And then one day we did stuff

I've noted a few times on this blog that I pretty much do nothing except look at, talk to, feed, and change my baby these days. I’m really not exaggerating. Baby Grady really detests sharing my attention. He is particularly irked by productivity. It's two hands on the baby at all times around here. So, I count it a good day when I accomplish one task or activity that is not nursing, diapering, baby-playing or very light housework. And I mean light! As in, carrying my used mug to the kitchen or putting a dirty burp cloth in the hamper. Maybe picking up a wad of Reese fuzz. Like, if it’s right in my path. Something so ambitious as doing a load of laundry? That would totally count as my one thing. Yeah, these are the standards I’m working by. I’ve been telling myself that the cuddling and gazing and soothing and playing (to the extent that Baby Grady can really play)... those are the things I’m getting done, even though they are not to-do list types of tasks. Thing is, I believe myself. It may be lazy, but it’s also right.

So one day earlier this week, out of the blue, without intending to or making a list or having a big build-up in my head (which is something that precedes almost all of my accomplishments, great, small, and imaginary), we accomplished so much more than just one thing. These are the things we did:

1. Loaded and ran one dishwasher.
2. Did one load of laundry (not the folding).
3. Talked to Granny J.
4. Wrote one thank-you note.
5. Got dressed! In jeans! And sneakers!
6. Applied mascara. Using the little mirror in a cloth baby book.
7. Brushed my hair, delighting Baby Grady. Having a baby really leads you to question your act. I can make faces, read stories, and tell jokes, only to be met with the blankest of baby stares. Then I brush my hair and it’s an absolute scream?
8. Emptied the diaper pail.
9. Walked across the neighborhood to mail several thank-you notes and another thing.
10. Walked to the market and purchased salad greens, corn thins, and a six-pack. By the way, I really like corn thins. They are like rice cakes, except made of corn. And also thin. They are really, really well-named.
11. Ate a salad. (I made the salad ahead of time, which was clever, because it meant that I managed to eat something that was not dry cereal, an apple, or a spoonful of peanut butter.) Go me.

Another tale of toplessness

So, today we had a dramatic spit-up event that took out the baby, the onesie, the jams, a blanket, the couch, and ALL of my clothes (two shirts, yoga pants, and even my undies!) I know; it was a pretty big deal. I took it as a sign from the universe that we needed more skin-to-skin time, me and Grady. So, I wiped us down and we retreated to the bed to snuggle beneath our down comforter. I let Grady wear a onesie, since that baby hates the nakedness. (And I thought all babies loved nakey time?)

Then I realized, I haven’t really done skin-to-skin since we got home from the hospital. Probably because it’s cold and we are far too stingy environmentally conscious to heat our home to a state of actual warmth. But have I ruined my baby with this appalling maternal oversight? Is he going to blame me when he is arrested for petty crimes? (please let them be petty, please let them be petty...) When, exactly, does the window of opportunity on skin-to-skin close? And what are we trying to accomplish again?

While we were there, we discovered Grady’s new favorite hobby. Standing! Or rather, pretending to stand, while I support most of his weight. Because he is only three weeks old and as such is inherently lazy. But he likes to bear a little of the weight. Then he springs his legs straight, as if to jump. And of course I fly him up into the air as though he has expert jumping skills. So that he will develop a completely delusional sense of his own strength and athletic ability. Because if it isn’t my job to do everything in my power to inflate this kid’s ego, then I don’t know what. (For my previous achievements in this particular parenting division, see Reese.)

Now, can we take a moment to appreciate the chunk-wagon that is my baby?

Maternity leave report #2

And on the third day, I spent way too much time kicking it at Kaiser, for someone who is not even in labor. First I had my routine prenatal. There my doctor discovered that Baby H’s heart rate was chilling on the low end of normal. Not concerning, but on the low side, and lower than at my last appointment. (This is clearly due to the rigorous workout regimen he has undertaken in utero.) Then she measured my belly to be ever-so-slightly small, which was also normal, because at this late stage of being gigantically pregnant, the baby settles lower into the pelvis to prepare for exit. Thus, the belly tends to lose a little height.

Still, the combination of both perfectly normal factors led her to order some additional testing, just to make sure Baby H hadn’t settled in for exit in a way that was pinching his cord or otherwise causing distress.

So, down I went to the strange exam rooms in the basement, with thoughts of emergency c-sections bouncing around my brain. Apparently my baby’s daddy (having been updated on our adventures) was simultaneously coming to a place of calm acceptance that perhaps we would have an induction that afternoon and that would be fine. And isn’t he so zen with his worry? I had about 45 minutes to kill between “appointments” but that clearly isn’t enough time to do anything, other than call your baby’s daddy so that he can also worry, so after I did that, I ate a granola bar. I figured that no matter what happens, it’s always good to be well-fueled.

Then Wanda showed up to do my test and was horrified that I had been waiting and thought maybe she had overlooked my appointment and why hadn’t anyone called her??!!!???!! I assured her she was right on time, and that my appointment was brand new and it was okay. Then she gave me an ultrasound, which is always fun. Checked in on the fluid level of Baby H’s swimming pool (all good) and noted that he is still a boy.

And then! I was escorted to a lovely pink recliner, where my belly was hooked up to heart rate and contraction monitors and my only task was to lounge and read a junky magazine. As Wanda connected the contraction monitor, she said, “I don’t expect you’re having any contractions, but if you do have one, it will be good to see how the baby responds.” I assured her that I did not seem to be having any contractions.

So I reclined there, listening to Baby H’s heart thump away and watching the bumpy lines crank out of the machine. About 20 minutes later, Wanda returned.

“Did you know you’ve had four or five contractions?”

“Um, there was one thing I thought was maybe a contraction.”

“About five minutes ago? That was the biggest, but you had several others.”

“Oh. I had no idea. I’ll know when I’m in labor, right?”

“Yep. It’ll hurt. I promise.”

Then she reviewed the other bumpy line, and diagnosed Baby H’s heart to be “textbook awesome.” She confirmed that it was pretty much the most beautiful test result she had ever witnessed in all her experience administering such tests. And I thought finally! Someone is acknowledging how exceptional my baby is! Because I was really getting bored with all this “normal” and “fine” nonsense.

Maternity leave report #1

Monday was my first day of maternity leave, seeing as how I am officially disabled. But also seeing as how my boss made it fairly clear that he would prefer that no labor events take place in the office. So, now, my baby’s daddy is twiddling his thumbs and impatiently waiting, while I am enjoying whatever days of leisure Baby H elects to give me before he makes his grand entrance.

Since some of you have told me that you very much enjoy mundane posts about what the heck I do with my time and what goes on in my brain-parts when I am not talking, well... here you go.

On day #1, I did these things:

1. Woke up at 4:44. (So silly.)
2. Made coffee and lunch for my baby’s daddy. (By the way, I do this every day... this was not special on-leave behavior. Wasn’t he so smart to marry me?)
3. Ate the slow kind of oatmeal for breakfast.
4. Caught up on my Google Reader.
5. Considered taking a nap, but abandoned the plan when my body did not want to nap.
6. Washed our sheets.
7. Did another load of laundry, which included the seat cover from my car and the dog towels.
8. Dragged the trash cans in from the curb. All three of them!
9. Ran (and emptied!) the dishwasher.
10. Swept Reese’s fuzz off the floors.
11. Ate a pear and a cheesy rice cake and probably some other stuff too.
12. Cleaned a bathroom sink, then decided I was not in the mood for more bathroom-cleaning business.
13. Took my car to the car wash place to have it cleaned only to discover that they are closed on Mondays. What is it with being closed on Mondays?
14. Wandered around the makeup section at the Rite Aid, but didn’t buy anything. Came closest on some yellow nail polish, but failed to commit.
15. Bought some half-n-half, butter, salad greens, and cheese at the market.
16. Made baked potatoes and salad for dinner. Because it was Monday and that’s how we do.

On day #2, I did a better job of engaging in the leisure part of leave:

1. Got up at 2-ish because Baby H was not going to make it until morning without a snack. Growing a baby is so demanding!
2. Went back to bed!
3. Got up at 6-ish to make my baby’s daddy’s coffee. (Tuesday is seminar day, so he doesn’t take a lunch. Because he nourishes himself with data and nerdiness, I imagine. I mean, he must, because he never tells me what he does have for lunch and if he went out for lunch, then surely he would report back on the adventure, right?)
4. Went back to bed!
5. Received a goodbye kiss from my baby’s daddy.
6. Got up at 8-ish.
7. Ate some cereal.
8. Took a shower.
9. Dropped my car off with Jim the mechanic for a little proactive check-up and an actually timely oil change and tire rotation.
10. Got a haircut from a lady who clearly doesn’t know what “Zooey Deschanel bangs” are, but I think it’s still passably cute. Was also told that I must be having a miniature baby (!) which I found to be terribly rude.
11. Agreed via phone to replace battery in car, at Jim’s suggestion, as it was apparently very weak and was just keeping up appearances with a paper-thin veneer of competence. I mean, what with winter and baby coming, who needs a battery on the brink of a nervous breakdown? (Also: confused Jim briefly because apparently he had two Suzannes with Subarus in the shop today -- what are the odds!!???!!!)
12. Browsed in a bookstore, where I made two bookish purchases and pondered a onesie purchase, even though we don’t need more onesies. But it was grey with orange writing that said “born to read”! I kind of think my self-control may have been misguidedly overzealous on this one...
13. Lounged in a coffee shop, drinking a latte and being the last person on the planet to read Girl with a Dragon Tattoo. Also ate a lousy cookie. I actually almost threw half of it away, it was so lousy.
14. Bought Reese and Puppet two new fancy stuffies to give them as gifts from the new baby. Apparently this is something you do for older siblings?
15. Did a shoe store walk-thru and realized I wasn’t in the mood.
16. Browsed in another bookstore, where I found some great used books for Baby H’s library, made a small friend named Angus, played with a pop-up book about firetrucks, talked about trains, and was then complimented by the cashier for my brilliant book selections.
17. Wandered into a children’s shop where I pondered a onesie with a pretty outrageously terrific cowboy print but weird-feeling fabric, and sat down in the floor-sample glider, which confirmed that it was time for me to go home.
18. Arrived home to a Puppet with the zoomies and a Reese who wanted to wrassle.
19. Made jambalaya for dinner, which was not as impressive as it sounds, since the rice came from a box.