Up until a few weeks ago, I was Mr. C’s primary source of food.
Now he’s onto protein-laden foods (or “Pureed Animal”, as I call it)… holy crap, is that stuff awful!
Of course I taste it!
No wonder he’s not excited about it, EW! The consistency! The flavor!
As far as the fruits and veggies go, I make most of it myself.
Hell no am I paying 65 cents for 4 (or less) oz of veggies when I can buy a bag of apples for $4 and make about a zillion ounces in less than an hour.
I only buy the jarred stuff to see if he likes it… I’m not going to buy/process a bushel of peaches or pears to find out he hates them (which he does) and then wonder what to do with all that pureed fruit.
Now, to figure out how to get a turkey into my food processor…
Mr. C: *toot*
me: Did you fart?
Mr. C: HA!
me: I don’t want to go grocery shopping!
Mr. C: *smirk*
me: How about I work the pedals and YOU drive!
Mr. C: click! (which is the noise he makes when he smiles big and his tongue gets stuck to the roof of his mouth)
me: and when the cop pulls us over….
me: RIGHT! and the cop’ll be “Excuse me sir, do you know WHY I pulled you over?”
me: and he’ll say “Oh my goodness! What a CUTE baby! I don’t even care that you were driving because you’re SO cute!”
me: He’ll take a cell phone photo of you and send it to his commander-guy and comment about the cute driving baby!
Mr. C: click!
me: Hey, so do you want to roll over?
Mr. C: nnnnuuuuuhhhhhh.
I swear that kid’s smarter than he lets on.
And when he does something smart, we call him Mr. Richard Wright.
“But he’s been dead for years [before Mr. C was born]!”, I said.
“He was just waiting for the right body [to come into]!” Commented Steve and a Friend, at the same time…
Cashier at Kohls, starting to “oohhh, a bayyyy-beeee!!!”: Oh my! what a cute litt- um, your baby’s got a sock on his head…
me: he sure does!
Mr C, gleefully: bbbbaaaaaaaa!
C@K: But, the sock?
me: He’s quiet, right?
Mr. C, happily: eeeeeeeeee!
me: I do it so I can call him ‘Sock-head Mak!’
Mr. C, delighted: HA! HA HA!
me: Sock head!!!
Mr. C: eeeee! HA!
C@K: Guess we all have our quirks…
I knew being a parent was going to be a learning experience, but wow.
Who designs these things?
I see outfits, “Oh, that’s cute” and then I realize I’m going to have to do one, or more of the following:
A) Wrestle it over my baby’s head, causing a melt down
B) Snap it around squirmy baby legs
C) Pull it under and over a diaper. Which requires the reverse for every one of 15 changes.
D) Stuff his mega-sized-baby-feet into too-small footies. We no longer buy footed onsies.
If we could have him be naked, I think we would. But we live in a frozen tundra and from what I understand, CPS likes you to have your kid adequately dressed.
Oh, and when you get ready to bring home a belly bean from the hospital, they fit into NEWBORN clothing. That “0” in 0-3 month clothing means “after 6 weeks”. I nearly passed out from laughter as we tried to dress him to bring him home.
“I’m not going to let MMMMYYY kid watch TV!”
You know what, it’s on in the background and it’s got bright colors and loud noises, so he looks at it.
I try to keep it on the music channels when we’re playing, but he DOES enjoy watching hockey and football.
“My snowflake is NEVER going to use a pacifier!”
You know what, if it keeps him happy and prevents him from chapping momma, well, so be it. He was SO needy yesterday and I was tired, so I popped in a plug and put him to bed. Baby=happy, Momma=happy.
Oh, that cloth diapering deal?
“Yeah, how’s THAT working out? Are you STILL clothing? *Maniacal Laughter*”
We L-O-V-E it.
Not just for the money savings- I opened a case of ‘sposies, 228, on 1/3 and I’m JUST ordering another case this Friday*. Mainly because day care (PT, per diem) doesn’t use cloth…
Right now, we’re addicted to Kushies. I actually SPLURGED and purchased boy dipes.
Our previous stash was generic: green, yellow, white, duckies, bears.
Plus, we get to sing, “Mr. C has a ducky butt! a ducky butt! a ducky butt! Oh Mr. C has a ducky butt!” Though the singing isn’t necessary, I did try to convince Steve that it helped the absorbency.
The laundry? Once every two-three days, depending how much of a mess he makes.
And both sets of grandparents are on board. One set is still learning the ins-and-outs (“It’s okay to have it tight around his legs, if it’s too loose, he’ll leak…”)
I promised I wouldn’t post on FB about my kids bodily functions and I think I’ve held to that…
Peek-a-boo, AKA “Where’s Mr. C?! There he is! Hello!”, is super fun.
And, it’s apparent you’re a parent when: you stop (or slow down, let’s be honest) collecting beer box reward points and start collecting wipe/diaper rewards points.
*If you’re a parent or know someone who is, totally get them on board with Amazonmom.com. I save 30% on our dipes and wipes. Plus, they’re delivered to the house according to our needs/schedule which mean no going out with the kiddo when it’s -10F.
13 Weeks: Point A to Point B
I’ve got Super Boobs ya’ll.
Not just in size (someone had to buy a whole new stock of tops) but in power.
Lil’Dude (LD) came out at 6lbs, 4oz.
He was up to 7lbs, 3 oz at two weeks.
At his two month appointment, he tipped the scales at 12lbs, 8oz and the 90% percentile for height/length.
We don’t know how big he is now/in the photo above, but he’s already into some 6 month clothes. Not too bad for someone who was diagnosed as “small for fetal age”/”inter-uterine growth restricted”
Momma, meanwhile, is back into most of her pre-pregnancy work pants!
Cloth Diaper Fairy Tale
There once was a girl who hoped she was a princess…
From across the
bar land she heard that if she found a pile of pre-folds and she found a baby under the pile, she was indeed a princess.
One day, she found a pile of pre-folds! She looked under the stack and there was a baby!
She WAS a princess (of soiled clothing and spit-up laden hair, but a princess none-the-less) and the baby was her prince.
The shortish version:
At 37 weeks, they gave us a sonogram and determined that MiniMak was smaller than they’d hoped, but it wasn’t anything to be too concerned with.
Four days before I was due, we had another sono to make sure he was growing. He was, just not enough. In fact, they figured him to be about 3 weeks behind schedule, putting him in the 8th percentile for a baby his gestational age. Now they were concerned because it appeared that something was going awry with my baby-thriving gear.
The day before I was due, I had another appointment and I somehow gained 8-10 pounds, was passing protein in my pee (ick, I know) and my blood pressure was creeping up.
He was due 10/6 and showed no signs of being ready to meet the world.
So 10/7 I was admitted to start an induction, which didn’t take AT ALL, but it’s lucky I was in hospital because I started to swell up like a blimp (bad news), my blood pressure spiked over night to crazy-scary levels (VERY bad news) and what I thought was loving kicks in my side was actually liver failure (even worse). Ends up I won the “Most Complicated Delivery Lottery”: pre-ecamplisa (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pre-eclampsia) which manifested into HELLP (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HELLP_syndrome). How severe was my case? Well, my platelets were at 6k… they consider anything under 50k “severe”. Ends up that liver and kidney failure hurts quite a lot. 10% of pregnancies are pre-e and 2-3% of THOSE go into HELLP.
Because my platelets were so low, they had to give me general anesthesia (most deliveriess get an epidural or spinal to numb the lower half) and Steve wasn’t allowed in the delivery room.
MiniMak came out at 6lbs, 4oz (most babies are 7.5 lbs +).
Usually, delivery clears up the effects of pre-e, but not in my case… It took 3 days for the swelling to subside enough for me to use a fork/pen, I had a 9-hour blood transfusion because my platelets weren’t regenerating and my BP was still high when I got discharged A WEEK LATER. At my 6-week postpartum appointment, I was weaned off BP medication, though my pressure isn’t what it used to be.
The lining is that MiniMak trooped through the whole thing… his heart rate was normal/fine the entire time, he was back up to his birth weight by discharge (it takes most babies 2 weeks to regain the weight) and he packed on almost a pound his first week home.
I’m able to get up and be mostly independent, though I’m battling an internal infection at my c-section, so getting around’s a bit of a hard time; they cut you from hip to hip on the inside.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Q: Hur hur hur, I bet you’re ready to have that baby!
A: Look. Baby’s not due yet. I’m not rushing it. Baby will come when baby is ready. I only wish EVERYONE would understand that. Gee, it’s an approximate 40-week gestational period for a reason. 40-weeks doesn’t mean start taking castor oil at 37 because it’s considered “full-term”. We’re just as eager to meet Mini Mak, but it’s not time yet. We’re very Zen about this whole thing; sorry that’s bothering the rest of the world.
Q: Do you know what you’re havi-
Q: OMG, you’re not really still (insert mundane activity like vacuuming)?!
A: Are you still trying to tell me what I can and can not do? I’m pregnant, not helpless. Talk to me after I push a watermelon out.
Q: Are you nesting?!
A: No. I’m just tired of playing “What’s that smell?” and “Count the balls of animal fur”.
Q: Is everything all ready for the baby?
A: Um, maybe? I dunno, truth be told. Clothes and dipes are washed and stowed, blankets and fluffed and folded, crib’s assembled and made up…
Q: How are you feeling?
A: My allergies are kicking my ass. Unlike usual, where I’d down a bottle of Nyquil, I’m having to plug on through pretty much drug-free.
Q: You’re still here?
A: Yes, because I enjoy getting out of sleepy pants and free beer shirts…
Q: Are you SUUUURREEEE it’s allergies and NOT cold or the flu?
A: My snot’s clear. Wanna see?
Q: What would you go back and change from before you got all pregnant-like?
A: I’d buy stock in toilet paper, pantyliners, tissues and peanut butter.
Q: You twitched, are you in labor?
Q: Maybe we’ll see you tomorrow, hur hur hur?
A: Would you like my doctor to fax you updated information on my cervix?*
Q: But how will we knnnnoooowwwwww when the bbbbabbbbbyyy gets here?
A: I dunno, internet maybe? We’ll see how I feel and what goes on.
Q: Why don’t you want an epidural?
A: Because there’s something unsettling about a NEEDLE going near my SPINAL COLUMN. If I need one, I’ll get one. I’m not that much of a nut-job.
Q: Being SO pregnant, you must feel like shit!
A: No. Besides the head congestion, I feel fine.
A: Bite me.
*Steve, meanwhile, has not been immune to this either. “You have that baby yet?”, he gets asked on a regular basis. “I’m here, aren’t I?” In retrospect, for working with a bunch of engineers, they should know that technically, he’s not having the baby…. just saying.
Enter: The Holding Pattern.
At least we’re done with all the things we had planned (less this weekend’s 6th wedding anniversary), without my going into labor.
I went to two concerts, without going into labor.
I went camping, without going into labor.
I’m still working, without going into labor.
Weekly doctors appointments, without going into labor.
I can’t tell if people are surprised or disappointed. “You survived!”
Um, yup… sure did. Sorry.
Seems the new phrase is “You could go anytime!!!” (and it’s derivatives).
This is not news to me.
I could have gone anytime from conception until now.
At work, they’ve started that whole, “Har har har, well, if you think you’ll be here next week/tomorrow/in two weeks.”
Last I checked, none of us are OB/GYNs and I don’t have a crystal ball.
After every appointment, I tell you that things are fine and still on schedule.
Do we not all know that babies can come whenever?
I only wish I had a way-back-machine so I can see if I’ve been as information digging with pregnant people as I find it annoying; if that makes sense…
Last night I went to see Deftones.
Of course, being so close, my concert companion’s primary request was for me to NOT go into labor; as far as I can tell, he got his wish.
He also requested to “fist pump” with baby, but then he remembered that baby’s upside down. “Sorry, only one person a day gets to punch me in the cervix and today’s not your day.”
The band played “Be Quiet and Drive” which is one of our lullabies.
While it was kind of hard to tell if baby was bumping (due to the loud, which wasn’t all THAT loud, I didn’t use earplugs), I feel confident in saying that there were a couple kicks in there during the song.
I kept the jumping around to a minimum (I’m typically where the action is for a show like this) but this morning, that seems like a good idea as standing around for 4+ hours did a number on my hips.
On the drive home, baby was up and bouncing around…. “Mom! That was AWESOME! TOTALLY! *punch punch* *kick kick* Are we going to get a vanilla milkshake now?!?!”
I stopped at Wendy’s and by midnight, they had turned of their frosty machine.
So, good to know.
Rock concerts are fun for mom and baby!
We’re in baby’s room, kind of taking it in… in no more than 6 weeks, there’s going to be a little person in our house.
He’s putting shirts away (baby and daddy are sharing a closet for the time being, besides, kids got a dresser while we do not) and says, “We should probably start getting a bag together. You know. For. The Hospital.”
“Yeah, guess we should. But my only duffel bag is the one we take camping…”
“Well, at least have stuff off to the side…”
“It’s close, isn’t it.”
In other news, Bailey knows (again) that something is up. She’s been more glued to me than usual.
Last night my OCD kicked in hardcore and I was up and down about 5 times, making sure the doors are locked, the stove’s off and candles are out; I was doing this before I got KU, so it’s nothing I’m concerned about. Each time, she had to come with me. If I stopped moving, she pressed herself up against my shin. In bed, she was protecting The Bump (which responded with a couple swift jabs to doggy spine).
It’s a good thing she doesn’t have thumbs because I’m pretty sure she would have found a way to stitch herself to me by now.
Makes me a bit nervous though… does she know something I/we don’t?