so. many. words.

just for fun, a list of all the words Althea said to me this morning, between 5:30 and 9:30 am.

pizza
I have it
huevo
helado
yogur
silla
hambre
pulpo
caja
outside
push
dientes
chancho
vaca
ombligo
book
rana
thea
fen
lulu
shhhhhh
cansada
ba~no
giggle
gato
window
suave
thank you
oyes
ayuda
baby
se acabo'
button
banano
su'eter
calcetin
estrellas
luna
bye-bye
cafe
buho
eyes
fish
avena
gorra
no
si
ok
ojos
zip
gracias
manta
binkie
abre
leche
mas
more
sucio
bloques
i see you
agua
crema
piso
all gone
sala
julie
cama
phone
arriba
peek a boo

70.  in about 4 hours.  blabber mouth.

this blog is your baby book.

sorry sweetie, but this is it.
so i wanted to record that you took your first steps today.  one two three, from holding onto me you let go and walked right over to your little train table.
3 days shy of your first birthday.  so when later, i can't remember when, i will have this record of it.  providing the internet still exists.
congrats peanut.

communication!

Althea can sign the following things:
more
milk
all done
water

but the one she loves the most is 'milk'.  and she does NOT mean in a sippy cup, just so we are clear.  she means 'get your boobies out mama, get them out'.  And she does it in the most sincere way, looking into my eyes, squeezing her little fist oh-so-deliberately, like 'look at me, i can tell you what i want.  i want your boobies.'.
and i want to teach her that communicating is good, and that signing (and talking) are a way to tell others what you want, without shrieking.
however.
by my estimate, Althea signed 'milk' to me AT LEAST 50 times today.  she is drunk with the power of the milk sign.  "you mean, anytime i squeeze my little fist, mama will let me nurse?!?!?!  FAN.TAS.TIC!"

help me.  help my poor, sad, nipples.  why did I think this was a good idea?  we probably should not have taught her to communicate.    

Dear boobs,

Dear boobs,

I know you put up with a lot.  You are the answer to every. single. problem. that our darling baby has.  fall and bump her head?  boobs!  a little sleepy? boobs!  not feeling so good? boobs!  peckish?  boobs!  teething?  boobs, boobs, boobs. you're constantly being manhandled, exposed, groped, mauled, pinched, and occasionally bit.  You deserve a fucking break.  Unfortunately, there is not one in sight.  However, please know that you are loved, so very very much, by the baby.  also by my husband, who loves me with 'after children boobs' (thank you lindsay for that little gem).  and I appreciate the hard hard work you do, and all the bottles I don't have to make and wash because of you.  You rock, boobs.  

<3,  Mama

title?

i'm anxious.  and nervous.  and its making me crabby.

i'm going back to work tomorrow.  TOMORROW.  this has suddenly ceased being hypothetical.  its f#$%ing TOMORROW.  I have to set an alarm.  Get up.  Get dressed in some kind of respectable, professional outfit, and get me ass out the door at 7:00 in the morning.  Oh yeah, and leave my adorable, precious, amazing baby with someone else.  Every day.  for the next 7 weeks.  And then for the school year (4 days only).

Someone remind me why this seemed like a good idea?

Well, I'm somewhat bored (note:  i am probably a bad mother for saying this out loud.  aren't good mothers supposed to be endlessly enthralled and entertained by their babies?)  I spend too much time surfing the internet.  The baby's sometimes incessant screechy pteradactyl noises get old fast.  They wear on my nerves like...well, like screechy pteradactyl noises.
I spent 2 years and many thousands of dollars getting qualified to teach.  If I go back to work I will have an excuse to slack off on laundry.  and sweeping.  Although actually then I will just live in filth, since probably Mr. 3rd Year Clinical Rotations isn't going to have any extra time to pick up the slack.  So maybe that isn't a good thing.

I feel like I'm losing my membership card to the stay at home mommy club.  which I liked.  unlike change.  I dislike change.  it makes me uncomfortable.  i probably should have just had another baby.  that would have cut down on the boredom and excessive internet surfing.  although not the dinosaur noises.

phew.

what a crazy month of visiting and family and travel.

A few gems of the airplane world:
on the way there, Airtran left our carseat. in the jetway.  in milwaukee.    they had to 'loan' us one in SF to get to Jan's house, and delivered ours the next day.
on the way back, this super bitchy stewardess made me take a SLEEPING baby out of the Ergo for take-off.

but the stay in CA was great.  Althea became this tiny socialite; charming people left, right and center with her fart noises, grins,  and general sunny disposition.  she learned to wave.  and cluck her tongue.  and she got FAST.  so watch out world.

then we were home for literally 1 day before I took off sans husband for a 3 day weekend camping trip.  Althea took it like a champ.  she was called 'party baby'.  and once again charmed everyone.

just some adorable pictures of my adorable baby.

Althea's current favorite book: the Itsy Bitsy Spider.

bucket baby bath

let me out!

eating:  action shot

Had my first mothers day.  it was awfully sweet.  Life is more or less perfect.

9 months

29" long.  18 lbs, 9 oz.  (we had Dr. appt today).
Also:  a partial list of things althea can do, or particularly likes.

sit up by herself (from laying down)
pull up to standing on the furniture.  she doesn't know how to put one foot down, so she just pulls up from her knees to her feet.  it looks really hard.  she can also sit back down.
crawl:  just barely starting to move on all fours.  otherwise can pull/drag herself around pretty far and fast.  travels from one room to another
loves strawberries, barley biscuits, mango, avocado, kiwis, stewed tomatoes.  eats yogurt, corn cereal,  oatmeal, and tofu.
does NOT love goat cheese or peas.
baths.  water.  swimming.
just started handing toys to you, and passing them back and forth for several minutes.
says mamamamam and dadadadadada.
makes fart noises.
looking in mirrors.

You Ruined Everything lyrics

When I am out and about and I see big girls, I get all advance-nostalgy.  I think about how beautiful and smart and funny I think Althea is going to be as a 9,10,11 year old and I don't know, my nursing hormones kick into overdrive or something.  I was at a concert with Walker Saturday night and there was this just gorgeous little girl there, maybe 9 years old, all dressed up and sitting on her papa's shoulders through the whole show.  She was so grown up and proud to be a concert, you could tell.  Something about her just made me think of Althea getting big I guess.

*Note:  I do not think this when I see 15 year olds.  Not even a little bit.  

The show, BTW, was Jonathon Coulton, my current favorite funny guy musician.  He wrote a song about becoming a parent called "You Ruined Everything" which I love. (watch video please).  People have asked him what he would do when his kids heard this song.

At the show he said that recently his little girl had heard this song, and asked him "daddy, does ruined mean anything else?".  To which he replied, 

'nope.  just ruined.  like wrecked.'  but honestly, its too sweet.  it makes me weepy eyes.

motherhood is:

eating food that has already been in someone else's mouth.  AND not thinking twice about it, until one of your (childless) friends points out that it is, in fact, gross.

touching someone else's poop.  every day.

describing poop with food; i.e. "It was kind of like peanut butter".

realizing all you talk about is poop.

Oh god, summer school.

so, remember (not so very long ago) when I got hired to wait tables at the new ramen and dumpling place?  and then I had a mommy panic attack and quit before it even opened?  I'm not going to do that this time.   I don't think.

Yesterday MMSD called and asked me some questions about my experience implementing a balanced literacy program, and my classroom management strategies, and how I bring students' cultural and linguistic strengths into my lesson planning, and I guess I sounded halfway decent because then they offered me a job teaching 3-5 literacy for the summer school session.  Which I accepted, because I have a degree (an expensive, expensive degree) that I worked hard for and would like to someday use.  And because it seems like a reasonable step to take.  A baby step, if you will.  It is after all, only half days.  for only 6 weeks.

And yet, I was awake last night until about 12:30 in the morning.  Why?  Because I was too busy second guessing myself and mind fucking all my decisions to death to sleep, obviously.  There's a week before the session starts of all day training.  So, I started obsessively worrying about that first.  Will there be time to pump?  Will Althea be OK without me for 9 hours, 5 days in a row?  Will Walker be able to find enough time to study that week if I am gone all day or will it be fault if he fails the very important, very expensive test?  stupid fucking boards.  Once I had (temporarily I'm sure) finished compulsively examining the training week, I began to lose my mind about childcare.  Where will I find it?  How will I get the baby there?  Is it going to be a nightmare of logistics?  Will Althea adjust to being carted off somewhere different every day of the week?  How will I repay the people who end up taking her for me?  etc. etc.
 Now, you might think that is all that I could possibly freak out about, but you would be terribly mistaken.  Because now I have to worry about my ability to actually do this job.  Will I be a good teacher?  Do I need to write my own curriculum?  How many students will I have?  How far below grade level will their reading skills be?  This is a whole new arena of am I making a huge mistake.

I feel that I used to be much more certain.  About my life skills, and decision making.  I would decide to do a thing and then do it, with nary a sleepless night.  Now I constantly second guess myself, I guess because every decision I make now impacts not just me, but this other, very small, very precious person. It's hard.

Phew.  I feel a bit better, having wordspewed all over the screen.  In thanks to you for having read this mess, please examine my amazing offspring learn to crawl.

bizarre summer weather

It's April 10th.  In Wisconsin.  and it was 80 freaking degrees today.  I had to take a cold shower after my run.  Althea is very pleased with her new domain:  the great out of doors.  She got to sit in the grass, swing on a swing, and eat several sticks and possibly a bug.  I got to line dry the stink out of the diapers, and dig up approximately 1/3 of my new garden.

things i don't want to forget

1)  How you can see her smile from behind her bink or a mouthful of nipple
2) How her little legs go kick kick kick like a frog on meth when she gets excited
3) the hooting noise she makes when I start lifting up my shirt
4) How very pleased she is when she finally gets a new skill (today: standing, tomorrow: the WORLD)

5)The way even her laugh sounds fat.  A fat fat baby chortle.
6) Her big, wet, open mouth on your cheek mmmm-wah kisses.
7) all of it.  I want to remember all of it.  for ever.

crawling...soon baby girl, soon.

Althea spends a lot of time every day now trying so hard to crawl forward.  No longer is she content with lying, or sitting, in the location where I have placed her, surrounded by interesting and brightly colored objects.  It's almost comical except I can see how frustrating it must be, and then I feel bad for her.  She sees something that she wants (usually me, but sometimes a toy or baby danger item like cord, choking hazard, etc).  She can paddle herself around in a circle and spin like a little clock...still can't get it.  She can roll side to side across the room laterally...still can't get it.  She can push up into cobra and slide backwards (until she runs into the wall or wedges herself under the couch) and now, not only can she still not get it, but the object of her desire is EVEN FARTHER AWAY GODDAMMIT!  This is when she usually starts shrieking.  Loud, earsplitting shrieks, accompanied by a look (again, usually at me) that manages to imply that really, this is all my fault. Why can I not see that she is in need of some assistance RIGHT NOW MAMA, RIGHT NOW!.

soon baby girl, soon.  you will figure this out and then oh baby oh, how your world's gonna grow.  and Mama will be in for it then.

Poll: is this normal?

So, when Althea is not in my direct line of sight, especially if I also can't hear her, my brain spits out these horrible little scenarios wherein she is dead.  Seriously.  Example:  this morning, I am cutting up squash to make soup for friend with new baby.  Althea is sleeping (morning nap is awesome) in her bedroom.  Nap begins to go on a little longer than one might expect (nearing one hour).  Half of my brain is saying 'excellent!  baby take long nap, mama accomplish many things.  chop all the squash in one fell swoop!'  but the other, death obsessed, morbid half of my brain is saying 'as you stand here rejoicing about cutting squash, your baby definitely smothered herself in a pillow and is dead in the next room'.
Or:  Walker take the baby on a walk.  They are gone longer than I expect.  I start to believe they have been hit by a car, and I shouldn't have been so giddy about getting half an hour to myself, since now I will never see Althea again.
What the fuck?  Does this happen to other mamas?  Does it ever stop? Like when they get bigger and are out of your sight more, does it at least happen less? Its alarming, and unnerving, and frankly disturbing.
So:  normal?  you tell me.

In less depressing postscript, my fingers are stained baby poo orange from the squash.

is 'laissez-faire' a parenting style?

an introduction: as a cure for boredom this week I staged a photo op with paint and the baby. Several people I know then asked me where I had found 'baby safe paint' (note baby licking paint). Dur. I just used regular paint and tried not to let her eat too much of it.

*confession - I also let her lick the floor/my pants/the toys at the fun zone. and when her bink falls on the ground, I stick it in my mouth to get the germs off before giving it back to her.   One of my parenting tips might be 'don't let the baby play with the cat's asshole'.   I mean really, are there people out there who actually sterilize baby toys?  Gah.  Frankly, I'd rather be...well, almost anything.  so then I think, hmmmmm...am I a bad parent?  nah.

PS.  I also don't use one of those 'cart cover' things at the grocery store.  I just plop her right in it.  gasp.  shudder.

teeth and bike helmets

are both for big girls.  I'm having a minor panic attack about this whole tooth thing.  No one warned me it would be so very alarming!  I mean, its tiny.  One, wee little tooth.  Not even a whole tooth yet, just the pointy top.  And it feels like such a big deal.  It IS a big deal.  A tooth.  Know who has teeth?  Grownups.  Big kids.  Not babies. And so in my mind there is a bi-polar refrain:
 'don't grow a tooth.  stay my little toothless baby.  no wait, don't.  grow up into an amazing little girl. no, just kidding.  not yet.  no teeth for you.  you don't need 'em.  but I guess you do, and a baby forever will get tiresome'...etc etc.

and just to add a little extra anxiety about little babies who are actually big babies, we got a bike seat and a helmet for her today.  Look closely:  you can see the helmet AND the tooth.  That damn tooth.  Next time someone asks me 'what didn't you expect about motherhood?' I'm not going to talk about the amazing all consuming love, or the constant preoccupation with pooping.  I'm going to say that I never knew a freaking tooth would turn into such a big deal.

inspired by my fridge

fridge magnet sets make everyone poetic.  fridge poem of the day

picture her
mother
woman milking
drool
delicate dreams
smear shit
goddess of the summer storm
run frantic girl
gift of stillness
love

no naps for me

I should have learned by now not to try and nap with the baby.  it always ends with me feeling worse.  invariably, i fall asleep, get into whatever the deep sleep is called, and the baby wakes up crying.  then i try desperately to make her go back to sleep because half a nap makes me MORE tired, not less.  She refuses.  If i was a better mother, the resulting 30 minutes of half crying/whining clinginess wouldn't make me feel like leaving the baby alone in her room, turning the music up really load to drown out her screams, and having a drink regardless of it being only 4:00.  Good mothers surely don't feel like this.  But I do.  So really, I should just not nap.  Sleep is for the weak.

feeding schedules?

If someone tried to put ME on a feeding schedule, there would be hell to pay.  but apparently many people have their babies on feeding schedules.  they look like this:

5:30 a.m 5 oz bottle

(back to sleep till 8/8:30)

9:30: 5 oz bottle

10:30-11:30 Nap

11:30- Stage 2 Fruit

1:30- 5 oz

3:30- 4:30 Nap

5:00 -Stage 2 Veggie

7:30- 5 oz mixed with a little rice cereal, and off to bed.

So I made one for us.  It looks like this:

3:00 am  nurse baby as tired of listening to her whining.

4:30 am nurse baby in desperate attempt to get more sleep

6:30 am nurse again and up for the day

8:00 am try to feed baby oatmeal with fruit.  baby makes horrible face, spits out all food.  give baby banana, baby mashes banana all around face, possibly ingests 1 teaspoon.  

9:30  nurse more.  how many ounces?  how would i know that?

12:00  nurse again.  distract baby from my lunch by giving her an apple core to chew on.  mmmmm....so delicious.  

3:30 nurse again.

5:00  give baby some steamed broccoli.  baby drops broccoli on the floor 7 times before I decide its too dirty to give back to her.  baby cries.  finger feed baby most of an egg yolk.  

6:30  nurse again.  bed time!  refuse to nurse baby again until 3:00 am in futile bid to decrease # of times baby wakes in night.  

repeat until crazy

previously unviewed pictures, one from each month

                                                                              August:                      

September:

October:

November:

December:

January:

February:

This is how I procrastinate.  Note how I totally failed to clean the disgusting bathroom floor.  

work?

I contemplate it.  more than contemplate, I have procured it.  I have a job.  and now I think I wish I hadn't.  its stressing me out, and I haven't even started yet.  bad sign.  I keep almost emailing my new bosses and quitting before I even have my first day (real day I mean, we've already had like 6 hours of training)  but I should give it a shot right?  I had reasons for getting a job.  Like, it would be nice to have cash around again, and I could meet new people, and talk to grownups.  Walker would get a chance to solo parent on a more regular basis. They seem like stupid reasons now, but I am just suffering from mama anxiety.  So, I should give it a shot.  I will. But if it sucks, I'm totally going to quit.  So there.

childproofing.

omg shoot me in the foot next time i decide i need to install something.  whew.  2.25 hours, 3 kinds of cabinet latches, and a wide variety of extremely colorful curse words later, i have successfully installed 4 (count 'em, 4) child proof locks (magnetic locking! very exciting!) on the kitchen cabinets of the new house.  this way - my theory is - Althea will in a few short months be able to crawl merrily around in the kitchen while I make delicious, wholesome food for us all (in my imagination i am very domestic)  but will NOT be able to break glass baking dishes, eat dishwasher detergent, or otherwise grievously injure herself as she will only have access to the cupboards I have purposefully left undefended, which are filled with baby appropriate kitchen items, like measuring spoons, plastic plates, sippy cups, and pots and pans to bang around.  so, very good idea me!  but next time, consider asking handy husband to install blasted #$%^ing locks.
*note:  Each lock (4 remember?) has two plastic pieces.  each piece has 2 tiny little screws.  every tiny little screw must be placed in the exact right position, or else all pieces must be un-installed and then re-installed an inch up or down.

In totally unrelated news:  I am famous!  Other internet mama used my pic (from Althea's birth) in her blog today about natural pain relief methods.  see link:  http://blog.pettelmaternity.com/  

wardrobe choices from motherland.

how getting dressed has changed since the baby.
step one:  underpants.  this step remains the same, with the slight (at least for now) benefit of not having to worry about whether I should be wearing period underwear.

step two:  socks.  same as pre-baby.  amazing i know.

step three:  pants.  default setting:  yoga pants.  they're black (slimming and hard to see all the dirty), comfy (so as not to interfere with impromptu napping), and most importantly, can be pulled down or up with the use of just one hand, so when you need to go pee with a clingy baby on your lap, you don't have the issue of trying to button up jeans one handed.  *I do occasionally put on jeans if we are going out somewhere.  usually not though.  see:  black re: yopa pants.  makes them acceptable for going out.

step four:  bra.  underwires are right out (clearly)  always go with something that can be yanked down at maximum speed to allow instant booby access to screaming tyrant.  usually either stretchy tanktop (which has added benefit of covering your belly as you whip your boob out should you happen to be in public) or sports bra.

step five:  shirt.  either something low cut (if wearing bra and not tanktop...then can pull down to nurse rather than up avoiding the stomach exposure issue) or something loose enough to pull up easily.  if its is cold, add sweater or hoody that opens in the front with zipper or snaps.  buttons are too slow.

If baby is older than 4 months, you're not ready yet.

step six:  remove all necklaces and earrings.  
step seven:  pull your hair back into a sloppy but hard to reach ponytail.
step eight:  put your contacts in to save your glasses from untimely demise and/or consumption.

Now you are ready to go for the day!  (Until your stellar outfit is pooped on.  Or yarfed on...a lot.  If you're like me, a little vomit or pee will not cause you to change clothes)  Now get the baby dressed.

boobs.

So, my question is (for mamas out there of bigger babies)  do you ever go back to thinking of your boobs in a sexy way?  Like, oh, foreplay!  I hope it involves my boobs!  Because I have memories of this, really I do.  I used to like my boobs to be involved in my sex life.  Now I only wish that the poor things could get some peace and quiet.  Pretty much the only time they aren't being manhandled is when I can distract her highness with something else, usually alternate food item.  (see: apple core)

In addition to the hours each day that they are working hard to provide sustenance to the very hungry caterpillar, they are constantly being mauled, groped, kneaded, and clawed by a certain baby.  I'm pretty sure if no one ever touches my boobs ever ever again, I will be quite pleased.  But it makes me a little sad to feel that way.  so? what's the verdict other mamas?

sleep log.

In a desperate attempt to restore some semblance of sanity to my life, we are going to start working on teaching Althea some self soothing techniques so she stops waking us up every 90 minutes (slight exaggeration)  But I can't let her cry it out, although I know some people have success with that.  Anyways we got and read this book called 'the no cry sleep solution' (to which i say, haha!  that assumes the child is crying for some reason other than that you are trying to make her sleep)  and are implementing some simple changes for now:
earlier bedtime (6:30 instead of 7:30) with calm quiet activities.
a lovey
unswaddled (so as to free up her little hands for thumb sucking or bink re-insertion)
more attentive to tired signals to make naps better (hopefully)
quiet play time in the co-sleeper to be familiar with the space
and gradual lessening of services provided: i.e. only rocking/cuddling her barely to sleep for now and then putting her down.
 theoretically in time we move on to phase two, only rocking/cuddling her to sleepy and then putting her down, etc. etc. and therefore she will become accustomed to being awake in her crib and going to sleep without so much help.
last night didn't go so hot.  I put her down 5 times before i gave up and rocked her completely asleep.  at which point she slept for 8 whole minutes before repeating the process with Walker.  durrrrr.  and she screamed at me for 20 minutes about nap this morning and had to nurse to sleep. for 30 min.  *note, apparently this is normal.  it get worse before it gets better.  like poison ivy or similar.
anyhoo, part of the whole deal is keeping a sleep/nap log every 10 days. not more often since it will just discourage you, like weighing yourself every day on a diet.  so here is our first one...
2/13:  up at 8:00
nap #1  snuggled to sleep on futon.  slept 10:00-10:30
nap #2  fell asleep in car.  slept 1:45-2:15
nap #3.  fell asleep in jogger.  slept 4:10-4:50
Total nap hours:  1 hr, 40 minutes (poor)

Bedtime:  went upstairs at 6:30.  screamed and generally didn't sleep.  put down just awake, immediately woke hysterical.  screamed more.  finally asleep at 7:30.
awake 8:35-9:20.  put down just asleep approx.  9 times.  then rocked completely to sleep so mama and papa could regroup.
10:20-10:30  awake, nursing.  stays in our bed now.
1:45-1:55  awake, nursing.
4:45  woke up.  nursed for 10 minutes.  then played quietly with her lovey/bink for about 30 min.  started making sad noises.  got diaper change at 5:40.  screamed for 20 minutes.  fell back asleep about 6:10.
7:00 awake for the day.
Number of wakings:  4
Hours awake:  2.5 hours
Hours asleep: (baby) 9 hours.  (poor) *my personal hours of sleep were more like 6.5.  in 3 chunks.  FML.

According to sleep experts (who knew that was a thing?)  babies this age should sleep 12 hours during the night (with 1-2 feeds) and 3-4 hours for naps.  poor little thing has a sleep deficit.

she LOVES it!

eating...her own self.  NOT off a spoon, but with her fat little baby hands.  she is overcome with joy that I have (finally) figured out the proper way of offering food.  She has eaten:
cooked carrot sticks (which BTW I found in the diaper this morning)
bananas and
cooked green beans
operation let the baby feed herself is a smashing success!

also, i made some seriously delicious 'lactation cookies' today.  oatmeal, whole wheat flour, flax seed meal, walnuts, peanut butter, chocolate chip awesome sauce.  not sauce.  cookie.  so so good.

monday.

pretty average day around here.  Althea is slowly recovering from her yucky cold, and so far has no fever tonight-yippee!  We went over to the St Vinnie-Vins and got some glass canisters for the new house and a super tacky red stuffed heart to take Valentine pictures with.  This is what I do when I am bored now, I think of new ways to photograph the baby.  When we get our tax money back I'm totally going to get a DSLR camera and photoshop.  Think how much extra time I could use up then!   Sometimes I feel like time is this very very precious entity to be treasured, and sometimes i feel it is an ugly slobbery beast that must be beaten into submission or killed.

Researching 'baby led solids' tonight, since we still have 95% no luck with feeding the baby 'solid food' (those are sarcasm quote marks, since the solid food is not solid, but rather totally runny purees).  She rejects all food that comes on a spoon.  oatmeal, fruits, veggies, if its on a spoon she doesn't want it.  BUT she loves loves loves the little mesh bag feeder thing, so I'm thinking baby led solids might be the thing for her.  This basically involves presenting your baby with big chunks of soft, gum-able food, preferably with a sort of handle, and letting them suck/slobber/ingest it in bits. think well cooked broccoli chunk the size of a baby fist, and they grab it by the stalk and stick it in their mouth. the idea is that as they get better at chewing and maneuvering food, they will slowly eat more and more of it, leading them to need to nurse less often.  google it if you want more details.  I plan on trying it out tomorrow and will report back on success/failure.

sick? who's sick?

so, after a long day of fever, coughing, pooing, boogers, lethargy, etc, and a night that was interrupted by a tiny furnace baby with a temp of 103 who projectile vomited tylenol and breast milk all over the bed, i took althea in to see the doctor.
did she cough? no.
temperature? 98.6 (for real. exactly.)
did she smile and coo and flirt with dr. steve? yes.

now i look like the crazy parent who is always dragging their kid to the dr. unnecessarily. on plus side, baby is better! hoorah! now am washing both blankets, top sheet, fitted sheet and mattress protector. not the crib sheet though. Althea doesn't vomit on her own things.

here is a picture of her lackadaisical sicky self in the sink bath.

6 months!!!

I find it very hard to believe.  6 months is the same as 1/2 of a year (nice math/time telling skills right?).  which means in the same amount of time again, she will be a whole year old.  which is - in my mind at least - when you stop being a baby and become a tiny person.  OMG.
She clearly knows its her half birthday though.  She's been doing amazing new things all week, like rolling back to front WITH her diaper on (not just naked), eating oatmeal off a spoon, shaking toys rather than just stuffing them directly into her mouth, etc.
We are awesomely having a snow day to celebrate her 6 month b-day.  Both MMSD and -amazingly- the UW are closed due to enormous snow drifts everywhere, so Corinne and Walker are both home all day.  Will be making birthday treats later (not for the baby, clearly, for me.  I get to eat treats because I kept the baby alive for 6 months.  Also, reached personal goal weight, so obviously time for carrot cake.  or maybe peanut butter cookies)
I will now try to add a picture of my budding nudist.  *Note:  In Ecuador, Walker and I were jointly voted 'most likely to be the first ones naked' so clearly the child comes by it honest.
ETA: this picture features the pee blanket.

clean is the new dry: aka mothering lowers your standards.

example the first:  our house now has what is referred to as 'the pee blanket'.  this is a quilt that we lay on the floor for extended nudey time.  the baby pees on it 3-4 times a day, as she loves being naked more than anything.  i wash it about twice a week.  once it dries, the fact that it has been peed on (again) becomes negligable.  my new definition of 'clean' very closely resembles my old definition of 'dry'.

before becoming a mother, i never thought to myself 'oh good, its only pee, i don't have to change my shirt/her onesie/the sheets.  but really, how much laundry can one woman do?

ah-ha! a blog!

I've decided to try writing a blog, partially to create some kind of record of what life is like around here these days, mostly for my own sanity...I can at least pretend that I'm communicating with someone with language skills.  Although probably not.  Oh well, self delusion is just the thing right?
 
Anyways, Althea - having stayed up late (almost 9:00 pm!!!) to attend the clothing swap- is having an extra long morning nap.  rounding on 40 minutes now so surely will be awake anytime, and I should probably be moving the laundry along instead of idly messing about on the internets.  Laundry at the house these days is a lot like silverware rolling at the restaurant...no matter how much of it you do there is always more.

It's also supposed to dump snow on us for the next couple days, so we must be off to the woodmans this afternoon,  oops, there she is squawking her wakefullness to the world.