Yo Gabba Dad

2 03 2012

I had a massage today.  Because, after nearly six months of mothering with only a few hour-long, off-premise trips away from my daughter, it was, you know, TIME.

Hazel stayed home with Dad and had a great time.  Unfortunately, I arrived home at naptime.  Or rather, NO NAP time.

As I came in, Jason came downstairs with a teary baby.

“We watched the Yo Gabba Gabba ‘Sleep’ episode,” he said, passing Hazel to me.  He gazed down at her as she began to nurse.  “She didn’t learn anything.”



What’s Going On With…

26 01 2012

The big bed is still fair game for play time and photo shoots.



Well, we’ve had some good times and bad times since we began crying it out.  Last night was amazing: she woke up four times to nurse, and each time I put her back to bed, she simply went to sleep without a peep.  The night before, however, she was up at least every hour.  I expect that we’ll see both sorts of nights for a long, long time… but hoping for some more good ones.

















(We put Hazel to sleep on her back, as recommended; however, she is able to roll herself over now, and ends up on her tummy.)


Cloth Diaper Butt!


…Cloth diapers:

I’m hooked on disposables for night.  One a night is something that I can live with.  The rest of the time, she’s in cloth.  Thank you so much to my friend who pointed me to a cheap cloth diaper source, so I was able to double my stash and reduce my laundry loads.






"Cloth is Cool"

Good news: He still moves fast when he wants to. Sad news: I had to go back a month and a half to find a photo of the poor dog.



Oh, Charlie.  He’s an old man.  Sad to say, I’ve taken to putting up the baby gate to prevent him from using the stairs; he’s taken some tumbles, and I worry that he’s going to hurt himself.  Although I fell down the stairs a few weeks ago, and that’s probably not due to senility.  Otherwise, he is still a pretty happy dog.  He doesn’t get many (or any) walks, but he loves taking rambles around our property and short jaunts around the off-leash area.  He shows no resentment towards the baby, but won’t be interested in her until she starts dropping food on the floor.

In his couch-cushion fort



He loves everything the baby comes with: comfy crib, comfy changing pad, comfy carseat, jingly toys…














Well, there were plenty of people who told me I would miss my job.

Yeah, it's 2 in the afternoon. Yeah, we're in our pjs. So?

They were wrong.

Grrrr… I Mean, GERD

1 12 2011

GERD.  Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease.  It really sucks for me, and I’m not the one who has it.  Hazel does, and it makes for a pretty miserable baby sometimes.  In fact, I think she would take a broken collar bone over the reflux.  She’s such a trooper.  But we just haven’t gotten a handle on this, despite my month of diary- and soy-free diet, two weeks of gluten-free eating, and two different meds for her.  Mostly she does okay, just as long as I, you know, hold her constantly AND DON’T SIT DOWN.  And pass her off to dad or grandma?  NO THANK YOU.

I will admit, it’s totally changed my pre-baby conceptions about how I was going to parent.  For example:

Pre-Baby Thoughts on Blogging: I will have so much time to update my blog!

Post-Baby: A shower would be nice.  Or doing some laundry.  Or doing anything besides frantically pacing the house with a screaming baby who will only nap if I am simultaneously walking and nursing her.

Pre-Baby Thoughts on Pacifiers: Oh, sure, SOME babies need them, but I don’t want to use them.

Post-Baby: Yeah, I own twelve, because we have to try different brands, and they only sell them in packs of two.  She doesn’t like ANY of them, but Jason and I spend hours each day trying to convince her they are cool.

Pre-Baby Thoughts on Carseats: Carseats are for cars.  Not for toting babies around.

Post-Baby: Please don’t wake up right now.  Please.  I WILL CARRY THE HUNDRED-POUND CARSEAT AROUND IF YOU WILL JUST SLEEP THROUGH THIS STORE.  Because nursing doesn’t always work with a reflux baby, but she wants to try constantly, which means my nipple is pretty much always hanging out while my baby screams to draw attention to it.  Cold weather has also contributed to this one: ever put a sleeping baby in 20-degree carseat without inciting screams of torture?  Didn’t think so.  We’ll keep the carseat warm, thank you very much.

Pre-Baby Thoughts on Cribs: Having a crib two and a half feet away is great!

Post Baby: Well, the cat can be nice and close when HE sleeps in the crib.  Meanwhile, the baby is in our bed.  Asleep.  F* the crib.  I’m tired.

Pre-Baby Thoughts on Dignity: I will retain it.

Post-Baby: I gave Hazel some of her medicine, and she immediately began drooling.  Without much thought, I swiped at the drool and tasted it to see if she had spit out the meds.  That’s right.  I ATE MY BABY’S DROOL.

5 A.M. at My House

29 09 2011



Wide. A. Wake.




The Next Big Thing

25 04 2011

It’s not so much my belly, which has been expanding and contracting for months now (at this point, it no longer contracts, though it still produces a startling amount of gas on a regular basis).

It’s really more my butt and thighs.  I actually tried listening to my thighs with the fetal heartbeat detector, half convinced that I have a baby gestating in each leg as well as one in my uterus.  No such luck.  It seems to me that if my thighs are going to expand until they rub together, I at least should be producing some sort of life in there.

Well, chronic heat rash produced by rubbing thighs is really the least of the degradations that have set in halfway through my pregnancy.

As a preteen girl, I decided that I should adopt children rather than giving birth, because I simply could not fathom having a doctor peering at my nether regions.

“Don’t worry,” my mom assured me.  “By the time you’re giving birth, that’s the least of what you’ve gone through.”

At the time, I didn’t put much faith in my mother’s words.

But after weeks of getting up multiple times in the night to urinate, I’m willing to sleep through the night even though it means I won’t quite make it to the bathroom in time when I do get up.  (Luckily, my husband is a late sleeper, so this humiliation is my own.)

And, sometimes, it seems perfectly natural to reach down my elastic-waist pants to scratch the above-mentioned heat rash.

Finally, after waiting three decades, I have achieved that state of mind I have always pursued: comfort at the cheap price of my pride…

Summer Vacation: Day 1

17 06 2010

My first day of summer vacation was not exactly photo-inspiring.  It was a cold, drizzly day that didn’t feel like summer at all.  It did, however, feel like vacation.  I have been looking forward to the commencement of my first real summer vacation for nearly three years now, all through two summers of grad school.  It would have been nice to start it off with 80 degree, sunny weather, but I’ll take sleeping in until 9 in any weather.

I made it out to the new house/construction site by 11, and walked the property in a break between showers.

The flowers spoke of sunshine, even if the clouds told a different story.

I went back to my mom’s house to recover from my excursion to the paint store and the new house.  After a hearty meal and some quiet reading time, I eventually managed to leave the house again, this time to walk Charlie.  Naturally, we ended up in a heavy shower.  Charlie cared not one bit.

The sunglasses are pure optimism; the hood, required.  I wore my jeans and hoodie in deference to the weather, but determinedly wore my Chaco sandals – we leave for Costa Rica in just a couple of weeks, and need to be sandal-ready by then.  Obviously, I could use a pedicure, too.

That’s what walking in the mud gets you.

The highlight of my wanderings was this brilliant flower:

It was just growing along the curbside, and was so brilliant it hurt to look at it.  Notice the raindrops all around.  The sky was the same color as the sidewalk, so we were just surrounded by gray.  Then here is this little red flower, just humming with vibrancy.  Amazing.

Anyway, my to-do list included writing thank you notes for my bridal shower gifts, emailing several people who emailed me weeks ago, cleaning up my wedding invite list, starting a decent summer fitness routine, finishing a book that’s overdue at the library, and catching up on several years of inadequate sleep.

Didn’t get any of that done, but at least I took care of the most important chore of my life:

Can’t wait for Day 2.


8 05 2010

Don't Wake Me Up

Jason took our dog, Charlie, over to the new house for a night.  I spent a fitful night alone in the rental house without my boys.  They finally came home the following night, quite late (past 10!), and Jason crawled into bed.

“What are you doing?” I whined, unhappy at being woken in the middle of the night.

“I thought you’d want to cuddle.”

“Go cuddle on the couch,” I mumbled.  “I’m sleeping.”

At 6 the next the morning, however, I was thrilled to wake up to both the boys in the house.  I let Jason sleep, but attacked Charlie, who had been peacefully sleeping in the living room.  I flopped on top of him, rubbing his ears and his chin and talking ridiculous baby talk to him.

He blinked blearily at me.  Charlie doesn’t speak, but he communicated his thoughts quite clearly: “Go cuddle in bed,” he told me.  “I’m sleeping…”

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