I Am Not the Biggest Loser

I've decided to go back to using LoseIt!, a calorie-counting app that also lets you factor in your calorie burn from everyday activities like walking and grocery shopping.

I had great success with LoseIt! in the past. Between the beginning of December and the end of February I lost 18 lbs and got back down to the weight I was when I first got pregnant, 147 lbs. This is actually 7 lbs. more than I ultimately want to be, the weight I was when I was working a full-time job and felt good in all my clothes. But it still felt like a huge accomplishment.

Of course, it didn't hurt that I was burning crazy calories every day just by nursing, which I was doing all day and usually twice at night. Now I'm burning far fewer calories that way, but looking back I realize I haven't adjusted my eating habits accordingly.

I managed to get down to 145-ish, but there I stalled. And then a few weeks ago I stepped onto the scale and noticed it was 3 lbs. higher than it had been the previous time. I literally went into denial and accused Scott of having recalibrated our scale by using it when it was obviously used to bearing my weight and no more. Eventually, though, I realized I couldn't place the blame on him when it more appropriately belonged to the giant mess of Easter candy I've been consuming for weeks now. Damn it, Cadbury Creme Eggs, why can't I quit you?

So, back to LoseIt! I go. This time around I would like to lose that last 10 lbs, which I feel I can realistically do in about two months. After that, the goal will be simply figuring out how to maintain that weight. We've been hiking on the weekends, walking to Farmer's Market on Sunday mornings and I also go walking with the dogs every day for varying distances, between 1-2 miles. I also eat lots of fruits and vegetables, so I know it's not lack of either that's the problem. It's my weakness for junk food, plain and simple. So for the next two months, no Del Taco, no Girl Scout cookies, no bags of chocolate mini-eggs with a delicious candy shell. Although I'm not ruling out the occasional french fry. I'm only human.

Growing Up Fast

Here I was all set to take advantage of the 1 hour nap Sadie now reliably takes from about 4:30-5:30 by cooking up a week's worth of pork chops and vegetables -- until I realized I'd forgotten to defrost the chops. And these are ridiculously huge Costco pork chops, we're talking like 2-3" thick pork chops that are going to take hours to defrost, so while they're floating in a sinkful of hot water, I'll post here.

This past week, Sadie's been grappling with a growth spurt that she's been due for for, oh, quite some time now. I don't think she put on any weight through a month-long span, and now suddenly she's eating like a starving man (or a starving baby, I guess) and is suddenly bursting out of all of her 6-month clothes. This made for a few very fussy days during which I was basically tied to the glider because she wanted to feed every hour ON TOP of three servings of solid foods.

The solids themselves, by the way, are sometimes well received and sometimes met with horrible grimaces and choking. This one time? Scott tried to feed her apples and I walked out of the room for like thirty seconds and the next thing I hear is "HONEY SHE'S CHOKING I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO." By the time I'd rushed back into the kitchen yelling, helpfully, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S CHOKING? IT'S PUREE," she'd already regurgitated up an entire mouthful of apple mess back

Sadie eating bananas

onto her bib.

All of this nonstop feeding has finally helped me understand why so many women give up on this breastfeeding thing around now. It's definitely more difficult than it used to be; she's more distract-able and consumes more; meanwhile I'm producing less because she sleeps through the night so regularly. I've been determined to keep going through the end of the first year, but I find myself fantasizing about weaning her onto a permanent diet of water and mashed avocado, her new favorite meal.

In other news, we finally got a rollover last weekend. Two, in fact -- both back to belly, the hard way to do it. It's funny, but since then she's become overall much more mobile, rolling this way and that (though she hasn't achieved the full roll again since that one day) and trying to push herself up on her arms and to fit her legs beneath her, the first signs of learning how to crawl.

She sits very, very well considering the prohibitive size of her massive cranium, and also handles it gracefully when she inevitably pitches over to one side. I'm so proud of the sitting that I can't help but show it off to everyone, like I did yesterday when we went over to my grandparents' for Seder dinner. Sadie wasn't at her best -- it was six already by the time we got there, and her bedtime is now reliably 7:30, but she put on a good face and impressed everyone with her sitting and grabbing skills for a good half hour until Scott took her home and put her into bed.

6 Month Check-In

Happy half-birthday, Sadie.

Anything I try to express about how fast these past months have gone or how much it blows our mind that she's as big as she is, will only come off as trite and boring. So why not go to my defacto complaining?

It used to be so much easier to put her down for a nap. Now she finds everything interesting, from the silhouette of her hand in front of her face, to the little faces on the feet of her pajama bottoms, to the toys hanging from her broken mobile that doesn't even move. It is an immobile. Yet she is fascinated by it. Not to mention her newfound ability to wiggle means that she no longer stays where you put her. Scooting backwards, that's ancient history. She mastered that weeks ago, and now prefers to sleep with her head mashed up into the corner of the crib. No, today she discovered how to use her legs to push herself around sideways in a circle, like imagine Donald O'Connor bicycling in circles while lying on the floor in "Singing in the Rain." As I type this, I can see her on the baby monitor and she's lying cross-wise with her head up against the crib bumper, playing with her nightlight with her feet.

Yet STILL no rolling. At her six-month doctor's appointment on Monday, the pediatrician listened as we explained that she doesn't roll.

"Oh, lots of babies don't like to roll back to belly. But she rolls belly to back, right?"

Um, no. She doesn't roll AT ALL.

"Oh. Really?"

That's not what you want to hear a pediatrician say. Of course, she followed it up immediately with the reassurance that Sadie will figure it out on her own time and we shouldn't worry. I'm not worried, really. She already sits up perfectly well -- today she managed a 10-second stretch before toppling over -- but Scott's a little anxious. I think he has a mental image of a 15 year old daughter who just lies on her back all day, tugging at the toys on her mobile and chewing on her pacifier. Still, the day she finally rolls for the first time will be the day we celebrate.

What else? Oh, feeding. Hoo boy. Her stats at the doctor were a little troubling: while she's in the 90th percentile for height for her age, she's only in the 25th percentile for weight. We got the instructions to begin feeding her three times a day instead of her usual one, and that has proved more of a challenge than I had anticipated. She loves oatmeal, you see, but she's highly suspicious of everything else. Her reaction to apples was as follows: *confused face* *rapid inhale* *choking sound* *saliva and apple puree all over her bib, her face and her tray* *fussing*.

But all that is nothing compared with her reaction to her sippy cup. For reasons I cannot comprehend, her sippy cup inspires only her deepest and most passionate emotions, from fascination "Wow! This thing has handles, and it dispenses water!" to utter terror "I want this thing nowhere near my face! AAAAAAAAAAGH!" Twice, a feeding session has been ruined when the sippy cup got a little too close and she burst into hysterical tears. What, I wonder, is the big deal with the sippy cup? And will I have to banish it to the cupboard so I can distract her long enough to tolerate apples?

Consignment Sale

I went to the biannual LA Kids Consignment Sale in Van Nuys yesterday, which was enough of a clusterf*ck in and of itself that it probably deserves its own blog post. But I'll just sum up here that, while insane and crowded and noisy, there were many good deals to be had.

If I'd been smart I'd have brought my own shopping basket like a lot of the more experienced people had with them. But since I just had my own two hands and Sadie strapped into the Baby Bjorn, my shopping potential was inherently limited. Fortunately they had a hold area for the bulkier items so you didn't have to lug everything around with you up and down the narrow, crowded aisles.

Sadie handled the experience remarkably well, considering she'd decided to skip her morning nap for no particular reason, and was already tired and cranky by the time we arrived. She stared, wide-eyed, at the spectacle around her and then after about 30 minutes fell asleep in the Bjorn and didn't wake up until we left. Must be nice to be a baby.

I picked up several new books for her library, some rainbow stacking rings, a little Winnie The Pooh activity table for $18 (retails for $43), and best of all, a child carrier backpack. I didn't even know I wanted this until I saw it and then I was like, "MUST HAVE." I bought it for about $60, and when I got home I researched it, and, jackpot. This is, as I explained to Scott, the King Shit of baby carrier backpacks. It's got a sunshade and tons of storage and a steel frame so you can prop it up on the ground and carry on a conversation with it, if you so choose.

We've been wanting to hike more, but it's always been a misadventure trying to negotiate strollers up dusty, pot-holed hillsides (see previous entries). Even with the jogging stroller it can be tough, especially with this past wet winter having worn deep grooves in all the hiking trails we frequent. This way, not only can we hike without the stroller, we can pack everything we need into the backpack and leave the diaper bag at home, too. I'm pretty psyched about this purchase and look forward to the first time we get to try it out.

My Suburban Dream Realized!

Tomatoes

Ever since we bought our first house a year and a half ago, we've dreamed of having a vegetable garden. But when I got pregnant two months after we moved in, those plans got pushed aside for more immediate and necessary concerns like creating a nursery and finding me a pool I could float my giant belly in all summer.

Now that it's spring and Sadie is almost 6 months old, the time is ripe, and this weekend we're finally going ahead with our big plans. Now -- let me disabuse you of the notion that we have ANY IDEA what we're doing. Neither of us has ever taken on a project like this before. If building the actual planter boxes were not daunting enough, having a working vegetable garden also requires the ability to keep plants alive once they have been placed in dirt. My trial run involved buying two extremely hardy house plants, which have survived for a good 8 months at this point, so I consider myself ready to move to the next level.

As of right now, here's the plan: Saturday we'll be constructing the actual planter boxes, Sunday we'll do the planting. For the boxes we'll be using untreated 6' redwood beams between planter posts -- very basic stuff, nothing fancy like ledges or anything like that. The four boxes will be placed end-to-end along the side of our backyard, where there is currently an ugly dirt strip that runs from the side of our house all the way to the wall at the end of the yard. It's a somewhat odd configuration, but the boxes will hide the otherwise useless dirt, and will also get some measure of shade from the tall ficus trees that line our neighbors' yard.

I don't really know yet what we'll be planting, although I have a few ideas: tomatoes, peppers, lettuce, carrots, radishes, spinach, arugula. We'll be buying all our plants pre-grown, or whatever the correct term is, rather than trying to negotiate seeds.

In addition, we'll be adding some large pots to put between the planter boxes. This will be for my herb garden and also possibly for some strawberries, blueberries and other fruits. I honestly don't know. When I say we don't know what we're doing, I mean it -- our entire body of research has come from articles on the internet entitled, "How to Grow Fruits and Vegetables in Planter Boxes." Yesterday I was discussing plans with the babysitter and she suggested buying mulch to spread on top of the dirt, and I was like, "Ah yes, mulch! Excellent idea!" So...this could work out great, or I could end up inadvertently murdering a small army of plants.

I hope they don't fight back.

All We Want for Easter are Her Two Front Teeth

A few months ago when Sadie's salivary glands first started to kick in, I wondered if she was teething and tried to look for evidence everywhere that it might be starting to happen. Ooh -- she's chewing on her fist! Is that teething? She seems fussy today -- could she be teething? Ha! Silly me. When teething happens, YOU KNOW. I know this because for the past week, Sadie has been teething. For real.

Teething seems like...not even descriptive enough a word for what she's been going through. "Suffering" might be more apt. "Experiencing the ceaseless sensation of sharp bone slicing through her delicate gum tissue without being able to quaff a martini with a couple of Motrin to take the edge off," even more so. Teething, no doubt about it, sucks.

Oh, new parents, you don't yet know what you're in for. And I only hope that when your babies teethe, it won't be as bad as it's been for us. They tell you it can vary in intensity -- some babies barely feel it, while others have an especially difficult time. Sadie seems to be falling into the latter category. You want specifics? Let's run down this handy list of possible teething symptoms, pulled from the internet, one by one.

Irritability:  Hoo boy, yes. Everything has been making her mad: she fusses when you put her down, when you strap her into her carseat, when it takes more than 0.4 seconds to feed her once she decides she's hungry. The best is when you try to distract her by doing something silly and she starts smiling and crying simultaneously because it hurts to smile.

Drooling:  Oh, gee, let me think. Has she been drooling? Well, today I took her for a walk and forgot to put a bib on her. By the time I lifted her out of the stroller, she'd created a bib of her own. A SPIT BIB that went from her chin, across her chest, all the way down to her belly button. Yeah, I'd say there's drool.

Coughing:  There's a lot of this. It's what happens when you're constantly jamming your index finger down the back of your throat, trying to counter the pressure on your gums. The other day Scott was feeding her and she tried to gum the rubber spoon, but it slid back too far and made her cough and choke. My comment: "Honey, she's truly a Valley Girl. You literally gagged her with a spoon."

Chin rash:  I tried to take a picture so I could show you the evidence of this, but the resolution on my iPhone isn't good enough to do it justice. You'll have to take for granted that a big, bumpy, red, angry rash has spread all over her cheeks and chin.

Biting &
gnawing:  She will bite anything within reaching distance. Today she managed to grab hold of my plastic coffee filter holder and had it in her mouth before I even knew what she was doing. She'd chew on the dogs if they let her. Her favorite chewing object of choice is my shoulder, which feels weird. I'm just about ready to give this girl some chaw and call it a day.

Cheek rubbing
and ear pulling:  Check.

Diarrhea:  Okay, there's ONE symptom she hasn't exhibited yet. And thank Jeebus it's this one.

Low-grade
fever:  Last night she spiked a 99.6 -- low, but enough to make her uncomfortably warm and add to her fussiness even more. Today she seemed to be a little better.

Not sleeping
well:  While I live in fear of the Night of Ten Wake-Ups, she has still been sleeping well and is really only fussy during the day, getting angrier and angrier as the day progresses.

And so it goes on. Our family members and friends have been awesome, bringing over a steady supply of bibs and rubber teethers to keep in the freezer and even a freezable pacifier that I can't wait to use. Also, Orajel is a GODSEND; it has worked so well I've only had to give her Tylenol once or twice when things got really bad. At this point, however, I really just want her to cut the damn tooth already. Not because of my own exasperation, but because after going through this for as long as she has, she deserves something to show for it.

For Your Viewing Pleasure

I present: Sadie attempting to eat her first (semi)solid food.

Sadie eating oatmeal

Mommy & MeEEEEK!

Baby crying

Sadie and I had a blind date today. We got together with ten other moms and their babies to sit around, chat and compare notes. The experience left us both a little bit scarred.

Let's back up first. I've always felt bad that Sadie doesn't have more baby friends. (Or, to be more selfishly specific, that I don't have more mom friends with babies Sadie's age.) I do have one friend, whose son is a couple months older than Sadie, with whom we do semi-regular playdates. I'm one of her only mom friends too, so our playdates usually consist of the two babies rolling around on the floor for awhile while we say things to each other like, "Oh, I see he likes to whack himself in the head with a rattle until he cries. She does that too! I'm glad that's a normal thing." Last time, our playdate lasted about ten minutes, after which point both babies decided all they wanted to do was nap.

On Scott's urging, I checked out a Gymboree nearby our house. The facility looked cool, but classes are crazy expensive, and apparently you can't always guarantee a good turnout of kids, meaning if it winds up just being you and one or two other babies, you still have to pay that hefty per-class fee. After that, having run out of options, I was ready to resort to hitting on women at the park and begging them to be my baby buddy. Considering most of the women pushing strollers at the park are nannies, this tactic doesn't work great either.

Then, while surfing an internet chat room looking for ideas for how to meet other local moms -- I'm a dork, I know -- someone mentioned Meetup.com. I happen to love Meetup -- it takes one of the best aspects of the internet, being able to find group of people who enjoy the same highly specialized activities that you do, and puts it in your backyard. If your thing is amateur stargazing, or birdwatching, or you're really into making your own jewelry, there's probably a group on Meetup for it. I used to belong to a Skeptics meetup group (I know, I know, like I said, a DORK) and I couldn't believe the idea hadn't occurred to me sooner. I did a little searching, found a group for new moms in my neighborhood, and joined up.

This group does TONS of meetups -- walks at the park, music appreciation classes, monthly all-inclusive birthday parties, you name it. The first event I RSVP'd for was a playdate at another mom's house. I liked the sound of it: no more than ten moms and babies allowed. It sounded civil -- much more so than the open-invitation get-togethers at the park for which 30+ moms always seemed to RSVP. Those frankly sounded terrifying. So. House. Babies. Bring your own toys. Munch on snack food. Leave at naptime. Sounds good.

By the time we showed up, though, I was already feeling some trepidation. Sadie had been awake for an hour already, and she has a very definite inner clock. Once she's been up for that 90 minutes, she REALLY wants to go back to sleep. If I can get her over the hump, she's usually good for another 90 minute cycle -- but that middle point, where she's used to going down for a nap and is being denied it, can get ugly.

Me and two other moms were the first ones to arrive. I had a small pack of business cards in my back pocket so if another mom asked for my number, I'd have my contact info handy. (The last time I made a mom contact, I had to write my email address on the back of a paper plate.)

The hostess's home was beautiful -- and best of all, she had a carpeted play area with lots of room. Carpets! I never realized how wonderful traction can be. I put Sadie down and she was scooting all over the place, with her patented flying-blind style of pumping her legs while lying on her back. I traded some notes with the other moms, whose sons were a bit older than Sadie. I pulled out a few toys and the babies played with them. Things were nice and quiet. This was easy!

More and more moms began to arrive. More than the promised ten. One of the moms had an extra baby, her friend's son. Suddenly there were a LOT of babies in the room. Well-behaved babies, for the most part. Some crawling, some sitting, some sleeping. Conversation picked up. Toys came out. We were rolling.

Then -- then the turning point. I think it happened about 30 minutes in, and it started with Sadie, who wanted everyone in the room to know that she had Hit The Wall.

"EHHHHHHHH." Sadie announced.

"Oh, how cute, she's talking!" the other moms cooed.

"EHHHHHHH. WUUUUUUUUUUGH. AAAAAAAAAAH." I tried putting her on her back, but that didn't help. I tried flipping her over, and that really pissed her off.

Another baby decided to horn in on the action and started to sniffle. And -- it was like a dam broke. Crying babies everywhere. Sadie's face crumpled. "WAAAAAAAAH."

Interestingly, this didn't stop mom conversation a bit. They all just adjusted the volume knob and started talking louder to be heard over their babies. The louder the babies yelled, the louder they talked. And suddenly, this was how it stayed. This is how things were. One continuous wall of sound. As it was impossible to hear everyone, moms broke into smaller groups. I scooted over to one to try to listen to a conversation about baby swimming lessons, but it was difficult to hear her. Every time I tried to put Sadie down, she'd burst into tears again.

One mom arrived with two babies in tow, one in her arms and one in a carrier. She tripped stepping over the childproof gate, tipping everyone onto the (mercifully carpeted) floor. The other babies freaked out at the unexpected ruckus and screamed louder.

I turned to a mom who had been explaining to me that her son, for some reason, was acting up more today than usual. "Maybe it's because it's so loud. Is it usually...like this?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, this is pretty normal."

I nodded. I could feel my Asperger's side coming out, the part of me that wants to sit in a corner and not have to make conversation with anyone and just watch and see how everyone else does it. But I couldn't. I owed it to Sadie to make her some new friends. I can't have a friendless child! I couldn't be a mom-friendless mom. I OWED IT TO MYSELF.

Oh hey, look, it's 2:30! "Gotta go. I have a phone call at three," I said cheerfully. No one heard me. I yelled again over the noise that it was great to meet everyone, and escaped with my red-eyed, sniffling child out the front door. Out into the blissful quiet of the street, my business cards still in my back pocket, untouched. I strapped Sadie into her carseat and she passed out instantly, her head flopping onto her chest, worn out from the day. "You and me both, little girl," I thought.

We'll try it again. One day.
  

5 month 2 week 3 day check in

Right now I've just put Sadie down for a mid-day nap, and instead of sleeping she's decided to make vowel sounds at her mobile. Since I'm paranoid about going in to take a shower before she's fully asleep, I've decided to kill time by inhaling an entire box of Tagalongs having a quick snack and posting on the baby blog.

Life has been eventful lately. We have a new sitter starting tomorrow, since we got hung out to dry by our old sitter. I have a hard time talking about it. It still hurts. She decided to devote herself full time to growing her photography business (she took the adorable close-up of Sadie, a few posts down), and informed me of this decision about three days after I'd approached her about upping her hours because she'd been so invaluable to us. Scott can attest to the fact that I didn't take the news well. To be specific, I called him crying from the parking lot of a Del Taco. I think my exact words were, "It's like I pulled out an engagement ring, and she dumped me. I need to eat some chili cheese fries." Now that I've somewhat recovered, I've found someone new. I think it's going to work out well -- she has promised to deal kindly with my nervous text messaging habit.

We went over to my parents' house yesterday to celebrate both of their birthdays, which fall 10 days apart. As we all sat around on the couch, Sadie next to me on her back, she waited for me to turn my attention to the window and chose that moment to try to roll herself headlong off the couch. Between Scott and my mother, I have never, ever seen reflexes that lightning quick. Y'all should be major league baseball players with reflexes like that. Of course I felt terrible -- she doesn't roll, guys! I swear! That was a one time thing! This morning I placed her on her belly and waited forever for her to roll, but still no dice.

She does scooch, though, which is kind of funny. She only does it when we're not looking. A few mornings ago I went into the bedroom to get her, and she'd scooched herself backwards into a corner of the crib, actually under a throw blanket I put there to use as decoration. Er...USED as decoration. I've decided to put that throw blanket somewhere else. So the girl can definitely get places when she wants to.

And how are things on the poop front, you ask? You want to know about poop? While sitting in the Jumparoo this morning, she took a poop that went off like a gunshot and when I went to change her diaper I found it had gone as far up as her NECK. Her changing pad is now being sanitized in the washing machine. As for her cute white onesie with the little yellow duckies on it...well, my suspicion is that it will never be quite the same again.

Overall, complaining aside, these days are so joyful and fun that I wish they'd never end. She's the perfect size, she's happy nearly all the time, she still sleeps like a dream, and her little personality emerges more every day. She's curious and grabby, she loves beards and eyeglasses and iPhones. And the handle of my coffeepot, which I need to watch out for. She thinks dogs are the funniest toys ever invented. She loves having her diaper changed but hates having her hands put through sleeves. She loves bath time but hates being taken out of the tub. She smiles big at me and even bigger at her dad. She is my joy in life and I never, ever get tired of loving on her. I don't know how we got this lucky, but we must be doing something right. 

Jumparoo

Sadie in the jumparoo

Cause and Effect

She learned it today.

She's been blowing raspberries for awhile now, randomly and thinks it's hilarious when I blow one back at her. But today, she figured out that blowing raspberry = return raspberry. We blew them back and forth at each other and cracked up instead of me changing her diaper. Possibly the best 20 minutes of my life thus far.

Oh. Crap.

Sadie started solids four days ago. She has not had a bowl movement in as many days. Until today.

Yes, I am now that woman who blogs about her child's poop. But y'all. This was no average poop.

The first sign I got that something was amiss was after I put Sadie in the Bumbo chair and she got that faraway look in her eyes, and before I knew it her pants were making burbling sounds. Usually this is cause for celebration. I picked her up and, in a move that I hope no one ever, ever sees me do, sniffed her pants to see if she'd really pooped.

Holy shit. It almost knocked me over.

I took her to the bedroom and opened up her diaper, almost afraid of what I might find. And what I found --

No, wait. First let me describe a bit what a milkfed baby's poop is usually like. It's kind of runny. And bright yellow. It doesn't usually smell terrible (I mean, it's not like a rose garden but at least the scent doesn't linger), and it wipes off quickly and easily. Someone once whimsically described milkfed baby poop as smelling like "buttermilk." It doesn't, but it's fairly inoffensive.

Compare this with what I discovered today, when I opened Sadie's diaper and for a moment was under the mistaken impression that somehow, an overweight trucker with 13 beers and a 7-layer burrito from Taco Bell in his system found my daughter's diaper and decided to take a crap in it. I reeled. I retched. I used five wet wipes and when it was done and the offending diaper was in the Diaper Genie, the room still reeked.

Is this my future? Is this what it will be like from now on? Have other moms been dealing with this forever and I only now just figured out that real baby poop is like this, not the buttermilky manna from heaven with which I was previously dealing? Because if so...Not. Cool.