The Last Month

Update: I'm still a bit shaken up from our experience on Thursday. I am trying to focus on the positives - Nate is no worse for the wear and is not acting out of the ordinary. Thank God. But the thought that my carelessness could have led to something grave is overwhelming. So much so that I've been tempted to take my anti-anxiety medication to take the edge off. The only thing that has stopped me is that it's not exactly safe for breastfeeding and I refuse to end our nursing relationship due to these circumstances.

I've been slightly traumatized by the whole ordeal. I feel fragile. I am not perfect, nor will I ever be. But somehow I feel like I ought to be. For Nate's sake. I am my harshest critic and the hardest person for me to forgive is often myself. I just need time to get over the guilt and I'm confident that with each passing day, happiness will prevail.
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Yesterday, Nate turned 11 months old. T minus 29 days until his big birthday. The supplies have been ordered and are en route to our address. Once those are received, I will send out the invitations, visit the bakery to order the cake(s) and finalize the menu. I have a few more decorations to purchase in the coming weeks and then it's just a matter of bringing the vision to life. My excitement is mounting as we grow closer to the big day. It goes without saying that I'm amazed by how much he has blossomed in such a short amount of time.

At 11 months, my little guy:

Walks all over the place - all by his lonesome! At this point, he prefers walking over crawling unless he is tired or lazy (like if he falls mid-walk and decides crawling is an easier method of transportation to his destination). I'd estimate we're at 75/25 ratio to walking and crawling. He can also crouch down to pick up a toy and stand back up to walk. All that jumping in his jumperoo has given him some seriously strong legs.

Is starting to wave bye-bye. Backwards, as if waving to himself. He's not consistent but I've seen him do it a few times when he thought he'd go under the radar. I guess he'd rather not go public just yet with this new skill.

Can say mama and dada to the correct parent. Dada still comes out more like "baba" which makes me second guess whether or not he associates the word with DH. But since he tends to say it when DH is around or to mimic what we say, I believe he really does. For some reason, he is having trouble enunciating "d" sounds. I'm not concerned yet but will talk to the pediatrician about it at his next visit. You know, just in case speech therapy is an order.

Can throw a temper tantrum fit for a 2-year old. Gone are the days of casually removing an object from his grasp. Something as simple as a piece of paper causes a gargantuan meltdown, complete with arching of the back, stomping and waterworks so marvelous I should charge people to view them. Seriously. This kind of acting is sure to garner an Academy Award.

Understands "no" and "come". Of course, comprehension does not equal obedience. Though he may stop and look at me when he hears the dreaded "n-word", my insubordinate son typically continues on with his destructive, dangerous or bothersome behavior until I physically remove him from the situation. Aforementioned temper tantrum sure to follow.

Can boogie. To the radio. To television theme songs. His moves resemble squatting exercises but it's ever so cute to watch. He can get his groove on to any beat but seems to dance mostly to hip-hop and pop. Oh, and his newly discovered favorite, Yo Gabba Gabba. (Am I the only one who feels like I'm tripping on acid when I watch that show?)

Is a picky eater. We are going through a bizarre food phase right now. He is refusing almost all purees, eating maybe 2-3 oz. at a sitting before putting his dukes up. But finger foods are hit or miss. Most end up thrown over the side of his highchair for the thrill of the plop or splatter. It's so hard to get anything in that belly of his besides Cheerios and breastmilk. I assume he will eat when he is hungry so I am just riding this out until it gets old. To him. It's already getting pretty old to me.

Is back to two naps per day. Hallelujah! After a rough week of limited naptime, and ergo cranky baby, I am ecstatic to report that we are back on track. I'm chalking it up to a growth spurt or perhaps teething. 1030am and 3pm are necessary downtimes in this house. Any deviation from this makes for an unhappy baby and Mommy.

Is still not sleeping through the night. Some nights we get 5+ hour stretches and other nights, only 2-3 hours. I am unsure of how to handle it but I think CIO may be involved, as much as I wish to avoid it. He is now trained to eat several times during the night - which I admit is my fault since I never reestablished sleep training when his reflux waned - but I'd like to try and cut back on the night feeds so he will eat more calories during the day. I'm okay with one, possibly two, night feeds but I know he is capable of sleeping through. We just have to figure out what method is best for all of us to get there.

I think that about sums it up. This is the last month I will have a "baby". In 29 days, I will have a "toddler". So I'm soaking up as much as I can.

ETA: Another "skill" I forgot to mention - opening and closing doors and cabinets. He's strategically figured out how to get into the pots and pans in the kitchen so he can bang them together and create a ruckus. He's also learned how to open the front door (when it's unlocked of course) so he can peep outside at the dogwalkers. With opening, he's also learned its opposite - closing. A few times on his poor appendages. I once was talking on the phone and heard whining coming from the bathroom. Sure enough, he had closed the door and shut himself inside. Quite amusing.

Force To Be Reckoned With

The apple must not fall far from the tree. I think DH's passion for engineering may have been instilled on Nate. I predict a major in the field of physics, with a minor in mathematical theory.

It appears he has grasped the concept of gravity. Thank you so much, Sir Isaac Newton. I can attest your contributions are laudable. (Grab your umbrella. It's dripping sarcasm in here.)

Feeding time has become quite the frenzy, as every last bit of food pretty much lands on the floor. Even once favorite treats like biter biscuits and cheese puffs are lobbed like grenades over the side of his highchair tray. Spoons, bowls, sippy cups - they all go over the wayside just for the thrill of the plop. All I can say is thank goodness for splat mats. But I have a hard enough time getting food into him as it is without this new "discovery".

It's not solely at mealtime. We've had to eliminate stoller toys after several teethers have mysteriously gone missing. Anything that can be clutched is now subject to a science experiment in gravitational pull.

This is an important lesson, I presume, albeit a frustrating one. 52 Pickup is going to get really old. Really fast.

Domestic Engineering

After two and a half weeks, you'd think I'd start to get used to this SAHM thing. On the contrary; I'm still swimming in the river known as Denial.

I often feel like I'm on vacation and at any moment, I'm going to be yanked back into the harsh world of continuous deadlines, high-pressure projects and ever-increasing demands. I find myself aimlessly refreshing my email, simply out of habit. I've had about 15-20 hours worth of billable work since I've made the switch from full-time to freelance but the vast majority of my projects have simmered down. I just don't know what to do with myself now that the work stress has been all but eliminated. I'm so used to being balls-to-the-wall, can't-find-time-to-pee-or-eat, insanely busy that I am dumbfounded to find downtime exists. I can actually shower, brush my teeth and eat lunch daily. A fresh, homemade lunch - no fast food crapola. I can visit friends (during the week - gasp!) and have playdates. I don't have to cherry pick which tasks/activities I have time for. It's amazing. Even my IBS seems to have magically resolved itself, which leads me to believe it has been stress-related all along. You're welcome for the oversharing. *wink*

I love how I can design my own day and not feel limited by the clock. I can relax. Sure, chasing after a mobile 8.5 month old is not exactly a day at the spa but it is much more enriching than drilling out media plans.

I still have my "oh shit!" moments where I wonder if I'm doing the right thing and how it will affect our family in the long run. Can we honestly afford to sacrifice my entire income contribution? But I try not to let the pessimism bog me down. When I feel the negative thoughts brewing, I force myself to consider the good I'm doing for and all the ways I am still useful as a member of the family and community. It may sound like the kind of self-help visualization propaganda as seen on TV but it really does help take the edge off and help me to stay grounded.

I've seen Nate smile more in the past couple of weeks than I think I have in his entire lifespan. I get the distinct feeling that he feels much more content and secure to have me home with him 24/7. He hasn't been nearly as cranky as he used to be (aside from a bit of teething - nothing that Hyland's teething tablets couldn't handle). He's almost a different baby. That, or I'm just seeing a side of him that I haven't noticed before. This alone makes me question my decision less and less. The benefits are obvious.

I've been able to really focus on Nate and meeting his needs. Instead of working for unappreciative, undeserving clients, I can devote my time to being the best mom I can be for my son. I feel like we've bonded all over again.

I can do modified CIO at night without feeling guilty that he could be craving more personal interaction. Last night, I put him down at 730pm without a problem. He woke at 1030pm and I nursed him. He woke at midnight fussing but fell back asleep within a half an hour. I heard nary a peep from him until 3am, when I nursed him again. He slept until 730am when we both woke for the day. Total: 2 night wakings. Progress. All due to consistency. I've traded exhaustion for determination and it is paying off.

I can easily read his signs for naptime and ensure he gets his two essential naps a day. One in mid-morning and one in mid-afternoon. I can usually preempt the crankiness and put him in his swing after the first yawn, where he naps peacefully for 1-1.5 hours. Granted, the swing can just barely swing his heavy ass. But until nighttime sleep is under control, I will not be disturbing the nap routine.

I can allot more time to practicing with solids. Since the Great Sweet Potato Discovery of 2009, Nate will now eat two 2 oz. meals per day. A few times I've given an early morning meal but I only offer this if he seems dissatisfied after nursing on both sides. He generally gets 1/2 jar Stage 2 fruit for brunch and 1/2 jar Stage 2 veggie, meat or pasta in the evening along with a handful of puffs at each sitting. It's been a challenge and I still rely heavily on singing songs and making faces to get the job done. But ultimately, I'm just thrilled that he is open to the idea of swallowing more than breastmilk. Maybe - just maybe - I will be able to start weaning upon reaching my goal at one year. I was beginning to think I'd be breastfeeding until he was two. There is hope for us yet.

We have lots of playtime together and I rotate toys on a daily basis so he doesn't grow bored. I alternate between being the showman and the passive observer. I demonstrate but then allow him to follow suit. I watch him as he experiments and moves from one thing to the next. I can see the hamster wheel turning in his noggin as he tries to learn how to operate certain toys or to mimic my actions. He loves anything with lights and sounds but when my eardrums need a break from the repetitive refrains, there are also several simple toys that hold his attention.

I know I may get flamed for this but we also watch TV together. We aren't glued to the boob tube by any means. We enjoy the outdoors when the weather is nice and I certainly don't rely on it as a babysitter. But he loves the visual and audio combination so I'll turn on Nickelodeon, Disney or MPT to provide some background noise. Right now, his favorites are Dora the Explorer, Spongebob, Sesame Street (cutest thing - he smiles and laughs at loud whenever Elmo appears), and Backyardigans. I have to say that many of the shows nowadays have an element of adult entertainment so I'm not constantly searching for a sharp object to gouge my eyes out. My particular favorites are Back at the Barnyard, Olivia and iCarly. Yes, I probably should be watching soap operas and court shows but I admit it's nice to tap into my childish side now and again.

All in all, things appear to be working out well so far on the SAHM front. I am taking to it like a fish to water. Except the housework and cooking. Okay, so I'm no June Cleaver. I've never been great at managing more than dishwashing and laundry in a day. But I'm slowly improving in this department.

I knew all along my heart belonged at home with my son. The ability to surrender to this desire seems too good to be true.

A Foodie is Born

As most of you are aware, I have been trying earnestly to solve the Case of the Repugnant Solids for over 2 months now. Nate just hasn't been a fan of eating off of a spoon. I originally thought he rejected rice and oatmeal because he needed something less bland and more flavorful. I was positive that when I broke out my amazing Babycook, he would be unable to resist my all-natural concoctions. I was proven wrong time and time again. Banana. Apple. Pear. Green Beans. Avocado. Carrot. No matter how many tricks I tried to play, how many funny faces and voices I made or how infinitely patient I was, they all produced the same result: utensils and dishware flung angrily aside in a fit of rage. We even resorted to organic jarred food to see if the change in consistency would persuade him. No sir. He was firmly planted in his anti-puree stance.

Funnily enough, he has no problem snacking on tiny bits of steamed fruit or veggie or little chunks of bread or pasta. He adores puffs, zwieback toast and biter biscuits. Likely due to the fact that he can independently feed himself. Mr. Do-It-Himself. But I cannot get past my fear of choking enough to give in completely to BLW right now.

Naturally, I grew perturbed. I had never known a baby in my life not to like baby food. Was I destined to breastfeed him until his stubbornness succumbed to the temptation? What if he decided breastmilk was an unparalleled diet? Would our future involve food therapists, nutritionists and speech-language pathologists? The premonition was agonizing.

Then, out of the blue clear sky, we had a breakthrough.

Thanks be to the savory sweet potato.

I'm not sure if he just suddenly became "ready" to put in an honest effort at this eating thing or if he gradually grew accustomed to spoon-feeding after months of practice. But he gobbled up that orange porridge as if it were his last supper. As a matter of fact, after he had scarfed down the two ounce jar, he cried in protest. The little piggy wanted more! I couldn't believe my eyes. The kid who fought me tooth and nail in opposition had now turned on a dime, playing the submissive role. I could hardly contain my excitement, as evidenced by my clever little ditty below:

Ode to the Sweet Potato

So orange, so sweet
The only food my son will eat
Delectable, nutritious
Tasty and delicious
There isn't much more one can say
All I know is you're here to stay!

I guess my little aficionado just needed to find something he liked enough to motivate and inspire him. Since he tasted sweet potato, he's been much more open to eating solids. He doesn't share the same enthusiasm he exhibited with his beloved vegetable but at least he is now receptive to the idea of the spoon. He will even dip the spoon in the bowl and with some gentle guidance from Mommy, bring it to his mouth. I have learned to bound and gag the Type-A-Don't-Get-Too-Messy part of my personality and acquiesce to his demands. I now let him dig in, basically finger painting with his food. Stripped down to only a diaper of course. The messier the experience, the more accepting he tends to be. Must be a boy thing.

We've since tried mango, spinach, white potatoes and plum - and he's ingested at least 1 ounce, if not more, of each in a sitting. I know it may not seem like much but it's worlds of progress compared to just two weeks ago.

Just like that, the food war was won.

Laugh or Cry

In need of a constipation remedy? I have one word for you. Pears. They're the new prunes. They will get the job done in under an hour. Though I must warn you of the fountain of poo that is likely to occur.

I'm not sure at what point this happened - somewhere around the 6 month mark I believe - but Nate's poo has transitioned from a mildly noticeable stench to a full-on, heaveworthy funkfest. Diapers so heinous that my nose hairs burn atrociously with one innocent whiff. So vile that I question whether they are actually the result of a natural bodily function. I cringe with every fart. And since he is his father's son, that's a lot of cringing. Seriously, my kid is the human equivalent of the whoopie cushion.

Gone are the days of the thin, runny 2-wipe poos. We now have thick, sticky, lava-like 4-wipe poos. Could it be that the every 3-4 day frequency of BM's is causing a backdraft of epic proportions? Or is the simple introduction of solids, no matter how meager the quantity, to blame for the foulest odor known to man?

I'm obviously not liking this change so much. Especially when my dear son decides to let loose just as I've removed the diaper from under his bottom. I tried desperately to clean up the mess, scrambling to pull wipes out of the plastic container. But just as the wipe broke free, more poo oozed out. I stared in amazement and disbelief, wipe in hand, but frozen and unable to move.

Never to leave a job unfinished, the little sprinkler decided to take this opportunity to urinate on said hand before the wipe could shield me from the spray. Thankfully, I have a strong stomach and my gag reflex is not overly sensitive or else I would have been cleaning up more than just the indescribable slop of waste on the changing table pad. My initial reaction of disgust quickly turned into an eruption of laughter.

Sometimes, you just have to laugh or you'll cry.

P.S. I bet you were really in the mood for TMI, weren't you?

Resurfacing

Well, we did it. It's been about two weeks already (gasp!) but I am happy to report we survived the change of address. Despite several days without Internet access or cable television I lived to tell the tale. Forgive me if I have implied otherwise by deserting my beloved blog.

Although weather forecasts predicted rain, the only earthly element we battled was wind. The sky was merciful and remained clear over the entire weekend. The only casualties claimed by the move were my hamper - some unruly screws decided to escape while in transit - and Nate's bookcase, a hand-me-down which was on its last leg to begin with. Overall, it was a success. I compare it to a festering wound that finally scabbed over. Yes, my view on moving hasn't changed. It still aspirates hardcore.

We're not exactly settled in. In fact, the only rooms that are complete are Nate's nursery and the bathrooms. I just haven't been able to muster the energy to unpack in addition to performing our everyday routine tasks. But regardless of the numerous boxes I must detour, it is slowly beginning to feel like home. It feels right.

No more third story travels, arms laden with groceries or a portly baby. No more lugging trash to a dumpster on the opposite side of the community. No more fighting over vacant parking spaces or worrying about sound travelling through paper thin walls to annoy the adjacent neighbors. We've traded a view of asphalt for a view of trees and nature galore. Best of all, it seems we've nearly doubled our living space. We will need additional furniture just to keep it from looking too bare.

Even though the positives far outweigh the negatives, I can't help but reminisce. Our apartment was where our son was conceived. I peed on the infamous test in the guest bathroom. DH took photos of my burgeoning belly in front of our bedroom door. I labored on the couch in the living room. And we brought our baby home to that apartment. As shiteous as it may have been at times, I will always have fond memories of how our lives evolved there. Call me crazy but there are times I actually miss it. All part of adjustment process.

But I also look forward to making new memories here in our new house. There's sure to be some amazing stuff in store for us.
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Nate turned 7 months old yesterday. I know I say this every month but it never ceases to amaze me as the months pass by so hastily. I hardly remember what life with a newborn was like. I often look back at photos just to recall how much he's changed since we've been properly introduced.

In the span of a month, he now has 4 - going on 5 - teeferoos. It didn't take long for his mouth to blossom with little white slivers once the first one erupted. Everyday I seem to find a sharp, new tenant in his orifice. At this rate, he'll have a complete set by his first year.

Nate is also starting to show signs of crawling. He can get up on all fours and rock back and forth. But as soon as he tries to go forward, he lands flat on his belly. It's only a matter of time until he gets the hang of it and I'll be chasing him, shooing him away from sockets and wires. I can picture the chaos now. He's getting so big on me.

I'm beginning to retire his 9 month clothes in favor of 12 month apparel. With the move, I packed up all of his 6 month clothes. I shed a few tears as I folded them and stuffed them in a big brown box. I also traded his 6-12 month socks for the 12-24 month TODDLER size. Yes, my son could now be mistaken for BigFoot. That is, if he had more than his tuft of blonde fluff upon his noggin.

Solids are still a work in progress. Nate is still not a fan of being spoon-fed and will cinch his lips closed so that no one - not even the most savvy or entertaining folk - can penetrate the fleshy barrier. We've moved beyond rice cereal and oatmeal to banana, peaches, melon, avocado and pears. Out of all the delicious aforementioned fruits, it seems pears are his favorite. But that's not saying much. Only that he shudders rather than gagging. I follow his pace and I refuse to force feed him, even if it means wasting ounces of fresh homemade food (courtesy of my trusty Beaba Babycook, to which I shall dedicate a separate post to its awesomeness). I've tried various textures ranging from thin and watery to thick, soft and chunky. But it doesn't seem to make a difference. Purees - he's just not that into you. I'm beginning to consider that he would best adopt baby-led weaning (BLW).

He seems to be breastfeeding more often than usual and I'm worried that my supply alone won't be able to keep up with his dietary needs much longer. I know Nate can sustain nutritionally on breastmilk exclusively for a year or even more. But pumping is becoming a nuisance. I can barely pump enough to satisfy his appetite for the two days per week that I am at work. I was hoping that we could rely on fruits and veggies to fill in the gaps where my pump fails. Alas, due to Nate's rejection, I fear that we'll have to resort to formula in that instance. Although I will do everything I can to avoid it and stick with mamma's milk.

I'm sure you got more than you bargained for with my incessant droning so I will wrap this up neatly by saying it's good to be back. If you'll have me.

What's Going On

I apologize for leaving a void where my posts should be. I owe you all an explanation for my absence. I'd like to admit I've abandoned my blog in exchange for the drudgery of packing up innumerable boxes of useless trinkets belongings and deep cleaning areas that haven't been tended to since my nesting tirade in my 9th month of pregnancy. But that would only be a half truth.

DH turned the big 3-0 on Thursday. Although he prefers the ersatz "twenty-ten". We celebrated with a relatively low-key dinner and dessert here. Simply delish. Oh, not to mention my generous gift to him. Or should I say to us. It was a bit of a selfish purchase since we both expressed interest in learning the fine art of photography and had both been eyeing an SLR for quite some time. His birthday was the perfect excuse to splurge.

I should note that my first idea was a ski trip to Western Maryland but since I couldn't bear to leave Nate with my parents for an entire weekend to partake in amusing winter-themed activities, it would have required DH to hit the slopes solo. He politely declined the woo of the Black Diamond in favor of the well-reviewed camera.

Despite his continuous bereavement of his youth (his words - not mine), I think he secretly enjoyed the occasion. He waxed nostalgic about his twenties and realized that he had accomplished much in the past decade. He earned two degrees. Joined the workforce with a job applicable to said degrees. Fostered his inner entrepreneur by forming his own side consulting business. (Sure, right now it costs more in taxes to maintain than the profit it provides - but it is a startup after all. And I'm proud of him for even having the cajones to bring his vision to life.) Not to mention he made the best decision of his life when he decided to make me his wife and procreate with me. *wink wink*

As he talked aloud ad nauseum about how far he's come, my mind wandered as I thought about how far we had come and how our relationship has morphed over the years. I've tried to articulate the thoughts that swirled around in my mind but I've yet to be pleased with the results. Maybe one day soon I can be eloquent enough to share my babblings in a post all its own.

Somewhere between organizing boxes and celebrating my loved one's milestone, my immune system managed to infect itself with another cold, complete with head congestion and leaky nose (and to think I paid my dues in December...how foolish). Thankfully, it seems to have halted its progress. I am hopeful I can avoid a full-blown infection this go round. I am willing to suffer if it means Nate can be spared from its wrath. Much gratitude, booby milk.

Speaking of Nate and boobs - er, food - we're still riding the solids train. I often muse over why we call cereal a solid when the consistency is undoubtedly liquid. But let's not lose sight of the topic at hand. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. And if that's true with my son, well...I'm in trouble.

We started two weeks ago with the rice cereal, which went better than I had expected for the initial attempt. However, in the days that followed, Nate became increasingly obstinate (I know, my son? Obstinate? I must be mistaken). He refused to open his mouth in anticipation of the spoon, shaking his head and combating the utensil in objection. His jaws were impervious even to the fail safe "airplane" game. It got to the point where he would bust into tears just to be seated in his highchair. The last thing I wanted was poor associations with mealtime. And in all fairness, the rice did smell rather putrid even mixed with breastmilk.

So, in the face of a conundrum, I searched the kitchen and pantry high and low for any safe alternative to cereal and discovered bananas. I cut off a small chunk and mashed it into a puree. Same result. Gagging. Refusal. Mr. Fussypants in all his splendidness.

After forcing bananas for two days, I decided to give oatmeal a try. No gagging. Just a little residual spit. And I even got him to open up for a few bites. Sneaky bitch that I am found a loophole to his resistance. Ever pretending to be larger than life, he prefers to hold the spoon himself and put it in his mouth on his own. So, I dip the spoon in the oatmeal just enough for him to get a taste when he transfers it to his mouth. Also, as he goes in to lick the inside edges of the bowl like a desperate canine, I sneak a spoonful of oatmeal into his vacant oral cavity. Works like a charm. Last night, I actually got him to finish a whole tablespoon this way.

Just like our journey with bottle acceptance: practice will make perfect. I guess I just bred a boy who knows what he likes. As long as it starts with a B and ends in OOBIES.

Mashed Post-ato Friday

I apologize for the trite headline but this post is going to be a mash-up of several topics that aren't worthy of their own posts. Yes, I guess I'm exhibiting the Judging part of my ENFJ personality.

So, after a supremely fussy/clingy/generally pissy day on Tuesday, I was convinced we were in the throes of a 6-month growth spurt. I was bracing myself for a week of misery. But to my pleasant surprise, Nate woke up completely refreshed and was all smiles Wednesday morning. He began using my fingers as teethers and as he glided the tip across his bottom gumline, I felt a sharp, pointy stranger where a knot used to reside.

His first tooth had erupted (as I illustrated for Wordless Wednesday).

I shrieked with surprise and excitement and he smiled pompously, as if he knew what he had just sprouted and knowlingly affirmed "there's more where that came from, Mommy".
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Nate's 6-month appointment was on Tuesday afternoon. My boy is 18 lbs, 2 oz and 27.5 inches long. His growth has slowed down a bit but he is still in the 70th percentile for weight and 80th percentile for height. Perfect physically and developmentally. Because his 4-month shots were delayed due to illness that lasted the entire month of December, he was spared from further vaccinations until mid-March.

We were given the green light to start solids so we introduced rice cereal - mixed with pumped breastmilk - that night. He tolerated it commendably and adeptly swallowed more than he spit out. But he quickly grew tired and began gagging on the soupy texture. After several spoonfuls, he was clearly full and disinterested in continuing the process.

Don't worry - I took more photos of the event than I would like to admit. They'll make for a perfect Wordless Wednesday next week. *wink*

After a few more days, I may introduce oatmeal and see if he favors it over the rice. But I probably won't pull out my trusty Beaba BabyCook for homemade fruits and veggies until after we make our move. *sigh*
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Nate hasn't pooped in 4+ days. I understand it is normal for a breastfed baby to go for days without a bowel movement but we're talking about the kid who had monster blowouts 3-4x a day for more than 5 months. It doesn't seem normal to have a sudden, drastic change in bowel patterns. Even the rectal thermometer isn't stimulating things.

Please tell me my son hasn't inherited my awful IBS/chronic constipation.

Tomorrow, I think I'll send DH out to pick up some 100% prune or pear juice. From what I understand, it's like an enema in a bottle. I can't wait to see what fun this shall bring.
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It's about time for another CIO report.

Bedtime has been fairly consistent since my last post. Nate has pushed up his bedtime to 8-830pm instead of his typical 9pm. Sometimes, he seems ready around 7 or 730pm, which saddens me if I've been at the office all day and don't return home until 6pm. On those days, I have to squeeze cuddle time and playtime into one hour. Just not enough. But once I see the signs of fatigue (rubbing eyes, yawning, attention deficit, general malaise, desire to nurse from both sides, etc. ), I retire to his room for a quick nurse and glide in the dark. I sometimes softly sing or hum a lullaby while I stroke his head. I should note that I rarely nurse him to sleep anymore. Instead, I unlatch him (or he unlatches himself), lay him in his crib awake with his beloved blankie and kiss his forehead, while reciting "nighty night". I leave the room and shut the door behind me.

Sheer silence. I don't hear one peep out of him as he first puts himself to sleep. *knock on wood* What an amazing transformation from just a week ago, when putting him down meant enduring hours of aural assault. It's a welcome improvement.

But he's still waking every 2-3 hours, almost to the minute. It's more out of habit than out of hunger, so I allow him to fuss for several minutes before going in to comfort him. Most times, he can fall back asleep on his own within 10 minutes. If he doesn't, a quick pat by Daddy or another quick "top-off" from Mommy will do the trick. But if he does in fact go back down, he is only down for another 2 hours or so before waking again and crying. It gets progressively more difficult for him to self-soothe as time goes on and usually by 4-5am, he is back in bed with us so we can all get some uniform rest for the last hour or two before waking for the day. We've had one or two 4-5 hour stretches, but those seem to be the exception rather than the rule.

I thought he may have been waking due to the winter weather, as his hands are often chilled when I go in for checks, but even on warmer nights or in fleece sleepers with a cotton onesie underneath, he wakes often. I also suspected the snow and hail falling on his bedroom window could have disturbed him, but he wakes even when the atmosphere is still. I've considered shopping for a sound machine but I'm not convinced that will solve the problem.

I'm beginning to accept that, like adults, every baby's habits will be different. Some are going to be naturally "good" sleepers - STTN at a mere "x" weeks old - and others will need more assistance to get to that final destination. My son happens to subscribe to the latter.

That being said, naptime - which used to be dreamy - has gone to H.E. Double Hockeysticks. He never used to put up much of a fight when I would place him in his swing at the 90-120 minute mark. But now he retrieves his gloves and starts boxing the moment my hands are removed from his back. It takes several attempts to get him down, despite displaying explicit signs that he is weary from being awake for 4+ hours. And even if we're lucky enough for him to give in, the shuteye only lasts long enough to be a catnap. Today, he napped a cumulative 30-40 minutes, as opposed to the usual 3-4 hours. I'm assuming this is due to teething and am hoping it will pass.

All I know is Mommy needs sleep if she's ever going to fill these empty boxes. Have I mentioned I hate moving?

Until next time...

The Mama Sway and Other Developments

I am feeling quite wordy this morning, as Nate naps comfortably in his swing. But in the interest of retaining your attention rather than antagonizing you with an unorganized, jumbled bout of verbal diarrhea, I will utilize bullet points to constrain myself.

• Move over Macarena. Crank this Soulja Boy. There's a new dance craze in Chez Sticky. I've acquired the "Mama Sway". Seriously, it's impossible for me to stand still. Even without the baby in my presence, I subconsciously rock back and forth. I don't even realize I'm doing this until other people - primarily mothers - point it out to me, declaring that only mothers have "that tender sway". Perhaps we all inherit the "Mama Sway" gene as soon as we release our placentas? It's like I've been inducted into a secret society. A slow dance. A knowing nod. And I'm outed without saying a word. I guess I should praise Dr. Karp for that.
  
  
• Just like the evil that masqueraded as colic for 9+ weeks, Nate's reflux seemed to dissipate overnight. For the past few weeks, I've been able to sport brand-name gear, unsoiled and curdled-milk-fragrance free. Sure, he will still spit up now and then after a feeding but ***knock on wood*** we've had no actual vomiting incidents ( > tablespoon) in almost a month. No more waking in the middle of the night to gagging and choking. No more receiving blankets substituted as burp cloths, drenched in the contents of his stomach. I'm marveled by the difference. It's nothing short of a Festivus miracle. I guess all the hoopla about reflux resolving itself in time really was true. The cynic in me can rest assured that medication was unneccessary after all.
  
  
• We have a thumbsucker in our midst. Yes, after almost 6 months of unfettered fist and finger love, Nate finally discovered his abandoned appendage. I should say he is more of a thumbbiter, as he uses it more for teething relief than for self-soothing at this point. I've yet to capture this new development on camera but the mamarazzi is sure to catch it in her relentless pursuit of treasured candids.
  
  
• After two weeks of daily entrapment, Nate has learned that the jumperoo serves more of a purpose than to spin in circles and look pretty. He can now jump so high that I fear he may completely fly out of the apparatus. Watching him spring himself into oblivion is the most amusing, adorable thing. It could provide hours of entertainment if his legs could withstand it. His new nickname is Jumping Bean.
  
  
• With his new exercise routine in full swing, his already hearty appetite is giving me a run for my money. Nate is eating every single ounce I pump, despite my record of 21 oz. in 3 pumping sessions. I know it's hardly Guinness Book material but it sure made me proud nonetheless. I can barely keep up with him in my absence. He is also showing extreme curiosity in food during mealtimes. Meaning I spend more time keeping his sticky fingers off my plate than gobbling up my lunch. He's even taken to crying when I push my meal outside of grasping range. This is especially enthralling in the middle of a crowded restaurant, where onlookers gasp in horror at this poor, starving babe and the abominable mother who denies him one small morsel of food. I am but a week away from my goal of 6 months exclusive breastmilk and I'm hell bent and determined to get there. We will get there. Then, it can be a solids free-for-all. Until that day, you can brand me as the strict, unsympathetic, possessive, add-your-own-adjective-here mama bear that I am.
  
  
• Effective Thursday, Nate's usual whopping 3-4 bowel movements per day has lessened to a humble once a day. As a matter of fact, yesterday was completely poopless until his explosive blowout upon waking this morning. We're talking poop in the armpits, people. How exactly does that happen? I'm not sure if this is a sign of digestive distress or if his body is telling me that it's ready for more than just mundane liquids. He doesn't seem to be uncomfortable or constipated so I feel it's likely the latter.
  
  
• After weeks of a sunny disposition, a storm is brewing. The crankiness. The clinginess. I'm identifying bits of foreshadowing. A taste of what's to come. I know the 6 month milestone brings along another growth spurt so I'm donning my cloak and armor, preparing for another battle.

A big apology if you made it this far. Not even the bullets could stop me from being verbose.

Down Home Cooking

I've never been what you might call "domestic". My husband cooks dinner every night. And while I take on the majority of cleaning responsibilities, it's not something I enjoy by any stretch of the imagination. I see it more as a necessary evil. I'm far from a 1950's housewife.

So, it comes as a surprise to many - including myself - that I am considering making Nate's baby food. Homemade. This coming from someone who's idea of homemade is Hamburger Helper. (It is made stove top, in my home, right?)

I deliberated long and hard about whether I wanted to commit to such an undertaking. I'm working full time and barely have time to shower and brush my teeth as it is. But I'm really excited about it. I want to make the time to do this. Even though it's a few months down the line, as we don't plan to introduce solids for another 2 months. I like the idea of making a nutritious meal for my son. Knowing exactly what ingredients are going into his tummy. No extra preservatives needed. Only absolute freshness. And maybe new flavor combinations that you wouldn't find in traditional jarred baby food.

Since I'm low on time and inexperienced in the kitchen, I found the most awesome gadget to get the job done. A defroster, steamer and blender all in one. Small. BPA free. Just one piece of equipment to clean. Totally worth the cost, in my opinion. I may just add this appliance to my Christmas list. How Rachael Ray of me.

A few BTDT moms have pointed me to this website, which not only offers recipes but gives great guidelines for which foods to introduce and when and how much. A wealth of information and very easy to navigate. I find myself perusing it regularly for creative inspiration.

Who knows? Baby food may be my foray into cooking but perhaps while I'm at it, I'll discover my inner chef.