Someday, when Marlo is all Goth, I will have only myself to blame.
She is currently being soothed to sleep by the sweet sweet sounds of "Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush" as rendered by the dying batteries of her swing. It sounds like a horror movie in here.
Adding to the terror ambiance is the half head of hair strewn festively about my pillow this morning. I can just hear the rumblings amongst the guests of the wedding I'm in next month, as they try to figure out who the chesty bald bridesmaid is - a long lost cousin, perhaps? Fun, I'll be an enigma! Not that I would ever be so self absorbed as to distract from the bride. Remind me.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
That pretty much sums it up
You may notice I changed the blog title. That's cuz the new one seems much more reflective of what's going on around here. Not so much "adventures" but "boring old mom crap."
I've been meaning to update more often, really, but this blog is drifting into glorified baby book territory, which is never what I was interested in doing. At least I've saved the poop stories for my PEPS group. The baby stories might be more interesting if I actually had the time to develop a coherent narrative, but considering my free - slash - interwebbing time comes in spurts and starts, that's not really possible.
But it's getting closer to possible. I think. I am learning, slowly but surely, how to prioritize and spend time wisely. And how to ignore the baby while she screams in her crib so I can get my perez hilton read. Ha! A neglect joke! Won't Marlo just laugh when she's 15 and googles herself!
I've been meaning to update more often, really, but this blog is drifting into glorified baby book territory, which is never what I was interested in doing. At least I've saved the poop stories for my PEPS group. The baby stories might be more interesting if I actually had the time to develop a coherent narrative, but considering my free - slash - interwebbing time comes in spurts and starts, that's not really possible.
But it's getting closer to possible. I think. I am learning, slowly but surely, how to prioritize and spend time wisely. And how to ignore the baby while she screams in her crib so I can get my perez hilton read. Ha! A neglect joke! Won't Marlo just laugh when she's 15 and googles herself!
Friday, August 27, 2010
Three Months
My little girl is three months old today. Count 'em, three.
A quarter of a year ago, a whole season ago, I was sitting (gingerly) in a bed at Swedish Hospital, drinking a chocolate milkshake for breakfast, deliriously tired but euphoric from endorphins. The baby I'd spent an hour and a half pushing out, my baby Marlo, was finally in the hands of the nurses, getting all those things nurses do to babies done. I didn't know it at the time, but it was the best I was going to feel for a while.
It's hard to remember the specifics of those early weeks, but I know that it was a slog for a while there. I guess it's good news that my hazy memories are all of happiness and warm fuzzies. You gotta love the way your brain erases pain over time. But I was thinking the other night, as I rocked Marlo in the nursery glider at 2 AM, wow, I used to do this every night. Twice. At least. That just amazes me. It wasn't that long ago that was my life, but it has become such a foreign concept. No wonder people get suckered in to having a second baby. You don't remember how much it blows.
As of today, officially, I am no longer the mother of a newborn. She is a garden variety infant. The fourth trimester is complete. I am so looking forward to all the new things she is going to learn and do over the next three months, but I am just a little bit wistful for my little froggy-legged newborn. She is on the express train to adulthood. There's no turning back. I'm never going to hold that fresh tiny baby again. It's sad.
But then again, I do like sleeping longer than three hours at a time.
A quarter of a year ago, a whole season ago, I was sitting (gingerly) in a bed at Swedish Hospital, drinking a chocolate milkshake for breakfast, deliriously tired but euphoric from endorphins. The baby I'd spent an hour and a half pushing out, my baby Marlo, was finally in the hands of the nurses, getting all those things nurses do to babies done. I didn't know it at the time, but it was the best I was going to feel for a while.
It's hard to remember the specifics of those early weeks, but I know that it was a slog for a while there. I guess it's good news that my hazy memories are all of happiness and warm fuzzies. You gotta love the way your brain erases pain over time. But I was thinking the other night, as I rocked Marlo in the nursery glider at 2 AM, wow, I used to do this every night. Twice. At least. That just amazes me. It wasn't that long ago that was my life, but it has become such a foreign concept. No wonder people get suckered in to having a second baby. You don't remember how much it blows.
As of today, officially, I am no longer the mother of a newborn. She is a garden variety infant. The fourth trimester is complete. I am so looking forward to all the new things she is going to learn and do over the next three months, but I am just a little bit wistful for my little froggy-legged newborn. She is on the express train to adulthood. There's no turning back. I'm never going to hold that fresh tiny baby again. It's sad.
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| First Bath At Home (2 weeks) |
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| First Bath in the Big Girl Tub (3 Months) |
Friday, August 13, 2010
11 Weeks
It has been 11 weeks since I gave birth to that baby. It's hard to say whether it feels like it has been a long time or a short time, because I'm pretty sure I never noticed how long 11 weeks took to pass before. Well, before pregnancy anyway. It seems baby time is the only time you measure time in weeks, really.
So, what's different? Marlo has been semi-consistently sleeping six or seven hour stretches at night. She generally sleeps from 9:30 to 4:30, then goes right back to sleep until 7:30 or 8:00, and then conks out no later than 10:00 for a three hour nap. The afternoons are full of cat naps and then generally Husband wears her in the ergo carrier most of the evening. So she sleeps a lot, is what I'm saying. Or slept, since I just completely jinxed myself into a life without sleep by broadcasting my good fortune like that.
She is also getting really strong, and can push herself up to standing when you hold her under the armpits or by the little arms. She has her head pretty well under control. I've sat her in the Bumbo chair a couple of times, but only for five minutes at a time or so (relax, baby police!). She's working on a giggle that I'm pretty sure is going to end up getting her whatever she wants from her father and her grandparents.
As for me, I'm aiight. I think I've already forgotten what it was like around here in the beginning. Now it seems like it's leveled off some, and things are easier. But I can't conjure up what it was like that was any harder. It's weird. It's like how you forget physical pain too I guess. This is a horribly vague and disinteresting paragraph and I apologize. I am distracted by Marlo scaring herself with her toys in her bouncy chair. Which proves how things are different around here from a month or two ago - I can set her down and let her play and sort of get some stuff done. Next step will be learning to prioritize so I can write funny and interesting things instead of this drivel.
So, what's different? Marlo has been semi-consistently sleeping six or seven hour stretches at night. She generally sleeps from 9:30 to 4:30, then goes right back to sleep until 7:30 or 8:00, and then conks out no later than 10:00 for a three hour nap. The afternoons are full of cat naps and then generally Husband wears her in the ergo carrier most of the evening. So she sleeps a lot, is what I'm saying. Or slept, since I just completely jinxed myself into a life without sleep by broadcasting my good fortune like that.
She is also getting really strong, and can push herself up to standing when you hold her under the armpits or by the little arms. She has her head pretty well under control. I've sat her in the Bumbo chair a couple of times, but only for five minutes at a time or so (relax, baby police!). She's working on a giggle that I'm pretty sure is going to end up getting her whatever she wants from her father and her grandparents.
As for me, I'm aiight. I think I've already forgotten what it was like around here in the beginning. Now it seems like it's leveled off some, and things are easier. But I can't conjure up what it was like that was any harder. It's weird. It's like how you forget physical pain too I guess. This is a horribly vague and disinteresting paragraph and I apologize. I am distracted by Marlo scaring herself with her toys in her bouncy chair. Which proves how things are different around here from a month or two ago - I can set her down and let her play and sort of get some stuff done. Next step will be learning to prioritize so I can write funny and interesting things instead of this drivel.
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| 11 Weeks |
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Mother's Intuition
I was TOTALLY wrong about Marlo's size. She is 12 pounds and two ounces. Oh yeah, and also 24 inches.
What do you know, it turns out your mother IS always right.
Everything checked out all fine and dandy at her appointment. She's developing on or ahead of schedule. She's in about the 80th percentile for weight and 95th for length. Her head is still in the 50th, I guess she's destined to have a little pin head like her mom.
She did cry a bit when she got her shots, but really, who doesn't? I think I cried the last time I got a tetanus booster. Or maybe that was after I got it when my dad slugged me in the shoulder instead of just saying "hello" like a normal person. At any rate, Marlo ended up with a dropper-ful of Tylenol and an early bedtime last night, but is otherwise no worse for wear.
What do you know, it turns out your mother IS always right.
Everything checked out all fine and dandy at her appointment. She's developing on or ahead of schedule. She's in about the 80th percentile for weight and 95th for length. Her head is still in the 50th, I guess she's destined to have a little pin head like her mom.
She did cry a bit when she got her shots, but really, who doesn't? I think I cried the last time I got a tetanus booster. Or maybe that was after I got it when my dad slugged me in the shoulder instead of just saying "hello" like a normal person. At any rate, Marlo ended up with a dropper-ful of Tylenol and an early bedtime last night, but is otherwise no worse for wear.
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| Marlo, 2 months |
Friday, July 30, 2010
Just for comparison's sake
Here we are at our wedding, four years almost ago. Note my non-fat face and perfectly normal sized boobs.
In which I bitch about my baby fat
It's summer and I have an infant. These are my top two excuses for not posting, in no particular order.
Marlo turned two months old on Tuesday. She has her 2 month check-up with the pediatrician later this afternoon - so I'll update you on her vitals soon. In my estimation she is about 12 pounds and 24 inches.
As for me, my weight loss has stalled a bit and that depresses me. Just in time to start losing all my hair and get really depressed, I suppose. I'm really rather vain, you see. I considered my pregnancy a success not because I gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby girl, but because I didn't get any stretch marks or varicose veins. I gained 41 pounds, and looking back at the three pictures of me pregnant in existence, I was pretty much big as a house. I'm short-waisted and small-boned, so even ten pounds around the middle gets pretty significant. As of my six week follow up with my OB, I had lost 25 pounds. Hurray, right? 25 pounds without any effort, just sitting through breastfeeding sessions eight times a day. Three weeks later, I stepped on the scale to discover I've lost...27 and a half pounds.
Now, hold on. I know what you're thinking. That's still almost a pound a week! That's still with no effort, other than breastfeeding eight times a day and not ever getting to eat because the baby won't nap! I know. It's still wonderful and can't really be considered stalling. I should be ashamed of myself. BUT the problem is that now it LOOKS like fat, and not like perfectly excusable pregnancy related weight. I'll get over myself, I promise. Feel free to slap me in the face next time you see me. My still-fat lookin' face.
And did I mention the size of my boobs? Well, lately? They're frightening. Especially if Marlo naps for a particularly long time (which does happen every once in a while - it's feast or famine with this girl) and I get a little engorged. They remind me of the death star. Especially when you see Marlo's head up against them. I am thinking about putting them on the kitchen scale to see how they are contributing to my weight retention - although since I don't have a pre-pregnancy boob weight to compare them to, it wouldn't really be very accurate. Still might be fun. Especially if I can take some SFW pictures of the process.
Here ya go, here's a picture of me with my fat face and giant boobs, eight weeks postpartum. Astute observers will note that I'm wearing the same dress I wore four weeks, um, prepartum? at my baby shower. Husband looks handsome, as usual.
Marlo turned two months old on Tuesday. She has her 2 month check-up with the pediatrician later this afternoon - so I'll update you on her vitals soon. In my estimation she is about 12 pounds and 24 inches.
As for me, my weight loss has stalled a bit and that depresses me. Just in time to start losing all my hair and get really depressed, I suppose. I'm really rather vain, you see. I considered my pregnancy a success not because I gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby girl, but because I didn't get any stretch marks or varicose veins. I gained 41 pounds, and looking back at the three pictures of me pregnant in existence, I was pretty much big as a house. I'm short-waisted and small-boned, so even ten pounds around the middle gets pretty significant. As of my six week follow up with my OB, I had lost 25 pounds. Hurray, right? 25 pounds without any effort, just sitting through breastfeeding sessions eight times a day. Three weeks later, I stepped on the scale to discover I've lost...27 and a half pounds.
Now, hold on. I know what you're thinking. That's still almost a pound a week! That's still with no effort, other than breastfeeding eight times a day and not ever getting to eat because the baby won't nap! I know. It's still wonderful and can't really be considered stalling. I should be ashamed of myself. BUT the problem is that now it LOOKS like fat, and not like perfectly excusable pregnancy related weight. I'll get over myself, I promise. Feel free to slap me in the face next time you see me. My still-fat lookin' face.
And did I mention the size of my boobs? Well, lately? They're frightening. Especially if Marlo naps for a particularly long time (which does happen every once in a while - it's feast or famine with this girl) and I get a little engorged. They remind me of the death star. Especially when you see Marlo's head up against them. I am thinking about putting them on the kitchen scale to see how they are contributing to my weight retention - although since I don't have a pre-pregnancy boob weight to compare them to, it wouldn't really be very accurate. Still might be fun. Especially if I can take some SFW pictures of the process.
Here ya go, here's a picture of me with my fat face and giant boobs, eight weeks postpartum. Astute observers will note that I'm wearing the same dress I wore four weeks, um, prepartum? at my baby shower. Husband looks handsome, as usual.
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