Thursday, May 29, 2008

Safety First

Iain in his carseat, both ready to ride and just hanging out:

Going to the grocery, outfit by Grannypants




Waking from a nap, deeply suspicious. Outfit by Patty D.

Fully awake, bib by Tom Appleton

Iain's Rules

Number 1: Never Play Favorites.

If you're going to throw up all over Mom, say at 9am while eating breakfast, be sure to pay equal attention to Dad. It's best to wait a while, though (like until 10:15) so that they don't suspect any deliberate attempt at even-handedness. Be sure to get as much vomit on Dad's arm as you got on Mom's chest. If you can toss some goo out your nose both times, that's even better.

Remember that if you don't treat both parents equally today, you'll have trouble later. Well-adjusted parents aren't born, they're made.

Think about it.

Duck Socks. You love them.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Grrrr

I'd just like the people who give baby advice to sit down and have a beer. Is that too much to ask?

On one side of the table would be the Baby Wise people. They're the ones who say: put your baby on a schedule! Don't feed him every time he cries, don't feed him whenever he seems hungry. Regulate his time because You Are the Parent! If you do this, he will sleep through the night at 8 weeks, learn discipline, and turn into a law-abiding citizen. If you don't, Mom will hate herself, stop nursing, spoil the baby, and eventually create a monster who will think the world revolves around him.

On the other side of the table would be the Attachment people. They're the ones who say: breast-fed babies can't be on a schedule! Feed them when they're hungry, not just because it's 3pm or whatever. He needs to be held and to have his needs met or else he won't feel loved. If you cuddle him, wear him, and feed him whenever he wants to eat, you'll teach him to feel secure, and thus to attach. Once attached to you, he can attach to other people and become a self-regulating, productive member of society. If you refuse him food to stick to a schedule, you'll become frustrated, stop nursing and give him formula, eventually producing a malnourished psychopath who has no immune system and doesn't know how to love.

For the love of Pete!

Meanwhile, you can't get an answer to basic questions. Basic. Questions.

So I'm going to call up a friend and ask her advice. Because she'll actually answer my actual questions, rather than flog her pet theory. But I'm pretty frustrated that (just like pregnancy) (and delivery) (and recovery) feeding Iain has turned out to require all sorts of Super Secret Knowledge that's delivered in contradictory, confusing bits.

In other news, I took a picture of the duck socks. So that's something you can look forward to.

Monday, May 26, 2008

6 weeks on Friday

On Friday, Iain will be 6 weeks old.

According to the web and the books we have, sometime in the first month, baby should raise his head a little, make some noises (uh, yeah - got that covered), respond to light and sound, etc.

Sometime in the second month he should smile.

Specifically, he should smile around 6 weeks.

Tick, tock. Tick tock. No pressure.

Only 4 days to go. 3 if you don't count Friday, and since Iain was born at 4:12am I don't think we really need to count Friday. So that's 3 days which is only 72 hours. But if you add the time between now and midnight (when Tuesday begins, starting the clock) you get 4 more hours which makes 76 hours. Minus 3 minutes, so that's 75 hours and 57 minutes.

No pressure, kid.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

Ok, Ok, Stop Begging

So here's Iain all noodly:



And here's Iain with Dad. You can tell from the look on his face that he's plotting his next vomit explosion.

Pot, Meet Kettle (Thwarted)

So I had this blog post going in my head:

"This morning, we had the following exchange with Iain:

FDH: Let's wear this!

CRH: Iain, your mother is relentlessly preppy! Everything she puts on you has a polo collar!

FDH to Iain: Son, meet the pot. I'm the kettle. Your father refused to greet the sun without a collared shirt for a decade. These days, he wears a T-shirt twice a week and thinks he's extremely relaxed.

CRH: [snorts] [drinks coffee in rocking chair while FDH changes diaper, talks to Iain, dresses Iain...]

FDH: Just to be daring, let's put on RED SOCKS!!

CRH: That's just wrong. It doesn't even match.

FDH: See my point? Who's preppy now? Or just conservative in dress? Ok, no red socks [strips off super-cute red socks] how about these? [puts on duckie socks - they are white socks on the bottom of the foot but on the top they have 3-dimensional stuffed duckies, making Iain's feet look like little ducks]

CRH: Nice. Undermining Daddy with the baby. And him only 5.5 weeks old."

I was going to accompany this post with cute photos of Iain in his collared shirt, Iain with duckie feet, etc.

BUT...

Iain spent 10 minutes in his bouncy seat (thanks, Stacey and Chris!) in the bathroom while I showered. The steam helps clear his sinuses.

So I'm all shampooing, soaping, adjusting the water so it's not quite nuclear...all the usual stuff. And Iain? Oh, he's fine. NO, really.

Or maybe he's puking up a gallon of milk. All over his preppy shirt. And his bib. And the kleenex we put over his bib. And his socks (ducks!). And the bouncey seat. And his arm. And his face.

It's even coming out his nose. Charming.

So I get out of the shower, strip him, run a bath, bathe him, gather up the load of laundry he's created, re-dress him, re-diaper him [those last two in reverse order], and ponder the question: where does a baby this small come up with approximately a gallon of puke? Where's it coming from???

Hence, no post. No photos of Mr. Cute in his preppy onesie with his duckie socks.

Sorry.

Thursday, May 22, 2008

More Photos




Iain with his grandmother Nina


Iain with his grandfather John


Iain contemplating.


Iain in a quilt, thinking about how great orange is, wondering why this pacifier tastes kind of furry, considering a bath, planning when it would be best to poo again, stroking his chin thoughtfully and counting out how many hours he'll need to nap today in order to keep Mom and Dad up all night...

A lady in the grocery said, "I just want to pick him up and squeeze him!" and I said, "Lady, do it at your own risk." But she didn't seem frightened. I bet she likes sky-diving, too. Or perhaps bungee-jumping. Or parasailing. Or free-climbing. Or eating blowfish.


Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Iain Discovers Shoe Shopping

But first - See comments on the previous post for the history and lore of a bloodthirsty lullaby, courtesy of Tony. Way, way too complicated for us'n. Just explaining about the Stuarts vs. the House of Orange would require more time than it's worth. And that's assuming he already understands the implications of the English Reformation and the conflicts of the Civil War. Maybe in the fall, but not before 8 weeks, I think.





Anyway, this week Iain has been enjoying a visit from his grandparents, Nina and John.








Please note Iain's socks, which come in 6 colors and are 6-month sized. As you can see from this close-up, they're not going to last long (which is too bad, because the colors are great!).





So we got him a pair of little "shoes" with soft bottoms. Now, I've said that babies don't need shoes (although shoes aren't about "need," in any fundamental way), but these are useful. They have elastic on the back, thus they stay on. Because they stay on, they can hold socks on. So when it's cold enough here to require socks, these little things will help keep them on Iain's water-ski-like feet. See below.


Saturday, May 17, 2008

Lullaby

Item #1: I should not sing.

Item #2: Consider this:

"Rockabye Baby, in the treetops,
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.
When the bow breaks, the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all."

Uh, excuse me? Baby falls out of the tree? Who wrote that, and what's on the B side?

Playing with matches (while running on the stairs)
Baby's first car accident
Mommy doesn't love you (not really)

??????

Friday, May 16, 2008

Fashion Show

Iain's great-grandparents liked to dress up. Or, at least, they liked to dress their babies up.



They also liked to save things. Result: Iain has a number of gorgeous baby things passed down from the knitting needles of his great-grandmother (Penny), his Great-Aunt (Georgiana), and other folks whose names are lost to time.



The beautiful christening dresses either don't fit yet or are so delicate I can't stand to put them on him (one has a neck opening too small for his HUGE head/neck apparatus). But the knit things fit. So this morning I dressed him up and took some pictures.



As you can see, he was more bemused than amused. Still, I think the Diana Ross-meets-Country Club Sweater look is divine.


Below, a cap and sweater combo to go over a christening gown, or just for when you need a little bling.

This outfit was a gift from a friend in LA. It's Hannah Andersen, and it fits perfectly! They're very smart, those Andersens. The bottom of the garment has 2 sets of snaps, so you can make the length fit your baby and so the baby can wear it longer. Not our son, of course. He's already in the bigger snap-size. Because he's a HORSE.

The horse sleeps. Yeah!! Of course, this nap took place at 4pm, so that's not really what I had in mind. I've been whispering in his ears: "Bedtime is from 11pm to 6am. Sleeeeeep...."

It's not working.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

A Day in the Life

3am: eat, poo, spit up delicately. Refuse to sleep for an hour.


7:45 am: scream until Mommy changes wet diaper.

8am: poo in new diaper. Be sure to dip heel delicately in poo.

8:10am: projectile vomit on clothing. Make sure you get a lot on Mommy's clothing, so she has to change, too.

8:15am: projectile vomit on new outfit.

8:20am: consider new outfit. It passes muster; no need to vomit. Ok, vomit a little bit, just to break it in and keep Mommy on her toes.


9am: watch parents freak out when dogs corner a "dead" possum in the yard.

9:10am: watch Dad strip off his lab coat, two pairs of gloves, etc., after discovering that possum was "playing possum" and has wandered off.

9:12am: chuckle inside when dogs show Mommy that said possum now sleeps under our deck.


Noon: poo.

12:10: vomit all over Mommy's shirt, but do it while "going to sleep" up against her. She won't notice until she puts you down, and by then it'll be dry and pasty.


3pm: poo.




6pm: eat. Vomit all over Mommy, the pillow, your sleeper, and your own hand. Good times.

6:05: Mommy notices crusty hair. Probably due to puke. Bathtime!

6:07: show Mommy and Dad poo diaper. Poo rinsed off, bath drained, cleaned, re-run. Ha ha!

6:15: while laying on changing table, pee up into the air, toward Dad, onto carpet, onto changing pad cover, onto towel, etc. etc. Watch Dad pat himself down, trying to see if he's been pee'd on.

6:17: New outfit! Make sure new outfit rests on wet part of towel.

6:19: Another new outfit! This one's ok, so no need to pee or puke.


9pm: eat. Spit up a little, just for appearances.

9:05: poo. Loudly. Loudly enough for the neighbors to hear. Immediately freak out.

9:07: puke while poo is being cleaned off. Be sure to get puke on new changing-table cover.


Whew. Tiring day. Time to sleep. For about 2 hours.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Iain and Callie, Sitting in a Tree...


"Borrowed" (ie, stolen) from the Bowes' blog (http://www.babybowes.blogspot.com/), this photo of Callie blessing Iain in the hospital.
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I'm not sure exactly what she blessed him with, but since he's growing and doing all the normal baby stuff, it must have been good.
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If only we could get her to do it again, this time to order: "Flying Spaghetti Monster, please reach down with your noodly appendage and make Iain stop projectile vomiting on Mommy's clothing. Also, could you arrange for Iain to sleep in his crib at night? Also, could you explain to him about not poking his own eye out? Thank you, thank you, all hail."
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Or something like that.
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[Sorry about the dots - blogspot is not letting me space the sentences unless I give it something for the spaces. Grr...]

Sunday, May 11, 2008

The House at Poo Corner

Here's a tip: next time you poo, see if you can get it to go up your underwear, across your torso, and into the vicinity of your chesty-bits. You should get it on your outfit, on your bedclothes, and on a piece of furniture, if at all possible.

Can't achieve this?

You just got served by a 3-week old.

On a related note, hand-held shower heads are quite handy when you need to hose off poo.

Saturday, May 03, 2008

Iain Receives Visitors

Grannypants

Miriam, Will and Jen

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Why a real video camera would be wasted on us

This is some riveting, high quality, raw video footage here. Notice the high quality audio track - oh, wait, there isn't one. If only I had some skills beyond pressing the shutter button and holding the wobbling camera, this might have been of interest to someone outside of our closest family. Sigh. Where are Brian and Sara when you need them?

video