Saturday, December 1, 2007

Cara Mama - Nap Time

Cara Mama,

Stop blogging and come put me to bed! I'm tired, and Daddy doesn't have the milk.

Ti amo,
the Pumpkin

Friday, November 30, 2007

Cara Figlia - My Fussy Girl

Cara figlia,

It's true, what they say, I really do love in a way I didn't know existed before and it is all worth it and all that. But you, my love, are a Fussy Baby. There, I've said it. Now it's out there, and I can't take it back. I don't even want to take it back.

You could not be defined as ONLY a Fussy Baby, though. You are sweet, cuddly, giggly, smiley, inquisitive, active, and many other things. But you are also a Fussy Baby.

I know some people were happy to have the diagnosis of colic and don't understand why others don't want to name their babies "colicky." And when you were just a newborn, your dad and I agonized over what was going on with you. I read the Baby Book's definition of Fussy/Colicky/High Needs, and I realized that my issue with "colicky" was that I didn't think it truly describe what was going on with you. I have no problem with the term or using it to descibe babies. But you fit more with the desciptions of a Fussy Baby and a bit of a High Needs Baby. You just wanted to be held all the time. You didn't cry in pain, just in frustration that everything wasn't exactly the way you wanted it. You were usually fine when everything was the way you wanted it.

I'm still glad that I didn't chalk it up to colic and hope that it would end at a certain point, that magical point when babies stop being colicky. Because I believe this is more about your personality. You are Fussy. I don't think this means you will always be a fussy person, although you may be. But as a baby, right now, you are definitely a fussy one.

My therapist (yes, I'm seeing a therapist for my PPD, and she's wonderful) said that I can't change the fact that you are a Fussy Baby. She is right. So I'm going to try to embrace it.

And you know what, my little fussy one? I'm a bit of a Fussy Woman. So we'll just fuss together until we drive your daddy completely insane.

Ti amo,

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Would You Like Some Cheese With That?

I hate my mornings. That's not to say that I hate all mornings. I used to be fine with mornings. I was never a "morning person" per se, but I'd made my peace with getting up early, getting ready for the day and commuting in to work (which is usually pretty rough in the DC area).

But things are different now. Now we have the Pumpkin, who I love so much and wouldn't trade her for the world, but... she has not been what you'd call an easy baby. For the first almost 3 months of her life (except at night), she WOULD NOT BE PUT DOWN FOR MORE THAN 5 MINUTES! I am not exaggerating. It wasn't one of those things where she would make a noise and I, a new mom, would hurry to pick her up. Within minutes of being put down, she would work up to a scream of epic proportions. HOW! COULD! YOU! PUT! ME! DOWN! And I didn't "get her used to" being held. This was the case from Day 1. Although, I guess I did get her used to it, considering she was carried around in my belly for over 9 months prior to birth.

Once she was around 3 months old, she would let us put her down for up to 10 or 15 minutes. The bouncy seat was our lifesaver. Other than that, Londo and I got really good at doing things with a baby in a sling. Also, I went back to work around then, so I at least could eat one meal without shoveling it down my throat with a baby strapped to me or use the bathroom without a baby screaming to be picked up (because Mama doesn't get to wear a diaper).

There was a point... Oh, yeah. The point is that mornings have always been tough for the Pumpkin and me. When I was home on maternity leave, there were the mornings she wake up next to me screaming before she even opened her eyes. Those were fun. And she would cry and fuss the whole time I washed up and put on some clothes. (Just washed up and put on clothes--no shower, no doing my hair or makeup--was that too much to ask?) Then, there was a period where she no longer woke up screaming and would last about 10 or 15 minutes in some sort of containing device (jumperoo, play pen, rocking/vibrating chair), but to get ready for work, I needed 30 minutes. This meant at least 15-20 minutes of whining, fussing and crying while I tried to juggle her and getting ready, but longer really because of the extra time it took to juggle her.

Now, I can plop her on the floor of the bedroom and she explores while I get ready. Oh, it's great! I feel like I shouldn't complain at all, things are so much better. But I will complain. Because now she hates to have her diaper changed or have clothes taken off/put on and I feed her a breakfast of solid foods (30-45 minutes) and have to start the car and let it warm up before I put her in it (5-10). And some mornings, like this morning, she whines and fusses and cries the whole time. So from 7 until 8, she whined, whined, whined.

She doesn't yet use words, but this is what I hear: I don't wanna have my diaper changed! I don't wanna put on clothes! I don't wanna eat this food! I don't wanna be put down! I don't wanna play with my toys! I don't wanna get my coat on! I don't wanna go in the carseat!

For. An. Hour.

Once we get to my mom's house, she is fine and happy and my mom says, "She was fussy? Really?" As if she is never fussy for her. Urg. My mom has a great morning with the Pumpkin, and I'm really really glad.

But mine is another morning ruined.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Don't Push Me Cause I'm Close to the Edge...

It's like the Pumpkin somehow knows that her dad and I are right on the edge of losing it... And she pulls us back by sleeping from 8 UNTIL 5! Yes, it was a beautiful night last night.

The morning was still rough for her and me because we didn't really go back to sleep until 5:50. My alarm goes off at 6:00. So basically we were up since 5. And that almost hour when we lay in bed with me trying to nurse her back to sleep? She fidgeted the whole time, scratching me, pulling at my PJ pants, plucking at my PJ top, scratching the wall behind her, kicking me, grabbing at my hand, waving her arm around, and you get the picture. Fidgeting in general drives me crazy. It's especially frustrating when the baby fidgets for almost an hour when all I want to do is go back to sleep.

The 7 hours of sleep I got were great, but the morning was not so great with her fussing because she was still tired and my grouchiness because of the Fidget Hour. But I've dropped the Pumpkin off at my mom's, I've had my coffee, and I'm ready to get some work done (after I post this, of course)!

Besides, one of my favorite authors posted a comment in the Question of the Week post. That really brightens my day!

In other news, my hubby (let's call him Londo--and I'll be really impressed if anyone gets this reference before he explains it) has agreed to throw in the occasional post to share the daddy perspective. I'm excited to read what he has to say!

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Torture, Magic and Death of a Redskin

Apparently the car seat is the most evil device ever created to torture the baby! But my boobs... They are magic!

Thank you to all the women before me who have shared tales of what they've had to do to get a carseat-hating baby through a long car trip. I've now joined the legions of women who have put themselves in physical danger by angling myself over the carseat to get the baby a magic boob, all without the aid of a seat belt. But it was worth it when she drifted off to sleep...

And we had another rough night with the teething Pumpkin, but we made it through.

The same cannot be said for everyone. Sean Taylor, 24, a safety for the Washington Redskins, died early this morning after being shot yesterday. My and my husband's condolences go out to his family, friends and teammates, especially his 18-month old daughter. He will be missed by many.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Question of the Week - 5 Authors

If you could read only five authors for the rest of your life, which would they be? (These must be published authors, not online authors.)

My answers:
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Robert Frost
William Shakespeare
Jane Austin
Jo Beverly (I've gotta have some romance novels!)

Sunday, November 25, 2007

How Life Has Changed

So, there I am on Black Friday, entering the mall with MIL, SIL and the Pumpkin. I love to shop, and I really need new clothes that fit me better. Regardless of what I weigh, my body shape has changed and my old clothes do not currently fit me right. There is not much in the small mall near my inlaws house, but they do have two department stores, and we've entered one.

But do I head to the women's department to look for nice work clothes and casual clothes that might fit me? Nope. Do I head to the jewerly counter to look for a little something for me or Christmas presents for family? Nope. Do I go to the men's section to look for gifts for my husband or family? Nope. Certainly I would go straight to the housewares to find fun things for the house, or again maybe Christmas presents (I really need to get presents!). Nope!

I immediately go the children's section and shop for clothes for the Pumpkin. She could get by without more clothes, but getting her more would lessen how often I have to do laundry. Or so I tell myself and my inlaws. But really, I just love buying her the cute little clothes! And with the great sales, I bought a bunch in the next two sizes so she can grow into them.

I did get myself a pair of much needed brown boots before we left the mall. But that was the quickest picking out and trying on shoe shopping I've ever done.