I shouldn't be writing this.

Dear World,

I shouldn't be writing this blog entry. I should be sleeping. But I can't sleep right now, even though the baby is sleeping. I have a dozen things to do to take advantage of this time. Like:

1. Toss the laundry into the washer.
2. Pump so the kid has his next meal.
3. Remove and fold the laundry in the dryer from yesterday.
4. Wash bottles so the kid has something from which to eat his next meal.
5. Make his next pediatric appointment.
6. Eat.
7. Refill the water pitcher with filtered water.
8. Run the dishwasher (it's all set to go - I didn't want to compete with shower water).

About half way through that list he'll wake up again and I'll go through this cycle:

1. Feed the kid (if I got as far as #4).
2. Burp the kid.
3. Rock the kid to sleep.
4. Since he won't go to sleep, try the swing.
5. Since he's fussing after 10 minutes in the swing, pay attention to him.
6. Feed the kid.
7. Rinse repeat.

The above cycle takes about two hours. The first list (chores) takes about an hour and a half, not including pumping, which takes about 45-60 minutes. So you can see that squeezing in time for everything is just damn near impossible - and sleep is out of the question.

I feel like I spend inordinate amounts of time trying to get the little tyke to sleep so I can, too... but all that happens is the chores pile up and my own needs (bathroom, shower, OMG I haven't brushed my teeth today!) slowly slip down the priority chain.

I've conquered glaciers at 14,000 feet; saved million dollar corporate projects from ruin; rescued Girl Scouts from hypothermic backpacking disasters; coached come-from-behind youth hockey and soccer teams to championships; I consider myself a very self-sacrificing person in all I give back to the world. I've done any number of things to be proud of that very few human beings can equal... yet I think of my own mother (and step-mother) as super-moms who made everything look easy, who made all the right choices and somehow managed to keep themselves together. I reflect on this as I feel like I'm falling apart, having lost any semblance of control over my life or even just my day.

People keep telling me it gets better, or at least hard in a different way. Personally I can't see any end to those two lists up there. Even if he sleeps through the night, I'd still have to get up and pump; I'd still not get a full night's sleep. Ah well. He's lucky as hell I'm totally in love with him or he'd be on someone else's door step by now.

Weekend of the Moon(s)

This weekend was full (of) moon(s) --- sorry I'm trying to make a funny here. Anyway, my dad, step-mom, and siblings were all here this weekend to visit us and Finny. It was a nice, mellow weekend of watching Olympics, movies, and so on. We took a walk to Baja Fresh and Fin was as cool as can be. Here are some photos...


This is Grandpa Moon (my dad). His whiskers were apparently too much for Fin, who is not yet familiar with Santa Claus.



Auntie Laura is a natural with the babies.


Here's the nuclear family. Please note we are not a "nucular" family.


And this is Grandma CynDee, Laura, and Uncle Ethan (who was bored to tears).

The pic of Sarah was blurry so -- sorry Auntie Sarah! :)

In other news, Fintan is really starting to react to things in his environment a little more. He likes his Aquarium Cradle Swing and the colorful fishies mobile that it has. He also paid attention for the first time to the mobile over his bassinet. He actually watched it for about a half an hour, tracking the bears and fish as they circled by, and then moving his head back to the next (approaching) one. It's good practice for reading - left to right, then back to left...

By the way, from the last post: I slept, and Sweden won. Yay!

Sleep or Olympic Hockey?

So I'm up pumping (ouch!) and in about 15 minutes the gold medal hockey game between Sweden (yay) and Finland (mostly yay) is about to start.

Do I watch or do I sleep!?

I'm sure all my female relatives would tell me to sleep, well, except possibly Aunt Esther, who is herself a hockey nut. And I'm tired and would really like to sleep, but I need to watch this game. Unless Mark is recording it. The last time I got up super early to watch Olympic hockey was when the U.S. Women's team won the gold medal. (I cried. It was a beautiful moment.)

Because Fintan "Foppa" Harwood was born to two geeky hockey players, we can only hope he'll want to play as well. I believe it's in his destiny. Here's the logic:

• One of my all-time favorite players is Peter Forsberg (a Swede).
• Peter is one of the best hockey players in the world (when not injured).
• Peter wears #21.
• Thus, I wear #21.
• Fintan was born on the 21st.
• Peter made his NHL debut on January 21, 1995.
• Fintan was born on January 21, 2006.
• Fintan has a little Swedish in him.
• Everyone thinks I'm Swedish because of my name (though I'm very little Swedish, far as I know... I'm mostly Danish/German).
• Sweden beat the U.S. Women's team this year.
• Sweden is about to beat the crap out of Finland.

Well anyway, if the numerology part isn't enough to convince you, nothing will.

My Heroes: Sundin & Forsberg.

A fun adventure

Fintan had his first over-nighter somewhere other than home since he came home from the hospital. Because my aunt (Kathy's mom Rose) is visiting, we went to Kathy's in Newport Beach and spent the night. It was fun, but traveling with an infant is a royal pain. There is so much to juggle, especially when you know you have to keep to your feeding and pumping schedule, when Omi is trying to feed the kid more than you think he needs (although if he wants it, who am I to deny it?), when he is likely to pee himself more often than you have clothes to spare, when you don't know how many empty bottles you'll need, etc. But it's all just a great big adventure and we had lots of fun. He took it like a trooper (I'm not sure he even noticed where he was) but I'm sure it had a lot to do with being juggled from one bosom to another and never having reason to fuss.

Of course, no sooner did I get home with him, and Omi and Rose gone, than he started up. Got a little too accustomed to being held and coddled, I think... I couldn't get him to settle down long enough to do a load of laundry. I tried the other carrier I have, a Snugli, which is a little easier to maneuver than the Baby Bjorn and has a softer seat so his little legs aren't splayed out at 90-degree angles to his body. However, the second time I put him in it we couldn't get it to fit right and sure enough it was a disaster like the Bjorn. Oh well.

Meanwhile I've been fighting (for the whole week) a scratchy throat and a very, very slight cough, which I attributed to the air quality and dryness, but this evening it seems to be getting more intense and the dry cough more frequent, and I'm worried I'm really getting a cold and that I might give it to munchkin. I really don't want to have to deal with him being sick, much less when I'm sick, too. And to top it off, Mark came home from work early because he is sick - but his is a stomach thing so hopefully it's more due to something he ate and not a contageous thing we'll all get. Poor guy came home, barely said a word, crashed in bed, and has pretty much been out since.

In other news, my friend Debbie had her baby naturally on 2-21. Yay!

Fintan is on the other side of the sofa.

Apologies to my fans...

My apologies to those who live and die by my blog's up-to-dated-ness. :) I've been a little busy with the Fintan-admirers.

I was really grumpy yesterday. I threw things in the kitchen at my 6:00 am pumping time because I have been really, really tired and had it up to here with my sleep-deprived clumsy self. Not to mention how every pet peeve I've ever had is magnified 1000 times. Needless to say, I asked my mom to spend the night and she is dealing with kid all night and I am just up to pump. So far I've gotten two three-hour sleep stints since 6pm yesterday and I feel much better. I still feel resentful at having no sleep and having to get up now to pump but it's not at a tipping point.

That child is still the most adorable little person ever. I'm sick with love for him. As well I should be.

There was a lot more I wanted to say but I can't remember. Just ... thank gawd for mommies of mommies. I really need this break!

What to write...

I'm bored and I can't get my brain into gear to write. Not to write this blog, not to write a very brief news item for a "The Movies" web site news section, not to write stories, not to write anything. Boredom is a killer of creativity - and there are many explanations of it. My former journalism teacher said "Boredom is an internal disease." I think that once meant something to me, but today it doesn't. Thus, I don't know what to write.

I "got out" today. Getting out is kind of like an exercise in chaos management. Feed the kid so he's sleepy. Get the stuff together - you know, whatever the "stuff" is that goes in a diaper bag, etc. Check weather.com for temperatures, so you know how much to bundle him up. Make sure you have your own things - keys, wallet, cell phone. Get in the car, go. Hope he sleeps in the car because you're in the front and he's in the back in a rear-facing car seat and you can't see if he's suffocating on the extra clothing you stuffed him into, or if one beam of sunlight is right in his eye. Get where you're going and get the stroller untangled and open, get the diaper bag into it, get the kid out. Wheel yourselves to wherever you're going. Traverse potholes in the parking lot; bump into a wall or two. Pray someone holds the door open. Pray he stays asleep the whole time.

In this case I met with Gina and her mom, and we had lunch at California Chicken Cafe in Encino. It was nice to see Gina, and we talked about lots of things other than the kid, which is also nice. I looked at all her pictures of her trip to the Philippines and her family and stuff. We were there for two and a half hours. At the end, Crankypants started to wake up, so I took him out to show him off, and of course everyone in the restaurant who passed by our table had to comment on how adorable he is/was. He was also sweating, poor thing, in all his bundling. So I took him out of some of it.

Then we went home, had another feeding, pumped, you know, the usual "I'm at home being bored" drill. Poor mamma. Fortunately Mark came home from the ranch shortly after I got the kid his bath. We spent the rest of the afternoon... gawd I don't even remember. Eventually we started catching up on the third season of Battlestar Galactica, which we have been remiss in watching. Two more to go, including last night's episode...

Tomorrow Omi and Aunt Rose come to visit. Not sure if Kathy is going to join them. Mark and I should be able to sneak off for a "romantic" dinner or something peaceful, or I'll just sleep. Sleep is nice. I like sleep. Sleep kills boredom and kills time and kills insanity. Just need someone to be awake enough to put his bippie back in when he spits it out every ten minutes, else it's not really sleep, is it???

Waking (cats) up is hard to do...

If I didn't have to pump, this torture would be over in half an hour, and I would get a full three-hour chunk of sleep. But as things become routine, I suppose a two-hour chunk is good. I've set things up in front of my regular computer, and I'm going to play a campaign from Star Wars: Empire at War (the demo) and capture some footage of ground battle on Tatooine. (GEEK ALERT!!)

Ikey is so sad. He wants to sit in front of my monitor and watch the cursor and the flashing, moving things and bat at them. But I have so many papers and things piled there (on purpose) so he is over at the other end of the desk being sleepy-sad.

Tribble is crashed on teh floor. Literally. When they sleep in weird positions we call it a "crash landing." I actually stepped over him to get to my desk - a rarity! I think he must be completely exhausted from his midnight game of "tag" with Peeps, whom I can't even find. See, even the cats have trouble waking up at this hour!

They are adjusting pretty well, all things considered. Tribble and Ike love the Pack-n-Play, fortunately only when the kid isn't in it. Nirmal feels very neglected. He sits in front of the fridge begging for freeze-dried chicken treats and/or wet food and/or the chicken from Whole Foods Mark bought me so I can eat during the day. He's no dummy. However, sometimes when I'm holding the kid and I can tell he wants on my lap, he has this look on his face like he's just biding his time. Sinister. He's the intelligent one so you have to wonder (and worry).

Peeper doesn't really care about the kid - she just wants her lovin'. She is very assertive about getting her lovin' while I'm feeding or burping the kid on the chair. She's even stepped on him while insisting on lovin' while we are both in the bed. She's also slept between us, around us, etc. It's all very innocent and cute but the fluffy children are needy too.

Something other than me!

My child is watching the lights in his LeapFrog Learning chair!!! This, to me, is a breakthrough. Even last night he was looking at anything BUT the colorful, engaging, tinkling melodiosly light dance on the little baby mirror. Maybe today he'll actually start reaching for those dangly plastic handles that invoke a song or other reaction. It's all so much more interactive than just staring off into space, or staring into my face. (Not that I mind him adoring his mamma!)

I seriously was beginning to wonder if he was deaf or blind or something the way he just doesn't look at anything. He'll turn his head toward my voice sometimes, but not really look AT me. In fact his "staring into my face" isn't really all that either - it's in my general direction. He almost always turns his head to the right, as if craning to hear from his left ear, no matter what stimulates him to move that way. It's kind of creepy. Of course, I keep telling myself, he's a newborn, he'll need some time to get proper coordination of his eye and neck muscles.

Or it could just be that, like his mamma and probably his dadda, he is introverted, introspective, and highly imaginative... and just likes the images he sees in his mind's eye much more than the things he has to look at around here.

Joy of joys

My milk is not recovering fast enough. I don't get it. I seem to be running out! It's infuriatingly inconsistent, but for the last 24 hours - n0, make that the last 48 hours (since that miracle 8-oz session) I am lucky to get 3-4 oz total. In fact my right breast is so slacking that I am not even pumping it now, just applying a warm compress and hoping it will "recover" so that I get something useful in the next session. This kid may be destined for formula after all. I don't understand why it's dropping off so badly!

Fintan is getting good at lifting his own head, and he likes to be held vertically so that he can do so and look around. He was awake most of the day yesterday and quite fussy if I put him down, so we had a lot of singing-bonding time but it's not easy on poor me. He sure is cute, tho.

I had a good V-day. Mark surprised me by coming home super early (4:30) and while he went out to pick us up some dinner I took a nap (Fin had finally dozed off). After dinner I was more perky, but of course Fin was awake and being a pain in the rear. I just held him while we watched Olympic coverage (mostly downhill and men's short program in skating). I remember growing up the only thing we watched on Olympics was the figure skating, and it's still fun to watch these great athletes. However, they're still foo-foo!! Give me hockey any day.

A Valentine's Day to Remember

This will be a very strange Valentine's Day. Normally Mark and I go to dinner together. I mean, we normally would go to dinner together, since neither of us cooks, and we'd pretend that this particular dinner was something special. It's the thought that counts, right? We also usually go to K Chocolatier in Beverly Hills - expensive, rich chocolates sold in a tiny hole in the wall off Little Santa Monica Blvd. in downtown BH. Just to go there is an experience, and they'll stuff you with all the chocolate samples you can tolerate. She can afford to do that at $25/box (the price there is well worth it). That's pretty much been our Valentine's Day tradition.

Now we have a new addition, and I am reluctant to take him out to a restaurant yet. I will be doing that this weekend when I visit with Gina and Troy (two school friends), but he'll be 28 days then and technically not a newborn any more. We'll be doing lunch, not dinner when hundreds of other couples are in the same restaurant trying to be romantic. Who needs a potentially screaming infant breaking that mood?

So what shall we do? We could still go to K this weekend and get our fill of chocolates, but my mother says I shouldn't eat chocolate while breastfeeding. (I do sneak a dark chocolate baton here and there, and there are chocolate chips in my Uncle Eddies vegan chocolate chip cookies, of course. And occasionally I'll have Chocolate Obsession soy ice cream, my favorite in the universe, which reminds me - Kathy brought some over on Sunday!)

I haven't even gotten my poor honey a card. He's going to feel so neglected! Don't worry, honey, I love you!!! You are my Valentine and you don't have to share that with Finny!

The A$$ Crack of Dawn

I'mk just sitting here pumping at the "ass-crack" of dawn, pardon the expression. I can't really think of anything to say, except that he let us sleep for four straight hours. He'll be up again at 7:30 which stinks cuz I'll only get an hour and a half, and then it will be the routine of 15-minute bippie-spitting intervals where I try to catch a Z or two in between his alert protests. He's so adorable, though. How could anyone be mad at him or blame him? I'll just pull him into bed with me, cuddle up, and hope my closeness is enough to keep him occupied for a while.

Last night I thought I was coming down with a fever. Again I went to bed with chills and aches, and felt like I was freezing to death, and then when I awoke at 4:15 to feed him I was drenched in sweat. Sweat is how we supposedly dump the hormones, but this is ridiculous. So then I am roasting to death. Now that I'm pumping again I will probably go to bed totally freezing again. It's a vicsious cycle. It doesn't help that it's 85 during the day and not much cooler lately at night.

With my body trying to adapt to the hot winter weather and the slow release of these hormones, I have to wonder what the temperature is really like. I have lots of blankets on my little bunny, but I worry that he's overheating, too cold, etc. It's so hard to tell for me - how can I be sure what's right for him? Mom says to look out for the prickly hives if he's too hot. He always kicks the covers down under his arms (loves his hands to be free) so he could be too hot at the bottom and too cool at the top!? Sigh! Oh well, he's not dying, so I suppose he's fine.

New World Records!

Well today marks a few milestones.

1. I pumped more than 7 oz in one sitting! In fact I'm still going and it looks like it'll peak at 8 oz!
   
2. I went for a 2+ mile walk with the kid in the stroller!
3. I went to the hockey rink with the kid in the stroller!
4. I actually watched an American win a gold medal in an Olympic event!
   

Lots of friends and teammates are still giving me gifts, and I feel kind of bad not reciprocating (yet). I missed Binky's shower yesterday and I feel bad, I wanted to go but I was not up to it. BINKY I HOPE YOU HAD A WONDERFUL SHOWER!!! Sorry I mssed it! Love you!

Kathy came over today and boy is it nice to hand Squirmy over to someone for a while, if just to free up my hands. She brought my fave Starbucks drink and some Uncle Eddie's vegan chocolate chip cookies (the best cookies, believe it or not!), and we destroyed her white sweater with coffee stains and stuff, and we watched "Lord of War" which is a strange, slow, good, and rather disturbing movie. We did that long walk together. It was great to have her visit. I wish I could have a conversation about something other than Fintan or Motherhood-is-Hell for more than five minutes, though. I feel so self-absorbed!

And now... feed the kid so he sleeps for 4 hours; rinse, repeat.

Advice for my Expectant Friends

Because I am the first to pop among a group of my friends - many of whom don't know each other - they seem to all be looking to me for a little/lot of information about the whole process. I've told some of them these things here and there in person, but for those who are not in contact as often, here is my advice for the vaginal birth process.

Warning - some of this content may be too graphic for some of our more sensitive or shy readers.

• Have some idea in your mind what you want the experience to be; make decisions ahead of time about breastfeeding, episiotomy, etc. However, know that Plan B is always going to be "go with the flow" because you never really know what you're going to get.
• Whether you get to experience Plan A or have to resort to Plan B, just surrender to the process and surrender to Nature. You don't have to give up things you strongly believe in, like surrendering to nurse pressures to give your baby formula, but do let Nature do what it needs to do and don't fight it.
• It's not pain. It's discomfort. "Yogically speaking" it's a sensation or rush. At least until you get to transition - then you can call it whatever you like. (Truthfully, I did not feel pain in labor. Just intense discomfort.)
• If they offer you an episiotomy, take it. You can fight having an epidural if you want to, but tearing stinks big time, trust me.
• Speaking of episiotomy - stretch. Now. Daily. Screw your kegels, just stretch. It's kind of uncomfortable, but it's a lot less so than tearing in three places. Do it yourself first before letting your husband do it. However, don't do it when you're in labor, because you could cause swelling.
  
• I still strongly encourage those who want to do it "naturally" (i.e. no drugs) to do so. I still wish I had been more with Plan A so I could have stuck with it. But be glad you're in a hospital where there are options. You're not a failure if you have to take the drugs.
• Everything they give you at the hospital - take it home. Everything. Squirt bottle, pads, disposable underwear, the little t-shirts the kid is wearing, etc. Some things you won't want, like the gown, but anything that's yours that no one else can use, take it.
• Don't expect to wear your fancy new nursing nightgown when you recover. You'll be glad you're bleeding all over their stuff and not your own. If they give it to you, use it.
• Arrange for help ahead of time. You're nuts if you think you can do this alone. Trust me. I'm "strong" and "independent" and all that stuff, and normally I would get a little defensive at someone telling me I'd be a total train wreck emotionally and physically. You really do need all the village women to help you out, but at least having your mom there will be a blessing.
  
• Stool softener. 'Nuf said.
• You and your husband may take a long time to bond, to really start to feel anything for this alien creature that bares no resemblance to the heavenly child you bonded with in the womb. That's okay, it's normal. Give one another time to accept and adapt.
• Have someone take lots of photos - of first bath, of baby with goop on her, of first suckle, of first anything. You don't need gore photos of the birth though I am glad I have a couple of them.
• The actual birth is not all that messy/bloody. It's what comes afterward that will likely make the husband pass out. Queasy hubbies need to watch a lot of birth videos and bloodyhorror movies and whatever else they can to desensitize and prepare themselves.
• Three weeks are down and I still can't sit for long periods of time. Don't expect a rapid recovery. I have no idea how women go back to work after six weeks. I can only hope I'm healed by then! Take as much time off work as they will let you.
• Definitely have a pediatrician lined up before you start, and make sure they are going to be able to see the baby within a few days of the birth, which is sort of on the fly since you don't know what day it will be. But if it takes a week to get an appointment, you're not going to be able to get in that 3-day checkup.
  
• Find out ahead of time what the policies are on food & drink. I arrived at the hospital famished and they wouldn't let me eat or drink. There's nothing like trying to push out a bowling ball while famished. (I brought my own snacks, but never had a chance to eat them.)

There's probably more I could tell you but that's all I can think of while my brains are being suctioned through my nipples. If you have questions, email me! :)

Sling Shot Reilly

My sling arrived a few minutes ago (it's the one you recommended, Dean) and we're testing it out. I have a feeling that despite Medium being suggested for my bust size, etc., it does not take into account the larger "person" wearing it and the larger "baby" inside it. So I may have to send it back and get a Large. So far, though, it is a godsend. I can't stand the thought having to wait until Monday or later to get the Large, and meanwhile not having my hands free! Well, you keep one hand on the baby. But right now I am sitting at my desk and he is in the sling supported on my lap. It does sort of crunch him up into a bundle but it's almost exactly like swaddling, and with his bippie he seems perfectly contented. Oh and his little hands are free. He likes that. He's over the whole swaddling thing. Can't make gang signs if your hands are hidden!

Speaking of slings, the little bugger has really gotten the sling-shot thing down. That is, we have achieved every form of projectile bodily fluid I can think of. Okay we may be missing snot, which is a blessing. Yesterday we had projectile poop, today it was projectile vomit all over both of us, and of course there is always the projectile weewee. Soon he'll be more constructive with his projectiles: hockey pucks, baseballs, maybe a rock through a window or two. You know how boys are.

Awww he fell asleep in the sling, isn't that cute!

Juggling grandparents and stuff

Fintan - who, by the way, was cute as a button when awake today (and when sleeping), as he "laughed" (which I'm sure was gas-grinning as well as a staccato series of sighs or hard breaths) and also did cute things with this hands - has three sets of grandparents. My mom & step-dad, my dad & step-mom, and Mark's parents.

Everyone wants to see the little bugger, including cousins, friends, etc. I'm okay with the fact that no one really wants to see me or Mark. We're not really all that spectacular. But our offspring is... and he's still shiny, new, and entertaining.

My mom and step-dad have seen him since he popped out, and my mom (Omi) lived with us for a week while I recovered and adjusted to life as a new mom. Mark's parents wanted to wait until things were a little more settled, so as not to interfere with adjusting and healing and other visitors. My dad & very excited step-mom are also waiting their "turn" which makes me feel bad in that nobody should really have to wait, but certainly nobody should have to share their time with him, either.

Then we have aunts, cousins, friends, etc. who want to come see him, which is wonderful, of course, but scheduling time with him is becoming a major challenge. Visitors often ask, is there something I can do for you while I'm here? The only answers I can really come up with are: go find me a better place to live, and pump for me - neither of which someone else can do. But they do bring food and that I certainly appreciate, as I don't have time to make my own meals.

Speaking of meals, it's 6 a.m., and I was up at 5:05 feeding the twerp, who would not burp after 30 minutes of attempted burping, and now I'm making his next meal. I usually over-produce at this pump session but I seem to be doing an average amount. All day yesterday I managed a tiny surplus, so I have one full meal's worth more than I need, and it's now just a matter of juggling jars in the fridge to make sure it all gets used without having to waste any. Gawd forbid I should waste any of this milk - it's more valuable than its weight in GOLD!!!

Visitors with food ROCK

Debbie came over today. It was great to chat with her about everything from baby blues to the aches & pains of post-vaginal birth recovery. She also brought over lots and lots of food. She's been very helpful since last year about making sure I know that baby blues is normal, etc. etc. I'm glad i'm over that, though.

Fintan is cute as a button, and definitely an old soul. You can see it in his face, in how he spends his "awake" time, in how he seems to really understand everything you say. He loves to listen to music and will "tune in" to whatever I put on for him, especially if it's something familiar from the womb. He loves to hear me sing. What do you know - I'm horrific but I have a fan! Today he gazed into my eyes a lot. That made me feel all warm and fuzzy. Now when I cry it's only because he's so beautiful and perfect.

I was wondering, do Christian moms have Christian fears, and Jewish moms have Jewish fears, and so on? Because this Pagan mom has Pagan fears - fears of the faerie folk stealing him away, fears of him being replaced with a changeling (I often think this must refer to ancient colic), fears relating to totems or astrological issues or numerology. I do not fear him going to hell, or any of that stuff. It's just weird how one's beliefs play out in situations like this.

Well, it' s 7:30 and I am tired of writing and chatting on my laptop with his feet on the space bar and one arm under him... I need a nap. Sue is coming over later so I can help her order her DSL from my computer. Isn't life wonderful?

Come away, O human child
To the waters and the wild
With a fairy hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping
Than you can understand

(W.B.Yeats - The Stolen Child) Loreena McKennitt sings a version of this poem and it is a great lullaby... but kind of scary.

Another day down

Well, here I am, living day to day with my child. Omi went home today again, and I am sad. I like when she's here. I want to live in a new home, I have no motivation to clean this one any further. I don't even want to vacuum. I want a good house in a good place with good air and good water and a detached barn or garage or something that we can build Mark's game studio in and start his business going so we're not so beholden to Los Angeles any more. But that's a dream... we would still need to be near a good city or he'd go crazy and we'd not get very good employees and I wouldn't be able to do some of the businesses I want to do.

Today was a decent day, but fussyhead was a little, well, fussy. Not terribly so. His circumcision ring fell off and I think he is making fussy-face (he practically turns beet red) whenever he has to urinate. That kind of worries me, but we'll see if it goes away at all. The resulting penis looks, well, nasty and swollen. But I think it's normal, and it doesn't look infected or anything. I slathered it with neosporin and I try not to think about it.

I did some writing and chatting online today, and lots of email. Now Mark is home and we are going to watch the recording of the Leafs game. Fussyhead is fussing right now so I am going to give him a bottle. I actually have a bottle to spare today, so hopefully I can go all night without formula. I've been pumping very regularly every 3 hours today, yielding about 2.5-3 oz each time. But it's still not much.

My declaration

My child is the most beautiful creature on Earth!!

And here is the proof...


Rubber ducky, you're the one...




Here's "the Runt" with the mohawk (for Uncle Erik)

Mama Cow & Baby Bjorn

Moooooooooooo! As I pump away, 20 minutes every 3-4 hours... yawn. Good thing a good hockey game is on.

I thought I'd talk a little bit about Fintan for a change. He's a good kid. He makes little "rapper" hand motions with his arms, like he's wrapping them around a tree or giving a hug, but with nothing to hug he looks like he's doing those rap hand motions. He loves his bippies! Eats 2-3 oz per serving, and we've been off formula for 48 hours (though I can barely keep up the milk supply... let's hope I get enough for two feedings tonight - 11:30 and then 3:30).

He is in his little "Leap Frog" activity chair (see pic in previous post) but he doesn't seem the least bit interested in it. I hoped it might be more stimulating than just staring at me all day. It's almost as if he's very contented in his own little world, not unlike his mama.

He sleeps long hours at night (though I'm supposed to wake him and feed him, but I can't - waking him is very difficult and waking me isn't much easier).

His jaundice color seems to be getting much better and he's very quiet and relaxed most of the time. Last Wednesday when nothing went right must have been some residual discomfort from the circumcision.

There's not much to describe... he's only two weeks old. We assembled the BabyBjorn carrier today and I toted him around for a while, but he seems so squished and it's too wide for his legs, I think - though he didn't seem to mind. It's a very complicated contraption, though, and not great for walking around the house and doing things, so I'm also looking into a traditional sling.

14 days down... Time flies!

It already feels like time is flying. He doesn't look any bigger, fatter, or cuter to me, but I'm sure he must be growing. I don't want him to grow too fast, though I am quite ready to get to a point where we have a sense of normalcy and not all this "FRAGILE - HANDLE WITH CARE" and "I don't know WTF is going on with his fussing" stage is over. I think I've got his number, though, and we've had quite a good (blessing!) 24 hours.

Here are some more recent pics. It's funny, he has about 8 different bippies, with a variety of nipple shapes and including two Maple Leafs bippies, and yet all my pictures seem to have this one round generic one in his mouth!

They're just so cute when they're sleeping... like cats...


OMG! WTF! Big Lion!!! HEEEELPP!!!

Showers in the Forecast

It's amazing what a shower will do to cleanse one's mind and to wash away at least some of the baby blues. I definitely have some symptoms of depression (lack of desire to do things I need to do, or what could just be hyper-exaggerated procrastination, for example). However, no crying today.

And I changed my attitude. The kid can cry a little. I'll figure it out. "If he's crying he ain't dying" is my new mantra. He fell asleep, I put him in the bassinet with ocean sounds and vibrate, he seemed conked out... so I hopped in the shower. Half way through I could hear him screaming... oh well. He'll have to wait. He's not dying, he was just fed and diapered; he probably wants a bippy or to be held, or has gas. None of which I can deal with from the shower... so I talk to him from the bathroom and remember that if he's crying, he ain't dying. At least not in this case. If he were sick, that might be a different story. I do NOT look forward to any sick days!

Binky came over today, brought me some gifts, frozen spaghetti, chocolate and snacks, and Woodchuck cider. (Well it is Groundhog's Day after all!) I may or may not drink a little bit of the cider here and there - especially on fussy days - in small quantities - after a good pump...

Speaking of pumping, I got a full 5.5 oz in one sitting today! I had gone 5 hours or so without pumping or feeding, though... and my next pump only yielded 3 oz total. My right breast seems to be producing more than my left, which is the opposite of a few days ago. I have, however, been trying to feed him on the left breast more often. It's easier when he's fussy because the let-down is faster and the flow is stronger, so he's more likely to latch on and relax. However, it greatly affects production in that breast, especially since I can't do the "third breast" pumping because I only have two hands and it takes two to operate the pump, and one is occupied by the actual child on the other breast.

Today it's been a mostly bottle day, anyway, and truthfully, despite all the money I spent Tuesday, I am about ready to just pump and bottle feed. I really should go back to the lactation consultant and see if there's anything else we can try, or just for more moral support. (I'm definitely going in for the sling class! I could use another free hand and a break from the shoulder/arm stress.) I am too impatient to keep up with the kid on the breast, and the most important thing to me is that he gets milk.

Oh one more thing, I think he's narcoleptic. Is that possible? Or is it normal for him to be fussing and then just make a noise, tip his head back, and be dead to the world? That would explain a lot of the breast behavior... suck suck suck zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. If only I could fall asleep that quickly!

So Sick of the Blue(s)

Yesterday I had a consultation with the lactation consultant at the Pump Station in Hollywood (near yoga). She was great, and I'm glad I did it. I also bought some new bras that actually fit, and a nice soft robe, and a new nursing pillow that seemed to help with the football hold, and a pump. The pump is much quieter and can do two at once but I'm not sure I get anything more out of it... yet. But that's okay, if it means 15-20 extra minutes of sleep at night.

I have some serious baby blues. Whether it's that angelic face "smiling" up at me, or the screaming that starts the second you put him down to go to the bathroom which you haven't done in 7 hours, I weep. I know this is all normal. I now know what Debbie was talking about when she said she felt like the worst mother in the world when at 2 weeks she was ready to hand her daughter to anyone (happened to be her mother-in-law) permanently. And Uwe said "just remember the first four weeks aren't like that forever." I'm trying to enjoy him being small and adorable while I can, but it's darn near impossible.

What I wouldn't do for 3 solid hours of sleep and/or 5 minutes of "down time" - just FIVE minutes - to fix myself something to eat, run to the toilet, and/or prep the next bottle. As it is, I always feel like I'm one step behind, and the moment I think I will get that five minutes he's screaming or fussing or something.

We also had Fin circumcised yesterday. Never again. As neither of us could come up with a reason for or against (a truly meaningful reason), we went ahead and succumbed to the pressure. And the moment it was done, we both felt horrible and realized we'd done the wrong thing. We should have stood up for him and "been different" as Mark says. Never again. If Fin has brothers they'll have foreskin. I cried up to the procedure, then watched every detail from some other plane of reality... then changed my mind half way through, then saw Mark banging his head on the opposite wall, unable to look or think about it. What's the big deal? I really don't know. I just don't think it's right; it's not necessary. Mutilation is exactly what it is. And now it's irreversable, and our son never had a say in it. And it may be why he's gone from angelic child to furiously fussy today... the world will never really know.

Well he's sleeping again (in my arms as I type) so I am going to put him down again and go "do something productive."