Six Weeks
Friday, October 24, 2008 - 05:11 p.m.

Is there anything more beautiful than baby hands?

I THINK NOT.

Tiny

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Hardest job ever
Wednesday, October 22, 2008 - 05:30 p.m.

Yesterday, Micah screamed. All. Day. Long.

He didn't want to be put down, picked up, held, left alone, touched, looked at, in his swing, in his crib, in his car seat, on the sofa, on the floor, in the Moby wrap, or in the dishwasher (what?). He only wanted to ride in the chest carrier. That's it. Chest carrier, eating, or screaming.

I tried everything, and when nothing worked, I just wandered around the house with him in the carrier, singing gently:

Mommy's gonna take you to the post office
The post office, the post office
Mommy's gonna take you to the post office
If you don't go to sleep

Mommy's gonna pack you in a cardboard box
A cardboard box, a cardboard box
Mommy's gonna pack you in a cardboard box
And label it "this side up"

Mommy's gonna mail you to Abu Dhabi
Abu Dhabi, Abu Dhabi
Mommy's gonna mail you to Abu Dhabi
If you don't shut your face

Then Mommy's gonna move and change her address
Change her address, change her address
Mommy's gonna move and change her address
So they can't send you back

There are many more verses. "Mommy's gonna put you in the clothes dryer (so you'll be toasty warm)" is a favorite. Please don't call DHS.

Today has been better. Not great, but better. Less screaming, more sleeping, and a few instances of heart-melting cuteness.

Hi there!

You see that? Talk about survival instincts!

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Baby status
Tuesday, October 21, 2008 - 11:06 a.m.

Oh my god, WOODCHIPPER.

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Votes are more important than lives?
Monday, October 20, 2008 - 06:44 p.m.

Todd and I watched the third presidential debate Sunday morning. We'd have watched it live last Wednesday, but there was that whole angry baby thing we were wrangling at the time.

Dude there was so much about that debate that got under my skin, but this bit, oh this pissed me off in a big way. Everything else I just muttered darkly at, but this made me sit bolt upright and, ah, loudly demand that McCain go do something anatomically impossible with himself.



"'Health for the mother.' You know, that's been stretched by the pro-abortion movement in America to mean almost anything. That's the extreme pro-abortion position, quote, 'health.'"

- Senator John McCain, being a colossal douchebag; October 15, 2008

Okay, two things. One, there is no such thing as a pro-abortion movement. That McCain even uttered those words is just unforgivable. Whether he was saying it to rev up the base, or whether he truly believes that there exist people who think abortion is so much fun, whee! doesn't matter - it's disgusting either way.

Two, the air quotes. Oh my god, those condescending air quotes. Either he is refusing to acknowledge that sometimes pregnancy truly has life-threatening complications, or worse, he just doesn't CARE - he needs the votes, and women be damned. And that's really what got to me.

My pregnancy wasn't without its complications, but I never faced anything life-threatening, not even close. But this woman did, and her take on what John McCain said and implied has the weight of experience behind it. Her last paragraph puts into words all the anger I felt, and she says it much more eloquently than I ever could.

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Reprieve
Saturday, October 18, 2008 - 04:16 p.m.

So, things have been better these last few days. There was a perfectly horrible day of non-stop screaming (mostly him, not me), and suddenly he's sleeping three hours at a time at night, he's angelic during the day, and I guess I went out and rented that woodchipper for nothing. (I kid!)

Anyway, things are good for the moment. Nearly great. The baby is adorable, we're sleeping again, fall is finally here and the weather is GORGEOUS, and I'm surprisingly content.

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"Necessity is the mother of bipartisanship."
Sunday, October 12, 2008 - 11:05 p.m.

Here's an interesting post by Christopher Buckley (son of William F. Buckley) on why he'll be voting for Obama.

"But having a first-class temperament and a first-class intellect, President Obama will (I pray, secularly) surely understand that traditional left-politics arent going to get us out of this pit weve dug for ourselves...

Obama has in him I think, despite his sometimes airy-fairy 'We are the people we have been waiting for' silly rhetoric the potential to be a good, perhaps even great leader. He is, it seems clear enough, what the historical moment seems to be calling for."

Sorry, Dad, I'm Voting for Obama by Christopher Buckley

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This entry should have more curse words
Wednesday, October 8, 2008 - 12:37 p.m.

You know what's crazy? October 5 was Micah's due date. He wasn't supposed to be here until this past Sunday. For some reason that just totally blows my mind.

Also, I can't believe it's been 25 days. It seems like maybe half that time. The weeks are flying past, and truthfully, it's breaking my heart a little. Last Friday, Micah weighed 7 pounds and 12 ounces, and already I miss my little six-pound froggy baby. Not that the chubbier model doesn't have its charm, but so soon?

Speaking of 25 days, I'm freaking out a bit over my maternity leave. I had planned on not going back until January, but I was forced to go on leave much earlier than I'd expected and I didn't get to confirm any plans with my bosses before everything went to hell. I was originally lead to believe I'd have twelve weeks, but come to find out, I only get FMLA protection for half that. Contrary to what I was told, maternity leave is based strictly on medical necessity and my doctor won't write for more than six weeks. Unless I can get the pediatrician to write me more, it's technically up to my bosses if they want to hold my position for the last six weeks. I doubt it will be a problem, but dude, I thought this was already settled and now I'm totally stressed.

:::

I started writing this entry on Monday, and I had a whole glowing paragraph about how Micah was sleeping in his crib all night, only waking up every two hours or so to eat. I waxed on about how life seemed so much more livable with a bit of a sleep and how much I was starting to love this parenting gig and...HA HA HAR, JOKE'S ON US. We had four nights of comparable bliss, and last night I'm not sure the boy slept at all. He apparently had terrible, painful gas (I'll never eat pizza again as long as I'm nursing, I swear), and OH MY GOD, THE SCREAMING. Seriously, you'd have thought the bottom of his swaddler contained a freaking bear trap. Those seven hours were one long, dark hell where Todd and I took turns rocking / holding / walking / jiggling / snuggling / punting a howling, thrashing, clawing baby with absolutely no effect. (Note: If he ever sleeps again, my first priority is to declaw the little jerk boy.) And today...well, today I find myself once again wondering just what I've gotten myself into. Well, that and how much he'd fetch on the black market.

Anyway, here's the picture I was originally going to post of Micah at 13 days old.

Aaaaand here's a picture of my real child. Please send chocolate.

And Xanax.

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Now I know why gerbils eat their young
Thursday, October 2, 2008 - 04:00 p.m.

All right, so, today? Not a good day.

Last night was awful. This morning has been one long study in complete and total frustration. At the moment I'm torn between selling Micah to the gypsies or feeding him to a roving pack of ravenous dingoes.

Right now his favorite make-Mom's-head-explode trick is the patented boob-in-ear maneuver. This involves arching his back, throwing his hands in front of his face, whipping his head from side to side, then finally turning sideways so my nipple goes in his ear instead of in his mouth. Then commences the screaming, because "Food, woman! Where is it?!" And as much as I want to tell him, "In your EAR, where YOU put it, asshole" I can't because, hello, hes a baby. But the dingo feeding sounds very appealing.

Today, in addition to that, once I finally get him pointed in the right direction and latched on, there's the falling asleep after two minutes of nursing, despite all manner of chin-tickling or feet-thumping. Then, the moment he's pulled away, he awakes enraged because can't I tell how terribly hungry he is, how DARE I reclaim my boob?

It sure is a good thing he has his moments on the opposite end of the spectrum. When he's wide awake and quietly looking around, making his funny fish face and blinking up at me with his bright blue eyes, everything seems right with the world and all the frustration is forgotten. One day I'll tell my son the only reason we kept him was his fish face. And I won't be entirely joking.

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