Thrown For A Giant Loop

I knew going in that this parenthood thing would come with its share of surprises, but I really didn't expect to be hit with so many in the first six days. I mean, the kid is less than a week old, and already, most of what I thought I knew about babies, based on YEARS of experience with babies of all sizes, shapes, and temperaments has pretty much gone out of the window.

-I had expected that Luke would wake up at least every couple of hours throughout the day and night. Instead, I have given birth to possibly the first child on the face of the planet who can sleep a six hour stretch with no complaints. The trade-off (you knew there was one coming, right?) is that before his six hours of sleeping like an angel, he spends a minimum of one hour screeching like a howler monkey who cannot be comforted, usually at about 1 AM. I'm waiting for the eviction notice any day now.

-I had expected that his two hour sleep sessions would happen in the crib or bassinet. Apparently, he had other plans because while he sleeps great in the bassinet during the day, he has decided that at night, monsters live in there, so the minute we put him in there, he wakes up and acts like a possessed little demon child. End result: more often than not, he ends up in bed with us, where he sleeps like a log until we wake him up to eat. *Sigh*

-I expected a baby who would hate being swaddled, like being rocked and held, and accept a pacifier. What I got is a baby who LOVES being swaddled, but who also possesses the ability to break out of every swaddle imaginable. I guess I could just use duct tape, but I think the law would frown on that. And he likes being rocked and held--by McMoose. The minute he sees me, he starts screeching like a pterodactyl and sits there with his mouth open, waiting for me to feed him. Again. And he takes a pacifier when it suits his needs. In other words, ALMOST NEVER. The rest of the time, if we dare put the paci in his mouth, he starts thrashing his head around like a demented catfish.

I don't know what to make of this kid. All I can say is that I hope he grows out of the screaming-at-the-top-of-his-very-powerful-lungs-for-HOURS-AT-A-TIME soon. Like TODAY.

My Early Mother's Day Present

As promised, here are some pictures. It looked like he was going to have reddish blond hair, ala McMoose during his first few hours, but by the next morning, it had darkened to brown. I'm hoping it grows into a mohawk soon.
I know that picture makes it look like he has a unibrow, but I swear he doesn't. He does have quite the frown and death glare, however, and he does not hesitate to use it when we dare to do things like, you know, try to get him to eat.

We wanted to get a picture of his "happy face." This was the end result. Clearly, this kid does not take direction.

I know the blanket covers it up, but his shirt says "I love my mommy." We figured that was appropriate for today. McMoose would like everyone to know that this was his first experience putting a shirt on a baby. It was, however, his 891st experience changing a diaper on that same baby, as I haven't changed a single one yet. I feel it's only fair because after all, no one's asking McMoose to let anyone derive nutrition from sensitive parts of HIS body.

Mini-McMoose is here!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey everyone, this is McMoose filling in for Anisha today. The day has finally come ...

Lucas Rohan McMoose was born at 5:59pm EST today at 20.5 inches and 7 pounds, 11 ounces. Anisha was able to give birth to him naturally without any pain medications and both mother and mini-McMoose are doing well.

Pictures to come soon ...........

Yellow Cat Through The Years

Today marks Yellow Cat's 4th birthday. I was hoping The Bug would come today as well, so that they could have shared a birthday, but apparently, he has other plans, most of which involve being OBSTINATE. On the plus side, this means that Yellow Cat gets to keep his birthday all to himself and be the sole center of attention...which he is on most other days as well because he doesn't have a very retiring personality.

I got him when he was a tiny, sweet, six-week-old ball of fluff who "talked" to me at the animal shelter. He weighed about a pound-and-a-half and quickly decided that The Dog was his mother. All in all, it was a very entertaining summer, filled with pictures like this:
Now, he weighs over 12 pounds, is constantly grumpy, and still likes to "talk." He no longer believes The Dog to be his mother, but he is still fun to photograph:
(He was not pleased about this picture. It interfered with his otherwise busy schedule of lounging regally on various blankets around the apartment.)

A Halfway Bullet Post

Now that I'm no longer going to work/school, my days are punctuated by what used to be fairly mundane events--trips to the grocery store, doing a load of laundry, walking the dog. These have now become the Most Exciting Things Ever and I plan them with all the precision of a space shuttle launch. For one thing, I try to plan it so that there's one car ride every day--grocery store, target, gas station--the important thing isn't the destination, but rather, the fact that I get dressed, leave the house, and associate with actual human beings. And while I used to try to cram all my errands into one master trip, now I break them up so that it seems like I have more Important Things To Do.

Unfortunately, even with all the planning, some days still get shortchanged because let's face it, there are only so many errands you can create for yourself. Today, for example, was a day when I had to face the bleak possibility that perhaps I would have to stay home ALL DAY LONG. But then, a wonderful, happy sounding woman from the eyeglass store called to tell me that my glasses were ready to be picked up. That, of course, made my day and motivated me to (a) put on real clothes and (b) eat an actual meal instead of trying to subsist on tea and cheese.

As it turned out, this trip was a lot more exciting than I had initially planned because:

-As I was walking across the wet parking lot, my flip flop fell off my foot and into a rain gutter in what was a very dysfunctional Cinderella moment, so I got to be the Weird Pregnant Woman fishing a shoe out of a gutter with a stick.

-A stranger at the eyeglass store told me that after I have the baby, I should be careful not to bathe him too much, lest he SHED HIS SKIN. Um....like a snake? Has there ever in the history of the world been a case where a baby has shed his skin because he was bathed too much?

-My hope that The Bug inherits McMoose's eyesight was reinforced in a big way when I was waiting for my glasses and got to watch a grown man beg, threaten, and bribe his 6-year-old in an attempt to get him to try on a pair of glasses.

Who SAYS That?

I went to the grocery store to get the ingredients to make stuffed mushrooms today, and apparently, 12:15 is a very slow time at Food Lion because there were three cashiers standing around and making small talk. As soon as I entered the picture, the topic of conversation turned to pregnancy and went something like this:

Cashier 1: How much longer do you have?
Me: About a week.
Cashier 1: Wow, you're close!
Cashier 2: You must be ready to pop! You look exhausted--you have circles under your eyes. Are you tired?
Me: Um...I...guess...
Cashier 2: And your face is starting to look a little puffy, too.
Me: *stare at her and wonder if I'm actually dreaming this conversation up*
Cashier 2: When I was pregnant with my first, I never got that big...but the baby was still 9 lbs! You're much bigger...that probably means your baby will be huge!
Me: *blink*
Cashier 2: Well, have a nice day!

And then, I walked out in a daze. Luckily, Cashier 1 caught up with me at the door, apologized for her colleague and wished me good luck, thus proving that SOME Food Lion employees do have some measure of sense after all.

Oh, and I went straight to the mirror after I got home, where I discovered that (a) I do NOT have circles under my eyes and (b) my face most certainly does NOT look "puffy", thank you very much. Dumbass cashier...I would like to step on her with my giant, swollen feet.

Drawing Up the Eviction Papers

Ten days before my mother's due date, I was born. It's now ten days before my due date and The Bug shows no signs of being similarly eager to join the world. In fact, it seems he'd be perfectly happy to stay right where he is for nine more months...apparently, he is under the impression that he is a baby elephant. The bright and shining light, of course, is that I know that if he stays in there for 22 more days, my midwife will smoke him out of there, but here's hoping that won't be necessary because--gah! 22 more days!

Right now, I'm vacillating rapidly between "I want this kid out NOW" to "Maybe he could stay for just another couple of weeks." That second thought surprises me because truth be told, I'm not one of those women who has deeply enjoyed pregnancy. There are some things, like feeling him move around, that have been pleasant, but for the most part, I've seen the past nine months not in terms of the journey, but in terms of the destination. Because really, the journey wasn't so much fun, what with the constant nausea and worry about miscarriage in the first trimester, the contractions and associated worry about pre-term labor in the second trimester, and the recent inability to, you know, exist without discomfort...oh, and the ridiculous and completely unjustified worry about stillbirth.

And yet, once he's out, there's no going back. He'll never kick another coaster off my belly, he'll never get startled when I drive over a bump and hook both knees and fists into my sides, I'll never again be the only person who knows him--and very selfishly, I'm not ready to share him yet.

That being said, if he's still in here in 10 days (or god forbid, 22), I'm sure I'll be feeling much more generous about this whole sharing-him thing.