Time Out of Mind

This morning, we've had a few regular individual time outs each. We moved on to concurrent time outs, each kid sent to their own couch. We have culminated with the 'Go to your ROOM' time out where one kid is on the bed and the other on the chaise lounge, with books, and the door closed so Mommy doesn't have to experience the full blast of the screaming. Wow.

I'm stopping the bill paying and photo downloading to go to the NVC page RIGHT NOW and print out some helpful phrases for me to post around the house so I remember to breathe before I act. Seems so simple, yet so elusive.

Angelic looking, aren't they?

Bedtime

The kids are so rambunctious with each other right now that I am regularly pulling one off the other, separating them and sending them to separate couches/ benches/ car seats/ laps/ corners of the yard. Pequita likes to scream at the lightest of touches from her brother, trying to illicit a response from us. I am now garnering disapproving glares from the old ladies in the park when my response to her cries is, "Are you BLEEDING, honey?". Monito is more naughty at this point, and coupled with his orneriness is SUCH A TREAT.


The kids eat dinner and start to get increasingly nutsy and physical. It is a time of night that almost always results in tears and screaming. They are so tired and don't handle this transition well. No more. I have figured out that as they are crying as I get them into their jammies if I play a story on You Tube they willingly accept whatever bedtime prep I must inflict on them with an eerie calm and glassy stare. Brown Bear, Brown Bear followed by the Sound of Music hits the Antwerp train station, followed by the Pants-Free subway ride (more for Mama and I) finishing with So Long Farewell from the Sound of Music. All the while they are lolling on the beanbags in the office, which is on the landing/ hallway upstairs.

They are then pliable and snugly and go happily into our bed for stories, nursing with H-Mama and clutching - with no nursing - my dried up, less-full nye-nyes.


They willingly shift into their own bed and are off to sleep with ease.


It works for us.

Supervision

The brief interlude of unsupervised children roaming the house is over.

In the beginning, they were potatoes and unable to do anything but poop and cry, and oh! how they worked to perfect their few skills.



Then came the crawling/walking time and gates were closed, rooms were shut off, stairs were guarded, and all small objects were put away.

Recently, we've had a little plateau of development during which we could mostly trust that the established patterns would be followed, there was a lot of ritualization in their daily play and I could do things like stay upstairs for a few minutes while the kids roamed the house because I knew that Monito would be downstairs making a mess with the glass gems and Pequita would be studiously working on her three favorite puzzles.

That is all over. The recent sleep disruptions, shifts in nursing, and massive growth have heralded another new stage and I now cannot trust them at all. They are developing a true ability for subterfuge and sneaky behavior. They like to be read stories about naughty kids, dolls spend most of the day in time outs, and I find the kids hunkered down in cozy secret spots they've carved out in the bottom of a cupboard, created out of a pile of previously clean, folded laundry or covered a corner up with a blanket and made into a fort. I peek in expecting the usual excitement at my presence and get a hand waving in my face and a kid yelling, "No, Mom. Pivacy! Pivacy!" as they try to hide the real or perceived contraband from discovery.

The cookie jar has been breached enough times that it is on an upper shelf in the pantry.

Baby gates are back in regular use so we at least know what part of the house they are in. This morning I came downstairs to this sight.



Monito wanted to watch the Teletubbie DVD, and had found it and was reaching for the DVD player. He had already tried to use the dollhouse as a stool, and the sound of it tumbling over was what brought me downstairs. This is one reason we invested in a massive TV cabinet; I don't like to have a big black TV eye watching us all the time, but also to block it from young kids.

Moment later, I heard him running back and forth repeatedly from living room to kitchen. This always bodes poorly. I peeked in on him and found every single cloth rag in a pile on a mess he made. I cracked up, because he had spilled a tablespoon of milk.


I can invoke the drill sergeant, and I am teaching them to march behind me in line because it amuses me and they think it is fun. Next we'll start sounding off, but that will be another day.

Afternoon Delight

What a crock. My afternoons have been sucking. I have these hyper-competent mornings where I get tons done, make jam, refinish dressers, harvest basil and make pesto to freeze for eating in February, put up quart after quart of preserves/ sauces/ pie fillings, get the dog to the vet, the kids to camp, myself to acupuncture, then get us all home, fed, napped, and fed again. Then it all goes to pot. The kids don't listen to me and make huge messes. I yell more than I want to. We all end up on a forced-march-type play activity, like digging and filling post holes, or spreading mulch; something they'll participate in even if they don't really enjoy it.

Today I told them Mommy needed a time out and they watched two whole episodes of Sesame - more TV than usual and with no fights. Homestead Mama has been working late all week, then some nights heading to softball too. Argh! I was in their room waiting for Pequita to fall asleep when Homestead Mama came home. She knows not to bust up the sleepy zone. Next thing I know, I get an email from myself on my Blackberry. H-Mama sent me a note from my open gmail account downstairs saying, "I'm home, sweetie. I'll start cleaning. Xoxo." A bright spot in my day, much needed.



Vacation is 5 days away. It can't come too soon.

After a rest...

I slept a lot last night. Somehow, survival instincts keep a child quiet just when they need to be still. I love them most sometimes as they sleep. Or when they are channelling Henry the 8th; Monito insisted on having a whole turkey leg at Thanksgiving, and did a darn good job of finishing it.

I read my post to Homestead Mama when she came home - she doesn't always get the magnitude of the all-day effect, since she doesn't live it. After a bit of hugging and lovey stuff, I read her Becca's comment, and we both laughed. Heidi, the reminder of the post-stage amnesia was extremely helpful, as I had forgotten I had that to look forward to. No pun intended.

We're off to the indoor playground so the kids can run themselves ragged while I try to knit. Then we'll make an outing of buying a Christmas goose, with cookies and balloons and singing. [They love me at the grocery store.] Then home to make merengue snowmen cookies. Easy and yummy, and we get to use the MIXER!

I remembered this morning that the best way to keep loving them in the midst of rough patches is to look back at my pictures from previous stages. Like this Thanksgiving moment, during which I clearly wasn't stressed with either of them.

I get a lot out of posting to the blog, and get more back from comments and support. Thank you all.

Timber

Homestead Mama succumbed at midnight and moved to the guest room. I've been mostly awake since then between the two kids, nursing and comforting. Monito just returned to me, in projectile form, all the milk he borrowed in the last several hours. Then he rumbled a bit and - and - I didn't know babies could dry heave. Lesson learned.

If only Pequita can stagger her onset for a few hours from now, I'll be able to manage.

Evidence of Shoddy Parenting

Uh huh. Do I really have to comment on this? (Except to assure you that we wash out our recycle very very well.)

We Love Democracy

I took the kids with me to vote. Never too late to start changing the world.

The Challenging Ones

Our OB has said, while watching Pequita, "The more challenging children make really interesting adults." At this rate, Pequita is going to be on the cover of Time Magazine by the time she hits puberty.

Pequita has been waking up at night with, sadly, what seems to be night terrors. She starts crying, and within 90 seconds it turns into screaming. Her eyes are closed tightly, and she seems to be asleep all the while that she is thrashing against our arms, arching her back, bellowing, crying, agitated, and inconsolable. A sleeping tantrum. She is completely unresponsive to anything we do to connect with her or calm her. Last night, Monito woke me up to nurse and as I put him back in his cosleeper 15 minutes later, I noticed Pequita was still in our bed, having fallen asleep next to Homestead Mama after nursing. I asked H-Mama to move her to the crib (because we all sleep better without a whirling dervish thrashing around between us all night) and upon being gently laid down onto the crib mattress, Pequita started the episode. Ho-ly mackerel, is all I can say. This is the third time it has happened and the worst by far. I ran with her into the master bath, since bright light has helped in the past, and since I wanted Monito to have a shot at staying asleep (which he did, the one bright spot in all this.) There, in my arms, she screamed until she was hoarse. I wondered if it was a bad nightmare, and tried to wake her up - I yelled her name, jostled and bounced her, even slapped her cheek, but nothing made a dent. (H-Mama said that dunking her feet in the cold water might have been more kind than the slap, but it didn't occur to me in the adrenalin rush that I was riding.) About 12 minutes after it started, she stopped, accepted the boob for nursing, and was asleep within 60 seconds. And allowed us to lay her down in her crib, and proceeded to have a night like any other. I'd like to note that 12 minutes seems a very long time when your baby is acting like she's being electrocuted.

I took her in to see the pediatrician this morning to rule out ear infections or illness, since she does have a cold. Sadly, she was healthy as a horse. H-Mama says that I sound like a ghoul for wishing double ear infections on her, but a 10 day course of antibiotics seems preferable to me that a possibly multi-month or -year affliction for which there is no cure.

Friends Who Cook

A new friend of ours was an OB nurse at the hospital we delivered in. She is now a nurse manager at our pediatricians office. She was the kind soul who came to the house and stripped my membranes when I was so ready to deliver Monito. She has been wanting to come and do something to ease our lives since the arrival of the second baby, and tonight was finally the night. All day long I worried about not having time to tidy, vacuum and clean up the house. I obsessed about the clutter that is growing and that I don't have time to deal with right now, since I am spending almost all my days holding the sick baby boy. Despite all my needless concern, our nurse friend showed up at our home and cooked us a delicious dinner of Moroccan Chicken over couscous. We cracked a bottle of wine and ate in the living room since I didn't have a chance to clean the dining room. She did this lovely mitzvah for us with no mention of the state of our home. I forget how nice it is to have people over, the kind of people who help us instead of draining us. Dinner was yummy, and we had a nice time chatting and getting to know each other a bit more. After dinner, I finally remembered to offer to let her hold Monito. It isn't that I want to hoard him, it is just that I am so used to shouldering the responsibility that I forget to share him. She was happy to get her hands on him, even though he pees or leaks his diaper on her every time she holds him. Embarrassingly enough, tonight was no exception. I can't imagine how that happens, but bad diaper management must be a big part of it. (Neither of our kids let us know when they are wet, and neither get rashes, so we have to remember to change them regularly. NOTHING should be left up to my memory these days, or Homestead Mama's.)

Pequita isn't really into being held right now unless she is tired or hurt. She was tearing around the living room and kitchen the whole time. At one point I went to check on her in the kitchen as it had been quiet for 60 seconds and she was standing up holding onto the dog's bowl. Luna, our shepherd mix, was sitting next to her looking miserable as Pequita stirred her hand around in the bowl of dinner Luna had been enjoying until a few seconds earlier. I swooped in and grabbed Pequita from the bowl and as expected, spotted the 2 kibbles in her mouth that she was happily mashing on. Oh, how she howled when I removed her prize from her mouth. I was only slightly comforted by the fact that we feed the dogs human-grade food. It is still dog food, and a right proper choking hazard. And a little funny, too.

Tomorrow, Friday, Homestead Mama's father and stepmother are coming to visit from out of town. They are attending a conference in a nearby town, and are taking the opportunity to meet their new grandson for the first time. It is great they can come down, as I don't think we'll make it up to their house until Christmastime. Homestead Mama has to run a training all day for work, so I may be on my own with them until she arrives. I hope Pequita's stranger anxiety is really easing up, as it will be hard for them if she is afraid of them. No one likes that kind of reminder that we don't see enough of our relatives.

Summer Vacation Redux - Part One

It was surprisingly difficult to not have Internet on vacation. There was so much to blog about and so many good pictures.


Our departure was, as usual, completely nutty. My 14 year-old dog shattered his foreleg jumping from only one foot off the ground the afternoon before we left. The emergency vet hospital visit took 4 hours the night before we left, basically consuming all our planned packing time. The x-rays showed that my pooch likely had early bone cancer and we decided to euthanize him - the leg was irreparable, and he had several other serious aging dog issues. This was horrible for me, as he was my constant companion for his whole life. His nickname was The Mayor, as he was friendly to a fault and always wanted to wander around politely greeting every person in the park. It was a less than auspicious ending, because Homestead Mama and I had both babies in a small exam room for the whole time during and through their bedtime. I was unable to properly love on my pooch and process what was going on because Monito was crying and Pequita was licking the floor, exam table legs, chairs, whatever. (She's going through a bit of a phase right now.) When my dog was being put down Pequita was bleary-eyed and chewing on the door stop (in a vet hospital - how clean could that BE?) and it made it hard to focus on the dog, so strong was my desire to keep her from contracting some deadly bacteria from the surfaces she was so lovingly tasting.

The next morning, instead of waking up and jumping into a packed car, we awoke and had to both tend babies, nurse, and pack for 10 days away from home. We managed to fit everything we needed into our car. It took about 12 hours with traffic to make the seven-hour drive, and Homestead Mama kept the babies happy the whole way by sitting squeezed in between the two car seats in the back. I was grateful to be the one driving. Due to a traffic jam at the end of the trip, we made our ferry with THREE minutes to spare. I have never sped so much in a car - I am usually a pretty lawful driver. I was spurred on by the thought of being stranded in a vacation area at 8 pm with no hotel vacancies, no way to get our car-load of stuff across the ferry (reservations fill up in January) and with two exhausted babies. I was giddy with happiness as we sat in the car nursing and breathing ocean air deeply. We got set up to put the babies to sleep immediately upon arrival (after hugs all around) and crashed pretty quickly ourselves. I woke up early almost every day, to the sunrise view below from the balcony off our room. The ocean is a block away, and while it doesn't show up in the photo very well it is huge, blue and looks gorgeous from the house.

Monito was exhausted from his first 2 months of life, and really took to vacationing like a champ. (And yes, I packed his mobile. He looks at it when he wakes up and it buys us more sleep time.)

My family has been renting the same vacation house for about twenty years. It is like sliding into a comfortable old robe to arrive and unpack, shake off our travel clothes and stress and meander down to the big porch that overlooks a park and out onto the ocean with a gin and tonic (or this year a baby and a passel of toys.) The house is close to the beach, grocery store, restaurants and a great park - the location can't be beat.

One of our favorite activities to do while on vacation is to go quahogging. We crack some open while standing hip-deep in the bay and eat them on the half shell, but end up bringing home a half-bushel for later transformation into chowder. Some days it can take a couple hours to rake up that many, other days it only takes a short time. The new digging site we went to this year was so rich with clams that we were done quickly. One of us got 22 clams in one scoop - an all-time record, to be sure. Homestead Mama wore Pequita in the Ergo carrier because she felt strongly that Pequita would love the experience. She did, until she fell asleep. This isn't an easy task, as H-mama was bending, dipping, digging and bouncing the baby around the whole time. You can see her head lolling to the side in the picture. Have I mentioned how our baby girl will sleep anywhere?

I only raked for about 10 minutes until I felt the pull of my Cesarean incision site, and opted to be the photographer in lieu of popping my almost-dissolved stitches.

Monito stayed behind with grandma on the porch. He spent time swinging in the hammock, which he loved. I really never have to worry when my mother has the kids. She is incredibly nurturing and innately skilled and patient with infant and young children. She taught kindergarten - third grade for her whole life, and it shows in all her interactions with our kids.

My dad makes the best chowder recipe (from the New Basic Cookbook) and he spent the day tending to that, and we had it for dinner. The quahogs last all week, too, so it is a good thing to do early in our vacation.

Plumbum (Retro Post - July 13)

We were back at the pediatricians office today; Pequita was due for her 9 month well visit, and Monito had his 1 month visit. Both are healthy. We had few questions, and in response to them the Doc had good advice about how to minimize Monito's spit up problems (feed him at a 30 degree angle on my chest, as the esophagus enters the stomach from the back) and some comforting but useless help about Pequita's constipation. Then they did the regular 9 month blood test on Pequita. Here she is exiting the exam room, having demanded to walk out of her own volition.
Lead. Pequita has an elevated lead level, according to her finger stick & the portable, admittedly less reliable tester machine. Elevated only one point above the acceptable normal range, but since we live in the 150 year old homestead, we are concerned. Her exposure could be nothing - we were told to go to the hospital on Monday for a real blood draw & to have the test run on a regular machine vs. the portable one in our pediatric office. However, the predictions are dire for kids who have lead poisoning. She could have been exposed in a myriad ways, but the most likely culprit is our own home. I bought some lead tests and have been swabbing everything in the house. We removed almost all the original woodwork in the house during the renovation, as we knew it had lead paint on it (and it would have taken months to delicately remove it, strip it, and reinstall it). We still have a few original doors in the house, admittedly with their original paint on them. Also, we have 2 step-back cabinets that test positive for lead paint. The one in the living room I bought for a song at an auction and we have begun stripping it already, the other is original to the house in an out of the way place and we'll get to soon.
When Monday rolled around, my mom and I took the kids to the hospital to get Pequita's real blood test, as Homestead Mama had to go to work. It nearly broke my heart to lay down next to my daughter on a hospital gurney and hold her still while the tech stuck her in the crook of her arm to draw a huge vial of blood. I'm not sure if Pequita cried harder because of the needle stick or the act of being pinned down by strangers. There were two nurses doing it, as she was a baby and they are famous for thrashing around. Afterwards, she recovered quickly and we all went to lunch in the hospital cafeteria for lunch - this was a planned reward for Pequita's suffering. The only thing that made her stop picking at her bandage was pureed squash - mmmmmmmm.
The food is quite good for a cafeteria, cheap, and there is no one to care if the babies melt down or H-mama and I are both whipping boobs in and out while we breastfeed. I am not kidding when I say that Homestead Mama and I will likely be eating out there with some regularity when we need to get out of the house. Restaurants are very hard for us these days - Pequita always manages to overturn a beverage, and we are starting to leave a mess in our wake as she insists on helping feed herself. I usually tip more the bigger the mess we make, but it isn't relaxing in most restaurants. The sacrifices one makes as a parent - sheesh! Gone are the days of our yummy adult restaurants with lovely wine cellars and fantastic table service. Our standards are so different these days.

On the plus side, Monito has begun smiling in response to us smiling at him. He is adorable, we have decided. We figure we'll keep him. Wouldn't you?

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Sorry for being AWOL. We made it through the first 9 months of parenting with no real negative experiences. We have now, with the arrival of Monito and with Pequita entering into the most dreaded stage of all babyhood (the learning to crawl/walk/ talk no-sleep stage) become a little, um, snappish.

Warning: boring alert. Cataloging fatigue and snot production is never a good blog topic, but it is all I can process right now. I have become one of THOSE people. Ick.

Monito came home from the hospital to a loving family of diseased people. All of us had a cold. Pequita is still hacking away at night, but the rest of us are on the mend. Monito, though, has such a stuffy nose that he cannot breathe around the boob at night. He wheezes, snorts, snores, and stops breathing for long seconds at a time. This makes it difficult for me to sleep, as I worry. I just called the doc's office. We will continue our current repertoire of steam-showers, humidifier, and bulb-snot-sucker (which he loathes). To this we will add sleeping in the car seat to be upright (which might allow me to lay flat to sleep instead of holding him on my chest) and infant saline nasal spray. Fingers crossed.

Pequita. Oh, how proud we are. She is physically ahead of the game. In the last week she has learned:
to crawl
to climb a step
to walk while holding onto support (table, leg, dog, etc.)
to drink from a straw

She is now eating many fruits & veggies, as well as the occasional milkshake & ice cream. She loves best to drink from our cups, which she can do quite neatly. She has ongoing constipation, so we feed her prunes in every form which she loves, and all the juice, water & breastmilk she'll tolerate. Apparently it is common to have much sleep interruption when learning to be mobile, and she is resisting rest in all forms at all times of day & night. Last night, Homestead Mama was up for 2 hours walking and rocking Pequita, as every time we lay her in her crib or our bed she thrashed, cried and was very agitated, all while sleeping. When she is willing to lay down, she wants to be nursing at all times, which is causing H-mama some discomfort, since she's a little out of practice with that frequency. Pequita is also beginning to want autonomy that she is just too young for, which is resulting in temper tantrums. Who would have thought this would start at 8.5 months? Not me. Homestead Mama is very patient with her, and lets her have all her emotions and flip out, and remains remarkably calm and collected. She recovers fairly quickly, but Oy! while they go on, she is loud and screamy.

For the first time, when Homestead Mama and I have awake time together in the wee hours of the morning we aren't gushing about how adorable our kid is and professing our love. We are now finding new and creative curse words, getting a little snappy with each other and trying hard to keep each kid quiet enough so as not to wake the other one. Luckily, this can't go on forever. Sadly, it is unpleasant while it lasts and with all my hormones, I'm not so pleased feeling disconnected from Homestead Mama.

My mother is still here, and is dedicated to tending to Pequita so that I can bond with Monito and learn how to care for him, and get enough rest. God bless her - she is running herself ragged looking after Speed Racer, which is Pequita's new nickname. (At least in the daytime. At 3 am, we tend to call her Hellraiser under our breath.) Granted, she is revelling in her grandmotherhood, but Pequita is exhausting for anyone, let alone a woman of (ahem) advanced age who just had a knee replacement a couple months ago. She is also still keeping the house clean and making many meals. I am taking note of her system, as I'll be on my own with all this in a week and a half when she returns to her normal life of taking care of my dad, who is for the most part less taxing.

I'll post some pictures to make up for the boring post. At least, despite all else, the kids are still completely beautiful and loving.

2:50 AM Reality Check

Awake to find son sleeping in arms with such a wet diaper it is leaking all over you. Stagger into nursery naked except for sexy hospital-issue mesh panties that hold in place maxi-pad (another post-birth necessity rarely mentioned to the soon-to-be mother) to encounter my Dad, from whom I inherited my insomnia, in the rocking chair reading a book about sailing. Wonder how less-sleeping son could possibly be spraying me with pee through his diaper. Realize that upon inspection, now fully awake and crying son isn't peeing, instead both breasts are leaking onto hungry son's onesie.

Carry on a conversation with dad about defrosting freezer while I change son's diaper, which is a little wet on the inside. Manage to get son latched on to both engorged breasts - not an easy feat - to eat enough to quell leaking and the crying. Head back to bedroom, decide to blog surreal life since already awake; do this standing in front of laptop on a shelf while holding nursing sleepy son with one hand and marvelling at own abilities in multitasking. Son begins grunting loudly and rhythmically, his pre-pooping ritual. Son poops with enough volume to wake up his older sister sleeping in her crib in our room. I shake silently with mirth while Homestead Mama curses and fetches Pequita into our bed to nurse her back down. I return to nursery to change young son's dirty diaper. Thank Dad for pretending to not notice (lack of) attire. Head back to bedroom and finish posting to blog.
Time elapsed: 45 minutes.

Monito has landed!

Sorry for the delay - I literally keep falling asleep on my keyboard. I gave birth to a baby boy via c-section at 4:21 am this morning, June 14th. Monito is 9 pounds and 5 ounces - a large baby! I had a wonderful labor according to the OB, ahead of the average schedule, good control of contractions, great progress, etc. This all ended at about 8 - 9 cm dilation around 11pm on Wednesday night. I wasn't dilating the final centimeter despite adding pitocin (and an intrathecal block to cope with it). After another few hours, I had regressed to 8 cm due to cervical swelling. I was exhausted, not having slept for more than 7 minutes straight in 28 hours, and in a huge amount of pain with each contraction. Also, the doc had ruptured my membranes a couple hours earlier and there had been a small amount of meconium present, not the greatest sign. The decision was made to deliver via c-section, and after that things happend pretty quickly. A good surgery, Homestead Mama was there with her camera & support. I spent an hour in recovery, and thenI was returned to my hospital room and had to wait almost 2 hours until I could see the baby because he aspirated some fluid during birth. Finally, my dad tracked down a wheelchair and escorted me down to the nursery to meet my son.

I'm working on a birth story, and will try to post that in the next day or two. In summation, Homestead Mama and I are blissed out, grateful as heck to have a second healthy baby, and so happy to have my parents here to help out. Pequita spent the past 30 hours with her grandma, who even slept in our bed next to Pequita to keep her feeding schedule on track. I would never have been able to relax into labor had my mother not been here caring for Pequita and the house.

Now all I have to do is master breastfeeding and get sprung from the hospital in less that the 3 required days after a c-section. Shouldn't be too hard, as I'm already up and moving about. This is far from the worst surgery I've endured.

Brain dump

Lack of posting doesn't mean lack of activity or things to stew over/ rant about. I am clearly behind on the posting. With many topics and too little time, I'll do the best I can to catch up. My exhaustion continues, but now I've added leg cramps - charley-horses the likes of which I have never experienced. Definitely pregnancy related - I'm all hopped up on magnesium,. potassium & prenatal vitamins, and am still limping during the day from the last incident on Sat night. One bonus is that my left leg, with the fused ankle that is the source of so much pain and annoyance, seems to be exempt from the cramping. An unexpected bonus.

1. Homestead Mama and I celebrated a belated Valentine's Day to make up for the one we missed due to illness by going to see Solomon Burke in concert.

http://www.thekingsolomonburke.com/ He's been one of my favorites for years - I wooed my sweetie to some of his music, so it was fitting to go see him for V-day. He's aging, and I hope I remember to write up a piece on his concert; we were awash with both exhilaration and joy and a little pity. Very interesting. Bottom line? He performed his butt off. Hottie friend babysat for a few hours. She is the BEST babysitter - how many parents get regular text-messaged updates & pictures of their happily playing or sleeping babe throughout the night, plus a handwritten log of activities awaiting them upon return home? Yup. We're lucky. Funny thing about novelty, though. Pequita can stay in one outfit for a couple days (or more, if Homestead Mama is supposed to changer her clothes). If it is clean, we aren't opposed to her staying in what she has on. Hottie friend changed her while we were gone just for the fun of it. Very cute. (And she picked out a winner outfit!)

2. My parents came for a visit from Boston for a long weekend, and what a grandparent joyfest it was! They wanted to keep up with Pequita's growth & development, as well as the belly I am sporting. They expect to come for another visit before I deliver in June(ish), aiming for a visit every 6 weeks or so. They are very concerned with giving equal time/attention to both their grandkids, which is pretty noble given that one lives 30 mins away and we are six HOURS away. Much fawning happened all around. My mother is getting over a knee replacement surgery, and amazingly after only 3 weeks was up and walking a bit with no crutches. She did great with the baby. She still remembers (most of) the songs she sang to us when we were little - it was lovely to hear them sung to my kid.

3. We allowed Pequita to accidentally tumble off the couch and hit her head, luckily on the colored foam playmat we now use as a living room rug. Still, the thump was heard around the house, as was the screaming. Horrible. Afterwards, when we had watched for concussion, checked for damage & injury, and nursed her into oblivion, the stories of other folks kids being dropped came our way and helped assuage the guilt we felt. I had hoped to have NO falls, but clearly that is no longer a goal. Homestead Mama and I are permanently traumatized. Pequita seems ok, still drooling out of both sides of her mouth evenly and still chipper and tracking visually quite well.

4. Something weird happened to Pequita, probably in daycare, that we have no explanation for. Pequita came home on Friday with a rash of broken blood vessels around her eyes. We took her in for a checkup on Sat to confirm that it wasn't something we have to treat, and the nurse confirmed my worst fears, that she probably cried/ choked/ strained hard enough to cause it. It is very worrisome in the big picture, although all seems ok on the whole. Our daycare lady told Homestead Mama upon drop-off this morning that Pequita just hasn't been crying lately, and she is unaware of any incidents that could have caused it. I need to further investigate the possibility that a fill-in caregiver might have been there when it happened when I do the pickup tonight. *If* it happened at daycare. All I know is that in her 21 weeks with us, Pequita has screamed her head off, pooped her little heart out, and had more than one incident of choking on breast milk/ bathwater/ etc., not to mention FALLING ON HER HEAD without developing broken blood vessels. What the hell happened this time? I'll figure it out, but being a SAHM (stay-at-home-mom) is looking better and better, and soon.

I don't like Mondays.

The Ravioli Incident

We have to eat, and sometimes the baby is in the way. We usually prepare easy food, food that clumps and is non-staining, when we are eating around the babe. Sunday night, Homestead Mama was enjoying a particularly tasty batch of ravioli in red sauce and we were watching a movie while Pequita slept on her lap. Then the ravioli slipped. It hit Pequita with such a splat that I could hear it across the room, and it woke her up. You can see the forehead bounce point, and the offending pasta on the floor. Moody the dog quickly took care of the mess - how do people without dogs keep their floors clean? We now have a rule about eating over the kid. Basically, don't.
I was relating the story to our daycare lady the next day - ha ha, so funny. She was chuckling as she told me that explained the sticky spot she had f0und in Pequita's hair. Ick. Sauce we had not seen in our desire not to turn on all the lights and wake her with the bath she so deserved. Parenting award, here we come.