Monday, December 24, 2007

Blog Names for the Baby One

Some votes are in. Good ones, I think. I just haven't made a decision.

Babycakes -- submitted accidentally
BC -- submitted simultaneously by MEL
Snip -- Funny
Done -- Funny, too
THAT Baby -- Which is funny, unless you hear it ringing in my house. Then, the tone really ruins it for me. Although, I have to give credit to the one who submitted it -- it makes us "birds of a feather" that share more than a birthdate -- there's THAT Baby and YOUR mother (which is ME :))
Baby One - Something from home
Inky -- Another one from the "chillin's under my roof"
Toast -- which is funny when you understand this. I call her "Testerosa" (a term of endearment and a very fast car) -- Little got that confused with TOAST-er-osa, which has been shortened to "Toast" -- and has stuck. His tiny voice when he comes barreling into the house shouting "where's Toast?"

And then, it must blend with the others --

Big, Middle, Little and Toast -- hmm, does that work?
Big, Middle, Little and Baby One -- does that work? She won't appreciate that in years to come.
Big, Middle, Little and Inky -- does that work?

My Broken Heart

The down side of having children who are brilliant is this:

Santa
The Toothfairy
The Toy Fairy
Fairy Tales, in general.

Big says this (as we are walking through Target): "Mom, why would Target have stocking stuffers if Santa stuffs them -- how does that work?"

Last year, she made this astute observation: "Santa has the same wrapping paper we do. That's curious."

Last week, she came home with this: "Give it to me straight, Mom. A boy at school told me that Dad is Santa."

And then, "Mom, have you heard that Christmas carol called 'I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus'?"

And this: "Mom, we took those tags off the wishing tree, and they all say from Santa. We aren't Santa -- are we lying to those kids and those old people? Is that bad?"

She's making some tangential connections which are on the verge of breaking my heart. Isn't she too young for this???

So, this year, I'm encouraging her to draw her own conclusions -- but am trying to maintain the mystery for the little ones. I made a special trip to the dollar store and picked out paper that I would NEVER have picked. I hid it. Yesterday, I wrapped Santa's gifts in the ugly paper and hid them. I hid them well. Middle found them. SHIT, I scream out loud!!!

And, CRAP, I holler from the rooftop!! I don't want the mystery to be broken at the tender age of 8. I want her to BELIEVE for a little while longer!! I have this strange notion that once the mystery of Santa unfolds, all the horrible truths of the world come tumbling out. Next thing I know, she'll be having hormonal mood swings and a period. (Yea, read that again -- doesn't it sound like Santa can stop a Menses?? And if that's the truth, I should have erred on the side of caution and put extra postage on MY letter!!)

Hmm. Think of me - I'm heading downstairs to RE-WRAP the gifts from the Fat Man :)

This is MY Baby


Thursday, December 13, 2007

"Tis the season . . .

"Tis the season for holiday hits with a children's twist. Whether it's traditional carols sung in an Alvin & The Chipmunks voice or the ever popular "Robin laid an egg" version of Jingle Bells, seems one of my youngin's is always singin' a hit.

Yesterday, this came home. Second graders are absolutely from ANOTHER planet!!

"Throw salami at your mommy
Fa la la la la, la la, la LAAA!!"

Today, after school, I think I'll teach them "Grandma got run over by a reindeer". That should provide HOURS of fun & entertainment!!

I'm a science fair project

Good things about all the sibling help:

a. they are good holders

b. they are good diaper changers

c. they are kind, gentle, caring big brothers and sisters



Bad thing about all the sibling help:



I am feeling like a science fair project.



It is and always has been my personal mothering method to seize every opportunity for teachable moments. Folks, this is a big one . . . so many topics to cover on baby care - why not to shake, butt care, cord card, diapers, wipers, burpers, yakers, head support, car seats. But I'm finding that my children's natural obsession is with other things. For example, my son can now independently operate the "keep countin'" machine (read: breast pump). He knows how to connect it, clean up, set it up, assemble and take apart, turn on, adjust suck-power. And, yes, it speaks to him, too, thus the "keep countin'" machine. Big calls it the "meaty sidekick". Either way, is this a feather in their caps or what??



While I'm talking boob care, my son also thinks engorgement is fascinating. He laughed out loud at cabbage leaves on the boobages and made a great song called "salad on your boobages."



He thinks breasts pads are eye patches, and pretends to be a pirate. This is courtesy of a fantastic kids book called Pirates Don't Change Diapers. He runs about with breast-pad-eye-patches over both eyes (no, I'm not going to tell him -- it's fun to watch him run into the armoir!!) shouting "aye, mateyes -- where is the baby mutineer??"

Middle has an obsession similiar to the jingle bell deal (see previous post) with stickers. The fun for her is in taking the sticker OFF -- not really applying it to anything. She can occupy many hours with taking stickers OFF and piling them on top of each other. Anyhow, since ALL sanitary napkins come with stickers -- she's always attempting to provide pad-application-support.

But alas, my glass remains half full. I've good help, great support -- and despite having a winter baby at the height of RSV season, I'm ever grateful that child number 4 was born when the older siblings are either all or part gone for all or part of the day. Thank goodness for SCHOOL!! Sheesh, can you imagine this much help ALL the time -- Summer would kill me!

Friday, December 07, 2007

Dang, She's Cute!!


Babycakes, 3 days old.
Any suggestions on a good Blog Name for her?


Thursday, December 06, 2007

My daughter ratted me out!

Here is my latest tale:

This week, our family friend, I'll call her Miss Franklin, delivered hot dinner to our door, in honor of our new arrival. It was wonderful. Rice and sauce and chicken flavored perfectly. Steamed vegetable. My children wolfed it down -- absolutely tore into it, with each bite acting like starving orphans who'd been eating from trash cans their whole lives. Their bellies filled, the lips smacked.

Middle called Miss Franklin to say thank you and offer her compliments.

Here is the part of the conversation I heard:

Middle (now on the phone): "Miss Franklin, you are the best cook EVER . . . Thank you so much -- did you make that in the microwave? Because if you did, maybe you can teach our mom."

LONG PAUSE, funny look on Middle's face, then, "THREE pans?!?! . . We're sunk!"

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Meters

I like meters. Pedometers measure how much "exercise" I get in without trying every day in the form of trips upstairs, to the mailbox, to the bathroom (yeah, I get alot there!) Odometers, speedometers -- these are for safety when driving.

I like knowing.

I like this:

Having never bottle fed a baby before, some things occuring at my house are NEW -- even to an "old hand". I like this "parking meter" style of parenting. I like "putting a quarter in the meter and getting 15 minutes of park time." This is how you know how long you can go in a store and shop. I like putting an ounce in and getting 20 minutes of awake time, and 2 hours of sleep.

I like knowing.

And, I like the sleep payoff. Jeez louise, last night, Babycakes was up, awake, ate, and back down in the time I would have STILL been trying to latch on the left side alone.

I remember when Big was a baby, I wished for a glass top tummy with meters -- one would be a gas-gauge, so I would know when to administer simethicone. One would be a full-to-empty guage, exclusively for feedings. I've long wished for a crank-o-meter to be installed on MOTH's forehead, so I'd be able to project his temperment at a glance.

I think this is as close as I might get, huh?

How's this free?

So, I was leafing through a magazine and followed directions.

I went to www.buttpaste.com to request my free sample -- knowing full well that I LOVE this product and would love an upstairs tube and a downstairs tube -- would like a purse tube -- perfect.

"Send a Self addressed stamped envelope and $1.30 for shipping and handling"

Huh? How the hell is THAT a free sample?

Monday, December 03, 2007

Super Siblings







I have a bruised face

What a rude awakening --
Image the life of a fetus, happily swimming in your pool of warm amniotic fluid, thinking fetal thoughts, making fetal movements, grimacing fetal expressions. Then, kerspash!! No more fluid. And ouch, big rhythmic squeezes. And then you hear the doctor begin talking about your naughty heartrate and how he doesn't like it dropping . . . and you hear your mommy said, "no, we aren't going to cut yet". And you hear the doctor say words, and you hear your mommy fight back a tad and bargain -- and then, that one push that she bargained for! Well, welcome to the world little one. Yes, you have a bruised face. (Okay, so there isn't a crayon that comes close to that color purple!) BUT, you are out the traditional way, crying, breathing and alive --

Thank you, Lord, for miracles big and small!!

She has arrived!

Baby Girl
was born December 1, 2007 at
2:30 pm
6 pounds, 11.5 ounces
19" long