Serve with Mashed Potatoes and Gravy

Okay, if you didn't read that last post, PLEASE read this.

DISCLAIMER: I express strong opinions here which are entirely my own, and I make no effort to be diplomatic. If you have a different opinion from me, my intent is not to offend, but you can hardly blame me for how I feel about this subject!

Okay. Phew. Now that THAT's out of the way.

So I know that I've talked about health insurance before. It's tricky when you're self employed. And here in Utah, there's no maternity coverage. So if I wanted to have an epidural, I would have to plan on spending about $2000.

That seems like an awful lot of money to spend on something that only lasts a few hours. And sometimes they're not even administered properly and so I wouldn't get the relief anyway, and I would STILL have to pay for it. So I may as well spend the money on something I really WANT instead of on the anesthesiologist.

In this case, this is what I really want:

Isn't it beautiful? It's the only rocker/recliner I've ever seen that I wouldn't be embarrassed to have in my home (that's not the part that I thought might offend some of you... but it might, too, I guess).

So the point of this whole post is actually to tell you about what we're doing to PREPARE for natural child birth. My doctor and her PA both told me that if I don't prepare, it won't matter HOW much the epidural costs, I will get one. Okay. So I signed us up for a hypnobirthing class. By all accounts, this is an excellent method to help you through natural child birth.

I had already read the book before going to the first class, so I was pretty prepared. Not only was I prepared for the good stuff that I could buy into, but I was also prepared for the anti-medical stuff, that I don't have as much of a tolerance for. I know that the medical system isn't perfect, but I also know that swinging totally the other way and resisting any and all medical help isn't the answer, either. (It helps that we have a doctor whose opinions we really trust, and who we know has our best interests in mind.)

What we WEREN'T prepared for was the pot roast.

At our second class in the home of our hypnobirthing instructor, as soon as everyone was comfortably seated, our instructor apologized for any lingering smell of pot roast, explaining, "I've been processing placenta today, so you might still be able to smell it." She went on to describe what she does. She cooks the placenta, then dries the placenta, then pulverizes the placenta, and then encapsulates the placenta into gel gaps so that you can ingest it as pills.

(To do all of this, you need a license, and so to my minor relief, she also explained the process of how she then has to clean and sterilize the entire kitchen and any tools used... but you'd better believe I won't be drinking another glass of water in her house again!!)

This, my friends, is what we call CANNIBALISM! (This is the part where you may choose to be offended if you are a placenta-eater.) Oh my GOSH! There are NO WORDS! Except that there ARE words, and those words are HOLY CRAP, I HAVE SMELLED THE SMELL OF HUMAN FLESH THAT HAS BEEN ROASTED FOR THE PURPOSE OF EATING!!

I HAVE SMELLED CANNIBALISM!!

And the rest of that evening, any time we were doing a relaxation exercise, I couldn't actually relax because just as I was relaxing,

OHMYGOSH I JUST GOT ANOTHER WHIFF OF POT ROAST!

(If I could make that text flashing, I WOULD because THAT is how I felt.)

Okay, so the REASONING is that there are nutrients in the placenta. (Which, after we told my doctor about this today, and after she expressed the appropriate amount of horror, she pointed out that there probably aren't very many nutrients LEFT once you process it.) But you know what? There are also nutrients EVERYWHERE in the human body, and it's not as if I'm going to request my gallbladder once it's removed so that I can stew it up. I also didn't keep my bunions (but there was calcium in those boney outgrowths! And now I've lost that calcium FOREVER). And if Murray had to have a leg amputated (because we talk about weird stuff like this), it's not as if we'd roast up the thigh muscle for a family dinner!

Hey, we talk about burial vs. cremation vs. making dead bodies into diamonds in my family, too. Now this is a FOURTH alternative that we'd never considered. Maybe when my mom dies, we can just process her into pills and then we can all EAT OUR OWN MOTHER! Then we can all benefit from the source from whence we originally came.

I am scarred for life.

Have YOU ever smelled the smell of roasting human flesh?

Lip Trauma 2010

Some of you may remember Lip Trauma 2009 when Gulliver was crawling under our kitchen table, slipped, and bit into his upper lip. It was traumatic, but we all survived.

Well, now I bring you the sequel, Lip Trauma 2010, which is MUCH more traumatic.

Two nights ago, Gulliver was in the bath. Murray and I were both home. I drained the bath all the way and then I went into Gulliver's room to fetch his towel while Murray stepped into our bedroom for a moment. What could possibly go wrong? I heard a thump and then a scream and knew that Gulliver had hurt himself more than normal.

I went into the bathroom and saw that there was some blood on his finger. "Oh no," I thought. He slipped and bit into his finger and now there's a long little cut on his finger!"

Then I realized it wasn't his finger at all. Gulliver had actually bitten THROUGH his bottom lip, in a horizontal line, about an inch long. He was bleeding on the outside and on the inside.

At the moment of this realization, I became a little bit upset. Some (Murray) might say hysterical. As Murray was holding our naked bleeding baby boy, I kept repeating, "He bit through his lip! He bit all the way through his lip! Oh no! Oh no!" We managed to get a diaper on him and two sleeves of his pajamas and then set out to find medical assistance. As any hysterical mother would do, instead of buckling my distressed baby boy into his car seat properly, I just held him in my lap to drive to the Instacare a few blocks away. (Although I was hysterical, it did cross my mind that things would be a lot WORSE if we got into an accident and he was killed just because I didn't want to put him in his car seat.)

The moment we started driving, Gulliver stopped crying. I couldn't believe it. My baby with a gaping hole through his lip stopped crying. The thrill of sitting on Mom's lap in the front seat of the car was much better than any physical pain he might be feeling. I didn't stop crying, however. I cried most of the way to the Instacare. Which was closed. So at THAT point, then yes, I strapped my baby boy into his car seat, and miraculously, he still wasn't crying. I stayed in the back seat with him, and let him play with Murray's iPhone and he played happily---really, actually happily---for the whole ride to the hospital, 15 minutes away. I, then, also managed to stop crying for most of the ride to the hospital.

At the hospital, we got all checked in. Calmly. Because still, Gulliver wasn't crying. When we were in triage, they asked if any of his teeth were broken, which kindof made me want to start crying again because it didn't even occur to me that in addition to biting through his lip, he may have broken his teeth. But his teeth all were okay, although the gums around the front teeth were also bleeding and bruised. Poor, poor Gulliver!

We were taken to a bed in the emergency area, and funny enough, Gulliver seemed to really be excited about his bed! He lay on his back with his head on the pillow, got comfy, and continued to happily play with Murray's iPhone. Any time he was poked or prodded, he took it all with a good attitude.

The doctor came and we discussed stitches vs. glue. He said he'd do glue if it were his child. And after we considered it all for a little bit, we decided that we would go with the doctor's recommendation. Only then he looked again and changed his mind. He said that on second thought, it was worse than what he had first noticed, and that he would recommend stitches.

So THAT was when Gulliver started crying. And I started crying again, too. A nurse put his arms in a pillow case and put the pillow case behind his back so that the case held his arms to the sides. Another nurse held Gulliver's head while Murray held his legs. I didn't have to do any restraining and just was able to touch him and be there for him. He was shot up with the numbing needle a few times, and screamed and cried then. And then of course he cried during the whole stitching process. During this time, he called out many many things, among which were, "Mamma! Dadda! Cracker [Milk]! No way! No! Hug [he says that whenever he wants to be picked up] Baby!" To which the doctor replied, "Baby?" Yeah, that one was a surprise, to me, too.

All in all, it was an emotionally harrowing experience. When he was all done, they gave him some apple juice, which stopped the crying.

Back in the car, Gulliver DID cry this time when I put him in the car seat, and although I was still back there with him, this time he cried all the way home, repeatedly asking, "Hug! Hug! Hug!" So sad.

Once we got home and I was able to take him out of the car, he stopped crying again and since it was much later than he is ever usually out, there were lots more stars in the sky than he has ever seen. Gulliver LOVES stars. So I took him out to where he could see the most stars and he said, "Wow!" I asked him he if could count them, and he started pointing and counting, "One, Two, Three," pointing to a new star each time. It was pretty adorable and a good way to end the traumatic evening.

The next day, you would hardly even know that anything had happened. Because the stitches are almost right in the crease of his chin, they're kindof hidden so you don't even see the stitches right away when you look at him. And the wound, to look at it now, is hardly anything you would think could cause so much drama. In fact, I asked him where his owie was and he thought about it a little bit and then pointed to his wrist. Nope. So if he doesn't even know where his own owie is, then I shouldn't have to worry too much.

(Although I still get sick to my stomach when I relive the moment of hearing him scream and seeing the wound for the first time.)

My Tough Boy

Here's one more post about Gulliver, but I didn't want it to get lost in the last post. Today, he made me very very proud. We took him to the doctor for his flu shot today. Because I was there for another appointment, when they called Gulliver, Murray went with him alone. I reminded Murray to please ask if they had suckers because Gulliver is old enough to be mollified with sugar now.

Then I waited in the waiting room and listened. I didn't hear a peep and all of a sudden, Murray came back into the room carrying Gulliver, and Gulliver was completely dry-eyed. And carrying a candy.

Apparently, Gulliver got his flu shot and did not even cry. Let the record show that Gulliver is 21 months. (At this point, you don't need to chime in with comments about your children not crying when they received shots at 21 months because I am completely happy ignorantly believing that he is the strongest boy in the world!)

Murray, our eye witness, did say that he whimpered a little. But that was it.

Heck, even during MY appointment, I whimpered a little bit, and when they apologized for hurting me, I explained that I just had to be tough because my 21-month-old just got his flu shot without crying. And then they celebrated with me and told me that he must be REALLY tough.

I really am proud of how tough Gulliver is. I think I always heard that if you give kids too much attention when they hurt themselves then they'll learn that hurting yourself gets you love and attention and then they are wimps. So I have gone to the other extreme and I have actually cheered most times that Gulliver has fallen pretty much his entire life. And either as a result of my superior parenting, or a result of super-tough genetics, when Gulliver falls, 49 times out of 50, he picks himself up and dusts himself off and goes on playing as if nothing happened. (Because let's face it. Nothing happened. He just tripped and didn't actually hurt himself.) When Gulliver DOES hurt himself, he lets me know because he cries. And then I can pick him up and love him. Most of the time, if he hurts himself only a little, he'll come to me holding out the injured part to let me kiss it. But even then, he doesn't cry.

So there you go. I love my tough boy and I'm proud of him.

(And my mom and I have talked about instead of watching out for bullies, I'm going to have to watch out and make sure that Gulliver doesn't BECOME the bully!)

The Report

So here's how it went:

6:30: Wind down time. Murray and I take Gulliver for a walk so that he gets fresh air and we get a little exercise.

7:15: Gulliver gets a bath by Murray while I prepare his bedroom so that it is a tidy, sleep-inducing place of serenity.

7:30: I nurse Gulliver while Murray reads a story. Gulliver falls completely asleep. I can't remember what my book says about nursing to sleep at night, so I have Murray fetch the book, but I can't find what it said. So we decided since he was asleep anyway, we'd just put him down sleeping. We put him in his crib, he continues to sleep, and we quietly sing "It's in Every One of Us," since we'd like that to be a part of the sleep ritual.

8:00: We come downstairs and start making dinner.

8:15: Gulliver wakes up and starts to cry. We ignore, but it is extremely painful. I hate it, hate it, hate it. We get dinner ready and put on a movie. For the most part, the air conditioning and movie drown out the crying sounds. Which makes me even sadder and more guilty that I'm drowning out the sounds of my crying babe.

9:15: Gulliver stops crying. Wow! We did it! We've arrived! We now have a baby on a perfect sleep schedule!

9:16: I start to think that I need to just check on him, because what if we actually let our baby cry himself to death!? (See this post.) I tiptoe up the stairs. I carefully and almost noiselessly turn the knob of his bedroom door and open the door ever so slightly. I squeeze my body into the room so that I can get a look at my child, and what I see is the saddest, most pathetic thing I have ever laid eyes upon. There was my baby, sitting right up against the crib bars, slumped over, head resting on the crib bars. What do you even do in a situation like that? You can't in good conscience just let him sleep like that, can you? So I make a move to go into the room a little farther, and his head pops up immediately! Maybe he wasn't sleeping at all! Maybe he had just given up on the crying, but wasn't actually asleep! In any case, he saw me, which basically makes it impossible for me to leave him alone in his room again.

9:17: I come down the stairs with Gulliver.

10:00: Gulliver nurses himself into a deep sleep. I hold him for an entire half an hour as penitence for the horrible mistreatment of earlier in the night.

10:30: I put Gulliver down in his crib. He's there for the night.

So during the night, Gulliver woke up and cried out a few times, but was never crying for more than five minutes, so I never went to him. I'm really pleased about this, and it gives me hope. What I'm not pleased about is how many times I woke up during the night and went to the room to see if he was still alive. I did not get a good night's rest. I clearly have to get used to my baby sleeping in the other room. It did not help that I also had nightmares that Murray and I were kidnapped and held in this awful, dirty apartment, and had to find a way to get rescued, and we could see and hear the people who were trying to rescue us, but they couldn't find us. (Please note: The separation of me and Murray from Gulliver, due to kidnappers. Also note: Seeing and hearing the people who are trying to rescue us is like Gulliver being able to hear us in the house, but we never go to him. So cruel!!)

7:00: Gulliver woke up on his own (at 6:58) and was crying, but this time I went to him because it was time to get up.

THE END (of day 1, beginning of day 2)

Interaction!

Today marks a milestone in Gulliver's development. Gulliver is learning to play with others!

It first happened when I was feeding him. A lot of the time when I'm breastfeeding, Gulliver will flail his arms and hit me in the head. I, in turn, try to get his fingers in my mouth and then I bite them and he laughs. This has been going on for a while, but today, when I nibbled on his fingers, he laughed and then pulled his hand away. Then, he put his hand back in my mouth so that I could nibble again. Then he'd laugh and pull his hand out again. Good times!

You'd think that big step would be enough for one evening, but later I put his pajamas on, and we were sitting on the floor together. Gulliver loves to scream when he's happy. So he would scream, hold his arms out to the sides, and then slap the ground. So I did the same, and slapped my hands down on his. To my surprise, he repeated! And this went on and on to our mutual amusement. Murray even joined the game a little bit later. I tried to get some shots of it, but the iPhone is so slow, so all you really get is a blur that shows there was motion going on. Anyway. I was just thinking earlier today how much I love being this boy's mother, but he just made it even better.




In unrelated news, today was cast-off day. Hooray! Now both my feet are done and they both just have to continue healing, but I'm done with surgeries (hopefully) forever! In case you're sick and disgusting and want to see what both my feet looked like when the casts were removed, you may click on this teeny thumbnail. But you probably don't want to. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Off to BlogHer!

Tomorrow I leave for BlogHer. I know that I'm not a rock star blogger or anything (especially with my sporadic posting lately) so I'll be honest. I'm going to the conference to network and peddle my wares. There's no shame in that.

Of course, I'll be going with this cast on. Unfortunate, except for the fact that I'm totally stuffing it full of cocaine that should get me a tidy profit from all the SAHMs.

(Dear law enforcement: I'm totally kidding. Also I flushed down all of my leftover percocet from my foot surgeries because that's the kind of person I am, even though I could totally sell them on the street for lots of cash.)

BUT, I am milking it for all it's worth, so I called the airport today to let them know that I need a wheelchair, and for the first time in my life, I'm going to get on PRIORITY BOARDING!! And Murray can wheel me in all the way up to the gate! (In other milking it for all it's worth news, I will definitely be using my handicapped status to enhance our Disneyland experience this fall, even though I should be feeling fine, but my temporary handicapped parking sticker says I'll be crippled till November.)

Now, how do I make a cast look good for a conference? I turn it into a go-go boot, that's how. Check it out.


I'm sure to post more full body shots from the conference. I used an old pair of patterned tights to do this. But Murray, who is a husband who has opinions on this sort of thing, encouraged me to buy actual knee-high socks so that everything looked a little nicer. So I did. Right now I'm wearing a stripey pair, but for the conference, I should be wearing a pair that looks similar to the picture.

Probably the hardest thing about this conference will be leaving my 6-month old babe. (Sorry Murray---I will miss you, too, but remember that you have gone on THREE trips without me since we've known each other, so this is my turn.) But just to get me through, you can be sure I'll be watching this video over and over and over again.

(Gulliver doesn't put hard things in his mouth---only soft things. So although he was slightly fussy the other night because of teething, he wouldn't chew on the frozen teething ring we gave him. So we found something else to do with the teething ring...)

Life Signs

One of the things that I don't like about motherhood is constantly checking to see if my child is still alive. You know what I'm talking about if you're a parent. From the moment you find our you're pregnant, you're constantly checking up on things to make sure that your offspring is still alive---and I'm not even a person who worries, so if this happens to me, I know that it's as bad or worse for most other people. During the early pregnancy, you just have to look forward to those heartbeat visits, and in the moments before the doctor finds the heartbeat, you hold your breath and wonder, is it really still in there? Later in the pregnancy, you all of a sudden realize that you haven't felt your baby move in x amount of time, so you drink juice or you jump around or you poke your belly and wait for the reaction.

The night that Gulliver was born, the nurse gave me a nose-sucker and told me to suction stuff out of the baby's mouth if he stops breathing or starts choking. Then she wished me a good night and turned out the lights on her way out of the room. What? You think that at least in the hospital it's still the staff's job to keep your infant alive. What else are you paying them for? But then you're stuck with a nose-sucker and no idea what to actually do with it if your baby suddenly stops breathing.

At home the first month or so, I'd wake up in a panic in the middle of the night and wonder if my baby was still alive. In semi-conscious confusion, I'd start patting down Murray and look at his face and chest to make sure he was breathing, before I'd realize that I was holding and scrutinizing an enormous baby. Then I'd turn to the other side of the bed and find Gulliver and watch his wee baby chest to make sure it was still moving up and down. Once, I even woke up in the middle of the night, concerned that my baby wasn't properly swaddled, and once again inspected Murray up and down to make sure that his blankets were tight... before realizing that that giant baby wasn't a baby and wasn't even swaddled at all.

Now that Gulliver is almost 6 months old, my is-he-alive panics have calmed down a little. Usually now they just occur when I realize that I've been working uninterrupted for a good chunk of time and haven't heard a peep from the napping baby. So I leave my computer to go check on him, and invariably during that awful 30 seconds I consider what it would be like if I got to the room to find a dead baby. That's the worst part about this whole thing is that I actually imagine my precious baby dead. And 30 seconds, or 20 seconds, or 10 seconds, is long enough to know that if my baby is dead, I will forever regret working on whatever it was I was working on instead of saving my baby's life when he needed me the most.

But invariably, I go into his room and find him exactly where I left him, and because Gulliver is my perfect angel baby, he is usually wide awake, looking up at the ceiling, strumming his fingers, and generally pondering his wee baby life. When he sees me, he smiles (or he startles) and then I scoop him up into my arms and give him a big hug.

The other night, Gulliver woke up at 3:00 a.m. and I nursed him back to sleep. When he was done, his entire body went limp and my is-he-alive panic kicked in. As I got my face closer to his chest to hear or see breathing, Gulliver kindly let out a long, slow toot. He loved me enough to let me know he was still hanging in there.



In other non-morbid baby news, Gulliver is making great progress. It didn't take him long to determine that bulldozing was an ineffective means of travel, so he has learned to roll. He is also doing great at sitting up unsupported. He can sit for several minutes, or until he loses his balance, at which point he just can't get himself back up yet. He also is quite the chatter and loves to make this Popeye face while jabbering away. This is especially entertaining in Sunday School. I'll upload video footage soon, I promise. New as of this week is a baby need that I hadn't anticipated. We've gotten good at determining what he wants, but lately, as I'm holding him, I'll notice that he's bouncing around a bit and making I-have-a-baby-need noises, and I think, "He has recently napped, he's recently eaten, he has a clean diaper. What else could he need?" And then I realize that what he needs is to be put down on the floor where he is free to roll around and play with his toys. (He will do this for hours now as I work.) This big step (or roll) towards independence is both exciting and heart breaking. First it's him leaving me for his toys, and next thing I know it, some undeserving ho-bag will marry him and take him away from me forever.

(Note to the undeserving ho-bag reading this 20 or 30 years from now: You won't be so undeserving if you make sure to come by often to visit, phone frequently, and bring your children over to play with me. Also, he laughs when you wipe his butt. You ought to try it.)



Gulliver under a chair. He played under this chair for about 45 minutes while I cooked and cleaned the kitchen. He would alternately lift the chair with his legs and squeal. Good times. Why buy expensive toys when the furniture is exciting enough?

Sitting up! He loves this "fridge farm," which is in French and English. He also enjoys sitting in front of the little gym instead of lying underneath it. New perspectives are fun.

Playing with The Boy's beard. I am glad these two are bonding, especially since Gulliver's middle name is The Boy, in honor of his uncle. The Boy is really doing great with Gulliver and it's obvious that he really loves him. When The Boy came over last week, I immediately handed Gulliver off to him, and he didn't mind at all! And later, he was voluntarily playing with Gulliver. They respond very well to each other and I'm sure will be great friends.

Gulliver is the equivalent of four 5-lb sacks of potatoes. Or a 20-lb sack of flour. (Incidentally, Gulliver also weighs as much as a 20-lb bag of feathers.)

Gulliver sleeping watched over by his motley crew of friends. Gulliver has also started reaching for his pals when I take him out of the bassinet or crib. How cute is that? He likes his hard toys, like his wooden car, but as soon as he gets a soft friend, he grabs it and squeezes it to his chest and shoves it in his mouth. His favorite toy (who really knows these things?) is his Ernie, who I keep with me at all times in my bag. (Because even when I'm not with Gulliver, I love to look in my bag and see little Ernie looking up at me.) One of the funniest moments last week was in church, when Gulliver was being well-behaved (as always) and things were pretty quiet, and then I pulled Ernie out of my bag and Gulliver saw him and got excited and laughed and grabbed him and put his nose in his mouth. We suspect that Ernie was a favorite from a very early age due to his red nipple-shaped nose.

Mommy Lessons

So bit by bit I learn more lessons on how to be a mother. I need to read more books I guess but who has time to read?? I think I'm getting ready to move Gulliver into his own room. I've been putting him down for naps in his crib (before he could roll, I was lazy and always just put him down for naps in my bed). He's getting used to sleeping in it. Today, he fell asleep in my arms as I nursed him. This is our usual routine. So I finished catching up on my blogs and then brought him to his room so that he could keep sleeping. He woke up as I put him in the crib. Normally, my inclination would be to say "Oh well, he woke up, and he won't go back to sleep." But this time, I decided that even if he was going to stay awake in his crib, I needed lunch. So I went downstairs and made myself a sandwich. When I came back upstairs, he was sound asleep.

So I got to work and ate my sandwich in front of the computer, where I could hear him in the next room. After a while, I heard his rattles/toys, so I knew he was awake. He started making noises like, "I'm bored" or "get me out of here" or "Hello? Are you there?" but there was just one more thing that I needed to finish up before getting him. By the time I was finished, I listened. Silence. So I snuck into the room, and this is how I found him.


Poor baby boy, but asleep!! As I took these pictures, he woke up again, raised his head, but then I snuck away quietly and he went right back to sleep.

So, lessons learned: 1) Just because he wakes up doesn't mean that nap time is over. 2) Just because he wakes up as I put him into the crib doesn't mean he won't fall back asleep if I just let him.

Here's another thing we're learning about Gulliver. Just because he's a good-natured baby doesn't mean that he's going to be a perfectly patient child. He's still going to be a kid. Murray and I have learned what Gulliver's favorite toy is because it's the ONLY thing that he will cry if you take it away. Get ready for it... I'll give you a hint: It's free, we hate it, and it comes to our house every day. It's JUNK MAIL!! Gulliver loves loves LOVES to sit and rip. He is endlessly fascinated by this process, and like I said, VERY unhappy if we take it away.

And one more thing we learned about Gulliver recently. He really rarely cries, but often he'll cry in the car. Not all the time. Lots of times he's happy to sit and think about the world, or play with his car seat toy, or nap. But other times, like almost every time we drive home from SLC, he cries the whole way. I just have assumed that this is because he's hungry/tired/bored/constrained. But we found out the real reason last week. We were just about to leave SLC when Gulliver started crying. I told Murray I didn't want to listen to it all the way home, so we got off the freeway and pulled into a parking lot. I tried to nurse him in the front seat of the car, but he was still crying---very rare for Gulliver. So Murray said, "Sometimes when you walk and bounce him, he calms down." Murray took him out of the car and Gulliver was instantly happy. We concluded he must be bored, so we decided that I should sit in the back with him and entertain him on the way home. So we got back into the car, and I played with Gulliver for a few minutes but as soon as we got on the freeway, he started crying again. Strange. I decided to try the light. So I turned on the car light and the crying stopped instantly. I turned it off, and it started instantly. It seems that Gulliver just doesn't like being in the dark in the back of the car. So we drove home with the light on.

It's interesting learning all of this. I guess I just assume that once you're a mother, you're magically supposed to know everything about your child, and I assume that every other woman knows. But I guess we're all just learning as we go!

You like me! You really like me!

Well folks, it's true. I've been nominated for best Utah Mommy Blogger. This is such an honor, especially as I've only been mommy blogging for four months now. I'd love for you all to vote for me, even though I feel I'm the sleeper in this whole thing. I mean, how can I win against the big guns like Petit Elefant? Or Dooce?? (Dooce lives almost next door to my brother and sister-in-law, and I considered dropping by on Friday to introduce myself as her competition...) Now HOLD ON THERE. Don't click over to the link I'm about to give you to go vote for Petit Elefant and Dooce. I want all your votes. Help out the underdog, will you? VOTE HERE!!!

And right now, you're probably asking what's in it for me? Why should you take the 15 seconds to click over to another site and submit your vote? (And do it from every computer you own.) Well, this is my promise to you. If I win Best Utah Mommy Blogger, I make the following promises:

1) I will share more stories about poop. Like about how Gulliver's poop schedule is changing and I can't handle the not knowing. And for the past two weeks, he's blown out of a diaper in a major way at least once a day, and I just did laundry last night and was up to my elbows in poop, Spray N Wash, and Oxiclean.

2) I will post a picture of myself in a sports bra.

3) I'll post more pictures like this:


4) I will post more videos, like the upcoming short film, "What Gulliver Does When I Try to Suction Out His Snot."

5) I will post every day for one month.

6) I will get pregnant again this year.


As you can see from a small sampling of vote tallies, I'm holding strong at 6% of the vote. (And yes, that is after I ceremoniously cast my ballot for myself!)


Please go and vote! PLEASE!



UPDATE: I'm in the lead! Keep the votes coming!

Assistant

I've decided to hire an assistant. Please read the job description to see if this is a good fit for you. Leave your application and resume in the comments section.

DUTIES
* Do my laundry every day. Fold and put away clothes in my super-organized closets, which you will have organized.
* Cook meals for me and my family. These meals must be nutritious so that we can lose weight, but so delicious that we don't even know we're on a diet. Three meals a day and three snacks a day are required.
* Clean kitchen every day.
* Vacuum every day so that I can feel comfortable putting Gulliver on the floor without fear of the ants carrying him away to their queen.
* Dust. Because I never do this. Ever. Please remember to take down all knick knacks (of which we have plenty) and dust underneath them. Not just around them.
* Clean my bathrooms. I don't want to see one stray hair. (Post pregnancy I'm pretty much going bald, so you'll be required to clean the bathroom several times a day.)
* Do all the businessy and technical stuff involved in my work while I cuddle and snuggle Gulliver and take him for walks.
* Make my bed.
* Take out my dry cleaning.
* Buy my groceries. Remember to keep us to our $300/month food budget.
* Mail the business card samples for friends that I have had sitting at my door for two weeks (or more).
* Straighten any pictures that are off-kilter.
* Set up my TiVo to record really interesting and educational shows.
* Go through all my design blogs and hand-pick the stuff that I'm actually interested in reading.
* Entertain Gulliver while I shower and get ready every day.

COMPENSATION
* $2/day with possible 30% tep (To Ensure Proper Service) at the end of each month, for a possible total of $80/month (you know---as in half of what we pay for our iPhones each month).

Why, I oughtta...

There are moments of motherhood that are not so glamorous.

Today Gulliver woke up from his morning nap earlier than anticipated, and he wasn't hungry when he woke up. So I stripped him down to his onesie (first mistake) and wrapped him in a blanket and brought him into the office and sat him on my lap while I worked (second mistake). Gulliver typically has a giant poo sometime in the morning or early afternoon, so I was expecting something like this, but I figured the blanket would be a good barrier between us in case some unpleasantness spilled out of the diaper. Plus, it was probably time to wash his blanket anyway.

Funny how quickly a stream of poo can squirt out of the diaper and onto your favorite pajamas, missing the blanket entirely.


I think this is part of Gulliver's secret plot to get me to shower every day. Please note this picture from yesterday.


Anyway. I just had to throw him on the bathroom floor and strip him down to start taking care of business. And once he was cleaned and fed, then I left him on my bed while I showered and did laundry. Thankfully he was happy to play the whole time I was getting ready and washing all the clothes and blanket.


Also, when I went into Gulliver's room this morning, I found the new hard drive that came in the mail yesterday. I asked Murray if I could see it this morning and he couldn't find it. That's because apparently in a drunken ambien stupor, he put it in the baby's crib last night. I believe that Murray is suffering from baby confusion.

Mommy Style

All right. It is time for me to blog about something very important. It's about a breast pump. And for those of you who might be a little wary, don't worry. I will post no pictures and I will divulge no personal details about my personal pumping experiences, other than saying that our home has never felt more like a dairy farm.

One of the things that I neglected to mention about Murray in the #1 Dad post was that he, himself, all on his own and on his own initiative, went out and bought me a breast pump in the first few days after Baby-O was born. (I reassert that he is the world's #1 Dad and the world's best husband ever, even if he doesn't quote Pride and Prejudice.) He called me from Baby's R Us to make sure that he was buying the correct model.

Murray wanted to get me the best. There were a few models, each a little more expensive than the last. I think that the salesperson was trying to sell Murray on the most expensive model, which allows you to pump hands-free, and Murray felt like that's the one that he should get for me because I deserve nothing but the best. But I was fine with the least expensive model because I figure the most expensive models are more geared to women who work outside of the home. Me, I work from home and can pump comfortably and privately whenever I choose.

So Murray got me the Medela Pump in Style backpack. And here is where I begin to ask very important questions.

First of all. Why would you ever need to "pump in style"? Who's going to see you pumping, and who's going to judge you on the style of your pump? And how could anyone ever make a pump that was actually stylish? I think it's impossible. (Once again---think dairy farm.)

Second of all. How can anyone ever call a smallish black backpack stylish? Like my pump is an accessory that I'm not going to be humiliated wearing around in public? I'm actually going to feel like I look cool and stylish? I don't think so. Also, where am I going that I am actually needing to wear my breast pump as a backpack? The description of the backpack online says that it is "trendy" black (since when was black a "trend"?) with butter yellow trim. Ooooo. That makes me feel so stylish!

Third of all. The pump itself is inseparable from the backpack. What's the point of that? Heaven forbid that I might not have my trendy black backpack with butter yellow trim with me at all times while pumping---I guess it's called "pump in style" because the stylish backpack is always with the pump, for better or for worse. It's like they're forcing their style on you. Now, Murray pointed out over the phone from Babies R Us that the more expensive model was not attached to its carrying case. But I didn't feel like we should spend $100 more just to have a detachable pump, especially because as I mentioned, I'll only ever be pumping in the privacy of my own home, so it doesn't really matter if my pump is forever attached to a backpack. But seriously, can anyone explain this? Whose idea was it to have a pump that is inseparable from its large, bulky carrying case? What benefit does that give me, the customer?

So there you have it. My thoughts on the breast pump. Let me be clear: Murray bought me the exact pump that I would have purchased myself, so my review of this item does not suggest that he made a poor product choice. My issue is that my pump is called "Pump in Style" and I believe that to be impossible. But judge for yourself:

Beautiful Boy

Just a picture to share with you today. We tried to do a photoshoot at the studio where Murray works, but it was too cold and the baby just cried the whole time. So yesterday we did a photo shoot using window light. Here's one of the winners!


I'm learning that having a newborn means that normal day to day tasks take about four times as long to complete. And I'm learning to take advantage of those nap times. So if you'll excuse me, I would love to spend more time blogging, but right now I have dishes and laundry to do, plus get a start on dinner so that it can be ready by tonight. If I have a little extra time, I might work on sewing a few little toys for the baby. (I sent Murray to DI on Saturday to buy some cheap toys that have rattles and bells inside so that I could rip out the sound maker and make my own toys.)