Fork in the Road

Tyler is changing on a daily basis. He is getting really close to rolling over from his belly to his back (again). For those of you who have been following our son's rush to grow up via my and Joe's blogs, you'll know that Tyler had a stint of rolling over when he was about 2 1/2 weeks old. He grew out of it when his body started weighing more than his head. Regardless, he's flirting with it again. He's minding tummy time much better these days, and pushes himself up with his chubby arms. For the last 3 days or so, he's been rocking side to side while on his tummy. He's really close to rolling over for real. He's also been scootching himself all over the place by kicking his legs. I frequently find him stuffed in the corner of his crib in the morning. I've also found him completely turned around in bed once too (I laughed out loud it was so funny).

I know that these things are important milestones for growth and development, but I find it hard to cheer for them. It's the end of an era. The end of his babyhood. Mobility marks the beginning of my son's independence. I just wish that he would stay a baby for a while longer.

Hear No Poopy, See No Poopy, Smell No Poopy

That's right folks, it's time for that never-ending, "god they are sooo parents now" topic... Poop. Now, normally no self-respecting adult would find themselves talking to another adult about poop. Joe and I happen to be parents of two dogs, one of which we've had for almost 5 years, and therefore have just about always talked about poop. Who (meaning dogs) pooped and who hasn't was always discussed after each outing. We somehow stumbled into bathroom-math when discussing the topic of our dogs bow-wow-els. #1 = pee, #2 = poop. So, in our secret language, I'd come in after walking the dogs and say, "Logan did a #3, and Delilah did a #1". There you have it. (Feel free to borrow this for your house.)

With this in mind, once Tyler was born we had no problem poop-talking about our son. It was a natural progression for us. Color, consistency, frequency... yes, we're just those people. Very romantic, I know. Shortly after we brought Tyler home from the hospital, and we were out of that retched meconium phase, I remember Joe reading me an online article (boldly) stating that breastfed babies don't have stinky poo. In fact, the author of said article went as far as saying that breastfed babies have poop that smells like "buttered popcorn". (ewh, I know. Ask Joe for the article... he MIGHT be able to find it again.) I decided that if this was in fact true, I could easily change Tyler's diapers for the next several months, having only sacrificed the guilty pleasure of movie theater popcorn. No problems.... except the fact that the author of this article is a FREAKING LIAR!!!!! Tyler has some of the smelliest poop, dare I say, ever. Sometimes, heck most of the time, it gags me. I know he could clear a room. And I know, you're lectures regarding my diet are on the tip of your tongue... but I assure you, my diet doesn't matter. I don't drink milk (it gives me migraine headaches), I take my vitamins regularly, and I try my darndest to eat well-balanced meals. hmpf. Clothespins anyone? Gas masks? I'll take whatever you got.

I would be completely disgusted by my own son, except for the fact that he is so cute when he poops. I usually get a front-row seat to his pooping-face, because he frequently decides that nursing time equals a good time to poop. I have my suspicions that he is just trying to make room for more food. But, or should I say butt, when Tyler goes, he makes the cutest concentration face, elevates his shoulders, arches his back (I told you... front-row seats baby), and makes the cutest squeaks anyone has ever heard, all while letting it rip. I think that we need to video tape it; Joe thinks it would ruin any and all chances with the ladies in the future. We'll see.

And, I'd also like to challenge makers of diapers. Could you make them better? You know, so they'd work. That would be great. We are once again in the no-diaper-can-hold-in-my-poop phase. I know that we don't need to get bigger diapers, my kid is only 10 weeks old and he's in size 3 (16-28 pounds, for those of you not in the know). Still, we have a blow-out on what seems like a daily basis. It doesn't matter who installs the diaper, whether it's on super tight, super loose, or just right (sorry, we've recently read goldilocks)... blow-outs still happen. It's like his butt crack forms the perfect tunnel to send poop shooting straight out the back of the diaper, up his back, and all over his outfit. I'm tired of it. And, I'm tired of soaking and scrubbing poo out of Tyler's clothes. Short of putting him in rubber pants or a paper sack, I don't know what to do.

So it's now official; I'm that mom. Talking to strangers about her child's poop. Is there a membership for this club?

My Broken Heart

Woe is me. My son no longer loves me. At least he certainly didn't last night. Once Joe got home yesterday from work, I spent an hour or so prepping for my big night out. That's right, I was leaving the house alone to... wait for it.... the suspension is killing you isn't it????..... go grocery shopping. Whee, the joys of being a stay at home mom. :) After Tyler finished nursing I handed him off to Joe, and I gathered my list and my carefully clipped and organized coupons. I was prepared to spend money while saving money all at the same time. Blows your mind, doesn't it? Regardless, I was ready to leave and so said my goodbyes to the two loves of my life. I bent down to give Tyler a kiss, and he turned his head away from me! My baby! How dare he! I was so broken hearted I instinctually reverted to childhood and started pouting. Joe, of course, was laughing. Joe then tried to cover his tracks (and Tyler's) by saying "he didn't mean it" and "it was just a coincidence" and something about bad timing and trying it again. It didn't matter, the damage had been done. And, Joe's attempts at making me feel better didn't work, as he couldn't wipe the grin off of his face.

Boo Hoo. I did manage to get in a few kisses afterwards, but still my poor heart and feelings were stinging. Having given birth to a boy, I am well aware that this moment was bound to happen (being too cool to kiss the mom). But I wasn't prepared for it to happen this early on.

2 Month Check-Up

I would firstly like it to go on record that this post is a week overdue because I am a good mother. It is because I spend so much time with Tyler and because I provide him with quality care (read: time NOT spent blogging or on the internet), that I am tardy in this post.

Tyler is now 2 months old, and therefore went in for a check-up last week. His stats are:
Weight: 16 pounds, 3 ounces
Height: 25 inches
And in case you don't happen to have a growth chart in front of you, this once again puts him above the 97th percentile. Doctor Dana was impressed with his strength and could tell that he gets plenty of tummy time (way to go Joe). She also asked whether he was smiling and cooing, and (as if on cue) it was about that time that Tyler warmed up to her, and did exactly those things. Everything was great, and Tyler didn't mind the check-up one bit, except for the tongue depressor... which we all know tastes bad anyway.

The hard part of the check-up was talking to the doctor about refusing his vaccinations at this time. Not because it's something that we believe strongly in or because I was afraid to talk to the doctor about it, but because Joe was the one that did all the research. And as Joe could not make it to the doctor's appointment, I felt unprepared and lame. Luckily Joe, being the awesome guy that he is, printed out the research article he found which has the alternate vaccination schedule in it. Bonus.

I talked to Doctor Dana about the schedule. She said that she appreciated the research we had done, and that we provided her a copy of it. Although she believes in the "tried and true" vaccination schedule, she said that she honors parents' wishes. We're really lucky to have an understanding and non-pushy doctor.

The past two months with Tyler have been amazing. I can't believe how much he's changed and grown. I love that he recognizes me and greets me with wide, chubby cheeked smiles. I adore his sweet coos and laughs, and the fact that we can now have our own conversations. I think it's amazing that he now likes to play and has favorite toys, and that he's figuring out how to scootch himself across the floor with his legs. I love each of his new developments and look forward to all of his future ones.

I'm a FemBot

I woke up this morning in a panic at EXACTLY 5:19 a.m. I was panicing not because Tyler was crying, but because he wasn't. In fact, he hadn't cried all night long. Normally a parent would dance a little jig at having a full nights sleep, but I doubt that the blue suede shoes came out the first night or two that it actually happents. I, of course, rush into Tyler's room and put my hand on his chest to make sure that everything is ok. Sure enough, he's sound asleep. I breathed a sigh of relief.

The next feeling I had was that of pain. "Pain?" you ask. Yes, pain. You see my boobs were rock hard because I was so engorged (gotta love nursing). I hadn't nursed Tyler since he went to bed around 10:30 p.m. the night before. Anyone remember Madonna's cone boobs? Had someone dropped me off of a bridge, I'm sure I would have sank, as I had boobs of concrete. It hurt. In a nano-second, and probably because I was still looking at Tyler, they decided it was time to start leaking. I was wearing my night-time bra sans pads... and thus milk was going everywhere. I (silently) cursed, and rushed around to grab burp clothes to soak up the mess, and then frantically started setting up the breast pump.

After I started pumping, I realized to myselft that I could have been cast in an Austin Powers' movie as a FemBot. Although I don't think anyone has ever been killed via breast milk, it gave me a good chuckle this morning as I was visulizing it. Thank god for a sense of humor, even at 5 in the morning.