Consistently persistent

It's been a tough few days for Zephyr (and me). The rough patches on his legs, arms and abdomen (that I'd heretofore been blithely treating with Burt's Bees after baths) is eczema. This isn't much of a surprise and I know it's pretty common, but something - possibly allergies inherited from Scott, or the recent addition of OxyClean to the laundry regimen - has triggered the rash to become so itchy that Zeph has begun scratching himself raw. We had to make a late-night call to the pediatrician's triage desk the other night because, after nearly three hours of trying to get him to sleep, he began sobbing inconsolably and was starting to break the skin with his scratching. Now he's on hydrocortisone and is wearing sock mitts to prevent scratching, but coupled with teething and a lack of good sleep, he's been kind of a Fussy McCrabberson. I just really hope he doesn't end up with allergies and asthma (the other two legs of the Nerd Trifecta).

At some point, I guess I can stop talking and thinking and fretting about sleep. There has to be more to parenting an infant than worrying about sleep, right? He used to be so good, even a week ago, at the onset of transitioning him out of our bed. Now? I'm lucky to get four hours. I usually get two (particularly if I succeed in getting him to bed at 9:00, in which case his first "long" stretch is overlapped by me and Scott trying desperately to relate to each other as friends and partners). Last night he never slept more than two hours at a stretch. He slept better as a newborn than he does as a "settled" infant, when he's supposed to be finally sleeping through the night. The main difference between my energy levels now versus when he was brand new is that now he weighs 20 pounds and it physically exhausts me just doing day-to-day tasks like diaper changing and lugging him from room to room.

I think I'm most frustrated by his inconsistency, when I'm working so hard to be persistent with his routines. I don't really know how to bounce back when he, say, naps for only 30 minutes instead of a couple hours. Am I supposed to try to get him right back down? And how long do I keep trying if I don't succeed? I usually give up after about an hour or two, and then try again in two hours. Sometimes he cues that he's sleepy right away, and then wakes up right after going down again. Repeat ad nauseum. What I'm most sick of, though, is talking about his fucking sleep problems.


Hey, though, on the plus side, I found some new camera apps for my iPhone, and have been thoroughly enjoying photographing Zephyr (as any of my Facebook friends can attest). One more way to obsess over this kid. Just what I need.

Puttin' along

Not a lot to report this week, not as far as new milestones go. His laughter now comes from the belly, and it's easy to get him going by giving his cheeks raspberries and then giggling at him. Zephyr is also really getting good at bringing his hands, and anything in them, to his mouth (or to each other, which always looks adorable).


Thank goodness for these $0.49 toys from Ikea. They're his favorite! He is particularly fond of the bunny (whom I have secretly names Ferdinand), whose ears and carrot he soggifies with great gusto. He also likes to nurse on the nose of the turquoise wolf, chomping his sore little gums into submission. Better the toys than my nipples.

His mirror is much more interesting to him these days too, and he'll often watch himself playing with toys. Sometimes he talks or shouts at his reflection, which cracks me up to no end. I know he still lacks a sense of Self, but I think his recent acknowledgment of other babies coincides with his newfound appreciation of the mirror. I think he thinks his reflection is another kid.

Sleep continues to be up and down, but I guess I don't really care anymore. If I really need a break, I just lay down with him. Otherwise, I try not to sweat it. We're in the process of transitioning him out of our bed and into his cosleeper adjacent to the bed, mostly because he's just so big now, but also because he's kind of a squirmy sleeper. This way he's also less disturbed by Scott's and my nighttime movements, and we all sleep better. We're also moving him to an earlier bedtime, but this is a little bit bumpy. Usually instead of going straight to bed at 9:00, we get him down for what ends up being an hour or two nap, then we go through the formal bedtime motions: change dipe and into PJs, swaddle and story, then nurse. Once his afternoon naps become more predictable, I think it'll be easier to start readying him for bed at around 8:30 or earlier, and really make a big production of it to cement the routine. We'll omit the swaddle step soon, once his routine becomes canon. It's starting to get a bit warm for it, and if he gets an arm out he becomes really distressed. He tends to nap better without any swaddling, so my swaddle-weaning process has involved simply tucking a light blanket tightly around him. He can easily squirm completely out of it with the kick of a leg, but I think it feels secure to him as he's drifting off.

His viselike grip on Ferdinand even while sleeping was worth taking another photo, even though the click woke him momentarily. He loves his bunny.

Teething is a real pain

(Note: eyes definitely still hazel. My wish is coming true!)

Still no napping for this one. As I type this, he has just emptied both breasts, with attempts to lay him down after each one. I tried putting him down, completely out cold, into his pack-and-play. Fifteen or twenty minutes later, he's up. Walk around with him for a bit, then decide to try to nurse him in the darker upstairs, in his bedroom. Nurse again. His arms marionette floppy, I gently lay him down into his crib. Eyes pop open, and the little bastard starts grinning and laughing. Legs like little eggbeaters, kick kick kick kick. Mocking me. I've just snuck downstairs, leaving him alone up there, hoping he'll just, I don't know, forget about whatever's distracting him from sleep? Why does he want to be awake so badly? And what, exactly, does he find so fucking funny about it?

I can hear him whining a bit. "Enh. Enh. ENH."

I don't want to be one of those "cry it out" people, all ignoring their babies' needs, causing trust issues and brain damage. This is no slight at one good friend of mine (who tried this method for a spell), who had a VERY high-needs, colicky infant and actually had to regularly call those "please talk me out of strangling my baby" hotlines out of lack of sleep or peace. I don't have that baby, and neither do most people who think that you can spoil a baby by holding it too much, or that babies cry to manipulate people. Those people are completely insane, or at best misguided. And for what it's worth, I don't think it even worked for my friend, who found it gut-wrenching to hear her baby cry that much.

Fingers are fascinating

I mean, technically, he's not even crying or anything. I think he just knows that I always respond almost instantaneously to any slight fussing and is expecting my smiling face to pop up any second. And so it never really needs to escalate to full-blown crying (unless I say, clip off the tip of his thumb whilst attempting to trim his nails). Still, the annoyed (and annoying) whines are his cue that he's unhappy, and as his mother, I am supposed to be the Bringer Of Happy. But this time I'm ignoring them, just to see what happens. If he really starts crying, I'll go rescue him.

What's that I hear? Could it be...silence? He's either asleep, or he's staring at something quietly. I haven't figured out if I care which of those it might be. I know he needs sleep. "Sleep begets sleep!" chirp the helpful, childless doulas. And though I know this to be true from experience, I just can't force him to sleep. I can't wear him 24 hours a day, walking and nursing him into oblivion. But more importantly, I can't make my entire day focused on trying to get Zephyr to sleep. So what should I do?

Usually, I let him sleep on me after he falls asleep nursing. At least this way, he gets at least one good hour or two chunk. More often, though, I let him take several catnaps. I don't know if this is great for him, but I'm sure it's better than nothing. This time, I'm trying out the "leaving him alone in a dark, quiet place" technique to see if that yields results. At least this way I get a few minutes to myself.

...only a few minutes.


*****************

Milestones this week: rolled over from tummy to back, turned his head toward my voice when I said his name, and will laugh with me instead of just at me. Oh, and he is beginning to interact with other babies now instead of just staring at them like objects. With adorable results. Here he is with his bestie (and possible future soulmate) Sigga:

"Invisible Steering Wheel"


"Pshpshpsh I'm telling you a sekkrit!"

"Hugs", or "Attempted Carrot Theft"

Amuse Bouche

This is the face of a little boy who won't nap.

Zephyr is about to start teething. Any minute now.

At his 8 week checkup, Dr. Martin found his gums to be slightly swollen, and now, at 14 weeks (today) they're bugging him just enough that he has a hard time napping for more than 20 minutes (unless I let him linger at the breast) and has been emitting a high-pitched whine that sounds like a mosquito.


He won't use his pacifier anymore except as a chew toy. He really favors clothy items, though, and is usually trying to cram his blanket, a burp rag, the hood of his jacket, or his pant legs (quite the feat!) into his drooly maw. I picked up a couple of new toys for him that are rattly, crinkly and absorbent. On the plus side, I can start putting him in the adorable bibs I bought for him a month ago.


Tummy time is particularly exciting as his neck strength develops (despite his demeanor in this photo - sleepy, forced to perform for a demanding mother). Now he arches his body with his arms and legs extended like a tiny skydiver, his heading bobbing around to examine his surroundings.

Wearing him is more interesting too, now that I don't have to keep one hand on his head at all times. Springtime has done wonders for my motivation for park walks and errands on foot. Unfortunately, his 18 or so pounds of mass is doing my back no favors, so I've started carrying him in the Moby (actually the Sleepy Wrap brand) instead of the Maya for longer walks. When we circle the park (works great for getting him to sleep, when he's not gum-fussy), I sing a song about what I'm seeing in a soft, repetitive tone that he seems to like. "There's a Doug-las-fir. There's some green, green grass. There's some En-glish i-vy. There's a wes-tern larch!" Repeat ad nauseum. The park is big, and this is Portland. We sing about the green, green grass a lot.

"sup ladeez" (sorry, I couldn't help it)

Breast is Best

I sleep in some days when Zephyr wakes too early. On days when he wakes too early, after his dad tries in vain to sate and soothe with a bottle, I finally wake from my hurried sleep to rescue Zeph from the indignity of a rubber mother, and I arrive with my warm breast.

He latches on with greedy aplomb. After panicked panting "ohthankgod" through the first moment, my milk releases and his suckling slows to a slower, more gastronomical pace.

My little gourmand savors each sip, his free hand tracing an unknown pattern across my sternum, his tiny fingers lingering at the seam of my bra. He strums across my breast carefully, deliberately, with apparent specificity.

He sometimes pulls away suddenly gasping, arching his neck and back gracefully as he comes up for air (eyes closed tight, tiny lips still pursed), then he dives back in for another taste. He wobbles his head back and forth like a mad puppy playing with a bone - mouth agape, splashing his cheeks in buttery milk, and uttering a low grunt - and then settles back into a warm sigh, falling into comfortable slumber.

Jonestown

Every time we think we've got this parenting thing dialed in, something changes. I'm becoming convinced that a baby is nothing more than the universe's way of keeping you on your toes. I smell a developmental milestone coming up - after a couple weeks of good sleeping, including consistent, lengthy naps, as of Monday night he's back to waking up every two or three hours. He's outgrown almost all of his pjs - each time we put them on it seems like the last time they'll fit. Tonight I think he officially outgrew a favorite pair after wearing them for just a few hours.

In his 11th week, Zephyr has begun gnawing invisible chewing gum. His chin and anything it touches is sopping wet. Teething is right around the corner. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, I guess. And as you can see from this photo, his eye color is coming in. A big set of puppy dog browns like his old man, I'd hazard. I'm still holding out hope that the burnt umber stays around the pupil only, and the rest of his iris is bluish gray, that his eyes might continue to resemble a sky in solar eclipse.

Yesterday he had another first - he cried for more than 30 seconds. Was it because he was baking a turd all day (a day of no pooping at all in 24 hours - another first) and had a tummyache? Because he had crappy naps and was a Crabby McGrumperson? Who knows. It took two squirts of gripe water, his vibrating papasan chair set to stun and a squirt of Liquid Nap to calm him down enough to sleep.

Last Thursday I had an appointment to get a massage at Zenana. On Tuesdays and Thursdays they have child care available, so I thought I'd take them up on it and get some work done on the fucked-up IT band that's been causing me a lot of knee, hip and leg pain since the delivery. Zephyr was asleep in his carrier, and I felt leery of leaving him in a room with three raging toddlers and a very pregnant child care provider. But I really wanted this massage, and I was just going to be in the next room if anything happened, right? Wrong. I never made it into the massage room before I broke down in tears at the thought of leaving my baby. I ended up bringing him into the room with me, where he slept quietly for most of my massage. When he woke up, I said hello to him, told him I loved him, and let the nice massage therapist take him to the child care room for the rest of my massage. The following Sunday, Scott and I left Zeph with his grandpa Jack for a couple hours while we had a Valentine's date.

Speaking of Zenana, I've been taking a few classes there that I really like. The Mamalates class is over now, but it felt good to start taking steps toward regaining some semblage of my pre-pregnancy figure (the one I had before the holidays that preceded my pregnancy, that is). I've been back to my pre-pregnancy shape since about two or three weeks postpartum, but I'd still like to drop a few of the saggy tummy pounds that were present in the form of winter girlchub a year ago.

The infant massage class is fun, too, and a nice way to connect with Zeph, but sometimes I really think the other moms Drank the Koolaid. They are really into their babies. When the teacher asked a question like, "What is something that you're proud of this week?" The moms all say shit like, "Peyton smiled at me when she pooped! Blessed be!" or "little Henry rolled over by himself!" I'm the only one who answers, "my food blog got linked on Saveur.com!" Maybe I'm being selfish or unrealistic that I still want to be Heather some of the time, and not just Mommy. But I'm pretty sure autonomy in motherhood is healthy. We're setting a good example for our kids when we make time to take care of ourselves and indulge our outside interests.

That said, though, I had my first bout of complete insomnia the other night, related to the prospect of going back to work. I still have six weeks of maternity leave, and boy do I need them. Being a mom is hard, especially in these post-women's lib times. Our aunts and mothers worked so hard for us to be able to go back to our hard-won careers, and I mean them no disrespect, but I just don't think anyone can do everything. Sure, we can try to juggle working inside and outside the home, and our relationships with our partner, family and friends, and then maybe take a millisecond to look after ourselves, but what kind of life is that? Why do anything at all if we can't do it with the attention, time and care that it deserves? Don't get me wrong - we can have it all, we just needn't have it all right now.

For now, all I want is to have is my time with my growing son. All I need is to be there to celebrate this remarkable little changeling and love him every day. I guess maybe I've gotten into a little of that Koolaid myself.

Tear the Roof Off the Mothersucker

Look at this little mothersucker (caught in an uncharacteristic fussy spell). To be fair, though, these days he's sucking more on his hands, blanket and pacifier, and less on his mother, thank god.

Zephyr's been prone to wee bouts of fussiness lately. We figure this has something to do with all of the drooling and sucking in which he's been engaging, but it's just as likely to be gas as far as we can tell. It's really anyone's guess. It passes very quickly though - I took all of these photos in a rapid succession that lasted less than ten seconds, then he was laughing again. Weird little baby bipolar disorder, innit.

In his tenth week, Zeph's becoming more a sentient little person and less an organic bundle of raw electricity and shaky reflexes. As his nervous system matures, his hand and arm movements are becoming more controlled and less Moro-spastic. His new trick is some awesome air guitar - I'll try to shoot some video to post soon.

Future babysitter, Connor

Zephyr does great in crowds, too. We brought him over to our friend Norm's place for Super Bowl Sunday, and aside from a couple of feedings, he really didn't need me at all. Our friends just passed him around, dumbstruck at the sheer proportions of the boy. I'm always a little worried that bringing him out just means I end up carrying him instead of getting to relax and enjoy my friends, but he's so good with other people. Hopefully this is a testament to an outgoing personality, or at least a healthy lack of xenophobia.

This week has also been a boon for all of the ridiculous equipment we bought for him months ago. Last month, this portable swing may as well have been a torture device as far as he was concerned, but now it's become a preferred place to put him down for his naps. I can set him in there drowsy but still awake, and he rocks to sleep instead of relying on my breast for sedation. I still nurse him down at night, but right now this makes life so much easier for me during the day, and it's helping him develop important self-soothing skills. We'll have to see if the standing swing has the same effect.

The coolest development thus far (besides smiling and laughing) is that Zephyr's been experimenting with vocalization. It's really funny to see him look us square in the eyes, serious as a fucking heart attack, and just jibber-jabber all of the sounds he can make with his little wordhole. Here's a little sample of the chitchat hilarity (including an epic shitgrunt - a household favorite):






...yes, we still always laugh at his farts.