Monday, April 26, 2010
Charlie is huge. I am exhausted. He sleeps through the night. I... get up in the middle of the night to pump because my boobs hate me. Boob hate= sad mama. But he's an amazing baby. Look at this rediculous child.
He weighs 16 pounds. He loves trying to sit and stand up. He laughs his head off every time he farts. He is such a male...
In other news, I now have a Twitter. The Husband is giving me all sorts of crap about this, especially because I said I would never get one and I have made three posts so far.... in about three hours. I tend to get fixated on new things like a toddler with a cardboard box. It'll keep me amused for hours. And not only did I get a Twitter account, I got an Ipod Touch for an early Mother's Day gift.
It is, quite literally, my favorite gadget in the world right now. Because babies don't count as gadgets, and this is something that doesn't involve being spit up on, pooped on, or having something attached to my boob. And it's just nifty. Slide, sqeeze, tap, type without a keyboard. I feel like some crazy futuristic space person. Maybe the hot blonde doctor Heather Graham character from Lost in Space. It's just a small step away from interactive holographic projectors, people. Score. It has voice commands too, but I'm afraid that if I start doing that, I'll start dressing in silver spandex. And I don't have the thighs for that.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
The Husband has been kicking butt and taking names with the job search stuff over the last few days; hopefully we'll start hearing back from companies soon. I've been on maternity leave from the restaurant since the first of the year, and I'm really paranoid that they won't let me take more than the federally mandated six weeks, which means that I will only have a couple weeks after the baby's born to actually re-adjust before going back to work. Sigh.
Right now, though, I'm going to enjoy the brownies I made... although I probably should actually eat dinner first. Problem is, nothing is defrosted, so I have no idea what I'm going to make. After that, I have a PBS documentary to watch called "the Human Spark" that I Tivo-ed last night. What's the best part? My favorite person in the world is hosting it. Brownies +Hawkeye= a good, good night.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
- I am obsessed with Alan Alda. I even married a man that looks a little like him.
- I am in full-on nesting mode. I have reorganized the kitchen, my walk-in closet, my room, and all of my bookshelves in the last week and a half since going on maternity leave.
- I am also obsessive about really strange things. For example, my pantry is now organized in a very specific manner, and God help whoever puts the flour next to the canned tomatoes. (Baking goods are not canned goods and the two should have nothing to do with each other!)
- I am quite possibly the only person in the world who has her books organized by genre, and her history books sub-organized both chronologically and geographically. Seriously, it's like freaking Borders on my bookshelves.
- Our poor son has no chance of not turning out to be a complete nerd. I really should start a "send Charlie to psychotherapy fund" now.
Imagine each one of those points having two or three paragraphs. Yeah. A little much.
In other news, I am officially on maternity leave, and have been since New Year's. We had a bit of a false alarm on NYE, and I decided I was just not doing the whole "being on my feet dealing with crabby hungry people in a restaurant eight hours a day" thing anymore while carrying around the kid. So instead I pace around the house, check Facebook seventeen times an hour, and do baby laundry four times a week. I have seriously considered starting a Twitter account out of pure boredom. It's that or watch six episodes of The Simpsons a day. (Maybe I'll tweet while watching The Simpsons? Eat my shorts.)
The Bean is due 9 days from now ( as my doctor said, "But who's counting?" He smirked at me this morning when he said that. Not cool, dude), but honestly I could go at any point, apparently. I'm 50% effaced, but not dilated at all, which sucks. So, until I actually pop, I'm keeping myself busy by helping The Husband job hunt, baking an insane amount of brownies, and watching cartoons I never got to see when I was a kid.
By the time Charlie comes out, I'm going to have the mentality of a 12 year old boy. (Let's not talk about how this isn't really much of a stretch...)
Monday, January 4, 2010
That's what I want this next year to be about-- doing things on my own terms. Granted, my focus has changed just a little from last year. Then, I was focused on getting through The Internship From Hell and planning a wedding and graduating from college, all of which happened in a two week period of each other. I never imagined that this year would be the year The Husband and I would be expecting to add to our family, but now, 17 days from the Bean's due date, I've gone into full-on mommy mode--- which to be honest, is a little scary.
I'm a researcher by nature--- when I'm freakingtheheckout about something, I read and study about it obsessively. This whole parenting gig is no exception. In the last nine months I've read literally thousands of articles about everything from epidurals to sleep training. There seems to be one overarching theme in all of this-- guilt. Parents are literally damned if they do, damned if they don't for every decision they make from the moment they conceive. One rather well-known book that will remain nameless but whose title rhymes with "Schmut to Schmecspect..." had me terrified that because I had a cocktail before I ever concieved, my child would come out with three heads. I put that book down rather quickly after that.
So here's my over-arching goal for the next year: I will not succumb to mommy guilt. I will not.
- Yes, I'm going to try to do the birth medication-free. I'd like to see if I can. But if I make the decision to get the epidural or anything else to help The Bean or me have an easier time, I will not feel bad. The end goal is a healthy baby and mommy, not bragging rights at yoga class.
- Yes, I'm going to try to breastfeed. (Ohh, this is a loaded one). If it doesn't work, I will do whatever I need to in order to make sure that my son is well-fed and happy. Either way, I will not feel bad. I am doing what I need to to make sure my son is healthy.
- On that note, I might just breastfeed in public (gasp!). I don't plan on whipping my boobs out unsheltered-- let's be honest, they're pretty big. I might put out an eye with these puppies. But I refuse to feel bad about feeding my son behind a shield where nobody can see anything, even if I look like an idiot in adult bib. And I'll be damned if I'm going into a bathroom to feed him. Would you eat in a bathroom?
- I know that I will be, by turns, tired, frustrated, exhausted, frantic, and just a little bit psycho. I will not feel bad about asking for help when I need it. I am not Superwoman, as much as would like to think I am. The Husband and I will need support. This is nothing to be ashamed of. I will get my pride out of the way, and I will allow myself to be human and feel human emotions.
- I will make baby-free time for my husband and I. Maybe we'll leave The Bean with Grandma and Grandpa for a weekend and go somewhere. Or just ask someone to watch him for a couple hours while we go for a date. But I will not feel bad for taking time to build up the most important adult relationship I have. Our marraige being strong is the best gift The Husband and I could ever give our children, much more so than seeing them 24 hours a day. If we can first and foremost show our love for each other, our children will always know that they are loved-- they are a product of that love.