Bad Mom Confession

So, I have attention issues. I was never able to focus on one thing for very long. I used to do my homework in front of the TV, with whatever book I was reading sitting right next to me. Mom says she used to hate seeing me do this, until one day she asked me what was going on in the show I was watching, what I was doing for homework (and to explain it to her), and what was going on in the book I was reading - and I could tell her all three. Here's how it worked - I could do math or fill in the blanks on worksheets without paying 100% attention to it, so there was the homework + TV. I hated commercials and could block out the noise, so I would read my book during those. See? Efficient!

This has served me well almost anywhere I've worked. This does not serve me well in breast feeding.

I signed up for weekly e-mails from BabyCenter so I could get little tidbits of info on baby development. Each week a panel of pediatricians and child psychologists answer a question. Last week, the question was:

Is it OK to nurse my baby with the TV on?

I debated whether or not to read the answers. I don't necessarily watch TV while nursing, but...um. Let's just say the Little Man is nursing right now. I can't just sit there for 30 minutes and watch him eat. I just can't. I've tried. But I get bored. I do check in on him and make eye contact and talk to him when he's interested. But really, a lot of the time he's all business and focused on eating. Or he's using me as a pacifier and falls asleep. Or, well, I just need more sensory input than 30 minutes of staring at an infant can provide me.

So there it is. Bad Mom Confession: I have to have something else to do while I nurse my son. He's going to grow up disturbed and angry because of it. Or not. I figure we're pretty well bonded even if I don't focus 100% of my attention on him every time he nurses.

Oh, and I did read the answers. General consensus is that unless you have something else you HAVE to be doing (like reading a story to an older child or taking an important call) you should be spending each and every feeding holding, talking to, and bonding with your child.

Oh well.

Work-out Wednesday

So I officially skipped a running session. Saturday. I just wasn't feeling it until it was too late.

BUT in my defense, it was the first week that the Saturday run was introduced. So I ran just as many days as I had each week before. It's a cop-out, I know. But I don't think it's as egregious as it could have been.

Then there was Tuesday. It was, uh, raining. So I did Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred (level 1) instead. Holy crap did that kick my ass. By the end of the 20 minutes I wanted to bite someone's head off...but I was too tired.

All in all, it's going pretty well. The scale is going in the right direction, even if my clothes aren't quite all fitting yet. I resurrected my Spark People membership to keep track of my progress, and in the process decided to use the measuring tape as another way of tracking my goals.

I am 2 inches away from my pre-pregnancy size...in both hips and waist. So close!

OH OH OH!! Also, the community pool opens up this weekend. Starting next week I'm going to try to take one of my non-running days to go swimming. We'll see how that works out with the baby care. This one might have to wait until summer break starts (2 weeks away!!).

I'm too tired to look up all my goals, so this summary is from memory. Sorry. I blame Jillian.

• Check in here: Check.
• Water intake: so-so. Some days were awesome, others were mediocre.
• Portion control: I was really good with this one this week, for the most part.
• Veggies: Could have done better, but I've packed a salad for school most days. I call this a win.
• Training: missed a day, but did every other day. When it rained I did the 30 Day Shred.
• Weight Training: Started a program on Sunday and have stuck to it for a whole 3 days. Check?
• Soda: I've stayed strong but had HUGE cravings for some soda this week. Megacheck.

Work-out schedule for the week:

Today: strength training 20ish minutes.

Thursday: Walk 2 minutes, jog 5 minutes, repeat 4 times. Strength training afterwards.

Friday: strength training 20 minutes

Saturday: Walk 2 minutes, jog 5 minutes, repeat 4 times. Strength training afterwards.

Sunday: Walk 2 minutes, jog 8 (!!) minutes, repeat 4 times. Strength training afterwards.

Monday: Strength training 20 minutes

Tuesday: Walk 2 minutes, jog 8 minutes, repeat 4 times. Strength training afterwards.

See? I'm trying to add in new things as my fitness levels improve. Go me! ::pats self on back::

As for progress...nothing seems too different this week. I'm down another 1/2 pound on the scale, but I don't like to use that as a measure. The same clothes are fitting, so at least I'm not going backwards. Here's hoping we can get a good routine going just adding things in slowly...

Reverse Mom/Work Guilt

I've heard a lot of moms mention mom guilt. I'm feeling some of it - I could do a lot of things better than I am doing. I should spend less time in front of the computer and more time interacting with my son. I should spend more time helping out my husband with household duties. I should step in and rock the Little Man to sleep more nights. I should worry less about working out and getting some semblance of my pre-pregnancy body back. I should do about a million things.

But one thing I refuse to guilt myself over is working. I support the family, and that's damned important if you ask me. I've always been the primary earner in this relationship, so it just makes sense that I go back to work. Do I wish I could stay home all day with my family? Of course, but that's not realistic and unless we come into a whole truckload of surprise inheritance from a previously unknown wealthy relative or win the lottery it's just not going to happen.

I do feel work-related guilt, though. From the other side. As a teacher, I care about all of my students. In my former life I would spent a lot of my time outside of work thinking about them and what I can do to help them in class, help them outside of class, help them develop and grow into adults. I would spend a lot of time in my own headspace thinking about tweaks I could make to my class that could make things run better. Now, I spend far less time doing that. I still care deeply about my students and I do spend time trying to fine-tune my style and my class...but once I get home my brain is on my own Little Man.

But every morning when I walk in and I remember something I had been planning on "fixing" in my brain that I just forgot about overnight, I feel guilty. My students get less of me because of my home responsibilities. My world has changed and theirs hasn't. I still stay after my contract time is over at work...but not as long as before. I still bring work home, but I don't focus on it as much as I did before. I still think about my students at home, but not to the same depth and as soon as the Little Man needs me for anything work vanishes from my brain.

I'm hoping that part of this is that I have a combination of being a new mother, a new teacher, and it's the end of the school year. I'm hoping that a new school year starting up in July will bring more balance. I'm hoping that I can continue to be a good teacher AND a good mom. And if all that hoping gets me nowhere, then I'd better find a way to make it work because this is the life we've got and I've gotta make it the best one I can give; to my son and to my students.

New Mom Work Frustration

In my former life, I used to bring work home to do. I'm a teacher, and there just isn't enough time in a regular work day to get it all finished. At least, not during the first few years teaching. I'm sure once I get a regular schedule, an actual curriculum, and some more tricks up my sleeve it'll be a different story, but for now...nope. Not a chance.

I knew ahead of time that throwing a newborn into the mix would complicate my whole relationship with work. I would love it a little less, or at least be more inclined to leave it AT work, which would really bite me in the butt when deadlines come due. I knew that when I would need to bring work home it would be more difficult to get it done - you can tell the internet or a favorite TV program to wait an hour or two. Not so much with an infant.

Oh, but how much more difficult it would be I wouldn't find out until the actual time came.

My first foray into working from home came Tuesday night. I had a meeting to prep for the next day, my final formal observation in the morning. and just a couple of things to get done. No problem, I'd just stay up a wee bit later. Actually, that night happened to be no problem. Until 4 AM when the Little Man decided that that would be an awesome time to wake up for the day. I dragged myself into work, muddled through my observation (which went horribly), muddled through my meeting, and then muddled through the rest of the day when I realized...hooooo boy I have another last-minute-meeting set up for the next morning. And this one would take a lot more work.

I stayed after school a couple of hours to get as much done there as possible. I got home, spent time with my kid and then...the Little Man decided not to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. He was hungry. And we're low enough on our milk storage that I couldn't just ask my husband to pop a bottle in his mouth so I could get my work done. So I stayed up a couple of hours later than I would have liked to, finishing up the documents for this meeting.

The Little Man again woke up at 4AM. I cried.

No really, I did.

But I dragged myself into work at the usual time, got through the first part of the day, when the student whose parents I would be meeting with came up to me.

"My parents can't come today." He said.

"What." I replied. I didn't even make it a question. Just a vocal tic of disbelief.

"My brother got called in to work and my mom doesn't drive."

"Get on the phone, call them, and see if there's anything we can do." I said (his family does not speak English). I didn't mention this before, but I feel it's a key part of the story: the English-speaking brother and the kid's mother had showed up on Tuesday in person to schedule this meeting and they chose Thursday to meet.

I couldn't believe that I had stayed up so late on so little sleep, spent time away from my son in my own house, and worked so hard to prepare for this meeting just for the parents to flake out.

He called, and I got my answer: believe it. Meeting rescheduled for the next week.

Now it's Saturday afternoon. I have more work to do, this time writing my final exam and my review activities. Since waking up this morning at 7 (thank you, Little Man!) I have gotten precisely ONE page finished.

The kid won't nap. Ok, let me amend that. The kid won't nap for more than 15-20 minutes unless I'm holding him. The rest of the time he's hungry, wet, bored, or needs to burp. The landlord is coming by tomorrow to clear the lot for fire season, so my husband is outside doing some last-minute yard work. So it's just me and the Little Man inside hanging out. Why am I not working on my final now? Because as I'm typing this, the baby is asleep on the boppy on my lap, and I know that the moment I put him down he'll wake right up. It's been happening all morning.

It's a learning process. I'll learn to get my work done during his micro-naps. He'll learn to sit contentedly (or maybe not so contentedly) while I make myself a sandwich or fold some laundry in-between naps. It's all a dance and I'm just learning the steps. Just please don't change the beat before summer vacation or I might have a meltdown.

Work-out Wednesday

It's been a very good week over here. I managed to get into a pair of pre-pregnancy jeans this week with a minimum of muffin-top going on! I also cheated and looked at the scale, and I'm now 4 lbs away from my weight at the first doctor visit of the pregnancy. I'm also pretty close to being able to wear my former favorite pair of jeans. I'm so excited!

The walk/jog thing is going really well, too. I've been finding that my Sunday jogs are HELL and I feel like dying afterwards. Then Tuesday rolls around and I'm feeling slightly better...and then Thursday I'm able to finish the walk/jog pretty comfortably. Lather, rinse, repeat. So of course this is the week where things get more intense - I go 4 days instead of 3.

So here's the rundown for the week...

• Check in here. Check.
• Drink 64 oz of water. Check! I did it this week! It might not have been every day, but I've upped my intake enough that I can really feel the difference.
• Portion control. Check. I even held myself back for spaghetti tonight. So proud.
• Vegetables. Check! I've actually been really good about this one this week.
• Soda. Still haven't had any. I'm going to actually cut this goal out starting next week. I think we have a handle on this one.
• Train for 5k. Check. Still haven't missed a workout - sorta. I skipped Thursday last week, but made it up on Friday.
• Weight training. Still fail. BUT I decided that I'm going to add things in slowly. Like how this week we're adding in a Saturday walk/jog. I'll do that for a week or 2. Then add in weight training. Then I'll add in some other form of exercise on my non-jogging days. I vote for swimming, because a) swimming is awesome, and b) it gets really hot during the summer where I live.

Training Schedule for the week:

Thursday: walk 3 minutes, jog 4 minutes. Repeat 4 times

Saturday: walk 3 minutes, jog 4 minutes. Repeat 4 times.

Sunday: walk 2 minutes, jog 5 minutes. Repeat 4 times.

Tuesday: walk 2 minutes, jog 5 minutes. Repeat 4 times.

Men love babies, too

On Saturday I had to go to a workshop to finish up my first year of BTSA (Beginning Teacher Support and Assessment) for my teaching credential. My support provider and I agreed to meet at Starbucks and caravan to the workshop. We also decided to bring the Little Man with us, partly to avoid having to use the lunch break to pump in the bathroom, but also because he's freaking adorable and thirdly because my support provider figured that we would be allowed to power through the paperwork faster if we had a baby in tow. (Don't worry, we cleared the baby thing with the BTSA people ahead of time, so we didn't show up to a professional function with a surprise baby).

I got to Starbucks far earlier than my support provider did, and I learned something: men love babies, too.

At one table there was a group of about 6 middle-aged men. While I was waiting for my latte to come up, one of them called over, "Excuse me, ma'am, but you have a baby on your chest." (the Little Man was hanging out in our Moby). I laughed and feigned surprise to see him sitting in there. The other men joined in.

"How old is he?"

"What's his name?"

"He's a good looking baby."

..and so on. I was kind of tickled to see a group of men interested in a baby.

And then a group of 4 young men walked in. A couple of them looked at the baby (now asleep) and asked all the same questions, and made the obligatory, "He's so cute," comments. I judged these guys to be a bit younger than me. They looked to be either in college or fresh out of it. Again, I was tickled.

...and then we got to the workshop. More male teachers came up and made comments than the women.

It was a fun day, and definitely blew apart my preconceived notions about what demographics would be most interested in a little baby.

So far we have old ladies and men of a variety of ages.

The Little Man, Month 2

Well, Little Man, we've made it to 2 months. I can't believe how much you've grown already, and how much you are able to do. It's been so fun seeing your little personality emerge over the last two months.

• Having Mom or Dad help you sit up is really fun.
• You're "talking" to us more and more every day.
• Music soothes your soul, even if it is just Mom and Dad singing to you sometimes.
• "When I'm 64" is a particular favorite. As is anything by the Counting Crows
• You love to pull yourself to sit using Mom or Dad's hands. It's damn amazing to see.
• You've perfected that "Mom, you're crazy," look.
• Tummy time is still awful, but you're getting so good at it. And it's still MUCH better tummy-to-tummy with Mom.
• Waking up is so hard, but if Mom or Dad are there to greet you, you're all smiles.
  
• Rolling over from tummy to back is freaking scary.
• I swear sometimes you're on the verge of laughing and it makes me so happy and yet nostalgic at the same time.
• You love being propped up standing, and you're even bearing some weight on those chubby legs. Such a strong boy.
• The cameras are fascinating, but I sometimes wonder if you're as annoyed with the paparazzi as an A-list celebrity is.
• You are an incorrigible flirt with the teenage girls. Gonna have to keep an eye on you...
• The way your face lights up for a moment when I get home from work melts my heart. Every.damn.time.
• You're starting to play with us, and that is so exciting. We are going to have such fun good times, you and Daddy and I.

I'm so proud of you, kid.

Experiencing Technical Difficulties...

So work has been kicking my ass lately. I guess 8 days back on the job doesn't really qualify as "lately," but oh well.

Some of my students have reverted hardcore back to the initial "testing" phase - meaning they're bending (or breaking) every rule to see what I'll do. It's a typical beginning-of-the-year thing, and I guess for these particular students 2 months of maternity leave is long enough to consider this the beginning of a new year. Who knows. At any rate, even though most of my students have been wonderful, those few have been such an energy drain. Meaning I've been coming home, playing and taking care of the Little Man, and then zoning out until I pass out. Not much energy for the whole writing thing.

So no new entries have been written for a couple of days.

I have plenty of ideas, so more posts will be coming soon...but I think until summer vacation I'll have to pare it back to mostly M W F posting.

Work-out Wednesday

I've been pretty good this week. The walking/jogging is getting a little easier. By "easier" I mean I don't feel like I'm going to die after a jog anymore. I'm really starting to feel like my goal of running a 5K by the end of August is not such a far-fetched goal after all.

I haven't missed any walking days yet. I fully anticipate that I will, but it hasn't happened yet. Already my work pants seem to be fitting slightly better, but not better enough that I can wear any of my other clothes.

• Check in here. Check.
• Drink 64 ounces of water. FAIL (except on walking days). I can't seem to get it up for that much water. I'm really good at work, but after getting home it just slips my mind.
• Portion control. Check.
• One more serving of vegetables per day. Semi-check. I guess it's better than last week. It hasn't been every single day, though.
• Cut soda from diet. Check. Still cut.
• Train for 5K. Check.
• Weight training. FAIL. Although I did sign up on sparkpeople.com for a weight training program. I just haven't used it yet.

It's just so hard to do all of this with baby in tow, which is something I never thought I would have said before having the kid. I mean, how hard is it to remember to drink water or watch your portions? Or eat veggies? Or to not drink soda?

But the thing is, when I'm hanging with the Little Man, I'm not foremost on my own mind. He is. I don't think about how much water I'm supposed to be drinking when he's awake and wanting to play, or get changed, or eat. When I eat, I either eat super slowly (because I'm holding him and don't want to dribble food all over him), or super quickly because a sure-fire way to make a baby cry is to start doing something that requires NOT holding him. Most of the time I just want to be able to push a button on my microwave and have a meal appear.

I guess I'm learning that this whole taking-care-of-myself thing is a lot harder than one would think.

Training schedule for the week:

Thursday: walk 5 minutes, jog 2 minutes, repeat 4 times.

Sunday: walk 3 minutes, jog 4 minutes, repeat 4 times.

Tuesday: walk 3 minutes, jog 4 minutes, repeat 4 times.

Sleep Deprivation

Sleep deprivation makes you do funny things like lose your balance, trail off mid-sentence, and become forgetful. (Um, I forgot some key pumping supplies AGAIN today. When I got home I promptly pulled out the electric pump and got 16 ounces in between feedings. No joke.)

Lack of sleep tends to make me weepy, cranky, or physically cold. I usually look like hell when I don't get my zzzs. I come down with colds, I pick fights with my husband, and I have a hard time getting through the work day.

When I learned that I was pregnant, this was one thing that scared the crap out of me.

I learned that I'm still weepy, cranky, cold, look like hell, pick fights, and have a hard time getting through the work day.

But I also find that all of those things are easier to deal with when it's not 2 AM. Lots of deep breaths, venting to my Freaky Internet Mom Friends, and generous amounts of concealer help me start the day. Coffee, lots of check-ins at home, a solid work routine, and lots of deep breaths help me get through the rest of the day.

It's a deeper kind of tired than I've ever experienced before. This doesn't compare to a bad night's sleep, or a week's worth of poor sleep. It's like gravity decided to double its force.

I confess that there have been times in the middle of the night that I've gotten angry with the Little Man. But he's dependent on me, so that means I need to suck it up, put those feelings aside for a little bit, and take care of him. And then when it's time to get up, it's like I have a new super power: no matter how tired or frustrated I am, or how heavy I feel gravity tugging at my limbs, I'm able to get up and function.

I might call a student by the wrong name, or forget to bring my breast pump supplies to work, but mostly I do OK. And I still want to come home and play instead of sleep.

Crazy, huh?

First Mother's Day

Thing the first: I have a wonderful husband.

Thing the second: I have an adorable baby.

I woke up yesterday morning a bit earlier than I would have liked, but slightly later than I have to be up during the week. Not much control over that when Mom is the food source and baby decides to be hungry. Oh well.

Then, the surprises. My husband doesn't generally go for holidays like this. He dismisses Father's Day and has, uh, strong feelings about Valentine's Day. At his daughter's insistence he bought me a Valentine's Day gift the first year we were dating. It was a package of cotton balls. No joke. Lots of people would get offended, but I got a good laugh out of it.

Needless to say I wasn't expecting much for Mother's Day.

Well...the day started off with breakfast in bed. Breakfast included generous servings of bacon. Mmmmmm. Then my husband took the Little Man out into the kitchen and returned with...some mini roses in a little pot.

It was the first time he's ever gotten me flowers. Awwwww...

We did a photo shoot with the Little Man and generally lazed about. Then for dinner, my husband made me my favorite dinner.

Overall it was a wonderful, relaxing day.

And here is some evidence of Thing the second:

I love baby tootsies!

Happy (Belated) Mother's Day to all the mommies out there!

Hand Expressing Breast Milk

Happy Mother's Day!

It's story time!

Remember in my work re-cap yesterday how I said it started getting rough as the week went on? Well, by the time Thursday came around I was feeling pretty sleep deprived. It was tough getting up for work and it was getting tough driving home after a long day. When I get tired I get pretty spacey. I mean, I'm pretty spacey all the time anyway. I was always the kid who did her homework diligently and then forgot to put it in her backpack the morning it was due.

So Thursday morning rolled around and I was really dragging. I managed to get the Little Man fed, changed, and I ate and packed my lunch and then OMGTIMETOLEAVERIGHTNOW!!!11!!!!!1!! I rushed out after kissing my baby and my husband good-bye.

After a decent first block at work, I went into my cooler to grab my pump flanges and bottles. They were...MIA. WTF. I realized that I had left them at home in the dish drying rack. This was not good. This was very not good. On each of the 3 days previous I had pumped between 17-20 ounces of milk at work. Now I had nothing to pump with.

I double checked inside my bra - at least I had remembered the nursing pads and a sweater. Sure it was 80 degrees out, but I could pass myself off as feeling a bit chilly, right? I decided to tough it out until lunch, and then possibly express some milk into the sink in the break room bathroom. When that time came I eyed my co-workers eating lunch in the break room...and then decided that I would feel too skeeved jacking my boob off into the sink at work.

As soon as I could get away with it, I left work. I raced home, looking forward with great anticipation to relieving the intense pressure that had built up in my chest over the course of 9 hours. I got home, ran past my husband and the baby to get all set up and went to go plug in the...oh crap. I left the actual PUMP at work. WTF again!! Now I was really panicking. I was starting to actually get swollen.

Then I realized...oh hey. I was going to hand-express into the sink at work...why not hand-express into the pump bottles?

So I did. I finessed and squeezed and rolled my fingers and finally got a rhythm going. And between both breasts I got 6 ounces into the bottles over the course of about 20 minutes. I could have gotten more, but holy crap did my hands hurt.

Also, I found that I was REALLY grateful to myself for deciding not to express at work. My pants got soaked. I was so engorged that with each let-down the slightest touch would send milk shooting out of my breast in all directions...most of it into the bottles, but enough sprayed elsewhere that I ended up needing to do a load of laundry and take a shower.

I might have cried a little. My husband is lucky to have survived the afternoon after mooing at me. But it's all over, and lesson learned.

The moral of the story? DON'T FORGET YOUR PUMP STUFF...for the love of God, just don't. At least not if you're producing enough milk to nurse Octomom's brood. It's not fun and it's really not pretty.

Oh, also try to get enough sleep. Lack of sleep makes people wacky, yo.

First Week Back to Work

I did it. I finished a full week back at work.

I have to say, I love my job. I'm a teacher at a pretty rural school. This was my first year there (uh, yeah, oops on the getting-pregnant-3-weeks-before-school-started thing...), and I'm amazed at how wonderful all of my co-workers have been.

The campus supervisors checked in with me, begged for pictures, and then promised to watch my class if I ever need extra time to pump at break or lunch.

Lots of fellow teachers have checked in and welcomed me back, wished me well, and forgave my exhausted and addled brain.

The administrators welcomed me back and then stepped back for a couple of days to let me settle in before letting me know about some extra duties I need to take care of before the end of the year.

My students welcomed me back with a banner and were extra nice to me for about a day.

Then reality set in. My students started to unravel on the second day back. They had two months with a substitute, so it was time to test me again like it was the first week on the job. A lot of patience and a reviewing of MY expectations got them (mostly) back in line.

It's been rough this week. I have to leave the Little Man at home, and he definitely noticed. In fact, this was the week where he decided to quit falling back to sleep after the 2 AM feeding. It was also the week that my husband quit waking up when the Little Man cried at night. So I've been exhausted, frustrated, and then I've had to come back and be on top of my teaching game. After all, this IS my first year in a new district in the middle of a budget crisis.

It's been emotionally and physically draining. What's saved me this week is the support of my co-workers and knowing that a smiling (if tired) boy is waiting for me at home.

Next week is a short week, so that will also be a help. Also, the week after kicks off the end-of-year festivities starting Thursday. And then we have dead week, then finals. The school year is in that magical place where time seems to start accelerating (at least from the teacher's point of view...ha!).

Even given all those positives, though, I wish I were talented enough to work from home doing something like writing or painting or, well, pretty much anything. Oh, who am I kidding. I wish I were just wealthy enough to never work again and spend as much time as I want with the Little Man. Here's to dreams :raises glass:

Happy weekend!

Acne

When I talk about my experience with pregnancy I feel like I should be ducking to avoid being hit by projectile objects thrown with great force by, well, pretty much any person who has experienced pregnancy.

During pregnancy I didn't experience most of the nasty physical symptoms: no morning sickness, my fatigue was manageable, my hair got less greasy than before, I didn't get any (new) stretch marks, and my skin got clearer.

::ducks::

My skin is paying for it now, though. I hadn't had a facial eruption like the one I got a couple of weeks after birth since I was 14. It's been pretty horrifying.

But I have to say, even that is nothing compared to the acne infestation on my baby's face. Tons of tiny little whiteheads on his cheeks, neck, sides of his forehead, and the top of his back. There had been plenty of warnings from all the baby books I've read so far, but nothing prepared me for actually seeing it.

Poor kid. At least it's just acne. And he doesn't care about his facial eruptions...yet.

I Married the Baby Whisperer

I admit it. I'm not very good at calming an upset baby.

This is why in my former life I would decline invitations to hold people's babies. I knew that it would be fine for a little bit, and then the tiny little face would start to contort and turn red and the baby siren would fire up. And no matter what I do, the siren would continue until the kid's parent came to the rescue. I'd hand the kid over with relief and a sense of, "What the hell am I going to do when I have one of my own?"

Problem solved! I married and procreated with The Baby Whisperer.

He's amazing.

Now, I do have to say that it's easier for me with my own kid than it was with other people's kids. The Little Man knows me, so if he's gonna calm down, he's gonna do it faster than other babies did.

But I can't touch what my husband does. He's tried to show me what he does, and I've tried to copy his movements, his tone of voice, everything. Nope, Daddy does it best. I can be up in the middle of the night for an hour trying to comfort the Little Man before my husband relieves me - and the Little Man is sound asleep within 10 minutes. No exaggeration.

If the baby is tired I put him to sleep in my arms and then try to lay him down for a nap. The Little Man will wake up immediately, reaching his arms back up to me. He just doesn't usually sleep very soundly when I'm the one doing the rocking. My husband, on the other hand, will put him to sleep and then he can practically spiral-throw the kid into the bassinet without waking him. OK, that's an exaggeration. But he doesn't need to be nearly so careful as I do when laying the baby down.

It's a blessing, I tell you. A blessing sent from heaven.

Work-out Wednesday

Ho.Lee.Hell.

I just got back from day 2 of my training to build a running base.

Let me just say preemptively in my defense that I live in the Sierra Nevada foothills. Key part of that sentence? HILLS.

I feel pretty tore up. I've never considered myself to be in good shape...well, scratch that. I was in pretty good shape when I was surfing every day, but that was about 2 months of my life. Anywho, other than that anomalous period of time I've been a pretty sad sack. But I've NEVER felt so worked as I did after these two workouts. Just another sign of either how rough pregnancy can be on the body...or how lazy I got in the last 10 months.

So here's the punchline: both training sessions involved walking for 6 minutes and jogging for 1 minute, repeat 4 times. Yeah, a damn WALK kicked my ass. But like I said...on hills. That has to count for something, right? And I made an effort to walk fast and jog faster than my walking pace, so that counts for something else, right?

I'm just going to tell myself that training on hills will just get me into better shape, and faster. Yeah. That's it.

Here's my goal checklist:

• Check in with progress: Check
• Drink 64 ounces of water every day: Sorta. I've been drinking more water, but not quite that much.
• Portion control: Check
• More veggies: EPIC FAIL. We ran out of veggies and haven't gotten any more at the store. But I've been eating fruit!
• Cut soda out: Check
• Running: Check.
• Weight training: FAIL. Didn't even try this week.

Progress? It was a little easier zipping and buttoning into my work clothes yesterday and today...but that could all be in my head.

Running base training plan for the next week:

Thursday: Walk 6 minutes, jog 1 minute, repeat 4 times

Sunday: Walk 5 minutes, jog 2 minutes, repeat 4 times

Tuesday: Walk 5 minutes, jog 2 minutes, repeat 4 times

Dear Doctor Google,

I need to break up with you. Every time I notice my son doing anything new, I immediately run to see what you have to say about it.

Was his smiling on time? Was it (:fingerscrossed:) early? Late? Should he be able to roll from his back to his side yet? 'Cause he totally does. When he says "goo," or "khhhhhhkkhhhhah," is that developmentally appropriate for a 6 or 7 week old kid? If I prop him up against a pillow and he sits up by himself for 45 seconds, does that mean that he'll be an early walker? How can I tell when he's teething? Is his poop normal? He's holding his head up really super well, isn't that special? Tell me it's special. Please tell me my kid is advanced. Or at least normal. OK, just let me know my kid isn't a freak. Scratch that, I know he's not a freak, I'M the freak around here. But seriously...he was doing mini-pushups at 3 weeks old. That's got to count for something in developmental bonus points. We do get bonus points, right?

As you can see, my relationship with you has become exceedingly toxic. I'm spending so much time over-analyzing every little thing my son does that I almost feel like I'm missing out on enjoying it. In one of my gazillion searches of your vast stores of knowledge, you told me something that I need to remember: if I think something is wrong, call the pediatrician. Otherwise, relax and enjoy watching the baby grow up.

So, Dr. Google, I'm afraid I have to let you go. I know you'll understand. It'll be better for all of us this way.

Sincere Regards,

Mama

Cloth Diapering

Long before the Little Man was born, my husband and I decided that we wanted to use cloth diapers. For us it was mostly an economical concern, but the idea of keeping diapers out of the landfills was pretty attractive, too.

We did decide, though, that in the very beginning and for trips outside the house we would use disposables.

That is pretty much where the agreement ended, though.

I spent hours days weeks poring over informational websites. I talked to my sister, who had used cloth diapers with her younger child. I compared prices, looked on Craigslist, read reviews, and agonized. All-In-Ones? Fitteds? Pockets? Pre-folds? If I do pre-folds should I use Chinese or Indian? If I choose to do covers and pre-folds, do I get safety pins or Snappis? Should we have something different for overnight?

Finally, my husband asked me what I was obsessing about.

"I'm trying to figure out what to do for diapers."

"What do you mean? We're doing cloth."

"Yeah, I'm trying to figure out what system we should invest in. I keep reading that we should have a variety of diaper systems in our stash so that we can find out what works best for us, but that's a lot of mon..."

He cut me off.

"What do you mean? You get the diaper cloths and then there's the plastic pant things that cover them."

"Plastic...pants?"

Now let me explain. My husband is quite a bit older than I am. He has three older children, the youngest of whom was cloth diapered. This child is now a sophomore in high school. Clearly he didn't realize how far diapering technology had come in the last 16 years.

I showed him a few product pages and the first thing he pointed to was the price.

"$12.50 for a cover? That's ridiculous. And what's an 'All In One' and why do they want $16 for it?"

"Well, if you really insist, we can get the plain plastic pants. I think there's a sale here for $4 each."

"FOUR DOLLARS?!? That's insane. They're plastic pants. Can't you find any cheaper than that?"

*sigh*

I gave in, ordered the plastic (actually, nylon) pants, and a week later they arrived on our doorstep. Eager to get started on our cloth diapering adventure, I tore open the packaging to find...gigantic plastic pants.

I re-read the packaging, re-read the website information, and saw a discrepancy. The website said these were for babies 7-10 lbs. The packaging said 15-20 lbs. I contacted customer service. They assured me that the packaging was labeled wrong and that this was a known issue.

They were still huge. They would not do.

So I bought a Thirsties Duo Wrap. It was wonderful. It is wonderful. My grandmother bought us two more.

And my husband? Totally converted. After one diaper change using the updated cover style he was ready to ditch the plastic pants he so insisted on buying.

I so win.

The Little Man's First Smile

The Little Man flashed his first, real, undeniable, eyelid-crinkling social smile right around 5 weeks. We had been seeing the beginnings of smiles for almost two weeks by that time. In play, or when we would talk in silly voices, the corners of his mouth would tighten ever so slightly and ever so inconsistently. My husband and I would catch our breath, waiting for the cheeks to turn up or his eye to flash knowingly, something that could be called definitively a smile.

"Was that a smile?" I would ask.

"He smiled," my husband would reply with certainty. But it wasn't quite there.

No, this 5 week smile was different. It was morning, and we had all just woken up. I left the room for a few moments and came back to give the Little Man my good-morning kisses. When I approached the bed, I saw it - his little toothless mouth open, corners turned upward in a grin, his eyes squinted slightly with joy.

The milk lady was here!

...because we all know that's where that smile came from. Right now, less than two months old, the kiddo doesn't know that we're his parents. He doesn't know yet how much we love him, that he came from us, that we would do anything for him. No, what that smile told me was that he knows that I can be counted on to meet a need. He gets hungry and I feed him. He wants to be picked up and his dad or I hold him. He gets wet and uncomfortable and we make him dry and comfortable. We are consistently with him every day.

That's what that smile told me. That smile told me that we're doing our job with him, or that we're at least on the right track.

And ever since then we've been in pursuit of ever more beautiful smiles, and he's been giving them freely.

Growth Spurts

So, the Little Man just finished his 6 week growth spurt. Thank.Heavens.

I mean, I should have thought of what it might be like ahead of time. Shortly after he was born I heard of the 10 day, 3 week, and 6 week growth spurts - as well as a few later on that I'm choosing not to think about right at the moment. My thoughts on the growth spurts were this abstract mix of "Aw, how sweet," "It will be so exciting to see how he changes!" and "...but I don't want him to grow up too fast!"

None of those thoughts came to my mind in the middle of these growth spurts. Not one. Well, maybe the last one a little.

Remember how when you were a teenager it seemed like you ate and ate and ate and nothing ever satisfied that gaping, bottomless pit that was your stomach?

Well, that seems to be how it works for babies, too. I should have known this. I don't mean to come across as too cocky or anything, but I'm a pretty smart person. I think about things, sometimes too much even. Logic and memory should have served me here. But no.

The Little Man stayed attached to my boob for three days straight at ten days. Three days straight at three weeks. Two days straight at six weeks.

I was sore. I was getting raw. Those were the only times since before my milk came in that I needed to use the lanolin cream. Each time he had a spurt it seemed that he would spend his non-eating time fussing or crying. I felt chained to the bedroom because of the feeding schedule, relying on my husband to bring me food so that I wouldn't have to get up. Could I have left the Little Man there to go fix myself a sandwich or leftovers? Sure, but then we would have a crying baby. It wouldn't be the end of the world, but it's a whole new stress on a new mom.

Before each spurt was over I would find myself in tears at least once. I would be appalled at myself for being angry. And between dreams of wine and a shower I would wonder how the hell single moms manage to do it.

At the end of each growth spurt relief would come when the Little Man's fatigue set in. You see, that was the other part that mirrors the teen years. Sleep. His little body needed sleep so that it could put all that nutrition to use in growing.

And my nipples healed over the course of that day or two. And I iced my re-engorged breasts after a long, hot shower and a glass of wine.