Busy Weekend for a Little Man

Asher has had a lot going on in his little world over the past few days, in more ways than one.

His Aunt Gie Gie (aka, Angie) came down Thursday night and doted much attention on him through Saturday afternoon. We rode with her to Logansport on Saturday afternoon so we could spend the night with Nee Nee and Pa Pa, and he also got to meet Grandma Marla (Angie's mom). This was his first night away from his daddy and, although it was evident he missed him dearly, he did quite well. I have to admit I have thoroughly enjoyed all of the help I received from Angie, Mom, and Bob over the past few days - even having someone else entertain him for just half an hour so I can take a shower, a nap, or check my e-mail feels like such a huge treat. I love you with all my heart, buddy, but sometimes Mommy could use a minute or two to herself. It's what keeps me semi-sane.

Asher has also been active developmentally blossoming. He's finally started smiling! Granted, the smiles are very few and far between and we have to work hard for them (we're only lucky to get a handful a day), but we feel like the most special people in the world when they occur. He is also working hard at mastering the art of bringing his fists to his mouth. Half of the time the fists make it to his cheek, nose, eye, or somewhere off to the side of his head, but he does manage to make contact with his chompers sometimes. I love to watch him concentrate on his little fist, staring at it as he slowly brings it to his face, sticking his tongue out in anticipation of its arrival, only to miss and hit his cheek. His vocabulary has really begun to increase in the past week, too. We're hearing more and more baby coos and, I have to say, they are the cutest "words" ever spoken (especially when they're wedged between bouts of angry grunting or crying). My most favorite thing he's been doing, though, is sleeping almost through the night. Like, for six or seven hours at a time! Then we wake, change, and feed, and GO BACK TO SLEEP for another two or three hours. It's wonderful - I almost feel like a fully rested person for most of the day. If I didn't get up every few hours to relieve my bosom engorgement, I'd be rich with sleep. Oh well. Instead, I'm rich with frozen boob juice.

Read more...

Desperate Kitties

Everyone told me it would happen, and I refused to believe it. "I love my kitties!" I'd defiantly protest. "They're my babies - I'd never treat them any differently."

And then the baby came.

I was exhausted, frustrated, stressed, and felt as if every last ounce of love I had to give was being poured into Asher. And it was. Sadly, it appeared everyone was right - the cats had become just cats. No longer did I yearn for the cats to come up and curl up next to me on the bed at night - instead, I'd find myself pushing them off the bed because they were taking up too much space, or keeping me awake during the precious few hours I had in which to sleep. Sophie's constant meowing and begging for attention no longer I found endearing; rather, it became so annoying. And the noisy galloping playtime Sam and Charlie would have turned from hilarious and adorable into just plain inconsiderate behavior. Don't they know they could easily wake the baby that I just spent an hour trying to put down for a nap?

So the cats are desperate for attention. Desperate to reclaim the owner they once had. The owner who practically worshipped them, who annoyed the crap out of them by following them around doling out attention, who consistently fed them three times a day. Their current owner they want gone. The one who scolds them for meowing too loudly, or jumping on her lap while she's trying to feed the baby, or being underfoot, or jumping in the crib. The one who easily forgets to feed them.

I do believe their plan of action is to fool me into believing they are, in fact, babies, too. Sophie has taken to sleeping in the bassinet when it's empty. Charlie climbs all over the baby's clothes when I'm folding them. Both Sophie and Sam can be found from time to time hanging out in the crib. Usually, they only climb in it when it's empty, but notice in the above picture there's a little baby lying in the crib behind the Sammy Cat. He's pulling out all the guns now - I think he's trying to develop an alliance against me with the baby.

It's slowly getting better, though. I'm forcing myself to check their food dishes more regularly throughout the day. I'm making a conscious effort to start talking to them again - you know, in ways other than yelling at them - and paying them more attention. I figure they don't deserve to have their lifestyles totally disrupted just because ours is. That was our decision, not theirs.

However, if Sophie keeps using the crib as her butt cleansing room and the rocking chair as her own personal scratching post, she may find herself living in the garage.

Just kidding. Kind of.

Read more...

Romance? What's That?

Stephen and I have never done much in the past to celebrate Valentine's Day. I don't know, there's something so false about the holiday - don't get me wrong, I love getting presents and going out to dinner and all that, but it's really never been a big deal to me. For some strange reason, Stephen has always been okay with me being low maintenance on V-Day. Hm. Even with that being said, we hit an all time low this year in celebrating the day.

We ate sloppy joes and french fries for dinner. I ate in the pajamas I was still wearing from the night before. No make up, hair unkempt (how else?) - I'm not even sure I'd brushed my teeth. I did, however, take a shower before I went to bed. I just didn't think it'd be fair for Stephen to have to go to bed with a stinky wife on Valentine's Day. Not that we'd be doing anything in bed, anyway, but still.

It was all good, though; Asher Bug was more than enough of a reminder of our love for each other. A very poopy, squawking, exhausting reminder. He actually was a very sweet baby yesterday, spending the majority of the day napping and, when awake, was in a fairly good mood. I took the below picture of him after our morning nap together. This was when I told him he could be my Valentine this year, because he sure knows the way to my heart. Sleep. That was the best gift ever. The two massive poopy diapers he gave me later that evening were just icing on the cake.

Read more...

Six Weeks Old

Today Asher turned six weeks old. Six whole weeks! It's amazing. Not only has time absolutely flown, but, more amazingly, all of us have managed to survive six whole weeks of living together. I was just positive Asher would have kicked me out of the house by now; I'm not the easiest person to live with. Just goes to show what a good little guy he is.

I had my six week postpartum checkup this morning - note to self: no more scheduling such activities prior to 1:00 p.m. whenever possible anymore - and I am apparently healing well. We were also given the "go ahead" in the bedroom department - just in time for Valentine's Day! As much as I'm sure our mothers would just love for us to get back in the baby-making business, I have to admit that's the very last thing on my mind right now. When my doctor asked what type of birth control we intended on using, I was like, "You're kidding, right?" How on earth does a woman feel sexy when she hasn't showered in two days, her hair looks like a rat's nest, has sore leaky boobs, is still dressed in her flannel pajamas at dinnertime, and feels like she hasn't slept in two lifetimes? Okay, and say by chance she does feel in the mood, how on earth is there any time for such activities with a fussy six week-old?

Really, I still wouldn't label Asher as a fussy baby, but he's definitely much fussier than he was in the beginning. You know, back when he was a semi-conscious blob. Now that he's becoming more and more a conscious blob, he seems to get frustrated and irritated a lot at the whole world in general. I guess that's just what happens when you're alert but not able to do much physically with that energy? It is amazing, though, how quickly he's learning to do things. One day he lies on his activity mat and cries and notices nothing on it, the next day he lies there making baby noises and looks not only at the lights blinking above his head but also at the little toys dangling around him. If we place him on his tummy and allow him to get pissed off enough, he's able to roll over onto his back. He's able to track slow-moving objects with his eyes and seems to be focusing better every day. He still hasn't officially smiled on purpose yet, but we can tell he's really trying. And when he does, we know it'll be magical.

It's still hard to believe that we made this little fellow. Less than a year ago, in fact. It's even more hard to believe that he lived inside of me for nine whole months. I was telling Stephen this evening that I don't quite feel like a parent yet - however that's supposed to feel. I feel more like this demanding little alien has moved in and chosen us to care for him. It's all so incredibly surreal. I can't say we've gotten the whole parenting thing mastered yet - there are still large chunks of time that I feel like I'm in over my head, that I don't have any clue what I'm doing, that I question if everything's going to be okay. But, it's getting better. Much, much better, in fact. For instance, it's such a huge relief when Asher falls asleep. I feel lighter, like a weight of burden has been lifted off my shoulders. I can finally close my eyes and rest, or check my e-mail, or read a chapter in my book. I get a break from changing, feeding, playing and trying to soothe him. However, when he does wake up, when his little blue peepers pop open and he starts to squawk, I find myself rushing to his side, sweeping him up and smothering his sweet chubby cheeks with kisses. As dorky as it may be, during those few hours of sleep, I actually find myself missing the little Asher Bug.

Yeah, I think we'll keep him.

Read more...

What We Crave

Ah...sleep deprivation. It's no secret that it comes with the territory of having children, but of course, as usual, I'd underestimated the toll it'd have on us. I find myself falling asleep while pumping, while feeding Asher, while trying to get Asher to fall asleep, while "playing" with Asher (as much as you can play with a one-month old), and...well, that's pretty much all I do these days, but I'm sure if I had the time to read or watch tv or BREATHE I'd probably fall asleep doing those things, too.

Our conversations - what few we have the energy to have - are mumbled, jumbled, and highly unintelligent. Stephen can't put his thoughts into words and gets his facts mixed up. I no longer find myself telling him I'm uninterested in his banter regarding the latest shopping center construction in Noblesville; now, I find myself hoping he'll go into his rambles so I can take a mental snooze. In other words, my ability to listen no longer exists - it puts me to sleep.

I've heard from EVERYONE that the lack of sleep won't get much better for at least another 18 years - when Asher goes to college. I don't know about that; I spent five years at college and with that experience I think I'll sleep even less at that point, knowing what he's probably up to.

Luckily, I'm too tired to worry about the future. I think I'm going to go take a nap.

Read more...

Still a Healthy Boy

This afternoon, Asher had his one month checkup with his pediatrician. It was fairly uneventful, but as always, I won't spare you the details.

The first thing we learned during our visit is that Asher is still growing like a weed. In the past three weeks, he's gained a whopping two pounds - he's now up to 11 pounds 7 ounces, which puts him in the 90th percentile for weight. I swear he doesn't look like a chunk, but it's evident when you pick the boy up he's pretty damn solid. He's only in the 50th percentile for height, measuring in at 22 inches. Dr. Timmons was happy with his weight, even though when I asked her about the angry grunting pig he becomes after he eats she suggested he may be acting that way because he's filling his tummy too much and experiencing a little reflux. She stated we could cut back on the amount of milk he eats, but said we could also just continue to do things as we have been - letting him eat as much as he wants - because it won't hurt him and his weight gain is good. I also informed her that I'm now just pumping breast milk and feeding it to him via a bottle, to which she told me everything everyone else has been saying - whatever works for you is PERFECT, we're still both getting all the benefits of breastfeeding, he's NOT going to develop some sort of Freudian boob complex, if I decide I want to start nursing again at some point I can, yadda yadda yadda. Yes, deep down I already knew all of this, but I am a woman who always doubts herself and needs reassurance - which is exactly why I wrote my last posting, because I knew my wonderful friends and family would say all the supportive things I needed to hear in response. And, having his doctor tell me the way I'm doing things is perfect - as she said, he's obviously not missing out on anything since he's gaining plenty of weight - just further tames my insecurities.

His favorite part of the visit was flirting with the pretty nurse who measured and weighed him. In fact, I swear he came this close to smiling at her. Like, closer than he's come to smiling at his own mommy! However, she was also the one who administered his second Hepatitis B shot (he'd had his first right after birth), so he soon forgot all about her. Poor little man was very brave and only cried for a few seconds right after receiving it. He received a very fashionable Bugs Bunny bandage to sport over his little wound, which you can see in the below picture. It absolutely broke my heart to watch him get his shot, but I sacked up and held his little hand while it was done. I outdid Asher and managed not to cry at all, but I didn't receive any parting gifts for my brave face. I'm really dreading his next visit - he'll then receive FOUR shots and an oral vaccination. I think I'm going to have to bring along a box of tissues and a paper bag to get me through it.

Read more...