Mostly I've been procrastinating doing this, because I feel bad for having waited so long. But I finally have some spare time!
It's funny-when Clark was small, and I held him all the time/had to be quiet when he was napping, I felt so bored, and was so eager to get to my blog. Then the magical sleep schedule worked, and he started becoming independent with his crawling, and my life just got way easier.
I have to say, I honestly think I have the best baby in the world. In general, he makes my life pretty easy. He lets me get my chores done, doesn't demand attention 24/7, goes down for naps easily, and is almost always in a super happy mood. He is just the best baby. I constantly feel so lucky to have the family that I do-I just love them more than anything.
But lately, my mind has been drifting to the impending end to my maternity leave. It's funny how a year seems like an eternity when your baby is 4 weeks old and screams 23 out of 24 hours, and sleeps 0 out of 24 hours. I remember, in a sleep-deprived state bargaining with my husband to take the maternity leave and let me go back to work. I remember sulking when he refused, and telling him that I hated being at home. I love it now. I absolutely love being with Clark. It doesn't even feel like a job anymore-it's so nice. We have our little routines, our little schedule, and we both enjoy it immensely. And my absolute favourite part of the day is when my husband comes home, and my son just lights up with absolute excitement and joy. He starts cackling and smiling and races over to grab my husband's leg, and yanks on his pants until he gets picked up for a kiss and a cuddle.
But now I have to start getting used to the idea of going back to work-and I am not happy about it. I know it's a bit pre-mature-I technically have about 3 months left, but I am starting to feel like time is slipping away from me. It's stupid too, as I am only going back for one day and one night shift-but even that fills me with horrible dread and almost like a mini panic attack. My husband wanted so badly for me to not have to go back to work at all, and we sliced our budget brutally to do it, but after several months of trying that, we realized not only would it not work, but the stress on our relationship would not be good either, so this ended up being our compromise.
It's so funny to think of how far we've come in 9 months, but I am totally, and completely addicted to my baby. I love being around him, and taking him with us places. I honestly don't know how I'm going to go back to work, even for that one day. I just get so upset thinking about it, that I'm trying not to right now, to stop those panic attacks. You always here about the bond between a mother and her child, but I never in a million years would have ever thought that it would be so strong. I can totally see now how those mothers whose babies are in danger can lift a car, or whatever. If squeezing carbon into a diamond would mean I wouldn't have to go to work and be away from him, I swear I could actually do it. :)
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Changes
So my little boy is 7 months old now. Sometimes it's just crazy how things change.
For instance-my husband's brother recently had a baby, and I got to see him right after they left the hospital. And he seemed so TINY. I couldn't believe that only 6ish months ago, we had a baby just as small! I was even nervous to hold him, and when I did, I was shocked at how light he felt. In fact, it made me a little sad, almost. My little baby is starting to turn into a little boy. He was fascinated by the new baby, trying to reach to grab him. And when the two dads held them up side-by-side for a picture, Clark just looked massive in comparison. He also looked so alert and aware, in comparison to this tiny baby who always has his eyes closed.
In fact, I find every day I notice something else about Clark that makes him look more boyish and less babyish-don't get me wrong, he still looks very much like a baby, but you can definitely start to see how he will soon be a boy.
For instance, his hair has been getting longer for some time now, so that from the back, he looks like a boy-it's long enough to fall almost like a hairstyle. And, added to that, he talks all the time in his tiny little voice, and laughs now like a boy-more of a haha sound. And he loves when you do funny things on purpose. He gets so excited, and if you keep doing it over and over again, he will actually laugh before you can do the funny thing because he is way to excited for it.
But most of all, he is now crawling. And he is getting pretty good at it too. He can be speedy when he wants to-which means he is now constantly getting into anything he can that is potentially dangerous-his favorite currently being electrical cords-doesn't matter what colour or what they are for, he wants to chew on them. He also loves sucking on wooden things, which just does not seem healthy to me.
And today, he discovered himself in our floor length mirror. He was so excited to see this new baby friend of his! He played with his reflection for almost half an hour, which reinforced to me the need to get him a baby friend, and soon. It would be so cute to see him crawling around with another baby. So hopefully we can get some sort of playdate together soon for him.
I find this stage hard-he is changing, and every change is wonderful to watch. It makes me so happy and so proud of him to watch him learn and discover and develop. It also makes me proud of us as parents as well-that we created this amazing baby, brought him into this world, and are helping him to learn all of this. But it is sad in another way-and I am starting to realize what people mean when they say that it goes by fast. Because I have to say, I feel as though the past 7 months of my life have just flown by. There's been good and bad-but the good has completely outweighed the bad. He amazes me every day, not just in what he is capable of, but in how much I love him. Though I know he won't stay a baby forever, I am treasuring the time I have with him as a baby, and I know I will look back when he's grown, and wish it could have lasted longer. But for now, I am too busy chasing him around!
For instance-my husband's brother recently had a baby, and I got to see him right after they left the hospital. And he seemed so TINY. I couldn't believe that only 6ish months ago, we had a baby just as small! I was even nervous to hold him, and when I did, I was shocked at how light he felt. In fact, it made me a little sad, almost. My little baby is starting to turn into a little boy. He was fascinated by the new baby, trying to reach to grab him. And when the two dads held them up side-by-side for a picture, Clark just looked massive in comparison. He also looked so alert and aware, in comparison to this tiny baby who always has his eyes closed.
In fact, I find every day I notice something else about Clark that makes him look more boyish and less babyish-don't get me wrong, he still looks very much like a baby, but you can definitely start to see how he will soon be a boy.
For instance, his hair has been getting longer for some time now, so that from the back, he looks like a boy-it's long enough to fall almost like a hairstyle. And, added to that, he talks all the time in his tiny little voice, and laughs now like a boy-more of a haha sound. And he loves when you do funny things on purpose. He gets so excited, and if you keep doing it over and over again, he will actually laugh before you can do the funny thing because he is way to excited for it.
But most of all, he is now crawling. And he is getting pretty good at it too. He can be speedy when he wants to-which means he is now constantly getting into anything he can that is potentially dangerous-his favorite currently being electrical cords-doesn't matter what colour or what they are for, he wants to chew on them. He also loves sucking on wooden things, which just does not seem healthy to me.
And today, he discovered himself in our floor length mirror. He was so excited to see this new baby friend of his! He played with his reflection for almost half an hour, which reinforced to me the need to get him a baby friend, and soon. It would be so cute to see him crawling around with another baby. So hopefully we can get some sort of playdate together soon for him.
I find this stage hard-he is changing, and every change is wonderful to watch. It makes me so happy and so proud of him to watch him learn and discover and develop. It also makes me proud of us as parents as well-that we created this amazing baby, brought him into this world, and are helping him to learn all of this. But it is sad in another way-and I am starting to realize what people mean when they say that it goes by fast. Because I have to say, I feel as though the past 7 months of my life have just flown by. There's been good and bad-but the good has completely outweighed the bad. He amazes me every day, not just in what he is capable of, but in how much I love him. Though I know he won't stay a baby forever, I am treasuring the time I have with him as a baby, and I know I will look back when he's grown, and wish it could have lasted longer. But for now, I am too busy chasing him around!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Diet and Exercise
So I posted a little while ago about my goal to try to lose more of the baby weight by working out. And to be honest, I've been doing ok-I seem to have spurts where I do it several days, and then don't. But we've just been crazy busy lately, it seems. My husband took on a bigger position, and is working more at the beginning to learn it-added to that, he has a side business of programming, that he has two projects that are coming up to be due. So he is definitely what you would consider to be a busy guy, which leaves me with Clark, and I obviously can't tell him to drop his work so I can make it to the gym. But anyway, I'm trying to do what I can. I'm hoping to get back on schedule soon.
But I also started a diet. Now, Clark has been starting to try to wean himself off of breastfeeding for a month and a bit now, which is extremely frustrating. He will just randomly refuse to breastfeed-cue kicking, screaming and clawing at my eyes like a tiny feral animal. So as it is right now, he is only getting 2 good breastfeeds a day(morning and night), and if I'm lucky, a kind of crappy one in between. So I discussed it with my husband, and since I want to try to lose weight, we talked about dieting without hindering my milk supply any more.
I settled with counting calories. I really wanted to join a place like Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig, but both can cost quite a bit of money, and they have a weekly meeting to go to-which, I mean, really-I don't even have time to go to the gym, nevermind a weight loss meeting. Plus, I figured this-if it works, will have good long-term effects. It will teach me to watch portion sizes and what I put in my mouth. So I downloaded a calorie counting app on my phone, and so far, I've really been enjoying it. It is amazing how you stop and think before you stick something in your mouth if you are going to have to write it down. I've also found that watching how many calories I have left per day makes me aware closer to bedtime(i.e. I don't tend to have snacks after dinner now, unless I saved some calories up.) Anyway, there are drawbacks. I have definitely felt hungry-not starving or anything, multiple times. It's also easy to try to rationalize NOT entering something you just ate-especially when you have very few calories left. But, we are trying to plug through. The only thing that is trouble is that it doesn't take into consideration the fact that I am breastfeeding when it comes to my calories, so I tend to go 100-200 calories over to make up for the food he eats, though if he continues to drop feedings, I will probably drop those calories as well.
I'm really hoping for the best with doing this. I lectured my husband for hours on how he has to support me, but not encourage or tempt me with things that I shouldn't be eating. He hasn't been the best so far-the problem being, he hates the idea of me being not completely stuffed at all times, and constantly tries to shove food in my face. He's very sweet about it, and constantly tells me that he loves how I look, but as I tell him, I'm not really doing this for him-I'm doing this for me. And for Clark. I want to be a good example for him, and I want to be healthy so I can keep up with him.
Let's hope this sticks, because I had the horrifying realization the other day that Clark is now 6.5 months old. It's funny how you think your baby is so young, and so you have an excuse not to worry about weight and food-which is true, to a certain extent. But then, BAM! It hits you-if I haven't lost ANY weight in 6.5 months, how much longer will it take to lose it? And that's what I keep reminding myself of. It's not going to happen magically, and I need to work hard at it. So I'm really, really, trying to keep myself motivated, and keep going with this. Hopefully I'll have a positive update in the near future!
But I also started a diet. Now, Clark has been starting to try to wean himself off of breastfeeding for a month and a bit now, which is extremely frustrating. He will just randomly refuse to breastfeed-cue kicking, screaming and clawing at my eyes like a tiny feral animal. So as it is right now, he is only getting 2 good breastfeeds a day(morning and night), and if I'm lucky, a kind of crappy one in between. So I discussed it with my husband, and since I want to try to lose weight, we talked about dieting without hindering my milk supply any more.
I settled with counting calories. I really wanted to join a place like Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig, but both can cost quite a bit of money, and they have a weekly meeting to go to-which, I mean, really-I don't even have time to go to the gym, nevermind a weight loss meeting. Plus, I figured this-if it works, will have good long-term effects. It will teach me to watch portion sizes and what I put in my mouth. So I downloaded a calorie counting app on my phone, and so far, I've really been enjoying it. It is amazing how you stop and think before you stick something in your mouth if you are going to have to write it down. I've also found that watching how many calories I have left per day makes me aware closer to bedtime(i.e. I don't tend to have snacks after dinner now, unless I saved some calories up.) Anyway, there are drawbacks. I have definitely felt hungry-not starving or anything, multiple times. It's also easy to try to rationalize NOT entering something you just ate-especially when you have very few calories left. But, we are trying to plug through. The only thing that is trouble is that it doesn't take into consideration the fact that I am breastfeeding when it comes to my calories, so I tend to go 100-200 calories over to make up for the food he eats, though if he continues to drop feedings, I will probably drop those calories as well.
I'm really hoping for the best with doing this. I lectured my husband for hours on how he has to support me, but not encourage or tempt me with things that I shouldn't be eating. He hasn't been the best so far-the problem being, he hates the idea of me being not completely stuffed at all times, and constantly tries to shove food in my face. He's very sweet about it, and constantly tells me that he loves how I look, but as I tell him, I'm not really doing this for him-I'm doing this for me. And for Clark. I want to be a good example for him, and I want to be healthy so I can keep up with him.
Let's hope this sticks, because I had the horrifying realization the other day that Clark is now 6.5 months old. It's funny how you think your baby is so young, and so you have an excuse not to worry about weight and food-which is true, to a certain extent. But then, BAM! It hits you-if I haven't lost ANY weight in 6.5 months, how much longer will it take to lose it? And that's what I keep reminding myself of. It's not going to happen magically, and I need to work hard at it. So I'm really, really, trying to keep myself motivated, and keep going with this. Hopefully I'll have a positive update in the near future!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Vaccinations
I know it's a very debated topic with moms all over the world, in regards to whether or not you give your children vaccinations, and if so, which ones. I'm not trying to debate that in any way, believe me, but it was a choice that my husband and I made before we had our son.
But I have to say, there is nothing more heartbreaking then watching his face crumple as the first needle is injected. I feel like I could die, watching him go through that. And he doesn't scream-that is almost the worst part. He just breaks out in these heart-wrenching sobs. Honestly, I can't take it without my husband-I did it once, and it was so traumatizing, I told my husband no more, he from now on had to come to every visit. It's especially sad as well, because as my husband says, if he was older, we could buy him a treat for being so good. Which is true, by the way, the nurses always marvel at how he doesn't even scream-just has tears and sort of sobs. And even that is only for about 30 seconds, and then he's back to his regular self, albeit a little bit more needy and wanting to be held by his mom. But at this age, there really is no treat we could give him, which makes it even sadder.
I just keep telling myself it's worth it. I never want anything to happen to that baby, and if I can avoid him getting seriously ill, I'll do it. Though I am beginning to wish they had a different way of administering it-candy form? Inhale it somehow? Needles just aren't fun, no matter how old you are. I mean, my husband visibly cringes when he sees one, and when there was that whole H1N1 scare, I was asked to get one by my work, as I was both pregnant at the time, and worked at a medical clinic. So I also asked my husband to get one, and he absolutely refused, though he never seemed to have a reason...
The only consolation I have is that when he woke up this morning, Clark was his normal, happy, smiling self. Which helped me to breathe a sigh of relief. His having no memory of this is such a relief as well. Believe me, I'm not looking forward to his older shots-I can't even imagine how hard it must be when they are crying and saying "Mommy!!!".
For now, I think I'll just continue to smother him in guilt-ridden hugs and kisses.
But I have to say, there is nothing more heartbreaking then watching his face crumple as the first needle is injected. I feel like I could die, watching him go through that. And he doesn't scream-that is almost the worst part. He just breaks out in these heart-wrenching sobs. Honestly, I can't take it without my husband-I did it once, and it was so traumatizing, I told my husband no more, he from now on had to come to every visit. It's especially sad as well, because as my husband says, if he was older, we could buy him a treat for being so good. Which is true, by the way, the nurses always marvel at how he doesn't even scream-just has tears and sort of sobs. And even that is only for about 30 seconds, and then he's back to his regular self, albeit a little bit more needy and wanting to be held by his mom. But at this age, there really is no treat we could give him, which makes it even sadder.
I just keep telling myself it's worth it. I never want anything to happen to that baby, and if I can avoid him getting seriously ill, I'll do it. Though I am beginning to wish they had a different way of administering it-candy form? Inhale it somehow? Needles just aren't fun, no matter how old you are. I mean, my husband visibly cringes when he sees one, and when there was that whole H1N1 scare, I was asked to get one by my work, as I was both pregnant at the time, and worked at a medical clinic. So I also asked my husband to get one, and he absolutely refused, though he never seemed to have a reason...
The only consolation I have is that when he woke up this morning, Clark was his normal, happy, smiling self. Which helped me to breathe a sigh of relief. His having no memory of this is such a relief as well. Believe me, I'm not looking forward to his older shots-I can't even imagine how hard it must be when they are crying and saying "Mommy!!!".
For now, I think I'll just continue to smother him in guilt-ridden hugs and kisses.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Validation
Comparisons-we do it all the time. We do it with everything. It's part of our human nature-we feel the need to constantly judge what we have against what other people have. I noticed it got worse as soon as I was a teenager-I compared how I looked and what I owned with all of my friends, secretly trying to beat them.
And then when I married my husband, I compared weddings(you see, in one year, 5 of my closest friends and I all got married within months of each other.) Every wedding was different, but I still think that mine was the best, the classiest of all the them, and the most intimate. I compared husbands, as I am so proud of mine. And then, once everyone had settled into married life, we all compared homes, and decorations. Simple stuff.
But my eyes were opened as soon as I had Clark. Every little thing he did I was desperate to know what babies did. And not even always in a competitive way, either. Most of the time, I just wanted to make sure my suffering equaled other moms suffering, and that my baby was on track. Now, none of those close friends had babies the same time as me, but several acquaintances did. And the babies are all about a month apart, though Clark ended up being the only boy, funnily enough.
Now, I love my baby so much. I think he is honestly one of the cutest babies ever. I also think he's quite smart, and fun, and developmentally on track. But to be honest, I'm not a crazy mom who thinks they should model their baby, or that their baby is a secret genius. Nor will I try to force him to learn how to walk at six months. He can go his own pace.
But this weekend was an eye-opener. We had a convention of sorts to attend all day Saturday and Sunday. As you can imagine, my husband and I were dreading it for weeks. Not the program, mind you, but the dealing with a baby without the comforts of home. We resigned ourselves to the fact that it would be complete disaster, but went through with it anyway. Were we ever wrong. Clark played on the ground during his playtime, sat on our laps when he was starting to fuss, barely had to be rocked to go to sleep, and then slept on the ground(we made a bed out of a bunch of soft blankets for him). He never once cried the whole weekend. He never even got grumpy. He was just the most perfect baby.
And as we sat there those two days, we watched the other moms we know, struggle in every way-their babies would only sleep if held, and would scream at their parents when it was playtime. The parents were stressed, exhausted and had murder in their eyes. And most of all, I'm pretty sure they only got about 2% of the entire program.
Then I actually talked to these moms, and found out that NONE of these babies were sleeping at night, that they were all terrible at napping and still had to be fed constantly. Few of them rolled, if at all, and showed no interest in playing, or seemed to care that new people were around. Meanwhile, Clark was in his element, laughing and smiling and trying to grab people's faces. He was even attempting to crawl around. I have never, ever felt so good about Clark. I immediately ran over to my husband and told him all about it. And then we spent the rest of the day praising our perfect little boy.
As my husband put it Sunday night, "I have never felt so validated as a parent. For once, I feel like we are succeeding, that we can call ourselves good parents." It's amazing how perspective can change everything. Here we were, thinking we had a pretty good baby, when in reality, we should be thankful everyday for how amazing he really is.
So my advice? Start talking to other moms(the ones who will actually tell you the truth, mind you!). You will feel so good after, and so proud of your baby. It definitely makes it easier to deal with the bad days too!
And then when I married my husband, I compared weddings(you see, in one year, 5 of my closest friends and I all got married within months of each other.) Every wedding was different, but I still think that mine was the best, the classiest of all the them, and the most intimate. I compared husbands, as I am so proud of mine. And then, once everyone had settled into married life, we all compared homes, and decorations. Simple stuff.
But my eyes were opened as soon as I had Clark. Every little thing he did I was desperate to know what babies did. And not even always in a competitive way, either. Most of the time, I just wanted to make sure my suffering equaled other moms suffering, and that my baby was on track. Now, none of those close friends had babies the same time as me, but several acquaintances did. And the babies are all about a month apart, though Clark ended up being the only boy, funnily enough.
Now, I love my baby so much. I think he is honestly one of the cutest babies ever. I also think he's quite smart, and fun, and developmentally on track. But to be honest, I'm not a crazy mom who thinks they should model their baby, or that their baby is a secret genius. Nor will I try to force him to learn how to walk at six months. He can go his own pace.
But this weekend was an eye-opener. We had a convention of sorts to attend all day Saturday and Sunday. As you can imagine, my husband and I were dreading it for weeks. Not the program, mind you, but the dealing with a baby without the comforts of home. We resigned ourselves to the fact that it would be complete disaster, but went through with it anyway. Were we ever wrong. Clark played on the ground during his playtime, sat on our laps when he was starting to fuss, barely had to be rocked to go to sleep, and then slept on the ground(we made a bed out of a bunch of soft blankets for him). He never once cried the whole weekend. He never even got grumpy. He was just the most perfect baby.
And as we sat there those two days, we watched the other moms we know, struggle in every way-their babies would only sleep if held, and would scream at their parents when it was playtime. The parents were stressed, exhausted and had murder in their eyes. And most of all, I'm pretty sure they only got about 2% of the entire program.
Then I actually talked to these moms, and found out that NONE of these babies were sleeping at night, that they were all terrible at napping and still had to be fed constantly. Few of them rolled, if at all, and showed no interest in playing, or seemed to care that new people were around. Meanwhile, Clark was in his element, laughing and smiling and trying to grab people's faces. He was even attempting to crawl around. I have never, ever felt so good about Clark. I immediately ran over to my husband and told him all about it. And then we spent the rest of the day praising our perfect little boy.
As my husband put it Sunday night, "I have never felt so validated as a parent. For once, I feel like we are succeeding, that we can call ourselves good parents." It's amazing how perspective can change everything. Here we were, thinking we had a pretty good baby, when in reality, we should be thankful everyday for how amazing he really is.
So my advice? Start talking to other moms(the ones who will actually tell you the truth, mind you!). You will feel so good after, and so proud of your baby. It definitely makes it easier to deal with the bad days too!
Friday, February 18, 2011
6 Months Old
My son turned 6 months old this week. I didn't really think much of it until the day it actually happened, and it just seemed so shocking to me. I have been a mother to someone for 6 months? And didn't manage to somehow screw it up really badly? It's amazing to think how far I've come in comparison to the beginning. I remember the times when I hadn't slept in what, at the time, felt like a year, endlessly attempting to feed him and change his ever-full diaper, and thinking, what have I gotten myself into? This is a total disaster. I'M a total disaster. I remember thinking how I don't know why I ever thought I could handle this, and I can't believe I put this tiny baby in my care. I remember calling the nursing line for new moms here(they give you medical advice and a sympathetic ear), and always getting the same nurse, Michelle. She would listen to my rants about some horrible disease he has("I saw a strange red dot! I swear!", "He doesn't blink enough!", and, "Sometimes I can't tell if he's breathing!"), and be incredibly kind to me, and would always finish our conversation by telling me I was doing a fantastic job, that my baby is perfect, and that I just had to wait until the 6 week mark.
And she was right. As if it was some sort of magic, after being 6 weeks old, it got better. He started actually sleeping. And eating properly. We could leave the house-imagine that-for more than 20 minutes. I started to feel slightly normal, and in control.
Then he turned 3 months. We were on a schedule! I knew when he would sleep, eat, and even poop. We had it down, and both of us were pretty happy with it. We had our bad days, but the good days definitely overwhelmed any bad ones. I no longer called my husband at work, sobbing into the phone, begging him to quit his job and come home and take care of both of us. I no longer rushed to check on Clark's breathing every 2 minutes. My house was most often semi-clean, and there was usually some clean laundry to be found around the house.
But the day that he turned 6 months old, I realized that I have this now. I actually know what I'm doing with Clark-more importantly, I know Clark. He is the sweetest thing, and he is such a happy baby. He has moments of crying(or the temper tantrum he had yesterday!), but all in all, I know my baby inside and out. And that is an amazing feeling. I never thought we would get this far, and being here is the best thing ever. I cannot wait for another 6 months of being with him. I love you so much, Clark.
And she was right. As if it was some sort of magic, after being 6 weeks old, it got better. He started actually sleeping. And eating properly. We could leave the house-imagine that-for more than 20 minutes. I started to feel slightly normal, and in control.
Then he turned 3 months. We were on a schedule! I knew when he would sleep, eat, and even poop. We had it down, and both of us were pretty happy with it. We had our bad days, but the good days definitely overwhelmed any bad ones. I no longer called my husband at work, sobbing into the phone, begging him to quit his job and come home and take care of both of us. I no longer rushed to check on Clark's breathing every 2 minutes. My house was most often semi-clean, and there was usually some clean laundry to be found around the house.
But the day that he turned 6 months old, I realized that I have this now. I actually know what I'm doing with Clark-more importantly, I know Clark. He is the sweetest thing, and he is such a happy baby. He has moments of crying(or the temper tantrum he had yesterday!), but all in all, I know my baby inside and out. And that is an amazing feeling. I never thought we would get this far, and being here is the best thing ever. I cannot wait for another 6 months of being with him. I love you so much, Clark.
Friday, February 11, 2011
I Hate Moms Who Lose Their Weight Instantly
I'm sure you know people like what I'm talking about. They have their baby-and BAM! Size 0 instantly. That is so not me. I literally HATE the way I look right now. I am way bigger then I was pre-pregnancy. I loved how I looked before I had the baby-I was curvy, but not too thin, fit into the size I wanted to, and looked good in most whatever I picked out for myself. I had tons of confidence about my looks, and had no qualms about stuff like being in a bathing suit in front of strangers.
Now, I cringe when I have to try clothes on. I know I still have a way to go before I am anywhere close to being what I was before. So last week, I finally got myself together and made it to the gym-I only went for half an hour, and was exhausted afterwards, but I finally started to feel good about myself. I know this is going to be a difficult road. Trying to eat healthy with a small baby? Often, impossible. Finding time to workout without feeling guilty about being away from my husband, my baby and my house responsibilities? Unheard of. But I know I have to do this for myself. If I don't, it won't magically start getting better on it's own, it will more than likely just get worse.
So anyway, I talked it over with my husband, who is supportive either way-he is fine with me now, but he is also willing to help me out if I do want to work out, which I do. So when I expressed frustration with how busy our lives are-he recommended trying to have something that I could do at home, instead of having to go to the gym-at least until he feel less busy(a.k.a. when I don't need to breastfeed as much.) So I did some research online-different blogs and forums for new moms, and I found that quite a few people liked Jillian Michaels video, 30 Day Shred. Anyway, it's a 20 minute workout, that you are supposed to do everyday. Can I just say, I used to be really fit? But about a two and a half years before I got pregnant, I was very, very sick, and lost a tremendous amount of weight, and was barely able to eat-only taking in 400 calories a day. If you look at pictures of me, I looked semi-corpseish. It was not pretty, and very tolling on my body. At that time in life, I was working out regularly at least three times a week, for an hour and a half, at the gym. Then, because the weight was dropping off and there was nothing we could do about it, my doctors ordered me to cease all exercise, in a bid to conserve calories. It took them almost 9 months to figure out why I was sick, and then another 6 for me to get back to a normal weight/eating habits. So for more then a year, I didn't work out. Then I was getting engaged, planning a wedding, and being a newlywed. Who has time, or even wants to work out in all that? Then the pregnancy hit, and with that, a scare at 20 weeks. Where I was then told again, no exercise, which moved on to bed rest at the end because of preeclampsia.
So as you can see, it has been a while since I really exercised. But yet, somehow, in my deluded mind, I was still in good shape. Clearly not. That 20 minute video kicked my butt in the first 10 minutes. I had to turn it off, I thought I was going to either die, or wake my napping son up with my gasping for air. And then, I was so sore for two days after, I couldn't even do it. But last night, my amazing husband encouraged me to try again, so this time I made it 15 minutes in, and am determined to do it again today. I know I won't be instantly thin again, but I hope to at least be able to get through a 20 minute video! But mostly, I want my son to see a healthy role model in his mom, someone who can always keep up with him and my husband.
So we will see what the future brings, but I'm really hoping I stay with this-plus, I figured if I put it in writing, then there is really no way of getting out of it, right?
Now, I cringe when I have to try clothes on. I know I still have a way to go before I am anywhere close to being what I was before. So last week, I finally got myself together and made it to the gym-I only went for half an hour, and was exhausted afterwards, but I finally started to feel good about myself. I know this is going to be a difficult road. Trying to eat healthy with a small baby? Often, impossible. Finding time to workout without feeling guilty about being away from my husband, my baby and my house responsibilities? Unheard of. But I know I have to do this for myself. If I don't, it won't magically start getting better on it's own, it will more than likely just get worse.
So anyway, I talked it over with my husband, who is supportive either way-he is fine with me now, but he is also willing to help me out if I do want to work out, which I do. So when I expressed frustration with how busy our lives are-he recommended trying to have something that I could do at home, instead of having to go to the gym-at least until he feel less busy(a.k.a. when I don't need to breastfeed as much.) So I did some research online-different blogs and forums for new moms, and I found that quite a few people liked Jillian Michaels video, 30 Day Shred. Anyway, it's a 20 minute workout, that you are supposed to do everyday. Can I just say, I used to be really fit? But about a two and a half years before I got pregnant, I was very, very sick, and lost a tremendous amount of weight, and was barely able to eat-only taking in 400 calories a day. If you look at pictures of me, I looked semi-corpseish. It was not pretty, and very tolling on my body. At that time in life, I was working out regularly at least three times a week, for an hour and a half, at the gym. Then, because the weight was dropping off and there was nothing we could do about it, my doctors ordered me to cease all exercise, in a bid to conserve calories. It took them almost 9 months to figure out why I was sick, and then another 6 for me to get back to a normal weight/eating habits. So for more then a year, I didn't work out. Then I was getting engaged, planning a wedding, and being a newlywed. Who has time, or even wants to work out in all that? Then the pregnancy hit, and with that, a scare at 20 weeks. Where I was then told again, no exercise, which moved on to bed rest at the end because of preeclampsia.
So as you can see, it has been a while since I really exercised. But yet, somehow, in my deluded mind, I was still in good shape. Clearly not. That 20 minute video kicked my butt in the first 10 minutes. I had to turn it off, I thought I was going to either die, or wake my napping son up with my gasping for air. And then, I was so sore for two days after, I couldn't even do it. But last night, my amazing husband encouraged me to try again, so this time I made it 15 minutes in, and am determined to do it again today. I know I won't be instantly thin again, but I hope to at least be able to get through a 20 minute video! But mostly, I want my son to see a healthy role model in his mom, someone who can always keep up with him and my husband.
So we will see what the future brings, but I'm really hoping I stay with this-plus, I figured if I put it in writing, then there is really no way of getting out of it, right?
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Sleep Training Update
We've been at this sleep training for a while now, and we have had a ton of success. I think in total it's about a week and a half that we have been doing it. So far he now sleeps every nap, going down with no crying at all. And, he now sleeps for at least 40-55 minutes a nap. Some naps he is still waking up tired, which shows he should be sleeping slightly longer, but we are going to work on that. The other awesome thing is that with him now sleeping longer and better, as it is in his crib, he ends up taking fewer naps every day now. He used to be having anywhere from 6-9 catnaps a day, and now he's down to 4, 5 maybe if he has too short of a nap for one of them.
So anyway, we are quite optimistic about it, and are hoping to eventually have him sleeping even longer per nap(ideally an hour to an hour and a half), with less naps, maybe only three if we can. The results are just so phenomenal, I honestly can't believe how far he has come compared to how he was two weeks ago. It's also amazing the amount of stuff we can get done now while he naps, and how I'm not embarrassed when people either come over or we go out, and I can't put him down for a nap or he would scream. I am so proud of him. The best part of all is how happy he is when he wakes up. He always is smiling when I walk in his room and starts moving his arms and legs like mad when he sees me.
I'll update again to see if we continue to progress to our ideal(fingers crossed!).
So anyway, we are quite optimistic about it, and are hoping to eventually have him sleeping even longer per nap(ideally an hour to an hour and a half), with less naps, maybe only three if we can. The results are just so phenomenal, I honestly can't believe how far he has come compared to how he was two weeks ago. It's also amazing the amount of stuff we can get done now while he naps, and how I'm not embarrassed when people either come over or we go out, and I can't put him down for a nap or he would scream. I am so proud of him. The best part of all is how happy he is when he wakes up. He always is smiling when I walk in his room and starts moving his arms and legs like mad when he sees me.
I'll update again to see if we continue to progress to our ideal(fingers crossed!).
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Sleep Training
You may remember my post about Nap Time Horrors a while back. My son is not a good napper-he's never been. My husband and I worked on it very hard for several weeks, attachment parenting style(mixed with our own style), and all in all, it was not a success. I mean, he would go into his crib 1 out of every 3 times, but even then, he would never sleep longer than 25-30 minutes, which would mean he would get up, still very tired, and also now in a bad mood.
I then spent the better part of 3 weeks researching different techniques and reading what other moms had to say about them, and decided to read the giant, cumbersome, Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. It took a long time to read, though I only read the first couple of chapters and then the chapters that dealt with his specific problem, and age range. So finally, on Thursday last week, I was finished, and my husband and I chatted about using the principles in the book. We agreed with most things, but adjusted them according to our son's schedule and what we felt would be best for him.
Let me just say, sleep training is no joke. Yet, it is so much easier following another person's step by step instructions. When we were on our own, it was so easy to flake on what we had decided, or try to change it, but when it's right in front of you, in black and white letters, it's kind of hard to pretend it says something else. Believe me, I tried. I just hate when he gets upset at nap time, but my husband pulled out the book and pointed out the paragraph to me, and once we stuck with it, the results have been phenomenal.
We still have a long way to go, but I will describe for you what my son was before, and what he is now, not even a week into training.
Before:
Then the real kicker. My husband and I have a weekly outing we do with Clark, which we have to leave at 7:00 pm for. We put him down for his nap at 6:10, hoping all will be well. He proceeded to scream right up until 6:59 on the dot, and then fall asleep. So my husband, as he couldn't get out of it, had to go, and here I am, typing you this blog entry.
Raising a child is hard work. Having a baby sometimes seems impossible. I often think of people I know, like my husband's mother, who had 6 children, and think, how is she not in a mental institution? But as I told my husband this afternoon, in a bout of frustration, tears, and a slight panic attack, sleep training is the worst so far. You feel as though you are progressing so much, and then, WHAM-you seem further behind then where you started. But I've made the resolve to get through three weeks. If he's just as bad three weeks from now, I will fly the white flag, and try something else. As I also told my husband today, the problem is the fact that both my husband and I can be extremely stubborn people, to a fault, almost. And he obviously inherited this quality from both of us, making him even more stubborn, if that's possible. The worst part is that I wish he would understand that I am doing this for him. I want him to sleep well, and to be happy all day, and enjoy playtime. I want to have more playtime with him, instead of having to rush around getting stuff done, because I have no other time to do it. It's amazing how much I love him, so much my heart breaks when he cries like this, so much that I feel guilty and horrible, and feel physical pain. Yet, I am trying to get through, because I know we will both be better after this. Hopefully this "after" part comes soon, I don't know how much more of this I can take. I'll update you again in a couple of days, hopefully with positive news.
I then spent the better part of 3 weeks researching different techniques and reading what other moms had to say about them, and decided to read the giant, cumbersome, Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child. It took a long time to read, though I only read the first couple of chapters and then the chapters that dealt with his specific problem, and age range. So finally, on Thursday last week, I was finished, and my husband and I chatted about using the principles in the book. We agreed with most things, but adjusted them according to our son's schedule and what we felt would be best for him.
Let me just say, sleep training is no joke. Yet, it is so much easier following another person's step by step instructions. When we were on our own, it was so easy to flake on what we had decided, or try to change it, but when it's right in front of you, in black and white letters, it's kind of hard to pretend it says something else. Believe me, I tried. I just hate when he gets upset at nap time, but my husband pulled out the book and pointed out the paragraph to me, and once we stuck with it, the results have been phenomenal.
We still have a long way to go, but I will describe for you what my son was before, and what he is now, not even a week into training.
Before:
- Clark did not sleep in his crib, playpen, or anywhere else besides someone's arms, sometimes only mine.
- The max he would sleep when being held was 20-30 minutes.
- If an attempt was made to put him in his crib, immediately screaming freak-out would commence.
- He was always exhausted when he would wake up and be cranky and tired almost immediately again.
- We would have to rock him for 30-45 minutes to get him asleep, and once asleep, if we dared to move out of the rocking chair, he would instantly wake up.
- He sleeps in his crib for every naptime, and at other people's houses will go into a playpen. He never sleeps in anyone's arms unless we are somewhere where there is no available crib.
- He will sleep anywhere from between 30 minutes - 1.25 hours.
- He goes to his crib with no crying, falling asleep again as soon as he touches the mattress.
- Most naps he wakes up in a great mood, and stays up for longer between the naps.
- He has a wind down routine of quiet playing for 10-15 minutes, and once in the rocking chair, it takes approximately 3 minutes of rocking and he is out like a light-for good.
Then the real kicker. My husband and I have a weekly outing we do with Clark, which we have to leave at 7:00 pm for. We put him down for his nap at 6:10, hoping all will be well. He proceeded to scream right up until 6:59 on the dot, and then fall asleep. So my husband, as he couldn't get out of it, had to go, and here I am, typing you this blog entry.
Raising a child is hard work. Having a baby sometimes seems impossible. I often think of people I know, like my husband's mother, who had 6 children, and think, how is she not in a mental institution? But as I told my husband this afternoon, in a bout of frustration, tears, and a slight panic attack, sleep training is the worst so far. You feel as though you are progressing so much, and then, WHAM-you seem further behind then where you started. But I've made the resolve to get through three weeks. If he's just as bad three weeks from now, I will fly the white flag, and try something else. As I also told my husband today, the problem is the fact that both my husband and I can be extremely stubborn people, to a fault, almost. And he obviously inherited this quality from both of us, making him even more stubborn, if that's possible. The worst part is that I wish he would understand that I am doing this for him. I want him to sleep well, and to be happy all day, and enjoy playtime. I want to have more playtime with him, instead of having to rush around getting stuff done, because I have no other time to do it. It's amazing how much I love him, so much my heart breaks when he cries like this, so much that I feel guilty and horrible, and feel physical pain. Yet, I am trying to get through, because I know we will both be better after this. Hopefully this "after" part comes soon, I don't know how much more of this I can take. I'll update you again in a couple of days, hopefully with positive news.
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| You think I'm going to sleep? We'll see about that... |
Monday, January 31, 2011
The Trip...(finally) Part 2
The first night of our trip, as described previously, our son slept perfectly. Not so much with the second night. Our very kind hosts, who were brave to take us on with Clark, had even provided us with a portable crib. It was the fanciest thing I had ever seen. It was suede, people. For a BABY. Anyway, I was so excited for Clark to sleep in it, I just knew he would love it. Well, apparently I know NOTHING about my son, as he hated it. It also didn't help that our hosts prefer a cooler house at night-who can blame them? I prefer that too, though with the baby, we had stopped doing that, and our house is in general kept quite warm for his comfort. Well, even in a thick, footed onesie and a flannel sleepsack, he hated his life. He would not sleep for the life of us. We were up for hours trying to calm this baby who was clearly exhausted-he would fall asleep almost instantly on us and wake up instantly in the crib. So finally, my husband laid him down beside him on our bed, where, of course, Clark instantly fell asleep beside us and slept the rest of the night. I know, I know, in bed sleeping is dangerous for several reasons, but we were so tired, as was Clark, we just did it. And never have again, luckily.
The next few days went as normal, and all was going fine. The only hiccup was the family. Don't get me wrong-they were amazing to us on the trip, paying for things, carting us around in the van they rented and putting up with Clark's screaming. But no one seemed to really understand that he had an actual schedule, and this put a cramp in their plans. They were used to being out as long as they like, but with Clark, you can only leave after he's eaten, and as soon as he wakes up from his nap, instantly he's starving(gets that from his Dad!). So anyway, there was a lot of frustration on both sides, mainly because he would wake up from a nap, angry and hungry, and they would want to stop and do an errand or two. Which is absolutely impossible with Clark. Either way, lessons were learned on both sides, and no one starved to death, so really, I guess it was a success.
The trip was nice too, in another way, as many people I knew when I was much younger finally had their chance to both meet my husband and my baby. So of course we only brought Clark's cutest outfits to impress them. Like this one:
Unfortunately, as if he was punishing us, he decided to always pee/poop/puke on these outfits within 20 minutes of being in them. It was ridiculous-and I know he was doing it on purpose, because he rarely does any of those anymore. But, I figured he had a right, so we just learned to take the picture as soon as he was changed instead of waiting for the inevitable eruption of some type of liquid.
But the real debacle came on the way home. We had to drive to airport, and then fly out-this time with no break at a hotel in between. So the car ride went pretty smoothly at first, with Clark sleeping the first hour. Then we stopped to feed him in a parking lot along the highway, and surprise, surprise, he refused to breastfeed. That's when we realized we only had enough formula left for one bottle-and we would be needing at least 4. So, my husband and brother-in-law were forced to run around this tiny town off the highway searching for a store that would hopefully carry our brand of baby formula. Luckily, they eventually found one and we were able to keep going.
We got to the airport with plenty of time to spare-too much time. Clark was due for a nap just right before we were supposed to leave, and fell asleep right before we boarded, which meant that by the time we left, he was wide awake. In fact, he woke up ravenous. I mean, he was seriously acting as though we had been denying him sustenance for several years. So he started freaking out, and I attempted to breastfeed, thinking he would be more into it this time, as I had already missed a feeding, and would have plenty of milk for him. Apparently, not going to happen. So we tried to hold him off, but that just turned into an incredible amount of clawing and thrashing, and screeches so loud that people were actually turning to watch us, obviously thinking we were torturing our child. So in the end, I ended up giving him the bottle to shut him up, hoping it would last through take off. Fat chance. Instead, he gulped the entire thing in 5 minutes, and cried for more, which we obviously did not have. Then he cried because his ears hurt. All in all, disaster.
Then the bad mood continued-to the point where my mom offered to take him for our sanity-but then, five minutes later, handed him back, claiming that she was sure he had pooped. I smelled him, and told her I thought he was fine, but she insisted, so I climbed out from the window seat, breaking both my legs in the process, hauled the baby up on one arm and the diaper bag on the other, bashing people's heads in with it as I walked down the aisle. That's where my husband's height becomes very useful to him-he's over 6'4'', and barely fits into those washrooms normally, never mind when he's attempting to change a baby. When I finally finishing stuggling with my now happy child(figures!), there was no poop. No pee either-and that's when he decided to pee EVERYWHERE. All over his legs, stomach, outfit, change pad, change table, me. So then there was the process of cleaning him up, anything within a 2 foot radius up, and changing in into one of his extra outfits. By the time we got out of there, there was a line-up for the washroom and they were all giving me the stink eye.
I gave him back to his grandma with a "Thanks a lot for nothing."(I wasn't in the best mood at this time.) As I handed him over, Clark managed to kick a full glass of Coke all over my husband's pants, and then puke all over me. So here my husband and I are, on a four hour flight, each covered in multiple liquids, cold, uncomfortable, and unhappy. And then, the smell hit my husband. So he turns to my mom, and says,
"Did Clark poop?"
"Nope."
"Are you SURE?"
"Yes!"
See, the thing you have to understand is my son only poops every two or three days, which is perfectly normal for him. But when it does happen, it's MASSIVE. No diaper can contain that for long. But my mom kept insisting that it was just him tooting, nothing to worry about. Twenty minutes went by, and finally my husband couldn't take it anymore, he took the baby from my mom and checked. I swear he almost choked, it was that bad. So for the second time in 30 minutes, the baby and I got loaded up and bashed everyone's head in. Only to get stuck behind a person standing in front of the empty washroom chatting up the flight attendants. He looked at me, saw the baby, and just kept talking. I tried to be patient, but finally, I was just like, "Are you going in there? Because we really need to." He rolled his eyes and moved over half an inch, making me squeeze to get through.
And there was the poop-all over my son's outfit and up his back, thanks to mom. So went into his second emergency change of clothes-and his last, with still an hour and three quarters to go on the flight. As I exit the bathroom, there is an extremely tall, extremely burly older man waiting outside, taking up all the room in the aisle.As I stand there, trying to silently convey to him that he needs to move back to his row so I can get around him, he tells me just to "squeeze by him". Excuse me, you trying have a kid, and see how wide your hips end up being, nevermind added to that a diaper bag and a baby you are currently holding, and how tiny the aisle is. So I very politely asked him to move instead, which he refused. It was ridiculous. So finally, I just said, very loudly, "Sir, I am holding a new baby on a moving plane, I cannot squeeze by you or into another row, so you will have to move." At this point, a flight attendant intervened and asked him to move for me, thank goodness.
When I got back to our row, I informed my husband that I was never leaving my seat again, added to the fact that the next time I fly, it better be when Clark is 18 or not with us, because this had been the worst day of my life. And then, as if to seal the deal on the flight, my son fell asleep as we landed. Literally, we touched the ground, and he was out like a light. Which meant waking him up to put him in his car seat, which led to a massive amount of crying and screaming, which only got worse when we got outside to find 2 feet of snowing had fallen, and was still falling.
Then, to top off the whole thing, as soon as we got home, and were getting him ready for bed, we look up, and there was a giant patch of mold on my son's ceiling(we live in an apartment building). Which then caused discussions about sleeping arrangements for him, which then culminated in the realization that his crib does not fit through the doorway and would have to be taken apart and rebuilt, which is impossible as the instructions were missing. In the end, we researched it, and decided he would sleep one night in there and we would figure out different arrangements the next morning.
As my husband put it, "All in all, one of the biggest disasters since we got married." I'm just glad he was with me. I cannot fathom trying to handle all of that without him. It's times like that when I realize my husband is everything to both of us, and how much he does for us. So my recommendation to everyone is this-travel when your child is older, or don't travel at all. Save your sanity, you are going to need it, if you have a baby.
The next few days went as normal, and all was going fine. The only hiccup was the family. Don't get me wrong-they were amazing to us on the trip, paying for things, carting us around in the van they rented and putting up with Clark's screaming. But no one seemed to really understand that he had an actual schedule, and this put a cramp in their plans. They were used to being out as long as they like, but with Clark, you can only leave after he's eaten, and as soon as he wakes up from his nap, instantly he's starving(gets that from his Dad!). So anyway, there was a lot of frustration on both sides, mainly because he would wake up from a nap, angry and hungry, and they would want to stop and do an errand or two. Which is absolutely impossible with Clark. Either way, lessons were learned on both sides, and no one starved to death, so really, I guess it was a success.
The trip was nice too, in another way, as many people I knew when I was much younger finally had their chance to both meet my husband and my baby. So of course we only brought Clark's cutest outfits to impress them. Like this one:
But the real debacle came on the way home. We had to drive to airport, and then fly out-this time with no break at a hotel in between. So the car ride went pretty smoothly at first, with Clark sleeping the first hour. Then we stopped to feed him in a parking lot along the highway, and surprise, surprise, he refused to breastfeed. That's when we realized we only had enough formula left for one bottle-and we would be needing at least 4. So, my husband and brother-in-law were forced to run around this tiny town off the highway searching for a store that would hopefully carry our brand of baby formula. Luckily, they eventually found one and we were able to keep going.
We got to the airport with plenty of time to spare-too much time. Clark was due for a nap just right before we were supposed to leave, and fell asleep right before we boarded, which meant that by the time we left, he was wide awake. In fact, he woke up ravenous. I mean, he was seriously acting as though we had been denying him sustenance for several years. So he started freaking out, and I attempted to breastfeed, thinking he would be more into it this time, as I had already missed a feeding, and would have plenty of milk for him. Apparently, not going to happen. So we tried to hold him off, but that just turned into an incredible amount of clawing and thrashing, and screeches so loud that people were actually turning to watch us, obviously thinking we were torturing our child. So in the end, I ended up giving him the bottle to shut him up, hoping it would last through take off. Fat chance. Instead, he gulped the entire thing in 5 minutes, and cried for more, which we obviously did not have. Then he cried because his ears hurt. All in all, disaster.
Then the bad mood continued-to the point where my mom offered to take him for our sanity-but then, five minutes later, handed him back, claiming that she was sure he had pooped. I smelled him, and told her I thought he was fine, but she insisted, so I climbed out from the window seat, breaking both my legs in the process, hauled the baby up on one arm and the diaper bag on the other, bashing people's heads in with it as I walked down the aisle. That's where my husband's height becomes very useful to him-he's over 6'4'', and barely fits into those washrooms normally, never mind when he's attempting to change a baby. When I finally finishing stuggling with my now happy child(figures!), there was no poop. No pee either-and that's when he decided to pee EVERYWHERE. All over his legs, stomach, outfit, change pad, change table, me. So then there was the process of cleaning him up, anything within a 2 foot radius up, and changing in into one of his extra outfits. By the time we got out of there, there was a line-up for the washroom and they were all giving me the stink eye.
I gave him back to his grandma with a "Thanks a lot for nothing."(I wasn't in the best mood at this time.) As I handed him over, Clark managed to kick a full glass of Coke all over my husband's pants, and then puke all over me. So here my husband and I are, on a four hour flight, each covered in multiple liquids, cold, uncomfortable, and unhappy. And then, the smell hit my husband. So he turns to my mom, and says,
"Did Clark poop?"
"Nope."
"Are you SURE?"
"Yes!"
See, the thing you have to understand is my son only poops every two or three days, which is perfectly normal for him. But when it does happen, it's MASSIVE. No diaper can contain that for long. But my mom kept insisting that it was just him tooting, nothing to worry about. Twenty minutes went by, and finally my husband couldn't take it anymore, he took the baby from my mom and checked. I swear he almost choked, it was that bad. So for the second time in 30 minutes, the baby and I got loaded up and bashed everyone's head in. Only to get stuck behind a person standing in front of the empty washroom chatting up the flight attendants. He looked at me, saw the baby, and just kept talking. I tried to be patient, but finally, I was just like, "Are you going in there? Because we really need to." He rolled his eyes and moved over half an inch, making me squeeze to get through.
And there was the poop-all over my son's outfit and up his back, thanks to mom. So went into his second emergency change of clothes-and his last, with still an hour and three quarters to go on the flight. As I exit the bathroom, there is an extremely tall, extremely burly older man waiting outside, taking up all the room in the aisle.As I stand there, trying to silently convey to him that he needs to move back to his row so I can get around him, he tells me just to "squeeze by him". Excuse me, you trying have a kid, and see how wide your hips end up being, nevermind added to that a diaper bag and a baby you are currently holding, and how tiny the aisle is. So I very politely asked him to move instead, which he refused. It was ridiculous. So finally, I just said, very loudly, "Sir, I am holding a new baby on a moving plane, I cannot squeeze by you or into another row, so you will have to move." At this point, a flight attendant intervened and asked him to move for me, thank goodness.
When I got back to our row, I informed my husband that I was never leaving my seat again, added to the fact that the next time I fly, it better be when Clark is 18 or not with us, because this had been the worst day of my life. And then, as if to seal the deal on the flight, my son fell asleep as we landed. Literally, we touched the ground, and he was out like a light. Which meant waking him up to put him in his car seat, which led to a massive amount of crying and screaming, which only got worse when we got outside to find 2 feet of snowing had fallen, and was still falling.
Then, to top off the whole thing, as soon as we got home, and were getting him ready for bed, we look up, and there was a giant patch of mold on my son's ceiling(we live in an apartment building). Which then caused discussions about sleeping arrangements for him, which then culminated in the realization that his crib does not fit through the doorway and would have to be taken apart and rebuilt, which is impossible as the instructions were missing. In the end, we researched it, and decided he would sleep one night in there and we would figure out different arrangements the next morning.
As my husband put it, "All in all, one of the biggest disasters since we got married." I'm just glad he was with me. I cannot fathom trying to handle all of that without him. It's times like that when I realize my husband is everything to both of us, and how much he does for us. So my recommendation to everyone is this-travel when your child is older, or don't travel at all. Save your sanity, you are going to need it, if you have a baby.
Friday, January 28, 2011
The Trip...(finally) Part 1
It started off as well as could be. I was so organized, Martha Stewart would have been proud of me. The packing was done, the weather was good and even Clark's feedings worked out so that he would eat right before we had to leave. So, we head out, my mother-in-law driving us. It's normally a 35 minute drive, but had left 50 minutes just in case, mostly because both my husband and I are completely neurotic when it comes to being late, or being rushed, especially now with the baby. Then we hit traffic. Bad traffic, and ended up sitting still for about 30 minutes. And then we hit more traffic. And that's when Clark had reached his limit for the car. And the screaming ensued. Don't people realize that people with babies travel, and thus, the car can never come to a complete stop?
So anyway, our car ride ended up taking an hour and a half. 'No problem,' we thought, 'it's a domestic flight, check in will be a breeze.' That was, of course, until we saw the 400 person long line up for our airline. Apparently all servers were down. So there we are, standing in the back of the line, 30 minutes until our flight is supposed to leave. Then, 15 minutes before, they pull us out of line and up to the front to try to get us checked in. We get everything done, and head for security. We have 5 minutes to go, and they announce they will NOT be holding the flight. Then Clark fell asleep in his sling, ten seconds before the security people order us to take him out of it. So I end up holding this exhausted, confused, angry baby as we both then attempt to juggle approximately 46 other things between the two of us. Then we make the mad dash to our gate, being the second last ones on the flight. Now the dilemma begins-Clark is falling asleep-but if we don't feed him on the way up, his ear pain will more than likely wake him up, but if we keep him awake he will more than likely try to claw our faces off and scream until our ears bleed. We opted for keeping him up, and somehow, he was an angel.
He ate his formula as we ascended and them slept the rest of the three hour flight. Even the flight attendants couldn't believe it. An angel baby, that's what I have, I kept thinking to myself. Now I may note here, I did try to breastfeed him on the flight-I had my nursing cover all ready and had even made my poor husband cart around a nursing pillow. But Clark absolutely refused, and fought me as I tried to be as discreet as possible. And this is when I got creeped out. There was a lady in the aisle across and slightly ahead of me. She was actually craning her neck to try to watch me feed Clark. Now, you have to understand, I am what you may call a private breastfeeder. It may be weird, but I only breastfeed uncovered in front of my husband, and covered rarely in front of others, mostly I will just go to the car or another room. And here was this lady, staring at me-it got to the point where even my husband noticed without me saying anything and started holding up his sweater as well(Clark can really struggle when he wants to), but even that didn't stop her. So my mom, who was in the aisle seat got so mad she literally opened her book and stuck it in front of this lady's face until she looked away. It was very odd, and very uncomfortable.
But anyway, moving on. We had chosen a night flight, thinking that he would nap well. Turns out he thought it WAS night, and wouldn't wake up. So we left the plane, walked forever in the airport as all the domestic hangers were full, so we were parked at the very rarely used end of the international-we literally walked for 25 minutes before reaching luggage, all the while me holding this rock of a sleeping baby and not being able to take anything else. You should have seen my poor husband, we really should have videotaped him, he looked hilarious.
So we get our baggage, and the baby wakes up suddenly, screaming. Now here comes the dilemma-we know he won't breastfeed in the airport and I've already missed 2 feedings and am so engorged I'm dripping everywhere. If I give him another bottle now, he won't eat off me later and it will be horrible, especially with how I'm prone to mastitis. So the poor kid had to wait for the hotel bus to come and get us, then he finally ate in the room. I don't know who was more relieved-my breasts or him.
In our incredibly sleep-deprived minds(3:30 am), we realized after 20 minutes, there was no crib in our room. So we called all the other hotel rooms that belonged to the rest of my family, and none of theirs had it either, even though when the room was booked, we had very clearly specified that we must have a crib. Then more disaster ensued, with no one working there knowing where the crib was, and them searching for 35 minutes, until it was finally delivered to our door. Luckily our angel baby continued to be amazing, and slept straight through until 9 am, though he apparently is part walrus, as my husband called it, because in his sleep, he kept lifting his legs and slapping them down very hard onto the playpen mat, making an incredibly loud, incredibly scary sound, especially when you are fast asleep. Yet somehow, he never managed to wake himself up...
Unfortunately for us, we were then woken at 7:30 am by my sister letting me know she had received a call from where my Gramma was living that she had taken a turn for the worse and they did not know how long she might live. So then mad packing and getting ready ensued, all while trying to let the incredibly exhausted baby sleep more(though we only got 3 hours). So off we went, for our 3.25 hour car ride. We'll just sum up by saying he did NOT like it, and would NOT breastfeed in the car, and this led to even more engorgement.
Luckily, we made it to the home in time to see my Gramma, and spend some time with her, and get an update. Then we headed back to a town approximately 20 minutes away, where we were staying and crashed, hard.
I have to say, I was amazed at my child, he slept well, though he hated the carseat most of the time, he did play and sleep in it, even though he was in it for almost three and a half hours straight, compared to his longest time, which was 30 minutes previously. He was great, and made this incredibly stressful trip so much better with his good sleeping and good moods.
Next time, on The Trip...(finally) Part 2, you will see how even a five month old baby can wake up every 10 minutes still at night, and how family without children can potentially drive you nuts in stressful situations.
So anyway, our car ride ended up taking an hour and a half. 'No problem,' we thought, 'it's a domestic flight, check in will be a breeze.' That was, of course, until we saw the 400 person long line up for our airline. Apparently all servers were down. So there we are, standing in the back of the line, 30 minutes until our flight is supposed to leave. Then, 15 minutes before, they pull us out of line and up to the front to try to get us checked in. We get everything done, and head for security. We have 5 minutes to go, and they announce they will NOT be holding the flight. Then Clark fell asleep in his sling, ten seconds before the security people order us to take him out of it. So I end up holding this exhausted, confused, angry baby as we both then attempt to juggle approximately 46 other things between the two of us. Then we make the mad dash to our gate, being the second last ones on the flight. Now the dilemma begins-Clark is falling asleep-but if we don't feed him on the way up, his ear pain will more than likely wake him up, but if we keep him awake he will more than likely try to claw our faces off and scream until our ears bleed. We opted for keeping him up, and somehow, he was an angel.
He ate his formula as we ascended and them slept the rest of the three hour flight. Even the flight attendants couldn't believe it. An angel baby, that's what I have, I kept thinking to myself. Now I may note here, I did try to breastfeed him on the flight-I had my nursing cover all ready and had even made my poor husband cart around a nursing pillow. But Clark absolutely refused, and fought me as I tried to be as discreet as possible. And this is when I got creeped out. There was a lady in the aisle across and slightly ahead of me. She was actually craning her neck to try to watch me feed Clark. Now, you have to understand, I am what you may call a private breastfeeder. It may be weird, but I only breastfeed uncovered in front of my husband, and covered rarely in front of others, mostly I will just go to the car or another room. And here was this lady, staring at me-it got to the point where even my husband noticed without me saying anything and started holding up his sweater as well(Clark can really struggle when he wants to), but even that didn't stop her. So my mom, who was in the aisle seat got so mad she literally opened her book and stuck it in front of this lady's face until she looked away. It was very odd, and very uncomfortable.
But anyway, moving on. We had chosen a night flight, thinking that he would nap well. Turns out he thought it WAS night, and wouldn't wake up. So we left the plane, walked forever in the airport as all the domestic hangers were full, so we were parked at the very rarely used end of the international-we literally walked for 25 minutes before reaching luggage, all the while me holding this rock of a sleeping baby and not being able to take anything else. You should have seen my poor husband, we really should have videotaped him, he looked hilarious.
So we get our baggage, and the baby wakes up suddenly, screaming. Now here comes the dilemma-we know he won't breastfeed in the airport and I've already missed 2 feedings and am so engorged I'm dripping everywhere. If I give him another bottle now, he won't eat off me later and it will be horrible, especially with how I'm prone to mastitis. So the poor kid had to wait for the hotel bus to come and get us, then he finally ate in the room. I don't know who was more relieved-my breasts or him.
In our incredibly sleep-deprived minds(3:30 am), we realized after 20 minutes, there was no crib in our room. So we called all the other hotel rooms that belonged to the rest of my family, and none of theirs had it either, even though when the room was booked, we had very clearly specified that we must have a crib. Then more disaster ensued, with no one working there knowing where the crib was, and them searching for 35 minutes, until it was finally delivered to our door. Luckily our angel baby continued to be amazing, and slept straight through until 9 am, though he apparently is part walrus, as my husband called it, because in his sleep, he kept lifting his legs and slapping them down very hard onto the playpen mat, making an incredibly loud, incredibly scary sound, especially when you are fast asleep. Yet somehow, he never managed to wake himself up...
Unfortunately for us, we were then woken at 7:30 am by my sister letting me know she had received a call from where my Gramma was living that she had taken a turn for the worse and they did not know how long she might live. So then mad packing and getting ready ensued, all while trying to let the incredibly exhausted baby sleep more(though we only got 3 hours). So off we went, for our 3.25 hour car ride. We'll just sum up by saying he did NOT like it, and would NOT breastfeed in the car, and this led to even more engorgement.
Luckily, we made it to the home in time to see my Gramma, and spend some time with her, and get an update. Then we headed back to a town approximately 20 minutes away, where we were staying and crashed, hard.
I have to say, I was amazed at my child, he slept well, though he hated the carseat most of the time, he did play and sleep in it, even though he was in it for almost three and a half hours straight, compared to his longest time, which was 30 minutes previously. He was great, and made this incredibly stressful trip so much better with his good sleeping and good moods.
 |
| Don't I look like an angel baby? |
Next time, on The Trip...(finally) Part 2, you will see how even a five month old baby can wake up every 10 minutes still at night, and how family without children can potentially drive you nuts in stressful situations.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Life is busy-what can I say?
I know it has been quite a while since I posted, and I sincerely apologize, but life has truly been insane. Don't worry, I will soon post the long, sordid details about our debacle of a trip, but all I have time for right now is a shorter post. It's amazing to both my husband and I how quickly time passes when you are on your child's schedule. Most days, nothing gets done. On some days, maybe the dishes will be done. And on a really good day, shockingly, an actual errand will be completed(usually a month after it was due to be done-but I won't complain.)
Where does this time slip away to? Really, I would like to know. And does it get better soon? It doesn't help that my husband has been a bit off this last little bit. He's the guy who is never tired, yet, he has been lately. So of course, we are worried he's fighting some sort of cold or flu. None of is have been sick since the baby was born, and we want to keep it that way. I can't even imagine being sick and taking care of a baby. It's not exactly like you can lay on the couch and your baby will feed and change itself.
The thought is frightening. It better not happen, so I'm forcing sleep and vegetables and fruit on him until he is better. We barely have time to clean, never mind be sick. Maybe in about a year I can give him time off to be sick-if he's lucky...
Where does this time slip away to? Really, I would like to know. And does it get better soon? It doesn't help that my husband has been a bit off this last little bit. He's the guy who is never tired, yet, he has been lately. So of course, we are worried he's fighting some sort of cold or flu. None of is have been sick since the baby was born, and we want to keep it that way. I can't even imagine being sick and taking care of a baby. It's not exactly like you can lay on the couch and your baby will feed and change itself.
The thought is frightening. It better not happen, so I'm forcing sleep and vegetables and fruit on him until he is better. We barely have time to clean, never mind be sick. Maybe in about a year I can give him time off to be sick-if he's lucky...
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