Posted by Lily on Mar 27, 2009 in
Uncategorized Cameron is not yet mobile in the traditional sense, i.e. he is not crawling or walking or long jumping across the living room. Yet. His movements are limited to rolling and what looks like an inchworm with a jet propulsion pack on his back. He’ll arch up on his hands and knees and then hit the thruster button, shooting him headfirst into the air usually ending up on his face or the side of his play tunnel. He is quite happy with these movements and can get pretty far. He then combines these movements with the skilled art of putting as many things in his mouth as he possibly can. So as he goes through the air ANY POSSIBLE ITEM in the air, or on the ground, or in the atmosphere will make it into his mouth by the time he hits the ground.
It therefore occurred to me that we are entering into the era of childproofing. Trying to pick up the HUNDREDS of tiny death traps strewn about our house.
I wondered how much John knew about childproofing.
On the floor there was a chip clip that had a magnet on it. I decided when John got home I would test him on what was dangerous about the chip clip. Brilliant parenting move on my part. There is no way he’ll know that the magnet could fall out and become a choking hazard. What a fabulous idea.
John gets home and I begin my spiel on how Cameron is shooting around the living room and we really needed to be careful about what was on the floor. John immediately saw the chip clip and grabbed it. Falling right into my plan. John, I asked, what is dangerous about the chip clip? He looked at it and almost immediately replied, the magnet.
I was stunned. Not that John isn’t the most wonderful parent in the world, but the idea of dog proofing the house has always been a point of contention between us and our definitions vary tremendously. I am anal retentive and can spot the ball of dog fur 20ft away that I am convinced Cameron wants to lodge in his wind pipe. John would notice if the gas fireplace was on and Cameron was closing in. Maybe.
So I was impressed by his assessment of the chip clip and realized perhaps I had been too quick to judge his childproofing knowledge. But my dad always taught me about guessing. And how you should never guess. And I used to do it ALL THE TIME, so I’m pretty good at recognizing a guess. And there was a flicker in John’s eyes.
John, I responded, why is the magnet dangerous?
Easy. It will erase his brain.
Posted by Lily on Mar 21, 2009 in
Uncategorized I thought when I originally started my new job that I would have all of this extra time to do things because I’d have all morning to hang around the house. Couple of points. One, there is no such thing ever again as “hanging around the house” once you decide to enrich your life with a wiggly, crazy (adorable) creature that pees, poops, spits up, spits, shrieks, and pretty much consumes every waking second of your life. Second, even if a magical window opens up in my morning and he is playing by himself or peacefully spitting at me (have I mentioned this new DELIGHTFUL talent?) I find I don’t want to do anything else. I am so enraptured by him that I cannot do anything but watch him or hold him or play with him.
Even if I’m being spit on. Constantly.
So pretty much the rest of my life, such as cleaning, writing, emailing, really anything, gets pushed to the wayside. My big accomplishment is when I am able to get the kitchen clean before I head off to work. I feel like a superhero.
The new job is awesome. Not just the job itself, but my new schedule. Having all morning to lose with Cameron is wonderful. I feel like I get more quality time with him than I was getting with my other job and he seems to be a much happier baby with this schedule. He isn’t being shoveled out of bed in the morning and thrown into a car before he is really ready to be awake and then doesn’t see his mom or dad until 9 hours later at which point he is only awake for a couple more hours. He is now getting lots of time with mom, dad, his grandparents, and his cousins.
He is a happy, happy baby.
Posted by Lily on Mar 6, 2009 in
Uncategorized This is actually not the first time I’ve had an F word post, and in many ways the end result here is the same word, but for now, I speak of a different F word. A word I know as soon as I type will cause hackles to raise and hair to stand on end. For a few friends in particular, I can feel their displeasure from here. But it has to be said, with an explanation of course.
Formula.
Over the last few weeks, Cameron’s intake has been growing in ways that are starting to lead us to believe he is actually part Panda, as they eat for roughly 15 hours a day. It would explain the big ol‘ cute round head he has. At first we thought this was a growth spurt, and I think it probably was when he was waking up every hour at night to eat. Luckily that has passed, or some lucky reader would have had an adorable baby on their doorstep. But the jump in intake has not.
Ever since I went back to work in January at my old job, I have been pumping. And let me tell you, milk supply is not a problem. The thing I take pride in most at this time (second to my child of course) is the work ethic of my boobs. They don’t quit. Even on my most fatigued day I am producing enough milk to feed a small country. The problem is that my monster baby laughs at that small country and eats the next country’s food as well.
Yesterday he ate 15oz in 4 hours.
With my new job (which is working out splendidly, more on that later) I am still able to pump, but sometimes there isn’t an opportune moment. I haven’t figured out yet how to say to a family, “hi. I know these delightful centerpieces on my front here have been brightening our conversation today, but they are actually not just for show as I have produced half human/half panda spawn that requires the life source these puppies put out. while you’re looking over our information about taking care of your dying loved one, would you mind so terribly if I could just pop on into your living room and whip these ladies out for a brief pump?”
So this leaves me with some days where I have one less pump than other days. And oh my god, if I’m going to have one less pump why not just knock the earth off its axis? The same level of chaos will result.
I am also worn out. And I’m not saying that oh gosh, I’m sleepy so I think I’ll ditch the boobs for some beauty rest. I am through and through exhausted. Producing that much milk is hard on the body, combined with not a lot of sleep and working all week. There has been further mild complications with the stupid remodeled Vajayjay, which my midwife is directly attributing to the fact that I’m run down. John is still doing more than his fair share of taking care of our lives, so I can’t even whine that I’m vacuuming daily. Because I’m not. And honestly don’t think I have in five years. Make that ever.
My pediatrician is wholly supportive of supplementing with formula. My midwife is wholly supportive of supplementing with formula. My family is supportive. John’s family is supportive and can’t believe I haven’t done this sooner. So there isn’t a lack of support.
For me it is the feeling of complete and utter failure. He is almost 5 months old and plenty of people breastfeed exclusively until one year or later. So I have done something wrong. And every test he scores low on, every crayon he eats, every cold he gets, I will think I did this to him. If only I could have breastfed him exclusively for a year. At this point though I’m pretty sure he has hit the reserves for his future siblings and is dooming them to formula from the beginning.
So I fed him his first little bit of formula today. Mixed with breast milk. And his head did not start spinning around spewing it around the room. His limbs didn’t fall off and so far his hair has not fallen out. There is still time.
For now we are going to see how it goes. It is a balancing act that I am not prepared for as I would throw myself to the wolves if it meant he would be happy. But having a mom who has been eaten by wolves isn’t necessarily the best for his development either. Although he would totally win at two truths and a lie.
