Catch Up

First of all, congratulations to Becca, Ryan, and Charlie who have added a beautiful baby boy to their adorable family!

Jack sends his congrats, too. He's just looking kind of weepy because his bath has become a scary, scary place since he and Harry started bathing a deux,

We've had 2 weekends of grandparents visits in a row, so as you might imagine, my camera is bursting with pictures. Also, Jack has ahead a ton of milestones in the past week. Last Sunday, he started eating rice cereal, and he LOVES it. He also started enjoying a few sips of rat poison-- er Good Start-- from a sippy cup with his meals, and he handles the cup like champ. Oh! And he tried prunes yesterday and liked them (and yes he's still breast feeding and yes, I'm still pumping so he can drink bottles of me when I'm not around). Also, he tried the baby swing at a park for the first time last week.

As you can see, something that has NOT changed is the face he makes when he spies the camera.


Harry enjoys bathing with Jack, although Jack looks a bit freaked out by the whole thing. And who wouldn't? It's a violent kind of love, the love of a big brother.




Nothing really new with Harry. Although we did ask him what he wanted for Chrismukkah because we can' wait to start buying out toy aisles at chain retailers across the country as we simultaneously scheme up new ways to store more plastic crap in our tenny little house. His response? A kayak, a rain cloud, and a volcano. Also he informed us that Grandma Tease (that's what he calls my mom) was getting him a rainbow.

No problem, weirdo, we told him, but we were thinking about how screwed we were.

Then on Sunday, he added a police uniform to the list, and we were marginally relieved. At least we can buy that.

Despite the many, many photos, we were in a hurry to get these guys in bed so we could go out to eat-- our favorite way to spend an evening. Dressed up. Slightly drunk (unless you're Ben or my mom, then you're just DRUNK.) And eating many courses of deliciousness. And if we can do this outside-- bonus. Sure, no crashing ocean in the back ground, so that was kind of a bummer, but there was a delightful hint of fall under the lingering summer breeze that made us all lean in toward the candlelight. And I ate a whole greasy bunch of food without single spill, which meant I could wear the exact same shirt 2 days ago when we went out with Ben's parents for another decadent dinner. Babysitters rock.

Hey! Want to Talk About Boobs?

Specifically, my boobs and how they might not be food sources anymore. I know; I know-- they've been sustaining life for like 2 years practically in a row-- why stop now?

Well, for one thing, I want to get so drunk I puke and eat so much chocolate I also puke. Then, I want to sleep all goddamn night long somewhere far, far away from a hungry baby-- specifically, this hungry baby



No offense Jack.

Oh good. Looks like none taken.


Here's the thing: He only gained 2 ounces in the last month, and even though the doctor is not at all concerned, I am, because who likes a skinny baby?

Well, okay, I mean, this skinny baby is pretty awesome.

He even sits up like a little baby frog

The thing is, he seems hungry when he gets done eating, fussing and gnawing on his hands. Ben has been reluctant to agree with me about the hunger, I think because I was such a freaking psycho about breast milk with Harry. I acted so superior because I was breastfeeding, and I was determined that he would have zero formula because ew! Formula is rat poison. This time around, I don't feel that way at all. The other day, I fed Jack from both boobs and then offered him a 4 ounce bottle, and he sucked it down after every feeding. He still woke up a lot and nursed all damn night, but he was more content during daylight hours than he usually is.

Jack has been kind of cranky his whole darn life, and if bottles make him happy, then who am I to stand in his way?

The thing is, I am such a judgmental bitch that every time I see a baby with a bottle I have a visceral reaction. I think, "Why are you feeding him that? Do you want him to be stupid and have a cold all winter?" Even though I know that aggregate statistics cannot possibly play out at the level of the individual and that socioeconomic level has a lot to do with those supposed benefits of breastfeeding.

An occupational hazard, perhaps, but have read too much and written too much about the ways in which hierarchies of worthy mothers have been created and maintained and used to keep women in the home or at work for less money or to devalue the work that women do to take seriously all the public health guilt messages about nursing.

But I also am a woman who is steeped in this culture and wants very much to do the best thing for her babies who feels guilty about bottle feeding, just like I am supposed to feel.

We are, after all, coming up to cold and flu season-- a good time of year for extra immunities. And I love what nursing does for my body in terms of cleavage and weight loss. And also, if I don't nurse, what ever will I feel smug and superior about?

Mostly, though, I am worried about being judged. And not by him.


I don't want to hear, "Oh you did the best you could!" and "Five months is a long time-- good for you for giving him the best possible start!" and all the other stuff we say to women who have thrown in the nursing towel. I don't want the disapproving hmphfs and the I'm-sure-he'll-be-okays. Because really, I am aiming a lot higher than okay for these guys, you know?

Note that I am too weight conscious to give up the breast feeding diet, which totally rocks, and that I have been pumping in my office the whole time I wrote this.

I'm just saying breast feeding sucks-- pun intended.

Biker Harry

Okay, so I am not trying to wish away my babies' precious, fleeting babyhoods or anything like that, but there are a couple of things I am really looking forward to.

First of all, sleep. Jack does not do this anymore. At all really. Unless he is being held in my arms (only mine). This works okay at night, but it's not very convenient for naps. We've thought about sleep training, but there doesn't seem to be an "out" to Jack's crying. Ben reminded me that the same thing happened with Harry, and he directed me to the blog posts I wrote in November, December, and January of 2006 (oh good-- so only 3 months of severe sleep deprivation). When I read these manic depressive entries, I was so relieved because I don't remember any of that (well, I remember a bout of insomnia and mild depression, but mostly I just remember my adorable, babbling baby). So I called Ben and said, "Oh my gosh! I am so happy to read that stuff about Harry. I forgot all about that, which means I will forget this too and will probably survive it and will maybe even want another baby someday." Ben said, "Hmm, that's funny. On my way to work just now, I thought, Yes, it is definitely time for a vasectomy. Maybe this weekend."

Second, I really want to be able to take the kids to the park by myself. If Jack could sit up for longer than like 3 minutes before falling on his face, I think I could swing this one, but he is still so floppy, and Harry is a dangerous climber, so I can't take them both and have any fun.

Third, I wish I could just open the front door and let Harry go play on his bike. Unfortunately, he is only 2, so he needs help. An entourage, really.




What he does not need?


This stupid helmet.

So everyone else tried it on.






Oh Jack. If he would only sleep, think how cute he'd be.

Actually, he's asleep right now-- he has his longest, deepest stretch of sleep from 5 am till 10. Wouldn't it be nice to seep until 10? I wouldn't know because someone wakes up at 5:34 every morning.

Come on Ride the Train

Erm, actually, my mom and Jack and I did NOT ride the train. That's how come she could take this pic.

No, we waited on the thrilling kiddie zoo path by the sleeping (always sleeping) wallabies to catch a glimpse oh Harry, Ben, and my dad.



Dude, it would be so cool if this were a real panda.

I have no idea what my dad is saying to Harry. My guess is something creepy.

Our trip, like the 74 million trips to the zoo we've made this summer, culminated in a group carousel ride. Then we donned matching dickies and held hands while we sang "You Are My Sunshine" in two-part harmony.


The zoo has gotten a lot less fun since the train arrived-- it only holds like 10 people at a time, so the line takes for.ev.er. The ride itself takes literally 2 and a half minutes, and the driver (who stopped pointing out all the lazy animals his second week on the job) makes pervy comments to red haired girls.

Thanks for the nice comments on the last post! I really am okay--it's just like constant PMS. So Ben is really the person to be worried about.

At the Little Gym

What a freaking Monday.

Jack has worn 3 outfits already-- pooped through one and peed through one and god knows what he's doing to number 3 right now. When Ben met us at the organic yippie kid cafe for lunch, he laughed at Harry's stripes and plaid get-up, saying "Ha! It looks like I dressed him."

I had a hard time getting us all out the door by 10:30 this morning, and I was acting all sad and put-upon about how rough it was to get out of the house "early" for the cleaning lady until I realized, what the hell, princess-- why would you even complain about that? But I couldn't stop complaining and feeling sad even though I knew I should. Also, when I got home from the gym at 6:15 this morning (because I DO NOT SLEEP ANYMORE), I decided I just HAD to take the exhaust fan cover off the bathroom fan and scrub it. Had to, I swear.

I have some depression and anxiety issues; I am sure of it. Either that or the 5 months of fractured sleep are finally starting to catch up with me.

Either way, I am seeing someone next week. Also, I am seeking to rid my world of stress by outsourcing as much work as I can (hello, organic baby food delivery) and scheduling as many things as possible in advance (standing every-6-week hair appointment, how ya doing?). So we'll see how that goes.

The big gulp iced coffee I got at Einstein's this afternoon has done nothing for my jitters, tell you what. (Seriously, like 64 ounces, which I didn't know when I asked for a really big one, and by the time the guy handed me the soda-fountain cup, I had already paid, and I don't think you can return coffee...)

(And yeah, I cold just not drink the whole thing, but that's not how I roll.)

Luckily, I have a wonderful family, as you can see by these pictures of my parents with us at Little Gym. We had so much fun with the fam-- more pictures all week, so get exfreakingcited.