Heard Sophie's first laughs on two occasions this weekend. Both times it was right after she ripped a huge fart. My worst fears have come true. She has Mark's sense of humor.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
This Is For The Birds
Maternity leave is over. Yesterday was my first day back to work.
It's terrible. The kids part is ok--I returned to lots of love notes,
we-missed-you-notes, and presents for Bitty. It's the being-away-from-baby part that is making my heart ache. Yesterday I was gone before Bitty awoke, returned at 5:15 with enough time toplay give her a bottle and then walk her around the house for about 30 minutes to keep her from fussing before it was time to get ready for bed.
Today, Bitty was again asleep when I left for work, and was sleeping for the night when I arrived back home at five (turns out the insomniac child only took three 30-minutes naps today). Which means I was able to spend, oh, ZERO time with her. Unless you count the 90 minutes that I laid in bed with her just so I could hold her.
-sniff sniff-
I **hate** work.
In other news . . .
The kids asked today if I was having another baby.
Me: No, one baby is all I can handle right now.
Student: Then why is your stomach still fat if there isn't a baby in there?
Looks like I need to step up the diet and exercise.
It's terrible. The kids part is ok--I returned to lots of love notes,
we-missed-you-notes, and presents for Bitty. It's the being-away-from-baby part that is making my heart ache. Yesterday I was gone before Bitty awoke, returned at 5:15 with enough time to
Today, Bitty was again asleep when I left for work, and was sleeping for the night when I arrived back home at five (turns out the insomniac child only took three 30-minutes naps today). Which means I was able to spend, oh, ZERO time with her. Unless you count the 90 minutes that I laid in bed with her just so I could hold her.
-sniff sniff-
I **hate** work.
In other news . . .
The kids asked today if I was having another baby.
Me: No, one baby is all I can handle right now.
Student: Then why is your stomach still fat if there isn't a baby in there?
Looks like I need to step up the diet and exercise.
Monday, February 14, 2011
"Whir, Whir, Whir." What's That? Here Comes the Fashion Police
Well, Bitty is twelve weeks tomorrow, which means my maternity leave is drawing to an end. And I am still two sizes larger than I was when this whole thing began. I only know that because I decided to try on my work pants and they are not anywhere close to fitting. Damn. Now I need to buy fat pants.
But wait---maybe I should get some Pajama Jeans? Function like fat pants without actually being fat pants? Are these brilliant or too good to be true? I need advice. My wardrobe decisions for the past three months have involved contemplating which color velour tracksuit or yoga pants to wear for the day. I don't trust my judgement.
But wait---maybe I should get some Pajama Jeans? Function like fat pants without actually being fat pants? Are these brilliant or too good to be true? I need advice. My wardrobe decisions for the past three months have involved contemplating which color velour tracksuit or yoga pants to wear for the day. I don't trust my judgement.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Quinoa Salad
I am such a great hostess. ~tap, tap~ (that's me patting myself on the back). I cooked so many meals while my sister was visiting. She wanted the recipe for this Quinoa Salad that I made while she was here, so I said I would post it to the blog so it looks like I haven't been slacking on my February posts.
Quinoa Salad:
1/2 cup quinoa
1 cup water
1 diced green pepper
1 1/2 cups shredded carrots
1/4 cup minced sun-dried tomatoes
2 T. feta
Dressing:
2 tsp. dijon mustard
1 T. red wine vinegar
1 tsp. olive oil
1. Rinse quinoa prior to cooking. Combine water in quinoa in a saucepan and boil. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer about 10 minutes until the liquid is absorbed.
2. Whisk dressing ingredients together in a small bowl. Season with salt and pepper.
3. Combine quinoa with green pepper, carrots, and tomatoes in a bowl. Stir in dressing. Top individual servings with a bit of feta.
Tips:
*Red quinoa holds up better in the cooking process and is better for salads.
*Don't forget to rinse the quinoa quite well, even if the package says it's pre-rinsed. This gets rid of the bitter-tasting saponins, which also cause sort of an unsightly soapy film when the quinoa is cooked.
*Use some oil from the sun-dried tomato jar for the dressing.
*I like to reduce the vinegar and add more mustard for the dressing; adjust it to your own preference.
Quinoa Salad:
1/2 cup quinoa
1 cup water
1 diced green pepper
1 1/2 cups shredded carrots
1/4 cup minced sun-dried tomatoes
2 T. feta
Dressing:
2 tsp. dijon mustard
1 T. red wine vinegar
1 tsp. olive oil
1. Rinse quinoa prior to cooking. Combine water in quinoa in a saucepan and boil. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer about 10 minutes until the liquid is absorbed.
2. Whisk dressing ingredients together in a small bowl. Season with salt and pepper.
3. Combine quinoa with green pepper, carrots, and tomatoes in a bowl. Stir in dressing. Top individual servings with a bit of feta.
Tips:
*Red quinoa holds up better in the cooking process and is better for salads.
*Don't forget to rinse the quinoa quite well, even if the package says it's pre-rinsed. This gets rid of the bitter-tasting saponins, which also cause sort of an unsightly soapy film when the quinoa is cooked.
*Use some oil from the sun-dried tomato jar for the dressing.
*I like to reduce the vinegar and add more mustard for the dressing; adjust it to your own preference.
You Know There's a Problem When Steve Urkel Would Tell You To Get A Life
Uh Oh. I am sliding down a slippery slope in the world of facebook. I never wanted to be one of those moms who *only* post about their baby, but that is EXACTLY what I have been doing.
Blog posts about babies=ok. This is essentially a baby blog, after all.
Facebook posts about babies all the time=lame.
I really don't want to seem like I don't have a life outside of caring for my child. But the truth is that I don't. I don't have anything to say that does not relate to this baby. This is a problem. I need to do something about this. I need to get a life, ASAP. Which also happens to be extremely difficult with an almost-three-month-old. Last night my sister, visiting from San Antonio, babysat while Mark and I had date night. We went out to dinner and were gone for exactly one hour before returning. Because we couldn't stand to be away from Bitty? No, because we were tired and wanted to go to bed. This "getting a life" thing is going to be harder than I thought.
Blog posts about babies=ok. This is essentially a baby blog, after all.
Facebook posts about babies all the time=lame.
I really don't want to seem like I don't have a life outside of caring for my child. But the truth is that I don't. I don't have anything to say that does not relate to this baby. This is a problem. I need to do something about this. I need to get a life, ASAP. Which also happens to be extremely difficult with an almost-three-month-old. Last night my sister, visiting from San Antonio, babysat while Mark and I had date night. We went out to dinner and were gone for exactly one hour before returning. Because we couldn't stand to be away from Bitty? No, because we were tired and wanted to go to bed. This "getting a life" thing is going to be harder than I thought.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
A Recipe For You!
I made this soup last night and it was so good (and healthy! and easy!) I did not invent it, just adapted a recipe from a magazine. It was even better today (the second day). Yum yum.
Beef & Veggie Soup
3/4 lb. lean ground beef
1 green pepper, diced
1/2 yellow onion, diced
1/2 package of frozen corn (5 oz? 6 oz?)
3/4 lb. green beans, ends trimmed and cut into one inch pieces
2 tsp. dried oregano
4 cups beef broth
olive oil
ground black pepper
1. Warm a bit of olive oil in a dutch oven or another soup pan and brown the beef. Drain it on a paper towel and dab the fat drippings out of the pan.
2. Warm a bit more olive oil if needed and saute the green pepper and onion over medium heat.
3. Add the corn, green beans, broth, oregano, and beef back into the pan. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to med-low for about 10-15 minutes, until the beans are cooked, yet still crisp. Season with black pepper and eat!
Beef & Veggie Soup
3/4 lb. lean ground beef
1 green pepper, diced
1/2 yellow onion, diced
1/2 package of frozen corn (5 oz? 6 oz?)
3/4 lb. green beans, ends trimmed and cut into one inch pieces
2 tsp. dried oregano
4 cups beef broth
olive oil
ground black pepper
1. Warm a bit of olive oil in a dutch oven or another soup pan and brown the beef. Drain it on a paper towel and dab the fat drippings out of the pan.
2. Warm a bit more olive oil if needed and saute the green pepper and onion over medium heat.
3. Add the corn, green beans, broth, oregano, and beef back into the pan. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to med-low for about 10-15 minutes, until the beans are cooked, yet still crisp. Season with black pepper and eat!
Namaste, Baby
When I was pregnant, I thought, November will be a good time to have a baby. I probably won't want to go out with her much while she is itty bitty, and that will be during the chilly winter months when I won't really want to go anywhere anyway.
But I was wrong about that. When you're home all day just you and the baby, you need to get OUT! Which makes those chilly winter months problematic. Cooped up indoors all day does not actually work for me.
Bitty and I went to Mommy & Me yoga this week. It's supposed to be bonding and relaxing, right? Sounded like a perfect mama-baby outing to me.
Everything started off just fine. Bitty was content in her car seat during the drive (she has recently decided that she hates the car). She was fed and appeared to be in a good mood, despite the pathetic excuse for a nap she took that morning. I got a good parking spot, and I even made it there five minutes early. I got us all set up--my yoga mat unrolled, Bitty's stack of blankies arranged at the top. She laid peacefully kicking and punching away on her blanket as we waited for class to begin. All of the babies were as relaxed as could be.
The instructor began class with a series of Oms as each mama held our babes seated in our laps. That's when it got a little ugly. Bitty did not want to be held in my lap. She did not want to be held in front of me, or against my shoulder. She only wanted to be cradled--left side only, definitely not the right--and rocked from side to side. Once I got her calmed down, I tried to rejoin the class in the poses; baby on my belly, while doing a bridge; baby held in front, while doing a lunge. Bitty, however, was having none of this. And naturally, she expressed her displeasure with dire urgency. This set off something of a chain reaction. Soon, half of the babies were fussing and crying away. The instructor shouted out directions over the wails, in vain, as the majority of moms could not do the poses while attempting to soothe their babies.
This continued throughout most of the class. That is, until the very end, when the instructor banged the gong. All the babies became silent, entranced by the vibrating sound of the gong. It was amazing, and got me thinking that maybe I should get my own gong for home use. It would be like a call to sanity when things get a little hairy around here.
The gong banging went on for about five minutes, signaling the conclusion of class. Predictably, as soon as the ringing ended, Bitty made it clear that she was ready to go--NOW. She apparently had things to do and there was no time to dawdle. So we hightailed it out of there and I was once again reminded of who is in charge in this family.
P.S. As I am writing this post, Bitty is napping IN HER CRIB!!! She's never slept in there before! And she has been sleeping two hours! I am feeling like a super awesome mom with this crib transition thing.
But I was wrong about that. When you're home all day just you and the baby, you need to get OUT! Which makes those chilly winter months problematic. Cooped up indoors all day does not actually work for me.
Bitty and I went to Mommy & Me yoga this week. It's supposed to be bonding and relaxing, right? Sounded like a perfect mama-baby outing to me.
Everything started off just fine. Bitty was content in her car seat during the drive (she has recently decided that she hates the car). She was fed and appeared to be in a good mood, despite the pathetic excuse for a nap she took that morning. I got a good parking spot, and I even made it there five minutes early. I got us all set up--my yoga mat unrolled, Bitty's stack of blankies arranged at the top. She laid peacefully kicking and punching away on her blanket as we waited for class to begin. All of the babies were as relaxed as could be.
The instructor began class with a series of Oms as each mama held our babes seated in our laps. That's when it got a little ugly. Bitty did not want to be held in my lap. She did not want to be held in front of me, or against my shoulder. She only wanted to be cradled--left side only, definitely not the right--and rocked from side to side. Once I got her calmed down, I tried to rejoin the class in the poses; baby on my belly, while doing a bridge; baby held in front, while doing a lunge. Bitty, however, was having none of this. And naturally, she expressed her displeasure with dire urgency. This set off something of a chain reaction. Soon, half of the babies were fussing and crying away. The instructor shouted out directions over the wails, in vain, as the majority of moms could not do the poses while attempting to soothe their babies.
This continued throughout most of the class. That is, until the very end, when the instructor banged the gong. All the babies became silent, entranced by the vibrating sound of the gong. It was amazing, and got me thinking that maybe I should get my own gong for home use. It would be like a call to sanity when things get a little hairy around here.
The gong banging went on for about five minutes, signaling the conclusion of class. Predictably, as soon as the ringing ended, Bitty made it clear that she was ready to go--NOW. She apparently had things to do and there was no time to dawdle. So we hightailed it out of there and I was once again reminded of who is in charge in this family.
P.S. As I am writing this post, Bitty is napping IN HER CRIB!!! She's never slept in there before! And she has been sleeping two hours! I am feeling like a super awesome mom with this crib transition thing.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Dogs For Sale
Two dogs for sale, they will go to the highest bidder.
Riley and Lucy bark all the time and I'm sick of it. These dogs insist on pure silence in the neighborhood. They bark when they hear a car. They bark when they hear a person. They bark when they hear stuff that I certainly can't hear.
It's crazed, vicious, rabid barking.
What's that? A door closed? Better bark like we're going to tear someone limb from limb.
Bitty isn't phased as long as she and the dogs aren't in the same room. But, since the mutts follow me around like they have me on a leash, that doesn't actually happen all too often.
I tried to train them with treats. No success. I try to redirect them. I yell at them. I spray them with water. It's all in vain.
I decided today thatwhen if Bitty is napping, they were going to get locked up in the bedroom. I can't handle them waking this insomniac child once more.
This should not be too dreadfully punishing; if the dogs aren't following me around, they frequently go on up on their own accord for a nap of their own. In addition, we all sleep in there. Riley, Lucy, and Marley sleep in bed with Mark and me, and Sophie in her Pack N Play. The irony that our pets consume half the space in our bed each night while our first born child is soon to be banished to the crib in her nursery is not lost on me.
Yet, still, they hate being shut in there. But that's what they deserve when they insist on psychotic barking for most of the day.
During Bitty's nap today, the dogs were in the bedroom maybe forty-five minutes when I made my way up there with the vacuum. This is what I found.
Lucy, however, lacks all morality.
Riley and Lucy bark all the time and I'm sick of it. These dogs insist on pure silence in the neighborhood. They bark when they hear a car. They bark when they hear a person. They bark when they hear stuff that I certainly can't hear.
It's crazed, vicious, rabid barking.
What's that? A door closed? Better bark like we're going to tear someone limb from limb.
Bitty isn't phased as long as she and the dogs aren't in the same room. But, since the mutts follow me around like they have me on a leash, that doesn't actually happen all too often.
I tried to train them with treats. No success. I try to redirect them. I yell at them. I spray them with water. It's all in vain.
I decided today that
This should not be too dreadfully punishing; if the dogs aren't following me around, they frequently go on up on their own accord for a nap of their own. In addition, we all sleep in there. Riley, Lucy, and Marley sleep in bed with Mark and me, and Sophie in her Pack N Play. The irony that our pets consume half the space in our bed each night while our first born child is soon to be banished to the crib in her nursery is not lost on me.
Yet, still, they hate being shut in there. But that's what they deserve when they insist on psychotic barking for most of the day.
During Bitty's nap today, the dogs were in the bedroom maybe forty-five minutes when I made my way up there with the vacuum. This is what I found.
 |
| A school bag had been hanging on the doorknob since November 22nd. |
Riley, at least, has a conscience. He immediately hid under the bed as soon as I opened the door.
 |
| GUILTY |
Lucy, however, lacks all morality.
 |
| No remorse |
Monday, January 17, 2011
Public Service Announcement
Advice I Should Have Followed
(A) Make and freeze meals. Because take-out every night is not going to help shed the baby blab. And it's hard to cook when baby has a violent reaction to being put down.
(B) Don't buy too many newborn sized diapers. Bitty was a little peanut of a baby when she was born. I read that babies gain about an ounce a day, so I did the math and and purchased three boxes of newborn diapers, thinking that would be about a month's supply or so. Then she promptly gained nearly three pounds in the subsequent two weeks. I made it through half of one of those boxes.
And Advice That I Am Following . . .
This one comes from Sarah. "Eventually, you just need to forget about what you read in books and what everyone else says and just do what works for you." Well said.
Lessons I've Learned
(A) Change the baby's diaper before feeding. When baby is milk drunk after a feeding, it's not a good time to change her. She wakes up screaming. Duh, I know.
(C) Keep replacement batteries on hand. Finally, Bitty is starting to be able to entertain herself. Fifteen minutes on the play mat, ten minutes in the bouncer. The MVP of baby gear is the swing. Sometimes she will sleep in it for a glorious three hours (on a good day). The swing has been my savior. It single-handedly is the reason that I am able to write this blog, for example. It's the reason our house is not at risk to be condemned from filth and the dogs can actually get fed and taken out. So you can imagine the dilemma the day that the batteries ran out, and I did not have replacements. It was not pretty.
The Truth About Babies
(A) Babies are supposed to sleep all of the time. They can only handle an hour, maybe two, in an alert state before they need a nap. This is not true. Sophie can stay up for five fussy, agitated hours at a time. This has been the case since she was three weeks old. There is no reason for an infant to be awake for five straight hours. Go to sleep, child.
(B) You may know Baby's Breath as a wispy, light perennial. It is delicate and refreshing. However, real baby's breath is anything but. It's stinky. It either smells like sour milk, or some weird formula-derived odor. To make matters worse, oral hygiene is not easy with a newborn. Whenever I try to wipe Bitty's gums and tongue with a wet washcloth, she just tries to suck the water out of the cloth. And her breath still stinks.
(C) Baby poo is not supposed to smell until they begin solid foods. This is also not true. But Bitty likes to trick us. She actually does not poo all that often. Only a few times a week, to tell the truth. We only think that she has poo'd. This is because what she lacks in poo, she makes up for in toots. That girl rips 'em like you wouldn't believe. Sometimes I can't tell whether it's the dogs or the baby.
This has been a public service announcement from Yours Truly. Thank you.
(A) Make and freeze meals. Because take-out every night is not going to help shed the baby blab. And it's hard to cook when baby has a violent reaction to being put down.
(B) Don't buy too many newborn sized diapers. Bitty was a little peanut of a baby when she was born. I read that babies gain about an ounce a day, so I did the math and and purchased three boxes of newborn diapers, thinking that would be about a month's supply or so. Then she promptly gained nearly three pounds in the subsequent two weeks. I made it through half of one of those boxes.
And Advice That I Am Following . . .
This one comes from Sarah. "Eventually, you just need to forget about what you read in books and what everyone else says and just do what works for you." Well said.
Lessons I've Learned
(A) Change the baby's diaper before feeding. When baby is milk drunk after a feeding, it's not a good time to change her. She wakes up screaming. Duh, I know.
 |
| This baby is milk drunk |
(B) Take videos of the cute moments immediately! When Bitty was born, her cry was adorable. It was a twittering little whimper that melted your heart. Mark and I remarked that it was so precious, we almost didn't mind when she cried. She soon found her voice and her cry quickly evolved into blood-curdling shrieks. I miss her little whimper.
(C) Keep replacement batteries on hand. Finally, Bitty is starting to be able to entertain herself. Fifteen minutes on the play mat, ten minutes in the bouncer. The MVP of baby gear is the swing. Sometimes she will sleep in it for a glorious three hours (on a good day). The swing has been my savior. It single-handedly is the reason that I am able to write this blog, for example. It's the reason our house is not at risk to be condemned from filth and the dogs can actually get fed and taken out. So you can imagine the dilemma the day that the batteries ran out, and I did not have replacements. It was not pretty.
The Truth About Babies
(A) Babies are supposed to sleep all of the time. They can only handle an hour, maybe two, in an alert state before they need a nap. This is not true. Sophie can stay up for five fussy, agitated hours at a time. This has been the case since she was three weeks old. There is no reason for an infant to be awake for five straight hours. Go to sleep, child.
(B) You may know Baby's Breath as a wispy, light perennial. It is delicate and refreshing. However, real baby's breath is anything but. It's stinky. It either smells like sour milk, or some weird formula-derived odor. To make matters worse, oral hygiene is not easy with a newborn. Whenever I try to wipe Bitty's gums and tongue with a wet washcloth, she just tries to suck the water out of the cloth. And her breath still stinks.
 |
| Baby's Breath--the good kind |
(C) Baby poo is not supposed to smell until they begin solid foods. This is also not true. But Bitty likes to trick us. She actually does not poo all that often. Only a few times a week, to tell the truth. We only think that she has poo'd. This is because what she lacks in poo, she makes up for in toots. That girl rips 'em like you wouldn't believe. Sometimes I can't tell whether it's the dogs or the baby.
This has been a public service announcement from Yours Truly. Thank you.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Resolutions
I usually don't make New Year's resolutions, but this year, I am desperately in need of the old classic, the standby. . . I need to get into shape and lose the baby lbs. MILF training, as I like to call it. Plus, my sister, Jessica, is getting married in Cozumel in June, and right now, all this is not a pretty sight in a bikini.
About four weeks after having Bitty, I felt pretty good , so I thought that I would start a little before the new year and see just how out of shape I am. My first run was 3 miles, and took me fifty minutes. Yes, that's right...5-0. I think most people can probably walk faster than that pace. And worse, I could barely move the next two days. I've got my work cut out for me.
The good thing about having the physical fitness of a three-toed sloth is that improvement happens fast. Within a few workouts, I ran five miles of intervals! And then...I did nothing for the next seven days.
I am in need of some more intense motivation. Today I registered for a half-marathon in Frederick on Mother's Day weekend. That leaves me four months to work up to 13 miles. It's not going to be pretty, I am just hoping to haul my butt across the finish line.
But, I know I need more than an impending race for a kick in the a**. It would be too easy to just, say, not go. Which is why I am proclaiming it right here in writing for all the world to see, and I added the daily mile tracker widget on the side bar. Now everybody knows it. I'm going to have to do this just to save face.
And just one more piece of motivation--I saw someone else do this on their blog and I'm going to copy the idea. I figure that if I list my past race times, it will be a good reminder of the climb back to pre-pregnancy fitness.
So there it is, my 2011 mission statement. We'll see how it goes...
About four weeks after having Bitty, I felt pretty good , so I thought that I would start a little before the new year and see just how out of shape I am. My first run was 3 miles, and took me fifty minutes. Yes, that's right...5-0. I think most people can probably walk faster than that pace. And worse, I could barely move the next two days. I've got my work cut out for me.
The good thing about having the physical fitness of a three-toed sloth is that improvement happens fast. Within a few workouts, I ran five miles of intervals! And then...I did nothing for the next seven days.
I am in need of some more intense motivation. Today I registered for a half-marathon in Frederick on Mother's Day weekend. That leaves me four months to work up to 13 miles. It's not going to be pretty, I am just hoping to haul my butt across the finish line.
But, I know I need more than an impending race for a kick in the a**. It would be too easy to just, say, not go. Which is why I am proclaiming it right here in writing for all the world to see, and I added the daily mile tracker widget on the side bar. Now everybody knows it. I'm going to have to do this just to save face.
And just one more piece of motivation--I saw someone else do this on their blog and I'm going to copy the idea. I figure that if I list my past race times, it will be a good reminder of the climb back to pre-pregnancy fitness.
So there it is, my 2011 mission statement. We'll see how it goes...
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
I'll Take the Humble Pie, Please
As many of you know, I am a self-professed, elitist, know-it-all. I have an opinion on everything.
But, even a smarty-pants like me can admit error (it's not so bad, it hardly EVER happens...).
For example, I used to wonder what the he*^ was wrong with mothers when they complained that they hadn't even had the time to get dressed for the day. Mothers who allegedly didn't have time to eat, or even brush their teeth. How pathetic! How can you not even brush your teeth!
I will eat my words on that one. Many has been the day that I find that it is 6:00 PM and I am still in my pajamas, with stanky, non-brushed teeth and hair a knotted, psychotic mess. On one day, I even realized that at 3:30, I hadn't eaten since 11:00 the previous day. And hadn't even noticed before that point.
In my baby books I read about co-sleeping. Oh, I will NEVER do that, I thought. That sounds dangerous, and I'm certainly not going to encourage bad sleep habits. Besides, I like my space when I sleep. No touching.
Admittedly, I find myself bringing Bitty into bed with us, at least in the morning hours when I want just one more hour of sleep. It keeps her content, and quiet. And, I just like snuggling with her. Her little baby face, resting on the pillow, and pressed up against mine--it's bliss. She can barely move, and is definitely not rolling over anytime soon, so I don't have that "uh oh, not safe!" feeling. And so, I will continue to enjoy our sleepy moments while I can.
I think I've learned another lesson of parenthood . . . never say never, because you may find yourself doing just what you swore you never would.
But, even a smarty-pants like me can admit error (it's not so bad, it hardly EVER happens...).
For example, I used to wonder what the he*^ was wrong with mothers when they complained that they hadn't even had the time to get dressed for the day. Mothers who allegedly didn't have time to eat, or even brush their teeth. How pathetic! How can you not even brush your teeth!
I will eat my words on that one. Many has been the day that I find that it is 6:00 PM and I am still in my pajamas, with stanky, non-brushed teeth and hair a knotted, psychotic mess. On one day, I even realized that at 3:30, I hadn't eaten since 11:00 the previous day. And hadn't even noticed before that point.
In my baby books I read about co-sleeping. Oh, I will NEVER do that, I thought. That sounds dangerous, and I'm certainly not going to encourage bad sleep habits. Besides, I like my space when I sleep. No touching.
Admittedly, I find myself bringing Bitty into bed with us, at least in the morning hours when I want just one more hour of sleep. It keeps her content, and quiet. And, I just like snuggling with her. Her little baby face, resting on the pillow, and pressed up against mine--it's bliss. She can barely move, and is definitely not rolling over anytime soon, so I don't have that "uh oh, not safe!" feeling. And so, I will continue to enjoy our sleepy moments while I can.
I think I've learned another lesson of parenthood . . . never say never, because you may find yourself doing just what you swore you never would.
Work It, Girl
You better work, work it girl.
Click here for Sophie's newborn photo shoot. Or as Mark likes to say, Sophie's Tasteful Nudes.
P.S. This takes a moment to load, so be patient. :-)
Click here for Sophie's newborn photo shoot. Or as Mark likes to say, Sophie's Tasteful Nudes.
P.S. This takes a moment to load, so be patient. :-)
I'm Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well, here I am. Back to blogging. Oh, my, I only made one post in December? I just checked my stats, and my page hits are waaaaaaaay sad. Are you still reading? Please keep reading. Because I like writing, and writing is only fun if other people are reading. And, writing this blog is a good sanity-keeper and stress-reliever. So keep reading and tell your friends. And follow me, dammit! I know you're reading, be proud of it! I'll post more often, I promise.
And if you need me to advertise your blog, tell me! I'll get you back! Ok, done with my self-promotion.
So, little Bitty Bebe is six weeks old now. Which is probably why I am finally back to blogging. As all of you seasoned parents know, the first six weeks is HARD! Very hard to get anything accomplished. I'll recap a bit about the past month....Do you have a minute? This is going to be long....
Bitty has a new nickname. Since she has been born, she has been the snuggliest, cuddliest little thing, as cuddly as a teddy bear, which was the inspiration for her new nickname. Sophie Bear, Baby Bear, Bitty Bear are all fair game.
Sophie is so cuddly she hardly ever wants to be put down. Which actually turns out to be a bit of an issue when it comes to doing much of, well, anything besides snuggling with the baby. She screams bloody murder and I imagine that she is thinking "I SAID don'tputmedown!!!!!" I tried a few devices that I thought might appease both of us.
I decided that the only way that I was going to get anything accomplished was to hire a babysitter.
Every new parent anticipates sleep deprivation. Mark's sleep deprivation, however, defies all other, as far as I'm concerned. He has established a pattern of waking up in the middle of the night, espewing various bits of randomness that I believe deserve note. All this, taking into account, that he is by no stretch of the imagination the parent who gets up with the baby in the middle of the night. Agreeable, to me, since I am home on maternity leave and he has returned to work.
My favorite is the time that he woke up, gathered two pillows and rested them on his arms as if he were carrying a tray of champagne glasses, walked around the bed to my side and presented me with these pillows saying "Here, put her in her rocker." What rocker? The rocking chair in her nursery? That is certainly a two person job--one to rock, and one to be rocked. I told him that he wasn't making any sense and to go back to sleep.
On another occasion, Mark woke up, picked up and cradled our Jack Russell Terrier, Riley, in his arms, and only realized when he felt a furry face and wet nose that this wasn't the baby, after all.
I can now appreciate why people say that parenthood is a selfless job. Everything we do, every moment of our day (or mine, at least, now that Mark has gone back to work), is devoted to taking care of baby. Feeding baby. Playing with baby. Making baby happy. Making sure baby plays at the right time so that she is stimulated enough and will sleep at the right time. I plan my meals based upon what I can make and ingest in the least amount of time, because I will likely have to do it in a graceful five minutes that exist between baby fussy spells. Sometimes I feel like I do not have my own life...I exist to take care of this baby.
Bitty and I had what I like to call the Battle of Breastfeeding. Bitty has always had issues with sucking, from day one. She sucks at sucking. On her first day, she wouldn't suck at all. Then, she went to the hospital nursery because of her jaundice and they fed her with a bottle all night, and she learned how to suck to bottle. She sort of learned how to suck a pacifier (she still spits it out half the time). They brought her back to me, and she never sucked for me. Six lactation consultants, hours of finger feeding, and countless tears later, I have ceded. Sophie wins the Battle of Breastfeeding. And so, I now have a very intimate relationship with my breast pump, as I am now what the internet calls an "exclusively pumping" mom. Which for me, means that I spend twice as much time feeding this baby, because first I have to pump, then bottle feed her.
Basically, this is me every three hours.
I am bitter about it. You win this one, Sophie, but I will fight to the death on the next one. And daddy is very jealous of the breast pump.
Mark and I both began with a new parent, deer-in-headlights feeling. Adding to this, is the postpartum, baby blues. A shift in hormones that, for some reason, I thought I was immune to. Analogous, I would imagine, to an alien abduction. For weeks I complained to my husband that I just don't feel like myself! I found myself in tears over the simplest things. Bitty cried--a lot. And it seemed as if she resisted sleep. We went through about 10 days where she would not nap more than 15 minutes here and there during the day, and cried in distress most of the rest of the day. I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I had done so much preparation, read so many books, I thought for sure that I would fall right into motherhood without skipping a beat. Yet, I felt like such a failure. Completely incompetent. And then, trying to fake happy so that my little Bitty wouldn't be affected by a depressed mother.
And then, one day, it all seemed to be gone. It took the first three weeks, but finally, finally, I felt a sense of normalcy. Competent in my new role. Now, I knew (probably) how to soothe my baby. Now, I could decipher the cries. Now, I didn't stress about how I should change her diaper, dress, feed, and burp her. To all non-parents, it IS stressful! Listening to your baby cry, and not knowing what to do or what she wants is the worst feeling you can imagine! Doing everything you can think of, yet in futility, is a terrible state. But, in time, those feelings went away. And she, also, became more human-like and less fetus-like by the day.
I never had a conversation about this with anyone before I experienced it myself. Why doesn't anyone talk about it? In retrospect, it appears that almost every new mother experiences the baby blues, and if you don't, you are one of the lucky few. Which is why I write about it myself, for mothers behind me. I had the Baby Blues in a major way. At first, motherhood is, well, not that great. But those feelings go away after a few weeks, or so they should. And if they don't, which is also not uncommon, you may need help from a more serious condition from a medical practitioner.
So, that is probably the most serious you will get from me for a while, but even I had trouble seeing the humor in the first month of parenthood. Almost suddenly, however, things started falling into place. Bitty started making eye contact. She started making those sweet baby coos. She started smiling (at me! not just gas, or so I think). An early semlance of a routine became observable.
I became a mother.
And if you need me to advertise your blog, tell me! I'll get you back! Ok, done with my self-promotion.
So, little Bitty Bebe is six weeks old now. Which is probably why I am finally back to blogging. As all of you seasoned parents know, the first six weeks is HARD! Very hard to get anything accomplished. I'll recap a bit about the past month....Do you have a minute? This is going to be long....
Bitty has a new nickname. Since she has been born, she has been the snuggliest, cuddliest little thing, as cuddly as a teddy bear, which was the inspiration for her new nickname. Sophie Bear, Baby Bear, Bitty Bear are all fair game.
 |
| pouty bear |
Sophie is so cuddly she hardly ever wants to be put down. Which actually turns out to be a bit of an issue when it comes to doing much of, well, anything besides snuggling with the baby. She screams bloody murder and I imagine that she is thinking "I SAID don'tputmedown!!!!!" I tried a few devices that I thought might appease both of us.
 |
| hates it |
 |
| hates it |
 |
| hates this too |
I decided that the only way that I was going to get anything accomplished was to hire a babysitter.
 |
| Sophie and her babysitter |
Every new parent anticipates sleep deprivation. Mark's sleep deprivation, however, defies all other, as far as I'm concerned. He has established a pattern of waking up in the middle of the night, espewing various bits of randomness that I believe deserve note. All this, taking into account, that he is by no stretch of the imagination the parent who gets up with the baby in the middle of the night. Agreeable, to me, since I am home on maternity leave and he has returned to work.
My favorite is the time that he woke up, gathered two pillows and rested them on his arms as if he were carrying a tray of champagne glasses, walked around the bed to my side and presented me with these pillows saying "Here, put her in her rocker." What rocker? The rocking chair in her nursery? That is certainly a two person job--one to rock, and one to be rocked. I told him that he wasn't making any sense and to go back to sleep.
On another occasion, Mark woke up, picked up and cradled our Jack Russell Terrier, Riley, in his arms, and only realized when he felt a furry face and wet nose that this wasn't the baby, after all.
I can now appreciate why people say that parenthood is a selfless job. Everything we do, every moment of our day (or mine, at least, now that Mark has gone back to work), is devoted to taking care of baby. Feeding baby. Playing with baby. Making baby happy. Making sure baby plays at the right time so that she is stimulated enough and will sleep at the right time. I plan my meals based upon what I can make and ingest in the least amount of time, because I will likely have to do it in a graceful five minutes that exist between baby fussy spells. Sometimes I feel like I do not have my own life...I exist to take care of this baby.
Bitty and I had what I like to call the Battle of Breastfeeding. Bitty has always had issues with sucking, from day one. She sucks at sucking. On her first day, she wouldn't suck at all. Then, she went to the hospital nursery because of her jaundice and they fed her with a bottle all night, and she learned how to suck to bottle. She sort of learned how to suck a pacifier (she still spits it out half the time). They brought her back to me, and she never sucked for me. Six lactation consultants, hours of finger feeding, and countless tears later, I have ceded. Sophie wins the Battle of Breastfeeding. And so, I now have a very intimate relationship with my breast pump, as I am now what the internet calls an "exclusively pumping" mom. Which for me, means that I spend twice as much time feeding this baby, because first I have to pump, then bottle feed her.
Basically, this is me every three hours.
I am bitter about it. You win this one, Sophie, but I will fight to the death on the next one. And daddy is very jealous of the breast pump.
Mark and I both began with a new parent, deer-in-headlights feeling. Adding to this, is the postpartum, baby blues. A shift in hormones that, for some reason, I thought I was immune to. Analogous, I would imagine, to an alien abduction. For weeks I complained to my husband that I just don't feel like myself! I found myself in tears over the simplest things. Bitty cried--a lot. And it seemed as if she resisted sleep. We went through about 10 days where she would not nap more than 15 minutes here and there during the day, and cried in distress most of the rest of the day. I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I had done so much preparation, read so many books, I thought for sure that I would fall right into motherhood without skipping a beat. Yet, I felt like such a failure. Completely incompetent. And then, trying to fake happy so that my little Bitty wouldn't be affected by a depressed mother.
And then, one day, it all seemed to be gone. It took the first three weeks, but finally, finally, I felt a sense of normalcy. Competent in my new role. Now, I knew (probably) how to soothe my baby. Now, I could decipher the cries. Now, I didn't stress about how I should change her diaper, dress, feed, and burp her. To all non-parents, it IS stressful! Listening to your baby cry, and not knowing what to do or what she wants is the worst feeling you can imagine! Doing everything you can think of, yet in futility, is a terrible state. But, in time, those feelings went away. And she, also, became more human-like and less fetus-like by the day.
I never had a conversation about this with anyone before I experienced it myself. Why doesn't anyone talk about it? In retrospect, it appears that almost every new mother experiences the baby blues, and if you don't, you are one of the lucky few. Which is why I write about it myself, for mothers behind me. I had the Baby Blues in a major way. At first, motherhood is, well, not that great. But those feelings go away after a few weeks, or so they should. And if they don't, which is also not uncommon, you may need help from a more serious condition from a medical practitioner.
So, that is probably the most serious you will get from me for a while, but even I had trouble seeing the humor in the first month of parenthood. Almost suddenly, however, things started falling into place. Bitty started making eye contact. She started making those sweet baby coos. She started smiling (at me! not just gas, or so I think). An early semlance of a routine became observable.
I became a mother.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Our Birth Story
Still reading? Oh, good. I'm not sure that I would after a title like that.
I've read a few blogs where people really go into the details of their baby's birth. I'm not going to do that. Because, (a) nobody cares about the details, and (b) that would be gross. But, here is the Cliff's notes version...
When all signs were pointing towards a past-due induction on December 6th, I surprisingly went into labor in the evening on November 22nd. Some work friends and I were out to dinner to celebrate two birthdays, and I initially thought I just had indigestion from gobbling too much fondue. I realized that it probably wasn't indigestion toward the beginning of my ONE HOUR drive back home. Probably wasn't such a good idea to go so far away from home close to my due date. I called Mark on the way and told him he'd better head home (he had class that night), and we arrived at the hospital at 11:30.
Once I made the request, it took a very long time to get the epidural, which allowed me some time for meditation and reflection. For example, I arrived at the conclusion that women who decide upon natural childbirth simply must be masochistic. And also, the anesthesiologist is both the biggest jerk (thanks for taking three hours) and biggest hero in the hospital.
So then, fast forward a few hours and Bitty Bebe was born at 7:42 AM on Tuesday November 23rd. Weighing in at 6 pounds, 6 ounces, and 18 1/2 inches long, introducing....SOPHIE ALANA BITTENBENDER!!!
Her middle name is in honor of my late father, whose middle name was Alan.
Little Sophie and I had a mother-daughter conflict already during her first day on the outside--I expect some conflicts, say, during her teenage years, but on day one? She was Coomb's positive, which means that our blood types are incompatible. My red blood cells produced antibodies against her red blood cells, and that made her prone to jaundice.
And, sure enough, her bilirubin levels had quickly elevated and she had to spend the first night in the nursery under the bili-lights---which was SO HARD! I was so much more emotional about it than I ever could have imagined. We have this brand new baby girl, and she spends the first night away from us. I couldn't sleep that night, though I knew it may be my last opportunity for a decent night's sleep for a very long time. After several nights under the lights, and ten pricks to her little heel for blood samples, we could say good riddance to that darn bilirubin. I am glad to report that Sophie did not faint even once. Fortunately she did not inherit that from me.
And so, that is our delightful story of Sophie's birth. Now, Mark and I find ourselves adjusting to parenthood, life with a newborn, and adapting to zombie-like diaper changes and baby feeding in the middle of the night.
I've read a few blogs where people really go into the details of their baby's birth. I'm not going to do that. Because, (a) nobody cares about the details, and (b) that would be gross. But, here is the Cliff's notes version...
When all signs were pointing towards a past-due induction on December 6th, I surprisingly went into labor in the evening on November 22nd. Some work friends and I were out to dinner to celebrate two birthdays, and I initially thought I just had indigestion from gobbling too much fondue. I realized that it probably wasn't indigestion toward the beginning of my ONE HOUR drive back home. Probably wasn't such a good idea to go so far away from home close to my due date. I called Mark on the way and told him he'd better head home (he had class that night), and we arrived at the hospital at 11:30.
 |
| Jessica got this cute gownie for me! |
Once I made the request, it took a very long time to get the epidural, which allowed me some time for meditation and reflection. For example, I arrived at the conclusion that women who decide upon natural childbirth simply must be masochistic. And also, the anesthesiologist is both the biggest jerk (thanks for taking three hours) and biggest hero in the hospital.
So then, fast forward a few hours and Bitty Bebe was born at 7:42 AM on Tuesday November 23rd. Weighing in at 6 pounds, 6 ounces, and 18 1/2 inches long, introducing....SOPHIE ALANA BITTENBENDER!!!
(Alana pronounced "uh-lane-uh", even though it doesn't look that way)
Her middle name is in honor of my late father, whose middle name was Alan.
And, sure enough, her bilirubin levels had quickly elevated and she had to spend the first night in the nursery under the bili-lights---which was SO HARD! I was so much more emotional about it than I ever could have imagined. We have this brand new baby girl, and she spends the first night away from us. I couldn't sleep that night, though I knew it may be my last opportunity for a decent night's sleep for a very long time. After several nights under the lights, and ten pricks to her little heel for blood samples, we could say good riddance to that darn bilirubin. I am glad to report that Sophie did not faint even once. Fortunately she did not inherit that from me.
 |
| Going home from the hospital |
 |
| Sophie's going home outfit |
And so, that is our delightful story of Sophie's birth. Now, Mark and I find ourselves adjusting to parenthood, life with a newborn, and adapting to zombie-like diaper changes and baby feeding in the middle of the night.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
You Know You're Exhausted When...
This weekend has been one of personal grooming for me. I figured that soon enough, it will be hard to fit these things in. I got my brows waxed, toenails done, and hair did.
I had trouble sleeping this week. First of all, I'm getting heartburn, for the first time ever in my life, so I wasn't used to dealing with that. And, I just keep waking up at an ungodly hour of the morning--usually between 4:00-4:30. And I'm up. There are no half-awake, half-asleep states; no drifting back to sleep. I'm up.
Apparently, this is all catching up with me. At my eyebrow appointment, I actually fell asleep on the bed or cot or whatever you call it. Passed out, dead asleep as the aesthetician was waxing and plucking, ripping the hairs out from their roots. Not exactly what you would call a relaxing experience. The lights are turned on brightly, the appointments are short, so it's not as if I was lying there for very long, and obviously there are the associated zings of pain. I have no idea how this happened. It was embarrassing. But the next time I go, I'm downing some major caffeine first.
I had trouble sleeping this week. First of all, I'm getting heartburn, for the first time ever in my life, so I wasn't used to dealing with that. And, I just keep waking up at an ungodly hour of the morning--usually between 4:00-4:30. And I'm up. There are no half-awake, half-asleep states; no drifting back to sleep. I'm up.
Apparently, this is all catching up with me. At my eyebrow appointment, I actually fell asleep on the bed or cot or whatever you call it. Passed out, dead asleep as the aesthetician was waxing and plucking, ripping the hairs out from their roots. Not exactly what you would call a relaxing experience. The lights are turned on brightly, the appointments are short, so it's not as if I was lying there for very long, and obviously there are the associated zings of pain. I have no idea how this happened. It was embarrassing. But the next time I go, I'm downing some major caffeine first.
Are We Ready?
Bitty Bebe and mama, 38 weeks
Today, my little pregnancy tracker says that I have about 12 days to go. TWELEVE!!! Yikes!!! But I am SO ready for Bitty to be on the outside. I've spent the past 38 weeks wrestling with anxiety and praying that she would stay IN, and now that she's full term, I just want her to be OUT! But, I know that I should be grateful that everything has worked out...
So, now we just wait. Do you think we're ready? (sorry Karin, I tried to get a picture of Riley in the ERGO, and he was just NOT having it...)
Double click to view larger in Picasa
Today, my little pregnancy tracker says that I have about 12 days to go. TWELEVE!!! Yikes!!! But I am SO ready for Bitty to be on the outside. I've spent the past 38 weeks wrestling with anxiety and praying that she would stay IN, and now that she's full term, I just want her to be OUT! But, I know that I should be grateful that everything has worked out...
So, now we just wait. Do you think we're ready? (sorry Karin, I tried to get a picture of Riley in the ERGO, and he was just NOT having it...)
Double click to view larger in Picasa
Kids and Bellies
The other day my grandma asked me what the kids at school think about their teacher being pregnant. This got me thinking of some of the more amusing interactions that I've had with some of the kids about pregnancy.
My own first grade class is pretty unphased about it. But, they have three main questions:
1. When are we going to get to see the baby?
2. How long are you going to be gone?
3. Are we going to like our substitute teacher?
The third question is a big concern mostly with the little boys...which is interesting to me, because I would have thought the the girls would be more emotionally attached to their teachers. But, I have had several parents comment about how their sons come home from school after I have left early for a doctor's appointment, and lament about how much they don't like it when I'm gone. Which in a way, makes me feel kind of good--like they really miss me; but it also surprises me because girls are supposed to be the sensitive ones, right? But the girls, well, they couldn't really care less about the whole thing.
This seems to be the case outside of my own classroom, too. The little boys are WAY more interested in pregnancy.
As I was walking my class out to their buses one day early in the school year, a second grade student called out to me, "Hi Mrs. Bittenbender! I love your baby!"
One of the other first grade students in my collegue's class likes to keep tabs on my progress. Whenever he sees me in the hallway, he likes to ask, "How many months are you, now?"
And then, there are two kindergarten boys who seem to have a thing for pregnant women. Both of the boys greet me excitedly whenever our classes cross paths, and each have cute little comments that they like to throw in occasionally. "Hi! I like you!" or "Hi! You're nice!" Clearly, this child does not know me well.
My own first grade class is pretty unphased about it. But, they have three main questions:
1. When are we going to get to see the baby?
2. How long are you going to be gone?
3. Are we going to like our substitute teacher?
The third question is a big concern mostly with the little boys...which is interesting to me, because I would have thought the the girls would be more emotionally attached to their teachers. But, I have had several parents comment about how their sons come home from school after I have left early for a doctor's appointment, and lament about how much they don't like it when I'm gone. Which in a way, makes me feel kind of good--like they really miss me; but it also surprises me because girls are supposed to be the sensitive ones, right? But the girls, well, they couldn't really care less about the whole thing.
This seems to be the case outside of my own classroom, too. The little boys are WAY more interested in pregnancy.
As I was walking my class out to their buses one day early in the school year, a second grade student called out to me, "Hi Mrs. Bittenbender! I love your baby!"
One of the other first grade students in my collegue's class likes to keep tabs on my progress. Whenever he sees me in the hallway, he likes to ask, "How many months are you, now?"
And then, there are two kindergarten boys who seem to have a thing for pregnant women. Both of the boys greet me excitedly whenever our classes cross paths, and each have cute little comments that they like to throw in occasionally. "Hi! I like you!" or "Hi! You're nice!" Clearly, this child does not know me well.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Bigger Bump
Last night I slept 10 hours, was up this morning for an hour and fifteen minutes, and then needed a 45 minute nap. Now I am going to attempt to go to the gym, because I feel like such a lazy ass. Will I ever feel like myself again?
Bitty Bebe and mama, 37 weeks, 1 day.
.JPG)
Bitty Bebe and mama, 37 weeks, 1 day.
.JPG)
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Hay Zulily
I've got to give a shout out to zulily for awesome customer service.
Zulily is one of those websites where they sell last-season or overstock items at (usually) a significant discount. It's all baby/child/mama products.
Zulily is one of those websites where they sell last-season or overstock items at (usually) a significant discount. It's all baby/child/mama products.
I've placed two orders with the website. In one of them, I purchased a couple of those Jaime Rae baby headbands and one hat...you know, the ones that plop a big flower on the baby's head.
When my package arrived, it contained one headband, one hat...and a girls' sized 11-12 dress--clearly not what I ordered. When I emailed to explain the problem with the package, zulily's customer service rep responded promptly; they are shipping my missing lavendar rose headband, I can keep the dress that was incorrectly shipped, and I received an additional $10 credit on my account. Isn't that awesome? It's a very nice dress, too...but obviously not something Bitty will be able to use for about 10 years. So I gave it to our neighbor girls, who are about that size.
When so many businesses are a hassel to deal with these days, I appreciate when one takes customer satisfaction seriously.
P.S. Zulily is a member-only website. However, you can just go on and create an account--no invitation needed. BUT...if I send you a referral email, I can get a $10 account credit when one of my referrals makes a purchase, which is awesome for me. So, basically, whether you sign up on your own, or through a referral, the result is the same for you. But, if you read my post from yesterday, you know that our dogs are putting us in the poorhouse, so I would be very happy to send you a referral email, just message me your address. :-)
Happy Halloween!
I forgot to tell you about this cuteness...someone in our neighborhood initiated this festive Halloween fun...
One morning I awoke to find one of those plastic pumpkins filled with candy, this "We've Been Boo-ed" sign, and Boo poem. It's like a chain letter idea--someone starts it, "Boos" two neighbors, who in turn "Boo" two more, etc. etc. You post the sign on your door once you have been Boo-ed. Soon, all your neighbors(or the ones you like, anyway) are joining in on the festive fun. Cute, isn't it? Guess I'm sharing a little late to start one in your neighborhood, but maybe next year.
You can find the printable materials here, at Organized Christmas.
One morning I awoke to find one of those plastic pumpkins filled with candy, this "We've Been Boo-ed" sign, and Boo poem. It's like a chain letter idea--someone starts it, "Boos" two neighbors, who in turn "Boo" two more, etc. etc. You post the sign on your door once you have been Boo-ed. Soon, all your neighbors(or the ones you like, anyway) are joining in on the festive fun. Cute, isn't it? Guess I'm sharing a little late to start one in your neighborhood, but maybe next year.
You can find the printable materials here, at Organized Christmas.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Most Expensive Energy Bar Ever
This story is about my first, original baby, my dear Riley.
Riley is my ten year old Jack Russell/Rat Terrier mix. I've had him since I was a college junior, and through some of the most major transitions in my life. We've moved nine times, seven of which were within a four year time span. I've had him through undergrad, graduate school, my first "real, big-girl" job (which involved a move of just the two of us more than 600 miles from anyone we knew), first home ownership, our wedding, and now my first pregnancy. He is my baby.
Yes, Riley is my precious, but he is also a little menace. In fact, I could probably start another blog to regale you with tales of his antics. And there are many people who could add their two cents, because I am not the only person whom Riley has terrorized with his mischief. This weekend, I'll add a few stories about Riley's past shenanigans in the comments section below, and if anyone reading has one to add, please do so.
Riley has always been mischievous on his own, and now that we have Lucy, our two-year-old Great Pyranees/Lab mix, it's double the trouble. I suspect with near certainty that it was Lucy who was the ringleader in the incident on Thursday.
Mark had commented that he wanted to try some of those Clif energy bars; he thought it would be a good pre- or post- run snack. So I bought him a small assortment at the grocery store last week.
The bars were sitting out on the kitchen counter awaiting Mark's sampling. Lucy, apparently bored with the usual bark-at-squirrels, terrorize-the-mailman, eat-the-mail, take-a-nap routine that she usually does while we are at work, decided to do a little counter surfing. Over the course of her perusing, she happened upon the Clif bars--pushed against the spot where the counter meets the wall--and snagged two of them.
I'll tell you why. To report that Riley had eaten, and was now resting comfortably. He was ready to go home any time now; but, before 8:00 AM or we would be charged for another half-day hospital stay.
$1,000 (yes, that's one-thousand dollars) later, we can now confidently say that the Clif bars had caused a massive case of indigestion in Riley. He is now happily rehydrated, thanks to the overnight IV, and his gas pains relieved by the medicine the vet had given him. And, we have learned the very, very, very hard (and expensive) way to put our energy bars in a cabinet.
Riley was so happy to arrive back at home, and immediately resumed his post guarding the house from squirrels.
His discharge instructions directed him to rest indoors for the remainder of the day, and Riley has been following doctor's orders.
And I still can't believe that it cost $1,000 to find out that our dog has the sh#&s.
Riley is my ten year old Jack Russell/Rat Terrier mix. I've had him since I was a college junior, and through some of the most major transitions in my life. We've moved nine times, seven of which were within a four year time span. I've had him through undergrad, graduate school, my first "real, big-girl" job (which involved a move of just the two of us more than 600 miles from anyone we knew), first home ownership, our wedding, and now my first pregnancy. He is my baby.
Yes, Riley is my precious, but he is also a little menace. In fact, I could probably start another blog to regale you with tales of his antics. And there are many people who could add their two cents, because I am not the only person whom Riley has terrorized with his mischief. This weekend, I'll add a few stories about Riley's past shenanigans in the comments section below, and if anyone reading has one to add, please do so.
Riley has always been mischievous on his own, and now that we have Lucy, our two-year-old Great Pyranees/Lab mix, it's double the trouble. I suspect with near certainty that it was Lucy who was the ringleader in the incident on Thursday.
Mark had commented that he wanted to try some of those Clif energy bars; he thought it would be a good pre- or post- run snack. So I bought him a small assortment at the grocery store last week.
The bars were sitting out on the kitchen counter awaiting Mark's sampling. Lucy, apparently bored with the usual bark-at-squirrels, terrorize-the-mailman, eat-the-mail, take-a-nap routine that she usually does while we are at work, decided to do a little counter surfing. Over the course of her perusing, she happened upon the Clif bars--pushed against the spot where the counter meets the wall--and snagged two of them.
Could she really smell them through the wrapper? Or was she just being nosy? Who knows. I came home from work that day to find both of these wrappers torn to shreds, and the contents devoured.
As you can see, both of these bars contain chocolate, which everyone knows is toxic to dogs. But, neither of my dogs are inexperienced when it comes to chocolate (told you they were mischievous), and I knew that they both had a fairly high tolerance for it. I expected some, ahem, gastrointestinal upset, and was just hoping that it would find it's way outside and not on the carpet that we just had steam cleaned last month.
The next morning, I awoke to find Riley sleeping in Lucy's pink doggie bed, which is quite uncharacteristic for him (he usually sleeps in bed with us, under the covers and in between our legs). He was shaking, but it was chilly in the house that morning, and Riley is an inherently cold dog anyway, so I covered him up with a blanket, finished getting ready, and left for work.
I came home early that afternoon; I had an OB appointment and took a half day off from work. When I arrived, Riley came crawling up from the basement, ears back, tail down, his eyes bugging out and looking at me pleadingly. Uh Oh, I thought. What did you do? I interpreted this as his I-did-something-bad guilty look. I took him outside, and he did not perk up, but continued walking crouched-down, and it became clear that he was in pain. I had never seen him act quite like this.
By now, I was pretty concerned. I thought about Riley's quivering that morning, which I had previously thought were just chilled shivers, and realized that he had been suffering all day. I called Mark and told him all about the situation, and since I had to get to my OB appointment, he called the vet, who recommended that we bring Riley in immediately. Mark hurried home from work to take Riley to the doggie ER.
The vet asked Mark the typical questions that one does when trying to initially assess a pet's ailment. Had he eaten? (no, but that's not unusual; Riley sometimes goes anorexic for a few days, and then binges for a day or two). Was he drinking? (no, but he hardly ever drinks). Did he have diarrhea? (yes, but he does at least once a week). Riley is a very finicky dog. Then there were the questions about the energy bar ingredients.
It turns out that chocolate wasn't the only ingredient that we should have been concerned with in those Clif bars. Macadamia nuts, and especially raisins (in the mountain mix one), are also toxic to dogs. The raisins are what the vet was worried about. They can cause kidney and/or pancreatic failure in dogs. Since we didn't know how many raisins were in the bars, or which dog ate what, the vet recommended blood tests, IV fluids, and overnight hospitalization so that they could monitor Riley for either of these.
And so, Riley spent the night in the ER, and all the while I thought about how devestating it would be if something happened to him. And how guilty I would feel for not putting the energy bars in the kitchen cabinet. I cried at the thought. My baby.
The vet called us around 9:00 PM to report that Riley's blood tests came back ok--no kidney or pancreas failure. But, sometimes this can be undetected for a few days, so they would continue to monitor him over the night to be sure that he was getting better. His x-rays had shown that he was a little gassy, and bloodwork indicated that he was a bit dehydrated, so they would keep him on fluids through the night. Things sounded like they would be ok.
At 5:15 Saturday morning, I awoke to the sound of my phone ringing. Who could be calling so early? It had to be the vet. My phone was charging downstairs, so I rushed to answer, but was unable to get there before it went to voicemail. I figured that they would be calling Mark next, so I rushed back upstairs, just as his phone was beginning to vibrate (he never has it on ring). "Here!" I shook him awake. "I think it's the vet! There must be something wrong with Riley!" I was petrified. Did Riley's kidney's fail? Did his heart stop? Is he in pain? I mean, why else would they call at 5 AM?
I'll tell you why. To report that Riley had eaten, and was now resting comfortably. He was ready to go home any time now; but, before 8:00 AM or we would be charged for another half-day hospital stay.
$1,000 (yes, that's one-thousand dollars) later, we can now confidently say that the Clif bars had caused a massive case of indigestion in Riley. He is now happily rehydrated, thanks to the overnight IV, and his gas pains relieved by the medicine the vet had given him. And, we have learned the very, very, very hard (and expensive) way to put our energy bars in a cabinet.
Riley was so happy to arrive back at home, and immediately resumed his post guarding the house from squirrels.
His discharge instructions directed him to rest indoors for the remainder of the day, and Riley has been following doctor's orders.
And I still can't believe that it cost $1,000 to find out that our dog has the sh#&s.
Destiny Awaits
Bitty received this in the mail on Wednesday.
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It's nice that Bitty's outstanding potential is being recognized, even in utero. We're keeping this for the baby book.
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Friday, October 22, 2010
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Sometimes They Just Won't Take No For An Answer
I like food. I like dessert. I like to eat; that's no secret. That's why I run ran and work out worked out. So I can eat. Lots.
Pregnancy is the perfect excuse to indulge; and believe me, I have taken full advantage of this. But sometimes, I just don't want to indulge. Sometimes, I just want to eat like a normal person, though other people seem to have a problem accepting this.
Take, for example, the cashier at the Yogiberry in the neighborhood. Since it's nearby, it's quite easy for me to pop in for some fro-yo whenever I'm in the mood. Yogiberry is sort of like a Pinkberry and Red Mango concept, but it's all self-serve. You choose your yogurt flavor(s), and then complete it at two buffet-style toppings bars with whatever combination of fixings that your little heart desires. Finally, your cup is weighed at the register, and you are charged by the ounce.
One day, I just wanted a little something to satisfy my sweet tooth, so I popped in for a little lychee yogurt with kiwi and strawberries sprinkled on top. "Is that all?" the cashier asked as I approached the register, raising his eyebrows with surprise. Grrrrrrrr.
Waiters are the worst offenders.
A few friends and I were having lunch at a local dining establishment. I ordered my favorite warmed goat cheese, spiced pecan, and dried cranberry salad, and enjoyed every last bite. Our plates were cleared, and as one typically does, our waiter returned to offer us dessert. Actually, I use the word "us" loosely--because the waiter, more accurately, offered me dessert. He didn't even remotely acknowledge the rest of the table, pointedly looking directly at me as he made his case for the dessert menu. I declined, shaking my head "No, thank you."
"But we have strawberry shortcaaaaaaake," the waiter came back at me in a sing-song voice. "And banana bread puddiiiiiiing." Really, dude. The big pregnant lady doesn't want dessert. Get over it and move on.
Sometimes it's even hard to get a cup of coffee without having normal portion sizes questioned. About a month or so ago, I was so thrilled to learn of DECAF ESPRESSO! I am a latte junkie, and nothing makes me happier than a pumpkin spice latte in the fall. Although the decaf is not quite as good as the real thing, it is certainly a good stand-in until Bitty is born. I do so love pumpkin spice lattes, but usually a tall (coffee-speak for small) is good enough for me.
And so, that is what I ordered on a recent trip to Starbucks. "A tall? Are you sure you don't want a venti?" the barista interrogated me about my drink choice.
Yes, I'm sure. And I want non-fat milk, too.
"But you still want whipped cream, right?"
Well, of course. Don't be silly.
Pregnancy is the perfect excuse to indulge; and believe me, I have taken full advantage of this. But sometimes, I just don't want to indulge. Sometimes, I just want to eat like a normal person, though other people seem to have a problem accepting this.
Take, for example, the cashier at the Yogiberry in the neighborhood. Since it's nearby, it's quite easy for me to pop in for some fro-yo whenever I'm in the mood. Yogiberry is sort of like a Pinkberry and Red Mango concept, but it's all self-serve. You choose your yogurt flavor(s), and then complete it at two buffet-style toppings bars with whatever combination of fixings that your little heart desires. Finally, your cup is weighed at the register, and you are charged by the ounce.
One day, I just wanted a little something to satisfy my sweet tooth, so I popped in for a little lychee yogurt with kiwi and strawberries sprinkled on top. "Is that all?" the cashier asked as I approached the register, raising his eyebrows with surprise. Grrrrrrrr.
Waiters are the worst offenders.
A few friends and I were having lunch at a local dining establishment. I ordered my favorite warmed goat cheese, spiced pecan, and dried cranberry salad, and enjoyed every last bite. Our plates were cleared, and as one typically does, our waiter returned to offer us dessert. Actually, I use the word "us" loosely--because the waiter, more accurately, offered me dessert. He didn't even remotely acknowledge the rest of the table, pointedly looking directly at me as he made his case for the dessert menu. I declined, shaking my head "No, thank you."
"But we have strawberry shortcaaaaaaake," the waiter came back at me in a sing-song voice. "And banana bread puddiiiiiiing." Really, dude. The big pregnant lady doesn't want dessert. Get over it and move on.
Sometimes it's even hard to get a cup of coffee without having normal portion sizes questioned. About a month or so ago, I was so thrilled to learn of DECAF ESPRESSO! I am a latte junkie, and nothing makes me happier than a pumpkin spice latte in the fall. Although the decaf is not quite as good as the real thing, it is certainly a good stand-in until Bitty is born. I do so love pumpkin spice lattes, but usually a tall (coffee-speak for small) is good enough for me.
And so, that is what I ordered on a recent trip to Starbucks. "A tall? Are you sure you don't want a venti?" the barista interrogated me about my drink choice.
Yes, I'm sure. And I want non-fat milk, too.
"But you still want whipped cream, right?"
Well, of course. Don't be silly.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Freudian Slip
When I returned from the grocery store today, Mark said that he observed that I keep buying any non-alcoholic beverage that is in the shape of a wine bottle. He might be on to something. An actionable Freudian slip?
and finds it operational.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
More Than I Bargained For
I have reached a major nesting phase. Truthfully, I have been nesting for about six months, but the past four days have reached new levels. I've decided that I want everything prepped and completely ready for Bebe, and I want it done NOW.
Mark has gone to Las Vegas for a work conference for five days. That's a good thing, because I would surely be driving him crazy with my OCD. This weekend I began a cleaning and organizing frenzy. I crawled around on my hands and knees to wipe down baseboards. I emptied and reorganized closets. I single-handedly put together the swing, bouncer, and pack-n-play. And I'm not done yet. I still have a almost a dozen moderate-to-large sized projects on my to-do list.
I also must immediately aquire all of the remaining necessary items before Bitty is born. For example, a video monitor. I need this before the baby arrives so that I am not compelled to hover over her every moment as she sleeps to make sure she is breathing.
Luckily for me, monitors were on sale on the Babies R Us website this weekend--perfect timing for my crazed nesting-spree. AND, they had another deal going on--a free gift if you spent a particular sum (which the monitor exceeded). I love free things. I picked out my gift and selected it for my shopping cart.
But, when I went to the check-out screen, my free gift wasn't coming up free at all! In fact, it was costing me $12.00! I searched the website for a promotional code that I had missed, but alas, there was none.
I found the customer service 1-800 number and dialed, perplexed and more than a bit irritated. I have very little patience when things don't work as they should. After a few rings, my call was answered by a woman. . . a woman with a sultry voice, dripping with dirty naughtiness, crooning something about wanting me to be in her bed. I had dialed a phone sex hotline! How did this happen!?!? I quickly hung up and searched my computer screen---the Babies R Us customer service line is 1-888, NOT 1-800!!!!
On the bright side, at least it wasn't my husband attempting to dial customer service--otherwise, who knows how high our phone bill would be next month. On the dark side, it's too bad it wasn't a male phone sex hotline. That could have been a blessing in disguise.
P.S. I did not get my free gift--as it turns out, I wasn't able to use TWO promotions in the same transaction. Sneaky, sneaky, BRU
Mark has gone to Las Vegas for a work conference for five days. That's a good thing, because I would surely be driving him crazy with my OCD. This weekend I began a cleaning and organizing frenzy. I crawled around on my hands and knees to wipe down baseboards. I emptied and reorganized closets. I single-handedly put together the swing, bouncer, and pack-n-play. And I'm not done yet. I still have a almost a dozen moderate-to-large sized projects on my to-do list.
I also must immediately aquire all of the remaining necessary items before Bitty is born. For example, a video monitor. I need this before the baby arrives so that I am not compelled to hover over her every moment as she sleeps to make sure she is breathing.
Luckily for me, monitors were on sale on the Babies R Us website this weekend--perfect timing for my crazed nesting-spree. AND, they had another deal going on--a free gift if you spent a particular sum (which the monitor exceeded). I love free things. I picked out my gift and selected it for my shopping cart.
But, when I went to the check-out screen, my free gift wasn't coming up free at all! In fact, it was costing me $12.00! I searched the website for a promotional code that I had missed, but alas, there was none.
I found the customer service 1-800 number and dialed, perplexed and more than a bit irritated. I have very little patience when things don't work as they should. After a few rings, my call was answered by a woman. . . a woman with a sultry voice, dripping with dirty naughtiness, crooning something about wanting me to be in her bed. I had dialed a phone sex hotline! How did this happen!?!? I quickly hung up and searched my computer screen---the Babies R Us customer service line is 1-888, NOT 1-800!!!!
On the bright side, at least it wasn't my husband attempting to dial customer service--otherwise, who knows how high our phone bill would be next month. On the dark side, it's too bad it wasn't a male phone sex hotline. That could have been a blessing in disguise.
P.S. I did not get my free gift--as it turns out, I wasn't able to use TWO promotions in the same transaction. Sneaky, sneaky, BRU
Rubbing It In
Damn you, Runner's World. You arrived again today just to tease me. Someday you will be relevant again.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
Honesty and Manners
Phew! It has been a busy couple of weeks! No time for blogging! In Virginia, we don't start school until the Tuesday after Labor Day, and the beginning of the year is always a hectic time. Add to that the fact that I have been out of town the past two weekends (so that's every weekend since we started)--I am definitely ready to get back to a normal schedule this weekend.
Anyway, I have a feeling that my students will be the source of some amusement for the blog. Take this story, for example.
Two days after school began I had to leave an hour early for yet another ultrasound appointment. I explained to the kids that I was going to a doctor's appointment, which, as usual, had them concerned. The kids always get worried when their teacher has to go to the doctor. I assured them that I wasn't sick, the doctor just wanted to take a picture of the baby to make sure she was growing okay. "What baby?" they wanted to know. I replied, "Well, the baby in my belly of course!"
They were completely flabbergasted that I had a baby in my stomach. "A baby? There's a baby in there? You're having a baby?" they asked in disbelief.
"Why, yes! Did you think that I was just fat?" I wanted to know. A little sheepishly, one of the girls replied, "Well, we would never actually tell you that."
At least they're polite.
Anyway, I have a feeling that my students will be the source of some amusement for the blog. Take this story, for example.
Two days after school began I had to leave an hour early for yet another ultrasound appointment. I explained to the kids that I was going to a doctor's appointment, which, as usual, had them concerned. The kids always get worried when their teacher has to go to the doctor. I assured them that I wasn't sick, the doctor just wanted to take a picture of the baby to make sure she was growing okay. "What baby?" they wanted to know. I replied, "Well, the baby in my belly of course!"
They were completely flabbergasted that I had a baby in my stomach. "A baby? There's a baby in there? You're having a baby?" they asked in disbelief.
"Why, yes! Did you think that I was just fat?" I wanted to know. A little sheepishly, one of the girls replied, "Well, we would never actually tell you that."
At least they're polite.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Now How Big Is Baby?
In July, I blogged about those baby size weekly emails that pregnant ladies subscribe to. Since then, one of the questions that I am asked the most is "So how big is the baby this week?"
Well, here is the update: the produce comparisons are going strong, but the references becoming more and more obscure. Or, I suppose detailed, depending upon how you look at it. Here are a few of my favorites:
Week 22--Spaghetti Squash
Week 25--Rutabega
Week 26--English Hothouse Cucumber
Well, here is the update: the produce comparisons are going strong, but the references becoming more and more obscure. Or, I suppose detailed, depending upon how you look at it. Here are a few of my favorites:
Week 22--Spaghetti Squash
Week 25--Rutabega
Week 26--English Hothouse Cucumber
Week 28--Chinese Cabbage
This is getting hard to visualize.
I have decided to start working on my own comparison chart based upon things that I would like in my tummy. Mostly things that pregant ladies are deprived of. Things that I find myself wishing for instead of all the fruits and veggies that Babycenter and The Bump are pushing. Here's what I've come up with so far:
Week 9: Your baby is the size of a Spanish Tempranillo grape.
Week 11: Your baby is the size of a spicy tuna roll.
Week 14: Your baby is the size of a chocolate lava cupcake with buttercream frosting.
Week 15: Your baby is the length of a cocktail umbrella. Preferably situated on the rim of a margarita.
Week 17: Your baby is the size of a filet mignon.
Week 19: Your baby is the length of a turkey sub sandwich.
Week 21: Your baby is as heavy as a bottle of Delirium Tremens.
Suggestions, ladies? Comment below. :-)
This is getting hard to visualize.
I have decided to start working on my own comparison chart based upon things that I would like in my tummy. Mostly things that pregant ladies are deprived of. Things that I find myself wishing for instead of all the fruits and veggies that Babycenter and The Bump are pushing. Here's what I've come up with so far:
Week 9: Your baby is the size of a Spanish Tempranillo grape.
Week 11: Your baby is the size of a spicy tuna roll.
Week 14: Your baby is the size of a chocolate lava cupcake with buttercream frosting.
Week 15: Your baby is the length of a cocktail umbrella. Preferably situated on the rim of a margarita.
Week 17: Your baby is the size of a filet mignon.
Week 19: Your baby is the length of a turkey sub sandwich.
Week 21: Your baby is as heavy as a bottle of Delirium Tremens.
Suggestions, ladies? Comment below. :-)
A Little More Bulge in the Bump, A Little More Junk in the Trunk
Bitty Bebe and mama, 28 weeks 3 days
Sunday, August 29, 2010
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