take priority over ones that don't. Such is life.
There are very pretty centres that I didn't even bother getting on the wait list for, only because they didn't have the subsidy and $1,400 to $1,500 a month for their space is more than our rent. It really sucks that no matter how much you love your baby and how bad you want the best for them, you're limited in your options by your financial situation.
But again, nice lady, safe and clean home, the menu sounded good, she was okay using our cloth diapers and she has a fenced-in backyard. The inspectors had recently come by, and ultimately I didn't get the no-feeling.
I'm planning on moving him to a centre when he becomes a toddler, though. There will be space for him then.
And don't get me started on how this makes me feel. Even after a tiring week of solo parenting, I'll still miss him and worry all day because it's new and different. Sigh.
Last week I visited a daycare. And I took it. I rather wish it had been a more thorough search, but this city is not set up for childcare options. There are wait lists a year long (some requiring big deposits), not enough infant spaces and a parent right behind you ready and waiting to take the spot you didn't want.
The lady I met was nice and she took a shine to Jack. He seemed happy with the other children and it's an easy drop-off from our house en route to the Dude's work. It was safe, clean and I was able to pop in last minute, which gave me confidence.
I did want a centre, though, not a home daycare. I grew up going to a centre and there was a lot of space and activities, with plenty of children around. But infant spaces are few and far between. There just wasn't an open spot for when I needed it in the centre so I had to look into home care instead.
But I do see advantages to home daycare. For example, Jack really likes older kids and is not interested in his fellow babies. He'll be the youngest child, so he might like that. At a centre, he'd be around only other infants.
Also, fewer kids at the home daycare means fewer chances of coming home with a bug. You can't avoid illness with daycares, but limited kids means lower chances of frequent colds.
But still... it's a little unnerving to me. Here's the thing: I was just on my way out to see a different daycare when I talked to the provider and she told me the space just got filled. Just like that. Another provider told me I'd have to wait till a week before I needed the space to tour it. What? It was sheer luck that this other space was suggested to me and I could go right then.
And there was another agency I looked into, but they don't do the daycare subsidy and frankly we need it. We'll be daycare poor without a subsidy and so daycares that offer it have to take priority over ones that don't. Such is life.
There are very pretty centres that I didn't even bother getting on the wait list for, only because they didn't have the subsidy and $1,400 to $1,500 a month for their space is more than our rent. It really sucks that no matter how much you love your baby and how bad you want the best for them, you're limited in your options by your financial situation.
But again, nice lady, safe and clean home, the menu sounded good, she was okay using our cloth diapers and she has a fenced-in backyard. The inspectors had recently come by, and ultimately I didn't get the no-feeling.
I'm planning on moving him to a centre when he becomes a toddler, though. There will be space for him then.
And don't get me started on how this makes me feel. Even after a tiring week of solo parenting, I'll still miss him and worry all day because it's new and different. Sigh.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Too Cold Out For Baby
There once was a time I could put my baby down to sleep and he'd fall asleep. He'd stay asleep until about 5:00, where he'd want a bottle and then I'd give him one and then he'd fall back asleep until 6:30ish.
This evening and yesterday evening and the one before that I had a baby who screamed himself to sleep. Because reasons. Reasons I don't fully know.
Oh, I could guess.
He was sick and then had a growth spurt and got into the habit of being picked up when he woke and then rocked in a glider with a bottle. How cozy. And no more of that because health is restored and that's not going to be a regular feature of life now because that ain't how you sooth yourself to sleep. But maybe he's still adjusting to that sad reality.
I can relate, though, to be honest. I've always been a crummy sleeper and when you find a sleep crutch, you become very resistant to sleeping without. But infancy is a good time to get with the program.
Another possibility is separation anxiety. He's become noticeably more attached to us these days and at night he may just not want to let us go anymore. I have less sympathy for that. Isn't that awful? But no, seriously, I can't be soft and stay in the room with him all night, loving him to sleep. He'll just wake up, I won't be there and then WAAAAHHH!
It's hard to listen to, it really is. Took him 30 minutes to calm down tonight.
And he's waking in the night, desperately in want of a bottle. I think it's thirst. The air is dry down there, despite the humidifier. He had a nosebleed last night. He's not taking in much, and he croaks when he cries, so that's an additional culprit.
And I feel like there's little I can do to fix this. Oh, I am a believer in sleep training. I've done it before and I'll do it again. I did it tonight. But shit. It's very taxing and I feel alone. I know I'm not; parents around the globe deal with this stuff. But I still feel isolated with this problem.
Also, I haven't left the house since Saturday and it's Wednesday. Prior to that it had been five days since leaving the house. At first it was being sick with a sick baby that kept me in. Now it's the damn polar vortex or whatever they're calling it. Take a baby out in a windchill of -30 with icy sidewalks? Well, that sounds right terrible.
I'm getting stir crazy. I do know I have to tour a daycare on Friday. That's a whole different post, though. Daycare. Good grief.
This evening and yesterday evening and the one before that I had a baby who screamed himself to sleep. Because reasons. Reasons I don't fully know.
Oh, I could guess.
He was sick and then had a growth spurt and got into the habit of being picked up when he woke and then rocked in a glider with a bottle. How cozy. And no more of that because health is restored and that's not going to be a regular feature of life now because that ain't how you sooth yourself to sleep. But maybe he's still adjusting to that sad reality.
I can relate, though, to be honest. I've always been a crummy sleeper and when you find a sleep crutch, you become very resistant to sleeping without. But infancy is a good time to get with the program.
Another possibility is separation anxiety. He's become noticeably more attached to us these days and at night he may just not want to let us go anymore. I have less sympathy for that. Isn't that awful? But no, seriously, I can't be soft and stay in the room with him all night, loving him to sleep. He'll just wake up, I won't be there and then WAAAAHHH!
It's hard to listen to, it really is. Took him 30 minutes to calm down tonight.
And he's waking in the night, desperately in want of a bottle. I think it's thirst. The air is dry down there, despite the humidifier. He had a nosebleed last night. He's not taking in much, and he croaks when he cries, so that's an additional culprit.
And I feel like there's little I can do to fix this. Oh, I am a believer in sleep training. I've done it before and I'll do it again. I did it tonight. But shit. It's very taxing and I feel alone. I know I'm not; parents around the globe deal with this stuff. But I still feel isolated with this problem.
Also, I haven't left the house since Saturday and it's Wednesday. Prior to that it had been five days since leaving the house. At first it was being sick with a sick baby that kept me in. Now it's the damn polar vortex or whatever they're calling it. Take a baby out in a windchill of -30 with icy sidewalks? Well, that sounds right terrible.
I'm getting stir crazy. I do know I have to tour a daycare on Friday. That's a whole different post, though. Daycare. Good grief.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
When Baby Has a Cold
Jack has his first cold.
Oh, I could talk about Christmas, all the lovely things our families gave our son and the joy of watching my son grip the wrapping paper and make small tears. But on Boxing Day, it all came to a screeching halt. But I'll go ahead and briefly describe the BC (Before Cold) era.
See, we had rolled into my mother-in-law's Christmas eve before the sun set, had dinner and put Jack to bed. We woke up to a picturesque sight. The ice storm that hit the province days before had the trees glistening in the sunlight. She lives in a small town and the views from any angle are all things charming.
We did Christmas dinner at my aunt's house and spent the night. I had too much wine. Then in the afternoon we headed on out to a family friend's house on the island, and then off to the Dude's aunt and uncle's for dinner. Jack seemed to be holding up well enough, but was clearly starting to get grumpy. So, sensibly, we left. In the morning, we would see the Dude's grandmother in the nursing home and then come back home to Toronto.
That totally didn't happen.
I can't remember when it started, but Jack started waking up crying. I always take the night shift. If it's rough, I'll just sleep in from 6:00 a.m. on and the Dude will handle the morning. But the crying wouldn't stop and he felt warm. Eventually I had to wake up the Dude and we brought our baby into the bed. The Dude got maybe a few hours of sleep. I got none.
While I recuperated from a night that was hell on wheels, the Dude and his mom brought Jack to the walk-in clinic. Verdict? A cold.
Now, I didn't know this, but A. a baby often has several colds in the first year, and B. they can last TEN days. 10. One-zero. Cue misery. I mean, we had obviously gotten away with something all this time never having dealt with a BC before, but it was here now and damn it.
We did not visit grandmother, we did not go home. We stayed at my MIL's and took care of business. This was nice. Food and drink were made available, no housework need be done and we could just focus on taking care of our sick baby and otherwise resting from caring for our sick baby.
And then I had to spend all night alone with him. The Dude needed to drive home and fatigue on the highway serves no one. So, I got the queen bed to myself with the baby and he laid on me all night, effectively keeping me awake until 6:30 a.m.
He'd wake up with a hoarse cry and I'd give him some formula. Then he woke up some more and I had no more supplies in the room, so I left him crying in the travel crib while I mixed him up another bottle. He woke up a lot to sob about his impacted breathing, and pitifully snuffle and wail. I'd give him baby Tylenol every four hours to keep a fever at bay.
In the morning I was relieved of my duties and I slept for 4.5 hours. But then it was go time and I was on the clock. We got home in one piece, and I did the night shift again when Jack wouldn't sleep in his crib, even with it on an incline to promote drainage.
So today, knowing that tomorrow I would have no sleeping in with the Dude back at work for two days, I got cracking. I researched everything and then I set out. I got my nails done first to give myself a break, but then I got serious.
1. Vicks VapoSteam. The Dude bought a humidifier and we have it running now. You add a little VapoSteam and it gives a little extra sumpin' sumpin' to the steam to help clear the sinuses.
2. Hydrasense Easydose. I use the regular full power stuff on myself for allergies and this stuff does not kid around. So we tried it. They come in capsules and we squirt one into each nostril and then wipe up the contents as they make their gross exit. (Okay, this is so gross, but one time it worked so well that a giant booger shot through to the other side of the nose and when I squirt up that side next, the capsule acted like a suction and sucked it right out. Incredible in its ickiness.)
3. Shower steam room. And! For bonus effectiveness, I put some of the VapoSteam in the shower and created this medicinal box of easy breathing. I ran Jack's bath and a whole bunch of stuff came out of his nose by the time the bath was over.
4. Vick VapoRub. Classic. We use just a dab on his chest.
5. Crib is still on an incline for drainage.
And for hydration, I added an ounce of water to the formula because Jack doesn't seem keen on drinking water on its own. And of course Baby Tylenol every four hours.
No screwing around.
So far Jack has woken up once, but went back to sleep. We'll see how well this goes. The Dude got Jack sleeping a lot for naps in the car seat (Again, the recline was the key) and I'm going to use all these tips and tricks to keep things going tomorrow.
I really do think my baby is a trooper, though. Not only is he going through his first cold, but he also cut two more teeth while at my MIL's. He could have been so much worse.
Oh, parenting.
But know what's great? He's been so snuggly and cuddly with me, and he can't do without his stuffed Big Bird. Precious.
Oh, I could talk about Christmas, all the lovely things our families gave our son and the joy of watching my son grip the wrapping paper and make small tears. But on Boxing Day, it all came to a screeching halt. But I'll go ahead and briefly describe the BC (Before Cold) era.
See, we had rolled into my mother-in-law's Christmas eve before the sun set, had dinner and put Jack to bed. We woke up to a picturesque sight. The ice storm that hit the province days before had the trees glistening in the sunlight. She lives in a small town and the views from any angle are all things charming.
We did Christmas dinner at my aunt's house and spent the night. I had too much wine. Then in the afternoon we headed on out to a family friend's house on the island, and then off to the Dude's aunt and uncle's for dinner. Jack seemed to be holding up well enough, but was clearly starting to get grumpy. So, sensibly, we left. In the morning, we would see the Dude's grandmother in the nursing home and then come back home to Toronto.
That totally didn't happen.
I can't remember when it started, but Jack started waking up crying. I always take the night shift. If it's rough, I'll just sleep in from 6:00 a.m. on and the Dude will handle the morning. But the crying wouldn't stop and he felt warm. Eventually I had to wake up the Dude and we brought our baby into the bed. The Dude got maybe a few hours of sleep. I got none.
While I recuperated from a night that was hell on wheels, the Dude and his mom brought Jack to the walk-in clinic. Verdict? A cold.
Now, I didn't know this, but A. a baby often has several colds in the first year, and B. they can last TEN days. 10. One-zero. Cue misery. I mean, we had obviously gotten away with something all this time never having dealt with a BC before, but it was here now and damn it.
We did not visit grandmother, we did not go home. We stayed at my MIL's and took care of business. This was nice. Food and drink were made available, no housework need be done and we could just focus on taking care of our sick baby and otherwise resting from caring for our sick baby.
And then I had to spend all night alone with him. The Dude needed to drive home and fatigue on the highway serves no one. So, I got the queen bed to myself with the baby and he laid on me all night, effectively keeping me awake until 6:30 a.m.
He'd wake up with a hoarse cry and I'd give him some formula. Then he woke up some more and I had no more supplies in the room, so I left him crying in the travel crib while I mixed him up another bottle. He woke up a lot to sob about his impacted breathing, and pitifully snuffle and wail. I'd give him baby Tylenol every four hours to keep a fever at bay.
In the morning I was relieved of my duties and I slept for 4.5 hours. But then it was go time and I was on the clock. We got home in one piece, and I did the night shift again when Jack wouldn't sleep in his crib, even with it on an incline to promote drainage.
So today, knowing that tomorrow I would have no sleeping in with the Dude back at work for two days, I got cracking. I researched everything and then I set out. I got my nails done first to give myself a break, but then I got serious.
1. Vicks VapoSteam. The Dude bought a humidifier and we have it running now. You add a little VapoSteam and it gives a little extra sumpin' sumpin' to the steam to help clear the sinuses.
2. Hydrasense Easydose. I use the regular full power stuff on myself for allergies and this stuff does not kid around. So we tried it. They come in capsules and we squirt one into each nostril and then wipe up the contents as they make their gross exit. (Okay, this is so gross, but one time it worked so well that a giant booger shot through to the other side of the nose and when I squirt up that side next, the capsule acted like a suction and sucked it right out. Incredible in its ickiness.)
3. Shower steam room. And! For bonus effectiveness, I put some of the VapoSteam in the shower and created this medicinal box of easy breathing. I ran Jack's bath and a whole bunch of stuff came out of his nose by the time the bath was over.
4. Vick VapoRub. Classic. We use just a dab on his chest.
5. Crib is still on an incline for drainage.
And for hydration, I added an ounce of water to the formula because Jack doesn't seem keen on drinking water on its own. And of course Baby Tylenol every four hours.
No screwing around.
So far Jack has woken up once, but went back to sleep. We'll see how well this goes. The Dude got Jack sleeping a lot for naps in the car seat (Again, the recline was the key) and I'm going to use all these tips and tricks to keep things going tomorrow.
I really do think my baby is a trooper, though. Not only is he going through his first cold, but he also cut two more teeth while at my MIL's. He could have been so much worse.
Oh, parenting.
But know what's great? He's been so snuggly and cuddly with me, and he can't do without his stuffed Big Bird. Precious.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Presents for Baby
So, what do you give a baby for Christmas? Do you go ALL OUT because it's your first time having a child of your own for the holiday? Do you skip giving any presents at all because baby doesn't know Christmas from Tuesday? Do you use the day as an excuse to buy your baby a few new age-appropriate things you were going to get him anyway, and simply wrap them up for effect?
If you chose the last one, you're like me. It's tempting to spoil your baby because love. But really, you don't want to get into the hoopla of overspending. It can create a bad cycle.
So, we got him three things. One from Pa, one from Ma and one from Santa. Then there's whatever else grandparents are planning to do and I'd say it's one happy little Christmas. Although, Jack would be just as happy if I handed him my smart phone and turned on the screen. Hell, touching the remote control is a good day for him. But oh well.
So, the things we got him are a puzzle, a block set and a tambourine.
The blocks are simple painted little things:
And I don't have photos for the other two, but the tambourine was fun. I took Jack into the toy store and, as I like to do, put various toys in his hands to see what he liked. Oh, he banged that tambourine around and smiled like he'd found some kind of candy Jesus. So, that was a win.
And the puzzle looked neato. Babies don't really do those, but this one is suitable for a one-year-old because the pieces can fit into various places. It's really weird for me to imagine Jack being able to use it. He's eight months old. He can't stack blocks even. He knocks them down and bangs them together. Hell, I remember when that was a big deal.
Actually, he's crawling now, and that's the current big thing. He's romping around the apartment like an elephant. He doesn't go on his knees, he's rump in the air and on all fours. It's adorable. Tiring, but sweet. It's amazing how endlessly fascinated he is with things like lint or handles or crumbs. And how much his discoveries point out how bad I need to clean the house.
I'm wondering if he'll like ripping wrapping paper. I'm not holding out hope he'll actually open presents, but if he at least enjoys the spectacle that is opened presents amongst ribbons and tissue paper, that'll be enough.
Oh man, a child of my own at Christmas. This is it. This is the beginning of the kind of holiday joy I've been waiting for. Squee!
If you chose the last one, you're like me. It's tempting to spoil your baby because love. But really, you don't want to get into the hoopla of overspending. It can create a bad cycle.
So, we got him three things. One from Pa, one from Ma and one from Santa. Then there's whatever else grandparents are planning to do and I'd say it's one happy little Christmas. Although, Jack would be just as happy if I handed him my smart phone and turned on the screen. Hell, touching the remote control is a good day for him. But oh well.
So, the things we got him are a puzzle, a block set and a tambourine.
The blocks are simple painted little things:
 |
| Cute! |
And the puzzle looked neato. Babies don't really do those, but this one is suitable for a one-year-old because the pieces can fit into various places. It's really weird for me to imagine Jack being able to use it. He's eight months old. He can't stack blocks even. He knocks them down and bangs them together. Hell, I remember when that was a big deal.
Actually, he's crawling now, and that's the current big thing. He's romping around the apartment like an elephant. He doesn't go on his knees, he's rump in the air and on all fours. It's adorable. Tiring, but sweet. It's amazing how endlessly fascinated he is with things like lint or handles or crumbs. And how much his discoveries point out how bad I need to clean the house.
I'm wondering if he'll like ripping wrapping paper. I'm not holding out hope he'll actually open presents, but if he at least enjoys the spectacle that is opened presents amongst ribbons and tissue paper, that'll be enough.
Oh man, a child of my own at Christmas. This is it. This is the beginning of the kind of holiday joy I've been waiting for. Squee!
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Mom Gets Out
Oh, I am the WORST! Yes, I kinda sorta quit blogging briefly. Why? Oh who knows. Laziness, I guess.
Or maybe I've just been kind of living it up a bit. Oh yes! I have had a slew of fun things going on around here.
I'll detail my awesome week(ish) away.
1. Paint Nite. The premise is this: you go with friends to a pub/restaurant and paint the same thing. There's a master to copy from with an instructor to guide you along the way. Everyone comes with with a different version of the same basic work.
We all started off feeling like we were doing a terrible job and wondering what sort of crap we were going to bring home. I usually have a lot of artistic confidence that I'll be able to create something decent, but early on even I started feeling like it was all going to hell. But the beauty of Paint Nite is really in how simple it really is to make a good painting. We all wound up making something pretty nice.
But the best part was that everyone except me thought it would be lame, but were still up for it anyway. Turns out they all had fun and I got to feel good my pals were up for what they thought would be a crummy experience just to hang out! But seriously, though, it is a good time. And you get to bring home some art.
Or maybe I've just been kind of living it up a bit. Oh yes! I have had a slew of fun things going on around here.
I'll detail my awesome week(ish) away.
1. Paint Nite. The premise is this: you go with friends to a pub/restaurant and paint the same thing. There's a master to copy from with an instructor to guide you along the way. Everyone comes with with a different version of the same basic work.
 |
| Half done! |
We all started off feeling like we were doing a terrible job and wondering what sort of crap we were going to bring home. I usually have a lot of artistic confidence that I'll be able to create something decent, but early on even I started feeling like it was all going to hell. But the beauty of Paint Nite is really in how simple it really is to make a good painting. We all wound up making something pretty nice.
 |
| With my friends! |
But the best part was that everyone except me thought it would be lame, but were still up for it anyway. Turns out they all had fun and I got to feel good my pals were up for what they thought would be a crummy experience just to hang out! But seriously, though, it is a good time. And you get to bring home some art.
2. One Of A Kind Show. So, I made plans with a friend to go on a Sunday, nice and early in the schedule, and we moseyed. This friend, she's good at the moseying, and you need to be to see as much as you can. I did wind up getting some stuff that day: A stained-glass window and a new clock.
(The clock is for the living room. The Dude brought home a boring-ass IKEA clock that looks like something you'd see in a passport renewal office. So, I brought home a neato clock from the OOAKS. It now hangs in our living room looking like perfection. I had texted him a picture of it from the sales booth and received a very resigned text back. There is no fighting me if I want a cow clock.)
 |
| Moo. I really have a love for cows for some reason. |
And of course I bought treats.
But I wound up going the next day too. My in-laws were in town to help my sister-in-law with the OOAKS and my father-in-law helpfully offered to babysit while I enjoyed myself at the show with my step mother-in-law (Seems like a weird title, but it's helpful to differentiate between the two mothers-in-law I have for the sake of clarity). So, why the hell not? Off I went from 9:30 to... 4:00.
4:00! I had no intention of being gone that long, but I got caught up in a whirl of obstacles. I did, however, manage to get my niece a present. I wanted to get her something special, as life has been a little up in the air and I've barely been able to see her at all. So I thought some clothes would be the thing.
I found this adorable jacket that was priced at $40 and when I came back ready to buy it, I saw there was a blouse inside that was marked $40. So I'd read the wrong tag initially. The jacket's real price? Not $40 after all. $250. I did not buy it. I was grateful to be spared the experience of taking an exorbitantly priced children's garment to the cash only to explain I thought it was $210 cheaper so I couldn't actually afford it.
Oh, and I also bought more treats.
3. My birthday party! I turned 31 this week and on Saturday we had my party. My friends all came and made merry. It was my first time playing Cards Against Humanity, which for some reason everyone thought I might be too delicate for. Apparently, I come across as something of a ladylike person, which I have no idea how. But it was a crazy game and we literally played until there were no more cards left.
How to describe this game... well, in one round the topic was Michael Jackson. Everyone picked the card from their stack of 10 to best describe him and the ones I can remember, although they were all wildly appropriate, were: Daddy issues, poor life choices, jerking off into a pool of children's tears (That one won).
Crazy thing is my birthday totally snuck up on me this year. 31 is no big deal. And I keep thinking about Jack's upcoming first birthday. My year has been measured by watching this wee guy grow and change rapidly. School used to be the marker of time. Then there was adjusting to no school. The seasons and birthdays and Christmas/New Years did that. And now there is a little person in my house showing me in a tangible way how fast time is truly passing. It's sort of upsetting. I mean, I love him and get excited about his development, but wow. Somehow I'm a mother to an eight-month-old and one day I'll be a mother to a child, and then a teenager, and then another adult. And I'll be old.
That's not really what I see or think about when I look at him. When I see my baby's face, I feel affection and warmth and pride. His little smile lights up my life. It's when I'm in bed trying to sleep that my eventual hardcore aging and demise start to creep in. That or thoughts of zombies. It's a sad fact about me that for some reason if I think about zombies, I just can't fall asleep.
But when I don't think about zombies, I think about my son, and taking him places and doing things. This will be his first Christmas. He doesn't understand a dang thing; we set up the tree today with him beside us and he gave zero fucks. He cares about the cats a lot more than he cares about our sparkly Christmas tree. But it's still exciting and sweet. It's the beginning of him learning about winter and the holidays.
And now it needs to be the beginning of bed time. For whatever reason, even after having a baby, I can't fall asleep at a decent hour. I suppose this is just the way I'm wired.
Oh, and I also bought more treats.
3. My birthday party! I turned 31 this week and on Saturday we had my party. My friends all came and made merry. It was my first time playing Cards Against Humanity, which for some reason everyone thought I might be too delicate for. Apparently, I come across as something of a ladylike person, which I have no idea how. But it was a crazy game and we literally played until there were no more cards left.
How to describe this game... well, in one round the topic was Michael Jackson. Everyone picked the card from their stack of 10 to best describe him and the ones I can remember, although they were all wildly appropriate, were: Daddy issues, poor life choices, jerking off into a pool of children's tears (That one won).
Crazy thing is my birthday totally snuck up on me this year. 31 is no big deal. And I keep thinking about Jack's upcoming first birthday. My year has been measured by watching this wee guy grow and change rapidly. School used to be the marker of time. Then there was adjusting to no school. The seasons and birthdays and Christmas/New Years did that. And now there is a little person in my house showing me in a tangible way how fast time is truly passing. It's sort of upsetting. I mean, I love him and get excited about his development, but wow. Somehow I'm a mother to an eight-month-old and one day I'll be a mother to a child, and then a teenager, and then another adult. And I'll be old.
That's not really what I see or think about when I look at him. When I see my baby's face, I feel affection and warmth and pride. His little smile lights up my life. It's when I'm in bed trying to sleep that my eventual hardcore aging and demise start to creep in. That or thoughts of zombies. It's a sad fact about me that for some reason if I think about zombies, I just can't fall asleep.
But when I don't think about zombies, I think about my son, and taking him places and doing things. This will be his first Christmas. He doesn't understand a dang thing; we set up the tree today with him beside us and he gave zero fucks. He cares about the cats a lot more than he cares about our sparkly Christmas tree. But it's still exciting and sweet. It's the beginning of him learning about winter and the holidays.
And now it needs to be the beginning of bed time. For whatever reason, even after having a baby, I can't fall asleep at a decent hour. I suppose this is just the way I'm wired.
Thursday, November 28, 2013
Early Years Centre
Today I went to an Early Years centre for babies. And I realized how lucky I am.
The women there had normal first-time mom concerns: social isolation, is the baby warm enough when out, getting enough time to yourself, postpartum depression.
And I don't worry about these things. I manage to get out at least once a month. I overdressed Jack once and have managed not to sweat him senseless since. The Dude is not a dick and sees to the baby weekend mornings and I usually can get out and do stuff once a week by myself. I think I was at risk for depression, but A. I'm not predisposed to mental illness, and B. I had a good support system.
It was nice to take Jack somewhere baby-centric and just let him play and touch stuff on the ground. I can't do that easily here. There's too much everything, with a pointless wall that does nothing but reduce space in the living room. I wish I had more space to play with my baby on the floor. It was a pleasure to be down low with him while he pawed at blocks.
I also realized my baby has nothing close to separation anxiety. For whatever reason. I held a friend's younger baby today while she went to the bathroom and he cried for mom. His clear desire for her company was insistent and loud. This baby is obviously attached to his mom and wasn't too cool with me standing in. This is pretty normal, from what I've seen from other babies.
Jack? He seems fine without me. Oh, he's always glad to see me. He smiles for me more than anyone. But he'll let me go and allow others to hold him. No big deal. Either he's amazing or something is wrong. I don't think anything is wrong. He's just mellow. But still. Everyone comments on it.
And so I google, google, google because when everyone is confused about why your baby is like XYZ, you want to know what other babies are like yours and whatdoesitmean?!
And apparently it means nothing. He's just easygoing, more so than the average baby. And who knows, any day at any time he could just decide he misses me terribly while I'm in the bathroom.
Being around other babies is so wild. Jack was never very small, never floppy, always a little older looking, and he acts different than other babies. Easier, mostly. I love it, but as a mother you wonder about why your child is different, if you need to be concerned. Being a mother means having worries.
And he's having night terrors. But I'm not worried about that. Apparently it's normal. Oh hell, it's pitiful. Out of nowhere, "Waah...wuh-wuh-waaaa!" And still asleep, lost to the world, unaware he's freaking out.
Every month brings something new. I'm always learning and doing new things now. I knew nothing about babies and suddenly I'm brushing up on all things infant. Separation anxieties? Night terrors? Milestones? Knew nada. It's really remarkable what you pick up.
The women there had normal first-time mom concerns: social isolation, is the baby warm enough when out, getting enough time to yourself, postpartum depression.
And I don't worry about these things. I manage to get out at least once a month. I overdressed Jack once and have managed not to sweat him senseless since. The Dude is not a dick and sees to the baby weekend mornings and I usually can get out and do stuff once a week by myself. I think I was at risk for depression, but A. I'm not predisposed to mental illness, and B. I had a good support system.
It was nice to take Jack somewhere baby-centric and just let him play and touch stuff on the ground. I can't do that easily here. There's too much everything, with a pointless wall that does nothing but reduce space in the living room. I wish I had more space to play with my baby on the floor. It was a pleasure to be down low with him while he pawed at blocks.
I also realized my baby has nothing close to separation anxiety. For whatever reason. I held a friend's younger baby today while she went to the bathroom and he cried for mom. His clear desire for her company was insistent and loud. This baby is obviously attached to his mom and wasn't too cool with me standing in. This is pretty normal, from what I've seen from other babies.
Jack? He seems fine without me. Oh, he's always glad to see me. He smiles for me more than anyone. But he'll let me go and allow others to hold him. No big deal. Either he's amazing or something is wrong. I don't think anything is wrong. He's just mellow. But still. Everyone comments on it.
And so I google, google, google because when everyone is confused about why your baby is like XYZ, you want to know what other babies are like yours and whatdoesitmean?!
And apparently it means nothing. He's just easygoing, more so than the average baby. And who knows, any day at any time he could just decide he misses me terribly while I'm in the bathroom.
Being around other babies is so wild. Jack was never very small, never floppy, always a little older looking, and he acts different than other babies. Easier, mostly. I love it, but as a mother you wonder about why your child is different, if you need to be concerned. Being a mother means having worries.
And he's having night terrors. But I'm not worried about that. Apparently it's normal. Oh hell, it's pitiful. Out of nowhere, "Waah...wuh-wuh-waaaa!" And still asleep, lost to the world, unaware he's freaking out.
Every month brings something new. I'm always learning and doing new things now. I knew nothing about babies and suddenly I'm brushing up on all things infant. Separation anxieties? Night terrors? Milestones? Knew nada. It's really remarkable what you pick up.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Breastfeeding Propaganda
Formula Isn't Poison - Breastfeeding Propaganda Is
The above is a link to a blog post that says some very timely things about breastfeeding advocacy. Who hasn't heard breast is best? Everyone knows. People are so confident about this, and some so zealous to the point of turning virulent on the topic of formula, that life has changed for new mothers.
Breastfeeding is pushed. Formula is at first discouraged, but then demonized. You get breastfeeding advice at the hospital, but even if your baby is losing too much weight, formula is not brought up. Even after a C section, you are roomed with your baby, providing all the care, regardless of how little you may have slept in the many hours or even days surrounding your labour and delivery.
I know I was woken repeatedly by nurses to check on my vitals, when in fact I desperately needed rest. My milk wasn't coming in and no one told me I could supplement. All this in the name of being baby friendly. It was not mother friendly at all. And I'm inclined to think what is unfriendly to mothers is bad for babies.
In the blog post, the writer outlines how on the Ottawa breastfeeding website, it lists all the advantages of breastfeeding and all the disadvantages of formula feeding. Thus, you are left with a lopsided view and you can't help but feel like a crappy mother if breastfeeding has not worked out, or if you just don't want to do it.
I know the Toronto story as well. A public health nurse came to my house and asked me questions about how I was feeding my baby. I told her about my two-day induction, C section, delayed milk, hives, uterine infection and resulting low supply. I said I was on medication to increase my milk, was pumping after feeds and with the help of my aunt (Who was washing all the dishes, bottles and pump parts) was SNS feeding as well. But so far, my baby was still getting mostly formula.
Her response was at first a look of understanding, but then she suggested I pump around the clock every 90 minutes. Then she handed me pro-breast/anti-formula pamphlets and flyers.
I was stunned. Every 90 minutes? I was recovering from surgery! I still needed help getting out of bed. I had just got home from the hospital where I'd been hooked up to an IV for two days, where I'd not even been allowed to bend my arm or else the machine would BEEP BEEP for a nurse to come in and rejig it. What about getting some sleep and recuperating? My aunt needed to sleep at night so she could help me all day and my husband was back at work, so after feeding my baby, or setting an alarm to wake up regardless if he needed to eat yet, I was supposed to pump and then also clean my pump, and then try to sleep in... what? 20-minute increments all night?
And somehow this exhaustion and stress would improve my milk production? And how about that precious bonding breastfeeding is supposed to promote? Increasing my risk for PPD with all that pressure to succeed while not sleeping at all, this will make me love my baby more? Huh. Because at that point I was teetering on the brink of emotional hell. The only thing keeping me afloat was my aunt, who I had another week with before I was on my own and I was hell-bent on using her help to get my ass caught up on sleep so I could be as well as I could be to handle my baby alone all day.
That was my reality. My body went hugely overdue. I gave the natural way every chance to get moving and nothing happened except growing a massive baby that got stuck in an favourable position with no signs of labour. This depleted me entirely. Aside from the swelling, my limbs grew very thin. Surgery and not being able to move wore my body out more. Getting sick and more bed rest while postpartum frazzled me.
And still, STILL! Why wasn't I trying harder to breastfeed? Why wasn't I choosing to not sleep in favour of boosting my supply for an undetermined and indefinite period of time?
The breastfeeding agenda that was pushed on me gave zero shits about my wellbeing, about helping me become more confident as a mother, or about acknowledging my feelings or situation.
The pendulum has swung too damn far in the other direction. Formula used to be de rigueur. Now breastfeeding is the sign of good mothering, anything else be damned.
There is a middle ground here. It starts with understanding not every woman will be successful at breastfeeding for a variety of reasons. Secondly, not every woman will want to do it, again for a variety of reasons. For those women who want to, they will need medical, familial and societal support to feed wherever and whenever they and their baby require, no being shamed into the bathroom. They need to know what to expect and how to problem-solve issues. For those who use formula, they need information how how to do it safely, what to expect, and what sorts of formula is out there and what the differences are, and how to choose a bottle that works.
True informed choice means acknowledging that formula is good for babies. A baby will thrive, grow and become indistinguishable from breastfed babies on formula. There are no antibodies and you have to pay for it, but there are lifestyle benefits which may increase quality of life for mom and thus her baby by proxy, as well as other family members. Every woman is capable of assessing these decisions herself with the input of relevant members of her household.
Most moms I've met are breastfeeders. I see them feed in public with a cover, with no cover, whatever; they're aiming for three months, six months, a year, a wait-and-see timeline; some are combo feeding, out of necessity or preference; some are exclusive pumpers. I'm supportive of them all.
The real moms I've met in the city are supportive of me too. If any in my regular group judges me for formula use, I haven't detected it. Things are easygoing and there's a live and let live kind of attitude. This group has grown very popular and everyone looks forward to it. It's inclusive and friendly. Public policy would be wise to take note. Inclusive attitudes towards differing choices mothers make creates a sense of community, which benefits everyone.
Breast is not best. It is marginally better when life allows for it to work out. It's not as catchy, but at least it's honest.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Used Baby Clothes
Baby clothes are adorable. They're fun! They are so effing temporary. You get maybe three months out of anything and then it's goodbye forever! I can't get too attached to any cute jammies because then when Jack outgrows them and I know they're done I get bummed. The first pair I was sad to let go of were his fuzzy duck pyjamas that said "Mommy loves me." Sob!
Well, I've reached the point where I must procure more clothes, particularly as it's winter and most of the baby clothes I have are for light weather.
The first time I snagged a great deal was a clothing swap at Baby On The Hip on College Street. I paid $7 to attend with a bag of Jack's tiny onesies and came home with 12 larger items. Score!
Lately I've been hitting up Value Village, or the Value Boutique as one of my aunts liked to say. I did a Fall run and got some adorable sweaters and jammies, but being out in the chill showed me how insufficient my baby's winter clothes were, even though in his stroller he gets carted around town in a fleece sack. And incidentally, I'm so jealous. I want to be pushed around in a fleece sack.
So, today I combed through the baby boy section at VV and found some good cold weather stuffs... and a vintage style leather jacket! Yes, a leather jacket for a baby. And it was $6.99. Holy muffins.
He may not be able to wear it until spring, but who cares! Actually, I bought him a teddy bear snow suit from Value Village last time that may not fit all through winter... but again it was $7, so I cared not. For that price, if he can wear it once so I can get a picture I am happy. You leave something behind in that place and you'll never see it again, so leave regret-free!
I also found a reindeer PJ set that came with a Rudolph hat. Hello, Christmas morning outfit! $4? Well, alright!
I never enjoyed thrift store shopping before. Too many aisles, too much crap, funny smells and I don't have that kind of patience. But the baby section is small and easy to navigate and also I don't feel bad about my son outgrowing something that cost a toonie. Worth it.
This brings me, though, to a hard part. Giving away all his old stuff. I keep thinking it would be good to hang on to it in case my friends have kids. Also then I don't have to part with it just yet. There is something very emotional about holding up a tiny little outfit it seems impossible your baby used to wear three months ago.
I'm super excited he's doing so well and growing. But... the clothes. If there's anything in the world that can make you want to slow everything down, it's your baby's tiny pyjamas.
Well, I've reached the point where I must procure more clothes, particularly as it's winter and most of the baby clothes I have are for light weather.
The first time I snagged a great deal was a clothing swap at Baby On The Hip on College Street. I paid $7 to attend with a bag of Jack's tiny onesies and came home with 12 larger items. Score!
Lately I've been hitting up Value Village, or the Value Boutique as one of my aunts liked to say. I did a Fall run and got some adorable sweaters and jammies, but being out in the chill showed me how insufficient my baby's winter clothes were, even though in his stroller he gets carted around town in a fleece sack. And incidentally, I'm so jealous. I want to be pushed around in a fleece sack.
So, today I combed through the baby boy section at VV and found some good cold weather stuffs... and a vintage style leather jacket! Yes, a leather jacket for a baby. And it was $6.99. Holy muffins.
 |
| Thrift Store Score! |
I also found a reindeer PJ set that came with a Rudolph hat. Hello, Christmas morning outfit! $4? Well, alright!
I never enjoyed thrift store shopping before. Too many aisles, too much crap, funny smells and I don't have that kind of patience. But the baby section is small and easy to navigate and also I don't feel bad about my son outgrowing something that cost a toonie. Worth it.
This brings me, though, to a hard part. Giving away all his old stuff. I keep thinking it would be good to hang on to it in case my friends have kids. Also then I don't have to part with it just yet. There is something very emotional about holding up a tiny little outfit it seems impossible your baby used to wear three months ago.
I'm super excited he's doing so well and growing. But... the clothes. If there's anything in the world that can make you want to slow everything down, it's your baby's tiny pyjamas.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
I Use a Play Pen
You've probably heard teething sucks. I don't think the term generally suggests happy times ahead. I always thought, "Yeah, teething seems like it would be a bad time." Well, I was not deceived, however, I didn't know it could take weeks. I didn't know a baby could lose his appetite. That part kinda freaked me out. After his growth spurt, which had him taking in 40 ounces a day, he's suddenly drinking less than 20 due to gum sensitivity. And this means night time wakings to make up for lost calories.
Yay.
But we recently bought a used playpen. I refuse to call it a play yard. Pishaw. It's a damn pen and I love it.
Jack was rolling his arse all over the living room floor and completely not staying on the play mat. After watching him all slow motion like and hearing one too many thunks as he thumped his head on the floor, I decided to contain him somewhere safe and comfortable.
Yay.
But we recently bought a used playpen. I refuse to call it a play yard. Pishaw. It's a damn pen and I love it.
 |
| Nordstrom retails it for $162.77. I got mine for $100. |
Play pens have really fallen out of favour these days. I think it has a lot to do with competitive mothering. The more you chase after your wee one or hover over your baby, the better parent you must be. Me? I'm sticking him in an enclosure where I don't have to fuss or worry, as I'm not going to earn any medals for allowing him the freedom to kill himself when my head is turned.
The Joovy is a really large pen, much larger than the Pack n Plays on the market, which are really just portable travel cribs/bassinets (We have one). This thing is huge. It takes up all the available play space in the living room, only it prevents Jack from rolling into the coffee table or having access to electrical outlets.
I've loaded it with toys and he happily plays in there for a good 30 minutes before letting me know he's over it and wants to do something else. I'm not really into directing his time. I like to let him figure out his own fun, which is a lot easier on me and seems to be working out well for him. He's not a very needy baby. I read to him a few times during the day, we cuddle over a bottle, I sing while I change him, we share countless smiles, but mostly he likes to do his own thing. The play pen is perfect, and dude is it sturdy business.
I know a lot of parents fret over "stifling creativity" or "caging" the baby. I couldn't possibly care less about these things. I'm not much for hyperbole. Parenting methods are always evolving and changing and surely the dark ages known as the '50s, '60s and '70s, where play pens were common, did not destroy humanity's capabilities for greatness or innovation. People get so frazzled over the wrong stuff, such as details that likely do nothing meaningful to shape a child.
Ultimately with a baby you do two things: Give love and keep the baby alive. Everything else will sort itself out if you're a reasonably sensible person. Anyone who wants to forgo a play pen can have at it with my support. I just ain't going down that road. I am inclined to keep things that improve my quality of life, and boy has the pen ever done that. I'm pretty sure crying around here has dropped by half since this thing entered our lives.
Maybe one day I'll meet someone else who uses one. Maybe not. Either way.
The Joovy is a really large pen, much larger than the Pack n Plays on the market, which are really just portable travel cribs/bassinets (We have one). This thing is huge. It takes up all the available play space in the living room, only it prevents Jack from rolling into the coffee table or having access to electrical outlets.
I've loaded it with toys and he happily plays in there for a good 30 minutes before letting me know he's over it and wants to do something else. I'm not really into directing his time. I like to let him figure out his own fun, which is a lot easier on me and seems to be working out well for him. He's not a very needy baby. I read to him a few times during the day, we cuddle over a bottle, I sing while I change him, we share countless smiles, but mostly he likes to do his own thing. The play pen is perfect, and dude is it sturdy business.
 |
| Jack in his play pen. My Instagram is shamelessly baby-centric. |
I know a lot of parents fret over "stifling creativity" or "caging" the baby. I couldn't possibly care less about these things. I'm not much for hyperbole. Parenting methods are always evolving and changing and surely the dark ages known as the '50s, '60s and '70s, where play pens were common, did not destroy humanity's capabilities for greatness or innovation. People get so frazzled over the wrong stuff, such as details that likely do nothing meaningful to shape a child.
Ultimately with a baby you do two things: Give love and keep the baby alive. Everything else will sort itself out if you're a reasonably sensible person. Anyone who wants to forgo a play pen can have at it with my support. I just ain't going down that road. I am inclined to keep things that improve my quality of life, and boy has the pen ever done that. I'm pretty sure crying around here has dropped by half since this thing entered our lives.
Maybe one day I'll meet someone else who uses one. Maybe not. Either way.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Six Month Growth Spurt
Growth spurt... I don't remember when it began, but it's here in full thrust. My happy good sleeper has become a grumpy 3:00 a.m. waker. I don't particularly enjoy these times. For one thing, he's less pleasant to be around. For another, he'll soon grow out of his current jammies, which are adorable. And even though I'm enthusiastic about him growing and aging and getting more fun and interesting, a small part of me mourns his littleness when I permanently fold away some of my favourite pyjamas or rompers.
Growth spurts mean more feedings. He was taking about 6 bottles and drinking maybe 30 ounces. Now he's taking in 7 to 8 and today he had 40 ounces. 40! On one hand, that's a lot of expensive formula, man, and extra bottle washing. On the other hand, breastfeeding would have meant parking my ass on the couch for a few days to nurse every hour while my baby worked at upping my milk supply.
(As it turns out, I so do love my freedom of movement, and so I'm rather grateful now that I'm formula feeding. Still believe in and support breastfeeding, but it's days like today that really let me feel good about my situation.)
Growth spurts also mean more fatigue coupled with more grumping. Baby gets tired and goes down for a nap after a feed. Then baby wakes up early due to hunger and needs another feed, and then is too awake to go right back to sleep, and so is cranky for another two hours before he'll consent to another nap.
And his moodiness means he doesn't want to be anywhere, not in my lap, not in the exersaucer, not in the jumper, not on the ground. Interestingly, one of the places he did okay in was his crib. Not to sleep and give us all some peace, mind you, but to roll around in and throw his soothers out of.
These spurts last a few days, maybe a week at worst. Again, I have no idea how many days this has gone on. Two? Three? I'm not sure anymore. I just hope it's almost done.
And then I can refocus my energies on solids, which, for the record, is really slow goings.
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| My nightly ritual. |
(As it turns out, I so do love my freedom of movement, and so I'm rather grateful now that I'm formula feeding. Still believe in and support breastfeeding, but it's days like today that really let me feel good about my situation.)
Growth spurts also mean more fatigue coupled with more grumping. Baby gets tired and goes down for a nap after a feed. Then baby wakes up early due to hunger and needs another feed, and then is too awake to go right back to sleep, and so is cranky for another two hours before he'll consent to another nap.
And his moodiness means he doesn't want to be anywhere, not in my lap, not in the exersaucer, not in the jumper, not on the ground. Interestingly, one of the places he did okay in was his crib. Not to sleep and give us all some peace, mind you, but to roll around in and throw his soothers out of.
These spurts last a few days, maybe a week at worst. Again, I have no idea how many days this has gone on. Two? Three? I'm not sure anymore. I just hope it's almost done.
And then I can refocus my energies on solids, which, for the record, is really slow goings.
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