Misconceptions

So, back when I was pregnant last summer (and it was hot as balls outside and I thought I was going to die) I read a lot about how my body would change during pregnancy but there were some things that I was completely misinformed about, in spite of all my reading:

1. You know how your areolas get all dark during pregnancy?  I thought they would stay that way.  They don't.  I think they only get dark so the baby can find your nipple right after he's born.  But I'm too tired to find an actual link to support that theory.
2. I already wrote about how my ribs moved when I was pregnant.  I had no idea that this would happen, so it's not really a misconception, but it still freaks me out.  And my ribs still haven't moved back, so I'm either going to have to start wearing corsets or burn half of my wardrobe.
3. I thought that you bled for six weeks after the baby came.  I was all excited about not having a period during pregnancy, then I interpreted something I read as saying, "you're going to bleed for six weeks" so then I was less happy, but then after the baby was born and I talked to my midwife, I learned you only bleed for a couple of days, but weird fluids can come out of you for up to six weeks.  Gross.  
4. I thought breastfeeding would be super easy, but it wasn't in the beginning.  And I thought pumping would be super easy, but I still hate it.  And you hear about ladies having over supply and under supply, but I have just enough supply.

And I think that's it.

Chumbercules is 10 months, still.  And he's still cruising and he stands independently sometimes and he's started climbing things, like his sister's step stool.  Maybe if the pediatrician is still concerned about his weight at his 12 month check up, I will get him a stair master.  Because that would be funny.

It's (not) a competition

I didn't think I would catch it.  That weird, hyper-competitive thing you see between parents on TV.  And I don't think I have it bad... yet.

I've been talking to Dog Park Girl.  Her daughter was born a few weeks before Hamburglar and she started standing independently and took her first steps all right at 9 months.  She sent me a video of her baby walking the other day and part of me (the part that responded to the text) thought, "How wonderful!" and the other part of me thought, "Fuck you."  Because I'm awesome.  Or terrible.  Or both.

It was all fine that she was walking back when she had to wear a helmet for her flat spot, but now she got her helmet off, too.

It's totally dumb that I have to remind myself that just because other babies are accomplishing things earlier doesn't mean that Hamburglar isn't super rad.  And I feel like an asshole.  Probably because I am one.

At least Chumbercules is still cuter than dog park baby.

In other news of babies that are stupidly adorable...

Have you guys seen the pictures of Prince George?  So. Fucking. Cute.

Also, I got a bubble machine from Target.  The baby loves it.

And he has started giving hugs, which is pretty much the best thing in the world.  If he gave hugs and slept, I would be over the moon.

I was carrying a bag of dog food the other day and Little Miss Adventure asked me, "How much does that weigh?"
"35 pounds," I said.
"How much do you weigh?"
"36 pounds."
"Wow!  You're really strong!"

Six year olds are awesome.

I've decided I'm going to start trying to make friends/impress people the same way little kids do.  So, internet, look how fast I can run!  And look how big of a bite I can take!

I need a nap.

Muscle shirts, nursing manners and contact paper

Something devastating happened to me this morning.  The wee babe, Hamburglar, woke me up at 3:45a, and for a few brief moments, I thought it was Saturday.  Thinking Tuesday is Saturday is probably in the top five worst things in the world.  Right up with there with genocide, starvation, contaminated water and ecological destruction, or something.  I'm not saying it's the worst thing in the world, but it's probably at least tied for number five.

I googled "My baby is cuter than your baby" the other day (because he totally is), and I came across this funny post by Steve Volk about his twin boys.

"Your babies, I hate to be the one to tell you, are perfect - as in perfectly ordinary - and smell of sour milk.  When they wail and scream it's so unpleasant it shaves a minute or two off the lifespan of everyone within earshot.  But my babies bear the perfectly symmetrical faces of the cherub.  When they cry, they do so in warm bursts - reminiscent of Mozart or birdsong."

Ha!  He includes pictures of his boys and they're cute, but I wasn't wowed.  Some of my friends in Seattle have the handsomest (most handsome?) baby I've ever seen and they are pregnant with number two now.  If they have a little girl who is half as cute as their boy, they may need to change their attitude on having guns in the home and invest in a shotgun.  4rlz.

Also, he's right about the mighty cry of Chumbercules.  It breaks glass and curdles milk and has also been known to turn men to stone.  His cry is more deadly than making eye contact with Medusa.  Now I want to make a snake wig to put on the baby.

Speaking of babies in snakes, I put Chumby in a red muscle shirt, blue shorts and put a temporary snake tattoo on his arm for the 4th of July.  Because America.

Anyway, after reading that first Steve Volk piece, I went digging into the Dad Files and found this one called, "How to Stay Happy in Marriage - Even When you Have Kids."

In other news, here are a few pictures of things we've done to the kid's room.

We had Sherwin Williams do a color match of Benjamin Moore's paint color Kiwi.  I think it turned out well.

The above is obviously before we put the baseboards in.  We still need to do window and door casings.  I've also recently discovered all of the amazing things you can do with contact paper.

I used contact paper and duct tape to turn the two door, ugly ass captain's bed we found on craigslist into this amazing purple piece of furniture that my favorite 6 year old loves to sleep on.

Did you know that you can buy chalkboard contact paper?  I found some!  I put it on the door crooked (this is the same door from the above photo), but Mr. Adventure said it just adds a Tim Burton-y feel to the closet door.

I have one more outlet cover to cover.  I think I'm going to go moustache, but I haven't decided yet.

Chumbercules does this thing when he's nursing... he likes to put his hand in my mouth and grab my teeth.  I didn't mind at first because I figured babies learn about things by touching them, so whatever.  but then he scratched my gums with his baby talons and Mr. Adventure thought it was weird, so I did what I always do and I looked it up.  I came across this post over at BlissTree called "How to Teach your Baby Nursing Manners."  The scenarios are my fave.  Hamburglar definitely falls into the Dentist category and is also a bit of a Scratcher.  He's currently working towards gymnast status, but that all depends on the time of day and I think it may be related to milk flow or whether he has air in his belly.  I don't really know.

And I think that's it.  For now.

Things that happen without adequate sleep

One of us filled the dog's water bowl and put it in the oven. I like to preheat the oven without checking it first. So... partially melted dog dish!

The best part is, we have no idea which of us did it.  Neither of us remember putting the water bowl in the oven.  I've determined we either need more sleep or metal dog dishes.

A conversation

We went to the train depot yesterday with Hamburglar and the Wee Lass Adventure (Lady Adventure?  Tiny McSixyearold?  I'll think of something).  They have a koi pond and a rose garden there, as well, so we had fun.  Mr. Adventure took a picture of the babe and I (I'm normally the one taking the pictures, which means that if I were to suddenly die, the babe wouldn't have many pictures of the two of us.  And I think there are only two pictures of the three of us and none of the four of us).

After showing me the picture, this is what was said:

Me: My arms look like honey hams.
Mr. A: You just had a baby.
Me: Yeah, but not in my arms!

I have full blown bingo wings.  I figure I have two options.  Option one is to start using the baby as a weight for doing tricep curls and option two is to say fuck it, buy sweat pants and a lotto t-shirt, and start playing Bingo.  I'm assuming I would also need a small trove of "lucky" items I set up in front of me in a certain way and should yell like a crazy person if anyone tries to touch them and accuse them of jinxing me, right?

Also, Mr. Adventure and his daughter saw the Mr. Peabody movie recently.  We had a barbecue on Sunday and some friends have a daughter her age that they brought over and Lady Adventure was telling her friend about the movie.  I overheard her saying, "His name was PEA BODY! Pea body!"

And, finally, are you all familiar with Garfield Minus Garfield?  Well, one of my favorite writers of things on the internet over at The Ugly Volvo did a post on why/how having a baby reminds her of garfield minus garfield.  It's mom minus baby and it is hilarious. I had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard.  But that could be because I'm finally cracking up.  You can check it out here.  I think I might love the Ugly Volvo more than the Pregnant Chicken.  I want her to be my friend.  I'm even willing to move to the East Coast to make that happen.  Should I start stalking her?

In other news, baby  is healthy and happy.  We are moving him in to his room this week.  And we are gearing up for the fussy phase before mental leap 7.  Sequences!  If you haven't checked out the Wonder Weeks, you should.  Because I'm a mother and a scientist and I'm telling you to.  Also, I had a realization yesterday.  Parents are people.  It's weird.  I should probably swear less.

I keep a journal for the baby and I was flipping through it and thought, "Holy fuck I should probably swear less in this thing.  Should I edit it?  No.  We'll keep it this way so we can see how/if my language usage evolves over time."  For posterity or something.  I don't know.

Baby fat shaming

Chumbercules and I went to the Baby Vet (aka Pediatrician) on Friday.  Throughout all the pediatricians I interviewed when I was pregnant, I got the impression that they all think parents are stupid.  And we probably all are.  (Or you can read this one.)  And I'm okay with that.

But I was a bit bemused when I left Dr. Soulpatch's office on Friday.  Hamburglar is growing well and weighs 22 pounds and is 28 inches or something tall.  He's in the 80th percentile for weight, the 75th for head circumference and right in the middle (55%) for height.  Because I have hypothyroidism and take synthetic thyroid and I am still breastfeeding and the thyroid is the hub of the endocrine system, I asked about the babe's height and my hypothyroidism.  Dr. Soulpatch said it's all good and that we shouldn't worry unless he stops growing and he is still progressing and blah blah blah.  He then said that the thing we want to keep an eye on is his weight.  Since a baby's food for the first year is predominately milk, he said after 12 months we may want to monitor what Chumbercules eats a bit more closely.  Which I read as putting fatty on a diet.

I know his heart was in the right place.  He was telling me about the increase in really young children being diagnosed with diabetes and how that should be an adult disease, which I get.  But the punchline to the whole visit was on my exit paperwork.  It listed the baby's stats and his Body Mass Index (BMI).  I don't know what the BMI scale is for baby's, but I checked it on the normal adult BMI chart thing, and he's on the low end of normal.  But you know, that baby does have some serious thigh rolls.  It's probably because he's stopped spitting up all the time.  Most likely due to his baby bulimia support group.

I also asked the Doc about sleeping.  Because my favorite baby hasn't been sleeping lately and the doc recommended the book "Good Night, Sleep Tight" by Kim West.  For those of you familiar with popular baby sleep training trends (Cry it out, the Ferber Method, the suggestions from attachment parenting), Good Night, Sleep Tight is a kinder version of the Ferber Method and something I'm more willing to try.  Though, I haven't read the book yet.  I got home on Friday and told Mr. Adventure that the wee babe should be sleeping 8-9 hours a night straight.  So, that night, he swaddled him and Chumbercules slept for 8 hours.  I swaddled him with an arm out on both Saturday and Sunday nights and he slept for 8 hours both nights.  I was looking into whether it was okay to swaddle a baby that can roll over, and I mentioned it to the pediatrician.  He didn't tell me not to and we aren't using a crib bumper, so I feel okay about doing an arm out swaddle.  I would feel less comfortable if we had a crib bumper on.  Hopefully he grows out of it.  I didn't swaddle him for naps over the weekend and he slept for about 2 hours for each nap.  I guess we won't really know until I get a phone call from college, asking me to come out and swaddle him.

Other than that, dude has been super active.  I'm doing research and planning a trip to South Korea and Cambodia for next year to visit friends.  Mr. Adventure is in school, so it may just be me and the babe.  We don't know yet.  I've never been to Asia, so I'm kind of excited at the prospect.  It will be my first international trip since I moved back to the States from Nicaragua in 2010.

And in nursery news, we got the baseboards put in on three walls!  Mr. Adventure is working on patching the hole for the old heating vent then we're going to put casings on the doors and windows and get everything moved in.  The idea of this room being finished is becoming a reality!  Yay!

Lullaby

We are all incredibly sleepy over here in the House of Adventure.  Hamburglar gave up sleeping for more than 2-3 hours at a time for Lent, and it appears he may have given it up for good.  So, Mr. Adventure and I are working on learning this song by Tim Minchin.  Once I figure out the piano part for it, we will be wheeling the piano into the babe's room (if it is ever finished) and will play it for him every night.

Also, we are done painting and we bought baseboards yesterday!

Now, for your enjoyment: