i have to live up to my name, after all

October is fast coming to a close, and I'm sure you know what that means.

HALLOWEEN!

We're very excited about Halloween in the Halloweenlover household, most of all because it is Gabe's first Halloween! Such a milestone! I can tell that he is particularly excited about it. I've been showing him pumpkins and costumes and scarecrows and together we pulled out all of the decorations and took on the extensive process of spooking up the house. We can't wait.

Our front stoop is ready to greet trick or treaters, and friends that come in the meantime.


























Josh would like you to please note the 50 pound pumpkin that I made him lug home from the Berkshires. He says that it ruined our gas mileage for the drive home. Whatever, it was totally worth it.















We have our Halloween countdown calendar set up and ready to go.



FYI, our name is not actually Craig, this is just the sample picture from the PBK catalog.





Gabe is prepared with the appropriate wardrobe choices for the month.






His costume (not to be revealed yet) is purchased and waiting for him. I promise you that it is cute enough to make you throw up.


The cookbook with all the good pumpkin muffin and pumpkin bread recipes is sitting out on the counter, and the slow cooker is cooking away. Plans for apple and pumpkin picking are on the calendar. A baby Halloween party is in the works for all of Gabe's new baby friends and some pre-Halloween and actual Halloween festivities are also in the works. Gabe's Nonna is even coming to town for the week of Halloween, so we have lots to look forward to, lots to celebrate. How about all of you?

I'm especially bummed because I don't get to burn those calories

In the grand scheme of things, I think I've had a pretty easy go of the breastfeeding thing. I never had any pain, never had any latching problems, supply was great. I found breastfeeding to be lovely right from the get-go, except perhaps for the sleep deprivation. Many of my friends complained about the hours and hours spent trapped on the couch breastfeeding, but none of that bothered me. I'd just curl up with Gabe in my arms and a good book resting on the edge of my boppy and I was happy as a clam.

When I look at the last 9 and a half months objectively, though, I realize that breastfeeding isn't really, per se, easy. In the early days, I spent 1/3 of my days sitting on the couch breastfeeding Gabe, when his marathon feeding sessions would take up to an hour each time. Then I spent hours upon hours pumping so that I'd have enough for a frozen stash and for an occasional bottle if I ever left him with Josh. Around 6 months, I dealt with his nursing strike, then recently, I dealt with his bottle strike. For the last 3 months, I've dealt with him not wanting to feed long enough to initiate a letdown. If the milk isn't there the second he is hungry, he'll arch his back and try to get out of my arms. This means that I often have to pump until the milk starts flowing, then put Gabe on, at which point he'll eat. Needless to say, this is very annoying.

Don't get me wrong, I think it's been worth it. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

In order to do all this work, though, I've realized that I have to believe that what I'm doing is the best thing for Gabe. I have to believe that breastfeeding him is worth all the work. It doesn't really matter whether I know that logically formula is totally perfect too, because in order to justify all this work, I've just internalized the idea that breastfeeding him is the best thing I can do for him right now.

Over the past few weeks, I've had some trouble with supply. Gabe wants to feed 6 times a day one day, 3 times a day the next. Sometimes twice a night, sometimes not at all. My milk hasn't been meeting his demands, so I see a definite drop in supply. I used to be able to pump one additional bottle for him after he'd gone to bed, but lately I can't get anything when I try to pump. Sometimes I'll have to pump 10-15 minutes, just to get my letdown to start at dinnertime. It is so frustrating. I'm very emotional about the whole thing, and I'm trying everything. I drink tons of water throughout the day, upwards of 12 glasses per day. I'm taking fenugreek up the wazoo, and I'm making sure I eat enough as the day goes on. Still, we're slowing going through my frozen stash and I'm getting nervous.

At his most recent well baby check-up, the pediatrician's advice was clear- give him formula in his cereal instead of my frozen milk. In the meantime, I can continue trying to get my supply to come up. He said that if Gabe seems really hungry after I feed him, I shouldn't feel bad about supplementing him with formula. I'm not willing to supplement with a bottle of formula, at least not yet, because I know that if he doesn't stimulate my breasts, my supply will really never come up. On the cereal front, though, it sounds so reasonable. It would be so much easier to just add formula to his cereal instead of agonizing over the frozen milk and restricting Gabe's cereal consumption out of fear of wasting milk.

The problem is, I care. Even if it is ridiculous or stupid, even if I know that babies thrive on formula, even though I know that Gabe has made it almost 10 months with nothing but breastmilk, even though I know it would be so reasonable, I still care. I keep thinking that in just another 2 and a half months, he'll be moving onto cow's milk, so why don't I just try to hold on until then? But I'm making myself crazy in the meantime with the pumping and the stressing and the drinking of water.

I never thought I'd be in this position. One of my friends referred to me as a cow because I'd sit down to pump for 5 minutes and get upwards of 5 ounces per session. Turns out that everything can change at any minute, just like the rest of life, huh?

So this morning I did it. I put formula in Gabe's cereal, just an ounce, the rest breastmilk. And guess what? He survived. He didn't even notice. I feel a tiny bit sad, but a lot relieved. I love my pediatrician, and I know he's right. Parenting is all about adjusting your expectations. The adjustment has only just begun.

Like I said, though, he's totally worth it.





"Mom! Formula is good! It tastes better than feet!"

let me save you the trouble

Thankfully, Josh is liking his new job. That is a huge relief on my part, of course. He likes the people, the work is interesting, the hours are relatively good, and he feels challenged. In my opinion, though, the best part about Josh's new job is that it has a ridiculously extravagant perk. His company flies all employees and their families to Europe for a holiday party. The whole family. To Europe. For a PARTY. They pay for the flights and the hotels and the parties and the babysitting. Crazy, huh?

All of this means that Gabriel needs a passport and he needs it in time for December. We looked on the State Department's webpage and downloaded the forms and made a list of the items we need. We took him down to the neighborhood drugstore and tried to get pictures. It turns out that getting a passport picture of a 9 month old is not the easiest thing in the world. It took 3 unsuccessful tries, and we finally had to go to a different drugstore that had more experience with babies and we were finally able to get the two pictures we needed with his head centered and no shadows and without Josh's hands showing where he was holding him still. Phew.

I filled out all the information, looked up the appropriate locations and set off with Gabe to get the passport taken care of.

I arrived at 9:30am, and was told that I was too early. Passports will only be completed between 10am and 1pm. Oh, and also, both parents need to be there or I need a letter from Gabe's father authorizing me to get him a passport. I went home, Josh typed up a letter, and I went back between 10am and 1pm the next day. Oops, they forgot to mention that I need a notarized letter, not just any letter, and just so you know, they won't budge on that.

Josh doesn't have a notary in his office, so we searched the Boston post offices until we found one post office that would stay open until 6:30pm completing passports. Josh left work early so that we could meet at the doors at 6pm to give us enough time to get all the paperwork completed and just a little bit of cushion time in case things went awry.

We get there and discover that the line is snaking throughout the post office and out the door. One thing you should know about Josh is that he is a planner, so he takes this opportunity to freak out about the possibility that they might cut off the line when the clock hits 6:30pm and we'll have to start over again and wait a week because they only stay open until 6:30 on Tuesdays. I'm happy to report that they did NOT close the line, and after 45 minutes in line, they take our paperwork. Even though we have 10 weeks to go, the post office doesn't recommend we rely on the State Department to get us his passport in time. We have to pay $60 extra, $150 total, to get his passport by mid-December.

We sent off the paperwork, paid the fees, and can now say that Gabe should be able to accompany us to Europe for the party. Honestly, though, who would have thought that getting a passport for a baby would be this much trouble? So just in case you foresee yourselves traveling anytime soon with a child who doesn't have a passport, let us save you the heartache and send away from it way way way ahead of time. Like more than 3 months ahead of time. That advice is free of charge.

My consolation prize is that for the next 5 years, Gabe's sweet little 9 month old face will be his passport picture. At least some things won't change around here for a while.

the post that is interesting only to me

Adult time is lacking around here these days. We don't have any babysitters, except for the occasional grandparent that stops by, and on our fifth wedding anniversary (isn't that wild?) our friend watched Gabe so that we could grab dinner alone. Besides that, our little sidekick is with us all the time.

So when Chatty Cricket was kind enough to invite me to join her in a quilting class, I bent over backwards to find a way to make it work. It isn't even the quilting, because up until she asked, I'd never even given quilting a second glance, but rather, the thought of having one evening every week for six whole weeks of uninterrupted "me" time. Six weeks of being able to hang out with Chatty Cricket and a couple of her friends, working on something that would require all my attention, with no other little person requiring me to make sure they don't fall over. I'm very excited.

In true type-a fashion, I've spent the last two weeks obsessing over what to quilt. Gabe already has a quilt that matches his bedding, so that was out. I figured I'd make a quilt for his next room, but deciding what he might like in another 2 years was a little too much pressure for me. Then I decided to make a throw quilt for our living room, but when I told Josh, he poo-pooed the idea. I suspect he has little faith in my quilting abilities and is trying to avoid having to keep something in the living room indefinitely that looks terrible. Isn't he sweet?

I've finally decided, though. I'm making Gabe a play quilt. While he is still little, we'll use the quilt to throw on the floor while he plays and once he gets bigger, he can wrap himself in it to read or nap or whatever he'd like to do. Plus, don't kids have to bring blankets with them to preschool for naptime? Maybe this can be the blanket he takes with him! Even better, if I totally mess up the quilt, Gabe won't know the difference.

My type-a personality took me to many websites, and many quilting shops, and many fabric stores, but thankfully, a fabric jumped out at me as the perfect choice for Gabe.

Monkeys!




Who doesn't love monkeys! Gabe is totally a monkey! I think he'll love it!










Once I'd picked the monkeys, there were lots of coordinating fabrics to go along with them for the quilt. I need 6 different fabrics for the quilt, another background fabric, a trim fabric, and a fabric for the backside of the quilt. Choices, choices, choices...





We have monkeys, so CLEARLY, we need bananas.















Monkeys fall down a lot, so we need band-aids too!














These monkeys like to count, and hopefully Gabe will too, so we have numbers!














The monkeys apparently like to dress up and take pictures. This one is called "family album". This is Josh's and my favorite!










Dots! Who doesn't love dots!














I think this one will be the trim fabric, and I guess edging, if there is edging on the back of the quilt.











I'm still picking the fabric for the back of the quilt, but I'm thinking something with, umm, I don't know, monkeys maybe? There is a cute fabric of monkeys playing different games, so that one might work. All of these fabrics are hopefully going to come together to make the world's brightest quilt EVER.

Here's hoping that Gabe likes bright things. And monkeys. If he doesn't like monkeys? We're screwed.

Our quilting class starts tomorrow! Wish us luck!

my three kids

Murray and Tango have grown accustomed to Gabe. I'd venture to say that Tango, in particular, even likes Gabe now. He will bring Gabe his bones and balls, and wait patiently for Gabe to pick them up. They play a complicated game where Gabe will hold the bone out to Tango, wait for Tango to grab it, then steal it back, then Tango takes it again, then Gabe steals it back, and so on. Both of them seem to enjoy the game quite a bit, and sometimes Tango will bring Gabe a toy, and watch Gabe expectantly wondering why Gabe doesn't participate immediately. Meanwhile, Gabe just hasn't noticed because he is engrossed in whatever he is doing. It is really cute. Really, really cute.

Murray, on the other hand, is still not Gabe's biggest fan. He will say hello to him in the morning, and will even give Gabe a couple of quick licks when he first sees him. Gabe has pulled on his fur a couple of times too many, though, and he is understandably wary of getting too close to the baby. So Murray's style is to just steer clear of Gabe most of the time.

This morning, the pooches were curled up on their bed in the hallway, and Gabe was crawling around while I brushed my teeth and straightened up the bathroom. I came out into the hallway and sat down on the floor in front of the dogs' bed, and Gabe made a bee-line straight over to me. After a couple minutes of playing, he realized that the dogs were within scooting distance and turned to say hello.

And Murray snapped at him. AT HIS FACE.

Now, I understand that the dog was on his bed. I understand that they need their own space. And I understand that maybe he was startled that Gabe came over to him while he was lying on his bed. BUT STILL. I was pissed. I grabbed him instantly and rolled him on his back while saying "NO" firmly. Then I sent him out of the room for a while because I was fuming. FUMING.

Murray wasn't anywhere near biting Gabe, and it wasn't even very close to him. Murray kind of turned his head to the side, slightly away from Gabe and then snapped at the air, almost as if he was warning him not to come closer. It didn't look like he was really trying to nip at him. It doesn't matter, though, both Tango and Murray have to understand that any biting behavior is totally, completely, absolutely unacceptable. Once Gabe is old enough to understand, I will teach him that the dogs need their personal space and that their beds are off limits, but for now, the dogs have to understand that if they don't like what the baby is doing, they need to move. Leave the room. Whatever makes them happy.

Any advice on this situation? Earlier this week I also saw Murray snap at Tango, so I'm mildly concerned that maybe he doesn't feel well or maybe something is going on with him, because generally they get along famously. I'm probably going to ask the vet about it, but I suspect this has more to do with crawling baby, annoyed dog.

Also, just to preempt any worries, Murray weighs 9 pounds and his mouth is so small he can't even get it around my finger. It is teeny tiny. Even if he actually bit Gabe, which I don't think he'd do, he really couldn't hurt him. We call him pinhead sometimes (behind his back of course, never in front of him), that is how small his mouth is.

Thoughts?

9 months

Dear Gabriel,

I've been dreading this day for the last couple of weeks. In my mind, for some reason, 9 months seems so big. 9 months feels like you are less of a baby and more of a toddler. I suspect it has to do with the fact that today marks a turning point where you will have spent more time outside of my body than inside it. I cannot tell you how unbelievable that is to me. At least this milestone won't be marked by intense pain on my part.

It turns out that 9 months is an amazing age to be. This past month has been one of the most fun and most challenging months that we've spent together thus far. You are so busy and active and happy that I end up exhausted by the time you fall asleep, and by the time you wake up in the morning, I am dying to do it all over again.

This month you started crawling properly, with the legs and arms in synchronization. Initially, you did it slowly and methodically, and would look up at me with a smile on your face while you slowly made your way across the room. These days, you are much faster, and you slap your hands against the floor while you move, so that I can hear you coming from a different room. I miss your odd little frog crawl, though, and I'm so grateful that I have it on video so that when you leave for college, I'll be able to remember what it was like when you cleaned my floors with your stomach.

You also started standing, on EVERYTHING, this month. I thought that crawling changed my life, but standing is a whole different ball game. You stand on tables, on couches, on chairs, on pant legs, on walls, on anything that will hold you (and lots of stuff that won't). The other day you were standing up and exploring the items on top of the coffee table. I handed you a card, and you carefully took it in one hand, and then carefully held it with your other hand, and I realized that you were standing! With no support! No hands! And then ever so casually, you rested your elbow against the table and the moment was over. You didn't even notice that you'd done it.

You climb stairs unassisted. From bottom to top without pausing. You climb on top of the toys in the living room, and will climb onto chairs to get closer to the windows. The other day, I spotted you on the video monitor trying to lift your leg and climb out of your crib by using your Fisher Price Aquarium as a stepping stool. You go from sitting to kneeling to examine toys more carefully. You cruise the furniture and the coffee tables endlessly, mostly to be near the dogs. Basically, I have to watch you like a hawk. I'm grateful that despite your adventurous side, you learned how to sit down from a standing position right away, and you lower yourself onto your bottom fairly gently, so at least you're not bumping your head on the floor when you sit down suddenly.

You still love music and will dance to anything- music at the grocery store, elevator classical music, even the beat of the breast pump! You have a bit of an obsession with music class and you spend the full 45 minutes swaying from side to side and clapping along with the group. The whole class starts laughing as soon as you start dancing. You even shake the shakers along with the instructor!

One of my favorite changes this month is that you started to babble. You've been ahh-ing and ooh-ing for a while now, but this month you began chatting in earnest. You started out with "ba ba ba" and moved onto "ma ma ma" and this week in the span of three days you busted out with "ya ya ya", "da da da" and "pa pa pa". Your sweet little voice is music to my ears, and I spend hours out of the day responding to you and encouraging you to talk. I've been wondering if maybe it is a biological thing, because your little voice has got to be the sweetest sound I've ever heard. Your dad definitely agrees. He will sing the Beach Boys "Barbara Ann" to you incessantly to get you to talk back. Last night it even sounded like you were trying to sing along with him. He was so excited, I had to pry you away from him at bedtime.

This month we went to visit your Nonna and Nonno in California, which was torturous because you had to be away from your daddy for 2 whole weeks. I doubt he'll ever let us do that again, because all 3 of us were miserable apart. You adore your daddy and the feeling is mutual. One of my favorite parts of the day is seeing how your little face lights up when he walks in the door. I'll hold you up to the screen door while he is getting out of the car, and by the time he makes it up the walkway and steps, you are vibrating with excitement.

You're still a food fanatic these days, and we've moved onto finger foods, of which you definitely approve. You will focus intensely on the carrots or green beans on your high chair tray and it is difficult to get anything else in your mouth because you like feeding yourself so much. You will even use a fork if I put food on the fork for you. Somehow you know which end is the correct end, and you'll bring the food on the fork to your mouth before handing the fork back to me for a refill. We're even getting to the point where you are starting to eat some of the foods that we eat at dinnertime. At first I was so excited about this, until I realized that I'd have to share my muffin, and yogurt, and ravioli with you. I'm an only child, Gabe, I don't like to share food. It takes serious sacrifice for me to split all my goodies with you. This is additional incentive to not let you have any sugary things until you're older. I am definitely not sharing my cookies with you.

You're amazing and smiley and sweet and funny. You laugh all the time. I laugh all the time. I can't believe that this is really our life. I've never been happier. I've never felt luckier. I only hope that you stay as sweet as you get older, because then I can live with the bittersweetness of you growing up.

Everyone tells me to enjoy this because it flies by, and I'm trying. I just want to figure out how to slow it down. At least a little.

We love you bunches. Oodles. Too much for words.
Mama

[Pictures to follow, once my computer is de-coffee-ed. What? It's a word!]

his nonna is so proud

We hit a serious milestone in our family last night.

We're talking serious, people.

Gabe had his first gnocchi last night.

We're so proud.

my college sophomore

Gabe and I got back from California almost two weeks ago, and we're still in the depths of sleep hell. Gabe seems to have a slight problem with time changes and new homes and switching from cribs to pack and plays and back to cribs again. I don't know what his problem is, because I'm not having any problems sleeping. I mean, as long as you don't count the 8 month old screeching from his crib as a problem.

Before we left for California, he was doing pretty well. We were sleeping from 9pm until about 7 or 8am, when he would wake up to eat, and go straight back to sleep until 11am. 11am! 14 hours of sleep! Sure, he woke up for those 15 minutes at 7 or 8 am, but this was a small price to pay for 14 hours of sweet, non-screeching sleep.

Then we went to California, and it all went to hell in a handbasket, or whatever that saying is. He was getting up at midnight, and 2am, and 4am, and then up for the day at 7am. At each of these wake-up times he was desperate for milk, even though he'd eaten just 2 hours beforehand, and he didn't seem to understand that since he hadn't been drinking milk at 2am for the last 2 months, my boobs were no longer producing milk for the 2am shift. So there was a lot of screeching.

My mom would wander out of her room at 4am during these fits to offer helpful suggestions like, "Maybe he just wants to play for a while?"

I was desperate for him to sleep again. It felt as if now that I'd gotten a taste of life without sleep deprivation, I couldn't possibly go back. We were in California for 2 weeks, and two days before we left, Gabe finally started sleeping through the night again. 12 glorious hours of uninterrupted sleep. And then, of course, we left.

I tried to talk to Gabe about the fact that this was HIS ROOM, HIS BED, HIS SHEETS, so he didn't need to wake up 8 times a night. Apparently he missed the memo. The other night, between 12:30 and 2:30 am, I went into his room to soothe him no less than 15 times. I'd rock him for a minute, put him down, tiptoe out of the room, and 5 minutes later he'd start screaming. To make matters worse, he picked up a cold on the plane, AND he is getting 4 teeth at the same time.

It's been a long couple of weeks, that's for sure.

Having parents that live in California is difficult on so many levels, and this is just one of them. I want to go visit my parents and Josh's parents as often as possible, and I'm desperate for Gabe to know his grandparents, but this traveling is kicking my ass. Since Gabe was born, he's been to California 4 times and Florida once. 5 trips in 8 months! Plus, it seems like he is having a harder time adjusting as he gets older. When he was 5 months old, it took him a day to get back into his regular routine. This time, it's been almost 2 weeks and counting.

I'm tired, my friends, very very tired. Keep your fingers crossed that we'll return to our regularly scheduled baby who sleeps like a teenager.

the safety pin is apparently out of style

I had a little bit of a breakdown last night when I finally faced my closet and tried to figure out what I would wear to temple today for Yom Kippur services. It wasn't pretty.

You see, I'm close to my pre-pregnancy weight. About 4 pounds away. 4 pounds SEEMS like nothing. It seems so doable. So reasonable. So freaking close. Still, though, those 4 pounds are the difference between fitting into all of my pretty clothes, and not being able to zip the backs of my skirts up.

Don't get me wrong, I have been feeling pretty good about myself these days. I don't feel frumpy all the time anymore, I've been phasing out of the "uniform" I purchased for the last few months. When I wear the pants I've been wearing over the summer, I find myself hitching up the waistline throughout the afternoon because they are (mercifully) loose on me. I even fit into some of my pre-pregnancy pants, a select few, but still, it's something.

Last night, though, I felt awful as the pile on the bed of skirts and dresses that didn't fit grew and grew and grew. I worked at a law firm up until December, and I had a lot of work clothes. Work clothes that I took care of, and dry cleaned dutifully, and picked out carefully. I don't even want to wear these outfits often, because spit up doesn't look good on the cream skirt suit, but I would like to wear them occasionally.

I feel somewhat silly even writing this post, because the weight gain has totally been worth it. I'd do it over a million times to have had Gabe, and I can't complain because I haven't been cutting out anything, and I've certainly been indulging myself in many a frappuccino and cookie and buffalo wing. I think it's time, though. I'm going to have to get off my butt and get rid of these last 4 pounds, and hopefully a little more than that.

My question is, what should I do? Should I go all-out and join a gym? Or should I start by taking walks with Gabe? Should I stop eating junk? Count calories? What has worked for you?

it's all for you

Gabe is really motoring around these days. Up until last week, he had this elaborate frog crawl worked out. He basically looked like he was doing the breast stroke on land. He'd lift himself up onto all fours, belly off the ground, and then while bending his legs outward, would launch himself forward and land (hard) on his chest and belly. Somehow, he'd always perfectly time it so that he'd have an extra second to keep his hands under his chest and lift his head up, so that he didn't smash his face into the floor. It was scary to watch because you were convinced that at any moment his chin would slam into the ground and we'd be taking a trip to the emergency room, but strangely effective. He got pretty fast and could make it across the living room, through the front hall, across the dining room and into the kitchen, in the time it took me to run to the bathroom. Trust me, he was quick.

We spent the last couple of weeks with his grandparents in California, though, and his grandparents were oddly obsessed with eliminating his unusual crawling behavior. My mother would walk above him, hunched over, holding him up under his chest and trying to get him to crawl like a traditional baby. She'd also crawl alongside him, DEMONSTRATING, and then crawl behind him forcing his little knees to stay in the proper line of motion. This is a woman who hasn't done a lick of exercise in a couple of decades, so for her to be crawling on hands and knees beside Gabriel, meant true dedication. Her grandson would crawl appropriately, damn it, if it was the last thing she did.

I ignored her the first week, because it seemed hopeless to me. Josh and I rather love his unique crawl, and he'd been crawling like that for a month and a half, and the pediatrician assured me that this was his form of crawling, one amongst maybe 25 accepted forms of crawling. Sadly, though, one day last week, my mom was at work while Gabe and I played around at their house, and he began imitating her proper crawling motions as he chased after a ball I'd thrown. He still reverted to his frog moves when he was in a hurry, but as the days pass, he crawls less and less like the little frog we've come to love, and more and more like a real baby. This morning, I didn't even see the frog crawl at all. I'm the tiniest bit sad about it, to tell you the truth.

Even though he's becoming more proficient in the crawling department, he is definitely still a reckless little bugger. He'll launch himself off of the couch or try to throw himself out of our arms, often with no warning. The other day, I ran into the office with my morning coffee to log onto the Internet, leaving Gabe on the living room floor. It took me 3 or 4 minutes to turn the computer on, sync up with our wireless network and bring up my email. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement, and turned just in time to see Gabe crawling head first down the step between the living room and the office. I pushed off of the chair to grab him before he flipped himself over. I was able to grab his arms and stop him from his slow motion tumble, and behind me I heard the sound of liquid hitting the floor. My stomach clenched as I made the connection of what had just happened behind me. I sat Gabe up and turned to see a full cup of coffee pouring out of the laptop's keyboard and off of the desk onto the floor. A full, large, hot mug of coffee. As I watched, the laptop made a squeal and a hiss before shutting down.

I lifted the laptop up as coffee poured out of the keyboard, and put it down onto a towel upside down to let the liquid drain out. I called Dell so that I could have my nervous breakdown with a professional on the phone, and they talked me through disconnecting the hard drive and all of the removable pieces, and drying it off as best I could.

I was upset about the computer, but what was really pushing me over the edge was the thought that ALL of Gabe's pictures are on that computer. And of course, OF COURSE, I've only backed it up through April. I know, I'm an idiot. The computer is off in the land of technical assistance right now, and the verdict is out on whether it can be repaired. The hard drive is safe and sound with me, and once we get the computer back, I'll be able to connect the hard drive back into the rest of the computer and we'll see whether the computer will live to see another day.

I'm able to sleep these days, because at least I was able to pull the pictures off of the hard drive and back them up. Thank goodness. I couldn't even imagine the alternative, so I walked around in denial for a few days until we were able to confirm that the pictures hadn't been fried.

I do these things as a reminder to all of you to BACK UP YOUR COMPUTERS. Probably you all already do that, because you're smarter than I am, but I like to think of myself as generous like that. I do stupid things so that you don't have to. You can thank me later.

rockin' the rykas

If you're anything like me and looking to lose a couple (ahem, FIVE) extra pounds, check out my new review of rykä sneakers. Some new sneakers might just give you that extra motivation to hit the exercise circuit.

Plus, rykä and the Parent Bloggers are giving away free sneakers and apparel!!! Check it out!

danger, danger, everywhere

When I was pregnant, I wandered around with long lists of everything that needed to get done before the baby arrived. There were purchases to be made, and people to contact, and electrical outlets to baby proof, and rooms to paint. At the time, people kept insisting that I'd have LOADS of time to get everything done after the baby was born. I'd have so much free time that I wouldn't know what to do with, and in that free time, I'd totally want to traipse off to furniture shops and crawl around on my hands and knees and screw in new non-electrocuting outlets. Apparently, those people's experiences with a baby was really different from my experience with a baby, because I didn't have much in the way of free time. Still don't, actually. Fortunately, I didn't listen to them, for the most part, and I insisted on getting Gabe's bedroom ready and we bought the electrical outlets and Josh changed them, and I bought cushioned covers for the coffee tables and toys for when he got a bit older.

Unfortunately, I did listen to those people a little bit, so instead of following my gut and picking up what I thought I might need in one visit to super baby store, I figured that I'd have time later. But what no one tells you, is that one day you wake up and your completely non-mobile baby is chasing the dogs around the room. The next day, that same baby notices the DVD player and the VCR and shoves his fingers inside of them over and over and OVER. The day after that, in the time it takes you to pee, he is 3 rooms across the house and playing with the dogs' food and water. It's all shocking and fabulous, and on the one hand, you are terribly proud, and on the other, you think "holy shit! What happened to my baby?"

Now it has been a week, and I find myself wondering how you keep your babies safe. How do you keep them alive? How do you make sure they don't pitch face first into the edge of the steps, or down the basement stairs, or electrocuted because they are chewing on the cords of the breast pump?

I watch Gabe like a hawk all day long. I rarely leave him alone, except maybe to jet to the bathroom for 30 seconds or less, or pour myself a cup of coffee while sprinting through the kitchen, but I swear that he finds trouble somehow. The other day he smacked his eye against the edge of the wall while crawling around, then today he was crawling around the kitchen and pushed on the door to the basement that was closed but apparently not fully latched and in that instant I imagined him tumbling down the stairs to the basement (even though I grabbed him before he was able to get close to the edge), then today at the park he was trying to poke himself in the eye with a stick, and I can keep going, but I'm scaring myself.

So seriously, how do you keep them safe? How obsessive do you have to be? I'm off to super baby store tomorrow to pick up a gate for the stairs and some covers for the DVD player and VCR because I really can't stand to fight this battle 17 times an hour, but how much more should I do? Am I supposed to walk around the house every morning and do a safety check? Will that become second nature?




The thing is, I've never known love like this before, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect this little person. Anything.












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If you have a minute, stop by and visit Chatty Cricket. She could use a hug today.

milestones

Saturday was the first time I've left Gabe for longer than 3 hours. Even more traumatic, this was the first time I've ever left him with someone other than Josh, because when I left for those 3 hours, Josh was with Gabe. Josh had a work-related outing to Six Flags New England, and my inlaws agreed to watch Gabe for the day. We drove out to the Berkshires on Friday, settled Gabe in with the inlaws, and Saturday morning went to Six Flags to meet Josh's co-workers.

My dreams on Friday night were peppered with these terrifying story lines where I'd be forced to abandon Gabe under these elaborately unrealistic scenarios, and I woke up repeatedly in a cold sweat. When the alarm finally went off I wondered briefly why my night had been filled with those nightmares, and then, DUH, it was rather clear.

Of course, in preparation for my first time away from Gabe, he proceeded to get his first fever ever, his first accompanying cough ever, he has been adamantly refusing bottles, and he has his first case of separation anxiety. In Spanish, we call it "mamitis", otherwise known as "utter refusal to be satisfied with anyone other than mama". It's been a big ol' party around here.

Gabe was fine, obviously. He woke up briefly at 8:45am, just in time for me to feed him before walking out the door. I put him back down to bed right after feeding him, thinking that perhaps he'd play quietly for a bit before getting up for the day, but my inlaws told me that he slept until 11:00am! He ate cereal for them, something he'd been turning down from me, and took most of a bottle. He showed off all his little tricks- crawling, babbling, laughing and dancing. He took his regular naps, ate again, played again, took another bottle from them. In short, he was a total angel.

Let's be honest, though, I was kind of a mess. Theoretically, I'd been somewhat looking forward to our first day away. I normally like roller coasters, and the thought of being responsible for nothing besides consuming loads of fried foods seemed like fun. Once the day approached, however, I became far less enthused. It seemed like an awfully long time to be away from Gabe, especially with people I wasn't even friends with, and I was nervous about Gabe being with anyone other than the two of us. My inlaws are fantastic, but still, they're not Josh or me.

Saturday was in the 90s and humid, and it turns out that I may be getting old for roller coasters. After 3 rides, I was too sick to go on anything else, so I spent the rest of the afternoon in a bit of a funk, missing my baby and counting down the hours until we could go home. I also brought my friend, the breast pump, along with us to the park, so I spent a chunk of the afternoon in a hot car pumping away.

I did enjoy the pizza and fries and chicken fingers and soda, and I enjoyed spending time alone with Josh. It's been a while since we were unaccompanied by our favorite side kick. We talked about him most of the time, but we also talked about trying to get away for dinner or a movie together one of these times when we can take advantage of the grandparents as babysitters. I think it'll be a while before we do this again, though. I missed Gabe too much to be away from him again any time soon.

maybe 29 just isn't a lucky number...

Gabe rang in my 29th birthday by getting his first fever. His first cold whatsoever, really, and I guess I should thank my lucky stars that it didn't happen until 7 months, but when you are in the thick of it, it is hard to think about the positives.

I should have known that something was up because we spent all of Thursday and Friday night awake and screaming (Gabriel, that is, not me, although I wanted to). This should have clued me in, because Gabe is a lot of things (stubborn, strong-willed, cute as a button), but he isn't a screamer. Thursday and Friday night were, without a doubt, the worst nights we've had so far in the time since Gabe was born. Even when he was a newborn, he might fuss or yell with displeasure, but he never screamed uncontrollably, and I never had trouble settling him down. Thursday and Friday night gave me a dose of serious empathy for anyone whose baby is a screamer. It is really, really, really hard to maintain your sanity in the wee hours of the morning when you just can't make your baby happy. I found myself talking sweetly to Gabe in his room, while trying to settle him back into his crib. Then I'd come back to my room and hear the screams starting up again on the monitor, and I'd start cursing into my pillow.

I tried everything. We walked, we rocked, we attempted sleep in my bed, we attempted sleep in the guest room bed, we attempted sleep in a chair, we sang, we even tried Tylenol thinking that perhaps it was the teeth, but nothing worked. I was up and pacing for most of the night, trying anything to make him happy. During the day he seemed okay, but just a tad out of sorts. Nothing I could put my finger on, so I went back and forth wondering if maybe all of it was behavioral. Could my baby become spoiled just like that? Could his personality change overnight?

Isn't it funny how when you are going through a rough phase you are so quick to assume that this is it FOREVER and your life is destined to be this hard for eternity?

Anyway, we had big plans to have my 29th birthday celebration in this seaside town in Massachusetts called Rockport, and I had requested lobsters for lunch or dinner. So, of course, we woke up on the big day with a fever. Nothing terribly high, but definitely a fever, and a runny nose. Things rapidly went downhill from there. At it's worst point, Gabe had a fever of 104.7, and I was ready to toss him in the car and drive to the emergency room, and only the fear of having to undergo painful tests kept me from doing it. I just didn't know what was normal and what wasn't, and I didn't know how high a fever could go and what might happen.

We ended up giving him a lukewarm bath for 20 minutes, dosing him with Tylenol, and the fever started receding right after that, thankfully. By that time, I'd spoken with the pediatrician on call, and she said that as long as Gabe acted normal (which he did), then we didn't need to worry. Fever was just a symptom, not dangerous in and of itself.

It was a long day, and a longer night, and on Monday morning I dragged him into the pediatrician's office, confident that he must have an ear infection or teeth or SOMETHING, for the love of all things. During our 15 minute visit, though, Gabe was charming and sweet and smiley and hugged the doctor and cooed, and generally appeared completely and utterly well, to the point that the pediatrician asked me several times whether I was sure he'd had a fever that high, and where did I take his temperature (rectally, unfortunately), and was I sure the thermometer worked, and was I sure I'd done it correctly?

Suffice to say, that apparently this was a vicious 24 hour bug, and Gabe has shown no ill-effects since Sunday night. He has been a little cranky, but without a fever and generally in good spirits, except for his absolute refusal of any form of food that doesn't have to do with the breast. No solids, no bottles, no nothing. Just the boob. All the time.

This would be fine, except that over the last few months we've settled into a routine where I pump enough milk for one bottle a day and Josh feeds him that bottle at bedtime so that I can occasionally (read, very seldomly) go to a movie or to run errands, or go to the bathroom uninterrupted at bedtime. In order to get that bottle, though, I will pump over a couple of sessions the night before, maybe one at 7pm and one at 10pm, or something like that. That also means that my boobs don't make quite the quantity of milk that he wants to drink at bedtime in a single feeding. That also also means that we are kind of screwed.

He feeds and then I figure that he is still hungry because he refuses to go to bed, and I wait another hour to give my breasts a chance to make more milk and then he feeds again and is exhausted enough that he finally falls asleep, but he's been waking up again at 4am (something he hasn't done in at least 2 months) to eat because he isn't getting enough before bed to make it through the night. Needless to say, he is lucky that he is so cute and that I love him so much because he is skating on thin ice here, and I'm exhausted.

But it's just a phase, right? He isn't going to refuse to eat anything but the boob until he is 17 and leaving for college, right? I had to turn down my first invitation this month to go to the movies with my girlfriend because Gabe wouldn't take a bottle tonight! 2 hours of mindless, lovely, non-demanding movies, with popcorn and soda and maybe even candy. It is a tragedy, really.

I did get an excellent birthday present this year, a little early. On Wednesday morning, I realized that I was out of things to wear. My uniform these days consists of 4 pairs of capri pants that I purchased in 4 colors, basically the only pants that fit, plus white t-shirts that I rotate through, also the only tops that fit. But on Wednesday, I was out of luck because somehow I'd forgotten to wash any of the pieces of the uniform. On dumb luck, I figured that I'd try something pre-pregnancy to see if I could squeeze into it and..... drumroll please.... I did! My pre-pregnancy jeans! And not even my fat jeans! My regular ones! I ended up fastening them with a safety pin, though, because I figured that after lunch I might want to cry if I wore them buttoned, but WHO CARES! Pre-pregnancy jeans! On my post-pregnancy body!

Happy birthday to me, indeed.

summer perfected

Last night Josh's cousin was playing in a high school baseball game, so I cooked us a quick dinner, packed up all of Gabriel's bedtime paraphernalia, and we all headed over to the baseball field.

The weather was perfect, a cool summer evening, warm enough for shorts and sandals, but not hot at all. We spread out a blanket on the grass and sat watching the game, admiring our sweet baby asleep in his stroller and recalling high school memories. Josh's cousin just graduated, and we traded stories back and forth about that magical summer between high school and college, where your plans were laid out for you, and for once you didn't worry about resumes or applications or grades, and there was total freedom.

I worked at a movie theater that summer after graduation, and was allowed to bring friends to see any movie at any theater in my district. That was the summer of lounging around all day, and then packing up picnic dinners and driving a packed car to the drive-in movie theater every weekend. I knew I'd be moving to Boston come September, and there was this amazing feeling hanging over me of freedom and limitless potential and excitement. So very much excitement. When I see Josh's cousin these days, he has that glint in his eye.

The game ended and as we were driving home, we passed an old-fashioned ice cream parlor packed to the gills with people enjoying the perfect summer night. With just a glance at each other, Josh did a u-turn and we threw caution to the wind. So what if it was the baby's bedtime? So what if Josh had to work in the morning? I had my first sundae in years. YEARS. Complete with sliced bananas, hot fudge, whipped cream and a cherry. Josh had a sinfully rich sundae with malt balls, malt powder, french vanilla ice cream, whipped cream and a cherry. Gabe had peas with brown rice, but thankfully, he doesn't know the difference.

I bounced Gabe on my knee as Josh and I chatted over our ice creams, and I couldn't help but wonder how we got so lucky. We were close to our home, and after a quick change of clothes and diaper, Gabe was settled into bed for the night, just an hour after his regular bedtime. Of course, as retribution for a late bedtime, he woke up in the wee hours of the morning looking for an early breakfast and some snuggles. Still, I think last night will be one of my favorite nights of this summer, sleep or no sleep.

I definitely hope it isn't my last sundae of the summer.

busy busy bees

Every day I glance longingly at the computer, and then I glance down at my scooting-around-the-room baby, and I sit on the floor with him instead of blogging. And then you know how it is, you feel embarrassed because you haven't written, so you don't write, and then you feel even more guilty and embarrassed, so you still don't write, and then it's been ages and you can't even remember what it was like to write regularly, and why did people read what you wrote anyway? But the truth is that I love looking back on my past posts and recalling what my life was like during that period of time. Plus, I love hearing from all of you. Therefore, I'd better find a way to get back into the swing of things.

The truth is, I am loving my life so much these days, it is hard to take the time to sit down and write about it.

Gabe is fabulous, wonderful, glorious, and so much fun. He is smiling and laughing and trying to crawl. He gets up on all fours, rocks back and forth, and then launches himself in the direction of whatever he'd like to reach. It is all cute, of course, until I turn around to find him chewing on the power strip. Or when I was chatting with a friend at lunch and he'd swallowed half of a paper napkin, and then spent the next hour spitting up chewed up chunks of napkin (I felt like a fabulous mother that day, for sure). His favorite target is the dogs, of course. He adores those darn dogs. He saves up his best smiles for them, and waits anxiously every morning until he hears the click clack of their little nails, and then he busts into this absolutely scrumptious grin and bounces in place. He still dances all the time, but now he occasionally waves bye-bye and "gives us five" too. The day before yesterday, he learned how to close a book, and now he'd much prefer to close the book every time I turn the page than read the actual pages. He sleeps through the night most of the time (except last night, of course), and waking up to that sweet smile is the best wake up I've ever had.

I couldn't be prouder, honestly. I also couldn't possibly love him more. Until tomorrow. Somehow, tomorrow I always love him more.

Things have been crazy around here, as usual. My mom was visiting for the last month, and we went to Montreal and Quebec City for 5 days a few weeks ago. Then Josh turned 30 and I threw him a surprise birthday party, which is surprisingly difficult to coordinate with a 6 month old in the house and a nosy husband. Then Josh's aunt offered us her beach house for a weekend, so we were away for that, then we went to the Berkshires to visit my inlaws for a weekend, and now we're back to regular chaotic life.

I have loads of pictures to share with you. Wait until you get a load of these thighs (Gabe's, not mine). He is a whopping 19+ pounds of delicious rolls and dimples. I keep hoping that the crawling won't thin them out, because I really do enjoy munching on them.

new product review up, and NEW BLOG!

If you're a closet Internet doctor, like me, and love to Google your different symptoms, I think you might enjoy my new post about The 24-Hour Pharmacist.

Also, if you could use a $50 gift card from CVS, leave a comment on the Parent Bloggers site on The 24-Hour Pharmacist post for a chance to win.

Let me know what you think!

someone should make me president of our neighborhood watch

A couple of weeks ago, I was on my way to a friend's house and discovered that my car had been "broken" into. I say "broken" with a bit of sarcasm, because it turns out that Josh left my car doors unlocked. I walked into the car to discover the driver's door open, all the compartments in the car hanging wide open, all the bags thrown around, and $20 missing from my visor. The thing is, my sunglasses were still there, none of the cds were touched, and strangest of all, the thieves hadn't touched my stroller (which was in the back of the car). I called Josh to make sure that he hadn't tossed my car for some odd reason and then to get his advice on what I should do.

It seemed so silly to call the police for a missing $20, plus I assumed that the thief or thieves were likely teenagers who got lucky with an unlocked car. Josh agreed, so I cleaned up the car, made sure nothing else was missing and then went about my merry way.

A few days later, I heard through the neighborhood grapevine that my car was one of many, many cars in the neighborhood that was robbed with the same details. Unlocked car in an unlit driveway, items missing. I seemed to be the luckiest of the group, because some people reported laptops, wallets, navigation systems, cell phones, and briefcases missing. I also felt rather guilty about the fact that I hadn't reported the robbery to the police since these were clearly patterned crimes, but by now it had been over a week and it seemed silly to call then.

Fast forward to last night, I'm sleeping in my bed, around 2am. I suddenly bolt upright in bed, wide awake, because I realize the car is unlocked again. So I did the logical thing, which was to get out of bed, go downstairs, get the car keys, and walk outside, in my nightgown, at 2am, to see if the car was actually unlocked and whether it had been broken into already. Why didn't I just lock the car from inside and check in the morning? It made total sense to me that I needed to know right then if someone had broken in, so that we could call the police at 2 in the morning. Let's chalk this up to lack of sleep, okay?

Anyway, I open the front door and walk outside, in my nightgown, and hear this humming sound. I didn't recognize the noise, but figured that it must be a neighbor's air conditioner that I'd never noticed before. I got to the end of my driveway before I realized that the humming sound came from a black car parked directly in front of my house. A parked car with the engine running. And a GUY sitting inside the car.

Now, at this point, most of you would have gone back inside, right? You wouldn't just continue on to your car and check it, taking your sweet time before going back inside, would you? Especially not with a strange man sitting in front of your house in a suspicious car with the engine running, no?

Guess which one I did?

I finally go back inside, lock the door, go back to bed and realize that I should probably mention all this to Josh. I wake him up, and we both crouch in front of the window, spying on the guy and discussing what we should do. We finally decide to call the police. I then proceed to turn all the lights in the house on to try and find the phone book to locate the non-emergency number for the police, because hey, I'm trying to be discrete. I can't find it, so we call 911 and I give all the details to the emergency operator.

There is a whole flurry of activity over the phone- they are asking me for a description of the guy, I hear the radio going crazy, another officer reports that he is right around the corner, we hear a car racing down the street to our driveway, and at this point, I have visions of being able to proudly recount to all my neighbors how I single-handedly caught the car robbers with nothing but my nightgown for protection. And then the policeman comes back on the line to let me know that the car is an undercover officer in an unmarked car. Which makes sense, because I guess if you were a robber, you would likely leave once you saw the resident awake at her house with the lights blazing and her husband glaring at you out of the bedroom window.

All of this to say that I called the cops on the cops. I am such an asset to my neighborhood, obviously. Our email group has been making suggestions left and right about how we can fight back against these robberies, like calling the police and the mayor and putting up fliers. My suggestion? We could actually start LOCKING OUR CARS, since all of the cars have been left unlocked with valuables inside. Shocking concept, I know.

Things are exciting in my sleepy suburb these days. I can hardly stand it.

doing the conga

Apparently, training two dogs has come in quite handy. Now we've moved onto training Gabriel to do tricks on cue. If anyone starts a Conga line at our next wedding, he's ready to go. Next, we're going to start working on the Hava Nagila.

worst mother ever

My inlaws came to visit today, and my mother in law picked up Gabe to hold him for a bit. He promptly started to chew on her hand, and within 5 minutes of her arrival, she says, "Hey, I feel something in his mouth!" I wrestle him down, pry his mouth open, and lo and behold, there is AN ACTUAL TOOTH. Already out of the gums. Exposed. External. Broken through
the skin.

I AM HIS MOTHER, AND I NEVER NOTICED THAT HE WAS TEETHING A TOOTH.

If you come over and look in my medicine cabinet, you'll find that I have daytime baby oragel, and nighttime baby oragel, and infant tylenol and infant motrin. In my fridge I have 4 teethers, and in the freezer I have one. Do you think I gave him any of these? Do you think that when he woke up at 1am, 3am, 3:15am, 3:30am, 4am and 7am the other night, that it even occurred to me that he might be teething? Friends from my new moms' group complain left and right that their babies are teething, and I sat here thinking, "boy am I glad Gabe isn't teething."

Someone should call child services on me. I suck.

Of course, now that my inlaws are here, today Gabe acted like a complete fuss pot, as if to demonstrate that it is obvious to any random bystander that he is teething, and I am a negligent mother that never noticed.

So we have two options here:
(1) Worst mother ever.
(2) Best teether ever, who gives no indication that he is teething.

For the sake of my delicate sensibilities, I am opting for option 2. I already feel guilty enough.

gratuitous mention of breasts included

My blog emailed me yesterday. The email suspiciously came from Josh's email address, but he disclaims any responsibility from said email. The blog berated me due to my lack of posting, and said that although it knows that I've been quite busy fulfilling a certain 5 month old's every desire, I still need to find time to post. Clearly, my blog is right.

I have a good excuse for not posting, though. Up until last week, Gabe was an eater. He was a very good eater. I never worried about breastfeeding or his growth or weight gain because he loved to breastfeed. Instead, my problem was how to get him to stop breastfeeding to do other activities, like play or sleep or interact with anyone besides my breasts. Josh has been calling me The Bartender for months now because I so often have a child hanging off of my body. For the first four months of his life, it would often take him upwards of an hour to complete a meal. And he ate every 2-3 hours. You do the math.

Until last week. While we were in Rochester, I happened to be a bridesmaid in the wedding, which necessitated me leaving Gabriel for the first time in Josh's care for longer than 45 minutes. I pumped several bottles, left before he woke up, and was able to be with him again starting at about 4pm. At which point, he refused to breastfeed. REFUSED. By refused, I mean that he pitched a fit whenever a breast was thrust into his face. A fit complete with back arching, yelling and turning his head away from me. The first time it happened, I assumed that he was tired and overwhelmed from the action at the wedding. The next day, I assumed he was tired and overwhelmed from all the traveling. The day after that, I assumed he was pissed that we drove back from Niagara Falls to Boston in one day. When we were home and safely ensconced in his favorite chair in his bedroom, I started to suspect it might have something to do with the actual boobs.

I freaked.

I consulted Dr. Google, who assured me that this was a perfectly normal nursing strike that could last a few days or up to 2 weeks. TWO WEEKS. I freaked some more. I called a lactation consultant, contacted my friend who has nursed 3 babies, I even went down to our neighborhood maternity store to ask for advice. The bottom line was that I couldn't give him any more bottles, no matter how mad he was, and eventually, EVENTUALLY, he would eat. The pediatrician assured me that he wouldn't starve if he didn't eat for a day. Easy for him to say.

So that's where we've been since the Saturday before last. Trying to convince this little bugger that what he really really wants is to nurse, but looking completely nonchalant about the whole thing. It takes serious skill to try to offer someone your breast every 15 minutes while looking totally uninterested in whether he accepts or not. I feel like I'm back in college trying to win Josh over. Things are definitely improving, though, and now I usually only have to dangle my boobs over his face a couple of times before he accepts. Gabe, I mean, not Josh. Josh usually accepts on the first try.

The good news is that other than this eating situation, we're doing really well. Gabe is actually sleeping most of the night, without eating, sometimes from 9pm to 7am! This is a dramatic improvement from our previous schedule of waking up at 1am, 4am, and 7am. I actually feel like a human being most days. He has also become ridiculous cute, and I mean RIDICULOUSLY cute. He smiles at everyone and everything, and thinks that most of what I do is hilarious. Sing a song? Hilarious. Clap your hands? Hilarious. Feed the dogs? Hilarious. My self esteem is through the roof from all this encouragement.

Josh started his new job last Friday, and for the first time ever, I've been the one to watch him go off to work while I stay home. It has been strange, to say the least. Now I'm just trying to figure out how to get things done while also taking care of my cutie.

What's new with you?

5 months

Dear Gabriel,

Every month I look back on how you've changed in 4 short weeks, and I feel stunned. At some point, the growing has to slow down, right? You're still my sweet, easy, loving baby, but now you show your likes and dislikes more. You love to take walks around the neighborhood and you love to take baths and you love it when we cover you with kisses. Thank goodness, at least some things stay the same! You found your toes earlier this month too, and your favorite thing to do is shove all your toes into your mouth at once and have a munching session. Nothing, honestly nothing, could be cuter.










This month has been another busy month of traveling for you. We flew to San Francisco to attend your first family wedding for one of your cousins, and you met most of your extended family.










You charmed the pants off of them, of course, and we now have loads of pictures of you being hugged and squeezed by various cousins. After a weekend in San Francisco, we drove to Lake Tahoe to spend a week of celebration with your Bubbi and Saba, Aunt and Uncle and cousins, for your Saba's 60th birthday celebration.












Once we were all celebrated out, we drove back to Sacramento to spend another few days with your Nonna and Nonno before flying back to Boston. A week later, we drove to Long Island to spend a few days with some friends, and then on to Rochester, NY for your mommy's college roommate's wedding, and then on to Niagara Falls for a quick escape. It has been a whirlwind. Thankfully, you weathered the travel like a champ.










This month you did a glorious thing for your Mommy and Daddy, you started sleeping through the night. You still have good nights and bad nights, but for a couple of weeks in a row, you've slept from 9pm until 6am or 7am. The funny thing is that I feel more tired now than I did before. I think the true extent of my exhaustion has finally sunk in now that I'm sleeping more than I have over the last 6 months. When your morning wake-up time finally rolls around, I love running to your room to see your sweet face looking up at me. It is the longest stretch of time we spend apart each day, and I miss you desperately while you're in the other room.










That is the other big change in our lives- you moved to your own room! We were resisting moving you, but while we were in Lake Tahoe, it became abundantly clear that we were waking you up at nighttime with our deep breathing or tossing and turning. One of the nights we were away, your Daddy got a cold and you were up with each and every one of his coughs. So when we were finally home, we moved your bassinet into your room and you slept through the night for the first time that very night. It surprised me so much, I kept sneaking into your room to check on you! Since then, you've transitioned to your crib because you weigh more than the bassinet allows, and every night, you happily go to sleep with your blanket bear and a few kisses.










You're changing so much, sweet boy. You laugh all the time now, especially at the dogs. You'd been away from them while we were in Lake Tahoe, and when we arrived at Nonna and Nonno's house where they'd been staying, you took one look at Murray and cracked up for 10 long minutes. Your Daddy and I couldn't believe it! You were laughing these huge deep belly laughs, and it brought tears to my eyes. You also think your Daddy is hysterical, far funnier than I am. He also makes you crack up with these adorable giggles when he munches on your neck and stomach. You definitely adore your Daddy and light up when he walks into the room.










This month was a big month for our family because your Daddy graduated from business school! His graduation marks the end of his 5 months at home with us, and he's finally going back to work after 2 years in school. It has been wonderful to have him home all the time and we're incredibly grateful for this time we've all spent together. After all this time at home with the two of us, he knows you so well, and you love him to death. You two started having Boys' Nights At Home this month while I go to the movies or out to coffee or to run an errand and you both love it.









These 5 months have been the best time of my life, and I wish I could slow time down because you are growing up far too quickly.










I love every little bit of you. I'm so lucky that you're my son.

Love,
Mommy

our newest stage

I know I've complained about the dogs before, especially our recent bouts with jealousy and the baby. I have to admit, though, this little laugh makes all that annoying stuff totally worth it.



If you make it all the way to the end, you'll also get to hear Murray's patented snort. He makes that noise all. night. long.

Seriously, though, doesn't that laugh make you want to cry? The sweetness melts me. I'll do whatever it takes to get that laugh.

By the way, this video is taken in a hotel in Rochester, NY, because we've been traveling AGAIN. I am in dire need of a couple of weeks at home, and hopefully I'll be able to get those over the next month or so.

talk about being disconnected...

Life with a baby is tiring, I've discovered. Most days I feel fantastic, head over heels in love, wondering how life could get any better. The next day, I might be exhausted and overwhelmed, dreaming about one complete night of sleep, trying to figure out how I am going to stay awake until 9pm. I guess this is typical, but it makes for a lackluster blog, I'm sorry to say. I started and stopped about 4 posts about how little sleep I was getting, but they all seemed so boring, and I was so freaking tired, that I never finished any of them, and now it all seems to complicated that I feel exhausted just trying to think about writing it all out.

Suffice to say, Gabe used to sleep, then all of a sudden he didn't. It got to the point that he woke up every half-hour to forty-five minutes for two days straight, and I almost lost my mind. I talked to a friend of mine, who in grand fashion scared the ever-loving daylights out of me by saying that I'd officially screwed Gabe up forever and he'd never sleep again, so I instituted Baby Boot Camp. Baby Boot Camp is just a fancy way to say that I finally put together a schedule for Gabriel. He'd been going to bed and waking up at any old time, and I guess that wasn't working for him.

Now we get up at a reasonable time, take 3 naps a day (at least), and try to go to bed at a reasonable time. This way, he is in a better mood, and he sleeps for longer stretches at nighttime. He also eats more in the daytime, which he hadn't been doing, a fact that I'm sure was contributing to the lack of nighttime sleep. We also instituted a blankie/lovey (a fuzzy brown blanket with a bear head and feet) and convinced Gabe that he really did want a pacifier. All those things helped.

We're back in California, though, first for a wedding, then for a week of travel with the inlaws in Lake Tahoe, and now for a few day of visiting my parents, and his schedule is all screwed up again. So what am I doing? I'm up at 2:30, of course, writing this blog post, instead of sleeping. It's what all the cool kids are doing, didn't you know?

In all seriousness, though, life is good. Gabriel is wonderful and sweet and adorable and all cooey and smiley and delectable. He has extended his skills to being able to put all his toes in his mouth, and he spends a good chunk of the day loudly slurping on his big toe. It is one of the cutest things I have ever had the pleasure of seeing. Josh graduates from business school on Saturday, and I can hardly believe that we've made it through his two years of school. Two years without working, two years of me supporting him, two years of not knowing what our future would be. I am so proud of him.

I'm also trying to figure out my own future, and that has been weighing on me these days. I have moments of crushing insecurity about what I should be doing, both with my career and with Gabriel. Why didn't anyone tell me what a whirlwind motherhood was? Or maybe you did and I just didn't listen. Someone slipped it in when they told me to try to sleep before he arrived, right? I'm working on a blog post to parcel through all my thoughts and get yours. We are flying back on Thursday, and I'll try to put that together soon.

In the meanwhile, I hope that you are all doing well, and that everyone's mother's days were wonderful and sweet. Gabriel came through in grand style, and got me a lovely card that made me cry. A necklace too, but best of all, he's been giving me great gummy smiles and slobbery kisses and those are worth more than everything else combined.

rrrrrrr... a parent bloggers review

Parent Bloggers Review

I grew up speaking Spanish. In fact, Spanish was my first language because my parents didn’t speak much English when I came along. I learned the little bits of English that they knew from them, and then learned more in school and of course, from television. I went through different stages during my childhood of refusing to speak Spanish or being embarrassed to speak Spanish in front of friends. When I was 10, though, we took a trip for 3 months to Argentina to visit all of our family and friends, and since then, I’ve been enraptured with the language. All of a sudden, I realized what being bilingual meant. Since then, I’ve worked to keep up the language, including studying there in high school, college and law school, each for a semester. I’ve tried to get back to Argentina whenever possible, and Josh even took an immersion trip to Costa Rica 2 years ago in the hopes that he’d be able to speak Spanish fluently in the future.

It appears that Gabriel is also working on being bilingual. At least, he’s been gargling and gurgling so much, that my mother in law asked me the other day if he was practicing rolling his r’s. I doubt that, but I certainly have been working to make sure that he will also grow up bilingual. And trust me, this is harder than it sounds. I have to remind myself constantly to speak to him in Spanish, even when Josh is around. I have also been buying books and music CD’s in Spanish so that when we read and sing together, he will constantly be exposed to the language.

When the Parent Bloggers asked me to review the Boca Beth language program, I was excited. Gabriel is still too young at 4 and a half months to give me much of an indication as to whether he likes the products, but I tried them out myself to see what I thought. The Boca Beth set that we received included a DVD called “I like animals”, music CD, coloring activity book, Boca puppet and maraca. All of these products come in a set that retails for $29.99.

The first thing we tried out was the musical CD, along with the props. I tried mimicking the songs from the CD with the Boca puppet. Gabriel was a fan, and I agreed that Boca was pretty cute, with bright colors and ease of maneuverability. The maraca was also a hit with Gabe, although his rhythm was a bit off. The CD had 15 songs that included phrases in both English and Spanish, often directly translated one after the other. The same song might include one sentence in English, followed by the same sentence in Spanish, or vice versa. The songs were catchy and not too long, and I was able to get through a few of them before Gabriel lost interest (not bad for a 4 month old, I’d say). I didn’t love the CD, though, mainly because I would have preferred a full song in each language, or at least a full section of each song in the different languages. Since almost every sentence was in a different language, I thought it could be a little confusing for a non-native speaker. I worry that it might not be totally clear whether each sentence is a repetition of the previous sentence in the other language, or whether it is just a continuation of the song. I did think the songs were fun for kids, though, and as long as you were clear on how the songs were structured, you’d definitely learn Spanish from the CD.

The DVD won me over, though. Gabe doesn’t watch TV yet, but when he does, I’m sure he’ll love the DVD. I believe that the best way to learn another language is by seeing language in context, live and in action, and that is what the DVD does. The DVD is interesting enough to keep a child’s attention, and included quite a bit of vocabulary and language. The DVD’s description boasted 200 vocabulary words and 85 phrases. Not too shabby for one DVD, that’s for sure. Animals are featured throughout, with their names in both Spanish and English, along with descriptive sentences in each language. I also loved the fact that Gabriel will hear grammar and other words besides just the names of the animals. I may even try to imitate that structure when I teach him other words in Spanish and English in the future.

The coloring book was cute, but definitely too old for a baby. I did show it to my 7 year old nephew and almost 4 year old niece, and they both seemed interested in learning the different Spanish words featured in the book. I was pleased to see that the products will apparently appeal to a broad range of ages. Once Gabriel is old enough to understand a little more, I suspect we’ll be using the whole set of products for quite some time.

My overall feeling about the products is that they will definitely come in handy if you’d like to introduce a foreign language to your child. Obviously, they can’t do it all by themselves, but the DVD and CD could certainly spark an interest in Spanish in your child. All the products appear to be entertaining for children, and I’d definitely recommend it to friends.

If you’re interested in checking out one of the Boca Beth sets, leave a comment on Parent Bloggers for a chance to win a free copy!