So Big!

Hmm, been farting around with the new version of blogger. I was stoked to change to a new template, but I'm not sure this is the one of my dreams... might have to get into the HTML a bit. Eeeek!

On a totally different front, wanna see something cute? The little dude turned 6 months over the holiday, so he reached a big milestone. The one where you start eating solid (well, barely even semi-solid, but you get the idea...) foods. So here he is enjoying his first bowl of (mostly breast milk) rice cereal...



And here he is sad that it is all gone...


It is so fun to feed a baby and not be in pain! Hope everyone had a great holiday and didn't make themselves sick with too much stuffing. Burp.

Feeling Contrite

Sorry 'bout the crankiness last time, the only excuse I have is that I don't work well on limited sleep. See, the little family and I took a quick trip back east for a week long combined business/holiday visit. Unfortunately the trip did not pan out as planned. We got a startling call in the airport on the way there. My sister, who has been trying to conceive for eight years found out that the wee babe in her womb has an incompletely formed spine. As if the transition to parenthood weren't difficult enough, they will be faced with perhaps many additional challenges.

It actually was providential that we were on our way there, there is almost nothing one can do for others during their period of sorrow and confusion even when one is in the same locale. There is even less that one can do from 3,000 miles away. So we grocery shopped, cooked some wholesome meals, and did some dishes. And held onto each other and cried some.

So everything is a bit more settled now, sis and bro-in-law are psyched up to provide a supportive and empowering home for their new arrival. And crazy Aunt 'Hoop is already planning on some extensive googling for adaptive ski equipment and climbing harnesses.

Aside from all that nonsense, what was actually making me intolerably cranky is the fact that our wee one seems to have forgotten how to sleep during our journey. Two nights out of the seven on the trip he cried literally for hours in the middle of the night. The night-before-last he wailed every two hours. Last night he cried every hour. Naps have gone from an hour and a half to fifteen minutes. Picking him up makes him cry more. We've called the nurse, but there seems to be nothing physically wrong.

So wish me luck for tonight, so far he's been down more than two hours, and I've only heard one cry. However, being the pessimist, I'm not holding my breath. But I should be napping, so off I go. And I'm feeling particularly schmoopy, so consider yourself sloppily hugged, 'mkay?

If You Can't Say Anything Nice...

I've got nothing to say that isn't cranky. I'll try again later.

Kick Off Your Sunday Shoes...

What with my hair still falling out in post-pregnancy clumps, I thought I'd save it the trouble and cut it all off. So here I am footloose and hair free...



I might be hair free, but as usual, I am smirk-ful!

Just Like A Jaccuzzi

The little dude, like many infants, is pretty darned cranky in the evenings. From the hours of 5:30 pm until jammie time at 7:30 it is all the Hub and I can do to keep him from perma -wailing. One of the distraction tactics that we have found is the moonlight/headlamp neighborhood ramble. The little spud is stunned to silence by the moon moving behind the tree branches. Generally very popular and efficacious.

Another tactic that we have used with some success is the evening bath. What's not to enjoy, what with the nakedness and partial immersion? (And the toes, did I mention the toes?) Unfortunately, I tired to milk this activity past the point of no return the other evening and ended up with a little dish I like to call "Baby Swimming in Poo Stew". I do not recommend it. And I just have to say that it brings a whole new meaning to the concept of Brownian Motion.

So if you see us out wandering around the neighborhood in the dark some evening, that is why. We have sworn off those crazy things called baths.

Egészségedre!

Happy official holiday season! I hope everyone had a fabulous day of turkey and pie. (And how could it not be fabulous with both turkey and pie?)

The Hub, Bub, and I took a quick trip to Sac a few days before and visited Gramma and a few tiny friends too. Much drooling, nuknuk stealing and friendly eye poking took place. (With the babies, NOT Gramma!)


Then on my birthday the little spud gave me a pretty cool present. He rolled from his belly to his back four times! He's done it about three times since, but it still isn't a constant yet. Thank heavens, that is a whole new realm of baby proofing. Yikes.

Tag, I'm It!

I have been tagged by fellow new mom and blogger the Cheesefairy for my first ever meme-ish thingy! I feel like a tiny (and sticky) strand in the gigantic international web of mommyblogs! I'm getting a bit weepy. It is my first ever non-relative blog linking!

Alrighty, the meme is a get to know you type thing, wherein I am to 'fess up to five things that you may not know about me. (Ummm... sis, bro-in-law, and dad, you don't count, sorry.)

1. I am an obnoxious drunk. Yep, if you want to experience a tiny woman being alternately loud, offensive, combative and then inappropriately flirty, get me drunk. It is not a pretty sight. And relatively easy too, since I don't drink often, and therefore have no tolerance what so ever. Nice huh? You really want to invite me to your next get together, don't you?

2. I am allergic to chocolate. It gives me those horrible blinded-by-seeing-spots kind of migraine headaches. The allergy, however, does not apply to white chocolate.

3. The only famous people I have crushes on are women. The Hub is okay with this.

4. I was a pom-pom girl briefly in high school. Our squad was bad. Really bad. We did (er...attempted to do) dance routines to such blockbuster hits as Smokin' In The Boys Room. Mostly we would get off count, and then we'd stand around looking at each other in silent panic in the middle of the football field. Painful. We were not cheerleaders. No, they were much cooler. And better. We were the geeky, awkward, and uncoordinated cheerleader rejects. Then I became a punk rocker, and haven't looked back since. Thank heavens.

5. I don't really like pina coladas OR getting caught in the rain. Fruit smoothies and snow? 'Nother story entirely!

And now with my magic fairy wand of blog I tag Robbyblog, Ms.Kathleen, and Karellypants. Hop to it kids!

Good Thing I Like Hockey

A while ago I mentioned that babies had really cool comb-overs. I would like to amend that sentiment now in light of his current 'do...
The Baby Mullet.

If I Do Say So Myself

For those of you who are not nearly as addicted to blog reading as I am, you might not have heard that this month is NaBloPoMo, wherein dedicated participants try, with all their mighty might, to do a blog post each and every day of the month of November. Now you might have noticed that I am decidedly not participating in this event. I am, however, reaping the time-wasting benefits. So that is where I have been dear friends not necessarily keeping up with the Joneses, just keeping up with reading about them. (And of course reading all the election punditry! Whee!) Thank heavens this doesn't happen all the time, or I'd never get anything done.

Little Mister NibbleKnuckles, however, does not read (nor vote!) yet, so this is what he's been doing...
Discovering his toes...

Practicing his elbow propping...

And sorta kinda attempting to sit up. (Good cucamonga, I love that little red hoodie on him!)

Just though y'all could use a dose of cute this weekend! Have fun!

No Time For The Felt Spaceship...

Because I am a big geek, I get really excited about Halloween every year. This year was no different, I started making our family themed costumes months in advance. Then I sort of realized that we had nowhere to go, and no reason to dress up, and sort of junked the whole idea.

Until 24 hours before the big day. Then a neighbor mentioned that there is a kids carnival (in the animal stables) at the local fairgrounds. (Yes, we are rather rural!) So I hauled out all the junk I'd been working on and did the best I could. So if I look like a demented sparkly Mennonite instead Jane Jetson that is why. And I was really hoping to have time to give myself a Jane-ish bouffant hairstyle, but was too busy sewing the stripes on George Jetson's shirt, so I sort of rolled out the door without the slightest bouf in my fant. But Elroy came out pretty dang cute, I think. And he's all that really matters. So without further ado, The (Halfassed) Jetsons...



Create Your Own!

PS. Special Guest Star apperance by Thomas (cutest toddler ever!), aka Robin.

The Hub Is A Goofball

Jackson has learned many new talents in the last few weeks, sucking his thumb, rolling up onto his side, etc. The most endearing of them however, is his ability to giggle maniacally...

Natural Disaster, Schmatural Disaster. I Have Grammar Questions!

Do y'all remember me talking about the major landslide here that blocked our access to Yosemite?

(Click picture if you crave more info. Photo by Ed Harp of the USGS.)

Well for the most part the damage has been dealt with, through creative use of temporary bridges over the river, and a beefing up of the (previously dirt) road on the other side.

(Again, click picture for info site...Photo by Caltrans)

So what happens now is; one drives up to a timed stoplight, waits for a bit and then makes a sharp 90 degree turn onto a narrow temporary bridge, crosses, makes another 90 degree turn, drives past the landslide on the opposite side of the river, does two more 90 degree turns over another temporary bridge, and then one is on one's way! Now all this is a marvel of modern civil engineering, by which I am duly impressed. However there is one thing with which I am at least perplexed, if not completely unimpressed. The signage.

First of all, about 15 miles before you even get to the landslide there is one of those big portable light up signs that flash changing messages. This one is programmed to say "Hwy 140 Open" and then "28 Feet Vehicle Length Limit." Now am I crazy, or would it be more grammatically correct to say "foot"? It sure sounds awkward to me.

Then the second bit of questionable syntax is encountered right at the metered stoplight. Here there is a sign that declares "Expect 15 Minutes Wait." Again, am I completely nuts, or wouldn't it be more correct to just say "minute", as in "Expect a 15 minute wait" but dropping the "a" for simplicity? If it remains plural, wouldn't it have to be possessive also?

I dunno. I am sure I am no grammar whiz. In fact, there are probably multiple linguistic errors right in this here blog entry. So what do you think, oh internets? Is it me, or is the Caltrans sign person smokin' too much weed?

Hire Me As Your Marketing Director!

We got a set of this glass tupperwarey type stuff...
And I just can't resist calling it glupperware.

Was It Cool In The Eighties?

Recently I've gotten to do a teeny bit of knitting due to the fact that The Bub is napping more regularly. Unfortunately I seem to be unable to recapture the success I had as a rank beginner. On first glance The New Hat is great, fuzzy, nubbly, and subtly stripey...

Until you see it next to a real hat, that fits a real head...

Now, I am a big fan of the whole "low rise" phenomenon. My trousers have been dangling from my hips since some time in the ancient past of my high school years. But I'm doubting my luck sparking a new fashion trend for the winter, The Low Rise Hat. It sexy, its new! Show off those alluring ears, you scamp!

Or I guess I could try and find someone who needs a not-so-subdued yarmulke... Yeah, or I could just unknit the last 14 rows and make a real hat that someone could actually wear. Hopefully I can get around to that before winter is totally over...

It Looks Like Meat Is NOT Back On The Menu, Boys!

At least not in the form of Trader Joe's beef tamales. I certainly enjoyed these tender, lightly spicy, little beef bundles yesterday for lunch, but my tot spent the entire night waking up and farting at least once an hour all night last night like some sort of sophomoric scatological alarm clock, which is really less funny than it sounds. Really.

Some Snappies...

From the Big Trip Back East...


Create Your Own!

Grumpy McCrankleBags

Oh, hey! There you are! I bet you've been on the edge of your seats waiting to hear if our luggage made it home okay. And unfortunately I have to say that the answer is no. The courier arrived at our door late Wednesday afternoon with my bags. As I picked them up to tote them in the door I remarked to myself that they were ungodly heavy. Thinking it was just me being feak and weeble I stuck them in a corner until the Bub's nap time. Two hours later I get around to opening the bags. I pull out the first onsie and oddly enough it is wet. Hmmm, maybe it was from a diaper blowout that I had rinsed out and forgot about. But wait, this is wet too, and this as well. And my digital camera, it's wet too! WTF?!

I open the huge roller suitcase (all 44 lbs of it) and it is wet-top to bottom and front to back. This is not okay. The baby's sheepskin, soaked. My leather skirt, soaked and starting to mold! My wool scarves, my dry clean only skirt, my leather boots. Everything. Evidently our plane wasn't the only thing sitting on the tarmac during the thunderstorm. So my luggage got soaked sometime Monday afternoon and stayed that way until Wednesday evening. Fabulous.

I call United Airlines. I get the phone run around for an hour and a half. Evidently I have two totally unacceptable options. The first is to pack everything back in the suitcase and take it back to the airport, I live 3 hours from the airport. I have a three month old baby. I asked if they'd reimburse me for gas. Negative. The second option is to send the dry cleaning bill to United Airlines (dry clean my digi?!). There is no dry cleaners within 45 minutes of my house. (I kid you not!) I did make it over to lovely downtown Oakhurst in the next week, but alas, they don't clean leather.

During the entire phone debacle, I just really wanted someone to say "Your kidding! Your luggage is really soaked? We are so sorry. How can we make this right." Yeah, you can say I'm a dreamer. So I eventually got someone to cave and promise to send me $50 in travel vouchers. Not that I'll ever fly United again. But they are transferrable, so let me know if YOU want 'em! Now I know I should write a letter to customer service, but I can't get past "you suck and I hate you." So maybe I need a little distance.

Like Gilgamesh...

We are finally home from the East Coast Extravaganza, but unfortunately our luggage is not. We had a bit of an epic battle to get back to California due to some rainsleethaillightningstorm in Chicago. The two quick flights were supposed to take 6 hours, but unfortunately they turned into 14 and a half hours of aural torture for me and 247 of my closest soon-to-be-enemies. The tough thing about both flights is that we were already on the plane when we got delayed... like sardines... marinating in that really stinky oil. Jackson... not happy. Me... breastsore and weary, driven to tears twice. Julie... the random passenger who so kindly volunteered to hold my overtired, squalling son while I washed my face and took a few deep breaths... a saint! But we made it home safe and sound and only a tiny bit worse for the wear!

Hopefully the luggage will arrive today so that I can post a picture or two from the ECE. In the mean time check out Uncle Robbie in all his piratical glory...

Down To The Wire

Jackson and I are preparing for the Big Trip Back East, and he's going to miss his daddy terribly...


But he will be totally ready for the Faire in his quickly cobbled together poufy shirt...


I have to say for spending about 45 minutes altering a thrift store baby shirt, I am fairly pleased with the results! He will also be sporting a nifty red pair of mantights...



In other Bub news he's had a few firsts lately. He woke up the other morning without crying, just gurgling and cooing, and then he flashed me a big smile as I peeked over the edge of the bassinet. He is also actively reaching for things dangled above him. And once while I was in the bathroom, the Bub tuckered himself out bapping things in his baby gym, and zonked out all on his own! He is also topping the charts these days at a whopping 15.5 pounds, quite an armload. We are so proud!


See you at the Faire!

Purely An Educational Tool

I have been very productive this morning...

Won't you join me?

PS. Cousin Kathleen, BEWARE of the shoe choosing section!

Ding!

In the left corner we have Suzie's Breasts, known for taking a beating but staying in the fight for the long run.

In the corner on my right we have the current champeen, Gnawy McChomperGums, known for his sheer brutality and heft.

And in Round 4? 5? of this epic battle we have a new hero in the corner of our underdog, by the name of Dr. Charismatic Chiropractor. His assessment of the little pugilist is that his jaw got a bit wonky due to that crazee birthing process, and therefore he was not opening his mouth enough to actually suck milk out, but resorted to brute force mashing. Hence the owies. So after a bit of latex gloved finger sucking and some cranial prodding, we were sent on our merry way. And oddly enough, we have since had a few nursing sessions that seemed distinctly less violent. Not all, but some. And some is a far sight better than none.

The Sound of Sewing

So in the last two months I have actually accomplished something other than fattening up one cute little baby. Not much, but something. And here is the photo to prove it.

A Renn Faire outfit for my sister...


Close up of the shirt...


I hope Big Sis doesn't mind that I got all Maria Vontrappy for this project, and used some white material that I had from shortening some curtains...

Senses Working Overtime

Guess who went to his first county fair yesterday...



There were pigs and sheep and chickens and quilts and alpaca yarn and corndogs and cute little Nemo fish prizes and enough to see, hear, smell and touch that it tuckered the little guy out.



You guys know I'm talking about the baby right, not the husband?

Mastitis and Masticate: Same Root?

Have you heard enough about my boobs yet? Swell, 'cause it's all I can think about! Lately I've gotten pretty dang serious about solving this here breast pain problem, and last week after a day of alternately weeping and calling all over the state, I got an appointment with the cutting edge folks at the UC Davis Medical Center. So the whole fam-damily got up at 5:30 am on Wednesday and drove to lovely downtown Sacramento for our 9:30 appointment. Both The Spud and I were observed, poked, prodded, weighed (before and after nursing) and cultured. We'll see what "grows out" of said culturing perhaps by tomorrow afternoon.

If it isn't the dreaded thrush yeasty beasties (that we have already been treating for, before AND after each and every nursing session for the last 16 days) still colonizing our little dyad, they have other theories waiting in the wings with proven medical solutions! I fear that it is the aforementioned fungal funk, as I seem to be a paradise for all things saprophytic. But I will be more than happy to be proved wrong on this one...

Anywho, there is a possibility that it is this condition as well, in conjunction with whatever else is going on, which is treatable with good old fashioned modern medicine as well, thank heavens. Fix me, please, fix me! I'm done gritting it out, okay?

In other, more fun news, The Bub finally got to meet his gramma and a lovely time was had by all.

Nip N Tuck

Well, I finally got in to see the lactation consultant, and things have gotten so much... Well, honestly there's been no change. You thought I was going to say "better" there didn't you? Yeah, me too. I am now armed with a lot theories as to why we are having a tough time, but no quick miracle solutions, durn it. We have some vague directions to massage the baby's jaw in certain places to get him to lighten up, but me, I'm just not feeling the faith in this strategy. Nor am I giving up the ghost yet. If there's one thing that I am, its stubborn. So I'll be the one with a grimace on my face massaging away on my baby's jaw. If you need me. Yep, that's where I'll be.

In other news, while The Bub naps during the day I've been doing some fun Renaissance Faire costume sewing. (Dishes? Laundry? Pah, I have much more interesting stuff to do!) I took a picture of myself modeling the two items, but to tell the truth, the photo wasn't doing anybody any justice. Perhaps tomorrow I can get a better (read: non-me) shot to show off my marginal yet entertaining seamstress skills. And I have so many more projects in mind. Not to mention the two knitting projects I have in the works. Yikes! I'm an overachiever slacker! Alrighty, off to nap for a few hours. Bye!

So far...

As I am typing this The Bub is 8 weeks (and and an hour or so) old. We have been through a lot in these two months. Like birth. And a zillion poopy mustard diapers. And breast feeding trials and tribulations. And enough infant intestinal gas to float the Hindenburg. We've had a constant slew of wonderful visitors. Then we've suffered through acne, thrush, and conjunctivitis. We've had a few days when the baby cried all day, and a few when he's slept all day. And sometimes I may seem rushed, tired and cranky, but I just want to officially say that I am so happy to be a mom again. I love your little nose, your cheeks, your chin, Jackson. I love you down to your tiny toes that already smell like your Daddy's vinegar feet if we go two days without a bath.



And I will now brag about you for all the internets to see. Despite my issues with breast feeding, you seem to be thriving. Thursday at your checkup you broke into the 90th percentile for weight. Your little chubby self now clocks in at 12 lbs and 14 oz. You go kiddo.



And in totally (completely!) unrelated news, something clambered up onto our deck last night and left us a present. It must have been bigger than a cat, smaller than a dog, and full of undigestible berries. Yuck!

Oi with the poodles already

I didn't think it was possible, but somehow nursing The Bub has gotten even worse. We are calling in the big guns now and will be going to see a lactation specialist sometime this week. I don't care if we have to drive to Ohio, I will be getting some help asap. He's gassy and miserable, I'm bruised, battered and miserable, and poor The Hub is stuck sitting on the bench not able to help either of us. Whee!

On a more cheerful note Grampa L was here last week and was a wonderful help with not only the tot, but he also tried to fix the wonky electrical wiring in this here trailer. Unfortunately the trailer got the better of him, but he certainly was handy with Spudlet.

Top Ten Benefits Of The Postpartum Condition...

10. Stylish diaper bag as a new accessory.

9. Babies have The Best Comb Overs.

8. Being able to reach the kitchen faucet without hoisting my belly over the sink.

7. Goodbye heartburn!

6. Bodacious tatas.

5. Permission to eat soft cheeses. Hello brie, my old friend! Nice to see you again, gorgonzola!

4. New fun party stories of labor and poop.

3. Sushi.

2. I can go positively hours without peeing!

1. My beautiful baby boy.

Goodbye Acne...

(and good riddance) and hello conjunctivitis!

Disruption of the Space Time Continuum...

The Little Pooh Bear is asleep in his bouncy seat right now which has a vibrate mechanism on it. The vibrations are causing his little toes to wiggle so rapidly in space that the edges are blurry. Tee hee.

Drivel and Narcissism

The Hub was home today for a "doctors appointment" (no really, he did have to do some diabetes-lab-test-thing) so the day has gone swimmingly, and I am at my leisure to blog again.

Lets see, we have had some adventures in spit up lately. This afternoon the bub spit up on the burp cloth on my shoulder and then turned his head and rubbed the remainder ON MY MOUTH. Ew. Last night around 4:30 am I was burpin' the spud and he vomited over my shoulder onto the bed, inches from The Hub's face, who woke up when he heard the splat. Ew. But the best burf story happened last weekend when we went to a coffee shop for lunch. I was nursing the tot at our little table when he suddenly popped off, looked up into my face, and projectile vomited with precision aim. Good thing I wear my safety glasses everywhere I go. Moving on.

Sunday was our "Last Day of Family Freedom" before TH went back to work, so to finish it off in grand style we went all the way to lovely downtown Fresno. My main goal of traveling so far was to cover my butt. Literally. See I've been wearing the same three pairs of shorts for the last five weeks now, and it wasn't making me happy. Here is the entirely of my Old Pants Family.



I would like to point out that the middle pair of shorts have been with me for quite a while now, as I pilfered them from my grandfather sometime either in high school or college. Gotta love the old dude seersucker trousers! The other two are respectively, exercise pants and maternity shorts. Not too flattering to the old post pregnancy ego.

Now I tried to do the low impact local recycling thing and get stuff at our neighborhood thrift shop. But it was fruitless and depressing. All of the cute things were only in my pre-pregnancy size,and the stuff that fit was all the high waisted "walking shorts" type things that are about as sexy as cold oatmeal. Hence the Fresno trip. And a free reign day at the Old Navy store where I got me some (slightly larger) sexy shorts. Welcome to the Pants Family!



Now I know that a woman's worth is NOT inversely proportional to her pant size, and I'm not going into specifics here, but it was a tiny bit shocking to find out that I am currently wearing a size that is two times my former size. But I guess something has to balance out these boobs...

Flying Solo

So The Hub had to go back to work today. Big frowny face. The good news is that the road is (provisionally) open as of today. The bad news is that they are only letting traffic through at 6 am and then again at 6 pm. So here I am, just past the halfway mark and I'm still holding it together. Barely. The tot and I managed to stay pretty much asleep until 7:30am, which was pretty impressive, I thought. Then he was up a half an hour before taking another (well earned) nap. Not too bad! Then he cried for the next three and a half hours. (With brief breaks for nursing and 5 minute naps...) Yikes. He's either napping now, or just lulling me into a false sense of security before busting out with another howl session. Cross your fingers.

Jokes on me. He's up.

Sweater, Stars, and a Sad Story

Hey folks! I had some crafty stuff that I wanted to share with you, but the second item sort of brings up a subject that some of you may be unfamiliar with, so I feel like I need to bring it out in the open... so brace yourselves. But first, my Knitting Prowess! I have finished my very first knit sweater ever! (Yes, it is a baby sweater, I'm not crazy after all!) The pattern is from knitty.com, and yes I was lost a few times, but (with some help from AK) I sort of winged (wung?) it and it came out just fine!


And here it is on the miniature Runway Model...


Fits perfectly! Right, right? Hmm, did someone say something about a gauge swatch? Thank heavens its about a million degrees out and he won't need it for a bit...

The second crafty project is a quilt. With a story.

I started this quilt about 10 years ago for my first baby. I didn't get around to finishing it and then my grandmother went into the hospital. I used one of the squares to make a pillow for her. She then passed away just after Thanksgiving. Then my son passed away right around Christmas, a month before his third birthday. I pretty much lost my marbles for a year and packed the whole thing up and didn't look at it again. Earlier this year I showed the squares to a friend here (Mrs. Crazy Talent) and she just couldn't stand the idea of it sitting around unfinished. So we had a few get-togethers where she ascertained exactly how I had imagined this thing to look and then disappeared into a sewing frenzy. The end result is so beautiful. I don't know how to thank her.

No Visual Aids Today...

Hey Kids! Here's a fun experiment that you can try at home (or at least at my home). First jaunt over to the bathroom and trim your little pinky fingernail down as far as you dare. Then wash your hands real good. Then come pick up my squalling tot and let him suckle said pinky finger with the pad of your finger toward the roof of his mouth. Now what you may notice is that this fierce little (zitty) critter will slurp your finger into his mouth almost to the second knuckle. And he will proceed to not only gum this finger for all he is worth, but also to slowly grate away at the flesh with his gritty little tongue. Now imagine that this tough pinky finger is one of your more delicate parts. Lets just say that breast feeding isn't getting much easier.

I realize that folks are only trying to help when they say "He must not be latched on correctly, take him off and try again." But folks, a) that hurts even worse and b) I have received approval that he is indeed latched on correctly. I have tried everything I can think of from pre-freezing the nipple (fairly painful on its own!) to supplemental B vitamins. Now I don't mean to be a Doubting Thomas, but it is way more of a surprise to me that this process is supposed to somehow NOT hurt, than the fact that I am enduring nipple twisting pain approximately 12 times a day.

So, just wanted to get that offa my (ahem) chest there. Thanks for listening.

The Acne! She Is Worse!

My son is disappearing behind an alarming red bumpy facade!

Poor Little Dude

Three Weeks!

So we're here at the three week mark, and poor Lizard Baby has become poor Acne Baby. I haven't documented this on film, he gets too wiggly when I get near with the camera. Can't say as I blame the poor critter. This was a few days ago at the end of the facial peel period...



He's become somewhat fussier in this third week of life, and spends considerable time grunting and kvetching while trying to fart and poop. But we'll take grunting over outright screaming any day... So kvetch away little dude!

It seems from my latest batch of photos that The Hub and The Critter seem to spend a fair amount of time napping together on the couch. Dad napping on the baby...



The baby napping on Dad... (while both smile!)



And I just have to point out the adorable hand thing in close up picture form...

Ooh, ooh, and the fact that our little dude now has ManBoobs! We visited the midwife on Thursday and found out that the little sumo wrestler has been packing on the pounds! He's up to 9 lbs 2 oz now, which means he's officially larger than the cat! Yay Jackson!