Merry Christmas, from the ER

Okay, we weren't actually in the ER on Christmas. We took the baby to Syracuse to visit with his great grandparents and great aunts and uncles (about five hours from home) the weekend before Christmas. It was a bad decision, I admit it. The Baby was sick. He had a fever of 103 three days before we left and was sniffing and snotting around. The Baby was miserable. The Great Grandparents were disappointed. The Great Grandparents won. Well, sort of.

Our logic was this: The Baby wasn’t sleeping, he was a crank, he’d probably sleep all the way there, if we left just a day later than anticipated we’d only be gone for two full days, my grandparents weren’t afraid of his cold germs and, like I said, they were terribly disappointed at the notion of us not coming for a visit. They’ve only seen The Baby once. I’ve been to two funerals in a week’s time. I was thinking sad, un-Christmassy thoughts. So we packed up the snot-sucker, the nebulizer, Prednisone, and the Tylenol and hit the road.

I was right about the sleep. He slept until lunch, when he woke up like an angel and charmed most of the workers and customers at the Arby’s in Scranton. He even ate. He slept the rest of the way to Syracuse without incident. Once there, he was fine for about a half an hour. I was congratulating myself on deciding to throw caution to the wind. Then The Baby started crying and didn't stop. We were all beside ourselves. He acted like his belly hurt. I called the pediatrician, as I suspected the Prednisone might be a culprit. He said to get some Maalox for The Baby. That seemed to help minimally. He was not a happy camper. We went through three months of reflux and umpteen colds and I’ve never seen The Baby cry and carry on so much.

Anyway, The Baby was pretty wheezy and that night my dad (my parents where also in NY for a visit) and I took turns holding him upright to sleep. On my shift, The Baby was in the middle of a rib-rattling coughing fit when he started to throw up. This caused more choking and he was gasping for breath and still puking and he just looked weird. I woke my husband and my dad drove us to the ER. The pediatric ER wasn’t at all busy, so we went right in. The Baby was fine (at least in the sense that he wasn't admitted). He just had an upper respiratory infection and bronchiolitis (he gets this whenever he gets a cold) and wasn’t responding to his nebulizer treatments. It was a long night. I won’t even get into how mommy decided that she didn’t need to pack extra clothes since he doesn’t spit up anymore. :-/

The Baby was still a crank for most of the visit, but my grandparents understood. I’m glad they got to see him. He finally broke out of the crankies about 3 p.m. on Christmas Day.

It ended up being a merry Christmas after all.

Gone for the holidays

See you in '08!

I’m no Martha

I just got an email forward entitled “Martha Stewart's December To-Do List.” Some of the To-Dos include: Blanch carcass from Thanksgiving turkey. Spray paint gold, turn upside down and use as a sleigh to hold Christmas cards; Take dog apart. Disinfect. Reassemble; Lay Faberge egg; Float votive candles in toilet tank.


Here’s a week’s worth of my to-do list:

Dec. 14: Buy tree from Target. Screw together, plug-in. Hang the seven ornaments we have on tree.

Dec. 15: Order presents for family that we won’t see at Christmas online and have shipped to my parents in-law. Assume that they’ll wrap everything and give to the appropriate brother-in-law/sister-in-law/niece/nephew.

Dec. 16: Sign cards during AFV, no personal note this year.

Dec. 17: Watch husband wrap gifts. What’s gotten into him?

Dec. 18: Watch husband clean kitchen and do dishes. What’s gotten into him? Go to Wal-Mart to pick up The Baby’s big boy car seats and diapers, and a veggie tray, and socks…

Dec. 19: Go to The Baby’s Daycare holiday party. Watch The Baby “make” a Christmas cookie and eat about 5 tablespoons of frosting in the process. Gloat as I have the only child not afraid of the Santa.

Dec. 20: Throw away rotting Thanksgiving turkey to make room for Christmas ham. (Just kidding)


I am not really that much of a crank, but this year I am not nearly as excited as I thought I would be. Maybe it’s the stress of the holidays, but lately I feel like my days have become a series of chores that I either do poorly or don’t do at all. Sorry to be a downer. I needed to vent. Thank goodness for weekends!

*Sigh* Pump Mama tired.

Shheeeeeeee’s Baaaaack!

Ugh… I got an early holiday visitor –– Aunt Flo. Can you believe it?

I haven’t had a period since June of 2006. I can't really complain (well, I can and I will, but you know what I mean). It’s been a long run. So, it’s back to Tampax and mini-pads and cramps and weeks without sex (I realize that this doesn’t hold the same weight as it did before The Baby has arrived).

There is a point to all of this. I’m not just giving you TMI for nothing. Your hormonal state before your period affects your milk supply. So no wonder my supply has been smaller than usual (and no wonder why I’ve been such a biotch). I’m happy to report that my supply is on a slight rebound since I started my cycle on Friday night (my mood, not so much :-/). I posted on a message board about this and someone was kind enough to point out that Kellymom.com has some suggestions for keeping your supply intact during the latter half of your cycle. There is a link on the right to Kellymom should you need it.

PS: I added a gift idea to yesterday’s post that I stumbled upon this morning. It's called a nursing necklace, I think that it would benefit bottle feeders too!

Nifty gifts for pumping moms

If you're pumping, give a gift to yourself - better yet forward this to your hubby or significant other.

Nursing Necklaces
What a cool idea! The Baby is always grabbing at my face and hair, whether he’s having a bottle or being rocked to sleep. These necklaces give something for your baby to play with. You can also customize the length and make special requests and there are dozens of fashionable options. The prices range from $17-$43 per necklace. Not bad! Note: these are for baby to tug NOT chew.






Pump Gear
Pump Juice, Proud Pumping Mama, Juiced, Exclusively Pumping... share your pumping pride! According to the Web site, 100% of proceeds from this particular Cafepress vendor's items sold through January benefit the Mother's Milk Bank of Ohio. Awesome!
Coffee Mug
What pumpin' Mama wouldn't love this? It says, "Moms Milk Express. Fresh Milk, Bottled with Love. Making Deliveries Every 3 Hours." Every 3 hours? Ummmm... yea... The Milk Memos
This book was recommended to me by a woman on thenest.com. I haven't read it yet, but plan to. It has a 5-star review on Amazon - you can't beat that!

Diamonds
Hell, yea! You need some bling to go with all of that liquid gold!

Is this happy little baby mine? :-)

The Baby has been good this week. Real good. I wonder what he’s up to?

I hate to be cynical, but for as long as I can remember there’s been something the matter! The first thing was a possible heart condition. The day after The Baby was born, we were told that his heart rate was low. It was suppose to be about 130 bpm and it was about 80. This is a sign of Long QT Syndrome, which undetected results in cardiac failure. When you hear about high school athletes collapsing, undiagnosed Long QT is often the cause. There is nothing as mind-bending as being delivered this kind of news on what are suppose to be the happiest days of your life. I’m so glad that it was a fluke. My heart goes out to those families who aren’t as lucky. His low heart rate was temporary (went away after about a half week) and was most likely caused by a traumatic birth. I was probably as close as they got to a C-section without actually doing one — the entire C-section team was in the room for The Baby’s birth. In fact, one of the guys held my leg (hubby held the other). The Baby had his last cardiology appointment last Thursday and has a clean bill of heart health. Yea!

Next in the line of ailments was acid reflux. What a horrible thing this was. I am naïve sometimes. I admit it. When I was pregnant people would joke with me about how I’d never sleep again and how babies are always crying and whatnot. When our kiddo only slept about 5-7 hours (and not at once) daily and cried 80% (at least) of the time, I thought it was par for the course. At about two and half weeks I started to suspect something was wrong. He wouldn’t sleep, cried no matter how he was held, cried on the boob or bottle, gagged when he was laying down, wouldn’t tolerate sleeping on his back and would spit up in large quantities. I use to sit on the sofa with my feet on the coffee table and The Baby resting on my lap against my knees so he was propped up. He could spit up and nail me in the chest, but not get a drop on himself! That’s projectile puking, for you! Thank goodness for Prevacid. That coupled with no dairy in my diet and supplementing with non-dairy formula seemed to fix everything but the puking. We were able to take him off Prevacid at six months and he’s been fine since.

Two things happened during the end of the summer and the beginning of the fall. 1) The Baby grew a bunch of teeth in the span of about 1.5 months and 2) We discovered he’s hypersensitive to mosquito bites. Since I talked about the teeth yesterday, I won’t rehash it. The mosquito bite thing was scary. His whole foot swelled and he was just miserable. He needed special cream and Claritin and OFF. Then came the colds. He had one from October until last week (it seemed). Of course, The Baby can’t just get a cold he gets bronchiolitis too, which means we had to purchase a nebulizer. It’s not so bad, but dammit, the poor kid. He can’t just get the sniffles?

I remember crying on many occasions those first weeks. My son seemed so vulnerable and, well, a little miserable in the outside world. I felt somehow responsible, like I should have been able to keep him safe in my womb, away from complicated things like eating EKGs and acid reflux.

So, Merry Christmas, Baby. It seems as though he’s hitting a period where he’s HAPPY. I think being a baby suits him much better than being an infant, and he is starting to shine. This makes Mamma glad.

Pregnancy isn’t all bellies, booties and bows

Okay, yesterday’s post got me thinking. It’s easy to remember all the good things, and every now and then I still feel a phantom kick, but the truth is I’m worried - more worried about my second than my first for several reasons.

First, I’m 34, so I’ll either be just pregnant or not-yet pregnant when I turn the big 3-5.
I already hate the fact that when I fill out surveys I’m no longer in the YOUNG bubble. My #2 pencil or cursor always gravitates towards the 26-32 age group and then I remember, gasp! I’m 34! In obstetrical years, I probably could join AARP. Thirty-five is the year that they start warning you about scary things related to “advanced” maternal age. Actually, my gynecologist said he never says anything until 36. Bless his heart. If we start trying in April and I don’t get pregnant until October and I turn 35 in July, well, you do the math.

The second reason is purely emotional. My heart breaks when I think that The Baby won’t be getting all of my attention. I get a mental picture of The Baby wanting to be held and me having to look after a needy infant. I don’t ever want him to feel ignored or like he’s second best. The thought makes me tear up. He’ll be so little. He won’t understand. I know, he’ll get over it, but it still breaks my heart.

Just for fun here are some things that I DON’T miss about being pregnant:
1. Worrying about having a miscarriage. The first 14 weeks of my pregnancy were the longest weeks of my life.
2. Feeling like I’m hung over for 10 weeks. Ugghh…
3. Doctor’s appointments.
4. Peeing. All. The. Time.
5. Wearing a min-pad for 9 months straight.
6. Kicking in the ribs. Ouch!
7. A sore lower back. Oh, wait. That never went away.
8. Elastic pants.
9. Ridiculously low-cut maternity shirts. Who designs them like that, anyway?
10. Feeling like Fudgie the Whale.

From the Pump Room:
My plan was to stop pumping daily when The Baby started eating three meals a day and began dropping bottles from his diet. I figured that I’d send a can of formula to daycare and nurse him in the morning and at night. When he decided to have six teeth at 5 months old (he cut his first four at 4 months), I stopped breast feeding all together. I read all the advice on teething and breast feeding and frankly, it just didn’t work for such a young infant. He didn’t understand that he was biting and I doubt if he was able to make a connection between biting and me pulling him off the nipple. One of the first times he laughed out loud was when I pulled him off the nipple and sternly said, “No!”

So anyway, since I got sick my supply has been crap, so I reasoned that it’s okay to just pump two times a day since that is how often I was going to be nursing The Baby at this point anyway. I figured that I’d get a 4 oz bottle per breast per pump since there would be so much time in between pumps.

WRONG! If you want to kill your supply quickly start pumping twice a day. I’m going back to at least four pumps a day. Blah.

Baby Fever

A couple of things have happened recently that have given me a touch of Baby Fever. First, a dear friend of mine’s sister is pregnant. She is also in her mid-30s, which makes me feel good, as I will have Baby Number Two at the age of 35 (knock wood). She just reached the second trimester (let’s all breathe a collective sigh of relief for her!).

Secondly, it snowed. Last winter I was pregnant. When it snowed, my husband and co-workers cleaned off my car. That was nice. Nicer than me cleaning it off myself like I did last week.

Things I miss about being pregnant:
1. People telling me how good I looked. Seriously, I was all baby. Being an average to cute gal, I don’t get a lot of comments on my looks and it made me feel so good!
2. People going out of their way to help me – even if I didn’t need it.
3. Curling up on the couch and reading books about how my pregnancy was going to progress. It was just such a cozy feeling.
4. The anticipation.
5. The BIG ultrasound.
6. Picking names.
7. Feeling the baby kick.
8. Watching my alien belly.
9. Watching my husband watch my alien belly!
10. Rubbing my belly.

We’re planning on trying again when The Baby is about one (that’s only 4 months!). I know that the second time around will be completely different. I will have a baby growing in me and one crawling all over me! I will be exhausted. I can’t imagine ever being ready for Baby Number Two.

Tour The Pump Room!

I know you’re just dying to actually see The Pump Room. I hope that you don’t have any romantic notions as to what it looks like. Perhaps one would envision the bathroom in which I pump to be a quaint powder room with a nice sitting area and a comfy overstuffed chair. Stained conference-room chairs and institutional tile is more like it! I spend about 40 minutes a day right here with a gorgeous view of a sink and toilet. If ever my blog topics seem to lack in creativity, consider the source from which they are most often spawned!

Photo 1: If anyone were to ever burst in on Pump Lady, this is where they’d find her, shirt off, machine on, and feet up, reading a book or writing.














Photo: 2: I’m currently reading “The Mephisto Club.” It’s a little slow. Slow doesn’t make for good Pump Room reading. You need something that reads quickly and can be put down easy. “A Prayer for Owen Meany” also was not good Pump Room material; though it was good (I read it before).













Photo 3: This is my view while I pump, minus me in the mirror, of course.













Photo 4: Random bottle of Pledge. I don’t know why someone is storing dusting spray in the handicapped bathroom (a.k.a. The Pump Room). It’s sort of funny, though.

Bah…

One of my favorite Christmas songs is “Father Christmas” by The Kinks. That being said, it should come as no surprise that I am a little bit of a Scrooge. I have a headache just thinking about all the preparation. You’d think since it’s The Baby’s first Christmas and all, I’d be more excited. Excuse the pun, but I get wrapped up in the stress of finding gifts, paying for them, mailing them, writing cards, etc. I know that Christmas has a deeper meaning, but let’s face it, even if we do celebrate the birth of Christ, it doesn’t make it any less stressful.

I think this is why I’ve enjoyed Thanksgiving and New Years more and more. It’s about family/friends and being together and being festive without having to do anything but show up (possibly with a green bean casserole).

Sorry if I am harshing anyone’s holiday buzz. Give me a break, it’s Monday! :-)


From the Pump Room
I never realized this before, but Ameda has a ton of useful information on their site (www.ameda.com). Since I have a Purely Yours, you might think that I’d have known that! One of the things that I like about getting info off of the site is, since it’s a business, it comes without judgment. I find that some other sites are a little preachy about breastfeeding. Even though I provide breast milk for The Baby, I hate reading anything that implies one mom’s choice is better than another.

Anyway, there is a helpful section for Employed Mothers (or anyone who uses their pump a lot or to pump exclusively). I did learned that regardless of the size of your breasts, if your nipples are larger than a nickel you may need a larger-sized flange (aka horn). When sucked into the horn, your nipples should not touch the sides. Hmmmmm… I didn’t know that! I think I might order some new tubing too. Non-hospital grade pumps are made to last for six months (I don’t remember where I read that!), so I guess I’m due to replace something!

Check back tomorrow for a tour of the Pump Room. I’m serious.

Merry Christmas, Love, Daddy

If it were up to my husband, The Baby might not get anything but Ohio State stuff for Christmas. So, what's wrong with this? For starters, we live right in the middle of Blue and White Country. I want my son to have friends. Rival football gear could send the wrong message. Plus, I went to Penn State. What about Mommy's team? (I don't really care--honest. In fact, I sorta like the Buckeyes now.)

Now, I've seen some cute baby sports stuff out there: onsies, slippers, sweat suits, blankies and Brutus plush toys. In fact, The Baby has a tracksuit and a T-shirt already. But did you know there are Baby Einstein-ish DVDs available to help your little Bucknut learn his or her numbers, letters and colors, all while fostering a love of the Ohio State Buckeyes?

My husband sent me this link this afternoon. This just cracks me up. I guess there is something new on The Baby's gift list. :-) The site doesn't always respond, so I'm including the text.

http://www.teambabyentertainment.com/
Baby Buckeye DVD
$19.95

You love your kids, you love your family and you love your The Ohio State University Buckeyes! Now you can combine them all with this exciting Team Baby Entertainment DVD. Featuring Officially Licensed footage of Buckeye sports, mascot, marching band and campus attractions along with a Ohio-sized view of the sights, sound, traditions and colors of The Ohio State University, BABY BUCKEYE combines all the great things you love about OSU with all the things you want your Little Buckeye to learn numbers, letters, colors and more. Narrated by famed NCAA football analyst, Lee Corso and featuring original Team Baby Entertainment music, Baby BUCKEYE is the ideal way to introduce your love of The Ohio State University Buckeyes to the team's youngest fans. Watch together¦ cheer together¦ learn together. Raising Tomorrow's OSU Fan Today!

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Pumping and the Blue Man Group

There are two things that I never thought would share a sentence.

So, this is what it's like to have your own office and pump. Not to shabby. I'm not really at work. I'm at home. My husband is playing basketball and my son is asleep. I had a busy day at work and I didn't get a chance to write my blog entry over lunch as usual. I'm pumping in my home office, which, believe it or not, I've never done.

There is a Blue Man Group special on PBS. It's annoying the shit out of me. I try not to dwell on it on my Blog, but I mentioned it once or twice, it's suspected that I have an adverse reaction to prolactin (hormone secreted while breastfeeding/pumping). Pumping and or breastfeeding agitates me to no end. So, maybe it's just the prolactin talking, but right now I feel like poking the Blue Men in their big white eyes Three Stooges style.

It's winter here in central PA. It came up quickly, because just last weekend we (ok, my husband) raked. Now there is a blanket of snow on the ground. Here's a picture of baby in his first leaf pile. Awwwwwwwww...

Eating is for babies! Or not.

The Baby has decided eating isn't for him again. Yesterday he had three and a half bottles all day. He usually has six. He’s not doing much better with solids. Daycare said he ate less than half of what he normally does. He did gobble down about two tablespoons of apples (recipe below) and oatmeal at home, but got super mad when I tried to feed him yogurt. I have my fingers crossed that he isn't gettinig sick again and that he just goes through phases.

I was happy he ate a little, but then I did something that made me feel AWFUL. I wiped his mouth, something he hates only a little less than wiping his nose, with his bib and I accidentally scratched his face with the Velcro closure! I didn’t realize what I did at first. He had braced himself against my wipe and afterward just sat there with a red face and his mouth distorted into a scream, but no sound emerged. I’m sure you parents are familiar with the soundless scream. It means they are so mad that they can’t even breathe enough to scream. When they catch their breath, watch out! About half hour later, a nice patch of brush burn appeared on The Baby’s cheek to remind me that I am a mean, vicious woman.

On an only-somewhat related note, if you ever ask your husband to get apples and he returns with an entire tote of them, here is a simple baked apple recipe that works for you and for the baby!

“Baked” apples
Peel and core apples (however many you want)
Chop and put in microwave-safe bowl
Sprinkle liberally with cinnamon
Add a half-inch of water

Microwave for 5 minutes. Put all in the blender or food processor and puree. Freeze in icecube trays and pop the cubes into a freezer bag. It was so good that I used the rest of the apples to make the same thing for us – just don’t add water and during the last minute of cooking crumble some low-fat graham crackers on top and dot with a tiny bit of butter. It’s very dessert-y but super good for you!

From the Pump Room:
I pump in a handicap bathroom, which is a single bathroom. It’s small but private. People seldom use it. Just pumpers and dumpers. Dumpers are the folks who don’t want to poop in the public bathrooms where others can hear them, so they go to the handicap bathroom. The pumpers are left with the smell (hey, thanks!). When someone wants to use this bathroom (aka The Pump Room), they are almost always able to. When they are not, they will rattle the door handle in disbelief for 10 seconds, wait two seconds, and try again. Do they think their hand is just playing tricks on them? It gives me a panic attack every time.

One time I walked in on some guy getting dressed. Apparently it functions as a dressing room too. This is how seldom people use this bathroom. Naked Man didn’t even bother locking the door. Okay, he wasn’t naked. He was, lucky for us both, just buttoning his shirt. I felt like a real jerk, though. Should I have knocked? Is this sexual harassment? (especially since I just stood there), who is he anyway? I take no chances in the pump room. I check and re-check the door. I’ve been known to scamper across the bathroom, boobs out, just to eyeball the lock to make sure it’s flush with the handle and really locked.

This post was totally inspired by a post on thenest.com. There are others out there who pump in bathroom stalls, get shy boobs and are equally as paranoid as me. Yippee!

Unrequited love

I feel bad for the baby. He loves the cat - I suspect more than he loves me. Whenever the cat comes into the room, he absolutely beams. If the cat gets anywhere near him, The Baby can hardly contain himself. He stops what he is doing, smiles from ear to ear. He is a captive audience. Once or twice the cat sniffed his face. I thought The Baby was either going to get up and applaud or fall over in a swoon. He doesn’t realize that these disinterested sniffs are the human equivalent of being snubbed.

You might imagine that we’ve got a cat who struts around the house with feline confidence, which, let’s face it, borders on arrogance. We don’t. Our cat is neurotic, the vet says so. This neuroticism is baby induced. From the day The Baby came home, the cat has slowly been licking his belly bare. He’s now working on his legs. The vet said that it’s a pretty common thing for nervous cats to do.


More Homemade Lullabies
My poor husband. I’m not being modest when I say that I can’t sing. The whole cat ordeal inspired The Baby and me to make up another song. It’s suppose to be blues-y. I’m not real sure what that means. I just belt it out in a breathy/sassy voice.

Cole loves the kitty, but the kitty don’t care,
he walks right by him with his tail in the air.
He says, “hisssssssssssssssssss.”

Cole wants to grab his fuzzy gray ears,
and that’s just what the kitty fears.
He wants to pull that tail so much,
but Mom and Dad say, “You mustn’t touch!”


From the Pump Room
Well, I’ve done it. I’m backing off. After a week of super poor production and major frustration I’ve decided to start supplementing with milk rather than with formula. I just am not producing enough to cover the majority of his liquid diet. I’m going to pump two or three times a day.

My Cheap-O Christmas List

The holidays seem to get more expensive every year. I went from being a swinging single in my late 20s with a very small family, to having a husband, a very large extended family and a baby. I must have missed the shopping gene that so many women have. For me, it’s a source of stress. I’m also frugal. There are 15 people on our Christmas list (that’s family only). At $50 per person, this is $750. Gulp.

Of course, we’ll be going all out for baby’s first Christmas and will exchange gifts with our families as usual, but I fantasized a way that we could spend less than $20 for our little nuclear family.

For The Baby
Empty Coke Bottle
Best. Toy. Ever. When my husband finished his soda (or pop as they say where he is from), he gave the plastic bottle to The Baby. This provided a half an hour of uninterrupted fun. Not an easy feat for an almost 8-month old! Since we didn’t keep it, we can get another, drink the Coke ourselves (bonus!), and wrap it up! Price: $1.10

Empty Butter Tub
My in-laws gave one to The Baby and it’s his new favorite toy. He likes to put things in it. Namely, his rubber ducky. It’s fun to watch them learn new skills. The downfall is that when the butter dish gets chewed on and mauled, the plastic can bend, making little sharp points. Maybe The Baby will get another butter dish from Santa for Christmas. Price: $1.89

Newspaper
The Baby loves to “read” the paper. It makes lots of noise and holds his attention. Beware, it’s hard to fish little pieces of newspaper out of little mouths. Especially ones that have eight teeth. Price: .50 daily, $1.75 Sunday

For Dad
A Cup
Not that kind of cup, that kind of cup. If you have a bouncy baby, no doubt your husband or significant other has gotten racked. The Baby stomped and or kicked his daddy in the privates three times on Saturday and had a near miss with grandpa on Sunday. Price: $8.99 (amazon)

For Mom
Ear Plugs
I’m not ashamed, I use them all the time. If it’s not my night to get up with The Baby a pair of drugstore ear plugs helps ensure a good night’s sleep. I need a new pair. I have a nasty ear infection and I’m afraid to use the ones I have now. Price: $3.99 (Riteaid)

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