so cute

Asa is about the sweetest, cutest thing I could ever have imagined. The only thing that might be cuter than Asa would be other cute things with Asa. For example, Asa rolling around with a puppy might be even cuter than Asa rolling around on his own. Asa in a pile of leaves would probably up the cuteness level compared to say Asa in a pile of laundry, although that would be cute too ...

In fact its hard to imagine a scenario that involves Asa that wouldn't be cute even if it were otherwise sad or icky. For example, we had to take Asa to the ER for a chest xray, it was late, he was sick and tired and yet he was incredibly cute. Another example from a week or so ago, Asa was in the bath having a great time and then (as if he were reading my mind because I was just thinking how great it is that this had never happened) he pooped in the tub. It was hilarious, disgusting and yes, cute. I mean, you know you are in love with your baby when you think the fact that he has pooped the bath is cute and funny not vomitous and repulsive.

For any readers who don't have kids and think that I am insane for thinking this stuff is cute, all I can say is, two years ago I would have adamantly agreed with you and now, well now Asa owns me and all I can say is, if you have kids than you will see just what I'm saying first hand.

Medical Info Women Should Know

Okay, maybe I'm bored but I actually found this mildly amusing so I'm going way out of bounds and just copy/pasting my blog post today.

Pregnancy, Estrogen, and Women

PREGNANCY Q & A & more

Q: Should I have a baby after 35?

A: No, 35 children is enough.

Q : I'm two months pregnant now. When will my baby move?

A: With any luck, right after he finishes college.

Q : What is the most reliable method to determine a baby's sex?

A: Childbirth.

Q: My wife is five months pregnant and so moody that sometimes she's borderline irrational.

A: So what's your question?

Q?: My childbirth instructor says it's not pain I'll feel during labor,

but pressure. Is she right?

A: Yes, in the same way that a tornado might be called an air current.?

Q: When is the best time to get an epidural?

A: Right after you find out you're pregnant.

Q?: Is there any reason I have to be in the delivery room while my wife is in labor?

A: Not unless the word "alimony" means anything to you.

Q: Is there anything I should avoid while recovering from childbirth?

A: Yes, pregnancy.

Q: Do I have to have a baby shower?

A: Not if you change the baby's diaper very quickly.

Q: Our baby was born last week. When will my wife begin to feel and act normal again?

A: When the kids are in college.

"ESTROGEN ISSUES"

10 WAYS TO KNOW IF YOU HAVE "ESTROGEN ISSUES"

1. Everyone around you has an attitude problem.

2. You're adding chocolate chips to your cheese omelet.

3. The dryer has shrunk every last pair of your jeans.

4. Your husband is suddenly agreeing to everything you say.

5. You 're using your cell phone to dial up every bumper sticker that says: "How's my driving".

6. Everyone's head looks like an invitation to batting practice.

7. Everyone seems to have just landed here from "outer space."

9. You're sure that everyone is scheming to drive you crazy.

10. The ibuprofen bottle is empty and you bought it yesterday.

TOP TEN THINGS ONLY WOMEN UNDERSTAND

10. Cats' facial expressions.

9. The need for the same style of shoes in different colors.

8. Why bean sprouts aren't just weeds.

7. Fat clothes.

6. Taking a car trip without trying to beat your best time.

5. The difference between beige, ecru, cream, off-white, and eggshell.

4. Cutting your hair to make it grow.

3. Eyelash curlers.

2. The inaccuracy of every bathroom scale ever made.

AND, the Number One thing only women understand:

1. OTHER WOMEN

head over heels

Asa finally took his first big spill off the couch today. I say "finally" because its a moment I've seen coming for months and have been obviously concerned about. As it turns out, it was hilarious! Well, hilarious to me, more sort of frightening to Asa I would guess.

Here is how events transpired: Asa is running around on the couch (yes, I know this is bad manners and not safe) while I stand nearby and tell him to "sit down please", which he does. After a few moments he is back up and I tell him to be careful and he makes a move to sit down only he's too close to the edge so he starts to fall over. Somehow it happens incredibly slowly. One hand, two hands firmly on the ground, top of his head planted between his hands, momentary head stand before the feet and legs come flipping over his head and BAM! Asa completes his first somersault and couch fall in one amazing move.

He sat up looking bewildered and I smile at him realizing he's not hurt in the least, and start laughing. He looks a little unsure, then a little proud of himself, then he's back to looking a little unsure. I squat down and he comes running over for a reassuring hug. It was very sweet, very funny, and luckily no one was harmed in the making of this memorable moment. And perhaps little man will think twice before he goes running around on the sofa again.

pigout

Asa is known for a lot of things but being a huge eater has never been one of them. That baby had no interest in eating when he was first born and in fact we had to "finger feed" him for at least the first two weeks, and definitely for a bit beyond that. It involved a small syringe, a very thin tube and usually Jeff's index finger in Asa's mouth trying to encourage him to suck it down. That was followed by weeks of special apparatus to get him to breastfeed.

Eventually we got the hang of it and things were going fine until he was around 7 months old at which point he spontaneously decided he was through with bottles. So we switched him to sippy cups which he used for about 36 hours. On to straws, which thankfully he took to. And then about a week later he gave up breast milk unless he was nursing. So we gave him some formula, which he drank for a week or two and then gave that up. Luckily we'd received a free sample of a different formula in the mail and he loved that one. And for two months, he was alright.

Then we gave up formula and breastmilk completely and switched to whole milk, which he loved and still does. So milk has been a challenge at times but on the whole, we know we can always get him to drink something. Eating solid food though, not so much. Some days he just isn't that into it. But it's fine. He's healthy, strong, growing tall and has a nice round belly. And you can always get him to eat a banana or some cheese

Lately, the kid has become an eating machine. An unstoppable eating machine. For dinner the last two nights in a row he has eaten an entire sweet potato, half a chicken breast and about a half a cup of peas. That's each night, not total. He is literally eating my dinner off my plate. Breakfast is the same deal. After devouring a full bowl of cottage cheese and apple sauce, he insists on more cottage cheese, half a pear and a half a banana. At lunch, his daycare ladies tell me the same story. He hears "time to clean up before lunch" and in a flash he's putting toys away left and right and rushing over to his highchair! I mean, he's a machine! I don't know what's going on, growth spurt, tape worm, who knows ... but it's pretty awesome to watch him do this.

Oh and to make it even more remarkable, he's using his spoon and spork to feed himself all this food and in the last two weeks the amount ending up in his lap has diminished to maybe a total of a bite or two. It's incredible. But we may need a Costco membership if this keeps up!

over-heard this moring

Jeff: Asa, are you hungry?

Asa: What?

Jeff: Are you hungry?

Asa: Yes.

Jeff: Do you want some peaches? (silence) ... Do you want some banana?

Asa: Yes.

Jeff: Okay, let's get some banana!

Seriously? When did my baby get old enough for a full blown conversation? Oh and PS- little man used the potty for the first time last night! He walked himself over, sat down and peed in the potty. Then he got up, did a victory lap and gave out several high fives to two very enthusiastic parents.

mom smarts

these are some things i've picked up over the last several months.

1. diapers.com is awesome
2. amazon.com/mom is pretty awesome too (think about their subscribe & save option)
3. a lingerie bag is the best way to not lose baby socks/mittens in the laundry
4. sleep sheep, snuggle nest, and a white noise machine are invaluable tools for getting a baby to sleep
5. stuffed animals should go through the wash tied up in a pillowcase to protect them
6. a cheap plastic shower curtain does a good job of containing the mess when a baby starts feeding himself with a spoon
7. a dog does a great job of cleaning up messes that cheap shower curtains on the floor miss
8. even if it's hot, a toddler should wear pants on a walk so they don't scrape their legs up climbing stairs and falling down on pavement
9. the older the baby gets the more into snuggling they seem to be
10. going to the playground before work/daycare is totally awesome
11. a hair brush or a toothbrush can be a great toy, as can a dixie cup, car key, remote control, shoe, cardboard box, unopened pregnancy test, spoon, etc ... pretty much anything other than medication or sharp objects really
12. they are smarter than you give them credit for and are always listening so watch what you say
13. once they start walking, they are often running the opposite direction you'd like
14. gripe water is your friend
15. cloth diapers weren't the terrible burden everyone seemed to think they'd be
16. infancy wasn't as hard as i though it would be but parenting overall is more exhausting than i imagined
17. that cliche about "it was all worth it" is totally true. nothing is better than being a mom.

east africa

I go through cycles of avidly following as much news as possible and becoming weary and worn down by all the violence and sadness in the world. I often feel disgusted at how short an attention span the collective "we" seem to have and how the media exploits our basest instincts to their advantage.

Casey Anthony. Lady Gaga. The Dougherty Gang. Amin Hassan.

Wait, who is Amin Hassan? Amin Hassan is a Somali mother living in the Dadaab Refugee Camp and she recently buried her 1 month old daughter, Addison, in a grave she dug herself. She is one 30,000 Somali parents who have buried one or more of their children this summer alone. And potentially 600,000 more children in East Africa may die before the year is out.

Let's stop for a moment and think about those numbers. 600,000 children dying in the next three months. We all live in different places but if you picture the 600,000 people living closest to your home all disappearing in three months, I'd say we'd all have a very desolate few miles around us. Or imagine that only the 600,000 children closest to your home are gone. No kids on playgrounds, at the pools, riding bikes, enjoying playdates, going to school. Just silence and cold emptiness left behind for their families to live with.

It absolutely tears me in two to read the stories coming out of camps there. Of children dying long, slow, extremely painful deaths from starvation. Parents having to watch them slowly wither away until they are listless, barely alive ... little more than breathing skeletons.

At 12 months old Asa is around 22 pounds and is rather slender for his age. There are 4 and 5 year olds in the refugee camps who weigh just 15 pounds. Think about that. Imagine if it were your baby and there was nothing you could to help him. You'd already walked a 100 miles in terrific heat, been robbed by bandits of any possessions you had, and arrived at the one place you knew could help only to find they are stretched way beyond their limit and reinforcements aren't going to arrive quickly enough to save your children. It's terrifying, isn't it ...

I don't mean for this to be a lecture. It's more of a reminder about why it is so important that we do not allow ourselves to avert our eyes from these headlines, and that we make sure the media doesn't cave in to the next Casey Anthony drama and dictate to us when the story is over. The story of famine in Africa is over when children are no longer starving to death, when their parents and siblings are well nourished, vaccinated, and able to return home to rebuild their lives in a safe and secure setting. We cannot allow latitude and longitude to dictate our compassion or empathy.

from Asa

dear momma,

please don't feel hurt by the fact that i currently seem to love trucks more than i love you, it's probably just a passing phase and you'll be my favorite again soon.  i know that trucks don't feed me, cuddle me, read me stories, wipe my bootie or sing me songs like you do. but did you know that trucks can roll?? and they go vroom-vroom, beep-beep, and wee-ohh wee-ohh!  also, sometimes trucks drive up my leg and over my belly when you are around, and other times they line up together from biggest to smallest ... it's really neat! i mean, there are just so many dimensions to a truck's personality, i never know what to expect other than to be amazed and excited.

so again, don't be sad, i still love you it's just that trucks can give me so much more than you can right now. but please when we get home will you sit and watch me play trucks because it's definitely not as fun to play without an audience and let's face it, you are the best audience i could ask for.

love,
 asa

ps - i also like climbing trees with you and bear, let's try that again soon.

that b*tch gave my kid a bloody nose

I've been dreading Asa's first bloody injury since I saw my neighbors son after he split his lip in the tub. I mean, he didn't look terrible or even bothered but you know, the idea of seeing my baby bleed unnerved me. And then I worried, what if it's something really serious, what if he falls down the cement stairs out front or something really awful ... I mean, the worry didn't keep me up nights but you know, I fretted a bit.

And then the day came about a week and a half ago while we were out in the big backyard in our neighborhood. Asa was there in the field with a few dogs running around, all dogs he knew and had played with before. All kind, sweet dogs. All different sized dogs. There was Midnight of course, and a dog named Bear, fairly sturdy but certainly a small-medium not really bear-sized ... There was little Petey one of those sweet little Ewok looking softies who Asa loves the most, and there was Penny (don't let the name fool you, there is nothing small about her) the Irish Wolfhound, a three-legged, prosthetic leg wearing pony-sized sweetheart. Here are photos of dogs like Petey and Penny, the one with Penny has a human in it to give you an idea of the size of this dog.

We'd been there for a while and everyone was fairly mellow, Jeff was standing so close to Asa they were touching and I was about 10 feet away. And then I saw it start to happen, Penny was getting wound up, going from a slow, lumbering three-legged walk, to a clumsy, quick three-legged gallop ... I guess technically she was on four legs as she had her prosthesis on at the time. Anyway, Jeff saw it coming too and actually pulled Asa towards him with one hand as he tried to push Penny's body away from them, but that big girl just doesn't realize how huge she is ... From my angle I saw very clearly her chest rise up and smack Asa in the face as she ran by. She wasn't charging him or anything, he just was in her path and with her new gait (she only recently lost her front limb to cancer and is getting used to the prosthetic) she didn't have as much clearance as she needed.

Needless to say, Asa hit the ground and was quickly scooped up by Jeff and I. The tears were flowing, the screaming was happening and sure enough: blood. All across his cheek in a swoop that went from his nose towards his ear. My first thought was that the leg or her collar must have nicked his cheek but we quickly realized this wasn't the case. With some quickly provided first aid materials from Penny's owner Doug we dabbed at the bloody cheek and realized it was a bloody nose instead. Thank god. No wounds to get infected. No scabs. No scars. A bloody nose is child's play! I can handle a bloody nose.

Well, actually let me clarify, I might not have handled it as well as I did if it hadn't been for Amy, Penny's owner (Doug's wife) who was so remorseful and upset that her dog had hit my baby that she was nearly in tears. Seeing her so upset helped give me the calm, level head I really need to keep when things like this happen to Asa. I mean, he looks to Jeff and I to determine whether something is funny, scary, painful ... Imagine if I had burst into tears like I sort of wanted too. Instead, I smiled, used a soothing voice and dabbed away the blood from his face and Jeff's ruined shirt.

Within about 3 minutes Asa was back in the grass chasing little Petey around, while Penny sat calmly leashed and under her owner's control. So the bottom line is, it was an accident, these things happen, no harm no foul and we've successfully navigated Asa's first injury.

that new baby smell

Asa just turned a year over the weekend and I can hardly believe it! Time behaves differently when measured by the yardstick of a baby's life. The first few days and weeks are blurred into one fantastically long day full of excitement, euphoria and adrenaline.  Then, at least for me, the next few months are a second long day of exhaustion, excitement and adjustment. Then around the three month mark things settle down and become a third, extremely long but happy day. So basically, Asa is three days old to me at this point.

Last night we were feeding him dinner when he grabbed for his spoon and Jeff obligingly handed it over to him for the first time ever. So there we were, at the dinner table with Asa in his high chair, apricots on the tray and a bowl of greek yogurt and a spoon in his possession. It was adorable, hilarious and very messy as the photos will prove when I upload them.  He was such a mess afterward that it was a 'straight to the tub' night.

We made it a bubble bath with Johnson & Johnson's bedtime blend that has all those relaxing scents to "ensure a good nights sleep". Whatever, it was a baby shower gift and if it eases him into bedtime with its lavender and ylang ylang than that's fantastic. After a very thorough scrubbing we dried him off and I lotioned him up with the J&J bedtime lotion (also a gift, thank you baby shower guest). He sat on my lap with his little naked tush on my legs while I rubbed the lotion into his back and shoulders giving him a little baby massage and I inhaled the smell of my clean baby's head and felt a surge of affection and attachment that reminded me of the hours after he was born.

There really is nothing like a new baby smell. In a word it is intoxicating. We didn't bathe Asa for days after he was born, we just let him be and enjoyed the scent of new baby, inhaling like it was a drug. I suppose it must be a type of drug, some hormonal thing that Mother Nature brewed up to ensure we cherish these little beings that otherwise would drive us crazy. Well, Johnson & Johnson aren't as good as Mother Nature but let me tell you, in the decades they've been around they've achieved something special. I suppose it must be the collected culturally learned norm for me to think a baby who smells like Johnson & Johnson smells "like a baby".  They may not feel the same way about the scent in say Uruguay or Nepal, who knows. But I can say, last night when I smelled Asa I had flashbacks to his first days and hours and then further back to when my sister was a newborn and then I started thinking I probably smelled like that to my mom 32 years ago and who knows, maybe she smelled like that to her mom too.

There's something magical about scents. They can transport us, relax us, excite us ... and last night J&J's bedtime blend worked as a time machine for me. It was pretty awesome.

Still snot funny

Sometimes life just isn't funny. Sometimes it tiring or frustrating or sad or just a bit dull. The last few days for us have been a combination of exhausting, frustrating, scary and tedious.

Asa is sick.
Still.
Again.
I don't know anymore.

I know I must have said this before, but there is nothing more pathetic and sympathy-inducing than a baby with a fever. The poor little guy is such a trooper but there's no disguising his misery this week. I do think he is very slowly making a comeback but not at the rate we'd all like, and with his first birthday just two days away, time is running short for him to be healthy enough to really enjoy his party.

We've been to the doctor, the ER, we've had a chest xray, snotted through several shirts and bibs, cuddled bunny, teddy, zebra, monkey, lamby ... And all we know is Asa has a cold. Anyway, here are two photos, one of him in snuggle mode and one with his dad at the ER, you've got to admit even when he's sick he's just precious.

caution- living here will make you pregnant

When Jeff and I moved into our neighborhood we completely fell in love with it. Nice quiet streets with young couples walking their dogs, some with children, some without, and some with bulging pregnant bellies. We thought we'd blend right in with them, what with having a dog of our own.

And within two weeks of moving in, we got pregnant. As my belly grew we started to feel like an even better fit in the neighborhood. The belly opened up a whole new world of friends to make. When you're pregnant other pregnant ladies want to chat and compare notes, and the moms want to relive simpler days, when their babies were safely tucked inside where the worst they could do was (relatively) easier to take than the havoc the babies cause once they're out.

Now, just a handful of days shy of Asa's first birthday, I'm finding that newborns, new moms, and expectant first time moms surround me more than ever before. And I'm loving it! The newborns take me back to the days when we were first meeting Asa in person, sleepless and clueless, we fumbled thru the first few weeks and months in a blissful daze. Talking to the new moms I'm reminded of the horrors of breastfeeding, the pain, the leaks, the pumping, the endless cycle of keeping the baby fed and trying desperately to work a meal of your own into the day but also of the sort of adrenaline-induced euphoria that holding your new baby gives you. And then there's the pregnant moms. The excitement and amazement and totally lovable innocence they still have about the whole thing. Hearing the baby's heartbeat, going for the ultrasound, those days are so far in the past for us now, but the excitement is still fresh in my mind when I take a moment to cast back to 2009 ...

The whole circle of life is really incredible. I used to just think of it from a death/birth perspective; as one life begins, another is ending somewhere. The balance of the universe. But now I see it as being a vastly busier circle, like one of those crazy traffic circles that has lots of roads feeding into it ... New lives are starting all the time, joining the hubbub of life with new parents and veteran parents, children and grandparents all zipping around, enjoying the shared thrill of the ride.

Special congrats to all the newly expectant moms, as you already know, it's a great thrill and it only gets better.

Keeping Up

The headline on Yahoo today has a story about how to spot whether your toddler is gifted or not and provided a list of things to look for to confirm that in fact your little one is better than most. The daily digest I receive from babycenter.com had a mom worried that her 11 month old wasn't "advanced enough" because "all" she can do is clap, wave, say momma and dadda and stand on her own. A few of the moms responded with links to websites where you can rundown a checklist to see how your baby fares compared to others. A few other moms posted comments assuring the mom that their kid was doing the same and not to worry, and a very few moms posted comments that indicated borderline disdain for evening trying to judge a baby like that. 

I have to say, I agree with the moms who were annoyed that anyone is even trying to judge whether their baby is "advanced enough". We aren't talking about a mom with a serious concern, like a one year old who cannot hold their head up or roll over, that would be cause for a visit to the pediatrician. It seems more like we are using our children as a way of keeping up with the Jones' and frankly, I find that really sad.

In these times of financial austerity though, where is a parent to turn when they want to beat their neighbors at a game of one-up-manship? When the credit cards are maxed and and hours at work are cut, the answer to showing off and making other people feel inferior can no longer be found in the brand new Toyota Minivan out front or the fancy swing set out back. With knock-off crocks a dime a dozen, you can hardly turn to fashion to brag either. And as babies are growing up and the diaper bags are becoming less crammed with stuff, the designer diaper bag is being left home more and more frequently. How then do we make other parents feel inferior?

With genius babies of course!! Why didn't I think of that? Well I suppose I must not have been much of genius baby myself, otherwise I'm sure the genius would have carried through to adulthood. I mean, obviously if a baby rolls over three weeks ahead of the average, he'll go on to Harvard Law and the Presidency, right? And if the little guy starts walking at 10 months he'll be lightyears ahead of his classmates at the magnet tech high school waiting for him 15 years down the road, right?

Or is it possible that maybe, just maybe, as long as a baby is developing, it's okay to let them do it at their own pace? Could it be that a baby who doesn't walk until 15 months is just as gifted as one who walked at 10 months? Can it be true that having a vocabulary of 3 words at 12 months doesn't make you any dumber than the baby who could say 7 words?

Life is hard enough folks. We know, we're the adults living everyday out in the world with the baggage we've been collecting all these long years. Let's try our best not to saddle our babies with baggage before they've even started pre-school. They'll roll over when they're ready, clap when they're ready, talk when they're ready, feed themselves when they're ready, and before we're ready we'll find they've grown up and we're longing for the days when they took those tentative first steps and stumbled into our arms with that look of pure joy that they felt mirrored back at them from our eyes.

Be proud, over-worried parents, your baby is "advanced enough". Below is a picture of my "advanced enough" baby kickin' it in his new reading chair.

Uma Thurman, you look just like me

The truth is, Uma Thurman is a solid 3 inches taller than me. She's also 8 years older than me and is light years beyond me in glamour, poise and material wealth. However, despite these undeniable truths, I often hear how much I look like her. In fact, I have actually been mistaken for her several times in my life.  I've had groups of people cheer and chant "Uma" when I walked by, I've been offered preferred tables at busy restaurants, I've had people demand to see my ID to prove I'm not Uma Thurman, I've even had to turn down requests for autographs (sorry Uma, I don't know your policy on signing and I've no clue what your signature looks like, maybe I should google these things ...).

I wonder whether anyone has ever mistakenly called her Anna? Probably not, but who knows, in certain circles my reputation certainly proceeds me ...

At any rate, here are two photos, one of her and one of me, see if you can tell which is which ..

In related news, I'd also like to share this photo which may or may not represent both Uma and myself in a bikini, I don't know yet what the fate of my stomach will be, but once again, I sincerely appreciate that not all celebrities go the tummy-tuck route and still manage to look good in their (somewhat jelly belly) skin ...

jelly rolls

I'd like to offer my sincere thanks to my co-worker Adrienne for sharing this photo with me yesterday, it definitely, definitely made me feel a lot less stressed over my new mom-belly.

I have to say that I've always been hard on myself over my body but it's generally insured that I haven't had any serious weight issues, so I deem that it's a good technique for staying slim. However, it's also bad for morale. So this photo is something I may end up printing out and carrying around in my wallet to sneak peaks at before I dive into a plate of wings or something. I mean, if it's good enough for a Hollywood celebrity, it ought to be good for a no-name like me, right?

In other news, I'm fitting in my jeans again, so a week of full-on mental warfare against chocolate, ice cream, cookies and wine is starting to work. I mean, I've indulged, I'm no masochist. A little fat is good for filling in wrinkles anyway, right? So I guess maybe Moose Tracks Frozen Yogurt is my answer to Botox ... It's cheaper and more delicious without any of that paralyzing venom or whatever the Botox magic is.

In conclusion, thank you to Adrienne, Katie Holmes and Jeff who discovered Moose Tracks Fro-Yo, you all are working wonders on my body image, belly-jelly, and taste buds!

Zzz, sleep walking

Babies make me tired. I mean, I love my baby, he's a cute, sweet, funny, drooling little doll, but he wears me out. The good news is, I think we wear him out too.

Yesterday, for Father's Day, we had a few friends over for a cookout. Thinking that a 4pm start time would mean we'd have a well rested baby just up from his afternoon nap, we told everyone we'd be serving up steak by around 5pm. Of course, any and every time we try to plan something Asa likes to remind us who is really in charge by totally breaking with whatever his usual habits are and throwing us a curve ball. Yesterdays curve ball came when he decided to completely skip having an afternoon nap.

He's never done that before. He's certainly taken an early nap, a late nap, an abbreviated nap, an interrupted nap ... but no nap? No way. Until yesterday. He was a champ though, and wasn't really very fussy or anything, until right around 5pm when we were just about ready to serve up dinner. Jeff took over feeding Asa his dinner while I worked out getting food out to the guests and before I knew it, Asa and Jeff had disappeared upstairs for his bedtime. At 5:30pm.

Asa has never gone to bed at 5:30 before. 6pm yes but 5:30? Yikes. Apparently his head was rolling around while Jeff tried to feed him in his lap, the result of his actually falling asleep mid-bite ... So Jeff called it and put him down. We were a bit nervous we'd have a wide awake and well rested baby in the wee hours of the morning but no! Our little dude slept all the way through until his normal wake up time, and in fact, he was sort of roused awake by us opening his bedroom door and going about the morning routine in the house, so that the background noise eventually woke him at about 6:15. It was pretty great.

We all got a solid nights rest and woke up feeling refreshed. Thank goodness Asa learned the family mantra, 'play hard, sleep hard', at such a young age.

And, as an update, he is now walking up to several feet at a time before either purposefully sitting down or just plain face-planting into a crawl to complete his intended route. It's really cool and he's definitely enjoying his emerging bi-pedial tendencies.

Baby Steppin'

Who remembers "What About Bob"? Great movie, right? I mean, who doesn't hate Richard Dreyfuss in that movie and who doesn't love Bill Murray and his "baby steppin' down the hall, baby steppin' into the elevator"? Great stuff right!?

Well, we over in Familyville VA are proud to announce that we've got a little baby stepper ourselves! This morning, while playing with his dad, our little Asa took two deliberate and independent steps on his own! I was right there but somehow missed the first one and just saw the second little step and it was adorable! Jeff had a front row seat for the show which is great and next time we hope to catch Asa's two step on video.

In related news, Asa also has begun walking while holding onto our hands/fingers, which is new. In fact, last night at his cousin's grad party he walked himself clear across the kitchen while gently clasping my index fingers in either hand. I have to say, watching him grow and learn is the most inspiring and joyful things I have ever experienced.

So, I guess soon I'll be shopping for tiny little shoes for the kid, but not yet, no need to rush anything, he's still just as happy crawling around as he is pushing his little car around. And tomorrow he hits the pool so maybe he'll need flippers before sandals!

Twix and other temptations

Day two (actually we haven't even hit 24 hours yet but whatever) of my new health kick. The update is that around 2pm yesterday I started craving a Twix somethin' awful. So I went to the store to see what sort of "healthy" chocolate bar I could find. Sadly, Twix, Snickers, M&M's and even just a bar of dark chocolate are not what I would consider healthy.

I ventured further into the store and found the diet isle where they had surprisingly large selection of power/fiber/diet bars. Another five minutes spent reading every label and I settled on a Cliff Bar. It was so called "chocolate chip" but in all honesty there were only about 7 morsels of chocolate in the whole bar.

Dang.

Anyway, I ate it slowly to try and relish every moment. It was good enough that I'd do it again but not so good that I feel it beats out a nice Cadbury's Dark Chocolate.

The good news is the rest of the day was fairly healthy. A chef salad for lunch, lentils and another salad for dinner. Then some chips and dip (but hey, a girl cannot live on salad alone) and then of course some delicious frozen yogurt to wrap the day up.

Oh, and I did 125 crunches so suck it pudgy belly, you are on your way out!

Get in shape girl!

It has been 11 months since Asa was born (as of 2 am tomorrow morning) and I am officially freaking out. Not about how quickly he's growing up, although that is scary, but about my belly.

I mean, wtf? It's been 11 months since he was born. It's been like 20 months since I got pregnant, which means it been close to two years since I had sleek, toned, flat abs. I've got a mommy pooch and it's keeping me up nights.

I think what's even worse than the pooch though are these sickening little round bits of flesh on either side of my waist that can only be described as "love handles".  Well guess what world, I can't handle the handles. I can't handle the pooch.

As of this moment Anna M.K. Lofgren Thorner is on a new health kick, not a diet, a health kick - remember that. The way I see it I have four weeks to get in shape before I'm officially stuck in the mom body for all eternity. I refuse to be a statistic. I will overcome! So, starting now I will let you know what I eat and what exercise I manage to do. It may not be award winning writing but you can give me your hints and tips and stuff and maybe, together, we can get me back to my bikini-body days.

So far today I had a "low-fat" blueberry muffin, an ice decaf with milk, a bowl of raisin bran and a chai and about 30oz of water. And I walked for about 30 minutes around the block with the family this morning, so all in all, off to a good start. Now, if I can avoid the fatty lunch temptation that will be a real triumph ... wish me luck!!

running not walking

Okay, so Asa isn't officially walking yet but he sure is trying. He's got a little push-car that he can either sit down and ride around the house or he can stand up and push while he walks along behind or beside it. His new favorite activity seems to be to pushing it around the house until he crashes into a wall or piece of furniture and gets stuck.

The thing is, after a day or so of walking a few careful steps with it he has now decided that running behind it is the thing to do. All of a sudden that kid was tearing around the house at a pace that just shocked Jeff and me. I mean, he's running. Not walking. Running.

Of course, take away the push-car and he's just standing there so I can't say he's a bi-ped yet but he's got the idea in his head. You can see his little brain working on it while he stands there. He'll bend his knee and the heel of his foot will come off the floor just a bit, as if he's about to take a step forward and then he'll change his mind and just sit his little bootie right down on the floor.

It's adorable and sweet and it's making me increasingly worried that his first step will happen when I'm not looking. I'm nervous to leave him at daycare for the seven hour stretch he's there for fear the older kids will inspire him just enough to get those little feet moving. I don't want to shower until he's gone to bed so I can be sure I'm not lathering up while he's downstairs giving Jeff a great show of his first steps. It's going to be such a huge moment ... But I have a feeling that even if I do miss those first steps, I'll be so amazed at watching him walk over the coming weeks that I'll get over it pretty quickly.

I know I'm biased but I have to say, every day Asa amazes me with how quickly he picks things up. He's a smartie, a sweetie and snugly little guy and I'm so glad he's mine! I'll get a video up of his current push-car walking so you can see what the little guy is up to first hand!

it's hard to hear you over all this screaming

So Asa's surgery was a success yesterday and we couldn't be happier or more relieved! We were up at 5am getting things pulled together and out the door just before 6 for an on-time arrival at the surgical center in Fairfax. The staff was great and I really can't say enough good things about the whole event.

What I can tell you is that when people warned us that he would "scream" when he woke-up from the anesthesia I don't think we realized the extent of the screaming we would face. Normally Asa does not scream. In fact the only time I really remember him screaming is the first night of an ear infection or when he had to get those antibiotic injections. But in both cases the type of screaming was different, it had a sort of frantic, 'I'm in pain, make it stop' sort of quality to it ...

The waking up from anesthesia scream is entirely different. It's more guttural. It's a cry that sounds angry and scared and he was inconsolable. The first five minutes were made of up of a bucking but semi-limp baby screaming without stopping. The next five minutes he was fully in control of his body again and was extremely angry, slapping away offerings of juice or water with fury. The following five minutes he was clamped on to me like a baby monkey hanging on for dear life, occasionally stopping the screaming to whimper and sniffle and do those big intakes of breath that we do when we've been near hysteria for so long that we're bordering on hyperventilating. The following five minutes were snuggles mixed with infrequent but intense bursts of screaming.

At this point we dressed him and headed down to the car. We paced the parking lot for a good ten minutes making sure he was calm before even attempting to put him in his car seat, and apparently ten minutes was not long enough. I've never struggled with him like that but thankfully, we had planned ahead and brought his favorite food, which Jeff very wisely started feeding him while they both sat in the backseat of the car. After another ten minutes, we called it quits and decided that he was just going to have to cry for a bit and then (hopefully) fall asleep in his car seat while we battled rush-hour traffic to get home.

Fifteen minutes (and four miles) later, he was out. And for the first time in our lives, Jeff and I did what so many parents before have done, we drove around and around and around for the next hour and a half to ensure the baby stayed asleep. We tooled around neighborhoods looking at the architecture and trees of the nicer, older areas of Alexandria. We ran a couple of errands, Jeff slowing the car just enough for me to jump out and in safely so as not to wake the baby ... We drove and drove until little man opened his eyes and then we knew it was time to go home.

Once we got home he was fine, he had just needed to sleep it off. Asa was back to his normal happy, silly, sweet and cuddly self. Playing with his toys, climbing on and over Midnight, totally healthy and normal with no ear infection in sight. It turned out to be a fantastic day and well worth the hour of screaming to know that he should stay healthy for the foreseeable future. But fair warning to parents who have to put their kids under for ear tubes, when they warn you that they will be "grumpy" or "irritable" or "fussy" when they wake up, remember this story and plan for an hour of angry baby-rage unlike anything you've seen before and be sure you gas tank is full. And then plan for one of the most pleasant family afternoons you've had in a long time and enjoy the wild roller coaster of parenting a baby.

heart all flutter

Asa's surgery is Monday and I've been feeling very calm and sort of enthusiastic about it up until about 15 minutes ago. A sudden flurry of activity surrounding the surgery has got me all wound-up. I did the pre-registration form on-line this morning and then received a call from the nurse going over the pre-op details regarding food (withholding of food) and what to bring along and that left me feeling good. I felt more prepared and ready to go. And then I get a call saying that our pre-op form hasn't been received yet.

Surgery can't go forward without that form. It's 2 o'clock on a Friday afternoon. Surgery is scheduled for 7:30am on Monday morning.  What if I can't track the doctor down? What if the form is missing? What if we have to go in for another pre-op visit? What if they don't have any openings? What if we have to postpone the surgery?  As I've done so many times in the past, I'm "what if'ing" myself silly.

A call to the doctor, a back-and-forth, a dropped call (damn you AT&T), a frantic redial, a missed call, on-hold, call waiting, click over ... a wonderful, helpful, dedicated pediatric nurse has star-69'd me after the initial dropped call! We've sorted it out, the fax is being retransmitted, this time to me so I can deal with the back-and-forth double-checking that the fax has been successfully received by the surgeon.

A call to the surgeons office to confirm the fax number and bingo-bango, the fax is sent. A few minutes pause to breathe and sigh in relief that my job is done and then a call to confirm receipt. Failure. No fax has been received. Double check the fax number, re-send, wait ... (are you as stressed reading this as I am living it??) ... Call to check receipt, holding, holding, holding ... Success!!

And a new mom breathes a sigh of relief. Now let's get to 8am Monday morning when little dude should be waking up and looking at us through groggy little eyes with brand new ear tubes and ears free of pus and then, then, I will truly relax.

(dog) slumberparty

Ah, the joys of pets! They play, they frolic, they roll around on the floor acting cute doing anything they can to get your attention and affection. They shed, they gnaw, they spill their food and water on the floor, they drink out of the toilet and get the seat wet so the poor unsuspecting soul who has to wee next get's a wet tush ... And then they invite their friends over for a pup-slumber party and things get even crazier!

Yes, we are dog-sitting this week. And yes, she is a good dog, plays nicely with Midnight, is primarily disinterested in the baby (which I deem a good thing) and really isn't too much more work than just having the one dog.

But here is the hiccup: She does not sleep at night. She licks, she pants, she scratches, she whines, she wanders the halls, does everything but sleep ... I guess she misses her home and her parents. It reminds me of when we were kids and had slumber parties and inevitably there was always one kid who cried and missed their mom and had to go home at like 1am and sort of ruined things for everyone else, especially for the parents!

Of course I'd never considered it from the parents point of view before, but for the family hosting the party they've all the sudden got to deal with a bunch of other people's kids who were raised with different rules, have different idiosyncrasies and could turn out to be whiny wimps when it comes to actually sleeping at someones house (something you won't discover until everyone is exhausted and it's bedtime). And then there's the poor parents who were duped into thinking they actually had the night off for a change until the phone rings at 12:45am and they've suddenly got to drag their butts out of bed and go schlep to pick up their kid. I applaud my parents for letting me have so many friends sleep over, you guys were troopers!

I guess Jeff and I will suck it up as most parents do and host slumber parties one day too. In the meantime, we've got one more night of doggie slumber partying to get through and then we will breathe a sigh of relief as all parents do when they close the front door after their guest has left and life returns to the normal level of insanity.

yard sale hag

A couple weekends ago we had a yard sale in our neighborhood. I knew the yard sale crowd was a weird bunch, I knew they were tough and I knew I'd have to be tough to even make a dime. But damn, was I surprised at how rough the old ladies played.

Right around 9am, an hour after the official start of the sale, this old broad comes shuffling up, all smiles and chatty, playing to my good nature. I'd already made plenty of sales and was off to a great start and decided when she asked me how much a silk scarf was going for that I'd do the old "What'll you offer me for it?" schtick.  She waggles her head and says "Oh you shouldn't ask me that!" and I told her as long as she wasn't about to offer me 50 cents we'd be fine. And then to my shock she gets all uppity and is like "I never pay more than 50 cents at a yard sale" and scoofs at me when I say I was looking for $3.  Then that cheap old hag asks me what day the big garbage pick-up is in our neighborhood so she can just come back and take things. I was flabbergasted. That's right, I said flabbergasted! And stupid Anna, so taken aback by her brazen cheapskated rudeness goes right ahead and tells her the big pick-up is on Monday ... What was I thinking??

Well so anyway, the old lady shuffles off, the yard sale goes on, we sell well over half our stuff and make a nice chunk of change. And who do you think I saw wandering our neighborbood Monday morning? That's right, our rude little mean old cheapskate and her cart were out "shopping" and she'd found a weed-whacker, a vaccum and god only knows what else. And she wasn't alone, there was a small army of rummagers in our neighborhood, some in pick-ups with fairly awesome looking finds stacked feet high in the beds.

That scarf by the way, I sold for a dollar, so suck it you cheap yard sale hag!

a trip to the ER and the end of an era

So things took an unexpected turn shortly after my post last week.  Just before bed I began to have what doctors called Anaphylaxis as a result of an allergy to my antibiotic. Luckily it came on slowly and took me several hours to feel bad enough to call the doctor. In fact I called thinking that my staph infection was getting worse, not that I was starting to experience a life threatening emergency. The on-call doctor insisted that I visit the emergency room immediately and threatened that if I didn't go now on my own I'd most likely be taken there shortly afterward in an ambulance. I promised him I'd go and hung up the phone. Jeff and I then googled the antibiotic I was on and were somewhat shocked to see that my condition really was as bad as the doctor said ... Sorry Doc, it's not that we don't know your smart, it's that we just really wanted to go to bed.


Long story short, if you have to go to the ER, the best way to be seen right away is to list "difficulty breathing" as one of your symptoms. They do not mess around with that symptom. We were being attended to by three nurses and a doctor within four seconds of finishing the registration paperwork. And, happily, we were home within three hours. Of course it's been a long road to full strength and I'm rather shocked to sit here today and say that we've now finished breastfeeding. It's a day I knew was out there but thought was still about six weeks away. I guess maybe only other mom's can understand why it makes me a little sad, but it does. After all the pain, the leaking, the engorgement, the pumping, the hours sat by myself (and Asa) nursing in the dark hours of the night, listening to the party going on from other rooms while I pumped ... I've spent every day since November 2009 asking "Is this safe for the baby", not taking medicines when I was sick so that he wouldn't be exposed to too many chemicals, skipping the tylenol when my head ached, not drinking alcohol at all and then timing my alcohol so that it wouldn't be in the milk I'd be feeding him ... My entire life has revolved around protecting him from second-hand harm and now I'm free.

I can drink caffeine again if I want. I can drink and not worry that I'll get him drunk. But more than that, he doesn't need me anymore like he did. There's no more "I'm the only one can that can do it". I'm not. Anyone can. Anyone can feed him, change him, hold him, play with him, cuddle him, encourage him, dress him, bathe him. Anyone. It's liberating but part of me isn't ready to be liberated. It's been 24 hours and even though I'm relieved that he's no longer gnawing on me with his sharp little teeth, I feel a little lost.

Maybe a vodka redbull will help ease my pain ... It's been almost two years after all!

Sick, just sick

First let me apologize for my absence, it's been a while and my wonderful fans have been very patient with me but I can put you off no longer.

Asa has been sick since oh, I don't know ... FEBRUARY. After our millionth visit to the pediatrician it was decided the time to see a specialist had arrived and that our little dude's unending ear infections needed to be dealt with. This wasn't a shock to us, after all he has been sick for three months, but hearing a doctor say 'your son's hearing is in jeopardy' really shook me up. I had all these pangs of hurt imagining a world where my baby can't hear the song of the birds he loves so much or the barking dogs that crack him up, or to not know the sound of his own voice, or mine. It killed me. I cried on the way home from the pediatrician that afternoon, silently so he wouldn't know something was wrong. It's amazing how good I've become at crying without making any noise. Is this a skill that everyone cultivates or is it only me that is ashamed of tears?

At any rate, after several painful antibiotic shots and a visit to a pediatric ENT, I have come to terms with this surgery and am hopeful that it will put an end to the countless ear infections and painful ear tugging our little dude has tolerated these several months. And thank goodness I came to terms with it because within 4 hours of accepting that Asa will have surgery, I became very sick myself.

I have been on an adventure that many breast feeding mothers suffer called Mastitis. The gist of it is that I have managed to get (thanks to my cute baby) a bacterial infection in my breast which has caused my entire body to react as if I have the flu. Body aches, shakes, high fever (104.7 folks), nausea, dizziness, lightheaded ... My skin actually hurts. It's ridiculous. And after two days, my antibiotics haven't improved my situation so I headed to the doctor thinking in my mind "I've got a staph infection". And sure enough, the doctor tells me I've got a staph infection. So new antibiotic, painkillers (which aren't really working) and if I'm not improved by tomorrow morning I'm headed in for an appointment with radiology and then a consultation with the doctors again.

So I guess this has been a medical blog today but since it's honestly all I've had on my mind the last few days, this is the best I could do. To all the moms who've suffered through clogged ducts and mastitis and thrush and pushed through the pain and kept nursing, hats off to you. I'm still trying but this is really pushing me to my absolute limit. Will keep you posted and may actually have a funny story to tell as well so stay tuned!

goodbyes and hello's

It's been 10 months and one day since Asa was born ... my how time has flown. It's amazing and little terrifying to see how quickly he's growing up. What a transformation from a tiny little guy who just laid around to our solid little guy who crawls, climbs and cruises around the house. Another amazing transformation that deserves some recognition would be me & my body. Hot damn, how things have changed!

Here is a quick run-down of things I've said goodbye in the last 10 months:

Goodbye: 40 lbs of baby weight, all you can eat buffets, midnight feedings (for me, not the baby), Häagen-Dazs caramel cone ice cream, chocolate chip cookies, McDonalds, maternity clothes, cute shoes my feet are too wide for now, extreme emotional mood swings, size 12, 10 and 8 jeans, engorgement, breast pads, conspicuous wet spots on my shirt, multiple mid-night feedings (for the baby this time).

Now a few things I've recently said hello to after so long of being apart:

Hello! pre-pregnancy jeans (size 2, I'm sorry, I'm giving you away this weekend, we shall never meet again), high heels, sleeping through the night, my sense of humor, clavicles, calf muscles, abs, a sincere desire to look hot, baby-fever.

As you can see, the list of goodbyes primarily revolves around food, and oh, I miss the eating! But every little bit of ab that over takes the flab makes it worth the heartache of missing my old preggo foods. And hey, as my final "hello" item reminds me, I'll have my shot at pigging out with reckless abandon again someday!

sleep like a baby

The idea that someone would want to "sleep like a baby" seems totally ridiculous during the first few months of a newborns life. They sleep off and on all day and night with little regard for daylight or schedule and make functioning through exhaustion an art form that new parents must learn quickly if they want to remain at all sane.

Of course time marches on and they sleep longer stretches and then you start to think that maybe to "sleep like a baby" implies that you have the ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime and to sleep through all sorts of noises and location changes. I mean, Asa can fall asleep in my arms and stay asleep through transfers to his crib to his carseat and even into daycare. It's impressive what a baby will sleep through. But still is this really the goal? To be able to fall asleep on your couch and wake up in the backseat of your car? Or fall asleep in your bed and then wake up an hour later in a grocery cart at Harris Teeter? Seems a little freaky to me.

Last night, I think we finally stumbled upon what "sleeping like a baby" truly means. At 7:30, just minutes after Asa went to bed, Jeff and I laid down in our bed, headsie-toesies, fully dressed, and fell asleep. We woke up hours later, staggered around the house, locking the front door, closing windows, putting on pj's and were fast sleep again within 20 minutes. Next thing we knew, it was 4:30am and we were doing the quick early-early morning feeding with Asa and again, within 20 minutes, we were all sound asleep until a respectable 6am. For anyone too tired or lazy to do the math, we all slept 10.5 hours last night and we feel fantastic.

I have to say that going to bed before sundown and waking up just after sunrise has got to be as close to heaven as possible and truly I can say that last night, we all slept like babies and we loved it!

feed me ... no wait, don't

Meal time with a baby is sort of like what I imagine kite-surfing to be like, just a whole lotta crazy.

Asa, like me, goes from happy to hungry and irritable in 3 seconds flat. The only thing that makes this okay is that he is hungry at the same times every day so we can anticipate, prepare and try to prevent the meltdowns. What's nutty is, he can be done eating after just a few bites of food. I mean like 5 bites and he's suddenly not interested in anymore. And it isn't just food, he'll do this with nursing as well, which let me tell you, is incredibly annoying and painful.

Here's an example of a typical morning meal with Asa. It's 6am, we've been up for a few minutes and made it downstairs. He's playing on the floor while I'm sipping a hot chai and Jeff is starting to make breakfast for Asa. All the sudden I have a tiny person trying to climb my legs, whining and crying and basically begging to be fed. We plunk him in the highchair and toss some cheerios at him while the oatmeal and apple sauce warms in the microwave. The cheerios do the trick (he's had like 10 individual o's), and after maybe 4 bites of applesauce he's through and now he's twisting his body around trying to see what I'm doing and wanting to get down and play.

Around 7:30 I start offering him bites of food on the go. A spoonful of breakfast in between toys, another on the stairs, more while we sit on the floor and watch the morning news. By 8:15 he's either eaten all of it or left over half of it, I can never predict how it will play out. By 8:17 he's ready to nurse because apparently, he's starved. So we nurse and he either is totally focused and nurses for 10 minutes or totally distracted and spends 3 minutes just licking/poking/gnawing on me until I throw in the towel and decide the nutritional benefit for Asa isn't worth the risk to my abused body.

Either way the story ends with Asa happily snoozing before daycare and me scrambling around, starved, trying to pull myself together to get out the door, usually forgetting to feed myself anything besides that hot chai (that is no ice cold and only half drank) three hours earlier. Kite surfing and feeding a baby, both physically challenging and never exactly the same from one day to the next.

best day ever

I somehow totally lucked out in life. Not only was Mother's Day the best day ever (thanks again Jeff for treating me like a queen), but yesterday was another best day ever! Asa and I spent the entire day together doing all sorts of random, normally dull things. We went to Bed Bath & Beyond, we went to Starbucks, we went to Rite Aid, we went for a walk ... Nothing out of the ordinary there. But what made it so great was that Asa is really fun, happy person and that makes him a joy to be around.

He may not smile at every stranger or wave bye-bye on command, but the kid has got a sense of humor to rival any one! I sneeze and suddenly he's in fits of laughter that melt my heart and make me laugh too. We dance-walk our way through a shopping plaza singing a song about (you guessed it ...) dance-walking and we're laughing and giggling and I eventually noticed, attracting a lot of attention from strangers, all of them smiling right along with us. We play with blocks, me stacking them, Asa destroying the towers and it's hilarious. He knocks over a book, I read it, he kisses the pages that have fur sewn into them, I laugh, he smiles and tosses another book at me to read.

Everything he does, he does with joy. Maybe babies should tag along to big international meetings to help bring everyone back down to earth and remind us why we're all here. I'm no expert but I think babies could teach most of us a lot about what's important. For Asa it seems to be that love, cuddles, applesauce, sneezes, birds, dogs, music, tickles and toys are the secrets to a happy life. I would think most of that could translate for adults as well.

Anyway, thanks Asa for a perfect Monday.

mother's day

I'd like to wish all the other mother's out there a happy mother's day, I hope yours was as great as mine! Today was the day that I let go of the guilt, for the very first time since Asa was born and it was liberating.

When Asa woke up at 5am and I couldn't nurse him back to sleep, I didn't feel guilty when Jeff got up with him and let me sleep (okay, I felt guilty but I successfully ignored and went back to sleep). When I rolled over nearly two hours later and realized I'd been snoozing all that time, my first instinct wasn't to jump out of bed in a tizzy but instead to roll over, stretch and take in the beautiful day outside the window.

Later, when Asa has pooped his diaper for probably the fifth time today, I didn't feel guilty when Jeff offered to change it yet again. I let him and he didn't give me any crap about it ... please tell me you got that (hit the like button if you did).

Long story short, today was a perfect day. We all took two naps, ate a smoothie, played outside, ate a delicious Indian dinner and I felt like a pampered princess. Thanks Jeff for taking such great care of me, I'm sure I'll be wracked with guilt about it all tomorrow!!

sleep is for sissy's

So as everyone knows, babies keep people up nights and they keep them extremely busy throughout the day as well. We lucked out with our baby, he's always been a "good" sleeper. This means that from day one he tended to sleep 4 ~5 hour stretches overnight. This sounds pretty good if you just focus on the 4 ~ 5 hours of sleep part of the statement. But once you dig a little deeper you'll see why we all still qualified as 'sleep deprived' during this phase.


First of all, a newborn (in our home) doesn't sleep in his own room or even his own bed, he shares a bed with us. Nestled safely between us in a small little nook. We hear every breath, every whimper, every sigh, every rumble of his belly. And we love it. We lay awake just to listen to the music of his body. We drift off to a light slumber and wake up an hour and a half later to a crying baby. We pat his back, we roll him over (yes, we allowed our baby to sleep on his side, and even his stomach), and he drifts back to sleep. An hour later and he's up again, this time for real and I'm nursing him while Jeff is bringing me food to stave off my ravenous appetite (does my body realize it's not pregnant any more?). We change the 13th diaper of the last 24 hours and we're all snuggled back in bed within an hour, drifting back to sleep for perhaps another three hours, maybe four. I, as a nursing mother, wake up soaked in milk two hours before the rest of the crew is awake. I get up, I get towels to sleep on top of, I change my shirt, I pump, I get back in bed and before I know it, we're all awake again to begin the routine once more.

Time passes, the baby grows and he moves into his own room down the hall. Now we sleep with a monitor on, straining our ears for any sign of a problem, and thankfully all we hear are the occasional snores of a congested baby. We're getting 8~10 hours of sleep a night, and its a beautiful thing. Some nights we don't even have to wake up to feed him. On those nights I wake up with aching breasts so large that even Anna Nicole Smith would be jealous. I drag my butt out of bed and to pump. To pass the time I read, I eat, I play sudoku at 3am while my family sleeps. I envy them. I'm back in bed by quarter to 4, asleep by 5:30 (because now for some reason despite my exhaustion, I cannot just fall asleep) and we're all up at 6:15 ready to start the day.

Time marches further on and the baby sleeps 10 hours a night, every night. My breasts have realized their job is nearly done and they allow me to sleep as well. We can go to bed at 8pm if we want to, and we know we'll sleep uninterrupted until at least 4am, sometimes 6am. Now this is a beautiful thing! When the baby does wake up we've got the routine down to a science. I lay in bed, Jeff brings the baby to me, I nurse him laying down, we all fall back asleep and I eventually realize the baby wants his bed and so I deposit him there and return to my own for another hour or two of sleep. It totally works. The daytime exhaustion has become second nature.  I can no longer remember a time when I wasn't tired so it's not even worth mentioning anymore.

This is life. Wake up with the sun (or in our case, wake up with the son), change, feed and play with him. Change & feed ourselves. Feed him again, put him down for a quick nap. He wakes up, comfort him, play with him, change him. Feed him. Play with him. Change him. Put him down for a longer nap. Feed yourself. He wakes up, comfort him, play with him. Take the dog for a walk. Feed the baby, play with the baby. Feed yourself. Change the baby, feed the baby, put him to bed. Finish feeding yourself, brush your teeth and off to bed. Life is busy, life is routine, life is the same for so many of us with babies and yet, it's anything but ordinary. Life is truly extraordinary with a baby, and sleep, well sleep is overrated.

snot another ear infection!

Carrying on from our previous conversation, "Snot so Bad" ...

We're back from the doctor again. Asa has his third ear infection since the new year and we've been told our assessment that he is pretty much sick for all but one week a month is just typical. According to our doctor, babies and kids go through a phase of catching between 7 ~12 colds per year for roughly two years. Each cold generally lasts between one to two weeks, so they are sick basically half the year and are either on the mend or on the road to being sick for the other half. This either happens when they are babies and starting daycare as is our case, or when they start playschool as a three year old, or for the hyper-sheltered I suppose it wouldn't start until kindergarten.

So if you missed that small detail, babies are sick about half a year each year for two years. So by the time our son turns two he will have spent half of his life sick with a cold. How f*cked up is that? And on a more selfish note, as his parents, it will mean that we've spent about a year of our life feeling sicker than we have since we were babies ourselves.

At any rate, babies get sick, their parents get sick, and some how we muddle through and learn to laugh at the copious amounts of dried and fresh snot that cover all exposed skin and toys in our home.

sharing is caring

This is a phrase that we said all the time in Japan. I think it's from Sesame Street or something like that but whatever, we brought the lesson into adulthood and taught our Japanese friends the saying. I am proud and pleased to announce that my little boy has officially learned this lesson as well.

This morning at daycare, for the first time ever, Asa didn't seem to want me to set him down. As soon as his butt hit the floor he turned to me, arms raised, warble in his voice, asking me to pick him back up. I did. Twice. But each time I tried to set him down again he complained. And then, bless her little heart, Audrey, a tiny, adorable little one year old came toddling over with a soft stuffed doggie and handed it to Asa and I. She shared with him and it touched my heart. And then, to my great pleasure, Asa handed his toy to Audrey, returning the favor and saying thank you in the most selfless and sweetest of ways.

Seeing the two of them sharing, Audrey trying to soothe an upset baby (and mommy, I'm not gonna lie, the parting was hard on me too) with a stuffed toy, and Asa, thanking her and being soothed by her kind nature ... Well it was straight out of Disney. All that was missing was the little blue bird singing his happy song on our shoulder.

So thank you Audrey, for making our morning brighter.

And PS - Kate & William, congrats on the wedding! The dress was beautiful!

Cheerios, God's gift to Mom's

What is it about kids and Cheerios? Is it universal or is it an American thing? If Cheerios were the size of doughnuts would they still love them? If they were crispy like a potato chip how would that affect their popularity? What if we made them purple? Or if they smelled like Swiss Cheese? What is it about the Cheerio that has made it the perfect baby food? And did the inventor know what she was doing at the time? Huh, maybe that's where that phrase, "Necessity is the mother of invention" came from. A desperate mother, worn down from being the sole source of food for her infant devotes hours of experimentation in the kitchen to find an alternative to the breast ... and voila, the Cheerio is born! Thank you nameless mother of the past for your stroke of pure, edible genius! Asa thanks you too!

snot that bad

Asa has a cold. Again. It had been about two weeks since he fully recovered from his previous cold so I guess I should have expected that he come down with something again soon. In our house I'd say we average one cold per month, with each cold lasting one to two weeks. So in any given four week period we have at least one week of misery, one week of health and two weeks of the in between stage.

Months ago, before he had caught his first cold, I was dreading it. What would we do for a sick baby? How do we blow his nose? What if his fever is too high? What if he starts wheezing? Or gets whooping cough? Or typhoid fever? Or rubella? Silly first time mommy, overreacting, what were you thinking? He got his first cold and it was so sad and pathetic but we all made it through with flying colors (snot of yellow and green) and not a hint of deadly disease (thank you God).

Now here we are, on our I don't know, 7th cold, and it's old hat. The snot runs like water from a fountain. The cough gags him and his little face turns red from the effort of hacking. He sneezes mouthfuls of food all over us. I have a thin layer of dried snot and food smeared over my neck and chest. He runs a fever and wants to cuddle with us until the Tylenol (thank you God and Science for inventing acetaminophen) kicks in. And then, a few days later, all we're left with is some snot and a case of the snuggles.

Well that and a sick mommy and daddy who can barely muster the energy to take care of themselves much less a baby who is nearing full strength and is interested in climbing stairs, banging on flat screen tv's and dvd players, and sticking his finger into the test socket for our carbon monoxide alarm.

People keep telling me its a blessing to get it all over with now because once Asa is in his school he'll never miss a day, having been exposed to all this so young. I guess they are right but in the meantime, pass me a tissue my nose is running.

I'm sorry, I didn't know

It has come to my attention that not everyone understands the subtle language of sarcasm. Having been fluent in sarcasm for as long as I can remember (thanks mom & dad), it never occurred to me what a gift it is to be bilingual and how difficult and unfunny life must be for those who aren't.

To my readers who think I'm not funny - I am funny.  To my readers who took me seriously when I wrote a post about possibly being Schizophrenic - I'm not.

Now that we've cleared that up I'll try offering a little tutorial on how to spot sarcasm. When I say something that you really can't believe a normal person would say, odds are I'm being sarcastic. When I say something that  just doesn't make sense no matter how you try, it's a safe bet it's sarcasm again.  If I were to say anything about loving "The View", Sasha Baron Cohen or the Academy Awards, it would be sarcasm.  So the following sentence should basically reek of sarcasm to you now: This morning on my favorite show, The View, Whoopie was interviewing Sasha Baron Cohen (my all time favorite actor, who doesn't love Bruno??) about his upcoming appearance on the Academy Awards ... Man I wish I could be there!!

It reeks. It stinks. It oozes. Sarcasm. It's gotten me far in life. I believe it's also referred to as a sharp tongue or a biting whit. I like these phrases as well. So study up friends and soon you'll see why my blog has the world craving more!

the schizophrenia of being a mother

I've been watching my behavior over the last several weeks and I've decided that I'm a walking contradiction.  On the one hand I'm obsessed with keeping the floors clean to the point where we've hired a service to come clean the house every other week (in addition to us vacuuming about every four days on our own). On the other hand, I'm somewhat okay with the box of random stuff to be sold/donated/tossed that has been sitting in our downstairs bathroom for a couple of months. Then there's the dog situation. On the one hand I absolutely cannot stand her hair getting all over my baby's clothes, hands and face when he crawls on top of her or attempts to chew/bite/suck/kiss her fur (it's so gross). But I'm perfectly at ease when he started chewing on her dog toys. I also found it cute and funny when the two of them took turns licking the graham cracker Asa was supposed to be eating as part of his dinner but I find it disgusting when the dog directly licks his face, ears, hands, etc.

So I think it's fair to say that when it comes to dirt, grime, fur and inter-species spit-swapping, I'm a bit schizo. Then there is daycare ...

Ahh, the daycare drop-off/pick-up: the greatest and worst part of my day.  Asa and I do the daycare maneuver four days a week. After the initial shock of the first week wore off (back when he was about 3 months old and I would sob uncontrollably after dropping him off), we found a very happy groove where I almost never felt bad leaving him at daycare so I could go to work. And then, about a month ago he started "crying" when I would go to leave. No actual tears, just a sad look of shock and dismay that would spread across his little face and break my big, soft heart. Now I find myself torn between lingering longer and longer to watch him play and wanting to rush out the door as quickly as possible because I know it's all a tease and that I really can't stay with him all day, everyday even if I wanted to. But that's not the schizophrenic part of my story.

What's so crazy is that a very big part of me wants to spend every single moment with him all day, everyday, 24 x 7 to the point where I sometimes wish he'd wake up at 9pm to just hang out with us until we go to bed at 10. And then there's an equally big part that prays he stays asleep until 7am so we can get a good nights rest and for once not have to wake up at 6am on a Sunday morning. And there's the part of me that sometimes dreads picking him up from daycare because I'm so exhausted I'd rather just nap in the car alone. And the part of me that can't wait to pick him up from daycare because I know seeing him will be the brightest part of my day since I gave him his last cuddle before going into daycare. Do you see where I'm headed with this?

To recap, the bottom line is, daycare is wonderful and Asa and I are both better people because of it but guilt is powerful and I can tell you Asa never had to make that sad little face at me to trigger the guilt, it was already there. I'm pretty sure it showed up around the day he was born and will stick around forever just to be sure I toe the line and keep my priorities straight. And dirt, well, dirt isn't going anywhere. Neither is Midnight: love the dog, deal with the fur ... And in the meantime I'll just have to come to terms with being a total schizo on the inside and try my best to project a calm exterior.

As an addendum I'd like to share this 15 second clip from Baby Momma, which I totally relate to now that I have a baby:

How much wine was in that alcohol?

That's a direct quote from last night. I want to personally thank the people at Trader Joe's for selling a pretty damn good bottle of red for the rock bottom price of $3.99. I'd also like to thank my husband Jeff, for encouraging me to drink cheap wine. If it weren't for this serendipitous aligning of the stars, last night might never have been as great as it was.

A warm spring evening, a stroll through the neighborhood, the scent of flowers on the air, Asa swinging his legs happily in the stroller ... Midnight frolicking with the other dogs in the big back yard, Asa giggling ... Jeff home from a good day at work, playing with the baby while I cook up what turned out to be a delicious (and visually very pretty) Chicken Biryani. Asa settles in to bed at 8pm, crack open the wine, eat some biryani, watch a little Burn Notice (gotta love it). And before we knew it, I'd had two glasses of smooth, rich and intoxicating Grenache blended unfiltered wine.

The cheeks get rosy, the attitude gets rosy, we're laughing our asses off at nothing and yawning like we haven't slept in 9 months (we haven't).  Before I know it it's 9:30 and Jeff is calling it quits for the night, still recovering from our 4:30am wake up call the day before. On the way up the stairs I realize just how tipsy (fine, drunk) I am and I ask Jeff, "How much wine was in that alcohol??".

Fits of giggles ensue and a classic Annaism is born.

My pregnant bootie

Don't let the subject line fool you, I am not currently pregnant. I am actually now 9 months out since I had the convenient excuse of pregnancy to account for my wide butt and unsatiable appetite. Throughout my life I have been cursed with being hungry all the time, getting full quickly, and then being hungry again within an hour or two. I have also been blessed with an incredible metabolism that probably irritated the hell out of a lot of women who watched me scarf down the cheeseburgers and then parade around in a bikini.

Now don't get me wrong, it wasn't like I had a perfect body or anything, but for someone who didn't exercise, I sure was in good shape. Then I got pregnant and the eating went off the charts. One plate. Two plates. Three plates of food for dinner. Even my husband who is 6'6" couldn't keep up (strangely though, my tiny little mom was able to eat as much as I was in my last weeks of pregnancy though she'll deny it). Alas, my metabolism was not able to keep pace with my appetite and my butt grew right along with my belly. I went from a cute size 4 to happy size 12 or 14 and my collection of underwear bare testament to this adventure.

All the original size smalls look sad and stretched. Then there are barely worn smalls of a different brand that I thought might do the trick. They lasted a week in my first trimester and were retired as utter failures. Then I went through a stage of washing laundry every four days so I could get by on the size mediums I already owned. By the second trimester the joke was on me, my mediums had totally caved in, and I had gone ahead and accepted that I needed a large to fit my bootie and I was alright with it.

The thing is, it never really occurred to me that it was my butt that was so big. I kept telling myself it was my hips widening as part of pregnancy, and no one really told me different (bless their hearts). Until one day during my third trimester we were in the kitchen and someone was trying to get around me and they commented about my big pregnant bootie and I realized, yes, it might be partly my hips widening, and yes, my belly was very large and round (the Big Round as it was lovingly called) but at the end of the day, I had eaten my way into the hugest ass I had ever had the pleasure of sitting on. And then, after the baby was born, I saw a couple photographs of my gigantic ass and I freaked out. I had no idea I had been carrying that much ass around for 40 weeks!

I guess this sort of loops back to an earlier post where I questioned whether ignorance is bliss ... in this case it was. But now, here I sit, 9 months later squeezed back into one of those size smalls that had been retired as a failure, waiting for the marks to show up from where the seams have dug into my doughy waistline and I wonder, should I throw in the towel, head over to the outlets and buy myself some cute mediums, or do I persevere, and torture myself with the smalls until they actually fit?

What's in a name?

I legally changed my name yesterday, for the second time in my life. It's not only a major pain in the ass dealing with social security, the DMV, insurance (car, medical, dental), and all the bills I have under my name (phone, electric, water, car loan, credit card ...) but it's also very stressful deciding on what the new name will be. Okay, so I guess obviously part of the new name is Jeff's last name, but what do I do with my maiden name? And what about my middle names? I agonized over this for a few months before striking proverbial gold and settling on a name the night before last.

The primary issue is that my parents gave me two middle names which makes my given name fairly long: Anna Mary Kathleen Lofgren. If you try and ad a hyphenated last name in there (which I did with my first marriage - Anna Mary Kathleen Lofgren Berry) you get something that is so ridiculously long that even the staff at the DMV do a double-take (and let's be honest, they see a lot of names from all sorts of backgrounds and with no offense intended, foreign names can get crazy long by Western standards and I think I had them all beat). Plus, when I did the double last name before I was intending to just go by one for day to day things (Berry).  I never ever wanted to be addressed as "Mrs. Lofgren Berry" and yet it happened all the time and people would stumble over the letters like they were just learning to read. Pharmacists would file my prescriptions under Lofgren half the time, Berry the other half, doctors would file me under the opposite of what I called myself and it was always a huge pain in the ass.

So you may be wondering why I don't just drop Lofgren and make life easy? If you are asking that you must not know me that well because I think most people would say I don't tend to do things the easy way. I like to do things the Anna way. It's a little wild, a little crazy, definitely unconventional and often illogical, but it works for me. Or I make it work for me and get frustrated with anyone or anything that stands in my way or questions my methods.

At any rate, Jeff was intent on my taking his name, and I liked the idea of the three of us sharing a common last name so I acquiesced. Thorner would be my last name. I refused to consider a hyphen after living with the annoyance it caused for too many years already. I didn't want to drop my middle names as they were given to honor important women in our family and it seemed disrespectful. I couldn't fit Anna Mary Kathleen Lofgren Thorner in the little spaces provided in the name change form from social security ... I was stuck in a quagmire. And then, as I said, I struck gold, sitting on the couch with Jeff bemoaning my quandary.

I filled in the form and headed out the door for my date with Destiny at the social security office (actually I forget her name but she was a real hard-ass). And now ladies and gentlemen, for the big unveil!! If you take a look at my ID you'll see a unique name that met all my criteria and fits into the provided spaces on legal forms:

Anna M.K. Lofgren Thorner.

Mrs. Thorner for short. Or hell, just call me Anna, it will be less confusing that way.