Baby's First Calder

Yep. We got a Calder mobile for the kid. Did you even know Calder made baby mobiles? Well, he does. They cost about $5000.
(So,um, we got ourselves a knock off instead . . . )

You may also notice that we seem to have an abundance of themes going on around the crib: there's the underwater motif, the planet and moon motif, the how-many-stuffed-animals-can-you-have motif, and now the art motif. Apparently we're trying to have a schizophrenic baby.

Baby's First Ninja Outfit

This is the first time that the baby has worn pants. Woo hoo!

Like Father, Like Son

How endearing is this? They even bend their arm underneath them the same way. (This is slightly better than the other "like father, like son" trick they have of burping at the same time. Though actually, I have to say, that's kind of endearing too. . . )

The Cat

This is pretty much the only way we got the cat to accept the new member of the family. . . give her the bouncy chair.

We Saw This Coming

Oh, yeah. I totally jinxed it. After saying I felt like I understood the sleep thing, the Bug didn't sleep at all from 1:15 yesterday afternoon until 9:30 at night. We tried fifty million things, and he dozed for about 30 seconds here and there, but then woke himself up with a vengeance every time. It wasn't my best day. It wasn't Steve's best day either -- he came home early to help and then took over Ben-care for about 2 hours while I hid in the basement until the crying got to him too, and he handed him back. Finally -- using the age-old remedy -- I just fed the boy for about an hour and a half straight (I cringe just admitting that. . . look ma, no schedule! I fed the kid just to keep him quiet, now he's going to think food is a palliative and want it all the time! (I know that this is not actually true for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that he was actually that hungry. . . but still.)) and he finally fell asleep soundly and totally at 9:30.

And he slept until 5 AM.

Just when he took away all my resources, the kid promptly makes up for it by sleeping through the night.

If I didn't know that this was only going to last 3 more days, I'd be damn excited. . .

Plans

Sleep. . . it's all about the baby's sleep. Really every book on caring for a baby that's out there is about how to get the kid to sleep. How to put him down, how to keep him asleep, how to get him to sleep through the night.

And everyone says not to ever get cocky, because the moment you figure it out the baby is on to something new. On the other hand, no matter how many times your friends tell you something, you really didn't believe it until it happens to you.

Ten days ago, I had finally figured out the sleeping pattern. (With the aid of my oh-so-obsessive daily graph of when he sleeps and when he eats.) I knew how it worked, I knew when he slept, I knew how much to feed him to get him to sleep at least one 5-hour stretch at night. I typed it all up to hang on the fridge -- THE schedule. That same day, he wouldn't go to sleep at night. He fussed, he fidgeted and I was distraught. I realized he hadn't slept well during the day for awhile either -- that this "pattern" I'd discerned, was more about the fact that he'd stopped napping as much, and that that wasn't a good thing. He was fussy as hell.

Back to the drawing board.

Luckily, I have also oh-so-obsessively read pretty much every single baby book that is out there. I know LOTS of plans for getting the baby to sleep. I went to plan two (after consulting with fellow moms, Rebecka, Carrie, and Elizabeth) which was the enforced napping plan. Put Ben down and make him stay, and just let him cry if need be.

It was glorious. He fell asleep and slept as soundly as he had during the day in a week. Ok, the crying was very hard to take -- but the results were so good: a happy child, a well-rested child, and two bouts of sleeping for 6 hours in a row at night. On top of which my day felt orderly. I was ecstatic. So that lasted all of three days, before Steve and I just decided that the whole putting him down to sleep and letting him cry thing was a crock -- sure it worked sometimes. But more often it just revved him up, and took him longer to go to sleep.

Plan three: Enforced napping, with an extra step -- soothe him to sleep and then put him to bed. We have been on this plan for three days now, and I can't tell you how wonderfully in control I feel. During the daytime (at night, he falls asleep without help) I put him to sleep when he starts getting tired by sitting him on my chest, letting him suck on my finger, while I read a book. It takes anywhere from 5 to 30 minutes for him to close his eyes and relax totally, and then I put him to bed. It's worked like a charm for three days.

I clearly have everything figured out. . . so tomorrow will surely be the day when it's all going to go to pot and we'll be on to plan four. . .

Bug Bunny

Another bath for Baby Beeson, with his bunny ears from Grandmaman on.

I Didn't Do It

Ben wide awake in the morning . . .

. . . with his mom, who's not.

Redskins

For years and years, I have talked about putting up a blog about the Redskins. Not necessarily about the game per se, but about everything around it. The form of the Redskinnettes (I am obsessed with their skill set, which varies dramatically year to year), the price of the food, whether the chicken fingers are made of real chicken or that foam stuff (this too varies from year to year), and just general griping about Dan Snyder. . . and I have never gotten around to it.

Right here, right now, that's all about to change. My first official Redskins game report. Steve and I went to Fed Ex field for the Redskins/Dolphins game yesterday. Mom babysat. This was the longest we've left Ben so far -- a solid 5 hours. It was a nice afternoon off for us. Steve and I drove over to the field with the convertible top down. From our new house, it's only a 30 minute drive which was glorious. It was a beautiful, sunny, breezy day.

But the best part of the games, and what keeps me going to them, is the fact that I have grown to love the people who sit around us. On my left sit Rob and Steve -- each had a second child in the last few months -- and on my right sits Marcus and his father. Marcus is a doctor in Arizona who grew up in DC and flies in for four games a season. Rob and Steve also only come to four games a season, so I often coordinate to make sure I'm at the same games with all of them, as their commentary are part of the joy of the experience for me.

So, guess what we talked about? Rob told me all about his days on paternity leave, and how his daughter will only sleep if she's on his shoulder while he's standing. The moment he sits down she cries. We also talked about where the good public schools are. Steve told me about how his newest child isn't a problem, it's the two-year old who's being tough ("We're putting him up on e-bay," he said.) Marcus talked to me about how he got to help deliver his 18-month-old daughter and about how his wife, pregnant with their third, has started craving potato chips. . . with chopped pig lips on them.

Yes,I spent the entire game discussing parenting issues . . . Hail to the Redskins!

(Oh, yeah: The 'Skins won the game. The cheerleaders were, as it happens, in fine form, and the chicken fingers at the new Snyder-owned Johnny Rockets were, hallelujah, all real. Ooh, and the milkshakes fantastic.)

Now, I Understand

In March of 1987, when we seniors in high school, my friend Hilary and I spent a week skiing with my parents, where we became friends with another guy our age in the hotel. Peter had just, as it happens, finished a stint in rehab in Switzerland, and was now on family vacation in the Alps. He told us a lot about drugs. How he didn't do them anymore, of course, but also lots of stories about how much he had done. He also told us of the "power puking" contests that he and his friends had, in which they drank huge amounts and then threw up prodigiously over balcony railings.

He was, despite the above description, a totally likable guy. Perhaps this was because I didn't understand about this whole "power puking" thing. I didn't have an image in my head. About how unattractive it might be. About how awful for the lawn below, or worse, any patio furniture it might hit.

Because, let me tell you, Peter had nothing on my son. Oh the little cute spit ups, sure they're no problem. They're almost endearing.

But yesterday the Bug power puked. He was lying on his back, and he sent up a column of milk like a hose, like a fountain. It curved up and the kid actually cleared his own feet. Didn't get a drop on himself. My shirt and living room couch. . . that is another story.

Can't WAIT until he's a teenager -- there is so much I have to look forward to!