A Pause Before the Festivities

So, my original intention was that my next blog post should be a happy-go-lucky recounting of this past weekend's Halloween festivities (which were, in fact, a blast), but before I do that, I first have to explain what's been happening since Halloween because, to be honest, it is sort of all consuming.

Starting about five nights ago, Kayla randomly started waking up in the middle of the night. The first night it was 3am, then Friday it was 2am, Saturday 4am, Sunday 1am...and she would scream. Just scream. She would wake up fussing and if you didn't go and get her right away, screaming ensued. (Poor Suzanne, Tim and Davin, who were staying with us this weekend and had to suffer through it!) And so, Chris and I finally decided last night that it was time to lay down the law. I think we were ill-prepared in some ways, because Kayla has always been such a good sleeper. Since the very beginning, she went down so easily that we never really faced a struggle or had to learn how to deal with one. Additionally, we've been so disciplined about making her sleep in her crib, putting her down while she's awake, etc., that I just never expected to have to start sleep training at almost 7 months. Of course, that's babies...always changing it up when you least expect it.

So, last night was our first official night of sleep training. After having gotten no sleep for four nights and having dealt with a fussy Kayla all day each day, I was a wreck by last night and so Chris offered to take first shift while I tried to get some sleep. It should be noted that trying to sleep through the baby screaming when you're in a two bedroom apartment...pretty much impossible. I had in earplugs and, at one point, had piled two pillows over my head, and I could STILL hear her. Alas.

Night One: Kayla woke at 3am and started to fuss. Within five minutes she was full-on screaming and so, Chris went over and started trying to comfort her. From there, they started a cycle: comfort, leave, scream, repeat, which went on for an hour and a half. Chris was going in every 10 minutes, shushing her, whispering comforting words to her, patting her...and she would start to calm down and then "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" It was horrible. I came out around 330am and, God bless my husband, he just looked at me, smiled and said "Well, this is fun." Kayla screamed on and off until about 430am when she FINALLY passed out. She then slept until 700am. At 700am I heard her start to squawk, but I didn't go in to get her until 800am. Part of the sleep training theory is that they need to physically be in their beds for 12 hours and that means that if they wake up an hour early, you are supposed to let them talk and squawk and play until that hour is up. And so I did.

Today has been a trial. The poor nanny came today and so is taking the brunt of Kayla's less than stellar mood. We put Kayla down for her nap at 1000am, as normal. She went to sleep easily, but was up within 30 minutes. Considering her morning nap usually lasts more like two hours, this was not bueno. She has then proceeded to fuss and be unhappy pretty much non-stop. I'm really hoping she goes down for a decent nap this afternoon or who knows what we'll be dealing with tonight!

On a side note...my worries about the babysitter running off with Kayla, probably for naught now. Lord knows I wouldn't steal her right now. The screaming is a fabulous child napper deterrent. See? There is always a silver lining.

Anyhow, so tonight is my night on Sleep Training Duty. I am 100% dreading it, but keep trying to remind myself that the books promise it should kick in within a week (I'm trying to ignore all the friends who have told me how much longer it took it to work for them). Please keep your fingers crossed for all three of us! I fear we're in for a bumpy ride.

Bogs and Benches and RainBows Galore

I will start by saying that I love Kayla. I love her little self so much, truly I do.

And now that that is out of the way...

I also LOVED Ireland. LOVED. Chris and I had the most amazing time and yes, I will say it, we had a BLAST being on our own sans baby for a week. I am sorry, but it is true. Here's the thing about being parents, you have a million wonderful moments that make your heart want to explode for the very happiness of them, but you also have a lot of times where you think, "My God...life used to be so simple..." (primarily when you are halfway through a six hour car ride and your infant has HAD IT and is screaming bloody murder in the backseat while you belt out, for the millionth time, a happy-happy-HAPPY rendition of Itsy Bitsy Spider). And so, having a week where we could just drive, talk, explore and relax without having to take care of baby...kind of sweet. We missed her, of course. Calling home was tough...I could hear her little voice in the background and it was hard not to get choked up and wish she was there where I could cuddle her and kiss her little cheeks. There were also a couple times when we saw mammas and their babies out and about and my heart did a little squeeze-ache-release dance, but for the most part, Chris and I honestly had a really good time catching back up with one another. after six months of spending an awful lot of our time focused on one tiny little person and not on ourselves/eachother.


And now we're home and seeing Kayla's little face light up when we walked through the door...priceless. Smelling her and holding her and kissing her and marveling at how much she's grown in just one week...wonderful. Vacation time with your spouse - amazing. Coming home to baby - priceless.

And so, Ireland...

Things you should know about Ireland:

1. Ireland has the magical weather formula for non-stop rainbows. I saw more rainbows in that one week than I had probably seen in the past ten years of my life combined. We saw single rainbows, double rainbows, rainbows that stretched across the entire sky. Rainbows, rainbows, rainbows...and more rainbows. Magic.






2. Benches. I have fallen in love with Irish benches. This sounds ridiculous (or mildly concerning, if you're Chris and mistake my saying "benches" for me saying I love a different "B-ches" word...). Everytime we would turn a corner, round a bend, climb a hill or otherwise suddenly come upon a beautiful site though, I would say "Oh my God this is gorgeous" and there, in front of us, would appear a bench, *POOF*, just as if some Irish leprechaun had heard me and agreed, "Aye, tis a beautiful site" and magicked up a place from whence to enjoy it. Brilliant. And I'm not just talking benches at tourist sites, I'm talking benches in the middle of pastures, in the middle of bogs, in the middle of nowhere. Love.





3. Color. Ireland may be called the Emerald Isle, but it has so many colors other than green. It is covered in red ferns and golden flowers and blue lakes and deep brown mud. It is a rainbow in and of itself. You cannot believe your eyes. It is truly one of the most beautiful countries I've ever been too. And being there in the fall...bonus. The leaves were changing and standing beneath their canopies was like looking up through a stained glass ceiling. It is one big tapestry of color, brighter than seems believable and more beautiful than seems fair.












4. Pubs. Ireland has pubs, lots and lots of pubs. Even in a town with one stop sign, there are roughly 10 pubs. In a place where the people are outnumbered by the sheep, the sheep are outnumbered only by the pubs and truly, you can't go a mile without running into a Tommy O'Flaherty's, Aunty Lena's, Michael O'Collins, or Shannon Dooley's. And that's an important point too. All the pubs...named after their owners. Oh sure, there are a couple Black Swans, but overall, the vast majority have their ownership expressed in their names. And on Sunday, when the rest of Ireland shuts down to go to Mass, you know what doesn't shut down? The pubs. That's right. Apparently, the Lord may not approve of you buying shoes on Sunday, but he's alright with you downing a few pints in his name. Score one for Irish Catholics.





5. People. The people in Ireland are so genuine and so open. They come across as really being of the earth: salt of the earth, down to earth...They welcome you in, even when you're the random American walking into their definitely all locals pub. They will talk your ear off, even if you are only picking up every fifth word. In attempting to buy a necklace, I wound up spending 30 minutes locked into hilarious conversation with a local metal worker. He talked and talked and talked and laughed and laughed and laughed and I just laughed right along with him, even though I couldn't understand a THING he was saying other than maybe that he has a sister who now teaches Hawaiian massage in Sydney, Australia...maybe??

No, I don't have pictures of Irish people. Come on...that would just have been wrong. "You are so friendly...can I document that for posterity?" Please, people.

But yes, Ireland...Ireland is amazing and if you haven't been, you should really go. You should go and you should take at least a week and you should stay on the west coast and you should go from B&B to B&B and you should hike and drive and eat to your heart's content. Well, maybe not eat...the Irish are big into fried meats and cheese. Fried sausage for breakfast, potatoes and steak for lunch, fried cheese and potatoes for dinner...so maybe keep the eating to a minimum. After all, while our memories make our lives, we don't want your memory of Ireland to take your life via clogged arteries. Not a sermon, just a thought.

Dear Sir

Dear Sir -

While I sympathize with the fact that you might not want to listen to Jingly Roar the chiming lion toy jingle jangle his way to DC in your Amtrak car, I do wish to point out that your choices are as follows: 1. Endure Jingly Roar's cheerful tune or 2. Endure my overtired child's ear piercing screams. While I agree that it would be convenient for her to merely entertain herself by quietly reading a novel, I would point out that my infant is, in fact, only six months old and Moby Dick is still just a little beyond her abilities. I, myself, could read to her, but would you really rather here me hyper-enthusiastically recite Squishy Turtle and Friends ("Beware the crab, I think he knows, just how to pinch your tiny toes!") than listen to the jingles? Or perhaps you would prefer I launch into a run-on rendition of The Wheels on the Bus. Again, these are your choices; these things or "WAAaAAaaH!!!!!!!!!"

I, most happily, leave the choice to you.

Sincerely,
Erin "Travel Mama" Duck

The Scent of Burning Bills

Okay, I know it's not fair. I knew, before I ever hired a nanny, that Kayla takes naps and therefore there are times during the day when whomever is watching her is free from any caretaker duties. I knew that. And yet, whenever The Nanny is here and Kayla takes a 2-hour nap, the smell of dollars-a-fire fills my nostrils and I can't help but wonder, "What the hell am I paying this woman for?" Which is totally unfair, because, as I said, clearly I knew that part of a nanny's time here would be spent in chilling while Kayla naps. Plus, The Nanny is a very sweet woman who is seemingly great with Kayla when she is awake and I'm not trying to discount her caretaker skills or worth. But honestly...Kayla has been asleep for almost two full hours now. The Nanny is only here for 8 total. Kayla also took an almost 1-hour nap earlier this morning. That is three napping hours total today, which means that nearly half, HALF, The Nanny's day has been spent writing letters, talking on the phone and making lunch while Kayla slumbers. Burning...embers...of dollars hard-earned...and then The Nanny comes in and offers to make me tea and I feel terrible having just been questioning her monetary value. And every time I'm tempted to call it a day and say, "You know what, I don't know if this is working...", I think of something else I can do because she is here (hours of completely uninterrupted work, longer run, doctor's appointment, yoga class...) and I remind myself that if I get rid of her, that is it; there is no going back. And so, she remains. And she is lovely. But, goldarnit, this might be one of the bonuses to daycare - blissful ignorance of the amount of hours a day that you are paying someone to essentially do nothing.

Sigh....

Dear Lord,

Back when I was pregnant, you and I had numerous discussions about pregnancy and ways in which, perhaps, the process could be improved upon. Up until now, I hadn't really felt experienced enough to continue that dialogue with a new focus on motherhood and infant growth; however, with nearly six months under my belt now, I'm feeling more and more qualified every day and so, I would like to reinitiate our conversation, starting with these few points:

1. Teething. Was it really necessary to make the teething process such that those sharp little bits of bone have to force their way up and through the sensitive skin of baby's gums in order to come into existence? Really? I have to tell you that it seems somewhat barbaric, a strange form of torture, to have teeth come into being in that manner. Is this some sort of right of passage for babies? Something akin to the natives who throw themselves off cliffs, slamming their heads into the dirt, only to be deemed "men"? Have you seen X-Men Origins: Wolverine? You know the way he reacts after they've inserted the adamantium into his body and his claws shoot through for the first time? Seriously...there has to be a better way. (and yes, that's right, I said adamantium. nerrrrd.)

2. Nails. Why must babies be born with nails? As far as I can tell, the only function they serve is to scratch both baby and mommy as little uncontrolled baby limbs fly to and fro in the first couple months. (And for those of you who are going to throw out an evolutionary explanation, come on...do you seriously think that at any point in time, a baby was able to fend off a dangerous foe with its nails? I am willing to put lots of money on the fact that baby nails back in caveman times, highly ineffective against velociraptors.)Why couldn't nails develop later? Way later. Like once baby is 13 and can trim them herself. Of course, maybe giving baby sharp claws at the same time as she hits puberty isn't a brilliant idea...but there's got to be a better way than giving them to her when she has no control over her appendages and when those little sharp dagger claws are small enough that, in trying to trim them, a well-meaning mother might (just hypothetically of course) cut the little finger they're protruding from, causing baby and mommy to cry together in fear and shame.

3. Lack of Ability to Store Up Sleep. Much like the camel stores water so that it can traverse the long dry desert, would it not make sense to allow expectant mothers to store up sleep so that they can traverse the long sleepless nights that are baby's first few months? The bonding, the sharing, the getting to know one another...I'm just thinking that it might all go a little more smoothly were mom not running on about 2 hours of sleep. Mom might be able to actually see baby's face rather than just an adorable blur and baby might find itself out and about with two non-matching socks, pants on its head and a hat over its bum far less often.

4. Inability to Blow Nose. Babies are born with lots of instincts. If they sense they are about to fall, they'll flail and grab for something to hold onto. If they eat too much, they spit-up to keep from being overly full. They are born knowing how to cry in order to get their needs taken care of. It seems only fair that they also be born with the instinctual ability to clear their airways. When baby gets a cold and has a nose stuffed full of cement-like snot, it impedes baby's ability to sleep and eat - the two most important tasks it has at this age. Does it not, therefore, make sense to give baby the ability to blow its nose from birth? I know you tried to make up for this oversight by giving some brilliant Swede the idea to invent The Nose Frida, but perhaps just letting baby push that stuff out on her own would be more effective. I mean, not that I don't enjoy a good Frida session, but between me fighting my gag reflex and Kayla screaming because, let's be honest, she probably feels like we're trying to suck her brain out through a nostril, I'm just thinking that her calmly blowing into a tissue might be a little more pleasant for everyone.

That's all for now, Lord. I'll be awaiting your reply. If you agree that some of these things could be amended, perhaps we could knock that out before Baby #2? No pressure, but hey, much like all those people who claim that "Windows 7 was my idea!", I'd like to get a little result for my thinking-effort. Cheers.

Light Bulb Moments

Despite the fact that Kayla is still sick, she has been on a hilarious learning streak the past couple of days. Apparently, having Grams around (Grandma Spatz, that is) makes her want to show-off.

This week she has picked up some adorable new skills:

1. She now tries hard to play Patty Cake along with you. As you sing the song and clap your own hands, she brings hers together, sometimes more effectively than others, and tries to keep up. She also throws her whole body back and up at the end when you exclaim "And put it WAAAAAAAY up in the oven...". Watching her "get it" is so much fun. To know that all of this really is sinking in and to see the little lightbulb inside her head go *ding*...so fun.

2. She now gives kisses. I am not joking. If you now put your face down close to hers and say "Kisses for Mommy (or Grams, or Daddy, or Aunt K, or...)", she'll take your face in her two hands, open her mouth BIG AND WIDE and will plant one on your cheek. It is potentially the cutest thing ever to happen on this planet we call Earth. I could let her goober and slime my cheeks all day long. I love it. LOVE IT.

3. She is starting to get Peek-a-boo. When you place a cloth over her head now, she reaches up and pulls it off and then smiles at you expectantly, waiting for the "PEEK-A-BOO" that necessarily must erupt from adoring adult lips.

4. She is starting to realize that certain things she does get a reaction from the adults around her. The kisses for instance...she definitely knows that her kisses cause adults to giggle and cheer and smile and coo...and so now, after she does it, she pulls away and looks up expectantly, oftentimes initiating the giggling herself. "Hello...did you see what I just did? Love and adore me! I am adorably hilarious!" It is so fun to see her socialization skills coming through. The fact that she now looks for a reaction from you, realizing that she has the power to create a response...it is too cute. This even extends so far as to have her sit and smile across the room at Daddy for minutes on end, patiently waiting for him to turn, see her and smile back. Nothing is better than a reaction from Daddy. And nothing is better than a smiling baby. Seriously, this kid just gets more amazing everyday.

And along those lines...I am realizing more and more every day how lucky I am to be working from home right now. To be able to spend so much time with Kayla, to watch her every little development, every little change...it is getting harder and harder to picture being back in an office every day and to picture not having the ability to share so fully in her life. Part of me knows that it would be fine. I have plenty of friends who are doing it and doing it well. But, when I think of leaving her full-time...my heart contracts a little. This little girl is changing me and changing Chris. She is changing our world in such new and amazing ways. We are still us and we still have our own wants, needs, desires, dreams...and yet we are also so much hers now. It is really an incredible, incredible thing.

Sickness

Poor Kayla...

Stuffy, runny, all-around snot-infested nose, nasty cough, and watery eyes...our little baby is having a rough time right now. Apparently being stuck on an airplane for 6 hours got the best of her. Some germ-infested person managed to spread their sickness to her via the illness-incubator that is the plane cabin and now she is down for the count. Well, not down. Actually, the cold has managed to make her want to do anything BUT go down. I can't say that I blame her. She lays her poor little head down and immediately starts making the most horrible sounds. You know when you have a really bad cold and breathing is anything but easy? Well, imagine that, only now you also don't have the luxury of being able to blow your nose, clear your throat or take drugs. Fun, right? And so, poor Kayla just lies there pathetically snorting and wheezing and moaning...it's horrible. And yet, when she's up...she is still UP. I don't know how she does it, but she's still managing to smile and giggle her way through the day, pausing only briefly to sneeze or cough or snuffle. Her Aunt Kristen came over Friday and I had warned her, after being up with Kayla much of the night, that she shouldn't expect K to be in a very good mood. But clearly I need to have more faith. Kayla not only smiled at Kristen, she giggled at her, went out to the park with her, showed her all her new tricks...I say again, my kid is a TROOPER. She's more of a trooper than me. I've managed to catch the cold and I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep for about a week straight. Alas for the unencumbered days of my youth.

This is Kayla sick:



This is me:



Okay, no, that's not REALLY me. That is some random girl whose picture is up on the Internet under the Google Search heading of "Fetal Position". The picture isn't protected, so I have ganked it for my own use. That's right. Ganked. I am not posting a real picture of me sick because, come on, I have a reputation to maintain. No one wants photos of my sick self up for the world to see. No, really, you don't. Plus, how would I get such a picture? Chris would mock me if I asked him to take one and setting up the tri-pod to take it myself is far too much effort for my temporarily crippled body to make. Not to mention, that I feel like taking a picture of myself sick would be a whole new level of crazy blogger that I am just not ready to explore.
Anyhow, you get the point. Kayla, the 5 month old, is tougher in the face of sickness than her mother. For shame.