Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Sleep Training The Bean... This One's For The Haters

It continues to amaze me how often peeps will have opinions on how or why you do certain things as a parent.  Don't get me wrong, everyone is entitled to their opinion, but thinly veiled judgements... well, I'm not one of those people who take it to heart.  Simply because I won't let what others think of my parenting affect my sense of self-worth.  What they think about my blog, well that's another thing entirely.

But I must admit that while I don't take these things to heart, I cannot let it go without commenting.  Because that's how I roll.

So, without further ado, let us begin:

At Millie's 2-month well child check, I mentioned to the doc that she was only sleeping three hours at a time during the night (and the day).  And it was KILLING ME.  Because I was feeding her at midnight and three and then six.  And since I have to go back to work in a week... seriously, HELP ME!  Hazel was throwing down 6 hours in a row when she was 2 months old... and Millie's my easy baby.  What should I do??? 

That's when he told me that she should be sleeping between 4-6 hours at a time overnight  and that when she's waking up after 3 hours, it's because it's her natural sleep cycle and if I come in whenever she cries out, well of course she'll take a little nip!!  So, he recommended to put her down awake but drowsy at night and let her cry it out and then let her cry it out until it's been at least 4 hours.  And here was the kicker:  No. Binkie.

WHAT??  But she needs her binkie.  I'm sorry, doc, but I have to be an advocate for my daughter here.  He just shrugged and said that it's up to me... but to prepare myself for getting up several times a night to put the binkie back in... maybe until she was old enough to find it in the dark and put it back in her mouth.


So, that night, we put Millie down sans binkie.  And, since the doc said that the swaddling was unnecessary and it wasn't the Jimmy Arms that were waking her up (this is after I explained to him what Jimmy Arms were )(and after I questioned if I could trust the expertise of a doctor who had never watched Seinfeld.), I didn't swaddle her.  Sort of let her free ball it, if you will.

That first night was HELL.  Hell the likes of which I had never experienced before... even with Hazel.  I thought that letting Hazel cry it out was awful.  And that chick cried ALL THE TIME.  You would think we would have been immune to her crying by the time we let we cry it out.  (We weren't.)  But it turns out that listening to your baby - the baby that NEVER cries - cry it out is a GAZILLION TIMES WORSE. 

That first night was reminiscent of every night of Hazel's first month of life.  I didn't like myself.  I didn't like Benny.  The only thing I did like was Hazel's Easter candy.  Turns out, I'm a bit of a stress eater.  WHO KNEW?

I won't get into all of the distressing details, just suffice to say that she was up at 12:30, 3 and 5.  After she wouldn't go down at 3, I gave up and stuck a binkie in her mouth and voila!  Blessed, blessed silence!

The next day, I was a zombie... but I think it wore on Millie as well because that chick slept from 9-1... which allowed me to sleep from 10:30-1.  All without a binkie.  Is it this easy?  Was it really just one night of hell?  Well, that remains to be seen, but I can report that last night, Millie went to bed at a little before 9 and slept until 3:45. I can totally get behind those kind of numbers.  The one concession I did make to her was swaddling her again... that seems to be key for her and I'm totally down with it.

So... here's where I verbalize what bugged me so much that I couldn't sleep that first night before she even woke up.


There were three pieces of advice my mother gave me when I had Hazel.

1) You should definitely have five or six of these.
2) You know this baby better than anyone else.  Don't let anyone tell you how to raise her.  You're the mom. YOU KNOW BEST.
3) Always remember, you invited this baby to come live with YOU.  You're still in charge.  If you're not then this child will end up running the house.

And while the first piece of advice was promptly thrown into the incinerator in my brain, the last two actually weren't too bad.

Listen, I know that people have their opinions.  I know that people may think that taking away a binkie is mean... cuz, you know... she had it in the womb and everything.


And I also know that the idea of having a 2-month old cry it out is harsh.  And that I'm doing it because I'm starting to back to work and need to be much more rested during the day speaks volumes about the kind of mother I am.  And that peeps may think I'm a bit selfish and not willing to put it out there for my baby.  I mean, how hard is it to get up three times a night?

Let me say this to that:
First off, yes, I'm doing this for me.  But I'm also doing this for her.  The studies are out there that prove that the more babies sleep and learn how to be good sleepers at a young age, the better it is for them and their developing brains.  And they're more pleasant during the day.  Secondly, if I'm a zombie during the day and am grumpy in the morning because I'm lacking in sleep, I'm not a good Mommy.  Simple as that.  And since I only get to see Hazel a few hours in the morning and evening, I want her to have a happy, fully present Mommy.  And, I dunno... maybe I'm just someone that needs more sleep than the average Mommy.  That doesn't mean I care any less about my children than the next Mommy.  It's because I care about my children that I'm doing this.  How many of you can say that when your child was 4 months old, she was sleeping 13-14 hours a night? 


So there's THAT.

Oh, and also?  Guess who slept without a binkie for 7 hours last night?  And guess who still was happy to see me this morning?  Guess who's not going to remember that back on April 25, Mommy threw away her binkie when she was 8 weeks old?  


Bottom line, while it was hard to listen to this had to be done.  I've often thought that a lot of issues that we as parents complain about aren't really our kids issues, but ours.  Like me saying that Hazel would never nap in her crib.  Please.  I look back at it now and realize that I just wasn't comfortable with her napping in her bed and was trying to avoid confrontation with her when she started to cry.

But, when I thought about it long and hard, I remembered my mom's advice:  This is my house.  I invited these babies to come share it with me.  BUT I'M STILL IN CHARGE.

Unless they're teething.  Then all bets are off.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

The Playhouse!

With the weather hopefully starting to turn warm soon, Benny and I decided that the girls need more living space.  Of course, for Millie that just means adjusting the snuzzler in the car seat.  So for now, the new living space is benefiting Hazel.

Benny worked on the house every day that it wasn't raining.  Which, in the last two weeks has been exactly two days.

 Seriously... it even comes with a sink and a grill!  Not to mention the working doorbell.  Which is something our house doesn't even have!

The finished product is freakin' adorable and we can't wait for the girls to play in it!  It's obvious to me that I'm going to need to get some supplies.  Hazel's upset that the sink doesn't have real running water, but I think if maybe I get her some plastic food and dishes, she'll get over it.  If not, there's a hose nearby.

 We just need to plant some flowers in the pots under the windows.  But since someone keeps pulling Mommy's tulips and bringing them to me in a way that makes my heart melt, we may decide to do fake flowers for the time being.

I'm already imagining play date with friends and tea parties with dollies.  And possible, maybe if Mommy chills out just a little bit when they get older, sleep outs!

Next up, Daddy's building a sandbox!!

Thursday, April 21, 2011


For those of you who are trying to make better decisions diet-wise and perhaps have stumbled upon a, oh, I dunno... Quinoa Chocolate Treat recipe online and decided to try that rather than bake the chocolate cake mix sitting in the pantry (because you're trying to get some extra nutrition with your chocolate addiction).   Ahem... LET ME SERVE AS YOUR WARNING.

Exhibit A:

Right about now, you may be saying to yourself:  "Self?  That's an interesting concept.  And judging from the picture, it looks relatively harmless.  How bad can it possibly be?"

Enter Jaynee, stage right.  My job in this little scenario is to jump on that grenade and explain that the recipe calls for the quinoa to be uncooked.  UN. COOKED. 

See... for a logical person (i.e.: someone who sleeps more than 4 hours a night), this should have been the first clue.  But, since I have two babies under the age of 18 months, it's clear that the logical side of my brain hasn't been engaged in a while and... well, you do the math.

But, I digress.  Let me tell you about THIS little treat.  Let me take your imagination on a little trip around the mad, mad world of horrific desserts.  Imagine taking bird seed, coating it with chocolate, marshmallow and for some unknown reason... peppermint extract.  I think that the peppermint is included to take your mind off the fact that you're eating RAW quinoa. 

Then imagine that you've sat down after putting down your baby (finally!) and instead of a nice glass of red wine to finish off a hectic day, you decide to nibble on your new little treat while patting yourself on the back for being a little more healthy in your compulsive eating habits. 

Can you taste it? Can you feel the raw little pebbles of raw quinoa crunching on your molars?  Can you feel the peppermint trying its best to cover up the quinoa but is instead somehow highlighting it?   

Yea... whatever you're tasting in your imagination right now tastes like a creamy cheesecake compared to the nastiness I nibbled on tonight.  I can't even call it birdseed... because A) I wouldn't feed the wild birds outside my window that crap and B) even if I did, they wouldn't touch it. 

Not even the magpies. 

And those things eat roadkill. 

And I still need a chocolate fix.  

The only way my night can be salvaged is if an unsuspecting Benny comes home from Poker Night and sneaks a piece of it before he comes to bed.

That way, I'm not the only one who wants to scrub my tongue with a toilet brush.

The Bean's Two-Month Update

Dear Millie Bean,
You are 2 months old!  Can you believe that?  2. Months!!!

Your first two months have been pretty damn chill, Mill.  There's not a whole lot to complain about with you.  You're just a sweetie and never get too bugged about anything.

 Millie Bean - 8 Weeks Old

Wait... wait... that's not entirely true.  There are a couple things that cause my little bundle of sweetness to cry out in frustration.

But before we get into that, let me state for the record that you tolerate a lot of things.  You sleep through your sisters screeches of delight or despair.  You don't mind when I accidentally squirt breastmilk in your eye at 4 a.m.  You are cool with being in the car seat, the gym or the swing for extended periods of time.  You don't mind being out and about in the world, so I actually get to show you off to people rather than cower in the house afraid that something might startle you, causing you to lose your mind.  You don't need a bath to calm you down... cuz you're always calm. You sleep well in your crib.  In general, you're just a very agreeable baby.

Unless you have a wet diaper.  Holy hell, the scream you unleash on this world when your diaper is wet or dirty!  You DO NOT TOLERATE A WET DIAPER . And it's interesting... because with your older sister, I was never really able to differentiate her cries. I just always assumed she was crying because she was hungry.  Or just trying to make me lose my mind.

But you?  Well, you have a definite CHANGE MY DIAPER, MOMMY!  cry.  It starts out as a whimper.. like you're trying to give us time to change it before shit gets real.  And if we don't figure it out in time?  Yea.... the whole neighborhood knows that you need a new diaper . But once that diaper is changed?  You return to your regularly scheduled awesomeness.  Usually you fall asleep but occasionally, you stay awake and grace us with your beautiful smiles.

The other thing that gets your diaper in a bunch?  Skin-to-skin contact that causes sweating.  You are no down with any kind of sweat on your body.  So, I guess that means you're not just a Diaper Diva, you're a  Dryness Diva.  You apparently must be dry at all time, in all places of your body.  And let me tell you... that's pretty difficult to accommodate in baby.

You are only putting together about 4 hours in a row at night.  I'm really hoping that we hit the 6 hour mark in the next month or so.  I sometimes think that it's because we've got you wrapped up and you get a little warm and makes you break your No Sweating Rule.  But I can't NOT wrap you up because your damn arms are still Crazy Arms.  I'm hoping that this little neurological issue will clear itself up soon cuz Mommy goes back to work in another week and I need to get some rest at night cuz I can't make up for it during the day anymore.

Speaking of night feedings... yea, you're pretty much a pain in the booty to get back down after the 3:30 feeding.  It's been going on for quite some time now and I've given up trying to rock you back down and instead just hold you, kick up my feet and fall asleep.  After a while, you fall asleep to.  I usually wake back up at 5:30 and put you back in your crib.  Then I go to bed and fall asleep until your sister starts squawking around 6:30.  Which is also about the time you start to regain conciousness.  Awesome.

So far, the mornings with you and your sister have been fine.  Then again, I haven't been showering and trying to get ready for work while keeping the two of you happy.

You have really started to smile in the last couple of weeks.  After every feeding, you look up at me and smile and then we spend a few minutes smiling and laughing at each other.  I can't even begin to express how much I'm gonna miss that when I have to start back to work full-time and you start day care.  I'm worried that the ladies at day care (whom I adore) won't take the time to encourage you to keep smiling like that.  I'll have to give them a heads up. 

You'll note the cute onesie... custom made for you by my friend Erica who has been a great example to me of everything I could be doing crafty.  She's encouraged me so much that I've actually considered going to the local craft shop and not have a panic attack.  This... this is progress for your Mommy.  Hopefully by the time you're old enough to read this, you'll be able to think to yourself:  Really?  Mommy was once afraid of arts and crafts?  But she did a self-portrait out of nothing but elbow macaroni and food coloring the other day and it's AWESOME!

Right now, you're sound asleep in your swing.  You love that swing.  I love that swing.  That swing is the Baby Whisperer.  But, I think you have a wet diaper as you're starting to wake up. Damn those wet diapers!


Monday, April 18, 2011

Pardon The Rant, But...

Mommy needs a mental break.

I just don't understand how the house can get messy so quickly.  After I've spent the day cleaning it and making it somewhat livable again.  Then everyone comes home and 30 seconds later, the protein powder is in the living room, the tupperware is in the bathroom, the banana is in the dishwasher and the mousse is in the kitchen... all thanks to a curious and "helpful" toddler.  Then there are the pee-pee diapers that we've changed and are folded up, yet we just haven't quite gotten to throwing away (yea... we're gross.  deal with it.)  And the pile of shoes at the front door?  I wanna scream.

I think the biggest issue is that the living room is so damn cluttered with kid stuff.  At all times.  Stuff that you can't put away.  Like the swing for Millie.  The gym for Millie.  The art table for Hazel.  Hazel's rocking chair.  All of Hazel's toys that are stored in the bottom of our bookcases... it just looks cluttered. I love it... because it's a sign that a family lives here.  But... sometimes it feels clastrophobic.

And, when you add even one more item to the general living area?  Chaos.

I had to leave Millie with Benny tonight just so I could go to the local coffee shop to blog and not feel anxiety about the clutter and mess that I need to clean up before I can relax.  And I realize that I'm just as much to blame about this.  Good grief... if you people could see the bedroom . The piles and piles of laundry that have been done and folded... but I just haven't managed to get them on hangers or in drawers.  Because I feel like ALL I'm doing is cleaning and picking up the house and doing laundry and cooking... so, you know what?  SCREW the bedroom.  I just go in there to sleep, so I can close the door on it and pretend that it doesn't exist.  At least until bedtime.  And then I just push things to the side to create a path to and from my side of the bed so that when Millie's 3:30 a.m. feeding comes, I don't trip over a pair of my maternity underwear that I want to pretend don't still fit me.

I'm worried that Hazel is going to see this behavior and think that it's acceptable and then we're gonna have a problem down the line.  But... at this point in my life as a Mommy?  SCREW IT.

So, here I sit in the coffee shop listening to a couple on a blind date talking about their DUI's and how she got hooked on heroine in high school, while he talks about how great his cat is.  No joke.  I look forward to their next smoke break just so I can focus on the quiet.

Because that's one thing that's missing in my life right now.


18 Months. WHAT?

Dear Hazel,
It's been a rough couple of weeks for you.  But you have emerged relatively unscathed and looking more like the little angel that you are.

You (and everyone else in day care) had a runny nose for a couple of weeks.  But it didn't bother you and you went on your merry way.  In fact, Daddy "taught" you how to blow your nose.  Somewhat.  We hold the tissue to your nose and say:  "What sound does a moose make?' And then you snort into the tissue.  Meanwhile, we use this distraction to wipe your nose.  It seemed to be working well and then... well, then the runny nose started to really get bad.  We're talking green boogers and blood bad.  And you started to get SUPER fussy.  But, we figured that maybe you were teething again... because really, have you stopped teething in the last year?  Nope.  So, we'd give you some Tylenol and just deal with your fussiness.

Then one day, I got a call from day care telling me you had a fever.  Weird.  But, often when you have a fever at day care, I bring you home and check and it's a full degree less than what it was at day care and not a problem.  So, I wasn't too worried.  Until I picked you up and brought you home.  By the time we got home, your temp had gone from 100 at day care to 102. I quickly gave you some Tylenol and put you to bed. Because Mommy's an idiot that way.

You woke back up and your temp was normal so I thought we were out of the woods.  Until 2 hours later and your temp was back up to 102.  Blah.  By then, it was too late to get you to the doctor so we figured we'd see if you miraculously recovered overnight.  But, you woke up at midnight needing another dose and we knew it was a big deal.

The next day, we took you to the doc to find out that you had a bacterial sinus infection that absolutely needed treatment.  Yep.  Your mother... is completely inept with you.

Anyway, after just the first two doses of antibiotic, your nose was starting to clear up... but you were even more fussy than before.  We had started to give you children's Motrin because it lasted longer than the Tylenol because, for some stupid reason, we thought that you were still teething.

And still... you continued to fuss.  And it was the kind of "fuss" that echoed those first few weeks of your life where I wanted to rip off my ears and smash my head through the front door.  You remember those days, don't you?  When you were pure evil?  Yea... that's pretty much where we were with you last weekend.

Finally, after day two of the constant whining... the constant, unending, unmerciful whining that had both Mommy and Daddy at the end of our ropes... your Daddy went to change your pj's (yes... we left you in pj's until noon because we knew you would freak out if we dared change you) and noticed a rash that covered your entire torso.

Yea... that couldn't have been comfortable.  We immediately jumped into action (two days too late, but waddayagonnado?) and put some hydrocortisone on it and voila!  Within 15 minutes, our CrankyPants had almost returned to her regularly scheduled programming.  Turns out, someone's allergic to ibuprofen.  You know... the same stuff we'd been shoving down your gullet for two days because we thought your fussiness was due to teething, when really it was due to THE IBUPROFEN.

Seriously.  Parents. Of. The. Year.

What really sucked about the whole situation was that Grandma and Grandpa Nadolski were in town to visit and... yea, we didn't get to show off your angel-like qualities that we'd been telling everyone about.  Oh well... there's always San Diego.

In other news, you now have more toys at your disposal than you know what to do with.  And that Mommy keeps tripping over.  But, do you know what you want to play with?  The only thing that holds your attention for more than 15 seconds?  Markers.  Specifically, the pink marker.  More specifically, the pink marker's cap that you want to take on and off and on and off and on and off... and then when you put it on and can't get it off you scream and bring it to me to take off... so that you can put it back on again.


 Since the episode with the ibuprofen, you have been an angel.  I mean... seriously.  An ANGEL.  You are helpful around the house.  You like to help me empty the new dishwasher (which I'm already planning on reminding you of when you're 15).  Although, today you climbed on to the new dishwashers new door.  And Mommy's brain almost exploded.  Did I mention that it's NEW?

But, climbing is your thing these days.  As is dancing.  Not that dancing hasn't ALWAYS been your thing, but this dancing is more joyful and happy than before.  Like you're finally getting how amazing it is to move your body and think that everyone else in the world is stupid for not partaking in this magic.

You've started to talk a little more.  The other day, you blew my mind when I gave you some cottage cheese and you said "Thank You."  You.  Said.  THANK YOU.  While also making the sign for it.  I couldn't believe it!  Granted, the majority of it is jibber-jabber... and you are telling some amazing stories that I can't wait to hear about when you actually start talking...  but you are picking up on and imitating words that we say.  Shoes.  Cheese.  And... well, deuce.

Yep.  It's possible that Mommy and Daddy taught you to say "deuce" when you potty #2.  This happened completely innocently.  You've taken to using the sign for potty whenever you... go.  We've heard that this means we should start potty training you... but honestly, that sounds HARD.  So, we're ignoring that advice for now.  Anyway, one day you made the sign and we asked if you went #1 or #2.  And I think that you like the sound of #2... and tried to repeat it.  But it came out "deuce".  And when we checked... YEP!  DEUCE!

Babe!  Come quick!  Our daughter is freaking brilliant!!!!  Call your parents!!!

Ah... the miracle of parenthood.  Feeling pride that your daughter accidentally told you she deuced while you clean up said deuce.  We may have taken this to the extreme.

(Who?  US?)

I cannot believe how much you've grown in the past couple of months.  Physically, mentally, emotionally... you're not a baby anymore.  Sometimes I find it hard to classify you as a toddler.  It seems like you grow every day and you're my little girl now.  And that just breaks my heart.  I can't believe how fast it's gone.  And I still look back (and feel guilty) about those first few months where I was wishing you'd get just a little bit older... faster... so I wouldn't have to carry you everywhere.  Or grind up your food.  Or have to rock you down for an hour before you would fall asleep.

Now?  Well, the only time you want me to carry you anywhere is when I'm carrying the car seat.  Which is usually up the stairs at day care.  You usually love to tackle the stairs.  But, it's like you're trying to prove a point.  And food?  Forget about it.  You will eat just about anything.  At any time of day.  And are constantly asking for more? more? more?  I mean, it's cute and I adore hearing your voice... it just makes me think about the time when you were completely and totally dependent on me and couldn't just go to the pantry and pull out a box of rice and spill it on the floor while looking for crackers.  And forget about me rocking you to sleep at night.  That ship has sailed.  I get just enough time to tell you I love you and get a kiss from you before you lean back as if to say:  Alright!  Bedtime, Mommy!

I do realize that this is not something I should complain about.  But... you know.  I miss it.

You are a great big sister to Millie.  And boy, is she enthralled with you.  You like to help me feed her when she's taking a bottle.  And when I feed her in the morning, you don't get upset anymore and just play by yourself until we're done.  You also like to give her kisses.  Lots and lots of kisses.  And sneezes.  Lots and lots of sneezes.

I love you so much, Hazel.  I can't wait until this stupid spring weather clears up so we can take you to the zoo and show you all the animals.  You're old enough that I think you'll actually enjoy it.  Of course, that means either Mommy or Daddy is going to wear themselves out chasing after you.  You like to get out and run, that's for sure.  Prior to having kids, I openly judged those parents who had their kids on leashes.  I mean, how hard can it POSSIBLY BE to keep an eye on your 18 month old and keep them close to you?


But, I still can't put a leash on you.  Not that there haven't been days I've seriously considered it.  And that's just for in our house.  But, I've decided that this is part of parenting.  And this is what we chose.  And that this, too, shall pass.  Hopefully before you manage to sneak into the ostrich pen.


Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Time For A Change

One of my goals for this maternity leave, you know, besides the TRY NOT TO LOSE MY SHIT WITH THIS BABY LIKE I DID WITH THE LAST ONE, was to go through our external hard drive that has all (read: a gazillon) of our pictures that we've taken in the last few years.  Because once we invested in a digital camera, we stopped developing the pictures that we took and just saving them.  That, of course, means that there are few hard copies of photos.  And honestly, I would like to have those "old fashioned" photo albums hanging around the house.  It just seems more tangible than pulling them up on the computer.  It's been my dream to go through these photos and pick out the best and have them developed for an album.  However... HOLY SUGAR BALLS.  There are so many photos that I'm completely overwhelmed.  Just looking through them was exhausting.  I don't know where to begin.  

Besides the photo albums, I'd also like to have some pictures of sweet moments we've captured of our new family blown up and framed for the wall in our kitchen.  So, as I was looking for those pictures and getting a little teary-eyed at what the last 18 months have brought to my life... I started noticing something that, honestly, shouldn't have taken me this long to really notice.

To really understand.


There's nothing quite like realizing you're FAT AS HELL and it's been captured on film for posterity.

I mean, I knew that I was big... I knew that the baby fat wasn't going to come off as fast with the second baby... I knew that I was really taking advantage of the "I'm eating for two" argument while pregnant... I knew that I was eating way too much junk food before, during and after the pregnancy.

What I don't know, really... is why.  I don't know why I didn't notice it.  I don't know why I thought that if I just got my hair colored, or new makeup, or a new pair of shoes, then I would look good.  I don't know why I excused my lack of fitness and my excess of fat by assuring myself that because I am tall, I could TOTALLY pull it off.

Because I can't.  And even if I could... is that really okay?  Is that what my life should be?  Faking it?

So, the pictures I found today were understandably distressing.  Especially when I also saw pictures from when I was training for triathlons and you could bounce a quarter off my butt.  (True story).  Now... well, that quarter would probably get lost in a fat roll.  (Also, sadly, a true story).  So, anyway, while the camera adds 10 pounds, it certainly doesn't lie.  Even I, the Queen of Denial, couldn't overlook the simple fact that I am fat.  F. A. T.

I didn't know the fat lady in the photos with my husband and daughters.  And it hit me right then... besides the fact that I have seriously abused my body for the last two years in which I've eaten my body weight in chocolate, I don't want my daughters to know me as a fat Mommy. I don't want my husband to be married to the fat chick.  I want to be that Mom that runs and plays with her kids and one who sets a good example for her daughters for body image and self-confidence.  I want to be the skinny one between me and Benny.  I don't want to be the mom with the second and third chins and the serious spare tire in front.  And the thing is, I KNOW I'm not that person. But it took looking at those photos to snap me out of my coma.

So, it's do or die time.  I am meeting with a personal trainer tomorrow morning.  He's pretty hard core and I know I'll see results.  It's going to hurt.  Physically, emotionally and mentally.  And that's not even factoring in my pride.  See, this trainer knew me when I was a college athlete.  So, he knows A) What my body used to look like and B) What I'm capable of.  It's going to be humiliating to have to fully admit just how far the mighty have fallen.  Please, God... don't let him take measurements.  I don't EVEN want to know.

I'm excited for the journey, though.  I know that it's going to make me a better Mommy, wife and friend.  And when things get rough and I consider bagging a workout, I'm going to pull up those damn photos.  In fact, I may just put them up on the fridge right now as a reminder.

I'm all in. It. Is. So. Oneth.  I will be updating you on my progress.  And my aches and pains.  There will be laughter. There will be tears.  THERE WILL BE BLOOD.

It's either spend the money, sweat, blood and tears on getting back to where I should be.  Or it's spend the money on a new, bigger wardrobe and have years of feeling sorry for myself and knowing that I'm better than this. I've got big plans for myself.

And for my family. 

And my future photos.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Unnecessary Therapeutic Writing

Dear Millie,
When you're older and reading about your early days, you may notice that I haven't written as many stories about you as I did your sister's first few months of life.  Please don't take this personally.  Honestly... it's a good thing.  With your sister, I was so ill-prepared for parenthood... and she was so much work... that I needed an outlet for my frustration and shortcomings.  Looking back on my maternity leave with her, I still remember specific days that I wrote about and how I thought at the time that I shouldn't have been allowed to procreate... that I was a terrible mother and this whole idea of starting a family was a BAD idea and that I was destined for failure as a mother.

Never underestimate the power of therapeutic writing.  It's part of the reason we decided to have you!

But, to be fair, I suppose I should talk a little bit about specific days with you.  Or rather, what a typical day is with you.  I can't really write about major freakouts you have... because you never freak out for more than 15 seconds. And even that is just a little crying.  And is usually pacified with a binky or a boob.  One of the most amazing differences between you and your sister is that you don't need to eat every hour on the hour.  You are pretty much in a 3-3.5 hour routine.  Occasionally, you'll feed every 2.5 hours, but that's rare.  And you've never been a dive bomber when I hold you, even if you just ate.  Which is one of the reasons we call you Chilly Millie.

So, a typical day.  You eat, you sleep, you poop, you eat some more, you do some tummy time, you play in your gym (not a big fan, btw) you sleep, you eat... you repeat.  You do like the swing... thank goodness.  You just started to enjoy the swing this week.  I was worried you weren't going to take to it, but wow!  I can put you in the swing wide awake and walk away.  And when I come back 5 minutes later, you're sound asleep.  It's pretty incredible.

When you're not sleeping, you are so aware of the world around you.  You love to look at me and it does my heart good when you calm down when you see me.  Yes.. you are very aware who Mama is.  Your neck is SO strong already.  Today, you practiced standing on my lap. At 6 weeks!  You just stood there looking at me with such curiosity.

Your social smiles are becoming more common.  And you do a lot of cooing.  You've never been a big "coo-er" per se.  You've just been a really quiet baby.  I swear, sometimes I forget that you're just there in the swing. Even when you're wide awake.

Lately, you've only been waking up once per night.  Which is pretty awesome.  I feed you at about 10 and you'll wake up about 2-ish and then again at 6-ish.  However, you really fight going back to sleep after that first feeding.  The last couple of nights, I've had to call in Daddy after you've fought me for 90 minutes and I need to get some rest for your NEXT feeding!

You are sleeping in your crib really well.  It's amazing to me how completely freaked out I was with Hazel and her crib.  I had her sleep in the Pack-N-Play for the first three months of life.  With you?  Well.... it just seemed right that you get in your crib after the first month.

I love sleeping with you on me during the middle of the day.  There's nothing quite like the peace of  a baby sleeping on you and I'm trying to relish these moments as I know that they won't last.  You haven't been so much a snuggler as your sister was.  You fight sleeping on our shoulders.  Part of this may be because you absolutely HATE sweating and if any part of your skin (usually your neck) touches any part of my skin (my neck or crook of my arm)... well, that's pretty much the only time Chilly Millie gets fussy-wussy.

That's all the news that is news these days.  You got to meet Grandma and Grandpa Nadolski this weekend... and Aunt Helen, Uncle Bart and your cousins Matthew and Andrew.  They were sure enamored with you and your big sister.

Also... a note about the so far lack of pictures.  Yea... so when we had Hazel, we borrowed Daddy's work camera.  And because we were new parents that had no idea what else to do with ourselves... and had nothing else to do but snap pictures... well, there were a lot of pictures of her.  We also had our camera that we took a lot of pictures with.  Flash forward to your birth and Daddy couldn't get the nice SLR camera from the office, we had misplaced our camera and the other work camera that Daddy brought home from work to take tons of pictures of you with... well, Daddy has to take it back to work EVERY DAY.  So all those cute pictures I want to take of you during the day when you're awake and all sorts of cut?  I only have my camera phone to take them with and half the time IT doesn't work.  So, while I continue the mad search for our old camera (it could be anywhere at this point), I think I'm going to have to ask Aunt KC if I can borrow her camera because the lack of pics of you is getting a bit ridiculous.  In the good news department, I pulled the trigger and finally bought a Flip video camera so that we can document our growing family.

Speaking of growing... you had a bit of a spurt this weekend. Seriously, baby girl... you fit in your newborn clothes on Friday.  But not on Saturday.  And you ate like a horse.  Enough so that my boobs (that's right, boobs) started to hurt again.  I finally had gotten them used to the pain to where it was no big deal... AND THEN YOU HAVE A GROWTH SPURT.  Damn!

That's all for now.  Your Daddy is passed out on the couch... he missed the entire NCAA Championship game.  You are asleep in your crib... fingers crossed you stay there until at least 1:30ish.  And Hazel has been asleep since 7.  The kitchen is clean.  How I Met Your Mother is on.  I had a nap this afternoon with you, so I'm not completely exhausted.  But, it's still time for bed.