Enjoying It

After getting to stare at E during our second run through the old neighbourhood today, I decided I wanted to share some of my favourite moments of him. Sadly, I haven't managed to get video yet of when he chuckles in his sleep. That is a moment that needs documenting for posterity. So does the way he cuddles up against me when I pick him up after a diaper change. He seems to suddenly forget that I was the person airing out his naked butt, much to his discomfort, and I'm instantly transformed back into the warm cuddly person who makes the food.

So, for everyone's mutual enjoyment: some of the best footage of Mr. EJJD:

Yarrrrgh! Avast ye scurvy sea dogs!

Little E on the day he was born. It's absolutely crazy to me how much he's changed in just the past month!

1 week old and enjoying Daddy's tasty finger.

Hey, where'd that finger go?

A blissful moment of sleep.

When you're sick in bed and don't want to get up, you need lots of gear in and around the bed with you in order to take care of yourself and your baby. Here's E lounging with some of his swag.

Getting close to a smile as we do a bath-time photo shoot.

Flash those baby blues.

Hey there little sunspot.

Rocking the freshly-bathed cloth diaper look. The jury's still out on those cloth diapers, by the way. We've been switching them in and out with the rest of our stash of disposables and the Husband and I haven't quite made up our minds about which are better. Obviously, the cost of cloth is a huge mark in its favour, but we're still working out the kinks with leaks where the cloth diapers are concerned. They seem to saturate much more quickly, and especially the BumGenius brand I bought are better suited to a chunkier little chunk. Ethan doesn't quite have the thunder thighs necessary to pull those off yet: he's still very long and thin as babies go. That said, the cloth diapers seem to be much gentler on his little butt as far as rash is concerned...but that could just be confirmation bias or correlation of the increased use of cloth diapers with the disappearance of a rash that was clearing up anyway. 

Somehow, working in a comment on the possible logical fallacies I might be employing makes it feel so much more acceptable to have spent an entire paragraph discussing the optimum covering of my son's bits and pieces. Know what else makes it feel more acceptable, too? A hilarious and hilariously accurate set of topically relevant infographics from the obscenely entertaining blog, How To Be A Dad:

And with that giggle vomit-inducing visual; I leave you.

Small Mercies

Thank goodness I've spent the weekend at home sick with a baby and not at home with a sick baby. If nothing else, it's letting me catch up on my movie watching...

Plenty To Be Thankful For

This year, obviously, was our first Thanksgiving with children. It's also the first Thanksgiving in two years that I've actually celebrated on the Thursday. (Which makes it the first Thanksgiving I've done myself that's happened on Thanksgiving.) Truth be told, I'm impressed with myself. Seven adults is the largest gathering I've ever done Thanksgiving dinner for, and to have managed the feat doing all the cooking myself with a month-old baby in the background is pretty good. That said, there are many tricks of the trade required to pull off such holiday splendour with tiny humans in the mix, and so I submit to you my own tried and tested rules for The Holidays...With Children.

Turkey Day Happy Dance

Rule number one about trying to conquer the holidays with children: do things in shifts. 2 Days Before: made pumpkin pie. 1 Day Before: Prepped ingredients for turkey and chopped potatoes for mashed potatoes. 3 Hours Before: put turkey in oven. 1 Hour Before: made biscuit dough. 30 Minutes Before: boiled & seasoned mashed potatoes, boiled mixed vegetables, baked biscuits. 10 Minutes Before: made gravy, microwaved stuffing.

Rule number two: Get help. The Husband came home early to watch Little E and to clean up the living room and set the table while I got the cooking done. Whenever it's possible, definitely make the most of the whole division of labour idea. It's a life saver. Yummmmmm... (Anybody who remembers the '90s totally saw that coming.)

Rule number three: simplify everything. Instead of making my own pie crust, I bought pre-made crust that I just had to roll out. Instead of buttermilk biscuits, I used a slightly simpler recipe for baking powder biscuits. Instead of making my own stuffing, I bought a nice instant stuffing at the grocery store. Oh, and I had all the brothers and sisters bring drinks instead of trying to find room in my fridge for them all week. Know your limits: and with a baby to look after, your biggest limit will be time. Babies need feeding and changing and holding, so any shortcuts you can take to make Thanksgiving dinner easier on you are a good idea.

In the end, everything worked out really well and we had - as usual - a great time. The evening was peppered with lots of sharing of the latest humorous finds from Teh Interwebz; which seems to have become a tradition with our family Thanksgiving celebrations now. I guess this is what you get when the gathered family consists of people aged 17-28...well, now aged 1 month to 28 years.

Let's feed the baby things he can't eat!

Of course, now that Thanksgiving has passed, while I spend the next month eating turkey sandwiches and turkey soup (you owe it to yourself to use all parts of the proverbial buffalo) I'll be gearing up for Christmas. I get to start playing my 200-song strong Christmas playlist in iTunes, and set up my Christmas tree, and wrap presents, and find a tiny Santa hat in which to take exploitative pictures of my son, and watch Love Actually and The Bishop's Wife, and bake speculaas, and sing carols, and basically become the most obnoxious fountain of holiday cheer this side of the Island of Misfit Toys.

Back on Track

Today was a good day. After a nap that lasted deliciously and sinfully into the afternoon hours (oh yeah, having a new baby boy means I now have an excuse to stay in bed until 12:30) I did something I haven't done in months. Quite seriously. I went for a run. Wait, let me say that with all the appropriate gravitas and feeling that it requires... (ahem)

I WENT ON A RUN!!!

(I think that I now owe five Hail Marys and six Mea Culpas to Lynn Truss, patron saint of punctuation and pedantic adherence to the rules of grammar.)

I laced up my trainers, popped on a sports bra (on top of my nursing bra, 'cause I'm cool lazy like that), got Ethan all bundled up, and broke out the jogging stroller to help it fulfil the first half of its purpose: to let me jog. Oh, what a glorious feeling to be back in my exercise gear!

We drove back to the old neighbourhood and took a run through the streets and around the playing fields. In the true spirit of maternal multi-tasking, my run through the streets was really a run to the grocery store so I could get celery and carrots to have aromatics for my Thanksgiving turkey tomorrow.

If I can do this Thanksgiving, I can do any Thanksgiving. I will be the multi-armed god of Thanksgiving...complete with nose ring and unnecessary animal appendages. The pie has been baked, the herbs are on the counter, the potatoes are cut and waiting to be boiled and mashed, the aromatics and turkey are cosy in the fridge, and I finally have a turkey baster. It only took me two Thanksgiving dinners without one to get my act together, but I am now officially kitted out and prepared for Thanksgiving culinary mastery.

Wish me luck, people. I'm back on my way to being basically amazing. Stay tuned.

That Fabric Saved My Life

Praise the sweet Lord for my Moby Wrap...that's all I've got to say. Thursday and Friday I was stuck inside all day sitting on my butt watching movies. Lots to complain about, right? Well, when you're tethered to the bed with a baby and movies are the only form of entertainment as you come to a new, deep, and abiding sympathy for milk cows, sitting on your butt watching anything quickly becomes an activity you'd like to take a break from. Enter the Moby.

solidarity, Sistah!

Today, thanks to the Moby (and some judicious use of the magic calming powers of the car seat beforehand), I was able to get out of the house and take a nice walk round the neighbourhood. Because E is such a fan of being held against my chest, the Moby was perfect: I settled him in - long legs dangling out this time (he's not a fan of the newborn hug hold that requires legs tucked up frog-like inside the wrap) - and within the first 10 minutes of our walk, he was KO. So I tucked his little head into one of the pockets on the wrap and kept up my nice walk while E had a nice nap.Success!

Life saver!

Tomorrow, I think we'll test the soporific qualities of the car and drive back to the old neighbourhood to jog around the playing fields with the stroller. Who knows - perhaps I can even get the pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving dinner done tomorrow if the car can work its magic to coax my baby into a deep enough slumber.

Let's make a date, gorgeous...

The Unfairness of Life (lesson #56)

Explain to me how my son can remain perfectly and blissfully asleep whilst letting loose a squeal that would make little piglets proud and subsequently wakes up every other member of this family.

Violently jerked awake by tiny baby screams in the middle of a REM cycle, the Husband and I both snapped open bloodshot eyes and rolled around in bed like thrashing eels trying to figure out why our son was so horribly displeased with the world only to discover that he screams in his sleep.

Talk about a phrase you never thought you'd utter with any degree of seriousness..."he screams in his sleep."

What has my world come to?

the deceptively peaceful look of a sleeping infant

First Steps

Sometimes, first steps involve no steps at all. Or in this case, only the number of steps from the bed to the kitchen back to the changing table and then - you guessed it - back to the bed.

Yesterday was the first day I was at home with Ethan by myself all day. The first true test of being a mom all on my own. Okay, yes: if we're being technical, I'm not doing this all on my own. I have the Husband, and his family, and my own mom to call on for advice and commiseration. I have friends here who have kids of their own...I'm decently well sorted when it comes to lines of support. But, let's face it: at the end of the day I'm Ethan's mother. I'm the one who has to keep him fed and changed and happy and well-rested when Sebastian's at work. I have to sing him songs and recite nursery rhymes and teach him how to say his ABC's.

As first days go, it wasn't bad. He took several naps (so did I), I got some cleaning done, I caught up on a few of my TV shows (oh Grey's Anatomy...how I've missed you.), and I even got some milk set aside for those nighttime feeds when I just can't drag myself out of bed and leave the whole affair in the Husband's capable hands. Despite not making it out on the mid-afternoon walk I had in mind, yesterday went swimmingly.

Today, on the other hand, was a bit harder. Yes, I still watched a movie and a few episodes of Glee, but E refused to sleep unless I was holding him. And even then he didn't sleep very much at all. Every time I tried to get some food set aside for Seb to feed him with in the middle of the night, E got so hungry that I had to feed him whatever I'd stored up, with the result that now, at 7:30, I have yet to get a bottle in the fridge for him so that my tired bedraggled ass can sleep at 3 in the morning when E's been asleep for a sum total of 2 hours and is up again to demand MOAR FOODZ.

To be honest, I was impressed that he sat in his car seat long enough for me to make some strategic bathroom trips, let alone to quickly vacuum the hallway like I'd been wanting to for ages now. You know the priorities of your life have shifted when "free time" is the time you use to do basic things like shower, do your hair, and clean your house. Forget about catching up on TV shows, reading that book that you checked out from the library two months ago, or browsing through Google feed reader to catch up on all the good blog posts; Nope! Time when you're not attached to the baby is reserved for face-washing, leg-shaving, and floor-sweeping.

At some point in the very near future, I'm going to get this boy on enough of a schedule to get him out for a daily walk/run so that Yours Truly can start shrinking back to a normal size. Hell, forget my old Banana Republic corduroys, I'll settle for being able to wear my rings again! That finger has felt nekkid for a very long time without my engagement and wedding rings on it. And nekkid fat fingers are not conducive to rebuilding self-esteem in the face of enforced post-partum inactivity and angry stretch marks.

Good thing I've got a cute baby out of all of this. Three weeks may not seem long in the grand scheme of things, but so far it's stretching on more than long enough. I can't wait to get back to a normal level of fitness and find a good routine with Ethan during the day. Those two things are my Christmas wishes...oh, and some cute pumps wouldn't go amiss, either...

Missing:

Missing: one slightly-above-average, but well-loved figure.
Distinctive features: well-proportioned bust, shapely hips, dress size 6...oh, and a waist.
Missing since: month 5 of pregnancy. Since delivery, said figure hasn't yet returned. Responds to long workouts at the gym and the promise of cute Banana Republic clothing.

If seen, please return to me...it'll make the sleep-deprived haze of having a 2-week old baby so much nicer.

In case the above didn't make it painfully obvious, I went clothes shopping for the first time in ages yesterday. Buying clothes for a rapidly expanding baby bump was something I could do. Buying clothes for this awkward in-between stage is weird. I'm no longer technically in maternity clothes, but every top needs to be - ahem - "easy access" so that I can feed Ethan while looking like I'm still old enough to dress myself.

 It's a slightly depressing feeling to realise that while you're no longer pregnant, you still couldn't fit into most of your pre-pregnancy wardrobe for love or money. Sorry, buff-coloured pencil skirt: you accentuate my post-pregnancy pooch. Not a flattering look. My sincere apologies, Little Black Dress: not only are you wildly inconvenient when I need to "whip one out" to feed the baby, but there's no way I can suck it all in enough to take you out on the town at the moment. A shame, since there's a wedding coming up soon; which is why I bought you in the first place.

Luckily, I had the support of my mom in helping me to weed through the morass of now-unsuitable clothing to find a few things that mask my mommy figure until I can literally get my ass back in shape! Le sigh. Until pregnancy brought back the dreaded love handles, I looked good from the back. For now, I'm embracing any variation on the Flashdance sweatshirt look until I can get the situation back under control...

And as a bonus: I rejoice in the fact that I got an entire 45 minutes with a sleeping baby this morning. What is the positive side to 45 minutes of sleep? What isn't the positive side to that!? Though specifically, I got to shower and straighten my hair so that I'm not rocking the unwashed and unshaven...in sweats vibe. One of these days, my mind will finally get up on shaky legs and wander past the realms of clothes and babies. One of these days...

Keeping Afloat

Even when your baby only eats, sleeps, and poops, there are a multitude of things to get done during the day. And let's face it: when you're waking up with your baby every few hours in the night (because even the best of newborn babies wake up several times a night...even with help from the best of husbands) there's only so much energy at your disposal to do all of these things. To clean all the clothes your baby pees on during a diaper change, or all the clothes you soak with milk because baby was asleep and didn't need to eat, but your body hasn't quite figured that out yet. To keep up with the normal housework so that you're not preparing your candidacy for an episode of Clean House or Hoarders: Buried Alive. To change and feed your baby and generally keep him from crying and feeling unloved. To get food to feed yourself once the baby has been fed. To spend what quality time you have with your husband and your mom (who, incidentally, has flown trans-Atlantic to see her first grandchild and you) rather than neglecting them unless they're offering to do things for you.

This, my dears, explains why I've been so remiss in keeping up with my blog lately. Even if I were medically allowed to yet, I can't even find the time and energy to get out to the gym, or take more than the shortest of strolls round the block, let alone catch up on all the blogs I read, write in my own blog, or make it through reading Lord of the Rings after having renewed the book....oh, three times, now. It's pathetic. Not entirely unexpected, but pathetic. Motherhood really takes it out of you, people: be warned.

I confess myself stunned. I mean, I feel really blessed that I have Ethan and that he's such a good baby. He doesn't cry much, and generally, when he does, I can figure out what's wrong with him and fix it relatively quickly. He sleeps for about 3 or 4 hours at a time, he's never had a problem with breastfeeding, he even takes a bottle from Sebastian when I'm too tired to get up and feed him in the night. But let me just say, even with a good baby, you do not know the meaning of the word TIRED until you have a newborn. You know the days when you stayed up for ages finishing a thesis or a term paper in college? Child's play. Not being able to sleep on an 8-hour flight? Kids' stuff. Driving for 7 hours after being awake for 48? Piece of cake. When your sleep is so frequently interrupted, I swear it's even worse than just being awake for days on end with no reprieve. Even waking up becomes difficult work. Getting to sleep without waking yourself up five times by thinking, "Oh Lord, the baby! He needs me!" is a feat worthy of praise in a Homeric Hymn. Dragging yourself from bed to shower and eat something more labour-intensive to prepare than a cold Pop Tart is a goal of Herculean proportions.

This is why new mothers get the bad rep of being uninteresting, uninformed zombies; only able to converse on subjects relating to their offspring: we have no energy left to power our brains beyond keeping our babies alive! It's only because I've had the 24-hour help of my mom and husband that I was able to function well enough to put on make-up yesterday.

People: appreciate now any guilt trip your mother ever booked you on. From where I now sit, the odds are that she deserved and well-earned the right to shame you into whatever it was that she wanted after putting up with the crucible of new-motherhood in order to make you the functional adult that you are today.

And with that, I've officially spent more than the day's quota of calories powering my brain to think long enough to write up a blog post. It's time to lie down, put E on a pillow, and watch a few episodes of Modern Family...oh, and grab myself another Pop Tart. The breakfast, lunch, and dinner of champions.