1 Mother 2 Another

My daughter seems to be on some sort of daytime sleep strike, and has been since she was about three months old.
 
Somehow, we went from the round-the-clock sleep-and-eat thing to the sleep-at-night, stay-up-all-day thing.  I managed to coax a few naps into her schedule, but they rarely last longer than half an hour.  There was one day I remember like it was yesterday; she was almost five months and somehow magically fell into a three-hour nap (see previous blog!); the next day she was ninety minutes into another good nap when I had to leave the house, so I woke her up figuring it was no big deal.
 
I haven’t seen a three-hour nap since.

I’m a firm believer in breast-feeding; at 8 ½ months Maddie’s still going strong and we have no plans to wean for at least several more months.  Breast-feeding in public, though, is a bit harder for me to get into. 
 
Before you get up in arms and send me chastising email, understand that it’s not about breastfeeding itself.  I think nursing is beautiful and natural and I’m not at all ashamed that I feed my baby.  My issue is, if I didn’t show you my naked breast before I had a baby, I see no reason to give you a free show now.  So I’m one of the women who cover up with ponchos or blankets.  The only problem is, the blankets never stay put and are heavy and suffocating, while I have to stick my head down the neck of my poncho to check on things and it looks as if I’m either going into a “Don’t make me come down there!” moment or looking for a lipstick I dropped.
 
So when I found this product, I was totally psyched and got it for my girlfriend Abby to take out for a test drive.  With a three-year-old to keep busy, I knew she’d be nursing in public much more than she did with just one child.
 
Click below to read what she thinks about it.

In church on Sunday my pastor confessed to being a habitual blog reader.  Apparently there are dozens to hundreds of blogs out there by fellow church leaders, ruminating on various points of theology.  There’s even one called (appropriately enough) “desperate preacher” that goes into whatever scripture is on the church calendar that week, and Milind admitted to heading there, sometimes mere hours before he had to deliver a sermon, in the hopes of finding some new angle, some fresh way of dissecting the day’s verses.
 
Rather than making me worry about the quality of shepherding I receive, the news that he surfs for help comforted me.  As I continue to slog ahead in my Mommy job, I often scour the Internet looking for words of wisdom on a particular topic, be it teething fixes or separation anxiety.  And as much as I go to my trusted reference sites (see Top 5s Page), I just as frequently head to fellow mommy bloggers.  Though they don’t always have the answers, it’s somehow deeply comforting to see other women wrestling with the same issues I do.  If I’m going through a rough patch with Maddie and read a blog entry of a day gone well, I feel encouragement and hope that the tide will turn for me.  And if I read a posting describing a hair-pulling, at-wit’s-end type of day, I shamefully confess that it makes me feel good.  Not that I want others to suffer; I’m just happy to know I’m not the only one trying to figure out how to steer this Mommyhood ship.

While visiting relatives recently, Maddie had her first encounter with a friendly animal.
 
And big surprise, it wasn’t a cat.
 
Maddie met her aunt and uncle’s black lab Amy, and I’m not sure who walked away from the situation more smitten.  Amy’s still a bit of a puppy herself at around two years old, and she was more than ready to join a Mutual Admiration Society.

Well, it’s happened; I’ve had my first “Sunrise, Sunset” moment.
 
She’s crawling.
 
A few days ago Maddie was playing happily on her bedroom floor as I put her clothes away.  I was half watching her play, half putting clothes away, and half looking about the room mentally babyproofing. (Everyone knows mommies do 150% all the time-)  One moment, Maddie was on her hands and knees doing the rocking thing, which she’s done for a good month now.  A bright pink swim bottom caught her eye a few feet away.  The next thing I know, Maddie’s chewing on said swim bottom.

Last weekend Maddie was officially inaugurated into that great American tradition, the Road Trip.
 
We took a spin down to visit some family and friends, christening Maddie’s new convertible car seat.  I confess, I was a bit apprehensive at the thought of putting her through a five-and-a-half hour car trip, but she handled it like a pro. 
 
Though the five-plus hour car trip did turn into a seven-hour car trip.

Finding a nursing bra that fits can seem an overwhelming task, I know.  My friend Rebbecca Rosen, the owner of Breastchester, Inc., is an expert on the subject, and I asked her to let us poor lactating mommies in on her secrets.  Click below to get the inside scoop –

 

Jennifer

Madeleine had a few firsts recently, all in one fell swoop –
 
Her first real playdate (as opposed to two newborns lying side by side on a blanket)
Her first real interaction with a boy
Her first case of assault by said boy
 
Yep, it was a busy afternoon for my girlie.  We had my girlfriend Renee in with her baby Elijah.  Now, Eli’s three months older and twice the weight of Maddie; the kid’s a real bruiser and, if his dad and uncle have anything to say about it, a future linebacker for first the Tennessee Vols and then the Tennessee Titans.  Maddie’s knee-deep in her fascination-with-other-babies phase; she’s simply hit that age where she realizes there are babies other than her (Quel Horreur!) and is captivated by them.  Thus far, though, all interactions have been more of the waving-hello-from-one-mommy’s-lap-to-another’s variety; no up close and personal play time with toys and open spaces.

So far, I’ve covered things to think about as you decide where to register, how to approach your registry, and specific items to consider for your list.  It may seem odd that I’m going to talk about what not to register for, but it’s a legitimate topic.  Since I didn’t cover everything you’d probably put on a registry, you may think I left these off because I assumed you’d know to add them.  But my girlfriends and I have discovered through experience that there are some things best left off the list.
 
So in my opinion, here’s what to avoid putting on your registry:

Ok – you’ve hit the store several times, had many fights – er – discussions with your spouse, and narrowed down your list.  You’ve got your spread sheet going of the general item you want, the brand you’re thinking about, and where it’s competitively priced.  Or is that just me?  At any rate, time to register!  (Speaking of time, it goes faster than you think.  We started working on our list around 5 months.  First off, we argue a lot over what to get and that takes time.  Second off, a couple things we wanted – the crib and the chair – need to be ordered TWELVE WEEKS ahead of time.  So we needed to get those picked and ordered, which we did while we worked on the registry.)
 
What should be on your list?  I’m not going to cover everything; there’s a ton of books out there that print handy lists for you.  But here are some highlights you might not think of, as well as some things I’d advise against.  If I’ve got a favorite brand or style, I’ve linked to it so you can see what I’m talking about.  I recommend some expensive items, but I promise I’ve done the research and think they’re worth it.  Which leads me to one final tip-

Congratulations!  You’re pregnant.  Now comes the hard part.
 
Nope, not talking about labor.  Not talking about raising your kids right.  Not talking about saving for college (though good luck with that!)
 
I’m talking about the daunting task of creating your baby registry.
 
When I was pregnant, I was initially ecstatic at the idea of “having” to go through a shopping experience.  Not knowing anything about baby gear didn’t phase me one bit; I was sure that with my thorough research habits, I’d have no trouble quickly narrowing down to the best of each category.  Unfortunately, no one told me the sheer volume of gear you’ll need, or more importantly, that I’d have no idea what most of it was for.  I clearly had my work cut out for me.

I’ve got a cold right now, and I’m really jonesing for a big shot of Nyquil.  I can barely even remember the taste of it, but I remember that drowsy, slightly slow feeling that came with it, and I really remember how it kept me from waking up throughout the night, feeling lousy.  I can’t even open my medicine cabinet for fear of seeing the tempting big cherry bottle.
 
I’ve been off Nyquil – and just about every other over-the-counter medicine you could name – for seventeen months now, not that I’m counting.  When I called my friend Abby and told her I was pregnant, I asked her sort of medicines I should start to watch out for.  She laughed, and said, “Welcome to the mother’s medicine cabinet – Tylenol and Tums.”

The Christmas I was pregnant I asked Santa for a couple items I thought no mom should be without – a super-sized electric griddle and a deep fat fryer.  I was sure the fryer would make me the coolest mom on the block, and the griddle conjured up pictures of sleepy weekend mornings, a big pile of steaming pancakes, and the family sitting around the dining table enjoying a leisurely brunch.
 
That picture came partially true recently; we got socked with that New York blizzard this weekend, and were forced (!) to stay home for a good 24 hours.  Honestly, is there anything better than being snowed in with a full freezer, a warm house, and nowhere to have to go?

The answer is yes – all of the above, plus a baby girl who is experiencing a blizzard for the first time.

We recently went on a church overnight retreat, and I have to say that Maddie was the belle of the ball.  For all her separation anxiety, she’s getting pretty relaxed about being held by other people; as long as I’m within eyeshot, she’s content to be passed around, removing eyeglasses and squeezing noses on pretty much anybody.
 
And when I say pretty much anybody, I mean pretty much anybody except our pastor.

I have to say that for an eight-month-old, my kid’s got a pretty impressive resume of talents.

Truly, if all of her remarkable skills were documented, Disney and the like would be lined up around the block trying to hire her.

Here’s just a sampling of her special skills –

Moving to a new city is never easy.  The packing, the house-selling, the forwarding of your mail and loading up of your car are just preludes to the mess awaiting you at the other end: the unpacking and finding half your dishes broken; the unpacking and never finding your favorite (fill in the blank); the searching for a local grocery store, opening a bank account, and so on.  Add kids to the mix and the work multiplies ten-fold.  You’re incredibly busy helping your kids get settled in their new rooms, talking them through missing their friends, but you can’t help but wonder where the Mommy is to help you with your transition!
 
Where is your group of local girlfriends to give you the scoop on the best pediatrician that takes insurance and squeezes you in at the last minute?  How will you find the gals who will tell you how big your kiddo’s getting, and how notice how many more tricks he can do this week than last?  Being a mom in a new city can be lonely and overwhelming, and you may have no idea how to start making connections. 

Two of my friends moved last year, both while pregnant and raising a toddler at the same time.  I went to them to find out how they started getting plugged in to their community.  It turns out there are some great national organizations out there, as well as many easy and free (!!) activities you can do to help bring you in contact with other parents.  These may seem obvious to some of you, but I know what mommy brain can do to a girl, so they’re listed anyway.

Our daughter’s found a new love – herself.
 
We’ve played games with the mirror since she was around three months old, and she’s always enjoyed seeing herself in the reflection.  Sneaking up on herself in the mirror is a guaranteed laugh for a good four minutes or so, and tapping the bottoms of her feet against the glass distracts her in the midst of all but a level five meltdown.
 
Recently, though, she’s hit an important milestone: she’s begun noticing other kids.  Church on Sunday is an awe-inspiring place for her, filled with smaller babies and bigger toddlers.  A couple weeks ago she sat and stared at Abby’s Josh, younger than Maddie by a good four months but roughly the same size as my kiddo.  Mesmerized, she reached out to stroke a sleeping Josh’s hand, just like she’d been practicing stroking Kitty.  When Josh stirred beneath her touch, she jumped, frightened, and looked at me as if to say, “Mommy!  What IS it?”  When confronted with a big kid like Abby’s Isaiah (a towering three years), she gazes awestruck as if afraid to dream of being that big.  All babies, though, are attracting her attention as she starts to take notice of the larger world around her.

There are a few blogs I check in on regularly, and Dooce is one of them.  A reader mentioned the blog to me in passing, and when a girlfriend of a girlfriend recommended it shortly thereafter I knew I had to look into it.  Dooce has been up and running for five years and the author’s got a two-year-old daughter and a razor-sharp sense of humor.
 
Every month, Heather (the blogger) writes a letter to her daughter, and even though her daughter’s much older than Maddie I find Heather’s words express things I’m feeling much better than I’d ever be able to.  This month’s letter is for her daughter’s second birthday, and hit on a subject I’ve been thinking about a lot - no, not the constipation, though that’s discussed as well!  I’ve been mulling over the deep desire I have to make sure my daughter knows, down in her bone marrow, that I’m there for her and always will be.  I want it to be something she never questions, like the Dallas Cowboys are for my husband.
 
At any rate, click here to read for yourself.

When I was a kid (OK, teenager) one of my little pleasures in life was locking my dad out of the car.  We’d just gotten one of the fancy new cars with the newfangled “power locks”, and I was heady with power.  See, Dad’s old-school manners-wise, and he’d always open the woman’s door first, then walk around to get in on the driver’s side.  I’d sit in my seat, tense with anticipation, as he circled the hood and approached his door.  My hand casually resting on the door’s arm rest, I’d be the picture of innocence.  He’d optimistically reach for the handle, even start to lift it, and CLICK!  My timing was impeccable. 
 
He grew to regard his door handle with something akin to loathing, as if it were guaranteed to deliver a physical shock when he touched it.  No matter how long he waited, I’d still zing him.  I even, with masterminded brilliance, allowed him to open the door unmolested a few times, lulling him into a false sense of security before zinging him again.  I was merciless.
 
As they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Proving we really are the city with everything, NYC now has its first map of daddy changing tables across the city.  Click here to check it out; Daddytypes blogger Greg has designed a cool Google Map overlay with info on the best places to check under the hood if you’ve got the babe for the day.
 
And he’s even willing to go you one better – he’s working on a version you can download to your Blackberry; no more furtive wipe swipes on the floor of the children’s section of Barnes and Noble.
 
What more can an urban dad need?
 
p.s. – if you’re having trouble reading the map (say, it loads you up in Ft. Wayne Indiana!) make sure you’re using Mozilla Firefox instead of Internet Explorer.

Babies seem to come in waves; you’ll see a community with none, and within a year or two there’ll be nine or ten infants babbling together happily.  I felt like I was at the end of the wave I was riding, but it seems to have no crest in sight!  Since Maddie arrived, three more babies have been born to friends, and I’ve got another three lined up: my high school girlfriend Jen was due the end of January (we’ve moved into the timeframe where you can’t email and say, “Had it yet?”  You just wait for the email or birth announcement.)  Angie’s in the exact same spot, awaiting her second, and my girlfriend Sandra is expecting her second the beginning of March.  Add to that Emily’s July due date, and the wave might just be endless.

When Madeleine was about three months old, I noticed she started to become more daring, more outgoing, more explorative – but only from the safety circle of a caregiver’s arms.  At her four-month checkup, I tentatively remarked to her pediatrician that I thought Maddie might be going through separation anxiety.  The pediatrician smiled skeptically.  “Jennifer, babies usually go through it at 8 or nine months of age.  In all my years practicing medicine, I’ve only seen one baby go through it this early.”  By the end of the exam, though, she ruefully acknowledged that she was wrong, and Maddie was clearly into separation anxiety.
 
What can I say?  My girl’s a quick learner.
 
I naively assumed that early in meant early out, and we’d be over this minor road bump without much trouble at all.
 
What can I say?  I’m a slow learner.

Being from Texas, Madeleine’s already got a couple country-western dances down.  Sure, she was technically born in NYC, but we’re sure her heart’s from the Lone Star State and that’s all that matters.
 
We know she’s a cowgirl, ‘cause she does the Tush Push like a pro.  Also, the Hiney Shuffle and the South End Swing.
 
Madeleine’s crazy with the desire to move forward on her own, but so far all efforts have been sent to the, er, rear.  She gathers herself onto her hands and knees and rocks forward and back vigorously, as if building up momentum to launch herself forward.  Then she pushes off with her arms and moves – backwards.  Yep, she’s still doing the backwards scooch, and still looks surprised when she consistently ends up farther away from her target than when she started.