Friday, June 26, 2009

Three May Enter, One May Leave

I put three baby "lap sheets" (they're like 12x12" squares of a heavier cotton fabric, but lighter than a burp cloth; helps protect your clothes from baby orifices and their products) in the wash today. They were brand new, came in a package of three, I took all three out and unfolded them and put them in the laundry basket. Threw the laundry in the washer, then the dryer, then came back upstairs with it ... and there was only one lap sheet.

I have been all through the laundry area like four times now trying to figure out where the other two went.

Apparently my washer is like a death cage match for lap sheets.

Thursday, June 25, 2009


The baby is having some stomach trouble, which means the rest of us are having some sleeping trouble, which means I'm not real clear on what's going on, like what day it is or how to count to ten. I keep trying to count to ten (recording feeding times) and running out of numbers before I run out of fingers, so I know I'm missing one in there somewhere, but I can't for the life of me figure out which one. Probably six or seven, which have always been tricky bastards.

EDIT: Oh, look at that, my blog says it's Thursday. Who knew?

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Great Minds Think Alike ...

Eyebrows mass-texts the family: Flippy said "ga"!

Immediate return texts:

Aunt McGee: Aww. A clear attempt at 'Aunt McGee'

Grandpa: Cool! I think he was trying to say "grandpa."

Grandma: Short for grandma of course

Phone call from husband: I think he was saying my name.

They're all wrong. Obviously he was working towards "Mama."

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

The New Normal

I woke up yesterday morning feeling like having a baby in the house was normal, instead of waking up and thinking, "When is your mother coming to pick you up, baby? Oh ... crap." or "OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG" or "I CAN'T DO THIS!!!!!" It helps that he seems to recognize us both now and interacts a bit more, so he's less of a newborn lump of neediness and pooping and more of a baby (still full of neediness and pooping but now with personality).

Then last night he slept between feedings instead of fussing and spaced his feedings about 3 hours (instead of ONE hour, which has been the story of the past few days and I thought I was going to actually die). I got almost six hours of sleep, in two-hour chunks, so I feel like people again. Tired people, but people.

I know this doesn't mean it'll all be sunshine and roses (as likely as not, tonight he'll be up all night and eating constantly), but at least I can see a light at the end of the tunnel when I'll no longer be a zombie. (A zombie that says things that endlessly entertain my husband, like, "Stop! I can't think and talk at the same time!" and a zombie that freezes in panic when asked an open-ended question like "What do you want for dinner?" because that's too many choices for my tiny zombie brain.)

Wednesday, June 03, 2009


Himself has acid reflux, which is interfering with EVERYONE's ability to sleep and leading to daily laundry loads from the astonishing quantities of spit-up. The pediatrician has him sleeping on an incline, which Himself is convinced is cruel and unusual punishment. (On the plus side, he's getting very good at scooting.)

My mother suggested that baby arms should come as an aftermarket add-on available after six weeks, because all they do until then is flail and get in the way. This sounds about right. Himself likes to get his fists up in his face when he's excited or mad or wound up, which is pretty much every time he's about to eat, and then he gets mad that he can't get the bottle or breast into his mouth because THERE ARE FISTS IN THE WAY, so he parks his fists more firmly in front of his mouth and gets madder.