too tired to think up a title

Cupcakes are in the oven, glass of pinot next to me.

Have mercy, having a baby is exhausting.

This is a different kind of tired than newborn exhaustion.

That was how-hungry-can-one-baby-be tired.

This is how-much-does-he-need-to-eat

picking-up-soggy-puffs

pulling-him-down-from-trying-to-climb-up-into-the-stroller

rescuing-before-he-crawls-out-the-door

how-many-times-will-he-throw-the-spoon-on-the-ground

another-load-of-laundry

peek-a-boo!

bang-the-wooden-spoon-on-the-bowl

swimming-playdate

tired.

And there's only one of him.

Jewels in your crown, mamas of many babies.

In other news, Cruz's doctor thinks I am a far better (cooler?) mama than I actually am.

At our appointment today, she mentioned things like,

"Keep up the signing"

"Lentils are best when you soak them overnight"

and 

"Do you feed him kale? He'll love that."

But I heart her with all of my pediatrician loving heart.

She squealed over his knee chub,

gave him the best shot of his life (not even a blink from him!),

and pronounced him a blessing and perfect gift from God.

Which he is. 

What He Wore On Wednesday

It seems like Wednesday was just two days ago...

Cruz usually wakes up very cheerfully. 

But not today.

I don't know what he was upset about, but it couldn't be his new monkey surfing jammies!

So... I'm trying to be conscious of the chemicals that I use in the house, especially around and for the baby.

I love fluffy, soft laundry, but have felt uncomfortable using fabric softeners, even the free and clear kind.

Yesterday I added 1/4 cup of white vinegar to his laundry, and all the clothes came out fluffier than ever.

Seriously, I use white vinegar for everything.

It always smells like Easter in my house.

(You know, like we're dying eggs with the vinegar!)

So there's your helpful hint of the day.

In other news...

How cute is this robot shirt?

Have you ever heard of www.thredup.com?

That's where we got it.

You trade boxes of used clothes with other families.

You don't know exactly what you'll be getting, but the idea is that you'll like most of it.

And I like this robot shirt and the idea that we're being green-like.

(This has turned into a more granola-y post than originally intended!)

Time to focus... babies in jammies!

Hanna Andersen jammies at Costco? Be still my beating heart.

You had me at Dragons-Going-Camping.

Since Cruz cut his first pearly white, we've been calling him Sharptooth.

Well, today, Sharptooth became Sharpteeth.

We've got two!

xoxo. Love to you all.

Awkward and Awesome... and a Winner!

Sydney at The Daybook invented Awkward and Awesome. I think I would like to be her friend. Isn't she cute?

She writes Awkward and Awesome on Thursdays. I know it's Monday, but what the heck, people, life is short.

Awkward:

Realizing that your boy now asks for a meal by pulling down your shirt.

Realizing this at the office.

Nursing under a cover and having one lone chunky hand reach up and grab your lips while you're talking.

Standing in front of the church as a bridesmaid and hearing your baby cry in the middle of the sermon. And then again during the mealtime prayer. 

Trying to explain why I love the show Sister Wives.

Getting to a restaurant waaaaay before the rest of your party. The waitress tried valiantly to make small talk with me. But let me tell you, small talk is not my spiritual gift, ma'am.

Awesome:

Being a  bridesmaid in a breathtakingly beautiful wedding. 

Listening to two people make lifelong marriage vows and thrilling as I remember and cherish my own.

Kicking someone's butt in our March Madness bracket. 

The new season of Sister Wives.

I was at my wit's end trying to get everything done (in the pouring rain!) when a good friend called and offered to help me out by going to the store for me. Yes, yes a thousand times yes.

Spending the weekend with some besties from college.

Cloth diapers, y'all. Can't believe I was ever a hater. 

And we have a winner!!

{KIMBERLY} is the lucky new owner for her very own Wallflowers Inc accessory.

Send me an email:

reliasen{at}gmail{dot}come 

and we can talk details.

A huge THANK YOU to everyone who participated. :D

Randomize

We are a little bit under the weather these days. So Cruz and I have been using tea tree oil to cure all that ails us. 

Some of us are losing hair like cray-zee and some of us are finally growing some.

At Macy's today we met an 85 year old woman named Pearl. Cruz thinks that Pearl is Where It's At. And he's right. 

I gave this guy a bath. 

Hey Cruz... didn't you know that sick days are for staying in your jammies, snuggling and watching movies all day? You have a lot to learn about life.

Cruz's high chair came in the mail today. This kid is getting ridiculously old. Like, he'll be five months old on Friday. Get out of town!

Remember when I told you that our family is starting some new adventures? Well, here's one piece of that... in April, we are switching to cloth diapers.

Do you ever think that some things are myths until they happen to you? Like morning sickness, senioritis and the four month sleep regression?

Speaking of... maybe I should give up sleeping through the night for Lent. Ha ha! A holier-than-thou attitude might freshen up our 3am wakefests.

Cruz and I had a good snuggle while catching up on The Bachelor. So who do you think he'll pick next week? Emily? Chantal? A personality?

Happy Tues, everyone. 

I rest my hand on his chest to make sure he's breathing in the middle of the night

Certainly I'm not the first mama to have big ideas about parenting before realizing the reality of the situation.

As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I bought Skinny Bitch: Bun in the Oven and had a lot of ideals about eating great while I was pregnant.
Organic. Spinach. Nothing processed.

Then I started throwing up seven times a day and ate McDonald's vanilla milkshakes, potato chips and bacon. 

Oh lord, the BACON. 

Attachment parenting is something else that I had scoffed at pre-baby. To me, attachment parenting conjured up images of eight year olds who cling to their parents and parents who have never said no. 

Not pretty. 

I had a lot of ideas in this arena. 

My child was going to be on a schedule.

My child would sleep in his own room by three months.

And etc.

But here we are, almost five months into this journey, and guess what, Pre-Baby Judgmental Me? We have accidently done attachment parenting!

Feeding on cue? Yup. 

Breastfeeding? Not only are we breastfeeding, I love it and hope we'll do it for at least a year.

Babywearing...

Sleeping close to each other...

Compromising on a nap schedule...

Oy! 

And guess what, I love it. Baby and I are bonded far beyond what I could have imagined. He is happy, adjusted, social and darn cute. {Ahem... this does not mean I think this is the only you shoulda coulda woulda bond with your baby. No no no. Me With A Baby is simply giving a gentle correction to Me With No Baby}

But tonight we are taking a giant leap forward.

Right now, as we speak, Cruz is sleeping in his own room.

I have to tell you this because I am freaking out!

He's just a little guy and the world is so big. 

I am not ready to send him out into it yet.

{um... you are thinking. He's sleeping in his crib, woman. This is not exactly sleep-away camp or a semester abroad}

I hear you, but still.

So little!

So Lord, please watch over my little guy tonight. If you have any extra Jammie Angels who'd like to hang out in Cruz's nursery, they'll be welcome tonight. 


{Morning After Update}


So I may not have slept too well, but this guy sure looks happy!

Passing the Fist

Back when Cruz resided in my tummy and was to known to the world as Baby E, we did two 3D ultrasounds. The first time, I took my mom along, as she lives far away and hadn't been to any Baby E appointments. The second time, Tovi and I went together. While we had a great experience all around, the ultrasounds were frankly a little disappointing. In the first, Baby E looked a lot like Horatio Sanz playing Saddam Houssein. True Story. I spent the next few weeks seriously worried about how cute my kid was going to be. During the second ultrasound, we could barely see the baby's face (lesson learned) because he chewed on his teensy fists for about thirty minutes. 


So we knew from an early age that this kid would want something to suck on.

Have you ever seen my copy of The Baby Book by Dr Sears? We recently received our new yellow pages phone book. The Baby Book is at least three times as thick, and no where in those many many pages does it promote using a pacifier. Instead, says the good doctor, let the baby suck on your finger. Rub his back and sing him a lullaby. Ha. Give a mama-in-training some help, Dr Sears!


{Does it count as more granola if the pacis are BPA free?}


Given the amount of fist sucking we saw in womb, I knew Cruz would want to use one, and I packed one in our hospital bag when he was born. And guess what? The kid LOVED it. 


I felt like I was breaking all the rules! By now, you should know that I love stripes, long showers, and following the rules. Cruz was only two days old and I was already rebelling against Dr. Sears! I remember lying in the hospital, Cruz peacefully sucking on his paci, it might have been the middle of the night. The nurse walked in the room and rather than get in trouble for letting him have a pacifier, I snatched it straight out of the baby's mouth and stuffed it under my pillow. I just hate breaking the rules! "Why is he crying?" asked my confused husband. "He was just fine." 


"He's just a baby," I said innocently. "He's going to cry."

 I don't know where I developed my paci complex. Maybe I thought it was cheating because it's such a surefire way of calming my baby down. I haven't suffered! Maybe it's because I never took one as a child, so inherently they're "bad." Whatever the case, I've always been a little defensive and apologetic about Cruz's addiction.


He's growing out of it.
He just really needs to suck on something.
If he doesn't have a paci, he tries to suck on his hands and scratches his face.
You know, things like that.


By the time Cruz was three months old, we had an official paci king on our hands. Those little suckers are everywhere in our house. I even Amazon'd a pack up to my parents' as back-up when we visited at Christmas. 


The day before I went back to work, I attended the baby shower of a good friend. She is a few years older than me, and most of her friends already have kids, which meant I was surrounded by veteran Mamas. During the lunch, Cruz was winding down for a nap and wanted his paci. I pulled one out of the diaper bag and made some self-deprecating comment about it. I never thought I'd be the kind of mom that let her kid use one, but you know how that goes...


The gal across the table looked me straight in the eye and said, "Oh please. We line our kid's crib with pacifiers in case he loses one the night. He falls asleep with one in his mouth and two in his hands." Next to her, the mom said, "They're all addicts. Only people without babies will tell you they're bad." One by one, every Mama at the table 'fessed up to pacifier use. 

There are so many expectations I've put on myself. Things I should or shouldn't do as a parent, based on nothing but what I think other people will approve of. But Cruz is patiently showing me how to parent him. As I relax into that, I am finding a lot of grace. Letting go of expectations is incredibly freeing. And while I'm learning, my paci king still reigns supreme. 

The Cutest. Medical. Problem. Ever.

You may not have noticed it, but my son is missing something.

His neck.

Some days Cruz looks exactly like Tovi, and other days I can't see either of us in him at all. 

Blonde hair, blue eyes, built like a bruiser.

I was cleaning out his neck folds the other day (yes! neck folds!) and noticed that he had red splotches in the creases. It got worse over the next few days, and his normal baby lotion didn't seem to help relieve the redness.

I took him into our doctor and she told me that moisture was getting trapped in the chub.

Adorable!

She told us to up the tummy time so that his neck will actually get some exposure and to use her favorite cureall-- breastmilk. Remember how the dad in "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" put Windex on everything? That's how she feels about breastmilk. And so far, she's right. 

But I have yet to see if it will help him grow a new neck. 

{ps: Cruz, should you ever read this and be completely mortified at age 15, this post earns you one night of getting out of curfew free. I promise.} 

Calling the Shots

Get it? It's wordplay, because this post will be about shots. And calling them. 

We chose not to vaccinate Cruz in the hospital, so him turning two months old signified many fun things (lifting up his head! sleeping through the night! big smiles!), but it also meant that we needed to start talking to our pediatrician about vaccines. 

Let's change that wording. Not talking to, talking with.

We have a great ped. She is a fabulous combination of Christian, professional, and crunchy granola. 

Or at least the Santa Barbara version of crunchy.

The waiting room at our doctor's office

Obviously, vaccines are a loaded topic. Everybody has an opinion, and the internet is rife with loud voices on all sides of the debate. And all those voices are enough to make a Mama-in-Training in crazy! What if vaccines are as scary as the theories say they are? 

What if we don't vaccinate and our precious boy gets sick from something we could have prevented?

At our last appointment, the doctor asked us to read The Vaccine Book by the younger Dr. Sears. 

{You may recall what happened when I followed the advice of the elder Sears!}

The book was great. No matter what a parent decides about vaccinating their child, I think it's empowering to know the ins and outs of vaccines. After all, we know our children best, and can work with our doctors to ensure that we're giving our babies appropriate protection. 

Together with our doctor, based on Cruz's risk factors, we got to make a decision about how to appropriately and wisely vaccinate our child.

Again, Cruz hadn't received any shots in the hospital, so today was his first.

I held him on my lap, all roly-poly in his diaper. We chose to do one shot and one oral vaccine. 

I kissed the top of Cruz's head, preparing for the wail that was sure to come.

Nothing.

Such a trooper! Cruz didn't cry at all!

At least, I like to think that it's because he's a trooper.

And not, as one lady called him, passive.

{Lady, Cruz was calm and quiet because he was gazing at his One True Love right behind you. The Christmas Lights.}

He has spent the rest of the day feeling snuggly. 

And Mama feels good about making an informed decision for her boy.