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.