End Days

Summer is now officially in its end days. S. has returned to the classroom to clean up, the tomatoes are starting to come in hard and heavy, which means canning them is inevitably right around the corner. And I've had a nervous lump in my stomach for the past few days, as my first back-to-school anxiety dream has seemed to set off waves of anticipation of the coming school year. This will be my 9th year teaching high school, a feat that was occasionally unimaginable when I started this profession, but am now proud of. It seems like I have myself a little career--so strange.

We had an amazing Rhode Island vacation this year. We went down there with a baby and came back with--a different baby, one that crawls everywhere, pulls himself up to standing, and has 5 (!) teeth already. Seriously kid--well, at least he's not attempting to take any steps yet. You can imagine that the last month has been full of fun with all these chompers breaking through, but we seem now to finally be getting settled down. Sleeping though--still for the birds, thinks Max. For that matter, Theo also rose at a sunny 6:30 every day of vacation--lordy. They were just getting us ready for the school year, I suppose.

Another amazing development? Theo actually started playing with Max! Well, kinda. But it is adorably amusing to watch them together now. If Theo's in the mood, he'll scramble all over the floor on hands and knees and let Max scamper after him. They'll sit on the floor playing (Max chewing on) with Matchbox cars together--which is just fine and dandy until Max crashes an intricate parking set-up that Theo has been working hard on. I love watching these brothers interact and grow and change with each other.

Now, vacation, a fleeting memory now as summer is dwindling:

Up a tree

By the end it became futile to try to keep him on the blanket, so in the sand he went!

Goofball

T. swimming at sunset

Twinsies--which is like, really ironic, right?

Daddy Dearest

Well, I suppose that no matter now much you mentally prepare for the day when your fatherless son will start talking about having a daddy, it still catches you off-guard. Recently, Theo has been noticing daddies of all kinds---mostly because on his favorite show, Caillou, "Caillou has a mommy and a daddy." S. and I are straightforward, simple, and direct answerers of kid questions, so we simply said, "Yes, Caillou has a mommy and a daddy. You have two mommies," and go on to explain how some families have a mom and a dad, two moms, two dads, etc. Now he seems accepting of the fact that he has two moms and Caillou has a mom and a dad. (He also makes sure to mention that besides a "Mommy" and a "Mama," he also has a "Maxie-Jo" to throw into the mix.) Thank goodness we know other two-mom families so I can reference "so and so has two mommies, too." Of course this just reinforces the fact that we ought to make much more of an effort to make play dates with other queer families with kids that we know.

But the dad thing is stuck in his mind, you can tell. He mentions other people he knows who have daddies (us, for instance, or his cousin Jackson). I know it's natural and I know that the more direct we can be about this now, the more prepared we'll all be to tackle different questions later, specifically about donors, but still. We know he couldn't go on living in his little two-mama bubble forever, especially since he's going off to pre-school in the fall. But this marks a pretty significant step forward in Theo's consciousness of his existence in the world.

I am consistently in a state of wonder about how much children pick up from their environments without us never having directly taught them. It is so true that children are natural learners.

So, everyone--who has dealt with this issue? What did you say to your child?

three. which will probably be the amount of times i post this summer.

I would be quite remiss if I didn't take a second to reflect on the fact that the reason we actually began this blog turned 3-years-old yesterday. Three. Years. Old. Three, and the few weeks preceding it, have been challenging. Theo is growing, changing, exploring, and becoming more and more independent each passing second. "No, me do it" is our new favorite phrase. "I help you, Mama?" a close second--in the kitchen, the garden, the playground. Potty training---oh yeah. We're still very much in the "training" phase of it. Pee in the potty? No problem! Poop has been much more elusive, as he still prefers to poop in his, ahem, pants. (Any solutions for that? Anyone?)

Ah. He exasperates us and amazes us all at once with this growing up business. He loves his little brother (except when he borrows his Matchbox Cars to chew on), singing, cars, puzzles, Caillou...the list goes on. But lists are boring. And since my blog is St. Nowhere lately, I guess I'll continue my trend of photo posting interspersed with occasional ranting by showing you what three looks like around these parts:

Happy Birthday Theo!

Flying kites in RI

Oh, brother

Swimming

Guitar hero

The Big Breastfeeding Post

I've talked about breastfeeding here and there, but it is about time to talk about it for realz.

Max is 7-months-old. I never gave myself a limit, minimum or maximum, for how long I would breastfeed him. I figured, if I was able to do it, it would happen. If he still wanted it, and I could still do it, it would continue to happen. Now that we're on the other side of six months, we figure, let's make it to a year, right? Sounds like a good, round amount of time to be able to say, "I breastfed my son exclusively for the first year of his life."

Except, breastfeeding is really, really difficult for me, and maybe not in ways that other people have difficulty. Or maybe my experiences are common and people just don't want to talk about it because it's supposed to be all natural. But the truth is, I do not love to breastfeed a lot of the time. Since the beginning, I have had issues, be them oversupply (and a Max who isn't really hungry), undersupply, or most often (as in, every other week practically) plugged ducts and nipple pores and infections. Right now I am nursing a double-breast infection and a serious supply drop and a baby who apparently hates the taste of the antibiotics I have to be on because he hasn't nursed well in two days. Yet, he has not tasted formula. While this is a point of pride for many mothers, for me it just is what it is. We even tried to feed him formula once and he would have rather sucked on my empty boob, so that was that.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I have bfing issues but I've worked through them. I pumped religiously at work and at home to freeze enough for Max and even enough to give away to a mom and baby in need. I hope in the end I will be proud of all this, because right now, all I feel is annoyed at the whole process. BFing is supposed to be so beautiful, so natural, so lovely, but I have a hard time seeing that from this place I am in.

And yet, look what my milk has done. Oh, he does make my heart melt sometimes:

So I just deleted this hugely long post whining about what Max cannot currently do. I fell into the all-too-easy mompetition trap--comparing Max to other babes of bloggers who were born around the same time he was. It's not good for either of us. Max is an individual who will do things on his own time. So, enough of that.

We're in the thick of potty training Theo. Oh, man. Okay, it's not as bad as I thought it would be, but not as good, either. What was I expecting? Ummm..maybe I didn't think through what a poop in underpants would be like. Or, cleaning pee off of the family room rug. Yeah. Gross. But...he is definitely getting better at "recognizing the feeling," as his Sesame Street potty chart that we read every single time we go into the bathroom says. Sigh. Hopefully we'll just get the whole deal over with shortly.

Now, boys, boys, boys...

With an ever-present truck

Earning his gymnastics medal

Max loves Sophie

Dreamboat

5 Seconds

I have 5 seconds to spare--before folding up diapers and filling up water bottles and such for the next day. S. has strep throat and is tucked up away in bed, babies are sleeping, and I am watching "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" on VH-1 in an attempt to turn my brain off temporarily. We have been..busy. I can't even begin to describe the business. The end of the year is always like this. We take a deep breath, runrunrunrunningrun, and then--poof. It's over. You know, until summer school starts.

I have over 200 unread blog posts in the my G*ogle reader. WTF.

Tomorrow marks 6 months in the life of Max. His tricks are certainly not as advanced as other babies his age--he is a bit on the slower side of big physical development, but has superb fine motor skills, expertly gripping things in his tiny fists, bringing them to his mouth. He finally flipped from back-to-front, but he prefers sleeping on his side, snuggling his little blankie. Oh, my goodness, it is so cute. He can sit like a gorilla for a few minutes at a time, and is eating up a storm--huge bowls of rice cereal mixed with pureed squash or peas so far--yummy yum.

We started "sleep parenting" in earnest last week (sleep training sounds so awful) by letting him fuss in 5-minute intervals, not feeding him every single time he woke up, and doing a dream feed with rice cereal before midnight. It worked after a couple of nights, and last night? He slept through the night. Good stuff.

Mind you we never had to do any of this with Theo, so this not-so-sleepy baby is seriously new territory for the both of us.

Now, what I'm sure you've all been waiting for--updated pics.

P.S.: Ferris Bueller is kind of a bully to his BFF. What kind of message was this movie meant to send anyway?! Still love it, though.

Memorial Day red, white, and blue baby with Meme on the porch

Theo with his awesomely cheesy grin posing for Mommy's new iPhone camera

Pride and Prejudice

A rant, if you will.

This past weekend was our local Pride. I've gone to it nearly every year since I've known S., and it was in fact the first Pride I ever attended - even before the big hoopla that is NYC Pride. I remember how happy I felt the first time I went--seeing others like me, seeing women with babies and dogs and being so happy together. It felt blissful there being with my (then) girlfriend, pondering the future when we would have kids of our own to shuttle to and show off at Pride (insert lesbian stereotype here).

Then I got old. And had kids. And quite frankly, Pride is not my thing anymore. I more often than not feel myself being annoyed by Pride instead of being "proud" at Pride, and I am usually left wondering why I bothered fighting the traffic to find a far-away parking space, only to sit for a short parade and go walking around a glorified parking lot looking at people selling gay crap I will never buy. I will also add that we honestly do not have many gay friends. We have a couple we hang out with sometimes who I work with and who have similarly aged children, and we often see their gay friends at their house, but that is it. We love when we do hang out with them, because it's important for us to have our children see families like ours.

But I often feel like a minority at Pride. I feel like I have no big gay rights agenda, that I don't own a single item of rainbow or HRC clothing, that I have somehow assimilated into straight culture and feel like an outsider amongst the many wonderful gays and lesbians who live in my neck of the woods. Part of this is my own doing--lesbians love drama, and I do not, so I guess unconsciously I tend to stay clear. The other part is--I guess I just feel like a woman who happened to fall in love with another woman. Is it part of my identity? Sure. I knew as a teenager I was partial to women. But, is gay even a top-five adjective I would use to describe myself? Nope. S. feels the same way. She once told me she'd say she was a "gardener" or a "flea market junkie" over a lesbian.

I'm sure next year I will be at Pride again-for my kids. It is important we let them know how many other gay families and gay people live amongst us. I feel lame sometimes, knowing that people elsewhere don't have the option of being so blase about their gayness, or their "alternative" family, and that I probably take for granted that our families and friends and state are for the most part so supportive of us that we never have to feel like outsiders. And I guess in the end, I am grateful for that.

Parenting Musings and Asparagus Appreciation

I think we reached our five-year blogiversary. Wow--lots and lots has changed, including the initial goal of this blog, which was to get a baby. Then, to get another baby. And so here we are, not just a couple of married lesbos ttcing, but parenting.

Speaking of parenting, S.'s book club read Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua this month. Holy crap--has anyone read this book? If not, it's a quick and fascinating read. For those of you haven't heard about it, it is basically an autobiography of how a woman of Chinese descent parented (and still parents) her two daughters--in the Chinese way. It's not so much a criticism of Western parenting, but some of the struggles, pitfalls, and successes she encounters as she raises her two daughters to be musical prodigies and straight A students -- all the while hovering, demanding, pushing them. We're talking forcing them to practice their music 5+ hours a day, screaming at them when they play things wrong, not accepting a hand-drawn card from her four-year-old that she deemed unacceptable--extreme.

And yet, I did not find myself hating her. Since she actually becomes reflective of her parenting style by the end of the book, I feel like perhaps she learned a thing or two from her kids along the way. While you can't argue with the results of these two girls, it still all left me wondering--why? So what if your child is a piano prodigy? So what if they get straight As? I suppose Amy Chua would call me very Western for considering such philosophical questions, but it made me think about my own kids and what I want for them versus what they may someday want for themselves.

Anywho--this spring has seriously sucked so far. May 6th and we've had only a handful of warm days. But our gardens are starting to be planted, the grass has been mowed, and we finally put the snowblower to bed until next winter. And---it's asparagus season. Yumyumyumyumyummy.

Ambiguous Absence

It's been well over a month since my last posting. I feel ambivalent about keeping this blog going. I don't feel like this is a raw, truthful blog anymore--with so many people I know reading it, I self-censor all of the time. It seems pointlessly unfair to continue in this regard, but here I am another day, thinking about it but still not having the courage to completely throw in the towel. So, I don't know.

A bulleting update:

• work is going well--part-time rocks
• my mastitis and drastic supply drop issues cleared up
• screaming, fussy, non-sleeping baby issue due to supply issue virtually went away, but he still wakes up twice a night to feed----we'll take it over the multi-waking screeching child we had a month ago
• baby is in the 13th percentile for nearly everything--such a peanut, but he's so strong and fitting into his 3-6 month clothes and meeting all his milestones, so it's all good
• big boy is more and more hilarious and fun to be with every day. and he is so.smart and learns things so.fast

Easter shots:

Handsome big boy

Little boy wrestling with his big brother

Blah.

The first day of spring in Massachusetts brought us an inch or so of snow on the ground, cold temps, and nasty driving conditions. But, today, though grey and dreary, is much warmer---all the residual snow has melted, although this morning I had to tip-toe through the slush to the car in my little flats with no socks on. You'd think I'd learn my lesson living in the Northeast for, oh, my entire life.

Work is going well--okay, it's only been two days. I should clarify that the work is fine, but me, I am not so fine these days. Last night I began feeling shaky and feverish--sure enough, I took my temp and it was over 100--not high, but high enough to make me feel plain awful. Couple that with a sore breast, and I am guessing I had/have a little bout of mastitis or another infected/plugged duct. Ugggh--will it ever end? What is wrong with me?

To add to my pity parade, this little boy is so, so gassy--so gassy that he wakes up screeching, hollering, and farting in the middle of the night. My heart goes out to him because he is obviously so uncomfortable but my god, the screaming...I started my first day of work running on about 4 hours of very interrupted sleep, and my second day with a fever and a sore boob. But I soldiered on and even got a nap in this afternoon while he dozed after grocery shopping. I love being back in the classroom, but my body feels totally whooped.

Please tell me this is not forever.

Yesterday felt good--I won't lie, it was nice to interact with adults, catch up with people I haven't talked to in three months, and it was even mildly comfortable wearing real clothes. Even the pumping in the training room in the nurse's office wasn't so bad after all. Max performed his part to perfection, even taking a nap...in a crib! Of course, when I tried to reproduce this performance once we got home yesterday afternoon, it was a no-go. I am feeling like a serious napping failure right now, but that's another story.

And..ugggghhh...another plugged duct. Not what I feel like dealing with on my last free Friday. But so it goes. Also, my defrosted b.m. tastes like soap--lucky me, it looks like I have the special enzyme which makes breast milk gross...but he's seemed to be eating it anyway, so should I do anything to it before freezing?

Dress Rehearsal

We're doing a dress rehearsal for our normal work day today. I got my part-time position, so until the end of the year I'll only be working until about noon and not leaving the house until about 7:45 every morning. This obviously cuts down on in-school pumping and the number of bottles Max will get--although yesterday while at our sitters as I got a facial (oh man, that was nice), he scarfed down 4 oz. in one bottle. Yikes. At that rate I'll be burned through my freezer stash in a month. Not thinking about that one...

So this morning, S. woke up, got herself dressed as Theo jumped around in the bed. Theo got his diaper changed, I got up and got dressed, Max woke up, I fed him, dressed him, diapered him, scarfed down Eng. muffin, threw pump parts into bag, threw milk into a cooler for the sitter's, helped bring it all out the car and---they're gone. I'm leaving to catch up with my sub in about a half-hour from now. I have "real" clothes on (a.k.a. no sweatpants), make-up, and gel junk in my hair. This is real. It's time.

Whirlwind

It's kind of felt like a nuts couple of days--Theo randomly threw up, we bought a new mattress--okay, I know that doesn't sound like that big of a deal, but Theo had never puked before, and we've been sleeping on a double bed for the past 7 or 8 years and now we're getting a queen! Oh, luxury...also on the board has been the potential for me to be able to go back only part-time, but it looks like logistically the schedule won't work out in my favor, and definitely won't work out financially, so back to work full-time I go. But you know what? I actually feel ready. It's like, all of a sudden, something clicked and I thought---I can do this, it's okay, and it is time. Max will be in such capable hands, plus be spending all day with his big brother--there's really not a loser here. Our biggest worry is the total and complete wreck our house will become. It's been quite nice having me home keeping things tidy as the week goes on. But we'll manage. We will find a new normal.

Also--postpartum hair loss? Oh my goodness. It's in full-effect. Not cool.

About those naps...

Here is why sleeping is on my mind. There's an infant group I go to with Max on Friday mornings at our local community center, and this past Friday there was a sleep "consultant" who came into speak to the group. This woman makes her living, from what I can tell, by being hired by desperate families who need help teaching children to sleep. I totally get that--not having a kid who sleeps can seriously change the quality of your life, as does having a kid who does sleep. All throughout Theo's infancy, people at work would ask me, "Getting any sleep? You must be exhausted!" But the truth was, Theo was a good sleeper from the get-go, so we didn't really have that sheer exhaustion most new parents have. We didn't have to learn how to put our kid to sleep, really--he did that for us himself.

Then along came Max. Max was pretty much up every hour on the hour the first couple of weeks we brought him home. I think this is normal behavior for a newborn, but just so not what we were prepared for. Fast-forward three months, though, and we have a boy who is a good sleeper, usually waking up only once during the night. Our problem is that we haven't really set a routine to get him to go down to sleep, but we're working on it, and not worried.

So Miss Sleep Consultant made me feel really bad because I didn't put Max down at a regular time to sleep at night. She says that babies need 12 hours of sleep--excluding the time they're up to feed in the middle of the night. Then, there are the naps. Naps are necessary. One need only look at our toddler when he misses naptime to understand that. I think I mentioned last post that Max is not a great napper. Sleep Consultant looked at me like I was nuts when I mentioned that Max doesn't really nap when we're at home. Or, like, ever really. The last couple of days I tried following her advice and just putting him down sleepy. He slept for an hour-ish each time. That's it. Can some babies really just not want to sleep? It doesn't seem like a priority for Max like it is for the rest of us.

Thus ends my sleep rant. I know this can be a big issue for people, so if anyone has any ideas that worked, by all means, fire away. I am pretty much depending on our babysitter to whip Max into shape (Napping Boot Camp, as S. calls it) when he starts there in a couple of weeks, which leaves me feeling like a failure that I didn't manage to at least get my kid to sleep during my weeks of maternity leave.

Now, for cuteness.

Tolerating (barely) tummy time

Are YOU talkin' ta ME?

Cheeeeese!

Theo and his cousin F. holding Max. Actually, Theo just wanted to be in the picture and probably could have cared less about holding the baby!

No Nap Til...

Well I was clearly not up for the challenge. It's okay--with only two weeks left of my maternity leave, I am certainly not going to beat myself up for missing a few posts. It is March--which in New England is known as mud season, pothole season, or, more pleasantly, maple sugaring season. Lately it's also been rain and flooding season. We have a brook at the edge of our backyard, and right now it is roaring. I mean, will carry away my babies in an instant roaring. It's terrifying, but luckily there's still too much snow to play out in the backyard, decreasing the danger of my children being swept away down into the river.

I want to thank you all (a post late-sorry) for suggestions on the pumping issues I'm fearing I will have. I should have also mentioned that my over-supply is not an everyday thing. Max tends to not eat as well when we're traveling and out of our comfort zone and pillows and perch where my posture is perfect with my nursing stool. Then I get oh-so engorged and, a couple of times, have been caught sans pump and in great agony. I've learned my lesson and take either a hand pump or stash my electric in the trunk of the car, just in case.

Next topic I've been obsessing over--sleep. I have a lot to say about this that I won't put down here right now, but let's start with napping. My child doesn't do it. Thoughts? Suggestions? Sympathy?

Day late, dollar short

...although, thanks to Max, we got a *huge* tax refund this year. Thank you, little baby!

I've already failed my challenge--and yesterday would have been the easiest day to post! All I would have had to do is put up Max's three-month picture--oh well. I was preoccupied with taking care of all 3 (including S., who was home sick with the flu) babies yesterday. Wow. That totally whooped my butt. Yesterday also included my first solo trip to the grocery store with two kids in tow, and my second trip to Theo's music class with both babes. Fortunately, both went smoothly.

So, here is Max at three months and one day, I guess, since I'm a day late. Oops.

Clumsy Cook, Engines, and Machines

Nothing exciting to report today. Max is this close to laughing out loud, and I caught him trying to turn himself on his side on the bed while I was putting laundry away. I attempted to make granola bars and, while their flavor is killer, they were not the chewy, tender yummies I was hoping to replicate from my favorite K.ashi ones I buy pre-packaged. Anyone with a good recipe? I'm trying to stop buying granola bars because I end up eating them all alone somehow, and seriously----what are they but oats, some sugar, some nuts--certainly not worth the money I'm spending weekly on them.

On another totally random note (since I'm sitting here watching Thomas the Tank Engine with Theo), I have a serious issue with a couple of Theo's favorite kids' shows (two of the three we allow him to watch). On Thomas & Friends and Bob the Builder, the anthropomorphic trains and construction vehicles, respectively, seriously annoy me. They make stupid mistakes and what are their consequences? A stern lecture. Worse, Bob the Builder usually just laughs and points out the machines' mistakes. I mean, I don't know what would happen - they all get sent to the scrapyard? That would be a terribly traumatic end to an episode, I suppose. But I really wish those machines would just stop screwing up.

Pump it up & down

Look! Look! A post! Two days in a row!! I'm so proud of myself.

So, one thing I definitely haven't bitched much about since Max was born is breastfeeding. I've been lucky enough to not have many major issues with supply, and while I've had one plugged duct and two near-plugs, my nipples and ducts seem to be in good shape.

One thing I do struggle with is an over-supply issue. I know, I know--why should this be an issue? But seriously, when you leak through a nursing pad and then your baby won't eat sufficiently to suck you dry, it's a problem. This happens. More than it should. This baby is not a ravenous eater. He eats what he wants to, which seems to just enough to keep him full and peeing and pooping a good amount. He doesn't freak out about being hungry most of the time, and doesn't show a lot of signs of hunger that often. What I wonder is--why hasn't my supply adjusted to his needs? If I were staying home indefinitely, this wouldn't be that big of a deal, but with my impending return to work, I worry - a lot - about pumping at work, about getting too engorged, and then somehow in that mix watching my supply plummet altogether, which I know probably will happen when I switch to a daytime pumping, instead of feeding, schedule.

So this has all been on my mind lately. Oh, and along with my serious pumping-at-work anxiety--how do I get anything done at work now? Does anyone have a good recommendation for a hand-free pumping bra? I need to be able to read and grade papers while pumping.

The one-month challenge

I seriously have not one, not two, but three drafted posts in my editing box right now. What that says to me is that 1.) having a nearly-three-month-old at home and attempting to keep said home vaguely clean is more than vaguely difficult 2.) I have trouble formulating a complete thought, let alone a complete sentence and 3.) I've lost my blogging way. I am making a concerted effort in this, my last month of maternity leave, to be a better blogger by posting something every day left of my leave. Wish me luck.

That being said, do feel like I've got a little groove on here, and I know that as soon as I'm all, "Oh, yeah, I've got this mothering an infant all day thing dowwwwn," BAM! Back to work I go, and we start figuring out our lives anew.

Something I'm very proud of us for doing this past week was going on vacation - twice! - with the boys, once on our annual February trip to Martha's Vineyard, and once to NYC. Both visits were wonderful and surprisingly--not that bad. The worst part was packing. And, in typical second-child-syndrome style, we hardly took any pictures of Max's first trip to the Vineyard or NYC--whereas we snapped it up when we visited these places for the first time with Theo. Ah well.

Here's a few of photos I managed to capture of my big boy and my little boy from vacation.

Breakfast happy face

Hi!

Walking to the beach

Asleep on the beach

Match.box truck on the beach

Totally crazy sculpture/statue/modern art wackiness at the house where we stayed on MV

Putting the size into perspective - it was huge!

Baby Minutes

Well, since I'm not quite throwing in the towel on this blog yet, I figure I may as well write on it. I'll try to think of some relevant-to-baby type thing to say, so here goes. Today's topic: maternity leave.

S. had a hard time with her maternity leave. She loved being home with Theo, but missed her job and talking to adults every day. Luckily, I got to be home with S. and Theo for a month and a half or so before I went back to work, since he was born in the summertime, so we had a lot of adjustment time together. For me, there have been so many snow days this year that it almost feels like I'm spending this maternity leave with S. and Theo, which has been amazing. And at the same time, I love the time I get to spend alone with Max. In general, I like being alone, so being home, just him and me, has been amazing. And just when I start getting bored, S. and Theo come home and we're a cozy little family again.

I do not want to return to work. But I have to. My sub wants my job. I wish I could give it to her. I haven't muttered these words aloud--my women's college education makes me feel too guilty--but I like staying home. As a mom. Keeping the household. Being a "homemaker" (I totally get that word but understand why it's no longer p.c.). This is not something I expected.

So I am trying to make the most of the rest of my time. I go back in March, and Max will be happy and safe with Theo's wonderful babysitter. I think Theo really is a better boy because of her (he's definitely a better napper because of her). I'm not looking too far ahead of me and trying to suck in every baby minute while I am here every minute for them.

And, since this blog is half a photo album, here's our big boy on skis (!) for the very first time. He finally figured out he likes playing in the snow. Good thing, since it isn't going away anytime soon!

There are several drafts of posts floating around my editing box here that try to make a graceful exit from this blog, but --- I just can't seem to make myself finish and/or post them. While the future of this bog does remain in question, I feel like I am abandoning the family pet in the middle of a snowstorm. So for now, it stays, while I infrequently update once in a while with photos of the boys. That's not exactly what I wanted this blog to become -- simply a photo album (that's what facebook is for, really, isn't it?) -- but for now it's what can be managed.

So, I give you a two-month-old baby named Max. I don't know where this two-month-old came from. He seemed to appear out of thin air.

Clogged

I have a plugged duct. I know how to get my plugged drain to get going, and actually, this has been kind of similar and I think I'm on my way to working it out (I have an emergency supply of antibiotics courtesy of me begging my doctor yesterday to give them to me before a foot of snow falls today, juuuust in case I spike a fever and develop mastitis). Except I've experienced a sudden drop in my supply--from both breasts, even though the plug is only in one. When I pump in the evening (so that S. could share in feeding Max by giving him a bottle of expressed milk), I was getting upwards of 9 oz. This was just two days ago. In the last two days, I've put out far, far less--maybe, maybe 2 oz. per side. What gives? Is it the duct? I have been feeding him more often to unclog things and move them along. Another change--the long sleep stretches. If my supply is "evening out," this is not a good place to be at.

Any BFing advice, oh wise internets?

Just when I thought everything was going awesome with breastfeeding. I should have known better. Erg.

Five Weeks plus

I can't believe how big he's getting. I guess that's what happens.

Stuck in a sling

It's not so bad in here after all!

Chillaxin'

Sleep, glorious sleep.

We have been doing something that the Consumer Product Safety Commission would surely say is a huge no-no and recall us as parents immediately if they saw. We put one of those vibrating chair-type things into the co-sleeper for Max to sleep in. It's inclined ever-so slightly, enough that we had hoped his rasping, gasping breathing would cease. The breathing sort of-kind of eased, but more importantly, the kid slept. He slept for four blissful hours in a row. The next night? Nearly five hours. Due to negligent parenting, he only slept for about 3 1/2 hours straight through last night (late bed time--bad mommies), but still--do you know what a difference this has made in my life? S. is finally sleeping through the night without waking up to Max every 1 1/2-2 hours and me getting in and out of bed. I feel vaguely human come morningtime. Oh, yes. Sleep, glorious sleep.

Now, I know that since we've hit the 5-week mark, this could all just be part of Max's maturation from newborn to infant. But hey--I'll take it.

If only my boobs would be as happy about the long stretches as we are.

So--no big update, as he's still not sleeping awesomely, but it seems that Max sleeps better and more quietly when he's on his side. I've been wedging him sideways, swaddled, with blankets to keep him on his side (but not push him too far over that he falls on his face). This seems to be working. Our ped. actually suggested putting him on his stomach (!) but that thought seriously freaks me out. So, side sleeping it is. I did make a discovery today that may or may not have been contributing to the random bouts of daytime crying--an eyelash in his eye. Poor kiddo! Everyone knows how aggravating it is to have any foreign object in one's eye, but at least we have the ability to shove a finger in our eye and scoop it up. As you can imagine, Max is not so partial to this approach, so I squirted him down with sterile tears in hopes of flushing it out. It's either crept back into his lower eyelid or gone away--let's hope it's the latter.

I hope I don't sound like an awful heel. We love this boy and his multiple chins and wet diapers. Even if he does sound like a pterodactyl when he cries.

No sleep 'til...

This baby doesn't sleep, and when he does, his breathing is so loud and scary that neither of us sleep. Our ped. thinks his trachia-flap (I do NOT like to think about a baby's trachia flap) of cartilage isn't fully formed yet, so it keeps "flapping" and restricting his airwaves when he's sleeping on his back. No bigs, she says. It will firm up on its own eventually. That kind of seems like a big deal to me! Besides, I don't think that's actually his problem. I'm not really sure what it is, but his shrieking breathing is freaking us all out to the point of insomnia.

Also, he cries. Oh, he cries, cries, cries. Why? Who knows. Whatever happened to that sweet, mellow baby we brought back from the hospital? I'd like him back, please.

Oh man, we're tired.

What are you doing New Years?

I apologize for the silence around here. There's this little baby who won't let go of my boobs, making typing with two hands incredibly difficult. There's also this little baby who doesn't sleep for more than two to three hours at a time, leaving his Mama in a semi-daze most of her waking hours. All I wanted for Christmas? To sleep for more than three consecutive hours, which hasn't happened since December 1st. Ah well. 2011 is here and we know that sleep deprivation is only temporary. This year will be the year that I sleep again!

But I love the promise of a new year, with growing bodies and brains (the boys', clearly not mine) in the house. We spent New Year's Eve at First Night Northampton, which started at noon and was filled with kid-friendly activities. Max slept happily in the Moby all day while Theo mostly enjoyed the various shows and performers we saw. We ended the evening with an early sushi dinner, fireworks, and the best ice cream ever. We were home by 7:30. I guess that's how you do New Year's Eve with two kids under the age of 3. But you know what? I don't care how lame it seems. We had a great day. Who wouldn't with these two around?

Happy New Year, everyone.

Check out that double chin action. Oh yeah.

A rare moment of staying still. My handsome, happy smiling boy.