Trick Or Treat

Caitlin celebrated her second Halloween as a playful pup, which seemed appropriate since she spends much of her day on all fours, barking, playing with Bella's doggy toys, and even sampling some of Bella's dog food every now and again. Caitlin is already a dog lover, so we thought she'd be thrilled to dress like a dog for a night!

As you can see from the picture above, we were wrong. The doggy head was too traumatizing for C, so it only lasted about five minutes.

After removing le piece de resistance, Caitlin's costume rendered a more ambiguous look. Only the dog bone collar gave people the slightest inkling of the costume's true intent. I think most people assumed she was just wearing a very warm sweater. Oh well.

Caitlin had fun cruising the neighborhood with cousin Keira. We visited three houses and snagged a few pieces of candy (for mom and dad). One neighbor gave Caitlin a package of animal crackers, which was a big hit with our little Trick or Treater.

I think Caitlin may find trick or treating more exciting next year. This year she preferred dumping the candy bowl on the floor over and over again. At least she did not sleep through the Halloween festivities like last year!

Bumps and Bruises

I jinxed myself. The day after I wrote my last post, Caitlin went from hesitantly taking an occasional step to quite literally running all by herself. Don't get me wrong, I was thrilled about Caitlin reaching this huge milestone. Watching her walk around the coffee table over and over again provided the most exciting entertainment I've seen in a long, long time-or at least since the series finale of Lost. However, with walking comes falling, with falling comes injury. With injury comes bruising, and that makes this mama really upset.

On Friday, while I sat in my classroom calculating the hours until 2:30, I mean...teaching, I received a phone call from Caitlin's day care teacher. The phone call went something like this:

Daycare: "Hi Becky. It's Kristen from Sprouts."

Me: "Oh no, another fever?" (Anytime Kristen from Sprouts calls my classroom, it is not good news.)

Daycare: "No, no. I just want to let you know that Caitlin is fine, but she did fall down and has a bruise on her face."

Me: "Why wasn't she wearing her protective helmet?!?!"

Just kidding. Me: "Oh poor thing! What happened?"

Daycare: "Well, she was walking around the room, lost her balance, and fell face first into the side of the table. She was upset, but she is fine now."

Me: "Oh God, is she bleeding? Have you applied ice? Have you checked her pupils? Does she have a concussion?"

Again, kidding. That is what I wanted to say, but I actually surprised myself by remaining calm and collected. The real me said: "That is o.k. Now that she is walking, she is going to fall down. She is going to get hurt. It's just what happens when kids learn to walk. Is she o.k. now?"

Daycare: "She is fine. She's playing. She does have a bruise, but it's not swollen. We put ice on her cheek for a few minutes and she is back to her old, happy self."

I am sure this is the first of many injuries for my little toddler. As she learns to negotiate her way in the world, Caitlin will fall, she will get hurt, she will cry. I cannot recall many times I ended up in the emergency room as a child, but I know it was a regular occurrence-my poor mom endured everything from broken arms to a sliced open face. Apart from wearing a helmet and a fully padded bodysuit, there is little I can do to prevent every accident, every injury. I want many things for Caitlin, but above all else, I wish for her to be safe, healthy, and happy. A little bruise along the way is just a part of gaining independence, a part of growing up.

Taking Baby Steps

About a month ago, I arrived at work at the same time as a co-worker, a kindly, yet socially awkward grandmother of two. We walked into the building together, exchanging casual pleasantries about our new school building and the beautiful September weather. As we approached the building, she asked about Caitlin. I told her about some of Caitlin's newest tricks-saying, "uh oh," pretending to read books, and shaking her head yes or no. Despite this impressive array of skills, my indifferent co-worker asked, "Is she walking yet?" Baby C was thirteen months old and yet to take a single unassisted step. "No, not by herself," I replied. "Ohthat'so.k!" my co-worker responded, just a bit too quickly. Do you really think that is o.k., or are you pretending when you really think my daughter has a gross motor developmental delay? "Yes, of course it's o.k." I responded, trying to project confidence and annoyance all at once. Thank goodness we finally went through the door and parted ways, ending a potentially obnoxious conversation before it really began.

Truthfully, I worried Caitlin had yet to take independent steps. Isn't thirteen months a little on the late side? Many of my friends' children walked much earlier. My mother often tells me I walked at eleven months (although she probably thinks I could read at eleven months, too). Don't get me wrong, Caitlin walked all over the place while holding furniture, pushing a toy or a small chair, or resting her hand against a wall for support. She could even stand alone, then go from standing to squatting or sitting, and back to standing again. The girl had moves, she just seemed reluctant to show off her moves all by herself. Caitlin approaches most things with caution, therefore I was not surprised by her hesitance to walk independently. I reassured myself that she would walk when she felt ready, however the constant "Is she walking?" line of questioning raised some insecurities. Would Caitlin be content to crawl and cruise forever more?

Sometimes when I feel anxious, I give my anxiety a timeline. I decided not to worry about Caitlin's lack of walking until she turned fourteen months old. In the meantime, I would help my hesitant little one get excited about taking steps. I tried many different tricks-holding out a sippy cup of juice or a snack just out of Caitlin's reach, placing a favorite toy just a few steps ahead, or even letting go of C's hand while we walked around the house. Each time, she stood for a moment, negotiating her next move. And each time, she decided to get down on all fours and crawl. Caitlin is clever: why walk when she could get that piece of cheese or stuffed animal much faster by crawling? As the fourteen month mark approached, I felt my anxiety build slowly.


The week before C's fourteen month "birthday," Matt and I went to Newport for the weekend, leaving C in Nana's care. We returned just in time to witness Caitlin take her first independent steps across Nana's kitchen floor. Her steps were met with huge cheers from all of us lucky enough to witness such a special moment. After three unsteady steps, Caitlin plopped down and crawled away, relieved to find the safety of the nearby floor and get away from us screaming lunatics.

Since that afternoon, Caitlin has taken many more steps, still wobbly, still only three or four at a time. Crawling, or holding the hand of a trusted adult remain her preferred choices. As I watch Caitlin determinedly teeter up our front walkway, I often think back to that early morning conversation at work which led to such anxiety. How could I let somebody raise such feelings of insecurity about my amazing little munchkin? Caitlin does things when she is good and ready. She proceeds with caution. She takes baby steps. As her mother, I know this much is true about my daughter. As her mother, I also know other people's expectations and ideas of "what is normal" are just not very important. Still, this is something I must remind myself of often. Just like my daughter, I'm working on this, taking baby steps.

Birthday Girl

Happy Birthday to Caitlin! Believe it or not, Caitlin turned one on August 23rd. It seems unimaginable that our once mushy, sleepy baby is now well on her way to becoming a walking and talking toddler. Before I know it, she'll be packing up her sensible, slightly used sedan and driving off to college. But before I get ahead of myself, I want to share some highlights from Caitlin's big day.

Birthday Highlight Number One: Due to her inexplicable love of monkeys, Caitlin had a monkey-themed birthday party complete with monkey balloons, monkey cups, monkey plates, monkey toys, banana cupcakes, well...you get the idea. Seeing monkeys all over our home evoked squeals of delight from the birthday girl.

Birthday Highlight Number Two: Presents, more specifically, the wrapping paper from presents. I'm sure deep inside Caitlin felt really excited about her new toys, outfits, and other gifts, but she only displayed outward enthusiasm for wrapping paper and ribbon.

Birthday Highlight Number Three: Playing with her cousins Keira, Josh, Luke, and Ryan. Caitlin loves crawling around and trying to keep up with her cousins. At one point, all five cousins were in the dining room clamoring around Caitlin's Exersaucer. Caitlin loved trading sippy cups with cousin Ryan and showing off her toys to Keira, Josh, and Luke.

Birthday Highlight Number Four: The Radio Flyer Pathfinder wagon. Matt and I purchased this souped-up wagon for Caitlin's big day. She loved sitting in the wagon with her stuffed animals, cruising around the outside of the wagon, and attempting to stand inside of the wagon despite my urgent protests.

And last, but certainly not least, Birthday Highlight Number Five: Cupcakes! Caitlin could not believe we allowed her to eat an entire cupcake. When we placed the cupcake on her high chair tray, Caitlin looked at us as if to say, "What do you want me to do with this thing? Why isn't this cut into minuscule, choke-proof pieces like all of my other food?" After giving Caitlin a tiny taste of frosting, all anxiety disappeared and she dove right in and devoured her entire banana cupcake. Caitlin also won the newly established, yet very prestigious, award for Cleanest Cupcake Eater as she avoided the typical frosting in the hair, eyes, ears, etc.

Caitlin's first birthday was filled with family and fun (and monkeys), which was just what we wanted. I am so grateful for the love and support from friends and family as our own family found our way this past year. Happy Birthday not only to Caitlin, but to our little family of three.

Nutritious and Weelicious

Since Caitlin began eating solid foods I tried to make most of her meals from scratch. Sure, opening a jar of baby food is convenient, fast, and necessary in a pinch, however, I feel a whole lot better giving Caitlin something homemade. By making my own food, I know exactly what goes into her meals and I can ensure each dish contains fresh, healthy ingredients. Believe it or not, making homemade food also saves our family money because I purchase ingredients that work in Caitlin's recipes as well as recipes for the grown-ups. Caitlin moved past pureed and mashed food a while back, which means I needed to expand my recipe repertoire. I wanted recipes that are quick, healthy, and travel well in a lunchbox-especially since Caitlin is heading back to day care next week. My friend introduced me to Weelicious, http://www.weelicious.com/, which offers hundreds of recipes, cooking tips, and meal plan suggestions for infants, toddlers, big kids, and whole families.

Catherine Wheeler, a professionally trained chef and mother of two, started Weelicious to share fast, easy, and healthy recipes with busy moms in search of kid-friendly, nutritious food. Weelicious organizes recipes by age group, meal type, or ingredient. There are even recipes dedicated to children with various allergies or dietary restrictions. Most recipes involve very few ingredients and require nothing more than a food processor, stove, or oven. Weelicious recipes take tried and true kid favorites, such as mac n' cheese or PB&J, and substitute processed, artificial, unhealthy ingredients with nutritious, natural alternatives, such as using agave nectar in place of sugar. Not only does Weelicious feature tons of recipes, the website also contains how-to videos showcasing Catherine cooking with her children. I especially like that many Weelicious recipes work for whole family meals, which saves time and energy in the kitchen.

Weelicious is also committed to improving school lunch by offering healthy and fun alternatives to standard lunch fare. Each day, Catherine takes a picture of her pre-schooler's packed lunch box and shares her delicious recipes on both her website and Facebook page. Yesterday, her son ate spinach gnocch-wee, a pb&j panini, yogurt pretzels, pomegranate seeds, and honeydew melon. My lunch of cheese toast seems slightly lackluster and pathetic by comparison. While most busy moms lack the time to cook something homemade each night for the next day's lunch, many Weelicious recipes are no-cook, such as Hummus Pinwheels or Cream Cheese and Tomato Sammies. Weelicious shows offering wholesome, fresh lunches is not necessarily time consuming or expensive. Good-bye Lunchables!

This week, Matt travelled for work and it rained four days straight, which motivated me to spend some time in the kitchen trying out Weelicious recipes. I made Zucchini Muffins, Banana Wee-eat Germ Muffins, Weezpacho, Ratatouille, Avocado and Cheese Quesadillas, and Fruit and Oat Bars. Each recipe took very little time to prep and incorporated lots of ingredients I had on hand, but better yet everything tastes delicious, I mean, weelicious. Now my refrigerator and freezer are stocked with plenty of back to school meals and snacks for Caitlin (and for myself!).

There is something quaint and nostalgic about food marketed especially for kids. I admit, when I walk past a jar of Fluff in the grocery store, I get a little weepy and reminisce about all of the Fluffernutters I ate growing up. Fluff, Spaghetti-O's, and Kraft Macaroni and Cheese all remind me of my childhood favorites and I do not think there is anything wrong with offering such novelties, as long as they remain just that, rather than part of a steady diet. I want Caitlin to cultivate a diverse and experienced palate at young age. I want her to learn what a chickpea is before the age of 18 (discovering chickpeas are not green in my college dining hall was totally embarrassing). Weelicious allows parents to prepare healthy, fun, and easy meals for kids. It gives kids the opportunity to become more adventurous eaters than their parents. I'm excited to incorporate Weelicious recipes into our everyday meals. Now if you'll excuse me, there are some homemade fruit bars in the kitchen that need my attention.

We Put the Poo in Pool

"Quick! Get the skimmer!" shouted Mike, our swimming instructor, to the lifeguard standing on the deck above. As Mike frantically skimmed the water, I grabbed Caitlin, holding her body above the surface, and exited the pool as quickly as possible, dodging unsuspecting parents swimming happily with their calm, content babies. A moment before, we swam among them. Calm, content.

Just before our abrupt exit from the water, I held Caitlin as she practiced kicking her legs. We walked back and forth across the shallow end. Caitlin floated along, enjoying her time in the warm water, moving her legs like a little frog. As we reached the end of the shallow end, I noticed something else floating among the toy boats and balls designated for our Water Babies class. Poop! Poop was everywhere, small pieces floating in the water around us, more leaking out of Caitlin's bathing suit, and still more on my hands. In that moment of recognition, our calm, content swimming lesson turned into a disgusting, crappy mess.


As soon as I noticed my daughter's untimely explosion, I swam nearby Mike and said, "I'm so sorry. She had an accident, it's poop!" Without waiting to see his look of disapproval and disgust, Caitlin and I left the pool, grabbed our tote bag, and hauled ass to the nearest changing room.

As I tried to clean Caitlin, I imagined the other members of our swimming lesson noticing the mess, screaming, swimming away, jumping out of the pool, and running to the front desk to file a formal complaint with not only the gym, but the Board of Health. As I tried to remove all traces of poop from my wet baby (not an easy task-water and poo is a nasty combination), I expected to hear screams and the arrival of a Haz-Mat team to decontaminate the pool. How could I go back out there? This was the single most embarrassing thing that could happen at a swimming lesson, except maybe Caitlin pulling off my bathing suit. As I used wipe after wipe without much success, my anxiety grew and grew. Would Mike let us back in the water? Would we receive a reprimand for Caitlin's special delivery? Would the other parents black list us or make us wear a scarlet P on our bathing suits?

I had no idea what to expect when we left the changing room. The incident occurred just five minutes into our lesson, so I had a clear choice to make: either hide in the changing room until the lesson ended and sneak out unnoticed, or suck it up and get back into the pool. I looked at Caitlin on the changing table, adorable in her pink bathing suit, smiling, wet hair plastering her face. Leaving early or hiding in a two by two changing room for twenty-five minutes would be unfair. Caitlin did not intend to cause harm, she just did what babies do-poop whenever they feel the need regardless of time or place. Ending our swimming lesson would be unjust punishment and only make us seem even more weird and socially inappropriate.

After using our thirty-fifth wipe, I deemed C's mess officially clean and humbly, slowly trudged back toward the pool. Hesitantly, I lifted my head and looked toward the shallow end. Nobody ran away. Nobody was screaming. Mamas and Papas held kicking, splashing squealing babies as they walked back and forth. Mike shouted instructions and offered praise. Nothing changed. We slid back into the now clean water and returned to practicing kicks, as though nothing happened.

I am not sure if anybody noticed Caitlin's poo in the water, but even if they did nobody seemed to care. The Poop in the Water incident taught me a few things. First, no matter how embarrassed I feel, Caitlin does not yet know embarrassment. Depriving her of something she loves because I am mortified is unfair. Beyond that, maybe I need to stop becoming so easily embarrassed. Having a baby means humiliating things happen, and unfortunately those things usually involve poop. If I panic and hide each time, we will never be able to leave the house, furthermore that is not a lesson I want to teach my daughter. Finally, mamas and papas are amazingly tolerant, forgiving people. This could happen to any parent, therefore nobody judged. Nobody even reacted, or if they did, they reacted privately and welcomed us back into the water. Being a parent means embracing the disgustingness and finding the humor in our babies' actions. Being a parent means accepting other parents and their babies, even if they pollute your swimming area.

As soon as I realized we were not expelled from swimming, I relaxed and Caitlin enjoyed the rest of our swimming lesson. She even dunked under water. We will go back next week, even if everybody secretly thinks of us as "The Family that Poops in the Pool." I am looking into wrapping Caitlin's lower half entirely in extra strength Saran Wrap next week, but I will not let a little poo keep us out of the water.

Caitlin having a picnic with Mr. Lobster at Castle Island

Staying indoors during the summer is sort of against my religion. Unless it is either raining or oppressively humid, if you need me I will be outside. Despite the very high temperatures, Caitlin and I ventured out to lots of local parks and beaches for some quality fresh air and sunshine. Don't worry, Caitlin wears SPF 1,000 which I reapply obsessively throughout the day. Caitlin loves spending time outdoors-some of her favorite outdoor activities include, eating grass, eating sand, pointing at other people, yelling at dogs, and swimming. Oh, how that girl loves to swim. In fact, Caitlin's love of swimming is so intense, it warrants an entire post to itself, so stay tuned.

We recently took a great day trip to Castle Island in South Boston, which has a beautiful walking path, a picnic area, and lovely views of the Boston skyline and Boston Harbor. Caitlin's favorite part of Castle Island was watching the many dogs out for walks with their owners. Every time Caitlin sees a dog these days she says a baby version of "Woof, woof" and points, which is pretty cute if I do say so myself.

We also went swimming at Houghton's Pond, which is part of the Blue Hills Reservation. Houghton's Pond features clean, shallow and warm water, a great combination for a swimming baby. Jessie, one of Caitlin's favorite friends, joined us at Houghton's for an afternoon of sitting in very shallow water, most likely warmed by the urine of several young children swimming and catching minnows nearby. Caitlin loved drinking pond water and attempting to eat rocks while she chilled in the water. Mama played some pretty tight defense and I am proud to report not one rock was swallowed during our stay.

A summer would not be complete without some beach trips. So far, Caitlin visited Nahant Beach in Lynn, which she absolutely loved. At Nahant, Caitlin played with Mama's co-worker friends, waded in the salt water, and ate lots and lots of sand. Today, Jessie came with us to Duxbury Beach, which is slowly descending on my list of favorite local beaches. Due to the high winds, our morning at Duxbury Beach more closely resembled hanging out in the middle of a Saudi Arabian sand storm. We did spend some quality time swimming in the moderately freezing ocean, but our time on the sand was less than awesome. By the time we left, all of our belongings and our entire bodies looked very much like sand sculptures.

Caitlin and I have lots of other summer adventures planned including, a trip to the New England Aquarium and hiking in the Blue Hills. I think Caitlin and I are going to feel very depressed when I return to work at the end of August. I keep telling myself that I still have a month, but it just does not feel very long. But, I am not going to let my return to work get me down. Instead, I will make every effort to enjoy each remaining day of vacation and if that means eating an ice cream cone every day, well dammit, I guess that's just something I'll have to do!

Caitlin thinking profound thoughts during our Castle Island walk and Caitlin relaxing at Nahant Beach

Get Up, Stand Up

While playing in front of her toy box last week, Caitlin gripped the box's edge, planted her feet, and slowly, determinedly, pushed her way upward until she was standing straight and tall. She looked somewhat like a newborn horse, all long, awkward legs going in different directions. As she stood peering over her toy box, Caitlin took a moment to look around the room-this time from a higher vantage point. No longer was she looking up at things. No longer did she wonder what we kept hidden on top of the coffee table. No longer was she shorter than the puppy. Standing gave Caitlin a whole new perspective on her everyday surroundings. Just as she processed the excitement of this new world, Caitlin's legs buckled, her bum hit the floor. But for that brief moment, I think Caitlin saw her future-a future full of stealing remote controls from the coffee table.

A Family Vacation

Caitlin and Mama hiking on a trail that overlooked the ocean in Acadia National Park

Matt, Caitlin, and Bella on the summit of Cadillac Mountain, Acadia National Park

Last week our family, dog and all, enjoyed our first true family vacation. We spent a week at my mom's home in Stockton Springs, Maine-a beautiful former shipping hub on the Penobscott Bay. Maine is gorgeous during the summer and the weather during our vacation was spectacular-especially since we avoided a sweltering heat wave back in Boston. We enjoyed cool mornings, sun-filled days, breezy afternoons, and brilliant sunsets every day. Caitlin loved swimming in the pool, exploring new crawling territory, and hiking outdoors in her Ergo baby carrier (at least some of the time). While most of our time was spent relaxing at home or by the pool and eating ice cream, we took some day trips to Belfast and spent a day hiking in Acadia National Park.

Our vacation was truly a much needed break. In Maine, there is quiet. We do not have television and our cell phones barely have reception. In Maine, there is rest. We did not feel burdened by the drudgery of household chores and endless errands. We did not have unfinished home improvement projects beckoning. While at home, it seems like we have to schedule family togetherness. During our week in Maine, we took pleasure in simple times together. I think we found a new family tradition.

Dump the Pump

Since December, I had an intensely personal and intimate relationship with my Medela Pump in Style double electric breast pump. After fourteen weeks of maternity leave, I returned to my job as an elementary special education teacher. Before returning to work, I promised myself and promised my baby I would try to breastfeed as long as possible. I hoped to nurse Baby C for a year. In order to make good on my promise, I had to pump at work. Every day, I lugged my Medela backpack to school, along with my teacher bag, lunch, and the ever essential travel mug of coffee.

Before I returned from maternity leave, my co-worker and fellow new mama arranged a private, secure place for us to pump during the school day. Our pumping space was not glamorous. We used a forgotten closet that housed a kiln and discarded, dust covered art supplies dating back to the mid-1980's. The floor was covered with dead spiders, dirt, and dust bunnies, but we had a make-shift table (the kiln), a plug, a cracked plastic chair, and a window overlooking the constructon site of our new school. Despite our closet's lack of aesthetic appeal and questionable cleanliness, it offered privacy and security. Access to the closet ensured I could pump each day and spend uninterrupted time focusing upon my baby, or staring out the window hoping the construction workers could not see my breasts.

Each school day, I mysteriously disappeared from my classroom for about fifteen minutes around 10:00. Sometimes I left students unattended, free to draw all over the tables, sniff glue, and search inappropriate websites. Sometimes the students asked, "What do you do on your break?" to which I replied, "I make pottery." I was in the kiln closet, after all. Some days I had to excuse myself mid-meeting for fear that my breasts would explode. I often had to humbly ask the male custodians to unlock my closet, or remove a stack of newly painted canvases from my cracked chair. Despite such embarrassing moments, I pumped twice a day, almost every day. I made good on my promise.

I know that I am lucky. As an elementary school teacher, I work almost exclusively with women, most of whom are mothers and had their own relationships with a breast pump. I have a boss who understands family comes first. Many of my working mama friends are not so lucky. One friend pumped in her office's only bathroom, much to the frustration of impatient co-workers waiting outside. Another friend pumped in her car, even during the winter. A third friend did not have time during her busy day to pump. All eventually gave up breastfeeding before they were ready.

Yesterday was my last day of school, my last visit to my pumping closet. As I closed the door for the last time, I bid goodbye to the dead spiders on the floor and thanked them for allowing me into their space. Last night, I stored my Medela in a closet and thanked her for the memories. I will not miss the daily cleaning of bottles and three thousand pump pieces. I will not miss the stress of making enough milk for baby. I will not miss my dirty closest. Sure, Medela and I will probably have an occasional fling here and there until I wean Baby C in August, but for the most part we are over. I am grateful Medela allowed me to exclusively breastfeed even while working full-time, but I am ready to move on. It is time dump the pump, at least until Baby Number Two comes along.

Chatterbox

According to my mother, the following three things are true: I had a fifty word vocabulary by the age of one. At two, I spoke in complete sentences and carried on mature and coherent conversations with the hairdresser at my next door neighbor's backyard wedding. And, in nursery school my teachers called me "The Girl With the Vocabulary." Whether these statements are facts or gross exaggerations is unclear, however my mother frequently boasts about my early verbal prowess to any poor soul willing to listen.

Now I find myself doing the same about my own baby. Since she found her voice many months ago, Caitlin has not stopped babbling. As soon as she wakes up in the morning, Caitlin starts talking to the stuffed monkey in her crib and the chatter does not stop until she falls asleep at night. Sometimes in the middle of the night, Caitlin wakes up for a moment, babbles, and falls back to sleep, as though she had one last thing she needed to say. Already, I predict she will be the little girl in elementary school who sits alone because she talks too much to her neighbors. She may receive all A's, except for a B in conduct due to "excessive talking." Her high school classmates may vote her, "Most Likely to Host a Talk Show." I know these things from my own experience, and thus far she appears to follow in my noisy footsteps.

Most of the time, Caitlin says, "Ba ba ba ba," "Ma ma ma ma," "Da da da da," or some combination of the three. But recently, Caitlin's nonsense syllables slightly resemble real words. Two weeks ago, we got a new puppy. When Caitlin saw Bella for the first time, she squealed, pointed, and said something that sounded really close to "dog." Now, every time Caitlin sees the puppy she says an approximation of "dog, dog, dog" over and over again. At least, that is what I believe she is saying.

Caitlin is also starting to imitate my own speech, which means I must cut back on the swearing asap. Last week Matt walked into the kitchen as Caitlin took her evening bath. I said, "Caitlin say hi to Daddy." Caitlin smiled, reached out her hands, and said, "Hi Dada!" Matt and I clapped and cheered with excitement, which prompted Caitlin to say, "Hi Dada!" over and over again.

Will Caitlin have a fifty word vocabulary by the age of one? In reality, probably not. But, in my opinion, absolutely yes.

Awakenings

This morning at 5:30 a.m. I heard whining. I rolled over and put my pillow over my head, hoping the whines would subside. Instead, the whines escalated to cries, the cries then progressed to barks. Our fifteen week old Australian Shepherd, Bella, was awake and in need of attention.

I nudged Matt. He continued snoring and rolled over, pulling off all of my covers as he went. I hastily threw on my slippers and tip-toed downstairs, hoping Caitlin would not wake up. Bella woke the whole family at 5:15 the day before, which as you can imagine, made for a long day.

Once downstairs, I removed the baby gate from the kitchen doorway, gave Bella a good morning scratch, and brought her outside to use the facilities. At 5:30 a.m. the birds are noisy, the streets are quiet. Bella played in the yard, while I yawned and tried not to get my slippers wet on the grass. I watched Bella eat sticks and hoped her barks did not wake the baby.

After about fifteen minutes, I brought Bella inside and fed her breakfast. All remained quiet throughout the house and I foolishly hoped I could lie down to catch a few extra minutes of sleep. While Bella ate, I left the kitchen and lied on the couch. Within two minutes, Bella jumped onto the couch where she proceeded to nip my hands, arms, feet, and ankles. "Down," I said in my assertive, yet calm dog-training voice. Repeat this scene for the next fifteen to twenty minutes. Finally, my limbs and my patience could take no more. By now, it was 6:05 a.m., which I considered a perfectly reasonable time to wake Matt from his slumber.

As Bella nipped my toe for the sixty-seventh time, I lost my temper, called her a not-so-nice name, and tip-toed back upstairs looking for help. As I quietly entered the bedroom, Matt rolled over and without opening his eyes mumbled, "Did you just get up?" From downstairs, Bella began barking and I asked (a.k.a. told) Matt to take her for a morning walk.

Within a few minutes, Matt and Bella left the house and I laid under the covers, again hoping to sleep just a little while longer. Just as I closed my eyes, I heard the baby awake in the next room. And here we go again.

California Dreaming

In early May, we took our first family vacation to Orange County, California for my brother-in-law's wedding. While in The O.C. I not only searched for landmarks from the former Fox series (where was The Bait Shop, anyway?), I actually relaxed-something I have not done completely in approximately nine months. We walked along the beach, ate delicious food, took naps, lounged by the pool, and sipped wine on the lanai while Caitlin napped. Even better, we brought along Grammy and G-Pop, who gladly stayed with Caitlin while Matt and I played. This allowed us to celebrate to the fullest, and celebrate we did. Despite all of the relaxation, I did not get very much sleep. Even though our trip was three weeks ago, I think I am still tired. Caitlin loved the California sunshine and was a wonderful travel companion. Sigh, I want to go back....

Mama and Baby Weekend

Our weekend in Asheville was spent stacking cups, eating, napping, talking, stacking more cups, more talking, looking at mountains, and stacking lots more cups. Caitlin played with her new pals, Finn and Norah, while I spent time catching up with my wonderful college roommates. With two more babies on the way, we need to find some pretty gigantic accommodations for our next Mama and Baby Reunion. If anybody knows of a mansion for rent, preferably on the beach, please let me know. Please enjoy some pictures from our first annual Mama and Baby Weekend.

Caitlin, Finn, and Norah enjoying stacking cups. This scene was often repeated throughout the weekend.

Enjoying the view of downtown Asheville and mountains beyond mountains.


Caitlin and Finn strolling around a park in Asheville.

The Mamas-Mary, Sarah (with Starfish), Caroline (with Dosalita), and yours truly.

I feel so fortunate to have wonderful friends, healthy, happy babies, and more babies on the way.

Flying Lessons

I am anxious about many things, but flying ranks very close to the top of my list, preceded only by clutter and going to Babies R Us. Fear of flying is problematic for several reasons, the major reasons being: A. I love to travel, and B. My friends are scattered all over the country. So, every so often I am forced to face my anxiety, board a plane, and jet off to a faraway destination, all the while staring out the window praying gravity does not take hold.

Flying solo is nerve-wracking enough, but flying with Baby causes my anxiety level to skyrocket. I postponed flying with Caitlin for almost eight months, but two weeks ago we took our first trip together to Asheville, North Carolina. The week leading up to our trip was plagued not only with excessive over-packing and compulsive toy-buying, but also with night terrors and moderate hyperventilating.

I heard many things about flying with baby. "Buy new toys and present one and only one every half hour." Hence, the compulsive toy-buying. "Nurse baby at take-off and landing. They will sleep the whole way and their ears will not hurt." Not sure about the ears, but nursing soothed Caitlin to sleep for a mere fifteen minutes on our return flight to Boston. "Give baby some Benadryl. It will knock her right out." Ask me again later, but as of right now I do not endorse drugging my eight month old baby. As with any advice, I listened to each piece politely, then decided what would work best for us.

Before boarding our two hour flight to Charlotte, I had a game plan. First, I would nurse Caitlin at take-off. If she fell asleep, I would sit back and enjoy Jet Blue's in-flight television, or catch up on my US Weekly. If Caitlin remained awake, I would present fabulous new toys at different points during the flight and offer ridiculous amounts of Puffs, which keep Caitlin occupied for quite a while. Planning helps me cope with anxiety, and this game plan relieved some of my stress.

Of course, making a game plan for a baby is about as pointless as putting socks on Caitlin's feet each morning. My good intentions always end up thrown all over the floor. As soon as we boarded our flight to Charlotte, Caitlin went crazy, totally excited by the jet's cushioned seats, tray tables, seat belts, and individual televisions. As we took our seat, Caitlin stood in my lap, jumping up and down, yelling "Oh ah!" and "Ah ma ma ma ma!" to the other passengers as they made their way down the aisle. To the great annoyance of the couple in front of us, Caitlin slammed the tray table and seat back over and over again. I could not contain her excitement! I tried nursing Caitlin as the jet taxied toward the runway, which was incredibly awkward due to my inappropriate coverage. After many failed attempts to nurse discreetly, I resorted to the bottle, which most definitely did not soothe Caitlin to sleep. After take off, I tried the new toy trick, which worked for a little while. However, Caitlin's favorite game is I Am Going to Throw All of My Toys on the Ground and Make Mommy Pick Them Up. At home, I do not mind this game. On an airplane, it was an annoyance. Thankfully, we sat next to a lovely older couple who gladly picked up Caitlin's toys over and over again. After I could not tolerate the toy throwing for another minute, I took out Caitlin's Puffs, which are also known in our house as Baby Crack. Caitlin LOVES Puffs and eats them with such exuberance, she is totally addicted. The Puffs kept Caitlin quiet and happy, however she repeatedly banged on the tray table as she impatiently waited in between treats. Again, my apologies to the couple in front of us. Thank goodness I will never see them again.

Toward the end of the two hour flight, Caitlin became restless and fussy. My game plan went out the window. Caitlin became interested in my empty soda can, which I normally would remove immediately. However, I was desperate. The soda can provided entertainment and quelled fussiness, so I let it go this time. After about 10 minutes of soda can fun, I noticed some blood on my arm. Sure enough, Caitlin sliced her index finger on the soda can. The soda can immediately went into the trash and I spent the next several minutes performing baby first aid in the airplane bathroom.

Finally, the bleeding stopped and our flight made its final approach to the Charlotte airport. Caitlin contentedly drank a bottle as the plane landed and our flight ended without further incident. On our way off the plane, Caitlin received Jet Blue wings reading, "Junior Crew," and the flight attendants congratulated us on our first flight. We made it. Despite Caitlin's finger injury, the flight went better than expected. I was so busy entertaining Caitlin, I did not have time to feel anxious. And I learned some lessons which hopefully will make future travel easier. First, I learned to bring a cover up to help me nurse privately. I learned most people love babies and will happily help a mama in need. Last, I learned soda cans are not toys. We fly to California on Wednesday. Let us hope my flying lessons will make for smooth, safe travel on our six (gulp) hour flight.

Newsworthy

Caitlin and I made our television news debut on Charlotte, North Carolina's evening news. We spent the weekend in Asheville, NC (which I will write about in a different post), and arrived early at the Charlotte airport for our return flight to Boston. As we waited at the airport, I decided to give Caitlin some wiggle time before boarding our two hour flight. After touring Concourse D for several minutes, I found a nice, open space with rocking chairs and windows looking over a runway. Caitlin and I sat quietly, watching planes take off and playing with stacking cups.

As we sat in our quiet corner of the terminal, I noticed a slick, glossy news reporter and his camera man skulking around uncomfortably nearby. I pretended not to notice the men filming planes just a few feet away from us. Then, I accidentally looked up and made unintentional eye contact with Mr. Slick and Glossy. He waved to Caitlin, I gave him a half-smile and quickly looked down, pretending nothing in the world was more interesting than stacking cups. Next thing I knew, Mr. Slick and Glossy and The Camera Man were standing right over us. "What a beautiful baby. I'm guessing she is......eight months old?" said Mr. S and G. "Yes, almost eight months," I mumbled, all the while giving most of my attention to Caitlin's toys. "Where are you flying today?" he asked. Great, I could see where this conversation was heading. Friendliness by a member of the media could only mean one thing: a request for an interview.

Sure enough, after some small talk, Mr. Slick and Glossy asked if he could interview me about airport security. At first, I politely declined, but next thing I knew, a microphone was attached to my sweater and Mr. Camera Man was ready to roll. Mr. Slick and Glossy asked me a few questions about my thoughts on the new body scanners now in use at major airports around the country. I mumbled a few semi-articulate sentences, while Caitlin went right on playing with her stacking cups. Mr. Slick and Glossy assured me we did a great job and told us to look for the story on the Charlotte CBS website. I am thankful the camera man stood far away and Mr. S and G only used about 15 seconds of footage. I am also thankful I did not say, "like," or "um" during the interview. Caitlin played with her toys during the whole interview, totally unfazed by the giant camera nearby. I am attaching the link to our news debut below. Please enjoy!

http://www.wbtv.com/Global/story.asp?S=12339861

On Strike

The strike began on Sunday. I left Caitlin with Daddy for the afternoon while I sipped mimosas and ate chocolate cake at a friend's bridal shower. As I watched my friend open new wine glasses and flatware, I received a text from my husband, "C's a little grouchy. Drank an ounce of the bottle, then refused the rest. I will try again later." No big deal, I thought, as I ordered my second mimosa. About an hour and a half later, I headed home and called my husband en route. Caitlin still refused her bottle, which meant no breast milk since 6:30 a.m. It was now almost 3:00. Fearing impending starvation, I pushed down a little bit harder on my accelerator. When I returned home, C immediately burst into tears. Before I removed my coat or set down my bag, I nursed Caitlin on the couch. After eating, she seemed happy and the rest of our Sunday passed without incident.

Monday brought the dreaded beginning of my work week and Caitlin to Nana's house for the day. After a busy Monday morning, I all but forgot about our bottle troubles from the day before. Around noontime, I received another text from my husband, who checked in on C during lunch, "Still not taking the bottle, but she ate breakfast and lunch." Two days in a row of bottle rejection is atypical for my little milk guzzler. Every once in a while, Caitlin refuses a bottle but usually relents later in the day. Again, this meant no milk since the early morning. When I picked up Baby C later that afternoon, she burst into tears once again. As I struggled to get out the door and run home to nurse, my mother-in-law kindly mentioned, "She was happy all day until you came." Just what a worried mama needs to hear.

Tuesday brought more of the same: bottle rejection, shorter naps, grouchiness, tears upon pick up, and sprinting home to nurse Baby. When things go amiss with Baby, I typically do two things, neither of which are helpful or productive. First, I over analyze the situation and propose several made-up hypotheses, none of which come close to identifying the problem's root cause. Maybe Caitlin has an upset tummy. Or, maybe she is eating too much food during mealtime. Or, could it be that the milk flows too slowly from her bottles? Wait, maybe she is teething. Caitlin cannot tell me why she is unsettled, therefore I make up reason upon reason until something seems sensible. If hypotheses do not work, I turn to self-blame. If C is not happy, obviously, I have done something wrong. Maybe I ate something spicy that spoiled my breast milk. Maybe I've had too many Halls cough drops and they are affecting my milk. As I went to bed on Tuesday night, I feared an endless bottle strike which would lead me to resign from my job, stay home, and nurse Baby.

Wednesday arrived and Caitlin went to day care where she finally drank two bottles during the day, thereby ending her bottle strike.

While I still do not know the reason for the strike, I am thankful Baby finally gave up the fight.

Happy Easter!

Caitlin celebrated her first Easter last Sunday. The day began with 7:30 mass. She whined a bit toward the end, but overall was on her best behavior. Following mass, Caitlin even witnessed Papa get into an argument with a fellow parishioner over a bad parking job! Alleluia!


Every Easter, Matt's uncle Paul hosts an Easter lunch (a.k.a. feast), complete with a massive egg hunt for the kids. Matt has about 25 cousins, most of whom have at least two children of their own. Almost all of these children attend the McCabe Annual Easter Egg-Stravaganza. Picture approximately 50 children in their Easter finery tearing through the yard in an effort to find as many eggs as possible. It is not pretty. Every year somebody ends up either in tears or in the emergency room. But, Easter is always fun and we looked forward to exposing Caitlin to the chaos.

Sadly, Matt's aunt passed away the Thursday before Easter, therefore the festivities were cancelled. I was disappointed, but understood and respected the need for a quiet holiday. Instead of rolling around in the grass with her cousins, Caitlin spent the afternoon at Nana and Papa's house. Nana cooked a delicious ham dinner and Caitlin played with her gifts from the Easter bunny.

Caitlin was a little disappointed to miss the egg hunt. She really hoped to find the egg with the $20 bill inside! Maybe next year.


Enjoy some pictures from Caitlin's special day!

Caitlin with her cousin, Keira, rocking the green and white checked silk. Nobody believes me, but the matchiness was unplanned. My sister-in-law and I just have incredible taste.

Caitlin with her Easter basket from Nana. Try to estimate how many times I put on Caitlin's headband. If you guessed one thousand, you are getting close.

Being a nice mommy, I let Caitlin take a break from her poofy dress and sport some sweats for most of the day. Here she is checking out her gifts from the Easter Bunny. Like her mama, Caitlin loves new clothes. Daddy already knows this could only mean trouble!

Exciting Announcment!

O.k. I know what you are thinking and the answer is, NO I AM NOT PREGNANT AGAIN! Ask me again in another one to two years, or better yet, just don't ask.

My exciting announcement is (cue the drumroll).....loyal readers (a.k.a. Mom) can now find more of Caitlin and Mama's adventures on Boston Babay Mama, a featured blog on Boston.com!

Please check out http://bostonbabymama.blogspot.com/

I submitted a revamped version of my homemade baby food post as a guest writer, which was posted today. This is the part I am really excited about....the woman who runs the site asked me to become a regular contributor! I look forward this new adventure in blogging, although I am sure that now I literally will never have time to brush my teeth again.

The Glow

Recently, I reconnected with an old friend thanks to (what else) Facebook. After looking through some recent mama and baby pictures, he complimented my motherly "glow." While I appreciate the sentiment, I am not certain I agree. Unless he looked at my pictures in a black lit room, I do not glow.

At the risk of offending pregnant women and new mothers everywhere, I would like to demystify the motherly glow. When I was pregnant, I occasionally heard, "You look wonderful, you are glowing!" I had these people fooled. During the forty-two weeks of my pregnancy, my internal body temperature ran approximately two degrees higher than the standard 98.6. I had a constant fever. This fever made me sweat, no matter the temperature outside, no matter how many layers I shed. When people pointed out my glow, I smiled, said thank you, then turned and wiped the sweat away with a Ponds Cleansing Wipe.

Now that I am a new mama, I still occasionally hear about "the glow." I have the misfortune of looking at myself in the mirror every day. The reflection staring back has dark under eye circles and eyebrows in desperate need of a wax, but no glow. Nowadays, I rarely have time to wash my face or apply make-up and I have an oily complexion. My glow is grease. If I had time to properly care for my skin, my glow would undoubtedly vanish.

Maybe some pregnant women and some new mamas really do glow. But not me, I glisten.

Face Plant

Babies. Just when you think you have them figured out, they go and do something so surprising, so sudden, that once again you must revamp your daily routine and your foolproof tricks. Caitlin reminded me of this earlier today.
I usually wait to eat lunch until Caitlin is napping, but today leftover pizza was calling my name earlier than usual. If I do need to eat during Caitlin's waking hours, I typically prop her next to me on the couch, contentedly playing with a toy, while I munch. This has worked for months now.
Until today. As I ate my pizza, Caitlin sat next to me playing with her stacking cups. Suddenly, she lurched forward to grab a purple cup just slightly out of reach. As she leaned over, she suddenly fell forward onto all fours. Her face hit the couch cushion with such force, she nearly bounced off the couch and fell face first onto the floor. Thankfully, new mamas come equipped with lightning quick reflexes, so I caught Caitlin prior to a potentially nasty face plant.
Caitlin appeared unfazed by her tumble, but I was frantic, fearing what could have been. After some snuggles, some apologies, and some checking to make sure DCFS was not waiting outside my door, I moved Caitlin to the confines of her highchair, where she played safely for the rest of lunch.
This forward tumble means two things: First, I need to change my breakfast/lunch game plan. Second, this is the first step in learning how to crawl. Then I am really in for it.

Top Chef

Caitlin's introduction to solid foods did not go according to plan (see Grant's Pants). After days of rejection, followed by days of constipation, followed by more days of rejection, I worried Caitlin would subsist solely on breast milk. Forever. Considering this scenario unacceptable, both for baby and for myself, I persisted in my efforts to introduce solid food.

I introduced oatmeal, followed by peaches, then applesauce. Caitlin typically swallowed a few mouthfuls before turning her head in disgust. Each day I tried, each day I failed.

In the midst of Caitlin's food rejection phase, I met my friend Jess for lunch. Jess has an eleven month old baby who loves food so much he cries after finishing a meal. I asked Jess for the secret to her success. "Have you tried making your own food?" Seriously? I barely have the time and energy to cook for Matt and myself, let alone make baby food. Before Caitlin was born I wanted to make homemade baby food exclusively. After Caitlin's arrival, reality set in. Life with a new baby leaves little time to do anything extra, especially for a working mama like myself. But, after my conversation with Jess I felt really guilty. I decided to give homemade baby food a try. Fortunately, this conversation coincided with my February break, so I had some extra time to play in the kitchen.

After I got home from lunch with Jess, I dug around in my kitchen closet until I found Williams-Sonoma's Cooking for Baby (a gift from my foodie mother). After brushing off the dust, I skimmed through the first section, "Wholesome and Homemade." The first paragraph reads, "Do you eat a lot of jarred, canned, or processed foods? If the answer is no, then why should your baby? The foods you give your baby now, in the earliest months, will help shape your child's taste for many years to come." Again, I felt guilty. While I occasionally enjoy a bag of Cheetos, I generally steer clear from the aforementioned food no-nos. Healthy eating is important to me, so of course I hope Caitlin will become a healthy, adventurous eater. After reading through a few pages of the cookbook, I was convinced. I had to give homemade baby food a try.

For my first attempt, I made sweet potatoes. Surprisingly, making baby food was simple. First, I roasted the potatoes for 50 minutes. After cooling, I scooped out the insides, threw them into the food processor, added water, and blended away. Two sweet potatoes made ten plus servings, enough food to last almost a week.

Later that evening, I gave Caitlin sweet potatoes along with oatmeal for supper. As I moved the spoon toward her mouth, I felt the nervous anticipation that comes along with seeking approval. I worked hard (not really) on these sweet potatoes. Rejection would crush my fragile, hormonal feelings. As the sweet potatoes slipped past her lips, they actually remained in her mouth. This was progress. After considering the new flavor for a moment or two, Caitlin swallowed her potatoes and opened her mouth for another bite. Approval! Caitlin ate all 2 ounces of sweet potatoes, more food than she had ever eaten before. Caitlin's acceptance of my homemade sweet potatoes was so satisfying, so gratifying. Then and there, I became hooked on homemade baby food.

Since then, I made applesauce, carrots, peas, and plenty more sweet potatoes. Caitlin enjoyed everything, except the peas. Can you blame her? Peas really only belong in a chicken pot pie. Now that she is approaching seven months, Caitlin is allowed to explore more flavors and textures. Up next, asparagus puree, green beans with mint, baby's lamb, and baby's turkey!

As a working mama, time management is a major challenge. To keep a supply of homemade food at the ready, I usually make a batch over the weekend and another batch on a weeknight after Caitlin goes to bed. Since I became interested (by that I mean, obsessed) with homemade baby food, I have less time for cleaning, reading (except for US Weekly, of course), and exercising . But, making homemade baby food is a great excuse for putting things off. I really didn't have time to iron or clean the bathroom. I am too busy making wholesome, nutritious food for my child which will allow her to grow and thrive. Nobody will argue with that reasoning!

For mamas interested in making homemade baby food, the Williams-Sonoma cookbook is wonderful. I also recommend http://www.wholesomebabyfood.com/ and http://www.weelicious.com/. Time to go steam some apples!

Under Attack

Spring arrived early in Boston, bringing with it the promise of warm days, long strolls, and open windows. Unfortunately, spring also brought long dormant insects out of hibernation-namely, a family of ladybugs living directly outside of Caitlin's nursery.

Actually, the ladybugs made several appearances prior to spring's arrival. Every now and again, I found a ladybug stuck inside of a wall sconce or crawling along a window pane. Over the past few weeks, the problem grew worse. Two weeks ago a ladybug landed in my hair while nursing Caitlin before bed. It took every ounce of strength I had to continue nursing and casually swat the bug away. Last Sunday morning, I found a ladybug crawling on Caitlin's nightgown. Later that week, I noticed a small group of ladybugs loitering on the nursery windowsills. Little by little, as the temperatures slowly rose, the ladybug population increased.


Yesterday, I went into Caitlin's room after her midday nap. To my horror, I saw not two, not six, but twenty-four (yes, I counted) ladybugs all over the floor, windows, curtains, walls, and ceiling. The nursery was under attack. This was no longer a problem I could nonchalantly swat away. This was a battle and I needed to take immediate action. Obviously, I called my husband. Normally, my handy husband can fix almost any household related problem. Upon entering the nursery, he simply stood and stared. No action. Just staring. "Matt, we can't leave these ladybugs here. What if they crawl into Caitlin's crib? What if they crawl into her mouth?" Now truthfully, the ladybugs had not come close to Caitlin's crib, but a new mama is prone to irrational fears. "I don't know what to do. Let me do some research," Matt said as he calmly left the nursery and settled down on the couch.

As Matt researched ladybug removal, I reached out for help. Where does a new mother turn during a time of desperation? Facebook, of course. I asked my 197 friends how to safely remove ladybugs from a baby's room. While checking my Facebook notifications every thirty minutes (o.k., every thirty seconds), I collected an array of feedback-some helpful (vacuum up those ladies), some not (put some warm, buttered cinnamon toast on the nursery floor). I held out hope for a permanent, nontoxic solution, but the vacuum remained the best suggestion.

Before Caitlin's late afternoon nap, Matt lugged our industrial strength vacuum to the nursery and began sucking up ladybug after ladybug. If you ever had a ladybug infestation, you understand that these suckers multiply. What started as twenty-four ladybugs quickly turned into thirty, then forty. Every time we thought the ladybugs were gone, we found a straggler clutching for dear life to the curtains or the lampshade. Finally, after ten minutes of thorough vacuuming, the nursery was clear of insects. As late afternoon turned into evening and evening turned into night, the ladybugs did not return. The images of ladybugs crawling into Caitlin's crib began to fade away. I felt victorious.

Our victory was shortlived. The ladybugs came back again today. This means the industrial vacuum now has a permanent home in Caitlin's nursery. It also means I continue to hope for a chemical-free solution that will not displace the baby and will not involve home renovations. We may have won a battle or two, but as of right now, the ladybugs are winning the war.

Love Hate Relationship

Most new mamas I speak with report a strong love-hate relationship with baby super store, Babies R Us. My love-hate relationship began when Matt and I registered for baby gifts some time during my second trimester, and the relationship has grown even more tumultuous since Caitlin's arrival.
Like a bad high school boyfriend, Babies R Us can make my heart skip a beat one second and leave me sobbing the next. I love that Babies R Us carries everything I need in one place. My time is limited and one stop shopping is life saving. I hate that no matter what day of the week, no matter what time of day, Babies R Us is a madhouse filled with anxious new parents, indecisive relatives buying shower gifts, and screaming babies (my own baby included). I love the Babies R Us rewards program which sends me coupons almost every week, thereby making all this baby gear somewhat affordable. I hate trying to push my oversized shopping cart through too narrow aisles, which reminds me a little bit of the whole birthing experience-something I have tried to forget (at least the painful part). First the love, then the hate. Every time.
Each time I make the trip to Babies R Us, I follow a strict preparation regimen. First, I make a list. Next, I meticulously scan and clip my rewards coupons. Before leaving, I carbo load which gives me stamina and prevents The Hanger (Matt's catch phrase for my hunger/anger, which comes on full force while shopping on an empty stomach). Finally, I put on some work out clothes, load Caitlin into the car, and brace myself.
Yesterday, Caitlin and I made our monthly journey to Babies R Us. Our mission was clear: we set out to buy Caitlin a big girl car seat- the highly rated, yet overpriced, Britax Marathon (Don't worry, Mom. I used a coupon.). As I pulled into the full parking lot, my palms began to sweat. I swore at an elderly grandmother taking too long to leave her parking spot. The hate part of my love-hate relationship was coming on strong. Obviously, the spaghetti I ate prior to departure was not helping.
Once in the store, we were focused. Grabbing only the items on our list, Caitlin and I made our way to the car seat department. There it was. Displayed proudly on the shelf was Baby Bargains top rated Britax Marathon-in stock and ready for purchase. Caitlin smiled approvingly at her new seat and I eagerly grabbed the box from the shelf. Immediately, trouble ensued. The awkward, L-shaped box would not fit into our shopping cart no matter how many different ways I tried. After several failed attempts, a Babies R Us employee kindly offered to carry the car seat to the register. I so appreciated this young man's help and I felt the warm, tingly love part of my relationship returning.
After paying, Caitlin and I somehow lugged our new gear to the car. As soon as I popped my trunk I realized we had another problem. My trunk is small and this car seat is monstrous. Over and over again, I tried stuffing the car seat into the trunk. Over and over again, I failed. I could drive home with the car seat somewhat contained, but the trunk did not close and I deemed this highly unsafe. Why didn't I think of this scenario before? This was a classic new mama move and I felt embarrassed and angry.
Rather than directing the anger toward myself, I decided to lash out at Babies R Us and their ridiculous, enormous boxes. With my trunk half open and the car seat about to fall out, I decided to make a move. I drove (yes, very unsafe...I know) to the fire lane, turned on the hazard lights, and hauled Caitlin back into the store. After cutting three people in the customer service line, I stormed up to a poor young woman and said, "I need help. The car seat I just bought does not fit into my car. I either need you to make it fit, or I need you to hold it for me until later. Please." Rather than telling me to go to the end of the line where I belonged, the young woman said, "Of course. Those boxes are so awkward, I'll come help you."
We went back out to the fire lane where I was greeted by a man in a pickup truck honking and calling me an idiot and a pair of ladies telling me the fire lane was not a parking spot. While I pretended not to hear these people, the store employee looked at the angry drivers and said, "Some people just don't get it," as she lifted car seat out of the trunk. "Have you tried the front seat?" I had, but the car seat completely blocked my view from the passenger window-again, highly unsafe. "These boxes are like tetris pieces, you just have to play around until you get the right fit," she said. After a quick rotation and a flip, the car seat was wedged in the front seat, view unobstructed. The love was back.
I thanked my new best friend, jumped back in the car, and drove away from the fire lane and further criticism of my driving/parking skills. As I drove home, I felt warm all over. While some of this was due to my wrestling match with the Britax, I think some part of me fell in love a little bit with the Babies R Us employee. This young woman reassured me that I was not an idiot, a driver who violates fire lane laws, or an unprepared mother. My heart swooned.
Until I got home and realized I can't get the car seat out. Twenty-four hours later, it still sits on my passenger seat. First the love, then the hate. Every time.

The Voices In My Head

Along with sleep deprivation and stretch marks, comes another, far uglier feature of new motherhood: The Voices. The first voice belongs to Reason. Reason is logical, assured, no nonsense. If Reason had a face, it might look like Mrs. Clark, my fourth grade teacher. Mrs. Clark wore pressed pants and blouses every day. The rumor circulating through Pleasant Street School was that Mrs. Clark once served in the army. Or Reason might look like my husband. Unfailingly calm, patient, and by far the more natural parent in our parenting team. The second, much louder voice belongs to Self Doubt. Self Doubt is persistent, indecisive, anxious. Self Doubt might resemble a more disheveled version of myself. Lipstick on my teeth, tousled hair, coffee stain trailing down my shirt. Reason and Self Doubt argue within my mind constantly, around and around, over and over again. Never ending.
I first met Reason and Self Doubt while reading Baby Bargains during my second trimester. While researching baby equipment, Reason and Self Doubt had their share of debates.
Reason: I don't need to spend money on a bassinet because I have a Pack and Play and Caitlin's future crib is three feet from our bed.
Self-Doubt: Will Caitlin be safe sleeping in the vast terrain of her crib? What if she rolls into the crib bumpers?
At first, Reason and Self Doubt's debates were civil, subdued. Point. Counterpoint.
After Caitlin was born, Reason and Self Doubt began arguing loudly and often. About a week after Caitlin came home from the hospital, Matt had a hockey game and I was alone with the baby. As I held Caitlin and watched her sleep, a sudden feeling of responsibility overwhelmed me. Caitlin was so vulnerable, so dependent. Self Doubt began asking: Am I truly qualified to be somebody's mother? Reason tried to help, but my mind often ignored its sound advice.
Even with almost six months of parenting under my belt, the voices speak on.
Reason: It is o.k. to let Caitlin cry after I put her to bed. This is how she will learn to self-soothe and fall asleep on her own.
Self Doubt: Caitlin will feel insecure, frightened, and abandoned.
On Thursday night, Reason and Self Doubt were finally put in their places. After Caitlin woke from her late afternoon nap, she felt warm, her cheeks were red, her eyes were glassy. Sure enough, her temperature was 101.9. Immediately panicked, I called the doctor's office. Nurse Noreen, who is becoming a close friend and confidant, promptly returned my call. Noreen asked routine questions: Is Caitlin eating? Does she have wet diapers? Are there any other symptoms of illness? Yes, yes, and no. Then Noreen did the worst possible thing: she presented me with a choice. Noreen said I could bring Caitlin to urgent care or to the emergency room that night. Or, I could give her Tylenol, monitor her through the night, and bring her to the doctor in the morning. After a long pause, Noreen asked, "Mrs. McCabe? Are you still there? What do you want to do?" Because her question required an immediate response, Reason and Self Doubt had no time to argue. At this point, Instinct took over. Instinct is always there, quietly lurking. Instinct does not argue or analyze. Instinct acts, knows. "I am going to keep Caitlin at home, let her sleep, and make an appointment for the morning," I said to Noreen. "I think that is a wise choice," Noreen replied, thereby validating my need to listen to Instinct above all others.
On Friday morning, I brought Caitlin to the doctor. Her fever was gone and the doctor assured me she was just fine. Most likely, the fever resulted from teething. Instinct prevailed. Take that, Self Doubt!
Along with my newly expanded hips, the Voices will be a part of me from here forward. Through every action, every decision, Reason and Self Doubt will be present. I accept this part of new motherhood. Thankfully, Instinct is also a part of new motherhood. It has always been there, waiting for its chance to lead.

Grant's Pants

The week before Caitlin turned five months old, we made a long awaited trip to Babies R Us. Our shopping list included colorful, BPA-free bowls and spoons and a box of rice cereal. Yes, it was time to introduce solid foods to the little lady! I looked forward to the milestone since Caitlin's four month check-up. Every day I talked to Caitlin about the culinary delights in her future. Mmmm...steamed peas! I had visions of myself flitting around the kitchen, wearing a paisley apron, steaming and pureeing organic fruits and vegetables. In my fantasy, Caitlin would take pleasure in eating (she is my daughter, after all), and she would gobble up all of the dishes I lovingly prepared. I should know by now that what happens in real life never quite matches what happens in fantasies.
The day after our trip to Babies R Us, I served Caitlin her first meal: one tablespoon of rice cereal mixed with four tablespoons of mama's milk. Yum! The cereal looked like curdled milk and it was really too watery to serve with a spoon, but I tried. Caitlin rejected the first several bites. I tried pushing the spoon into her mouth, but her lips were steadfastly glued shut. Caitlin puts just about everything in her mouth, but when it came time to get some food in there she firmly resisted. After several persistent attempts, I finally wedged the spoon in between Caitlin's lips and gave her some cereal. The cereal remained in Caitlin's mouth for all of five seconds before she drooled most of it out, making a nice mess of her chin and bib. This went on for another several minutes and then I gave up. Undeterred, I tried again the next day and the day after that, only to find the same outcome. All in all, Caitlin probably consumed approximately 1 teaspoon of cereal.
Which is why I was so surprised about what happened over the next several days. The little bit of rice cereal made poor Caitlin so constipated, I didn't change a poopy diaper for over a week. Now if you are a regular follower of Caitlin's adventures, you know this is very unusual for my baby. Her digestive system typically functions so fast she barely finishes a feeding before pooping. Needless to say, I was pretty concerned. Being a neurotic new mom, I called the doctor after four poo-free days. The pediatrician's office suggested trying karo syrup or prune juice in her bottles. I tried, but nothing. The doctor recommended trying a glycerin suppository if the bottles did not work. Ewww, but after a week I tried it. After giving the suppository (which was so gross and terrible, I can't quite talk about it yet) I prepared for a massive explosion. I wrapped Caitlin in a disposable changing pad and tried to entertain her on her changing table until the big moment arrived. I waited and waited, but still nothing! Now I started to really worry. Maybe something was seriously wrong. Is it possible for the digestive system to shut down? I've seen stranger things on TLC's Mystery Diagnosis. Surely, anything was possible. On day 10 of Operation Unconstipation, I went back to the prune juice. Nana gave her a dose on Thursday and I put some in her bottles for day care on Friday. Upon leaving Caitlin at day care I told her teachers about the prune juice and wished them good luck.
It appears they needed it. When I picked Caitlin up on Friday afternoon she was no longer wearing the adorable Baby Gap white pants she had on in the morning. Instead she was wearing black Hanes His Way sweat pants in size 12 months, which could only mean one thing: she pooped! In fact, she pooped so many times that she went through her first outfit of the day, plus her two back-up outfits stored at daycare. When I saw my little smiling baby playing on the rug her teacher said, "Well, she's not constipated anymore. And she is wearing Grant's Pants." Thanks, Grant. I promise we'll wash and return them next week.
Did Operation Unconstipation test my resolve? Maybe a bit. But the sight of Grant's Pants reminded me not to relinquish my fantasy. New moms need fantasies. One day, Caitlin will enjoy eating solids. And I am going to look super cute in my paisley apron.