The Park! September 26, 2009

Like everything most things I get hyper-excited about, it wasn’t as great as I expected. Still, it was a fun diversion and I’m very glad that we went.

The only hiccup was when I almost beat up a seven year old.

First, it should be noted that the child in question was definitely big enough to use the many big-kid swings that littered the playground, unused. There were only two baby swings at the park, and I noticed one was open. As we headed over there, the little punk sprinted toward it and attached himself to the swing like a Greenpeace activist to a sequoia. He then called for his mom for a couple of minutes, asking her to come swing him. No one responded.

So at that point, what do you do? We’re standing by the swing, basically in line to use it, I guess. There’s this whole social order to playgrounds that we don’t yet understand.

Anyway, I finally asked him if Andrew could use the swing while he went to get his mom. He said no.

Bastard.

So then what do you do? I voted for forcible removal, but luckily it didn’t come to that. The nice mom swinging her daughter on the other one offered it up to us since she was tiring of it. I felt like a jerk, but she seemed genuine so we took her up on it.

He enjoyed the swing.

And he ate some grass.

And he continued to be thwarted in his quest to crawl.

This day is awesome.

You aren’t sure if I’m being sarcastic, are you?

WELL I’M NOT. Andrew slept twelve hours without needing boob. Then we played for an hour. Then he took a two hour nap while Mr. Aggie and I watched House. (Fantastic, by the way.)

And now? When he wakes up?

WE’RE GOING TO THE MOTHER EFFIN’ PARK, Y’ALL.

I am so excited. Based on the information about, you know how I feel about this, our first family trip to the park.

I’ve been running around getting things together while the Mr. watched TV. I’ve sprinted to and fro, muttering benadryl! blanket! thermos! moisturizer (I don’t know why)! camera!

When he could ignore my pointed glares no longer, he rose leasiurely from his recliner and announced that he’d help me–but he needed a shower first.

MEN.

I can’t pack anything else until Andrew wakes up. Then it’s time to feed him, dress him, pack the diapers/outfits/etc that are in his room and

GO.TO.THE.PARK.

Eeeeeeeeeeep!

Aperture and alcohol September 25, 2009

I’ve recently learned two things about my father in law that make him awesome. One is that he’s quick to share. He knows I long for a digital SLR camera, so he let me borrow his without my even asking or salivating over it (excessively). As he pointed out, the whole purpose for him buying it was to take pictures of Andrew so I might as well take temporary custody.

The second is that the man makes a fan-freaking-tastic margarita. That’s not the point of this post, but it is very useful information.

Ahem.

Anyway, so far I’ve only messed with the camera three times and I’m usually  just leaving it on fully automatic. Before I figured out where/how to manipulate the shutter speed/ISO/aperture, etc this is what I mananged to  capture:

Awesome, right? I have such talent, y’all. (I hear Britney Spears in my head when I type something like that. Just so you know.)

When I stay out of the camera’s way, though, I can capture moments like this:

He’s always so happy, except for when he isn’t.

And even then, he’s just mildly irritated and over this whole ‘trying to become mobile’ thing.

So then we went outside to see what we could capture.

He found some grass.

I found some fantastic expressions.

And these expressions? These came straight from his Mama’s middle-fingers-in-the-air genes. I’m so proud!

The one in which I brag on myself. Just a little. September 24, 2009

Let me just say first that none of this would have happened if Mr. Aggie hadn’t come home on work on time, meaning he was there when we arrived and could watch Stinks while I worked.

Back in the days pre-Stinks, the Mr. did all the cooking. I would get home hours before him, exercise, then sit on the couch pitifully until he got home and cooked. ‘Twas pathetic, but it worked for me. I never had 20 episodes of Oprah waiting for me on the DVR back in those days, that’s for sure.

All that has changed now. Since dinner for us + feeding Andrew + bath for him+ bed for him all collide in one hour and a half span of potential disaster, I can’t afford to sit on my duff when we get home. I usually let Andrew spend some time with a boob or two then get to work on dinner for us or breakfast muffins. Tonight, I went above and beyond. It started when our dinner menu went all to crap despite Mr. Aggie’s insistence that I could substitute bean dip for refried beans in my nachos. No thanks.

On the fly, I ended up making a pizza with what we had on hand. It wasn’t particularly innovative, granted, but it was friggin’ brilliant for a recipe-following novice like me.

Alongside the pizza in the oven were two gigantic, perfectly ripe, organic peaches baking to perfection. As soon as they were done I peeled and pureed them for Andrew. I served them warm and froze the rest. They were added to the puree collection of avocado (which he tried again and liked! Yay!), organic banana (I swear, he can taste the difference) and baked delicata squash (which he loves).

I invented a pizza and baked peaches, y’all. I used to make my husband cook my corn dogs, remember?

Updating from work. Don’t tell.

Andrew’s appointment update:

1. He was (is) sick. He has herpangina, which sounds like a derogatory term tossed about in high school boys’ locker rooms, but actually means he’s got sores at the back of his throat. He also has a rash (not bacne) that can occur with the virus but usually doesn’t.

2. His weight is fine. He’s in the 50th-75th for weight now which bothers me but not the pedi. He reassured me that Andrew is “the picture of health” and pointed out his thunder thighs (affectionately).  He reminded me that the chart is based on formula babies and may not be accurate for bf’ed little ones. Still, I worry. That’s what mommies do.

3. Work is enjoyable. In fact, I’m rushing through this post so I can get back to doing it.

4. Twilight is okay. Still good. I took it to bed, intending to read for awhile, but ended up watching TV with Mr. Aggie instead. (I hardly ever watch TV, but we DVR’ed Modern Family. It was pretty funny. I don’t remember the last time a sitcom made me actually laugh. Oh, yes I do. ‘Twas the era of Will and Grace and Friends. Tear.)

I turned off the TV and my bedside lamp without remembering that Twilight was waiting for me, which isn’t a good sign.

An unexpected reprieve September 23, 2009

I’ve had such a leisurely morning. Andrew is napping; he’ll be up soon. We have a pedi appointment at 10:10 because he’s developed a rash? I think? Or he has bacne and the pedi is going to laugh at me?

He’s been pooping more than usual the last few days (as in three times a day versus once a day or every other day) and he hasn’t been interested in solids. I think he might just be teething and I will probably get laughed at, but the on-call nurse said better safe than sorry.

I’ve been wanting to get his weight checked and talk about my lagging supply, so this comes at a good time. While I wait, though, I’ve been reading Twilight. It’s pretty entertaining, but not the Earth-shattering literary experience I was led to believe. My theory–and i’m only 200 pages in, so I could be wrong–is that it’s simply “good” not “revolutionary” but people don’t realize it. So far, those people who told me “OMG, it will change your LIFE.” aren’t voracious readers (with a couple of exceptions.) Maybe they don’t know there are many books out there that are just as engaging?

Either way, Edward and Bella have helped me wile away the morning while Andrew naps peacefully and I wait to be openly mocked at the doctor’s office.

Oh, and my school has swine flu H1N1. Good times.

Dear Andrew, September 19, 2009

Can I just say how incredible you are? I love so many things about you at seven and a half months. This week, I especially love how you’ve learned to sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. See how long that word is? That represents how long you’ve been sleeping. Since Tuesday, you’ve slept at least 10 hours every night without waking up. Thank you!

Right now, you’re playing in your crib. I’ll come get you as soon as you’re ready. I’m so excited to play with you this morning.

And that’s where I actually did get up and go get him. I’m a sucker.

Now you’re chillin’ in your baby jail, alternating between playing with your many toys and clawing at the sides, looking at me plaintively, and tugging at my heartstrings.

I really think you’re going to crawl this weekend. How exciting! How terrifying! You’ve already learned so much recently. I love watching you interact with your toys in new ways as you grow and develop. Your favorite one right now is a plain plastic bowl that you love to scratch and drum on. We tried giving you a spoon to bang on it, but you just tried to eat the spoon. We’ll try that again another time.

You are the most wonderful, contented baby anyone could ever have. I’m so lucky to be your Mommy. Every day at work I look forward to when I can come see your smiling face and take you home! I sing and you babble  all the way home. You especially enjoy “Little Red Caboose.” (I like it, too.) Today is Saturday and I’m so glad we have the weekend to spend together, save for the couple of hours where Mommy disappears to get a haircut since I’m starting to resemble a Yeti.

You sure know how to manipulate your Mommy, don’t you? You’re ready to get out of your pack ‘n’ play so you’re smashing your face into the side and staring at me. I can’t resist. Here I come.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Mommy

Car seat action. September 12, 2009

I got Andrew’s new car seat for a song at kids.woot.com. Wednesday I came home to this on my doorstep.

Way to go, website or Fed-Ex. No one could possibly guess what was in that box. I wouldn’t have even known who delivered it except for the door tag sitting on the box.

(If you’re thinking of zooming in to steal my identity, don’t bother. Our under-achieving Fed-Ex dude didn’t bother writing anything on the paper.)

At least this lets me know I live in a fairly safe subdivision.

As soon as Andrew gets up from his nap, we’re braving the rain to have his seat inspected at a safety event that hopefully hasn’t been cancelled. We didn’t get his infant seat inspected, but this one was more complicated and the instruction booklet was a joke. I think it had been translated from Klingon to Pig Latin to English.

He seems to like it, though:

Oh, and in other news I found out that Lisa Loeb has kids music now. Thursday I downloaded some great music for our commute. It was ridiculous how excited I was to show him his new seat and play the tunes. The music came from Becoming Mom’s iMix Jammin’ with Jasper. The comments after her post have lots of suggestions that I’m going to try out now, too.

I had a clever title at 4:30 a.m. September 9, 2009

I know I’ve done it before, but it’s my blog and I’ll whine if I want to. Enticing, no?

I’ve been sleeping like just not sleeping well, and I have to sleep in order to be funny otherwise I’m just a strung out harpy who writes run on sentences.

Andrew hasn’t been sleeping great, but it hasn’t been awful either. He fusses every couple of hours for a minute or two, and I feed him once or twice.  The problem is that I’ve had an extremely hard time going back to sleep after he wakes me up. So if he fusses for three minutes, I’m up for an hour.  There’s not much I can do besides lay there and try to “quiet my mind” which is a load of you-know-what if you’re a worrier like me. I start worrying about worrying. Since I can’t take any medicine, I’m pretty much hosed.

This presents one strike against breastfeeding: it’s really put a damper on my recreational drug use.

He’s also developed a nasty habit of waking at 4:30 and wanting to be up for 30-45 minutes. Even if we just sit in the glider, he plays with my face and talks to the ceiling for at least half an hour. He then goes back to sleep until I wake him up at 6:20 to get ready, which royally pisses him off.

So here’s what last night looked like:

9:30 – 12:45 Blissful snooze

12:45 – 12:47 Fussing (him)

12:45-1:30ish Awake (me)

1:30 – 2:30 Blissful snooze

2:30 – 2:50 Feeding

2:50 – 3:30 Lay awake thinking strange thoughts*

3:30 – 4:30 Blissful snooze

4:30 – 5:15 Feeding/awake

5:15 Time for my alarm to go off. I decide to take my shower then go back to sleep for fifteen minutes.

5:30 Sharply poke my snoring spouse, then ask him if he has any alarms set to go off before 6:00 (he has this wonderful habit of setting multiple alarms to go off at random intervals up to an hour before he has any intention of actually getting out of bed. If we ever get divorced, I’m putting this as the reason. Screw that “irreconcilable differences” garbage.) He mumbles that he does not.

5:30 – 5:37ish Try in vain to quiet my mind. Feel myself begin to relax.

5:38 His alarm blares. In my core, in the innermost sanctum of my being, I long to put a bar of soap in a tube sock and beat the shit out of him.

5:38 I get up for the day.

6:15ish He gets up for the day.

*Strange thoughts include the beginnings of this post, thoughts about trainings to do at work, and wondering whether our 20something Computer Tech at school (name: X. Really. Not changed to protect the ignorant-of-this-blog’s-existence. Really goes by X, professionally and personally) went by that name as a child. Think about how weird that would be to have on your locker as a first grader. Wonder if it’s weird that I’m wondering about our CT.

Progress in the pool September 8, 2009

We gave it another shot at the in-laws this weekend since the water was considerably warmer.