Another day, another disastrous night.

To my friends who are starting to hear their biological clocks tick with varying degrees of volume, please. Let me be your birth control.

Owen was 9 months old on the 15th of this month. By all accounts - his doctor, the "experts", my circle of friends, family and acquaintances, he should be LONG since sleeping through the night. And yet, I wake up bleary eyed again after another night where I got maybe 4 hours of sleep. Maybe. And not in a row.

Owen just doesn't sleep. I don't understand it and I really can't deal with it. Most nights I end up crying along with him because friends, there is a reason they torture people in guantanamo by sleep deprivation. It's hell. The long term effects of 9 months without sleeping (more, really, because anyone who's ever been 30+ weeks pregnant will tell you you're not sleeping much then eiher) have started to really affect my cognitive abilities. My long term memory is probably worse than average, but my rote and short term memories are excellent, or, they were excellent. Lately, particularly at work, my short term memory deficits are becoming problematic. I guess I could be experiencing early dementia, but my money's on sheer exhaustion. Yesterday, I checked my voicemail, listened to a message, wrote down a phone number and pressed delete. I then looked down at the pad of paper I wrote the message on, and had zero idea 1) who the message had been from 2) what the message was about 3) who's phone number that was 4) when/if and why I was supposed to call back. Immediately after listening to the message. I am tired.

I'm also just getting slow. My job hasn't gotten harder over the last 6 months - it's fast paced and there's a lot to get done every day, but I've never had trouble getting everything done before. Lately, I can barely keep my head above water. I am sure it's because I'm not sleeping. The lack of sleep hasn't improved my mood, either. I've always been sort of (to be charitable) cynical and misanthropic. Now I am veritable hurricane of negativity. I'm one step away from reminding kids at the mall waiting for Santa that they're lucky they weren't born in Somalia, and explaining precisely why.

I just don't know what to do about it. I am really trying to let him put himself back to sleep but he won't. And worse, if I let him cry for more than 10 minutes without going in, he starts literally throwing himself against the sides of his crib. Am I supposed to let him concuss himself back to sleep? Seems unlikely. Even when I bring him into bed with me, he won't sleep anymore. Sometimes feeding him helps, but most times it doesn't. There is no rhyme or reason.

I am ready to spend every last cent we have on a person to sit here from 10pm to 6am. Just so that I can sleep. It would be so worth it. do they have people like that?

The musings of the sleep deprived.

I've had a revelation this morning, as I read the news and proceeded to be really bummed by the continuing stream of "world is ending" articles.

I consider myself pretty smart. Whenever I've been a student, at any level, I've done not only well but significantly better than average. So it was a real blow to the ol' ego for me that I was really, really bad at economics when I had to take it in college. In fact, I was SO bad at economics I took two semesters of it over the summer - not to try and get credit for it, but because it macro and micro were required for my major (or actually, what was at the time my major. I switched it later so it was all ultimately for naught) and I was worried I wouldn't do well. So I actually took micro and macro over the summer at UNH so that when I took them the following year, my sophomore year, I wouldn't have to worry about doing poorly. Well, pathetically enough, despite the fact that I had already taken both courses, I had a miserable time in microeconomics the first semester. In fact, the only way I squeaked by at all was because my roommate had taken the course year before and she more or less let me study off her old exams. Some crazy memorization helped me, but I still only kept my head above water. Basically, I was SO bad at it, and disliked it so much, that I switched majors and never even took macro second semester.

And I've been fairly put out since then as to why I did so poorly, and just concluded that I'm not as smart as I thought I was.

Until now. reading the economic news these days, I've come to the conclusion that no one else understands it either! Right? If they did, we probably wouldn't be going to economic hell in a handbasket.

Sucks that we're all headed for the breadlines, of course, but at least I feel somewhat vindicated.

Are they still taking babies in Nebraska?

It is 2:29 am. Owen has been screaming since 11:30 pm. I have been going into his room every 10 minutes to rub his back and leave, just like the books advise me to. I am past the end of my rope with this. Tomorrow I will once again be a worthless lump of migraine by 2pm because I cannot function without sleeping. Sigh.

The Holiday Spirit

I'm going to admit something totally un-American: I hate Christmas. Shocking, right? Might as well just give up and let the terrorists win - but I do. Sometimes I think I'd hate it less if the Christmas season lasted a reasonable two weeks, but the mid-October to New Year's Christmasapalooza? Hate. it. This year on Halloween itself I walked into a CVS to purchase some candy corn and couldn't find it, because there was a giant cardboard box of Christmas candy draped with pine garland around it in the middle of the store. I never get into the holiday spirit, I generally annoy everyone by insisting on giving obnoxious gifts that imply my lack of christmas spirit (A copy of an inconvenient truth for the person that doesn't believe in global wamring; a donation to a charity for the most materialistic people on my list) which only serves to royally piss people off. The better plan would be to just grin and hang some tinsel, but I can't help myself. This time of year brings out my misanthropy.

Honestly in the giant pro/con list that is having a kid, the holidays were a definite CON for me. I know some people with an 8 month old would have been at a tree farm November 5th just dying to get their baby's first Christmas tree. Lots of people. But I have been dreading having to "do" christmas - fake enthusiasm for it, do the Santa thing, give my kid non-jerky gifts (nothing spells therapy like your mom giving you a flock of geese for christmas 12 years in a row). It's one thing for me to put on my people-pleasing face on Christmas day and visit the relatives; it's entirely another to have the responsibility of creating another person's Christmas memories. Kids love Christmas. Time to suck it up.

The one exception to my negativity is Christmas parties. I do like Christmas parties, mostly because I really like parties and the mere fact that a party takes place in december doesn't make it bad. Owen went to his first Christmas party last night (sadly, we were invited to two christmas parties last night, both of which I really would have liked to go to, but we had to go to the family one) and my anti-Chrismasness began to thaw a little. Every year my mom's side of the family (which is enormous) has a christmas party. They rent a VFW hall, bring lots of food, hire a magician for the kids and one of my mom's cousins dresses up as Santa. It's actually pretty....fun.

don't get any ideas. I'm still the grinchiest grinch that ever grinched the grinch...but you know what? I was excited when Santa showed up for Owen to sit on his lap. And all the kids running around yelling for santa seemed more cheerful than annoying. Even the Christmas music didn't get on my nerves the way it usually does. I left thinking that maybe this Christmas with a kid thing isn't going to be as bad as I think.

This is Owen NEAR Santa. Abandoning him on Santa's lap wasn't going to work so well (stranger anxiety is starting to kick in) but we got near to Santa so he could give him a present.



Here are my parents pretending to give Owen some beer. It was really just water, but it was funny.




Here's a nice picture of us with my parents:


Santa gave Owen a present, which he actually still hasn't opened:


An finally, because I think it's funny, this is what Owen wore yesterday. Yep, your mama dresses you funny. Sorry, kid.

On my tombstone, it will read:

"She is using eternity to catch up on sleep.
It will probably take that long."

I am so sleep deprived that I am surprised I am still alive, actually. A person in my condition probably shouldn't be operating motor vehicles, using knives, or even hairdryers, for that matter.

Before we begin discussing Owen's sleep problems, I would like to preempt the discussion that usually follows by providing the following information:

Yes, I have read Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. I've ALSO read: The No-Cry Sleep solution, Solve your Child's Sleep Problems (ha!), The Baby Whisperer Solves All Your Problems (double ha!), Babywise, aaaaaaaand The Seven O'Clock Bedtime. Yes! All of them! And I've swaddled. I've done pick up/put down. I've let him cry. I've picked him up right when he starts to whimper to see if I could get him back to sleep before he ever really wakes up. I've tried a "dream feed". I've tried putting water in the bottle. I've tried Ferber. I've tried modified Ferber. I've tried cosleeping. I've tried putting my tshirts in the crib. I've tried making it warmer. I've tried making it cooler. I've tried having him nap less during the day. I've tried having him nap MORE during the day. I'VE TRIED IT! WHATEVER IT IS, PEOPLE, I HAVE TRIED IT!

I feel like I have tried everything under the sun, twice, and the fact remains that the three of us are still waking up no less than four times a night, and on really bad nights, 5 or 6. And I know that the conventional wisdom at this point is that I just have to let him cry it out. But I am telling you - he will cry. and cry. and cry. but he will not get to out. And I can do the two minutes of crying. the five minutes of crying. I can even do the 18 minutes of crying before going in. But I can't do hours of crying. Perhaps, if I truly left the baby to cry for several hours several nights in a row, he would eventually put himself back to sleep. I tried a hard line approach exactly once, and after about three hours I decided that it was essentially child abuse, and I'll never do it again.

But we are not sleeping. It is really, really bad. And I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. And I am frustrated that almost every friend I have that has a kid loves to tell me how they were sleeping 10 hours at a time at 6 1/2 weeks. And all the helpful suggestions - look, I know people have nothing but the best intentions, but you do not go months at a time without sleeping without "how get baby sleep through night" being your #1 google search. And at this point, through the night is way more than I'm asking for. I'll take one - heck, I'll take TWO night wakings and call it success. He's capable of it - at around 4 - 5 months Owen was waking up once a night. This night waking stuff started around six months, and has been getting progressively worse since then. I'm entirely convinced that if present trends continue, we might as well resign ourselves to never sleeping again by a year.

It's because I drank all that coffee when I was pregnant, isn't it. dang.

On Owen's Future in Contact Sports.

It's promising, I'll say that. Yesterday Owen took a header down the flight of stairs that leads to the basement and ended up essentially shaking it off. He had just eaten his breakfast, and he was doing what he always does, which is crawl madly around the house pulling himself to standing on anything he can get his hands on. I was across the room from him, keeping an eye on him while he monkeyed around. He crawled over to the baby gate which is at the top of the stairs leading to the basement, which Andy installed a few weeks ago by bolting it to the wall. It's one of his favorite things to pull up on, which is fine, because like I said the thing is bolted to the wall. He likes pulling himself up on the bars and peering down the stairs.

Except that all the bolting in the world doesn't help if the damn gate is not CLOSED. From where I was standing, the gate looked shut, but it was not latched. So Owen pulled himself up, leaning forward in the process and....you got it. The gate swung inwards, and Owen went headfirst down the stairs. Watching this happen was probably the worst 5 seconds of my entire life, because I knew I was too far away to stop him and I could hear him falling down the stairs (but not see him, because the stairs are behind the bookshelf) and he of course was screaming his head off. As was I. Andy came running in when I screamed and, realizing what was happening, bolted for the stairs. I was trying to do the same thing, so like cartoon characters we crashed into one another. Finally Andy got down there and picked him up. He luckily fell straight down the stairs - and I say luckily because the stairs are open on one side to the basement, with a 8-10 foot drop to the concrete floor below. If he had tumbled or slid to the left instead of going straight down, the consequences are too terrifying to really contemplate.

We brought him straight to Newton Wellesley, with me of course hyperventilating all the way. In further luck, our pediatrician happened to be in the hospital taking care of the newborns in the nursery that day he saw us himself. I adore our pediatrician, so I was so happy to find out he was there. Owen had his first x-ray, as his nose was swollen across the bridge and had been bleeding when we picked him up so dr. Yuan was concerned it was broken. But, after his initial screaming after the fall, by the time we got to Newton Wellesley Owen was in a pretty good mood. He charmed the pants of all the hospital staff, especially the xray techs.

Today, Owen has a swollen nose and a black eye, but otherwise is none the worse for wear. He's been his usual cheerful self today despite looking like he's been in a barfight. I tried to take some pictures of his face for this entry, but he was so intent on climbing, exploring etc. that he would not stay still and these were all I could get:





guess he's feeling OK.

As for Andy and I, well, we'll probably never be the same again. I'm not sure my heart rate has returned to normal yet.

Oh, and we will certainly double (and triple) check all babyproofing in the future.

Happy Thanksgiving

I have some cute new photos to post from Thanksgiving. We did Turkey day with Andy's side of the family this year (at which time we somehow volunteered to host Thanksgiving next year. Yikes!) Owen is on the move. As you can see, his favorite things to do are pull up, crawl around, and make ridiculous faces. I included an adorable picture of Owen and his great-grandma. Owen is lucky to have a living great-grandparent. As wonderful as it is to see Andy's grandma enjoy him, it did make me sad that my grandparents never got to meet him.

Anyway, I have things to post about but there's been a hiatus because WE ARE NOT SLEEPING. Owen is going through a pernicious and terrible sleep regression. Last night he was up no less than 6 times, wailing like his life would end every time. I am exhausted. I will try and post more pictures and some more substantive thoughts later this weekend. But if I don't get to it, it's because I died of sleep deprivation. sorry.

Sniff.

Today was the first day that I went to work...and did not bring......

THE PUMP.

you'd think I'd feel wonderful! And liberated! And unchained from the wretched wheeze of the robot baby!

But I feel...sniff! sniff! my baby is getting big. he has four teeth! and I could keep pumping, but it's really a drag and he's already 8 months, which is WAY longer than most people nurse and I will continue nursing in the mornings and at night for as long as my milk lasts but still...


sniff.

Working Girl.

I have to work full time. THAT is a non negotiable state of affairs. Sometimes, that bums me out. I really like my job, so it's not like I'm dragging myself off somewhere I hate every single day. And when I really think about it, I don't think I'm suited to being home all the time. It would be fun for about a week, probably, and then I think I'd get really bored, really fast. If I had my optimum situation, I would work part time, or slightly less than part time, Maybe something in the 15-20 hours a week range. That would be ideal for me right now, because sometimes I feel like between work and Owen I have two full time jobs - (OH WAIT, I DO HAVE TWO FULL TIME JOBS!) and it's easy to feel like I'm doing neither of them well.

I am lucky in the sense that my job has given me the option of working either 5 eight hour days or 4 ten hour days, so I can be home with the baby on Fridays (like I am right this minute.) The obvious choice is the 4 ten hour days, right? Who wouldn't pick that! When I realized that option was available to me I jumped at it, and I've had that schedule for about 6 weeks now. It should be great for me. A whole extra day to get things done around the house, run errands, have playdates with my friends who are stay at home moms, and watch Owen try to chew through every electrical cord in the house, while still retaining my full time salary and benefits.

Except it's not really as great as it's cracked up to be. I LOVE being home Fridays, but it has created a nightmare for me at work. First of all, I don't really have a job that's suited to a 4 day week. I actually have a great deal of responsibility (relative to what I get paid, an absurd amount of responsibility. It's annoying.) And when I'm not there for 3 days, things invariably fall apart. Every Monday is a 10 (11, or 12) hour nightmare. Plus, I feel a lot of pressure to never screw up, ever, lest they take my Fridays off away. Also, I never really worked 40 hours to begin with - before the baby came I showed up a little before 8, and left around 5:30, five days a week - and that was barely enough time to get things done, despite the fact that I was a "40 hour" employee. Now, I get there around 7:40 and I try and leave by 6, I never take a lunch, and I am drowning in stuff to do.

But I want my Fridays, dammit! Every Monday I think "this is crazy. I need to just stop doing this and go back to my old schedule, and suck it up. Most people work five days a week. you should too." But just at the moment I decide to say something to my boss my brain rebels, and I don't do it. (Incidentally, that's the same exact thing that happens ever single day with nursing. I am so, so ready to stop. But some insane part of my brain is forcing me to continue. I am my own worst enemy)

So anyway, today I am home and the 4 day weeks seems like such a wonderful thing, I would be a fool to give it up. But on Monday, I know full well I will be cursing my existence.

I think I am losing my mind. Sigh.

a drive by-blogging.

I don't have a lot of time, but I can't not post about halloween. The great pumpkin himself appears!



We had a really great time yesterday. Owen's first halloween was a great success. We ended up having friends over and a little halloween party. The highlight was my halloween-inspired black bean dip:



KIDDING! (but you have to admit, that dip is cute.) The highlight was actually seeing our old friends Bill and Colleen, and thier son, Owen's buddy Liam. We miss them dearly! We got some great pictures of the two boys in their costumes. This is my favorite: the thought bubble above these two totally says "OMG. Why did you let your mom dress you up like that?"



I like this one too. It's as if they're colluding on a plan to give the two crazy women who dressed them up in ridiculous outfits for the sole purpose of taking pictures and laughing hysterically the slip.



Seriously, though, can you blame them?


Finally, a rare family shot:



awww. There you have it folks. Team Cox.

Just like his mama.

What's that you say? It's a holiday?




O, Reeally.





So friends, that means Caaaaaandy?




I know it means candy! Gimme candy!





Candy! Candy! Candy! Gimme Candy!




More pictures tomorrow on (er, the actual) halloween - with a totally different costume!

My legs aren't broken. So why don't I walk?

I live really close to where I work. No, let me emphasize that: REALLY close. In fact, this morning I realized that it takes approximately the same amount of time to walk to work as it does to drive, inclusive of dropping Owen off at his daycare, which is between my house and my work. This is mainly because there is one stoplight (offset, so it's green longer for the crosstraffic than it would be for me) and a couple one way streets (that I can't drive up but can obviously walk wherever I want) between there and here. So duh, you're thinking: of course, I walk to work every day, dropping off Owen on the way. It's good exercise, good for the environment, and just, you know, good. Because only a jerk would drive a mile, when she could walk HALF a mile, and get to the same places, in the same amount of time. right?

Er. So. Hi, my name is Jenny, and I'm a jerk.

The PROBLEM with the walking to work plan has red hair, weighs about 22 lbs, and has a disarming smile. He's charming, but don't let him fool you! Behind that goofy grin hides miles of INCONVENIENT. It's a pain in the butt for us to coordinate me walking to work. First of all, there's just all this..STUFF that has to be dragged around on his account. I'm still nursing, so every day I have to bring my pump bag (http://www.medela.com/ISBD/breastfeeding/products/advanced.php. Can't live without it) and that pump bag is heavy! Plus, we've already covered in earlier posts the comprehensive packing event that is Owen's daycare bag. Then there's Owen himself, and my work shoes - half a mile or no, I'm not wearing heels while pushing a stroller loaded down like a sherpa - my purse, my lunch, and sometimes my workout clothes.

Once I actually get Owen to daycare, the problems multiply. We have an awesome stroller - a big stroller. So, what to do with it once it's divested of baby? We could leave it in Ms. debbie's backyard, but that causes a bit of a problem, because the stroller is too big to comfortably fit in either car. That means when Andy comes to pick Owen up, he has to completely dissasemble the stroller so he can put it in the car. This makes Andy cranky, which is not a harmonious state of affairs. Andy doesn't get home early enough that he can park his car at home, walk to daycare, and then walk Owen home. He usually shows up with barely any time to spare before daycare closes. I don't even get out of work until daycare closes. So I could take the stroller with me to work....but then, where do I keep it? do I park it in the parking lot? I can't bring it up to my office.

More often than not, it's just easier to drive. I drive the baby to daycare, drop him off, and continue driving to work. Andy picks him up, and I drive the rest of the way home. But this is seriously hurting my green mama street cred.

I have to figure out a way to make walking work. Any suggestions are appreciated!

Cute overload

Blogger appears to be working again. Here are the aforementioned cute pics from earlier today. Enjoy!

Fall

Today we went to the fall foliage festival. Actually, it's more accurate to say we tried to go to the fall foliage festival - we actually never found the festival part, and it's probably just as well because as it turns out, Owen is not a big fan of foliage.



He's all: you can PUT ME IN A TREE BUT I'M NOT GOING TO APPRECIATE IT. SO THERE.

Anyway, so that was today. I have a bunch more cute pictures, but for some reason blogger isn't letting me post them. oh well, I'll try again later.

Oh, Canada.

Anyone who's known me for more than 10 minutes knows that I'm really unlucky. I'm grateful that in a truly big-picture sense - I have my health, and a loving family - I am doing fine, but I endure far more than my share of ironic indignities. I know people for whom things almost always go smoothly. I am not one of them. I just sort of expect bad things to happen to me.

I'm not sure why I thought buying a house would be any different. We THOUGHT that we were buying near the bottom of a garden variety real-estate cycle. In fact, we thought that not only were we buying low, we managed to benefit from some lucky timing: two days before we closed, the government announced that they were going to guarantee Fannie and Freddie, which resulted in a sudden, sharp dip in mortgage rates (we locked in at 5.85. Today, a 30 year fixed is hovering around 7). For once, I thought I had actually had a stroke of serendipity.

Ha. Of course not.

What that means, for those of you who have been following the news over the last month, is that we literally bought this house the day before the economy imploded. I'm not exaggerating. The very, ever loving day. One month and about 2 trillion in bailouts later, with no end in sight to the economic destruction, it turns out that once again, the universe takes particular delight in hating on me. We bought a house we could juuust barely afford. It was a bit of a stretch. But hey! we bought when the market was down! our salaries will only go up! the house will appreciate! And we'll be in great shape in five years!

Please, let me share with you some of the the high points of today's New York Times:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/16/business/economy/16housing.html?_r=1&em&oref=slogin
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/15/business/economy/15leonhardt.html?scp=1&sq=salary&st=cse

In particular, that first article is really worrisome. The house that we can barely afford right now (the two bedroom! house! that we can barely afford right now! but that's a rant for another day) - it looks like, with the coming recession, that we'll be barely able to afford it, if we can afford it at all, for the forseeable future.

the kid to-be-named-later I was planning on delivering in March 2010? Forget him/her. A second kid is a financial impossibility if neither of our salaries rise. Selling this house and moving to a lower cost of living area? Forget about it, if housing prices really have another 30% to fall. We'll be stuck here for the rest of our lives, unable to move.

I'm angry about a lot of things. But mostly, I'm angry about the brother(s) or sister(s) that I planned on giving Owen that I really think he won't get now. I'm angry that we have a government that let us get this far down the road to destruction. I'm angry because I think Obama will win the election, and the economy will continue to implode, because no one could stop this ship from sinking - and we'll end up with a facist, xenophobic dictator in four years because people will have an excuse to blame Obama and by extension poor people and minorities for problems caused by the rich and greedy, so they'll vote for the next Sarah Palin that comes along and tells them that the scary, evil, terrorists posing as Mexicans and gays are destroying the American dream.

I'm angry about a lot of things. And right now, I'm taking it out on having bought this house. Because when I was 8 months pregnant, I took a book out from the library titled "A guide for Americans wishing to relocate to Canada."

I'm really sorry I returned that book.

Babysitting

A friend of mine found herself unexpectedly without a babysitter today. So I offered to watch her daughter, Ava, since I was home from work anyway. We had a fun day!

To get ready to have our friend over, the first step was to charm her by trying on part of our halloween costume. A prize if you can figure out what we're going to be:





Then, Ava came over! she played with us & gave us hugs!



She also rocked out to our baby Einstein music player. The girl's a rock star.



I'm totally ready for number two. here's Owen impressing Ava with his snappy pumpkin hat:


Finally, speaking of cosleeping: this is what mornings look like around here.





heh heh heh, sleeping like...a baby.

FINE. We co-sleep. And that's ok.

Every night, the following occurs chez Cox: It's approximately 7 pm, and the baby is starting his cranky, tired, I've-had-enough-of-this-day fussing. Getting him down for the night is embarrassingly easy: five minutes invested in the glider, nursing, and he's out like a light. And every night, I come out of the baby's room swearing up, down and sideways that THIS TIME, for REAL, I'm SERIOUS, the baby is going to stay in his crib until the morning. I MEAN IT.

And every morning, without fail, the baby is snuggled and snoozing sweetly between Andy and I, with his little cold feet warming themselves on my tummy and his little face nestled on my chest.

I'm not claiming I don't know how he got there. Every night I get up and bring him into our bed. The problem is, he won't sleep more than four hours in a row unless he's in bed with me. It's terrible, because it sets up this catch-22 every night: I either listen to him wail, and neither of us get any sleep, or just go in and get him, put him in the bed with me, and we both sleep until morning. But every time I go get him, I'm teaching him that continuing to wail is the way to get what he wants, which is to get in bed with us. It's a lose-lose.

So the conventional wisdom is, I have to let him cry it out. But here's the thing: He doesn't cry it out. He just cries. Everyone tells me that I should just let him cry, and eventually he will go back to sleep. But he doesn't! One night I steeled myself and said that no matter what, come hell or high water, I would not go in. I would let him "self-soothe". I would wait until he went back to sleep on his own. Except he never did! He cried from midnight until 4:45, on and off, until I couldn't stand it any longer. I went and got him, put him in bed beside me, and he slept like a log until I woke him up at 9. Maybe, eventually, what people tell me is true. Maybe, if I had the willpower to listen to him cry, he'd eventually exhaust himself and give up and learn to sleep by himself.

The thing is, I'm just not all that invested in letting him cry. Perhaps I'm setting him up for a lifetime of failure and psychological problems by giving in, but it seems so much easier to me to just let him sleep next to me. He's not going to do it forever. In fact, when he's busy keeping a log of all the reasons that he can't stand me, I'll probably miss the days when he couldn't sleep unless he was in my bed. For now, the current system works really well. I put him in his crib around 7. He wakes up between 11 and 12, and cries until I pick him up. this is convenient, since I tend to go to bed around then anyway. I take him to bed, he nurses himself back to sleep, and we both sleep until we get up, around 6. Sometimes he wakes up and nurses himself back to sleep between 11 and 6, but he doesn't really wake me up to do so.

I have been stressing for months about how to end this arrangement. I keep telling myself that I HAVE TO PUT A STOP TO THIS! But the truth is, why monkey with a system that works just fine for everyone? Owen will organically transition himself out of our bed, and I can wait for that. I'm in no hurry to wish his babyhood away, anyhow. There's no guarantee I'll get another baby, and I'm determined to enjoy the one I have. Even if he pees in my bed once in awhile.

Patience, Grasshopper.

I know, I know, I KNOW. Where are the pictures of the new house? They're coming - but things are coming together slowly down here, and I don't want to post pictures until things are (reasonably)) put together. we're still working on curtains and unpacking the last dozen or so boxes, and we're at that stage where there's a whole bunch of random stuff unpacked but just...out, because we're not sure where we want to put it yet. We did go to Lowe's today (and spent $500, I nearly had a heart attack) and that was a big help. So things are moving in the right direction. I will put pictures up this week. In the meantime, some new pictures of his cuteness will simply have to do.

Happy Baby:




Drunk Baby:



Scowling Baby:



So Big!

We're in!

it's going to take me a little while to get the house in picture-worthy shape...and it's going to probably take me longer to find my camera. But we are 100% moved in to our very first house! We adore it. We love it so much we'd marry it, if we hadn't already married each other. And to tell you the truth, I suspect that if Andy could divorce me and marry the house - he'd think about it.

I'll post pictures as soon as it's presentable (and I find our camera). This is going to be a crazy week of unpacking/cleaning/working/mama-ing but they'll get up eventually, just keep checking back.

Cloth diapering in the real world

I know what you're thinking. Cloth diapering is insane. How do I know? well, mostly because you (I'm using the er, plural, nonspecific you) tell me all the time. I'm not sure why I feel so compelled to keep defending it - much like gay marriages, which I'm all for but can understand why you're not (again, the plural, nonspecific you), it's a lifestyle choice. I don't really care if you skip the whole independent toileting thing and encourage your child to spend her life from cradle to nursing home in diapers. Sort of a we come from dust, we return to dust kind of ethic - I can dig it. Maybe you've got your retirement funds sewn up in Kimberly-Clark stock. I don't want to see you destitute. Buy all the pampers you want then. I will happily explain the advantages of cloth diapering to anyone who asks, but I'm not out to recruit anyone. (Unlike those gays. Geez, those guys will say anything to get you on their team.)

But while I get that it's not for everyone, I just want to clear up the whole "it's insane" part. Because it's not, really. Like I mentioned in my previous post, I don't get my jollies out of creating extra work for myself, and domestic goddess I am not. So here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to explain to you how you can cloth diaper without any hassle, and then you can think about whether or not it matters to you from an environmental standpoint to actually do it. Because as the defense will show, it's really not any more work or mess than disposable diapers. If you don't think there are actual environmental advantages, or if you don't care if there are or not, (I'll accept both answers) then fine. But if you're one of the 50 people who have said to me since the birth of my son "Oh, I thought about using cloth diapers, but then I realized they were SO MUCH WORK/waaaaaaay too complicated/totally gross!/insert objection here" (or, in the short version "were INSANE") we're gonna setchoo straight, right here, right now. Reasons for using them: debatable. So much work: not.

Here we go! A primer.

First of all, pick a cloth diaper that's easy to use! Folding and pinning is SO 1953. (Shout out to Colleen M. - not that there's anything wrong with 1953. You rock on with your Ghandi fold). There ARE plenty of people who still use old school cloth diapers - those squares of cloth your dad still uses to wash his car with - which involve folding, some sort of fastening system, and usually a diaper cover. But I am not one of those people. For this reason, I chose to use an all-in-one diaper. A cloth diaper that looks just like a disposable diaper. The brand I use is BumGenius. Behold:

above is the bumgenius 3.0 all in one diaper. (note: bumgenius is not the only brand, just the one I use. there are others. I've heard Imse Vimse is great, too) It is essentially foolproof in terms of getting it on the baby. If you could put a paper diaper on your kid, then you could put this diaper on too. There's nothing to it. There is only one difference between this and your standard pampers or luvs - you don't throw it away when you're through. Clearly, this is the sticking point for most people. But I ask you, really, is it a fear of poop that's stopping you? Look, when you have a baby, there will be poop. Oh yes, there will be poop. If you think you can avoid it, you're deluded. Accepting poop as a baby given, here's how you handle it.
First of all, buy some of these:



these are diaper liners. They are basically a fabric/paper hybrid liner that you put in between baby and diaper each time you change the baby. They have major value in that they act as a poop catcher. When the baby pees, it just goes through the liner and into the diaper. When you change the (just wet) baby, you simply flush the liner or throw it away. But, if there's poop inolved, you'll really appreciate the liner. The liner protects the inside of the diaper from the majority of the poop, so you just fold it up and throw it away or flush it down the toilet. Flushing is the best option, as the whole goal is to eliminate landfill waste, but there are times and places when that's just not feasible (note: one of those times is when you have private septic. Just throw it away. you will thank me.) So far: No more work than a disposable, as you'd be throwing something away anyway, right?

So hypothetically, you've opened the diaper and found either just wet, or poop surprise. In either case, you've either flushed or thrown away the liner, and wiped up the baby's butt. So far, where have we encountered more work than a disposable? we haven't. Just instead of throwing the whole diaper out, you just throw it in a diaper pail. And then, every other day or so, you just wash the diapers.

Since so far there's no difference between cloth and disposables (you take off dirty diaper, wipe baby's butt, and throw something away in either case, yes?) the hangup must be the laundry. It's not that bad. Believe me.

We're talking about one extra load of laundry every three days. And no, poop will NOT get in your washer. All you have to do is buy this:



this thing is fabulous - and listen, I know from fabulous. They don't call me JJFabulous for nothing. this is a nifty attachment to your toilet - it will spray off any poop that the liner didn't catch before you throw your diapers in the washer. That way, all actual feces get flushed into the waste water system (where it BELONGS, might I add) and your diapers enter the washer largely poop free. Thanks to the microfiber of the diapers, it's basically the teflon of the fabric world. The poop just doesn't stick. The sprayer gets everything off except the slightest of staining, and the washer takes care of that. When I tell you my diapers have been through 6 months of poop and look brand new, I am not exaggerating. This sprayer does it's job.

So we've sprayed the poopy diapers - and since babies only poop once per day, we're talking 2-3 poopy ones per load. The pee ones you just throw in without doing anything - and put them in the wash. here are the special washing instructions for diapers.

1) put diapers in the washer, with some detergent, on cold to prevent staining.
2) have a glass of wine
3) when wash cycle ends, thrown knob to "hot" and do another cycle, to disinfect
4) have another glass of wine
5) transfer diapers from washer to dryer
6) have another....um. go to bed and get up early and go to the gym. Yep. that's what I always do. really!


et voila. you're done. what's so hard about that? Then, after the diapers are dry, you just reuse them. Advantages: you never run out. You're always a load of laundry AT WORST away from having diapers. No 4 am runs to CVS for you. You save a lot of money - by my accounting, in 6 months I've already saved about $500 on diapers. You're doing something good for the environment - if you consider the entire lifecycle of paper diaper manufacture, from petrochemicals to shelf, the advantages of a cotton product you reuse are clear. And most of all, cloth diapers are cute! they come in lots of fun colors, and they're not covered in marketing images - dora and big bird and blues clues would never show up on a cloth diaper. because cloth diapers are classy like that.

so anyway, there you go. Cloth diapers are EASY. daycare tip: take a diaper with you when you ask if they will use them. Most places will hear "cloth diaper" and immediately think of the rags they wash their cars with. But if you show them your all-in-one, they'll realize how not a big deal it is. When they change the baby (which they'd do anyway) they just throw the used diaper in a plastic bag they give back to you instead of a plastic bag they don't give back to you (which they'd do anyway). Like I said, my daycare lady does it - and she's not one for extra work.

plus, if you take my earlier advice? the extra laundry you incur by washing diapers is more than offset by the laundry you save by feeding the baby naked.

One last product plug:



this stuff is the SHIZZ. Even my pediatrician says Owen has the best butt skin he's ever seen and asked what I use. I dunno what's in this stuff, but it's magic. Pricey, but worth it. Trust.

more pictures soon, I promise.

Confessions of a terrible housekeeper.

If there are any truths about babies and food, then this MUST be one of them: no matter how you try and play it, there is no avoiding a giant mess. That's the idea behind bibs, of course. But let's be honest here: they don't make a bib that truly keeps the mess off the clothes. So really, when you put a bib on the kid, you're just creating an additional item of laundry per feeding. So my brilliant realization of the morning was, of course, feed the baby naked! He was gonna need a bath anyway, right? Et voila, less laundry for me. Bibs are for suckers.






So anyway, I got some sympathetic emails after one of my earlier posts offering to buy us some disposable diapers. Ok, people, let me introduce you to the concept of exaggeration: we are not so destitute (yet) that we could not purchase diapers if we wanted to. And yes, there has been a level 4 terror alert poop situation or two since Owen's palate has been expanded. But really, REALLY - cloth diapers are working for us. Even my daycare lady uses them without protest, and let me tell you - love to ms. debbie and all that, but she doesn't exactly lie awake nights thinking of ways to accommodate me, you know? Cloth diapers are simply not that much work - and trust me, I don't really do things that are a lot of work. You're talking to someone for whom "putting the laundry away" means tossing the pile of clean clothes on the dresser. Fer cripes sake, I just told you I feed the baby naked so I'll have less things to clean!

I felt the need to defend my cloth diaper use because everyone gave me a lot of guff for it when I was expecting. I can't tell you how many times I heard the comment "you're going to use cloth diapers? heh, yeah - let me know how that works after two weeks." well, I'm here to tell you that it's now been six months, and things are going just fine. And it IS significantly cheaper than buying disposables, but that's not why we do it. I spent pretty much my entire pregnancy researching the diaper issue (I'll spare you an expanded treatise on my eco-guilt, but let's just say it is a canyon that runs deep and wide) and I have read probably every printed existing word on the subject. And the answer is unequivocal: the best thing, from an environmentally conscious standpoint is to not have a kid at all. And if you're going to go ahead and have one anyway, then cloth diapers are a much more sustainable choice than disposable UNLESS you live in an extremely arid region, such as Arizona or the Sahara. Which we don't. So we cloth diaper. And it's working fine.