Anita Blanchard: The Baby

Mon, 24 Apr 2006 00:28:50 GMT

Ummmm, do you think this looks serious?

I noticed the red spot on Friday. I don’t know if it was on Friday morning or Friday afternoon, but I know that some time on Friday, I saw that Conor had a red spot on his upper arm. I figured that some bug had bitten him. It wasn’t swollen like a mosquito bite, but then again, I knew we were in the desert and he was unlikely to have to deal with mosquitoes.

I checked it again on Saturday and it was still there and it was still red. It was about the size of a quarter, but it really didn’t seem to bother him that much. He wasn’t scratching it and except for us looking at it, he didn’t notice it at all.

Then on Sunday morning, I saw that it had blisters, huge big blisters, swollen to the point of looking very scary.

Seeing blisters the size of a quarter on one’s son’s tiny arm is enough to make this mother freak out a little bit. The first thing I thought of was a spider bite. There are so many spiders in California, and in fact, Dave taking charge killed a big furry one walking along the bed in anger after seeing Conor’s arm. (We later decided it was a mistaken spider murder, but we figure we’ll be forgiven)

The only problem was that we couldn’t call our pediatrician’s office to find out what we should do. We are one of the last people in the world without a cell phone. Conor seemed fine enough but there was a ginourmous blister on his arm of suspicious origin. Should we go to Urgent Care (not right around the corner in 29 Palms, I’d like to add!) or could we wait and see the doctor back in Charlotte. For all we knew, it could be poison ivy from our own back yard!

I can lead you through the blow by blow of what we decided, but I think instead I’ll give you the highlights. They involve a pharmacist friend in the wedding party, an RN who works as the hostess in the Inn’s restaurant and Web MD.

It’s unlikely that it was a spider bite (sorry dead furry spider!) because they blister up quickly, they are very painful, and they are more likely to be a hard lumpish sort of think. Conor had no problem with us touching it (thus not painful) and we could tell by touching it wasn’t hard.

It was, however, likely to be plant poison, possibly from one of the cacti around our Inn or even from our quick trip to Joshua Tree. Plant poisons can take days to blister and we heard from the RN that the points of cacti (I really like saying cactuses better) contain poison. They wouldn’t affect us as we are big people, but a little toddler could react to it!

The whole blister thing has taken nearly a week to resolve. Today, he only has a scar in that spot, but it’s a huge, ugly purplish scar which we are now putting kiddie Mederma on. It never did itch and it never did weep, so we’re ruling out poison ivy. I swear I recall that on the first day he walked into a plant, but I could be wrong.

It’s times like those that make me think we should get a cell phone. But then again, it was Web MD that gave us the list of when to go to the doctor because of unknown rashes and blisters.

OK. I’m off to try to still catch up from our trip out west. Vacations in the middle of the semester suck.

Thu, 20 Apr 2006 01:41:28 GMT

Lots of Firsts

We have been in the desert. Wandering around for a few days and now we’re back.

No, I’m not kidding. We went to Joshua Tree and Twentynine Palms, CA for our friend’s wedding. And we took the little guy.

I’ve never been so impressed with our little muffin. He was a trooper on the plane: he only fussed a little and charmed the pants off everyone sitting around us. Of course, it helped having a window seat so he could see the little houses and cars and he loved the dozens of trucks driving around the airport. But honestly he was once again the best baby on the plane.

We also lucked into the best travel time to help him adjust to west coast time: we arrived 12 pm their time (3 pm ours) which was entirely too late for him to be awake without a nap (hence the fussing), but he was able to take a good nap from the Palm Springs Airport to our inn, which included a trip to Taco Bell (real Mexican food now that we were back on the west coast!) en route to the Inn. Food for us, nap for him.

Then we arrived at the Twentynine Palms Inn, a charming group of cabins on an oasis. Yes, a real oasis in a real desert. Besides the fact that it was the best restaurant in the city (they grow their own veggies), it was way cool.

And 30 minutes after we arrived, Conor got his first dip into a real pool.

He is a water baby. Even when his teeth were chattering from the cold of this unheated pool he wouldn’t leave. We took turns floating and twirling him around the water. After more than an hour, when we were all water logged, we took him out and back to our cabin. Can I tell you how adorable and heartbreaking it was to have our little guy sob “Bye-bye pool. Bye-bye pool” hugging our legs, waving and crying to his new favorite activity.

So we dressed him and took a tour of the grounds at which point he saw his first live ducks. (way cool!) We went to the fancy restaurant where he behaved like an angel and afterward sat out at the pool (he told him it had gone night-night) and listened to a classical music trio which enthralled him almost as much as clapping with everyone else between the songs.

Can I tell you how in love I am with my little guy? Two planes, a pool, ducks, a fancy restaurant, new music and a new place to sleep and he completely rolled with it. He was up for and excited about each new thing. What an amazing little man.

All in all, it was fun. There were some “interesting events” but we had a good time.

In the next entry, I’ll talk about our debate about whether to go to Urgent Care or not.

And btw, yes, I’m behind in blogging. Things are going on.

Fri, 31 Mar 2006 15:19:45 GMT

Feeling Our Way Through This

Way back in December, when I had the miscarriage, I remember feeling that I didn’t know what “path” we were on now. That I didn’t know what I supposed to feel or even what I was going to feel as we started the healing process.

I do know that I was surprised by how quickly I bounced back and was able to “get back to normal.” And I’ve been surprised by how I’ve had bad reactions to hearing good news about the pregnancy of others.

And now we’re at a whole completely new stage and I’m surprised at how I’m reacting now. First, we’re in our first cycle in TTC again. And I’m not going to tell you where we are on it just so we can deal with it when it happens by ourselves. But I do have to share with you that I’m not taking my morning temperature regularly.

Yikes! I know!! You’re just as shocked as I am. How can little Miss I-gotta-be-in-control not be taking her temperatures? Well, one reason is that the battery died and I’ve yet to replace it. But I wasn’t taking my temps regularly before then either.

Even more shocking was my reaction to the positive OPK: hmmmmmmm. Yes, my reaction was actually: hmmmmmmm. I even took tests two to make sure it was correct because I didn’t believe the first one This is coming from a woman who fairly whoops when we get a positive OPK, because I had evidence that things were finally “happening.”

I have been searching for how to name this feeling and I come up with ambivalence. (And little love bunny, if I do get pregnant and you’re born and you’re reading this, I was never ambivalent about you; I’m ambivalent about being vulnerable again and open to being hurt again)

It’s completely bizarre for me. I’m not temping, desperately searching for a sign that I’m pregnant. I’m not anxiously analyzing every twitch and tingle despite knowing there is no way possible for me to be sensing being pregnant. I’m not counting the days and hours until I can take my first pregnancy test.

I’m just sort of going with the flow. Which for me is quite unusual.

Tue, 28 Mar 2006 14:43:46 GMT

Twenty Questions with a Toddler: The Twilight Version

Do you want some nummies?

Yeah.

Do you want more?

Yeah.

Other side?

Yeah.

Do you want to go to bed?

No.

Do you want more nummies?

Yeah.

((Loop through above questions several times))

Do you want Daddy?

Yeah.

((Pause and exchange of parents))

Do you want to say Night-Night to everybody?

Yeah.

((Pause while father and son say night-night to all the stuffed and painted animals in the room))

Do you want to go to bed?

Yeah.

Do you want to lie down?

No.

Do you want to lie down?

No.

((pause and small grunt))

Are you going poop?

Yeah.

Are you pooping?

Yeah.

Are you done going poop?

((pause))

Yeah.

Do you want to change your diaper?

No.

Let’s change your diaper.

NO!

We have to change your diaper.

NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

((crying as diaper changed and then pause))

Do you want to rock?

Yeah.

Do you want some water?

Yeah.

Do you want to go to bed?

Yeah.

Do you want to lie down?

Yeah.

Nighty-night.

It’s not always this easy or this straightforward, but it’s pretty close. The poop thing was only over the weekend and can I just say how weird it is to ask someone if they are going poop?

It’s only slightly less weird to have them to answer “yeah.”

Sleep talking

In other toddler related sleeping news, Conor is increasing his sleep talking. Two nights ago, we heard over the monitor “Milk!!” (although it sounds more like “MEEE-ilk!”) Dave and I rushed around to find a sippy cup of milk and then went to Conor’s door at which point we realized he was sound asleep. Clearly, he was hungry (or thirsty or in his dreams at daycare fighting for his cup), but he was sound asleep.

Home Depot

That’s what it feels like around here. We’ve pretty much finished the bathroom. I’ll update flickr this afternoon. We also just had a truckload (literally!) of mulch delivered this morning for spreading around the yard. It’s a bargain and a half from the city; just $115. And with my friends arriving tonight for a 6 to 8 week visit, it shouldn’t take us nearly as long to spread it around. (We’re going to put them to work, not the least of which will be babysitting while Dave and I have a date or two!)

Tue, 21 Mar 2006 16:14:49 GMT

Nummies Kind of Go Night-Night

Well, last night’s sleep was muuuuuuuuuuuuuch better. Conor only woke up once at 11:15 which has become his first time to wake up, almost like clockwork. It doesn’t matter what time he goes to bed or what time we go to bed, he wakes up at 11:15 on the dot.

We tried the nummies go night-night explanation which led to hysterical screaming so I relented and soon Conor went back night-night. He then woke up about 30 minutes later and Dave game him a sip of water and he was back down for the rest of the night.

I don’t think he understands the whole “Sun goes down and Conor and nummies go night night” thing yet, so this morning, when he got up we made a big deal about how the Sun Was Up, Too (which it really isn’t because we’re having a freak cold snap including SLEET yesterday so it was really cloudy and not sunny at all). Nonetheless, there was a sort of glow behind the blinds in his bedroom so we’re going to promote that when the Sun Wakes Up, so Conor and nummies can too.

I do feel infinitely better today. And tomorrow I go back to the doctor for my repeat C/T scan to see what progress has been made. I will take your questions along with mine and see what we can see with this whole Chronic Sinus Infection that causes poopedness and potential delay in procreating thing.

In other news, we’ve finished painting the bathroom and bought new accessories (yikes! More expensive than I thought it would be). I’ll post new pictures here later on. It’s odd that now I feel like it’s gotten almost too understated. But I guess that’s what happens when you live in blue, yellow, terra cotta and sage house. Off white with blue accents just seems dull. We’re not finished yet, but we’re well on the way.

Does it ever really end though?

Mon, 20 Mar 2006 16:49:32 GMT

Sleep

Oh, dear, I am so tired. While surfing the net on chronic sinus infections and fatigue, I found that chronic sinus infections are often incorrectly diagnosed as chronic fatigue syndrome and that the most common indicator of a chronic sinus infection is not headache or pressure, but fatigue.

Add to that a toddler who doesn’t want to sleep and idiot parents who can’t figure out why and you’ve got one sleepy working mama.

Last Thursday, we had a horrible night of sleep. And it wasn’t until Dave (who kept waking up thirsty from our dinner) gave Conor a sippy cup of water and the child fell back asleep soundly did we realize that 1) we are truly idiots as parents and 2) water is good for children at night.

Last night, however, we could not figure out what the problem was. He was up nursing 13 (THIRTEEN…1! 3!) times from 11:30 pm until 6 am. He was in bed with us, otherwise, I would have slit my wrists, but we don’t know what happened. He did wake up with a running nose, so maybe there’s a sore throat involved. All I can conclude though at the moment is 1) we are still idiots and 2) I am fucking tired.

Dave agrees with Gabriella, our resident dentist/commenter, that I have a sleep deficit what with both the toddler and nose. I confess that I went to bed at 9:00 on Saturday, slept in until 7 am, and still did not wake up feeling refreshed. I tried to go to bed last night early, too, but even 15 minutes of the Sopranos worked me up so much I had a hard time settling down.

And as for how I’m feeling with the sinus infection, the only thing I can say is “tired.” There is no more snot coming out in any large fashion. I’m still on the antibiotics trying to kill off the film that is keeping those germies alive. But the most I feel is clogged, not congested, sort of like I’ve been swimming and my nose is irritated.

And I’m tired. But how on earth can I say I’m more tired than you are? Raise your hand if you are NOT tired? I’m looking out my window and I do not see a lot of people with their hands raised. So I’m tired. Yes, very tired. But what parent of young children isn’t?

As for the mega-nursing, tonight we are going to start the ol’ nummies go night-night routine. We’ll make sure the little guy has a big dinner and has lots of water before he goes to sleep. But Mom’s All Night Dinner is going to issue a last call for boob-a-hol around 8:30. And as we used to say in the bar where I used to be a cocktail waitress: “Either you work here, you sleep here, or you sleep with someone who works here. But you can’t nurse any more till the morning.” Or something like that.

In any case, boobies need to sleep, too. Or as he calls them “boo boos.” Mommy’s boo boos need to go night-night. They will wake up with the sun comes up and Conor can have more nummies then.

Now it’s time to go make another pot of coffee.

Tue, 14 Mar 2006 20:40:13 GMT

Cleverness in a Hurry

I have 5 minutes before I go pick up Conor from daycare, so I must be brilliantly speedy. Or speedily brilliant. Whatever. It is likely I will fail.

We spent the weekend tearing down trees and painting bathrooms. The bathroom still needs one more coat of paint and I am too damn tired after working all day to finish the job. So, it may have to wait until this weekend or until Friday night. The color is much, much better, and we’ll have the before and after show ready on flickr pronto.

TTC with a head full of snot

In much more exciting news, my wonderful OB has given me the go-ahead to start TTC this month, despite my ENT’s desire for me to wait. I have worked through the ENT’s main concerns by rescheduling my C/T scan before ovulation. And the antibiotics I’m on are just fine for pregnancy, so unless the ENT insists on surgery immediately, we’re a go-ahead for starting again this month.

Ironically, I’m taking some cough syrup, Robitussin G, which will help both with fertility and my sinus infection. Ain’t life grand?

Basa

More adorableness than you can stand: Basa is how Conor says Simba. Simba was the first cat whose name Conor could say and he called her Ba. Now, he’s trying to add the “s” sound but is apparently confused on where it should go. He’s put it at the end. So her name is now Basa (at least to him). At one point, while also trying to work in the “m” sound, he started calling her M’basa, which I thought was some sort of famous politician, but I clearly am not spelling it right.

Late for picking up my son….late for everything.

Thu, 23 Feb 2006 20:17:13 GMT

Forced Rest

Well, I suppose it’s supposed to be forced rest, but it’s turned more into forced stay at home and work here while tending to a sick wee one.

Conor woke up this morning with a 102 degree fever and I lost the parenting competition of who had more going on at work. Isn’t that pathetic? Isn’t it horrible that we have to negotiate who “gets” to go to work and who “has” to stay home and take care of our darling, sweet, but sick child? Doesn’t that make you want to donate a great deal of money to us so that at least one of us could stay home? No???? Well, how about donate a winning lottery ticket to us. We’d gladly take that, too.

He’s doing OK. He’s been very cranky and I’ve gotten him to take two long naps today. There’s something going around daycare (always!) and I thought he’d been able to skip it. Apparently not.

Good thing I brought home that boatload of work I was going to do last night but had finally hit the wall and couldn’t work and then luckily had something I could do while he was taking his 3 hour nap this morning. Of course, I have plenty to do, but this was fine “work” to do considering I’ve been up since about 4 am.

And there are some disgustingly cute things I have to share. First, he was walking around the house between naps looking for Dave. Although, in Conor-talk he was walking around the house chanting “Da-DEE Da-DEE Da-DEE.” There may have been some clapping and marching at the same time. It was pretty dang cute.

And I’ve been crushed because his pronunciation is improving so quickly. I didn’t realize I would only have 2 weeks in his life where he could melt me by saying his friends’ names Ol-ber and Yi-yett. Just yesterday, he was clearly saying Oliver and Wyatt and it just about broke my heart.

He also used his first two word phrase this week: More sausage. Trust me, that’s appropriate.

We are having to figure out how to deal with his first behavioral problem. He’s taken to smacking Patches on the nose when he gets frustrated. This is not acceptable. Patches doesn’t mind, but there’s a no hitting rule in this house. Whereas Conor is very receptive to No! on other occasions, this one is not working. I’m trying to think up some witty next sentence to add here that involves Conor questioning our parenting abilities as evidenced by Patches’ unruliness and throwing in an obscenity or two. But I am too damn tired.

So I’m going to leave now. Do you remember that feeling of being so tired you cannot wait to go to sleep? Well, since being a parent I can no longer count on the fact that if I’m tired I will get to sleep through the night. It’s a bittersweet feeling waiting for the evening to come.

Let’s hope the little guy gets to feeling better soon. If not, I’ll just keep repeating Ol-ber and Yi-yett to myself. That helps make it seem worth it.

Fri, 10 Feb 2006 14:25:24 GMT

In today's Charlotte Observer

"A gun in the home is 43 times more likely to kill someone known to the family than to kill someone in self-defense, according to Safe Kids Charlotte-Mecklenburg."

We've had a spate of children accidentally killing each other in Charlotte over the last two years. This quote comes from a shory in which a boy killed his sister with his father's sawed off shot gun. The father has been arrested for possessing a weapon of mass destruction: the sawed off shot gun.

These stories make me absolutely crazy.

Before I had Conor, stories like this were just sad. Now they make me tense. The muscles in my arms and hands go rigid and I get so angry. I can no longer watch stories on TV in which children are harmed. When I see a truly horrible headline in the paper, I have to skip the article and won't let Dave read it to me.

I hope that neither I nor anyone I know ever has to go through something like that. I can't even let my imagination approach that scenario, much less wrap itself around it.

Fri, 13 Jan 2006 14:17:14 GMT

Truck, Truck, TRUCK!!!

So we are the family that doesn’t watch television. This is true. Except for when it is not.

Like when dinner is late and we need a distraction for a hungry toddler. But being a family who does not know TV, we (or the male members of the household) simply surf the channels until we find something fun and entertaining.

And that is how we stumbled upon the Speed Channel and the Monster Truck Race that was going on at the time. And this would explain how I came to hear a certain toddlers excited chanting of truck, Truck, TRUCK over and over again. And how I came to see said toddler pointing at the TV shouting truck, bouncing on his little toddler legs shouting Truck!, and then in a fit of toddler ecstasy, running in place, stomping his little feet and legs in the toddler version of the Snoopy dance of joy while shouting Truck!! Trucks the size of houses are apparently a hit with toddlers. And despite all the cuteness of his joy of truckness, the part that melted our hearts is when they cut away to interview the truck drivers and Conor stood and faced the TV and signaled More.

My Own Day of Joy

So yesterday’s trip down to Clemson for the NSF conference was fantastic. I’m not a big fan o’ conferences (see yesterday’s post about me as a bad student), but yesterday’s conference was inspiring both about my research and my job.

And even better, on the 2 hour plus ride home, I got to jam by myself with my favorite music in the car. And though I’m not usually self-conscious singing in the car with others, when I’m by myself, I really cut loose.

And listening to the 70’s dance CD I made for my 40-th birthday party with the sunroof open on the car in 70 degree WINTER (!) weather was just about perfect.

My proudest moment came when during It’s Raining Men. My voice was warmed up from all the other songs, I was all alone and singing loudly, and when the high notes came, I hit them and held onto them with crystal clear precision. Well, at least that’s what it sounded like to me. And that’s the whole point of singing to loud music people. If the music is loud enough, you always sound good.

Feeling good about my work and having fun singing. That, my friends, is a selfishly good day.

Sun, 08 Jan 2006 14:07:11 GMT

So Maybe We’re not as Cheap as We Thought

The article is in the NY Times today. Hopefully, we do come across as “cheap enough” but look at all those toys. And the monkey rug! What a great picture of the monkey rug! Yes, the monkey rug was our big splurge setting up his room. The other big items, the crib and rocking chair, were gifts from our parents.

There are two different pictures in the print version of the Times. Conor is on the front page of the business section. And there’s a bigger picture of us in the section itself. Of course, WE ended up being the family who says they don’t buy things but who look like they buy lots. (Also note the quote from my Mom in there!) And despite the fact it looks like we were lying, I’m so psyched the rocking horse is in the picture! It’s so cute!!

The irony, oh, the irony. I guarantee I’m the only Mom in that article who exclusively buys her shoes at Payless and whose favorite boutique is Tar-jay.

OK. We slept in too late to get to church today; we go to the really early service which is so casual it allows folks to bring coffee into the actual service. The good news is that he’s sleeping later in the morning. The bad news is that there’s some wakeage in the middle of the night that’s leading to the later waking time.

I assume it’s all going to work out. He’s not going to be 15 and still nursing and waking in the night, right????

Tue, 03 Jan 2006 17:49:55 GMT

Gifts we Hate

We have heard, and we believe it’s true, that parents sometimes hate the gifts their children receive. For some parents, they hate the noisy gifts. We don’t mind those. In fact, we tell Conor “Go find your popper! We think your popper needs to take a loop around the house!”

No, the noisy ones are fine. For us, it’s the books.

“What?!?!” you say. “What kind of parent hates books??!!”

Well, I’ll tell you. The kind of parent who hates books is the one whose child screams and pitches a hissy when he has to eat instead of read a book. It’s the one whose child pokes his mother on the booty with said book until she stops cooking and sits on the floor and reads. It’s the one where noisy games provide more peace and quiet than the fifty-leventh reading of the truck book which has no plot, but instead is just pictures of different types of trucks, tractors, and trailers. (Jennifer, we really do love that book. It is absolutely his favorite. But it’s sort of too much his favorite, if you know what I mean.)

So we’ve taken to sometimes hiding his favorite books around mealtime. Of course, our wily toddler has learned our favorite hiding places and sometimes requests to be picked up so he can scope out our above toddler head level hiding places. He then points and grunts/moans until we give in and give him the book.

This morning was a bit of a breakthrough. While doing my morning chores, Conor sat at my feet and pulled up the tabs on his favorite pop-up book. I just had to throw out a few “Where’s the frog?” and “Is that a monkey?!” comments and he thought we were reading the book together.

Once again, we see a stellar demonstration for why I am up for Mother Of The Year.

It’s almost as beautiful a scene as the dinner last week where sitting beside each other, Conor began to grab my arm and tried to pull himself out of his booster seat into my lap. It’s annoying to try to eat with a child hanging on your every move. And I completely and utterly reverted to a child myself. “DAAAAAVE! He won’t stay on his side of the table. Why did you put him on my side? I can’t eat with him hanging on my arm. DAAAAAAAVE.” This was in the midst of our recent problem where Conor would only eat 1) in my lap, 2) while he was nursing and 3) while I sneaked food into his mouth between nursing.

We did switch sides for the next meal, by the way. And Conor has eaten nearly everything on his plate and sitting in his own chair. I was right. But my way of expressing it was not so mature.

Back to work. My conference paper awaits me.

Sun, 01 Jan 2006 12:40:17 GMT

Not This Sunday

Well, it appears the story is not in this week's NY Times. I assume it will run next week, or who knows, the week after that? Never?? Too cheap for the Old Gray Lady??? ;-)

In any case, the SLEEPING HAS GOTTEN BETTER!!!! Woohooo!!! Woohooo!!! Oh, joy and happiness!!

Conor is still waking at 3, but coming to bed for a quick, quick snack and sleeping for another few hours, snacking again, and (here is the exciting part), going back to sleep again. For the first time in months and months, Conor is sleeping until 7:30 or 8 instead of 5:30 or 6.

Oh happy, happy, joy, joy.

Life is better on a full night's sleep.

Fri, 30 Dec 2005 14:55:32 GMT

Mixed Boob Blessings

I’ve been wanting to write about how much it has helped me since the miscarriage to still be breastfeeding. Certainly, right after we found out that we lost the baby, I could not have wanted more to have that close physical contact with Conor that breastfeeding gives me. It really helped to hold my warm, living child in my arms while he snuggled against me.

The problem is that I really needed to write that blog entry around the time it was happening. Because now, my head is about to pop off my body with the boobs.

First off, we’re pretty sure Conor picked up that something sad was going on in our lives. He started wanting to nurse more often and really wanted me to hold him a lot. He’s a sensitive little boy, and because we could tell that Patches knew something was up, we attributed Conor’s need to snuggle as his need to comfort us too. (In toddler logic, if it makes me feel better, it surely must make you feel better, too)

Then, I think we hit some sort of developmental milestone. And when babies and toddlers hit milestones, apparently, they regress. We’re voting that it’s his newfound vocabulary that is causing “this”, but it’s got to be something.

And what is “this”? Well, he’s started waking up A LOT in the night and wanting to nurse A LOT. Last night we were up for 2 and a half hours nursing, co-sleeping, getting him back in the crib, coughing and generally NOT SLEEPING. But nonetheless, the boob was the primary focus of this time awake.

Then, we’ve got the “mommy hold me” issue. And oddly, it’s happening DURING MEALS. And not only that, he wants to nurse during meals now. He starts off in his chair and eats a few bites. Then he insists he’s through and gets out of his chair and then demands to get in my lap and nurse. Then after nursing for a few minutes, he wants me to feed him the rest of his meal and give him his sippy cup like a bottle of milk while he lays back in my arms. ((The irony here is that I’ve never given him a bottle of milk in my arms))

The mommy hold me mealtimes started right after the miscarriage, so I do think it’s related to our emotional upset. But then I think everything has sort of started getting all muddled together: his developmental leaps, our continuing emotional healing, his sensitivity to everything.

The good news, and yes, there is some, is that my Attachment Parenting group on CharlotteMommies.Com have reported going through the same thing around the same time with their (still) breastfeeding children. And according to them, it all of a sudden stops one night and their children started sleeping again. Oh, God(dess), please!

I really do think it has got to be something developmental. We are shocked at how many words he is picking up daily. We can just see the wheels turning in his head. Last night I taught him elbow and knee. You could see him process the words and stick them somewhere in his brain.

And although I won’t, I should probably consider not singing my favorite song to him while I change his diaper or give him a bath. Sometimes I just sing it when I’m in the mood for something fun:

I see your booooty

All warm and cuuuuutie

I see your boot, boot, boot, boot

Booty booty booty booty!!!

(The last line is sung in a high voice and involves goosing said warm and cutie booty)

Why should I stop? Because yesterday in the parking lot of the grocery store, he just volunteered Booty as a word to consider.

So, ok, fine. Let’s all consider the word booty. And while we’re at it, let’s all sleep a wee bit more tonight than we did last night. And then again, let’s all snuggle with our smoochies a little bit more tonight too. It’s always mixed together, isn’t it?