- Jackson sleeps in his crib at night now, waking me about every 2-3 hours. Fortunately, I hear him on the monitor before the billy goat cry begins, so there's minimal fussing since I only have to climb out of bed and go next door to his room. For his long-lived claims of being a light sleeper, KB sure does seem to snooze through a lot. Including my cursing when a diaper explosion occurs, I stub my toe, or just generally emit an "Oh, for fuck's sake" for general purposes.
- During the day, the kid is completely unpredictable. I think. I am not doing the greatest job of keeping track of diapers, feedings, naps, whatever so I'm not sure if there's an emerging pattern yet. I do know that he eats about every 1.5-2 hours and usually takes one super long nap in the afternoon. If I let him sleep on me (which confines me to the couch, parked in front of the tv, like the ultimate slob) he can nap for a few hours. My butt has, at times, gone numb. But he's so soft and cuddly and warm and smooshy when he sleeps on me that I can't help it. I'm a sucker for my baby.
- We go on lots of neighborhood walks and have been to le Target and the zoo. I'm still leery of going to indoor crowded places with filthy humanity, what with flu season upon us. I also have not yet taken the step to nurse in public, which is limiting our travels a bit. I'm not super-self-conscious about it, but it just strikes me as awkward. I mean, I can't carry the Boppy with me wherever I go. I just bought a (I shit you not, this is the actual name) Hooter Hider which is designed for easy-access in public and I like the apron design much better than trying to manipulate a blanket. I'll test it out this weekend when we go to my sister-in-law's for Halloween.
- Speaking of which...Jack is going to be my little monkey for Halloween. At least for as long as he'll tolerate wearing the costume, and hopefully long enough to get a picture of him not looking all ragey and stabby. KB and I considered pimping him out to get bags o'candy for ourselves ("Don't be stingy, neighbor-lady, the baby loves snack-size Snickers!") but are frankly too lazy to bother. So we'll hang out at the in-law's house for a while and then come home and resume our usual routine: feed, change, and burp the baby, then try to get him to sleep. It's exciting, y'all. Sometimes there's tummy time also. And the occasional, brief, nap.
- I am frustrated with pumping. I can hardly find the time, and I don't get much. I feed him on demand all day and during the night, and pump to have bottled milk on hand so KB can feed him in the evening. We call that feeding the Milk Bomb. It is constructed to tame the Milk Monster and to induce the Milk Coma. These are the tools to make baby sleep at night. He gets ridiculously hungry around 9PM and no amount of nursing is enough. So, enter the Milk Bomb. We fortify it with some gripe water (which I assume has some magical properties, perhaps made from unicorn tears or something) and his daily vitamin drops, and down the hatch it goes. Then, he sleeps. Usually. I try not to count on our daily routines being too regular, since unpredictability is the only thing constant around here. It's a work in progress. But I do have to start saving some milk and transitioning a little more to bottles since I eventually have to go back to work. Which, boo-hoo. Although I will admit, at the risk of it making me a terrible person and a worse Mommy, that the anticipation of having him in the capable hands of his day school and being able to take a leisurely shower, go work out at lunch time, and have adult conversations (not to mention resume earning my salary) holds some appeal.* So, gotta pump.
- It's so muthertrucking windy here this week that my front door blew open this morning, and was wide open for at least half an hour, before I realized it. I thought the wind sounded awfully *close* but had a baby on my teat, so couldn't check. When I did get up, I saw a wide-open door and an incredulous-looking dog sitting in the foyer, her eyes shifting back and forth between me and the path to freedom. What flashed through my mind was: shitshitshitshitshit how fast can I get the baby in the carseat and into the stroller to chase after the dog down the street? I told her to *sit* and *stay* and dammit if she didn't listen to me and NOT make a run for it. I thank all available gods that she is either too well-trained and/or stupid to flee. Even though a baby ranks much higher in the pecking order than a dog, I love my puppy.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
"...Is This Thing On?"
Here it is, the lazy list o'bullets: