A Happy Memorial Day Indeed

Monday, yesterday, aka Memorial Day was lame.  It was a bright sunny day with an endless number of things we could have done as a family.  But no.  Morgan had spent all day Saturday with his friends and came home after midnight.  Spent most of Sunday sleeping and recuperating.  When Monday rolled around it was my turn to sleep in and Morgan was wonderful and got up at 5 to take Sam downstairs.  I got up at 7 well rested and ready to start a fun family day!  He wanted to play video games all day long.  All.  Day.  Long.  He didn't even want to fire up the grill because "It looks hot outside."

So as you can guess, I was pissy.  Grumpy.  Sad and by myself folding laundry and grumbling to myself about another 3 day weekend pissed down the drain.

Enter baby Sam and his amazing timing.  Sam to save the day!

Morgan walked into the dining room where I was folding clothes.  In his arms was a half sleepy imp.  Sam looked up and saw me.  That's when it happened.  His first full on big baby belly laugh!  I kissed his tiny nose and he did it again!  I was so happy my eyes welled up with big stupid tears.  We spent the next 20 minutes trying to get him to do it again, but baby is saving his belly laughs for special occasions.  But he did give us a few giggles.

Best Memorial Day ever!  Thank you, Sam.

3 Months!

Wow.  No, really.  Wow.  He's three months old already.  He's growing up too fast.  I look at his tiny little newborn clothes and get a little misty eyed.  He's about ready to grow out of his 3 month stuff and move on to 6 month clothing!  NOOOooooooooo.

Sam is pretty awesome.  He does stuff now, which is fun.  Let me list:
~ bats at hanging toys
~ smiles like a fool, although he's not picky at what/who he smiles at
~ recognizes mommy and daddy
~ has started to giggle on occasion
~ holds head up on his own when seated
~ does baby crunches when holding him, has a few times pulled himself upright
~ middle of the night feedings have completely stopped
~ Sleeps from 9:30 sharp straight till about 4am when he starts grunting
~ eats roughly 4.5 ounces every 3 hours during the day
~ can stand and support his own weight if he wants to, which isn't often
~ coos, babbles, and does little squeals all day long!
~ hates tummy time with a passion, but can hold his head up

He also has become quite predictable.  We didn't implement a schedule.  Schedules apparently are "the thing" you simply must do to have a well behaved baby.  Aside from encouraging him to go to sleep at a reasonable time instead of midnight, we let him do his own thing.  His own thing apparently was making a schedule for himself.  At the moment you can set a clock by his feeding schedule.

I adore spending time with him.  I take him for walks around the neighborhood, read to him while he sits in his bumbo, and lay on the floor next to his activity gym and we talk.  But there is one thing he simply won't tolerate anymore - he won't sleep in my arms.  He might fall asleep while I'm holding him, but it won't last for long.  More often than not, he cries as soon as he's done his bottle because he wants me to lay him down!  Baby is tired and sleeping is serious business.

Sammy Chase, 3 months old today

Getting the Itch

I love to travel.  With my job (the one I don't have anymore) it wasn't very easy to get the time to really travel much.  I would squirrel away personal days so I could take 3 day weekends to go visit friends or get away with the hubby.  And these little holidays always felt so rushed.

Today it dawned on me.  I can go somewhere.  Given, I'll have an adorable leach stuck to my hip.  But I can GO somewhere.  I'm sure Morgan would be happy to catch up on some much needed sleep without our 3am grunter next to the bed.  And yes, my car will be overloaded with 500 tons of baby crap because "I Might Need It!"  But I can GOooOoo somewhere.

I has the itch.  Think he'll cooperate?

I Need Photos

Photos of me and my kid.  That's what I need.  I have tons of cute photos of Sam and Dad, cause I'm holding the camera.

But only a handful of me.  Given, I hate photos of myself.  Always have.  But it's a bit shameful that I have so few photos of us together when he is so wee.  I need to work on this.  I need to force Morgan to pick up the camera more often.  

Of course, it would also help if I could be in a photo without acting like a freak.  Yeah, I need to work on that too.  Sorry, Sam.

Daddy, Oh Daddy

A conversation last night.  Really.


Him:  I just finished changing his diaper, but he peed while I was changing him.  Can you take Sam while I wash my hands?

Me:  Sure. (pick up baby)  Hey, Hon. . .why is he wet?  My God.  Did you redress him and leave him laying in a puddle of piss?

Him:  Uhhhhhh. . .

Me:  Seriously.  He's soaked.

Him:  He peed up, so I didn't think it got on him.

Me:  What goes up must come down.  Please go get a clean outfit.

Him:  *mumble mumble*


But really, what should I expect from a man who "fixed" the siding on our house by putting duct tape on it.  And that was over a year ago.  And the tape is still there.  He's a great guy, but he has his moments.

1st Mother's Day

This little imp of a lump of boy is really all I need or want.  Ever.  But I also got a card with his little hand print inside and Morgan had paid for me to get a copy of a baby photobook I had created a few weeks ago.  We also went for a nice walk around the neighborhood.  It was a very calm day with everyone home and no interruptions.  Happy Momma.

Happy Mother's Day to everyone!

Sam at 10 weeks is Fun

Not that he wasn't fun before.  But right now he is getting pretty good at grabbing and swatting at his toys.  And he has an arsenal of cute coos that he breaks out all the time.  And he fixates on things with such determination that you can't help but laugh and wonder what he's thinking.

Story for you.  At his 2 month Dr visit he was happy as could be.  Cooing at the wallpaper and smiling like a fool.  Then the Dr moved his head, which broke his gaze from the zebra on the wallpaper, and all hell broke loose!  Zebra was his only friend!  He screamed with all his might and the Dr felt so bad about it.  It was hilarious.

He fixates on pretty much any black and white pattern.  Such as our couch.

Or the wrought iron decoration hanging above the couch.  We can be laughing and playing up a storm, but if he sees this thing out of the corner of his eye all play must end so he can stare at it intently.  Cause Wrought Iron is his only other friend!

He has mastered his activity mat and loves to bat the chiming animals around.  Now he's started focusing on his toys hanging above the pack n play.  Which has started to make me think he might be left handed.  

Doesn't matter which toy is on the left side, that's the one he's going to try to grab.  Every time.  My dad was left handed and I was supposed to be left handed.  Only reason I'm not left handed now is because my mom would hold down my left arm and make me do things with my right when I was a baby/toddler.

This is a really fun age, this 10th week.  He continues to be awesome.

Adventures in Baby Feeding

Fair warning that the following is both long and an exercise in TMI.

Somewhere in the evolutionary chain there was a break.  I say this because there is no reason why it should be this hard to do what should be natural - feed your baby.  I have titties.  Titties should make milk and shuttle those milks to said baby in a natural and painless manor.  Nope.  Evolutionary fail.

Lets start from the beginning.  In the hospital I thought Sam was latching well (with the aide of a nipple shield) but had no clue how to tell if he was getting enough milk.  When we got home I continued to do all the things the lactation consultant had suggested, but as the days ticked on Sam was more and more inconsolable.  He would scream and cry till he would pass out.  He continued to loose weight.  At around 2 weeks of age the Dr told us to start supplementing with formula to help get his weight up.  Enter into our lives the wonderful wonderfulness that is Similac.  If only it were cheaper.

I realize that most women don't speak of formula with a sense of love and comfort.  But for me, that's exactly what it was.  I knew hidden somewhere inside that angry badger was my sweet little Sam.  He was so hungry.  And it was a hunger that I simply could not satisfy.  Immediately after the beautiful box of mixy goodness came into our lives my sweet little baby returned to us.  He stopped crying non stop with those horrible giant tears streaming down his face.  He started sleeping restfully.  We started to get some sleep.  It was wonderful.

But there is always a drawback.  Now that my precious pigeon pea knew the glory that was FOOD, he grew impatient with my breastfeeding efforts.  I would put him to my breast and he would suck hard and give me the most hateful looks when the milk wasn't there.  He sucked so hard that my nipples started to bleed and still give me those hurtful little eyes that told me something was not right.  The only thing that would make it all better was the bottle of Similac crack.  We bought a breast pump to give my poor nipples some relief.  That's when I learned of my evolutionary fail.

After doing a little research I discovered that women with PCOS infertility can sometimes experience unusually low milk supply.  After almost 10 weeks of trying to fight the good fight, I am ready to accept that I am one of these women.  When I strap on that breast pump I am lucky if I get 2 oz combined.  Most of that comes from the right boob.  The left one I'm lucky if I get more than 10ml.  No wonder he was so angry.  And on the rare occasion that I do put him to my breast to attempt a natural feeding again I pay the price for the next few pumping sessions.

Sorry, but I warned you this was going to be an over share kind of a post.

But the story doesn't end there.  Oh no.  That would be too easy.  Yes, I just said easy in relation to the bloody breast pump horror story.  See, Sam has reflux.  So every time he would eat some to half of it would come back up.  Vomit on us, the couch, the bedding, his clothes, etc.  And the little whimpers he recently developed let me know that this was something causing him some pain.  I've had acid reflux before, so I know it's not pleasant.  On the good Dr's suggestion we added yet another change.

Enter into our lives the new and improved Enfamil AR!  You know it's better because it has a little ducky on the label.

This formula has rice starch mixed in to help it thicken slightly and stay in his tummy a bit better.  He's been on this new formula for about a week now and I'm happy to report he doesn't spit up nearly as much as he had been.  This formula is of course harder to find, you can't buy it in bulk, and we had to buy faster flow nipples for all his bottles. . .but at least we have a happy Sam.  So far so good.  Hopefully this is the solution we need.  Cause this poor baby has been through enough.