Things are calming down here with my grandmother’s funeral and now sorting through her things.
Kellen has been on a language explosion. On the 3rd, he looked at the daddy, pointed, and said, “Da D EE.” For a few days before that, he was standing at the top of the stairs saying, “Go” and waving his arm at me. I finally realized that I say, “Let’s Go” and wave my arm at him all the time. He says “Woof woof” “hi” and “why” though not always in context. He has a lot of other words, but I don’t know what they are. I’m in a constant state of deciphering!
When I change his diaper, I say “Bye bye pee pee” because of his new fascination with his penis. He now waves when I say that, which is hilarious!
He is also trying to do somersaults on his own. He puts his head on the floor with his butt in the air and tucks his chin. But he doesn’t know how to flip himself over. This is good since he thinks the best places to do this are the hardwood floor and the tiled shower!
He has also learned how to get/fall out of the crib. We are trying to move him into a toddler bed while we get a bunk bed, but that didn’t go so well. We are also moving him into another bedroom, so we are working on a better plan for that transition.
I have spent hours upon hours at the hospital, away from my family. My aunt and uncle are now in town, but the hours I haven’t been at the hospital are now spent in the kitchen cooking for them. They are sick as well and need healthy food.
I’m also starting some new drugs, and I can tell you that I am having a reaction and feeling like crap.
I hope my son forgives me for the lack of attention he’s gotten this first year of his life. He seems to be well-adjusted so far, but I’m sure this will come up in counseling one day.
I’ve spent the last three days at the hospital. It’s tiring, this sitting, waiting, watching.
The worst part is that I have spent only a few hours with my son. I saw him Thursday night for a couple of hours, and I got him out of his crib this morning and said hello before walking out the door to be at the hospital by seven.
All I know about his day is the small verbal report I get from the daddy. “How many naps did he take?” I ask. “Three,” he says. “Three?!” I question. “I mean two,” he says, which really means, well, I don’t know, but it sounds unreliable to me!
We are going to my grandmother’s today to take care of her house and her bills. I’ve asked Dan to bring Kellen over so I can see him for a few hours.
I have a new-found respect for working moms who are away from their children so much during the week.
We’re going on a Paci Hunt
We’re going to find a lot of them
A soft, squishy couch.
We must look over it.
We must look under it.
We have to look in it.
In reality, this post should have been titled, We’re going on a Sippy Cup hunt, but that didn’t seem to work syllabically!
I have been having a hard time finding Kellen’s things lately. “Where’s the Ergo? Did we leave it on the plane?” “How come we only have one Paci? I know there are at least 15 in this house. Why can I only ever find ONE?” “Where are his sippy cups? I know we have more than three. Remember that pink and green one. I haven’t seen it in at least a week.”That last part is especially concerning. I know what it means when a sippy cup is missing for a week, and it’s not going to be pretty when we find it.
Kellen has a way of throwing things… everywhere. He loves to put things in the toilet, which is what concerned us recently when the toilet clogged and was not being helped by the plunger. “Oh crap [literally]. What did he throw down there.” Thankfully his toys of choice usually include the toilet bowl brush, the plunger, and his Little People School Bus (which has just recently dried out enough to play songs again).
Another favorite location for toys and other items is the vents. So when I realized that several sippy cups were missing, this was my first go-to spot to look. I looked down them though, and I didn’t see anything. I felt defeated. I scoured the house, finding only one sippy cup, thrown behind my laser printer. Where else could he be hiding these things? Where’s the “stash?”
I went back to the vents. I wondered how far down a toy or sippy cup could have gone. I might as well shove my hand down there and see what I come up with. So I did. And there was a sippy cup, an elbow-length into the vent. And a ball. And a… “what is this squishy thing?” A rotten apple. See, Kellen likes to throw apples. My grandmother gave us more apples than we know what to do with from her apple tree, and Kellen has taken a liking to them. They look like balls, right? Apparently he put one down the vent without us knowing, and here it was rotting right underneath the floor. Thankfully it had yet to smell, though I am still worried what else might be in there, just out of our reach.
Dan helped me check the other vents, and we found all of the missing sippy cups, much further down than expected… and just as disgusting as expected.
Thanks to random.org, I’m happy to announce that the Blog Makeover winner is Amber (a mommy from my local Stroller Strides!!). Congrats Amber. Let me know when you want to get started (or if you want to give it away to a friend).
I’m going to be posting a fun contest tomorrow, so get your stories ready
I’ll admit it. I used to judge moms who formula fed. I remember a friend bringing over a can of formula for her child and wondering why exactly she was feeding that crap to her child. I would never have said anything to her, but I THOUGHT it (on more than one occasion). When my SIL formula fed, I also was very judgmental (though not vocal about my criticism), unable to understand why someone would forgo the most natural part of mothering for what seemed to me at the time to be selfish reasons.
When I was pregnant, there was never any thought that I might not be able to breastfeed. I had done all the research and had all the information about getting a lactation consultant in my room immediately after birth. My friend told me to stick out breastfeeding for a month before making a decision about whether it was for me. That seemed ridiculous to me. Of course I was going to breastfeed… for at least a year. Because to me there wasn’t any other way.
After Kellen was born, I did have the LC come to our room and instruct us on proper latching. He had incredible neck strength when he was born, which didn’t help during those first few days. What I thought would be such a natural process for both my son and for me wasn’t. I had already been dealt enough surprises that year, and this just threw me off. But I figured we would persevere and our son would be happily breastfed. And we did. My milk came in within a couple of days, and I continued to nurse. It seemed to be working. Kellen was fussy, but he was also a puker (something we attributed to reflux, though now I wonder if it wasn’t teeth). I really wasn’t that concerned. What did worry me was that when I would pump, I was only getting three ounces. I had read that babies are more effective nursers than a pump, so I wasn’t overly concerned. I remember the day I got six ounces feeling like I had just won the Boston marathon. I was elated.
Soon after though, I got my first post-partum period. It had only been six weeks, and I didn’t understand. Google did though. It was a sign of low supply. Add to that my son had only gained a pound in six weeks, and the alarm bells started to sound. Our baby had dropped from the 50th to the 5th percentile and was continuing to drop.
My husband suggested we try formula, but I balked. Why would I give my son that “crap”? I had read that children sometimes refused the breast afterward (although he was getting breastmilk in a bottle, so I’m not sure what I was so afraid of).
And then, the unthinkable happened. I came down with Bell’s Palsy and was given steroids. I had to make a choice whether to continue to exclusively breastfeed or supplement with formula. Of all the choices I have had to make in my son’s life, this has been the hardest by far. I had read the studies. I had seen the media hype. Breast was the ONLY option if I wanted to give my son the best possible start in life. But I also had to deal with the fact that I would be feeding him steroids if I continued to exclusively nurse.
Thankfully my husband is much saner than me. After doing a lot of research we decided to try Earth’s Best formula. Within a week of supplementing, Kellen had gained a pound. If I felt guilty for giving him formula before, now I was faced with the guilt that I had let my son starve because of the *pressure* from society to breastfeed. Yes, I said it. The pressure from society allowed me to continue starving my son (more on that in a minute). I continued to pump some, though with as sick as I was, I didn’t feel much like doing anything. And I felt as affectionate toward my pump as Hannah Rosin (the author of the controversial article “The Case Against Breastfeeding”). I continued to pump for weeks even though I was lucky to get one ounce a day. It was insanity, and the more I learn about the overstated benefits of breastfeeding the more enraged I am at allowing minute immune benefits to continue to cause such stress in a time that was already unbelievably stressful.
Before I continue, I want to say that I believe breastfeeding is great. I think it’s a wonderful choice and obviously has many benefits. I plan to breastfeed subsequent children if I can. But I also think that in the attempt to encourage breastfeeding we have left many moms out in the proverbial cold, essentially ostracized in mommy circles. I don’t dare talk about my formula fed child or whip a bottle out in front of a mom’s group. I can hear the inaudible gasps. I know what the judgmental thoughts are… because I used to think them. We have become a Breast is Best society without realizing that we are causing a backlash of incredible mommy guilt when the breast doesn’t work out. And for some families it doesn’t work out because of nonmedical reasons. If I was working full-time, I wouldn’t pump. In my opinion, one of the benefits of breastfeeding is that bonding time, and excuse me if I don’t feel the same way toward the plastic parts suctioning my breast. (And for what it’s worth, I think it’s possible to have the same bonding time when bottle-feeding.)
But in reality I don’t think that I gave my child second-rate food. I don’t think I compromised. I fed him. Let me repeat that, I fed him. And he thrived. He isn’t overweight (in fact he happily hovers around the 50-60th percentile for weight).
Formula did for moms what the pill did for those not wanting to become moms (at that moment). It gave them a choice. I think it’s time we stop judging others for those choices and making them feel like formula is a punishable mommy offense. I shouldn’t have to defend my choices the same way you shouldn’t have to defend your right to nurse in public.
And if you are interested in more information about formula feeding, mommy guilt, and an analysis of some of the breastfeeding studies, see the Fearless Formula Feeder’s blog).
Let me start by saying that I’ve always thought that the founder of this company did a fantastic job in naming her business. It pulls at a parent’s heartstrings and desire to help their child achieve. But it’s just that, a name (in the same way that Vitamin Water is also a name… for JUICE- another brilliant name!).
The idea that Disney (the owner of the Baby Einstein franchise) could face a CLASS ACTION lawsuit is unbelievable to me. Are there really that many people who bought the products assuming that the videos would somehow make their three month old smarter by staring at lights? And, have those people tested their children to see that they haven’t been made smarter by the videos (a test I would find hardly reliable given the fact that babies do learn, in fact, in the months in which they are exposed to these videos)? AND have these parents and babies been HARMED by their children watching these videos with the false assumption they were in fact raising geniuses?
I know the AAP has a no TV under 2 rule, but new research suggests that TV probably isn’t as harmful as originally thought (granted, it’s not going to make them smarter either). This news follows a study that linked early TV watching to behavior problems starting around age seven. As a wife to a man with severe ADHD, I can tell you he wouldn’t sit still long enough to watch a show… and that his attention problems started well before seven!
I wanted to believe that I would be better about exposing my children to TV. But I will admit that my son is exposed to several hours of TV a day. The good thing is that he usually doesn’t sit down and watch it, especially if it’s not a kid’s show. But even with Elmo, he eventually gets bored and moves on.
But back to Baby Einstein… these movies have literally saved my sanity. As a baby, the moving lights could calm Kellen when nothing else would. We didn’t turn it on often, but rather saved it for moments of need. And it worked wonders. He still laughs when he sees the worm and will attend to the video much longer than other shows. He enjoys them, and we enjoy playing with him while watching them.
Baby Einstein (or other movies) are in the hands of parents, who are ultimately responsible for managing those toys. If you put the video on as a babysitter, that’s your choice and you are responsible for that decision, not the company. And it’s sad to me that the company is being punished for coming up with a name that I think is… well, genius.
Kellen is getting his bottom molars in. I also see a bud (FINALLY) on one of his top canines. The canines have been at the gum line for close to six months, but I think Kellen is an orderly child, so his teeth were waiting to come in in the “right” order.
Because of H1N1, it’s been a tough teething time because I stress out when he has a low grade fever or diarrhea. He has his classic teething rash, so I guess that helps. I’ve been waiting for the throwing up since the top molars produced a massive regurgitation of his entire day’s worth of food and milk. But so far the throwing up has been limited.
His sleep is all over the place too. He sleeps pretty good when he’s not teething, so these sleep regressions are hard on us, especially because I desperately need my sleep. When he’s teething, he often ends up in our bed by midnight, which is not restful for any of us, really. I don’t mind 5 or 6 in the morning, but midnight is practically ALL night!
The good news is that the bottom molars and one canine will bring his teeth total to 13, which means just 7 left to go. I think that being done teething deserves a party of its own. Mostly for mom and dad for surviving it!