... is having a hot chocolate in the shower.
In the immortal words of either Bill or Ted, I can't remember which (meh - possibly neither) ... righteous, dude!
Tuesday, 17 February 2009
There is a blog post inside of me trying to get out
Unfortunately, there is also a kid down the hall who seems to have a sixth sense for when I sit down with even a hint of an idea that I might blog.
And then, he yells.
Bless.
I can't even do a cheat post and fill it up with pictures, so you feel like you've had a post, but actually you haven't (like the last few) because I can't find the camera. Handy, that - We have a baby in the house growing quicker than a quick thing (guess what I'm doing this weekend/early next week? Buying cot sheets because he has outgrown his hammock (!! I'm not ready to move him into his own room!! It's too soon!! He's too new!! Actually, I'm not ready to have to go further than reaching out the side of the bed for his night feeds, but it sounds so much more maternal the other way), and 3-6 month sized clothing because his onesies are almost too short. By 'almost' I mean that I've probably only got a couple of days until I feel really guilty about the force I have to use to get the blimming things done up and on him. He's 4 weeks old on Friday. Honestly) and I can't find the camera to chronicle his progress. Excellent. Hopefully the husband knows where it is ... I remember to ask ... and then I remember to take photos.
Latest weigh in today is 4550 grams and we graduate from our midwife visits this week. Our final visit with our OB Paul is only 2 weeks away ... eek. Plus, the husband has gone back to work, so we're not only about to fly solo from supervision but we're actually beginning to settle into life proper.
Huh. I've just realised I've managed actual paragraphs here, which means that a certain baby might just be asleep (or else, I've forgotten to turn the monitor on and/or probably should remove my ear plugs), which also means that I could probably work on the blog post inside of me that really wants to get out. Booya!
Or not.
There's hollering leaking in around the edges of my ear plugs.
Note to self - Get better ear plugs.
And then, he yells.
Bless.
I can't even do a cheat post and fill it up with pictures, so you feel like you've had a post, but actually you haven't (like the last few) because I can't find the camera. Handy, that - We have a baby in the house growing quicker than a quick thing (guess what I'm doing this weekend/early next week? Buying cot sheets because he has outgrown his hammock (!! I'm not ready to move him into his own room!! It's too soon!! He's too new!! Actually, I'm not ready to have to go further than reaching out the side of the bed for his night feeds, but it sounds so much more maternal the other way), and 3-6 month sized clothing because his onesies are almost too short. By 'almost' I mean that I've probably only got a couple of days until I feel really guilty about the force I have to use to get the blimming things done up and on him. He's 4 weeks old on Friday. Honestly) and I can't find the camera to chronicle his progress. Excellent. Hopefully the husband knows where it is ... I remember to ask ... and then I remember to take photos.
Latest weigh in today is 4550 grams and we graduate from our midwife visits this week. Our final visit with our OB Paul is only 2 weeks away ... eek. Plus, the husband has gone back to work, so we're not only about to fly solo from supervision but we're actually beginning to settle into life proper.
Huh. I've just realised I've managed actual paragraphs here, which means that a certain baby might just be asleep (or else, I've forgotten to turn the monitor on and/or probably should remove my ear plugs), which also means that I could probably work on the blog post inside of me that really wants to get out. Booya!
Or not.
There's hollering leaking in around the edges of my ear plugs.
Note to self - Get better ear plugs.
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
The proof is in the pudding
And what a pudding he is!
Weigh in is tomorrow, but given that ...
- His feet are starting to stick out the end of his hammock
- All but his largest and stretchiest 0-3 month sized clothes are too small
- We're going to be shifting from newborn sized nappies to infant nappies within days
... I'm guessing that he's thriving and is chunking it on.
Monday, 9 February 2009
More Dr Jekyll, less Mr Hyde
I know I shouldn't dance around in celebratory circles. I know. But I really can't help myself. Even knowing that said dancing in circles is more than likely going to bite me in the butt tonight doesn't stop me.
I am 99.9% sure that the kidlet doesn't have colic. What he has is the grumps. It was actually quite funny last night just sitting back and observing the behaviour because I swear he was trying to find things to cry about, and if anything more interesting than yelling the house down happened, he'd just stop mid-holler.
I don't know whether it was the gripe water, the Ecostore sleepytime bath concoction, the deep bath (sans dunking this time - yay us!), the stars being perfectly aligned or just absolute dumb luck, but he crashed at 9.30pm! Weeee! We crashed at about 10.15pm because we just didn't believe he'd actually gone to sleep. AND he only woke once in the night. Awesome.
Right. I'm going to go and cry about the bill I got from the anaethetist this morning for my epidural. The fact that it is and was worth every single penny does not stop my eyes from watering, forking out close to $600.00.
I am 99.9% sure that the kidlet doesn't have colic. What he has is the grumps. It was actually quite funny last night just sitting back and observing the behaviour because I swear he was trying to find things to cry about, and if anything more interesting than yelling the house down happened, he'd just stop mid-holler.
I don't know whether it was the gripe water, the Ecostore sleepytime bath concoction, the deep bath (sans dunking this time - yay us!), the stars being perfectly aligned or just absolute dumb luck, but he crashed at 9.30pm! Weeee! We crashed at about 10.15pm because we just didn't believe he'd actually gone to sleep. AND he only woke once in the night. Awesome.
Right. I'm going to go and cry about the bill I got from the anaethetist this morning for my epidural. The fact that it is and was worth every single penny does not stop my eyes from watering, forking out close to $600.00.
Sunday, 8 February 2009
Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
Oh. My. Word.
Come approximately 7-8pm every night, you'd be forgiven for thinking, should you walk past our house, or in the vicinity of our house, or even in a suburb anywhere near our house (ahhh, you probably wouldn't even need to be in a suburb near, and you could be in a car or plane with six sets of ears plugs in and it probably wouldn't be a hindrance either), that we are perhaps trying to murder our child. For around four hours a night.
It's a very pleasant business, but as much as we're happy to know that his lungs work extremely well, the fact that both the husband and I are quickly going deaf is a slight detractor from the joyful celebrations.
The dogs are somewhat bemused by the incredible noise that this newest and littlest and funniest looking puppy produces come night time, and sit there no doubt wondering why no one puts him in a kennel outside when he won't stop barking.
The cat I think expressed herself spectacularly this morning by projectile vomiting all through his room. Very disgusting. And oddly coloured. Although, I've never seen kitty projectile vomit before, so I was a tad curious as well I have to admit.
We can't decide if it's colic or just end of day grumps with a bit of redheaded temper thrown in for good measure, but whatever it is, it's a baptism of fire. The midwife, bless her a thousand times, last night suggested a deep bath so we filled up a bucket and popped him in that which he appeared to love - of course he probably could have done with a bucket that was a tighter fit because he was a bit difficult for the husband to keep a grip on, wiggly as he is and there was a wee face plant incident which involved a bit of spluttering, much blinking along the lines of 'what the hell was that?' and an almighty glare for good measure. The husband has also just gone for a dash for gripe water in the first instance - it's what our midwife suggested and therefore what I'm inclined to try first on the basis that I sought her advice and that's what she gave me and I don't get to complain if I don't follow it. We're also armed with a small list of other accessible remedies suggested by friends and family to try on the back of that if gripe water doesn't work. Here's hoping it does though. The husband has also been instructed to get fortifying iced animal biscuits for moi. I also keep returning to a page in a parenting book I have which recommends a slug of booze in difficult situations to relax oneself. Love it!
It really is one of life's little ironies that this parenting business should absolutely not be for beginners, and yet, the first time, it always is. And actually, in reality, it really is every other time too (should you care to repeat the experience) because every child is unique with unique needs and personalities and therefore, more than likely, what you learned on the first one you probably need to adapt.
And quietly, I'm continuing to work on my request list for Fertility Plus should the husband and I go the rest of the way to barmy and decide to have another - so far I want half an embryo replaced, no more gingers (the temper thing) and reduced lung capacity. Probably smaller feet too. They should be able to swing it, I'm sure. They seem quite clever over there, and it's hardly a big ask.
Come approximately 7-8pm every night, you'd be forgiven for thinking, should you walk past our house, or in the vicinity of our house, or even in a suburb anywhere near our house (ahhh, you probably wouldn't even need to be in a suburb near, and you could be in a car or plane with six sets of ears plugs in and it probably wouldn't be a hindrance either), that we are perhaps trying to murder our child. For around four hours a night.
It's a very pleasant business, but as much as we're happy to know that his lungs work extremely well, the fact that both the husband and I are quickly going deaf is a slight detractor from the joyful celebrations.
The dogs are somewhat bemused by the incredible noise that this newest and littlest and funniest looking puppy produces come night time, and sit there no doubt wondering why no one puts him in a kennel outside when he won't stop barking.
The cat I think expressed herself spectacularly this morning by projectile vomiting all through his room. Very disgusting. And oddly coloured. Although, I've never seen kitty projectile vomit before, so I was a tad curious as well I have to admit.
We can't decide if it's colic or just end of day grumps with a bit of redheaded temper thrown in for good measure, but whatever it is, it's a baptism of fire. The midwife, bless her a thousand times, last night suggested a deep bath so we filled up a bucket and popped him in that which he appeared to love - of course he probably could have done with a bucket that was a tighter fit because he was a bit difficult for the husband to keep a grip on, wiggly as he is and there was a wee face plant incident which involved a bit of spluttering, much blinking along the lines of 'what the hell was that?' and an almighty glare for good measure. The husband has also just gone for a dash for gripe water in the first instance - it's what our midwife suggested and therefore what I'm inclined to try first on the basis that I sought her advice and that's what she gave me and I don't get to complain if I don't follow it. We're also armed with a small list of other accessible remedies suggested by friends and family to try on the back of that if gripe water doesn't work. Here's hoping it does though. The husband has also been instructed to get fortifying iced animal biscuits for moi. I also keep returning to a page in a parenting book I have which recommends a slug of booze in difficult situations to relax oneself. Love it!
It really is one of life's little ironies that this parenting business should absolutely not be for beginners, and yet, the first time, it always is. And actually, in reality, it really is every other time too (should you care to repeat the experience) because every child is unique with unique needs and personalities and therefore, more than likely, what you learned on the first one you probably need to adapt.
And quietly, I'm continuing to work on my request list for Fertility Plus should the husband and I go the rest of the way to barmy and decide to have another - so far I want half an embryo replaced, no more gingers (the temper thing) and reduced lung capacity. Probably smaller feet too. They should be able to swing it, I'm sure. They seem quite clever over there, and it's hardly a big ask.
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
In which the husband gets ink
Before
After
(It's an excellent incentive to make sure we keep it to 2 kids max. He's only got 2 legs, and we aint using any of mine if there's an accident!)
Monday, 2 February 2009
The newborn shock
Woah baby!
I'd love to elaborate, but suffice it to say ... brain no go worser than when pregnant.
Lardo has, in 10 days, lost weight post-birth and already come back up and over his birth weight again - he's put on 180 grams in 3 days! The midwife is very happy with the wee piglet. No wonder I ate an entire lolly log over the weekend ... a girl needs her strength! The kidlet is most definitely going to take after his father on the size front (next time (yes, I know ... next time ... I cannot believe the husband and I have had discussions about next time) I'm going to see if they can just put half an embryo back). He also, disturbingly, pulls the same blardy facial expressions too ... I say 'disturbingly' because, unfortunately, the husband has a selection of looks he gives me under certain circumstances that pee me off to the core, and they're the same ones the kid is pulling. Ack.
Anyway, in lieu of intelligent (?) blogging, I have more pictures. You know you want to see them ... and if not ... well, stiff biscuits - my blog, my kid, my indulgence, yada yada yada (in the nicest possible way of course).
Oh ... and while I'm here ... for all those people asking what they can bring us ...? Thank you heaps and heaps and heaps! I'm all good for boob cream and breast pads and meals and housework, but if someone could go to Widdess on Ponsonby Road and pick up the black t-shirt with the blue peacock on the front that they had on sale ......? That'd be awesome. Size 12, I'd say ... (Heh) (What? Anything is worth a try once. Or twice.)
Bollocks. Muffles from the lounge are getting louder. Antenatal classes lied when they said newborn kidlets sleep for 16-18 hours a day. Blatantly lied. Very uncool.
OK. Pictures ... quick! (Thank heavens I managed to get a Nature Baby order through earlier - yay for online shopping)
Over and out! (Oh, and if the formatting is up the shite, I'll fix it later. Or not.)
See Uncle Dave? Hammock! Hammocks rock. Especially when dogs shove their heads in them for a sniff while kidlets are sleeping.
I'd love to elaborate, but suffice it to say ... brain no go worser than when pregnant.
Lardo has, in 10 days, lost weight post-birth and already come back up and over his birth weight again - he's put on 180 grams in 3 days! The midwife is very happy with the wee piglet. No wonder I ate an entire lolly log over the weekend ... a girl needs her strength! The kidlet is most definitely going to take after his father on the size front (next time (yes, I know ... next time ... I cannot believe the husband and I have had discussions about next time) I'm going to see if they can just put half an embryo back). He also, disturbingly, pulls the same blardy facial expressions too ... I say 'disturbingly' because, unfortunately, the husband has a selection of looks he gives me under certain circumstances that pee me off to the core, and they're the same ones the kid is pulling. Ack.
Anyway, in lieu of intelligent (?) blogging, I have more pictures. You know you want to see them ... and if not ... well, stiff biscuits - my blog, my kid, my indulgence, yada yada yada (in the nicest possible way of course).
Oh ... and while I'm here ... for all those people asking what they can bring us ...? Thank you heaps and heaps and heaps! I'm all good for boob cream and breast pads and meals and housework, but if someone could go to Widdess on Ponsonby Road and pick up the black t-shirt with the blue peacock on the front that they had on sale ......? That'd be awesome. Size 12, I'd say ... (Heh) (What? Anything is worth a try once. Or twice.)
Bollocks. Muffles from the lounge are getting louder. Antenatal classes lied when they said newborn kidlets sleep for 16-18 hours a day. Blatantly lied. Very uncool.
OK. Pictures ... quick! (Thank heavens I managed to get a Nature Baby order through earlier - yay for online shopping)
Over and out! (Oh, and if the formatting is up the shite, I'll fix it later. Or not.)
See Uncle Dave? Hammock! Hammocks rock. Especially when dogs shove their heads in them for a sniff while kidlets are sleeping.
Looks angelic, doesn't he? Heh.
Happy tummy time. For about two and a half minutes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)