Hats

My mom bought Kole hats. She was/is on a constant search for them. She thinks baby hats are the cutest thing. I agree- but Kole has a huge head for a baby his age. Not all hats fit his noggin.

Sticking It To the Man

I posted this picture of Kole. Anyone notice anything... odd about it?

This was the day he was circumcised. Maybe that explains his attitude.

Wise Old Owl

Karlenn is my wise old owl. When Kole was first born she gave me a book called BabyWise and a handwritten schedule for helping me and Kole co-exist. I was a stinking wreck and not ready for a schedule. Well. 5 weeks later I still felt like I was swimming. Swimming in quicksand.
Yesterday I read the whole book. Cover to cover. Even the reviews. It's a simple routine. Eat, Play, Sleep. I thought- we can handle that.
EAT: Kole loves to eat. He is a bit of a glutton. Eats as much as he can as fast as he can. So eating for half an hour would be a change for my little dragon. But I thought- I can at least keep him there for a half an hour. I did- and sure enough he slowed down. And spreads it out. He eats for 25 minutes. Hey, no one's perfect right?
PLAY: After the Kolester eats he gets to play for half an hour. I tried taking him to the playground- but he didn't grasp the idea of the see saw or the swings OR the slides! So we pretty much just lay on the ground and stare at the lights. Sometimes we lay on our bellies and stare at the carpet. I know, fun, right?
SLEEP: I then put Koley Oley down for a nap. For at least an hour and a half. When I read the book I was really doubtful- "Yeah right. There is no way that he'll play for half hour and then go to sleep. No stinking way." Boy was I wrong. I put him in his crib ready to deal with hoots and hollers and shrieks. I was only met with a smile, a sigh, and closed eyes. He was totally exhausted! I couldn't believe it!

Lather, rinse, repeat.
It's that easy.

And my head has finally stopped spinning. He hasn't cried at all during the day. A little at night. Everyone needs extra snuggling at night. Kole comes from very snuggly parents.

Is this what it feels like to be a mom? One in control?
I'm loving it.

BIRTH PART II (aka The C-Section)

The c-section wasn’t what I thought it would be. Where does that come from anyway? It was really trippy. I remember a vertical blue wall that made me seriously carsick. I remember Ken in scrubs (hat included) looking like a total stud. I remember screaming for them not to start because I could still feel it. The numbing doctor kept saying, “No you can’t babe. They already started.” He kept calling me “babe.” I liked it! It felt like I was getting punched in the stomach over and over. By like 5 people. I thought I would just lay there and then in a few minutes the baby would be there in my arms. Uh.. No. It took probably a half and hour. A half hour of being punched in the stomach after 18 hours of labor. Ouch. Ken didn’t want to watch. I know I talked a lot but I’m not sure what I said. Dr. Huggins said, “Okay he’s almost here....” and then there was a huge gasp through the whole room. A huge gasp and the happiest cry I ever heard. “That’s the biggest baby I’ve ever seen!” The doctors seemed to say in unison. He was crying really happy. Not a sad cry- a cry of relief. I was crying. I looked at Ken... he was a little teary... and just nodded. There was a lot of noise. I was really surprised there was so much racket going on. I heard “11 pounds!” somewhere in the background. I looked back at Ken. “Good job, hun.” Then it was over. Well... the baby was gone. Ken was gone. And I stayed strapped to the table. The doctor who kept calling me babe told me to close my eyes and relax.
“I’m going to die if I close my eyes.”
“You won’t die. We won’t let you die.”
“I’ll die anyway.”

I closed my eyes.... on accident. But lived.

BIRTH PART II (aka Push It!)

You know that Salt n Peppa song right? I wish I had thought of that while I was pushing. That would have been hilarious. I started pushing at quarter to 7. I was so excited that it was finally time to push. All my friends had told me they had to push for “maybe 15 minutes.” A couple of them pushed up to 45 minutes. So at 6:45 I was under the firm impression that by 7:30 (7:45 at the latest) I would be holding a glowing baby in a softly lit hospital room. Ken would be there, family would be gathered around, and there would be music (preferably with violins) playing somewhere softly. I’d be in a pink silk nightgown, my hair swept out of my face in a flawless up-do.
I started pushing in 10 second intervals. I was feeling really good about it. It was work- but it’s nothing I couldn’t do for 45 minutes. My nurse was fantastic. Smiley and encouraging. “Let’s do another 10. And go.” Pushpushpushpushpushpushpushpush. After half hour my nurse started to change. She didn’t seem as excited. She’d say things like, “He’s really cozy in there.” and “Keep your bottom on the table.” I didn’t know my bottom was off the table. When we reached the hour mark I was a little discouraged. I was told to take a break. I was told nicely and all but I really got the impression that she didn’t think I was pushing with all my might. She left to get a second opinion and I told Ken that when she came back I was going to push like hell and that little baby would shoot out of me like a football. I pushed like hell. But nothing happened. Around 9 I thought I was going to die. We were trying all kinds of things. Tug of war. Side pushing. Squatting. One leg up and one down. Extra high stirrups. Extra low stirrups. At this point I became delusional. I really don’t remember a lot of what went on and what I said. I remember someone threatened to turn my epidural down so I could feel enough to push. Didn’t happen. I also remember telling Ken that I could say whatever I wanted and that if anyone needed to calm down it was him. He later told me that when I had to push I would be really really mean and start yelling at everyone to smile and be encouraging and don’t they know I AM pushing. And then on the breaks I would be their #1 cheerleader. Telling the nurses what a great job they did on that push. I had about 7 nurses by this time. They just kept coming in and checking me. Giving their advice. At 9:30 I was screaming for Dr. Huggins. One of the nurses said she would call her. I swear 5 seconds later she was right in front of me. I cried with relief. Ken said I called her my fairy godmother and told her she was the most beautiful woman alive. Oh boy. What a whack I was.
I pushed a few more times. Dr. Huggins asked if I wanted to use the vacuum. I just wanted him out. We tried the vacuum twice to no avail. She couldn’t get it to stick to his head. She asked if I would be okay with a c-section.

“Just get him out.”
Sob. Sob. Sob.

BIRTH PART I (aka This is SO fun!)

I realize that for the rest of my life time will be measured by “before the baby” and “after the baby.’ I still call him “the baby.” That’s bound to get awkward at some point.

It was 4 in the morning and I was up walking around the room trying not to think about my stomach being ripped apart by contractions. Ken woke up and turned the light on. “The baby is coming today,” he said while putting on his glasses.
“I doubt it. This happens every night.”
2 hours later we were walking around the basement fighting contractions (by playing the alphabet game) that were coming every 6 minutes. I love that Ken thought to play a game. What a fun train of thought. You see, during my pregnancy I was thinking I was really brave and incredibly strong. I wanted to go “all natural.” I wanted to do most of the laboring at home and then go to the hospital to push the baby out. I thought that would be “fun.” I lasted until about 10:15 in the morning. At that point, after 6 hours and 15 minutes of contractions, I realized that Yeah. Ken is right. The baby is coming today. Contractions were 4 or 5 minutes a part lasting at least a minute and making impossible to think logically, stand up straight, and not throw up. When I started shaking uncontrollably and puking Ken said it was time to go to the hospital. I agreed. I kept saying to Ken, “Don’t speed. Don’t speed. I don’t want to get pulled over. Don’t speed.” In my head I was thinking, “Remember everything. This is your birth story. How cool is this?!” Ken apparently didn’t pay attention on our tour and I was too distracted by contractions to read any signs so- it took us a while to find labor and delivery. We got there and my sweet sweet nurse whom I will always love- and whose name I will never remember- asked me if I wanted any pain medications. I looked at Ken he was calling my mom and dad and his mom and dad to tell them we were at the hospital. “I don’t think so. We’re going to try this naturally.” She thought that was “nice.” She checked me and I was at a 7. 10 minutes later I got an epidural. She knew. Now, I know. Get the stinking epidural. Don’t be brave. I was brave for 7 hours. It’s overrated. Once the epidural sunk in and I was loving life I told Ken, “This is kind of fun!” A nurse came in and broke my water. She wheeled in a table with all the delivery tools on it and assured me the baby was on his way. Uh, duh. That’s why we are here. Ken and I were so excited. We figured- baby by 1 at the latest- all our family would come that afternoon- what a great and fun day.
1 o’clock came and went.
2 o’clock came and went.
3,4,5, and 6 o’clock came and went.
I was hurting. Even though I received an epidural there was a spot on the lower left side of my back that didn’t go numb. It was about the size of a ping pong ball. I felt a minute part of every contraction. Plus. Even if you can’t feel it your body is still working.
At 6:15 the nurse asked if I was ready to push. I felt really tired already. But, being asked that question brought a new energy.
Absolutely!

Bathing the Boy

Baby gets a bath every night before bed. They say having a routine really helps the baby go to sleep. They don’t mention it really helps mom keep her marbles. Since Kole has started bath time he has screamed through it. I was chalking it up to the first time I put him in there he went under. It was an accident. He’s got a little tub that goes in the sink and I had it full and was soaping him up and he got mighty slippery and went under. No harm done. He was pretty scared- but survived! Cut me some slack. I’m new at this. I figured he had lost bath-time trust in me and that’s why he screamed all the time. Krissy came over this week and spent the night and when I was getting Kole’s bath ready I was telling her how much he hates having a bath. Being an experienced mom, she thought this was fishy. After feeling the bath water she informed me that he screamed because I was basically dipping him in lava. The water was way too hot for a baby. I thought it felt great. She did up a new bath and wouldn’t you know it Kole loves bath time. I can’t ever get him to get out. He insists on staying in until he’s pruned.

The New Order

Since I don’t have the Internet at home- I’ll be blogging “offline.” Meaning typing my posts at home. It’s actually quite therapeutic makes me feel like I mean something. To someone. Other than Kenner and the Baby. Then, the one time I am online a week- I’ll post what I wrote. So… keep up with me. Go back and see what's been up.

Sweet Dreaming

Kole is now 2 weeks and 5 days old. 10 out of 10 times when someone comes to see him or calls in to check on us (still in the wallows of agony...PS.) the first question they ask after commenting on his size and asking if he really is only over 2 weeks old is: Is he a “Good Sleeper?” In other words, “Welcome to the world of competitive parenting.” This is the question all parents use to gage themselves against other parents. Because, as every overachieving parent knows, it’s all about the sleep: how soon your child does it through the night, how long, and how deeply. It’s the single biggest mark of success or failure in the first three months of parenthood. For a 2 week old baby I think the question is slightly premature and frankly none of any one’s GD business. But, since the question comes up… yeah… every day I have learned that this harmless question is actually a minefield. Seemingly harmless, but what the person really wants to know is, “Are you a lazy slacker?” Or, if they’re newish parents, “Are you worse at this than I am?” My follow up question is “What constitutes a Good Sleeper?” Kole can close his eyes and breathe at the same time. So, yeah, by that regard Kole is a good sleeper. The little duckling goes down at 11 pm. The little duckling gets up at 3:30, almost on the dot. We have a night cap. For roughly 30 or 45minutes. A bit of rocking and the little duckling is out. Until 8 or 9. A couple times as early as 7:30. To me… that’s a Good Sleeper.

Your judgments?

Sleep When the Baby Sleeps

That’s the old adage and the advice I got nearly 800 times once I delivered the little man cub. “Sleep when the baby sleeps.” It makes sense and with 2 and a half weeks of experience I can testify it is not hard to do. When the baby sleeps I am most definitely asleep. I couldn’t stay awake if I tried. His days and nights are off and so are mine. Big whoop. We’ve (meaning I’ve) adjusted. Him and I don’t have any place to be the next day so who cares if we stay up until 2 AM and then sleep the afternoon away. Not I said the mamma.

To this adage I wish to add my own:
Sleep when the baby sleeps.
Cry when the baby cries.

I had heard of the Baby Blues. However, before bearing a child never understood why someone would be sad about a perfect, beautiful, sweet smelling (when clean and changed) baby. As it turns out you’re not sad about your baby at all. Sure looking at the baby can trigger the tears but so can looking at the jar of jam you took out to put on your toast.
Last week Ken came home from work and he offered to go get some ice cream. I cried. For like 20 minutes. A few days ago I went with the baby and sat outside around 9ish when it had cooled off a bit. I noticed some yard tools that had been left out from before the baby was born. I lost it. Cried and cried and cried. Another time I had just bathed, fed, diapered, and cuddled Kole. His little lip started shivering. I started to sing a song from 7 Brides for 7 Brothers. Kole kept his composure and I lost mine. What am I crying about though? How are all of these linked? Why won’t it stop?
The phone will ring and I see who is calling and I immediately get a lump in my throat. I want to talk. I do. I want to share what is happening. You are my friend. But I can’t. I’m too much of a crybaby.
It’s really hard convincing Ken (or anyone) that I am happy and love the baby when I am saying it all through sobs.
Send in the clowns. It feels like we’ll be here for a while.
On second thought- don't. I can't handle any visitors.