Let's give him a key to the city while we're at it.

Say there's a former basketball player and native son. And let's say the school board made the unfortunate decision to close a high school and the basketball player convinced them to give him the site and publicly fund a charter school that allegedly is based on religious ideals. And perhaps this basketball player, we'll call him KJ, runs the school in such a manner that the long-time supportive parents are all pissed and withdraw their kids, and the supplies (like band equipment) they've worked hard to build up for many years do not go with the kids but stay at the new charter school.

And say that KJ does some good things in a run-down neighborhood, like bring in a few businesses. But say that some other properties he owns in that neighborhood are neglected, covered in garbage, and apparently slum-lorded.

And say that there were allegations that in another state he had inappropriate relations with a 16 year old. There's a police transcript in which he tells the girl that he doesn't recall being "100 percent naked" with her. (Because 75% naked with a 16 year old is totally cool.) And the way neither one of them will talk about it would lead reasonable people to conclude that there was a financial settlement and a gag order.

And then there are allegations that he touched the breasts of another teenage girl here in Sacramento, and instead of reporting it to authorities (as school officials are legally mandated to do), school officials called up KJ's lawyer, who talked to the girl first, after which she recanted. This is at his school, mind you.

And then there are allegations that he used Americorps money inappropriately, requiring volunteers to, among other things, attend church services.

So what does a city do with a guy like that?

Well, if you're Sacramento, it would appear that you're going to elect him mayor.

Breastfeeding so far

I have now been breastfeeding for five weeks (I've decided to include the days in the hospital when I was pumping but not allowed to nurse her). I wasn't sure I was going to be able to at all, yet here I am, typing with my right hand only because Zadie's nursing on my left side. I was so worried about it, an I admit to still being anxious and over-thinking things, but I'm getting better, Two fairly insignificant things happened lately that have sort of helped me focus my view on all this.

First, I went to get my eyebrows waxed. My eyebrow lady, Nora, is a friend, and she has a six-month old. I was sharing news about the baby and said, I suppose somewhat incredulously, "And she loves to nurse!" Nora laughed at me and said "Well, why wouldn't she?" Good question. I guess I had been so focused on my deficiencies that I wasn't focused on what I had. I had felt sure that as soon as Zadie figured out that the bottles were more plentiful and faster, she'd reject the boob. But what I was forgetting is that the boob is warmer, she's cuddled up to me while nursing, she can hear my heartbeat... Why wouldn't she? I thought I had a good answer, but it's so obvious I was wrong.

Then yesterday I had a postpartum visit. When people have asked me if I'm breastfeeding, I've been quick to qualify my answer: Well, I'm doing both. I'm breastfeeding AND bottlefeeding. I am, but I'm having to supplement with formula. But when my doctor asked me, he wasn't making chit-chat. He needed to know so he could remind me to get fluids, to take calcium. He needed to know to help me make birth control decisions. He didn't care what the baby is getting -- he's MY doctor and he needed to know whether I'm breastfeeding. And I am. I'm breastfeeding.
No need to qualify or explain.

So thanks to a couple of fairly simple questions with fairly simple answers, I'm feeling much better about our breastfeeding relationship this week. And just ask my husband how much she loves the boob! She's on there ALL the time. I've actually had to de-latch her when she's found it all by herself just by headbanging into my boob.
My strong, healthy, sweet baby is getting more than half of her food from me. She's learning, she's making happy noises, she's taking in information, and she loves to nurse. Well, why wouldn't she?

Look what I did!

I made a new blog where I can review restaurants in Sacramento. The catch is that I'm a vegetarian, so I can't tell you whether they have a good flank steak. I can, if you're a vegetarian, tell you what your options are as well as your best bets. It will be fun for me, at least!

Check me out at Sackatomatoes.

I swear this is true

She rolled over. She is one month old, and she rolled over. My MiL was saying she hadn't seen Zadie's butt (I had mentioned it was cute), so next time we had a diaper change, I let her air dry and turned her little naked self onto her tummy. We watched as she stretched her arms and kicked her legs and looked like she was climbing a staircase. And then, BAM! She gave one big push and was on her side.

I thought it was cool, but unintentional and a fluke, but SiL and MiL (who have 3 kids each) were like "No, she totally turned herself over!" Yesterday we decided to see if she could do it again, and she did, all the way onto her back. We tried it once more to show my mom, but it resulted in pissed-off baby, so we picked her up.

She is also making happy sqeaks, which is new. I mean, she made noises before, but now she's making the occasional high-pitched "aah!" of obvious happiness. And then my heart exploded.

More later when I have two hands.

Visitors!

I haven't blogged because we've had visitors. My sweet, wonderful, fantastic sister-in-law is here. Oh, and also my mother-in-law.

Tuesday we went to Sweetie's awards ceremony, then to dinner at Tower Cafe (on Earth Day -- appropos, as it was established on Earth Day). Wednesday we kind of just hung around and stared at the baby. I made dinner.

Thursday we also stared at the baby and went to Maalouf's for dinner. (They rock -- they got a "Got Milk" onesie for the baby.)

Friday we toured the Delta& got pizza for dinner.

Baby screaming -- gotta run.

rock star

IMG_1412
Originally uploaded by countmockula

Big Day!

I'm so excited about today. First, Sweetie is receiving an Outstanding Teaching award from his university. I am so proud of him, and he deserves it. There is a ceremony at the school.

Which brings us to the best news... his sister and Mom made arrangements to come down from Oregon today to attend the ceremony (and to visit and see the baby, of course). They should be here in a couple hours. I'm so excited to see them! More of the family is coming this weekend, too.

We're going to get all prettied up, go to lunch & then the ceremony, and dinner afterwards. Hooray!

***********And now for something completely different*********

It's Earth Day. My carbon footprint is 5.08 tons per year. Sweetie's is 3.77. (Well, actually, we share the household stuff, so really ours together is 5.08, I think. His is less because mine includes the car.) That means we're both less than average, but there are still thing I could do better. Just for shits and giggles, what's yours?

Updates

sumo
Originally uploaded by countmockula

My little sumo is almost one month old! The time has whizzed by amazingly quickly, and it's hard to conceive of the life we had pre-baby or of my pregnancy.

She's beautiful and sweet. She let me sleep last night. She's giving Dad a bit of a hard time at the moment, choosing to scream right when it's his time to hold her (or if I, God forbid, leave the house). She'll get over it, though.

She's losing her hair on top, so she looks like Mr. Hooper from Sesame Street. She has a little bit of cradle cap, which is like baby dandruff. She has been practicing making more faces and noises.

She is VERY excited about the prospect of meeting her grandma and auntie from Oregon tomorrow and her uncle and some cousins later in the week. She told me so herself.

In a few minutes we're going out. I will find some errands to do, because Sweetie desperately needs a nap. He tried to lie down with her, but there was the whole screaming-bloody-murder thing.

She and I went to Golden Gate Park Saturday and met some of my online friends at the children's playground, which is seriously the coolest playground I've ever seen. She was super-quiet and sleepy the whole time. I tried to wake her up to feed her before we left, but she wasn't having it. Then, of course, she woke up and started screaming while we were on the Bay Bridge. I stopped in Berkeley and, seeing as it was Berkeley, wandered down the street with my boob out nursing her and eyeballing the expensive shops. Nobody batted an eye.

Yesterday we went to Tres Hermanas with her for the first time (unless you count the bazillion times I ate there while pregnant) and I spilled both salsa and cilantro dressing on her wee head.

Okay, all for now. Typing arm tired.

Email to Georgia Pacific (maker of Brawny paper towels)

I just wanted to let you know that your sample in today's Sacramento Bee newspaper turned me off to your product. I will not be purchasing Brawny in future because the sample packaging was wholly environmentally irresponsible. There was a plastic bag around the newspaper that was two layers at one point, a small plastic wrapper and a piece of cardstock all to house ONE paper towel. And incidentally, it wasn't even effective, because I had to dig the packaging out of my recycle bin to remember the brand name.

Happy Earth Day.

It went well

The Japanese festival was fun. We made a TON of sushi and a lot of students tried it who never had before. One of the kids brought low tables so the kids could sit on the floor, there were shoji screens up, and it had a very "tea garden" feel. The baby was mellow all day & I managed to nurse her discreetly twice. We saw many (but not all) of the coworkers I wanted to see. The kids are so funny: everywhere we went they were yelling my name & running over to visit with us. My crazy sophomores sang the baby a song, and we took a picture of her tiny head above a painted sumo (pic to follow). There were games, a marraige booth, art, a zen garden... Plus there were several guest speakers who talked about internment & other various educational crap. Oh, and an Aikido demonstration and board-breaking! And karaoke and Dance Dance Revolution. I think a good time was had by all.

One of the containers of sushi rice got accidentally taken outside and served with teriyaki chicken, but we had plenty (mainly because the sushi-making seniors kind of petered out after going through the first 9 containers!).

Okay, left-handd typing is hard and I have to rinse the dye out of my hair -- it had faded to a really nothing kind of color, so now it'll be FIRE! What can I say? I get bored.

71 cups of rice (Nope, 141!)

Yep, that's what I just made. Tomorrow is the Japanese cultural festival at school. Yesterday I went shopping for rice, cucumbers, avocados, cider vinegar, wasabi, pickled ginger, nori... Can you guess what I'm making?

I'm really excited about the festival. I love Japanese culture & food (even took three semesters of college level Japanese language, not that it did me any good other than fulfill a degree requirement), and I'm so glad the kids overwhelmingly voted Japan in as this year's theme. Even if it's only because they all love anime and J-pop.

Anyway, I had promised the kids that even though I'm on maternity leave, I'd come help with the festival and bring the baby to show her off. I also told one of the festival organizers that if he could round up the students and the money, I could have sushi, miso, and green tea going in the "teahouse" that my room is being transformed into. So this morning I heaved my 50 pound bag of rice onto the counter and got busy. I made 71 cups of rice for sushi, and they're all seasoned & ready to go (well, except the last batch -- I ran out of vinegar). It is a LOT of rice, so I'm going to haul it to school later today. Tomorrow we take 20 avocados, 20 cucumbers, and all the rest of the ingredients. I'm hoping that it's enough to give 250 people about half a roll each (4 pieces). I frankly think I need some more rice, but I'm pretty much out of containers to put it in. Maybe I can pick up a few more big containers at the store and make several more batches tonight. I suspect it'll take about 1 cup of rice per roll, and everything else I bought was more like to make 150 rolls. I suppose I can do a bunch more this afternoon.

Whew! The things I do for love, huh?

Edited to add the new total: 141 cups. It may still not be quite enough, but it's much closer and it's all I'm doing. I'm baking these in the oven in disposable (recyclable) foil pans I bought at the grocery store. You put the rice in the pan, add boiling water, cover with foil, then put them in the oven for 30 minutes. It seems to work pretty well, and it definitely cuts down on dishes.

The dumbass test

So far, we have had two doctor appointments with Zadie. At each, we have been given a green sheet of paper and asked to fill it out while we wait. It is a list of questions with yes or no answers. They go something like this:

Do you always lay your baby on his/her back to sleep? No Yes

Do you put blankets or toys in the bed with your baby? Yes No

Do you feed your baby only breastmilk or formula? No Yes

Do you have your water heater set to 120 degrees or less? No Yes

Do you shake your baby when he/she cries? Yes No

Do you always have your baby in a rear-facing carseat? No Yes


If you haven't noticed, not only are these questions for COMPLETE DUMBASSES, they give you an enormous hint, in that the correct answer is always on the right.

In fact, if you simply circled the one on the right each time, you'd be in good shape.

I happened to skip one yesterday, and Sweetie asked me why I hadn't answered "the peeing one." I instructed him to read it more carefully.

Does your baby boy shoot pee at distances of at least a foot?

Ha! That explains it!

I sometimes post more private photos to Flickr, like breastfeeding pictures, but mark them private so no one can see them but me. But the other day I posted one and it immediately had 1 view before I had a chance to mark it private. I thought it was an anomaly, but then today I posted this picture.

In the five seconds between it loading and me marking it private, there were FOUR views! Yikes! Well, I figured it out -- you can look at all the most recently loaded photos from everyone and just keep refreshing the page. And presumably, you can click on anything with boobies to view it.

Worst. Soup. Ever.

If you have a recipe for avgolemono (Greek lemon-rice soup) and it calls for the juice of 6 lemons, the writer of the recipe is probably anticipating that you live in someplace like Illinois where they get small, anemic lemons without much juice. Either that or the Greeks are fucking crazy. You'd have to be so high on Ouzo to have enjoyed that soup...

Oh Christ, really! Sweetie and I laughed ourselves to tears watching each other try to eat this soup. It was disgusting.

My post-partum body

I don't hate it.

Yeah, weird, I know. I have had plenty of body image issues in this lifetime, but right now, I'm just fine with my body. Here are some reasons why.

It frickin' gave birth! Give it a break!
It's very womanly.
Hell, I've been fatter.
It took 9 months to get that big; it'll take some time to lose the weight, too.
I'm in my regular clothes. Okay, not all of them, but my more generously sized ones.
Who's lookin'? That's right, nobody. The public is too busy looking at the baby, and my dear husband is blinded by love (bless him).
And finally -- well, it's not that bad! Truly, I don't look much bigger than I did before I was pregnant.

So there's no big emo dump here. Look away, nothing to see here. I'm fine. I have a little tummy, a few stretch marks, a very faint linea negra, and a tattoo that needs a touch up. And I'm happy.

Couch, lemons, cosleeper

We didn't get the garage sale couch. But now we had NO couch, so I had to make a decision. Something was nagging at me about buying an Ikea couch to replace a Pottery Barn couch -- it felt like a step backward to dorm room furniture. But on the other hand, I didn't want to spend an assload of money on a couch that is almost certain to be tortured in the manner of all couches in homes with babies/toddlers. And that Pottery Barn couch, well, it had to go. It was uncomfortable and way too big. I have a side table that I love almost indecently, and you couldn't even see it because it was dwarfed by the couch.

So yesterday Mom and I went to Ikea. About the third couch I saw was the Karlstad. It was retro enough that I found it cute, Danish Modern enough that I thought Sweetie might like it, and it was comfortable! The color of the display model was the exact color of the needlework on another chair I have as well as the predominant color in a painting that's a focal point in the room. When a yellow-shirted Ikea employee came over to ask if I needed anything, I bought the couch on the spot! Sweetie assembled it and it looks great in the room. Much more proportional, and did I mention comfortable? So yay!

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. And a nice salad dressing. And sorbet. And limoncello. And lemon bars. And avgolemono. And maybe preserved lemons. And possibly jelly. Sweetie pruned the lemon tree the other day and got a whole bunch of lemons (speaking of Ikea, actually, a whole Ikea bag full). I made lemonade. I made cleaning solution. I juiced and froze two whole muffin tins worth. And then I went looking for more things to do with the approximately 40 more lemons I had in the kitchen. We are going to have some very lemony things to eat for a while. Keep in mind that that's only what he picked. There are hundreds more on the tree that are certian to drop and end up in the yard waste pile soon. I hate waste, but what are you gonna do? They're like zucchini -- no one will take them!

Finally, THANK YOU to the makers of the First Years Close and Secure Co-Sleeper. That's right -- I'm doing a product endorsement. After a really rough night Friday night, we decided we had to do something different. She was having this hellish hour or two at night where she would just scream blood-curdlingly while Sweetie tried to comfort her. He was cussing like a sailor while I tried to sleep, but the screaming and the cussing were both coming through the monitor, which was turned to eleven. He was frustrated, she was frustrated, I was frustrated, and no one was getting any sleep. We had tried having shifts, but I ended up having to get up on my shift, because the only answer for her was booby. I would ay down with her, which calmed her down and put her to sleep, but if I then tried to put her in the crib she'd wake up and start fussing again. So I pretty much just had to lay with her most of the night. But then I couldn't sleep, because I am paranoid, and if I did drift off I was having these horrible nightmares about her being hurt or sick. On Friday I got about two hours of sleep total. That day we bought the co-sleeper.

It sits in the bed between us and affixes to the mattress. It's like a little baby box with mesh sides so she can't suffocate and we can put our arms in to comfort her. She doesn't like being in it much more than she likes being in the crib, but at least I can comfort her the second she starts fussing instead of having to wander down the hall. It keeps a little fuss from becoming a big one. Also, I can put my arm around her, sort of, which seems to comfort her. And if she loses her pacifier, I can just pop it right back in. If she needs to nurse? I scoop her out, nurse her, and put her back. No getting up, no having to wear pajamas or put on a robe or whatever. And I am much less paranoid about her dying, because she's still on her back on a firm surface with no blankets.

I didn't want to co-sleep. Well, I kind of did. I liked the idea of being close to your baby. But I didn't want to share my marital bed. I love my husband, you know? On the other hand, if we didn't get some sleep, we were going to kill each other. And growing up with a deputy coroner for a parent has lots of benefits -- I know a TON of interesting stories -- but I also sort of have dead babies on the brain. Dead babies seem to come up a lot more than they might if your parent was, say, an accountant. So I know that SIDS is a real risk, and that three of the worst things you can do are put a kid on a soft, pillow-top mattress (like we have), have lots of blankets (does a down comforter count?), and put them in a bed with a very heavy sleeper (I always have been). If she were to simply share our bed like many families do (safely, I'm sure -- I'm not judging anyone else), I'd be in a near-constant state of panic. So this seems like a good temporary solution. We're still putting her in the crib when we go to bed, but then the first time I feed her and she fusses or seems like she doesn't want to go back to sleep, I bring her in our room. In two nights, I haven't heard a blood-curdling scream or a curse word. It's like heaven. I'm hoping we'll get her back in the crib when she's a little older and sleeps for longer periods. But I'm living in the now, and for now, this works.

Well, that was a nice spring

'Cause it's summer now! Sheesh, yesterday I went out in the afternoon, and it was HOT. Sweaty, sunglasses-wearing, get that blanket off the baby HOT. Yesterday evening I took her to the Second Saturday art walk, and the first place (where Drummergirl was showing her textile art) was so damn stifling I had to leave after very little time catching up, even though seven of my friends were there (well, nine, but Monkeygirl and her, ahem, new friend were leaving and I was supposed to meet them downtown).

I was tailing Monkeygirl all the way to about 21st and J streets (from Sideshow Studios -- shoutout, holla!) when she turned off to find parking and so did I. I ended up parking several blocks away from the action after circling several blocks with no luck. I walked to the gallery where we were supposed to meet, but was waylaid by massive crowds. Actually, I described it to Monkeygirl later as Suessian, because it was so very Mulberry Street, really. I passed two bands which had crowds in front of them, got stuck behind a bunch of people moseying, was stopped every few seconds by people asking "Is that a baby in there? Oh, how old is she? Oh my gosh, she's so precious" (well, how could they help it... she IS precious), and was even at one point stuck behind a woman whose fucking poodle kept walking on its hind legs. Each time he did she would stop, lean over, and give him a treat. And then there was a parade, and I'm not even kidding.

By the time I finally got to the gallery, I realized it was the one that was having a massive blow-out shindig (the tiny space was hosting something like 2,000 pieces). There was a band out front doing Doors covers, a buffet line on the sidewalk, and a guy directing traffic in the doorway. I believe he was keeping track of how many people were going in and out to comply with fire codes. I kind of rushed through not even looking at the art because it was so stifling and crowded. I never found Monkeygirl and New Friend. I walked our sort of usual circuit, ran into more people I knew, was waylaid by a guy spinning fire (seen it, not impressed), and was ultimately so hot and cranky because of the crowds that I just went home.


Okay, anyway, new topic! Yesterday at a garage sale I saw a couch and loveseat that would be PERFECT for my living room, and we've been looking for one, because our current couch is oatmeal-colored and we have a baby. Oh, and it's a daybed, so unless you prop 37 pillows behind your back, you cannot both have a backrest and have your feet on the floor. You must choose. Normally I choose to have a backrest and let my feet dangle like Edith Ann (pictured). Anyway, I asked how much the couch was, hurried home to ask Sweetie if I could buy it, hurried back to give the dude the money, and then found out that teenagers had already bought it (before I was there -- the guy who was watching it when I asked didn't know that). Damn teenagers. I stalked the house this morning to find out if there was any chance they hadn't picked it up, but no one was around. I even left a note. Sigh. Anyway, now we've disassembled our couch and have to go buy a new one anyway. Oh, if you're in Sacramento and want my old couch, please look at Craigslist! Discount for blog readers.

Today I yet again ignored the maxim "sleep while your baby sleeps" in order to get some things done around the house. Most importantly, I got rid of some clothes. Here is an example of my internal monologue.

"This one never fit right in the sleeves. Gone! This one makes you look like a lesbian -- not that there's anything wrong with that, but with the short hair and sensible shoes, you just cannot also pull off plaid flannel. This one is too short for a woman of your age. Ouch, did I just say that? Crap, this one's too short, too. This one... is a halter top. And so is this. You can only have one painting shirt. No! Only one! Just because the blood donation place and the AIDS walk people and the Run to Feed the Hungry people want to give you free shirts does not mean you have to take them, keep them, or wear them. Your boobs barely fit in this pre-pregnancy, and they will never fit in it again. This one digs into your side... or is it this one? Crap, I'll have to keep them both and try them on later. Pants. Oh, pants, pants pants. Pants, you escape my wrath this time only because I do not want to try you on. But I'm coming for you, pants."

Baby's crying. See ya!

Quiet alert time

Did I mention we got a video camera from Grandma for Mother's and Father's Day?

Zadie Face

Don't panic!

IMG_1367
Originally uploaded by countmockula

I'm not on fire, I'm not being electrocuted, and I am not currently touching a Van de Graaf generator. Nope. This is the bedhead. It is substantial today because I was hot last night and my head got sweaty. This also explains why my pajama top was inside-out -- I took it off at one point, then quickly threw it back on with Sweetie's voice came over the baby monitor saying "backup! I need backup!"

Other non-baby photos taken in the 6 o'clock hour this morning include the stalker-y ones taken through the blinds of our across-the-street neighbor tending to her putting green, er, lawn. Sweetie's obsessed with her obsession with her perfect lawn.

New cute baby photos can also, as always, be seen on Flickr here. The new ones always get added to the end.

Good news on the not working front

Sweetie's first: He did his math wrong, so instead of being off, paid, through the 9th of May, he's off, paid, through the 15th of May!

I recently found out that even though I have 8 weeks of sick time saved up, I cannot actually USE it all, because I only have a doctor's note for 6 weeks*. I think that sucks, but she did say that if I could work it out with my school site, I could use 9 days of "personal necessity." I talked to my school secretary, and she said it's okay, so I'm actually off, paid, through the 15th of May also.

That means that I only have one month off unpaid, and the good news about that is that we received our tax refund and put it immediately into savings, so we have the equivalent of a month's pay stashed away for when we need it (well, we have more than that, but some of it's earmarked for other things).

So that's today's good news!

*The side benefit of this is that I'll have 9 days of sick time left over that will carry over to next year, when I earn another 10 days. So should the baby get sick or something (or me, I guess, but I don't get sick that often, knock wood), I'll have 19 days to play with next year.

Fact:

I was an entirely formula-fed baby, and I am perfectly healthy.

Fact: So are lots and lots of other babies.

Fact: Any breastmilk is better than no breastmilk.

Fact: She is getting lots of important breastmilk-related nutrition/immunity/other benefits.

Fact: 50% supply is more than I might have had given the extent of my surgery.

Fact: The time we are spending skin-to-skin is important for her development.

Fact: None of the above facts make me feel any better that Zadie lost weight between her last weight check and today.

Fact: We will be giving her more formula from here on out.

Nighttime according to Zadie

Acceptable activities between the hours of 9pm and 5 am:

Cuddling
Rocking
Nursing
Being held
Lying prone with one or both parents lying down next to me

Unacceptable activities:

Lying in the crib

Means of expressing dissatisfaction:

Screaming

Music

There's a lot of music in our house lately, but unlike the normal kind (coming out of one set of speakers or another), pretty much all of it is coming out of our mouths. Right now our greatest hits include:

It's Booby Time (to the tune of Flight of the Conchords' "Business Time.")
I Want Booby (to the tune of Bow Wow Wow's "I Want Candy.")
Zadie, Zadie (to the tune of Billy Squier's "Stroke Me.")
I'm Cranky (to the tune of "Volare.")
You're My Little Zadie Deville (to the tune of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town.")
You're My Sweetie Pie (to the tune of Black Sabbath's Iron Man, the guitar part of which, when hummed, is also good for getting her to remember to suck while nursing)
Zadie Finn (to the tune of "Peggy Sue.")
Angry Eyes (to the tune of Eric Carmen's "Hungry Eyes.")

We sing some songs with their real lyrics, too. I'm particularly fond of Simon & Garfunkel's "59th street bridge song (Feelin' Groovy)," Joni Mitchel's "Chelsea Morning," Paul Simon's "Loves Me Like a Rock" and "That Was Your Mother," the Beach Boys' "Surfer Girl"...

But there are some things for which only classics will do. We've both been singing her "You Are So Beautiful." I had to download "Calendar Girl" so I could remember the lyrics. And because they teach you how to nurse by telling you to be "tummy to tummy" with your baby, I have to sing Harry Belafonte's "Zombie Jamboree" several times a day. ("Back to back, belly to belly. Don't give a damn 'cause I'm stone* dead already. Back to back, belly to belly at the zombie jamboree."

*Every version of the lyrics online says it's "'I'm done dead already." I misheard it for years and now I'm stuck on the wrong lyrics.

Pic of the day

My first Smartwool socks
Originally uploaded by countmockula

And lots more to see if you click on it to follow the link...

I have a bit of time now

Sweetie's got the baby, so I can more fully update you on the last few days. Last night we were at Grandma's (the artist formerly known as Mom) for belated Easter (or, as Boompah called it "We don't need no stinkin' Catholocs to tell us when to celebrate Easter," or, as I called it "Greek-Orthodox-Easter-since-nobody-knows-when-the-hell-that-is-anyway [no offense Gynagirl], or, as I'm sure Sweetie would call it, "Bleaster"). I was sitting on the couch next to Monkeygirl and had just finished nursing the Peapod when I smelled something. Something yucky. I went to check the diaper, and instead found her umbilical stump, just a penny-sized round scab, attached to her upper thigh. Her belly button is still a little wet, but quickly drying out. Looks like an innie!

Wait, did you catch that part where I was nursing the Peapod? Yep, we figured out how to nurse in the Maya wrap(I practiced at home first) and got her to nurse twice while at Grandma's. She's been on a bit of a nurse-a-thon (as of this paragraph, she's with me again), and I understand that's normal for her age. Right now we're testing out the supplemental nursing system, which means she's sucking on boob, but getting a boob/formula mix. I feel like a cyborg, and she has the confused look of someone who thought they were taking a swig of 7Up and got Crystal Pepsi instead. But it's supposed to prevent nipple confusion and increase my supply, both of which are Good Things.

We got some cute pictures last night, so I'll have to post those when I'm free again. And Grandma gave us an early Mother's Day and Father's Day gift -- a Flip! With only basically one function, recording, it's easy enough that our next YouTube upload will not begin with "Oh crap, it wasn't recording."

In other news, yay for the Dustbuster! Miss Fussbudget was having a hissy when I spotted some potato chip crumbs on Sweetie's rug. I remembered Dr. Harvey Karp's suggestion about white noise -- vacuums, hair dryers, etc. -- and I got the Dustbuster. She was instantly calmed, and as a bonus, there are no more chip crumbs on the floor.

Okay, I think that was good for a 1-handed post. Now I have a kink in my neck and need to look to my right for about 45 minutes!

Ch-ch-ch-changes

Already things are changing. Zadie has a stronger cry for when she's REALLY pissed off. Tonight her umbilical stump fell off (it was gross). She's nursing more often (the books say this is about time for a growth spurt), and she's pretty much completely off the shield We're doing well!

Thought I'd get to write more, but she needs my attention. Take care!
--CM

Dreams

My readers who have never wanted children probably won't get this. And there are a lot of you, I know -- my ratio of friends who don't want kids is surprisingly (to me, anyway) high. I get that from the outside, it looks like there's a lot of peeing, pooping, burping, vomiting, screaming, and then some peaceful sleeping time for which one must thank the heavens for the break. I know people who think babies look like creepy little aliens, and I get that, too (of course, MY child looks beautiful in every way, but I get it).

I know it's all based in some sort of biological imperative to populate the earth, but I have always wanted kids. If you'd asked me when I was five, I'd have said I was going to live in a seven-story house and marry someone like Pastor Dave from Gloria Dei Lutheran church, but I was also going to have kids. When I was in high school, I started to really dream about having kids. Afterwards, in my twenties, the urge just got stronger until... well, you know the story of how hard we tried to have this one. There's never been a time in my life when I didn't want children (or at least one child). In fact, for most of the past ten years, the easiest way to make myself cry would be to think "So, what if I never had kids?" It was just unimaginable.

And now that she's here, so many of my little, specific dreams are coming true. Scoff if you will, but I always imagined walking around a peaceful neighborhood with a child. I always imagined singing to a baby. I always wanted to breastfeed, to rock a child in a rocking chair, to walk around the house doing normal tasks, but with a sleeping baby in my arms. And now? Well, for example yesterday we walked to Corti Brothers, the same route I used to take when I was pregnant. And on those pregnant walks, I used to sing Paul Simon's "Loves Me Like a Rock" and tap on my belly in time. Yesterday, Zadie was in the Moby wrap, and I sang the song and patted her on the bottom in time. It seems so small and insignificant, but it's so much of what I ever wanted. This morning I rocked her in the same rocker my mom rocked me in, and we nursed, and I sang her "Chelsea Morning" as the sun came up. Maybe it's not your dream, but it was mine, and my dreams are coming true.

Now if only we could get the non-crying model. (Just kidding.)

Hey Suebob!

I don't have your email address, but thank you for the beautiful blanket! We love it. Zadie's a snugglebug, so furry blankets with funky animals on them are just the thing!

So... breastfeeding.

I won't give you all the gory details, but you already knew I was trying to breastfeed after having had a reduction (well, you do if you're a regular reader). That tends to create supply problems, but knowledge is power, and I am one knowledgable motherfucker.

Of course, then things were complicated by the fact that she was in the special care nursery for so long and they wouldn't let me nurse her. (They weren't being malicious, just cautious.) There are supply and demand issues, and if there's no demand, there's no supply. I was doing my best to pump, but didn't do it as often as a baby would normally nurse, and the pump isn't as effective as a baby anyway.

And then, well, for the first two days at home I was a little tentative about trying it, partly because we had visitors and I was a little reluctant to be like "Hey, thanks for coming to see the baby, but we're going to go sequester ourselves for an hour and practice nursing. There are some magazines on the table. Laters!"

So anyway, we got off to a rough start. She was nursing a bit, but also taking between 10 and 12 ounces of formula each day. But then my milk came in with a vengeance, and I have the laundry to prove it. Our visitors were gone, and we got lots of practice time in. At first I was still a little hesitant about nursing -- when she was hungry, she wanted it NOW, and the bottle was the way to get that. But we made a couple changes, like putting slow-flow nipples on the bottles, and waking her up to nurse so that we were trying to nurse before she got crazy-angry-hungry. By Monday, we had five long nursing sessions, and I went online to see how I might start leaning towards more boob, less bottle.

I got some great suggestions and started implementing them. Yesterday, we nursed 9 times and only supplemented with 5 ounces of formula. I figured it was working, because she never got crazy-angry-hungry, and she still had plenty of wet diapers.

At 3am, I nursed her. We hadn't had any supplement at all since 10am, and for the very first time all day, she got hungry-fussy right afterwards, and she also hadn't had a wet diaper in several hours, so we gave her a little more than an ounce of formula. She immediately peed up a storm.

Okay, so anyway, today we had an appointment with a lactation consultant. We talked about several things, then we put Zadie on the boob, let her feed about ten minutes on one side and five on the other (she and I on our own had been going a lot longer), and weighed her before and after. She had lost a little weight from birth, but during the feeding she gained 1.2 oz, which is all milk, duh. The LC told us I had about 50% supply, and that we were going to have to supplement somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 - 12 ounces a day, or as much as before I was nursing her regularly.

Here are the ways I can feel about this:

Option 1: The vessel is half-full. Yay, I have 50% supply! That's more than some women have, and I might not have had any, right? She's getting all the benefits of breastfeeding, including skin-to-skin contact and that all-important immunity. The weighing today confirmed that I do have milk after all,and she's getting it, and I had been worried about that.

Option 2: The vessel is half-empty. Damn, I really thought I might have a better supply than that. I spent 24 hours yesterday on an experiment that starved my daughter. I'm Mengele. Talk about fucking up as a parent right on day one (okay, day 9). She is still down from her birth weight. Ugh. I suck.

Option 3: Skeptical. According to the forums devoted to breastfeeding after reduction, the "weigh-feed-weigh" thing is "notoriously inaccurate." I was given an example of someone who was only supplementing 2 oz a day, but her kid was gaining weight steadily, and when they did the weigh-feed-weigh, they thought she was only producing half an ounce. Also, we've gotten to know our baby a bit: it's obvious when she's hungry. She begins by poking her tongue out, then she opens her mouth if you put something against it, then she starts to fuss and cry. She was NOT doing that yesterday. If I'd fed her and then she had showed those hunger signs, I swear I would have given her formula. And did, in fact, twice. But for 16 hours, she was content with just breastmilk. And after all, our nursing sessions at home are a lot longer than the one today in the office.

To be perfectly honest, if I had not had a reduction and she had not had that time in the special care nursery (and I were not such an obsessive worrywart)... Okay, if I were someone else entirely and I came home with a baby, nursed her nine times and gave her 5 oz worth of supplement, I would probably be kicking back watching cable and eating cookies without a care in the world right now. I wouldn't be comparing myself with the Third Reich or crying. So why am I, you know?

I don't have an answer yet, nor have I chosen which way to feel. I'm sort of pinballing between them right now. Sorry to leave this conclusion-less...

Sweetie is not very comfortable with this...

because you can see his hairy chest, but I think it's damn near the sweetest thing ever.

Zadie's first video -- she holds her head up!! You have to watch until the end, too, when there is a surprise, head-butt ending!

New baby miscellany

Well, we're figuring things out. The first two nights were mildly miserable. She's not fond at all of the crib, and it's hard to get her in there and settled down. But now we've sort of figured out her routines (she wants booby, then to cuddle a bit, then bottle, then to cry a bit and maybe get changed, then she'll sleep like a rock until we wake her up again). We took shifts, because I tend to stay up later than Sweetie and he tends to get up earlier than I do, so I'm on 10-2 and he's 2-6. Generally within our shifts, we're up a couple times, once for around an hour, but then we get to sleep, too. Last night I probably got almost 6 hours.

They say "sleep when your baby sleeps." You know, take naps. We tried that yesterday, and the phone rang, the lawn guys came, and on and on. But we did lay down and close our eyes for brief periods.

She has really, really strong muscles! Yesterday I had her on a pillow (a Boppy, for the moms out there) in the "football hold" at my left side. She started pushing her feet against my arm and ended up locomoting like 8 inches across the pillow. She can also hold her head up for more than ten seconds at a time, which I think is amazing. I put her on my chest and she lifts it up to look around.

I never thought I would find someone else passing gas to be so cute! Perhaps it's because she always seems to let go on Dad. Tee hee. The other day I tried nursing her under a blanket when a friend came by (unsuccessful, by the way), and she gave herself a little Dutch oven!

The neighbors have been so sweet! The Neighbor Who Isn't Ed Begley Junior (TNWIEBJ) sent over a really nice gift basket (photos on Flickr) which included a personalized bib! This is her first item with her name on it! It's also got a sweet peapod toy, as well as some clothing, booties, hat, washcloths... I mean, wow, right? Isn't that nice? And the neighbor who IS Ed Begley Junior brought over a book and a loaf of some sort of yummy homemade bread.

Okay, we have a fussbudget attack! See ya!

Does this really need a title?

IMG_1264
Originally uploaded by countmockula