You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘E’ tag.
The good parts.
The following takes place between 12:00 am July 30th and 12:00 am July 31st:
12:00 am – ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
2:21 am – Wake up for two seconds and roll over, check that baby is breathing, go back to sleep.
3:52 am – Try to roll onto my right side and am stopped by hugely enormous swollen boob. I’m worried about getting a plugged duct so I hand-express some milk (some=soaks through two burp cloths).
3:52 am – Baby smells milk and wakes up.
3:55 am – Take baby into nursery to nurse, since my lazy lying down breastfeeding has done some damage to my right nipple and it’s really sore.
4: 20 am – Baby make huge diaper-filling poop noise. During the diaper change I realize I only have tiny, size 1 diapers upstairs and would have to go downstairs for the right ones. Decide to risk poopsplosion by using size 1s.
4:22 am – Everyone’s asleep again. ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz.
6:00 am – E’s alarm goes off. I can barely hear it with the pillow over my head. Baby Evan isn’t the least bit disturbed. I go back to sleep.
7:59 am – Neighbor’s construction crew shows up with large trucks, heavy equipment and a dozen shouting men.
8:01 am – Baby Evan wakes up. I unwrap the one arm he had swaddled and leave him in the co-sleeper to amuse himself while I get dressed and use the bathroom. My, I look very well rested today. I think I might even do my workout DVD later so I put on workout clothes.
8:10 am – I take the baby downstairs for his breakfast. The neighbor’s construction crew backs trucks up and down the (shared) driveway for fun. Boy do I love that beeping sound first thing in the morning. Let the dog out, feed the dog, promise the cats I’ll feed them later.
8:20 am – Baby is fed and burped so I try to give him his antacid medicine. He immediately pukes his entire feeding and the medicine up all over himself and the Boppy. I decide I’ll give him another half dose. He hates it but keeps it down. I give him a toy to amuse himself while I check email and catch up on the news and the interwebs.
8:21 am – POOPSPLOSION!!!! and diaper change.
9:30 am – Baby Evan decides his toy is boring and that he would rather kick me. Kick kick kick kick.
9:31 am – Drag vibrating baby seat upstairs to entertain Baby Evan while I do laundry, fold laundry, put away laundry, make the bed, and clean the bathroom.
10:00 am – Baby starts making oooo oooo oooo mmmm mmmm mmmm noises. I cleverly deduce he might be hungry.
10:10 am – Thank God the nursing put Baby to sleep. I sneak him into the swing for his morning nap and go about feeding myself and collecting all the baby laundry for a load this afternoon.
10:30 am – Distracted by the interwebs. Ok, NOW I’m going to go get something to eat.
10:45 am – Baby poops himself awake before I can finish my sandwich (what, sandwiches are breakfast food). I finish my sandwich anyways.
10:52 am – Diaper change. Poop report -very green, not too smelly, did not leak. I’d give it a B+.
10:53 am – Baby is playing happily on his baby gym. I struggle with whether or not to do my Postnatal Bootcamp DVD when I know the Price is Right will be on in a couple minutes. I decide to wait and see if I’ve already seen this episode before I commit to the workout.
11:05 am – I’ve seen this one. Workout DVD it is.
11:45 am – The workout that was supposed to last 20 minutes took me twice as long because the baby was bored. I tried the gym, the swing, the couch, several toys and the Bumpo chair before settling on the exersaucer. It’s the only one that gives him a clear view of the dog.
12:00 pm – The baby is tired and hungry but insists he is NOT TIRED and NOT HUNGRY. I am boiling hot and sweaty and smelly so I don’t blame him for not wanting to cuddle but I can’t take a shower while he’s this unhappy. I eventually get him still enough to aim my nipple in the general vicinity of his mouth and he gives in. Ten minuted later he’s sound asleep. I’m so lucky that he’s a quick eater – I would not have stuck out the breastfeeding thing if it took an hour or more to finish each feeding.
12:15 pm – Baby’s asleep in the nursery (for the first time ever, although he’s still in the bouncy seat and not the crib) so I hop in the shower.
12:49 pm – I’m clean, dressed and wearing mascara. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. We’re having people over tonight so I briefly consider making brownies but decide it’s too hot to turn on the oven. Plus I’ve heard our guests may be bringing cookies. Mmmmm…cookies.
12:50 pm – Must be lunch time for the neighbor’s contractors. I notice their van has completely blocked my car in the driveway. I suddenly think of a dozen places I really need to go and start to get annoyed.
12:57 pm – Dog starts barking at neighbor’s contractors who have wandered too close to my back garden. I shush him but secretly feel glad that he’s big and kind of loud. I’m not a fan of all these strangers wandering around.
1:oo pm – Man, daytime tv sucks.
1:05 pm – Clean: downstairs bathroom, family room, kitchen (again) and litter box. I get distracted by the disgusting state of the basement and start rearranging and pulling crap out of the corners. By the time I’m done there’s a huge pile of “yard sale” stuff in the middle of the floor and I’m filthy dirty again.
1:55 pm – I hear the baby playing with the toys on the bouncy seat so I head upstairs to get him.
1:56 pm – Diaper change. Just wet.
2:00 pm – It’s like a zillion degrees in this stupid non-air conditioned house. I aim one of our big noisy box fans right at my seat on the couch just so I can feed the baby without being cooked to death.
2:10 pm – The baby is done eating so it’s play time. I’m trying to teach him to give kisses, which is really just pressing his mouth against something. I think he’s getting the idea though.
2:21 pm – E’s home! He amuses Baby Evan with a few rounds of Rock Band.
4:00 pm – Feed the baby.
4:10 pm – Baby’s asleep on the Boppy on the couch but I don’t think it’s going to last long. I use my free time to do very important things play games on the internet. And to eat some Pringles, the dinner of champions.
4:45 pm – The baby wakes up and acts adorable.
4:52 pm – The baby starts howling like a banshee.
4:55 pm – Diaper change. The poop is yellow with…little black things? How did he eat that? Still not smelly though. I give it a C.
5:00 pm – Shockingly, after all my interwebs time wasting the baby now wants attention. E and I take turns swinging on the front porch, making silly faces, and throwing him (GENTLY) in the air for the lulz.
5:30 pm – Dinner time for babies. No food for the adults though. Still hoping for cookies.
5:44 pm – Screaming and thrashing time for babies. He throws up a little but is happy as soon as E picks him up and starts patting his back.
6:25 pm – I finish the baby laundry and general tidying, sweep the front porch and make some iced tea for our game night. E rocks Baby Evan on the front porch swing.
6:30 pm – Our friends come over for some adult conversation and a few rounds of the marble game (THE BEST GAME EVAR). They brought their adorable and well behaved 3 year old…and cookies! Thanks Amanda! Baby Evan sits in the bouncy seat and makes funny faces the whole time.
7:30 pm – Feed the baby without having to get up or ever miss my turn. Baby falls asleep.
9:00 pm – Our company leaves.
9:01 pm – Feed the baby, baby screams and throws up. E changes him and tries to give him his medicine but he pukes it all over himself and the changing table cover.
9:02 pm – Ok, I guess it’s bath time. E washes the puke and sticky medicine off Baby Evan. Now he smells like baby shampoo.
9:05 pm – I spend 30 minutes smelling the baby’s head and chewing on kissing his chubby face.
9:35 pm – E and I take turns holding Baby Evan while we watch fast forward through most of the So You Think You Can Dance results show (They did the door routine (yah!) and the one to Bleeding Love (double yah!) and Evan made it to the finals! Everyone loves people named Evan).
9:50 pm – E swaddles the baby and stands next to the couch rocking him. I sit on my butt and think about how nice it is to have someone else to do that.
9:55 pm – Baby is totally asleep. We watch the last 10 minutes of SYTYCD. E pets the baby’s head because he’s so cute when he’s passed out.
10:05 pm – Everyone’s in bed. With the giant box fan blowing directly on the bed it’s almost a bearable temperature in here.
10:25 pm – The last time I remember seeing on the clock before I pass out.
12:00 am – ZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz.
Things I have not had time to do yet today:
2. My 18 minute work-out video
3. Take a nap to make up for that 3 am feeding
4. Bring in the trash cans
6. Put on a shirt not covered in spit-up
7. Make the bed
8. Take a shower
Things I DID do:
1. Change the baby
2. Feed the baby
3. Change the baby
4. Feed the baby
5. You get the idea
6. Call my doctor for a Diflucan prescription that I will probably won’t get to pick up until some time tomorrow since today is turning out to be an endless cycle of baby care.
So really, darling husband, when you announce you are “coming home for lunch” don’t be surprised when my response is more “Great, hold this kid while I pee” and less “I’ll be waiting for you, stud”.
I’ve always been an over-packer. I cannot leave a 60-mile radius around my house without outfits for the following situations: what if we go to the beach? what if it’s cold at night? what if we go out to dinner? what if we have to walk really far? what if a giant asteroid hits earth? what if Steven Spielberg suddenly falls out of the sky and says “You! If only you had a red shirt you’d be PERFECT for the lead role in my next film!”? So I tend to carry a lot of stuff.
All that previous packing was NOTHING compared to the amount of crap you need with a baby. We didn’t even spend the night away from home and we still brought an entire car full of baby stuff. There’s the car seat, the stroller, the diaper bag, the other diaper bag, the outfits & burp cloths (because I still have the spitty-uppiest baby in the world), the pack’n’play, the sling carrier, the mei tai carrier, the toys, the bouncy seat…wait, where’s the bouncy seat? Did we forget the bouncy seat?!?! Luckily, E’s cousin has two kids and a garage full of abandoned baby gear which happened to include a swing. I seriously don’t know how people used to survive before Fisher-Price.
Our trip was to Plymouth, Mass – I’ve always felt that was an appropriate place to spend the 4th, very America-y – and we had a good time. The baby was about as well behaved as a three month old could be. He took a nice long nap in my new baby carrier while we walked around town. Unfortunately, now all the pictures of him in Plymouth look like this:
But he was very happy being carried and he didn’t get a sunburn and besides a little numbness in my left shoulder this morning the mai tei worked great. That’s us standing next to Plymouth Rock. I know, how exciting. A rock. You’re so jealous of our proximity to a random rock on a whole beach full of rocks that has been designated as the official rock the Pilgrims landed on even though it’s definitely not. Oh and someone vandalized it so instead of saying “1620” it says “1820”. So America just lost two hundred years of history. Great job, douchebag vandal.
Here are some pictures from the rest of our day:
E: I’m out of beer.
Me: And I’m out of milk. Why don’t you get up and get us both more?
E: Why don’t you get up? Geez, your pregnant, it’s not like your paralyzed.
Me: (wallowing around like a beached whale) Oh my goooooooooooooooood I am so pregnant!
E: Yeah, you’re kind of huge.
Me: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! At least it’s not for too much longer.
E: It’s not that soon, you still have four months.
Me: FOUR MONTHS?? Try 10 weeks.
E: Whatever, same thing.
Me: NO. Nononononono, 10 weeks is two and a half months. Not four. Two and a half.
E: I’m rounding.
Me: THERE IS NO ROUNDING.
Happy Anniversary E! I can’t believe we’ve been married for four whole years. It seems like only yesterday I was watching you across that dance hall, hoping you’d stop hitting on the slutty waitress long enough to take me home and get me drunk. You’re the best husband a girl could ask for and I love you even more today than on our wedding day.
p.s. Thanks for the flowers. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, I sort of figured carrying your child for 9 months pretty much covered the next dozen gift-giving occasions. XOXO