From my pudgy little punkin…

Happy Halloween from my wicked heart to yours!!!

Eight Things. A meme.

In honor of my kid sleeping eight hours last night (!!!!!), I’m borrowing this lovely meme from Must Be Motherhood.

8 TV Shows I Love to Watch:
=> Dancing with the Stars
=> Boston Legal
=> Lost
=> Grey’s Anatomy (but I’m losing patience with it.  Izzie & Alex?  Puhleaze!)
=> Dexter
=> Weeds
=> Californication
=> Local news

8 Favorite Places to Eat:
=> Chili’s Grill & Bar.  It’s all about the chips & salsa.
=> Grazie’s Italian Grill for Spicy Garlic Chicken, made not spicy.
=> Nakashima’s of Japan.  The flaming tower of onions makes it all worthwhile.
=> Taste of India.  Best chicken tikka masala & naan bread this side of New Delhi.
=> Bentley’s Food & Spirits.  Their mushroom & swiss burger tickles my pickle.
=> Mandarin Garden.  The egg rolls are divine, and the cashew shrimp & chicken is perfection.
=> Tie between Red Lobster (for the biscuits) & Olive Garden (for the salad).
=> My own kitchen.  3 words.  Papa Murphy’s Pizza.

8 Things That Happened Yesterday:
=> The Husband invited his mother for a visit in November.
=> I began plotting The Husband’s slow, painful death.
=> I renewed my script for birth control pills.
=> Burger King shortchanged me two chocolate chip cookies.
=> I kissed the $2.39/gallon gas pump.
=> I spent all day craving Jiffy Pop popcorn, with real butter.
=> The post office machine dispensed lickable stamps.  I haven’t licked a stamp in about ten years.
=> I listened to my ipod for the first time since I had Mason.

8 Things I Look Forward To:
=> My wretched mother-in-law going home.
=> Warm weather.
=> Financial stability.
=> My son taking a bottle without spitting up and/or crying from the pain.
=> A family trip to Sesame Place in Pennsylvania.
=> Owning a family business.
=> Thanksgiving.  I have so much to be thankful for this year.
=> This damn election to be over.

8 Things I Love About Fall:
=> The spectacular beauty found only in the woods.
=> The smell of a roaring fire.
=> Warm apple pie with a cinnamon crumb topping, and a scoop of real vanilla ice cream.
=> Sweaters.
=> Huge bowls of chili.
=> Putting the lawnmower in storage.
=> Going an entire day without sneezing.  Or, the end of allergy hell.
=> Wearing gorgeous leather boots with a 2″+ heel.

8 Things on my Wish List:
=> Mason’s tummy to feel better.
=> No more soldier deaths in this godforsaken war.
=> Gas prices to stay below $2.50/gallon.
=> For my mother-in-law to develop a sudden, inexplicable, untreatable fear of airplanes.
=> Getting off this emotional roller coaster once and for all.
=> Winning the lottery.  Not even the big prize.  Just $100,000 to erase our credit card debt & pay down the mortgage.
=> Buying a small business.  Or finding the self-confidence to start my own photography studio.
=> In a few years, a daughter.

8 Things I’m Passionate About:
=> My family and friends.
=> Photography.
=> Infertility.
=> Writing.
=> Clipping coupons & shopping at garage sales to save $$$.
=> Quilting.
=> Ebay.
=> Cooking.

8 Words or Phrases I Use Often:
=> SHUT UP!
=> Oh my God.
=> Jesus H. Christ.
=> Dillhole.
=> Seriously?!?
=> Whatever.
=> Hey.
=> Where are my keys?????

8 Things I Have Learned From My Past:
=> Don’t burn any bridges, no matter how angry you are when you leave.
=> If you stare at the sky long enough, you can see heaven.
=> Always trust your instincts.
=> Working with my dad was one of the greatest experiences of my life.  I got to know him as a person, rather than a parent.
=> Admit the truth, no matter how hard it is and how much it hurts.
=> A college degree is not indicative of intelligence.
=> Be careful what you wish for.
=> If you said no, press charges.

8 Places I Would Love to Go or See or Visit:
=> Heaven.
=> Hawaii.
=> Australia.
=> Alaska.
=> Lake Tahoe.
=> A family trip to Sesame Place.
=> The Bahamas.
=> Swimming with the manatees.

8 Things I Currently Need or Want:
=> Strawberry milk.
=> Black socks.
=> Trader Joe’s or Whole Foods to move into Wisconsin.
=> More sleep.
=> A housekeeper.
=> Egg salad.
=> A happy baby.
=> Earplugs.  Or a husband who doesn’t snore.

If you decide to play along, leave me a note in the comments & prepare to see your name in lights.  Right here.

At least I’m not dissecting a frog.

I was chitchatting back & forth via e-mail (or was it Twitter?) the other day with my blog buddy, Julie.  I confessed to adding a little rice cereal to Mason’s bottle, and she was looking for a few details.

Which got me to thinking.  In the nine weeks since my son’s arrival, we have changed his feeding methods many, many, many times.  I’m starting to think he’s a science project.

There was the attempted breastfeeding in the hospital.  Disastrous.

And then the double fisting, er, I mean double pumping with the hospital grade pump.  I felt like a golden guernsey, and got absolutely nowhere.

So we started supplementing with Nestle Good Start liquid formula.

Which was waaaaay too expensive, so we switched to Nestle Good Start powdered formula.  (But we hoarded a case of the nurser bottles, just in case we’d need them again.)

In the interim, I kept trying to pump with my Medela Swing pump at home.  My most successful day produced a whole, whopping 1-1/2 teaspoons of colustrum.  And yes, that was the total for the day.

But he began projective vomiting, so we tried mixing the Nestle Good Start with Similac RS for sensitive stomachs.  In the liquid form AND in the powdered form.

Then, we tried switching from the Medela bottles to the Dr. Brown’s bottles.

The Similac formula made him scream, so we went back to our Nestle Good Start.

But he kept on vomiting, so we tried mixing it with Nestle Good Start soy formula, in case he’s lactose intolerant.

Then we felt like he was sucking too hard, so we bought a faster flowing nipple.  Until he started gasping and wheezing while eating, and we realized we were practically drowning the poor kid.

It seemed like he was doing okay on it, so I stocked up.  Three cans of the powdered soy formula, and a case of the little 3 oz ready-to-feed nurser bottles.

And then he started projectile spitting up.

So, I decided to add a little rice cereal to his bottle (the ones where we’re still mixing the original Good Start with the soy Good Start).  But I made the first bottle way too thick, and he couldn’t breathe while he was attempting to drink it.  But the second bottle went way better (a scoop of regular, a scoop of soy, a scoop of cereal, and 4 oz of water); until he got frustrated because the nipple hole was too small for the thicker concoction.

Off I ran to Babies R Us for some faster flowing nipples.  Four packs of Dr. Brown’s “Y” nipples, made specially for cereal feeding.  And  a pack each of level three and level four nipples, just in case the cereal nipples were too fast for him.  “Just in case” is a big phrase in our house.  My entire life revolves around those three little words.

And, while I was there, I spotted a can of the Enfamil A.R. Lipil powdered formula, which claims to reduce spitting by 40%.  So I bought a can, “just in case” the cereal thing didn’t work out.

Anyway, I got home and sterilized all four packs of the “y” nipples, and attempted another feeding with the rice cereal.  It was Way. Too. Fast.  He finished his entire bottle in under 10 minutes, including burping him twice; and spent the rest of the evening in total agony.  Beet red, screaming and crying, because he had swallowed a lead balloon.

Then my other blogging buddy Audrey suggested the Enfamil A.R. Lipil, so I decided to throw in the towel with the rice cereal & try mixing the powdered Enfamil with the powdered Good Start soy formula (which I was still mixing with the powdered Good Start regular formula).

But the Good Start soy formula and the Enfamil A.R. powdered formula don’t mix well.  At least not in my son’s tummy.  For the last 10 feedings, I’ve tried mixing the original Good Start powdered formula with the soy Good Start powdered formula; and sometimes the ready-to-feed Good Start original formula with the ready-to-feed Good Start soy formula.  Always with the Enfamil.  And always with the simethicone anti-gas drops.  And sometimes with gripe water.

In any case, the last 10 feedings have been terrible.  He’s been crying after every bottle, curling up his legs and balling his fists and clutching his poor little belly.

So, today I tried giving him straight up powdered Enfamil A.R. formula, without mixing it with the Good Start.  Until I read somewhere that the rice starch in the powdered formula can be too heavy in his belly; and the ready-to-feed Enfamil is an easier transition.

So, tonight I ran to Walmart for five cans of the Enfamil A.R. liquid formula.  We’ll see how it goes.

And that, my friends, is why I haven’t been updating as much as I’d like to.

Or, as my outgoing answering machine message says,

“Kris and Dave can’t come to the phone right now; because we’re either holding the baby, feeding the baby, burping the baby, rocking the baby, playing with the baby, changing his diaper, changing his clothes, making our millionth trip to Babies R us, washing his bottles, washing his clothes, or taking a nap.  Leave us a message, and with any luck, we’ll call you back before he turns 18.:”

Tummy Troubles. Again.

Dear internet.  You’ve been warned.

I know how old I am.  I know how old my husband is.  I know exactly how long it took us to conceive this baby.  And yes, I know that my eggs are getting older with each passing day.

But so help me jehosephat, the next person who asks me when we’re having baby #2 is going to get punched in the face.

I’m finally starting to really appreciate my first born.  His big goofy smiles, when he’s spread out on the changing table and we’re singing my silly little made-up “Powder on Your Nuts” song.  The way his eyes light up when he hears my voice.  How he quiets down when I’m holding him and rocking him and singing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” until all the beer is gone.

But his cranky moments far outnumber his happy ones.  He starts out each morning full of grins and giggles; then refuses to nap for the rest of the day.  He’ll start to nod off, then BAM!, his eyes fly open and he fights sleep like Muhammed Ali going for the heavyweight championship.  By 3:00 in the afternoon, he’s an angry, inconsolable little tyrant of terror.

And I’ve tried putting him down and letting him cry it out.  For two solid hours, he cried it out.  That is clearly not the answer.

We’re still mixing his formula 50/50 with the Nestle Good Start regular and soy powders.  I tried changing him over to all soy, but it upsets his belly to the point of agony.  Tonight, he spent almost 2 hours after his bottle clenching his legs and curling his hands into tight little fists.  And crying and crying and crying.  Oh, God, the crying.  Dave can’t take more than 15 minutes at a time, so I sit and rock him until he falls asleep.  Or passes out.  I’m honestly not sure which.

His doctor is on vacation this week, but I’m going to call her replacement tomorrow morning.  I *know* he has acid reflux, even though his doctor doesn’t want to diagnose it.  His spit up comes up with a vengeance, and it stinks of sour milk.  Oftentimes, it comes out through his nose because his mouth can’t expel it all fast enough.

I can’t help but wonder if it’s because she’s a family practice doctor, and not a pediatrician.  In any case, I called our local ask-a-nurse to ask if I could put a little bit of rice cereal in his bottle, and they said not to (choking hazard).  Of course, they also claim I’m writing his obituary by letting him sleep on his belly.  (Not that I’m making light of SIDS.  Not by any stretch of the imagination.)

I feed him sitting upright, even though he prefers to lie down.  I burp him midway through each feeding, and again at the end of the bottle.  I keep him upright for at least 20 minutes after the bottle is empty.  I tried propping up the end of his bassinet; but he always ended up in a heap at the bottom of the mattress.

He sleeps so well at night.  We can put him down around 10:30 – 11:00, and he usually sleeps straight through until 5:00 in the morning.  Hooray for that!  But boy, am I paying the price during the day.

There has to be a happy medium in there somewhere, right?!?

One sick puppy.

Charlie has a severe ear infection.  The inside of her ear is fire engine red, and it’s all weepy and oozy.  I took her to the vet’s office yesterday, and they had to sedate her and keep her there in order to flush her ear canal out.

I feel like the world’s worst pet owner.  I know we haven’t been paying as much attention to the dogs since we brought the baby home, but he needs us more than they do right now.  Or so I thought.  I’m surprised the vet didn’t call animal control and have us charged with neglect.  I can’t even begin to express how ashamed I was.

I expected to feel new mom guilt.  But I never thought it would come from the dogs.

Scattered Thoughts.

Tomorrow, Mason will be 8 weeks old.  EIGHT WEEKS!!!  How did that happen?  I swear, he’s only been living with us for a week or two.

Does anybody know how these infant growth charts work?  What I mean is this:  Mason was born 3 weeks early.  Do they compare his numbers based on his actual birth date; or do they take his early arrival into consideration?

In any case, he weighed 11 pounds, 3 ounces on Sunday night.  Heavier than my bowling ball, but lighter than my Thanksgiving turkey.

I got an interesting e-mail from my former gynie’s office today.  They send out weekly newsletters to new parents, and I almost fell off my chair at this one:

In the first month of life, most babies average between 15-18 hours of sleep per day.  This is typically divided in naps lasting 2-4 hours with no differentiation between day and night.  Entering the second month of life, your baby may start to take a longer nap of 4-6 hours.  Day/night differentiation typically begins around 6-8 weeks of life.  At age 3 to 4 months, most babies begin to establish a longer sleep cycle at night, typically lasting 4-8 hours.  An established napping pattern emerges, usually with a midmorning nap being the first to appear followed by 1 or 2 afternoon naps shortly thereafter.

Someone forgot to send this memo to my kid.  15-18 hours of sleep?????  I don’t think so.  He typically gets 5 hours overnight; takes an early morning snooze for 2 hours; catches a midday nap of an hour (if I’m lucky); and dozes for an hour or two in the early evening.  That’s it.  On a good day, he gets 10 hours; and if he’s not feeling well, he’ll sneak in an extra nap for a whopping 12 hours.  Where are these kids who sleep 18 hours a day?  Is it because I drank so much Coke while I was pregnant?  I couldn’t help it – that $1.00 deal at McDonald’s was really hard to pass up!!!

Did you see Babies -R- Us is doing a new customer rewards program?  God, I hate those stupid plastic cards they give you.  Why can’t they give *all* customers discounts, without tracking every purchase you make?????

I had to change my cell phone number again.  When I signed up with Virgin Mobile, they gave me a recycled number.  The girl who previously held my digits was an all-purpose party girl, and her bar “friends” kept calling my phone in the middle of the night.  Not to mention the calls from the collection agencies, trying to track her down.

Were you at Walmart today?  If so, I was the lady with the screaming baby.  And no, rolling your eyes and muttering snide remarks under your breath do NOT help the situation, thankyouverymuch.  I’m sorry I hit you with the wood handle of that broom.  I was distracted by your sparkling personality, and oopsie, it just slipped out of my hands and bonked you on the head.  My bad.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.  Especially a hormonal, sleep-deprived, hyperemotional and hungry one.

Breaking Down.

Today?!?  Thank God today is almost over, because it’s been the worst day yet.

We went from this peaceful, sleeping little angel at 11:30 this morning

to this screaming, weepy, “I neeeeeeeeeed a nap sooooooo bad, but I’m not gonna sleep for you” pile of atrociousness.

I put him down for a nice quiet nap just before lunch, and he startled awake exactly 30 minutes later.  He cried continuously for the next SEVEN HOURS, save for the three short lapses of quiet when he had a bottle shoved in his gaping, blubbering piehole.

By 3:00, I was ready to pop him in his stroller, push him to the end of the road, and tape an enormous “FREE” sign on his head.  I kept reminding myself that Dave would be home at 5:00, and I could unload the baby on him for a few minutes and get the hell out of the house to clear my head.

I tried everything, and he just wouldn’t stop alternating between wailing and screeching.  My nerves were jangled, my hands were shaking, and I felt like I was hanging on by a very fine thread.  I was scared to drive anywhere with him, because my entire body ached from the tension of listening to his seemingly endless fits.

At 4:55, I heard the garage door open, and let out a huge sigh of relief.  Finally, I could get a tiny bit of peace.  Until my soon-to-be-ex-husband stuck his head in the door, and said he needed to work outside on his shed for an hour.  Really?  Really?  Your stupid ******* outdoor project is more important than your wife’s sanity?  Really???????????

To add insult to injury, he called me this afternoon when Mason was at the height of his unhappiness.  After about 30 seconds of listening to the little guy’s screams, he just said, “Hey.  I’ve gotta go.  I can’t take any more of this.”, and hung up the phone.  He knew exactly how frazzled I was; and he still didn’t come in and help me.

By the time he finally came in an hour later, the baby had quieted down but I was sobbing.  I told him that I’ve had enough, that we’re making each other miserable, and that HE KNEW I needed a break and doesn’t care enough to help me.

And that I want to move out.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.  I just know that I can’t make it through another day like today without some help.  My head is pounding, my body aches, and my heart just hurts.  I should be able to count on my husband to help me with *our* child, shouldn’t I?

I don’t want to move out.  Really, I don’t.  But I’m so angry with him that I feel like I’m backed into a corner.  No one helps me with the baby.  No one.  My parents are too old, my friends all have families of their own or live too far away, and I’m all alone with this kid who I sometimes love and hate equally.

Tomorrow has to be a better day.  Because I tore through my bag of Halloween Kit Kats today, and don’t have any other coping mechanisms left.

Smile.

Mason gave me his first big, gummy, wrinkly eyed smile today.

He had just finished a bottle and I was asking him how he got to be SO BIG, when he looked at me with this huge dopey grin.

Oh, son of mine, you just melted my bitter, cynical heart a little.  I hope there are many, many, many more smiles to come.

The crying game.

So, it’s been a rough week or so at the chubby household.  Something is wrong with me, and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

We’ve been having so many problems with Mason spitting up.  Everyone keeps saying it’s normal…..but my fading maternal instincts don’t agree.  He regurgitates after every feeding, after every burping, and every time we lay him down.  I change the bassinet bedding twice during the night, and he goes through at least 3 outfits each day (not including the bib he soaks at each feeding).  It’s enough to soak through a burp rag, which is actually a cloth diaper thrown haphazardly on my shoulder.  And it used to be the fresh formula that came up – now it’s sour smelling.

He’s still pooping enough, but he seems to be gaining weight really slowly.  At 7 weeks, he only weighs 10 pounds and 9 ounces.  He’ll go for his 2 month checkup and shots on November 4th, so I guess I’ll find out more then.

In the interim, we decided to change him to soy formula.  We had been feeding him Nestle Good Start in the orange can, and I started switching him over to the Nestle Good Start soy formula.  For right now, I’m mixing it 50/50; and I’m already seeing waaaay less spit up.  The soy stuff seems creamier and heavier, so I’m assuming it sinks into his belly and stays put a little better than the regular formula.  I hope it works.  My biggest concern, though, is that soy formula can lead to constipation; and I really don’t want the little guy all bound up.  He’s crabby enough now – I can’t imagine how miserable he’d be if he couldn’t poop.

Making matters worse, I’ve had it up to here with my husband CONSTANTLY second guessing me.  He questions every move I make, and it’s taken away any shred of maternal instincts I had left.  When the baby cries, I can get him to quiet down eventually by sitting in a dark quiet room, giving him a pacifier, and singing to him.  Inevitably, Dave will come in and suggest I put him in the swing.  Or in his bassinet.  Or give him a bottle.  If I don’t follow his “advice”, he gets all pissy with me.  But if I do bow down to his royal highness’ wishes, the baby starts screaming and I have to start all over again.

And the worst part?  I’m sure he’s started hiding the pacifiers from me.  Ever since his mother got on him about our “lazy parenting”, he refuses to use one and gives me the evil eye whenever I resort to giving one to Mason.  Um, hello, our baby is screaming his effing head off in our living room; while your self-righteous mother is 3,000 miles away wallowing in her own misery.  I certainly don’t need her approval to quiet my son; and can’t believe he still takes her opinions to heart.

And I still don’t feel bonded to the baby.  My God, it’s been seven weeks.  How much longer is this going to take?????  He’s just so grumpy all the time.  I keep waiting for the doorbell to ring, and a hospital representative to walk in and say, “Oh, sorry lady, this crabby little monster isn’t really your baby.  We gave you the wrong one.  Here’s your happy, smiling, mellow little guy.”.  And we’d all live happily ever after.

I had my 6-week postpartum visit with The Gynie God last week, and I probably should have mentioned something to him.  I was too busy asking for birth control pills and fending off his suggestions for an IUD.  He also told us to use extra precautions if we have nookie this first month, because it may take that long for the pills to be effective.  As if I have any interest at all in fooling around these days.  I just wanted the pills to regulate my periods.

I know the pills are partially to blame for my mood swings; but I still feel like I’m failing the baby somehow.  He never seems happy to see me – he cries from the moment he wakes up and I get his diaper changed until I warm his bottle and shove it in his mouth.  And he pushes away from me when I try to hold him – he prefers to lay by himself on the floor.  I keep trying; but it’s not getting any easier.  I should have stayed on birth control pills forever and stuck to raising dogs.

But then I look at this, and remind myself to shut the hell up and be grateful for what I have.

The cost of giving birth.

Hospital bill for 6-day stay while having Mason:  $14,907.76

Doctor’s bill for c-section:  $2,563.00
(not including the bill from the anesthesiologist)

Waking up and feeling this happy again???  Priceless!!!