One Handed Eating (And Other Joys of New Parenthood)

We're a month into this parenting thing, and I think we're doing a pretty good job. Of course, Husband and I can't take all the credit--I think we have an exceptionally well behaved baby on our hands. We are still lucky that he doesn't cry unless there is something he is trying to tell us. He's had his fair share of meltdowns, mostly because of over stimulation--the first few times we had marathon screaming sessions, but now that we know what calms him those are few and far between.

My favorite parts of the day are when Little Man is alert. He is often in a very good mood after a nice nap and a bottle, and he is content to hang out in the corner of our couch in his "chair"--a genius setup of pillows Husband devised for him. Other times, he is a lap baby. Perched on a knee, he'll look around the room with his giant eyes, head swiveling all over the place. He is surprisingly good at holding up his own head at just a little over 5 weeks old. And other times, he is a Snuggle Monster. I have whiled away many hours over the past couple of weeks sitting in the rocker with Little Man settled in the crook of my arm, enjoying the view of the living room. On such occasions, the newly learned skill of one-handed eating comes in handy. You'd be surprised at what can be eaten one-handed: sandwiches and cookies,yes, but even soup can be managed if you are very careful. The hardest thing I have found to eat one-handed is my favorite staple of saltines with peanut butter on them--mainly because peanut butter is very hard to clean off an infant's forehead, and the cracker always lands peanut butter side down. Oops.

As I mentioned before, Husband has become very good at creating little chairs and nests out of pillows and blankets. As he takes the early morning feeding to let me get a little sleep in, I often come into our living room to discover a well placed pile of comfiness where Little Man has been hanging out with his Dad. It makes me smile every morning. I can't wait to watch them evolve into forts as he gets older.

I have been surprised at just how fun it is to hang out with a person who is still mastering control of his own hands. Little Man has started "talking" to us--little coos here and there when he's happy. My favorite thing in the world is when he sneezes. He always does it twice in a row, and he always lets out a little "Ooo" when he's done. I love it.

I have developed the mommy nose of steel, allowing me to be immune to whatever smell comes out of my son's diaper. At least until he begins solid food. And speaking of diapers, Little Man is quite the diaper Houdini. He can pee out of his diaper and cover himself and me in a giant wet spot without even getting the diaper wet. I am baffled as to how he accomplishes this task. Husband says it's retaliation for all the cute outfits I force on the baby. I'm afraid he might be right.

Yes, Husband and I have developed an arsenal of new parent tricks. But just when I think we've got it figured out, Little Man does something new, and the game plan switches to month-old baby tricks. Or it-is-4-AM-and-the-baby-is-WIDE-awake tricks. Whatever the case may be, I'm sure we'll continue to find creative ways to deal with our son--hopefully as fast as he can come up with reasons for us to do so.

3 Weeks on the Outside

Little Man has been in the world for three weeks now...where did the time go? I feel like I blinked, and nearly a month has gone by.

He's got a pretty good life. He's a healthy boy, except for a B12 vitamin issue. We've been working with his peditrician and a geneticist to figure out why he doesn't have the correct amount of B12 in his system. Most likely, it's my fault...turn's out Mama Bear's diet of pasta and cheese isn't very well rounded. I have changed my diet significantly since he came into the world, and since I'm nursing, it should affect Little Man in a positive way. He also got a B12 shot at the peditrician's office earlier this week. He gets tested again in several weeks to see if those things solved the problem.

He's blown past his birthweight...he's up to 9 pounds, 4 ounces and he's grown about an inch. He's very alert, and while he still sleeps a lot, he's very interactive when he's awake. He sleeps for four hour streches at night and continues to be fond of 3 AM.

His dark hair is starting to lighten up a little bit and is very curly, especially post-bath. Speaking of baths, he's not so sure about them yet...but for the most part, he doesn't seem to mind them. He's starting to discover his tongue, and sticks it out a lot and tries to grab it with his hands. He manages to find his thumb every now and then, and that pleases him greatly.

He's a happy baby, and that makes for a happy (albeit sleeeeepy) family.

I Hold These Truths to be Self-Evident

As a new mother, I hold these truths to be self-evident:

--There is nothing beautiful about the labor process. Amazing and overwhelming, yes. Beautiful, no.

--Real world time is now irrelevant. My life is lived largely in weeks (as in, my baby is 2.5 weeks old), followed by hours (as in, my baby eats every three hours) and I have no concept of day/night anymore. When I was pregnant, it was acceptable to eat a cheeseburger for a breakfast because of cravings. Now, it is acceptable because I survive on increments of two hours of sleep and the concept of "dinnertime" is abstract.

--There is much thought and worry about poop. I lay in bed thinking, "when was the last time my kid pooped?" and worry if it hasn't been recently.

--Contrary to popular belief, newborn babies are not lumps. Every day I see Little Man change and progress. It brings me so much joy to watch him develop, but it brings me sadness, too. He won't be a baby for long, and I am trying to enjoy every minute.

--There is a clear definition between "now" and "then". Things that stressed me out before Little Man don't seem as important now. Or maybe I'm just not letting them get to me like they did before. Why spend energy on drama caused by other people when I could spend that energy cooing at the cutest baby ever?

--Things take waaaay longer. Take writing this blog entry, for example. 3+ hours. Type a few lines, have a snuggle. Another few lines, make a bottle. A few more lines--oh yeah, better feed myself and my husband.

--There is nothing better than holding a sleeping baby. Because 8 pounds of warm, sweet-smelling, wrapped-up baby is the best thing in the world. And because he's finally....finally...ASLEEP.

Those Three Little Words

As I mentioned before, after Little Man was born, Husband and I hit the ground running. We didn't have any down time in the hospital because of the schedule in the Special Care Nursery, then driving back and forth to the hospital, then the normal wacky schedule of having a new baby in the house. For a week, we managed pretty well-- we took turns getting up with baby (every.two.hours), I made dinners and I even managed to clean the house.

Then, everything caught up with me. I developed some postpartum issues that made it impossible for me to take care of myself--let alone Little Man. It wasn't anything serious, but I will spare you the gory details and just say I was out for the count.

For about two days, Husband managed to handle everything. Then his parents came to visit. I didn't have the energy to move the day they arrived--I willingly handed over Little Man to my father-in-law and didn't blink an eye when my mother-in-law headed into the kitchen to cook and clean. For those of you that don't know me well, this is very unlike me--I'm the kind of person who spends hours cleaning to say "oh, this mess?" when complimented on my house. No one gets to play in my kitchen but me--I have a pattern, a system, and yes--OCD.

But it was a relief when my mother-in-law made me a hot dinner--when was the last time I had eaten? I didn't have the energy to cook anything real, so I had been eating a lot of teddy grahams and ramen noodles.

Little Man slept through their visit, and woke up almost immediately after they left. By that point both of us--Husband especially--had reached the end of the line. He helped me feed Little Man, then he went to bed. And I called my mother, and said those three little words that have always been the hardest for me to say.

I need help.


I am pleased to say that things are much better in our household now--after a week long stay from my mom and several trips in from my mother in law. In fact, after my in-laws left us that afternoon, my mother-in-law called my mother and let her know that I was not myself, and my "don't worry, I'm fine" phone calls weren't entirely the truth. It was a relief to let someone else take over: to cook food, clean baby bottles and--gasp--do my laundry. It gave Husband the chance to rest and gave me the chance to recover. We probably should have done that the very first week. I think it was a delightful combination of the hospital doing a poor job of emphasizing the need for help, and me just not listening when they did.

I am, and always have been, terrible at asking for help. But I realize now that I need it--it really does take a village. And now that I've had a little rest and feel better, I can enjoy Little Man more--even at 3 AM, when he wakes up and makes his hungry baby bird face. Even in a half-asleep daze, that baby bird face makes me smile.

So thank you to my mom, my in-laws, and especially my husband for realizing I needed help before I did. I promise that next time, I'll just ask.

Eat. Sleep. Poop. Repeat.

That's what little babies do, right? And Little Man is no different. Only it's more like eateateatEATsleepEATEATsleepPOOOOOOOP.

Ah, little boys.