Back to School!

I am totally alone in my house for the first time in 8 months.  I don't think I like it.  Kelly's working and Steve left a little while ago to drop Evelyn off for her first day at day care.  This means it's really time to get ready to go back to work.

I've been very lucky during my tenure as a Stay at Home Mom to have grown very close to Theresa, another teacher whose son is Evelyn's best little friend, and if things don't work out with Prince George, maybe her future husband, too.

Theresa and I actually both had to go to work yesterday because we were asked to mentor new teachers.  When you've been home for over eight months,  or a year in Theresa's case, you really have to get yourselves mentally prepared for that first day back to work:

• 
  Betsy
  I should find a purse or something. I haven't carried a purse in 8 months! What goes in a purse?
  
  
  I guess I will go take care of getting my stuff all together instead of chowing down on leftover fruit dip! I'm going to have to stop pumping though.
  
  
  I swear I could eat this stuff with a spoon.
• Theresa
  

  
  

  too funny! i had dig my school bag out of the bottom of the closet, dust it off, and take out all the old student papers and packs of gum from over a year ago...
• hahaha! i am totally chowing down on chips and salsa!! at this exact moment!!

  
  

  Betsy 
• 
  

  I am literally licking the fluff off my fingers before I type.

  
  

So you can see where our priorities were the night before we went back to work.  

All kidding aside, people keep asking me how I feel about going back to work.  I know a lot of women say they can't wait to get back to work.  They are bored at home and want the social interaction.  I am not one of those women.  It's not that I don't want to go back to work because I do like my job, I'm glad to have a job, and I'm extremely lucky to have been able to stay at home for eight months.  I'm not against working.  The thing is, I just like being at home with my baby more!  

I'm not worried about other people taking care of her.  We are so lucky that we have family taking care of her for a few days and have found the best day care we could for the other days.  I'm really excited that she's going to get to spend some time with her grandmother and aunts, and some days with other kids.  If I'm not taking care of her, I feel really good about our child care situation.  

So this morning (after a night that she slept from 8:15 until 6:15, woot woot!  But I was lying in bed wondering if the milk was thawing properly in the fridge.) I fed her, dressed her, played with her, and took a page out of my dad's book.  I got out the camera and took some first day of school pictures.  

I did search my computer to look for pictures of myself on various first days, from kindergarten through driving away to college, but, alas, the only pictures I could find had other people in them who probably wouldn't appreciate their picture showing up in my blog.  

I would like to take a minute to mention something in this post.  I am going to try really hard as I go back to work to not complain about it at all in my blogging because even though I won't be spending all day, everyday with my sweet girl, there are people who don't get to see their kids at all.  Most of you know my family, and know that my brother is a Marine helicopter pilot.  He was deployed last week to Afghanistan and will be gone for seven months.  He will miss spending that time with his little man, Marshall, and he will also not be there when his next little man is born in November.  Every time I get overwhelmed or miss my girl I will remember that I get to go home to her every night.  Then I will send AJ an email, or Marshall a postcard, or Katie a text to let them know that we are thinking about them and can't wait until they are all together again!  

And to close, just checked in with Steve about how drop off went.  No problems whatsoever.  She started playing immediately and went right to the teacher.  We will see how long I make it today before going to pick her up!

The Hunger Games

Evelyn and I take a walk almost everyday.  I have a lot of time to think and observe while we are on our walks.  One thing I've observed is that there a lot of elderly gentlemen in our neighborhood!  Many of them are outside walking while we walk.  And I'll tell you what, elderly gentlemen LOVE babies.  They smile at her, laugh at her, and talk to her.  She soaks it up and hams at them.  It's adorable.

We met a nice man yesterday who was pruning a tree that was planted 21 years ago in honor of his wife, Barbara.  He assured me that Evelyn is just the luckiest little girl because she is growing up in a time where she will live to be 115 years old and be perfectly healthy.  It was really one of the sweetest things I've ever experienced.

The other thing about our walks that I've noticed is that I kind of feel like Katniss from The Hunger Games every time we go.  It all started with the birds.  I swear they are talking to each other and repeating each others' songs.  If I could whistle, I would make up my own little song to see if they start copying me.

There is also this band of hooligans screaming around the neighborhood, who chase us on their bikes.  Today they were even carrying weapons.  Ok, they were just Nerf guns, but still.  I've even seen them turn on each other when things start to get tough.

I scavenge for berries.  Well, once I did.  Because they were raspberries and they were delicious.

Last, but not least, I have my very own Little Rue...

The Cow

Since the moment I started blogging I have been mentally preparing a post about breastfeeding.  It has just never materialized for a few reasons.  Usually something else came up that I would rather write about.  Another is that breastfeeding can be a touchy subject.  Some people don't do it, some people can't do it, some people do it way too long, and some people are cows who were just made to produce milk.  I happen to fall into the cow category.

And I suppose because I started out as a cow I just assumed I would stay a cow.   I thought there would always be time to write the post about being a cow.  At the height of my cow-ness I fed Evelyn at least 5 times a day and was still able to pump twice a day, filling about three 5-ounce milk bags to freeze.  At the peak of my milk production I had close to 200 bags of milk stored in my freezer, my parents' freezer, and my in-laws' freezer.  On any given day this was what my sink looked like full of bottles and pump parts:

The freezer looked something like this:

I pumped so much that Kelly asked me on numerous occasions why I was pumping so often.  She said, you make so much milk because you pump so much.  My answer was that I wanted to be prepared for when Evelyn goes to day care.  I don't want her to have to go on formula if I can make enough milk for her.  She accepted that answer, but still thought I was crazy.  

I pumped so much that Steve actually said to me, "I think you're addicted to pumping."  He might actually have been right.  I wanted to stop, but I just couldn't.  Even though I was so sick of cleaning all the parts and trying to remember which milk was pumped on which day, still I pumped.  Some days I felt like some kind of mad scientist combining bottles to make up 5 ounce bags to freeze.  I was just so over pumping, but I still couldn't stop as much as I wanted to because I was just afraid we wouldn't have enough milk.  That in mind, I sat down one day during nap time and started doing calculations to figure out how long the currently frozen milk could last.  If she uses 3 bags of milk a day at day care I can get this many days out of the milk...  If she uses 2 bags of milk a day...  Using these calculations I determined that I needed to pump at least through July to have a chance of getting to Evelyn's first birthday before running out of milk.  

But then as I was pumping I started noticing a change.  I was spending more and more time pumping, but getting less and less milk.  There actually came a morning where I pumped for at least 10 minutes and got nothing.  Not one drop.  I spent a few days being sad that I wasn't making as much milk, until I realized that it meant I could stop pumping so much!  And the decision was out of my hands!  It wasn't like I was making a conscious decision to stop.  Suddenly I am down to one pumping session a day, and even though I barely get enough milk to make one bottle anymore, I'm at least not having to use the milk I have stored ready for daycare yet.  That will start next week.

Questions

When you reach certain milestones in your life people feel the need to ask you certain questions.  It doesn't matter who you are because your family, friends, acquaintances, and total strangers are going to ask you the same questions.  Examples:

High School:

What colleges did you get into?

Where are you going to go?

What are you going to study?

Do you have a boyfriend?  (Ok, that one might be reserved to just my family, but maybe not?  And for those who care, the answer was generally no.)

College:

How's your roommate?

Do you like your classes?

How's the food?

What's your major?

Do you have a boyfriend? (Again, maybe just my family? The answer during college was always no...I wasn't about to date any of those Salve boys!)

After college:

Do you have a job?

Do you have a boyfriend?  (I think my family was worried about me.  Eventually the answer was yes, and he was the best guy ever!)

After getting engaged:

When are you getting married?
Where are you getting married?
Did you get a dress?

What are your colors?

When are you going to have a baby? Not even joking.

While Pregnant:

When are you due?

Is it a boy or girl?

What are you going to name the baby?

After baby is born:

Is it a boy or girl?  See #6 on my list of things I will never understand.

Is she big for her age?  (If one more person asks me this, I seriously am going to ask them if they are big for their age.)

Each of these series of questions eventually gets so annoying that at some point you considered tattooing the answers across your forehead.  But there is a new question people ask that has become my least favorite question of all time.  Anytime someone asks I want to burst into tears and scream and rip my hair out, and probably because I'm totally exhausted.  

Does she sleep through the night?

I know I've blogged about this before, so it's probably not much of a surprise that my kid just doesn't sleep through the night.  She has a million other amazing qualities that I am incredibly grateful for.  She has an awesome personality, she eats like a champ and has the rolls to prove it (I guess prompting the is she big question), and she's just flat out adorable.  But O. M. G. she is the worst sleeper.  Every once in a while Steve and I get a glimpse of what life with a sleeping baby could be like.  We will get a night or two of pure, sleeping bliss.  It's almost hard to enjoy it, though, because we know that it inevitably means nights of torture to come.  For example, Wednesday night she went from 8:30 until 5:00 the next morning and it was glorious to get hours of uninterrupted sleep.  Last night, however, she was up every three hours.  

When people ask the question, I just never know what to say.  I've tried the truth, and that inevitably leads to  looks of pity and people telling me about their amazing kids who slept through the night at something outlandish like 3 days old.  Or I get advice on how to get my baby to sleep through the night.  Seriously people, you think I haven't tried that?

Then I try lying.  And that usually brings such a crestfallen look to the asking parent's face that I try to backtrack.  "Oh, wait, no.  Your baby doesn't sleep either?  Mine doesn't, I swear!  I just figured your does, so I wanted to fit in.  Honestly, she doesn't!"  I think it makes the other parent feel worse.  

So it's a no win situation.  Until my baby finally decides to make sleeping through the night a habit, I will keep drinking coffee every morning out of the biggest mug I have in my kitchen.  And as I revel in each sip, I will hope and pray that maybe by the time it becomes seasonably appropriate to use this mug, Evelyn will be sleeping through the night!  And if it happens much sooner, possibly before I go back to work in a few weeks, that would be even better!

Found two sips left when I picked this up to take the picture.  Merry Christmas to me!  

The Royal Delivery

I have a not so secret obsession with Kate Middleton.  She is my imaginary bestie.  To the extent that when I mention my best friend, Steve knows I mean Kate and not one of my actual friends.  I feel like this infatuation has to do with the fact that our lives seem to really mirror each other.  Steve proposed, Will proposed.  We got married in April 2011, Kate and William got married 6 days later.  I was worried for a while when they started talking about April for the royal wedding that it was going to be on the same day as mine making it hard to watch, and yes, I woke up early that day.  I even had it turned on in my classroom that morning to watch the balcony kiss.  I got pregnant, she got pregnant shortly after.  It has been so great being able to share the special moments in our lives together.

Our lives parallel each other so completely that I was convinced her baby was going to be a girl, too.  I actually had a moment of sadness when the news came that it was a boy, until I realized that now our kids can grow up together and get married some day!  

As I was watching all the hoopla this week, and loving every minute of it, I started to think about the similarities and differences between being pregnant as a princess and every other regular girl out there.  So here we go...

Similarities:

1. No matter who you are, people are super excited to find out what you're having:

A crowd reacts to the news it's a boy.  Took this picture from CNN.com...just want to give credit!!  

Evelyn's grandparents wait (phones ready to photograph the moment) to hear the news!

2. People give you suggestions about names and they don't take it nearly as serious as you do.  People in England are placing bets on what the baby's name is going to be.  I've heard that people are even putting bets on Elvis to be selected (took me a few to figure this one out...the King).  Steve and I often heard Penny or Lois as great names if we have a girl.  Har, har, har.  (Since starting this post, the official news has come that the baby is George Alexander Louis, big surprise there.)

3.  People you barely know give you gifts - people you know distantly through work, people your parents work with, etc.  Everywhere Kate and William go, people are handing them gifts. Prince Charles was even handed a gift for the baby the other day.  Did anyone else notice that it was a Sophie giraffe?  I hope that Sophie actually makes it to the baby, those things are amazing.  (Difference: the royals are apparently donating their gifts and asking people to make donations to children's charities instead of giving them gifts, we accepted anything people sent our way!)

4.  You are starving after you give birth.  Supposedly the royal couple had pizza delivered.  My family brought me a wedge salad.  With extra blue cheese.  And potato skins.  And some Christmas cookies.  And I might have even eaten part of the hospital dinner, too.  Child birthing takes a lot out of you.

news.com.au

5. Your parents are super excited to meet their new grandchild.  I will also add that my parents spent the night in the hospital waiting for Evelyn to be born and Steve's parents showed up at about 6 am the morning she was born.  The royal grandparents didn't show up until the next day.  Our parents must love us more.

people.com

usmagazine.com

6.  No matter who you are, you still look pregnant a day after giving birth:

usmagazine.com

I seriously love that she wore a dress that didn't hide her belly.  Difference: her belly will probably be gone in about 3 days, mine hung around for a while (based on my comments above, maybe it had to do with all I was eating).  I honestly would post a picture, but I can't find one.  Also, I give her tons of credit for walking out of the hospital the next day.  I could barely shuffle to the bathroom a day after giving birth.


Differences:
People don't make you pose for side shots when you are a princess.  Especially not when you are walking out the door to go to the hospital.  In addition, you don't get as big as a house when you are a princess.  

At the moment, that's all I've got, but I know there are about a million more.  I had more ideas when I started this hours ago, but my teething baby is really draining me of everything I have.  Help me out with your thoughts.   

Concussed?

This is the post my mom has been begging me to write since the event occurred.  Not because it highlights our parenting adventures, but I think because it paints a perfect picture of the quick wit of Evelyn's Uncle Charlie.  As it is, this is the story of our almost first trip to the emergency room.

A few Saturdays ago, Steve was up at his parents' helping his dad rip out the old deck.  Evelyn took a nap, woke up, ate, and it was time to change her and get her dressed for the day.  I put on her new diaper, after which she immediately rolled over onto her belly on the table.  I know all the books make perfectly clear that you are to keep one hand on baby at all times when they are on the changing table so that they don't roll off. Once she started rolling, I still wasn't really worried about the rolling because, much like Derek Zoolander, Evelyn is not an ambi-turner.  At the time, she could only roll to the right, which was towards the wall.  Not that I ever walk away while she's on the table, but if I need to grab diapers or wipes or clothes out of the drawer in the table, I don't pick her up.

So, she rolled over and I took this opportunity to grab an outfit for the day.  As I was pondering the blue crab bubble shorts or the pink monkey bubble shorts, she began her new thing.  You know those "superman" exercise moves where you lay on your belly and lift your arms and legs at the same time?  Her new thing is to do those, but fast and spastic like she's just downed a 5 hour energy drink.  She loves it, it amuses her, and it makes us laugh.  Until I heard the crack that could only be a head whacking into the side of the very solid table, and the wail that followed.

I immediately also burst into tears, grabbed her, and panicked.  Do I call 911?  the doctor?  put ice on it?  not do anything because maybe she's just reacting to my horror at the thought that I've just given my kid a traumatic brain injury?  Notice that at no point did I think, maybe I should call Steve?  How could I call and tell him that I've just broken his perfect baby girl?  That after all the eye-rolling and I'll do its, it was actually me who ruined her first?

I ended up doing what any normal new mom would do, I called my mom.  After explaining the situation, her first question was, "What's she doing now?  I don't hear anything, is she crying?"  In the two minutes that I tried to figure out what to do, Evelyn had calmed down and moved on.  At this point Kelly also came out of her room (the crying had woken her up, so I'm not just being dramatic) and did a quick nurse's once-over, declared her fine and told me to get over it.

Still not convinced, I packed Evelyn in the carseat, and drove to my parents'.  Nanny declared her fine, and we proceeded to take our walk, as intended.  I still had not called Steve.  Why worry him?  We took our walk and Evelyn fell asleep.  In my mind I was convinced she had a concussion, not that it's totally normal for her to fall asleep on a walk.  When we got back, I was relieved that she woke up as soon as I started taking her out of the stroller.

We went into the house, where I explained to my brother, Charlie, what had happened, and concluded the story with...

ME: But it's ok, she doesn't have a concussion or anything.

CHARLIE: How do you know?

ME: She woke right up after her nap, and it's hard to wake up a person with a concussion.

CHARLIE: That's not the only sign.  Evelyn, WHERE ARE YOU??  WHAT'S THE DATE??  SAY YOUR NAME!

NANNY: (In her best Beyonce impression, which those of you who know her, know is impressive) Say my name, say my name...

EVELYN: What kind of nut house is this?

Steve finally got home a little later, and I confessed what had happened and showed him the little bruise that did develop right at the top of her nose.  Although at this point, I'm not sure that it wasn't just some kind of mark that was already there and I just never noticed because it hasn't gone away three weeks later.  Or maybe I really did ruin her?  His response, "Maybe we should start strapping her down when we change her?"  I fought the urge to eye roll and said maybe that was a good idea.  On the inside I was thinking, "Oh right, and how am I supposed to get her dressed every day strapped in?"  To prove his point, he took her right in for a diaper change and strapped her down.  He turned to get a diaper and when he turned back, this is what he found:

Vacation!

It's been for-EV-ver!  We went on our first big trip last week.  Some of you may recall how I prepared for our first road trip.  Instead of spending the evening before preparing, I spent a whole week preparing and packing to go away to Maine.  I made serious lists: things to pack, things to remember to do, things to buy, things to get at my parents', things to find, etc.  I do have to give myself a pat on the back because we had every single thing we needed...for Evelyn.  And to be honest, the only thing I forgot for myself was my rain coat.  It wasn't on a list.

We made it out of the house right on schedule, 6:15, and everything was going great.  Evelyn didn't fall asleep right away, but it was fine because she was happy kicking her carseat and blowing raspberries at herself in the mirror.  She eventually took a snooze and we made it to New York, no sweat.  We stopped for breakfast at good, ol' McDonald's.  I started feeding baby, and Steve got in line to order.  I was suddenly distracted by a commotion by the registers.  I looked over and saw that Steve was about to have to break up a fight between a couple of eighty year old punks.  Mac apparently cut in line, which really angered the other man waiting, who expressed his anger by calling Mac an "old bastard."  Well, that really set Mac off.  Mac started wagging his finger in the other guy's face, and then suddenly it was over.  And that, my friends, was the highlight of our trip.  Everything went downhill from there.

Rain and traffic caused us to crawl through Connecticut.  But the real problem that we had to deal with was constipation.  As of the morning we left, Evelyn had not pooped in 2 days.  I switched her cereal to something with more fiber, but it wasn't helping  When we finally stopped again she had been grunting and groaning for about 20 minutes, but there was nothing in the diap.  We got out, ate again, and got back in the car to let her crawl around for a bit.  She started grunting and groaning again, and making faces like these:

The next thing I knew, there was a ball of poop almost as big as a tennis ball in her diaper.  You could see it protruding through her diaper.  The oatmeal was finally working!  We got her changed, and she started jumping and smiling again for a few minutes.  And then the grunting, groaning, and faces started again.  Suddenly, I could feel another massive poop through the diaper.  Changing her was going to be a little trickier this time.  It was pouring out again, and laying her on the seat was not going to be possible without one of us getting soaked.  So, I placed her, poopy diaper and all, on my lap and Steve changed her.  Why I don't think to take pictures of these things, I will never know.  

I did remember to take a picture of me pumping in the car though.  Unfortunately, my hooter hider is now gone.  I think it must have fallen out of the car at some point while I was climbing in or out.  

So, exactly twelve hours after we hit the road, we finally arrived at Grammy's house.  We had a great week! Some of the highlights of our week include

Meeting some Lane cousins!

Meeting some Footer cousins!

A Sea Dogs baseball game!

Five Islands

Feeling the Atlantic Ocean for the first time!

Playing with Daddy at the lake!

Not liking the 4th of July parade.

Our drive up to Maine started with poop, so it is only fitting that we dealt with poop on our way home as well.  We had another poop-less day or two before driving home yesterday.  As soon as we got home and out of the car, the grunting started again and she managed a little one.  Before putting her in the tub, I always stand her on the counter in the bathroom to make faces in the mirror.  The faces I got last night, were more poop faces.  The next thing I knew, there it was coming out of her little hiney.  Steve ran in with a diaper and caught it just in time as it fell out of her tush.  A smarter person would have held her over the toilet, but it's hard to think of these things in the moment!