She Tricked Me!

I love you too.

Why My 4 Month Old is Smarter Than Me

Being a mom kind of rocks. There is nothing better than having my little girl look at me and give me that giant pez-dispenser smile. Even though she just looked at me a few seconds ago, it's like she forgot I was there and is delighted to find that I'm back. And while I love when she is sweet to other people, my heart warms when she cries and no one can soothe her but me. It's as if she needs me almost as much as I need her.

Anyway, on to my reasons why I think my baby is smarter than me (I can only assume this will be a recurring theme).

1. She eats when she's hungry. She doesn't try to finish one last project before her next meal, which would just make her hunger worse. She also doesn't eat just because she's bored or there's food there. Girl knows how to manage her body!

2. She figured out how to lock my cell phone screen so the buttons don't work. Now if she could just undo this....

3. She finds joy in simple things. If given the choice between a fancy, multi-colored, musical toy and the stick of deodorant, she picks the deodorant every time.

4. She can re-read the same book over and over and still be enthralled.

5. She greets her dad with pure excitement when he gets home from work. That's much better for him than someone asking him to make dinner and take out the trash. Oh, and put your socks in the hamper, not next to it!

I could go on and on, but I'll leave it there for now. I don't want her knowing all the ways she's smarter than me yet. I'm sure the day will come soon enough when she goes "really, these are my parents? How have they survived for so long?" but for now she is blissfully ignorant.

Not Funny

Lainey is 3 and a half months old. She changes everyday. She goes to bed a newborn and wakes up the next day as an infant. Overnight she learns how to grab toys, push up on her arms or blow bubbles with her mouth. She's amazing.

But lately she is refusing to sleep. She wakes up every hour. We have tried everything to get her back to sleep - rocking, pacifier, crying, co-sleeping, noise, quiet, light, dark. You name it, we've tried it. And nothing is working.

After we put her to bed Mike and I will be up talking or doing something and as soon as we hear a peep on the monitor we freeze. Like, no words and no movement. Apparently, we think she is like some kind of T-Rex and if we hold real still, she won't know we're awake and she'll go back to bed. And apparently, we think she has these powers through walls and doors. When she is in her own room with the door closed, we still whisper and tip-toe around like burglars.

Anyway, last night when I got up for the 4th (or was it 5th?) time, I started thinking about this blog. And I had such funny things to say. I would make jokes about (gently) kicking Mike when it's his turn to get her. I would write hilarious musings on googling tips to help baby sleep. As I am rocking Lainey I am giggling to myself thinking this is going to be the best blog since telling my lent stories. I crawl back in bed after I get Lainey back to sleep and am excited to blog in the morning.

But this morning, turns out? Not funny.

I started to jot down all my night time ideas here and realized I must have been delirious last night. How is researching noise machines funny? How is groaning, "dad, it's your turn" worth writing about? I have no idea what I was thinking.

She's napping right now and has been asleep for almost 15 minutes. That means I don't have much longer. So let me leave you with some pictures we took of her this weekend. This pretty much makes up for all the sleepless nights.

My Baby Story

A few things have changed around here. We have a new family member! Elaine May was born January 3rd at 2:38 am. She has blond hair and gray eyes like her dad and a double chin and a passion for napping like her mom. She is just perfect. But boy, is she a lot of work. I thought not much would change at first because babies don't do much. I thought we would just have to scoot over on the couch a little to make room for her and life would go on as normal. How wrong I was. But I will save the stories of waking up every hour at night, dropping her in the tub and colic for another day. This is the story of her birthday.

January 2nd started out as normal as any other day. It was Sunday and I was 3 days over my due date and thought I was going to be the first woman to be pregnant forever. I spent most of the day napping and went to dinner with the family for my mom's birthday. Soon after we got home from dinner, around 8:00 p.m. I started getting contractions. They came on really fast and really strong but there was no pattern. I would get a contraction and less than one minute later I would get another. But then another wouldn't come for 9 minutes and then 6 minutes, etc. Looking back now, I think Lainey was definitely controlling things even then, since she doesn't like patterns or predictability.

So around 10:00 pm Mike's shoulder hurt from me punching it and he called the hospital. Since the contractions weren't the standard "5 minutes apart" they told me to wait another hour and get in the tub. I don't know why they tell you to get in the tub, maybe it's so you're clean when you go in? Joke's on them though, I didn't use soap or anything. I pretty much spent the whole time clawing Mike's leg and begging him to make it stop.

After what felt like an eternity, I got out of the tub. Which was pretty easy, since I was half hanging out of it grasping at Mike who was desperately trying to get away. I got dressed and decided enough was enough. I told Mike "I don't care what the hospital says, we are going." And as soon as I said that my water broke. Even though I was now in more pain I was happy because I now had the golden ticket. No matter what, the hospital couldn't turn me away.

I have never seen Mike move so fast as he finished packing our bags and threw them in the car along with me and the carseat. Then at 11:40 at night we raced to the hospital. In what is usually a 30 minute drive, we made it there in about 15. Of course, that was still too long for me and I was convinced I was either going to pass out from the pain or have the baby in the car. Luckily, neither happened and we made it in one piece.

Somehow, we made it up the elevator, down the hall and turned the corner to the labor and delivery wing. About halfway down that corridor was an empty wheelchair. I told Mike that was it, I was done and they would have to come get me. And I dropped to my hands and knees as he ran to get a nurse. I guess I decided I had done enough work already and I didn't need to walk anymore. They came rushing over with the wheelchair, picked me up, and wheeled me into the delivery room.

Mike had to sign a couple papers for me at the front desk. He says it took less than a minute and when he walked back in the room I was completely naked and up on all fours on the bed. This is so out of character for me as I am a modest person, but apparently clothes were making the pain worse. I wouldn't even put on the gown they gave me.

Without asking, they injected me with fentenol; a drug used to calm down crazy women who refuse to lay in the bed the right way. Luckily for them, it worked. I was able to lay on my back and yell at Mike in that position.

They got the anesthesiologist in there pretty quickly. He was a nice guy, but spent forever telling me about the epidural. Dude, I don't need to hear the history of the drug, just give it to me already! Finally, he finished his monologue and gave me the shot. It was wonderful. Best.Drug.Ever. Within 5 minutes the pain was gone and I was happily chatting with everyone. The only thing that was bugging me was that I was hungry and kept asking Mike for an orange. I knew they wouldn't let me eat, but I wanted to see if Mike would try to sneak it to me. He didn't. Rule follower.

The Dr. arrived around 2:00 am and we started the process of bringing Lainey into the world. Once the Dr. had her little head, he paused to style her hair into a mohawk. Very funny for everyone else in the room, but hello, we're in the middle of something here!

Then at 2:38 am she was here. She weighed 7 pounds, 8 ounces and was 19 and a half inches long. Much bigger than any of us thought. They wrapped her up and gave her to Mike. And she just stared at him as intently as he stared at her. It was the best moment I have ever seen.

All of a sudden, this twosome is a threesome. And we couldn't be happier.

Our Thanksgiving Adventure

I hope everyone had a nice Thanksgiving holiday. We had a great time and we survived. But barely. After 3 days of craziness with little boys and 2 days of travel, we made it home in one piece.

We spent the Thanksgiving holiday with Mike's family in St. George. His family has 4 boys ages 5 and under. And 4 boys ages 5 and under can be...tricky. One at a time they are each adorable and cuddly and sweet but once you put them all together something happens. It's like the collective energy causes each of them to transmogrify into something half-human, half-animal, half-wanna-be-superhero.

And suddenly you're no longer at Mike's mom's house. You're in the American Gladiators arena and you have to get to the platform on the other side without being knocked off the obstacle course by the flying Nerf balls being shot at you. And if only the Nerf balls were really Nerf balls and not little boys flinging themselves at you with limbs akimbo and destruction in their eyes. And the littlest one uses teeth!

If you are victorious and make it to the safe zone, you better be sure you had used the bathroom before you left the platform, otherwise, you have to go back through all over again. And no, Mike, I am not stopping to help if you somehow get pulled down and swallowed by the mountain of bodies and batman toys. I'm sorry. I just can't risk it.

As the weekend went on, we got better at the game. Without even blinking, Flam! my arm blocks the punch to the stomach. Zing! Mike's leg deflects rocket headed straight for us. We think we have beat them at their own game. And then, one looks at us with sweet eyes and holds his arms out to be hugged. So we give in. But, lo, it's a trick! Instead of hugging, they're pounding on my leg and scratching at Mike's head.

Well played young ones, well played.

We took a few pictures, but none of the boys' photos illustrate this well enough. They are all cute and smiley in their pictures. It's like when you take a photo of Big Foot and you go back to the dark room to develop the pictures and somehow, mysteriously, they are all blurry and you can't see a thing. There is some kind of power there.

So, I'll post these two pictures of Mike's sister. Her face pretty much sums it up.

I don't know how Mike's sisters and parents do it every day. They deserve major kudos.

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On Sunday we headed back to SLC. And it was the worst storm we had encountered in our 10 years of driving to St. George. I think the fastest we went was about 38 mph, at that was only for a brief time. There were cars and trucks, even a Highway Patrol Sheriff stuck in snowbanks off the side of the road. In what is usually a 2 hour trip from St. George to Fillmore, it took 5 hours. It was starting to get dark and the snow wasn't letting up so we decided to stay for the night.

We had the choice between the Comfort Inn and the Paradise Best Western. Comfort sounded nice, but Paradise is better, right? So we stayed at Fillmore's "paradise."

And you know, it wasn't paradise, but it wasn't bad. When we were checking in, I noticed that the name of the hotel restaurant was "The Paradise Garden of Eat'n." I said the name out loud and started laughing. The woman behind the desk looked at me, cocked her head and said "isn't that cute?" I choked down my laughter and nodded.

Turns out the Garden of Eat'n isn't so bad. Especially after sitting in a car for 5 hours.

We finished the drive to SLC Monday afternoon and finally made it home.

I think we slept for about 13 hours that night.

If The Plastic Baby Scares Me, I May Be In Over My Head

We are halfway through the childbirth class. And we decided to torture, er, I mean prepare ourselves more by taking another class. This one about child care. It's great. Now I'm completely terrified of giving birth to this baby and raising her. Awesome.

In the child care class, cutely titled "Baby Steps" but really should be titled "Get Ready To Feel Even Less Capable Than Before," we learned the basics. Changing a diaper, swaddling the baby and giving her a bath. Mike and I had one baby to share (oh yes, we definitely looked at the pile of baby dolls and picked the cutest one) and so we did the diaper thing together. He did one side and I did the other. And we stepped back to admire our work.

Let's just say that the baby better always lean to the right because my side, the left side, was a complete disaster. I don't know how I managed to not even get it to cover the baby's bottom but I did.

Mike fixed it before the teacher saw.

By the way, I need to mention that he took notes, forced us to sit in the very front and not only asked questions, but answered them. Who is this guy? While I would prefer to be in the back trying to spit-rub off the scuff I just made on the baby's forehead and pretending they didn't just tell me I have use a rectal thermometer, he's up front miming the teacher and giving our baby a world-class pretend sponge-bath.

Oh also, as we were leaving, everyone kind of threw all their babies in a pile by the door. Mike stopped to organize them...

The childbirth class gets increasingly nightmarish every week. Last week we talked about medications and epidurals and we got to pass around the tube the STICKS OUT OF YOUR BACK the whole time if you have an epidural. Isn't there some kind of chewable tablet that I can take instead?

This week we talked about C-Sections. And watched a video. And although the video changed to a cartoon version when the really gross part came, I had to grab the edge of my desk to keep from falling out of my chair.

I just can't watch medical stuff like that. When I first started college I was a pre-optometry major and so my dad took me to watch one of his patients get Lasik surgery. We're not talking watching it on a screen from another room. We wore the blue booties and hair things and stood right next to her during the procedure. I was okay until they started to pull some clear flap of skin back from her eye. That's when everything started to go black from the bottom up. I grabbed my dad's arm and said "I don't feel good." The next thing I know, I'm in a chair, my dad is slapping my cheeks and the entire procedure has stopped. I told them to "carry on" and ran out of the room. I promptly marched into Student Services the next day and changed my major to art history.

But back to this week's class. It was frightening and scary and gory and I was ready to change my mind about this whole thing....

And then this happened.

And all was right again.

A Rather Intersting Pregnancy Side Effect

Last night Mike and I went to our first childbirth class. It was surprisingly better than I thought it would be. We mostly talked about all the good things about being pregnant. But I suspect that they are just trying to lure us in with a happy class and the "videos" will be starting next week.


At which time I will run screaming from the classroom.

But last night went well. The moms and dads met in separate groups to come up with the Top 10 Best and Worst things about being pregnant. My group was very um, polite, to me. When I was suggesting things for the list like: you have the legal right to taste other people's lunch or you start growing a beard on your belly, they smiled and chuckled a little. But they didn't write it down. However, I still think those are fine additions to the list. By the way, those were suggestions for each Top 10 list - I'm not particularly happy about my belly beard. Although it might be nice in the winter...

They did, however, end up accepting one of my suggestions and the guys chose one of Mike's as well. The teacher read the guys' lists first. When she got to #8 on the Top 10 Best I immediately looked at Mike. But first, let me tell you what the guys' #1 worst thing about having a pregnant wife is:

"Lack of intimacy."

Are you as proud of their maturity as I am? I mean, I don't think I would have come up with the term "intimacy." But then again, I am over in my group talking about unwanted hair and bodily noises.

Anyway, Mike's contribution was: "Excited to have another family member. Someone else to hang out with." I knew it was his right away. That's definitely what Mike is looking forward to the most.

Then when she read the girls' Top 10 Worst list, Mike knew #10 was mine:

"There's no turning back now."

Mike smiled and gave me a few approving nods. I love that he gets me.

The rest of the class went well. Looking forward to next week when Mike gets to wear the sympathy belly. Oh yes, there will be pictures.

In other news, it's almost Halloween. We have planned a little something, but I'm not too sure we should do it. You know the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado? It's the hotel that Steven King stayed in that inspired him to write "The Shining." Because it's haunted. It was also the hotel he used for the TV version of the movie (which is really good, by the way).

Anyway, it's haunted. And on Oct. 30th, they are giving ghost tours and they have a murder mystery dinner that night. So we booked a room (in the haunted hotel) and got tickets to all the ghosty fun. However, I am thinking we should cancel. Mainly because I get scared really easily. Like, really easily. I like being scared but when I am in those situations, I am always begging to leave. For example, when I was little my dad took me to a haunted house and once we got inside I wanted to leave so badly that I bit him on the shoulder.

So, with me being pregnant and all, I'm not so sure it's a good idea to put that extra stress on my body (or Mike's shoulder).

On the other hand, I've found that I have been a lot more calm about things lately. We were in Seattle last week and one morning we went out to the car and there was a HUGE spider on the passenger door. And instead of running back in the house and pulling the fire alarm, I calmly got in the car and watched the damn spider hang on for the duration of the ride. Which is big for me. See here for normal Emily-spider behavior.

So maybe I could be okay with the whole haunted hotel thing. Maybe now I can control my fear. And, it would be a great addition to the top 10 list. "Having your own ghost-and-spider-ignoring power." Here's a picture to illustrate:

Look at me being all mature and ignoring those scary ghosts.

Yeah, being pregnant is awesome.