I've decided to re-write what we know about baby development into a much more user-friendly guide. Current literature out there wants to 'fancy' it up, whereas most of us just want things broken down into easily understood bites.  Because let's face it - parenting is a crazy process and we just want things to go well.

So here you have it, infant development in three easy-to-understand stages. 

Months 0-3: The Alien Phase

Congratulations! You just welcomed a small, strange creature into your life. This little alien has absolutely no way to communicate with you except to scream and cry whenever it needs something. It's up to you to decipher the screams and not lose your sanity in the process.

The little alien doesn't like to sleep on a schedule, wants to eat at all hours of the night, and frequently will poop, pee, and spit-up on you. Without care to what you are wearing or if you are trying to get out of the door without having to change your outfit for the third time. And you are expected to handle this with grace and class, even though you are thinking to yourself, "If anyone else in my life pooped or peed on me, I would terminate the relationship." You don't get a lot back during this phase, but the good news is that when the little alien is sleeping, he/she looks angelic and snuggly, making you forgive them for the last time they puked on you.

During this phase, your life is going to be ruled by one word: SLEEP. Because you are not getting enough of it. Moms-to-be may dismiss this with a quick hand wave ("I went to college...I know what it's like to pull an all-nighter") when in reality, it's like pulling an all-nighter for TWO MONTHS straight. I think they intentionally make baby bath products smell good so you can at least snuggle up to your baby and breathe in their smell without packing up your car and joining the witness protection program. Your emotional brain loves your baby, but your logical brain is asking, "Um...when does this get better?"

Months 4-6:  The Blob Phase

Good news! That small little alien you welcomed into your life several months ago is growing. And growing, and growing, and growing. And with that growth means better sleep, for both you and the little alien. Best of all, the alien finally stopped its futile protest to re-enter the womb and has finally accepted his lot in life: to live in this world as a small blob. Because during this time, your baby doesn't do much.

You don't really care that your baby doesn't do much; you are just so excited to get more than 4 hours of sleep (in a row) at night that you high-five random strangers on the street. You whistle in the morning out of sheer joy that REM sleep has returned and the bags under your eyes are finally starting to go away. During this time, you might also seriously consider rejoining the human race. Because you finally have time to shower, put make-up on, and be pleasant to other people (i.e. when others ask how you are doing, you are able to use an indoor voice, instead of scream, "I AM SO TIRED!!".)

Baby development, however, is kind of stalled at this time. They are not really sitting up, so its hard to play with toys. They don't really acknowledge other babies, so playdates are also tough. They are still eating their very weird diet of breastmilk and/or formula, so its not like they can join you for a meal. Most of the time, they are happy to bounce in a jumperoo and cram their chubby legs into a Bumbo seat. Now is a very good time for you to get your hair highlighted, make a nice meal for your husband (to make up for the last three months of constant whining about how tired you are), and perhaps check your email. Welcome back, Mom.

Months 7-12: The Puppy Stage

And finally, the golden age of infant development. Your baby is not quite human yet and reached that moment I like to call 'the dawn of consciousness,' but they are awfully cute and fun to interact with. You can teach them tricks at this age ("high five!").  You can feed them table scraps and they bounce up and down with excitement. People stop you when you are out walking to comment on how adorable your 'puppy' is and you never, ever leave the house without a poopy bag (aka the Diaper Bag.) 

The downside of this stage? The mess. Like any good puppy, they are into everything. Nothing in your home is sacred. Just this past weekend, I skyped with my parents and sister (who is in IN visiting), and in the 10 minutes baby Ben was on camera, he managed to sit still for 2 minutes (only because he was pooping in his diaper), scuttle onto the carpet, avert my mother's arms and head straight for the coffee table, wedge himself into the coffee table and start chewing on the electrical cords. It was like watching a small, very determined tornado in action. I half expected him to put a hole in the drywall or knock down the desk, but my mom and sister were right there to stop him in his path of destruction.

So yes, while you will lavish in the praise of others who think your baby is adorable, your house will also never be the same. They will make a mess on your carpet, eat your houseplants, and lick anything that comes their way. But at this point, they are sleeping so you could really care less. 

*****

There you have it. Put down those silly baby books and just use my easy three-phase system. And be sure to get some sleep!

Like most stay-at-home-moms, I read mommy blogs. I write a mommy blog, so it only makes sense that I should read some, too. And there are some good ones out there -- among my favorites is babyrabies.com. (yes, it's when 'baby fever' reaches a fevered pitch and turns into baby rabies...). The author seems to have her stuff together and I relate to a lot of the things she blogs about. I am still laughing at her sleep training entry (and mentally writing my own in my head).

But today, she was a little more serious and published a link to probably the most disturbing article I've read in months. It was so disturbing that I promptly published it on my Facebook page, urging all parents to read it. Because it highlights every good parent's greatest fear: accidentally causing your child harm. Or in this case, death.

As I said on Facebook, the article is grisly. And tough to get through. But I also think it's important to bring awareness to this subject in order to prevent it from ever happening again. Because it doesn't just affect moms or dads...it could happen to grandparents, aunts, uncles, or any caregiver.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/02/27/AR2009022701549.html?sid=ST2009030602446

(sorry if you have to cut and paste the link...I don't know how to make it clicky).

Anyways...spread the word.

I'd always heard that having a baby changes a relationship, but I really had no idea just how much.

Aside from the fact that nearly all of our attention is fixated on our little bundle of joy, Brian's and my communication is clearly in need of help. I find this so interesting since pre-kids, we were seriously the model of How to Communicate Effectively with Your Partner. No really, look it up in the dictionary; you'll find our pictures.

I'm not trying to brag here, but if you put a therapist and a litigator in the same room, you're going to get some stuff accomplished. I handled the emotional direction of the conversation and Brian would skillfully navigate through complex logical issues. One thing I was so proud of between the two of us is that we, given a certain amount of time, could pretty much resolve any issue. And resolve it well. Differences aside, I would say we were on the same page about 90% of the time. And when we weren't discussing something, we were able to pick up on the other person's idea fairly quickly and run with it.

(And, just in case you are not familiar with studies that look for factors that contribute to successful marriage (and the work of John Gottman), please know that it's really the degree of resolution between a couple that predicts future happiness, not the number of conflicts between the two. Does that make sense? So if a couple has one big blow-out a year but get no resolution to the problem [i.e. they both walk away still mad, resentful, and like the other person did not hear them], they are much more at risk for future unhappiness than the couple that argues weekly but argues with a purpose (i.e. finding a solution to the problem) and both parties walk away feeling as though the problem has been resolved.)

(Look, you just learned something today.)

Anyways, so as I was saying, I would be lying if I didn't say that communication has seriously changed in our relationship.  But what I think is so funny is that it changed not in the way I expected, at all. I mean, yes, we don't nearly have time for a 3+ hour discussion on a problem like we did pre-Scotty. And yes, we are more tired and more cranky (um...me), but aside from working through differences, it's actually the content of our communication pattern that has changed, regardless of if we are in an argument or just talking through our day. It's Not that we are arguing or disagreeing more, it's that we just simply communicate on a whole different level now.

Let me give you an example.

The night we went to Joel Robuchon, there was a lull in the conversation. Just a normal dip. The waiter had just set our newest course in front of us. We had both taken a bite. And then, out of nowhere and without thinking, I blew a raspberry at Brian.

In the middle of Joel Robuchon.

I think we were both surprised.

And so was the waiter. And so was the snooty french couple sitting next to us, who made faces and turned in the other direction.

Unfazed, I just kind of shrugged and said, "Sorry...we have a baby at home."

And I'm not the only one guilty of regressing to baby behavior, either. That same night, as we were waiting for the valet, Brian was rubbing my back. Well, at least I thought he was. But then I realized he would make a circle...another circle...and then two hard pats.

After this happened twice, I finally looked up at him and asked, "Are you trying to burp me?"  He shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry," he said. "Habit."

See? This is what I'm talking about. Hang out with a six-month old and you will revert back to baby behaviors. Or you get so used to caring for the baby that you can't control when your parenting skills will rear their ugly heads. Like, in the middle of Joel Robuchon when you blow a raspberry at your partner.

Also, reading too many board books does weird things to your head. Brian and I will be out together, sans baby, and one of us will point to a bird and say, "Bird. Bird. Say it with me...BIRD." Or "Truck." Or "Tiger."

Lion. Penguin. Fish. (clearly, we've been working on animals recently).

We'll be sitting on the touch and Brian will point to my foot. "Toe," he'll say slowly. "Good boy," I tell him. "You're such a good boy." He grins.

One of our favorite series of books is the 'That's Not My..." series. They are books that you can touch while reading, and it's like, "That's not my dinosaur! His teeth are too bumpy. [touch the bumpy teeth.] That's not my dinosaur! His flippers are too slippery [touch the slippery fins]," etc. You get the drift. Well, recently I found the "That's not my train!" book and Brian and I love reading it to Scotty. (And yes, all of the books end happily with the reader finding their train/dinosaur/monkey/what have you).

So the other morning, I was playing with Scott on the rug when I noticed Brian emptying in the dishwasher. Before I could even think, I blurted out, "That's not my husband! He's doing some chores!" Brian scowled but we both giggled a little. 

Sadly, this change in communication is not limited to just between Brian and I, nor is it limited to verbal communication. A few weeks ago, a friend and I went out for drinks and dessert, sans children. When the waitress came to check on our table, she asked if we were done with our mountain of chocolate lava. I held up both hands and shook them. "All done," I told her, waving my hands. "All done."

So, it's clear that board books, burping, raspberries, and baby sign language definitely will bend one's brain. Take, for example, a recent phone call between Brian and I.

B: [picks up phone] Hello?
K: Hi sweetie. Bad news. We lost Spot.
B: What? Are you serious?
K: Yes. We can't find him anywhere. He didn't eat his supper.
B: Well, is he behind the door?
K: No...
B: Is he inside the clock?
K:  No....
B:  Is he in the piano?
K:  No...
B: Is he under the stairs?
K: No...
B:  Is he in the closet?
K:  No...
B:  Is he under the bed?
K:  No...
B:  Is he in the box?
K:  No...Oh, wait! I think I see him. He's under the rug.
B:  [waits patiently]
K:  He's in the basket!
B: Good boy, Spot. Good boy. 

Is it date night yet?

::sigh::

(and thank you to all of the authors I shameless quoted in this blog. They include: Eric Hill, Fiona Watt, and Rachel Wells. Please don't sue me.)

So those crazy ideas of possibly having another baby? (and btw, I don't mean anytime soon...I mean, just at all. The first pregnancy was so traumatic that I originally swore off all future babies and vowed to adopt).  Gone. Dunzo. It only took the Universe 24 hours to remind me how hard this whole process can be.

So after our disasterous lunch date, Scotty rocked the afternoon by sleeping for two straight hours. He was in bed on time and sawing logs during my Bachelor post. I finally crawled into bed at 11:30pm only to be roused within a measly 45 minutes. My super-sleeper baby has once again return to the Land of Ye of The Night Wakings. Bottle in hand, I dutifully attended to the little monkey and started rocking...and rocking...and rocking.

I finally threw in the towel at 2am. And promptly woke Brian up, tearfully moaning, "I can't do it anymoooooore!"

Brian got him down by 3am. Based on what I heard on the monitor, it sounded akin to wrestling a small wild cougar.

The culprit: teeth. At least, that's what we think. (we blame everything on teeth these days. Scotty's mood? Teeth. Our dirty house? Teeth. The delay in getting us keys to the new house? Teeth again.)

And I woke up this morning to a massive case of mastisis. I can barely raise my right arm above my shoulder. (this is also making typing v.v. difficult). It feels like someone has taken a baseball bat to my right side. I called George's office this morning and spoke with a nurse, who curtly told me that I need to try warm compresses, pump more, and then maybe, just maybe, they'll see me tomorrow. Great. Because I really want to drag my 22+ infant into a doctor's office using only one arm. Can't they just call in an Rx for me? (insert whine here)

Scotty is still super grumpy today, we missed a playdate at 11am, I'm exhausted and in pain.

And I wanted to do this again...ever?

[This post was sponsored in part by Bayer HealthCare Pharmaceuticals, makers of Mirena. "Keep life a little simpler" Heck yeah. :-)]

 

The greatest moment of my life (so far) has been the birth of Scotty. The moment he came into the world - seriously unbelievable. It made 9 months of pregnancy totally worthwhile (and immediately made me want to do it again, much to Brian's horror. Poor guy was still thinking about wheelchairs, bed rest, and back pain while I bathed in the glow of new motherhood.)

And now, I present the second greatest moment of my life: tonight, around 7pm. I had spent a horrible day yesterday with a very fussy infant that screamed for 3.5 hours in the morning and another hour when Brian got home. I googled reflux.I googled GERD. I looked up 'spit-up' and tried to figure out if my baby was normal. I posted my situation on Facebook, seeking advice from other mothers. I steeled myself for another 7+ weeks of this, telling myself I could do it. I might get a lot of lines around my eyes and mouth from the stress, but I could do it.

It was so bad yesterday morning that I actually had to step outside. I was crying so hard that I don't think Scotty could hear it over his crying. We were both a mess. The thought that I had to deal with a fussy, screaming baby for almost another two months seriously depressed me but this motherhood, I told myself. Buckle up and deal.

And then today, Brian showed me how to work the PlayStation so I could play a DVD. Our DVD player doesn't work (not sure why) so we play things through the PlayStation, a contraption I have zero experience with. A few months ago, one of Brian's co-workers gave him 'The Happiest Baby on the Block' DVD but I never watched it since I don't know who to work the damn PlayStation thing. After yesterday, I begged Brian to please set it up for me since I was desperate for any new ideas.

I had read the book (even reviewed it) but the book, like most books, is nothing like the movie. The DVD is 100x better - and gives real and actual descriptions of HOW TO swaddle, shush, side-position, swing, and suck. Scotty had a great day this afternoon, so I didn't get a chance to put my new skills into action until tonight.

And then, right on cue, around 7pm, Scotty began to fuss. We did our usual 'talk to the baby,' 'snuggle the baby,' 'walk with the baby' routine. And then I busted out my new swaddling technique. Scotty still screamed. I did the side-position move and in 30 seconds...silence. Blissful, lovely silence. I looked at him to make sure we weren't hurting him, and he looked absolutely content. Wonderfully content. Like a switch in his brain had been turned off, and now he was happy. I was so happy I started crying (again). BEST DVD EVER, PEOPLE. This man, Dr. Sears, needs a Nobel Prize or something.

When Scotty got fussy again in two hours, we repeated our behavior. And you know what? IT WORKED!!!!! Again. Phenomenal! Scotty is now blissfully asleep, growing and developing, without having to waste all kinds of useless energy on screaming and fussing. I now have so much time on my hands that I can blog, talk to friends, write a book, maybe even make dinner. Brian will have a hot meal waiting for him? Truly a blessed event.

Anyways, I HIGHLY recommend this DVD. An A+++++ on my rating scale. Don't get the book; get the DVD. Much more helpful.

And let's keep our fingers crossed that our good luck/baby wrangling skills continue to improve. :-)

My friend Sherri commented on the last post by suggesting adding a microwave to our bedroom to help with the bottle sterilization process. Funny, but I had been thinking along the same lines recently.

While I adore our nursery (the "swamp" as we call it, since we filled it full of turtles, frogs, a tree, and birds. Maybe we have some strange latent Shrek hang-up), I can't help but feel a little critical at our new-parent planning. First of all, we picked out all whites, taupes, sage greens, and navy as our color scheme. Aside from the navy (our only good idea), what the hell were we thinking? Did I really think babies are these clean entities that do not spit up, poop, and pee on everything? I love our beautiful (and insanely expensive) sage-colored glider, but as I feed Scotty, I am constantly thinking, "Did I Scotch-guard this? Is that breast milk? Will that come out? What is that crustiness?" Not necessarily thoughts a new mother needs or wants. If I could do it all over again, I think I'd decorate using navy, black and brown. Yes, not visually appealing, but damn, it's functional.

Also, let's talk about appliances. One of our good friends had joked about adding a plasma-screen TV to their son's nursery, so he could watch SportsCenter during the late night feedings. Since Brian does not get up for the late night feedings (see previous post, titled "Marriage Tip #387"), this would not work out. But - adding appliances to the nursery is a great idea. If I could pimp out out nursery, I would add:

1.) Built-in microwave for sterilizing bottles
2.) Mini-fridge for breast milk storage (and perhaps a snack for Mom)
3.) Working sink for bottle cleaning, hand-washing, and pre-rinsing of all poopy clothing (Scotty literally pooped in my mom's hand the other day...hysterical, though messy).
4.) Ample storage space - not just for clothes, but for dishes, bottles, pacifers, paper towels, etc.
5.) Washer and dryer. Have a load? Just toss it in! And if you have a baby...you have dirty clothes! They go together like peas and carrots.
6.) Some kind of built-in stereo system with surround sound that allows for white noise at night, soothing lullabies to fall asleep to (I don't know any lullabies...I am failing at motherhood. I keep singing the poor kid "America the Beautiful" and "The Star-Spangled Banner," since those are the only two songs I know all of the words to), and then some classical music for his alert time. 
7.) And finally, perhaps a mini-bar, for Mom, Dad, and Grandma, when there is nothing more you can do that pour yourself a drink and settle in for a long night with a cuddly baby. 

Essentially, reading this list over again, we are building Scotty his own apartment. I'm okay with that. Yes, it would be all stainless steel, black, and granite. Not necessarily baby-friendly, but you know, maybe he'd learn to love it.  If we could just live in the nursery and never have to go in another part of the house, ever, I'm fine. Anything to make this crazy time easier.

So, we have these sterilizing bags that are used to clean baby bottles and the plastic parts from the breast pump. It's really the easiest process in the world; you rinse out said bottle, put the bottle in the sterilizing bag, and microwave it for about three minutes. After it's done, you dump it out on the counter on some paper towels and allow the parts to air dry. Viola. Sterilized bottle and parts, very little work.

You, however, know you are in the throes of sleep deprivation when you wake up at 3am to pump, walk downstairs with your freshly pumped milk and begin to assemble the parts for sterilization only to realize not all of the parts fit in the bag, necessitating two rounds of bag-microwaving. I would have to stay downstairs for an additional three minutes to get through Round Two of bottle sterilization. I was almost brought to tears last night at the idea of an extra three minutes preventing me from getting to bed sooner.

Three minutes. That is how important sleep is when it feels like you are getting none. Argh.