Parenthood realizations

I've come to the realization that I suck. His crying is really hard for me. It is so frustrating to listen to him cry and and him not being able to tell me what he needs. Its hard to hear him cry after you have changed his diaper, fed him and rocked him, but he just won't stop crying. I don't know how people do it. Its hard for me because I can't reason with him, and he can't tell me why he's upset. Days like that, I just want to crawl in a hole and stay there. The guilt is overwhelming that I'd want to be anywhere other than comforting my inconsolable child.

When he sits there and stares at me and coos, it makes me so happy and proud that Crazy and I created this perfect little human being. I guess what I want to say is that no one ever tells you that parenthood gives you the highest highs and the lowest lows. I guess its that I've always thought that what makes me happiest was goals like going to college, graduating quickly, getting A's in school, buying cute shoes, you know superficial stuff. No one ever told me that my entire world would shift. I guess that's probably why we waited so long to have Oliver. We wanted to be in a situation that would be ideal for a child to thrive in when we planned for Oliver's birth.

I remember several years ago, my "A" friend laughed at me when I told her that we wouldn't bring a child into this world until we were financially and psychologically ready and not one second before. I don't think she realized how serious I was about living my life to the fullest so that I would have something to offer my child. I remember years ago when Crazy and I got married, women (military wives) were trying to convince me that we should start our family asap because the military would pay for all of it. I had just graduated college with a BA in Political Science at the time and I thought to myself, how stupid is that thought?! If I had a job and made a decent living, I would have insurance and be able to provide a good life for a child. Why would we try to have a child when Crazy was in the military? The amount of money he made in the military was definitely not able to sustain a family to the lifestyle I wanted to be accustomed to. Oliver will most likely go to Montessori when he comes of age. He will go to a good school, and have Crazy and I as a resource. He will be given ever opportunity and Crazy and I will work our fingers to the bone to make sure this kid will never go without.

Sonoma here we come

We made it to Sonoma today. We've been trying to go for the last 2 months to go wine tasting in Sonoma, Napa's less known cousin. Its next door to Napa, however not as touristy. We visited 4 wineries, we didn't want to miss our favorite winery (Chateau St. Jean) so it was the first one we went to and had a nice picnic. We brought our camera, however because we were rushed for time, we didn't get a chance to take any photos of Mr. Oliver in wine country. However, since he and crazy were the dd's (designated drivers) they just enjoyed the atmosphere while Auntie A and I did some wine tasting.

It was a beautiful summer day. Not hot, just warm.

Oliver got a little cranky later in the day because we threw off his schedule, however when we got home around 8:30 pm after running some errands, he took a bottle and went right to sleep. Hopefully he'll let Crazy and I get some sleep in before he demands we bow down to his holy-ness.

More diarrhea

I forgot to include that people have also had the bad manners to ask whether I am breast feeding. Why in the world would you ask some stranger that. Better yet, why do you think you are entitled to an answer? Would they next ask me when Oliver last pooped? Or when I had my last oil change? Or whether or not I pay taxes? Do I vote republican or democratic? Ridiculous.

People and diarrhea

As a new mother, whenever I'm with Oliver, people constantly ask me the same diarrhea type questions.

1. Is it hard to watch him grow so fast?
2. Oh, look at his big cheeks! (I know its not a question, but its still in the diarrhea realm)
3. How old is he? Wow, he's one BIG baby! (diarrhea realm)
4. That baby must be getting really good milk! (diarrhea realm)
5. I'll bet you can't stop staring at him....

First of all, it isn't hard to watch him grow so fast, our eyes are closed shut because we can't get enough sleep. It is our pleasure to wake up every 2 hours to feed and clean your butt. We love that it takes you a while to get back to sleep, so we have to rock you, or figure a way to shut you up so you won't wake up the neighbors at 2 am. We also love how you need to eat every 2 hours, despite the fact that it takes you half an hour to fall asleep, 10 minutes to feed and change you...so we only sleep about 1 hour or less (if its me) cause we need to fall asleep again. Second of all, why would you ask questions from someone who you do not know about something so personal? I guess I'm supposed to say, "Yes! Being a mother is such a blessing!" When in reality, I don't even know what's what anymore, because I am so sleep deprived. I can't even add anymore....I still need to open the 529 College Savings fund so that Mr. Oliver can rob us blind when he goes off to college. So donations are greatly appreciated. :-)

Yes, he's got big cheeks. Yes, he is my child. Yes, I have big cheeks. End of story.

Yes, I know I have a large baby. Thank you for noticing. We are feeding him formula. We are not feeding him pure fat, I have no idea why he's so big. He just is. By the time he was 1 week old, he had already gained all of the weight he lost while in the hospital. He was only drinking 2 ounces, and the pediatrician that we saw the Friday after he was born swore up and down that it was impossible for Mr. Oliver to have gained back all of the weight he had lost during his first week in life by just drinking 2 ounces every feeding. Well, lets think about it this way, if this kid wakes up every 2 hours to feed, he will gain back some weight. Crazy swears it was the colostrum he received from me that made up the extra weight...who knows. He's just a big kid.

No he's not getting "really good milk", he is getting formula. Similac Advanced with Iron. You can also buy it in the stores if your baby seems underweight.

Yes I can stop staring at him, if I am lucky its about an hour each time from the hours of 12 am to 7 am.

Did I mention that I'm tired? I go back to work on Monday. My life will continue to suck until this kid can find it in himself to sleep through the night. Please dear god, let him learn to stop eating long enough to learn to sleep through the night.

I'm not gonna give that bath a beeeyatch

That's right. I had a rough day with Mr. Oliver today. I've been feel a bit under the weather for the last 2 days and today was kinda rough. Mr. Oliver wakes up every 2 hours and its getting too hard to have interrupted sleep. The heat today was too much for me to handle and so when Crazy came home, I was super duper cranky. Today, Oliver and I went to bed around noon, after I fed him a bottle with 3 ounces, we went to bed....however Mr. Oliver didn't have sleep on his mind. He wanted more food and I was too damn tired and sick to notice or care. He cried and did some angry pacifier sucking but again, I was hoped up on drugs to get rid of my cough/sore throat and didn't really notice he was upset. My dear sister showed up and took the punk away and he refused to be quiet with his new mama. She offered him a bottle...and he finally shut up and went to sleep. I guess Mr. Oliver needs more in his bottle and it was his way of telling me. His poor dense mama. I was allowed to take a few hours to enjoy a nice nap.

So the day wore on, it was warm, Mr. Oliver was hot and annoyed. He cried throughout the day and just couldn't get comfortable. I really needed a break. So after dinner, we went to Target (I have no idea why), then asked to be dropped off at our local bar, the Ruby Room. I had 1 cosmo, and 3 lemon drops. My sister had 4 Jim Bean and gingerales. We then called Crazy and asked to be picked up. You see Crazy had the task of giving cranky a bath while we were at the bar, however because cranky was cranky....he wasn't able to give him a bath. So off we went to Jack In the Box...the best after drinks food ever. We ordered and came back. We had easy banter the entire time, and before we came back into the house, I made the silly comment of "I'm not gonna give that bath a beeeyatch". Crazy couldn't stop laughing as well as my sister.

All I have to say is that motherhood is not easy. I don't know how women do this. It is so hard, one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life. I want to give him all the love and care he needs to nurture a productive human being, however, its so hard to give 100% when you feel like crap and your child is crying for no apparent reason. That's it. Its a shitty blog, but its how I feel. I love Oliver, but I couldn't handle the grumpy Oliver today. He was so grumpy, even his mama couldn't keep him quiet. Yes, he hates hot weather. So do we all dear boy.

Poor burrito

Since Oliver's birth, he's gotten so darn big. Swaddling has been a little difficult simply because there aren't receiving blankets that would hold his gargantuan size. So you will see his huge feet sticking out.

Do you see something that's out of place?


Here's another hint....

We've been having a fun rivalry regarding burritos and who makes the best burritos. Crazy brags about his "reverse burrito" and how wonderful it is and how it keeps his arms in for at least 1 hour. Auntie A brags about her burritos being the best, because they keep his arms in....she may have some success, however because I'm so lazy to wrap his butt up, I always make either of the two do them. But I secretly think my burritos are the best. Just Kidding! We like to make fun of each other when we wrap up stinky Oliver. I think he gives each and every single one of us the finger when he pushes his little arms out of the burrito. He waves his little arms in the air when he is able to break free of the burrito, and I think he smiles when we curse him in our sleepy haze filled brains.

One Fist, Two Fist

So Mr. Oliver has started to learn to put things in his mouth. He first began by putting his left fist in his mouth....then moved onto his right fist.

Then today, he shoved both fists in his mouth. I have no photographic proof of him shoving both fists in his mouth...but here's a teaser. All I can say is this guy has a huge mouth! His fists are HUGE!

In the past few weeks, he's learned to giggle and smile. Sometimes when he stares at us, and we are laughing and smiling, he also starts to laugh and smile. It totally melts your heart, at least it does for us. I think he's starting to develop a dimple on his right cheek. Crazy doesn't believe it, but again, until I can have photographic proof, it doesn't exist. I love when he tracks me with his eyes. When I put him down, and walk away, and come back....I see him looking at me. When I'm around, he stares at me. I sometimes wonder if he knows that I'm his mama.

This look is always classic though. Of course living in this house will do it to you.

Boy babies have good aim

I never realized the hazards to having a boy baby. I honestly had no idea that if the thing isn't covered, it starts shooting pee everywhere. So far I've been sprayed several times....not all of which were my fault. I recall my mother giving him a bath one night, than placing him on my bed and walking way....he started to pee on me. Nice. Pee all over your mama, cause guess what? When you are older....I'll get to crap all over you.

Since he's only been in this world for 2.5 months he sure knows when to aim and shoot. So last week, his dear Auntie and I were at the mall. We noticed that he had pooped in his diaper so I put him in the back of our Subaru Forester to change. After I had cleaned up his poopy butt, I was in the process of disposing the diaper....when low and behold, I lost my damn mind. Then all I noticed was that my leg felt really warm...1 second later, I noticed it was PEE! That kid was peeing all over me. I moved aside, but obviously not quick enough, he had pee'd all down my legs. I was standing about 5 feet away from the car, and saw him peeing about 3 feet from the car. I just stood there in complete disbelief. Oliver's Auntie A was laughing her butt off at me. Man, never in a million years would I have thought that I would be pee'd on in public and it would have been funny. I laughed in horror and disbelief. I normally bring changes of clothes for the stinky boy, however I had never in a million years thought that I would have to bring a change of clothes for myself.

Yes, wasn't this another fun thing about motherhood?

Hair envy? I think NOT!

So we recently found out that Mr. Oliver has cradle cap. Cradle cap has something to do with the maternal hormones that he got through the placenta...as well as infant acne. Anyhow, babies that have cradle cap have flakes on their scalp...and the flakes from the scalp can create a rash on the babies eyebrows. Mr. Oliver has a nice dose of this. The treatment is a deep oil treatment and a vigorous brushing with my former tooth brush to scrap up the flakes on his scalp. I have to do this at least once or twice a week. Its not fun...and Mr. Oliver gets really pissy to have to go through this ordeal. So I'll embarrass him with bath photos.

Cry Cry Cry and cry cry cry some more

So around 9 am this morning, Mr. Oliver started to cry. I feed him and then decided to put him down for a nap. He seemed tired, however Mr. Oliver had other plans though. So he cried and cried, in between crying he did angry pacifier sucking. I closed my eyes and wished I was anywhere but there. Unfortunately between angry pacifier sucking and crying, he noticed that I had opened my eyes slightly and he cried even louder. He cried on and off for an hour, meanwhile in the next room, Oliver's auntie A was sleeping. She KNEW he was crying, but decided to ignore him and me for over an hour. I knew that Mr. Oliver wanted his mama, but I wanted him to instead have me! Wooo hooo!

So finally Auntie A shows up to rescue poor crying sobbing Oliver. She is the hero of the story. I asked her why it took her so long to show up. She claims she didn't hear him crying. Yeah right. How can you not hear this little punk cry? So she puts him with his mama, and he did a happy sigh. Man, I just suck as his faux mama.


Here's a picture of him loudly signing I'm hungry, feed me bastards!!

Pact with the devil

Mr. Oliver likes to wake up every morning very early. Normally we can make this punk sleep until 8 or even 9, however this morning, 7 am was pushing it. Especially since he demanded to be fed every 2 hours all night long. We are talking about 12 am, 2 am, 4:30 am, and 7 am. Oliver you are a punk ass. When he woke up at 7, I fed him and changed his diaper. I then put him back in bed with us and turned my back on him to hopefully bore him sleep. After a few minutes of kicking my back, he got bored and started to cry.

I told Crazy this morning that I was going to divorce him immediately. He asked me if I was taking Oliver, I said "Um....NO!", to which Crazy jumped up to say, "HELL NO, you get him." So we decided to band together and plot our next move. We decided that since he wakes us up so early in the morning, but keeps us up all night long, the second he demanded we all be awake, we would give him tummy time! AHA! Take that Mr. Oliver. Yes, crying ensued...big crying, angry crying. Yes, it was sweet revenge. However afterwards, he was still crying. I told Crazy I wouldn't divorce him if he brought in Oliver's mama.

So in came Oliver's mama. The second this little punk saw his mama, he stopped crying. Crazy looked at me and said, "You suck." To which I heartily agreed. I do suck. I will never live up to Oliver's mama ever. Then to make matters worse, he actually started to smile when he was put in the swing, and worse yet, after less than 1 minute of being with his mama, he did a very loud happy sigh.

How do I feel about this? Well, I realize that I will never measure up, and I will not even try to measure up. As Crazy said this morning, "You suck." Yes, I suck. Thanks Mr. Oliver for making me realize my true potential.

Bling Bling Bling

When I was pregnant, we constantly joked about Oliver being an investment banker or even a fund manager for one of the large investment firms. Hey, I can hope right? When I was in the hospital room, I was left alone in the room with Oliver. Guess what the topic was? It was what I had last read in the wall street journal. I remember Crazy came back into the room and told me that the nurse had quizzed him on what we were discussing in the room. Crazy told her that I was talking to Oliver about stocks and financial news, she just looked perplexed. :-) That's what we like to do here in the Crazy household.

When Oliver was born, I bought some new stocks. I figured since we were spending so much damn money on baby junk, I may as well buy the stocks. We bought some Johnson and Johnson, Procter and Gamble. I wanted to buy some Nestle stock, however it isn't exchanged in any of the American exchanges and I wasn't comfortable crossing foreign financial markets. I should buy some stock in Graco. Jeez, they have a monopoly on the market. We've spent a ton of cash on just their products alone! Hopefully the more I talk to him about finances and the market, the more interested he will become. Again, one can hope right?

Meet Mr. Oliver, he will hopefully surpass Warren Buffett and run his own Berkshire Hathoway type firm. Or as Crazy likes to call it, Warren Buffett will be Oliver's beeeeyatch.

Oliver's true mama

So when Oliver was less than a month old, we were trying to figure out how to calm him when he couldn't be comforted by us. Crazy started to talk me into getting a swing or a bouncy chair. Because I was so preoccupied with a crying Mr. Oliver, I said, sure whatever, I just wanted him out of my hair. So off Crazy went to Babies R Us (this store is the anti-christ). He came back 2 hours later with this huge contraption. Apparently he spent the entire time at the store reading all of the possibilities from all the different swings/chairs. He came back with a Graco (duh) swing/chair combo that cost around $140.

Moment of truth...we put his butt in there after Crazy set it up. It took Crazy about 10 minutes to put the seat restraints on the poor kid, meanwhile screaming...not just any screaming, I mean blood curdling SCREAMING! Oliver is then finally strapped in and we start the swing going as well as the music (yes it came with music). Then he just sits in the swing and stares at the location of the music. After the initial time with the swing, Oliver just started to scream. Every time we put him in the swing, he would scream and scream and scream. I was so upset about spending the dough on a piece of equipment that did not work.

A month later...we think he has colic. He cries and cries uncontrollably and cannot be consoled. One day, I put him in the car seat and rocked him and miraculously he stopped crying and even fell asleep. After a week, while brainstorming, we figured out that it wasn't the swing he hated, it was the position of the swing he hated. So Crazy moved the swing to a upright position, and in the swing Mr. Oliver went. Silence.....silence is so under rated. I love silence....I've missed it since his birth.

Nothing can comfort Mr. Oliver as much as this swing. I've given up being jealous, because I know I will never be able to measure up. Okay world, meet Oliver's Mama. Too bad this damn thing didn't go through labor and the resulting c-section.

Papa and Mr. Oliver

First bath....

First pot belly...

*note that crazy appears to be wearing the same t-shirt, crazy wanted me to let everyone know that its not the same shirt, he's got half a million of these same t-shirts.

Tummy Time or rather I hate you Mama time

At Oliver's 2 month appointment, his Pediatrician told us that we should give him some tummy time. What is tummy time you may ask? Here's what I got from Baby Center:

"Experts find that babies who don't spend time face-down often have some delays in their development of motor skills."

So...tummy time is essential to Mr. Oliver's future development of motor skills. First off, I need to say that I had no idea it was essential to his development of motor skills. From what I've been reading on various new baby forums, babies normally love tummy time. Imagine my surprise to realize that MY baby HATES it. He is a pretty strong dude in that he can stand up with a little help...however when it comes to being on his belly, all he can do is scream his huge head off. Speaking of which, my dear sister, Mr. Oliver's Auntie....pointed out that Mr. Oliver's head is about 1/4 the size of his body. Isn't she nice?

Anyhow, lets get back to tummy time. I try to do it in the mornings when he's "good baby" and not "evil baby", although I realize how easy it is for him to be evil baby...after all he is owned by an evil corgi. After a minute of being on his belly, I think he realizes, "Hey! I AM ON MY BELLY, AND I DON'T LIKE IT!" I wonder if my poor neighbors think that I am beating this poor kid.

So...I decided to shake it up and hold him above me....

But he didn't like it so I let him do tummy time with me underneath his belly...

Then on the start of his time on the boppy (half circle type pillow)....

Then its nuclear meltdown...

Guess what? Mr. Oliver still does not like tummy time. I asked crazy if he'd ever had tummy time as a kid, and low and behold, the answer was no. I also did not have tummy time as a child....this explains a lot doesn't it?

Mama rant

Oliver's 2 month weigh in was 12 lbs 10 ounces and measured 22.5 inches. Whenever we take him anywhere, people always tell me that he's a big boy. Some have even asked me whether he was a big baby...say around 9-10 lbs. To which I reply, no he was almost 8 lbs and a C-section. I wish I could just figure out a nasty enough comment to shut these people up. I've also noticed that people always feel they know how I should mother my child. Ridiculous I know. Let me give you a few scenarios.

One day while at the Gap in the city, Oliver demanded to be fed. I sat on the couch on the 2nd floor with Oliver strapped into the baby bjorn carrier and proceeded to feed him. The position he was in was type of a like a kneeling position, only he wasn't on his knees, just had his knees bent on my lap. He was comfortably eating when a woman who sat opposite me sat down and watched us for a few minutes. She then got up and walked over to me. Then she pointed to Oliver's leg and asked if the position hurt him, I said no....and it didn't really bother me until I told my sister what had occurred. She flew into a rage and was like, WTF, why would she say that?! That stupid woman needs to mind her own damn business. Oliver was not in pain, if he was, he'd cry and let us know. She should shut her mouth. My sister wanted to walk over and give the woman a piece of her mind. As I reflect back on it, I think that because I am a mother now, I am under a microscope when we are out in public. Another time, Oliver was once again on the baby bjorn carrier, while I was in line at Peet's coffee waiting to get some iced chai, the cashier asked if the baby could breathe....I looked at her and said, of course he can. People also offer a ton of unsolicited advice. What exactly am I supposed to do when people with bad manners offer me advice I do not seek?

The punk in me wants to tell them, thanks, now please use that advice on your own damn kid. I just need a snarfy enough comment to tell these people in no uncertain terms to keep their advice to themselves. Its weird that when I was pregnant, no one ever said a thing to me or touched me, however now that I am a mother with a child strapped to my chest, everyone has a ton of advice to give. I just don't understand what has changed in my demeanor to invite these comments.

hey Papa

This photo was taken 1 hour after Mr. Oliver was born. This kid definitely learned a lot while in the womb. He learned that gesture like a champ. Couldn't have done it better myself kid.

What you looking at?!

So people have commented on Oliver's hair. I feel I need to explain a few things about it.

When I first got pregnant, I said, the first thing I want to do when I give birth is to give my baby a faux hawk. Since I'm new to this motherhood thing, I had nothing else to look forward to.

First of all, not all babies have hair. The fact that my baby has hair makes me want to do things to it that would make other babies very J-E-A-L-O-U-S. :-)

Second....I wanted him to look like a punk or look spunky. I wanted people to look at him and leave with some impression...did that baby have a mow hawk? Why yes, you did see a baby with a faux hawk.

Third, I wanted to piss off my mother. Yes you heard it here first. My mother wanted him to be nice and square, and I'm sorry, we don't accept that in this house. My mother was staying with us when Oliver was first born, and she was kinda pissed when she saw what my sister and I did to his hair. I want Oliver to not be a conformist. I want him to smudge the lines and be himself when he grows up. I don't want him to have to follow rules, I want him to follow our rules, but not anyone else's rules.

Besides, doesn't he look totally rockabilly?

Oliver is alert!

We are attempting to blog about Oliver's birth, progress, and annoying habits. :-)

To begin, we had a child....we named Oliver. We've been married a long time and no one really believed we would ever have a child....but we like to keep everyone guessing. So in September 2006, we figured out we were pregnant. We figured that since I have 2 older brothers, he is the older of the 2 in his house that we would most likely have a boy. So we weren't all that surprised when in December, the ultrasound revealed we were having a boy.

I had a relatively easy pregnancy, except for the annoying OB we'll call "Barbie". Barbie was an alarmist and of course when she realized what a crazy I was married to, she quickly learned that if she wanted me to act on "medical advice", she'd have to just put the thought into crazy's head and to the hospital I'd have to go. Want examples? Well....I took the 1 hour GD test, failed...and I decided to take the 3 hour test a week later...however when Barbie learned that I failed the first test, she called crazy and told him that since my mother is diabetic....chances were very high that I would have GD...so in the next day I went. After 5.5 hours I made my way to work. I did not have GD through Oliver's pregnancy. Things just remained the same, she would call with these ridiculous concerns, and crazy would over react...and to the hospital I went to get poked and prodded. Nothing ever materialized, except me getting extremely annoyed by all of it. I even seriously considered not allowing crazy in the L & D room with me because I didn't want to deal with his crazy tendencies while I was busy trying to push a watermelon out of a lemon.

So to the birth story.....

I had a very easy pregnancy. On Sunday the day before he was born, ....my water broke. It actually happened twice...but I was too thick headed to realize it. But when I took a shower, and stood in the middle of the living room...and then my water continued to break....and Kylee ran over to investigate and then decided to dive right in...I realized that it was probably my bag of waters. Crazy called L & D and they asked us to come in. So...here comes the semi amusing part. I think they wanted us to go to the ER and get admitted that way. But I wasn't about to tell everyone in the ER waiting room that my water broke and then sit and wait while they found a room for me...so to L & D I went straight away, despite Crazy telling me that I had to go to the ER. They can't turn away a pregnant woman whose water broke, so I was admitted. :-)

They started to monitor my belly and I waited for contractions. I waited and waited and waited, and unfortunately I never had a contraction of my own. Apparently Mr. Oliver needed a map and detailed directions however, he couldn't navigate in the dark. Meanwhile, they told me I could have one last meal...felt like a prisoner, so I requested a burrito. So yes, Oliver, blame your gas on me. I had a steak burrito from the taco truck as the meal before they started to induce me. So fast forward to the next day...I've been on pitocin for 10 hours, had the Foley balloon for 4 hours....and only dilated 5 cm's. There was to be no more progress as infection set in and the worst case of back spasms hit. I bitterly complained about the back spasms and no amount of morphine or epidural or anything else helped ease the pain. However at 10:30 am I was wheeled into the OR to meet Oliver.

In the operating room, I felt so cold. I layed there with my arms stretched out shivering uncontrollably. It felt weird, and then I heard and felt crazy sitting behind me sniffling. Yes, he was crying because even he didn't realize that we would have go to this place. We both had assumed that we would have a normal delivery, but that wasn't going to happen. Promptly at 10:45 am, Mr. Oliver reared his white greasy head. After he was wrapped up and wiped up a bit, crazy brought him over. I sniffed him and kissed him on the cheek and promptly fell asleep.

Welcome to the world Mr. Oliver. If you don't find things to your liking, blame crazy and make him pay for it the rest of his life!