If you don’t follow Broken Condoms Blog on Facebook, you might not have heard that Baby L got her first tooth today! (And if you don’t follow me on Facebook, why the hell not? Go! Do that!) It is quite a relief. At least…we thought it would be, unfortunately, it looks as though, she might not be done. Let the screaming continue!!! What is a mommy to do!?
Tag Archives: Baby Stuff
Thou Shalt Not Cut (Your Mother)
Very, very soon, MB, Baby L and I will be on vacation in Las Vegas, staying at a condo with my mom. My mom has graciously assumed the role of designated baby watcher while we are there, considering that MB and I will not only be on our first vacation, but also kind of on our honeymoon. I am super grateful that she has offered to do this. And that she will be there, because I for one, could definitely NOT leave and go on vacation WITHOUT Baby L because I would be stricken with guilt the whole time. And I would miss her little cheeks so much, I’m sure I would be on the first flight back home. That said, there are some things that worry me about my mom watching the baby. Not because she isn’t totally capable and competent, but because this baby is MINE. And I, like my mother, am sort of a crazy control freak. (To my credit, however, I don’t think I am quite as bad as my mom. If I were, I wouldn’t be able to hack my current living situation with the grace that I have thus far.) But two crazy control freaks, in one place, with one defenseless little lady…well, this could be bad. But I know my baby better than my mom does. Whether or not she raised two kids already. That was a bazillion years ago, mom, and my baby is an INDIVIDUAL.
For instance, when we started rice cereal a few weeks ago, you first told me that I should mix it in with her bottle at night and it would help her sleep. A couple of things:
1. The doctor advised against giving her cereal in the bottle and suggested I spoon feed because there is less chance that she will aspirate cereal. Aspirating cereal does not sound like fun. Especially for a baby, who cannot say, “HELP! I have aspirated cereal!”
2. Cereal does not help this baby sleep. Infact, quite the opposite. MY baby likes to stay awake for 4 hours AFTER nighttime cereal. Did you hear that, Mom?! FOUR HOURS. For the love of all that is holy, PLEASE DO NOT GIVE MY BABY CEREAL AT NIGHT. I will murder you.
I am sure that when I advise my mom of this, she will not take my word for it but decide that she needs to see for herself. Then Baby L will be up at 3am, squirming around and NOT SLEEPING. And then my mom will bitch all of the next day because she didn’t get any sleep.
And then I will cut her.
The end.
Mommy Needs a Patio
I remember days before all this motherhood stuff when I used to get to do things. Like, take naps. And drink wine at lunch. And wake up at noon. And skip laundry because there wasn’t any baby puke all over it. I remember times when I could sit down and watch an episode of “Dexter” without having to pause 15 times to get a bottle or rinse of a pacifier or change a diaper.
I’ve been feeling…in a rut. My days, although fulfilling in ways I never could have imagined, have become sort of monotonous. I sleep until I am awoken, not by an alarm, but by the whimper of a hungry baby. I shower only when MB is free to give me the 20 minutes of peace to do so. I leave the house to run errands but not without a giant diaper bag and massive stroller. I’m stressed in a way that I can’t even explain. Before baby, stress was brought about by too many things on my plate. By having to be too many places at once. By never having enough time. And it is almost the same now, but in some sort of weird way, I miss the time when stress came from having two parties to attend in one night. Or because I wasn’t sure I would be able to make it to happy hour on time because my hair appointment was taking a bit longer than expected.
Can I remember my last hair appointment? Sort of.
We’ve moved so far away from the world I am used to that my social life involves talking to a four-month-old about what an idiot Mitt Romney is. And though she is becoming a hell of a conversationalist, I can’t really decipher her political belief system yet.
There are those moments when I just want a break. Like one where no one wakes me up. Or asks me about feeding schedules. I want to drink beer on a patio somewhere. I want to feel free for a moment.
I’m holding tight to the idea that in just a few days, we will be on vacation. That I might get a few moments, unchained. To drink beer. maybe even on a patio somewhere. But I worry that, even on vacation, I will feel exhausted. Tied down. Alone.
I’m not saying that I don’t enjoy every second of time with Baby L. Or that I don’t cherish every little thing she does. I really do. Because she is the best thing ever. But I’m tired, you guys.
And mommy needs a patio.
Summer Sharing Contest
Hey, ladies and gents! I have a favor to ask!
I entered Baby L in a contest over at Madison Grace Baby Accessories on Facebook!!! The picture with the most likes there gets some free adorable baby loot! And Baby L LOVES headbands (there is no way for me to prove this, but MOMMY loves Baby L in headbands…so there!) Could you take a minute and head over https://www.facebook.com/#!/MaddiesBowShop and like the page and then vote for Lilah (by liking her photo)!? I would bake you all cookies or something…but you know…
Will cyber cookies do?
Mmmmm…
On Sleeping…
I haven’t been very good at keeping you all updated on motherhood and that’s because during the time that I am awake, I am actually PRACTICING motherhood. And then during that time when I’m asleep, well, I’m trying to stay that way for as long as possible.
Baby L had a lot of sleep issues and gas issues and for the first weeks of her life. She was confused about day versus night and what to do during which period, which, as I mentioned before, forced Mommy to sleep on the couch for 5.5 weeks. Mommy was not a fan.
When I was pregnant and registering for things, I decided that, in the beginning, Baby L should sleep in our bedroom in a bassinet. Partially because I was still terrified of SIDS (still am) and partially because the guest room is such a clusterfuck after all the baby gifts and hand-me-downs from MB’s sister who has a little girl as well. I knew we were planning to move shortly after Baby L was born, so I didn’t see the point in setting up a crib/nursery when we would just be taking everything down in a few months anyway. So, I looked on-line for baby sleeping contraptions. And being that I was having a little girl, I wanted something cute. Not too frilly. Not too pink. But functional and pretty. So I settled on this plain white bassinet. It wasn’t anything fancy and it fit perfectly next to my side of the bed so that I could see the baby if I needed to (read: freaked out and started to be a total lunatic) in the middle of the night without having to get up and check on her (37 times because I think she might not be breathing). Fail.
The bassinet, while pretty and functional enough, was not up to Baby L’s sleeping expectations. Turns out: the womb to bassinet transition was not going to happen.
So, Baby L slept in the swing. Or on my chest. And while I totally enjoyed the chest sleeping/cuddling, my back was starting to pay. So we were back to square one.
With our move very quickly approaching, and thus having to downsize, I was starting to get super desperate and went back to where it all started. Target.com. Back in the days of pregnancy, when I had absolutely no idea of what I was in for, I read reviews for this “newborn sleeper” thing. The reviews were mostly wonderful except those select few that mentioned that this contraption will give your baby (gasp!) “flathead syndrome”. Now, internet, to a paranoid, confused, and often hysterical, soon-to-be-mom, “flathead syndrom” might as well be read as “face cancer” or “third arm”. So naturally, despite the glowing reviews, I resisted buying this “newborn sleeper” thing. Until all of our attempts at a normal, bedroom sleeping situation failed and then I broke down and bought it. AND IT SAVED MY LIFE.
While she still has her daily fussy times and sporatic cranky-pants moments, Baby L is finally sleeping 4-6.5 hours per night. IN OUR BEDROOM. Meaning that Mommy and Daddy are sleeping IN THE SAME ROOM. Like, for more than 30 minutes at a time! Can you believe it, internet? I’m pretty sure that this thing is the best thing ever invented. So if you are having trouble getting your newborn to sleep, GO AND BUY THIS THING. For real. (Shameless Fisher Price plug. They should totally pay me for this.)
Anyway, so, that’s about how things are going for us right now. Finally getting some sleep but now, we’re on to packing for our move in TWENTY days. And guess how many boxes are packed, y’all! TWO! (More on this later…)
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On Motherhood
So, since the birth of Baby L, I have literally written 37 blog posts about motherhood. You know, like, in my head. Where none of you can read them. Shockingly, between diaper changing and bottle washing, and being puked on, I haven’t really had a lot of time to actually type things. But lemme tell you, I’m a hell of a mind blogger. If only there was some way to hook up WordPress to my actual brain, you guys would have reading material FOREVER…
Anyway, so yeah. What’s up, internet? I’m a mom now. And it is INSANE.
I have to say, internet, that it honestly is one of the most rewarding things EVER to have a baby and to be someone’s parent but it is also terrifying. I have never felt so truly inept* at anything as I did the first few weeks of Baby
sleep (Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)
L’s life. And I don’t say this to scare all of you preggos or to discourage those of you who aren’t yet on this path, I just mean to say that it is WORK. Granted, I would trade this work for any other work I have ever done in my life. Because even though I haven’t slept in my bed on a regular basis in five weeks, it was worth it the first time that little girl smiled at me. (Which may or may not have been because she was trying to poop, but you take what you can get at this age, because she is basically a meatloaf. A really, really adorable meatloaf.)
I knew that the sleep deprivation was going to be hard. And I honestly thought that, given the fact that I hadn’t slept well for several months anyway, (you know, because a ginormous belly does nothing for sleeping comfortably) I could rock the hell out of not sleeping. Because, I was in my twenties once. (Hard to believe, but it is totally true.) I never expected, however, that my child would not sleep in or on ANY contraption that I purchased for sleeping. Because MY kid was going to sleep through the night right after birth. And she would do it anywhere that I put her, but she would MOST DEFINITELY love her bassinet.
FAIL.
Baby L likes to sleep one of two places: on my chest or in her swing. Period.
This makes sleeping in my bedroom impossible because I can’t sleep with her in the bed (believe in co-sleeping or not, when you are desperate, you are desperate) because MB is a giant and sleeps like he is even BIGGER than he is and is terrified that he will kill her and I can’t move the swing into the bedroom because it is huge and cumbersome and I need it to be accessible if and when I try to do things in other parts of the house. So, internet, I have moved into the living room. (Which, by the way, has recently become infested with spiders of all varieties, and I am totally phobic.This was remedied last week, but HOLY CRAP.) I sleep the first half of the night with Baby L in the swing, swaddled and comfy and after her feeding, she is changed, un-swaddled and sleeps on my chest. I have to say, even though it means that I barely sleep at all, I rather like the cuddling. Because she is teeny and warm and adorable. And I grew her. So, there’s that…
During the first week, Baby L did not sleep at night at all. Evidently, she was confused about what to do when it gets dark outside and mommy is crying hysterically because she hasn’t slept in four days. Luckily, MB’s mom spent a few days with us after it became obvious that I might never sleep again and, since she works nights and was on vacation, she was able to hang out with the nugget while the parents actually slept. Together. In the same room. It has gotten gradually better and now she is sleeping, sometimes, up to five hours at a time after her bath and last bottle. Which makes mommy very, VERY happy. And if I weren’t so exhausted, I might even do a cartwheel or two about it.
MB has, however, been a huge help when he is home on the weekends and has even let me have the day shift while he sleeps on the couch at night so that I don’t get all delirious and start streaking through our neighborhood or something equally ridiculous. And the crazy thing about sleeping in my bedroom? I feel guilty about not sleeping in the same room with my kid. GUILTY! Can you believe that? (If you are a new mom, you probably can and don’t think I am insane. Evidently, this is a thing.)
Either way, things are getting better, and sleep is becoming something that I do sometimes. Which I enjoy. And I have a bunch of amazing friends who have either come by to help me get some random things done around the house or have at least been there to answer their phones when I call them and freak out about the fact that the baby has just spit up into my cleavage and it was more spit up than I remember ever having happened before and OH MY GOD is that OKAY? Is my baby sick? Should I call the doctor on call? (Which, mind you, I have done on THREE, count ’em THREE occasions since we brought her home.Yep. I am a spazz. And I’m okay with that, internet. I don’t know how to work a baby! Give me a break!)
I should really get back to my kid now. But I wanted to say THANK YOU to all of you ladies (and gent!) who have commented here, tweeted, emailed or come by to help, say congrats, or whatever. You guys rock my face off! (Special thanks to Kathryn for the cute goodies that I use daily because I MUCH prefer the adorable burp cloths to the gross white ones! I’m a burp cloth stuff elitist now, see what you’ve done?)
Okay, now which one of you is NEXT?!
*Except Math. I am super inept at Math.
Also, you guys should go here and buy some cute baby stuff! Expansion is coming soon, I hear!
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Getting our Shit Together
When the urge to nest hits you, it is difficult to think of much else. Over the last few weeks, I have had an increasingly strong urge to clean all things. Up high, down low. Pretty much everywhere. The problem with this nesting urge is that it comes at a time in my pregnancy where I am pretty much unable to maneuver my gigantic ass in order to clean these things. I can start a project, work at it for ten minutes or so, but then have to sit down and regain my breath and/or overall body function.
Yesterday, however, solely because MB is now aware that he is on “my fiance is pregnant and overly emotional house arrest”, we got a lot accomplished (read: HE got a lot accomplished, I dusted things that I didn’t have to squat to get to). We were able to put together our adorable swing, the play yard and the stroller and clean the entire basic living area of the house from top to bottom. I feel relieved. Of course, there is still a lot to do, but progress is progress.
Now the dilemma for me is that we have this play yard just sitting in the middle of the living room as a constant reminder that I AM STILL PREGNANT. We don’t even have a BABY to put in this thing yet. And it makes me more impatient than I already was! (If that is possible.) It is hard enough not to be impatient when something is constantly kicking you in your bladder and reminding you of the days when you were empty and peed like normal people with normal sized bladders.
The next stop on the mother of all to-do lists is to pack my hospital bag. I am super ignorant as to what this bag should contain, however, and am worried that I will either forget something super important or pack like I am going on a vacation somewhere. I know that I don’t need to bring 32 pairs of shoes and I am in no danger of packing a bikini (because I cringe at the thought of THIS body in a bikini), but I am pretty sure I will pack like I always do. Like a crazy person. Because you never know how many sundresses you will need after giving birth. You know…necessities. A friend suggested that I check out a website that has a check list for this type of thing, so I guess that will my plan for tomorrow. I will have to try and work it in between my bouts of intense anxiety.
My mood is, however, improving. I didn’t even burst into tears yesterday. Not even once! And today, when I woke up to find that bees had invaded one of our bathrooms, I did not panic and did not become a profanity-screaming lunatic. I calmly explained to MB that, the buzzing sound I thought was the result of a common house fly stuck between the blinds and the window pane was actually about ten bees which had taken over the bathroom. Then I called my landlord, who is on vacation and probably doing Easter things with his grandchildren and calmly explained that this is not cool at all and that I am terrified of bees and chemicals used to kill bees and that exterminators are busy eating ham and searching for Easter eggs and cannot be bothered, but kindly asked that he have someone fix this tomorrow morning (or I will surely go insane). In the meantime, MB attacked the bathroom armed with some sort of spray and a shoe and all seems to be good for the time being. (And he only got stung one time!) Phew.
God, I am exhausted.
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Like Freebies? I DO.
Image via CrunchBase
Many of you have been mentioning freecycle to me, a website that links you to want ads and offers for free stuff in your area, but I wanted to also let you ladies and gents in on Listia, which is much like eBay, but it is free! I hadn’t been on in quite a while, (in fact, WAY before I found out I was “with child”) but I just checked it out and you can find a LOT of goodies there! Go check it out! (And they have an iPhone app!)
http://www.listia.com/signup/629758
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This book was actually recommended to me but, sadly, I did not score a copy yet ( even though I promptly added it to my registry)! It is definitely on my reading list.
Don’t know what to give that special friend or relative who just found out she’s pregnant? Or the one who thinks she might be pregnant, but isn’t really sure? Or the knocked-up coworker two cubicles down with the really nice dieffenbachia plant? You know the one. The unassuming waif who is decidedly in a state of panic over the news. The one consumed by a myriad of irrational fears revolving around the hideous changes her body is currently experiencing. The one who will drive you fairly berserk in her quest to fire inane pregnancy questions at you till doomsday—which, apparently, came and went.
At any rate, you need to purchase a slightly perfect gift for the baby shower that will inevitably occur in the coming months. Let’s Panic About Babies! (a rollicking, unabashed tome about the wonderment of being with child) is, indeed, that perfect gift. That said, it…
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On Showering
Well, internet, I survived my baby shower and didn’t even have to punch anyone in the throat for molesting my “baby dome” (as MB is now calling it).
The big party was last Saturday (and pardon my absence here but there have been piles of goodies to sort through, appointments and a lot of eating. You know, because…well…eating is EATING.) I woke up Saturday morning (at 6 am), for the first time in a long time, completely sick. And when I say sick, I mean FIRST TRIMESTER sick. I felt ravenously hungry but totally nauseated and disgusting. I felt bloated and horrible and UGLY. So, as you can imagine, I was not too thrilled to have to try and make myself presentable to see all of my nearest and dearest. But, out of this disgusting funk came one of the best, most hilarious moments of my pregnancy thus far. I don’t know if I have mentioned to you, internet, that I can no longer reach my toes. In preparation, last week, for the shower, I attempted to paint my toenails. RED. (Why? I have no idea. My toenails are always done, but they are also always done in a french manicure because…I am really good without stencils and/or a huge belly.) I’m going to cut this short and just tell you that this was the longest process of my life and I believe I may have broken a rib. So, on Saturday, I asked MB (who had offered several times before) to help me to use a glorious salt scrub on my piggies so that they a) didn’t look so heinous and b) didn’t feel like sandpaper. (I know you guys are really intrigued by the state of my feet, so I will go ahead and tell you that, no, they are not yet swelling.) I am weird about feet and people touching mine (or having to touch anyone else’s) and am extremely ticklish, so I kept maintaining that I could scrub my own feet, until the broken rib happened. So I agreed to let MB help me out. OH. MY. GOD.
I situated my gigantic ass on the side of the tub and braced myself, but I swear I started laughing hysterically before MB even touched me. And I laughed like that and squirmed around for an entire 10 minutes while my wonderful, amazing, fiance attempted to beautify the piggies. I told him later that I wished that I would have had the whole thing on video because it was exactly the kind of thing that I would want my daughter to see when I explain to her what kind of man she should pick. One that will attempt to scrub your feet, even if you are dangerously close to kicking him in the face. That, my friends, is a good man. But I digress…
The shower started at one, and despite all of my pleading with friends and family to properly RSVP, many more people showed up than anticipated which turned my mom into a raving lunatic. I, even though I felt like a total crap bag, was pleased that so many people showed up and were so ridiculously generous. My mom and sister (and even my step-dad, who painstakingly fashioned a beautiful banner welcoming Baby L) did a really cute job decorating and the food, I hear, was divine (thanks to my Uncle/Personal Chef) and mom and sister. I was disappointed that I didn’t even get to eat, partially because I was afraid that I might not be able to keep anything down and partially because the house was so crowded, I wasn’t really even able to get TO the food. (Except the cupcakes, because HELLO. CUPCAKES.) I have to say, it was pretty unlike any baby shower I have ever been to (for me) because a) there were men there, which made me feel better about the universe, and b) the only part of it that felt even remotely shower-y to me was the opening of the gifts. (Which took a really long time, but my sister was clever enough to distract guests with Bingo cards, so not only did people pay attention to the gifts, but they weren’t pissed off about having to sit there and do so for hours on end. I highly recommend…I felt less like I was the center of attention and more like I was working at the nursing home again, where I used to call Bingo for the Alzheimers patients. Not that I am comparing my guests to Alzheimers patients. Well…I mean, most of them are not at all like Alzheimers patients anyway. Either way, they didn’t really care about ME, they just wanted that bottle of wine. Can you blame them?) To be honest, though, the whole thing is kind of a blur. It was a really great day shared with really effing amazing people and I really appreciate all of the love we received (in the form of hugs and gifts and belly rubbing).
Now that I have mentioned the belly rubbing, I guess I should touch on that, since I was fairly certain that it would occur whether I liked it or not.
I have to say, I was actually surprised at the lack of belly rubbing. There were only a handful of people who actual dared to rub the dome. And to be totally honest, the people who did, did not offend me. My old friend TC, who I never get to hang out with and with the help of another of our friends, has now ousted me from the “No Babies for Me” Club, was the most belly-happy of the guests and, even though she probably knows and doesn’t care, (she’s a bad ass like that) that I didn’t want anyone touching it, she did it numerous times. And I didn’t even THINK about hitting her. It actually wasn’t as awkward as I thought it might be. But maybe it just depends on who does it. In fact, my mom has only attempted touching my belly ONE TIME. So, how the hell should I know how I am supposed to feel about it. After the shower was over, however, came the real belly extravaganza when my sister, Fish Head and her husband, Mr. Fish Head cornered me in the garage and while Mr. Fish Head attempted to rouse Baby L by singing Phil Collins songs or quoting Hitler (I think this was an attempt to really piss her off), my sister pressed her entire face to the other side of my belly. This, my friends, was a mite awkward. And really, if they hadn’t been Mr. and Mrs. Fish Head, I am pretty sure they would have been swimming with the fishes. Even that, though, really wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen. It was definitely less annoying than stretch marks. So…there you have it. Maybe I am not anti-belly-touching altogether. Who knew?
This used to be our spare bedroom. And then it exploded with baby items!
Anyway, I do want to thank all of the lovely people who came to celebrate our new addition. Sometimes, and I think this is common in people, I forget how many wonderful people I have in my life and not because I don’t appreciate you all, but because there might be distance, or our every day lives have made it hard to be together. You all just reminded me how truly lucky I am and how truly loved Baby L is already. THANK YOU. Each of you for all the love, and the loot!
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Broken Condoms 