One of those days…

February 27, 2009 | Clark

Please enjoy the unbearable cuteness of the above picture for a moment before I tell you the story of my lame morning. As a side note, that onesie was the first thing I ever bought for Clark, when I was about 5 minutes pregnant and on a miserable, puke-filled, couch lying, trip to New York.

Anyway, this morning was my Mom’s group at The Birthing Inn*. Clark was having a bad morning and I knew we should’ve stayed home, but I had invited people to the group so I felt like I had to be there. Adding to the situation was the fact that I got about 3 hours of sleep last night in 20 minute chunks. It’s AMAZING how lack of sleep can make you feel like you’re losing your mind. It makes your crazy fuse so much shorter.

So I loaded him up into his Chair of Despair and headed out. To my surprise, he fell asleep in the car, like I hear babies usually do, for the first time ever. He stayed asleep for the first 15 minutes or so of Mom’s group but after that, it was pretty much all screaming. All the other babies were totally calm, looking at Clark like what’s his problem, which if I hadn’t been so tied up in getting Clark to stop crying I would have enjoyed greatly. He was passed around a little, but no one was successful.

I joined Clark in his cry when we got in the car. About half way home, he fell asleep again, so I decided to hit the Starbucks drive thru for a mommy treat. But of course, the line was long, it was moving really slowly, and as soon as I was trapped in it, he woke up and started screaming his head off. The barista could hardly hear my order.

Between Starbucks and home, he fell asleep again, so I decided to drive through a carwash, since my pretty pretty Prius is so so neglected. I was safely inside the swishing, whirring, sudsy carwash world, zoned out completely, clutching my coffee, and staring shell-shocked at the swirling water, when I heard a whimper from the backseat. That’s when I realized that I had made a terrible mistake. You see, at some point while he was screaming, I had rolled down one of the back windows a few inches because sometimes the sound and the air makes him stop crying. Yeah.

It was a touch free car wash, the kind with no brushes, just lots of water sprayed really hard at your car. The sprayer thing had gone around the car at least three times while I was caught in my sleep deprived delirium. There was about an inch of water in the back seat and Clark was all wet. He didn’t wake up, though.

I am so. Awesome.

*Should you be local and interested in this sort of thing, please come. It’s for moms with babes under 6 months and you don’t need to have birthed there. It’s every Friday from 10:30-12. Come! See Clark lose his shit!

Please explain this to me.

February 25, 2009 | Everybody's got one

Can you see what that is? Yes, indeed, it is flourescent hair dye for your pubes.

Are people doing this now? The display was next to the shampoos at my salon as if this is something that people do. If you look closely, this product is apparently an award winner.

I just don’t get it. Is it just for strippers? Who else has their pubes on display?

Are you all dying your pubes hot pink and I just don’t know it?

As if this all were not complicated enough, you can also buy stencils. You know, to make dyed shapes in your pubes.

I don’t understand, but I gotta say, I’m against it. I personally find the expectation of any kind of grooming down there offensive. All the rampant deforestation is one thing, but now we’re supposed to DYE it, too? And not even to match the drapes, but flourescents? With a bow tie?

I keep thinking this can’t be real. But there it is.

Karp Schmarp

February 23, 2009 | Clark

So, having no previous babies to compare Clark to, I thought his fussiness was normal baby fussiness. We could almost always talk him out of it, though sometimes the gymnastics required was exhausting. Then my mother-in-law came to visit and kept commenting on how gassy he seemed, and how SB had colic, blah blah blah…

You see, I had it in my head due to Dr. Karp and his Happiest Baby on the Block that colic does not exist. According to him, it doesn’t exist in non-western cultures and it’s our western practices that create unhappy babies. I read his book years before I had kids, employed his practices while babysitting other’s children, and smirked internally whenever anyone said their baby had colic, or whenever my mother-in-law talked about SB’s. Colic doesn’t exist!

After she pointed out how he arches his back all the time, how his body is often very stiff, and his tummy very hard, I started noticing these things more. Then his cries changed to these horrible cries of PAIN. Not cranky, please entertain me or change me or I’m tired cries, these were, “This really hurts!” cries. He started whimpering in his sleep. About a half an hour after he ate, he would go from calm to screaming instantly, and then not stop for hours. And yes, Dr. Karp, we 5 S’d like crazy. Swaddling, shushing, swinging, side lying, sucking… um, yeah. Dr. Karp can kiss my smote-for-my-smugness ass.

It got REALLY bad. I was crying a LOT because he cries were KILLING me. It was like something was reaching inside my chest and tearing at my heart. My baby was IN PAIN. God. Kill me now.

We took him to our hippie pediatrician who is not one to prescribe meds willy-nilly, but she gave us a prescription for something that would start working in 2-3 weeks. This was obviously depressing on several levels. I wasn’t super stoked about giving him drugs and also, TWO TO THREE WEEKS?!? Are you kidding me?

I twittered about how I wouldn’t wish a reflux-y baby on my worst enemy and was reminded by a couple of people (THANK YOU!) that chiropractics sometimes works for that. Dude. By this point my sanity was so fragile I would have tried ANYTHING.

So I took him to my chiro. Apparently, having an adjustment helps all of your stuff work better, and he also adjusted something that releases the pressure around that immature esophageal sphincter that is supposedly the cause of all this distress. It works about 60% of the time.

You guys, IT WORKED. (cue angel chorus) He hasn’t cried for more than a few minutes since. I’m telling you, the difference is night and day. Seriously, if Dr. George is interested in any sexual favors, SB and I would be willing to provide.

We even attempted a meal in public and it was a great success!

So, what have we learned?

1. Sometimes my mother-in-law knows what she’s talking about.
2. While Dr. Karp’s 5 S’s are awesome for most things, not so much for the reflux.
3. Smirking internally is asking for trouble.
4. Chiropractics once again saved my life.

What was that, dear?

February 18, 2009 | We Are Family

On Sunday night, my mom watched Clark and SB and I went out on a date. The plan was to see Slumdog Millionaire and go out for dinner, but of course, it took us longer than we thought to get out the door, feed him once more when we got to Grandmas, etc. But since we missed the movie, we decided to go out for dinner and then go back to our house and DO IT instead. Heh Heh.

We went to Stanley’s and sat in the bar. Lovely Tacoma was spread out all twinkly below, I was drinking a cocktail, and no one required anything of me. SB and I kept giggling a little every now and then because we were going to DO IT later. All was right with the world.

SB and I had already discussed by this point that we were pretty sure our waitress was high. She was friendly, but super spacey, and we needed to ask for everything twice. We weren’t in a hurry, though, so it was all good. She had just brought me my second drink when she goes…

Stoned Waitress: Are you a model?

Me: No! (blushing while desperately trying to swallow food and smile)

Stoned Waitress: Really? Because you have, like, perfect features.

Me: Thank you! (food is now swallowed, though I’m sure there’s something in my teeth)

Stoned Waitress: Do people tell you that all the time?

Me: No…(laughing uncomfortably, but smiling really big. Everyone loves a compliment)

She walked away and I turned back to SB, sitting up a little straighter, about to take back the mocking I’d done about her baked-ness, when SB made a tragic mistake.

SB: (Snort) She’s totally just trying to save her tip.

Me: (silence)

Me: You are such as asshole. Someone pays me a compliment and you say she just wants a tip?

SB: (silence while realization dawns)

SB: Please still have sex with me! (back pedal back pedal back pedal)

Uh huh. That’s what I thought. Jerk.

Month Two

February 16, 2009 | Clark

Dear Clark,

You are two months old! We have kept you alive for 9 whole weeks. I think this means you will magically be easy in just a few weeks when you’ve finished your “fourth trimester,” as the books say. We are counting on this.

That being said, you’ve gotten a lot easier already. That, and I suppose we’re figuring you out a bit more. You are fitting in to our lives better. I mean, it’s starting to feel more like we three belong together.

You have started smiling like crazy this month. You smile this huge gummy grin, stick your tongue out and scrinch up your shoulders, all at the same time. You are also talking quite a bit. You seem to have an urgent message for someone named “NnGoo”, as you repeat this name constantly with furrowed brow and great baby seriousness.

You’ve had your two month Dr. appointment and passed with flying colors. You weigh 11lbs, 12oz.

You still hate your carseat with the heat of 1000 suns. This is keeping your Mama from getting out of the house as often as she’d like, so here’s hoping in your three month letter we’ll be reporting improvement in that area. Ditto your various slings. Mama needs to get out of the recliner at some point.

You have changed our lives completely. Everything. Is. Different. Your Mama and Dad are still adjusting a bit, but those smiles sure help. It’s also quite wonderful to have another set of lips to kiss, another neck to nuzzle, and another person to snuggle. I don’t feel like this point is spoken of enough when promoting procreation.

I don’t have words for how much I love you, how you’ve made my heart so much bigger. I can hardly even go out in public any more, for how much my heart breaks over the thought of babies being mistreated. Either that, or I see an old lady in Target holding a tiny hanger carrying footie pajamas and I imagine the baby who will wear those jammies, and my mind is blown by all the love in the world. Thank you for that.

Love, Mama

Magic Hour

February 12, 2009 | Clark

I’ve been torturing other people’s children with my photography for years, but now that I finally have my own subject to torment whenever I like, I feel largely unsuccessful. It seems that at this point, the moments of good light, good moods, and a camera nearby are few and far between.

But yesterday! The light was lovely! The baby was happy! The camera was handy! Isn’t he BEAUTIFUL?

hedgehog onesie courtesy of Leah

YIKES.

February 10, 2009 | Clark

There are three things of note about the above picture. First, my dog is apparently designing nursing bras on the side. Second, HOLY SHIT. 36F? (my wee mother: “Jeez, Jen. I didn’t know they went that high.” Thankssomuch) Third, bras are freaking expensive.

All of that being said, I HIGHLY recommend the expensive bra and fitting. Seriously, I think I would’ve paid twice that for this bra. It reduces my frumpy factor by at least half. Also, there’s no way I would have chosen the proper sized bra on my own. 36F? Here is where I tell myself that the size doesn’t matter and that my boobs are at long last performing their intended duty, it’s a beautiful thing, blah blah blah…

In other news, I’ve started putting the boy in outfits and it’s so fun. I must confess that we never had him out of jammies until just this week. I didn’t see the need, and jammies are CUTE. Plus, he doesn’t even have many clothes, not being a girl and all. I did notice, however, that all the other babies at mom’s group always had clothes on. So, I finally bought him some outfits, and now I get to dress him twice a day! Ah, the small joys.

hipster onesie courtesy of Steve and Amy, my favorite socks courtesy of Kristina

Baby Brain

February 1, 2009 | Clark

The following conversation took place between myself and my friend Jess, who has a baby two weeks younger than Clark. Let it be noted that we are both formally very smart women.

Clark had just produced a funny looking poo while visiting Jess and wee Viola. After the two of us had examined it thoroughly, she got out her Dr. Sears book. While flipping through the index:

Jess: What’s the real word for poop?

Me: (silence)

Me: I don’t know!

Me: Feces?

Jess: (checks book) No, that’s not it.

Me: Excrement? No, that can’t be right.

(several more seconds of silence)

Jess: Stool! That’s it! Stool.