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AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GROWTH SPURT AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
Baby Evan nursed for an hour and a half tonight and is already at it again. If my nipples don’t get at least a 6 hour break tonight I’m concerned they’re going to pack up and leave tomorrow morning. Like, NO WAY DUDE, we didn’t sign up for this. Your baby needs as much milk as four babies? GROW ANOTHER SET.
1. I was planning to work out first.
2. You’re only supposed to wash your hair, like, twice a week anyways.
3. I used all the hot water on the laundry.
4. My “natural” scent helps the baby bond with me.
5. Something about the environment.
6. I cleaned the bathroom this morning and can’t bring myself to get it dirty.
7. The shower is upstairs and the baby is sleeping in the swing downstairs and I can’t hear the monitor over the sound of the shower.
8. I can put a hat over my greasy hair but not over my disgusting floors.
9. Babies don’t can’t if you’ve shaved your legs this week month.
10. I am just plain old lazy.
Yesterday went like this: bad, good, really good, bad, really bad, NAP, good, really really good, super fun good, sorta bad, really bad, OMG will the screaming never end bad, EIGHT HOURS OF SLEEP.
Since our Friday night plans got cancelled because of thunderstorms, we wanted to check out the Harbor Festival yesterday. Our town is celebrating it’s 350th anniversary and has been holding events for the past few weeks. They’re doing parties and lectures and walking tours of the mansions and gardens and there’s a tall ship down at the harbor and unfortunately I have made it to exactly zero events. As of today I have still attended zero, because I have a three month old. Baby Evan just didn’t give a crap that there were balloons! and pirates! and cotton candy! and a drum and fife band! None of those things interested him more than my boob, so with my handy nursing cover I fed him on a park bench. It went pretty well. It would have gone better if I’d had a pillow. Or if it hadn’t been a million degrees. Or if the drum and fife band hadn’t fired their muskets right when I got the baby latched on. causing him to almost rip my nipple off.
In the evening, we packed up the baby and some lemon bars and went over to E’s former co-workers for a cookout. We set up camp in the baby-corner with four other sets of parents and had a great time lying in the grass surrounded by kids and dogs and food. We made it two hours and one feeding before my back started screaming in pain and my head felt like it was going to explode. Baby Evan was grumpy from being awake for too many hours and once the yelling started I knew it wasn’t going to end. Although he napped in the car on the way home, he was too hungry to sleep for long and I spent the rest of the evening nursing him almost constantly to keep him from wailing. At 11 pm I gave up and turned him over to E hoping I could get a couple hours of rest. At 7 am I woke up and found both my boys had slept in the living room and I had gotten EIGHT HOURS of sleep for the first time in 12 weeks. I needed it. Today we’re going to do nothing structured and just let baby (and E) nap as much as he wants.
Baby Evan’s outfit is a hand me down from when my brother (now 20) was a baby.
Using my nursing cover.
I love my father. I really do. He’s kind and caring and always tells me he’s proud of me. But DEAR GOD that man needs medication. He is so OCD about details I thought we would never get our porch finished. Dear Dad firmly believes there is a “right” way to do everything from painting a wall to putting on a belt. In his mind, “right” is the same as “morally correct and therefor not to be challenged even if it means painting every damn piece of wood for this porch THREE TIMES and buying four different kinds of molding”. Perfectionism, thy name is Biff.* But thanks to his planning and knowledge – and his awesome air-powered framing nailer – we have a new front porch. E did an amazing job of both tolerating my father and working his butt off to get everything done even though the weather was crap and he had his actual job to do during the day. And he was out of beer. I totally thought about teaching Baby Evan to play the world’s tiniest violin for him.
But now the project is DONE (Ok beside a little tiny bit of touch-up painting I am totally planning to do as soon as I get a free afternoon when the baby is sleeping and I’m not exhausted. Soooooo…….2024, give or take a few months) and we have a fantastic new porch on which to enjoy lovely New England evenings. There are two rugs for baby play time on the floor, balustrades to keep tiny children and dogs from falling through the screen, throw pillows for lounging on, a cafe table for morning coffee, patio furniture for games and wine and a swing to rock Baby Evan to sleep at night. Check it out from old to new and be TOTALLY JEALOUS.
*Ok, William, but even his business cards say Biff.
I’m going to tell you something you didn’t want or need to know. You’re probably going to think it’s gross and weird. Technically, you are very wrong to think that. Technically. But even I think it’s a little gross so for the first time ever, I’m giving you the opportunity to NOT read something. Here comes the break, only click if you SERIOUSLY want to read about it.
This is Baby Evan’s new favorite position:
I think he’s trying to climb in between the couch cushions. Hopefully he’ll find my lost earring and a couple bucks in change down there. Good thinking Baby, time to earn your keep! He does this to himself, kicking and thrashing and squirming backwards. I’m hoping all that blood rushing to his head is a good thing. Maybe it will increase his brain development? Improve his baby complexion? Help him grow more hair on his GIANT BALD SPOT? I don’t know if I should be worried about this, since the internet is shocking devoid of helpful search results for “two month old baby loves upside down”. But it is really weird and Lord knows my baby is already doomed in the weird department.
I posted this on my Facebook already but for anyone who doesn’t constantly check my status updates (Helllooooo? What could you possibly be doing that’s more important???) please stop looking at my blog and go read this website immediately: Let’s Panic! (Tag line: It will come out of you, and then you have to take care of it.) It is the funniest thing I’ve ever read. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or maybe it’s just the author’s total understanding of that sleep deprivation, but I am sitting on my couch crying with laughter. I should really be doing…something right now, but until my hysteria passes I will be researching What Kind of Baby I have and Appropriate Substitutes for sex.
There’s a Huggies ad campaign currently running with the tag line “enjoy the ride”. They want new parents to sign up for their rewards program (I’m guessing it’s just like the Pampers rewards I signed up for – buy a zillion and one diapers, get a $5 gift certificate for photo prints). In magazines the ads are pictures of hassled parents trying to juggle strollers and cell phones or trying to change diapers in the dark or something. There’s also a tv spot featuring what I’m sure is some casting director’s ideal version of a “hip, urban” mom – African-American, obvious tattoos, NYC-style apartment – trying to potty train her daughter. I’m sure the disposable diaper companies are losing this kind of parent in droves due to the popularity of the new cloth diapers and this campaign is an attempt to regain that market share. Be hip, use Huggies!
But if I was in charge, I’d fire that advertising agency immediately. One of the ads on tv has a “funny” disclaimer at the end. I’m sorry I can’t find the video online but considering they play it a hundred times a day I hope you’ve already seen it. The disclaimer says something like “To be eligible for Huggies rewards you must go through nine months of morning sickness and people touching your belly. Then you must be rushed to the hospital where you will experience…a miracle!”
Really Huggies? Really? Only people who have given birth need diapers? How about the thousands of families who come together through adoption. I’m sorry, parents who opened their hearts to a baby that isn’t biologically related to them, you can’t participate. Hope you got one that was already potty trained! And I sure hope you didn’t use a surrogate since your “miracle” will be happening to someone else. No rewards for you! Just to be safe, you better watch out for those step-kids too. Can’t let them go thinking they’re the same as REAL children!
There are many, many ways to become a family Huggies, and your insistence that one go through pregnancy to be a parent is ridiculous. If I didn’t already hate your diapers I’d be switching brands.
This baby gym:
This bracelet my aunt made me:
This Thai Chicken Pizza I made for dinner:
These lilies in my garden:
And this face: