More Sleepy, Less Bloggy

Sleep, sleep, sleep! Stephen is going to absolutely kill me for writing this entry, because it seems like every time I brag about how well Asher is doing with something he turns around and proves me wrong. But I'm going to brag anyway. Because really, how often do I get a chance to brag?

For almost a week now, Asher has been regularly sleeping anywhere from seven to nine hours at a time through the night. He'll then wake up and want fed, and then will go back to sleep for another two to three hours. It's heavenly! And let me tell you, I've been absolutely basking in the glory of this newfound sleep. (Hence the reason why I haven't posted to my blog in over a week.) Maybe Asher is going through a growth spurt and all of a sudden is needing the extra sleep (I wonder this because he's also more frequently becoming unsatisfied with his usual five ounces of milk every three hours during the day...although, that could also be because he's sleeping more and, therefore, has less awake hours to eat and is trying to compensate). Or, perhaps he knows I'm returning to work a week from today and, as the kind and considerate son that he surely is, wants to give me ample time to catch up on my sleep before I head back into the cruel world of reality. Whatever the reason, THANK YOU LORD for it. It's crazy - I'm almost feeling like my old, pre-mother self again. You know, the one who would sleep in until almost noon whenever given the opportunity. I've dearly missed that part of me and am so enthused to meet her again.

("Shut up!" to those of you who are going to tell me the sleep isn't going to last. Must you always rain on my parade?)

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Don't Eat the Pictures!

Look what my dear husband found for me! It's a clip from one of my favorite childhood movies, Sesame Street's "Don't Eat the Pictures." We've been singing the chorus of this song for years to our cats, changing the words as appropriate. Most commonly inserted words in place of "pictures" include: rubber band, plastic bag, puke (Sam likes to "clean up" cat vomit; doesn't matter if it's his or another cat's), wrapper, and baby toy. I'm sure that in a few months when Asher begins "mouthing" everything we'll be singing it a lot more.

Yes, I'm a big dork. But, if nothing else, I thought my mom and sister would enjoy this...

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The Final Weeks at Home

First I was bummed out from the chaos that consumed me after having Asher. I felt lonely, isolated, lost, confused, exhausted and overwhelmed. I missed my freedom and, in a way, my "old" life. Now that I only have two and a half weeks left of being home with my sweet Asher Bug before I have to return to work, I'm feeling more and more depressed about that. I've recovered from the baby blues, adjusted (mostly) to the insanely huge changes in my life, have started to get a routine - albeit shaky, but a routine nonetheless - in place, and have even really started to enjoy my time with Asher. And now? It's all going to be thrown up in the air again.

I realize a ton of mothers out there work full-time - some by choice, some out of necessity - and they, and their families, survive just fine. And, I know I will, too. But, it doesn't change the fact that I'm absolutely dreading returning to work. Back when we decided to start a family, both Stephen and I had decided that, if possible, I would quit working and take care of the baby. I hate the idea of having to pay someone else to raise my child. I hate even more the idea that, chances are, I'm going to miss out on some of Asher's firsts: his first crawl, his first word, his first steps - will the babysitter be the one to witness these? Perhaps, unless I can bribe Asher into abstaining from making any big developments until after 5:00 and on the weekends. And, I'm sure it helps to have a job you love or one that makes you feel rewarded. I'm a freakin' legal secretary. For an insurance company. The job could be worse, but it's definitely not like I'm out searching for a cure for cancer.

Unfortunately, with Stephen's job situation having been really, really f***ed up since last fall, I'm going to have to return to the office. Mama's gotta bring home the bacon (and the insurance). Taking care of Asher is my number one priority and, I suppose, his having a roof over his head is pretty high on his list of needs. Which means - argh - someone's going to have to make sure the mortgage gets paid. But, of course, with my going back to work, there's the dilemma of how in the world we're going to afford the added cost of day care. If only I could work from home doing...something...where oh where are my special talents that will make me independently wealthy?

So, right now I'm pretty preoccupied with concocting a nice ulcer. I like to make mine with a little bit of guilt over leaving my baby, a lot of depression over leaving my baby, and a ton of concern regarding finances. Turns out, parenting isn't so bad - it's all the strings attached to it that are a pain in the ass. If anyone has any suggestions on coping with returning to work when you don't want to do so, please share them with me. Lord knows I could use some advice!

Oh, and the picture? That's just to show the sweet little face I'll be trading in each day for the privilege of a paycheck. Responsibility sucks so badly.

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Sophie & Asher: Kindred Spirits

* Both try to sleep in Asher's crib. (Asher does so against his will, while Sophie does so against my will.)

* Neither one answer when I speak to them, giving me relatively the same blank look in response.

* Both expect me to feed them. Constantly.

* Both require us to clean up after them - from diapers to a dirty litter box to vomit to toys on the floor. Constantly.

* Both are really damn cute.

* And soft.

* And smell good. (Most of the time.)

* Both like toys with crinkly and jingly sounds.

* Both have sharp claws.

* Both demand my constant attention and the occupancy of my lap.

* Both enjoy watching Baby Einstein (see below).

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He Blew Out His Diaper

It's funny how good Asher is at proving his mother wrong...

Last week, despite the awful wintry weather, we traveled to Dayton for an overnight visit with Jeff, Angela, Rowan and Lily. (See adorable pictures and a super cute video on their blog here.) While there, Asher had a pretty massive poopie diaper that leaked out the leg hole a little bit. Angela asked, "Have you had any explosive diapers?" I replied hesitantly, "No. Not yet."

I knew it was coming. They had forewarned us months ago, before Asher was even born, of The Hot Mustard Explosions that parents need to be prepared for. And since Angela asked if it had occurred and I was able to give a negative answer, it was bound to happen.

So, this afternoon after feeding my sweet little pumpkin, I heard a familiar rumbling in his pants below. I took him to the changing table and began cleaning him up. But man, as I was wiping off his rumpus, I noticed that the poop was not stationed solely in its normal locale. No - I had to keep wiping further and further north, until I realized that we were way beyond the safety net of the diaper zone - in fact, the poop went over halfway up his back, soaking through his undershirt to his outer shirt. Luckily, despite the fact that I am usually impatient and easily stressed-out, I am incredibly appreciative of the humor in poop. So we had a good laugh (well, Asher was freaking out, but I got a good enough laugh at his expense for the both of us) and a bath.

Then, not more than a half an hour later, he pooped some more, prompting me to change his diaper again. The poop stayed where it was supposed to (thank GOD), but as I pulled off his pants I noticed his undershirt was wet and so was his upper thigh. Argh. Another mess - this time of the weeder variety.

I'm thinking there's a distinct possibility that he's outgrown his britches. Thankfully, we only have a few more stage one sized Pampers left and, thanks to Mom, a whole package of stage two sized Luvs to poop in.

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One Bad Mother

I've heard countless times that when your baby can't be consoled and you feel as if you're at the end of your rope, the smart thing to do is to just lie your baby in his crib and walk away for a few minutes. You know, to keep yourself from losing all sanity and throwing your baby (or yourself) out the window. Well, today (I think) was the first time I've had to do that with Asher. And I had to do it three times, with each time feeling like an even worse mother.

I know it's the best thing to do - it keeps mommy from doing bad things when her blood pressure is at explosive levels and it gives baby a break from hearing mommy retardedly shriek, "What's wrong with you? Tell me! I'm not a mind reader, for cryin' out loud!" (Duh. I guess parenting really doesn't always bring out my strongest or brightest side.) Maybe it's just me, but I get a horrible sense of failure when I can't comfort my baby. I know, I know - sometimes babies just cry to cry or they cry for some problem we can't fix - but it doesn't make me, Ms. Control Freak, feel any better. When Asher cries, I ought to be able to pick him up and magically make him feel like the happiest baby in all of the land. This should occur not only because of my superior baby wrangling skills, but also because he loves me so much and my mere presence makes everything all better. (HA.) And when I can't, when I pick him up and he flails his arms and legs and claws me with his fingernails that I just freakin' clipped a week ago and he screams in my ear and gives me the stink eye, I can't help but take it personally. And three times in one afternoon? Talk about a horrible slap in the face of my ego.

One thing I'm learning from Asher: It really isn't all about me. Not anymore. Now it's all about him. Who would have thought??

Babies. Hmph.

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Asher's First Crush?

My cousin, Beth, stopped by for a visit with Asher on Saturday and...oh my. I think Asher is in love. He happily rested in her arms for the majority of the three hours she was here and I've never seen him smile and coo so much. It made sense to me - not only because Beth is a cutie but also because she's a nurse. I've found from our doctor's visits that Asher loves all the pretty nurses. Typical boy.

I think I can handle the age difference but I'm not so sure about the whole dating-your-relatives scene. I just don't want to be those kind of people.

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Finally Captured on Camera!

I really had to hunt it down and work hard for it and, of course, by the time I managed to take the picture I only caught the tail end of it. Nevertheless, for you non-believers out there, here it is, proof that Asher's smile really does exist.

Bigger grins coming soon...

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Going to the Doctor Sure Does Suck

Asher survived his set of vaccinations today. Actually, I don't think they bothered him nearly as much as they bothered me. He was first given an oral vaccination, which I was concerned about because of the amount of screaming he made when we tried to give him vitamins a few weeks ago. He surprised me, though, and swallowed it without the slightest fuss. The nurse was really fast at administering the four shots (two in each thigh) - it took her less than a minute to do them all. He turned beet red and screamed while they occurred, but once she was finished and I let him pull my hair a little bit (his stress reliever, I've found - lucky me), he seemed to be pretty much over it. (It's too bad I'm still crying about them.) He's been looking quite defeated and tired since then, though (see pathetic sad face below). We were told that over the next couple of days he might get a slight fever, his legs might be a little sore, and he might be cranky and sleepy, but other than that he should be fine. Per the doctor's suggestion, we went out and purchased our first bottle of infant's Tylenol just in case he seems to not be feeling well or develops a fever.

Other than that, the visit was pretty uneventful. Asher now weighs 12 pounds 5 ounces, which is less than I figured he'd weigh. Since he gained three pounds in his first month, I was expecting to have a 14 pounder on my hands at this checkup. He's about 23 1/4 inches long, too. As usual, we didn't have many questions for the doctor. It's pretty nice to have a drama-free baby (knock on wood - remember, Asher is the king at proving me wrong) and not really have any worries to share with the doctor.

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Two Months Old

It's really hard to believe our little Asher Bug is a whole two months old. As my mom has recently pointed out, he's quickly changing from a little newborn infant into a sweet roly poly baby. He's beginning to "talk" to us through cooing - which is, in our opinion, a very welcome addition to his crying-only vocabulary. He's already outgrowing many of his 0-3 month-sized clothes, especially his shirts and onesies. The other night I bought a storage container for his outgrown clothes and it kind of made me sad. On the one hand, I'm so excited that we're moving into the baby stage of his life, that he's growing so well, that I get to introduce new clothes into his wardrobe (because, you know, the most fun part of having a baby is dressing them up). On the other hand, and I know it's a terribly obvious and overstated fact of having kids, this time is passing so quickly! People have said that time seems to pass more quickly once you have kids. I don't necessarily think that's true - time has always seemed to fly to me - but kids definitely put a date stamp on your life. Asher's growth will be a constant reminder of exactly how much time has flown.

Things have gotten so much better, parently speaking, this month. Sure, I'm still exhausted, frumpy and grumpy, but I'm learning to deal with being that way better. I've also found better ways of releasing my aggression when Asher irritates me, too. Like, crying is too sloppy and I don't like showing my baby my weak side. So, I put the "handle" part of his Soothie pacifier in my mouth and bite down on it. Hard. I discovered this technique one day while he was screaming too much to keep it in his own mouth and, having only two hands, I stuck it in my own mouth. It's silly, but hey - it keeps me from biting the baby. And we all know that would be a very bad thing. Seriously, now that Asher is smiling and cooing and pouting (where he sticks his lower lip out - TOO FREAKIN' CUTE - maybe even cuter than his smiles, if the pout weren't followed with crying), I can better detect what kind of mood he's in and can better interact with him. And, because of this, I enjoy my time with him even more because I feel less stressed about what to do with him. I only have four more weeks left before I have to return to work and I'm absolutely dreading leaving him. I know he's just going to get even more sweet and precious over the next month and it's going to become even harder to go back to work.

The one thing I have learned about babies in my long two months experience at being a mother is that babies are consistently inconsistent. Never ever have I ever jinxed myself so many times as I have since Asher's been born. We can be in the car for a half an hour with Asher sleeping soundly in the back, and one of us will comment about how good he's being, how nice it is that he isn't crying the whole way like the last time we went out. And wouldn't you know it? Two seconds later (literally) he starts screaming. Asher is taking a nap and I put a tv dinner in the microwave for lunch. The microwave shuts off, I gleefully take out the dinner, and Asher begins crying. I post to my blog that Asher has been sleeping for six or seven hours straight at night. Two days later? He begins waking up every three hours during the night. Babies are so much more intelligent - and sly - than we give them credit for.

Tomorrow Asher has his two month checkup with the doctor. He's supposed to receive four shots and an oral vaccination and I am absolutely dreading it. I've read that his leg will probably be sore, and he might get a fever. Not to mention the fact that I have to watch them stick needles in my poor little guy's body and make him scream. Stephen may have to nurse us both back to health tomorrow evening. I've got a feeling I'm going to be an even bigger baby about the shots than Asher will be. I'll post an update regarding the checkup tomorrow and, in the meantime, here are some baby pics from the past month. Sorry I didn't post any for the first month, but we sadly lost our memory card that held all the photos from much of January.

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