My sister just sent me this photo, from her recent trip to Italy

Need I say more?

LOL!

The Mistress Who Stole My Husband

Good Lord, will it EVER stop snowing???



Folks, if you haven't looked at the weather forecast for eastern Iowa this weekend, I am here to tell you that more snow is coming.



Yes, more snow. On a weekend. Which, basically, is the story of my life since Thanksgiving. This will make the SIXTH STRAIGHT WEEKEND OF FLIPPIN' SNOW.



The good news is, I know my husband is telling the truth when he tells me he has to work on the weekend again. That he has to steal out of my warm bed at 4 a.m., yet another morning, because of his damned job and not because of another woman.



But COME ON already. I would like to have one weekend this winter when I don't have to play the role of a single parent... when I can relax a little and enjoy my children instead of feeling trapped and overworked.



And Ted would like to have one forty-hour week, for a change. These fifty- and sixty-hour weeks are killing us.

First smile!

IMG_0558
Originally uploaded by knights_writes

This is a shot from the afternoon play session wherein I got to see Macy's first Bona Fide Smile... meaning, one that could not be dismissed as a "sleep smile" or passed off (ha) as "gas."

Sharing the shot with Mae are Jen K-F, who came over to give me some grown-up social time and to commiserate about having a fussy baby; and G-Raffe, a beloved friend from Arlo's infancy, whom he very generously gave to Mae for her very own. It was G-Raffe (wielded by Mom) who elicited the first smile--this picture was taken a few minutes later as we diligently tried to coax out another one.

A pattern emerging?

Mae had another whine-a-thon yesterday, much like the Sunday I blogged about a couple of weeks ago. She cried, whimpered, and fussed all day--except for when I was walking around the house with her, gently bouncing up and down. Even her nursing sessions were not altogether peaceful, as she'd often break her latch, pull away, grimace, and cry for a few seconds at a time while my milk continued to spray in her face. (Was that too graphic?) Her naps only lasted for 20 minutes at a time, and she absolutely did not appreciate being put down at any point.

Today (as was the case the day after that other horrible day), she has already slept away most of the morning. I keep tiptoeing around, expecting her to wake up cranky... and she sleeps on. (Even typing that, I'm afraid that I am totally jinxing it.)

Tata (Arlo's day care provider, soon to be Mae's also) has asked me to make some notes about Macy's "routine" for when she begins spending her days at Tata's. I'm really not sure how to report this pattern--or even, for sure, if it's a pattern. I guess it's comforting, though... if, indeed, I can come to expect a day of peace after a rough day of constant baby-soothing, I suppose it will make it easier to get through those tough days. Here's hoping that today continues to be the salve for yesterday.

Life, Interrupted

Okay, I'm going to say it. I think Mae has colic.

Waaaaaahhhhhhh!

We're on our second week of mounting fussiness, hours of crying at a time, and a baby who will not abide being put down. Ever. Unless she's asleep. Even then, it's iffy--though at night, she seems to be sleeping relatively well still.

Is it colic? The timing is right. From everything I've read, the symptoms are right: "inconsolable crying, three or more hours at a time, three or more days a week...", but I hesitate to label her as a Colicky Baby before I know for sure. She's not COMPLETELY inconsolable, she just cries if she's not being actively rocked, cooed at, patted, and stroked. Sheeeesh. This weekend the crankiness spilled over from the typical evening endurance test to an all-day whimper marathon. Yesterday was not a good day.

Could it be something else? She's been fighting a cold, so I wonder if she's got some sinus pain or pressure that is making her uncomfortable. She had a diaper rash for a couple of days that could have made her cry. Should I take her to the doctor to rule out something being actually wrong?

I vaguely remember going through a period of time with Arlo when he was tiny when we thought he might have colic. And by most accounts I've heard, if your kid has colic, YOU KNOW IT. Ugh. Maybe I'm in denial, I don't know.

What I do know is, we're doing everything we can to make her happy, and it hasn't been working. I also know that if it is colic, we are in for a rough handful of weeks (I say that because it sounds more surmountable to me than a couple of months), and that it will pass. In the meantime, I am alternately pulling out my hair, shaking my tiny fist at the sky, and crying my eyes out. It kills me that I cannot soothe my own tiny child, whom I love so dearly, and it frustrates me to no end that I cannot for the life of me find the time to do dishes or fold a load of laundry.

I am in complete disarray. Sorry I have not called/written/followed through/been much fun lately. This, too, shall pass.

Grab Hold

Here's a milestone... Macy's First Grab!



She looks completely surprised by the fact that she's holding on to something here, but hey! That's how we all learn, right? My guess is, she was just wiggling around and waving her hands in the air (like she just don't care), and happened to catch hold of one of those link-a-doos. Anyway, this is how I found her.

Thursday morning cute fix

I know, I know, photo blogging is the lazy blogger's fallback, but believe me, I have nothing clever to say today.

Enjoy the show!

Awwwwwwwwwww...

The family bed was full again last night--Arlo between us in the middle of the bed, and Mae swaddled in the co-sleeper next to my side of the bed. Mae awoke just as the sun was coming up this morning, and I nursed her as I drifted in and out of a light sleep. Arlo stirred beside me, rolled over onto his back and rubbed his eyes. He squinted up at me and said, "What are you doing, Mom?"

(Yes, that was "Mom," and not "Mommy." Apparently this is part of the transformation into a big brother/big kid.)

"I'm feeding Macy," I said.

"She's hungry!" answered Arlo.

"Yep," I said, "but she's just about done now."

When Mae pulled away from my breast, I wrapped her up again in a blanket and laid her in the co-sleeper. Wanting to give Arlo some precious one-on-one attention and transition him smoothly from waking to breakfast, I turned to him and said, "Now let's get some breakfast! But first, I need a big hug from my big boy."

"I want a hug from my baby sister," he said.

Yay!

I was all too heppy to oblige. I picked Mae up and placed her in his open arms. He squeezed her just a little bit, and planted a big "mmmmmmmwahhhh!" kiss on her head.

"Now can we have oatmeal?"

Life with Mae, week 2

Story time with Big Bro Arlo--reading a book about being a big brother!

What an attentive audience!

Tiny baby, tiny babysitter: Mae meets Tata for the first time.

I N V U 4 U R A Q T!

Arlo Steps Up

 

Arlo continues to warm to the idea of being a big brother (his 3 a.m. tantrums notwithstanding), and this morning he finally held Macy for the first time! They were enjoying some interactive time--he was showing off the awesome fire engine he got from Piers for his birthday a few weeks back--and he planted a kiss on her head. (I, unfortunately missed this part, as I had stepped into the other room for a minute. But I did hear it, because Arlo's kisses are audible: "Mmmmmmmwahh!") I came rushing back with the camera, in time to catch Arlo asking if he could hold her. Here's one of the resulting shots.

Why, oh why, do I not have a high-speed connection at my house? I have so much more to share!

I have made arrangements to use a fast computer this afternoon to FINALLY post the rest of our latest photos to flickr. Stay tuned...

Here She Is

 

Mae Clara "Macy" Knights
Born September 23, 2007
7:43 a.m.
8 pounds
20 inches long
Gorgeous!

So predictable, it's alarming!

Okay, this is a little bit ridiculous. Some of you may remember this from the olden days, when I first started blogging on Friendster. The title of that blog post was "We Need A New Pose." I had pointed out these two casual family photos where Arlo, Ted, and I were configured in nearly identical poses:

This one, from January of 2006:

... aaaaaaaaaand there's this one, from last summer's Pig Roast in July:

Are you still with me? Good.

Now scroll down to my "Fame" post from August 13th.

I'm a little embarrassed. The next time someone takes a snapshot of our family, could you please just ask us to switch places or something?

Fame

Here's the Gazette story from yesterday. I couldn't believe how prominently they featured our picture--and in full color! Thank God it was a good one.

I'm told that it might be a little creepy that I "comb the obituaries" for name ideas--but you just look at them some time, and try and tell me that there aren't some gems in there.

Click here to read the article... oh, and don't miss the fact that our friend, Cindy, was also quoted! (I sold her out, gave her name to the reporter.)

Media Darling

I'm only telling you this because you might feel a little put out if I didn't tell you . . . I've gotten a few phone calls from friends today squealing about the fact that my picture is in the paper AGAIN today (Ted and Arlo too this time)--check out the Cedar Rapids Gazette, somewhere around page 6A, I think? I haven't seen it yet.

A Gazette reporter interviewed me a couple of weeks ago for a story she was writing about baby naming, and the story is scheduled to appear in this Sunday's paper. They sent a photographer to our house to take pictures of me and the boys by our front door. What's in the paper today, I'm told, is a "teaser"-- a little promo bit to try to get people to want to buy the paper this Sunday, and it features our happy little family.

Watch for the story on Sunday. I hope I don't come off looking/sounding like a total dweeb.

Happy Times

Good times this week! I won't complain about how having a holiday off in the middle of the week threw off everyone's rhythm and made us all a little crazy. Sometimes crazy is good. Believe me, if someone offered to let me have Wednesdays off for the rest of my life, I would not hesitate for one second.

We'd been talking up the fireworks thing for a couple of weeks with Arlo, because this year was his first fireworks show. I remember way back when (2001?) my sister's little boy, Michael, then three, experienced his first (I think) fireworks display, and he did not like it one bit. I remember Michael crying and holding his hands over his ears. But then, his mom and dad had just moved him overseas from Denmark to the States, and they'd only arrived (in Florida, in the insufferable July heat) the day before... so you can't call his reaction standard, necessarily. And you certainly couldn't blame him.

We weren't sure how our boy would react--but, true to Arlo form, he embraced the experience with rapt wonder, and general enthusiasm. He stayed up way past his bedtime, with the only noticeable (and possibly unrelated) effect being a temporary dip in his potty-training progress.

Even three days later, while we were driving in the car, he burst out with a spontaneous "BOOM! Crackle, crackle, crackle!" from the back seat. These were sounds we practiced in preparation for the big show, in my attempt to make him understand that it would be very noisy and FUN. Apparently it was a successful tactic.

Saturday was Mara & Rockne's annual Pig Roast--an event that seems to get better with each passing year. That's where the photo above was taken, by the hostess herself. Big fun! You can see more pics right here on Mara's flickr page.

Last week my regular obstetric visit to the doctor yielded a troublingly high blood sugar reading, so I had to go back to the lab on Friday for additional testing, to diagnose or rule out gestational diabetes. And by additional testing, I mean a grueling morning with no food except for a bottle of hell's own nectar (the glucose solution they make you drink on an empty stomach), and hourly blood draws for three hours. Did I mention I wasn't allowed to eat?

NOT EATING is my number-one least favorite thing to do in the morning.

All in all, it actually was not as miserable as I expected (if you ignore the fact that, after my morning at the lab, the car wouldn't start and I had to get it towed... but anyway). In fact, it ended up being a pretty tolerable morning involving a LOT of knitting, and catching up on some podcasts that I'd been saving for a rainy day.

The best part- I finally got the call from my doctor's office this morning, and I do NOT have gestational diabetes! Though it would have been completely manageable and temporary if I had been diagnosed (it goes away when the baby is born), I would have had to go on a very strict diet, and possibly deal with insulin injections and such. Not to mention worries about the baby's health, and the micromanagement of every morsel of food I would consider allowing to pass my lips.

But HA! Keep the ice cream coming, people. I dodged a bullet this time. Pass the brownies, please.

Thanks to the Marshalltown Fire Department

Arlo and I visited my folks in Marshalltown for Father's Day this weekend, since Ted is off fishing with his dad and brother in Canada. I've posted some photos from the weekend on my flickr page.

Sunday was a BIG day. Not only did Arlo get to ride his awesome new bike (his "cool bike," as he calls it) that lives at Grandpa's house, but he also got to go to Marshalltown's municipal aquatic complex (a.k.a. "big water park") AND was treated to a Taylor's Maid-Rite (with extra pickle, naturally) AND...

He got to "drive" a fire truck.

Actually... he got to get behind the wheel of TWO different fire trucks. We stopped at the Marshalltown fire station on the way home from Taylor's (where we had stopped on the way home from the water park), and paid a visit to the firefighters, who were all too happy to show Arlo around.

I think Arlo was a little uncertain as to why these fire trucks were yellow--because everyone knows that fire trucks are supposed to be red--but he handled it with remarkable grace and composure. In a fifteen-minute visit, he got to drive an old fire truck and a new one, and watch a Real Live Fireman slide down the brass pole. When he got back into his car seat to hit the road and head back to Iowa City, he had a fistful of stickers and a new coloring book, and he was fast asleep before we even reached city limits.

A big thanks goes out to the guys at the fire station in Marshalltown, who were warm and gracious hosts and who made us feel like visiting dignitaries rather than uninvited interlopers. Some time this summer, we'll try out the Iowa City fire station (with the RED trucks!) and we'll try to be proper guests by at least bringing along some muffins to share.

Gray Areas

So we were driving in the car the other night, listening to the Eels' "Daisies of the Galaxy" CD, and Ted and I got into a conversation regarding the gray areas of what language is acceptable for Arlo to hear when we're listening to music.

I brought up the topic because Arlo and I were both bopping our heads and digging the song "Mr. E's Beautiful Blues"--Arlo was even Waving His Hands in the Air Like He Just Don't Care--and why wouldn't we? It's got a great beat, a zippy summer kind of energy, and a wry sense of humor.

One of the things I like about it is precisely why Ted and I started talking about it. When the song first started, I said, "God, what a great song!" Then I remarked to Ted that I wondered if maybe I shouldn't play it with Arlo in the car. I said, "Just wait for the refrain, you'll hear what I'm talking about."

The lyric in question is: "Goddamn right, it's a beautiful day. (Uh-huh...)"

When Ted first heard it, he kind of shrugged and said "Eh. That's not so terrible." We listened for a few more minutes, and he said, "Hm, well, they do say it an awful lot..." and it's true, this phrase is repeated dozens of times throughout the song.

But it WAS a beautiful day.

I told Ted that I always skip over the song (from the same album) "It's a M*otherf*#!er," and I'm sure you can guess why. We both agree that it would be scandalous and WRONG and Totally Not Okay if the M.F. word should ever cross our son's innocent rosebud lips.

However. I think if Arlo turned to me one day and said, "Goddamn right, it's a beautfiul day," I might laugh--and agree with him. Then we might have to have some kind of conversation about how he can say that to me but NOT to any of his grandparents.

Am I too liberal?

Mom's Day pics

Here's one of me and my dad, comparing bellehs. No offense, Dad, but I think mine wins. Click on the flickr link over there on the right to see lots more shots of Mother's day shenanigans.