We should all be this flexible. 

Don't bother wearing your white gloves.

I don't know how these domestic goddesses do it. My house is nearing sty status. One would think because I'm always home I might be able to pull this mess together - but one would be wrong. Silly one. Who does one think I am?

I have never been what one would call a clean person - but I try to be neat. I typically try to have things in their place or at the very least shoved under the bed. Vacuuming, sweeping, dusting and scrubbing are my sore points though. But at the moment I have failed on both fronts. I just can't find the time to clean during the day. During Noah's waking hours I'm too busy trying to entertain him and tend to his every whim. He takes two naps during the day but that time flies by so quickly because I'm trying to cram so many things in to my only "me" time. I need to eat something, fill dishwasher/empty dishwasher, collect laundry/start laundry/shift laundry/fold laundry/put away laundry, blog, check email, read online a little, and plan dinner. And I can't even get all that in. I TRY to clean during weekends. Mark and I will sometimes take turns watching baby and cleaning the house. But weekends have been a blur of activities lately and very little time at home. So the result is a pig pen. We really need to scrub this place down this weekend. OH how I dread it. I don't suppose one would like to help me?

Noah doesn't have a fever today thankfully. And he stopped rubbing his eyes, nose and mouth - which the pediatrician said could be signs of oncoming cold symptoms or a headache. But he's still pretty whiny and clingy. In fact I feel a touch whiny and clingy today too.
I'm sorry to say that my stepfather is back in the hospital. He's at Grand View this time. His blood is a mess apparently and they're keeping him to check his kidneys, clean his blood and other assorted fun things. Hopefully he'll be back out in a few days.

I LOVE this part! 

Can you believe this kid can't even sit up?  

Feeling hot, hot, hot!

My little man is sick. Yesterday he started getting a bit whiny and clingy. At first I thought he was just having trouble adjusting to a "normal" day after all the hubbub recently. And then I was sure it was related to teething. Right before bed I thought he felt a bit warm but Mark didn't think so. I tried to take his temperature with the thermometer pacifier we have, but he kept spitting it out before I got a reading - so I gave up. After I put him down for bed I kept hearing these tiny plaintive moans in the monitor so I went up to check on him. He felt undeniably warm - but I had to make sure. This ushered in the great thermometer debacle. The pacifier wasn't cutting it and there was no way I wanted to take his temp anally so I got out the ear probe thermometer. I think I took his temperature 15 times and the readings ranged from 95 to 101 - with the bulk of them up by 101. The ear probe sucks. Using your wrist is just as reliable if not more. And my wrist said he was definitely hot. Now what?

My first inclination since this was his first fever was to freak the fuck out and take him to the emergency room. But I've read all of those crappy childcare books and listened to the on-hold message at my pediatrician's office and they both make fevers seem like no biggie. So Mark pulled out the books again and we decided to just give him infant Advil and get him back to sleep. Once he nodded off I tried to put him in his bassinet and he woke up. I got him back to sleep, tried to put him in his bassinet and he woke up. I got him back to sleep, tried to put him in his bassinet and he woke up. See where I'm going with this? So I just said screw it - no washing of face, changing of clothes and brushing of teeth for me - I was obviously already in bed for the night. And a long night of infant tossing and turning it was.

This morning he still felt warm so we wanted to call the pediatrician. I figured they would ask what his temperature was and I didn't want to tell them "Of the 15 unreliable times I took it with the ear probe I would guess HOT." So Mark again told me we would have to take his temperature anally. I was horrified by this proposition, as I certainly wouldn't want anyone putting a thermometer up my ass. Especially without asking. And what if we put it in too far. But I finally caved and made Mark do it. Problem was the book said we needed Vaseline and we didn't have any. This put me on a hunt to find lubrication that would agitate his little butt. After considering Desitin, cooking oil and lip balm we settled on aloe vera gel. And you know what? Noah didn't even flinch when he was having his temperature taken. It was like he didn't even notice. And the result was 100.3, which is high for the morning since typically your body temperature is at it's lowest.

Mark headed to the mines and I manned my listless baby while waiting to call the pediatrician when they opened. After a lengthy hold I got the nurse practitioner. I said my infant son had a fever this morning and through the night but wasn't really exhibiting any other symptoms but whining and clinginess. She asked if he was still nursing. (HA! As if my boy would EVER stop eating.) I said yes he was. She said it sounds like he was fighting off a little virus and that I shouldn't worry about solid foods, but if he stopped nursing then I should bring him in. But since he was drinking I should just treat his fever with infant Advil. She said there was a common virus called Rosalea (sp?) that would cause three days of fever with no other symptoms and then would cause a rash once the fever broke - and that was one possibility but there was no need for me to bring him in unless he developed more symptoms. I asked if I should avoid feeding him solid foods and she said no - if he would eat them then great. (HA again. He demolished breakfast with his normal vigor.) So I'm pampering my whiny, clingy baby and hoping he gets well fast. He's too wiped out to really play but doesn't want to just sit so he's a bit of challenge at the moment. Sick babies get to watch a little TV I've decided, so we watched about 20 minutes of Baby Genius on OnDemand this morning. Those floating reflective shapes are trippy!

I caught you! 

Jiggedy Jig

We're home again, home again.

Just two days ago I was telling my mom that though Noah loves his pacifier and constantly chews on his fists and any of my body parts that get in his general vicinity, that he doesn't really put random things in his mouth. My mom was saying it was a good thing because once he started I would have to stop giving him catalogs to tear apart, granola wrappers to crinkle and assorted random junk to paw at.

Well, the day has come already. Today as I type Noah is licking a Nature Valley granola wrapper. He is rabidly gumming the thing into submission. And I'm sure that this day came so quickly because of my stupidity in helping him discover the glory of shoving things into his gaping maw. As I was eating an apple yesterday I held it up to his mouth and he licked it. And boy was he impressed. YUM - he seemed to say with his wide eyes. He kept sticking out his little tongue and lapping at it. I just thought this was SO darling I cut off a big piece of my apple just for him. He didn't want to hold it himself but he just licked and gnawed and gummed at it as I held it to his mouth. He didn't get a single shred but I guess the juice was enough to spur him on. And to make matters worse I also let him lick the salt on my pretzels! What a moron I am. Surely I should have realized these acts would precipitate the boy tasting EVERYTHING.

Oh, yesterday's post about visiting Jean was supposed to end with a long sappy philosophical talk about it taking a village to raise a child and how you can't get too much love - but I was distracted and didn't finish it. And I won't bore you with my whole inner dialogue now. I often "write" blogs in my head that never get posted - or get posted in some form but lose their original intention. I wish I could get a print out of my head.

Extending your family

Last night Noah and I paid a visit to an old friend. My mother and I moved in with my stepfather in the middle of my fifth grade school year. My mom decided to let me finish out the year at my former school, in a different school district. So for the remainder of the year and through the summer, David, my new next-door neighbor, was my only new friend. David and I remained friends throughout school, despite my junior high bitchiness, and still keep in touch today though he moved to the outskirts of Detroit to practice medicine. I also keep in contact with his mother Jean – not just because she is his mother, or because she was a neighbor, but because many times during those years she felt like a second mom to me. She sometimes put up with me after school, helped with homework, and mediated quarrels between David and I. And over the years she has been present for the major milestones – my graduation, wedding, and baby shower. So it was high time for her and her wonderful husband Greg to meet Master Noah.

I was quite daring to take Noah over to see Jean and Greg after his bedtime. Noah’s bedtime that is – not Greg’s. Driving over there I had visions of a tired grumpy Noah crying and then dozing off, which is a super fun first impression. But once again, my worries were all for not. Noah played with the blocks Jean so thoughtfully purchased for him, smiled, and then practiced his Gaas and happy dolphin shrieks. Thank the Gods that no one ever meets the scary baby I always envision in my mind’s eye. Both Jean and Greg commented on how sweet and good he is. He was quite the charmer. Except for up-chucking twice on their floor, he was perfection. And even that wasn’t too bad since he managed to avoid spitting on me and himself – and it landed squarely on the kitchen linoleum. Good aim kid!

We can see the forest and the trees

Noah’s honorary Aunt Tracey spent the day with us on Friday. Noah laughed at her hysterically for a good twenty minutes straight as she made faces, used a funny voice and flailed her arms around. Mark and I just looked at each other in amazement because Noah had never laughed so much. NEVER. I can’t overemphasize just how funny he thought she was. I’m interested to see if she can get this same reaction from him on her next visit. If she can then she seriously needs to consider going on the road as an infant comedian.

On Saturday our trio traveled to Qtown and spent some time at the rehab center visiting Larry. We dined at the gastronomic success known simply as Hobo’s and spent the night at Mom’s place. On Sunday the beauteous Baby Bella and the piquant Patrice came to frolic with us at my mother’s place. I am stunned at how well Bella is sitting up. She is like a sitting up genius. Others should just give up their attempts at sitting because Bella has so improved on it that all will pale in comparison. In fact I’m lying on the floor as I type. Patrice whisked Mark away to the train station to return to our urban dwelling while Noah and I maintain our residence deep in the heart of the woodlands. We had our Sunday dinner with Mom at Friday’s. Noah has never eaten out this much in his life – I hope he doesn’t develop a taste for it. Of course when I say eaten out, I don’t mean that Noah ate anything but rather enjoyed watching me eat – and more truthfully enjoyed staring at strangers while playing with his shoelace.

Last night was my best night of sleep with Noah EVER. He only woke me up for one feeding during the night. Hallelujah! I hope that is a sign of things to come. Oh how I would love for him to finally drop that second feeding.

I’m happy to say that Larry was moved to the rehabilitation center on Friday of last week and is returning home this afternoon. Though he could probably benefit from a little more physical therapy, he and my mom decided that the negatives induced by being stuck in the rehab center (chiefly depression) outweigh the positives – so home he comes.

Noah and I will probably return to Mark and the cats tomorrow. So Mark is home alone again tonight and like last Monday when he was home alone I have encouraged him to go out. The man needs to go out and have a beer or something – take full advantage of being wife and childless for the night. Of course Murphy’s Law dictates that the night he is free to live it up is also the night when our friends already have plans. If you would enjoy Mark’s company for an hour or two this evening please drop him a line. His wife is trying desperately to make a play date for him.

HERE kitty kitty.

The very good news is that it seems my stepfather will be released from the hospital on Saturday and taken to LifeQuest for a week of rehabilitation. And if all goes well he should soon return to his couch, TV and yippy dog. This is quite remarkable considering that last week it didn't look like he was going to pull through - but thankfully it seems he has borrowed a little more time. Mark, Noah and I will head to my mom's place on Saturday to keep her company for a couple of days.

As Mark and I are only 2/5 of the inhabitants of our home, it is time to discuss how the other three are interacting. Noah LOVES the cats. The cats however still aren't too sure about Noah.

To truly understand the dynamic between our infant son and our cats - you must first understand the personality of the cats. Spy is a large black cat who on size alone could take down a small dog. However he is about the most skittish cat alive. He tends to stay away from Noah because of his dolphin shrieking and sudden movements. Parker is a flabby tabby and possibly the most love hungry docile cat on the planet. You could pick up Parker, squeeze him into a tiny ball and hold him for a long period of time and all you would get is some pitiful whining to be let go - in addition to his purring. He doesn't scratch and he doesn't bite - he just loves. Parker stays close by Noah because he likes to be close by us. He attempts to sit just outside of Noah's grasp so as not to have his fur pulled or his eyes poked - but I usually move Noah closer. This might seem cruel but Noah is SO delighted by the cats. He will often stop what he is doing to just stare at them walk around the room. And then he will suddenly shriek with delight and kick his feet. He thinks they're pure magic. And well, though Parker doesn't really love to be poked at, he does enjoy attention.

When I was pregnant Mark's 93-year-old Grandmother took me aside one afternoon and said she had something important to discuss. In that moment I expected her to talk about something very serious like illness or death. But what she told me was that it was not safe to have cats around my child and that I needed to make plans on how to keep them separated. She was very serious and very concerned so like a good granddaughter in-law, rather than argue with her I just said okay. So if you see Laima let her know that the cats now have their own apartment and are very happy together.

What are YOU looking at? 

Feeling so very fortunate

Noah is currently in his Exersaucer. But he's not playing with any of the toys. Nope. He is intently studying the pattern on the fabric of the seat. He's pawing at the vividly colored elephants, monkeys and lions as if he doesn't’t understand that they are flat pictures on fabric. He did this the other day with the bee fabric on his Boppy. He'd touch a bee and then look at me with this confused look on his face. These babies have so very much to learn.

So nap time used to come to an abrupt end when Noah woke up and began crying to be retrieved from the co-sleeper bassinet. In recent weeks the crying is infrequent. Now I hear a garbled mumble in the monitor and then silence. So I go upstairs to investigate. The co-sleeper has a mesh side so I can see in it as soon as I round the corner from our bedroom steps. And there is Noah. He has flipped from his laying on his stomach to his back and he is playing contentedly with his hands, his pacifier or his blanket. I say something sappy to the effect of "Where is that beautiful baby of mine?" And he turns, sees me and breaks into a huge smile. That feeling has got to be on the short list of the best feelings in the world.

Saturday through Tuesday we spent long stretches of time at the hospital. And for a boy that doesn't leave the house too often - this was a major adventure. I didn't think they would let an infant hang out in the hospital, but I guess as long as he wasn't causing a disturbance they weren't going to crack down on us. And Noah was such a good baby. Except for an occasional dolphin shriek of happiness, he scarcely made a peep. He spent a lot of time in the arms of Mee Maw. We took walks in the parking lot and kept him occupied playing with water bottles and granola bar wrappers. We passed him around to visitors, stood him on our laps and told him he was "SOOOO BIG." He had charming smiles and flirty eyes for nurses, aides and doctors alike. So much was going on at the time that I wasn't even fully focused on how good he was being. But now I have to give him credit - he's such a wonderful little boy and we are so very lucky to have him.

On a much sadder and more powerful note, I have to share this blog posting. It made me cry earlier today.

This certainly makes me feel better. 

Smiles are the best medicine

As some of you know Noah and I have spent the last couple of days at the Quakertown hospital. I could get into the details of my step-father Larry's terminal illness or relay the none too funny story of having my father admitted to the same hospital to take up Larry's former bed when they moved him from the ICU - but this blog really isn't the place for those sort of details. I will say quickly though that it appears my father's ailment is not too serious and he should be out of the hospital at any moment today - though unfortunately I can't say the same things for Larry.

I'm not too sure how my Mom would feel about me disclosing info on Larry's condition in such a public forum and plus this blog is primarily for Noah stuff. So I will just comment that a baby in a hospital is like a ray of sunshine from heaven. Quakertown Hospital doesn't have a maternity ward so all the residents and nurses alike were just so pleased to see Noah's smiling little face so they could take a break from the dealing with the sadness of illness. It was a constant barrage of "How old is he, "His eyes are enormous," and "He's so beautiful." And many times I heard "Enjoy him." This comment is the one I receive most often from women who have already raised their children. They go on to tell me how each stage felt like the best, how the years went so fast, and how much they treasure memories of their kids when they were little. And one day I'm sure I'll pass on the same info. But until then I will remind myself to "Enjoy him."

So Jen asked me the other day what makes the first three months the hardest - and I thought that was are a really valid question. Both the parents and the baby make the first three months the hardest.

For the mom (won't speak for Mark) I will say lack of experience is the most significant factor. For your first one this has got to be the biggest deal because you don't know ANYTHING - even if you read all the books - so every little thing seems like a big deal. But even for later children you don't know the child yet - and since every child is different and it takes awhile to learn their cries, learn their likes and dislikes - the learning curve is difficult. Change is also a huge component since overnight your life is changed into something completely different. Take everything you did on a typical day and throw it out the window. You start your life anew with no routine to follow. After three months you will have established patterns and schedules and after that is seems SO much easier. Also mom is physically recovering from labor or surgery and if you breastfeed it can take you that long for your nipples to "toughen up."

A newborn is harder than a slightly more developed infant for a few reasons. Newborns have no sense of day or night at first so they will often take a few weeks to sleep longer in the night. This lack of sleep for the parents makes a huge difference. Developmentally a newborn is just not as fun as an infant. They are tiny and precious but they have no real personality yet. They eat, sleep, evacuate and cry. Crying is their only real form of communication. Newborns do not make eye contact, do not giggle, do not smile and do not play. This definitely makes the first few months harder and once they can finally really connect with you it feels AMAZING. But that reward isn't really there at first.

There are probably a bunch of other reasons too - but those are the ones I can think of right now. So when everyone says "The first three months are the hardest" they are in no way kidding. That isn't to say that there aren't some wonderful things in the first few months - I still adored them. Mark and I already look back at the pictures of Noah's first couple of weeks and say fondly "Do you remember when he was that teeny tiny little worm?"

The blog may be a bit spotty in the next couple of weeks as Noah and I plan on spending a bit of time going back and forth to Qtown to spend time with Mom and help her and Larry out in any way necessary. Most likely we will just be hanging at Mom's house so she can balance all the hard times with time with her smiling, giggling grandson. Oh - and maybe me too.

Cliches are often true

Confronted with the terminal illness of a family member I can't help but marvel at how precarious and precious life is.

Bella wasn't buying Noah's fresh moves.  

Come back, Ma! These people are nuts. 

They think they're people!

So today I went to my OB for my annual visit and I was delighted to find out that Dr. Kamaljeet Murthy is pregnant with her second son and due in June. This of course brought on talk of when and if Mark and I are going to have a second child. I told the Doc that I'd like to have another sooner rather than later so that they are close in age. I then said "That of course won't be that easy on me in the beginning, but I think it will be best for the kids and in the long run." And Doc said "That's true - but the hard part is over before you know it."

But it seems the hard part IS over before you know it. When I was pregnant I heard "the first three months are the hardest" a GAZILLION times. And BOY were they right. Now Noah seems like a piece of cake in comparison. And I'm sure it will be even more daunting to be going through the first three months with a new infant while tending to a toddler. But you get through it because as hard as it is, it's also a joy and it's worth it in the long run.

Of course it would be easiest if baby number two were a carbon copy of baby number one. But those crazy babies are born as different as people. Grown people that is. They're born with different likes and dislikes and you can bet that what Noah liked won't provide much guidance for us on baby number two. Last night Mark and I had the pleasure of babysitting Ms. Bella so that Patrice and Sean could attend a screening at the film fest. We were only double babying it for an hour since Mr. Noah is a morning person (up between 4 and 6 am) and was in bed by 7:30 pm and Ms. Bella is a night owl (sleeps in) who wanted to hang out. This was perfect for last night -but can you imagine how hard it is if your two kids had totally different sleep preferences? It means you would be up late with one and up early with the other. No time for sleep! That sounds nightmarish - but it happens and parents get through.

The developmental differences and preferences between Noah and Bella are astounding considering they were born only four days apart. While Noah is a rolling fool that can barely sit up even when propped, Bella loves to sit and hates to roll. Noah eats ANYTHING like a champ but Bella is far advanced with raspberries and consonant sounds galore. Noah likes to hang out in the Bjorn but hates being strapped in the stroller while Bella is a stroller fan who puts the kibosh on the baby sling. So you see you never know what you're going to get because these silly babies are actually born with personalities. They think they're people! And don't let any book or parent tell you that your child is late or wrong because they aren't doing what another kid of the same age is doing. You certainly can't assume there's a problem. Growing and learning are really personal things that can't be judged too strictly on a universal time scale. Hell, it took me forever to learn to knit and I still suck at it - that doesn't mean I'm a slow learner or that I have a problem. At least not that I'm willing to admit to.

So in the not too distant future we might be up for a second one. And if we're lucky enough to conceive and deliver he/she will offer new challenges and the two of them will run me ragged. There will be nights when I'm so tired I won't be able to see straight and times when I wonder "what in hell was I thinking" but the hard part will be over before I know it. And later it will seem that the tender childhood years were gone in a flash and I'll want to relive them all - even the hard parts.

Moms don't get sick leave

There was a couple minutes this morning where I thought I was going to have to go to the hospital. I was laying on the hallway floor nauseated, sweating, and having abdominal pains and Noah was squawking in discontent from his Exersaucer. I called Mark and told him to look up the symptoms of appendicitis. He said nausea, sweating and abdominal pains. Luckily I think I was just suffering a minor stomach issue. It subsided after a spell in the loo. But for a couple of minutes I was in a panic. Not about the hospital or the operation but "WHAT ABOUT MY BABY?"

What does one do with an infant if you get sick? Of course this is not the first time I have thought of this. I worry about coming down with the flu, breaking a limb or being briefly incapacitated. One thing I think about frequently is falling down the basement steps while the baby is napping. If I were knocked unconscious while Noah was napping would he just scream in his bassinet until Mark came home or would he master climbing/rolling out and fall on the floor? Would Mark know if he didn't hear from me all afternoon that something might be wrong?

I know. I deserve a Nobel Prize for worrying at this point. It's just so weird to have this other little person who is totally dependent on you. I can't really do anything without having to think about what would he do, where would he be at the time. It really is an overwhelming thought.

Beware: Breast Talk

It should be no secret that I have not loved every minute of breastfeeding. I'm not a big fan of sore nipples, gihugic unwieldy breasts that can't fit in anything, unsupportive bras that fling open, leaking, or even wearing a bra at all hours of the night and day. The first three months were HARD. I was so sore. The only thing that stopped me from quitting is because I promised myself and Noah that I would breast feed him for six months - following the current medical recommendations and the "Babies were born to be breastfed" campaign.

Noah's six month check-up is just around the corner - but now I'm not so certain that it is a good time to stop. Yes, I want my breasts back to somewhat of a "normal" size before trying to wear summer apparel. Yes, I want to work out without worrying about leaking or souring my milk with lactic acid. And yes, I can't wait to wear a supportive bra - and sleep without wearing one. But I have some reasons to keep on keeping on. I'm happy to say that it stopped really hurting just after the three month mark. Breast milk is not only healthier but also FREE. It is also more convenient - rather than getting up in the middle of the night to prepare a bottle I can now practically doze through nursing Noah during his still very prevalent night feedings. Plus I am HOME and I have no good reason NOT to breastfeed. And then there is the bonding aspect - I alone won't be responsible for providing Noah's nourishment in such a primal mammalian level. Oh, and I can't forget to mention that when I stop nursing my period will return - and I haven't had it in over a year.

To ween or not to ween? I'm so torn. I change my mind every five seconds. I guess I'll just wait and see what the pediatrician and the OBGYN say. Or maybe I will flip a coin.