Six Weeks Old Today

Oh, my lovely Extra Little! You've already been around for six whole weeks as of today. What a good, sweet baby you've been so far. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that you still spend most of your time sleeping and that we get good five-or-six-hour stretches of sleep most every night.

Your hair has already started falling out. Right now you and your daddy are competing for the title of Best Receding Hairline. Of course, your hair colour is still a big mystery. Is it going to grow back in blond like your brother? Or will you keep your current dark-brown-with-copper-undertones colour? Only time will tell (but we're all betting on blond).

I'm afraid you'll have to move on to three-to-six month clothes very soon. You're just too damn long for your current wardrobe. Especially since most of it was Kiddle's and has been washed and dried one zillion times.

The biggest change in the last two weeks? Your sweet smile has appeared ... and you're practically laughing (or so we tell ourselves, at least). But no change to your monkey toes. They're as long as ever!

"THE CALLER IS INSIDE THE HOUSE!"

My lord. I just had a classic horror movie sort of moment.

Kiddle was theoretically in bed and I was sitting peacefully on the couch with Extra Little ... when I hear a phone ringing. Not my landline. Not my cell phone. Not any of Kiddle's random toy phones. And it sounds like it's coming from UPSTAIRS.

Then I hear someone talking.

I creep up the stairs to check it out (I know ... that's the WRONG move to make in a horror movie). Of course, it's pitch black up there because Kiddle is supposed to be going to sleep so I can't see a damn thing. I turn on a light and peek into Kiddle's room. He's not in his bed, so my not-yet-adjusted eyes automatically go to his usual alternate location — under the chair. Then I hear this little voice floating out of the darkness, from the chair.

"I call numbers, Mommy!"

He had managed to call some random number. ON SPEAKERPHONE, I might add. And got the classic "Beep, beep, BEEP ... the number you're calling in not in service; please check the number and dial again." Jeez, Kiddle. Way to take 10 years off my life!

What the damn phone was doing in his room is beyond me.

Out here on my own...

We had Extra Little's two-weeks-and-change check-up at the pediatrician today. I could tell he'd filled out quite a bit over the last week or so, but I wasn't sure just how much weight he'd gained. I was simply hoping he'd gotten back to his birth weight of 9 pounds 4 ounces.

No worries. He's grown half an inch already and weighs 9 pounds 10 ounces. That's a big boy, huh? As my neighbor said, "He just doesn't look like a newborn at all. More like he's at least six weeks old." So true.

And on a side note, we went back to the doctor in the afternoon for Kiddle. I thought (or maybe hoped) he just had really bad allergies and that we needed to try him on a different medication. But, alas, no. He has a ear infection and mostly likely a sinus infection. So much for keeping the ugly germs away from Extra Little.

***

I've tried to be good about letting my body heal. Really, I have. But it's so much different this time because life with a 30 pound three-year-old just doesn't stop.

It was my second day on my own with both kids and it just about did me in: preschool to drop off Kiddle, the doctor for Extra Little's check-up, grocery store to replenish our milk and fruit supply, home to feed XL, preschool to pick up Kiddle, home for lunch, a second trip to the doctor for Kiddle, back home so I could change clothes (don't ask), Target (just as a massive downpour was starting, of course) to fill Kiddle's prescription, home to feed XL again, then over to my neighbor's backyard so Kiddle could jump on the trampoline and play with his friends. My house is a total disaster and I'm just too tired to care.

It's true what they say ... my mom doesn't live here. Too bad I'm the mom now and she's back in Oklahoma. This place was much neater when she was around!

Men in Trees

Kiddle and I have an understanding. I let him climb this tree whenever he wants and he promises he won't break his arm until he's four.

Oh yeah. That new kid? He's two weeks old today.

No more bun in the oven

Sorry for the disappearing act ... did you hear I had a baby? I promise I'll catch up soon with all sorts of ridiculous minutiae, but for now here's a link to my lovely doula's announcement about the kiddo.

What's in a date?

My due date is May 14th, but Mr. P and I had our own three target days to have this baby.

5/4/09 — I like this one because Kiddle's birthday is 04/05/06 (and isn't that a cool birthday?). 4/5 and 5/4 have some nice synergy. And 5+4=9. Which must be a postive thing, numerologically, right?

5/6/09 — We'd lose the mathematical quirk with this one, but it would be easy to remember birthdays. Kiddle on 4/5 and Extra Little on 5/6.

5/7/09 — As my almost-sister-in-law pointed out ... "consecutive odd number dates like this will only happen five times this century!" But it's almost 3pm already, so it's not looking good.

Oh well. A boring old regular birth date it is!

Criminal mastermind in the making.

But he's not one just yet.

I was upstairs putting away some laundry, while he was downstairs watching TV. I heard some suspicious, not-watching-TV noises so I headed toward the stairs, calling down, "Kiddle! What are you up to?"

Thump, thump, thump, thump, as he runs back into the living room.
Click, as he turns the TV back on.
Whump, as he throws himself on the couch.

Nice cover. Except that he left the water running in the bathroom.

Extra Little Update

My one zillionth prenatal appointment this morning.

I like that I lost three pounds. I like that she told me I could stop testing my blood sugar four times a day; instead, just twice a day. I don't like that I'm still 1cm dilated (same as last week). But ... I am 50% effaced, so that's some progress. She doesn't want me to go too far past my due date, so we've scheduled a c-section for Saturday, May 16th. That gives me nine more days to get this kid out. After that, he coming out — ready or not.

Tomorrow ... more castor oil.
Saturday ... more acupuncture.
Rinse and repeat.

Things on my To Do list ...

... when I thought I might be going into labor this afternoon:

• remove nail polish
• pack hospital bag
• finish baby laundry
• put away clean laundry
• four more loads of laundry
• clean up kitchen
• pick up house
• clean bathroom
• sheets on guest bed
• stuff to attic
• baby paperwork
• finish birth plan
• pay bills
• wash towels
• update "the care & feeding of Kiddle"
• go through mail

Things left on my To Do list:

• pack bag
• update "the care & feeding of Kiddle"
• go through mail
• fold two loads of laundry

Possible labor is a GREAT motivator. Especially for my lazy ass, apparently.

Blue and yellow make green.

Wow. I just had what seemed like an actual conversation with Kiddle.

On the way home from preschool I asked him what he'd like for lunch ... and, for the first time ever, he actually answered.

"Banana!"
"Oh, really? A banana? What else would you like? Some cottage cheese?"
"BLUE cottage cheese."
"That's a shocker. So, blue cottage cheese and a banana it is."
"No, Mommy. Blue cottage cheese and YELLOW banana."
"Well, excuse me. You are correct."

Oh my god ...

down to single digits on the Baby Countdown. (Although I'm actually hoping for 1 or 2 days. Not 9.) Gotta get back to doing laundry.

Must. Pack. Hospital. Bag.

Pronto.

AH-CHOO!

The only disadvantage to a whole-house fan I've found so far? Pollen still flows through window screens. That lovely green dusting of pollen is coating every single surface in my house. Mmm-mmm.

Uh oh.

Just got back from an ultrasound where Extra Little's CURRENT size was estimated to be 8.5 pounds. Yikes! That's the same size Kiddle was when he was born and I couldn't get him out. So I definitely might be looking at another c-section. I really don't want to go through labor only to end up with major surgery again.

Here's my big dilemma. My parents just left yesterday for vacation in Florida, returning to Oklahoma on May 10th. My mom is scheduled to come up here on May 12th and my due date is May 14th. Based on a couple of conversations with my sister, I had pretty much decided not to tell them when I went into labor, but just to call after the baby arrived. My mom is already more excited/stressed about my impending delivery than anyone else — including me — so if I call too early ... vacation OVER. Not only for my dad, but also for the other couples with them. She's just too high-strung to be relaxed (and silent) about this.

But if I schedule a c-section? Ay yi yi. Not sure what to do. I still think my instinct is just to let them know after it's all over. I don't need her to change her travel plans, so why create drama any earlier than needed?

Right?

I'm going to burn in hell for this, aren't I?

Am I in Oklahoma?

Because it sure seems like it. Sunday was 92 degrees. Monday was 89. Yesterday was 94 ... and today the high is supposed to be 58. That sure sounds an awful lot like Oklahoma weather to me. Of course, if you crammed those extremes into one afternoon, that would be even more familiar.

Seriously, weather gods, it's freakin' APRIL! In New Jersey, no less. Sunday we filled up the kiddie pool. Yesterday we spent the afternoon at my neighbor's house in the sprinkler. I was so glad I already bought some shorts for Kiddle. And I had been really quite pleased that, once again, I would avoid being pregnant in the summer. Or so I thought.

I did handle the heat much better than I thought I would, though. When I was pregnant with Kiddle, I remember swelling up a bit when the weather got a little warmer in March and being so thankful my due date was in April. So I really expected the worst with these extreme temps this week. But no swelling, no other issues. Yay!

Hopefully that's it with the crazy weather — for the next couple of weeks at least.

Where's Kiddle?

Oh. My. God. Kiddle just about sent me into labor a bit ago.

I was upstairs, sorting laundry. Mr. P was in his basement office, working on his thesis. And Kiddle was on the couch watching "Cars." At least that's where we left him.

I thought I heard him crying, and since I knew Mr. P was in the basement, I came downstairs to check it out. He wasn't in the living room and I continued on toward the basement, looking for the source. It sounded like he was crying OUTSIDE so I paused by the side door and called out to Mr. P, "Are you with him?" "Nope," came his reply wafting up from the basement. Fuck.

Kiddle had gone out the side door by himself and was on the driveway sobbing because the asphalt was burning his feet. (I should mention it's almost 90 out today and he was only wearing a diaper.) I almost had a heart attack or, at least, a baby.

In the last week or so, he figured out how to unlock and open the front door. I got an alarm for that door on Friday, but hadn't dealt with the side door just yet. It has a double key deadbolt so he can't get out that door (although he already swipes my keys on occasion and attempts an escape), but today it was open to the screen door because of the heat. Looks like we'll be headed out to Home Depot soon to get another alarm.

Or maybe a lo-jack for Kiddle. They make those for toddlers now, right?

No, really. Thank YOU.

People like this annoy the crap out of me. I posted a question on my local Mothers & More board asking about car seat placement for two kids in an SUV. Here's what I wrote:

Kid #2 is arriving shortly and I'm interested in opinions on which side of the car to put each seat on. With the one kid, I've always had him in the center or passenger side. I assumed I'd put the new baby on the passenger side and my 3yo behind me, but now I'm not so sure. The source of my waffling is my vehicle. When #1 was an infant/baby, I had a sedan; now I have an SUV. I probably won't be able to reach the new baby on the passenger side now anyway, so should I put him behind me, and leave the 3yo where he is? What's worked best for you, particularly if you drive an SUV?

At any point did I ask for what the "safety experts" say? Nope. I've got a computer, thanks. Did I ask people who don't have two kids to chime in? Um, no. So thanks Nosy Nellie for posting this gem:

The recommendation from safety experts is to put "least-protected child in most protected spot/most protected child in least protected spot." Any rear-facing child is more protected than a forward-facing child. And an outboard (next to the door) position is less protected of a spot than the center. Seems like in your case, the new baby in a rear-facing infant seat can go in to the 2nd row outboard seat behind you and your 3 year old can be in the 2nd row center. hth!

I'm sure this is the "safest" way to do it. And I'm sure there are people out there who actually install their car seats like this, but no one I know. And I'm more than sure that Kiddle poking the baby in the eye is going to be waaay more of a distraction and safety hazard than putting him in the seat behind me.

And I especially love the "hth" at the end. Happy to help, my ass!

Soccer For Tots

Or, as it should be called, Soccer For Parents and (Sort Of) Their Tots.

Kiddle went to his first soccer session today with his buds LK and Jack. His class is all three-year-olds and, as I'm sure you can imagine, it was totally chaotic and adorable. Their "field" was an entangled mass of kids and parents: "Hey, let's go listen to Coach Matt." "No, no, stay in the grid, please." "You've already got a ball; you don't need Emmett's too." As expected, super natural athlete Jack rocked it and LK was one of the best at actually listening to Coach Matt and following directions. As for Kiddle ...

He hasn't quite figured out you DON'T use your hands:



Or that you DO use your feet:



But when you get to BUILD A ROCKET SHIP and kick the ball? Suddenly, he's focused and into it:

Blast Off!

Such a silly little thing to write about, but I want to make sure I remember it. And what's a blog for, if not to wax (un)poetically about any silly ol' thing you want, right?

Kiddle's imagination hasn't really kicked in too much yet. He'll play with his animals, but mostly in a putting-them-in-and-out-of-the-barn approach, or he might go as far as re-enacting a bit from the Backyardigans or Sesame Street. I see glimmers of true imagination now and then, but I was particularly struck by something he did tonight while we were getting him ready for bed.

He already had a sippy cup of water in hand, when he discovered a slinky on a bedside table in our room. He first tried to fit the cup through the slinky, telling me it was TOO BIG. But next he stuck the slinky on the bottom of the cup, while letting it dangle toward the ground, and told me it was a ROCK-ET SHIP.

Why, yes, little one, that absolutely looks like a rocket ship! Brilliant!

Well, maybe not brilliant, but I was sure impressed since that's not the sort of thing he usually does. He then spent a while counting down a blast off from the ground and flying his rocket ship around the room. That part was brilliant because he totally distracted me from the fact that he was supposed to be going to bed.

It's the little things.

A tiny bit of progress today in the language department for Kiddle today. The last couple of weeks I've been working with him on how he makes requests. As in, instead of just saying "cookie," say "can I have a cookie?" This is our usual conversation:

"Cookie?"
"How do you ask for things, Kiddle? Can I have ...?"
"Haf"
"Can I have ..."
"Haf"
"Can I have ..."
"Haf"
"Ok, let's try it this way ... can?"
"Can. I. Haf. De. Cookie?"
"Yes! Yes, you can. Very good, Kiddle."

Annoying, isn't it? So I was very pleased tonight when he came up to me and said, "More milk?" Of course I replied, "How do you ask for things?" And he said ... wait for it ... "Can. I. Haf. De. Milk?" WITHOUT ANY PROMPTING. Woo hoo!

***

I guess I'm finally realizing how completely unnatural language and speech progression is for him. Don't get me wrong, I'm well aware how far behind he is — more than a year. And he's simply not going to just catch on to this talking thing. He's definitely made progress, but it's been excruciatingly slow. His receptive language is fine. He might be a bit delayed there, but for the most part he seems to understand everything you say. It's just hard to tell the difference right now between not understanding and a toddler's penchant for ignoring you.

His expressive language, on the other hand, is a disaster. At first we thought it was mostly an articulation issue, but, six months into speech therapy, it's obvious that it goes beyond that. Although, in my mind, it's still a bit of a chicken-egg conundrum. Does he express himself with very simple word combos because that's all he can do or because that's the only way anyone understands him? Hmmm. Who knows?

He's definitely using more sentences and phrases, but this exercise of trying to get him to say "can I have ..." has been enlightening. He still can't say it as a smooth phrase; it's always chopped up into separate words. It's so hard to see him struggling with this, but also thrilling when he accomplishes something so tiny as using the phrase without a direct prompt. It's crazy that he's just turned three and has the language skills of a not-yet-two-year-old.

The day he says "can I have more milk" without any coaching? I'll fall off my chair, I swear.

Heartbroken

This morning I heard the devastating news that a friend's three-month-old baby boy died this weekend.

I guess it's not entirely accurate to say that Shana is a friend since we've never met. But after finding her blog in a roundabout way, I've followed along and feel oddly connected to her. You see, as we figured out through a string of emails, not only are we both from Oklahoma City and pregnant at the "advanced maternal age" of 39, we graduated from neighboring high schools the same year and both had a long-term boyfriend from the same group of guys (although at slightly different times so we're not sure if we ever actually crossed paths). The wild wide web is a small little world, isn't it?

Thalon was born at the end of December, destined to be the hapless younger brother of two wildly opinionated older sisters. I checked in on her site this morning and was shocked to see that Thalon was in the hospital and seemingly not expected to make it. I frantically scanned through all the comments of support and prayer, sobbing uncontrollably and trying to glean any info I could on his condition, when I realized he had died. I don't know the details of what happened, although I think I can guess. Whatever happened, it's every parent's worst nightmare. Three months old. Goddamn it.

This is the second friend of mine who's lost a new baby in the last year. The first had serious heart issues, so while the news was devastating, it wasn't totally unexpected. This one was totally out of the blue and, at eight months pregnant, has left me reeling. So many things can go wrong so quickly with these fragile little bodies and souls given to our care. I don't want to be that crazy parent hovering over my child 24 hours a day — and I still won't be, it's just not in my nature — yet that precious life can be snatched from you in a split second. It simply isn't fair.

I've been a basket case all day. And stressing out poor Kiddle as well. While he was eating lunch, I saw Shana's post confirming that Thalon had died and returned to the table with tears streaming down my face. He looked at me and said, "Mama crying? Whas de matter, Mommy?" I said, "Mommy's sad but I'm ok. Don't worry. I'm ok." He climbed up in my lap and stared at me with the saddest little frown on his face and touched my face. Then two fat tears rolled down his cheeks which, of course, made me cry even harder. What a sweet little soul.

As for me, I'd been feeling really odd all day. Just kind of off. My joints felt tight and I could feel my blood pounding in my ears and throughout my body. I couldn't separate what I was feeling physically from my anxiety and upset about Thalon, and since we're keeping an eye out for preeclampsia with this pregnancy, I was worried my blood pressure was spiking — and I knew I was probably making it worse by stressing out over it. I finally gave in and headed up to my doctor's office to get checked out (I know ... that's so unlike me). They were lovely and wonderful as always, and ended up doing the full exam that I was scheduled for on Thursday. It turns out my blood pressure was up a bit, but once I heard it wasn't terrible, I calmed down and it had dropped back down to normal before I left. I'm so glad I went against my basic I'm-sure-it's-fine nature though. I would have really worked myself up into a tizzy and not slept a wink tonight. Now I can worry about Shana, Kiddle and this kid-to-be with a little more peace of mind.

I'm off to make sure Kiddle is still breathing. Please keep Shana and her family in your thoughts.