Why is it that every time I have guests over and am feeding them, they always ask why I'm not using paper plates? The last time this happened I said "well, I have these perfectly good plates right here" and the response I got was "but then you have to wash them". And that's why I have a dishwasher? I just don't understand this attitude. Sure, if I'm having a larger gathering paper plates are the way to go...but I didn't register for a set of 12 nice plates so that I could whip out the paper ones anytime I have one extra person at my dinner table.
Just a little something I wanted to vent about...
Monday, March 31, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
the spit-up chronicles
Last night we attempted to put the baby to bed a little earlier than usual. I nursed her in our bedroom, and after an hour she still wasn't asleep but our dinner was ready. Since she seemed to be pretty subdued at that point, we thought we'd try putting her down in her bassinet and seeing what would happen.
We went downstairs and started to eat dinner. No noise from the monitor. After about 15 minutes, we started to hear some fussing, which eventually turned into crying. We gave it a few minutes, then J went up to see what was up. Next thing I hear is J yelling "she puked in her eye!". I went up to investigate and walked in on a scene straight out of "The Exorcist" (minus the head spinning and the demonic possession, that is). Poor girl had blown chunks all over her bassinet. Maybe she wasn't happy with all that Easter chocolate I ate?
This morning she was still having some spit-up issues. Here's where I almost lost it: she'd fallen asleep in my arms so I set her down in her boppy pillow on the couch next to me, and started to "milk myself". (That's how our aunt's boyfriend refers to pumping breast milk. He's real sophisticated, that one). Of course, that's when Maia woke up and started to cry. So, there I am, left boob hanging out and attached to the electric pump, and I pick up the baby with my free hand and try to console her by putting her up to my shoulder and patting her. Next thing I know she's spitting up all over my shirt and on her own face. It took me a minute to find a free hand to clean up the mess. I guess she got angry that the machine was getting her milk. Wonder if she noticed that the machine does not spew the milk back at me?
We went downstairs and started to eat dinner. No noise from the monitor. After about 15 minutes, we started to hear some fussing, which eventually turned into crying. We gave it a few minutes, then J went up to see what was up. Next thing I hear is J yelling "she puked in her eye!". I went up to investigate and walked in on a scene straight out of "The Exorcist" (minus the head spinning and the demonic possession, that is). Poor girl had blown chunks all over her bassinet. Maybe she wasn't happy with all that Easter chocolate I ate?
This morning she was still having some spit-up issues. Here's where I almost lost it: she'd fallen asleep in my arms so I set her down in her boppy pillow on the couch next to me, and started to "milk myself". (That's how our aunt's boyfriend refers to pumping breast milk. He's real sophisticated, that one). Of course, that's when Maia woke up and started to cry. So, there I am, left boob hanging out and attached to the electric pump, and I pick up the baby with my free hand and try to console her by putting her up to my shoulder and patting her. Next thing I know she's spitting up all over my shirt and on her own face. It took me a minute to find a free hand to clean up the mess. I guess she got angry that the machine was getting her milk. Wonder if she noticed that the machine does not spew the milk back at me?
Saturday, March 22, 2008
on the road again...
Last weekend we had to drive 900 miles each way for a family funeral. The pediatrician advised against flying due to the lots-of-germs-in-an-enclosed-space factor, so we opted to drive.
Maia did really well on the trip, sleeping the majority of the time. We'd stop every few hours and I'd nurse her in the front seat and change her diaper in my lap. Of course we'd squeeze in a few cuddles but then it'd be time to strap her back into the carseat and get going.
On the return trip, we stopped at a rest area just a few hours from home. We strapped Maia into her seat, and she promptly started screaming. After a few good yowls, she finally quieted down, but the look on her face was so pathetic that I had to break out the camera:
I couldn't wait to get home and give her a million hugs and kisses.
Maia did really well on the trip, sleeping the majority of the time. We'd stop every few hours and I'd nurse her in the front seat and change her diaper in my lap. Of course we'd squeeze in a few cuddles but then it'd be time to strap her back into the carseat and get going.
On the return trip, we stopped at a rest area just a few hours from home. We strapped Maia into her seat, and she promptly started screaming. After a few good yowls, she finally quieted down, but the look on her face was so pathetic that I had to break out the camera:
I couldn't wait to get home and give her a million hugs and kisses.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
what have I done to deserve this??
By some utter miracle of nature, I have been blessed with a very easy baby. Granted, she is barely 3 weeks old, so she really doesn't do a lot more than eat, sleep, and poop. But, she really doesn't cry much, she doesn't have her days and nights confused, and therefore I am much more well-rested than the typical new mom.
Right now Maia is actually taking a nap in her crib...and I didn't even have to nurse her to sleep. I seriously don't know what I have done in my life to deserve a baby that sleeps long enough for me to get important things done around the house--things like cutting my toenails and blogging.
Right now Maia is actually taking a nap in her crib...and I didn't even have to nurse her to sleep. I seriously don't know what I have done in my life to deserve a baby that sleeps long enough for me to get important things done around the house--things like cutting my toenails and blogging.
Monday, March 03, 2008
nervous daddy
J takes the baby upstairs to change her. A few minutes later, he's calling my name with a bit of a frantic tone to his voice. I walk into the nursery. "She peed on me, and then she spit up, and HER BELLY BUTTON IS FALLING OFF!" As he says all of this, he begins to realize he's freaking out *just a little bit*. Granted, the umbilical stump was halfway off and looked really gross...thankfully at least one of us had read the books about these things and knew what to expect.
Today the baby went back to business as usual--greeting daddy with several loud farts in a row. That's one bodily function with which he's familiar enough to handle like a pro. Oh, and the stump finally did fall off on its own today...
Today the baby went back to business as usual--greeting daddy with several loud farts in a row. That's one bodily function with which he's familiar enough to handle like a pro. Oh, and the stump finally did fall off on its own today...
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