Beware the 100 lb Baby

Last night I fed Rachel around 8:45. I knew it probably wasn't enough, since I'd pumped just a bit earlier - I'm still working out how to synch up feeding/pumping schedules, obviously.

Anyway, I of all people know a girl doesn't like to be hungry, so I bottle fed her another 3 oz. of breast milk. There, that oughtta be enough.

Two hours later, she wasn't sleeping well and my husband (his turn on bedtime duty) was losing his you-know-what. So I sleepily mumbled, "You could always feed her a little more ..." and rolled over.

A bit later, he came to bed, quite proud of himself I asked what he did and he said, "I gave her another 4 oz of formula, THAT oughta do it."

So, my 14 week old baby drank, oh, I'd say, 8 or 9 oz last night.

I suspect she'll be ready for Weight Watchers by the time I get home tonight ... as Daddy has off school and is caring for her today.

And It's On: GoooooOOO CHRISTMAS!

I cannot believe it's December 2. Mainly, this is because I now have license to full on finish my shopping, as well as to decorate my house in the red and green and silver and pine obnoxiousness that I have been envisioning since we moved in.

You see, this year, we have a fireplace. I now have matching stockings for our family (VERY critical) and I get to buy those cute silver thingees that sit on the mantel to hang the stockings from. (A nickel to anyone who knows their official name?) I see a festive trip to the Target Christmas crap aisle in my future.

I also now feel fully licensed to indulge my impulse to rush out and buy a tree this week. And to begin "gently urging" my husband to put up lights. (I actually got butterflies in my stomach last night contemplating this: we get to develop a NEW lighting scheme. What we did on Suffolk was always kinda, eh.)

Anyway, I'm thinking this isn't too early because I've seen trees through windows, lights on houses, wreaths on porches, all around my neighborhood and on our drive home from Warrensburg from Thanksgiving. Even though my husband thinks me, and they, are all nuts. I suspect his preference would be stringing lights up around the 22nd and having Santa help take them down on the 25th.

In addition, although I have about half my shopping done, this reminds me, GAH, I have about half left. Which seemed so manageable until I now factor in work getting busier the next couple weeks, including a 3 day biz trip (sigh: guess that stupid wood knocking doesn't work after all). And that my LeBaige family Christmas will be early on the 20th.

We may be in a recession, but my Capital One card will not know that as I work its little butt off next few weeks.

True Spirit of the Holidays: Online Shopping

I just placed an online PB Kids order I've contemplated for weeks. One item was a slam dunk - needed a fourth matching stocking for baby Rachel. We bought three for us and Matthew last year and I did it because I knew the collection would continue to be around. Rachel and I are both two kinds of whimsical reindeers, to Daddy's skiing Santa and Matthew's train. Clearly fuzzy mammals win out as the cutest (stick with me, baby girl).

After much debate, I also ponied up for the cute monogrammed, coordinating duffle bags. I realize it might be "not necessary" given I could find perfectly functional and probably even cute ones at say, Target. But they wouldn't be as nice quality most likely and they also certainly wouldn't have their cute little names stitched on them. God knows if you put an R or M on anything these days, I'll buy it.

As luck has it one was like 50% off and so that balanced out the other one being a bit pricey and so I feel I've done my job as a cost conscious consumer (and made husband a tad less Christmas crazy).

I realize that "spending money on children's non-mandatory holiday stuff" order shouldn't qualify as holiday spirit. But dammit if I don't feel festive (and happy I can cross one thing off my ever expanding To Do list).

Happy Turkey Day, all!

Buy Their Stock Now

What is going on with me and my coworkers and Starbucks? Since I went on maternity leave it's become MANDATORY that someone's going on a morning and an afternoon run.

Not only is this expensive, but it takes time away from doing your actual work, so you can finish and leave at night. But yet, we go. We all go.

What sort of liquid crack are they putting in there? I mean, the festive red holiday cups are cute and the coffee tastes good but that cannot be the end of it.

Some ambitious young crack (no pun intended) reporter needs to get inside their operation stat and figure out how they're suckering us all in (God love ya Starbucks, but you're killing my checking account) before I spend another $4.04 on hot water and beans!

Manic Monday? Not Really

I was initially scared about Big Monday (aka the first one since I started back). But, today was terrific. With Libby our sitter coming to our house on Mondays, it was positively luxurious getting up at 6:10, having breakfast/coffee, feeding Rachel, pumping, AND having time for getting dressed/showered/packed, and still get to work on time.

Notice what's missing: flinging everything together for their day, then flinging kids at Libby and her car to go to the other kids' house.

We are lucky, I know. But it's probably good I have to do it 2-3 days a week the other way, to keep me on my toes.

MY Girl

I realize I'm a posting nightmare with the no posting for weeks, then the massive post, then a series of random photos.

But I can't help myself. LOOK at this girl from a couple weeks ago.

(Look past the baby acne, that is.)

First, she's darling to me in this photo.

Second, MOM, doesn't she look JUST LIKE ME as a baby?

Also damn cute in this fine Baby Sister shirt, available at a finer ZoeysAttic.com shopping cart near you.

BrrRRRRR!

Remember Halloween, that holiday 4 weeks ago?

I do, because I've got skads of unposted photos. UNTIL NOW.

Meet the 30 lb. pride of Webster Groves, Stampy the Elephant 2.

From Halloween 2008

(Stampy 1 would be the stuffed one he sleeps with ... a gift from Aunt Lisa to Rachel ... that got intercepted along the way by our resident elephant lover.)

Working on the rest. We actually had darling ones of Matthew with BFF and ladybug Bridget, stay tuned...

Pretty in Pink and Brown

One of my favorite outfits, probably not long for this world, er, I mean, girl.

Wish I had a smile, but, this is a very "Rachel look" from her. Kinda serious. Big eyes. Major jowls. Cutest little dark haired girl in the world, and I hope she knows it.

The Back to Work Post

This post is way too long but I haven't posted in a while so I'm entitled. You're welcome to skim ...

I've been such a bad blogger, there's so much back log from Rachel, my leave, Halloween (oh God, Halloween alone!) But it's now late November, so I figure this is a good place to start fresh.

Wednesday was my first day back at work. It was hectic getting ready the day before. Instead of being relaxing kid time like maybe it should have been, I insisted on having everything lined up for the kids (and me) the night before like when you're a kid before school: my outfits, their outfits, their bags, stash of stuff to take to the other place where they're watched part of the week. Alarm clock set extra early. Every piece of plastic bottle paraphernalia washed scrubbed and ready to roll.

When Libby came for the kiddos in the morning, I suspect she thought me slightly, er, over prepared. But here's the thing: what I couldn't spend in physical time with my babies, I would now spend in overcompensating to make sure "everything was perfect" and prepared.

The actual separation was fine. Well, I mean, of course, you know ... a few tears were shed the day before actually, when I realized at certain moments, oh, this is my last time putting Rachel down to sleep for her morning nap on a Tuesday. Or when Matthew clung to me, mistakenly thinking this was the day I was leaving him, telling me, Mommy, I want mommy. Which he NEVER does ... like ever ... until that damn day. Of course.

So the actual morning, I did squeak out a few more tears after they'd left with Libby. I was pretty stereotypical actually, shooing my husband away, No no, I'm fine, but wanting to cry in private. Then picking up her soft little yellow burp cloth off the floor and holding it, Oh God, it smells like her ... and now she's gone, my baby's gone ... the one I haven't been apart from for more than 3 hours since she's been born ... she's gone.

Then I shook it off, remembered she was four miles away and I'd see her at 6!

OK. It wasn't quite that easy. It was a giant personal event. But ... My coworkers welcomed me back to warmly and kindly, I must admit I was touched, and that it helped. Also, I really did have this a-ha moment of, I will see these kids again tonight! They're mine, after work, mine again!

Granted, I'm a bit in the "just block it out and deal" category currently. But you know what? That's healthier than the "wallow in it constantly" approach after having Matthew. Which pretty much left me depressed, uncertain and, well, devastated about my choices.

How am I still his mom? How can even dream of doing this? I feel like I'm breaking the law leaving my baby.

In short ... felt very sad for a long time. And of course, guilty with a capital I AM HORRIBLE MOM.

But now, I'm having new thoughts. Such as, Matthew's a wonderful little boy and someday soon Rachel will be just as much of wonderful little girl.

I'm also thinking, when I leave them each day, they're cared for by others (sitter and Daddy) but when I come home that night, I am their Mom and always there for them and they will always know it and I will make DAMN sure of that.

I'm thinking, I'll wake them up and tuck them in every day (well, those I don't travel...which aren't too often...KNOCK ON GIANT PIECE OF HUGE HEAVY WOOD). I'll feed them and wash them and cuddle them and read to them and ... well, mom it up. Just less than I did on my leave.

But mostly, I'm thinking about how lucky I am to have childcare where I know they are safe and secure and loved all day long. (Really, Libby, this is what keeps me sane.)

The truth is, my first week back went perfectly. But I also know that's almost not reality, which is the grind of the coming weeks, of learning how to balance your basically all new life and demands. But now I know my key is to not think about what I'm missing or what's challenging ... just focus on systems at home and work that allow the most productive, successful use of my time.

And when I'm done, go home, turn it off, unwind with my kids and dinner and maybe a TV show or blog post. And let the dishes go unwashed and the errand go unrun. I simply must let stuff go ... it's so cliche for us ladies (no matter your work status) but I mean, the things I stress about? Really? It DOES NOT MATTER to Rachel's well being if her clothes are perfectly folded up in her drawers. Only that they're clean. And even then, well ...

Overall standby statement: I'm "okay" with this transition. I love my colleagues, I like earning money and providing what my kids need from that regard, and most days, I overall like my work. (Note: This may sound less than effusive, but in my book, unless I am creator, painter, designer, life savor (insert work passion here), work's work. That said, this by far the best job I've had, I'm not going anywhere, and I'm thankful for it.)

But the other truth is ... I'm pretty exhausted. The last five days, Mike and I averaged 4-5 hours of sleep a night; we've all developed colds; and I've fallen behind on all in boxes etc.

I'm not sure why. I certainly didn't have loads of sleep or free time on my leave. And it's not like it wasn't stressful with both kids at home; on many days, it felt way more challenging to me than my hardest work day.

But it was a different stress, all focused on us, our house, my kids. Now I'm back to juggling us with ... them. Other needs. Those outside our four walls. And it's tricky.

I'll get it down. But in this transition period ... if I'm a little cranky or raggedy looking or tired or frumpy or stinky or slow moving or ... go easy on me. Maybe I haven't quite showered today. Maybe my daughter looked extra adorable as I had to hand her off that morning. Or maybe I didn't have time to go get that Venti Starbucks that basically kept my blood pumping through my body this first week back.

The Latest "Life is Interesting ..." Post

Right now my husband's trying to remove our bedroom door knob which is locked from the inside. The door knob we didn't even know could lock.

I realized it was locked when I went to get my shoes so I could go do our weekly grocery shopping, you know, at 9 p.m. on a Sunday.

This was after I prepared my list and went to put it in my purse ... and had to empty the kitter litter out of it.

Yes, my friends, life is good, lovely ... but so damn "interesting" with two kids and three pets, some days, some days ... well, 'nuff said.

This Too Can Be Yours

The adorable organic onesie, not my newly smiley green girl.

Sleeping Beauty

Monday night we enjoyed the singular experience that can drop young (yes I'm still labeling myself young) parents to their knees: Matthew didn't sleep all night.

He went to bed fine - which is saying something, it's a semi nightly power struggle. But then it was, "I have boogies." "Turn my music back on." And finally then just "WAHHHHHHH!!!"

Over an hour later, I asked Mike to come home from his "having a quick beer" night out. Because when one kid would get settled, the other needed her paci. When she was drifting off, Matthew suddenly MUST have me put his blanket back on. Momma wasn't able (or willing) to keep up alone.

So Mike hustled home, to which Matthew first said "You're home with Mommy now?" and we thought, ah yes, that was the problem. Now we're okay. Buttt...we weren't, he wasn't, and six hours later, we were both losing our sh^t.

I'm happy to report that its good I waited to post this, because I'm sitting on the other side of 11 hours of SLEEP - Matthew's - and about 7-8 hours of ours - from last night.

So what HAPPENED, Mommies? (Erin, I know Bridget had us guessing this same thing that night she didn't sleep ...) Was it the stuffy nose? Impending cold front? Or just his uncanny knowledge that Daddy had a night out planned, followed by Mommy's the next night (which was since cancelled given I really can't whoop it up on 1.7 hours of sleep)?

Or is this just LIFE WITH KIDS?
Wait, don't answer that.

Another Wonderful Pre-Halloween Weekend

Who WOULDN'T love this time of year? Crisp weather, beautiful sights of orange pumpkins and leaves, and kiddos in their Halloween gear looking absolutely adorable. Oh, and the pain of Christmas shopping not quite yet upon us. Like this past Saturday...

Miss Rachel in her orange and black finest.

From 10-15-2008

Our dogs, Murphy and Bogey, enjoying the cooler temps with my parent's dog Honey, who were visiting our house before our trip to the pumpkin patch, round 2.

From 10-15-2008

At Rombach's, Matthew enjoying a pony ride. I was SO proud, he wasn't scared! (Actual Matthew and pumpkin pics to follow, soon, hopefully.)

From 10-15-2008

And last but definitely not least, my Dad finally meeting Rachel.

From 10-15-2008

(If you're born and bred in STL, this probably seems odd, but when you're transplants like us, it can take a while for folks to meet the newest family member. No matter how cute and edible her fat cheeks are!)

Husbands v. Wives, Part 1

Me: Honey, where are Matthew's diaper pail bags?
Him (from down the hall in Rachel's room): I don't know.
Me: But, um, you change these each week for the garbage. Do you remember taking the last one? (Looking through every drawer and his closet) I don't see them in here.
Him: I don't remember.
Me: I don't understand..how do you just NOT remember? Sometimes I worry about your brain.
Him (rustling around in Rachel's room): Well, last time I saw them, they were in here.
Me (exasperated look): Okay, well, that answers my original question of, "do you remember where they are" then...
Him (still rustling): Yeah, but I don't SEE them...
Me (walking down hallway, open top drawer, reach inside...pull out giant roll of bags within 1.4 seconds): Here they are.

Do they just BUILD us with a magnetic compass inside for lost stuff, or what?

Or rather, do they just build THEM with an extra low level of sight and touch? Because how can we look at the same drawer and he DOESN'T SEE IT?

GO WIVES - the world's finders.

Happy Early Halloween, Gramas!

Sweet girl in her festive new p.j.'s from Grama Claudia.

Cheeks are expanding!

Just in case you missed the booty on this baby.

Happy its almost Halloween!

My two sweet treats.

Let Me Tell You Something about Playdates

They are apparently equally fun, but tiring, for all involved. I realize this is probably not a newsflash, but see, this playdate thing is new to me. It's not something I get to do much when I'm working since its limited to weekends and well, everyone including us is usually busy.

So now that Rachel's semi predictable - and Matthew's getting bored stiff watching me feed her and hold her all day - I'm organizing a few before I go back to work. Today I hosted a couple of Mike's former coworkers (and now my friends) and their kiddos for a playdate.

Officially, I think this is the first one at our house, since getting together with BFFs Amelia and Bridget doesn't quite count (they're family :).

I prepared mac and cheese in advance. I pumped a bottle so I could feed Rachel comfortably. I wiped down the sink with Clorox Multi Purpose. I showered before Mike left for work. I MADE THE BED. In short, I tried to prepare. Still, once the crews arrived, I found it hard to keep up with three toddlers and two babies, no matter how cute and good they were (and they were...2 year old boy Brooks and his 5 1/2 month old sister Charlotte, and a 1 1/2 year old Kyla, were all adorable and so sweet).

But holding two adult conversations, with moms you know but don't know REAL well so you kinda can't just let it all hang out, conversation wise ... and feeding the moms ... and three squirmy toddlers ... and walking around doing this while feeding your baby ... and throw in a couple jumpy, stinky dogs that can't decide if they want in or out ... and I don't know if I said one thing that made sense the whole afternoon. Anyone else get that? It's like I'm functioning, and talking but totally distracted and not really sure what I'm saying. A state I fall into frequently since Miss Rachel's arrival, admittedly.

It WAS fun trading "Oh, he does that TOO!" and the resulting frazzled mommy stories. And seeing how cute baby Rachel will look in a few months since baby Charlotte has dark hair just like my girl.

And from this angelic picture, you wouldn't guess there was a moment of chaos.

From 10-15-2008

Watching them sitting perfectly in their chairs and using chubby toddler hands to hold their little forks, just eating away together like grownups, was priceless. Almost like everyone was medicated, er, I mean, on their best behavior for the other kids.

I got five more weeks to be a SAHM. Any other takers????

Takin' Trains, Matthew Style

Around here one of the only "back pocket" moves we have with Matthew is taking his little wooden Thomas trains and placing them on top of the fridge until he's doing Good Boy Things again. If you're at our house and you hear, "Okay, do I have to take a train?" means its either time to eat or time to sleep.

Tonight we've put him to bed, and Rachel's sleeping, and we're finally both sitting down with laptops and some Biggest Loser. And then we hear him in there, "Mommy, Mommy, it's NOT dark outside, it's LIGHT outside ..." which is clearly building his case for the next one, "It's NOT nght night time."

Keep in mind Michael's already been in there twice and I've been in there once to shush him and it's now well after 8 p.m.

So now we're shooting looks back and forth, "Do we go in again? What next?" while all the time, Matthew's in there, "I got poo poos!" and then, "I need a TIS-UUEEEE!" - all his best whoppers - when suddenly my husband's had enough.

He definitely pushes up from the chair and says, "All right, that's it. I'm TAKIN' TRAINS!" to which I cannot help bust out laughing.

I realize it might not translate how funny this was, but imagine Mike doing this in a very serious and semi angry way. In the same tone I might imagine him committing to joining some bar fight back in college..."Ok, that's it, go time, let's DO this thing!!"

So in he went, threatening all sorts of train taking. However, he didn't actually take one because the boy buckled and acted like he'd sleep.

Naturally in a few minutes, he's yelling "Mommy!" again and this time I go in. "Matthew, if you don't go to sleepy, Mom's gonna have to take a train. And I don't want to, I don't like to take trains."

To which he responds, "Yeah, DADDY likes to take trains." Yep, that's your daddy. He used to golf. Now his only hobby left in this world is taking your trains.

Who DOESN'T Like Whale Noises?

So the toybox rummaging this morning wasn't just fun bonding for Matthew and me.

It was a master plan for miss Rachel and napping and more of them more consistently.

She's great at night, but only pretty good to okay during the day. There's a lot of "Okay, I'm off to slee...HA HA, gotcha! Now pick me up and hold me for the next hour and a half. I'll keep pretending to drift off, but don't think I'm down because ... GOTCHA AGAIN!"

This morning, I was on a mission for a BFF I haven't seen since Matthew's late stages of babyhood. Behold, the Sleep Sheep.


This was my go to sleep move for Matthew. This was attached to his crib or bassinet or Pack n Play pretty much every day since birth - and every where we went. He seemed to be addicted to the whale noise setting when he went night night.

It was probably more like WE were addicted to FEELING that we had a routine. "Oh, did you pack the sheep? Well, he's GOTTA have his sheelp..." But whatever, we used this thing to death, it seemed to work, and I have in turn provided this to multiple other new mommies as gifts in the last couple years. But hadn't dug it out for little girl baby just yet.

SO - just switched the whales on for Rachel and attached it to the Pack n Play. At first, she actually did go right to sleep. Now I hear her hiccuping in the Pack n Play but the key is, not crying. Just taking in the soft chatter of whales. Fine by me, cuz here I am getting to type.

Sleep Sheep, we still got it.

Ahhhhhh

Today is one of those mommy days that just works. The baby is napping in the swing - for the second time today. And more importantly, the toddler is napping in his new big boy bed. And not only did he actually GO into it at naptime, but he STAYED in it and is STILL in it and there were no tears involved ("Got some tears, mommy. Got some MESSIES!")

Sure, I've been up since 5:20 a.m. but in mommy standards, that's practically noon, given she slept through from about 10 p.m.!

Got a few minutes to chat with the husband this morning. The Boy slept until 7 a.m. giving me time to feed the baby, get her to sleep, drink two cups of coffee, catch a few snippets of news.

Today we've done puzzles. Eaten breakfast AND lunch. Played as a FAMILY, watching baby Rachel do tummy time while Matthew alternately watched her and snuggled and kissed her, then moved to go through her toychest of his old stuffed animals. We found his old sleep sheep, I explained how it made heartbeat and whale noises babies liked, and then we fed it lunch in his high chair.

I washed baby bottles. I went through part of the giant stack of mail. I filled out her insurance form. And now I'm blogging. And I even read a couple, too. Clearly, I am on FIRE.

And clearly, this means these kids will take me DOWN at some point this week.

Because I figured out real quickly this two kid stuff works as follows: great day, crap day, okay day. Lather, rinse, repeat. But not today. Today's a Good Day.

Okay, wait. So from time I started typing this little bragfest, I hear my little girl's "eh eh EHHHH" which of course means, "Mommy, haven't we talked before about what I MUST do whenever you type that I'm being good? I. Must. Meltdown."

Gotta go!

I've Turned the Corner

Week six accomplishment: Me and the Boppy pillow are finally friends. It's supporting Rachel without her rolling and slumping all over like she does with my pillow system. It's quicker than my 2 pillow system. And I'm better able to reach the laptop.

The key is sitting cross legged. Which I realize they do in all the Bobby ads. Even the smiling bottle feeding Dad is cross legged, not just sitting with it on his lap. Duh.

Five Weeks?!??!

How can it be five weeks since I brought my sweet baby girl home? In that time, she's gained a pound (or more), while I've continue to steadfastly not lose any more.

Also she's breastfeeding really well, sleeping regularly, isn't crazy fussy, and even lets us get 4-5 hours of sleep at a time. Sometimes. When she feels like it.

She loves her big brother. I think...when she stares at him goggly eyed, and sticks her tongue in and out, that's love right?

And most days, HE loves HER. Kissing her, and telling her good morning and goodnight. And asking me (ALL DAY LONG), "Mama, where's Baby Rachel? What's Baby Rachel DOing? Oh, she's so lit-tle." And even shushing the dogs - and the neighbors' dogs - if they bark when she's sleeping.

Of course, there have been the times he's launched a sippy at her head, or whacked her with a Matchbox car. These things happen though with toddlers and new sibs. (Right???) Mostly that's been when he's been frustrated with ME, not out of straight jealous moments. You know when I won't give him what he wants. Which occurs any zillion number of times a day when I will not let him watch TV for the third hour in a row, or when I ask him to stop banging his airplane into the wall. Or when I, you know, ask him to Eat Food.

It can be stressful. That is for DARN SURE (read with slight note of hysteria). But overall, we seem to somehow be adjusting to this new powerful little force that arrived, literally, about 5 weeks ago to the minute.

Actually, I was probably mid push right about now, wondering if I was a wimp or if the nurses and doctor and Michael were crazy because, dude, I swear that epidural wore off before it even got started. Which reminds me, I still owe my blog her birth story. Maybe for week six ...

In the meantime, here's a recent one that pretty much embodies what I look at all day. This girl makes some FACES.

From 09-25-08

Also, from this past Saturday, Matthew enjoying the Grant's farm goats during our visit there when it was so beautiful out.

From 10-1-2008

He's came a long way from running scared into Aunt Kim's arms during a visit at this same time last year. Now he's giggling as they nibble him and is fact much more okay with his being eaten alive by baby goats than I am.

(And yes, somehow we managed this outdoors outing and lived to tell about it. I suspect we won't attempt such a feat again for while. NOT because we didn't have fun. Because it literally sapped every ounce of energy out of me to get them ready, out, enjoy the day, and get us home, and I'll be plugged into the wall recharging for months.)

Also this weekend, Baby Shane and Baby Amelia's double baptism made for a very special Sunday.I was a little more on the ball with Baby Amelia's (and Kim and Mark's) photos, sorry Shane buddy.

From 10-1-2008

From 10-1-2008

Matthew and Bridget agreed the best part of church is watching the train go by outside afterward.

From 10-1-2008

Later, we all had a fun time at the Jones' house reception, where I got this photo of the two little sweeties...and their babies, ha ha.

From 10-1-2008

Don't Aunt Erin and Aunt Kim ... respectively holding their niece Amelia and nephew Shane, look proud? They should, these kids are both lookers and both just as sweet as can be. Love you, Jones babies.

That's all. I should probably remove the baby from the swing after 2 hours, don't you agree? Especially given I've listened to her cry for the last few photo-uploads? (One of many differences between first and second kiddos; I'm impervious to guilt crying now.)

What If We Went for a Third?

Rachel, Matthew, and Baby Seahorse snuggled into Rachel's crib. One of the most heartwarming moments I've had this past month.

Three DOES balance out the photo nicely. And if babies did nothing except play music and make their tummies glow, staring at me with placid plush faces, sure why not?

But since instead they cry at 4 a.m. or whack their sisters on the head, I suspect we'll stick with the two suckers on the left.

My Little Devil

Because today, I needed a reminder that my little boy is pretty cute and sweet most days. And NOT, as it turns out, Satan's offspring after all...

How's It Going?

Today is the day before my daughter's one month birthday so I felt my first post in 3 weeks might be in order. SOooo... Here's what's going on over here with me and the two (completely the boss of me) short stuffs:

Lots of sitting on the couch marathon breastfeeding sessions while watching endless morning/daytime/middle of the night TV. Which means CNN is about to cut me off as a junkie because it's the only thing that's dependably decent.

Lots of negotiating. Matthew, if you let Mommy feed Rachel, then I'll play Play-Dough. Matthew, if you let Mom finish pumping, I'll play cars. Matthew, if I let you watch Thomas, will you sit here next to us? (This just in) Matthew, if you let Mommy do the computer, I'll let you watch Wheels on the Bus (Thank you, YouTube, for not being a totally useless time waster but also a helpful childcare device. There are LOTS of cute videos out there. Such as 20 minutes of kittens playing/falling off things... he LOVES it).

Lots of guilt about what I'm NOT getting done every day. Sure, I would tell anyone of YOU just having babies, don't worry about laundry, dishes, thank you notes...and certainly not blogging or posting photos. Yet every day these chores and more loom over my head on most days where getting out of my p.j.'s and feeding us all our 3 squares a day (or 8, as the case may be) should be a big accomplishment.

Lots of borderline neglect of my toddler when I decide, dammit, I AM going to get on the computer or make this call or do X for just ten minutes. Such as right this minute when Matthew is in our room, opening and shutting the door, probably in between going through all our drawers and ingesting something poisonous I don't even know I have in there. And asking me for the zillionith time already this morning, Mama, what you doing? What you doing? Which reminds me...

Lots of endless answering of the same tiny toddler-voice-asked questions. Mama, where Baby Rachel? Mama, what's DAT? (in response to any noise we hear. all day long). Mama, where's Daddy? Mama, where's Maya (cat)? Mama, where's (someone we haven't seen in 3 months)? The amount of questions I am asked and answer each day should qualify me as the all time winner on the world's MOST annoying game show.

Of course, I love him so dearly and on "easier" days am really enjoying the time with him but... OH MY GOODNESS, THE CONSTANT ATTENTION WE NEED.

Did I mention this is only my FIFTH day alone with both of them? Not fiftieth. FIFTH. All the other days I've had moms or helpers thus everything felt deceptively manageable.

I know it will get easier. And I do love taking care of my own kids. But right now I don't have my hard protective "living with a toddler all day" protective shell built up. So it's all feeling overwhelming at the best of times. I'm sure I'll make my bones just about the time I go back to work, right?

Of course, it's not all frustration. There are moments of pure "OMG, how perfect are you kids?" Such as this:

I want to post a lot lot more...birth story, daily observations of being a mom of two, whining comments on sleep deprivation and of course, more on miss Rachel and her emerging personality. As I told EEJ, I have constant blog posts running through my head.

I just need that psychic Star Trek type magic translater to get them straight from my brain into my blog, along with suitably charming photos updates and captions. But until that time, I might be on the slow post schedule. Either that or one of you experienced mommies needs to teach me to type one handed while I feed her.

In the meantime to redeem myself, there are some photos of our first 2 weeks at home posted on my Picasa link here.

The New Style of Post: Random Thoughts from the Post-Partum Compound

Clearly I have no brainpower or time or energy for normal posts. Maybe because I've barely left the house (ok, couch) and breathing the same air day after day is leaving me with lots to say but no brain cells to type it. Anyway, here's the update I can muster:

-- Thank God and the lactation consultant ladies for the nipple shield 101 yesterday. It is saving my boobs, sanity, baby and probably marriage. And probably all family ties and friendships. I was a sobbing painful mess for Tue and most of Wed. Now I am a tired but sane and only slightly pained. Still a mess - but that's only because I'm wearing the same outfit as yesterday and day before and that outfit is milk soaked. Mentally, though - on my way to normalcy again. I think.

-- I hate this expressions (because, don't they all?) but Rachel seems to have her days and nights mixed up. Snoozes most of the day, with some alert periods. But nothing like the wide awake, Where are we GOING? Let's PARTY! personality we got from 2:45 - 4 a.m. last night after her 2 a.m. feeding. And with Mike going back to work today, my go to move of handing her over for an hour of Shushing post b.f.'ing won't work anymore. I think it's gotta be my gig most nights. Fire up the Tivo'd episodes of Oprah!

-- Besides above life-energy-sapping behavior, she is still very sweet. Think we're still in honeymoon period where she only cries when she has a need. Hates to be cold, or waiting for boob and WILL let you know but then quiets down; when she keeps us awake at night, it's just because she will fuss when we put her down, and I pick her up so it doesn't ramp into the scream - but if you just sit and hold her, she's fine. BUT, I know the truth is yet to come. As my doc said at her appointment yesterday, "She'll still be good now. We wouldn't see colic or any of that type of behavior until about 3 weeks." Yes, miss sunshine, I know, but thanks for reminding me. The clock is ticking in my head to that 3 week mark, believe me. I am literally holding my breath until that point.

-- She gained 3 oz since leaving hospital. In the next week she should gain 5 oz. to get back to her birth weight and make me and doc happy. I suspect she'll do it. She is my daughter. She can gain 10 oz. just by LOOKING at a bottle.

That's all from the mommy 'hood for now. More pictures to come, I swear, you people are animals!

p.s. Today I have busted out My Mommy's Pockets apron for the first time. A full review to follow but so far, I've had paci, burp cloth and cell on hand just when I wanted them! And damn, it's so cute. Thanks, Lig and EEJ! And thanks, Hutch, for being to so inventive. I saw your Baby Talk ad, too, just while perusing through the copy I picked up on a BRU run the other day. That kicks butt!

Brother and Sister Muldrow

There's so much to post about I can't begin just yet. So I'll just say... I DO see the resemblance between my kids (my KIDS!!!!) that some people are seeing. I didn't at first but...


Matthew at 3 days old

Rachel at about 3 hours old.Similar eyes, nose, mouth, (cutest little) bags under eyes (that you ever saw). But you can see, she's clearly a girly girl whereas he was clearly an 80 year old man.

p.s. I know these won't hold ya over. You are insatiable for baby photos, aren't you. If you haven't seen them yet, Erin's blog has a beautiful post including a link to lots more photos. Thanks for being SO on the game this week, Aunt Erin, we love you for it.

p.p.s. I wish I could point you to the Web Nursery hospital photos. But I can't because they are not posted like they said they would be. Just like they never ever ever are whenever friends have babies and I obsessively search again and again to see if they've posted. Which they usually do like 10 days later, when the kid's already off to high school.

Live From St. Luke's!

While I am feeling good, thought I'd get at least one official post in. You know, the long detailed boring ones no one else cares about listing every time, contraction and update.

12:05 a.m. - Arrive at L&D with 5 bags, two cameras and the Boppy. We look like first timers, probably. I verify repeatedly, this counts as after midnight, right? That clock is wrong, I show 12:05! Everyone laughs and agrees, yes, we're fine, stupid insurance, midnight. Nurses are so welcoming and we try to be super sweet, funny, super patients that they will love.

12:07 - Mike realizes he's forgotten cord for speakers for IPOD. Despite my protests that we don't need them, he swears we are not doing this without mustic and that it'll take "15 minutes there, 15 back" and off he goes.

1:00 - Low dose Pitocin drip of "1" is in, by 1, how clever! I'm on the monitor, in the uncomfy hospital bed, answered all the questions and covered in identifying bands. And my Sext and the City (SATC for you newbies) marathon is about to begin - Season 1 DVD is playing as the nurse leaves. Oh, and a tiny little pink sleeping pill for the road. Not a bad deal!

1:15 - Ambien is kicking in. Having hard time concentrating on filling out 3 page cord blood donation behemoth form.

1:20 - Mike arrives back, also brought my glasses and contact solution, per my last minute texted request. Brough a bag full of solutions (I have different kinds and probably half expired) and 2 pairs of glasses - both wrong. I own coke bottle glasses from which to see out of when my contacts are out - and thin cheapo reading glasses for over my contact when reading fine print. He brought the Walgreen's $3.99 readers. "Do these LOOK like the glasses I wear when my lenses are out? Do these look like the ones YOU make fun of?" Answer: "I don't know! I didn't LOOK at them." And there yoy have it, folks. The male brain hard at work.

1:30 - Ahh. We are both in the dark, relaxes, watching exploits of those crazy NY ladies.

2:00 - 6:20 - ZZzzz... Ambiens are the bomb. Seriously, I never thought I'd sleep and man did I. Even in this crap bed, I slept. Despite having to wake up each time they can in at 2, 3 and 4 up my Pitocin (by "1" each time. One what, I don't know) or get up to pee or get BP checks or have my monitors adjusted, I slept. The pill just really relaxed me and I could give in to being tired (I really was).I am going to keep a bowl of these out at my house like candy for guests.

6:20 - Awake to have my Pitocin jacked up for realsies now. Also, the poor nurse is more hurried, and for good reason. I learn FOUR LADIES just came in to be delivered. Like, now! One is also my doctor's patient, so I will probably get to see her sooner than I'd thought since I assume she'll stop by to say Hi once she's done with her. Damn, they will all beat me, I just know it!

Did I mention my nurse is 37 weeks pregnant herself and caring for me on the night shift? GOD I love nurses, they are so tough.

6:45 - Send Mike out for fresh ice. Tell him to watch out, it'll be crazy out there with all these new deliveries. He comes back, wide-eyed. I said, I know, I warned you - four pregnant ladies - and they had thought I was their hot priority for the morning. He says the nurses station was completely empty, but he saw one nurse was running down the hall pushing a cart and saying, I hope she didn't already have the baby in the bed!

7:10 - One woman has already delivered!

7:13 - Just heard one more is scheduled for a C-section at 9:30. Side note: Every time I heard that "click" of the IV releasing more into me, I get kinda scared and kinda excited. Side side note: I am definitely feeling these babies now but still, it's really really very bearable. They are not on top of each other yet, and THAT is the kiss of death in terms of my ability to cope.

Temp check... gotta go!

Outtee 5000

Although I am still HERE here, I am now outtee from work. Today was my last day in the office before my leave, which I've opted to start just one day early tomorrow.

I still don't really believe it. That I'm not driving there tomorrow, having cup after cup of bad decaf coffee, ticking down the assignment list, cranking through my deadlines.

nd of course, to compensate for that, I've already promised on my day off, to touch base with someone handling my assignments ... mind you, this was my idea, not hers.

Why can't I let go? Oh yeah, because that's not the type of person that works where I work :)

Seriously, I have mixed emotions. You'd think I'd be elated for a break and I supposed I am/will be when baby girl is coming home in my arms. But tonight, I feel like, "How can I leave work? How do I deserve to just 'disappear' for 12 weeks? This is borderline irresponsible."

Sick, sick, I know. But it's mainly because I know my being gone means increased work stress and hours for my colleagues. It means someone might not immediately know exactly what to do when the client calls like I do (well, like I do most of the time anyway). I truly love the folks I work with and do NOT want to overburden them or stress them out.

Yet another part of me knows, I cannot control this. I am having a baby and this is just THIS part of my life during this one (in reality, relatively short) 12 week time period. Usually and for years to come, I am/will be there and dedicated. Though it'll mean them carrying the water for a while, I know I'd and will gladly do the same in my future there.

And I know that it's borderline workaholic to be worrying about this 2 days before birth. When I should be worried about how something the size of a watermelon is going to make it's way out of
me. In less than 48 hours (God willing). AHHHHHH!

But there you have it. This blog ain't called Deadlines and Naptimes for no reason. I DO worry, a lot, about work. In fact when people ask me if I'm ready for the baby, I usually start answering in terms of transition plans and to do lists, when I think that maybe what they actually mean, do you have all the pink stuff setup in the room?

Oh, THAT? That's been done, or done enough (second time mamas don't sweat the details). But my transition plan and to do list? Well, that's another story. It feels like there could NEVER be enough time to settle that exactly as I'd like it.

I know I've trained my counterparts as best I can, and documented everything in my brain in a Word doc. I pushed hard on final projects last week. AND have offered many, many times that I can be available for questions. That I'm not dying, I'm just, you know, not there.

But I still can't help feeling like, have I done enough to warrant the privilege of being gone for 12 weeks?

And then I recognize that I'm bordering on the Crazies again by not just letting go, getting into baby mode - and acknowledging that it'll all go on without me, and it'll get done.

I think I will get there. Maybe just, not tonight, my first night after my last day. Or maybe not until I have a little pink squealing bundle of neediness to distract me.

Because for me, the only thing to delete one set of obsessive worries, is adding another.

Superstitious

When you're this pregnant and dying to be done, everything seems like a sign.

Earlier this week, I completed a big proposal Tue. and completed my Fantasy Football draft. NOW SHE CAN COME!

The next day I completed a big project and got my haircut. NOW, SHE CAN COME!

Last night we ate dinner at Ruby Tuesday, where EEJ ate before Shane. We then came home and found The Departed on TV which for some reason I had told Mike I wanted to buy on DVD for the hospital stay. Talked to my mom in law who said she had thought I might have the baby tonight. And all week, my mom had emailed me not to have the baby but after Fri. night it was okay because she doesn't have any more work shifts scheduled, having cleared her calendar so she can come in to help us out next week.

It was sign after sign! NOW, SURELY, SHE CAN COME!

Yet here I sit. At home. Stuffed full of baby still.

What sort of sign does this kid need that it is symbolically appropriate for her to come out?

Maybe I should text or IM or DM her in utero? "U r late, come out, we luv you but u r crazy already! j/k, come out soon, xoxo, mom."

Anticlimactic

As several of you know, this weekend we took a very pointless trip to the hospital.

On Saturday morning, I thought I might be leaking fluid. Call exchange, doc says it sounds inconclusive but best to come in, risk of infection if it is and I don't. Ok, sold! Pack the bags! Pack the car! Dump child on babysitters (oh so conveniently arranged already for this very day for our first/last date night in eons)!

But alas, after checking in, getting suited up in a backless gown, getting pantsless, hooked up to monitors, and asking all the "you're about to have a baby, yippee skippee!" questions, like am I breastfeeding, will I donate my cord blood, etc. ... well after all, that, the stupid stupid stupid "fern test" showed I was not, in fact, leaking anything. Except for end of pregnancy not-very-lady-like lady stuff, like everyone does, I guess. Lovely.

I wanted to argue that I knew better, that it wasn't a gush, just a slow leak. And could you check it again? But seeing as how the lady had an M.D. and a microscope, and I had only crazy-lady-I- want-to-be-DONE-dear-God emotions, she won.

I had been losing my mucus plug "stuff" for a couple days prior. Then I saw some blood Sat and thought this is it, the Show! And even though I know that doesn't mean anything, and it can be weeks, blah blah... that combined with the fact that I felt I was leaking, well you see, people, why I got excited.

And why when it wasn't, I was pretty disappointed. I mean, I was there, I was in costume, the nurses that shift seemed nice. What's not to love, let's have a BABY, party people! But it doesn't work like that. No fluid and I was out on my pregnant rear for another 10 days until they'll let me back to be induced.

Thank the Lordy, that number is now down to EIGHT - EIGHT DAYS!

And the last two nights, I've taken looooong walks. In hopes that I'm shaking her further down, because per Dr. Debbie Downer on Saturday, she is way up there still and only a station 4!

That is interesting. Because the pressure on my pelvis is plenty bowling ball esque already. When she moves down "into the pelvic girdle" I am just not sure how I'll stand it.

In the meantime, I'm considering taking up jogging or perhaps Olympics style trampoline, if nothing happens tonight.

I Not Sophisticated

Am I the only one who can't relate to this baby-vegetable size-analogy?

Your baby weighs 6 1/3 pounds and measures a bit over 19 inches, head to
heel (like a stalk of Swiss chard).

Come on, Babycenter.com, get off your high horse.

***UPDATE: She is now LEEK sized. Should be perfect for a subtle yet pungeant broth for a light summer supper...

Think Back...

Dear readers, at the end of your pregancies, were you guys constantly...

• Thinking every Braxton Hicks might be it?
• Praying for your water to break, even in some embarrassing at work/shopping mall scenario, because at least it would be broken? And really, clean up is not your problem, so ...
• Constantly on watch for the, er, mucus plug? Still have no concept of what this is and suspect I'd be terrified/burst into tears upon seeing anything like it. But still anxiously awaiting it all the same because it spells an end to this 9 months project of mine.
• Dreaming about going into labor? Pissed when you wake up?
• OVER people asking you how long, commenting on your belly size (too big or too small), asking "How are you feeee-ling?" with a pinched, pitying look as though you're missing an arm? (and p.s. how do you THINK I am feeling, I have 40 lbs of fat, fluid and baby packed onto me. I am not exactly feeling like a pretty princess..)
• Oh yeah, did any of you turn into giant Biyatches like I apparently have?
• And finally, were you so over positioning pillows under belly/legs in a complex mathematical equation designed to relieve various types of body pain? And even though it barely helps, repeat this exercise 108 times a night waking up dogs and spouse? And oh groan a lot JUST in case anyone doesn't hear the thrashing?

Also I have a question about suitcases. Did you guys really have these ready?

Because I mean, I can kind of pack but half the stuff I still use, so what's the point of putting it in and out of a bag every day? And really, what would be the fun in being prepared anyway? Last time Mike had to pack mine. And I still treasure those pics of me in the atrocious going home outfit he picked for me. Who says a gray and blue "chili cook off champion" t-shirt doesn't go with giant black pants and 30 extra lbs. as a trendy new mom look? And the complete lack of nursing bras - and underwear - in the bag, well, that just kept life spicy. Ah, memories.

I Am Not Open-Minded

Because, honest to God, I really don't see myself doing anything remotely like this.

... Get a broad plank of wood, like an ironing board. Prop it at an angle against the couch or a chair ... Lie on the board with your head down and feet resting on either side of the board on the couch. Try it a couple times to get it right.Remain on the board for up to 20 minutes, 3 times a day. (YEAH I'LL GET RIGHT ON THAT.)

After you've got this down (YOU HAVE BECOME A CIRCUS PERFORMER! CONGRATS, NEW BABY AND NEW CAREER!) and you can relax inverted like this, put a bag of frozen veggies (CAN THEY HAVE A CREAM SAUCE? MMMM), wrapped in a thin towel, behind baby's head, and a very warm “hot pac” in front of the baby near your pubic bone. Put the warm pac on the same side of your belly as the baby's hands and feet are on, but close to your pubic bone.Other times, place a paper towel tube in the same spot and have family members speak through it or play Beethoven. (WE PREFER OUTKAST, HOPE THEY TOO HAVE BREECH FLIPPING POWERS)

What they forgot to talk about was when do you call the witch in to wave her wand while you juggle hot coals and speak Swahili to gently encourage you baby to move away from the peas?

This is dang complicated. And what size ironing board is that anyway? Because I'm pretty sure mine is about a size 6, and I'm about double that action at least.

KJ, was this what yours involved? Because I went to that website hoping for something more akin to "Lie on the floor and gently stretch your leg over your head ..." type of advice. Something more yoga like. And not involving frozen produce?

Oh well, baby Rachel/Katie and I have another five days to figure this out, I guess. Thanks for the comments earlier. Hopefully she'll take a header on her own here soon before I'm forced to make any decisions.

Gonna Be A Handful

Several of you have heard me insist that this girl child will be trouble. Partially because Matthew hasn't been (so far ... knock on fake wood desk) and partially because so many sweet good babies seem to have come along in the last few months that I feel they've sucked up all the good baby vibes.

Well, she is already proving me right. Yesterday I learned this little troublemaker has flipped, again, and is now in a frank breech position.

This is better than foot down breech, but still no guarantees that the (what I have already labeled) horrible version procedure would work, if it comes to that.

It might not - she's only 6 lbs and still has lots of fluid to swim around in so flipping again before Monday's appointment isn't out of the question.

Am I crazy to be more scared of someone squeezing my belly and squashing my baby than of an operation? Because right now I'd be tempted to say let's just schedule my c-section and not even go through what frankly, looks like medieval torture just to have a 50/50 chance to flip this kid back.

And if that procedure involves an epidural (some do) then why on earth would I want to go through that and THEN some type of additional birth related pain, section, vaginal or otherwise?

Granted I am giant baby about pain. Maybe it would be fine? Not that bad? Worth it? I don't know yet. But in the meantime, please send me and baby girl 180 degree thoughts this week.

Baby Sisters and Stuff

Matthew Mike and I had a nice little chat about new baby sister tonight. Want to know how it went?

Are you gonna be a good big brother?
Yuh. (Whispered, monotone, eyes glazed over staring off at nothing while rotely answering affirmative as he always does no matter what ridiculous question we ask, such as, Matthew, did you see a dinosaur today? Yuh.)
Are you gonna love the baby?
Yuh.
Are you gonna kiss the baby?
Are we gonna have a baby like Baby Shane and Baby Amelia?
Is baby gonna drink milk?
Is baby gonna sleep in the crib?
Yuh. Yuh. Yuh. Yuh.

But still, he did seem to be listening. At one point I told Mike, "I think it's sinking in!"

At which point, Matthew pulled his shirt up to discuss the baby in his tummy, and demanded Mike do the same. Oh well, maybe not totally sunk.

Yet again someone today had asked me, Is Matthew excited about his little sister? For some reason although I know the answer is "no because he is less than clueless on this" it always prompts me to go home and try again.

I think there is a very good chance I can walk in with that baby and it still won't "sink in." In a way I hope it doesn't. Sinking in might mean he gets he's not the big kahuna round here anymore. A realization I suspect will not make my life easier with the two of them here.

I would rather he just realizes after about 5 months, oh, that little lady with all the pink stuff is still here. Okay, guess that's fine.

As Kramer Would Say...

I'm all puffed up! Not all, puffed up really (not quite to puffy shirt standards), but, am suddenly feeling it a bit.

Hopefully it is just the heat, although I have studiously avoided being in it for more than about 3 1/2 minutes. Or maybe it's the 200 pretzel sticks I ate last night. That's not bad for water retention is it?

My B.P. just taken at home is still perfect. I just kinda feel like my fingers are puffy and my face had turned into pumpkin/pie/water filled version of either. Oh well 35 1/2 weeks it's not like anyone feels normal at this point right?

Oh Yeah, Also, My Update

Friday and Saturday I had Braxton Hicks contractions all day, like regularly, like every three to six minutes. Friday it was enough that I went home from work, laid down, drank about 5 truck driver mug sized waters thinking maybe I was just dehydrated, and laid around timing myself letting poor Mike yet again take care of everything else. (Three cheers for being in the third trimester with a hubby off for the summer!)

Three calls to my OB later, and we determined I was probably "fine" and didn't need to come in, but certainly if things got worse, I had "bloody show" (I mean, REALLY, can't we just say "see some blood"?) or the baby wasn't moving, come in. None of these things happened so lest we ruin our Friday night sleep or the rest of our weekend, we just went on like normal and waited for them to subside or get worse. Plus my Mom was here and she agreed it was probably just false labor and MOMS KNOW EVERYTHING so I felt better not going in.

By Sunday, they subsided and I was back to my normal "contract when I stand up or lift anything" mode. Which seems reasonable. But honestly, I had been getting a little freaked out when they had been coming like clock work and really really wondered, was this it?

Luckily, I now have the lovely weekly appointments, which this week, really was lucky. So today, she took a swab of something that by tomorrow, will either confirm I'm for sure not in any early labor ... or confirm that I "might be" in which case we literally will know nothing more than we know now. Which is that I'm a "finger tip" dialated and looking like I'm "getting ready" but that's about it.

Truthfully, I know I should be patient and make it 40 weeks but I have no interest. Like last time, I am just getting to the point where I want her here, safe, and just want to move to the next phase of this thing which is establishing life with new baby. The preggo gig is wearing thin .
I would love to get to 38 weeks and just have her POP ON OUT TO MEET THE FAM!

Frankly the suspense is killing me at work, too. I keep thinking I can go on like normal and it's become increasingly obvious that I won't accomplish 1/2 of what I thought I might before I leave, between doc visits and just limitations on those really long days. Which I don't think anyone but me expects of me. So I've lately shifted focus into documenting how I do things and training someone to do a lot of what I do. The PR firm employee version of nesting?

On the home front, all I want to do is wash and put away baby clothes, cross things off my baby to do list and most amazingly, read baby and preggo books for the first time since, like, my first 10 weeks of pregnancy with Matthew. I have been so laissez-faire, "oh yeah, due in August, anyway that's a nice blouse you have on!" and suddenly I'm all BABYBABYBABY and the paranoid part of me just wonders, is it a sign? Anyway it prompted me to start packing a suitcase, chat with my mom about her visit days, and fold about 100 billion onesies after washing them in non scented stuff. SHOUT OUT: Thanks to all of you ladies who have purchased or loaned me so many kick A girl baby clothes. I was practically beside myself with glee folding up so many many tiny pink THINGS last night.

Last point: my non-stress test was perfect again today, so was her fluid. We are both doing swimmingly, thank you. Somehow that still didn't get me out of any future monitoring and, in fact, in light of this weekend's contract-a-thon I have now scored myself another OB appointment next Monday where formerly I had none.

I realize so many people have dealt with SO MANY more appointments and genuinely scary pregnancy situations. I should not complain. I truly do know this is "nothing" and I'm blessed and we're lucky. I just, you know ... want life to be a little easier again. Which I am thinking might happen sometime after the baby gets here ... like 2014.

Warning: Way Too Much TMI Ahead

SO - I took the breastfeeding class on Saturday and it was GREAT. Despite my thinking my Hardee's breakfast would be the highlight of an otherwise lame day filled with no new information, b.f. guilt, "there's only one way to do this right" commentary, no pacifier lectures and the like ... what I got instead was a pleasant, entertaining and even funny instructor who told us right off the bat she didn't think "Formula" was a dirty word and she also didn't believe all the stuff we'd hear in the official video. Hallelujah, right then my ears were opened.

(And I'm trying to figure out how I can "book" her to be my lactation consultant when I'm in the hospital. There are three at my hospital. Last time I got The Other Two. Never even saw this lady, who, by the end of class, literally could do no wrong by Mike and I. Do you think a 20 spot might do it?)

So, at the class I learned some new things; some stuff that reinforced my friends' experiences and advice; and some stuff I technically learned the first time (yes, in my five day b.f. experience) but had kinda forgotten.

And - big news - I learned I might have (wait for it) not quite the normal, er, don't make me type it ... (nipples) ... and that might have helped make Matthew's and my attempt more challenging last time. I won't bore you with the various remedies but the good news is, there are some.

I WILL impress you (or gross you out?) with how I learned this: when this topic of, umm, nipples came up, she mentioned the varieties you can have and how she is surprised so often when women deliver, that their OB hadn't already helped them out a bit by diagnosing what type they had, so those of us with flat (or the really tricky inverted, thankfully, not me) ones can know you might need extra help.

Anyway, she basically offered to tell us right there if we'd be willing to give her a peep show out in the secluded hallway after the class. And by God, I let her. As I told EEJ, that's just how desparate I was.

See, when I had Matthew, as several of you know, there was this lactation Nazi that completely freaked me the f*** out about b.f.'ing about one hour before we were leaving the hospital. Amidst riding my ass for buying the wrong nursing bras (underwire and also, not having a sleep bra ... WTF, they don't teach you this in college, lady), for having supplemented with formula in the hospital (the nurses practically SHOVED it at us and I didn't know better than to accept it), for not having taken a b.f. class, and for not having brought my pump to the hospital ... well, somehow I started tuning her out. Go figure.

But I do believe somewhere in there the phrase "flat nipples" was mentioned. Naturally everything she said to me went out the window once I mentally deemed her a big old B but that had kinda stuck with me that maybe I was a little, well, not quite the norm.

Anyway, when this TOTAL STRANGER Sat. was nice and funny and made this offer, well, I figured I was there to learn how to make b.f.'ing work right? So I let her inspect me. In less than 2 seconds (one per boob, thank you) she informs me that might have been a big part of the challenge last time.

Now - the other challenges of course was not reading a book or taking a class or really, you know, "preparing" at all. I'm sure they say on page one DON'T GIVE THE BABY FORMULA IN THE HOSPITAL but I'm more of a learn as I go person sometimes and I just figured that would be the case here. So I made mistakes.

I also assumed it would painful, but also all natural and easy. Which was a big joke because it was SO not natural feeling for me at all.

And also let's be honest -another challenge was me sort of being a quitter and not persevering and just in my heart, not being really dedicated.

But dammit, it DID seem harder for me than it has for some of my friends. Now I KNOW that when it REALLY gets hard is weeks and months later .. the times you want to quit but somehow push yourself to keep going, or struggle with that decision. It's the hard stuff I never even got to and frankly, had already planned, I might not make it past. But I had always plannned that I'd at least get a few weeks in, then make my decision. And dear readers, many of you seemed able to "just do it" in that first two weeks ... and that was never us, and now I feel a bit better knowing at least one reason why maybe wasn't my fault. Given that as you can see above, I've got a litany of reasons it IS my fault, engraved on the brain.

So armed with nipple shields and pre-pumping strategies and the like (I promise, I'll end it there) I am feeling more confident, more prepared, more determined, and just, well, not quite so guilty. And as you mommies know, that guilt is often way more than half the battle.

People, I have a very important announcement...

CANNONBALL!

Ok, ok, more like a tiny baby flip. But still, we shall celebrate baby's head pushing down uncomfortably on my pubic bone again, unlike last week when she was feet down.

Now she's right where she should be and just kicking like crazy, all the time, especially after my 5 p.m. vending machine chips and 9:30 p.m. choclate Breyer's. That's mama's girl.

p.s. If you don't love Anchorman, then this post probably makes no sense. If you do, then I guess I love you.

And the Winner Is...

Apparently Mike and I are on the right track. NOT that I'm the sort of person to need constant outside validation (right? you don't see me like that, right? do you??) But must say I'm quite pleased with my readership's voting tastes.

Despite the inflated Katie vote scandal of '08, that still would come in second after Rachel. And as it so happens, those are what it's down to for us too. There's one we're leaning toward and one that is more our back-up if when the little squirt is born, she doesn't look like the other. But I feel pretty set.

And I swear I just can't look at baby name books anymore. I started entertaining really random choices like "Colleen" and "Eleanore." When the latter actual got a laugh out loud from mother in law, I realized maybe we were stretching a bit.

Simple, classic, guess that's our thang. So thanks for your input, ladies. It helped.

Oh Brother

Today I had another ultrasound. Saw another chubby baby leg, her FACE, and hair, lots of it.

Matthew and Mike were there too - long story, Mike is driving me around right now which is a pain for him but was fun for us, since he can't usually join me for these.

And Matthew - I was all waiting for this magical moment of him realizing that's his sister on the TV, realizing it's a baby, anything. But what big brother said was "oh, FISHIES!" and ran toward this moving fish nightlight on the other side of the room.

He did show a modest interest at first, identifying my new daughter on screen as "Baby Amelia" which would be Kim and Mark's six week old baby girl. So he does get the idea...even if he didn't grasp today as the momentous event it was. That I did. It was the first time all four of us were together and "hanging out" if you will as new family of four.

And then my little happy maternity bubble was burst when they told me I am now going for weekly monitoring. Like EVERY WEEK. Even though my b.p, her weight, my fluid, you name it, are FINE, they are STILL being like, REALLY cautious and wanting weekly non-stress test and fluid monitoring. Of me. Out in Chesterfield. Where I DO NOT WORK NEAR.

Now, I realize the most important thing is the baby and of course I will go. But really people, I am a bit confused. Last time with Matthew, I was walking around on two hippos for ankles, and we didn't do any of this. My B.P. was also high and p.s. I was a giant giant whale.

This time I'm healthier, smaller and not swelled or at least, hardly at all. And yet I think they'd prefer I take up residence in the Fetal Medicine unit.

Somehow my diagnosis with Matthew went from "borderline pre-eclampsia" at his birth, to "you had pre-eclampsia" when I started the baby girl's appointments. To today some new high risk doc I hadn't seen before started a sentence, "when you see severe pre-eclampsia with the first pregnancy, we want to watch it really closely again..."

Now my pride at not wanting to look like a bad mother kicked in and I didn't correct/argue with him. Also he's the one holding my chart. But really - when did I go from "maybe" to "severe"? Me thinks me smells some guilt and "bullet dodged" from last time? Did they let stuff get a bit out of hand with Matthew and not realize until he arrived safely, thank God? It's weird, I just don't get it.

Mike and I don't want to be the parents that protest too much healthcare but ... seriously, wouldn't some nice kick counts and home B.P. monitoring do just fine?

Oh well, seven more weeks and she'll be here, and I can complain to her in person about the trouble she's caused me. Of course, that's if I can get past fawning over her BIG CHUBBY CHEEKS which we could see in the ultrasound today and which made me realize she sho is my duaghter.

Let the Games Begin

Up through yesterday's doctor appointment, I coudl truthfully tell her I was not feeling swelled or puffy.

And then yesterday and today happened. And my little cankles must have caught the buss over, wandered up the street, let themselves in and just plopped right down above my feet.

Oh Lord, just keep it manageable. I swear I cannot bring myself to wear flip flops to work.

I can wear the same preggo pants twice in the week, I can groan publicly when I stand up in meetings. I can annoy coworkers with a constant stream of "and then I have this appt and then this one and this one and then I gotta leave early AGAIN..."

But don't make me bust out the flip flops. My feet are far too ugly, and our interns wearning trendy pointy toed shoes are far too trendy, and my self image is far too shaky at month 7 and counting.

Chocolate Chocolate Chocolate

I realize I've done lots of preggo whining lately. So thought I'd celebrate one of the perks.

A medically necessary, heartburn reducing bowl of Breyer's chocolate ice cream, covered with Hershey's new dark chocolate syrup.

And a brownie.

Birdies for Baby

After much deliberation, I've chosen a nursery set for baby girl Muldrow. I can't possibly just post it without first sharing my nursery decoration thought process. I will spare you the behind the scenes uber Google trail and just focus on the front runners.


I considered Pottery barn simple and sweet yet sophisticated:




I also looked at Pottery Barn's nod to whimsy, the Penelope bird set.





But in the end, I settled on a nice, economical, and I think, oh so sweet set. Just $150 for a six piece bag o' birdies ... I chose this Birdsong, by Kidsline.

Now, I ordered a lot less than what you see here, so try to imagine it NOT looking like Birdsong threw up all over the nursery. I did go a bit overboard on the "little touches" like ordering the nightlight, switch plate cover, picture frame and lamp. And little basket. And mobile (duh - it's BIRDIES, did you SEE IT?).

It's even cuter in person than the picture - all the parts that look white, are actually sweet light pink. I have died and gone to over the top little girl heaven.

Miracle of miracles, I ordered this Sunday night like, after 10 p.m. And it arrived at my doorstep - free shipping, mind you - about 3 p.m. on Tuesday, when I just happened to be home taking a doctotr "suggested" day off. Thank you, BabySuperMall.com.

By 5 p.m., that little babies room didn't know what hit it. I will post pictures of that once I paint. The walls are stark white now, so all this pink looks a bit much. But once I soften the walls, I think it will be SOOOO cute and the only thing missing will be screechy crazy little person to deposit in it each night.

Doh!

I crossed another zero line today. I have officially gained the 25 lbs. the high risk doctor "advised" me to limit myself to gain. If she comments at my Monday appointment, I will "advise" her right back that I'm on track for a healthy 35 lbs., and that in itself is a miracle.

Aand that given my recent stress levels and comfort eating, we are all lucky it's not double that. The amount of Baskin Robbins chocolate peanut butter ice cream and Chips Ahoy this small small child has already consumed is nothing less than obscene.

Limitations

It is soooo frustrating to be pregnant and not able to

a) help enough with the move
b) stop complaining and whining that I can't help enough with the move
c) feeling I physically cannot do what I want to do and know NEEDS doing
d) NOT BE ABLE TO TAKE THE GOOD DRUGS for this awful cold that sprung out of literally nowhere between 3 pm and 6 pm tonight.

See? More whining. It seems to be a symptom of late second trimester, Aimee style.

No, That is NOT What's In There?!

Anyone else continue to marvel that newborn babies are actually what is inside there...
Making you fat?
Giving you heartburn?
Making you rage at your husband?
Making you cry in front of your husband?
Making you eat the Taco Bell?
Sometime making you throw up the Taco Bell?
Making you tired and crabby? Swelled? Nervous? Not sleep? Waddle? Struggle with back pain? Do acrobatics with pillows? Stress over doctor appointments? Constantly schedule doctor appointments? Gain 25, 35, 45 lbs?

Seeing four newborns in as many weeks has reminded me that what is in, really does come out. It's not just a belly and a backache. It's not an eggplant, rutabagas or whatever fruit-of-the-week the BabyCenter e-mails describe. There's a baby in thar!

A pink, wrinkly baby that blinks, breathes, eats and poops. That pressure I feel in my rib really is BABY FOOT.

Ok, frankly, you babies are freaking me out. Time for bed, and I'll just ignore the "indigestion" kicking me in the ribs because tonight, you, baby, are blowing mama's mind with how NUTS it is that you're in there, growing into a real working person, in my big old Taco Bell filled tummy.

What Helps with Killer 2nd Trimester Heartburn AND Out-of-Town Husbands?

Ice cold milk and FIVE Chips Ahoy cookies.

Hey, you can't leave one guy alone in the jar.

The REAL Definition of Trouble

I almost felt my petty whining about traveling woes bite me in the butt, when today I was worried about something more serious - worried that my b.p. was spiking and here I am, X number of states away from home and doctor.

All day I had a headache, which I never have and which docs tell you to watch for. As day wore on, I felt "odd" - kinda puffy, kinda swelled. Just off.

I also felt my sight was a bit blurry, however, that's hard to sort out of the 10 hours hunched over laptop screen.

After debating all day, I decided my course of action would not be calling my doctor, but first, finding a drug store to take my b.p. at one of those free machines. Off to the Rite Aid, which thankfully after 4 tests in a row, confirmed my b.p. is just fine. WHEW.

Tho, it did flip me out when the first reading was high. But next three were normal. Guess it was all the excitement of taking my first public b.p. test that elevated the first?

Anyway, I don't know if I felt better or worse today when my good friend Renae (after I emailed her this was going on today, but before I took b.p. test) said she was worried about me out here by myself. I appreciated the support. But I wanted to say nah, I'm fine.

But really, I'm not answering just for me, I'm answering for little girl too, and so being tough sometimes just feels wrong. Yet being a worry wart does, too. It's such a hard situation to navigate when to call, when to not call.

Anyway - point being, I took a step and feel confident that I am fine and she is fine. But I sure as hizell am glad I'm headed home tomorrow.

The Very Definition of Trouble

...Me plus on site cafeteria (which very much resembles a "buffet") plus a traveling, lonely, semi-stressed, 110% pregant state of mind.

Do you think my doctor meant, don't gain more than 25 lbs in one TRIP? Because even that may be trouble...o' pizza bar, o' dessert bar, o' hot grilled sandwich maker guy...

If I look bigger when I come back, you are right. Just keep it to yourself.

***UPDATE: I was dreaming of egg salad the other night. And what am I munching right now after visiting the on site caf for lunch today? EGG SALAD SAMMY, BABY. Ask, and ye shall receive...