he makes yummy pancakes too

I don't know what it was about this weekend, but Josh and I were just at odds with each other. All snappy and snippity and argumenty, and OH LORDY, it was a long weekend. It was never enough to start a full-on fight, but always just enough to leave me annoyed at him for the particular way he said something. But how many times can you yell at someone for their TONE before it starts to sound ridiculous.

I think it was a combination of general tiredness from a busy week, plus Gabe caught another plague from someone else at his toddler program, so we were woken up multiple times in the wee hours before Josie's wakeup times. So although Josie slept from 9pm to 4am, Gabe was up at midnight, and 1:30am and 2:30am, wheezing and crying and needing his nose wiped. When she finally woke up at 4am, which was a perfectly respectable time to wake up, I stumbled into her room with an ARE YOU KIDDING ME? attitude. Totally unfair to her, but whatever.

Also, whenever I'm tired, I start getting all up in arms about how much I do around the house in comparison to how much Josh does around the house, and perhaps I should just mention it as we go along instead of flipping out all at once, particularly at 1am when we're trying to go back to sleep. Perhaps. I'll consider it for the future. Shockingly, there isn't much he can do about the fact that he didn't put his dishes into the dishwasher when we're lying in bed. I will note, however, that this morning when I got up he'd cleaned up the kitchen, loaded and run the dishwasher. Apparently hysteria has it's benefits.

Moving on.

I hesitate to say, but we seem to have turned a corner with our youngest family member. I was about to say tiniest, but I realize that at upwards of 12 pounds, she has left Tango and Murray in the dust (Tango is 6 pounds, Murray is 10). Josie has reduced her screaming considerably, and sometimes even waits patiently for a few minutes while I do a quick little something around the house. She takes a couple of naps a day, most importantly, AT THE SAME TIME as Gabe for the last 6 days in a row. I tuck Gabe into his bed, then sit in her rocker and nurse her until she falls asleep, put her in her crib, and she sleeps. Alone. Not on top of me. It's amazing. At nighttime, we have developed a little routine, and she regularly sleeps from 9pm until at least 3am, sometimes 4 or even 5am.

Also, she suddenly seems, for lack of a better term, to have "arrived". She's just "with it" these days. Josh commented last night, that she is smiley and alert and laughs when we wave her arms around or bounce her up and down. Nothing is perfect, by any means, but things are much better. I have less moments of impatience or edginess and I'm able to get a few things done around the house without having to listen to screaming.

Hopefully this is the start of more good things and the cuteness continues, because they are both really, ridiculously cute. I'm sure everyone thinks their children are absurdly gorgeous, but mine really are. Really. I mean, look at those cheeks!

gotta hide the bald patches

The Great Hair Loss of 2009 has begun.

Ugh.

I remembered this from Gabe's postpartum period, but it is still shocking for it to happen again. I pulled clumps and clumps of hair from my head in the shower, cleared the drain multiple times, and STILL I've pulled stray hairs off of Josie and my shirt repeatedly during the day. I cannot believe this is going to go on for the next few months. I know, logically, that I won't actually go bald. But still. It feels like it. Helloooo ponytail.

more of that guilt I mentioned

We had some highs and some lows today.

Some of the highs included getting Josie to take an actual nap in her own personal crib as opposed to napping in my arms. That was a huge high. She even stayed there for 45 minutes. It was exhilarating. After waking up to eat, I was able to get her to nap again in the moses basket in our living room. Another amazing occurrence.

I took the time she gave me to attack the house with a vengeance. I did some crazy cleaning- scrubbed the stove, the inside and outside and vents of the microwave, the front of the dishwasher and refrigerator, some of the cabinets and the sink. I dusted every surface in the house, even moving books and picture frames and climbing on top of chairs and beds to reach all the surfaces. I can't recall the last time I did that, maybe never. I cleaned all the mirrors and windows. I picked up all the errant toys and clothes and put them away. I vacuumed the whole downstairs. I did some laundry. I loaded the dishwasher. I took absolutely no time to myself, but it felt good. The house is starting to look halfway decent, and I'm working out a plan to keep up the organization and cleaning, but on a step by step basis. Doing a little bit every day to keep the chaos under control.

Another high- I got a call while I was cleaning for a short term contract job, and all I kept thinking while we were talking money was how many visits from a cleaning lady that would buy. Can you tell I enjoyed the cleaning?

There was a lot of screaming today, however, courtesy of Josie. Except for those brief shining periods of time where she slept on her own, she REFUSED to be put down. Like, at all. Not in her swing, not in her exercauser, not in her bouncy chair, not under the mobile, not for 30 seconds for me to assemble the sling. It was rough. The screaming puts me on edge, and so my temper was short with Gabe. Just as I was clearing the floor and turning on the vacuum, Gabe dumped out his huge basket of balls and his bag of toy trains and I lost it. I screamed at him to STOP DUMPING OUT THE TOYS and apparently got the message through to him, because he turned around and started putting the toys away immediately.

I hate feeling like that kind of mom, the mom that doesn't let her kids play with toys because it makes a mess, and I'm really really really not that kind of mom, but everyone has their limits and I seem to be hitting mine. Gabe's sole purpose in life these days is to make messes. He walks over to his bookcase and dumps every single book out onto the floor in mere minutes. He throws all his balls all over the house. He empties every drawer in his play kitchen onto the floor. He goes into my diaper bag, takes out my wallet and throws my credit cards around the house. He throws trains behind the radiator, down the stairs, tries to flush them down the toilet. He has to be watched like a hawk, every second of the day.

At the same time, he was unbelievably cute today. He sang to me, danced along with music, brought books to Josie and "read" them to her. He ate everything I put in front of him with gusto and told me that my cooking was "yummy yummy". He is adorable, but sometimes I wonder how people do it.

Live life with a baby that screams SO FREAKING MUCH, and a toddler that is sweet and funny but busy busy busy. I found myself asking Josie under my breath to please just shut up for a few minutes, and I feel HORRIBLE about that, but really, I do have my limits. It is so exhausting to spend all day comforting her, bouncing her, holding her, and still have her screaming in my ear.

She laughed today, though. A real little laugh while I was pumping her legs and counting in a high pitched voice. We've heard her give a few "heh heh hehs" when we do something funny, but today sounded like a real miniature laugh. It was delicious. And I do love her to death, I just wish the fussiness would end. Soon.

It didn't help that we were homebound because Josh can't get his car out of the driveway because of all the snow, so he borrowed my car and accidentally took the car seats AND MY STROLLER with him. I had to cancel two plans with friends because we couldn't leave the house, and two snow days, two days in a row are never good for anyone.

Like I said. Highs and lows today. I'm hoping that a few hours of sleep will bring with it some of that patience I'm lacking around here.

minding their beeswax

I'm glad to hear that all of you are equally as outraged by this, because I was starting to wonder if maybe I was insane to think that all of this policing was getting out of hand. Under these laws, it would be illegal to leave kids strapped into the car while you run back into your house, pay for gas at the pump, put your cart back in the cart corral, walk your child to the front door of the school. This can't possibly be right. Shouldn't we should reserve our efforts for those people who leave their children in the car while they go shopping at the mall or go grab a drink at a bar? Sheesh.

According to the Massachusetts State Police, there is no official "can't leave your kid in your car" law in Massachusetts, but an officer has the power to charge you under existing Child Endangerment statutes if he or she feels that you are endangering your child, and that includes leaving a child unattended in the car. He scoffed at a couple of my examples, and said that we should use "common sense" when leaving children.

It's funny, though, because he stressed that younger children shouldn't be left alone, but I feel much safer leaving Gabe and Josie because neither one of them can move from their car seats. I don't have to worry about Gabe releasing the emergency brake or putting the car into drive. I'll worry more when he can get loose in the car and climb around.

The truth is that I'll be reconsidering what I do before I do it out of fear that a nosy neighbor might call the police on me. Let's hope they have enough to worry about without paying attention to my children.

my parents used to have dinner IN A RESTAURANT with me sleeping in the car, and I turned out okay...

I just heard that a woman in my town parked her car in front of Starbucks, with her kids strapped into car seats, locked the doors and went in to grab a coffee. She was supposedly in and out in 2 minutes and could see the kids through the windows at all times, but someone called the police, and she was arrested for child endangerment. I have to say that I was a little bit surprised. I was surprised that someone would call the police over those 2 minutes she was gone, and I was also surprised she was arrested. I haven't, and don't think I ever would, run into Starbucks and leave the kids in the car, but I also wouldn't call the police on someone else who did do it, unless they were gone for 20 minutes or went into a bar or something crazy like that.

It has definitely made me reconsider some of the decisions I've made to leave or not leave Gabe and Josie in the car, and I even went so far as to call our State Police headquarters to ask them specifically what the laws are for unattended children in cars. In the interest of full disclosure, I have left Gabe strapped into the car in front of the dry cleaner during snow storms, with the doors locked, and the front of the dry cleaner is glass, and I am exactly 10 feet away from my door. It makes me a little nervous, but there is no way I can manage the dry cleaning and him and the snow at the same time (he's a sprinter) and he is certainly safer in the car than running through the parking lot without me. I have also left Josie in the car when I run up the stairs to pick up Gabe at his toddler program, but I'm thinking that I may not be doing it anymore. Not because I think anything would happen to her on our safe suburb street in broad daylight with all the other parents running in and out of their cars, but because now I'm nervous someone might call the cops on me!

What do you think? Would you get money out of the ATM? Mail a letter? What about putting your shopping cart away in the cart corral (apparently that is illegal in some states)? What about weather and time of day? Sleeping child? More than one child? Are we taking things too far?

dirt

I had coffee on Monday with a girlfriend who has two daughters, the youngest of which is 10 months old, and she commented to me that she was surprised I was out running errands with Josie at only 2 months postpartum. It was then that I realized that maybe I'm being too hard on myself.

These are the things I accomplish on a daily basis:
1. I am keeping both of my children alive and dressed.
2. I pump at least one extra bottle of breastmilk and freeze it for a future date.
3. I make dinner almost every night for all of us.
4. I make Josh's lunch for the next day almost every night.
5. I load and unload the dishwasher.
6. I throw in at least one load of laundry a night.
7. I shower and sometimes even blow dry my hair (and occasionally even pluck my eyebrows).
8. I feed the dogs and let them outside to "do their business".
9. Watch television.
10. Check email.
(I also sometimes get out of the house to do things like grocery shop or mail packages or meet a friend)

The things I do not do:
1. Fold and put away all the laundry.
2. Vacuum.
3. Clean the kitchen.
4. Clean the bathrooms.
5. Clean ANYTHING.
6. Pick up toys.
7. Pick up clutter.
8. Pick up ANYTHING.
9. Put down the baby. Ever.

But all in all, I think I'm not doing THAT badly for 2 months postpartum. Yes, the house is beyond disastrous, and I'm not exaggerating when I say that. I vacuumed last weekend for the first time in, ohhh, a month maybe? And I only did it because Gabe was picking up so much dirt and dog hair on his fleece pajamas that I couldn't, in good conscience, let him get into bed with those same dirt and dog hair covered pajamas, so I was having to wash his pajamas every day and I was tired of doing the extra laundry. The living has wall to wall junk in it, including books and clothing strewn all over the place. The office still has the pillows and bedding from when my parents left on January 10th. The dining room table is covered in boxes of gifts sent by my inlaws' friends. Our bedroom is covered in more clothes and books, and Gabe and Josie's room have toys and laundry all over.

But still. My children seem pretty happy (well, at least the bigger one does, the little one screams a lot so it's hard to tell), I am pretty happy, I think Josh is pretty happy. We are wearing clean clothes and eating actual meals and haven't even ordered take-out or delivery. I'm going to have to be satisfied with that, at least for now. I'd love a cleaner house, and I do feel badly that Josh comes home to such a disaster, but hopefully it'll get better with time. Maybe Gabe can learn to fold and put away laundry. I can pay him in m&ms. Besides, by not cleaning, I'm building their immune system by exposing them to all this dirt, right?

yummy

Last night, living room couch... Gabe leans over to sniff Josie's head.

Me: What are you doing?

Gabe: I smell Josie.

Me: What does she smell like?

Gabe: She smell yike pancakes. Mmm.

time and maybe cupcakes

I have determined that the parenting of multiple children is characterized by guilt. Lots and lots of guilt.

Maybe it is because Josie is such a demanding baby- sweet, but demanding- and so I spend countless hours holding her and nursing her and wearing her around the house, and poor Gabe gets the short end of the stick. I really, really, really wish I could sit on the ground and play trains with him or push cars around or draw pictures at the kitchen table, but Josie wants to be walked around the house or tended to in some way. I've tried bouncy seats, I've tried putting her down on the blanket next to us, and even if we are directly interacting with her, she tends to get frustrated and cry after only a short period of time.

To his credit, Gabe still loves her. He kisses her and hugs her and pats her head and asks about her all the time. A couple of times, though, he has told me to put her down or leave her where she is rather than pick her up, and I feel terrible about that. Last week when he was sick, all he wanted was to be held by me, and I had to put him down constantly to nurse her or bounce her because she will scream incessantly even if Josh holds her.

At the same time, I feel guilty for Josie too. I feel guilty that because she wants to be carried all the time, I get frustrated with her, and wish she would just entertain herself briefly. Since she is in my arms rather than sitting on a chair in front of me, I can't spend the same amount of time admiring her chubby cheeks or sweet double chin. I feel like I should know what to do to get her to nap during the day in her bassinet. I wish I could take away the reflux so that she wouldn't fuss just before spitting up. The pediatrician asked about tummy time the other day, and I almost laughed out loud. I don't even know if she would do tummy time, because it hasn't even occurred to me to try. My mother in law asked if she would hold a rattle, and again, I wouldn't even know because I haven't even tried.

Basically, I wish there were two of me.

Thankfully, every day Josie is a little bit better, a teeny tiny bit more independent, and hopefully as we approach Spring, our illnesses will lessen too. I'm also trying desperately to develop an organizational plan that will help me to take care of the kids and manage the house and be productive during the day. If I could find a way to spend even 20 short minutes of 100% devoted time with Gabe, then I think I would feel much less guilty. If we could spend more time with the television turned off, I think I would also feel much less guilty.

Time will help, and in the meantime, I'm telling you, I'll be over here, feeling guilty guilty guilty.

I'm boarding a jet plane

I just booked my ticket for a trip to visit my parents in California, then on to visit my in-laws in Florida, then back to Boston from Florida. On this trip I will have actual ASSISTANCE with both of my children for the full three weeks I am gone. Perhaps I will go to a movie, or take a shower without someone screaming from the other side of the shower curtain, or maybe even go out to dinner! With adults! Oh, the possibilities.

Josh will not be accompanying me on this trip, which means that although I will have help once we land, I will travel alone with both kids. This also means that I am NOT bringing the dogs with me because I am brave but not CRAZY. You cannot even imagine the hilarity that ensues when I travel with Gabe and the dogs and have to take all three through the security line, especially pregnant.

I'd unbuckle Gabe from his car seat/stroller combo, take off his shoes, ask him to stand RIGHT HERE while I open the dog's bag, ask Gabe to NO COME BACK AND STAND RIGHT HERE, take out one dog, tell Gabe to COME BACK HERE, take out the other dog while the first dog is squirming and trying to jump out of my arms, run over and pull Gabe back to where we are standing, tell 4 people to go ahead of us in the line, ask Gabe to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STAND HERE, load the dog bag and the rest of our bags and the car seat/stroller combo on the belt, direct Gabe through the line, discover that the car seat/stroller combo doesn't fit through the belt, take it off the belt and ask for the hand check, turn around to find that Gabe has run away and is climbing on the stacks of plastic baskets, drag him back over and push him through the security check in front of me, and remember that all of this is with two squirming dogs in my arms who are both trying to get down and scratching each other and me in the process, walk through the security line, wait for the bags, drop one of the dogs, pick the dog back up while the second dog is holding on for dear life, promise Gabe cookies if only he'll stand right here for another minute, get one dog into the bag, get the other dog into the bag, put both of our shoes back on, get the car seat back and strap Gabe back in and then start the two mile walk to the last gate in the airport, because we always, always get assigned to the last gate. By the time we board the plane, I'm always a disheveled, nauseous, hot and sweaty mess, and we haven't even begun the trip.

I feel a little sick just thinking about it. And imagining that disaster with TWO kids and two dogs and one me is beyond even my capabilities. I thought about adding them to our reservation because they really do love to visit California and Florida since they love the heat, but Josh wouldn't even discuss it. Because he loves me and would like for me to come back sane.

I'm not worried about the trip, at least not yet, and I figure I will just throw Josie into the sling and take Gabe in his car seat/stroller combo thing, and check the double stroller at the check-in desk. I'm going to ignore the fact that she does not, at this point in time, like the sling, and we'll just hope for the best. On the plane, it'll be the first time we've purchased a seat for Gabe and I plan to strap him into his car seat for the 5 hour flight and not even TOUCH the straps until we land. He can eat whatever he wants, play whatever he wants, watch 5 straight hours of television on the dvd player, but NO ONE is getting down. It may actually work because I've never let him down on an airplane, so he doesn't even seem to realize that walking on the plane is a possibility. I plan to keep it that way until he is a teenager, at least.

Best of all, there will be no snow in both California and Florida, and perhaps there will even be sunshine and vitamin D. Also, lots of assistance from grandparents whose sole purpose in life is to make and keep my children happy. It should be great. I'm counting down the days.

on the mend

Slowly, slowly, slowly, we are getting better.

On Monday morning, I walked into Gabe's room and was met with another horrific disaster of a mess, so I picked up the phone and called the pediatrician. By 11am, when we had to leave for our appointment, I had already gotten sick 15-20 times. As we were pulling into the doctor's office, I had resigned myself to going to the emergency room for iv fluids. I couldn't see any alternative that would work, because I couldn't keep any fluids down, and even if I could, there was no way I could keep up with the quantity of fluids I needed to drink.

From a person who thought the absolute worst part of labor was the iv, you can imagine how bad I felt.

Thankfully, the pediatrician was willing to listen to the complaints of all 3 of us and he had lots of suggestions, especially for me since I was still obviously showing the vestiges of the last 2 hours I spent sobbing as I ran to and from the bathroom. Fabulous morning, as you can imagine. Chief among his pieces of advice was for me to start drinking and eating some salt so that I could retain water. Sports drinks, chicken stock, soda, anything with salt and/or calories would help. Plus, he gave a couple more suggestions for over the counter medications that were safe while breastfeeding, although to be honest, it never even occurred to me to check on whether Pepto Bismol was safe for breastfeeding because I was so desperate to try something that would help.

I took all of your comments seriously when some of you suggested something more serious than the stomach flu, like salmonella poisoning, but the pediatrician said he doubted it because we would actually be far sicker from salmonella poisoning, and it apparently isn't as contagious. Contagious, yes, but not rampantly contagious like what we were experiencing.

I began guzzling sports drinks and chicken stock like it was my job, and miraculously, I started to feel better. I also napped for 3 hours while Gabe slept, with Josie tucked into my side on the couch. When I woke up, it was the longest I'd gone without getting sick in a very long time and the trend continued.

Yesterday, Josh went back to work and Gabe ate actual food on two separate occasions and I didn't feel like dying. I even did a load of laundry and folded some of it and played trains on the floor with Gabe and SHOWERED even- it was amazing. Maybe we'll even leave the house at some point in the next couple of days and breathe actual clean outdoor air. Or at least outdoor mall air, because Mommy needs some retail therapy with our nonexistent money after a week like this. Josie wants this overpriced shirt. Of course, it has been sunny and 40 degrees in Boston since last Wednesday, when Gabe first started throwing up, and today we are expecting a snowstorm. Because, of course we would have a snowstorm today. Of course.

As long as I don't have to clean up any more vomit, though, I'll take it and applaud. Hurray for feeling better!

and... another one bites the dust

Last night, while we were enjoying our little bit of child-free time, Josh told me that he was freezing, and I knew that was it. My progression of illness was freezing cold with chills, vomiting, diarrhea, passing out, and then continuing vomiting and diarrhea, on and off since Friday. At around midnight, he bolted upright, ran to the bathroom, and that was it. We were both up for most of the night, because there was no way I could sleep through his constant trips to the bathroom.

This morning, I took over kid duty even though I am very far from okay. I had to lay down twice on the kitchen floor to keep from passing out when Gabe wanted some crackers. In the scale of sickness, though, I'm better than Josh so I had to take over. There have been some scary moments, though. Not long after I realized that I wasn't going to be able to do any walking while taking care of Gabe and Josie, and would have to rely mostly on crawling and lying on the couch, I heard a loud clatter upstairs and then some banging. I ran upstairs to find Josh passed out on the bedroom floor, and I'm not going to lie, seeing your husband passed out, looking gray and thin and almost child-like in his vulnerability, made my heart stop a little. He came around immediately after falling, and I guess he thought he could make it back to the bed before he would actually pass out, but he fell against the dresser and pulled the bassinet on top of him as he fell.

I helped him into the bed, and then had some panicky moments where I thought about the possibility of needing to call an ambulance for both of us if we got any worse. I suspect that both of us need to get some more fluids and might benefit from an iv, but I'm hoping we can make do with drinking a ton.

Thankfully, though, Gabe seems better and even ate a piece of a banana, some plain baked potato and some crackers. Josie, even more amazingly, is still holding out. I'm praying that I have super breast milk that will give her enough antibodies to combat this, because I have no doubt that she'll end up in the hospital if she does get sick. Whatever this is, it is disastrous.

spoke too soon

I was given false hope when I wasn't that sick on Thursday, but yesterday I was hit with the full force of the stomach flu. I must have gotten sick 40-50 times yesterday, and around 7pm I actually passed out on the bathroom floor. I tried to drink fluids, but sometime in the afternoon my milk dried up and poor Josie would sit on my boob endlessly looking for more food. It was awful.

Gabe seemed a little better yesterday, but as evening approached his diarrhea and vomiting started up again and today he has been a disaster. He doesn't even have the strength to walk around or play. It is terribly pitiful.

Josh is running back and forth between the two of us, trying to make everyone feel better, take care of Josie, and keep both himself and Josie from catching this latest stomach bug.

We're a bundle of fun over here, huh?

un-fucking-believable

We have the stomach flu. AGAIN. Gabe came home from the toddler program with a report of diarrhea, but I thought maybe it had to do with the raw cupcake batter I let him eat the night before. But then last night he had another bout of diarrhea, and then at 2am I was woken up by him crying. A horror of horrors met me when I ran into his room. Vomit. Everywhere. Diarrhea. Truly everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

It was so bad I threw out the pajamas he was wearing because I couldn't possibly imagine putting those in my washer. I had to wake Josh up because Gabe was so hysterical, I couldn't do everything I needed to do by myself because I couldn't put him down. We had to bathe him at 2am, strip the bed, start the laundry, remake the bed, line the bedroom with towels, dress him again, and somehow make the upstairs stop smelling like death. Josh decided to start spraying the beds and air with vanilla scented air freshener, which just made the upstairs smell like vanilla shit. It was awesome.

This morning, I woke up with the stomach flu too, but thankfully it hasn't been that bad. Gabe has been okay, for the most part, since last night. He is whiny and mopey and won't eat anything, but I can deal with that. We are just watching a lot of television from the comfort of the couch, and I'm just trying to keep everyone happy and keep Gabe from touching Josie too much.

Then, because we wouldn't want things to get boring around here, my friend called to tell me that at a birthday party on Saturday, Gabe was exposed to the chicken pox. Gabe hasn't gotten the chicken pox vaccine because my pediatrician doesn't believe in it, which is a whole other post for another day. I'm fine with Gabe getting the chicken pox, or at least theoretically I've always been fine with him getting chicken pox, but I didn't expect that to be when I have a newborn at home. I guess that is the problem with the chicken pox, you don't get it when it is good for you, you just get it. Whether it's convenient or not.

After a freak-out on my part, I'm trying to stay calm. There is nothing I can do at this point, except do my best to keep Josie from possibly being exposed. The incubation period is 10-21 days, so we have a long wait ahead of us. Chatty Cricket, because she took pity on me, even called her own pediatrician to get some advice but the advice was the same. Wait it out, hope Josie doesn't get sick, and hopefully if either one of them does, it won't be serious.

I'm definitely stressed. I'm definitely not happy. And I am definitely sick and tired of all the sickness. I hate that I'm spending so much time during Josie's first weeks worrying about whether she is going to get sick or not. It is enough to make me consider pulling Gabe out of his toddler program, but I can't do that. I need the time, he adores the school, it wouldn't be fair. It just stinks.

not fighting the power

When I was pregnant with Gabe, I viewed my expanding belly with a certain measure of awe. I couldn't believe my body was capable of doing this amazing thing, and I was ecstatic when it became obvious to those around me that my buddha belly was from pregnancy, not just weight gain. I was pretty liberal with what I ate, taking advantage of the pregnancy and enjoying the newfound flavors that were appearing in food. I don't know if this happens to everyone, but when I'm pregnant, food tastes amazing. An ordinary turkey sandwich turns into the most delicious turkey sandwich I've ever had, a chocolate chip cookie can practically cause orgasms, and even a salad tastes delectable.

This liberal attitude meant that as the end of my pregnancy approached, I'd gained considerably more weight than I'd hoped to gain. It wasn't atrocious, but I ended up gaining around 40 pounds. I say "around", because they didn't weigh me at my last appointment when I ended up being induced, but based on where things were headed at my 40 week appointment, I'm sure I hit at least 40 pounds and I choose not to even think about how much I may have gained in those last few days. I still (stupidly) wasn't super worried about the weight gain because up until that point I hadn't struggled with my weight. I fluctuated a bit over the years from college to law school and through marriage and job changes and moves, but we're talking about a change of about 5-10 pounds, nothing that would have made me think that losing the pregnancy weight would be a challenge. My mom always talks about how she lost all her pregnancy weight within 2 months of giving birth, and I was optimistic that I'd have a similar experience.

I was, umm, very wrong. From the start, losing the weight from Gabe's pregnancy was difficult. I dropped the typical water weight, placenta, amniotic fluid, and actual baby weight within a couple of weeks, but I was left with 15-20 pounds that were firmly settled into my hips, thighs, and stomach. Breastfeeding did NOT help, and in fact, in the end it turned out that my body held onto a good 5-7 pounds until I finished breastfeeding, no matter what I did. Losing the weight did happen, but not until Gabe was 15 months old. I stopped breastfeeding when he was a year old, watched what I ate (to a certain extent), started taking longish exercise walks with Gabe, and willed the weight away. I had gotten to the point where I started to think that perhaps the weight would never go away, when I stopped breastfeeding and slowly the last pounds started coming off.

Still, even when I hit my pre-pregnancy weight, I didn't fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes. I suspect my body has reorganized itself into a different shape, but as long as the number on the scale was the same, I could deal with the new changes. I bought almost a whole new wardrobe of pants and shirts, and I was relatively satisfied with where I was.

And then I got pregnant.

Literally, the same month that I hit my pre-pregnancy weight, that second line showed up on the test. I couldn't believe it. Having just lost the last few pounds of weight, being pregnant again was a totally different experience. I was anxious and careful about the weight gain this time around. I was almost relieved, in a way, that my nausea kept me from over-eating. I felt sick far, far longer than I had with Gabe, and although it was torturous to be debilitatingly nauseous at 20 weeks, I was grateful when I stepped on the scale each week at the doctor's office and found that the numbers had stayed the same.

At the same time, though, I felt so guilty to be obsessing over such an inane thing. Who cared about the weight gain when I was so blessed? How could I be thinking about a stupid number when I was growing a beautiful baby? But I couldn't help myself. I was terrified of facing the same long struggle with pregnancy weight, and I pledged to try to gain less this time around. I'd be more careful, do a little more exercise, eat a few less cookies. As I'm writing this I feel like this makes it sound like I was seriously restricting my food intake or agonizing over this, which couldn't be farther from the truth. It wasn't like I was going to the gym or taking extreme measures with my diet, but it was often on my mind.

In the end, I was able to gain less than my last pregnancy, and Josie was kind enough to come a few days early, which helped. I topped off at 30 pounds, and I was really happy with that number. I would have loved to keep it at 25, but I also didn't want to put down the cookies, so I guess I didn't want it that bad.

Thankfully, the post-partum experience has been totally different also. With a toddler and a newborn, I don't have the time to sit on the couch and eat all day. I'm also up and down playing with Gabe and picking up the house and bouncing Josie around. The weather has been abysmal here, so we've done NO walking whatsoever, but still the number keeps dropping on the scale. On Saturday, I almost cried when I was able to fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans after less than 8 weeks. That is ridiculous! Gabe was a year old before any of my pre-pregnancy clothes could even be attempted. I still have a ways to go, though, and I suspect I might still hold onto these last 6 pounds, just as I did with Gabe, but I'm relieved that I haven't struggled the same way.

At the same time, even as I'm typing this post, and while I was watching my weight over the last 11 months, I feel almost sick that this is worthy of a blog post. Why are we (or at least me) so obsessed with weight? Who cares? We attended a birthday party on Saturday, and I was struck by how thin all of the mothers were. Not just regular thin, but almost anorexic thin, TOO thin. Even the ones that were pregnant were all skinny legs and arms with a belly protruding from fitted clothes. I got an email the other day with pregnancy tips and their advice was that I do a MINIMUM of five days of cardio per week while I'm pregnant. I'm sorry, I am all about staying fit and keeping things healthy and under control when you're pregnant (and I saw the results of eating liberally last time), but I also think that maybe we are going overboard.

Not only do I have an Ivy league education, try to be a good partner for Josh, raise two kids, keep the house in decent shape, be interesting, fun, kind, but I also have to look hot doing it. It's crazy!

Still, I know it is nuts and unfair and unnecessary, but I will still be relieved when those last pounds are gone. Vain, huh?

file this under "DUH"

Seriously, I could start loaning my kids out as a diet plan. I lost two more pounds in the last few days. Probably a combination of not being able to eat much and running all over the place helping everyone else. Plus the lunges I do to get her to sleep. But really, it's a plan. It could be a win-win for everyone. You lose the weight, I don't have to hire a babysitter!

Over the weekend, Josie caught the cold from her brother (of course), and on Monday morning, we discovered that she has broken the record for youngest baby with an ear infection. She clocked in at 7 weeks and one day with a massive infection in one ear. The fun never ends around here! So these days I am dispensing baby Zantac, amoxicillin, and baby Tylenol two times a day. Considering that her brother had nothing but breast milk for the first six months of his life, this is definitely a change for us and I try not to feel guilty for what it might be doing to her poor little stomach.

I have to admit, when the pediatrician proclaimed her ear terribly inflamed, I was pretty surprised. Josh and I agreed that Josie seemed happier over the weekend, and she has graduated to cooing and smiling, and doing what really sounds like actual laughs. If you bend down and tickle her chin or cheeks, she'll make these little "heh, heh, heh" sounds. It is totally stinking adorable. It may not be actual laughs, but they sure do sound like it. So when the pediatrician kept asking if she was being extra fussy, I really didn't think so. But whoooo boy, on Monday night she proved us wrong. She screamed nonstop from 9pm until 1:40pm, and although she would collapse from exhaustion every so often, as soon as I put her down the screaming would start up again.

Neither one of my kids has ever consented to be swaddled, and since we came home Josie hasn't been swaddled for longer than 30 seconds. We've tried a few times and have been met with such screams, we've pretty much given up. As we were approaching the wee hours of the morning, though, I got desperate. I pulled out the swaddling blanket, wrapped her up, and boom. She was out like a light. AND SLEPT FOR 6 HOURS STRAIGHT. That was the longest stretch we'd ever had. On Tuesday night, she screamed for a bit, and I took a chance. Again, swaddled and boom. Out. And then, I'm afraid to even type this, she slept for 8 hours and 20 minutes. Eight. Hours. Of course, I slept for less than that because my boobs almost exploded during that time, but still. I would make love to the swaddle blanket if I could. I'm obsessed with it.

Last night, we had one wakeup after 2 hours of sleep, and then she slept 6 and a half hours again. This is seriously approaching a record, and I'm considering leaving her in the swaddle blanket 24 hours a day. I am also kicking myself because I guess I could have been getting this much sleep all along, if I'd only stuck with the blanket instead of giving up right away, but I'll take this and count my lucky stars.

At this moment, she is swaddled and asleep and I am treasuring the peace and quiet. Ahhh. Can you hear that? That, my friends, is the sound of two sleeping children. Isn't it beautiful?

small favors

Having a screamy baby and a whiny toddler with a cold has benefits too- I've lost 4 pounds in the last week, likely because I don't have the time to be snacking or eating or drinking while I'm taking care of everyone else. But still! I'm secretly thrilled! We are going to California for a week and a half and then Florida for another week to visit each set of grandparents, and I am going to have to get into a bathing suit. Ick.

If this keeps up, though, I may just be in bathing suit shape by then. Not any kind of bathing suit shape that actually looks GOOD, mind you, but at least I will actually fit into any bathing suit without horrifying our families. Although I'm typing this one handed while I scarf down cookies with the other hand, so maybe this is all wishful thinking.

they're lucky they are so cute

How is today going, you ask?

Well, let's see...

As of this morning, we're upping the dose for Josie in the hopes that it'll help a little more. This morning there was a period of screaming followed by much spit-up, so we're hoping she just needs a little more baby Zantac.

Gabe caught a virus from a child at his toddler program because her parents sent her to school even though she went to the hospital in an ambulance over the weekend with complications from a cold. We spent most of last night up with him while he cried and coughed and cried and coughed. So far today he's sneezed on Josie apparently 72 times.

Gabe sprayed himself in the eye with shower cleaner this afternoon, so I've spent the last couple of hours on the phone with Poison Control and the pediatrician, and then holding him down on the floor of the shower, holding his eye open and pouring water into it. He was thrilled about that, as you can imagine.

And because what we're really lacking around here is more hormones, I got my period. At 6 weeks postpartum, breastfeeding around the clock, and pumping even more milk on the side. I didn't even know this was possible. Isn't this a little unfair? I thought it was a given with breastfeeding that I'd get a break on this particular subject. Apparently not.

Both children are still alive, though. I'm pretty sure I'm still sane. Please send a dairy-free, non-chocolate dessert our way.

I actually forgot to feed the dogs yesterday for the whole. entire. day. So now I can berate myself about being a terrible dog owner too. Fabulous! I woke up at 5am out of a deep sleep and realized suddenly that I hadn't fed them, and felt appropriately guilty, but not guilty enough to get out of bed and feed them right then and there. I've left food down for them all day today to make up for it.

Josie is still improving, I think. Today she seems a little bit better than yesterday, and yesterday was better than the day before. We did have a screaming fit last night where we couldn't calm her down and at the end I did dissolve into a puddle of tears, but I figure that is to be expected at one point or another. I've been paying more attention to the spitting up situation, and I think in retrospect that she is spitting up more than what would be considered normal. The quantity of times she spits up isn't that many, but when she does spit up it feels like a lot of spit up.

Gabe is still totally enchanted with her, despite all the screaming, and I'm being very careful not to voice my frustrations in front of him to make sure he doesn't blame her for me being tired/angry/impatient. In fact, today at naptime she was crying because I put her down in her swing so I asked him if she could tuck him into bed (because I try to put him down alone so he doesn't feel like she imposes herself on ALL our time together). He said yes, so we went upstairs and after I tucked him into his bed with all his gear, he asked if Josie would give him a kiss. I said of course, and leaned her over him, and... she threw up all over his head.

ALLLLL over his head and his pillow. It was even in his ears. Poor Gabe whimpered out, "Mommy! Josie spit up Gabe's head!" I had a moment of panic, but quickly wiped him off with baby wipes and turned his pillow over to the non spit up side and rushed out of the room trying not to make a big deal out of it. Just as I was leaving the room, Gabe said, "Mommy, Josie kiss!" Honestly, how forgiving is this kid? She is so ungrateful for her sweet brother! I would certainly not want to try that whole kiss thing again, but he adores her.

Okay, one more adorable Gabe thing, because seriously this kid is delicious. My pediatrician recommended that I spend at least 15 minutes a day of devoted "Gabe"time playing or doing whatever he wants to do. So when Josie fell asleep and I felt confident that she might stay that way for 15 minutes, I turned to her and loudly said, "Okay Josie, it is Gabe and Mommy's special time now, so you need to stay in your bassinet for a little bit while we have special time." Gabe looked up happily from his train set and said, "Yeah, Mommy! Gabe and Mommy special time." I knelt down on the floor with him to play and he scooted over next to me, looked up sweetly and said, "Mommy! Ex-cit-ing!" with tons of emphasis and meaning. I tell you, this kid kills me.

it still tastes awful, flavor or not

On Thursday, I can't even tell you how many hours Josie screamed incessantly. Being in our arms made no difference, and at 9:30 at night I drove like a crazy woman to Whole Foods to see if they had some kind of homeopathic remedy for colic or gas or SOMETHING. They recommended gripe water, but it barely made a dent in her screaming. I finally crawled into bed with her and tucked her closely against my side and we both fell into a fitless sleep for most of the night.

In the morning I called the pediatrician, and we agreed it was time to try reflux medication, even though she wasn't having the massive amounts of spit-up that often highlights reflux. He called it into a special compounding pharmacy that could flavor the medication to taste a little less awful, and I was shocked when the pharmacy offered to bring it out to my car so that I wouldn't have to unpack both kids out of the car.

It took so long to call in the medication, and then for them to make it (because according to the pharmacist who brought it out to the car, they actually make the medication in their pharmacy, not just package it the way chain pharmacies do), that I couldn't give her a dose until last night and then again this morning. On the way home from the pharmacy she cried so hard and so long that she made herself hoarse and couldn't stop hiccuping and gasping for air. When I finally pulled her out of the car seat, she threw up all over both of us in massive amounts.

It has been tough around here. I am a bundle of nerves, because I can't put her down, even for 30 seconds without her screaming uncontrollably, and she often continues screaming even in my arms, and she is LOUD. Even though it pains me, there are some times when I have to put her down and let her scream because I have to put on a shirt, or take a shower, or pluck my eyebrows, and by the end of whatever I have to do, my hands are shaking from listening to her hysterics.

I've tried the swing, the sling, the bouncy chair, the bassinet, the moses basket, even Gabe pats her on the head and says, "no cry Josie, no cry." I feel horribly guilty because Gabe is obviously affected also. Yesterday I would put her down right next to us to change his diaper, and I couldn't even hear him talking over her cries. He doesn't seem upset by all the crying, but I feel like a terrible mother because I can't sit on the floor and play with him while I'm bouncing and jumping and dancing around in an effort to make her feel better. It is exhausting.

It's been 16 hours since we gave her the first dose of medication, and I don't know if it can start to work this quickly or if this is a fluke, but this is the least amount of crying we've had in days. She has still been fussing when we put her down, but she slept without grunting and whimpering, and she has consented to sit in a swing for 15 minutes and to be put down in her chair for an amazing 30 minute stretch. I hate hate hate putting her on any kind of medicine, because I'm always terrified of side effects or damage it might do to her sensitive system, but I also can't sit here and listen to her suffer. It's been torturous.

I'm keeping a hold on my sanity, though, mainly by reminding myself that she is healthy, she will be fine, this too will pass. Neither of my kids have a serious illness, and in the end, this is just a little blip in our lives. It feels hard while we're listening to her crying in pain, but compared to those parents whose children have serious illnesses, this is NOTHING. We can totally do this. We are totally blessed.

But still, I'm placing lots of hopes on that little bottle of vanilla flavored liquid.

10!

There is a lot of screaming (on Josie's part) and silent hair pulling (on my part) going on over here, so my ability to sit at a computer in sweet peace is seriously limited. I'm sometimes afraid that this adorable little girl is going to push me over the edge, honestly. Today we were all ready to get out of the house to go to Josh's office for lunch, and she vomited her whole feeding all over me, and then proceeded to scream incessantly any time I tried to put her down to change my shirt, or pluck my eyebrows, or drinks a glass of water. She screamed in her car seat on the way to the car, then in the car, then in Josh's office, then at the stroller store where we were test-driving strollers. I am exhausted.

I can't let this day go by without marking it, though. Yesterday is Josh's and my 10 year dating anniversary. 10 years ago, yesterday morning, I sat down in a philosophy class behind the cutest boy I'd ever met and flirted relentlessly until he asked me out. 10 years! That means that I have spent 1/3 of my life with Josh, because we met when I was 20 and I turned 30 this year. Isn't that a little bit crazy? 10 years together, 6 and a half married, 2 kids, 2 dogs, multiple moves and jobs later, and he is still the cutest boy I've ever met.

He's promised me 100 years more, and let's hope he's right.

squawky

Poor Josie is going to think that is her actual name, because we call her squawky so much. It turns out that Josie is, um, a little bit more demanding than her brother was. I always knew that Gabe was a remarkably easy baby, and he has turned into a remarkably easy toddler. Don't get me wrong, everyone has their quirks and different challenges, and Gabe is no different, but these days I am starting to appreciate just HOW EASY I had it.

Josie knows what she wants and is not afraid to be vocal about it. She wants to be held and she does NOT want you to sit while you are doing the holding. She does NOT like to poop and she does not want you to change her diaper after she has accomplished the pooping. She also has a few moments of every day where she screams for no apparent reason, or at least no apparent reason we have been able to figure out. Sometimes the screaming sessions end in some explosive gas, so I tend to attribute a lot of the screaming to gas, but then sometimes, to be honest, she just seems pissed off. Generally. At the world.

All this screaming has caught me so unprepared, that I've been going a little crazy adjusting my diet to find a cause for gas or pooping problems or whatever. I've completely cut out dairy, chocolate, and vegetables, except for plain lettuce. I also tried eating a super bland diet of just pasta, bread, rice, bananas, and water, but the crying continued. We attributed it first to the anti-constipation medication I was taking, and then to the antibiotic I was taking, but both of those are done and she stills seems upset. She also seems incredibly gassy, but if it isn't milk or vegetables or chocolate, I can't imagine what else it could be. I'm considering cutting out wheat for a couple of days and seeing how she does, but beyond that, I'm at a loss.

I must really adore this little girl, because going without chocolate for all this time (3 weeks) is causing me all kinds of suffering. My friend made me a tray of my favorite brownies, and I had to cut them all up nicely and freeze them because my little experiment of eating just one did not end well for us. That particular night we were up until 1am with a very squawky baby.

All the squawking doesn't seem to be affecting her much, though, because she is still eating and gaining like a champ. She is the most efficient breastfeeder I have ever met. She feeds for 10 minutes and seems totally satisfied, and most shockingly, at her 1 month appointment she weighed a whopping 9 pounds 10 ounces. For those of you keeping track, her birth weight was 6 pounds 5 ounces, so she gained 3 pounds 5 ounces in a month! Amazingly, that is a faster rate of growth than her brother, and that boy ate around the clock. I felt like I never stopped breastfeeding him. I was able to read book after book after book with him while I sat on the couch nursing.

One of my breastfeeding books mentions something called hyperlactation syndrome, and I'm trying to figure out if maybe that is the problem with Josie. Hyperlactation syndrome is where too much milk is produced with a too forceful letdown, so the baby gulps down too much milk, especially too much of the foremilk (thinner milk that comes out of the breast first), and all that extra lactose turns into gas in their little stomachs and causes gas problems. I definitely have too much milk, and she definitely gags and sputters often at the start of a feed and will even pull off and cry sometimes when the milk pours out too quickly. I have some tips on how to slow down the flow and keep her from gulping too much air, so we'll see how that goes.

I should also mention that I've considered reflux, but the pediatrician and I don't think that is her problem. She spits up, but not that much and not with every feed, and sitting up or lying down doesn't seem to impact her squawking. She is very noisy when she sleeps and often fusses and grunts even in her deep sleep, but the pediatrician doesn't seem to think that is enough to call this reflux.

Besides the extra fussiness, though, both of the kids are really very cute. Josie has become much more alert all of a sudden and she will look around for long stretches of time and smile if we jump into her view or squeeze her cheeks. She is getting the chubby cheeks and thighs that her brother was famous for, and I'm glad she doesn't know how to protest yet, or she'd complain about all my munching on her cheeks.

Gabe is finally feeling better and he is back to his sweet self, although slightly more affectionate than he was before. We were told that once a second child appeared, a first child might become more affectionate all of a sudden, now that his or her "resources" were being challenged. This seems to be the case with Gabe, because we've all been receiving more hugs and kisses on a regular basis (from the dogs, to Josh and I, and especially Josie). He is funny as always, and loves to do things by himself. Yesterday we went sledding, and he insisted on going down the hill on his own. He also learned how to put on his jacket and boots by himself and wants to screw the lids of cups on and get himself snacks. Today, we went to lunch with a friend and she carried Josie over to the table for us, and when he noticed she was gone, he turned to me with a worried look on his face and said, "Mommy! Josie! Mommy! Josie!" until I showed him that she was in her car seat around the corner. It was adorable to see him concerned about his sister, when my greatest fear was that he'd want to get rid of her.

So really, life is good. I just wish I knew why Josie seems so uncomfortable. It is the one thing I worry about quite a bit, so if you have suggestions, please share them.

first smiles

Last night Josie slept beautifully in 4 hour stretches, and I was up since 2am sick in the bathroom from this stomach bug. When my sickness finally eased at around 6am, Josie decided she was up for the day and began cooing and chatting with me, despite all my efforts to shut off the lights, close my eyes, and ignore her.

When I finally gave in and turned on the light on my nightstand, I looked down at her and she gave me the biggest, most blinding smile, and to be sure I wasn't mistaken, held it there for what felt like an eternity, but was maybe 10 seconds. Josh and my mom kept insisting that she'd smiled at them purposefully over the last week, but I didn't believe it.

That sweet smile almost makes all this stomach bug, lack of sleep, want to cry with exhaustion nonsense worth it. Ok, who am I kidding, it is totally worth it.

I feel guilty because the tally of pictures for Josie versus Gabe is already uneven, and it is only the first month. The truth is, though, I can't seem to tear myself away from holding her, kissing her, snuggling her, to grab the camera or write a blog post. With Gabe, I was so concerned with him being spoiled that I would resist holding him just for the sake of enjoyment, to make sure I put him down in his bassinet awake or didn't get him too used to being carried around. With Josie, I'm a little less worried about her being spoiled, and I simply can't tear myself away from her. I want to bury my nose in her neck, I want to stop her from growing up, I want to keep her in my arms forever.

It has been shocking to find that I can love another little person as much as I love Gabe. I thought it was impossible.

I'm not a super affectionate person, but with both of my children I can't resist. I've tricked poor Gabe into giving me hugs by never asking if he wants a hug, but asking instead whether he wants a big hug or a little hug. Yesterday he finally caught on and responded, "NO HUG!" but for the most part, he complies. Poor Josie has no choice, so she gets slobbered on constantly.

Now I'm just wishing time would slow down. It moved quickly with Gabe, but it is impossibly fast with two kids. Even though this time around I know how much fun awaits me at every new stage, I can't help hoping for the two of them to stay the same a little longer. I should know better by now, huh?

delurk!

Ok, after all my whining in the previous post, I also just realized that today is National Delurking Day 2009!

So please leave a comment, and in return, I'll, um, umm, ummm, well... How about pictures of the babes? Old pictures, but pictures nonetheless. That's something, right?

fuming

On Thursday, when Gabe first started giving indications that this stomach bug was an actual stomach bug and not just something he'd eaten, I called the pediatrician's office to get some advice, especially on keeping Josie protected from the plague. I spoke to one of the nurses who seemed very helpful and understanding and she gave me a long list of advice to follow. On Friday I spoke to her again and she gave me more advice and a list of dos and don'ts for his diet. On Saturday, he seemed worse, and Sunday he was worse still. More importantly, Saturday night and Sunday he has been miserable.

Clingy, whiny, crying, screaming for me constantly, doesn't want anything to do with Daddy, inconsolable, and impossible about everything. To make matters worse, I had been struggling with nausea since Friday night, but on Sunday morning it became very clear that I had come down with the same stomach flu that everyone else had. Dealing with a sick and miserable toddler while feeling sick and miserable yourself has been an exercise in self-control, that's for sure.

Yesterday afternoon, in a fit of desperation, I started surfing the Internet to find more advice on how to treat diarrhea in toddlers because things didn't seem to be improving. I became more and more agitated as I realized that the advice I'd been following for 4 days was in direct contrast to everything I was reading. The nurse told me not to let Gabe eat ANYTHING until his diarrhea stopped, but clearly that was an impossibility since it had been 4 days, but I'd been severely restricting his diet. I was only giving him dry toast and rice, and small quantities of those. She said to give him apple juice and sports drinks as often as possible, to make sure he wasn't dehydrated, and absolutely no milk, even Lactaid, which I'd bought because my pediatrician had previously told me that Lactaid was safe even when he was sick to his stomach. All the websites dealing with toddlers/children and diarrhea were saying the opposite. Feed them a somewhat bland diet, but don't restrict their food. Don't give them apple juice or sports drinks, or really anything sugary, because each of those causes more diarrhea. Consider giving them some dairy because studies have shown that dairy doesn't have much impact on the diarrhea.

I freaked out. I hate calling the on call pediatrician's line, but I was frantic. I left a message stating exactly my concern, that the nurse had given me what I suspected was incorrect advice and that I was FREAKING OUT. The doctor called back almost immediately, and confirmed that I needed to stop the juice, stop restricting his food, and start letting him eat, especially plenty of bananas, soup, pasta, bread, rice, etc. Happily for everyone who had been having to listen to Gabe's screaming about not having any milk, we were permitted to give him Lactaid too. I was writing up a grocery list for Josh even before we finished the call, and by the end, the doctor was incredibly apologetic and said she would speak to the nurse. Apparently her advice would have been correct for someone whose child was profusely vomiting, but not for a mild case of diarrhea caused by a stomach bug.

I am livid. Incensed. I cannot believe that I may have been making his stomach bug worse by giving him all of this apple juice. Apple juice isn't something we regularly drink, so I had no idea that copious amounts of juice can actually cause diarrhea. I could punch someone, honestly. As soon as Josh got back from the store, we started letting Gabe eat actual amounts of food. The poor thing inhaled a banana within seconds, and then ate most of a plate of plain chicken and baked potato. He was starved.

His mood improved within minutes, and today he is much happier and energetic and while still a bit grumpy, he is much closer to his normal sweet self. No more crazy tantrums, no more non-stop crying. The diarrhea is a tiny bit better, although definitely still a problem. I'm just hoping that all these binding foods will help him to improve asap.

On Saturday, my parents also finally left town, and facing a house without their help and with a newborn, a sick toddler, a sick husband, and feeling sick myself, was not a pleasant prospect. I cried most of the day on Saturday, and the guilt I felt when Gabe would turn to Josh and say "Mommy crying, Mommy sad," didn't help things either.

It has been a long week.

I face this every time I see my parents, but I'm reminded again of how much I HATE living so far away from them. This is the most absurd way to live. I shouldn't have to wait until March or April before I see my own parents, before my children see their grandparents. I shouldn't have to wait 3 months to give them a hug. This departure was even sadder because I feel like I spent almost no time with them. That sounds silly because they were here for almost a month, but between Josie's birth and all of the illnesses we've had (first my dad caught a cold, then my mom caught a cold, then my dad got gout of all the things to get in this world, then I got some crazy virus that seemed suspiciously like the flu, then Gabe got what I had, then Josh got what Gabe had, then my father in law got what Josh had, then Gabe got the stomach flu, and so on and so forth), not to mention the demands of a toddler, and trying to keep some semblance of a home, I felt like everyone was too busy to spend actual time together. When I hugged my parents goodbye at the airport, I couldn't even remember the last time I'd hugged them during the entire trip. That still makes me cry.

Hormonal much? Geez, I'm a downer today.

But all of this is to say that today has been better, even though today is the first day I'm 100% alone with both children and I've spent much of it in the bathroom due to the stomach flu. There hasn't been much crying from either Gabe or Josie, and I've fed both of them decent amounts of food, bathed Gabe and myself, and even run a vacuum quickly over the hardwood floors when I was shamed by Gabe's footie pajamas collecting piles of dust bunnies. I'd call that successful, wouldn't you?

I may just survive this two children thing after all, as long as I keep bathing everyone in alcohol and Lysol.

ugh, ugh, and ugh

I have several posts in the works, but we've been felled over here by a couple of illnesses.

Gabe has some kind of gastrointestinal bug.

I have mastitis.

Both stink. Really, really stink. Literally and figuratively.

Gabe is lethargic, whiny, feverish, and has been having nonstop diarrhea since yesterday. Today we're on strict orders not to feed him anything at all and to keep pumping the electrolytes into him.

Mine started earlier this week when I began noticing that Josie wasn't draining my breasts all the way. A couple of days ago I realized that I had a lump in one of my breasts, and suspected a blocked milk duct. Although I started treating it immediately, by yesterday morning I was achy, headachy and feverish.

All I have to say is thank goodness my parents are still here. We would be so totally screwed without them. Yesterday I was incapable of getting out of bed and today, although I'm a bit better, I'm overwhelmed with the prospect of washing my hands every 30 seconds to keep the contagion away from Josie.

Plus, I'm feeding constantly to keep the mastitis and blocked duct from getting worse, and pumping when I'm not feeding to reduce the pressure. This never happened with Gabe, I suspect because he was such an avid eater. He would eat from both breasts and still be looking for food, whereas this little girl will munch for 10 minutes and come away satisfied. My boobs haven't quite caught on to the difference, I guess.

Anyway, I'm hoping that we'll be back to normal in a couple of days, hopefully in time for my parent's departure on Saturday. And I'm doubly hoping that we get a reprieve from illnesses for a little while! Keep your fingers crossed!

happy birthday to my sweet boy

Today my baby turns two.

Two years old.

A full-fledged toddler, although he has really been a full-fledged toddler for quite some time. Still, tomorrow it feels more official.

Since this morning, I’ve been watching the clock and remembering where I was exactly two years ago today. At 10am, I was sitting in the OB’s office having a non-stress test. By noon, I had made it over to the hospital. By 7pm, I was scarfing down my last meal before I was hooked up to the pitocin, and by 8pm the contractions started. I can remember every moment as if it was yesterday, and I’m finding it hard to believe that it’s been two years. Two years, and another baby in between. Crazy crazy crazy.

I write a lot about Gabe, but I wish I knew the words to describe what an amazing boy he is. Sweet, funny, charming, busy, loving, he is all of those things and more. I want to bottle up this age and keep him here forever. His new language skills, the sentences he puts together, the amusing expressions he makes, the way he learns some new way to jump or kick or throw every day- these are the things I want to memorize and store in my head forever.

But more than all of those details, I want to memorize the way he smells out of a bath, the way his bangs fall across his forehead, the way his eyelashes make shadows on his chubby cheeks, the way he rests his head against my shoulder and squeezes his little arms around me when he needs comforting. I want to memorize his voice when he calls out for me, or the way his heavy feet sound when he runs across the house.

Time feels like it is moving so quickly, and I know that my ability to store all of these memories is only going to be harder with another baby. So I’ll keep taking pictures, keep pulling out my video camera, keep writing, and keep hoping that if I just hold onto Gabriel a little bit harder, maybe I can keep the baby for a little bit longer.

And in the meantime, he keeps growing and moving and pulling away and becoming the wonderful, brilliant boy that he is and will be. I’ll be hoping all this growing up gets easier. Tell me it does. Lie if you have to.

Happy Birthday Gabriel! I hope this year is your best yet!

**wheeze**

I spoke too soon.

I have been felled by some kind of death-like virus, and I've been coughing and sneezing and congested and achy and shivering since yesterday. Poor Josie is congested also and has the cutest little cough I've ever heard- it would be adorable if it weren't so pitiful.

We had to cancel our plans for Christmas Eve, which included an annual holiday party we never miss, with delicious food and great friends. Even my parents stayed away today to avoid my germs, and I spent most of the day huddled under the covers with Josie, sleeping and feeling sorry for myself.

Sunday is Gabe's birthday, and I'm just hoping I'm somewhat improved by then. I spent the last 9 months worrying that his sibling would crash his birthday, and in the end it could be me ruining his celebration instead!

a full report

I've been waiting for some catastrophe or disastrous episode so that I can write a more interesting post for you, but I'm sorry to report that it is going to have to be the boring old truth. Things are, well, great. So far, at least.

Gabe is head over heels in love with his sister, and insists on caressing her head lovingly and kissing her and holding her hands. He told us last night, "I wanna keep Josie," and the way he says "Josie" melts my heart. It sounds almost like "joosie" or something close to that- stinking adorable. He asks for her first thing in the morning and first thing after naps. No jealousy yet, even when I spend hours on the couch breastfeeding her. The worst behavior I've seen since Josephine arrived is that he was a little whiny the first few days, and once while I was breastfeeding he took advantage of my incapacity to throw balls at me from across the room. Besides that, he is sleeping, eating, playing, behaving, generally fabulously. I'm shocked, to tell you the truth. I'm cautiously optimistic, but still anticipating some bumps in the road.

My recovery has been ridiculously good also. The worst part so far has been those horrible cramps while nursing, the ones that shrink your uterus. I was ready to climb the walls for the first 48 hours after delivery, but they seem to be gone now. I have to keep reminding myself that I just gave birth because I feel like I could do anything, which is so different from after Gabe was born. I felt good after him, but not like this.

Best of all, this little girl is the sweetest thing ever. I don't know how I get so lucky when it comes to babies, but she is a dream so far. The first night in the hospital was rough- she cluster fed from 11pm until 7am the next morning, pretty much nonstop, and when the pediatrician arrived at 8am, I broke down in tears because I was beyond exhausted. Her hard work was successful, though, because by the time I went to bed that next night (36 hours after delivery) my milk was in. That night she slept a 4 hour stretch, and she has done 3-4 hour stretches every night since we've been home. She gets up to eat, is all business, and then crashes again in her bassinet by my bed. I'm tired, of course, but I feel rested enough to wake up with Gabe in the morning and I can make it through the day feeling like a human being.

Josie was almost a full pound smaller than Gabe, and definitely more petite looking. Everything about her seems small, and her tiny mouth posed some problems with breastfeeding for the first couple of days until I could convince her to open her mouth wide enough to nurse and not kill my boobs. I had a great experience breastfeeding Gabe, so I was surprised when some small bumps in the road over those first couple of days threw me for such a loop. The lactation consultants and nurses and Josh and the janitor kept giving me different pieces of advice, and I was ready to throttle someone by the time we left the hospital. I kept finding myself feeling frantic and anxious and afraid that the breastfeeding wouldn't get better. But it did, and by the time we were home for a full day, we were in a good rhythm. By the time we went to the pediatrician for her first check at 4 days old, she was back to her birth weight and gaining an average of 3 ounces a day. Today I swung back through the pediatrician's office to have them check out a nasty diaper rash she has sprouted, and she gained a full pound in 4 days. One pound! 4 days! She is up to 7 pounds 4 ounces, and her little cheeks are starting to look chubby.

I adore her.

Last night I found myself munching on her cheeks and squeezing her into the crook of my neck. She is delicious and sweet and only cries at diaper changes and when she has to poop- I suspect both due to the nasty diaper rash. I could honestly swallow her whole. She keeps smiling at me and rationally I know it is gas or involuntary or whatever you want to call it, but it seriously turns me into a puddle of goo. She makes these adorable little noises, almost little coos, and she hums up a storm while she is nursing. I know you all told me I would love her, but I guess I didn't expect I would love her this much, this fast.

Two children. I am the mother of two children! So don't mind me. I'll be in the corner counting my blessings and smothering my babies with hugs and kisses.

I wish all of you wonderful times like these, and the happiest of holidays!

ten fingers and ten toes

It's a girl!

Josephine Shai ("Josie") was born this morning at 7:19am after a speedy 7 hour labor and 4 pushes.

6 pounds 5 ounces

18 and 1/2 inches long

She is adorable and teeny tiny and I was shocked when she came out looking so petite. So much for OB estimates, huh?

She brought Gabe a train set as a gift, and we sang her happy birthday and ate cake, and at the end of it all, Gabe proclaimed, "I like Josie!" Apparently, his love can be bought. At least for a while. We'll have to keep the cupcakes coming.

Everything is wonderful, I feel great, Josh and I are bursting with joy, and I can't believe she is a girl! I can't believe I have two kids! I can't believe I love her so much already! Life doesn't more precious or more amazing than this.