Gracie is clearly a genius. In spite of being not quite 3 months old, she has figured out that I am going back to work a week from monday, and has decided to regress to the sleep patterns she followed at seven weeks old. Lots of waking up and staying awake! Nursing at a glacial pace, followed by fits of rage when she's taken off the boob! Needing to be picked up and put down 324234 times before she stops SHRIEKING LIKE A BANSHEE and drifts off to sleep!
I am exhausted. I am absolutely peeing in my pants worrying about going back to work, waking up at 5:30 instead of staying in bed until 8am catching up on the sleep I lost overnight.
I know she's not going to sleep through the night until she leaves for college. I'm not asking for that. I stopped asking for that around the time I stopped asking for a baby that can handle things like sitting on your lap and being social. I just wanted her to go straight back to sleep when she DID wake up, and she was doing that for a few weeks. Then I made the mistake of using the W word in her presence, I guess?
I think she's a genius. Not only does she understand that I'm going back to work, but she is so very brilliant, she's just constantly thinking and processing and working on the formula for cold fusion, and it keeps her from sleeping at night.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Stress
I had a dream last night that I put Gracie in the refrigerator after I finished feeding her. In my dream, I just thought she belonged there. Oddly, it was the frig in my parents' basement, not mine. Anyway. My aunt came over to visit her, and when she heard where she was, freaked out and told me I had to get her out right away. I went running to get her, but by the time I pulled her out, she already had frostbite and was covered with black welts. It was horrible.
Obviously, this is a ridiculous dream. I would never think to put Grace in the refrigerator because I saw that very special episode of Punky Brewster when Cherie almost suffocated because she hid in an old refrigerator and Punky saved her with CPR.
Obviously, this is a ridiculous dream. I would never think to put Grace in the refrigerator because I saw that very special episode of Punky Brewster when Cherie almost suffocated because she hid in an old refrigerator and Punky saved her with CPR.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Grace's One-Eyebrowed Baby
Everyone has an archnemesis. Superman has Lex Luther. Toonces has Scruffy. George Bush has the maze on his placemat at Pizza Hut. Even Maggie Simpson has that baby with the one eyebrow.
Grace's archnemesis? My left boob.
We seem to be on the path to recovery with this nursing strike. Not totally there, still pretty dysfunctional, but getting significantly better. She'll take the right if I get her on right away and stand while I'm nursing her (or sit, but NOT with the Boppy). She genuinely tries to take the left. A million different things happen when she tries. She misses. She can't latch. She latches on and pops right off, over and over, getting hte milk to let down and having it spray her in the face. She chokes because she starts to pop off but it's still coming down. She probably COULD latch on if we sat down with the Boppy and it was formally offered in a structured manner, like when she was a newborn, but that enrages her and then she won't try.
So I continue to spend quality time with my new homie, Medela, and hope for the best. And wait for my lactation consultant to call me back. We may have a pedi visit in our future too, if it seems like this is at ALL reflux or swallow-related.
It's better than it was two days ago, but we're still far from normal, and I have a pretty good feeling it's coming back with a vengeance two weeks from today. Not that anything big is happening that day...*sob*
Grace's archnemesis? My left boob.
We seem to be on the path to recovery with this nursing strike. Not totally there, still pretty dysfunctional, but getting significantly better. She'll take the right if I get her on right away and stand while I'm nursing her (or sit, but NOT with the Boppy). She genuinely tries to take the left. A million different things happen when she tries. She misses. She can't latch. She latches on and pops right off, over and over, getting hte milk to let down and having it spray her in the face. She chokes because she starts to pop off but it's still coming down. She probably COULD latch on if we sat down with the Boppy and it was formally offered in a structured manner, like when she was a newborn, but that enrages her and then she won't try.
So I continue to spend quality time with my new homie, Medela, and hope for the best. And wait for my lactation consultant to call me back. We may have a pedi visit in our future too, if it seems like this is at ALL reflux or swallow-related.
It's better than it was two days ago, but we're still far from normal, and I have a pretty good feeling it's coming back with a vengeance two weeks from today. Not that anything big is happening that day...*sob*
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Hanging Out
Gracie ADORES the upstairs bathroom. It is her favorite place in the whole wide world. My only guess is that it's because it's bright, white, and warm (the heat really likes to go to that bathroom, it's usually a good five degrees warmer in there than the rest of the house). Every night, we have a ritual. I take her out of the swing, take her upstairs, and we hang out in the bathroom until bedtime. It's usually the only time she'll nurse without needing a bottle to get her started at this point, and last night she nursed and nursed and nursed like it was her favorite thing in the whole wide world. She also jabbers like crazy, cooing and gurgling and squealing, all while sticking out her tongue and smiling and not giggling yet but ohhh she's so close.
And I realized last night that this is mommy love, because there is absolutely nothing I am willing to do simultaneously, and nowhere else in the world I would rather be than lying in the bathroom floor for an hour and a half every night, talking to my baby.
And I realized last night that this is mommy love, because there is absolutely nothing I am willing to do simultaneously, and nowhere else in the world I would rather be than lying in the bathroom floor for an hour and a half every night, talking to my baby.
Friday, February 20, 2009
New Kitchen:)
First of all, what is up with my blog? Why are the posts not coming up when the page loads? hate.
Secondly, the kitchen people are coming next thursday! I am very excited, because it turns out the kitchen in our house suuucks, and I love to cook. It'll be really nice to get started on it. I wanted to make it a priority, but having moved in less than a month before Gracie was born, it obviously took a back seat. I'm still all over it, though, because it didn't seem to bad when we chose the house, but it really stinks. The cabinets are super cheap and falling apart (and the cabinets above the frig don't even open all the way, because the frig gets in the way), the appliances suck (the oven doesn't have a window or a light, the frig is tiny), the sink slopes towards the center, so you can't set anything in the sink without it rolling into the drain...it's a mess. I can't WAIT to hear what they think we can do.
After that, we only need to refinish the floors, paint, fix cracks in the walls and ceilings, get a new fence and a patio, replace the front door, decide if we're going to do an addition vs. moving, which will determine whether we do aluminum siding now or after an addition...I think that's it. For now anyway, I'm sure we'll find more prpoblems. This house, I am TELLING you. The thought of moving again is enough to make me want to cry, but the thought of staying here and doing all the work it needs isn't much easier. Not that it matters, given the current housing market.
Secondly, the kitchen people are coming next thursday! I am very excited, because it turns out the kitchen in our house suuucks, and I love to cook. It'll be really nice to get started on it. I wanted to make it a priority, but having moved in less than a month before Gracie was born, it obviously took a back seat. I'm still all over it, though, because it didn't seem to bad when we chose the house, but it really stinks. The cabinets are super cheap and falling apart (and the cabinets above the frig don't even open all the way, because the frig gets in the way), the appliances suck (the oven doesn't have a window or a light, the frig is tiny), the sink slopes towards the center, so you can't set anything in the sink without it rolling into the drain...it's a mess. I can't WAIT to hear what they think we can do.
After that, we only need to refinish the floors, paint, fix cracks in the walls and ceilings, get a new fence and a patio, replace the front door, decide if we're going to do an addition vs. moving, which will determine whether we do aluminum siding now or after an addition...I think that's it. For now anyway, I'm sure we'll find more prpoblems. This house, I am TELLING you. The thought of moving again is enough to make me want to cry, but the thought of staying here and doing all the work it needs isn't much easier. Not that it matters, given the current housing market.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Aw, come ON!!!!
So I've been rereading a book I read years ago. Operating Instructions is a memoir written by Anne Lamott (an author so fabulous I named my cat after one of her books) of her son's first year. I really liked it the first time I read it. Now I read it and feel so incredibly grateful for her honesty- all the times she feels like a failure, feels angry with her helpless baby, feels like she just doesn't know what to do, it just helps to know other people feel that way.
So then I decided to get online and see what's new with her and Sam. WHYYYY did I have to come across THIS?????????
I mean, SHIT.
So then I decided to get online and see what's new with her and Sam. WHYYYY did I have to come across THIS?????????
I mean, SHIT.
Benadryl of Dreams
The cats got roofied last night.
Gracie was really hard to get down, clearly not feeling well, and mommy wasn't feeling well either, after a day of boob-boycotting (Gracie, not me. I don't boycott anyone's boobs). I was expecting a terrible night, and the felines in this house both had that look in their eyes like, "Ooh, nighttime! That's when I'm an asshole! Raaaawwwwwrrr!"
Fuck that noise.
They each got half a benadryl, per my aunt's dosing instructions. Well, sort of. Falafel fought me a little bit, took his, glared at me, and was a very good kitty all night long. Rosie? Oh my GOD!!! First, the fact that it even made it into her mouth is a miracle. Then she started running around the house, vomiting and pooping and frothing at the mouth, and then the froth got on my face and my eyes instantly swelled up and started running furiously and itching like mad (Oh yeah, I'm totally allergic to cats. I sometimes forget that because I'm not, you know, Rachel, but I really am) and then? When the little amount of benadryl she actually got started to kick in? She started howling like she was surely dying. my GOD.
She did eventually calm down and shut the hell up, and like I said, Falafel was good all night.
You know who else was good? Gracie. She slept until 3:30 and then didn't wake again until 8am. This is not my baby. My baby cries all night and refuses to sleep and chants backwards in Latin. Sooo, I guess her father is right and the cats DO bug her. I know a kitty who's getting benadryl tonight!...and I know another kitty who is NEVER GETTING BENADRYL AGAIN OH MY GOD.
(as for me, today I look like have raging pink eye. Not as bad as the time Heather had a really bad allergic reaction to Brennan's cat and a lady stopped her on the El and said, "oh honey, he's not worth it," but almost.)
Gracie was really hard to get down, clearly not feeling well, and mommy wasn't feeling well either, after a day of boob-boycotting (Gracie, not me. I don't boycott anyone's boobs). I was expecting a terrible night, and the felines in this house both had that look in their eyes like, "Ooh, nighttime! That's when I'm an asshole! Raaaawwwwwrrr!"
Fuck that noise.
They each got half a benadryl, per my aunt's dosing instructions. Well, sort of. Falafel fought me a little bit, took his, glared at me, and was a very good kitty all night long. Rosie? Oh my GOD!!! First, the fact that it even made it into her mouth is a miracle. Then she started running around the house, vomiting and pooping and frothing at the mouth, and then the froth got on my face and my eyes instantly swelled up and started running furiously and itching like mad (Oh yeah, I'm totally allergic to cats. I sometimes forget that because I'm not, you know, Rachel, but I really am) and then? When the little amount of benadryl she actually got started to kick in? She started howling like she was surely dying. my GOD.
She did eventually calm down and shut the hell up, and like I said, Falafel was good all night.
You know who else was good? Gracie. She slept until 3:30 and then didn't wake again until 8am. This is not my baby. My baby cries all night and refuses to sleep and chants backwards in Latin. Sooo, I guess her father is right and the cats DO bug her. I know a kitty who's getting benadryl tonight!...and I know another kitty who is NEVER GETTING BENADRYL AGAIN OH MY GOD.
(as for me, today I look like have raging pink eye. Not as bad as the time Heather had a really bad allergic reaction to Brennan's cat and a lady stopped her on the El and said, "oh honey, he's not worth it," but almost.)
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