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Tuesday, December 22, 2009

10 Baby Gear Products That Helped Me Maintain My Sanity

The combined responsibilities of working at a demanding full-time job, taking care of an adorable 5-month-old baby boy, and maintaining some sort of relationship with my cutie-pie husband has kicked me in the butt. Those first couple of months especially were just a blur of emotions, feedings, diapers, and tears (both the baby’s and mine).

But I did manage to learn a few things along the way. Mostly I learned that I had a lot to learn. I also learned that the right product at the right time could be a lifeline to a new mommy.  So in an effort to help other new moms maintain a semblance of sanity, here’s a handy-dandy list of some of my favorite products.

Just keep in mind that you and I may have different definitions of sanity. If your version of sanity doesn’t include anti-depressants and large amounts of sushi, you may want to take the following advice with a grain of salt.

Also - I’m not giving any brand names (for the most part) because nobody is paying me for the tens of seconds it takes to do a Google search and copy a link.

1.  Swaddle Blanket

P1010006My little one loved to be swaddled. Babies have a startle reflex that causes them to throw out their little arms and legs, and swaddling keeps them from waking up from it (says Pseudo-Dr. Leslie). My baby book had diagrams and instructions for the proper swaddling of a newborn, but there isn’t a book in the world that could teach the intricacies of swaddling to this engineer. The nurses in the hospital were all “look how good I am at swaddling with a plain old blanket,” but I was all “don’t make me do anything complicated when I’m functioning on only ten minutes of sleep and a diet coke.” So this swaddle blanket with Velcro closures was just what I needed.

2. Travel Swaddle Blanket

I never even knew these things existed until my baby shower, but I ended up loving it. We were able to keep baby Michael swaddled in his car seat, and even when we stopped swaddling him we kept using it to keep him warm when we were out and about. Because those trips to and from the pediatrician in August in Houston in an SUV with a broken rear air conditioner get mighty chilly.

3. Swing(s)

SmilingInSwing

If you’re a research maven and bookworm like I am, you’ll come across the line of thinking that you shouldn’t put your baby to sleep in a swing because then it will be difficult to get them to fall asleep in their cribs. I’m sure some very Smart People came up with that thought, and it made a lot of sense when I first read it, but then I realized that those Smart People are able to write books because they’re not sleep-deprived from dealing with a screaming baby. So until those Smart People come to my house to babysit for me, any baby that lives in this house will have 24x7 access to a swing.

We kept the first swing upstairs in our bedroom, making it possible for me to shower and even answer Nature’s call every now and then. Fortunately for me, I didn’t have to answer Nature’s call very often because I didn’t usually see a meal until sometime in the afternoon. It was just too difficult to eat a bowl of cereal or even make toast while holding a newborn.

It was a full six weeks (maybe more), before it occurred to us to get a swing to keep downstairs in the kitchen. Because Smart People don’t live in this house, no matter what those college diplomas say. They don’t teach common sense at the university. But we did eventually figure out that another swing might be a good idea. And it CHANGED OUR LIVES. The air smelled sweeter. The birds sang more sweetly. And Nature put me on speed dial.

4. Formula

MichaelInHat

Formula isn’t typically listed as baby gear, but I felt that I should include this for all those nursing mothers out there that live by the mantra, “The br**st is best.” I, too, spent the first month of Michael’s life as a Nursing Nazi (“No formula for you!”), until I realized that maybe his constant crying was because he was a wee bit hungry. So we began supplementing with formula and ended up with a very happy baby. I thought that I would feel guilty giving Michael formula, but, honestly, I was so exhausted from the constant feedings that I couldn’t make the formula fast enough. Got milk? That’s great. But a bottle or two (or three or four) of formula a day won’t cause irreparable harm.

5. Boppy

P1010018

I’m considering writing the Boppy company and suggesting that they create some sort of backpack/harness thingy to use to carry the Boppy because I didn’t go anywhere without it the first couple of months. I used it for nursing, cuddling, bottle feeding, and baby naps. I now occasionally use it to help Michael sit up. Oh, it is a wondrous thing.

6. iPhone

I’m going to go on record as saying that an iPhone is the new must-have item for mommies. Need to know when you last changed/fed the baby? There’s an app for that! Looking for a way to stay awake during midnight feedings? There’s an app for that! Wondering if your husband is on his way home to relieve you from baby duty for a few minutes? There’s an app for that! (I have plans to write a post about my favorite apps, but I’m not making any promises because I’m keeping my distance from things like Obligations and Commitments.)

7. Zippered Footy PJ’s

One of the scariest things that I’ve ever done is pull a tiny T-shirt over my son’s soft-spot-ridden head and around his baby bird neck. Who needs that kind of stress after pushing a watermelon through a pin-hole? We waited until Michael’s umbilical cord stump fell off before putting him in zippered PJ’s, but considering it was almost a month before that happened, the next baby will probably end up being zipped up long before then.

8. Pack & Play Bassinet

It’s a bassinet! No, it’s a changing table! No, it’s a play pen! But wait, it’s all of the above! That’s some serious bang for your buck. Or, in my case, for my brother’s buck since he’s the one that bought it. But you get my drift. (Does anybody say that anymore? Besides thirty-something women that are seriously out of touch with what the young people say these days?) It won’t work for a small bedroom because it’s actually pretty large (large as in “look how big it is”, not large as in “large and in charge” or “livin’ large” or any other out-dated phrase). But if you have the room for it, it may be a better choice than a bassinet that you’ll use for only a couple of months before wrestling it into the attic.

9. Paci Wipes

IMG_9720

I love my boy. I really do. But cleaning his paci fifty times a day after he has spit it out (with some force, I might add) is one of the more tedious chores of motherhood. It’s even more frustrating when out and about. I do have those little clip thingies to attach a paci to his clothes or car seat or whatever, but I have a fear that the ribbon keeping the paci from touching the floor will wrap around his sweet wrist and cut off the circulation (because looking for reasons to be anxious has become quite the hobby). The Paci wipes are great because I can just whip them out of the diaper bag and clean off the mute button paci without having to find a faucet.

10. Receiving Blankets

Or, as we like to call them, drop cloths. I just love cuddling with my little one, looking into his big blue eyes while he gives me that gorgeous gummy grin, thinking about what a privileged mommy I am to have such a beautiful/sweet/darling/smart baby boy. But, just as often as not, my beautiful baby boy’s gummy grin becomes the Fount of Many Feedings. So we’ve learned to lay him on a blanket whenever we can. It’s much easier and cheaper to throw a blanket into the wash than to take a comforter to the cleaner’s.

 

Well, there you have it. You’re probably impressed, irritated, or confused by my many words. If you’re impressed, I can safely say that you’re sleep-deprived. If you’re irritated, you must be one of those Smart People. But if you’re confused…Congratulations, you’re a mommy.

Links Worth Following 12/22/09

  • My husband is in the running to sing the National Anthem at a Houston Texans game! Garrett is Finalist #12. I was so proud of him that he was able to pull this off after being sick. His voice got pretty messed up (a lot of hacking involved) and I was afraid for a while that he wouldn’t be able to go to the audition, but he did it and sounded great!
  • Antique Mommy shares 10.2 Ways To Be A Gracious Guest. I thought this was brilliant. I thought numbers 2 and 9 were especially helpful.
  • Caring for Your Introvert. I LOVED THIS. It’s tongue-in-cheek but hits on a lot of truth. I can’t tell you how many times strangers have said to me, “Smile, it can’t be that bad!” I always want to say, “Nothing is wrong, I was just thinking.” But I’m an introvert and don’t want my response to be misconstrued as an interest in getting into conversation.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

He's going to hate us for this one day

Children are born to endure torture and embarrassment from their parents. Garrett and I are prepared to take this responsibility as far as it will go, and we haven’t wasted time getting started.

I’ve included here for your viewing pleasure a little video Garrett took of Michael at six days old. A little background: this video was taken in the morning right after I’d nursed Michael. I left him in his daddy’s care while I got ready for the day. Garrett, ever the proud father, believes that it’s always a good time to take a picture or a recording of the little one. So he grabbed his Blackberry and recorded these moments for posterity.

You’ll hear Garrett’s voice in the background, but I firmly stand by the conviction that there are two sides to every situation and both sides should be heard. As mommy, I am all powerful and can read my son like no one else. So I’ve also provided a transcript of Michael’s thoughts while this video is being taken.

Wow, I passed out. I wonder if anyone noticed. Where am I? Eh, who cares. I’ll just enjoy the moment.

Aaah, clean diaper, soft sheets, full belly…life doesn’t get better than this. If only I could tune out that guy I could pass out again. Maybe if I close my eyes he’ll stop.

It’s working!

Wait, spoke too soon. What the heck, he means well. The forehead massage is kind of nice. I was worried for a second there that he’d get my soft spot, but it’s all good. Hey you, do it again, just stop talking.

He’s not going to stop. That’s ok. I’ll pay him back tonight when he’s the one sleeping. Heh heh heh. Yeah, that’s right, chucklehead. Laugh it up. I’ve got plans.

Oh no, slipping back into the milk coma. What does that woman eat? Someone should really talk to her about her diet….

Ok, I’m back. There he is again. Still talking. Yaaaaawn. The things I have to put up with. Wait…what? What is that thing?! Get that thing out of my face! You don’t know who you’re dealing with! I’m telling you, I will cut you!

Ok, you called my bluff. I don’t have enough muscle control to cut anybody, but what I do have is a full belly. So I’ll show you! This diaper isn’t staying clean for much longer! WATCH THIS, FUNNY GUY!!!

That’s my boy.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Baby Michael may wish he was deaf

 

My husband totally stole my thunder as a lullaby singer.

I used to daydream about singing to my baby, knowing that my child would be too young to judge my voice. But, proving that “the best laid schemes of mice and men go often askew”, I married a professional singer (AKA The Singing Financial Advisor). I promise you, even a two-month-old can tell the difference between Garrett’s trained voice and my out-of-tune croaks.

But I got over it. In part because the dream wouldn’t die, but mostly because the older I get, the less I care about looking ridiculous (and it’s a good thing, let me tell you, or I’d never leave the house). Please allow me to share with you my repertoire.

  1. “Jesus Loves You”
    This would be the ever popular “Jesus loves me, this I know…”, but I replace the “me” with “you”. I was inspired by that great piece of television history, “Touched By an Angel”. I always get shivers at the end when Monica lights up like a Christmas tree and tells some wayward soul “God loves you!” I watched a lot of “Touched By an Angel” on my maternity leave and realized that Michael needed to hear that God loves him, and often. Adapting “Jesus Loves Me” seemed like the most child-friendly way to do that.
  2. “Baby Mine”
    I cried the first time I sang this to Michael. I dare you to watch this video without tearing up. 
  3. “I’ll Love You Forever”
    One of my best friends gave me the book I’ll Love You Forever as a baby shower gift. I cried the first time I read it to Michael. (Yes, again. I’m such a mess.) In the book, the mother sings the following to her son: “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.” I made up a little melody to go with the words and sing it to Michael when I’m feeling sweet. It makes for a tender moment between mother and son, even though Michael doesn’t know what the heck I’m saying.
  4. “Swinging on a Star”
    Garrett used to sing this song to my belly when I was pregnant. He had some of his choirs sing it when he was a choir director, and it remains one of his faves. Garrett sang it to Michael right after he was born while he was getting checked out by the nurses, and I promise you that Michael recognized it! He quieted down right away. Since it worked such wonders right after birth, I’ve insisted that Garrett sing it to the baby many times since then. So maybe it isn’t so much one of his favorites anymore, after all. Anyway, I don’t sing this one because Garrett does it soooo much better than me. And I can’t be bothered to learn the words. I get so confused and mix up the mule and fish and whatever other critters are in the song. It’s just too much for my brain to handle.

 

So there you have it. Three songs sung by Mommy and one by Daddy. Go to Missy’s blog for more lullaby ideas!

Thursday, August 27, 2009

And baby makes 3 (hours of sleep, that is)

BirthDay This blog officially transformed from Newlywed Blog to Mommy Blog on the coolest birth date ever – 07/08/09. Michael Thomas entered the world at 5:27 pm, weighing 7.5 pounds and measuring 20.75 inches. I’m a mommy! Can you believe it?

All mothers think that they have the most beautiful and special child to have ever graced this planet with their presence. They brag about every accomplishment, both real and imagined. After boring you with every minor detail of their child’s life, they confide in you that they are certain that their spawn is destined for greatness.

And I’m no different.

So let’s just get that out of the way, shall we?

My son is the most beautiful child to ever be born of woman. I know just from looking into his eyes that he is also the smartest. I feel certain that he’ll be walking by 3 months and speaking by 5 months. He will spend his first birthday putting the finishing touches on The Great American Novel, allowing him to focus on Broadway adaptations of various John Hughes movies. Sixteen Candles – The Musical will be his breakthrough endeavor. At 5 he will be the youngest member of the US Olympic team, competing in a minimum of three sports. By ten he will have been on the covers of every major magazine, but he won’t care because it would be too much of a distraction from his research into finding a cure for the common cold.

But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Let’s start at the beginning…

Like most birth stories, Michael’s birth day was nothing like I imagined it would be. I thought for sure that Michael would come a month early and weigh 20 pounds. But his due date came and went without a peep from him. My body did not take well to pregnancy (major understatement), so we decided to induce labor as soon as possible, which was two days after the due date.

By 7 am, I’d been strapped in, induced, and had my water broken. The whole breaking of the water thing scared me, but I totally didn’t feel a thing other than the trickle of fluid. As a matter of fact, the most painful part of the first couple of hours was the blood pressure cuff on my arm that was intent on breaking a bone, or at the very least driving me to have words with the medical staff about their faulty equipment (mission accomplished). I am now convinced that it was part of a vast right (hospital) wing conspiracy to take the focus off of my labor pain for as long as possible.

Speaking of pain, the word of the day was Epidural. The doctor informed me that the magic number for the magic juice was 4 cm. I came into the hospital at 2 cm, so I thought, “No problem!” Well, after a couple of hours of ever-increasing pain, the nurse suggested that I take something for the pain because I was nowhere near getting the epidural.

After that dire statement you better believe that I said yes to her offer. And I regretted it. Whatever she gave me made me hazy and loopy well into the next day. It knocked me out for a little bit, but once I woke up I felt every contraction with the added problem of having trouble communicating. So for the next couple of hours I lay in bed moaning, “Oh God, no no no NO NOOOO…” without much awareness of anything going on around me. I was in my own little world of Pain.

(Side note: Contractions felt totally different than what I thought they would feel like. I expected sharp stabbing pains, but instead contractions felt like a dull-yet-extremely-intense ache. Kind of like food poisoning with rhythm.)

Once I did reach the goal of 4 cm, the anesthesiologists were too busy to get to me right away. Of course. I expected no less. Ninety minutes passed before one of them got to me. The good thing about the delay was that I continued to dilate, so most of my dilation occurred without an epidural.

Having the epidural administered was one of the most difficult parts of the day. I was desperate for an end to the pain, but I had to be completely still or the doctor wouldn’t continue. I had at least two contractions during the administration of the epidural. Keeping my body still during those contractions took every bit of my will power.

It should have been smooth sailing after the epidural, right? Well, not so much. Before I go into that, let me first say that my husband and I did not romanticize labor. We didn’t care one bit about it being a “beautiful” experience. Labor is called “labor” for a reason: it hurts, it takes a lot of work, it hurts, it’s physically and emotionally draining, and oh yeah, IT HURTS! All we cared about was seeing our beautiful baby.

We were prepared for the unexpected, and we got it – THE EPIDURAL WAS TOO INTENSE! My lower body became completely numb. I felt absolutely nothing. As a matter of fact, my legs were so numb that it actually hurt. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but that’s the only way I know to describe it. I became completely paranoid that my legs would get into some sort of weird position and cut off the circulation, and I wouldn’t be able to feel it to do something about it. So instead of dealing with contractions, I was dealing with the beginnings of a panic attack.

Once it was time to push, my body started shaking like crazy. But I was completely useless. Since I couldn’t feel anything, I was not able to pinpoint how to push. From the reading I’d done about labor and epidurals, I knew this wasn’t right. Forty-five minutes of blood-vessel-popping pushing achieved nothing. They moved me into four different positions, but nothing worked. While the nurses whispered about a C-section, I somehow communicated to my family that THE EPIDURAL, IT NEEDED TO GO AWAY.

The anesthesiologist was called in to turn off the epidural. After about fifteen minutes, I was able to feel enough to properly push. My doctor arrived at around this time and determined that a C-section would not be necessary. So I started pushing.

One of the nurses offered to bring over a mirror so I could see the baby’s head. The mirror hadn’t interested me before, but I said sure, why not. It ended up being the turning point. Besides the awe of seeing my little boy’s head for the first time, I was able to see what pushes were productive. So twenty minutes after resuming pushing, my son was born!

My first thoughts after seeing Michael consisted of the following:

  • “Oh my goodness, that’s a real little person!”
  • “He’s so beautiful! I DIDN’T REALIZE HE’D BE SO BEAUTIFUL!!!”
  • “I COULD TOTALLY DO THIS AGAIN!”

Michael’s arrival was met with much yelling, laughing, crying, and rejoicing. Seeing the joy and pride on Garrett’s face was one of the best things about the day. Seeing my baby boy’s face for the first time was the other best thing. I’ve always thought that babies look so much alike, but I could have picked Michael out of a baby line-up after looking at him for ten seconds. It seemed like I’d known his face forever. Maybe that’s because he looks so much like his daddy!

I just love this kid.

P1010003His Abuelita is pretty crazy about him, too.

MomWithNewbornMichaelWhat mother wouldn’t love this face?

3776806410_5d5f86c195 Or this face?

3776352531_fdd8f460d4 Or especially this face?

3776356393_be99e3d425 Whether he’s sleeping…

ComingHome …or wide awake…

P1010080 …he’s my son, and I adore him.

I am truly blessed.

P1010041

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

What does one do while waiting for a dream to come true?

The waiting is almost over. We’re scheduled to be induced tomorrow morning at 6am, otherwise known as the butt crack of dawn. Praying that they still have a bed available for us at that time.

That leaves us about 18 hours of anxiousness to occupy with the mundane. Our chosen brand of mundane is sleep. Which shouldn’t be difficult considering the lack of sleep that we’ve been dealing with lately, but here I am on my computer so you can see that already things aren’t going according to plan.

Garrett, on the other hand, is napping on the couch. I can’t tell you how much I love to watch that man sleep. He’s just the cutest thing. And he certainly deserves to catch a few z’s. I knew when I married him that I was a lucky woman, but after the way he’s taken care of me the last nine months I can assure you that I am married to the best husband ever. There was no way for us to predict how sick I’d be during this pregnancy, but he just went with it, taking care of me, our pets, the house, and working at building up his new business all at the same time.

Garrett is the kind of man that any mother would want for her daughter. He’s the kind of man that I want for my sisters and friends. And he’s the kind of man that I would love to see Michael grow into. Just to be clear, please allow me to list some traits that describe exactly the kind of man I mean, in no particular order:

  • Hard-working
  • Intelligent
  • Funny
  • Kind to friends and strangers
  • Smiling eyes
  • Takes whatever God teaches him to heart
  • And he’s just darling

He also sings like an angel, but there aren’t many guys that can sing like him. So good luck finding that in someone else.

I waited a long time for Garrett. I never thought I’d enter my thirties without a husband or children, and there were definitely some lonely times. But God used that time well. I grew so much closer to Him, had opportunities for ministry and travel, developed great friendships, and was able to devote some quality time to my family.

Now I have a wonderful husband and am about to deliver my firstborn. The purr of joy and contentment in my heart is loud and strong. I feel ready for the future, excited, alert. The way I felt the weeks before I met my future husband.

So I think I’ll spend some of the next 17 1/2 hours treasuring these things and pondering them in my heart. It’s not every day that I get the chance to prepare for seeing a dream come true.

Monday, July 6, 2009

“Pregnancy – 40 Weeks” or “I’m trying to distract myself from the pain and discomfort by writing this post”

Picture it: Mayaguez, Puerto Rico, 1974. A young peasant girl administrative assistant, cheeks still pale from the trauma of natural childbirth, leaves the sterility of a hospital and walks into the warm tropical air holding her firstborn…

Then again, there’s no need to “picture it” when there’s an actual picture available:

ComingHome

That young administrative assistant was my mother, and that firstborn was me!

A few things to note about this picture:

  • My mother looks like she’s about 14. But she was actually 21. Really. Almost 35 years later, she looks like she’s about 30. Here’s proof:

Mom

  • Notice my mother’s smooth straight hair.
  • Notice my head full of hair – at birth.
  • Notice I do not have my mother’s hair.
  • Notice my cheeks.
  • I still have those cheeks. Here’s proof:

Leslie Maddox Small Edited

  • My appearance as a newborn saddled me with a nickname. I’ll let you guess the nickname, and why, with even more proof:

bettyboop

And look who else has chubby cheeks!

38Weeks 38Weeks-Edited

He comes by them honestly:

GarrettLeslieFormal-Small-Edited

Back to the original picture – moments after my parents brought me home for the first time, my mother placed me in a bassinet, stared down into my face, and then listened as I exploded in my diaper. Then she cried.

I should meet my firstborn within the next 72 hours.

According to the ultrasound, Baby Michael has lots of hair and chubby cheeks. Just like his mama.

I’ll eventually leave the sterility of the hospital and walk into the warm air with my firstborn. Just like my mama.

Unlike my mama, I will be 34 and not 21.

Unlike my mama, I will do all I can to avoid a natural childbirth.

And unlike my mama, my hair will not be smooth and straight but curly and frizzy.

(It will explode in volume once I step out of the hospital and into the water-saturated Houston air.)

(I will attempt to combat the extreme volumizing by weighing it down with mousse and gel.)

(I will lose the battle with the humidity, but not for lack of trying.)

Picture it: Houston, 2009. A (not-so-)young peasant girl engineer, legs still weak from the effects of an epidural, leaves the sterility of a hospital and walks into the humid south Texas air holding her firstborn…

(…sob…darn pregnancy hormones…sob…)