bodily functions

Babies have no self awareness. In some ways, it's a beautiful thing...just being yourself and not giving a hoot what anyone thinks about it. She only laughs when actually amused, not just to be polite. She actually yells and cries if she is bored - man, I wish I could do that sometimes! And she farts, burps and goes number two right in front of people. She grunts and squirms and we laugh. We wipe her mouth, her nose and her bum several times daily. And we don't mind. We don't exactly enjoy mopping up digested, pureed sweet potatoes but we gamely oblige.

What is it about that? If I had to wipe anyone else's rear end, even that of someone I really love, it would be traumatic. I would do it, in an emergency - hmmm, having a hard time thinking of an emergency like that. But if there was one, I'd do it. But it would be mind scarring. Although, now that I think about it, there was that one ill-conceived time with me, Bethany and a bikini waxing kit...shudder. But that didn't involve poop so much as an extreme crossing of all normal lines of privacy. It didn't go well. There may have been some blood and a lot of semi-angry name calling.

Anyway, it suffices to say that I think it is strange and kind of amazing that either biologically or spiritually or emotionally, we are wired to stomach a lot when it comes to parenting. Bad smells (one whiff of that diaper pail could knock out a quarter horse), gross substances (that squeezy bulb thing does NOT work on boogers - it's all about the spray), loud noises (a baby that has spied a full bottle that is not currently in her mouth is an earsplitting expereince), extremely reduced sleep quality and quantity (I hate whoever deicded that snaps are better than zippers - I mean, which would you rather do at 3 am in a cloud of horrible poop smell - one zipper or 14 snaps??)

BUt truly, there is nothing more incredible than watching the squirt do something new for the first time. Her latest trick is waving. She only uses her hand and kins of squeezes her fingers in and out - no arm motion yet. But we freak out when she does it, (Go ahead, picture two grown adults squatting down, clapping and screaming "YAY!") And when she smiles....man, you can have the worst day and see that smile and none of it matters.

tubing! Last year, I was pregnant

When we do stuff that we've done as an annual tradition this year, I find myself thinking back to the previous year, when I was pregnant. During the holidays, I couldn't have cocktails and didn't feel like hanging out with people who were, for example. During my birthday, I didn't celebrate with my usual zeal because staying up late in a smoky bar to sing karaoke didn't sound fun at all. Last year during our annual tubing excursion, I hung out on the sidelines and took photos. But in addition to missing out on some fun stuff, there was this sense of purpose and an air of excitement and anticipation to everything. The phrase "this time next year..." was uttered on many occasions.

Well, here we are. This time next year.

I'm a mom. And I feel like one, in all the great ways - I feel like a grown up. I feel responsible. I feel the joy of helping to create life, deliver it into this world and nurture it with all of my being. And all the not so awesome ways - what IS this extra roll and when will it go away??

But now I find myself thinking "This time next year...she'll be..."

I think of my life in terms of the milestones of this other person. This person who began inside my body, the size of a sesame seed, and who is now yelling, rolling, standing with just a fingertip of support, eating near adult-sized portions of oatmeal and seemingly taking the term "leak proof" as a serious personal challenge. This person who might go on to be a champion snowboarder or rocket scientist or supreme court justice. Or a pothead. Or a career criminal. Who knows.

Hopefully in a couple of years she'll be excited about stuff like snowtubing. I really can't wait to do stuff like that with her and I'll be pumped if she really likes it. I can tell you one thing. She doesn't like going to bed.

mobility

If you've met my mother, she has probably told you that I am an only child because I was a "horrible baby." This is not a joke. Apparently I was so grouchy as an infant my parents couldn't imagine going through all of that again. One thing my mom will say, if pressed on this topic, is that her assessment is that I just didn't like being a baby. Once I could talk and walk and had a little more control over my circumstances, I was much more pleasant. Prior to speaking and moving, all you can really do is cry. And I did a lot of it.

I know exactly what she means because I am pretty sure I am dealing with precisely the same thing. Cassidy is 7 months, one week and I think she is just done being a baby. She gets so unhappy and seems so frustrated that she can't tell us why. She gets bored so easily and she does NOT like being left alone. I think if she could get up and walk where she wanted or say "Hey, People, I've got a wet diaper here," I really think she would be less of an (as our pediatrician called it) "intense responder."

I love her babyhood. I love her being portable when I want and stationary when I want. I love her wee little self all curled up against me when she falls asleep in my arms. I don't midn meeting her every need and I love it when I can tell exactly what's wrong with her just by looking at her. But I also can't wait for her to be as independent as she wants to be.

7 months, tomorrow

Tomorrow Little Miss will be 7 months old. Here is a summary of her state of being at 7 months.

She doesn't yet crawl but she is really trying. When she gets tired she rolls onto her back and gets where she wants that way.

She says :"Dada, Baba and aye-yai-yai." She also fake-coughs with an "h" sound.

She shakes her head "no" when she doesn't want more food.

She has two teeth - bottom, middle

She still is a HORRIBLE sleeper. She sleeps until about midnight and then one of us goes in the room and holds her in the recliner. At 9 months we are seriously considering Ferberizing. Not that it will necessariy work...

She cries when she is left somewhere - like in her exersaucer or on a play mat, even if you are just walking 10 feet away to get something. She does not like the sense that you are putting her someplace to go and do something else. I spend a lot of time trying to fool her into thinking I am near her when I am now.

She is not very good at being read to. She grabs the book and wants to eat it.

RIght now she loves her plastic pail with plastic block shapes in it, her stackable rings and this little plastic chain link thing. Those are her favorites these days. She also loves her purple talking stuffed dog, Violet.

She likes NEW things - stuff she's never seen before. We have kept some toys in their boxes to kind of ration out to her. A new toy is usually very exciting. She also likes things she should not have like my cell phone charger and greeting cards.

She sits up unsupported very well and only falls over if she gets overly excited or reaches too far for something. If she falls over she cries a lot.

She can sip out of a cup of waterif you help her.

She is not into the sippy cup - it requires much more suction than one would think! I've tried to modify it so it comes out more easily but even so, she isn't into it.

We do not let her "watch" television except if there is an important sports game on like the Steelers or Penguins. Occasionally, Kevin has a rerun of Family Guy or The Office on when she gets her last bottle. Of course, when we go to other people's houses, some people just have the tv on for...what? Background noise or something? (I really don't understand this, myself, because I find it challenging to have a conversation when there is a tv in my ear but I realize this is what many people do, so I dont' really think about it much.) But we are keeping the idea of TV as a novelty to her. It's not good for little ones to watch tv or even be exposed to it regularly, probably ever, but certainly not until age 2. This child is already very strong willed - the last thing I need is ADD/ADHD on top of that. I know a lot of people use tv as a babysitter, and I can totally understand that on some days when I am trying to get my work and school work done and watch her at the same time, but I'm trying to avoid that whole situation, tempting as it may be. It is one of few things I haven't caved on.

I make Cassidy's babyfood. So far we have done carrots, applesauce, sweet potatoes, butternut sqaush, spinach, avacado, garbonzo beans and potatoes. She has had exactly two jars of jarred baby food and I am NOT a fan. (Although I am ok with organic jarred food on occasions where it's impractical to carry homemade babyfood around.) She has liked everything except potatoes and avacado but she might just have been grouchy on those days. She has also had oatmeal and rice cereal.

Cassidy went to her first day at a real daycare 2 Fridays ago. Two days later she came down with the stomach virus from hell. Pooping everywhere and a little vomit. We are on day 10 and there is still at least 1 major blowout per day that involves an entire wardrobe change and wipedown or full bath, and several bad diaper changes. We have gone through an obscene number of diapers and an entire tube of diaper cream. Thank you Method brand for making an awesome diaper cream that has kept her bum rash-free. The doc says just keep her hydrated and make sure there is no fever. We have been giving her Pedialyte and pro biotics. Hopefully we will be over this soon. The other part of the story is that she managed to give this to me, Kevin, my mom, my dad and my cousin. I will spare you the details but it was NOT pretty.

That about wraps up her 7 month update. She is a delight about 60% of her waking hours and about 50% of her should-be-sleeping hours. This about sums it up:

There once was a girl who had a big curl,
RIght in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good, she was very, very good.
But when she was bad, she was horrid!

Blizzard, continued

This winter storm has been crazy. Although we had more snow 17 years ago, in 1993, I don't remember anything about that snow storm except sled riding and being off from high school for a few days. It's a different story when you're an adult. First there is the shoveling. See, it normally takes about 45 mins to shovel our driveway. That is, when there is a regular 3 inch snow storm. So, if you multiply that by about 7...that is a lot of shoveling. Granted, kevin did most of it, but I helped when he got tired. When you have an infant, you can't shovel at the same time - someone has to hang inside with the baby.

With this snow, it got to the point where there was no place to put it - the yard areas alongside the driveway were piled up higher than our heads. So, not only were we shoveling, but we were heaving this heavy, wet snow up and over the ridge that had piled up. Our backs are paying for it. I can't imagine what older people who have no help are doing. Our neighborhood is primarily people in their 30s and 40s except our next door neighbor who is an older woman and we share our driveway with her (obviously we take care of snow removal.)

Yesterday I went to the grocery store. Talk about the apocalypse. First of all, the parking lot was jam packed. And this is a big parking lot. I've never seen it even close to full. Secondly, there was still about an inch of snow packed onto the pavement, so no one could see the lines for parking spaces, so it was just a cattywampus mess. I parked at the very back of the lot, which is actually more for the nearby shopping plaza and hiked the 300 or so yards to the front doors, though the snowy, slushy, chaotic mess. I decided to just get the bare essentials (which of course still somehow costed $75) because I wasn't pushing a grocery cart all the way across the icy parking lot with these fools trying to kill each other over parking spaces. As I walked by drivers and pedestrians in varying stages of panic and road rage, I observed that even though the sky was blue and the sun was shining, people were acting like the end was near! I thought to myself "The storm is over - why is everyone freaking out now?" I watched people rushing through the store, cutting in line, pushing, hitting other people's carts to get the last freaking package of smoked sausage. Then it hit me - it was the afternoon before the Superbowl. People were frantically shopping for supplies for Superbowl parties. Ohhh. Since we didn't have plans to go to a party (we were just going to the same bar we always go to) it didn't occur to me that it was that night.

Driving to and from the store was also an adventure. THe four lane highway I normally take was reduced to roughly 2 lanes, with snow piled up high on either side. Occasionally, an ambitious driver (usually a young girl with her hair in a messy ponytail, looking down into her lap half the time, ie. texting - yes! Text all your friends to tell them how crazy and dangerous the roads are while driving on them! Yay for multi tasking!) would venture into no man's land - an area that could be envisioned as a passing lane...but it was much slushier and they would then decide that was a bad idea and attempt to drift back, rudely, into the right lane, causing everyone to slam on their brakes. Additionally, trees were down everywhere and, most disturbing, there were a lot of trees leaning, held up only by...power lines. I had to drive under a tree that was leaning all the way over the road, totally covered in snow, weighing heavily on the power lines. It really freaked me out. I tried to go home a different way but there was a huge fallen tree totally blocking the road so I had to go back and go underneath the scary might-fall-at-any-moment tree.

What a crappy way to die, getting crushed by a tree.

My grad school class is cancelled. I will wait a while before going in to work - at least until the crazies are done driving through rush hour. The trolley system is only partially running so Kevin may have a tough time getting in to work. Cassidy is with Grammie and Pappy. We are hearing stories of friends who have had to walk to relatives homes because they had no power. My uncle rigged up a generator to get the heat going so he could keep him, his wife, two of her adult kids and their families warm through two days of this because they all lost power. The temperatures are dropping and there is news of another snow storm coming tomorrow, bringing an additional 4-8 inches of snow. The National Guard has been called in to help get to the thousands of people who are stranded with no power.

I'm home from work today because we have been asked by the mayor to not travel unless absolutely necessary. I don't have anything snarky or particularly amusing to say - just wanted to document the Big Blizzard of 2010. My dad occasionally refers to the snowstorm that happened when he was an infant in November of 1950 - it's the kind of thing kids like to hear about. "When you were a baby..."

more photos from the blizzard

HOUSE


CAR (!!)



Lemonscarlet and Lemonette

Cassidy's first BLIZZARD!

And....how she felt about being cooped up inside all day:

The morning rush

If you've been my friend for any length of time, you've probably been late to meet me at some point and felt some level of my wrath. I am on time. It's in my blood. I was raised to believe that being late was, quite simply, unacceptable. If I were to add up the hours upon hours I've sat in a restaurant or bar or coffee shop waiting for a friend...if I linger on that thought long enough, my head will explode. So, yeah, I'm a little Type A in that area.

Even with unexpected rush hour traffic I was never late for anything. In fact, even on days when I was so stressed, driving, swearing, flipping the bird at each vehicle I angrily passed, certain I'd be embarrasingly late, I usually walked in to an empty room only to sit and wait for others to arrive.

I fondly recall what it used to be like, to get out the door in the morning. The only question was if I had enough time to actually wash and dry my hair. I'd floss, exfoliate, spend 15 minutes deciding what to wear, dress and then change twice. I'd make an egg white sandwich for breakfast and maybe stop at the post office on the way. Then I become a parent.

I now wake up a full hour earlier than I used to. Half the time I have spent my "sleeping" hours in a semi-reclined, recliner with a wiggly 7 month old in my arms. We get up, I hand her off to her father while I make coffee and grab a South Beach bar. I drink coffee and gnaw on my surprisingly yummy granola bar and while I get ready now, instead of while browsing Facebook, CNN and Babycenter. He hands her back to me. She goes in her co-sleeper thing that has mostly functioned as my clothing rack ever since she decided at about 1 month old that she was so done with sleeping anywhere besides within mine or her daddy's exhausted embrace. She sits in the co-sleeper and might watch me get ready for a few minutes, but mostly she will scream if I am not looking directly at her. I trade off my morning tasks with paying attention to her. Brush teeth, hand her a toy, rinse under shower for 7 seconds, sing her a song, attempt to button skirt that used to fit, swear, throw skirt across room, tickle her belly. She multi-tasks by shaking her plastic key ring, screaming and spitting up on the sweater I was going to wear.

We get her dressed. This takes much longer than it ever should because just when I was making good time, I realize that she is now 7 months and no longer fits in most of the 3-6 month clothing which were sparse anyway becuase we haven't done laundry in 2 weeks. Awesome. Where the hell did we put the 6-9 month stuff? She usually ends up in something a little too big, a little too small, slightly mis-matched or not quite right for the weather. I hate winter. I also hate baby socks. She has never kept two on for more than 3 minutes. I have occasionally pondered just how bad super glue would be for a baby's skin.

On days her daddy is around to help we do better than if he isn't, because if he has to leave early, we somehow have to get her/her carrier, my work bag/laptop, purse, coffee and anything else we need out the door. Yes, I have spilled coffee on her - but don't worry, I haven't actually had hot coffee in months.

If we get to the babysitter at the time we said we'd be there it's a miracle. This babysitter is nice. The last one seemed kind of put out no matter what time I got there which was offputting and unsettling (which is why we have a new babysitter.) But this one is chatty. It doesn't matter how late you are - never be even the teensiest bit rude to the babysitter, at least not when you are leaving the baby in her care. Even the nicest person doesn't go the extra mile for your kid when you are acting like a bitch to them.

By the time I have explained her latest bowel movement and more recent feeding and get back in to my car, I have 2 voicemails and 27 emails. I have resolved to not risk leaving my child motherless by texting and or checking email while driving, so it eats at me the entire drive there as I consider if public transportation would ever work into this crazy schedule so I could at least get some work done during transit. I decide it won't, so I turn up the radio and rock out to a little (enter cool band you've never heard of...actually I listen to NPR and probably will forever unless Jon Steward gets a Serius/XM channel all his own.)

I walk into work - my "new" job that I started shortly after having the babe. You know, the job where they think of me as a chronically slightly late person. My only solace is that my husband has always been a ridiculously late person...and he's good enough at his work that no one has ever fired him or done more than just rolled their eyes. That's the key - you have to be good enough that it doesn't matter. And though mommyhood is to blame for my lateness, it has sharpened just about every skill I have and heightened every sense and further galvanized my already stellar intuition. Basically, I rock and you can wait five minutes for me - I'm worth it.