Tag: hammerhead
Motzartchen
Check out the size of that noggin.
(Cynthia, this post is for you.)
Danger zone
This sign was posted on the front door of our office…which you reach after you’ve walked across the parking lot covered in a sheet of ice. “Genius”.
Speaking of danger zones, tomorrow morning first thing we are hopping on a plane with you know who to fly to Boston.
To say that I’m nervous would be an understatement.
Also, fun Thanksgiving fact I just learned from a friend (who happens to be an amazing beer critic/writer/I’m not sure what her official title is), the pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock instead of continuing down to Virginia, their intended destination, because they ran out of beer. Seems perfectly logical to me.
Have a happy, healthy, warm Thanksgiving.
Get Crazy
Weekends around here. I mean…
(And yes, I realize the video is objectively not that funny, but obviously I thought it was hilarious. Weird things happen when you don’t sleep.)
P.S. I promise to lighten up on the baby posts soon.
Happy Monday.
Held Hostage
I cannot believe I used to stress on the nights that I got less than 7 hours of sleep. So stupid.
A play-by-play of last night:
- 10pm: successful final feeding of the day, we turn the lights down, white noise machine on, rock her to sleep, everything is so peaceful and calm…
- 10:30pm: put her in bassinet. she is OUT.
- 11:30pm: fussing starts. i get up, stick the pacifier that she has spit out back in her mouth, put the hat that she has wiggled her way out of back on her head, calm her down, then very, very carefully lay back down and pray to god that she is really asleep. this cycle goes on for 90 minutes.
- 1am: real crying starts. get up, diaper change, go out to living room and feed her.
- 2:30am: try to put her down. crying starts the second she touches the bassinet. we’re so tired that paul gives up and puts her on his chest. she IMMEDIATELY falls asleep. we lay there half asleep for about an hour.
- 3:30am: veeeery carefully pick her up off paul’s chest and put her back in the bassinet. immediate fussing. plug with pacifier. hat fix. repeat.
- 4am: crying. again. pick her up, realize her back is all wet. not sure if it’s sweat or pee. go to change her and find her diaper like down by her knees (probably because she’s been squirming like a maniac in the bassinet). so I yell at paul. obviously.
- 4:15am: apologize to paul. head back out to the living room to feed her again. she eats a full meal plus all of the supplemental pumped milk we have in the fridge.
- 4:45am: paul rocks the (super full) baby, I pump to replenish supply in fridge.
- 5:45am: marsha arrives to save the day! (this is not part of our normal schedule. just last night.) she takes the baby. paul and i head to to sleep.
- 7am: Alarm goes off. Time for work!
I don’t know if this is sustainable.
Hammerhead
photo via
Before I went into labor I told a friend of mine that if I had the baby during Shark Week we would name her after a shark. Obviously.
Well, guess what. Muffinbutt squeaked into Shark Week by 9 minutes.
Unfortunately, Paul wasn’t cool with the name we’d chosen. And since naming a baby is a team sport, Goblin didn’t make it onto the Social Security card.
But then we came home and realized that every time she gets frustrated and hungry, she bangs her head against my chest (or Paul’s chest, whoever happens to be holding her). Like a hammer. With her head.
It’s destiny.
Mother Knows Best
Today is my mother’s birthday. Somebody is super excited about it.
In honor of her birthday, below some sage advice that she has bestowed upon me over the course of the last 32 years that I will be passing along to my own daughter:
- Always say thank you.
- Babytalk is not attractive. Ever.
- Always wear nice underwear, in case you get hit by a car and they have to cut your clothes off in public (this has come in handy more often than I ever thought it would.)
- When things seem really terrible, take a shower. You will come out the other end feeling at the very least a little better than you did going in.
- Eat tomatoes.
- A clean house is one of the best gifts you can give someone at the end of the day.
- When you are under a lot of pressure to perform and start to feel it getting to you, remember: all you can do is your best. That’s it. So stop stressing.
Happy birthday, Mom. We love you.
waking up
When it’s 2am and my alarm goes off, again, to wake her up for another feeding, and it’s like the MOST PAINFUL THING EVER to open my eyes and drag myself into an upright position, when I pick her up and unwrap her from her swaddle…
TOUCHDOOOOWN! Every time.
Is this by design? I mean, she’s 6 lbs. How can you stay angry?
P.S. Speaking of waking up, or a re-awakening of some part of my pre-baby life, had a doctor appointment yesterday, got the OK to run and swim again. Like, woah. Excitement.
Happiest Lady On the Block
going for a walk
A few big events that happened this week that will most likely effect you not at all:
- Munchkinhead had a weigh in on Weds with a goal of 6 lbs 5 oz (which would mean she had gained an ounce a day over the past week.) She weighed in at 6 lbs 8.5 oz. That is a 10oz gain in 7 days. Freaking. A. And as fun as overachieving is, the real reason that this is exciting is because it means…
- We can start feeding her EVERY 4 HOURS AT NIGHT. Praise be. Which meant…
- Last night she only woke up once to eat. And let me tell you, there is nothing more beautiful than 3 straight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Holy crap, I feel amazing.
- It is currently 65 degrees outside with no humidity. Hello, fall. So nice to see you.
Put your walking (hopefully soon running) shoes on…it’s time to break out the BOB and hit the road. To quote a friend, heaven is a Kentucky fall day.
Happy Friday.
Moo
oh heeeeey
So, obviously I lied. More on the baby was not coming sooner. It was coming much later.
I may have started making to-do lists that extend beyond getting out of my pajamas at some point during the day, but that doesn’t mean any of it actually gets done. Ever.
So, babycakes has been a little slow gaining weight.
teeny tiny
Nothing terrible, but she’s a little behind the curve, which means we are on a strict feeding regimen.
So I feed. Then pump. Then supplement her with the pumped milk. Then feed and feed and feed some more. Then pump. Every 2.5 hours. Which, when you take into account that each feeding/pumping session takes about an hour, means max 90 minutes free in between at a time. All day. And night. YEAH. (Though during the day, she has been demanding food every hour and a half or so. I have no idea how a creature that small, with a stomach the size of an almond, can consume that much liquid.)
if only cupcakes were an option
Initially I was like, man, maternity leave is going to be AWESOME. I’ll get up in the morning, we’ll go for long walks and get coffee, I’ll have extra time to read and blog and be productive…until I realized that if I want to get coffee, that means I have to want to stay awake. Which so far I have not. And if I want to go for a long walk the baby has to be cool not eating on demand every hour or so. Which she isn’t. And blogging/being productive requires (at least a few) neurons to be firing. Which they have not been.
dad getting his supplemental feeding time in
And so the valuable days of maternity leave (or, since my office doesn’t have maternity leave, all of my vacation and accrued sick leave that I am currently using up) tick by, with me spending the majority of my time sitting, exhausted and milk-soaked, in my rocking chair, baby in hand, hooked up to a pump, zoning out to the WAH-wah-WAH-wah-WAH-wah of the machine, dreaming of what we’re GOING to do just as soon as things calm down.
At least I have some good company.
In the meantime, I’m going to keep researching marathons for next year.
Rambulatory Ambulatory 