Walking Birdie

Dude. Duuuuuuude.

Food Fights

A long, long, long ass time ago I read the Omnivore's Dilemma. I mean it was a rilly, rilly long time ago because that book is huge and I don't have time for that shit anymore so forgive me for any inaccuracies in my recollection. Anyways, I learned that when we are leetle teeny bebehs we have what is called food neophilia which basically means that we will eat ANYTHING. This is some sort of base instinct to ensure that our offspring don't starve to death when they are at their most vulnerable.

Later on in life humans develop food neophobia, the fear of new foods, to make sure we don't go around indiscriminately shoving crap in our faces and accidentally poisoning ourselves with toxic berries or rank meat. This process is pretty much evident in any toddler but eventually, with the exception of some remarkably PITA adults, we grow out of it.

Watching Wren horf down everything in her path makes me long for the days when Calder was in his neophiliac stage. While he never quite took to new foods with her level of enthusiasm, he would at least eat them without a huge friggin' production. Sure Calder has been a picky eater in the past. Calder definitely went through a nuggets and PB&J-only stage and he still has a long list of items that he WILL NOT EAT such at green leafy veggies, pork chops and things with even the faintest whiff of spice but there are a ton of other relatively healthy foods that he is more than happy to chow on, so I don't put up much of a fight with him about that kind of thing. Fine, you don't like spinach, eat half a bell pepper. That works for me too. He just has to try a food at least once to satisfy me.

So the problem isn't what he won't eat, it's what he will eat and how long it takes him to eat it. Even meals with foods he likes, hell, foods he loves, are protracted dawdle-fests. It took him two hours to eat one packet of instant oatmeal last weekend. TWO HOURS. He's even broken the 60 minute make with a goddam Happy Meal.  A normal meal stops being family time and becomes one of those installation pieces you see in a museum where it's just a person sitting there doing some mundane task for hours on end while a bunch of other people shuffle past. It's eating as performance art. Two hour oatmeal performances are no problem provided we all have nothing else going on in our lives but the refusing to eat in a timely manner becomes much more of a issue come dinner time.

The endless dinner means either we cut short the bedtime routine of snuggles and books and cause a tantrum or alternately, let Calder stay up way past his bedtime to accommodate them. Dinnertime has begun to take up so much time that baths are almost totally off the table at this point. I do offer Calder the option to not finish his plate but of course no clean plate means no dessert and god forbid he doesn't get a dessert. That's another tantrum. I blame Bruce for that one. Man's got a sweet tooth and is totally oblivious to the antagonistic nature of eating Sour Patch Kids in front of a boy who is struggling with the last three scraps of spinach on his plate. We have tried several things to remedy this. Turning off the TV, setting a timer, taking away his plate if he gets up too many times but pretty much anything that involves us clearing his food before he's good and ready ends up with him on the floor screaming. And of course that kind of behavior does not segue into a smooth bedtime. Still mad about his food, Calder will piff around with his jammies and splash in the sink rather than brush his teeth and waste even more precious pre-bed routine time. So then tantrum. And Calder's screaming leads to me doing my own screaming and then the baby cries and then no one is happy and I am the only one who wants to go to bed.

Granted this doesn't happen EVERY night but it occurs enough to make me want to do something to fix it. Obviously the solution is A. Making dessert a sometimes food (Bruce) and B. Setting a time limit for him to eat dinner before it's taken away and sticking to it.  What I need to know is how long that time limit should be. Is 30 minutes a reasonable amount of time to expect a four year old to be able to finish a plate of spaghetti? An hour seems excessive, perhaps 45 minutes? Maybe I could just service him tater tots and cheese shavings every night, even with all his procrastinating might Calder can't make those last for more than ten.

Wordless Wednesday: Kitty Kuddles

Friday Film Fest: Standing Baby

I didn't put up a Wednesday post. Not because of some SOPA protest because I am too lazy to even bother throwing up one uncaptioned photograph.

So how about I do that now? I present to you... Standing baby. STANDING BAAAY-BEE. She has the leg muscles of a much older bay-bee.

And as an extra bonus, some video. Of Wren doing exactly what she's doing in the picture. Now with more extra annoying mommy voice.

Diabeetus

All your bacons are belong to me

It's tough to imagine that a cat who would steal full strips of bacon off your plate would have The Sugar. But it is so. I knew something was wrong when this:

Fat Cat

Became this:

Flat Cat

Yes, I know, a fat cat losing weight is supposed to be a good thing but not if it happens without doing anything different. When I first started noticing the weight loss I began thinking about taking him in and then in the last month or so it became pretty obvious that even though he ate constantly, Molson was still getting skinnier. Then there was the thirst. And the peeing. ALLLLLLL the peeing. I've read enough Baby Sitters Club books to know what the symptoms of diabetes are. But I kept putting is off. Work's been busy and making Bruce take the cat to the vet with both kids just seemed sort of mean. Then yesterday happened. Molson started... leaking...stuff. And some red stuff was there and it was gross and I spent all night laying in bed awake worrying about him and trying not to think about what he was doing to my sheets. That I was at present sleeping on. You know you love your pets when you don't kick them out of bed even when they are dripping something out of their ass onto you. It just seems too mean.
 
So instead of the planned vet appointment I had for next week, I rushed him over this morning and had my suspicions confirmed. In the grand scheme of the things diabetes is way better than cat cancer of renal failure so I'll take it. To start off we have to give him special food and insulin shots twice a day. And holy shit, diabetic people without insurance, how do you not die immediately from not being able to afford that shizz? I am debating the benefits of telling my HR department that Calder's name has been changed to something even MORE Canadian just so I can get that business taken out of my Flex account. In two weeks Molson will go back o have his glucose levels tested again and have his meds adjusted if necessary. I am pretty sure there are lots of people who have cats that live long lives well after being diagnosed with diabetes so I am hoping for the best. I mean he can deal with Calder, a serious medical condition should be nothing.

Girls Weekend

Since we met way back in the Pleistocene era, Bruce's hockey coaching has always taken him all over the place. Back in the day before dog/marriage/kids, I used to go with him all the time. I have been treated to some of the finer Best Westerns all over the greater New England and Midwest areas. Hell, I even got a trip to Austria out of it. Nowadays, I don't go so much. Getting someone to watch the animals is a pain and have you ever tried to sleep in a hotel room with one bed and two kids? Plus, watching all the hockey moms gives me a very real glimpse of my near future. Once, when he was coaching teenagers and I was barely just out of being one myself, I was asked by a parent from an opposing team, "Which one is yours?" She was a little confused when I said, "The tall bald one who won't stop yelling." It used to seem like such a far away thing, me as a fleece-clad, slightly chunky woman whose only accessories involve hockey sticks and my kid's jersey number. That's... not for me. I'd like to keep my head buried in the ice just a bit longer, thanks.

But then Bruce told me about the games he had scheduled at the Wisconsin Dells (The Waterpark Capital of the World! tm) and I knew Calder would be all over it. Me? Not so much. Waterparks mean bathing suits. I would rather go stand in my backyard nakesd in the six inches of snow than wear a bathing suit in public right now. Although by Wisconsin standard, I may yet be considered skinny. And yes, that is me putting someone else down in order to make myself feel better. Wisconsin can go cry into its cheese brats if it is seriously offended.

Because I didn't want to go, Bruce offered to do me a real solid and suggested he take both kids so I could have some alone time. That sounded really, REALLY appealing, but I know three days of Wen being away from my boobs would devastate my supply. Plus, I hate pumping so much that would pretty much ruin my fun solo times. So we compromised and split the kids. Bruce took Calder for some waterslide adventures and I kept Wren here with me for uh, running errands and watching football. Of course all week before they left, every time Calder misbehaved Bruce would threaten him with leaving him at home with me. Uh, who exactly would that be punishing?

After dropping the boys off at the rental car place (OK, I rent a car I get a maroon Grand Marquis. Bruce rents a car he gets a pumpkin orange Dodge Charger. WHAT THE HELL?) Wren fell asleep immediately leaving me with my first taste of sweet, sweet alone time. How did I use it? I swept the floors and picked up Calder's room. Later I wasted all potentially productive nap times by dragging Wren out for some errands with my bestie. Ooooh, going to CVS and the grocery store. I really know how to live. *sobs over how my life used to be.* I did put the baby to sleep waaaay early using the magic of warm bathwater and a thermostat cranked way up to have my own little football party with wings and beer. Sure I could have invited people over but who am I kidding, no one would come. Of course today I paid for that early bedtime when she woke up at 4 frickin' 45. It's a good thing I only got through three of my fancy beers and fell asleep during halftime. That's livin'. L-I-V-I-N.

Today I am setting my sights much higher. During her naps I am going to sew. Maybe I will bake. I have already blogged *checks off list item*. Perhaps I will even take some photos of Wren that do not involve her eating.

Eight Months

I think I am too tired. Like, detrimental to my brain tired. Evidence? Wren had her eighth monthday earlier this week and I put up a Wordless Wednesday instead. Which was, if you recall, posted on Tuesday.

Thing is, I don't even know why I'm so tired. Wren's been rocking a pretty awesome sleep schedule lately, going down between 8 and 9 and either waking at 3 for a quick snack and then passing right back out or staying asleep straight through until around 5:30 or 6. That may sound horribly early to some but with my work schedule, staying in bed until 6 am on a Sunday IS sleeping in.

Feed meh!

Of course as soon as something get regular something happens and fraks it all up again which is what occurred last week when Wren was simultaneously cutting her top middle teeth. She continues to be the most pleasant baby ever however (but not the happiest. That would be my nephew Senor Wolverine von Purplehands who, according to my S-i-L's facebook page, is never not smiling.) So yeah, my own kid. Two teeth at once sounds like it would be pretty rough, on her and us. But no, when she did get restless or wake up out of turn all Wren needed were some snuggles while we waited for the pain meds to kick in and a few rounds of Scrape Your Face Membranes With My Badger Claws before she'd settle back down. Not one single inconsolable crying jag and only the tiniest bit of buttrash. This is not at all how I remember Calder being. Then again he was much younger and couldn't do a great deal to relieve his discomfort on his own, what with having no developed motor skills yet. My recollections could also be tinted by the fact that almost everything about him is a challenge lately so it has started to feel like life with him has always been impossible. Deep down I know this isn't true but sometimes it sure feels like it.

Baby Broccolihead

So yeah, in the last month some teeth happened. We taught her to wave, clap and do "so big!" too. Sometimes she just sits in her highchair cycling through all three in a valiant attempt to garner our undivided attention. However, the big news is the gigantic leap in Wren's gross motor skills. She now stands on her own for moderate periods of time and even took a step or two today. Not two steps together, but one step twice. I have no evidence to back up either of these claims save for one sideways video Bruce put up on Facebook. Every time I try to get her on camera she forgets about being advanced for her age and lunges at my camera or phone. Her mobility is becoming and issue such to the point that we now have to keep the bathroom door shut lest I catch her with her hands in the toilet again. You put Wren on the floor and she will make a beeline straight there. Unless she is in the mood for playing in the dog water or trying to eat small pieces of toys of her brother's floor. She never makes a break for her own bedroom for some reason.

I don't take pictures of her doing anything other than eating anymore. That's all she does.

Wren's likes still include the pets and her brother and pretty much anything with a face. I caught her giving sloppy wet baby kisses to the pictures of puppies in one of her books. This is definitely going to be the kind of child that asks for a pony every year for Christmas. She also likes food, all kinds, playing with balls, chewing on the coffee table and random intermittent shrieking. She is also an accomplished earring ninja and tooth scraper.

Dislikes are having clothes put on, having her diaper put on, sitting still and not being allowed to lay on to of the cat. Oh, and not being given food fast enough. That is one of the surest ways to piss Wren off.

Mastered Skills (most kids can do):

Says "mama" or "dada" to parents (isn't specific) - Perhaps. Wren is still on the "Uh muhmuhmuh" thing but around Christmas she added "djah djah" to her repertoire. I think it might still be a while before we can officially call this one.

Passes objects from hand to hand - Oh yes. It usually goes like this: Pick up plastic phone. Pick up hard plastic rattle. Slooooowly touches them together *tink* Brings them together again, this time with a little more force *Clack!* And then the little baby brain lightbulb pops up and  *WHAMWHAMWHAMWHAM* So peaceful, this home is. 

Emerging Skills (half of kids can do):

Stands while holding onto something -Or not holding. Whichever.

Crawls - Everywhere. You cannot stop her. I think she may be over it already. Today she started crawling with one knee on the ground and pushing with her foot on the other side.

Points at objects - Is that object the cat? Or food? Yes. I don't know that she has pointed at much else though.

Searches for hidden objects - Did I hear the cat? Where is the cat? Is he under the bed? THERE IS THE CAT!  *patpatpat HUUUUUUG*

Advanced Skills (a few kids can do):

Pulls self to standing, cruises - AHAHAHAHAHAH.

Picks things up with thumb-finger pincer grasp - Eh, feeding herself is still pretty much a big old fistful of whatever she can scrape off her palm. There's been a few attempts at picking small stuff up with her fingers but she usually fails and goes back to the open handed shovel method.

Indicates wants with gestures - Meh. Maybe? That could be what the waving and clapping recitals are all about but I wouldn't say I am positive. I mean, I may think so but I know she can't be perfect in everything after all.

Wordless Wednesday: Baby Eats All the Things

Sorry some of these are fuzzy. My phone is understandably quite sticky when I am trying to take them.

So I'm Gonna Talk About My Boobs Again

At work on Friday, a woman saw me with my pump and was like, "You're still doing that? Good for you!" Then we chitchatted about our relative breastfeeding experiences and I left with an enormous feeling of awesomeness. Not because I had stuck with breastfeeding and she gad not, but just because I HAD stuck with breastfeeding. Calder was supplemented with formula from day one and didn't last long at the boob once his top and bottom teeth grew in. Boy was a biter, if you recall. And I am OK with that. I am fine with the supplementing because honestly, sometimes it felt like he never stopped screaming and the only way to get him to sleep was to get him nice and full. If peace of mind comes from a canister of formula? THAT IS COOL, INTERNET. 

I also had my pumping situation working against me. Even if he was a biter, I could have just kept pumping. Except my pumping room at that time was a phone room. With no locks. And a window.  Now I feel like I am living in the lap of luxury even if this fancypants Mother's Room doesn't have a TV like everyone in the company seems to imagine. I also have it all to myself now. No more coordinating schedules or feeling rushed to accommodate someone else engorged chest. And no more other people eating stinky food and having long conversations in there either. It's so much easier to get that extra ounce out when I am not wallowing in the after odors of someone else's lunch. Don't get me wrong, I like friggin' love Indian food but I am in no rush to hotbox some saag paneer.

So Wren and I are still going strong. I've mentioned before that she is not EBF, but MBF. Mostly breastfed. I still fear for my supply constantly and have very little wiggle room with it. In a pinch I will not hesitate to let her have some formula if the fridge supply is out and my boobs are otherwise engaged. How long will that last? No idea. My most basic of basic plan was to go for a year until she can have cow's milk because formula is expensive and boob juice is free. This was going on my Calder experience where he could pretty much not give one hoot where his food was coming from. The word "weening" was never even used because he just sort of seemed to not care. Whether he stopped latching or I have stopped offering, I am not even sure. With Wren? It's going to be different. I know that even if I was ready to stop breastfeeding her right now she WOULD NOT be down with that. At all. It's not like she doesn't like the bottle either. She's fine with them but she really seems to prefer her meals straight from the tap (or off her brother's plate but that's another story altogether). Even if she has JUST had a bottle, when I get home from work she'll crawl over and start making smacking noises with her mouth. As soon as I have de-jacketed and picked her up Wren will start tugging at my top and depending on the amount of cleavage I am rocking that day, I might be subjected top a vigorous motorboating. Don't google that, Mom.

So, I have about four and a half months to figure out what I am going to do. I know I could just keep on keepin' on indefinitely but I quite honestly LOATHE pumping. I hate the time that it takes and the boringness and the fact that I somehow cannot mange to make it through the day with out spilling a noticeable amount of breast milk on myself somewhere. I would quit now if I could so at one year, I will be so ready to stop. I don't even know if it's possible to keep feeding her when I am at home but stop pumping during the day. Will my boobs go on strike? Will she? Maybe they will explode? Will my bras fit again? Will I gain one hundred million pounds because I will continue to eat at breastfeeding levels?

I've changed my mind. TELL ME WHAT TO DO, INTERNET!

Wordless Wednesday: Science Museum

It's a New Year

If our Christmas was low key, our New Year's was positively dead. We ushered in the new year by putting on sweatpants, ordering  a ton of chicken wings and falling asleep on the couch. The champagne I made Bruce buy never even got opened. For me, 2011 was a pretty good year. We moved out of the city apartment and into a suburban house. We welcomed Wren into our family and she is possibly the sweetest baby ever, Seriously. She's cutting new teeth and her only reaction is extra snuggling and occasional crankiness which is alleviated by extra nursing. She's been on the boob so much I woke up soaking wet and smelling like a dairy farm for the first time in ages. And of course having Wren meant that instead of going in to work, I got to stay at home with her, Calder and Bruce for three months. Of course not everything was perfect. My cat died and Bruce transitioned into a not so on purpose life as a stay at home dad leaving us with much less money than I would normally be comfortable with. I would link all this stuff but that is just too much work. My lazy is always constant.

Instead, some pointless resolutions. Not only do I expect to break most of them, I am in fact already breaking one as I write. I'll let you guess which one.

1. Lose weight/do real exercise. Not in some, "I need to be skinny" way but more in the "I need to fit into clothes I already own way." Basically I need to stop eating like I am simultaneously carrying a set of twins and breastfeeding another and do something more strenuous than kicking Calder's ass at Kids Dance 2.
2. Get better at picture taking. I just found out I won a free year's membership to Clickin' Moms from a giveaway on BabyRabies. I'll never be able to afford a fancypants camera so I may as well use this chance to learn to use the one I have.  
3. Sew more. I have managed to make sewing a more than once a year activity but I'm pretty sure I haven't completed a thing from my last crafty to-do post. I have turned into my mom what with the starting of projects and not finishing them. And by starting I mean buying the fabric and telling people what I intend to make with it. You should see her closet full of late 80s/early 90s knit prints. I myself am building up a pretty significant scrap heap since I have started bringing home cheap fabric remnants like so many injured baby animals.
4. Learn to deal with Calder better. I swear the boy dedicates a significant portion of his energies towards making me lose my goddam mind. Bedtime is still problematic and simply saying "no" to him can unleash a special kind of hell. There's hitting, biting and screaming involved. Every time. I realize this is more my failure as a parent than it is any fault of Calder's but some time I just wish he'd be more normal. I know kids can be difficult at his age but if this were normal, no one would have children. I try really, really hard to remain calm with him but there are times when I am just too tired or stressed and end up yelling like a crazy person. And the fact is, I am tired and stressed A LOT. As such I have become a screamy, yelly crazy person whom I don't particularly like. This needs to be corrected.
5. Post more. Ahahaha just kidding. That would be like I am trying to set myself up to fail.

So This Is Christmas. Finally.

For the second year in a row we had a stay-at-home nuclear family Christmas. Of course we were sort of hampered in any travel plans because three tickets to Hartford are frickin' expensive and the baby doesn't have a passport so Canada was out. Note to our families: If you lived somewhere more convenient, we'd see you more. 

This year Calder firmly grasped the whole Santa concept. We are still working on the Jesus bits though. So naturally I was expecting him to be up at the break of dawn shrieking about stockings and presents and all that jazz. I did get woken up waaaay too early but it was by Wren, we was ready to throw around some holiday cheer at 5:30. We killed time by going through all the presents and laying on the floor wishing for sleep. You guess who did what.

When Calder finally did wander of out bed it was the most laid back a four year old could possibly be. "Did Santa come?" he asked while I changed Wren's diaper. I told him to go check it out. "Hmmm, it looks like he did" he said, while he walked up and down the row of stockings inspecting them like a General. I don't even think he went for his own stocking first, instead passing out Wren's and Bruce's. I was made to wait for some reason. After determining that Santa brought the correct Pillow Pet and there were Dagedars but no Happy Nappers, Calder asked to watch the movie he had just opened. Not, "Can I open more presents?" What a weirdo. He watched all of Kung Fu Panda 2 while Wren napped before it even occurred to him that we might let him have a go at a few more. 

After the presents were finally opened and the bulk of the wrapping paper bagged up lest the baby eat it (some more) I started our sad little dinner. Or big pointless dinner, more accurately. Calder played with the kids from next door who, what with their large family, had so many people over they couldn't breathe. That is a direct quote. I roasted a beef, gratined some sweet potatoes and cranned some berries. Calder ate none of it. Wren ate everything. While everything was cooking we assembled and played with gifts, Skyped with family and regular called some others.

Now it is the New Year and all the Christmas accouterments have been stowed away until next year. Normally I would leave everything up until the Epiphany but I really, really wanted that space in my living room back. I love my tree and all but I love not knocking into stuff constantly too. I do like our little family unit holidays but I am hoping that next year we will have somewhere to go. I am really REALLY hoping for an east coast cousin-palooza which, having one side of the family be childless and the other side be Jehovahs, never happened for us as kids. It would be epic.