A Moment of Normalcy

At the moment Tiny Boy is putting some baby fruit snacks on a large wooden spoon.  Occasionally he eats one.  Mostly he dumps them on the floor.

LG is at a friend's house, having spent the morning lolling about reading and then doing gymnastics.

We've done the grocery shopping (while LG was at gymnastics class; I learned last week that 90 minutes is like 85 minutes too long to ask a baby to watch his sister on the balance beam).

I've responded to some crisis work emails. 

We've got a mix of Laurie Berkner and Ingrid Michaelsen for a soundtrack.

There's too much going on for me to work in any intensive way, although I could probably comment on some in-class writing exercises my students did.

But mostly it's just nice not having to clean up vomit or restrain a baby for a breathing treatment.

And Now I'm Going to Write About My Kid

Mostly because I need to get rid of that rantiness of the last post.  I will say the two good things that came out of the ransacking of my office were (1) I am scouring it (I still need to deal with what the messy corner where I have piled things that need to be properly filed, and if LG had actually been successful at her fingerprinting project earlier this summer, I'd have her dust for prints) and (2) I found a copy of a poem written right before my DE cycle [see how "current" that file was?] that is actually worth revising.  Yes, I am capable of turning almost anything into a good thing, at least when it comes to non-fertility-related things.

So, without further ado:

Tiny Boy is on the verge of walking!  He took a few steps a couple times yesterday (he's been cruising holding on to furniture since roughly 7 months and hasn't ever attempted walking otherwise); actually the first time he did it, he tipped over because I called out LG, he's WALKING, at which point he got startled.  And he is chatting up a storm.

Some of his repeated "words":

mama
LG's name (3 different versions, because she's THAT awesome)
da=cat
di-ta (?)=cracker
ba=book
be=bread
mi=milk/nursing (which he also signs)
uh=up
da-die, or more recently ba-bie=bye bye

And there's probably a sentence for "do not stick me in that fucking carseat/crib/high chair again" that, of course, goes deaf on maternal ears.

And Now For Some Really Random Bullets

• I seem to have a very tiny mischief maker.  Today's activities have included repeatedly harassing IVF Kitten (who doesn't really like the baby), standing up on a walking toy and tipping over (because, well, it MOVES and the boy doesn't yet BALANCE), yanking on the baby gate at the bottom of the stairs, trying to eat the foil wrapper from the single hershey's kiss that LG had the other day (and apparently didn't dispose of), crawling under the coffee table, and generally giggling when crawling AWAY from mommy and in the general direction of BAD THINGS.  I am in for it, people.
• I am deeply craving sleep.  I'm not just tired.  I want to sleep in a way that I have only ever wanted to do during pregnancy.  I just need it.
• On that:  past two nights have been better.  If we understand "better" to mean that he woke ever 2 hrs instead of every hour and didn't require massive maternal intervention until 4:00-5:00 am.  And I have officially banned nursing between bedtime 11:00 pm (a 4-5 hr stretch).  For naps I have resorted to last-ditch-must-sleep-the-baby strategies, including the return of the fake walk, the 40-60 minute stint in the rocking chair, and boob-in-the-mouth.
• Although I don't like the fact that the boy still cries every night, having time with LG is priceless.  We're playing scrabble and uno and all kinds of things.
• Meetings about work related activities in my last week of summer, especially when I don't have childcare, especially 2 fucking hours long, make me really crabby.  Really really crabby.
• If LG watches her brother, I can actually cook things.  Like pesto.  Chicken tikka masala (yeah, jarred sauce, but still).  Roast potatoes and chicken.  A well-fed mama is a happy mama.
• The K'tan carrier is working out splendidly.  It's sort of a cross between a moby and a sling (meaning that it can be used both ways) but is actually SIZED, and the XS is for women under 5'3" which makes a world of difference when you are not quite 5'1"
• I have purchased all sorts of things as we gear up for school.  For Tiny Boy:  a lunch box, a big tote bag, a new wet bag for dirty diapers.  For LG:  a new backpack, binders, post-its, the requisite array of folders, loose leaf paper, etc etc etc.  Although I have not done it yet, I will buy myself the annual stash of black pens and flags and such.  I love this time of year.

Big Baby

Tiny Boy turns 8 months tomorrow.  Tomorrow!!!  How is that even possible?

He's huge.  Okay, he's not huge.  He's 16 lbs with a puffy cloth diaper on, which is both small and more than three times his birth weight.

He's crawling.  Within a week, he's gone from taking some crab like tentative scootches forward to crossing whole rooms to find me.  Like, I need to get those baby gates up NOW.  (My friend A. has had one of them through two children, the oldest of which is a first grader.)  He'd really like to get into the kitchen to play with the cat water, which was exactly what LG did at that age.

And this morning, we woke up to a TOOTH.  He won't let me see it, but there's a sharpy in there.  And he's a huge grouch.

So it turns out that loon of a pediatrician was right on all physical counts.  Yes, he still has reflux, and, yes, he's teething.  No, we will not be Ferberizing any time soon (though to be fair, he slept much better last week next to me when I was basically comatose than when I dump him in the crib by himself).

8 months?!  That's like my whole pregnancy ago.  Wow.

Tiny Boy's To Do List (31 weeks!)

1. Figure out why I can't get my knees to move forward
2. Slide off mom's bed (damn, she caught me!)*
3. Play with penis as often as possible
4. Fingerpaint with carrot mush
5. Throw my spoon on the floor 
6. Pet the big kitty who flops on me
7. Stand up in the crib and yell
8. Practice my new favorite word (dadadadada)
9. Scootch backward until I slide under the armchair
10. Ask if I can go back to the pool and splash 

* Seriously.  Apparently naps alone in the bed will not be happening anymore.  Argh.

That Whole Solid Food Thing

I recently came across the term "baby-led weaning" to describe the process of introducing solid foods.  From what I can tell--correct me if I'm wrong, dear readers--those who advocate "baby-led weaning" let their babies feed themselves, in lieu of spoon-feeding them purees.  Now I don't want to talk about the pros and cons of this method.  Rather, I want to comment on the term itself.

See, it honestly never occurred to me that giving a baby solid foods had anything to do with weaning.

Let me back up about 50 steps.  Longterm readers might recall that LG didn't do the whole "solid food" thing as an infant.  There were a couple days--really bad days--of rice cereal in that 4-5 mo era.  But by the time she was actually eating solid food, well after her first birthday, she'd been weaned for quite a while.  She started part-time on Neocate (that's a REAL hypoallergenic, need-a-prescription-to-get-it, amino-acid based, nasty-ass formula) at 7 months and we stopped breastfeeding completely at 9.5 months.

For me, weaning has to do with the elimination of breastfeeding, and it was a medically necessary trauma.  There was nothing "baby-led" about it.

*

So I've been experimenting with "solid foods" with Tiny Boy.  He's had purees of mango, apple, pear, and peas.  And he's eaten avocado, banana, and watermelon in a mesh feeder.  (Yes, we tried rice cereal, but that resulted in screaming fits of belly pain in the middle of the night, on multiple occasions about a month apart.  NEVER AGAIN.)  He seems to like the idea of eating better than the reality of eating--doesn't take more than a few spoonfuls at a "meal"--except when it comes to watermelon.  Oh.  My.  Goodness.  He couldn't cram enough into his chubby little face, and then he screamed bloody murder when he couldn't suck any more juice out of that little mesh bag.

Is that weaning?  I dunno.  Seems to me it's not if he's still nursing as much as he was, and he really is.  And from what I know, at six months, eating solids is supposed to be about play and experimentation and learning, not really about nutrition, anyway.  I suspect that by the time he goes to daycare--10 months to the day--he'll be eating more and nursing much less.  But I have no plans to wean him until he's good and ready.*  And hopefully that will be some time past his first birthday.

Right now, I'm sort of giddy with putting a spoon in his mouth, as I didn't get to do that the first time around.  And once he's taking more than three bites at a time, I'll start making his food, which will probably be mushed up versions of whatever LG and I are eating, within reason.  And if I manage to get a kid with no food allergies, well, that would be truly amazing and awesome, and I might actually have to keep milk in the house.


* Except I have no plans on nursing past toddler hood or being on the cover of a national magazine.  I'm guessing by somewhere in the 2 year era I'll want my breasts back, if they haven't already been returned.

Another Post on that Elusive Thing Called Work/Life Balance

Summer has barely begun, yet I feel the hours slipping away already.  There is so much to be done--on my book, on the house, with and for the kids--and so little time in which to do it.  Much of this has to do with my current childcare arrangement, which is 20 hours per week of a mother's helper/babysitter for Tiny Boy.  That's just not a lot of time in which to do the things I can't do while holding Tiny Boy.  Like write or pack up my office or go to yoga or run certain kinds of errands.  In some ways, I'm feeling ready for him to be in a full-time daycare situation, which would really free up my days; in others, I know that him being home for as long as possible, with me being able to nurse him largely on demand, is probably best for us right now.

But in practical terms, that means the 4 hrs/day that we have the babysitter, I'm feeding him at least once, and generally twice.  (Yes, I could pump, but that takes away other time, like first thing in the morning, and is logistically very difficult, particularly if he's sucking on me all night, so I only do it when I know I need to leave the house.)  And if he falls asleep while nursing, then I need to hold him for a while longer so he stays asleep, before dumping him in the crib or my bed.  Granted, while I'm doing this, MMH (marvelous mother's helper) is working on the laundry or sweeping the floor or whatever else doesn't take my brain to do (would be great if she could organize things, like LG's nonsense, but we'd never find them again).

I'm trying to focus on what I have gotten done, rather than the long list of the undone.  For instance, this week so far I have written several pages on a collaborative project that feeds directly into my book project, notes towards poems, and my usual 500-word daily minimum in my "exercises" file.  I've read.  I've done some research.  I've cleaned out two large filing cabinets filled with student work.  I've organized baby clothes sizes 6-18 mo (though I have no idea where to put all this stuff!).  And generally I've parented my kids which, in Tiny Boy's case, occurs even in my "sleep."

Here's where I need to pause and say I'm happy.  I'm fortunate.  Last night I took the kids to the park, and it was one of those fairy tale moments, so long as I didn't think about my to-do list and Tiny Boy's lack of naps.  And I'm sure, if I think about it rationally, that I will get as much done this summer, with a baby, than I did for the past few summers, which were eaten up by a miscarriage and IVF #1 (2009), depression and IVF #3 (2010), summer school and high risk pregnancy (2011).  I just feel so scattered, working in the interstices and unable to really concentrate, what with the milk letting down and all, while I try to keep my butt in the chair and write.  I think maybe I need to leave the house and work in the coffee shop, though that brings with it its own distractions.  Although I wouldn't want to go back to those lonely pre-kid times, there is something to be said for those long days I spent in graduate school doing anything I wanted over the summer, meandering from the library to the apartment to the computer lab to a cafe. 

And now I think I really need to stop writing this and take advantage of Napping Baby, who, if true to form, will wake within then next 10 minutes.  What to do first?

In Which Gwinne Extols the Virtues of Recalled Baby Gear

So the most (unnecessarily) extravagant purchase I made prior to LG's arrival, back in 2004, was a Pottery Barn crib.  Still, she used it in some capacity daily for 3.5 years.  Then I stuck it in the basement and hauled it out prior to Tiny Boy's immanent arrival.  Only to be informed by A. that it had probably been recalled.  Yes, indeed.

Not because there's an actual problem with this crib, but because all drop-sided cribs have been banned.  (Yes, I was living under the rock called infertility treatment when this happened.)

Yes, there's some hardware I can purchase from Pottery Barn to un-dropside the crib.  But then I wouldn't be able to slide Tiny Boy so neatly from my arms to the crib.  And that, my friends, is priceless.

Ramblings about Paid Childcare and My Tiny Tyrant

This is the last thing I should be doing.  It's fifteen minutes into a nap that could end anywhere, including five minutes from now, but probably another fifteen to twenty.  Not a lot of time.  I have already scarfed down lunch and put a few groceries away.  What I should be doing is either cleaning the house in preparation for a "meeting" with a couple colleagues on Friday or, you know, writing and reading.  Instead, I'm in bed next to Tiny Boy (aka The Tiny Tyrant) typing this, both because I'm exhausted and because I'm hoping my presence will keep him sleeping longer.  I'd gladly stay here all afternoon if it means I can get a decent nap out of him.

Today is the first weekday I haven't had paid childcare in a while; our good babysitter, who needs a better nickname, is taking the rest of this week and next to study for finals and go on a trip with her family.  And let me tell you I miss her already.  Even if Tiny Boy does his 40 minute nap routine, when she's around the endless rocking/feeding cycles are split between two people.  I'll nurse him, and if he doesn't go down, she takes over in the rocking chair.  Or takes him for a walk if the weather's appropriate.  Or whatever.  And, magically, if he sleeps and I go to campus, the dishes and laundry are done when I come home.  She ironed for me yesterday.  And while the house is still a disaster, that mostly has to do with LG's clutter and my lack of time to do a deep clean (the kitchen floor is just gross).  That is, she makes the household run as smoothly as it can right now.  Tiny Boy adores her.  LG adores her.  I adore her.  She's all chatter about finals and the craziness of the university, and it's wonderful, really, hearing that student perspective again, because I'm not a professor to her and not really old enough to be her mother, either, and she feels almost like a younger cousin or something.  Did I tell you, on her first day, she left saying I learned a lot today.  Yeah, I picked the right kid to watch my kid.

*

So Tiny Boy is killing me this week.  Granted, we're both getting over being sick.  But he won't let me put him down.  He doesn't want to play in any of the baby containment devices around the house.  He doesn't mind sitting up on his own, but that requires constant supervision (within arm's reach) as he tips over easily still, and my entire house has wood floors.  Today I just had to let him wail for 10 minutes while I took a shower and made a half-assed attempt to shave my legs (it's supposed to get up to 80 degrees, so the shorts are coming out).  Then it took about twenty of nursing and rocking to get him to calm down.  And then he took a ten minute nap.  And I rocked him.  And he slept for another twenty minutes.  And within five minutes of putting him down he was awake.  Days like this I literally spend more time getting him to fall asleep than he does sleeping.  My left arm aches all the time.  My left hip is out of whack again.  And when people talk about motherhood being exhausting, I don't know if that's what they mean.  Physically brutalizing work.  I ended up in physical therapy when LG was around 18 months because of this stuff, and poor posture likely caused by c-section plus babyholding.  The result was neck pain, a tingling hand, and chronic daily migraine.  I really don't want to go down that road again.

Don't get me wrong:  I love Tiny Boy.  I would not trade him for anything, even if it means I don't sleep well for the next five years or more.  But this shit is hard work.

Something Remarkable

I don't think I ever mentioned where the title of this blog comes from.  It's indebted to a line from Calvino's wonderful novella Mr. Palomar that goes something like (if not exactly):  there is something remarkable to be seen in Rome this late autumn, and it is the sky crammed with birds.

There is something remarkable about this spring.  What got me through those long months (years) ttc and then the scare of early (ok, all) pregnancy was thinking this time next year you could have...  And, indeed, now, a year later, I do have.  A Tiny Boy.  A giggly, squirmy, rolling over and almost-sitting-up guy who is an absolute delight.  He's 5.5 months old and I am still astonished that he is here, that he is healthy, that he is mine.  And that makes those 3-5 am shifts in the rocking chair more than bearable.  If the worst thing in my life is an exhausted snuggle with a baby in the wee hours of the morning, I've got it pretty damn good.

What got me through was knowing there was an end point.  That when I turned forty I wouldn't be an assistant professor anymore (I might not have a job, but I wouldn't be an assistant professor), that I wouldn't be doing fertility treatment anymore (I might not have a baby, but five years of treatment wasn't a possibility I'd consider).  And here I am, on the other side.  I can't really ask for more.

*

I was at a lecture the other day and the speaker made a comment about how negativity is distracting.  And I thought about all those mornings I should have dedicated to writing over the past few years but couldn't, either because I was in the car driving to the clinic for an ultrasound or because my brain was skittery with sorrow and fear.  I am now flush with desire to get back to work, even as it is so easy to sit at my computer and click a link to another blog and get sucked down that sad road again.  Slowly, a word at a time, a day at a time, I am healing.  And that, too, is something remarkable.

Growing Up, Moving On

At five months (!), Tiny Boy is old enough that I can't accurately recall his age in weeks (maybe 22?).  He took a ride in the real stroller (sitting up!) yesterday, which was followed up by a trip to the park and a "dinner" of rice cereal, which he did not reject.

I look at his preemie clothes and really can't imagine that they actually fit him.  He's grown, like, 6 inches and 8 pounds since then.  His abdomen is literally twice as wide as it was at birth, and his wrists, too.  Not so tiny, it seems.

*

*

I hold him in the rocking chair and am already nostalgic for the baby he once was.  I want him to grow up.  I want him to stay this small forever.  I think, this is the last time I will ever have a baby this small.

I did not mourn the passing of LG's babyhood.  She was a hard baby.  And as much as I wanted to be pregnant, as much as I wanted to have a child, I did not enjoy her first six months.  They were full of inconsolable screaming, even as I starved myself to feed her.  Once she was on Neocate, once she started sitting up/crawling/standing (all within a 3 week period at 6 months) she was a happier kid, and I was a happier mom.  Not coincidentally, that's also when I went back to work.

*

If there is a silver lining to 3 years of fertility treatment and loss, it is having children 8 years apart, which I never thought I wanted.  I sit in the rocking chair with my little boy and then I read Harry Potter with my big girl.  She dotes on him and he adores her.  She is not jealous, at least not in obvious ways.

*

It's been a year, and I am still astonished that it actually worked.  That an embryo implanted itself in the wall of my uterus and grew, that it outwitted all that wanted to stop it from doing so, that it became a boy who is now my son, with his bright blue eyes and huge grin and easy (oh, so easy, compared to LG) temperament.

And for all that I have been irritated with work, I recognize how fortunate I am that I will be able to spend the bulk of his first year at home with him.  This summer he'll have a babysitter for 15-20 hrs week, during which I will finally get that book manuscript finished, and by the time fall semester rolls around and he'll be in full-time daycare, he'll be 10 months.  10 months!

And maybe by then he'll be sleeping.  For now, I'll take these moments of sitting next to him in bed for 40 minutes at a stretch because, really, they'll be over soon.  And in the blink of an eye, he'll be reading Harry Potter and LG will be off at college.  And I really don't want to think about that...

Tired Blah Blah Blah Tired

If someone could tell me why Tiny Boy's nap 'schedule' is erratic as it is, I'd be very grateful.  Most days he takes FOUR (or even five) 40 minute naps.  Which really sucks.  He's not getting deep sleep he needs at this age, and I spend half my day in the rocking chair or nursing him to sleep.  But then there are days--yesterday--he sleeps 3-4 hours in one stretch without much difficulty (I usually have to nurse him once in there but he's immediately back to sleep).  I'd really like to shift to 2-3 normal length naps, please.

And don't even get me started about night.  Let's just say it's a GOOD night for us if he's out for 2 hours.  Of course, LG didn't sleep through the night until she was two (years, that is); my expectations for sleeping through the night are pretty low.

Last night I woke up around 1:00 as Tiny Boy was trying to re-latch himself; I'd fallen asleep nursing/holding him about two hours prior.  He nursed so frequently I'm not even going to bother pumping this morning. 

*

Part of me wonders if the nurse-a-thon is a response to me being on campus all the freaking time.  Yesterday I had a grad class, today I need to do committee work, tomorrow committee work and grad class, Friday some undergraduate program thingy I agreed to do.  Next week looks much the same.

*

I had something else to say about the lameness of one of Tiny Boy's caregivers and the awesomeness of the other, but he's sitting on my lap and now sucking on my arm, which I am taking as a not-so-subtle hint that he wants to nurse.  Again.  You know, because 40 minutes between feedings is a really long stretch when you're on the verge of 5 months.

Do I sound crabby?  I am.  But in the big scheme of things, if this is the worst thing I have going on, my life is damn good, you know?

Academic Single Mother by Choice Times Two

(or, A Disjointed Update on the Goings On of the Past Week)

Combine LG's spring break, me being on campus 4-6 hours daily, my mother's visit, and Tiny Boy not sleeping and you have a recipe for something beyond exhaustion.

If this is what things are going to be like next year, holy crap, I might die.

*

In some ways my mother visiting makes things much easier, as it should.  She rocked Tiny Boy while I read with LG; she took LG out to the mall while Tiny Boy stayed home and napped.  She stayed home with both kids while I observed a grad student teach at 8:00 a.m.  My mother visiting means that there's another pair of hands. 

But there's also another level of chaos, of someone else's stuff sprawling across my small (one minuscule bathroom!) house, of someone else's basic needs and preferences.  Like, my mother refuses to use cloth diapers on Tiny Boy.  I'm not asking her to wash them.  I'm not even asking her to do any complicated folding (I've got a stash of diapers that are basically like cloth disposables, in terms of how they go on).  But she won't do it, even though she has no problem putting a sheet that's been peed on in the wash.  How is a cloth diaper any different?

*

I'm feeling old.  I've been out of grad school 11 years.  I look at the grad students in our program and they seem ridiculously young; indeed, they could be as much as 18 years younger than me (though I don't think anyone of them actually is).  I'm not one of them anymore.  Hell, I'm not even junior faculty anymore.  Weird.

Occurred to me this week how much of my job involves judging others.  Writing contests, faculty merit review, grad student teaching observations.  And I don't like judging others, despite the fact that I am an INFJ on those personality inventories.

*

Tiny Boy isn't sleeping.  Or he sleeps so lightly he just rolls around and I don't sleep.  I spend probably an hour in the rocking chair in the middle of the night, because I figure if I'm not sleeping, he might as well.  It's been this way since birth, some weeks/nights better than others, for reasons I still haven't been able to figure out.  I thought the side-lying nursing/swaddle combo had changed things, but even that doesn't always work.  And then on nights he sleeps better, my own sleep patterns are so messed up that I'm awake anyway.  That makes doing intellectual work incredibly difficult.

*

I realize my maternity leave is substantially better than what some folks have.  14 weeks (an extra two because of the c-section) is long enough to get through the squalling newborn phase.  And if my job involved something mindless and repetitive--say, washing dishes all day long--I'd be exhausted but I could do it.  I'm not having trouble doing my own mindless work, like crossing entries off a 500 item spreadsheet to get it down to 200.  But putting sentences together?  Concentrating on complicated texts?  Not really happening.

I'd guess at this point I'm doing the roughly 50% of my job that involves teaching/service--which is actually all service right now--but not the 50% that involves research/writing.  But squeezing those hours into 15 hrs of paid childcare, plus what I can do during naps and after bedtime, is really difficult.

On Wednesday, I went to a grad class in the morning, met a friend for lunch, went to a department meeting and had 45 minutes in which to pump milk and get across campus for another grad class...and a student stopped me in the hall to see if I could talk.  (Umm, no.  My kid's life depends on me not talking right now.)

*

I've reached starvation mode again.  I haven't weighed myself in a couple weeks, but the last I checked I was down to 106 (and now can wear pretty much all my pre-pregnancy clothes).  It seems like I'm eating all the time but I can't get enough calories in to stop losing weight, and I really can't afford to lose anymore (with LG, I got down to 93, which was bad).  I think it mostly has to do with my metabolism going haywire and milk oversupply.  What I need isn't paid childcare, it's another few months of leave and a housekeeper who keeps me fed.

*

I have a two hour meeting in the morning, and then we're going to my mom's for Passover.  Tiny Boy's first road trip.  I haven't packed, or even made a list.  I haven't finished prepping for the meeting.  I haven't done much of anything in terms of cleaning the house.  But I think I've been awake since about 3:00 last night.  I've got to stop typing this, email a grad student, and go to sleep before this baby wakes again to eat.  (I'm keeping myself fortified with peanut m&m's and a big glass of water.)

Just four more weeks and then it's summer.  And then, hopefully, I can actually get some work done.

Milestone

A year ago I was in the midst of what I truly think was the worst time of my life, thinking I was having another miscarriage and worried, for good reason, about not getting tenure.  If only I could have flashed forward another year.  Picture it:

A new mother, now a tenured associate professor, takes her eight-year-old daughter and 4-month old son on a walk to the neighborhood park on a beautiful spring day.  Conversation about hyacinth, daffodils, tulips.  What's that one, Mom? she wants to know.  The baby, who should be napping, coos in his stroller.  And then, while the girl climbs and runs and twirls, the mother pushes the baby, all thirteen (?) pounds of him, propped up with a sweater, in a swing.  He giggles and shrieks with delight.

*

The kind of day that I end up in tears--the good kind, always the good kind--you know?

I Should Know Better

I recognize that I should know by now that if I actually record this observation for all the internets to read that it will no longer be true.  I also recognize that last night might be a post-vaccination fluke.

However...I am really hoping that I have solved the problem of the thrashing baby.  When LG was tiny, she'd sleep pressed right up next to me, like a little heat seeking missile.  Tiny Boy, on the other hand, rolls and thrashes (even fully swaddled), ends up 180 degrees from where he started.  He's on his back, on his side, and if I don't catch it, his tummy.  He kicks and punches me.  He rolls his head and tush from side to side.  Even if he's asleep, he's clearly restless, and it was these sorts of antics that made me eventually stop co-sleeping with LG (at around 2).  But last night, after I realized he was uncomfortable in his stupid sleeper (too short?  tag in the back?) I put him in a t-shirt, swaddled him very loosely with a blanket, tried side-lying nursing (which is generally a failure because he's too small or the angle is weird or something), and the kid slept.  Right next to me, sandwiched between my breast and a boppy pillow.  I think we could have avoided the 3-5 am misery if he hadn't required Tylenol and a diaper at 4:00.

Could all that rolling just have been trying to get to me and failing miserably?

I'll let you know how it goes.  Have to leave the kid in 15 minutes to go to campus.  First time with a non-grandma, non-mom-friend babysitter.  Sniff.

Post Post-Partum

I don't know if there's an official cutoff, but I don't think I can consider myself postpartum anymore:  as of Monday, I am officially back at work (though I don't know entirely what that means), I am wearing non-maternity clothes, and I got my period.

I have to say, that last one pisses me off.  It was bad enough to get my period at 8 weeks postpartum with LG while nursing exclusively.  But to get it now, after needing to use DE to conceive?  What a slap in the face.  Sure, you can't have a baby but you can still bleed reliably every month and ovulate eggs that will never have a chance of becoming an embryo.  Feels really weird, too, not to call up Dr. G's office and say it's cd 1, I need to come in for monitoring tomorrow.  I think maybe anyone who uses DE, especially those of us of the unpartnered sort, should go into instant menopause.

*

On the mother's helper front:  my 3-day-a-week favorite happily agreed, though won't start until after spring break.  (Which is actually a week that LG is mostly off, so I'm not sure how I'll work that.)  The 2-day-a-week-back-up wants me to pay her more because apparently she's interviewed for another position.  I just reiterated what I said at the interview--basically I'm willing to pay more when I actually leave the house--but there's no way I'd pay her more than I'm paying the one I actually like.  So I might be short on childcare, or I might start re-interviewing.  Have to see what she decides.

*

This was my first week back, but it wasn't really, as LG was off from school Monday through Wednesday (president's day plus a nasty ear/sinus infection).  Yesterday I went into the office to sign some things and pick up my mail and locate my teaching evaluations.  Monday I need to go in for a reading.  Other than that, it's been a ton of email trying to sort various things out.

*

I need to teach Tiny Boy to sleep unswaddled and in the crib.  I'm still happy to co-sleep at night, but clearly what I'm doing won't be workable during the day with a babysitter.  The major problems are (1) he generally falls asleep nursing, and it's hard to get him to stay asleep when he comes off the breast and (2) he startles himself, which is why I've been swaddling him, but he hates it and prefers sleeping with his arms over his head.  I've tried half-swaddling him while he's awake and then zipping him up (still using the swaddle pod most of the time), and I've also tried unswaddling him once he falls aslelep, but neither works reliably well.  I didn't have this particular problem with LG.

*

The upshot of all this is that I'm tired, though ironically (?) not nearly as tired as I was pre-conception when Dr. G reluctantly put me on ambien.  And now, if I can get up without waking the boy, I could really use a shower...

Small Good Things (14 weeks!)

1. Tiny Boy and I took a trip to BRU this morning in order to "trade in" LG's old convertible carseat.  As I am not yet ready to make a carseat purchase for a baby who won't need it for six months or more, I bought a stroller instead.  At 30% off!  I hope I like it.  I did not endlessly research this stroller, as I would ordinarily, but I have a friend who has the same one, and it seemed to meet all my basic requirements for strollers.  So, yay!
2. LG had a playdate this morning.  As LG is off from school both today and tomorrow, a playdate is a darn good thing.  Keeps both of us happy.
3. On Saturday LG had a babysitter while I worked on my annual review materials from home.  I would have let the sitter handle Tiny Boy, too, but he conked out after I nursed him and slept the rest of her visit.  Hired help can be very nice...and I'll hopefully have a workable childcare arrangement by the end of the week.
4. I am feeling somewhat like my old self now that I'm not wearing maternity pants, anymore.  I can even manage to squeeze into my favorite work pants, which is good considering I need to start showing up for work things.  Sigh.
5. Soup in the crockpot.  I made turkey barley soup twice this week, as I froze a bunch of it and then LG and I both wanted more.  Yum!

Random Bullets of Life with Kids

• I woke in the middle of the night convinced that Tiny Boy had succumbed to SIDS.  He was cold and sleeping, well, like a dead thing.  And I picked his little swaddled body up muttering oh my g-d until finally he moved.  The whole episode probably lasted 20 seconds, but wow I can't take that kind of fright.
• I took Tiny Boy with me to the dentist today.  Which sucked.  He was sleeping when we left the house and of course needed to eat when I was mid-way through my cleaning.  So I took a nursing break, which only kept us there longer, as the hygienist took a break from me to work on another patient, so then he was crying because it was naptime.  Oy.
• Despite the above, Tiny Boy managed to take a 1-hour nap and a 3-hour nap in the bed.  And--knock wood, fingers crossed--went to sleep easily at 6:30 tonight and won't wake for a while to feed.
• Because of the above, I missed an opportunity to take Tiny Boy to see Dr. Gorgeous at her outpost in my hometown.  (Apparently NOT waking the baby is more important than showing off the baby.  Good to know.)  I'll just have to catch up with her another time.
• Because of the above, I had some time in which to clean up the kitchen while LG did her homework.  And I'd be hanging out with LG now, except she prefers books to her mother's company.  Yes, she is my kid.
• Am interviewing mother's helper folks later in the week.  Having some scheduled work time is sounding good to me, as much as I'm truly enjoying watching Tiny Boy discover what he can do with his hands.
• I broke down and bought two pairs of non-maternity pants a size larger than I usually wear.  I'm really happy I did, though I suspect if I gave it another few weeks I'd be able to wear my old things.
• The house is largely a mess.  I haven't written more than 100 words at a stretch in I can't remember how long.  And I'm happy, people.*

* Crying almost daily still--post-reproductive traumatic stress disorder be damned--but happy.

Bedtime Battles

I'm finding that there are three tricky times we face every day:  getting LG out the door, negotiating nursing and feeding LG dinner, and putting the kids to bed.  The first has largely been dealt with, as she's been walking to the bus stop with a neighbor friend.  The second is usually a matter of staggering, either nursing Tiny Boy right before we eat or leaving LG to finish by herself, depending on if/when he's taken a late afternoon nap.  But bedtime?  That's proving to be quite challenging.

Part of the problem is that LG has a very protracted set of bedtime rituals that neither one of us really wants to give up.  It involves reading for a while by herself (but preferably in my bed), snuggling and drinking rice milk and talking about our "good things" for the day, brushing teeth, taking medicine, being tucked in and lights out.  When Tiny Boy was small and on nothing resembling a schedule, it was easy enough for the three of us to pile in my bed while she read and I nursed him or something and then holding him while she went about the rest of her routine.  But now, although Tiny Boy's actual bedtime varies from night to night, his need to sleep about an hour after his last nap is necessary.  It seems to work best if I can actually get him down for the night at 6:00 or 6:30 (LG starts her reading routine [or extra math homework] generally around 6:45, with a 7:30-7:45 lights out.  But often I can't...or he wakes and I need to ditch LG to rock him (again), which isn't any fun for anyone.  Last night I started nursing/putting him to sleep at 5:45...he fell asleep around 6:15 and then woke up...and the process began again, and again, until finally I gave up and put him to bed after LG.  Which meant a very tired crabby baby.  And a big kid who didn't have her mom because she was too busy rocking her not-sleeping brother.

There's got to be a better way to go about this, but I can't figure it out.  One of them isn't getting what they need.  And that's the one thing that sucks about being a single parent.

Because I Got Cocky

So apparently Tiny Boy's nap routine was short-lived.  Both Saturday and Sunday he took long (like 3 hr) naps in his car seat at completely different times, due to journeys around town with LG.  Yesterday he just refused to sleep for longer than 45 minutes at a stretch, and that "long" one also involved the car; I literally spent the entire day just trying to get him to sleep.  This morning, I dutifully nursed him and tried to get him down after being awake for 1.5 hrs (this seems to be the magic moment with him); he fell asleep and woke as soon as I transferred him to the crib.  Ignored him and took a shower and there he was smiling and flapping his arms, but not asleep.  Spent another 20 minutes trying to get him down--I mean, he's yawning the whole time and obviously overtired--to no avail.  So we just took a trip in the car; he fell asleep within about 2 minutes and stayed asleep at the coffee shop (I drove to the farthest one from home), where I managed to read a bit about baby sleep (Baby Whisperer) and read a chapter for work.  (How's that for "balance"?)  We're now going on 1.5 hrs of nap but 3+ without milk, so I'm guessing he'll wake any second.

I did have two epiphanies: (1) Fuck the book project (oh, did I say that?) and just write.  The book will get written, but right now I do not have the attention span for the book.  At least not this particular book.  (2) I really do need to hire a mother's helper type person to watch him on a regular basis, though I have not figured out either the number of hours or timing.  I just know that if this current trend continues, I will get nothing done; yesterday I didn't manage to do so much as a load of laundry or cook LG dinner (thank goodness for frozen chicken tenders), much less read anything.  And as long as I hire someone who is willing to do light housework if he actually naps, I don't think I'll resent paying for someone to be around while I nurse him.

Rats, there's the boy...To be continued. 

It's now 4 hours and another short nap later.  Can't remember what all else I wanted to say regarding these matters, other than I am tired and I will never assume a trend in baby sleep will last longer than 2 days.  Sigh.