Mama said there’d be days (or two…or five…or seven…) like this

Finn has been a terror lately.

And that’s saying something, because he is something of a hellion to begin with (and I say that with love).

Now he’s up at least once an hour all night, sometimes crying and screaming, taking maybe two 20 minute naps a day and generally being fussy and clingy all day.

Why? Why? Why?

Babies need to come with little display panels. It could be like on The Sims where you could tell they were hungry or bored or needed to pee. It would make life a lot simpler.

I am hoping this is teething or demon possession and not just his personality. I am into a week of almost no sleep and it is not making me a particularly happy or functioning woman.

Right now I just quietly chant “it’s a phase, it’s a phase” over and over. I’m too tired to really do much to try and change anything, so I am going for the “this will resolve itself with time” method.

We shall see if I’m right.

A boy and his broom, a love story

My son has many toys. Many, many, many toys.

We have exactly the house I swore we would never have, with primary colored plastic crap piled in every room.

Toys, toys, toys, and he is pretty much completely uninterested in all of them.

Yes, he plays with balls sometimes, but that’s pretty much it. I don’t know if this is true of all babies or just him.

He does enjoy things he’s not supposed to have – the cell phone charge, refrigerator magnets, toilet paper.

But this week he discovered his true love – the broom. He finally managed to wrestle it out of my hand after I was done sweeping and has been carrying it around pretty much ever since. I know he’s going to end up smacking himself in the face or knocking something over, but he’s just so happy I let him have it.

The downside is that when he must be parted from the broom he screams and screams and screams.

Oh babies. So strange.

A year in review

My baby is one, which seems unreal. This year has been both the longest and the quickest of my life. I am an entirely different person than I was a year ago. Finn is my first priority, and he affects everything I do from the big to the small and is now the person I spend about 95% of every day focused on.

This year has had the highest highs and the lowest lows. I was completely unprepared for how intense it was going to be.

On the up up upside, I adore my son. I didn’t know that it was possible to love someone this much. I put him before myself every time and it’s usually pretty easy to do. He has a sweet spirit, loves to dance, and has an amazing laugh. It is incredible watching him become this little person. I know I am blessed to be able to stay home with him and I love the intimacy of our relationship.

But there has been a dark side of becoming a mother for me that I did not expect and am still really struggling with. There are times where I don’t think I can get through another minute and at the same time I can see the days and nights and days and nights of taking care of him stretching out endlessly in front of me. Times where I feel like a husk of a person, that I have been crushed, worn down to a powder by his endless endless needs.

And although these times have gotten fewer and farther between as he has gotten older, they have also gotten more difficult because I feel like at this point I should have it down and shouldn’t still be struggling. And it is hard because I often feel so alone. I don’t really hear other moms talking about their difficulties and it’s hard to say “do you ever just hate being a mother” and while my husband tries, I really don’t feel like this is a burden we share, I feel like it’s one I carry alone.

I hate to complain too much, except jokingly, because I feel like something bad will happen and it will be my fault because I didn’t appreciate how good I had it.

So this is me warding off the evil eye. I love my son and would not trade having him for anything, I just wish he came with a little more sleep and the ability to use the bathroom without his company.

A belated Thanksgiving post

So, yes, obviously I am thankful for my beautiful child. And lots of cheesy little things about him – his smile is as bright as the sun, his laughter is like the song of a million hummingbirds, and so on and so forth.

But I’m not super into being cheesy (even when it’s totally genuine) so here are five non cheesy baby things I am thankful for.

1. Baby carriers

I don’t know how mom’s who don’t use these get by – I use mine for hours every day. I wear my baby when he’s fussy or sleepy or when I’m shopping or need to get things done. They are fabulous and when I discovered them my life was changed.

2. Signing time DVDs

Man, Finn loves these. It buys me time in the car and during the day if I need it. And I don’t feel too guilty about him watching them because I think baby signing is a good thing.

3. Balls!

Any way I write this it sounds dirty, but my son is obsessed with balls! We will see if this leads to some sports prowess down the road.

4. Easy cloth diapers

I like cloth diapering because it makes me feel like I’m saving money and helping the environment. I like even better that I live in a time when cloth diapering is easy and doesn’t involve pins and stuff.

5. Happy Baby frozen baby food

Finn is not a baby food fan, but he does like this fresh frozen baby food. And I don’t blame him – it’s tasty! If they made some for adults, I would eat it.

So, thanks to the inventors of all of these products (especially the ball…good one). You make motherhood a little easier.

Some early giving thanks

I often struggle as a mother.  The whole being a mom thing hasn't come easy to me and while I love Finn he's not always the world's easiest baby (I think...I'll admit I don't really have many babies to compare him to).

But then there are days like today that are just...magical.

Finn (who is not a morning baby) was so easy this morning and let me clean up our totally trashed house.

Then he took a two hour morning nap!  And then more baby easyness!  And then another long nap!

I don't know where it's cominng from, but even it's just an early Thanksgiving miracle, I will take it.

Confession #3 - I have realized I have no control over anything

This is my new realization.

Nothing I do matters or makes any difference in terms of Finn's behavior, and especially with his sleep.

It's a little disheartening, although potentially freeing, if I can just really make myself believe it.

Some nights (a lot of nights) he is up every 45 minutes.  Pretty much all night.

Yeah, it's a good time.

Other nights he sleeps great (for him, which means he's only up every few hours - it's all relative people).

I have read every book every written on baby sleep.  I have talked to other moms.  I have posted on message boards.  I have changed and changed again: what I eat, what he eats, vitamins I take, what he drinks, when he sleeps, where he sleeps, how I put him to sleep, and on and on and on.

And, in the end, the good and bad nights just seem totally random.

After he has a good night I go over and over the day that led up to it.  But I can recreate it exactly and he still will not sleep the next night.

So, I am giving up.  He will sleep eventually, right?

Confession #2: My baby has emo hair

Finn's hair is getting out of control.


It just gets longer and longer, and I am powerless to do anything to stop it.


He's developing a distinct resemblance to Donald Trump.



Except after his nap, when he looks like Trump caught in a windtunnel.

He needs a haircut, I know. But I can't bring myself to pay someone else to do it (plus that just seems like something that's going to end with baby screaming) and I am worried if I do it myself he's going to look either sad or funny, since I can't really cut hair.

So I just let it keep growing, and hope this is somehow a problem that resolves itself. You know, as some things do.

Perhaps in a few months I will be able to do these pictures with some 80s hairband members. He just needs a tiny sweatband to keep it out of his eyes.

This is why we can't have nice stuff, kitten

Toddlers are...(so many possible fill in the blanks, but I'm going somewhere with this)...remarkably destructive.

The only way I can really notice Finn increase in height and/or dexterity are the new things he can reach to pull down/smash/inexplicably make disappear or the new drawers/cabinets/boxes he manages to open/completely destroy.

It is a really remarkable and frightening ability. He can't say anything, but he can dismantle the kitchen in five minutes. He has a single mindedness about him that I admire, I just wish it could be put towards things like sleeping...or cleaning up.

Today's masterpiece was opening the toilet and depositing portable phone in the bowl.

Goodbye phone. At least he didn't flush you.

Hmmm...and I'm back

Telling, perhaps, that it's been two months since I posted.

Such good intentions, but you know what they say.

But it will be different this time! Different I say!

Why? Blind hopefulness, really. And my son is now old enough to enjoy a Baby Einstein video, which is what he is doing now, thus miraculously giving my two hands to type (as I typed that he walked over and tried to crawl into my lap...it's like he doesn't respect my need to express myself....silly baby).

Also, because I am now obsessed with the blog of another woman I vaguely know. It's so fun and interesting and makes me what to get back to my own blogging. Because I give good blog.

And I'm going through (yet another) phase of trying to convince myself that I can be a mom and have myself somewhat together (despite evidence to the contrary) so now I have a new haircut and visions of myself as someone who wears something other than sweatpants and has a clean house and blogs (and has hobbies, and exercises, and goes on dates with her husband, and good friends, and cooks...oh the list goes on).

So here we are. Small steps.

I'm not always this crabby

So this blog, I feel, is getting off on a cranky note.

And I'm not always cranky, really. Okay, I sort of am, but I try not to be.

In my defense, since I apparently feel I need one, my son has been sick for almost three weeks. I am not sleeping at all. The dog keeps escaping from the yard. And this was all capped off with my husband taking a weekend trip to Vegas, leaving me alone with the baby for three days.

So a tiny bit of crankiness is justified, no?

I know...silver lining...look on the bright side..let your smile be your umbrella...laugh and the world laughs with you...

Eh...bite me. The baby cries, the dogs whine, I do endless loads of laundry and I am so so so tired it makes me dizzy. My "me time" consists of the occasional 45 minute nap the baby takes which involve me walking him to sleep and then laying quietly next to him while he nurses.

Yes, yes, I have made my baby co-dependant bed and now I must lie in it with him. And I generally don't mind. But this weekend is pushing it.

I love my husband, I do and he is a great father. The baby adores him.

But sometimes I resent him so much it makes me want to throw thing. Preferably at his head.

I know he works out of the house and I don't. And I am lucky that I get to stay home. But I feel like I have a very demanding job with a tyrannical boss and it just never ever ends. I would like to read a book, go out of town, see a movie. Hell, I would just like one good nights sleep. The longest stretch I have had since the baby was born is five hours. And that happened exactly once.

I just feel like I have been swallowed up by the baby. Who I totally and completely adore, I just miss having something that is just mine.

Okay. Cranky rant over, for now. I make no promises about tomorrow, though.

Still sick, but with sewing success (ish)

We are now two weeks into the sickness that will not end.

Not to overshare (but the idea of personal information or that someone might not want to hear about bodily functions seems to have left me now that I'm a mother...) but the little one is still pooping around eight times a day. And not sleeping at all. How fondly I remember the days of constipation. And sleep. How I miss it. I've gone thirteen nights where I am lucky to get 45 minutes in a row. And the baby is not happy and is very sleepy as well.

No fun.

Off to the doctor tomorrow and hopefully he will have something helpful to add.

In the world of sewing, I am gaining something of a (small) foothold.

I managed to complete the two projects for the online sew-along I am organizing for last week, cloth wipes (velour on one side and flannel on the other, I am sure Finn with enjoy them):

And an embelilished cloth diaper to use as a burp cloth:

Not perfect, but I am very proud of me. On to week two.

Me: 1 Sewing: 0 (well, it's at least a tie)

Okay, it's taken me five days, but I managed to sew a cloth wipe today. Yes, it's a little wonky and not quite square, but I am SO proud of it, and myself.

I am going to devote myself to cloth wipe making this weekend (assuming I can talk the husband in a little baby free time for me) and hope to have some good looking ones.

What can I say...small victories...

We are still the land of baby poop here. I don't know if things are improving much, but let's hope so. I haven't had a good night sleep in nine consecutive nights, so I am less than cheerful, but I am holding up well, at least I think so.

Mainly I am bored of being stuck in the house with an unhappy baby.

Oh motherhood. 80% great for sure, but 10% suckiness and another 10% mind numbing boredom. This week has been heavy on the last twenty percent, so I think I am owed an excellent weekend. We will see if the universe delivers.

Sickness and sewing

My frustration level? It's high, people.

We have had our first real bout of the baby being sick.

I know, I know, we're very lucky to have made it nine months before this happened.

Last Wednesday night he had a fever of almost 105 at four in the morning. We ran to the emergency room and were told it was a virus. A week later, here we are. No more fever (yay!) but still covered in a rash, not sleeping, cranky, and OH!! the diarrhea.

I never knew my life could be quite so filled with poop. Glamorous, I tell you.

My good mommy patience has run out (although I think it lasted a long time). I have left the house once in a week and it was for a very quick "we're out of food, oh please don't have a blow out at the grocery store" trip. The baby cries...and cries...and, if I dare leave his line of sight...screams.

Bleh bleh bleh.

Also testing my patience is my new hobby I have so gleefully taken up - sewing. My love of Etsy (and subsequent money spending) led me to think perhaps I could start sewing things myself. My sister kindly donated her sewing machine and now here we are. Only, I totally and completely suck. It's like there is some sewing gene I just don't have.

Okay, I've only given it about 30 minutes over three days (not a lot of free time for a mommy here) but all I am trying to make are some cloth wipes. Should be simple...but not so much.

But I've bought so fabric, so I am determined to continue on, at least until it's used up.

Perhaps tomorrow will be less bleh. Here's hoping.

His cocktail of choice? Brandy and breastmilk

I have my doubts that Finn is ever going to eat solid food.

We've moved up to slightly dabbling in the world of solids, but considering he's almost nine months old, I sometimes feel we should have more than a toe in.

Like seemingly most things with babies, it is one step forward, ten million steps back. He eats a little and then doesn't sleep and seems to be a generally unhappy camper. I back off of feeding him. He gets better but I feel guilty that he's not eating solid foods and start feeding him again. And so the cycle continues.

It's one of those chicken and the egg things. Am I avoiding solids because he's bothered by them or is he bothered by them because I avoid them?

I don't know and despite hours of google-ing, I really have no answer.

Luckily he is thriving (read: enormous) even though he's still 90% breastfed. Sure, all he'll be able to take to lunch in kindergarten is a thermos of breast milk, but I guess I'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Today's Confessions: The baby sleeps with us

Moms constantly ask each other how the baby is sleeping. Is he sleeping through the night? Still waking up at night? How many times? When does he go to sleep? And on and on and on.

I understand why. Sleep is magical. It is a balm for everything that happens in a day and it never seems quite so important as when you're not getting it.

That being said, I never know quite what to say when people quiz me about Finn's sleeping habits. I will be cagey for a while before I sheepishly admit that he sleeps with us...in our bed.


I know. Shocking.


Apparently he will NEVER EVER LEAVE. And he will NEVER EVER learn to fall asleep on his own. Or so people like to tell me.


It's practically child abuse.

But that's not even my real confession. The real dirt is that I LOVE having him sleeping with us. Yes, there are days when he's up all night and it sucks and I feel like I can't move or talk or go to the bathroom in case I wake him up. But mainly I get to cuddle with him and see his little moon face and have him wake me up by blowing raspberries on my arm and laughing. Plus I don't have to get out of bed and wander down the hall to him.

At this point, I can't imagine having him sleep anywhere else. I remember being completely terrified of nighttime as a child and desperately wanting to sleep with my parents. I don't want Finn to feel like that.

So, yes, I am sure at some point he will move into his own room, but no, I have no idea when that will be. For now the answer to "How is he sleeping?" is "With me!"

We're so glad you've returned!

Or so I imagine the Internet saying to me now that I am blogging again. Big head, sure, but I need to cling to my delusions of grandeur. Don't take them away from me!

I have blogged for years and through my pregnancy, but then my baby arrived and I just stopped.

Why?

It is sometimes legitimately hard to find the time. The baby has a freakishly high size to time consuming ratio (he is small, but his needs? enormous). But, if I can spend hours upon hours researching baby carriers and trolling Etsy, I can probably manage a blog entry now and again. (And, in a somewhat related note, phone calls and emails to my friends who I am now woefully out of touch with).

But my reason for skipping all of these things is the same...I feel like I have nothing to say.

Well, that's not true. I have endless soliloquies and novels to say. I often don't talk to anyone but the baby all day and am dying, DYING to be heard by another adult. But I worry that it's just not that interesting to anyone.

There are days (several) where the biggest thing that happens to me is de-squash staining the laundry, or the truly enormous poop the baby had. My high point last week was the baby learning to clap. I was legitimately thrilled.

But I understand that this is not that interesting to the general public. Maybe to other moms, but a lot of friends are childless.

So how is this different now that I am blogging? Surely there are some moms out there who will be fascinated? At least I will feel like I am heard.

Or maybe I just don't care anymore. I am saying my piece, even if it's just floating around in cyberspace.

New day, new me, new blog

I blame Julie and Julia. And Dooce. And spending 24 hours a day with an almost nine month old.

But I have been laying awake at night writing blog entries.

They are filled with witty bon mots about motherhood. Filled!

And eventually, of course, turned into a wildly popular book.

But I couldn't put any of this on my old blog, which is filled with pictures of me and my beautiful boy and would apparently lead to us being kidnapped and/or sold into white slavery if it was made public. And I just felt like the aforementioned bon mots were wasted on a private blog viewed by very very few people.

So I am re-coming out into the blogophere. With fewer details, which presumably makes me seem far less tasty to all those psycho killers, but still interesting to the general public.

What can I say, I have a need to be adored. Or at least have the possibility of adoration.