To Crib or not to Crib

Lydia turns 2 months tomorrow! All those mothers out there that have been telling me how fast time goes you aren't kidding and in hopes of avoiding an existential breakdown I will get to the topic at hand. The pediatrician informed us that she is very healthy on Friday. She weighs 10 pounds and 11 ounces, she is 23 inches long and 15 inches is the circumference of her darling little head. She is developmentally right on with smiles, oohs and aahs and the 90 degree angle she can hold her head. The doctor then asked us if she was sleeping in her crib yet to which we had to admit that she was not. Lydia still sleeps in her bassinet next to our bed (which I told the doctor) for a chunk of the night and the rest in our bed cuddled up next to me (which I did not tell the doctor) after her tiny middle of the night feeding. She recommended we begin crib sleeping.

That day we came home, had dinner, watched a little TV and rationally discussed Lydia sleeping in her bedroom. Then my eye balls started squirting out water as if I was trying to water the rose bushes outside. I was barely able to utter out the words "I'm not ready." Eliot just smiled at me and said okay. Then I put away some laundry and did some other slightly time consuming things as I gathered my sensibilities. I put Lydia in her crib and thought to myself that if she falls asleep in there we would give it a try. Her heavy looking eyes closed gently and five minutes later she cried out. By cried out I mean she made a soft "eh" noise and when I rushed to her side I saw that her eyes were open. I immediately grabbed her from her crib stomped towards Eliot and told him with tears in my eyes again, "See she isn't ready either!" He looked at me again and smiled.

Later I explained to him that I have been sleeping with her for about a year now.It was going to be quite a change for me. She would be so far away in her room and by far way I mean 5 feet (and we do own a baby monitor.) We brainstormed various sleeping options for us in her room to facilitate the transition. We have yet to gather those twigs to put together the nest for this mama and papa birds, but in the meantime, Lydia stays with us. Hooray!

Bathtime Bummer

It is decided Lydia does not like bath time. Initially we would mover her bath tub to the kitchen counter because we don't have the space in the bathroom to have her at a reachable comfortable adult waist level.We would move the toaster oven every time and be hyper cautious of the cabinets and her head. She wasn't happy. Perhaps it was colder in the kitchen so we moved into the bathroom. It was uncomfortable for us but we were willing to take the hit if she was happier. Nope. The drip drip drip of the washcloths and the scoops of water weren't enough to maintain a suitable level of contentment.

She is a really happy baby. She has been spontaneously laughing on her own for weeks which at first I figured it was my hilariousness that was entertaining her so, but then I realized it was the animals on her swing or the birds hanging over her changing table. She loves those darn birds. Regardless, the switch to the bathroom did not provide an different result, thus we returned to the kitchen to discover that her bathtub fits into our sink. This means an easier set up for us and she gets constant water flow, which she does like. It's like her personal shower. But overall, she still isn't too thrilled with bathtime which leads only to the unthinkable.

Yes, it is beyond anyone's dreams particularly if you know us and you know our talents do not lie in this area but parents will do just about anything for their children. Sigh. We start the singing and dancing around while we double team the cleaning process because we don't want to prolong her angst. We have busted out the ducky pig and it received inadequate reviews. Eliot and I are doing no justice to music or theater or musical theater but she will surely develop an appreciation for slapstick comedy.

Lydia just isn't really content again until she is warmly wrapped in a hoody towel and returned to her room to be dressed. As you see in the photo, she clearly is reflecting on the importance of this human ritual. And fearful that we will continue to sing.

Weekend: Camp, Grandpa, God

On Saturday, we went to Camp. Camp is not only the place where I learned how to be a leader but it was the place that connected me to God in a way that no other place has ever matched. It was the place that lead me down the road to become a religion teacher. It was so wonderful to share this place with Eliot and Lydia. I hope that someday she will grow up and go to camp. And maybe just maybe become a summer camp counselor someday (which I think is the secret hope of most ex-camp counselors.) Shortly upon arrival, Lydia poop all over herself, though I assume this is not an indication of her feelings towards camp. November is a perfect weekend for Leesburg. The sun was out but the air was crisp, perfect for a detailed campus tour. It was a short visit but no matter how short camp always seems to restore the soul.

After camp, we went to eat dinner with Eliot's grandpa and his lady friend, Evelyn. They are absolutely adorable. My nervousness of having to breastfeed in public vanished with the encouraging words of Evelyn mother of five with the youngest being 44 years old. When we arrived I tried to wake Lydia up from a sound sleep to nurse her before we went to dinner. There was no waking her. I shared with Evelyn that I was a little nervous about having to nurse in public. She was immediately encouraging saying that people would just have to understand that I was a mother feeding her baby and that was perfectly normal. We arrived at the tiny cramped but delicious Italian restaurant and minutes after the salad Lydia stirred. The quarters were so cramped I opted to feed her in the car which went fine. Perhaps ending up in the jeep seems as if I didn't quite conquer my fear, I did! The words of an 81 year old woman were so accepting and profound that it made everything better. I feel like I could breastfeed in the street; I suppose I did! (We have pictures of them with Lydia which are super cute, but I have to download them from my camera.)

Eliot and I seem to manage going to church about once a month. He works two weekends a month and I am still in the process of figuring out how to get out the door with a baby in a timely manner. As I sat in church yesterday I wondered, why do we pray with our eyes  closed? I imagine it has to do with reverence. We are humbled by the divine therefore we physically bow our heads and close our eyes but doesn't the type of relationship we hope to have with God call us to keep our eyes open?  Isn't it the type of relationship in which we faithfully and truthfully connect as we would with a good friend? With a good friend you look her in the eye and are truthful about the skirt that looks bad or the stupid decision they just made, you don't avoid eye contact. "Keeping your eyes open" means keeping yourself aware, ready, prepared, in this case, for God. I want Lydia to keep her eyes open. To know God. This clearly is a long term goal since she peacefully slept the entire service.

Poop!

This past week Lydia went two days without going um..., well poop. I looked in my trusty baby rearing books and it turns out that particularly breastfeed babies will go several days some even a week without going number two. Breast milk is the ultimate superfood so every single drop of pure goodness is used for growing and no waste is produced. After reading I still said to Eliot, I think I will call the doctor in the morning just to touch base anyway. Early the next morning the monstrous roaring of intestines vibrated the room. Noises came from our precious little package signaling the arrival of a foul package. I transported Lydia quickly to her changing table and I began to peel away the layers like an onion, just less tasty. Blanket poop. Pajama poop. Sock poop. Oh and the unveiling of the diaper: another poopspectaular!

My mom keeps asking me if this is normal for such a large amount of poop to come from such a tiny baby and I keep telling her yes, but I am starting to wonder myself. There was so much poop on her, it was easier to just stick her in the bathroom sink and unstinky her. All the while she is screaming bloody murder and I am patiently wiping as much as I can before we head to the sink. As I moved her she evidently wasn't quite finished. A spearlike quirt of the yellow seedy mess sensation projected across the room. I tell you, it could've poked my eye out, luckily I was closer to her head.

She really did not want me to call the doctor.

2 Blogs in 1

Post Partum Check...Check!
Went to the midwife on Friday (Oct. 29) for my postpartum 6 week appointment and all is good. My midwife is amazing and I had actually missed seeing her. We chatted for a bit and caught up. I am almost completely back to my pre-pregnancy weight which is great. Now if I could just go back to my pre-thirties weight or pre-graduate school weight or pre-college weight...ahh aging. My parents and I have been consistently going to the park to walk which has been lovely. I think I need to pick up the pace or at least add another lap to make it worth my wild. It would be nice to make it to yoga but not sure how and as I consider what life will be like when I return to work, I am not sure how folks juggle work, marriage, home and baby. I have an increased respect for single moms.

At this point Eliot and I do everything together including bathing Lydia. It may be the novelty of it as well. I am sure at some point she will need a bath without one of us being there. I digress, I plan in my head how I will wake up early to get ready for work so I can nurse, pump, get dressed, breakfast, dress Lydia and drive her to my mom's. Some days Eliot will be home so that will be nice. Some days Eliot goes in at 9 so he will drop her off. Some days Eliot will will be gone by 6am and I will have to pull all this early morning stuff alone. I may need a check list. I may need a dress rehearsal.

Halloween
It is a whole other perspective Halloweening with your little one. It is a testament to humanity this holiday as far as I am concerned. One night a year, we allow our children to knock on the doors of strangers and ask for food. We trust that the strangers will be welcoming and that the food will be healthy. There are always urban rumors about razor blades in candy but not one of those rumors have been true. In those few hallo's hours we trust our community to care for one another. Heart warming. Though my little one slept the entire time it was so fun to push that stroller from house to house with a posse of other stroller pushing parental types. Only Eli, Bella and Eva were able to make it to the door for candy. Frankly, they were the only ones able to eat candy since they have teeth and all. Eva was a cowgirl. Holland was a cheerleader. Cecila was a caterpillar. Lydia was a pumpkin. Bella was a batgirl. Eli was a grime reaper type.