The one thing nobody told me before I had Rain was how LONG it would be before I ever had a FULL, decent night's sleep. Don't you come to me with the whole "technically a full night's sleep is five hours for a baby" because I ain't no baby!
Fair Warning: bitter mother up ahead
So, it's bedtime now. 12:50, and I'm finally going to sleep. The last time I slept from ten at night to eight in the morning was when I was in my first trimester. That, my friends, was one year and two months ago.
The worst part is, some of my most brain-requiring work happens after ten o'clock. The other night I was looking over someone's paper for critique, and I kept typing "too much" too much. The sentence I typed read something like, "Don't say this too much, because if you say it too much, it will come out too much the same way." What? The next morning after reading what I had written, I felt like putting a sign on my forehead: "Out for lunch. Will be back in one year."
Tonight, while Tim and I were working on our respective computers, the baby started crying. Tim went to check on her.
That was an hour ago. I get the feeling Tim passed by our bed and was sucked in.
Goodnight, children. Grandma Dowdel must go to sleep now. She must check on her family, but she cautions you this: cherish your sleep. One day, not many days hence, you may find yourself with a child at dawn. You will mock the days when you stayed up until three in the morning--wait for it--because you wanted to. There was actually a place you wanted to be, a book you wanted to read, or a movie you wanted to see that you willingly kept your eyes open for. Hahahaha! Be careful that today you don't use your sleep unwisely too much, else one day you'll feel too much that too much time has been wasted too much ...
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
More Product Placement
A long time ago, in a far away blog, I gave a list of the best stuff I bought (or was given) while I was pregnant. Today, I offer the follow-up:
THE BEST STUFF EVER FOR BABIES (9 months and younger, anyway)
1. Babypack AKA Baby carrier
We loved our Bjorn carrier. It was the the only way I could make myself a bowl of cereal and hold Rain at the same time. Turkey sandwich for lunch? Don't talk crazy: that took too much time to prepare, my friend.
2. Side-snap shirts
Sometimes, the kiddo needs to be in a basic diaper & tee combo. You'll quickly realize that outfits that have to go over the head of a newborn are annoying.
3. Warehouse club membership
Rain used about 20 diapers a day until she was 3 or 4 months old. Now she's down to 10 or 11. Buying diapers at a grocery store is best left to emergency situations. Pampers charges plenty for adhesive and cotton. Buy in bulk, or expect to balk.
4. Swing
We had a great, basic swing from Graco (SnugGlider) that we could drop Rain's car seat (also Graco) into. When she fell asleep in the car, we could take her out and put her right into the vibrating swing for an extra twenty minutes or so of peace.
5. Essential Meds
Tylenol Infant Drops for fever? Check. Mylicon Drops for gas? Check. Baby Orajel for teething? Check. Speaking of teething, try Baby Safe Feeder Starter Kit (mesh bag with a ring that's easy for babies to hold). Pop some cold fruit in there, and baby is happy. Frozen (slightly defrosted) mini bagels work well, too.
6. Car Seat Gallery (by Manhattan Toy)
This inexpensive display kept Rain distracted on boring car rides. Remember to rotate the pictures often.
7. Bumbo
I LOVED Rain's Bumbo seat. It was the mini throne that opened her eyes to the vertical world (also, a good way to keep the back of her head from flattening ... sorry, no joking here).
FOR BREASTFEEDING MOMS ...
1. Electric pump
Seriously, ladies, don't waste your time with the manual pumps. I know you want to save money (hey, having a newborn around ain't cheap), but this is not the place to do it. Trust me, after 3 or 4 sessions manually pumping milk, you'll wish you had scrounged the cash for the electric.
2. Nursing bras
Victoria's secret? She never nursed a baby. So, get some stylish nursing bras (I have several, including one that's a tank top), because the regular ones won't do. Some hospitals have breastfeeding centers that will help you out, so take advantage of them.
3. Soothies Gel Pads
When you're starting out, you'll need all the help gel can provide. Be generous with the lanolin cream, too, if you need it.
4. Sock
Yep, a nice big rolled up sock. I learned this trick from one of the many books I read while prego. If you're tired of holding up your gals while trying to feed your newborn, use a sock underneath for support.
Hope this helps future mamas. Feel free to post other cool baby products, 'cause it's Us vs. Them--the babies, I mean--so, be armed!
THE BEST STUFF EVER FOR BABIES (9 months and younger, anyway)
1. Babypack AKA Baby carrier
We loved our Bjorn carrier. It was the the only way I could make myself a bowl of cereal and hold Rain at the same time. Turkey sandwich for lunch? Don't talk crazy: that took too much time to prepare, my friend.
2. Side-snap shirts
Sometimes, the kiddo needs to be in a basic diaper & tee combo. You'll quickly realize that outfits that have to go over the head of a newborn are annoying.
3. Warehouse club membership
Rain used about 20 diapers a day until she was 3 or 4 months old. Now she's down to 10 or 11. Buying diapers at a grocery store is best left to emergency situations. Pampers charges plenty for adhesive and cotton. Buy in bulk, or expect to balk.
4. Swing
We had a great, basic swing from Graco (SnugGlider) that we could drop Rain's car seat (also Graco) into. When she fell asleep in the car, we could take her out and put her right into the vibrating swing for an extra twenty minutes or so of peace.
5. Essential Meds
Tylenol Infant Drops for fever? Check. Mylicon Drops for gas? Check. Baby Orajel for teething? Check. Speaking of teething, try Baby Safe Feeder Starter Kit (mesh bag with a ring that's easy for babies to hold). Pop some cold fruit in there, and baby is happy. Frozen (slightly defrosted) mini bagels work well, too.
6. Car Seat Gallery (by Manhattan Toy)
This inexpensive display kept Rain distracted on boring car rides. Remember to rotate the pictures often.
7. Bumbo
I LOVED Rain's Bumbo seat. It was the mini throne that opened her eyes to the vertical world (also, a good way to keep the back of her head from flattening ... sorry, no joking here).
FOR BREASTFEEDING MOMS ...
1. Electric pump
Seriously, ladies, don't waste your time with the manual pumps. I know you want to save money (hey, having a newborn around ain't cheap), but this is not the place to do it. Trust me, after 3 or 4 sessions manually pumping milk, you'll wish you had scrounged the cash for the electric.
2. Nursing bras
Victoria's secret? She never nursed a baby. So, get some stylish nursing bras (I have several, including one that's a tank top), because the regular ones won't do. Some hospitals have breastfeeding centers that will help you out, so take advantage of them.
3. Soothies Gel Pads
When you're starting out, you'll need all the help gel can provide. Be generous with the lanolin cream, too, if you need it.
4. Sock
Yep, a nice big rolled up sock. I learned this trick from one of the many books I read while prego. If you're tired of holding up your gals while trying to feed your newborn, use a sock underneath for support.
Hope this helps future mamas. Feel free to post other cool baby products, 'cause it's Us vs. Them--the babies, I mean--so, be armed!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
The Optimist
The Optimist in our house is by far the most persistent.
At 2:30 P.M. every day, I am in bed. The Optimist rests next to me. My objective is to put her to sleep then sneak away. I nurse her, hoping she'll make up for the nap she skipped at noon. The Optimist will allow her breathing to slow and even her eyes to close. After five minutes, when my own eyelids feel heavy, her eyes flicker open. She pulls away and gets on all fours. She says, "Uh-toy-toy-toy," looks out a nearby window, and smiles. Translation: "Thanks for the refreshment, silly Mommy. Where shall we go?" She looks at me.
My eyelids are closed. I'm watching her through my eyelashes. Simultaneously, I'm grieving that she is, once again, refusing to take a nap. Naps are great. If she doesn't want one, I DO.
The Optimist smiles at me. This smile is sincere in that she hopes I, too, am awake. When she sees that I don't appear to be, the smile disappears. There is work ahead. She crawls over to my face. Closer. She lifts her finger high, and sticks it in my nose.
Mommy is quick, however. Unlike her opponent, she remembers the same treatment from the day before. Instead of dropping the pretense, I snore.
The Optimist is disappointed, but not swayed. She crawls on top of me. She steps on my belly, digs her head into my side. When no satisfying end is reached, she takes a handful of hair. I brace myself. She yanks two or three times before falling back on her diaper to reassess the situation. She scans the room and realizes she can't continue her exploration of the world until I wake up and move her to the floor. Even if she got to the floor on her own, what good is discovering the world if Mommy isn't there to see it? Who would want to miss out on the 1-cm. long, black thread tucked under the ottoman?
The Optimist pats my face, babbles, and smiles a bit more. She won't give up; she can't give up. Something instinctual tells her to keep hoping, trying. She moves within an inch of my face, hoping to smoke me out. Finally, she crawls next to me. She squeezes close, puts her hand on my heart, and lays her head on my shoulder. It is the exact same position Mommy loves to sleep in when she takes a nap with Daddy. How does she know? Was she born knowing?
"Mommy's a sucker," I say. The Optimist smiles and giggles, knowing we're off to explore the world once more.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Baby Beater
Seriously, I do not beat my baby.
I know, she's got several bruises on her face, so blame the sleep-deprived mom, right?
The truth is, my kid is trying to kill herself. That's the way babies are. They sit around (in their own poo, no less) and think, "Dying young ... that has a ring to it." If they can't end their lives completely, they hope to at least injure themselves, preferably with internal bleeding.
Yesterday, I gave Rain a metal mixing bowl and spoon to play with, as I have many times before. She likes to beat the bowl like a drum. Pretty innocuous, no? This time, she tried to press down on one side of the bowl (in an effort to use it to stand, I think). The other side of the bowl flew up and rammed her in the face.
Rain cried.
Later, Tim let Rain crawl around in the kitchen. Her hand slipped. Whack! Her face slapped the floor. Tim rushed to her, hoping she would do that crazy thing kids do sometimes when they are smacked real good and get back up like nothin'.
Rain cried.
Then I put her in pajamas (you know, the ones with the feet attached). I didn't put one foot in all the way, I guess, because there was extra cloth flapping from it. She tried to stand in her crib. She slipped on the cloth, and--no surprise--fell face-first into the slats. Another no surprise:
Rain cried.
Afterwards, she decided to up the ante. She scooted past my laptop, all casual-like. She yanked the power cord out, popped the end into her mouth, and started sucking on it. Yes, the cord was plugged into the wall.
It made Mommy want to cry.
I know, she's got several bruises on her face, so blame the sleep-deprived mom, right?
The truth is, my kid is trying to kill herself. That's the way babies are. They sit around (in their own poo, no less) and think, "Dying young ... that has a ring to it." If they can't end their lives completely, they hope to at least injure themselves, preferably with internal bleeding.
Yesterday, I gave Rain a metal mixing bowl and spoon to play with, as I have many times before. She likes to beat the bowl like a drum. Pretty innocuous, no? This time, she tried to press down on one side of the bowl (in an effort to use it to stand, I think). The other side of the bowl flew up and rammed her in the face.
Rain cried.
Later, Tim let Rain crawl around in the kitchen. Her hand slipped. Whack! Her face slapped the floor. Tim rushed to her, hoping she would do that crazy thing kids do sometimes when they are smacked real good and get back up like nothin'.
Rain cried.
Then I put her in pajamas (you know, the ones with the feet attached). I didn't put one foot in all the way, I guess, because there was extra cloth flapping from it. She tried to stand in her crib. She slipped on the cloth, and--no surprise--fell face-first into the slats. Another no surprise:
Rain cried.
Afterwards, she decided to up the ante. She scooted past my laptop, all casual-like. She yanked the power cord out, popped the end into her mouth, and started sucking on it. Yes, the cord was plugged into the wall.
It made Mommy want to cry.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
... All I Have to Do, is Dream, Dream, Dream
My husband isn't a dreamer. I don't mean that in some metaphysical sort of way, I mean when he goes to sleep at night, it's for keeps. None of that pointless meandering around Dreamland.
About a month before Rain was born, he told me he had a dream that I had given birth. In fact, he had delivered our baby. He didn't know if it was a boy or girl (he only saw dark hair), but the thing that struck him was the baby's eyes. They were dark, focused, and seemed to look through him.
When Rain was born, he saw those same eyes. Instead of being terrified (like I would've), he said he felt "comforted."
Meanwhile ...
Before Rain came, I was worried that I wouldn't have an instant love for her. As the first weeks of dealing with a fitful newborn wore on, my doubts compounded. I thought, "What if I don't love her? What if I never love her?" Those are the kind of thoughts that slide in and out of a guilty mind right before sleep. This, of course, made me dream all sorts of scenarios in which I failed as a mother. Then I had this one dream ...
I was walking along a beach with Rain. It was sunny, but the water was churning. The wind picked up, and clouds rolled in. Quickly the tide rose and alarms sounded. Everyone ran inland, but the water came too fast. It was at my ankles when I turned to run. Rain was in my arms. I saw a metal pole--tall as a tree--with a wide base. I climbed to the top as the water rushed onto the beach. The surge washed over everyone, and I clung to the poll. As the water pushed against me, Rain pulled farther away. I tried to tighten my grip, but she slid away from me in one strong gush. The waves pushed over me, and everything was quiet. Finally, the waves went back to the ocean. I limped down from the poll, crying and moaning for my baby. There was no one on the beach. It felt like the Apocalypse. Ahead was a tall building, where it looked like survivors might be. But I just stood there, wanting to die. I didn't want to be saved, I wanted to go out with the water like Rain.
Then, I heard a buzzing sound overhead. I looked up, and there she was. She was a naked cherub. She had 2 tiny wings, beating the air like a hummingbird's, and she was giggling. She had saved herself. When I grabbed her, the wings went away. You think I cared to question the wings? Rain was alive and we were together.
That dream answered how I felt about Rain. I want to be her snow globe. She can be a crazy, happy, all-over-the-place kid ... as long as I'm allowed to be the shatter-proof glass that protects her. And, yet, in the dream, she didn't need me to guard her ...
About a month before Rain was born, he told me he had a dream that I had given birth. In fact, he had delivered our baby. He didn't know if it was a boy or girl (he only saw dark hair), but the thing that struck him was the baby's eyes. They were dark, focused, and seemed to look through him.
When Rain was born, he saw those same eyes. Instead of being terrified (like I would've), he said he felt "comforted."
Meanwhile ...
Before Rain came, I was worried that I wouldn't have an instant love for her. As the first weeks of dealing with a fitful newborn wore on, my doubts compounded. I thought, "What if I don't love her? What if I never love her?" Those are the kind of thoughts that slide in and out of a guilty mind right before sleep. This, of course, made me dream all sorts of scenarios in which I failed as a mother. Then I had this one dream ...
I was walking along a beach with Rain. It was sunny, but the water was churning. The wind picked up, and clouds rolled in. Quickly the tide rose and alarms sounded. Everyone ran inland, but the water came too fast. It was at my ankles when I turned to run. Rain was in my arms. I saw a metal pole--tall as a tree--with a wide base. I climbed to the top as the water rushed onto the beach. The surge washed over everyone, and I clung to the poll. As the water pushed against me, Rain pulled farther away. I tried to tighten my grip, but she slid away from me in one strong gush. The waves pushed over me, and everything was quiet. Finally, the waves went back to the ocean. I limped down from the poll, crying and moaning for my baby. There was no one on the beach. It felt like the Apocalypse. Ahead was a tall building, where it looked like survivors might be. But I just stood there, wanting to die. I didn't want to be saved, I wanted to go out with the water like Rain.
Then, I heard a buzzing sound overhead. I looked up, and there she was. She was a naked cherub. She had 2 tiny wings, beating the air like a hummingbird's, and she was giggling. She had saved herself. When I grabbed her, the wings went away. You think I cared to question the wings? Rain was alive and we were together.
That dream answered how I felt about Rain. I want to be her snow globe. She can be a crazy, happy, all-over-the-place kid ... as long as I'm allowed to be the shatter-proof glass that protects her. And, yet, in the dream, she didn't need me to guard her ...
Monday, February 18, 2008
These Knees are Made for Crawling
Rain has been making knee tracks all over since she's learned to crawl. This is good ("Oh, you want to crawl to mommy? Ok, mama loves you, too." Don't shirk--things get much ooey-gooer than that) and bad ("Please get out of the kitchen, honey, mommy hasn't swept in there yet. Now, see? Get that walnut out of your mouth ..."). The most interesting turn of events is that now I have a new window into Rain's mind. The closest thing I've had to this before was when she began eating solid foods. For once, with a turn of her head (actually, more like a batting away of her hands) I knew when she didn't like something. When she ate something she enjoyed (Gerber puffy sweet potato stars are her current fave), she opened her mouth wide and swallowed quickly. Some stuff surprised me (papaya, peas, and prunes), and some stuff I expected (cheese--she wouldn't be genetically mine if she didn't like cheese).
Now that Rain is mobile, I finally get to see which toys she actually likes. No longer can I plop her in front of something and expect her to be mildly interested if she isn't. She still loves her stacking cups, but her big blocks? Not so much. She loves holding on to her high chair legs as if they are monkey bars. Who knew she had a thing for the wooden puzzles after all? What's her deal with the red, tiny stacking cup anyway? Or the plastic sheep she carries around in her mouth.
I guess I'm saying that it's kind of neat to see her act independently of me.
Until she tries to climb off my bed. And tear down the Venetian blinds. And eat tiny specks of unidentifiable material off the carpet. And escape from her crib. And pull the wires from the modem. And eat a stray walnut from the floor.
Which I had to dig out of her mouth.
Which she didn't want to give back.
Which made me accidentally jab her sore gum.
Which made her cry.
Check, please.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Don Rain
Don Rain,
I hope I have not offended you with my comments yesterday. When I told your grandmother that you were, "Killing me slowly," I was only jesting. Please do not hold it against me, and in fact, kill me slowly. Permit me to explain myself. I was merely referring to the past 2 weeks in which I have not slept well due to my Don's teething. If you will recall, my honorable Don has risen from bed as early as 2 A.M. Then again at 4 A.M. And 5. Please forgive my weakness!
Rumors that I have placed my Don on EBAY (Item #987654321, Going fast, Sunday Sunday only, we'll beat any deal) are unfounded. Why would I want to free myself from the generous burden my Don has placed upon me? Why would I desire to to sleep, catch up on chores, have groceries in my home, get my work done, or visit friends when I can attend to your every early morning need? I live but to serve.
Remember, Don Rain, if I may be so bold: today is Valentine's Day. Please have mercy upon me this day, for as you know, my allegiance lies with you, and only you. (Your worn-out, slowly dying, groggy manservant--the one I refer to as my "husband"--can not compare to your wondrous nature.)
May you live forever! (*Scrambles away to fetch rose petals to sprinkle*)
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