Sunshine

I must say- the last week has been a whirlwind. Ironically, I took a break from having a baby to go back to work for three days. Not just any three days- the FIRST three days of SCHOOL. Which just happen to be about the most stressful three days of the year. Well, aside from the LAST three days of the year- but that's a different story.

There were curriculum projects to complete, lesson plans to prepare, classrooms to decorate, supplies to be bought and organized, memos to be written and sent, and of course, people to greet, among the myriad other tasks and tedium. And as much as I was frustrated that the chaos was interfering with my time at home, it was a good place to have to be. Not many people can say they love their jobs- but I can.

To make matters even better, my husband stayed home with the baby. Meaning there were no drop-offs or pick-ups to juggle. And especially no worries about leaving my baby with a babysitter, as I knew he was in good hands with his Dad.

The three days flew by with surprising speed, and during that time, we went against the doctor's orders and went with gut instinct and changed the baby's formula to a more sensitive version to see if that would help with the colic. Lo and behold a miracle has happened.

It's like we have a new baby. He doesn't cry. Ever. He's so... good. I am shocked that this is what it's like to have a regular baby. Completely shocked. Life is so much... easier.

We can actually find him a regular bed to sleep in - some semi-normal routines. We can teach him to sleep on his back, play with him, read to him, leave the house with little to no concern. We can even SIT DOWN sometimes! I don't think we have even grasped the full scope of our new capabilities yet. The fog has begun to lift and despite the rain, the sun is shining a little brighter in our world today.

Colic + TV =

So this...... PLUS THIS....

Lots of late nights holding the baby lately. And with that- comes some tied up hands- meaning the remote- while within reach- is useless. Because once you get that colicky baby into a sleeping position- you work quite hard at maintaining those gates to hell that will break loose if you so much as wiggle your thumb. The last few nights have found me dozing on the couch- with the baby snuggled on my chest. Because even though I said I wouldn't do that- it's what works. Yes- I know... keep your told-you-so's to yourself. I promise to apolgize when I come up for air. In the meantime- I woke myself up the other night dreaming of the Daisy Sour Cream jingle with my own words

Do the colic. Do do the colic... Cra-zyyyyyy...

Changes

Huge changes are taking place around my house this week. Huge. Well, at least in my very tiny world they SEEM huge. Whatever. Here they are in no particular order:
1. I will be in my "Mid to late thirties". Old for having a newborn. I know. I know that every time I go to lift him and my back aches or when I have to ask for help to get up off of the ground after changing him. Oh, I know alright.
2. Jake's poop has turned green. And it comes about once a day--- and believe it or not... this is a welcome change considering before it was yellow and came about... um... ten times a day. Yeah, three cheers for formulated green poop!
3. I will no longer have to accept "You must be poor "stares at the gym because I am trading in my huge orange and white Sony Discman which I bought in the late 90's for an I-pod. For my birthday, of course. We are, of course, still poor. In fact, with the little one more poor than ever, but at least it won't be soo.... OBvious.
4. Jake is starting to sleep in his crib. NOT his car seat... his CRIB. Which is located not ANYwhere, but IN his room. This has it's plusses and minuses, but most importantly, my husband and I will be sleeping in our OWN room together, and ALONE. A VERY welcome change.
5. The maternity pants will be boxed up and put away. I realize they still fit, and rather comfortably I might add. However, I have seen Stacy London humiliate someone on national television for not putting away the maternity garments and securing some "regular" pants that fit appropriately within a reasonable timeline of the baby's birth. It's been a solid six weeks... And while I will always have fond memories of pants that are basically elasticized from the knees up- it IS time to put them away.
6. I will be exiting a weight that is so near the two buck mark that I live in a state of constant turmoil and anxiety. Yes, I will. Well, actually, this hasn't happened YET, but I am guessing by the time I do my Weight Watchers Weekly Weigh-in on Thursday that this WILL be the case. If it is NOT the case, I can safely predict that the husband will have to deal with some sort of emergency meltdown ending in me spending money NOT on the NON-maternity pants I spoke of earlier, but some nice shoes and perhaps some other accessories, like a necklace or something. So either way- I can see the silver lining here.
I know, not exactly a stellar list here. But ya know... humor me here people. I realize there will be a day when life's significance will not be associated wtih poop and fat...I am, however, not holding my breath.

Bedtime Stories

Looks like I am already proving to be a bad mother sometimes. While on-line searching for more colic cures, I have come across millions of suggestions. I have been trying them all. The other night, while sitting through hour two of the "cry", I recalled some advice recommending that sometimes telling a nice bedtime story in a soothing voice while rocking the infant on your chest would soothe them. I know, not exactly rocket science, but then again, it was hour two... I was sort of grasping at straws here. Even if it did seem rudimentary.... At any rate, with a renewed surge of hope that I could still quell this bout of wails, I heard myself tell my son this spectactular tale:
Once upon a time there was a beautiful little prince. He was a special and handsome little boy, and people across the country heard of this extraordinary prince and wanted desperately to meet him. He became very educated and was skilled at many things. He could build a house, ride a horse, scale the tallest mountains, and swim the deepest seas.
One day, it became evident to the queen that it was time for him to marry. A bulletin was posted and ladies throughout the land came to vie for his hand in marriage. After a series of tests were administered, a group of special and beautiful ladies, that were purported to be a good match, were introduced to the prince. The prince then chose carefully the lucky lady that would be his wife.
So they married and had a bunch of annoying babies that had the worst colic anyone had ever seen.

After finally getting him to sleep, and then myself to sleep, I awoke groggily remembering my "bedtime" story, feeling what I am sure is to be the first of many guilty pangs I will experience as a mother. Luckily for all of us, due to some formula adjustments, I suspect the colic is subsiding. Hopefully his bedtime stories will start to have some happier endings.

Garden Riddle

What do you get when you cross the following:
1. Frustrating trip to Ace Hardware to pick up potting soil and seeds... leave having spent 50 bucks and a royal headache.
2. Hours bent over pots at 8 months pregnant resulting in severe backache and yet another royal headache.
3. Daily trips outside, 8-10 months pregnant, lugging two gallon water bucket 'round the house to water the 50 bucks worth of potting soil and seeds that will grow into breathtakingly beautiful flowers and luscious fruits and veggies that we will generously share with friends and family...?

The Three Pea Pods.

Run, now... don't walk! To get YOUR pick of the litter. I think the bottom middle one looks the best. Of course, since I spent all that time and money, naturally, I took that one for myself. I bit right into that little green splendor of homegrown deliciousness. BUT!! Thing was? NOT so delicous. In fact... horrible. I did you all a favor and put the other two in the garbage.

Can you imagine? Lucky me!! All that fun and glory for only fifty dollars and constant tending in my last month of pregnancy? I can't WAIT 'til next summer.

Re-Set

I keep having to remind myself that I am NOT in prison. Even though I know that some prisoners ARE getting outside more than I am these days ( believe me when I say that). I know getting outside should be or seem easy- but "outside" has taken on new meaning these days. I think it is most evidenced by my plants. Which after three days in the hospital began to look whithered. But with my Mom here got revived but now with my Mom gone again have shriveled back to basically brown leafy remnants of their former growing selves. Sorry future cukes and tomatoes. Sorry you didn't stand a chance. Things have gotten so pathetic that even though watering these said plants requires only a sliding open of the glass doors, I have resorted to writing "WATER PLANTS" on my Very Important TO DO: list- and it's STILL not getting done. I would rather spend THAT five free minutes, apparently, doing just about anything else. I am getting pretty used to the air condition.
There are other things around here that also are getting neglected. Myself for starters. I don't particularly like the shade of pink I chose to paint my toe nails. I stare at it's Pepto Bismol grossness all day- and even all night- and think--- I should change that out. It had looked so pretty in the store. And then it was like "Project of the Century" to get the nails actually clipped, cleaned, preened and painted. It took an entire weekend to do it and I am not even exaggerating on that. So changing it out seems likes a gargantuan undertaking and I could only wish for two free hours of a salon variety pedicure at this point. But really, that seems next to impossible to organize. In due time on that one... due time.
My house has managed to stay relatively together- because I spend virtually every waking free minute trying to keep it that way. I exhaust myself scrubbing the counters and doing the laundry and making the bed ( I don't know why I need to make the bed at this point- considering there is really no "day" or "night" in my world- so it's just a random series of making and UNmaking it ). I will admit, however- that I have let the floors get ahead of me. I don't tell guests that the smudge they see by the couch is actually some spilled breast milk ( DISGUSTING- I SWEAR I keep meaning to clean it up but it never seems to transfer into the hard drive long enough for me to actually go and GET the product, bring it back and actually USE it ), or that the clump of grease on the kitchen floor is from last weeks burger fest ( of which you can still sorta smell the hamburger grease... ewww. ) But really, other than the nasty floors, and the less than average dinners I manage to half-heartedly throw on the table sans any fresh veggies, things are under control there...
Life has become of series of squeezing things into capsules of time, or what we deem 'round here as the "Morning, Afternoon, or Evening Window"... I am okay with it. I am trying to accept a new set of reorganized priorities that I can live with.
There are snippets of time when I look at the baby and think confidently that this is all totally worth it. I keep hearing those snippets of time continue to get larger and longer until one day you can't even imagine life without your child. Until that time, I will wait patiently- or as patiently as I am wired to be- I will serve unhealthy meals and never walk in the house without shoes and paint my toe nails over long weekends when my Mother is here and never EVER plant a garden again- we will watch Bravo for hours on end in our dirty little condo and just be happy waiting.