Steve is out of town for the next couple of days, so you know what that means…
Party at my house! Woo!
If you’re looking to party with a grouchy baby, two not so well-behaved dogs, a couple of possibly passive-aggressive cats, and my charming self, that is. If not, then you might want to find somewhere else to spend your time. And we didn’t really want you at our party, anyway.
So there.
Anywho, what Brigid and I did do with our first Steve-less evening of the week was go to dinner with the family. There is a pizza place in the neighborhood that my in-laws eat at almost once a week, and last night was the night this time around. My schedule at work is a little lighter this week because of the Easter holiday coming up, and since I’m actually getting home a couple of hours before Brigid needs to start getting ready for bed (as opposed to right at the start of bedtime), we decided to tag along. Well, I decided for the two of us…I think if Brigid could talk, she would have refused to go unless we promised her a piece of pizza. She’s starting to get a hint of crazy around the eyes when real food is in the vicinity, and it’s a little scary. I keep telling her to start popping out the teeth so she can join in the fun, but she’s ignored me so far. Whatever. Someday she’ll learn that mommy knows best. Like when she’s thirty…
At any rate, this baby, she is pretty inflexible when it comes to bedtime, and she definitely has a specific hour when the grouch sets in, usually around 6:30pm. To try to make the whole dinner thing a little smoother (read: less screechy), we tried to push her afternoon schedule back a little bit, with a later naptime, a later wake-up time, and a later mid-afternoon bottle.
Guess what?
Totally didn’t work.
Things started to get a little dicey in our booth right around 6:30, right on schedule.
Luckily, the place is pretty open and relatively noisy, so Brigid’s squeals weren’t really bothering anyone else. But I tried to eat as quickly as possible so we could get the hell out of there before things got worse, and I think I more or less inhaled my salad whole because I walked out of the restaurant feeling like there was lead in my stomach (but that could have just been all of the cheese in the salad…). Also, I’m pretty sure the waitress was standing right behind me ready to throw my check at me the minute I asked for it because it definitely seemed to come quicker than it usually does (Although whether she wanted to get the crying baby out of her section immediately, or if she was just exceptionally helpful, I can’t say. I’m going to lean towards exceptionally helpful, I think. It’s spring…I like to be optimistic this time of year…and she really didn’t seem pissy at all…so helpful it is.).
Moral of the story? Eating out with a baby leads to heartburn. So don’t do it.
You’re welcome.
Side note...our bedtime ritual always includes a liberal smear of Aquaphor on Brigid’s face after her bath, just to keep up her healthy baby glow (Seriously, the stuff is magic…we put it on any kind of skin irritation she gets, and it clears it up pretty much on contact. Scratches, dry skin, pimples. It’s crazy effective. My mother-in-law refers to it as ‘Sean Connery juice’ because she says it’s like the stuff that saves his life in that Indiana Jones movie, or something like that. Not totally up-to-date on my Indiana Jones trivia. Sorry. But Aquaphor is awesome. Moving on…). While I was trying to put the stuff on her last night, she was not having it, at all. Screaming, crying, kicking, it was a mess. So, yeah, I may or may not have started paraphrasing Silence of the Lambs to a six-month old, giggling to myself because, obviously, I thought I was ridiculously clever…
‘It puts the lotion on its face.’ *giggle* *giggle* ‘It puts the lotion on its face or it gets the hose.’
(See, Steve? This is what happens when you leave me alone with the baby!)
Honestly, does this make me the worst mother ever, or just bottom 10?
Side note #2…I know, I know. I can’t hang with Indiana Jones trivia, but I am apparently all over Silence of the Lambs. I can't explain it, either.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Kiss me, I'm Irish
St. Patrick's Day is pretty much the biggest holiday of the year at my house (after Christmas for me and Halloween for Steve, of course). And yes, I realize I really dropped the ball on this post, but it's not entirely my fault. I didn't even know these pictures existed until today, and I think they need to be shared. These days, if anything gets done at all, it's a pretty big deal, so better late than never, I say.
So on that note, here we go...the story of baby's first St. Patrick's Day:
I'm not entirely sure, but I think she may be flipping Steve the bird in this one...
'Whoa, man. One too many...'
'Hey! I have feet.'
'Dude. Seriously. Just leave me alone.'
'What is with you and the camera, man?'
'Yes, I'm cute. Now put down the camera, and just give me my dinner already.'And that's how we celebrated St. Patty's Day this year.
The End.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Weekend round-up
What did I do this weekend?
I cleaned. I cleaned like a crazy person cleans. I vacuumed and dusted and steam cleaned the carpets and wiped down the cabinets and sanitized the bathrooms. I made up the guest rooms and I washed the rugs and I even folded my clean laundry this time around...including the loads from last week that hadn't quite made it to the closet yet.
(Why yes, my family is coming into town next weekend. How'd you know?)
Apparently freshly steam cleaned carpets are animal code for toilet, because I woke up to a hairball and a potty spot in my bedroom on Sunday morning. I know who the hairball came from, but I don't know who provided the urine just yet. I have my suspicions, though. Let's just say our oldest animal has been a little disgruntled since we moved to Georgia...
Also, Steve may or may not have given us both some 'stomach issues' (don't worry, no details...) with his homemade cheese. In retrospect, homemade cheese is maybe never a good idea.
Thank heavens for Mandi, and her very, very timely invite to see Chelsea Handler on Sunday night. I love any excuse to hang out with Mandi, of course, and Chelsea Handler was pretty friggin' hilarious. It was just enough of a sanity booster to (hopefully) get me through the week ahead. Because, oh yes, Steve is out of town for work. So that should be fun for all involved.
You stay classy, Atlanta.
I cleaned. I cleaned like a crazy person cleans. I vacuumed and dusted and steam cleaned the carpets and wiped down the cabinets and sanitized the bathrooms. I made up the guest rooms and I washed the rugs and I even folded my clean laundry this time around...including the loads from last week that hadn't quite made it to the closet yet.
(Why yes, my family is coming into town next weekend. How'd you know?)
Apparently freshly steam cleaned carpets are animal code for toilet, because I woke up to a hairball and a potty spot in my bedroom on Sunday morning. I know who the hairball came from, but I don't know who provided the urine just yet. I have my suspicions, though. Let's just say our oldest animal has been a little disgruntled since we moved to Georgia...
Also, Steve may or may not have given us both some 'stomach issues' (don't worry, no details...) with his homemade cheese. In retrospect, homemade cheese is maybe never a good idea.
Thank heavens for Mandi, and her very, very timely invite to see Chelsea Handler on Sunday night. I love any excuse to hang out with Mandi, of course, and Chelsea Handler was pretty friggin' hilarious. It was just enough of a sanity booster to (hopefully) get me through the week ahead. Because, oh yes, Steve is out of town for work. So that should be fun for all involved.
You stay classy, Atlanta.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
One down!
Aaaaaand, we’re clear.
The pulmonologist office visits are officially off of the table! Woo!
The final round of the synagis shots happened today, and Brigid (and her lungs) were given the ok by the nurse practitioner, meaning we don’t have to go back anymore in the near future, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I feel like the fewer specialists we have to see, the healthier I can claim my kid is. That may not be entirely true, but I’m going to run with it anyway. We’ll revisit the situation again next fall with our insurance company and cardiologist, just to see if we qualify for another flu and cold season of shots, but until then, there’s one less visit we have to make.
And, here’s probably where you stop reading if you’re not a grandparent who cares about every single weigh in Brigid has, or if you’re not her mother who is currently using the internet as her very own version of a baby book…
Same drill as usual, of course…there’s still a murmur, but she’s perfectly healthy beyond that. She weighed in at 16lbs 5oz, and she’s 25 ¾ inches long. According to my old favorite, infantchart.com, this puts her in the 69th percentile in weight (compared to 64th percentile after the January shots) and the 64th percentile in height (compared to 75th percentile in January). Somebody is getting short and chubby. It’s nice to know she takes after her mother in some regard! Well, the short she gets from me, at least. I don’t want to claim responsibility for the chubby part. She’s in the 63rd percentile for weight vs length, so I figure she’s still just about perfect.
But we knew that already.
The pulmonologist office visits are officially off of the table! Woo!
The final round of the synagis shots happened today, and Brigid (and her lungs) were given the ok by the nurse practitioner, meaning we don’t have to go back anymore in the near future, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I feel like the fewer specialists we have to see, the healthier I can claim my kid is. That may not be entirely true, but I’m going to run with it anyway. We’ll revisit the situation again next fall with our insurance company and cardiologist, just to see if we qualify for another flu and cold season of shots, but until then, there’s one less visit we have to make.
And, here’s probably where you stop reading if you’re not a grandparent who cares about every single weigh in Brigid has, or if you’re not her mother who is currently using the internet as her very own version of a baby book…
Same drill as usual, of course…there’s still a murmur, but she’s perfectly healthy beyond that. She weighed in at 16lbs 5oz, and she’s 25 ¾ inches long. According to my old favorite, infantchart.com, this puts her in the 69th percentile in weight (compared to 64th percentile after the January shots) and the 64th percentile in height (compared to 75th percentile in January). Somebody is getting short and chubby. It’s nice to know she takes after her mother in some regard! Well, the short she gets from me, at least. I don’t want to claim responsibility for the chubby part. She’s in the 63rd percentile for weight vs length, so I figure she’s still just about perfect.
But we knew that already.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Lullaby
I think I mentioned before that my kid is a big Jason Mraz fan. I don't think I mentioned just how much she loves him.
When I was pregnant, I listened to his music pretty much every time I was in the car. Something about it just made me happy, and it kept me as calm as it could keep me on my morning/afternoon commute. I mean, he can only do so much...do you know how many idiots are on the roads these days? It's ridiculous. But he did his best. And I appreciated the effort. Anyway, there's apparently something to be said for that whole thing about babies in the womb picking up what's going on around them in the outside world, because pick it up, she did.
I'm not sure when we realized that Jason Mraz's music was magic, but it was a pretty big revelation when it hit. We have his episode of Sesame Street recorded on DVR, along with a 30 minute Farm Aid mini concert. She is enthralled by both. Norah Jones on Sesame Street? It does nothing for her. Jason Mraz? He can stop a fit, mid-fit.
Last Friday, my brother-in-law watched the baby while Steve and I went with his mom and sister to see Fiddler on the Roof (loved it, by the way, but I've been excessivley weepy since pregnancy (who am I kidding, I've always been excessively weepy, but it's definitely gotten worse), and I basically cried through the entire second half of the show). During the second act, I got a text message that said 'Just made it through our first crying fit. After a couple of rounds of Jason Mraz and pacing the room, she is back out.'
Awesome.
Last Sunday, Steve and I were in the car with Brigid during what should have been her afternoon naptime. I thought she'd fall right asleep, but she wasn't going down without a fight. When we progressed to the fussing and the crying, I pulled up some JM on my phone, and she was out after 30 seconds. Maybe a minute, at the most.
Fantastic.
I'm glad we've found something that calms her down, but doesn't drive the adults in the room up the wall (Well, it doesn't drive me up the wall. I think Steve may be getting tired of it, though...). I just wonder if she'll remember this when she gets older. I guess I know she won't remember this in particular, but I wonder if the Jason Mraz love will stick with her, or if this will just be something we tell her stories about someday down the road. I still laugh at the fact that my youngest sister was told not to sing songs she heard on the radio to her kindergarten class because her favorite song was The Thong Song. Of course, she grew out of that, and I don't even know if she remembers it now. But my middle sister and I still love to listen to Poison, Unskinny Bop, which was one of our favorite songs when we were younger (although we had NO IDEA what it meant, obviously). In fact, to Steve's family, this song kind of defines me...it's even my ringtone on my sister-in-law's phone. This fact should probably not be something I'm proud of, but what can I say? The song is a classic!
I think if Steve does start to get annoyed with I'm Yours on repeat, I will gently remind him that he should just be happy that Brigid seems to have better taste in music than her mother. It could have been so much worse.
Because the other music I listened to on repeat last summer? New Kids on the Block. Between that and Poison, I think we shoul be pretty happy with what we got.
When I was pregnant, I listened to his music pretty much every time I was in the car. Something about it just made me happy, and it kept me as calm as it could keep me on my morning/afternoon commute. I mean, he can only do so much...do you know how many idiots are on the roads these days? It's ridiculous. But he did his best. And I appreciated the effort. Anyway, there's apparently something to be said for that whole thing about babies in the womb picking up what's going on around them in the outside world, because pick it up, she did.
I'm not sure when we realized that Jason Mraz's music was magic, but it was a pretty big revelation when it hit. We have his episode of Sesame Street recorded on DVR, along with a 30 minute Farm Aid mini concert. She is enthralled by both. Norah Jones on Sesame Street? It does nothing for her. Jason Mraz? He can stop a fit, mid-fit.
Last Friday, my brother-in-law watched the baby while Steve and I went with his mom and sister to see Fiddler on the Roof (loved it, by the way, but I've been excessivley weepy since pregnancy (who am I kidding, I've always been excessively weepy, but it's definitely gotten worse), and I basically cried through the entire second half of the show). During the second act, I got a text message that said 'Just made it through our first crying fit. After a couple of rounds of Jason Mraz and pacing the room, she is back out.'
Awesome.
Last Sunday, Steve and I were in the car with Brigid during what should have been her afternoon naptime. I thought she'd fall right asleep, but she wasn't going down without a fight. When we progressed to the fussing and the crying, I pulled up some JM on my phone, and she was out after 30 seconds. Maybe a minute, at the most.
Fantastic.
I'm glad we've found something that calms her down, but doesn't drive the adults in the room up the wall (Well, it doesn't drive me up the wall. I think Steve may be getting tired of it, though...). I just wonder if she'll remember this when she gets older. I guess I know she won't remember this in particular, but I wonder if the Jason Mraz love will stick with her, or if this will just be something we tell her stories about someday down the road. I still laugh at the fact that my youngest sister was told not to sing songs she heard on the radio to her kindergarten class because her favorite song was The Thong Song. Of course, she grew out of that, and I don't even know if she remembers it now. But my middle sister and I still love to listen to Poison, Unskinny Bop, which was one of our favorite songs when we were younger (although we had NO IDEA what it meant, obviously). In fact, to Steve's family, this song kind of defines me...it's even my ringtone on my sister-in-law's phone. This fact should probably not be something I'm proud of, but what can I say? The song is a classic!
I think if Steve does start to get annoyed with I'm Yours on repeat, I will gently remind him that he should just be happy that Brigid seems to have better taste in music than her mother. It could have been so much worse.
Because the other music I listened to on repeat last summer? New Kids on the Block. Between that and Poison, I think we shoul be pretty happy with what we got.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Bouncy Swing
We have a new winner in the category of BEST! TOY! EVER!!! Brigid absolutely loves this thing, if you can't tell by the delighted giggles and squeals coming out of that tiny body. Not to mention the general thrashing around that she seems to do every time she realizes her feet touch the ground.
She's a trip, this kid...
Honestly, when I was making my way through the long, drawn-out, and extremely confusing process that is the baby registry,* this item wasn't really on my list of things I thought I needed. I was so very, very, very wrong. WRONG! It is obviously something that we can't live without.
So, as the video says (several times, as a matter of fact) thanks Uncle Greggy...great call :)
*Seriously, the whole not drinking when you're pregnant thing is just a cruel joke on pregnant women. Between registering and picking out baby furniture, nobody needs a glass of wine more than the mother-to-be. Because trying to navigate your way through the thousands of items available for baby while trying to cling to some shred of sanity is absolutely impossible. Some things are in this store, some things are in that store, some things are only online, and for some things, you just have to use your imagination. And the reviews! Helpful, but not really helpful. This person couldn't live without it, but that person thinks it's absolute junk that only crazy people would spend money on, while this person thinks that the people that don't like it just aren't doing it right. I had a nervous breakdown about swings. Or pack n' plays. I don't remember. I do remember feeling remarkably certain that all of Brigid's health and happiness hinged on making the right decision, and after hearing Steve say (for the 500th time that day) 'It's up to you,' a mild panic attack (and some yelling) may have ensued. Steve even asked my friend Lynsey to call me to talk me off of the ledge, and she thought something was seriously wrong. I think she even laughed at me when she found out what I was actually freaking out about. Not helpful, Lynsey. Not helpful at all. (Kidding, of course! It was amazingly helpful because I realized what an idiot I was being. A swing or pack n' play does not make or break a kid. I think. Or hope. Whatever. Hugs and kisses, Lyns!)
Anyway, thank goodness all of that is over, and I'm back to my calm, collected self.
Right, Steve-o?
She's a trip, this kid...
Honestly, when I was making my way through the long, drawn-out, and extremely confusing process that is the baby registry,* this item wasn't really on my list of things I thought I needed. I was so very, very, very wrong. WRONG! It is obviously something that we can't live without.
So, as the video says (several times, as a matter of fact) thanks Uncle Greggy...great call :)
*Seriously, the whole not drinking when you're pregnant thing is just a cruel joke on pregnant women. Between registering and picking out baby furniture, nobody needs a glass of wine more than the mother-to-be. Because trying to navigate your way through the thousands of items available for baby while trying to cling to some shred of sanity is absolutely impossible. Some things are in this store, some things are in that store, some things are only online, and for some things, you just have to use your imagination. And the reviews! Helpful, but not really helpful. This person couldn't live without it, but that person thinks it's absolute junk that only crazy people would spend money on, while this person thinks that the people that don't like it just aren't doing it right. I had a nervous breakdown about swings. Or pack n' plays. I don't remember. I do remember feeling remarkably certain that all of Brigid's health and happiness hinged on making the right decision, and after hearing Steve say (for the 500th time that day) 'It's up to you,' a mild panic attack (and some yelling) may have ensued. Steve even asked my friend Lynsey to call me to talk me off of the ledge, and she thought something was seriously wrong. I think she even laughed at me when she found out what I was actually freaking out about. Not helpful, Lynsey. Not helpful at all. (Kidding, of course! It was amazingly helpful because I realized what an idiot I was being. A swing or pack n' play does not make or break a kid. I think. Or hope. Whatever. Hugs and kisses, Lyns!)
Anyway, thank goodness all of that is over, and I'm back to my calm, collected self.
Right, Steve-o?
Monday, March 22, 2010
I tried to tell her naps were important!
The poor kid's schedule got all screwed up this weekend, and this was the result at around 5:30pm on Sunday evening:
That child is out cold.
What this picture doesn't show is our very first mobility injury, a bruised cheek from rolling into the bottom shelf of the tv stand. And it happened on my watch, of course. I swear, I was right next to her, watching as it unfolded, and I still couldn't stop it. And Steve has been giving me a hard time ever since it happened.
When she starts to crawl, I'm totally getting her a leash. It just seems safer that way.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Loving the sunshine!
Brigid, following a lunchtime walk with mommy to celebrate the fact that it's not raining on a Friday (finally!!!):
Poor kid has such a rough life.
Of course, I looked pretty much the exact same way, but I feel a little more justified in it since I was responsible for, you know, the actual walking.
Poor kid has such a rough life.
Of course, I looked pretty much the exact same way, but I feel a little more justified in it since I was responsible for, you know, the actual walking.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Increased expenses I wasn't expecting when I had a baby...
1) Batteries - Of course, I knew the number of batteries we needed would increase at some point, I just didn't expect it to happen immediately after Brigid was born. Everything that has anything to do with the baby? It requires batteries.
2) Ibuprofen - All of those batteries? It's because everything for the baby makes a noise. OH. MY. GAH!
3) Water - The laundry! The dishes! The bathing!
4) Electricity - See laundry and dishes, above. Also? Air conditioning. In March. Because it happened to get warm outside one day, and the house was 78, and it can't be too warm for the baby.
5) Natural Gas - Because it also can't be too cold for the baby.
6) Trash bags - Sometimes, you forget and throw a dirty diaper directly into the garbage can. When that happens, you are definitely not waiting to fill up that bag before taking it out.
7) Wine - Totally kidding, of course. I absolutely expected that expense to go up after the baby.
2) Ibuprofen - All of those batteries? It's because everything for the baby makes a noise. OH. MY. GAH!
3) Water - The laundry! The dishes! The bathing!
4) Electricity - See laundry and dishes, above. Also? Air conditioning. In March. Because it happened to get warm outside one day, and the house was 78, and it can't be too warm for the baby.
5) Natural Gas - Because it also can't be too cold for the baby.
6) Trash bags - Sometimes, you forget and throw a dirty diaper directly into the garbage can. When that happens, you are definitely not waiting to fill up that bag before taking it out.
7) Wine - Totally kidding, of course. I absolutely expected that expense to go up after the baby.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Don't sweat it...
Babies.
Oh, babies.
Just when you think you're starting to get them figured out, they change things up on you.
You want to know what I've learned over the last five months? I've learned that worrying is wasted on babies. A baby is going to do what a baby is going to do, and you're just along for the ride. Well, the ride and the 24 hour days of feedings, cleanings, and cuddlings.
I've been complaining about how Brigid never naps. I worried that she wasn't getting the sleep she needed during the day, even though she was basically sleeping 10 hours a night (Which isn't normal? Or is normal? Or is sometimes normal and sometimes not? I still honestly have no idea what is or isn't expected from a baby. Everything I read says something different. And I'm starting to think that every baby might be unique, and all of the experts are full of it...). But, guess what? She's starting to get herself on something of a real, honest to goodness nap "schedule"* now. Yay!
Of course, this means she's back to waking up again at 4am off and on, but why bother with the details?
Which brings me to another case of worrying for no reason...
Our surefire method of getting Brigid back to sleep when she'd wake in the middle of the night was the pacifier. Brigid loved her pacifier. It calmed her down when she was upset. It served as a temporary bottle placeholder when she was hungry, and we were trying to get her formula put together. It taught her to put herself to sleep. And, I was already beginning to worry about how I was going to break her of the habit down the road. But now, all of a sudden, she's so over it! She's decided her thumb is the way to go, being so much more convenient than a pacifier and all. You know, since it's attached to her and always available. And she got there all on her own. She's a smart one, that kid!
So in the span of a week, she's started napping on a little more of a consistent basis, and she's broken herself of a pacifier habit. We are knocking out issues left and right these days! Now all I have to worry about is how to break her of a thumb sucking habit in the future.
Worrying may be useless, but it I'm starting to think it's still never going to stop.
*See those quotation marks? See what I did there? Basically, I'm calling it a schedule, even though it means she goes down in her crib sometime between 9am and noon, for anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours, and then she goes down again between 1:30pm and 3pm, for another 30 minutes to an hour.
Oh, babies.
Just when you think you're starting to get them figured out, they change things up on you.
You want to know what I've learned over the last five months? I've learned that worrying is wasted on babies. A baby is going to do what a baby is going to do, and you're just along for the ride. Well, the ride and the 24 hour days of feedings, cleanings, and cuddlings.
I've been complaining about how Brigid never naps. I worried that she wasn't getting the sleep she needed during the day, even though she was basically sleeping 10 hours a night (Which isn't normal? Or is normal? Or is sometimes normal and sometimes not? I still honestly have no idea what is or isn't expected from a baby. Everything I read says something different. And I'm starting to think that every baby might be unique, and all of the experts are full of it...). But, guess what? She's starting to get herself on something of a real, honest to goodness nap "schedule"* now. Yay!
Of course, this means she's back to waking up again at 4am off and on, but why bother with the details?
Which brings me to another case of worrying for no reason...
Our surefire method of getting Brigid back to sleep when she'd wake in the middle of the night was the pacifier. Brigid loved her pacifier. It calmed her down when she was upset. It served as a temporary bottle placeholder when she was hungry, and we were trying to get her formula put together. It taught her to put herself to sleep. And, I was already beginning to worry about how I was going to break her of the habit down the road. But now, all of a sudden, she's so over it! She's decided her thumb is the way to go, being so much more convenient than a pacifier and all. You know, since it's attached to her and always available. And she got there all on her own. She's a smart one, that kid!
So in the span of a week, she's started napping on a little more of a consistent basis, and she's broken herself of a pacifier habit. We are knocking out issues left and right these days! Now all I have to worry about is how to break her of a thumb sucking habit in the future.
Worrying may be useless, but it I'm starting to think it's still never going to stop.
*See those quotation marks? See what I did there? Basically, I'm calling it a schedule, even though it means she goes down in her crib sometime between 9am and noon, for anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours, and then she goes down again between 1:30pm and 3pm, for another 30 minutes to an hour.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Spring forward
The scene in our family room at 7:45pm, after a bath and before the bedtime bottle:
Bedtime? What bedtime?
I was a little concerned that losing an hour in our day was going to throw Brigid's sleep schedule for a loop. Apparently, we were blessed with a pretty easy going baby when it comes to schedules, because she went to sleep just like she normally does at the 'new' 8pm time slot.
And now that I've acknowledged how relatively easy she is to get to sleep, I've probably just screwed us going forward. When she's awake at 10-11pm later this week, I'll know that she always knows just what I'm thinking. And I'll be scared.
Bedtime? What bedtime?
I was a little concerned that losing an hour in our day was going to throw Brigid's sleep schedule for a loop. Apparently, we were blessed with a pretty easy going baby when it comes to schedules, because she went to sleep just like she normally does at the 'new' 8pm time slot.
And now that I've acknowledged how relatively easy she is to get to sleep, I've probably just screwed us going forward. When she's awake at 10-11pm later this week, I'll know that she always knows just what I'm thinking. And I'll be scared.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
At least she waited until she was clean...
Bedtime is usually crabtime around my house. From 7pm-8pm, it's all we can do to keep Brigid happy through a solid feeding, a bath, and a bottle. Her favorite part of this process is laying on the changing table in her diaper, right after I've dried her off and before I get her dressed for bed. She smiles and giggles and grabs at my hair and just generally has a grand ol' time. Once I try to get her sleeper on, though, all hell breaks loose. And last night, oh boy. Last night was worse than normal.
Why?
Because to get her dressed last night, I had to take away what has suddenly become the GREATEST TOY OF ALL TIME!!!
Yes, that is her foot in her mouth.
Yes, that is the first time she's managed to get that foot in her mouth with no help from daddy, who has been pushing this process for some unknown reason.
Yes, there was some heavy breathing involved, as it seems to take a lot of focus and energy to get the foot to the mouth and keep it there. Who knew?
Yes, I did find the entire process adorable and hilarious.
Oh, the things that pass for entertainment these days...
Why?
Because to get her dressed last night, I had to take away what has suddenly become the GREATEST TOY OF ALL TIME!!!
Yes, that is her foot in her mouth.
Yes, that is the first time she's managed to get that foot in her mouth with no help from daddy, who has been pushing this process for some unknown reason.
Yes, there was some heavy breathing involved, as it seems to take a lot of focus and energy to get the foot to the mouth and keep it there. Who knew?
Yes, I did find the entire process adorable and hilarious.
Oh, the things that pass for entertainment these days...
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Things I want to remember
1) The way you smile and wiggle your entire body when I come in to get you out of your crib in the morning.
2) The way you smile and bounce up and down when I get home from work.
3) The look of concentration on your face when you're trying to get your toe into your mouth. And the look of surprise when your thumb ends up in there instead.
4) The way you fall asleep with your hands clasped together over your eyes. You take your bottle that way when you're tired, and it lets me know that I’m going to have a hard time keeping you awake to finish the whole thing. And sometimes, after you fall asleep, one hand slips down, and you end up sleeping in your swooning pose. And it's adorable.
5) The feel of you sleeping soundly in my arms. When you're older, I'll probably complain about how heavy you are when you're sleeping, but right now? Right now, you're perfect.
2) The way you smile and bounce up and down when I get home from work.
3) The look of concentration on your face when you're trying to get your toe into your mouth. And the look of surprise when your thumb ends up in there instead.
4) The way you fall asleep with your hands clasped together over your eyes. You take your bottle that way when you're tired, and it lets me know that I’m going to have a hard time keeping you awake to finish the whole thing. And sometimes, after you fall asleep, one hand slips down, and you end up sleeping in your swooning pose. And it's adorable.
5) The feel of you sleeping soundly in my arms. When you're older, I'll probably complain about how heavy you are when you're sleeping, but right now? Right now, you're perfect.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Spring in the South
Want to know what I did this weekend?
This:
And I enjoyed every minute of it.
(Obviously, this was just an event for Steve and I, and Brigid didn’t come along. But, in the spirit of full disclosure, if I could have found a way to photoshop a picture of the baby into a picture of the crowd, I totally would have done it just to freak my parents out. They may not have appreciated the joke, but I would have found it hilarious.)
This:
And I enjoyed every minute of it.
(Obviously, this was just an event for Steve and I, and Brigid didn’t come along. But, in the spirit of full disclosure, if I could have found a way to photoshop a picture of the baby into a picture of the crowd, I totally would have done it just to freak my parents out. They may not have appreciated the joke, but I would have found it hilarious.)
Monday, March 8, 2010
Five Months
It’s been five months, now. Five months since I went into the hospital, not knowing what to expect, and left the hospital with this little tiny lump of baby that I was expected to provide for, 100%. Five months, and I’m still not entirely sure what I’m doing.
But so far, things seem to be off to a good start.
You are officially a stomach sleeper, despite my best efforts to keep you on your back. In fact, you seem to do everything on your stomach these days, with an automatic roll over every time I lay you down anywhere, so I guess that whole crawling thing is probably a lot closer than I’d like. You’re officially a thumb sucker, and while you’ll still take your pacifier every once in awhile, you kind of seem a little over that whole thing. So my surefire way of soothing an inconsolable baby is now a thing of the past, which kind of limits our public outings a little bit. On the other hand, it’s a lot easier for you to find your thumb than your pacifier in the middle of the night, so midnight wake-ups have been a lot less frequent. You have a definite bedtime, and heaven help us if we don’t stick to your dinner at 7pm, bath at 7:30pm, bottle at 8pm schedule, because much like your mother, you are not pleasant to be around when you are tired and hungry. You are surprisingly opinionated for someone who can’t talk yet…you definitely know what you like, and you will let us know when you are not happy. Your angry baby screams are not to be messed with, that’s for sure.
You’ve started to entertain yourself for short periods of time, especially when you’re hanging out in the exersaucer. You like the monkeys and the dragonfly the most, probably because those are the easiest parts to chew on. You’re still mesmerized by your feet, which is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, except when you put those feet in your mouth. Your dad finds that hilarious. Me? Not so much. We’ve officially started the solid food route, and you’ve enjoyed two different kinds of cereal, along with sweet potatoes and bananas. Your dad can’t stand bananas, so that’s all on me, but I think he’ll have to take his turn when it comes to the turkey and vegetable combo jar, or even worse, the baby food beef. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stomach that stage. We’ll work our way into vegetables next, and while you don’t know it yet, I’m sure you’re not really looking forward to that move. You have a strangely independent streak in you when it comes to eating, and you seem very determined to feed yourself. You grab onto the spoon when I’m trying to feed you, and it’s hard to walk the line between pulling the spoon back hard enough so you don’t shove it down your throat and not pulling it back so hard that you let go and it ends up on my shirt. I have a feeling this is just the first of many instances where I’m going to have to walk a fine line with you. You keep me on my toes, that’s for sure.
You are generally a happy baby, especially in the morning. You smile at just about anything mommy and daddy say, and you can fly into a fit of giggles over the simplest games. Your giggles are amazing, by the way. Your giggles make me laugh, which makes you giggle even more, which makes me laugh again. You love constant attention, and it causes some problems come nap time. The biggest problem? There is no nap time. You usually take a decent nap in the morning, but in the afternoon, there are just too many other things you’d rather be doing. We’re working on it, though, because cranky baby is something we like to avoid if we can.
You love taking baths. You still love to be naked, because it means easier access to your feet. Seriously, sometimes it’s the only way to calm you down. You love Jason Mraz, possibly because I listened to him a lot when I was pregnant with you. We have his episode of Sesame Street recorded for you, and when he sings with Elmo, you like to dance along. You love your Pooh Bear rattle/blanket, and your seahorse and your glowworm both still have a special place with you. You smile and grab at my face when I come in for kisses. You like to hold onto my hands when we’re playing. You hide your head in mock shyness when daddy talks to you. You watch me like a hawk when daddy is holding you, and you do the same to him when I’m holding you. You like to pet the dogs. I’m pretty sure you and Riley are destined to be best friends down the road.
You grow and you change and you surprise me every day. I don’t know what I was expecting when I went to the hospital five months ago, but I know you’re better than anything I could have hoped for. Happy five-month birthday!
Just chillin’
But so far, things seem to be off to a good start.
You are officially a stomach sleeper, despite my best efforts to keep you on your back. In fact, you seem to do everything on your stomach these days, with an automatic roll over every time I lay you down anywhere, so I guess that whole crawling thing is probably a lot closer than I’d like. You’re officially a thumb sucker, and while you’ll still take your pacifier every once in awhile, you kind of seem a little over that whole thing. So my surefire way of soothing an inconsolable baby is now a thing of the past, which kind of limits our public outings a little bit. On the other hand, it’s a lot easier for you to find your thumb than your pacifier in the middle of the night, so midnight wake-ups have been a lot less frequent. You have a definite bedtime, and heaven help us if we don’t stick to your dinner at 7pm, bath at 7:30pm, bottle at 8pm schedule, because much like your mother, you are not pleasant to be around when you are tired and hungry. You are surprisingly opinionated for someone who can’t talk yet…you definitely know what you like, and you will let us know when you are not happy. Your angry baby screams are not to be messed with, that’s for sure.
You’ve started to entertain yourself for short periods of time, especially when you’re hanging out in the exersaucer. You like the monkeys and the dragonfly the most, probably because those are the easiest parts to chew on. You’re still mesmerized by your feet, which is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, except when you put those feet in your mouth. Your dad finds that hilarious. Me? Not so much. We’ve officially started the solid food route, and you’ve enjoyed two different kinds of cereal, along with sweet potatoes and bananas. Your dad can’t stand bananas, so that’s all on me, but I think he’ll have to take his turn when it comes to the turkey and vegetable combo jar, or even worse, the baby food beef. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stomach that stage. We’ll work our way into vegetables next, and while you don’t know it yet, I’m sure you’re not really looking forward to that move. You have a strangely independent streak in you when it comes to eating, and you seem very determined to feed yourself. You grab onto the spoon when I’m trying to feed you, and it’s hard to walk the line between pulling the spoon back hard enough so you don’t shove it down your throat and not pulling it back so hard that you let go and it ends up on my shirt. I have a feeling this is just the first of many instances where I’m going to have to walk a fine line with you. You keep me on my toes, that’s for sure.
You are generally a happy baby, especially in the morning. You smile at just about anything mommy and daddy say, and you can fly into a fit of giggles over the simplest games. Your giggles are amazing, by the way. Your giggles make me laugh, which makes you giggle even more, which makes me laugh again. You love constant attention, and it causes some problems come nap time. The biggest problem? There is no nap time. You usually take a decent nap in the morning, but in the afternoon, there are just too many other things you’d rather be doing. We’re working on it, though, because cranky baby is something we like to avoid if we can.
You love taking baths. You still love to be naked, because it means easier access to your feet. Seriously, sometimes it’s the only way to calm you down. You love Jason Mraz, possibly because I listened to him a lot when I was pregnant with you. We have his episode of Sesame Street recorded for you, and when he sings with Elmo, you like to dance along. You love your Pooh Bear rattle/blanket, and your seahorse and your glowworm both still have a special place with you. You smile and grab at my face when I come in for kisses. You like to hold onto my hands when we’re playing. You hide your head in mock shyness when daddy talks to you. You watch me like a hawk when daddy is holding you, and you do the same to him when I’m holding you. You like to pet the dogs. I’m pretty sure you and Riley are destined to be best friends down the road.
You grow and you change and you surprise me every day. I don’t know what I was expecting when I went to the hospital five months ago, but I know you’re better than anything I could have hoped for. Happy five-month birthday!
Just chillin’
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Oh yeah, this seems safe...
Now that she's no longer a lump of newborn baby that wakes up in the exact spot where she fell asleep, Brigid is starting to worry me.
Exhibit A:
Although Steve put her to bed last night, I think it's safe to assume this is not how he left her.
On the plus side, she appears to be a very sound sleeper, so I won't have to worry about waking her up when I go to check on her EVERY HOUR from now until she's 5. Or, you know, 18.
Oh yeah, I'm totally going to be that parent. She is definitely going to hate me when she hits high school...
PS: Thanks for the overnight diaper disaster suggestions yesterday! We tried going one size up for the night, and it seemed to work, so we'll see how it goes from here.
Exhibit A:
Although Steve put her to bed last night, I think it's safe to assume this is not how he left her.
On the plus side, she appears to be a very sound sleeper, so I won't have to worry about waking her up when I go to check on her EVERY HOUR from now until she's 5. Or, you know, 18.
Oh yeah, I'm totally going to be that parent. She is definitely going to hate me when she hits high school...
PS: Thanks for the overnight diaper disaster suggestions yesterday! We tried going one size up for the night, and it seemed to work, so we'll see how it goes from here.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
I could use some sunshine, people!
Completely unrelated to the baby, today started off on a less than stellar note. First, let me preface this story by saying it snowed in Atlanta yesterday. Yes, AGAIN. No, I did not move south so I could use my snow boots on a regular basis. Yes, I’d consider moving on down to Miami, but this winter has been so craptastic, even Florida has had no sun for months. No, I haven’t felt this on edge and lacking in vitamin D since my last winter in South Bend. And yes, I am officially OVER winter. GAH!
Anyway.
Because of the snow, we had early dismissal yesterday around lunchtime, and I took my laptop home with me so I could check for afternoon email (best intentions, and all of that…I actually got busy with the baby and never even bothered turning the thing on, but whatever). And because I’m an idiot, I left my computer at home this morning. Seriously. I made the 30-40 minute drive downtown, parked in the parking garage, took the elevator up to the 16th floor, walked to my desk, and immediately smacked myself in the head like the people in those stupid V8 commercials when I realized my computer was still at home on my kitchen table.
Idiot.
And honestly, want to know what bothered me the most about this little incident? It wasn’t the hour and a half I spent in my car this morning, or the pothole that almost swallowed my car that I normally avoid but didn’t on my second trip into the office because IT WAS MY SECOND TRIP, or the fact that I have to work late because I was an hour late to work. I think the reason I was so annoyed at myself was the thought of the gas I wasted getting back and forth to the office twice today. Yes, I am that cheap. And no, I don’t care who knows it.
(That little rant, right there? That more or less sums up my mood from the last month. Pretty sure that’s the reason Steve is packing up the baby and heading to the lake this weekend, leaving me at home with the dogs. To say I have been less than pleasant lately would be a HUGE understatement.)
On to a more pleasant topic! Or not...
For the past two nights, Brigid has completely soaked through her diaper. We’re talking diaper, sleeper, sleep sack, sheet, mattress cover…all drenched. Not only does this gross me out because I’m not good with body fluids (yes, I am a fantastic mother, why do you ask?), it makes me feel bad for the poor kid because sleeping in a wet sleeper can’t be comfortable (even though she wakes up perfectly happy in the morning, wet or dry). But really, who knew so much could come out of someone so little? And honestly, what are my options here? I know they make overnight diapers, but they’re not available in our current size. I almost feel like I need to start waking her up in the middle of the night, just to change her diaper. But, then again, I’m not a crazy glutton for punishment, so the chances of that happening are very slim. And making her sleep on a puppy pee pad probably isn’t the best method of parenting. And that’s pretty much all I’ve got at the moment.
So, right now we’re going with the morning bath and daily load of laundry option. But believe me, I’m certainly open to suggestions.
Because the puppy pee pad is sounding better and better.
Anyway.
Because of the snow, we had early dismissal yesterday around lunchtime, and I took my laptop home with me so I could check for afternoon email (best intentions, and all of that…I actually got busy with the baby and never even bothered turning the thing on, but whatever). And because I’m an idiot, I left my computer at home this morning. Seriously. I made the 30-40 minute drive downtown, parked in the parking garage, took the elevator up to the 16th floor, walked to my desk, and immediately smacked myself in the head like the people in those stupid V8 commercials when I realized my computer was still at home on my kitchen table.
Idiot.
And honestly, want to know what bothered me the most about this little incident? It wasn’t the hour and a half I spent in my car this morning, or the pothole that almost swallowed my car that I normally avoid but didn’t on my second trip into the office because IT WAS MY SECOND TRIP, or the fact that I have to work late because I was an hour late to work. I think the reason I was so annoyed at myself was the thought of the gas I wasted getting back and forth to the office twice today. Yes, I am that cheap. And no, I don’t care who knows it.
(That little rant, right there? That more or less sums up my mood from the last month. Pretty sure that’s the reason Steve is packing up the baby and heading to the lake this weekend, leaving me at home with the dogs. To say I have been less than pleasant lately would be a HUGE understatement.)
On to a more pleasant topic! Or not...
For the past two nights, Brigid has completely soaked through her diaper. We’re talking diaper, sleeper, sleep sack, sheet, mattress cover…all drenched. Not only does this gross me out because I’m not good with body fluids (yes, I am a fantastic mother, why do you ask?), it makes me feel bad for the poor kid because sleeping in a wet sleeper can’t be comfortable (even though she wakes up perfectly happy in the morning, wet or dry). But really, who knew so much could come out of someone so little? And honestly, what are my options here? I know they make overnight diapers, but they’re not available in our current size. I almost feel like I need to start waking her up in the middle of the night, just to change her diaper. But, then again, I’m not a crazy glutton for punishment, so the chances of that happening are very slim. And making her sleep on a puppy pee pad probably isn’t the best method of parenting. And that’s pretty much all I’ve got at the moment.
So, right now we’re going with the morning bath and daily load of laundry option. But believe me, I’m certainly open to suggestions.
Because the puppy pee pad is sounding better and better.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Feeding time
It's taken a couple of days, but I think the kid is starting to get the hang of solid foods...
Feed me. Feed me now. Or I will be forced to eat this plastic bib. I will do it, too. Don't try me.
Now that's what I'm talking about.
Feed me. Feed me now. Or I will be forced to eat this plastic bib. I will do it, too. Don't try me.
Now that's what I'm talking about.
Monday, March 1, 2010
My southern belle
I knew raising my child in the South would have a different effect on her personality than raising her in the Midwest. I just didn't expect it to happen at such a young age.
Here she is practicing her Scarlett O'Hara swoon...
Because another drama queen is exactly what my household needs...
Here she is practicing her Scarlett O'Hara swoon...
Because another drama queen is exactly what my household needs...
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