Narnian Delight

I shudder to think how much adjusting I'll have to do when we have our own place - stocking a pantry from ground zero, performing home maintenance tasks, making meals every night, hiring actual babysitters...

...but for now I'll enjoy life. : )
Trent & I went to see the first Chronicles of Narnia movie last night. I think it's wonderful, particularly compared to the BBC miniseries that was made many years ago. Chubby, pudding-faced Lucy with her exclamations of "AZ-laaaan!" Ick. No, no, no, no, NO!

This one's much better. I left the theater impressed by several of the actors, wanting to look more information up on imdb.com, wanting to buy the soundtrack - even wanting to see the movie again.

Considering the town is only ~6,000, the lines for the movie were the longest I've ever seen at the theater. It was almost like being back in Kansas City for a premiere, except that no one dressed up in Narnia gear. Some strange behaviors are curtailed by a 15-degree temperature; rejoice and be exceeding glad, I say.

Since so many of my family members have ADD tendencies, we often use the saying that "people without ADHD just don't understa- ooh, look! A chicken!"

I tell you this now because, "Oooh, a chicken!": my mother just left the room in delight, having assembled both of the Christmas boxes she needs to mail. I call her the Queen of Tape, since her boxes are extremely difficult to open. I just heard from her own lips (and I kid you not), "If you use enough tape, you can actually waterproof your package."

Recipients of her packages, arm yourselves with paring knives. Nothing else will make it past those rectangular fortresses.

Fitting a Schedule

When I was in college, I applied to be an R.A. There were parts of the process that went well, while others... didn't.

When the head of my residence hall got the report back from the interview crew, he shared the wonderful news with me: they felt I was looking for a group to control, not that I was concerned with helping others fit in. I remember one question in particular - What would I, personally, do to help a lesbian on my floor feel like she fit in? Since that fit nowhere in my small-town, conservative upbringing, I actually had the gall to hem and haw a bit before saying something about trying to help her find groups of like-minded people on campus.

I still wonder how much of the final judgment had more to do with them deciding they didn't like ME and how much it was that I truly was unsuited for the job.

This comes to mind now because I _AM_ someone's housing and schedule authority. Whether Nathan likes it or not, there are many days (continuing perhaps for several years) when I can mandate alone time for him - whether he likes it or not. I started implementing a schedule of sorts with him this week:

wake ~7-8
eat
play time (exersaucer or time on his tummy)
nap ~10:30 for an hour or so
eat
cuddle time
alone time/nap from 1 to 3-ish
eat
awake time (books, talking, singing, etc.)
time in his downstairs bed (while we eat supper)
eat
nap for 1-2 hours
awake until bedtime (this is usually when he's the most awake he ever gets)
get ready for bed
...and one last feeding before bed ~10 p.m.

Getting him on a more consistent schedule is Step One in being able to organize the rest of my necessary tasks. Trying to wait until he doesn't need me to do laundry simply doesn't work - and it creates a bad situation of my life being organized completely around his demands.

So Help Me, Nathan Will NOT Be/Do/Say/Act...

- He will not chain-smoke by age 2.
- He will not bite his nails to the quick in the first twelve months of his life.
- He will eat every bit of liver I place before him.
- He will not curse at me in Swahili.
- He will not bifurcate his tongue at age 10.
- He will not design a personal tattoo with "Muther" in it.
- He will not have a complete collection of Yanni tunes.
- He will never exceed the speed limit in a Model T.

Figured I better start with loose things I know I can keep. I have other things I think he will "never" do, but I'll wait until he's 15 and see how many of those I can actually control before I'm stupid enough to put it in writing where others can see (and later tease me about) it.

The Chocolate Whore

Have you ever figured out what your name would be if you were a stripper? The supposed formula is to use your middle name and the name of the street where you grew up. Some people have exotic dancer-ish results - Aileen Mahogany or Lynnae Birch or something like that.

My name? Jean Sixth Avenue. Don't you want to stick dollar bills down that woman's waistband?

Well, I may not have a cool exotic dancer name; but I have a cool Bond villainness name now, thanks to Trent: The Chocolate Whore. He told me last night and I laughed so hard I gagged.

It's not quite true that I'd do anything for chocolate, but I do rank quality chocolate pretty high on my indulgence list. Greater love hath no Susan than that she share an Andre's chocolate with you - not buy one for you; give you one from a box she has purchased for herself.

I highly recommend the truffles and their grand cru chocolates.

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow...

It snowed again last night - lots of snow. 7 inches' worth "lots of snow". It was a Christmas snow: steady fat flakes, but not wet and heavy. I was able to sweep 4" piles of snow off my parents' patio with a push broom. I finally gave up because everything was coated again in 5 minutes.

Could snow be one of God's pause buttons?
Think you're flying out to San Diego? Sorry - bzzt. Blizzard. Thank you for playing.

I was in Chicago a few years ago for one of these. A blizzard had Windy City weatherpeople talking about survival techniques and the wisdom of staying home. It was easier to walk the few blocks from my hotel to the hospital for work than it would have been to take any other form of transportation. O'Hare closed down. -Hell itself couldn't have been far from icing over.

Once I get over the frustration of plans shortcircuiting all around me, I start to see snowstorms as a get out of jail free card. Didn't want to go to play practice? Not a problem; it got canceled. Wrestling with your conscience as to whether you should head back to work or stay home by the fire with a hot drink and a good book? Snow makes the decision for you; no guilt.

I am glad to be back in the world of smarter winter drivers, that's for sure. Other parts of the country freak if there's frost on the windows. My sister once called home in irritation because West Coast news programs were describing how people would need to scrape the frost off their windshields that morning in order to see. Interstates slow down to a 15-mph crawl if 1" of snow falls. Cars end up in ditches because people stomp on their brakes rather than pump and steer away from a skid instead of into it. The loud noise you just heard was a large snort from the wintry parts of the country. Pansies.

No pansies here. 7" of snow fell last night, but Wal-Mart and Hy-Vee still had plenty of milk cartons left in the coolers. Life continued (at slower road speeds), but everyone took the opportunity to check out of life's obligations a bit earlier in the day and stay home. I, who had been at home since Sunday evening, went to run errands last night in the midst of storm. Braving the weather, conquering the elements... Ahh... it's good to be home.

Scrappy December

I've become possessed by yet another addiction. I fought it for several months, but eventually succumbed. I was heroically denying myself, but then my mom brought out her equipment and sucked me back in. -My sister-in-law and my best friend here do it, too! I can't let them go through it alone, can I? I can control it, though, I know I can... I'll pace myself... control how much I do it... how much it costs... how much of me it consumes... This time it will work, I know it.

Formerly a hold-out, I'm now following the scrapbooking herd. My biggest point of resistance before was the whole photo thing. I love taking pictures; I'm horrible about getting them developed. I still have a roll of film from three years ago that I haven't taken in. So... once we got a digital camera, I didn't have to get them developed! Buy some photo paper from a discount store, and voila! Insta-prints in less than 5 minutes.

With the picture issue not an issue any more, there's nothing to prevent my love of office supplies, storytelling, calligraphy, and creativity from consuming me. The problem will be actually finishing anything. It should be a lesson to me that my mom still hasn't finished my brothers' baby books (they are currently ages 26 and 23).

Thanksgiving Aftermath

Well, we survived the first major road trip.

We spent a weekend in KC seeing friends, then headed south to NW Arkansas to spend Thanksgiving with my in-laws. Nathan had 12 people who were more than willing to pick him up if he so much as whimpered. People competed over who got to feed him and complained if they didn't get enough time with him. I'm glad to get my son back, honestly.

Overall, Nathan was a peach - smiled at all comers, didn't fuss over unfamiliar faces, and was cheerful most of the time. What I didn't like was that he didn't get the down time I know he needs. He slept for most of the 9-10 hour car ride home, but I was apprehensive about payback this week. Sunday he was pretty good, and then... Monday. Oy.

Looking back at yesterday, I don't think it was fallout from Thanksgiving as much as it was a product of him coming down with a cold. He woke up at 4 a.m., again at 4:45 a.m.; I was up again around 5:30, again ~7, then finally got up with him about 8 a.m. From then until 9:30 p.m., he didn't sleep more than 30-45 minutes at a stretch; and much of that awake time was spent wailing.

He finally slept the sleep of the drugged last night: 9:30 p.m. until 7:45 a.m. He's stuffed up and coughing this morning, but at least I know why he's irritable... I was going to head over to a girlfriend's place today to do some scrapbooking, but I don't want to take Nathan out when he's sick. Mom offered to keep him for me, but I'd like to be here with him. I'm trying to avoid Nathan's therapy sessions years from now about resurrected memories of his mom abandoning him when he was sick. : )

Nathan's still active even though he's sick; he was so fidgety yesterday that I actually got out the johnny-jump-up. He's still small enough that I had to wedge an entire fleece blanket around his little bod to keep him upright, but he seemed to enjoy it. Is it normal to put a not-yet-3-month-old in one of these things?

(yawn) I'm off to shower and try to do a few things while the boy is snoozing in his baby papasan. More later...

Kidbound

It snowed yesterday, and it was bad enough to provoke some schools into calling off classes today. When upper Midwest education is sidelined due to weather, you know it's cold. Our two lab-mix dogs stay in a shed in my parents' backyard. There's a convection heater and electricity in the barn (as we call it), but the dogs' water was frozen this morning.

Even with all this, it's not the freezing climes that are keeping me home. I, born and raised in the upper Midwest, snowbound? Ha. I laugh in your face. I fart in your general direction.

No, no... I'm kidbound. I think Nathan could survive being outside, but when my mom expresses caution (a woman who's raised four children successfully in such winters), I'm learning to listen. I tend to charge into things with overwhelming confidence - and have something get destroyed or injured beyond repair in the process, after which I shamefacedly agree I shouldn't have done that.

I still remember a confrontation with my dad when I was in Jr. High/high school. After our heated conversation, I stalked down the hall to my bathroom, got in the shower, angrily tugged the showerhead down - and punched a hole right through the drywall. My dad was, of course, the only other person home; I had to abase myself and confess I'd broken his house not five minutes after our "discussion".

I don't want Nathan to get broken because of my stupidity or strong will. I'll wait 'til my mom gets home so she can watch Nathan, then go run my errands sans offspring.

Rewards

Lessons I'm learning from Nathan: how to smile at someone who wakes you up, dumps you on a chilly flat surface, then strips all clothing from your nether regions before dragging a cold wet wipe across your genitals. If I was him, I'd want to stick me in the eye with a fingernail...

-He'd slept for >10 hours, but still.

Good behavior must be rewarded, right? I couldn't resist these... they're way too big for him right now, but he'll be able to wear them for a single week of his life sometime in the future.

Maybe someday he'll be a shoe fanatic like his Uncle Brian is. : )

She-Ra

I had a classmate in Jr. High who nicknamed me She-Ra. Must have been my shy, retiring personality that never got anything accomplished due to timidity.

Anyway... yesterday was a She-Ra, Princess of Power day. HOO-rah!
I washed and folded three loads of laundry, changed the sheets on our bed, reorganized our bathroom, finished writing thank-you notes, did my devotions ("spent time at the feet of our Lord," for those of you who speak a more exclusive Christianese dialect), bathed Nathan, went to aerobics, and took a shower myself - in addition to eating three meals myself and feeding Nathan 3-4 times.

You have no idea how big a deal that is, managing to eat all three meals myself. I've reverted back to my collegiate mentality, which was waiting until my hunger outweighed my lack of desire to expend energy in actually preparing the food. Not laziness, per se, since I was doing things like walking everywhere on campus, studying, reading, etc. Eating just wasn't that important to me. Well, same deal here. I look up at the clock and realize it's 1 p.m. and lo, I have consumed nothing. When I want to eat, I'm in the middle of something; when I have the time, I don't have the desire.

No worries I'll skip supper tonight: in honor of my birthday (which is this weekend) we're having steak and mashed potatoes. My dad does a wonderful job with a gas grill. OK, my salivary glands kicked into gear just typing that sentence. Pavlovian response.

It's snowing today... we should have 2-4" by the time this ends - Nathan's first REAL snowfall. Speaking of the boy, it's time to go wake him up - he's been asleep (or close to it) for 9 1/2 hours now.

The Unexpected

Another line I never knew I'd hear from my spouse:

"I have just witnessed green goo exiting my son's anus."

Two Months Old

Nathan, this week you turned two months old. I knew my life would change, but had no idea how much my focus would shift. When I was pregnant with you, there wasn't an aspect of my life - from eating to sleeping to sitting to standing to walking - that hadn't changed. That's continued since you were born, but now I get to interact with you.

You cuddle. You look cute in shades. You smile at me, and any bad mood seems to melt - particularly when you give me gummy grins at 4 o'clock in the morning. Your screaming may leave me feeling tired some days, but you hear my voice and stop crying. If I sing to you, you smile at me and sing along in your own baby way. I love that you're fascinated with anything bright, pattern-like or moving - brick walls, plaid shirts, ceiling fans, bright lights. I love that your eyes are almost always wide open, as if you're eager to take in every iota you possibly can.

I have fears sometimes that something will happen to you; that I'll screw up somehow, someway - and that my mistake will result in serious injury to you. Like Nichole Nordeman's song Brave says, you make me want to be brave. I may struggle with standing up for myself or my rights, but I would fight tooth and nail for you. I'm not ga-ga over you, but somehow you've entwined chubby fingers into all of my synapses.

I love you, Nathan.

Crack the Week

What a week.

Last Saturday we took a lightning trip 2 1/2 hours south to meet my in-laws for lunch before we turned around and drove back home. Nathan slept most of the way, but he was out-of-sorts by the time we got home.

Monday we decided to throw Nathan's world into chaos. How could I ever know that a hole punched through a man-made rubber substitute would change my life? -Wait, that could be taken the wrong way... I better explain. Nathan's scarfed down food since he was born, inhaling 8-9 oz. in less than 30 minutes. He'd follow these performances with an encore of repeat material - repeated ad nauseum. His nauseum. We hoped increasing the difficulty level of the bottle nipple would slow him down a tad and reduce the amount of regurgitated food.

Now it takes him 25 minutes to get 2 oz. My life this week has been like crack-the-whip or the tail(N.) wagging the dog (me); I'm not sure which. He eats an ounce or so, falls asleep because he's exhausted from working so hard, sleeps an hour or so, wakes up crying, cries while I change him, then attacks the bottle again with a vengeance.

To the problems with feeding were added fallout from his first round of shots (He was 2 months old Tuesday, so immunizations were due). Good news, though: he likes the taste of children's Tylenol. : )

I hope he adjusts OK with eating in the next week; traveling over Thanksgiving will be rough otherwise.

When I was in 4th grade, I desperately wanted a Cabbage Patch kid. I even coaxed my older sister into letting me take hers to school - sort of an "Aunt/Fake Niece Day at School" experience.

In high school I would have sawn off my left arm to be in college instead.

In college I wanted a paycheck commensurate with my schooling.

While working, I wanted to have time to savor little things - or jeez, just time to do laundry and eat meals on any sort of regular basis!

Now that I'm a stay-at-home mom (or SAHM, if you prefer, which sounds like a lisped Islamic greeting to me), I have more time. And what do I want now?

Well, this morning I got what I wanted: a shower. My mom fed and bathed Nathan so I could shower. Life is good - and thank the good Lord above for mothers who are willing grandmothers!

I'm returning to childhood - the wants are simpler and more easily satisfied. Must be the proximity to an infant that promotes some sort of osmotic "wants" transfer...

Halloween at Age 53

Well, Nathan's had his first Halloween at age fifty-three... fifty-three days, that is. Seven and a half weeks is too young for trick-or-treating, but in a few years I can shamelessly use my child to acquire chocolate for myself.

Funny story: Last year my nephew was asked by a candy-distributing homeowner if he had a little sister. This Spider-man costumed tot said "yes" in hopes of getting more candy. My brother had to intervene and no, there wasn't any little sister at home.

Anyway, you can see I dressed Nathan up as a pilot (I've got to get as many pictures of him in this jacket as I can before he outgrows it). The jacket's so stiff that he can sit upright in it - but he did fall over shortly after I took that first picture.

He's almost two months old, and he's changed so much in just the last few weeks. It used to be that he'd only outgrown two sleepers; now he's on the verge of outgrowing five or six all at once. He's gained somewhere around five pounds since he was born and 2-3 inches in length. He's still sleeping through the night (8 hours last night!) and doesn't waste any time when he's eating. The bigger problem is keeping up with his eating - this child would keep a milk cow busy at times: 30 ounces or more a day.

Along with better sleep patterns, he's more alert during the day. He talks to us on a regular basis now, with gum-revealing grins and happy baby sighs mixed in. He's a charmer, all right... -This Halloween picture looks more pilot-like in attitude to me; it almost looks like he's saying, "You wanna' take me on, sweetheart?" Don't let the picture fool you. He'd bite your arm off if he's hungry enough, and he really doesn't like having his arm or leg motions restricted - no more swaddling for him, thank you very much - but he's still a cuddler and a charmer. He keeps a close eye on all bright colors in his vicinity and shares his thoughts with ceiling fans and stuffed animals placed near him.

[sigh] Yeah, he's cute.

Advertising Will Be in Hell

If ever I wanted proof that advertising/spamming is an evil twisting of communication's intent (true, real interaction between people), spam blog comments would convince me of it.

Case in point:
Hi ________. Can I find any information on http://www.__________.com here? My friend said to check out [insert recent post title here]... for information on _________ but this does not seem like the most relevant of blogs. I like cruzing through your site but maybe search engines might have more information. Need to come back later though...great blogs!

Nice. A touch of personalized info and reference, informal style, some misspelling and grammar errors, and bingo: some poor blogger is deluded into believing someone reads and likes their blog. If the ad perpetrator is really lucky, the blogger will now post something about topic X in hopes of luring the reader back.

If I choose not to put ads on my blog (not saying they'll never be there, just that I don't want to put any on right now), I definitely don't want someone else putting ads on my site. Grrr.

Talk about Feeling Tongue-Tied...

I think every woman in this country has had some sort of issue about food - including me.

Well, my on-going problem right now has to do with food, but it's Nathan's food. He was born with ankyloglossia, which is also known as being tongue-tied. The piece of skin that connected his tongue to the floor of his mouth was shorter than usual; it meant he couldn't extend his tongue past his lower gumline.

I started nursing immediately, but his tongue couldn't work properly for a good latch. Fortunately they caught the problem and performed a frenotomy - they snipped the tissue that was holding back his tongue. He's fine now.

Unfortunately for me, his being tongue-tied did a real number on my nipples. It was excruciatingly painful to nurse at the beginning, and because I didn't know what I was doing and how to help it (and help fix Nathan's latch), the pain continued.

When I came home, I was in tears each time before starting nursing, bracing myself for unbelievable pain on sensitive tissue. I've supplemented with formula and by pumping ever since; I can still get in one regular nursing session a day, but Nathan's not nearly as efficient at the breast as he is with a bottle nipple... He uses his jaw a lot more than he needs to, effectively chewing the nipple rather than just sucking it. My skin can't handle more than several sessions in a row with him before it's too painful to continue.

I expected having to work at getting an effective latch, but I didn't expect this much of a struggle. It was helpful just today to read that most moms of tongue-tied babies either pump or give up on nursing - but then I realized that they meant moms of babies who stayed tongue-tied.

This was the capper for me: there is some inherited aspect to being tongue-tied. If I remember correctly, my husband was tongue-tied at birth. The other study finding, though, is that baby being tongue-tied might be linked to the mom using cocaine while pregnant.

Good grief... As if I would have snorted white powder up my nose and increased the number of unpleasant sensations I experienced during my first trimester.

Motherhood

Today motherhood meant:
- Never getting to that shower I meant to take
- Staying in my pajamas until noon (not because I was being lazy, but because I didn't have a long enough block of time when it mattered enough to me to change)
- Looking at the clock to see it was 2 p.m. and, lo and behold, I hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch
- Running Nathan through 3 wardrobe changes, 4-5 burp pads, and at LEAST that many diapers... Please don't ask me how many wet wipes were used today; I couldn't tell you.
- Realizing I haven't seen the checkbook since Monday

In all my childhood games of playing house, in my dreams of what it was like to be a mom - never did any of these items make even a brief appearance. I don't feel like I bought a lemon at all and I AM still enjoying this, but I wish the fine print had been easier to read!

Week Seven

Ain't he adorable?

I thought this outfit was still too big for him, but I had been warned by female family members that I should regularly go through his outfits to check the fit. Too many outfits would otherwise fit the "Ack! He's already too big for this and he never wore it!" category.

So... bear suit it is for the day's attire. He's 7 weeks old today - he holds his head up much better now, reaches for things with his hands, makes all sorts of baby chirps and coos, smiles often, sleeps through the night and has a lot more alert/awake time than he used to. He's very adept at charming passersby; they get sucked in by the chubby cheeks and (usually) wide-open blue eyes. He's pushing 13 pounds now - not a newborn anymore! His cousin Keira (who was 6 lbs. 6 oz. at birth last week Friday) makes him look even more gi-normous (see picture).

Must go. I have a date with my Medela - who gets time with me more often than anyone other than Nathan does!

Going 'Round

His Majesty is often amused by things that rotate above him - mobiles, ceiling fans (whether they're off or on), etc.

I'd love to tell him about his new cousin, Keira Alexandra, who was born early this morning to Adam & Lin; even I (soccer mom that I tend to be) know he isn't at that level of comprehension yet.

From the screams I hear off to my right, a ceiling fan just ain't cuttin' it this morning. Nothing less than 6-8 oz. of food - and make it snappy, woman! Never mind that he had 8 oz. less than 2 hours ago... Must go; I have to feed the beast.